Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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unfinishedlibrary2026-01-09 07:42 pm
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-01-09 07:42 pm
Entry tags:
- !library,
- bram stoker's dracula: mina harker,
- good omens: crowley,
- legend of zelda botw: link,
- maidensong magic: claire ryland,
- original: illarion,
- persona 5: sumire yoshizawa,
- the murderbot diaries: murderbot,
- the wonders of mundus: hikaru aozora,
- tortall: hisako godsup,
- warhammer: roboute guilliman,
- ~moonlit rivals
for all the world's a stage - LIBRARY LOG
Who: The Editors
What: The Library changes once again...
When: January 9- January 22
Where: The Library
Content warnings: Please put them in the comment headers!
The Assistants have vanished into their backroom once again, leaving only the increasingly unbelievable “Back In 5” sign on the Help Desk, but at least they have attempted to impart some knowledge on the Editors before departing (or… attempted to do anything but, depending who you ask). The customary tea cart with drinks and increasingly stale biscuits is parked in its usual spot, though it seems that the quality of the tea at least has improved some. (Still waiting on coffee improvement.)
There’s a new crafting setup in the Maker Space, a table with an iron and machine for making vinyl designs, along with the instructions on how to use it, and a stack of t-shirts in various sizes. Usually there’s something in the correct size, but, well, mistakes happen. While this addition to clothing is a boon, there is the problem that the t-shirts can’t be taken out of the room until some sort of design is put on them. Get creative! Show off your style! Or maybe just steal one of the shirts that are there for display purposes. It’s fine, the Library can make more.
In the second week as the Library begins to change once more, the Lobby’s wooden floor shines with extra polish. The walls make an odd creaking sound as they shift, warping into brick covered with velvet drapings in a rich, dark red. Gold thread twinkles in the stitches, a sense of opulence woven through. The sound of ballroom music drifts by and, while in the Lobby, characters will be taken by the unusual impulse to dance.
Outside, in the Garden, the day/night cycle has paused firmly on a cloudless night. A full moon hangs in the air - literally. About the size of a basketball, it follows the first person who enters the Garden; hovering a couple of meters above their head. A white aura spreads from them, powered by the moon, and those who are caught in its light will find themselves unable to speak anything but the truth.
When the person to whom the moon is attached leaves the garden, the moon and its aura will leave them; and the moon will attach to the next person to enter instead.
On the circulation desk, there is a sign: “This Week’s Recommended Reading: Twilight!” The accompanying sign up sheet waits next to it for those wishing to check it out- though some will receive the movie instead of the book, with no particular rhyme or reason to it. Periodically someone might also receive something else entirely. Whoops? The Assistants at least will fix that quickly.Richard will be embarrassed, while Phillip will be trying not to cackle.
While not advertised, various iterations of different stories will be available throughout the Library. In particular, someone seems to have left the projector in one of the meeting rooms running, with a variety of different recorded plays. These range from professional productions, to parodies, to what appear to be high schoolers (of which one production features a sixteen year old version of Phillip running around being an absolutely nuisance.
What: The Library changes once again...
When: January 9- January 22
Where: The Library
Content warnings: Please put them in the comment headers!
The Assistants have vanished into their backroom once again, leaving only the increasingly unbelievable “Back In 5” sign on the Help Desk, but at least they have attempted to impart some knowledge on the Editors before departing (or… attempted to do anything but, depending who you ask). The customary tea cart with drinks and increasingly stale biscuits is parked in its usual spot, though it seems that the quality of the tea at least has improved some. (Still waiting on coffee improvement.)
There’s a new crafting setup in the Maker Space, a table with an iron and machine for making vinyl designs, along with the instructions on how to use it, and a stack of t-shirts in various sizes. Usually there’s something in the correct size, but, well, mistakes happen. While this addition to clothing is a boon, there is the problem that the t-shirts can’t be taken out of the room until some sort of design is put on them. Get creative! Show off your style! Or maybe just steal one of the shirts that are there for display purposes. It’s fine, the Library can make more.
In the second week as the Library begins to change once more, the Lobby’s wooden floor shines with extra polish. The walls make an odd creaking sound as they shift, warping into brick covered with velvet drapings in a rich, dark red. Gold thread twinkles in the stitches, a sense of opulence woven through. The sound of ballroom music drifts by and, while in the Lobby, characters will be taken by the unusual impulse to dance.
Outside, in the Garden, the day/night cycle has paused firmly on a cloudless night. A full moon hangs in the air - literally. About the size of a basketball, it follows the first person who enters the Garden; hovering a couple of meters above their head. A white aura spreads from them, powered by the moon, and those who are caught in its light will find themselves unable to speak anything but the truth.
When the person to whom the moon is attached leaves the garden, the moon and its aura will leave them; and the moon will attach to the next person to enter instead.
On the circulation desk, there is a sign: “This Week’s Recommended Reading: Twilight!” The accompanying sign up sheet waits next to it for those wishing to check it out- though some will receive the movie instead of the book, with no particular rhyme or reason to it. Periodically someone might also receive something else entirely. Whoops? The Assistants at least will fix that quickly.
While not advertised, various iterations of different stories will be available throughout the Library. In particular, someone seems to have left the projector in one of the meeting rooms running, with a variety of different recorded plays. These range from professional productions, to parodies, to what appear to be high schoolers (of which one production features a sixteen year old version of Phillip running around being an absolutely nuisance.
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"Y'know, no-one likes a teacher's pet, Shadow," he comments, leaning an elbow on the board so he can give Shadow a raised eyebrow.
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(The tiniest extra bit of furrow creases on Shadow's brow, his eyes narrowing just the slightest amount. He's not taking such obvious bait.)
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"Only 'cos I don't see you putting anything original up, either." His back rests on the board instead, folding his arms. "I thought you'd have your own opinions by now on how this place works?"
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He does have his opinions, and Sonic finally earns a scoff. But:
"Broadcasting them is pointless." He's now crossing out a word completely and replacing it. "Especially on paper."
There is so much derision in that word.
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He won't make a big deal out of it, but he will try and make a swipe for Shadow's pen.
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Sonic's already on a hair-thin line with Shadow's patience on a normal day. Compounding that is still the fresh wound of Sonic having destroyed their home, Shadow being unable to enter the Shatterspaces, and Sonic now having the gall to get stuck here instead of doing his job and putting their reality back together.
Of course he hasn't said any of that to Sonic. But the tension in the air is ticking over to 'murderous' a touch earlier than usual.
"Then how about I pick a fight with someone who does."
This is about to go south very quickly. As in, that sure is a twist of Shadow's hips as his foot comes flying around, aimed directly at Sonic.
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"What did I do to deserve it? I haven't even done anything yet!"
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The pen's casing cracks ominously in his hand, echoing the grit of Shadow's teeth.
"Of course you haven't," he bites back. And that, Sonic, is entirely the problem. Not that Shadow's going to give him long to dwell on it - because he talks better with his fists, anyway, one of which is rapidly flying towards the blue hedgehog. "If you had, we wouldn't be here."
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With the blessing of a few feet of range, he turns his butt towards Shadow and smacks it a few times. "I'm not gonna fight you about it, 'cos I'm the bigger person. Later, Shadow!"
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The plastic casing of the pen shatters, much like their reality did, blue ink splattering across his white glove.
The shards don't have time to hit the ground before he's off, heat pushing through the vents on his shoes - an orange streak trailing furiously behind him as he follows Sonic in dogged, murderous pursuit.
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(And to anyone in the aisles that they might pass by, or any errant drones on watch - well, Sonic is polite enough to give a loud "'scuse me!" or "Coming through!" as the hedgehogs pass by.)
So he takes a hard turn, running up the front of a stack to get some airtime and a good view, before he spin-dashes towards the nearest doorway and kicks it open to rush inside, barely paying attention to the roughly-bisected moon as it whips after him in an attempt to continue being above the blue blur, but not quite keeping up, so the spotlight trails behind him by a few metres.
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Because he's unwilling to kick off of any shelves or even use his shoes at full power, Sonic gains an unusual lead. And then the idiot makes the worst decision he possibly could have: he leads them outside.
There is something vicious in the way that Shadow's airshoes immediately burst jets of flame the second he crosses the threshold away from the books, making a furious beeline right for the blue blur; closing in rapidly on that lead. Sonic's not going to stay ahead for too long if he keeps showboating like that.
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Until he looks back at the smell of burning rubber and sees Shadow very abruptly catching up to him, and he gives a grunt as he puts more speed into his legs to make up the rapidly disappearing gap.
"God, what is your problem, Shadow?" he yells back, ears flicked in annoyance.
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For now he's close enough that the moon lagging behind Sonic is perfectly mid-way between the two of them. Not that he pays it any attention, laser-focused on tracking the other hedgehog. If Sonic decides to double back instead of going up, Shadow's going to be ready to snap out in that same direction.
And Sonic should know better than to ask him a question like that.
"You are," he snarls out - so fixated that he doesn't notice how the words bypass his filter. (But that's not uncommon anyway, when he's this worked up.) "You shouldn't even be here. You should be out there, fixing the mess that you made."
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He's running very quickly out of forward space to run even as he yells back, so he has half a second to look forwards and spot the wall, and decide - yeah, screw it, vertical it is.
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"It wasn't me," he snaps. The moment Sonic goes vertical, Shadow's shoes begin to hum in preparation - and as Shadow nears the fence, he kicks off the corner where fence meets ground; boosting flames streaming from his shoes as he reaches the apex of the jump. That boost means he's closing the gap rapidly now, the crumbling moon just above his head. "Not this me. I left you in Ghost Hill, but apparently you somehow still get out."
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It's a risky game going vertical; sure he's got the momentum and the angle to keep himself going, but one slip and Shadow's got him, and there's no other angles to turn to because Shadow's gonna have the inside lane regardless.
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There's a threat clear in the words, especially if Sonic dares to mention something again that insinuates Shadow's ever needed his help. And Shadow changes angle a bit - aiming now not to catch Sonic from behind, but to overtake him. Changing angle bumps him against the moon, but the impact is negligible - the bright thing bounces out of the way, leaving a faint shimmer on his fur where he'd touched it.
"Every time something goes wrong, you're at the centre of it. The rest of us don't even get a choice. The best we can do is sit around and hope that eventually, you'll 'figure it out'."
--still so angry that the words are just flying out faster than he can think them. And they're true. Not that Shadow's much of a liar, but it's definitely more than he'd usually let on.
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So he notices, when Shadow's story changes, and he looks back at Shadow with a confused squint.
"So, which one is it? Are you mad because I'm breaking things or mad that I'm fixing them?"
But he can see Shadow trying to overtake him as well, which means he can give himself an outside lane now, and he veers in the opposite direction to Shadow to try and get some clearance.
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"You broke our home and now you're the only one with the power to fix it." Alongside the obvious anger in his voice, there's an edge of frustration. It's sharp and cutting, but has more of an inward direction. He's still going to make it Sonic's problem, the moon's light sparkling off the traces of dust left from his collisions with it. "Our friends don't even know they're counting on you, and you're too busy fraternising with their replacements to focus on what you should be doing."
------nope, he's still too preoccupied to notice that there are a lot of words there that would normally never leave his mouth.
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It takes a few moments for his brain to catch up with his mouth, though. He calls them 'our' friends all the time, including Shadow whether he likes it or not.
Shadow doesn't say 'our'.
"Wait-" not that he stops running, but he's definitely running backwards so he can face Shadow. "Since when did you call them our friends?"
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Sonic running backwards also is not doing any favours for Shadow's mood - now Sonic will definitely see the red in Shadow's glare, the moondust glittering on his quills, and the way he's steadily gaining on Sonic. Less than a metre away. Any moment now he's going to be able to reach out and seize an ankle.
Sonic's absolutely full of it, suggesting Shadow would ever refer to them as his friends. And the curl of Shadow's muzzle is clear as day, that that particular piece of bait is pathetic and--
"Since now," he growls out, and. hold the fuck up. (That curl of his muzzle twists - almost like he's going to sneeze - in a moment that absolutely screams what the hell was that.)
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oh. he's definitely hearing the words coming out of his mouth now, cutting into a distinctly pissed-off growl.
"I'm going to make this hurt," he promises flatly, with the edge of a sneer. It's as truthful and honest as everything else the moon has compelled him to say. And that's his hand moving in a flash, aiming to seize Sonic's rapidly pedalling leg around its ankle.
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And his eyes go wide, with alarm and recognition and a resigned little, "Oh, no."
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