The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
>>"Thank god you caught up…I was worried dere for a moment that you were going to call the cops or something..."
Booker couldn’t help but let a soft chuckle escape from his throat. It was clear that he and this woman were finally on the same page. Truth be told that Booker still wasn’t entirely sure what he was. He had an idea, though, after running around the livecast that that woman, Gemma Taylor had down a few years ago. She had explained what adapteds were and, through her podcast, was able to get a bit of an understanding as to what he was. It was by no means a perfect answer but it did fit the mystery of his “luck” that followed him his entire life.
The fact that he realized this about himself seemed to appease Svetlana who commented that she was glad he knew and that she feared the cops were going to be called soon. Well, that was still an option he was keeping holstered just in case things went out of hand. He didn’t know this woman, after all, so it always paid to be on your guard.
”Cops? Naaah.W-Who would do something like that?” His slapped on, incredulous expression wouldn’t last more than a few seconds before he awkwardly looked away, rubbing the back of his head with his gloved hand.
>> "No, I was not hitting on you. And yes, it is your aura. I can't... usually touch people, it's dangerous. I was just surprised when I suddenly felt normal."
Well at least she cleared up that she wasn’t hitting on him. It took her a while to confirm that but it certainly did help to ease any awkwardness. It seemed that she was a mutant who couldn’t usually touch people and, though he didn’t touch her, being in his aura may have somehow affected her abilities. She felt “normal”. Booker was one of those people who never truly knew what people said when they said “normal” but he wasn’t going to call her out on that. He didn’t live her life, he didn’t have her powers, so really he couldn’t judge.
”Well, thank you for clearing that up.” He gave her a charming, beaming smile. Maybe it was time to cut this out before he put his foot in it again. So, assuring that his gloves were tight, Booker made ready to head off to continue his work out when the woman snagged his attention again.
>> "Are you up for a real workout?"
His head tilted towards her. He smirked as he watched her pull on the last of her gloves. She definitely seemed to have the confidence and some of the practices down. Hmm...
”Oh yeah?” he asked. Also, did this woman say anything that couldn’t be misunderstood as a pick-up line? ”I thought you said you weren’t hitting on me?” He teased with that same devilish twinkle in his eyes. Out of the corner of his vision, he caught the trainer and the two people in the ring begin finishing up their set. There was going to be an empty ring in a few minutes. He then smirked to her. ”I was kidding…you know? What did you have in mind?”
The way that she stared at him after his accusation was a little unnerving. It wasn’t so much that it made him scared or anything like that, it was more like he was being scrutinized so hard by the woman that he felt like a lab rat under the microscope of a pesky scientist. She was staring at him as if she were utterly confused about everything that made up his atomic structure. While before there were just the glances of everyday conversation, now Booker was finding himself a little uneasy by the staring. But why was she staring at him so hard?
Finally, seconds passed that felt like hours, and Svetlana seemed to find her voice. She was unsure of how to say what she wanted to say, but when she did, Booker found himself even more confused than he did before…
>> "You don't know what you are, do you."
…Okaaaaay. Now things were starting to get weird again. First he thought she was high, then he figured she was hitting on him, and now he was beginning to wonder about her mental state. Why did all the crazy ones have to be pretty. She really needed to make sure she didn’t leave the house without her tinfoil hat on. Booker was about to comment on this when he stopped himself. No, that wasn’t right…something in the back of his head was screaming at him that this was not the correct interpretation of what the woman was saying.
A deep sigh and he could feel his well-educated and sharp mind digging back through the conversation. They seemed find when they were talking on separate benches, but it was when she got up and stepped closer to him. What was it about that? Drawn by his good looks? Curious about him? The gap between them closed…he suddenly blinked. His mind connected puzzle pieces he didn’t think he would connect and the man realized exactly what was going on – she must have been a mutant. And if she were a mutant, then that mean that…
”Oooooooooh…” cautiously he looked from side to side as he stepped up closer to her in order to lower his voice. ”…you mean my…um…adaptable presence, I take it?”
Booker was used to dealing with the high and off-their-rockers before. The library was a public place, full of dark and warm corners. There have been moments where a particularly unobservant night crew would unwittingly lock a homeless person into the building overnight, only for him and his morning staff to find said individual sleeping soundly in periodicals with the weekly newspapers from across the country stretched out over him like a blanket. This, admittedly, was not a severe a situation as that but the it was safe to say that Booker B. Bookman knew exactly when he was dealing with someone who was high, and Svetlana seemed like she was high.
What else could he do but show compassion for his fellow human being, approach, and inquire if she was okay?
>> "What?..."
Dammit, was she too far gone for him to offer her any assistance? Odd considering that she seemed fully functional a second ago. Maybe he should direct her to one of the nearby benches and let management know so that they could deal with her appropriately. Either they would kick her out or take her to a back room to ride out the high until she was functioning enough to head home without getting herself killed.
But, even as these thoughts ran through Booker’s head, he could see that the woman had finally processed what it was he had asked, was shaken from her thoughts and began to laugh a little. He arched his other eyebrow, scrutinizing her, just to make sure that she wasn’t playing some kind of game with him but was glad to see that she did actually have her mental capacities.
>> "Oh, god, no, no…I'm off something, actually... Do you…do you know, this effect? You have on people?"
”Ahhh okay,” his smile continued.
He was still momentarily unsure of what she meant about being “off” something, though. Still, despite that, if he really looked at her, she have any other symptoms of being on any kind of drugs. She actually was quite pleasant. But it was then that she started to inquire about this effect that he has on people. His brow furrowed as he watched her, shifting legs and placing his gloved hands on his hips.
”Svetlana, forgive me if I’m wrong…” he started. ”But…is that some kind of really stretched out, long-way-around way of hitting on moi?” He placed a glove on his chest. He then gave her a smirk. ”You realize we just met, right?”
He introduced himself. To be honest Booker wasn’t quite expecting a response back. Normally whenever he introduced himself, it was quickly met with an “I have a boy/girlfriend!” or “Oooh, wanna go someplace private?” The librarian was happy to see that neither of those seemed to be the responses he would be subjected to. The blonde woman had rolled her eyes and laughed at his earlier comment and, upon receiving his name, responded in kind. That made the man smile good naturedly. He liked it when people were open to meeting others and not simply trying to get something from the other. That was what society was really lacking these days, wasn’t it?
But back to the matter at hand. Svetlana. That was decidedly an unusual name for him to hear. It wasn’t impossible but it definitely added to the fact that the woman was from an ethnicity that he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure on. He suspected somewhere around Europe or Russian, but it would be rude to ask right off the bat. Maybe he would research in his time off later, in the meantime, he offered the young woman a brilliant smile and a nod of his head.
”Svetlana,” he echoed. ”I definitely won’t forget that.”
Standing up, to his impressive height, Booker prepped to get back into the swing of things. He loosened his muscles, he rolled his neck, and he hit his two gloves against one another so that he could psych himself up. However, in the process of doing so, he found that his new friend, Svetlana, seemed to be wrapped up in a perplexing mystery. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She was standing now, a little bit closer to him than when she was sitting, and seemed confused for some reason.
>> "... huh… Neat."
He arched his eyebrows. She seemed to be utterly dazzled by her own fingers as she wiggled them around in front of her gaze. Booker watched her, wondering what was so interesting about all that, before the wheels started to click in his head. Oh great, was she high off her a**? He’d seen this behavior before from certain individuals who wandered into the library, looking for a warm spot and/or a place to come down from their latest high. He sighed, somewhat disappointed that of course another junkie would find his way into his path. But, he was nothing if not helpful.
He gave her a small, compassionate smile. ”Are you okay?” he asked in a lower voice and took a step closer. ”Are you…like…on something right now? It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” he said quickly. ”But I have a couple of friends who work at rehab centers. I’m sure they can help you.”
It was safe to say that Booker liked to help. It was just part of his nature. Even when he was one of the most popular kids in high school, star football player, everyone expected him to be this jock jerk that shoved over nerds and hit on every girl that moved with no intention of building anything lasting with them. But that really wasn’t Booker B. Bookman. He was oddly one of the nicest guys despite his high school standing. He encouraged his less-than-graceful friends, he had one, maybe two long-lasting relationships, and he gave everyone the time of day to chat and be seen with him, and it totally wasn’t done out of pity either. Booker was just nice.
It was this attitude that would follow Booker into his adult years and guide his actions. Of course everyone said that they contributed to charities, handing off pocket change to people collecting, or donating that extra dollar to your grocery bill to go to food banks. However, not everyone actually took the time out of their schedule to go out and be charitable. That wasn’t to say that those people were wrong, it was just that some people did take it upon themselves to go that tiny extra smile just for the sheer good will of it.
Booker was one of those people. When he had begun work at the New York Public Library, he had noticed that the older books were weeded out and set to other libraries or book depositories across the city. However he did notice that, many times, the library seemed to order one too many children’s and young adult books in order to meet with crazy demands as they increased in popularity. When the crazes died down, they were set off to similar depositories but Booker felt that they could be put to much, much better use. An idea formed, an idea that would become a regular thing that Booker was proud to be a part of.
A deal had already been struck. Booker went through the appropriate channels with both the library and some of the local hospitals. He would take it upon himself to deliver books to the children’s wards so that kids who couldn’t leave or who were suffering from a tough time would be able to gain free access to some of their favorite and most popular books. It was a task that Booker absolutely enjoyed because to see the smile on some of these kid’s faces was an absolute joy to behold.
Marching through the shiny, slick halls of the hospital, the librarian carried two massive boxes in his overly thick arms. He was asked multiple times from passing nurses, janitorial staff, and security, if the man needed help but his strong, well-worked out arms and frame could easily handle the load that these boxes were adding onto him.
He moved with precision through the halls, smiling at people. He must have cut quite the side. He was dressed in his usual work attire: navy blue slacks, a matching colored vest, and a button-up shirt that was so light that it mixed somewhere between blue and white. Affixed around the collar of his neck was a comic-book themed bowtiethat featured a favorite hero, The Blue Bat. Booker, in some ways, seemed like a walking paradox, but his smile and his good mood were hard to make others question it too long.
It didn’t take long for Booker to find the children’s wing. In all honesty there was a large, saddened piece of his heart to see what these kids suffered through but the man never let that show whenever he greeted those he passed in the halls or conversed with. He was a great friend to them, or tried to be, always smiling, always offering high fives; but this particular day had seeming called for something else.
There was a kid you see, a young girl by the name of Samantha (she demanded he call her Sammy) who had dreams of being a dancer. However due to cruelty of diseases that should not be named, it seemed that those dreams would be harder to achieve; not impossible, but quite harder. She turned out to be one of Booker’s favorite kids to meet because she always demanded to see him dance. And today was an important day because today was the big dance off.
Arching his brow as he set his boxes of books down at the nursing station, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as the young, sickly girl. She was standing upright (a good day for her) and she had her war face on. Booker gave her a scrutinizing gaze, turning his head to look at her with each eye.
”Dance off…huh?” he looked suspicious. ”I dunno. You look like an experienced dancer to me. You trying to hustle me?”
“No.” Sammy said and nodded her head firmly. “And you promised.”
Booker opened his mouth wide. ”I diiid?” he puffed out his chest. ”Well, promises are important to keep. Alright. But go easy on me, okay?” he nodded. ”You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He smiled sweetly to a nearby nurse and gestured to the radio. "DJ Nurse Dizzle? Drop ups a phat beat, yo!" A song came on the radio and Booker gave the nurse a thumbs up.
Sammy was all smiles as she nodded and started to do her little dance for him. It seemed to take some effort but, as this was a good day, her passion shined above her talents. Booker knelt there, impressed with her skills. When she pointed at him to go, he moved onto his knees and with the Dougie dance, moving his arms from side to side, before switching into a Mashed Potato and doing a little turn. It was simplistic stuff but his enthusiastic face (and the fact that he was doing this entire routine on his knees) shown that the man was having a good time – no matter who was watching.
Booker, despite some of his initial shyness, could be a talker depending on the person he was interacting with. If it was someone who was just giving him one word responses, grunts, or other various sounds for replying, the man would usually just raise his eyebrows and casually go back to whatever task he was doing. But in the case of someone who was interesting, who wanted to interact, it was a natural way to get the man to start talking.
>> "If you were trying to hide it, you'd be at home."
He had commented that he had been trying so hard to hold back his frustrations but the smart young woman nearby had immediately found the plot holes to his M. Night Shyamalan movie of a response. She had called him out, stating that if he had truly been wanting to hide his emotions then he certainly wouldn’t be out of his home, laying into a punching bag, knocking the ever living stuffing out of it with each and every single blow. Cleary he was dealing with a woman with a sharp mind and he had to give her props for that.
He paused. He nodded his head. Smirked. Then lifted his water bottle up towards her in respecting salute. ”Touche,” he defeated in an impressed manner.
This was entertaining, to say the least. However he had to wonder about this woman. Booker possessed a photographic memory, a curse in some respects but a boon in other. He knew most of the regulars who attended this gym, at least by face, and this woman was a complete mystery to him. However she moved and prepped like a practiced fighter so it wasn’t so strange to ask if she was new to the area.
>> "I switch gyms a lot…I heard about dis one but never visited before. I thought, maybe it's worth a try…They have things to punch."
”Hah. Now who’s having a rough work day?” He grinned to her response about having things to punch. In truth not everyone needed to have problems in order to let loose on a punching bag but it certainly helped to get the blood flowing. That was just his opinion though.
He eyed the woman for a second, smiling a little sheepishly at her; this conversation was nice. He started to stretch out his hand to shake hers, but midway through he had forgotten about the overly sized mitts he was wearing. The boxing gloves didn’t make for the best form of greeting so instead he opted for awkward little wave that was reminiscent of a toddler waving goodbye to their friends with giant snow gloves on. It was an adorable sight, to say the least.
“Booker,” he said mysteriously. He then rolled his eyes at himself and shook his head before he clarified. ”I mean, my name. It’s Booker.” She could give her name or not, he wouldn’t be offended either way.
Okay, so maybe he was going a little too hard on the punching bag. But the truth was that the gym was the perfect place to work out frustrations like this. It was as if the bad feelings and frustrations just seeped out of one’s body, along with the sweat from each and every pore. It was cathartic and punching a bag full of sand was far better than an actual person who could bleed and sue you for wrongful assault (even if it was TOTALLY justified). But Booker realized that it was best he start taking things a little slower lest he end up bruising his hand or stepping wrong. Then he would have to call off work and the place would suffer enough with Lisa there by herself. Bleh!
Retrieving his bottle of water from a nearby bench, Booker sighed as he took careful sips from it, allowing only a little in each time in order to ensure that he didn’t get water logged. He still had some sets to do before he could call it quits for the day, return home, and just allow himself to melt back into his couch, strumming a tuneless song on his ukulele.
However, Booker’s attention would be interrupted by the voice of another.
>> "Rough day at work?"
Turning his head, he found a young woman, close to his age, with skin of alabaster and golden honey hair. She was clearly dressed to get a workout in. Comfortable attire, her hands were being wound up with tape. She looked ready to rock n’ roll, honestly. It was a safe bet, asking about his day at work, as it was a blanket reason for most anyone’s frustrations. With a smirk on his own lips, the man gently nodded his head.
”That obvious?” he asked. His voice was low but had an impish like tingle to it that warned anyone listening to him that he was trouble. ”Damn. And here I thought I was hiding it so well.”
A chuckled danced off of his lips. Just a glance to his expression showed that his mood was already beginning to lighten considerably. Turning, he sighed as he took a seat on his bench, extending his cooldown time by a little bit before he headed back out onto the floor. He took another sip of water as he glanced over to the woman as she continued to prepare for her own workout.
”New to the neighborhood?” he asked, tilting his head. ”I come here often enough. I definitely would have remembered you.”
Okay, so the kid definitely had some comic knowledge. Booker laughed along with him as he was going on about his own favorite run of Deathpool and Booker had to agree that it was indeed a good run. One of his favorites, mind you, just underneath the one he had already mentioned. But they weren’t here to talk about comics. They were here to talk about something far more important – this job.
Booker stood, looming over the young man and awaiting the answer to his very serious, very adult question. He wanted to know why the kid wanted to work here. The truth of the matter was that it only took that one question to know whether or not someone will be a good fit. Based on their answers, he could decipher if they were earnest about being here, if they were going to care for the books in this place, or if they were just going to goof around with three different ladies out in the book stacks throughout their shift (true story). That last one was definitely not allowed, by the way. Mentally he eyed the kind, as if trying to force the thought into his mind.
But, as the kid opened his mouth to speak, Booker’s gaze softened considerable as he awaited the kid to wax poetic about his love of this institution and how he only wanted the glory of the experience of working here so that he could be closer to bo—
>> "I, uh, wanna be an intern here? I guess cause it seems chill and I don't have to be responsible for kids or pets or things that I can kill. I'm not all that great at being responsible for living things. You can't kill books, though. Can you? I don't really know. I don't read much. I don't think I even finished To Kill a Mockingbird for English class. Or went to English class all that much, actually... it was kinda boring."
He blinked. Huh. Well, that was refreshingly honest. Processing everything the kid said, or trying to, Booker reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Great, he was another one of these, the ones trying to get a summer job but with no idea what they were doing. The library staff loved to hire them because when things go wrong, they make great scapegoats, but for Booker, he took this place seriously. He wanted people here who wanted to be here, not just wanted a check.
>> "So, uh, what actually goes on here? All I know is that it's an intern position."
”Oh sweet Thanksgiving…” he muttered to himself as he raised his hands up and buried his face in them.
Not only was the kid unsure of wanting to work here but he also seemed unsure of what he would even be doing. Booker wanted to just let the kid go right then and there but as he was informed that his application was turned in digitally. The crack would have normally gone unnoticed but Booker felt somewhat obligated now to school the kid in the fact that digital documents could never replace the material experience! The feel of paper between your fingers! The smell of old, yellowed books! It was magical!
However, before Booker broke into song (and yes, he does have one) he sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t go so hard on the kid. After all, in this day and age, most wouldn’t even have attempted to set foot in the library, let alone consider getting a job in one. So long as he was here and a blank slate, Booker could attempt to educate him. Seemed fair, right? That was it…he was going to be his project.
Staring at him long and hard, Booker just smirked. ”You’re hired.” With that he turned around, locked his computer and moved around his desk to hold out his hand to shake his. ”Come on. I’ll show you ‘what goes on here’. If you feel like you can handle it, job is yours. If not…” he shrugged his shoulders. ”Then I have to kill you for knowing to much.” he smiled. He didn’t say he was just kidding. He just…smiled. ”Is good?”
Boxing. It was one of those things that you just picked up in your life. Well, not really. There were people who made whole careers out of training, working out, and honing their boxing skills. They were masters of the craft who excelled at making the art look easy and punishing. After all, anyone could ball up a fist but not everyone knew how to dish it out. It was a skill that was hard sought after and few took the care and patience to truly understand and grasp its basics.
In the All-American Eagle Gym located on the corner of Tenth and Twenty-Ninth, was a gym for everyone, but mainly for those who truly wanted to get into shape. It wasn’t full of lunks who were trying to judge everyone who was trying to get something done with their lives and it certainly wasn’t a Curves where circuit training. It was a red-blooded, American gym with a sections for cardio, weightlighting, and, towards the back, a section dedicated solely to boxing.
A large ring towards the back served as the perfect backdrop for this section. In the ring was an experienced fighter, geared up, holding his hands up as a younger student was hopping around him, trying to get a blow in that wouldn’t result in a pop to the eye. A coach shouted orders from ring side, instructing the kid to his faults and his good moves. Along the rest of the room, other boxers were training against sandbags, speed training, taping up their fists, and so forth. At one particular punching bag, near a window, stood a rather towering figuring.
Booker B. Bookamn, librarian for the New York Public Library, certainly didn’t look like his namesake. He was an Adonis of a man with a densely muscular body, disheveled sandy hair, and a five o’clock shadow across his chiseled chin and cheeks that gave him a scruffy, devil-may-care look. His jade green eyes were focused entirely on the punching back in front of him as he delivered a black and gold covered boxing glove into the material with a rapid succession of jabs. Sweat dotted his fears, rolling down his neck, and soaking the very loose comic themed tank-top showcasing one of his favorite heroes, General USA’s insignia.
Loose black shorts covered his lower half and his bright black and neon blue sneakers adorned his feet, planting his stance perfectly as he bobbed and weaved around invisible strikes and lashed out at the punching bag again. Booker was by no means an expert but the work out was exactly what the man needed right now.
Truth was that Booker had been a little stressed with work lately. His latest librarian co-worker, Lisa, had been an absolute pain in the butt. A new transfer from a different library, the older, skeletal woman with the glasses took all the fun out of working in the library. She had a one-track mind and was unyielding with the rules of the establishment which needed to be accommodating on a case-by-case basis. Over all, Booker didn’t like working with her and hoped that she would find the library to be not up to her style and she would move on. But, until then, he had a punching bag to take his frustrations out on.
Delivering another punch with his strong arms that send the bag jiggling awkwardly, Booker sighed as he straightened up. Marching over to a nearby bench, he picked up his squeeze bottle of water, held it up, and took a sip. Just a quick drink, though, he needed to get back to the matter at hand. Namely, making this bag suffer…
Booker was so enthralled in his work that he didn’t see anyone coming into his office. He knew he had to be at the reference desk soon so, he was trying to use the last few minutes he had to try and get a handle on some back up projects that he needed to complete. Now that his schedule was cleaned up for the day, he could get a start on those patron usage stats that he had been meaning to get to. Booker actually enjoyed working with numbers and it tended to be a breeze for him considering his eidetic memory, but it was also just a tad bit monotonous. Getting some of it squared away now would be less work number crunching later.
A glance to his door showed that he was still relatively alone so he we turned his attention back to the screen and back to the data that has inputting into a spreadsheet. He could already feel his mind beginning to drifting, thinking about what he was going to do when he got home. He needed to workout (leg day, after all), but the rest of his evening was relatively clear. Maybe he would call Nessa and see if she and her girl wanted to hang out for the evening. Even if she said “No! I’m busy,” which usually meant “wink-wink”, it would give the kind older brother the chance to obnoxiously send over a stack of ten pizzas to her apartment.
She was his little sister after all and he had to make sure that she ate a good meal. She couldn’t spend every night with a beautiful woman and survive by eating only --
>> "Hiya! I'm Bailey. Bishop, that is. Bailey Bishop. I dunno if that means anything to you. It might, or it might not. I dunno if they told you my name. Guess it depends on how good the communication is here. Anyway, I'm here for the intern position. Or maybe to interview for it? I dunno."
Booker jumped. But, like, jumped hard. Turning around in his swivel chair, he held his arms up in a mock kind of made-for-TV-only martial arts that was both humorous and a little sad to look at. When he finally realized what it was that made him jump, he tilted his head to look at the young ma—teenager. Why was there a teenager in his office? He tried to zero in on the fast talking boy’s words, only catching “my name”, “communication”, and “intern”. Wait…he was an intern?
”Umm,” he turned to eye his computer schedule to see that there was nothing on the calendar about an interview today. He turned back to impart this very important knowledge to the boy when he was interrupted by the most important of compliments – his tie.
>> "A Deathpool bow tie? That's sick!"
OH! How it made his heart sing. So few people actually appreciated bowties anymore. There was that small, mini craze where they were somewhat back in style again thanks to the exploits of Doctor Whom (a British, sci-fi television show) but it eventually faded when the Doctor impossibly regenerated into an old, Scottish woman. But, he wouldn’t get on that train of thought because it would take him to a place that he didn’t care to be right now. He was a work and nerding out was certain not appropriate – until the kid mentioned who his tie represented.
”Oh my god, totally, right?” Booker chuckled as he adjusted his tie so it looked a little straighter. ”I like the Incredible Deathpool run, but, really, The Magnaminous Deathpool is probably my favorite run of all time. I mean, finding out that his sister, Jenpool, is actually the reincarnated soul of his long dead dog, Dogepool! Like…wow…’ He breathed a sigh of relief, stopped and reigned himself in. He had a job to do, after all. ”So…from what I gathered…you are here…to sign up to be an intern, correct?” He crossed his brick like arms over his chest. ”Why?”
Honestly, he wouldn’t tell the kid, but that was his interview process. It all boiled down to “Why” and if it was a good answer, awesome, if not…then it was the chamber of death for him. Well, not really, he would just show him the door and say “I’ll keep in touch” and “lose” his application somewhere in the trashbin. Accidents happened, of course. But first…
He held up his hand before the kid could answer his question and posed another one to him. ”Where’s your application?”
Ah minions! This was Booker’s favorite time of the year. The schools were starting to slow down, summer was coming, and that mean a bevvy of wide-eyed and bushy-tailed young ones could be descending upon the library in search of an interning job. While most librarians didn’t care for having to deal with an inexperienced young-in horning in on their work, for Booker he was more than happy to volunteer and take those calls. He wanted his interns to come to him, to learn, to have respect for the place that they would be working. For the majority of them it was just a stop along the way to bigger, better things, but to those select few who could find their path here, Booker wanted to be the person to guide them right.
The New York Public Library was currently having a lull. It wasn’t as far into the month as he would have liked for things to pick up and be interesting. Instead the library was as silent as a tomb. That was how it should be, of course, as this was an institution of learning and knowledge, but Booker still wouldn’t mind a lively conversation or two to break out about the latest novel releases or even the inaccuracies between popular television shows and the books they were “inspired” by.
With a dull hum from his lips, Booker sat behind the reference in the building, looking over his computer screen as he casually checked the upcoming schedule. He didn’t have much on his calendar just yet and that was slightly obnoxious. Most of the meetings he was supposed to attend weren’t until next week, including the one with that cute book vendor shamelessly flirted with him. What was his name? Jake, wasn’t it? Hmm, highlighted that specific day on his computer’s calendar to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the encounter.
Booker looked rather intriguing for a librarian. His sandy, light-colored hair was cut short and combed back, and his grass-green eyes flashed with a combination of discipline and impishness. The scruffy hair that covered his chin and cheeks cast his face in a manly shadow, but his attire seemed at war with the man’s-man image that he presented. He was dressed in charcoal gray slacks, a matching vest, and a lilac-colored, button-up shirt. And, to top of it all off, was the bowtie that sat tied around his neck. It was black and red, with little circles all around it that featured the iconic symbol of the well-known comic character Deathpool! To some it may seem unprofessional but for Booker, he thought it was merely whimsical.
But enough of him! The man had a job to do and his jade eyes were busy sweeping over the screen in front of him, setting up schedules and getting things situated for the next day. He would get up to do a walk-through in the next few minutes, just to ensure that no books were out of place and, those that were, would be collected and ready for sorting. So, with another tuneless hum on his lips, Booker glanced up to ensure no one was waiting for assistance in front of his desk, before he ducked his head back down. He was a master of this domain. No one was sneaking up on him while he was on the job.
Individual Character's full name: Booker B. Bookman Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: The Librarian, Mr. Handsome McBookpants Gender: Male Age: 34 [Updated 4/12/2023] Date of Birth: 03/20/1989 Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: New York City, New York Nationality: American Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: Caucuasian / Irish mix
Appearance
Hair color and style: Light, Sandy brown. In the sunlight it catches colors of gold and wheat while in darkness it takes on a darker brown hue. Usually his hair will look a little frazzled, partially standing up in messy spikes that looks like he just rolled out of bed and yet is still fashionable somehow? Skin Tone: Normally Booker’s skin tone is a fair, milky shade of pale but lately he has been spending more time out in the sun, playing soccer and being exposed to the sun. Because of this his skin tone is a little toastier these days but still nonetheless light in appearance. Eye Color: A Dark Jade Green Height: 6’2 Build: Surprisingly muscular. Despite stereotypes that center around his job, Booker is actually in great shape. He is quite active in that he works out in the gym regularly, eats right, weight lifts, and jogs at least once a day. His physique has earned him wandering eyes from the patrons of his library, especially when he flexes in the right way reaching for a book or bends down to pick up papers that have mysteriously been strewn about the floor (darn kids). However Booker isn’t one to brag about his own build and can actually be quite shy when others compliment him on it. Visible mutation: N/A Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: Booker has a tattoo of an anthropomorphic, zombified book on his left arm. Underneath it says: “Night of the Living Read!” On his right leg there is an old, healed over gash from when he was twelve. He and his sister were play fighting with their Hot Wheels race track sections when she hit him in the leg and the pin cut his leg. (Whenever they are together he alludes to this by making her do menial tasks because, quote, “My crippled leg hurts”. He’ll never let her live it down.”) Other features: Persistent five o’clock shadow of amazingness! Just adds to his overall scruffy look that so many find completely adorable.
Everyday clothing style: Booker prefers to dress comfortable. Jeans, t-shirts, and button up checkered shirts are some of his favorites. Color-wise he prefers cool shades of blues, greens, and purples and he owns only one brand and style of sneaker, but has multiple copies of the same show in a variety of neon colors.
Uniform: For work Booker prefer neutral, dark colors. These consist of dark gray or black slacks along with a button up shirt and a vest of matching hue. He can almost always be found wearing a bow tie while he is working, the color depending on how he feels in the morning.
Sleepwear: For cold weather Booker is fine in just a pair of flannel pajama bottoms as well as a slightly oversized t-shirt. For warm weather he is found of just sleeping in his silk boxer shorts for optimal coolness.
Miscellaneous clothing: Again, bow ties. Various colors. Because bow ties are indeed cool.
Character
Personality: Quirky is probably the best way to describe Booker. He is an all-around happy individual, one who loves to to follow the beat of his own drum. It is a rare day when you don’t see a smile on Booker’s face and, whenever those days happen, you know something truly tragic has occurred. But, if anything, Booker has displayed an amazing amount of fortitude as he will quickly bounce back from such moments and still dazzle you with a smile and a well-meaning hug. However that is not to say that he doesn’t get angry.
These instances are few and far between but Booker has been known to get angry on certain occasions. Whether it is because he has dealt with an extremely difficult customer, had a terrible, awful, no good, very bad day, or just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and stepped on one of his stray Legos, either way, he can get irritated. Of course his irritation mainly just consists of Booker still being helpful but being more dower about it. However, he has been known to reach levels of actual anger when facing anything that has to do with social injustices, sexism, violence, or threats against mutants. At these times Booker has been known to shout and rant, however he rarely raises his fists in anger; but, if pushed far enough, he doesn’t have a problem with throwing a balled-up fist at anyone.
When it comes to romance, Booker is a big ole softy. He identifies himself as bisexual and is usually pretty open about his orientation. He has dated both men and women and treats both genders with every bit of respect and romantic influence he can muster. Booker is a guy who loves to be in love, but he isn’t stupid enough to just blindly fall head-over-heels with someone; though there has been times where his mouth has gotten ahead of him and he says something outloud he didn’t mean to. He’s working on it. But in relationships, Booker usually puts himself all in. He has eyes only for his partner and if the relationship ends, its’ not because he didn’t try hard enough. Some people can only take Booker’s unique style and quirks a bit at a time, and others have just moved on because they wanted something different. However Booker loves love and isn’t about to quit on it just yet.
Over all, Booker is just a nice guy who wants to have his quiet little corner of the world to read, organize his books, and be in love. Years of reading the classics have spoiled him on how wonderful romances are so he is almost always willing to be in one. He fights for the people he loves and cares about, but he can come off as a bit silly. Still, he takes his job and his passions seriously so be prepared when you meet this guy.
Hobbies/ Interests:
Reading / Books: Booker wasn’t named for his hobby, it just happened to coincide with his namesake. He has always had a great appeal towards books, devouring them in short amounts of time, reading them from cover-to-cover and retaining the information like a sponge. Though he may not seem overly intelligence due to his state of dress and his quirkiness, he is actually extremely intelligent.
Ukulele: Considering a war crime in some parts of the glove (at least that is what his sister says) Booker has an affinity towards the ukulele. He has about four or five of them in his home and tends to play each one depending on which catches his eye during the day. He is actually very good at playing the tiny instrument though not every appreciates it; heathens.
Practical Jokes: If there is one thing that Booker is identified with, it is jokes. He loves to tell jokes, he loves to pull pranks, and he especially loves to focus the majority of them on his sister. Over all the man tends to have a wicked sense of humor and uses pranks as an outlet to get in touch with people. If he has pulled a prank on you then it should go without saying that he likes you and is comfortable around you. He understands if that is of little comfort and offers you this totally innocent can of peanuts to open instead.
Men and Women: Booker freely identifies as bisexual. Both genders have interested him and he has dated both ever since high school. He isn’t afraid to stand up for his orientation and freely voices his opinion on the subject if he starts hearing too many negatives about it.
Organzation: He has a mind for organization, though it may not seem like it. His own apartment will look about as lived in as a frat boy’s would. However, when he is at work, Booker knows exactly where everything goes and won’t budge on changing that unless it’s mandated. Here, or any library he is at, he is extremely organized and know which books belong where without even needed to research them too hard. It’s just a gift, he would say.
Geek Culture: A big fan of comic books, video games, and various other things that would be considered nerdy or geek, Booker freely embraces these. Normally he can be found with a superhero themed t-shirt on, collectibles, and various other things. He loves to attend conventionss and frequently talks his sister or lover (whichever he can blackmail first) into joining him in-costume.
Job or part time job and description: Librarian for the New York Public Library
Fears/ phobias/ concerns:
He’ll Never Find Love: Booker is a hopeless romantic, but for as much fiction as he has read, the man fears that he will never find his one true love. He believes that he or she is out there but has yet to find them. Still, with every passing year and ever failed relationship, it is getting harder and harder to believe that.
Migraines: Booker suffers from intense migraines more often than he would care to admit. Most of the time they are mild enough that he can suffer through work and still retain a fraction of his happy attitude, but the more intense ones have been known to disable him for an entire day. In these instances he prefers to be alone, but may call on the assistance of his sister and/or a lover if he currently has one.
Anti-Mutant Sentiment: He is willing to give anyone a chance, however, those that spout anti-mutant rhetoric will be quick to suffer his wordy wrath. Though deep down he knows that their minds cannot be changed, he is quick to defend his mutant friends.
Joking Too Far: Sooooometimes Booker doesn’t know when to stop. He doesn’t intentionally seek to hurt feelings, but sometimes he can push his jokes a little too far. Whether it be that he becomes completely obnoxious or simply has bad timing, Booker can push the line. However, afterwards, when he realizes this, he immediately feels a wave of guilt, probably more than anyone can inflict upon him.
Anatidaephobia: Somewhere out there, in the world, a duck is watching him -- he just knows it.
Special talents: Not a mutation, but one of those “lucky” individuals, Booker has an eidetic memory. He recalls most everything, which explains his high intelligence. However, it has its ups and downs, as Booker tends to suffer regularly from intense migraines. He has learned to live with them but they can be quite distracting when they hit.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Good – Neutral. Booker always tries to do the right thing. He respect all sorts of people and only wants what best, however his rather whimsical attitude can result in him coming off as a bit chaotic.
Mutations
Mutation description: Booker is an Adapted Human.
Strengths: Completed turns off mutant powers at a Ten foot radius. Weaknesses and Limitations: Never turn off ability.
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Booker is actually has great physicality about him. He works out regularly and is close to peak physical conditioning. Ironically it doesn’t seem like he takes care of himself as he buries himself in books, eats junk food, and so on. However, he is actually works out regularly with weight lighting, jogging, and so on. He has the same strength, speed, and stamina of college athlete.
Fighting Style: Booker really doesn’t have a set fighting style, mainly because he rarely gets into fights. However, when called too, Booker does have some basic knowledge of boxing and grappling from high school. Mainly he just punches and charges at whatever his threatening him; not the most effective of styles.
Fighting Style Pros/Cons:
Pro: Unpredictable. Booker’s “style” really doesn’t follow any set patterns. If pushed into a fight, he will do what he has to in order to defend himself.
Pro: He doesn’t have to train at it other than to flail his strong arms in the direction of the person who is threatening him?
Con: Any person with any martial arts experience is already far more prepared than he is. He’ll get his butt handed to him.
Con:Again, even someone just physically stronger than him or who has a weapon in hard can probably beat him.
History Of Your Character
Where to begin with the story of Booker B. Bookman (and yes, that is his real name). His story shall begin, as most do, in the beginning.
In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the Ea— Okay…we won’t go that far back. How about something a little more reasonable? Booker was born to Buckram “Buck” Bookman and Barbara “Libby” Bookman in the Spring season in New York City. The first of many children planned between the two happy parents, they named their first child Booker, as reflection their deep love of books as well as to ruin the rest of his life (they will vehemently deny that last part). Booker was raised as a fat, happy, and doted upon child. He was the apple of his parents’ eye and gained the most of their attention. But, of course, the Bookman’s wanted their family to grow even more.
It would only be a few short years later when the Bookman’s would add to their family, another son going by the name [REDACTED]. Booker was initially suspicious of his baby brother, being only a few years older than him, he of course wanted the lion’s share of the doting attention that parents could give. This would start a short-lived war between the siblings, where Booker would demand attention from his parents while they were feeding [REDACTED] and shoving crayons in the baby’s drool covered hand whenever he was about to be caught drawing all over the walls (for as clever as he thought his was, his parents were on to him).
However as with some siblings, affection for his baby brother just grew and grew and both Booker and [REDACTED] soon became inseparable. Of course there was still rivalry for the love of parent’s but sibling affection would always be present for the two. It was a love that would stand the test of time and the massive changes that would eventually befall them all.
Booker’s life was almost a fairytale. He did great in school, was an all-time athlete, and despite his nerdy quirks, the young man grew up to by quite popular. However certain discoveries would be made that would open up Booker’s worldview and make him think twice about the person he was going to be.
The discovery’s name was Grant. They were both high school footballers and pair of the best on the team. However they both had a secret that they didn’t realize existed until after one particularly brutal game that was lost to the opposing team – they liked one another. Sharing a comforting beer on the bleachers of their high school, Booker and Grant allowed the buzz they were feeling to get the better of them. As they laid back, looking up at the stars and thinking about how small this lose that everyone was taking so hard really was, the two found themselves looking at one another. The next they knew, lips met and a whirlwind of emotions swept through Booker. He had a girlfriend at the time, a sweet young girl by the name of Kathleen, whom he knew he was one-hundred percent attracted to, but he was also attracted to Grant? It was then that the realization dawned on him – he was bisexual.
For a good while kept this news to himself. The only person who ever knew early one was his brother [REDACTED], and that was only because he had come to Booker with his own struggle with identity. For awhile the two of them helped one another out as best they could, sneaking these bits of information around their parents until the faithful day where they both came out, together. In the end, it would be Booker would have the easier time.
After high school, Booker went off to college. He had his pick of fields, being an athlete and incredibly intelligent. Most would have wanted him to get out of the family business dealing with books but despite the discomfort that his parents now showed to his sister, Vanessa (formally REDACTED), he still had a love of books. Feeling that it was his true calling, Booker worked hard to earn his degree in Literature and from there got a job as a library page for the New York Public Library. But change cannot be silent for long; eventually a new aspect of Booker. B. Bookman would come out of the woodwork, an aspect that he never knew that he had.
In his third year of college, Booker found himself dating a rather amazing young man by the name of Jamal. The two had started off rather casually before it progressed into something deeper. However what he didn’t know was that Jamal was hiding the fact that he was a mutant. With the ability to imbue objects with enough kinetic energy to make them explode, Jamal had done his best to keep that side of himself unknown to the world, even Booker. But during a particularly stressful finals week, when the stresses of his secret, dysfunctional home, and thoughts that Booker was cheating on him (he wasn’t), Jamal lost his control.
While at a finals week party, Jamal had had enough. Most of the crowd was dispersing but when he found Booker talking to classmate across the room, the young man had lost his cool. His powers going nuclear, everything the man touched or brushed against suddenly began to explode into plumes of hellfire until finally he exploded and sent out a burst of energy that nearly destroyed the entire house. It was a terrifying event and, though no one was killed, the only people who managed to escape injury were those who ran out before the real fireworks started; everyone else had been pinned by furniture, burned from the explosions, or had shrapnel embedded into their flesh – everyone, that is, except for Booker.
Deemed “The-Luckiest-Sonnvab****” in that school, Booker managed to escape from the explosions with only a mere abrasion caused by a nearby bookshelf that had nudged him as it toppled over. For days after, Booker thought over and over again about the incident, willing some kind of explanation to pop into his head. He remembered being at the party, he remembered hearing the explosions, he even remembered turning to find Jamal across the way, just before the man issued out an ear-splitting explosion. The funny thing was that the way Booker remembered it, he saw the explosion coming right for him, including a wave of debris, but as soon as it reached within a few feet of him, the flames dispersed and the shrapnel dropped dead to the ground.
He could never explain it, but it wouldn’t be the first time that strange things like this have happened to him. There have been moments where Booker has avoided injury as mutants have collided in New York, somehow baffle would-be thugs who would attempt to use non-existent powers on him, and so on and so forth. For the most part Booker really did consider himself the most lucky fella, but eventually came to learn what he truly was – an adapted, a new strain of humankind who have developed the ability to unconsciously negate the abilities of other mutants. Pity considering how cool he believes mutants to be but awesome on being special! Woo!
Steadily, between school and real life, Booker eventually graduated, went to Grad School, and earned his Master in Library and Information Sciences in a remarkable amount of time. Throughout his years, he continued to refine himself, accepting what he likes and doesn’t like about himself. He classifies himself as a Gerd (a geek/nerd hybrid), and enjoys his fandoms and eccentricities. Family wise he limits talking to his mother and father over the treatment of his sister, Nessa, whom he loves dearly. He tries to regularly pester her because he draws amusement from it and, secretly, is just trying to be a good big brother.
Now Booker finds himself was one of the up-and-coming librarians for his occupation, always willing to lend a hand, always doing what is best for the patrons and for the hallowed knowledge that his institution oversees. For Booker he is exactly where he wants to be in the world and has no plans of ever changing that.
Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: I thought I had escaped. I was free from the wicked place for years. I hid my tracks. I vanished into thin air. And then, just when I felt at my most comfortable and I was ready to close my eyes and allow myself rest, the last thing I saw before they closed was single word…”Google…”
The New York Public Library is a staple of the city in which it resides in. There are scarcely few who do not recognize the towering architecture or the sentinel-like lions that guard the entryways. It is a place of hallowed knowledge, where anyone can be anything. Where children can come and dream about the future. Where adults can travel backwards through history. Where vagrants can sneak in because it’s too cold out and pee somewhere in the reference section while grabbing newspapers to stuff into their less-than-ideal smelling clothing.
Ah yes, the public library. It exists in a strange middle ground where people both reverie it and avoid it at all costs. The elderly remember it fondly, adults somewhat, and children turn up their noses and go back to their iPhones, iPads, and iWhatever-Elses. And yet, despite the steady decline of interest, it is one of those institutions that will stand the test of time; the library, if anything, is adaptable – no matter the change or threat.
Pushing a cart through aisles upon aisles of bookshelves, Booker B. Bookman, a tall man wearing smoky gray slacks, a matching vest, and a rose-colored, button up shirt underneath, whistled to himself as he hunched over, pushing the cart with ease. His physique was clearly visible, molded by his clothing, and seemingly mismatched against the ideas of what someone would have of people who worked in the library. But such sentiments didn’t bother the man with the light, sandy colored hair, the jade green eyes, or the scruffy five o’clock shadow – he was actually quite content.
Moving down the aisles, he stopped at one particular section, literature, and straightened up as he continued to whistle the theme song to his favorite show The Shambling Deceased. Holding the book in hand, he peered at the call number taped to the spine before looking back to the shelves to find its correct location. Spying the gap, the man reached up and slid he book gently into place and beamed – perfection.
Satisfied with his work, the librarian adjusted his blazing red bowtie. The tie had an images of a family comic character, the Biclops! Former leader of the Z-Men. The bowtie was hardly a praise towards the character, however, as it showed the once hero shouted and several lines of text reading ”BICLOPS WAS WRONG!”. It was one of his favorite bowties, one that he wore usually whenever he knew he was going to be seeing his sister, Nessa, who happened to believe the opposite of what the tie so clearly stated. It was the source of many an antagonistic argument between the two which had resulted in them having to officially write up a truce to prevent a repeat of the full out Prank Wars of 2015. Still, while they wouldn’t discuss it, he couldn’t help but wear a little jab whenever he could.
“THIS BOOK IS STUPID! I HATE IT! I HATE BOOKS!!”
“AHHH!!!”
His ears perked at the sound and, soon after, was followed by the scent of soot in the air. Eyes widened, the man abandoned his cart as he followed his nose until he finally ended up in the children’s section. There he found a young boy, angrily holding a book in his hand as flames began to flicker and envelope his body. With a gulp the man started to approach, eyeing the kid, the flames, that the smoldering book with steadily rising wisps of smoke. If the fire alarm went off, the sprinklers would set and the water would drown half the collection. He couldn’t allow that – plus, the kid clearly needed help; luckily he could provide that.
Advancing, Booker took slow steps forward, smiling at the kid when he shot his glance up. The boy wasn’t happy to see him and growled angrily. “THIS BOOK IS STUPID!”
Booker eyed the cover, immediately knowing what he was talking about. ”Aw, I get it buddy. I didn’t like it when Bumble-Door died either. But you know there are more books in the series, right?”
The kid stared at him with bleary eyes. “Y-Yeah?”
Booker nodded and took another step forward. As soon as he did, his area of influence had enveloped the boy and the flames which had already started to die down, flickered out completely. Calm that there would be no more fires for the moment, he breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed one of the comically undersized chairs and pulled it over. To took patience to find the right balance of what percentage of butt cheeks to plant on the chair to keep himself from being too uncomfortable, but he found it as it grinned at the kid.
”And you know what? I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but…” he peered left and right before looking back. ”Mr. Bumble-Door comes back.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “REALLY?!”
Booker nodded. ”Oh yeah, buddy.” he beamed. ”Why don’t you get another copy of the book you…were mad at…and I’ll help you finish reading the last chapter, deal?” He smiled as the kid nodded excitedly and ran off to grab another copy of the burnt book. Leaning down, Booker sighed as he picked up the burnt remains and turned it over in his hands. It was mainly the edges that were burnt but the library wouldn’t keep it in the collection. He’d find a good home for it.
