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needcurse · 9 months ago

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»» * 𝐸LIZABETH "𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽" 𝐻ARMON ஐ🪽 . . . it's an entire world of just 64 squares. i feel safe in it. i can control it; i can dominate it. and it's predictable. so, if i get hurt, i only have myself to blame. < muse notes >

▍ disclaimer : both the queen's gambit book and the limited series are pieces of media that depict severe cases of substance abuse. i will not be shying away from this element of beth's character as it is central to her arc in the narrative. it is also a large part of what informs her motivations and actions as a character. that being said, i myself have not struggled with alcoholism or drug addiction so if at any point my portrayal of either seems disingenuous or wrong please feel free to reach out to me so i can do more research and adjust my writing.

» DOSSIER.

full name: elizabeth "beth" olivia harmon nicknames / titles: beth, the white queen, the rita hayworth of chess, red devil, kentucky state champion (1963–1967), united states champion (1967–), grandmaster (1970–) age: 21-33 years old birthplace: winchester, kentucky gender: cis female ( she / her ) sexuality: bisexual ethnicity: scottish american birthday: november 2nd, 1948 zodiac: scorpio sun, capricorn moon, aquarius rising occupation: professional chess player languages: english, russian, rudimentary french current residence: between kentucky and the rolodex of international hotel rooms she stays in during the competition circuit

» APPEARANCE.

hair: naturally red, more bronze than deep crimson eyes: light blue, can appear more turquoise depending on the light height: 5'5" / 165 cm body type: average height and a more curvaceous build. beth isn't very athletic and struggles with alcoholism that causes her weight to fluctuate often. she teeters back and forth from average to a more plus-sized appearance d epending on how bad she is spiraling at the time. notable features: a scatter of freckles over the bridge of her nose. her perfectly styled red bob with not a single hair out of place. her impeccable wardrobe that is often quoted as being "too stylish for chess". a wide-dissecting stare that is almost uncomfortable in its unwavering focus.

» HISTORY.

beth harmon is orphaned at age eight when her mother dies in a car crash. growing up in an orphanage in kentucky, she is taught chess by the custodian mr. shaibel, and soon becomes a chess prodigy. while at the orphanage, she struggles with an addiction to tranquilizers. in her teens she is adopted by the wheatley family and begins her rapid rise in the chess world, eventually challenging the top soviet players. as her skill and profile grows, so does her dependency on tranquilizers and eventually alcohol

in her adulthood, beth is portrayed as an obsessive, unable to keep any other element in her life in order outside of her own success within the chess competitive landscape. she is a young woman with undiagnosed autism and a good portion of her hyperfixation on the game of chess can be attributed to her particular neurosis. she is also someone who is fairly socially awkward and prefers her own company over the company of others. part of the reason why she enjoys chess is the fact that it doesn't require a conversation or an interaction between players besides what is occurring on the board itself.

outside of her career she has trouble maintaining personal relationships. between her addictions and the amount of focus she puts into improving her strategies, she is an unreliable friend, often disappearing for months at a time without a single phone call or word. overall she is a difficult person to get close to, especially to those who exist outside of the competitive world of chess. the game will always be the center of her life no matter who chooses to stay by her side.

» VERSES.

bridgerton / regency: both a prodigy and an oddity alike. in the wake of the death of beth's adoptive mother she is sent to live with extended family in england, as she was without any support at all in virginia. as an orphan she was hidden away from society and kept in the upper levels of her aunt's home. soon enough, her penchant for chess is made known to the estate's maids and word eventually travels to her aunt who seeks to exploit her niece as a public spectacle. beth is often dragged along to balls and set up in the parlor to play chess against party-goers for entertainment. while she is admired for her skills she is still persona non grata, given her lack of social standing and her status as a woman without a dowry to be given. she exists on the fringes of high society, just within reach but never a part of it.

ninth house / dark academia: what would you do to never lose again? after a crushing defeat on the competitive chess circuit beth looks to unsavory means to ensure all her future victories. making a faustian bargain with a chaos demon she sells a fraction of her soul for boundless luck. enrolling into yale as a mathematics and russian language double major she seeks out the school's magical underbelly once her demon begins to slip its leash.

grishaverse: hailing from the wandering isle beth is currently a student enrolled in the university of ketterdam. when she's not in classes she can be seen making bets over chess with her wealthy classmates. her wins help fund her tuition and also are a way for her to practice her heartrending abilities by checking the pulse points of her opponents. knowing their heart rates helps her guess their next move… and she may toy with the nervous system of her more vindictive adversaries. her grisha status is a secret to the broader public and only her friend jolene is aware of beth's affinity.

pjo / greco-roman myth verse: a gifted tactician and roman demi-goddess, beth is a daughter of mars and valued asset of the legion due to her mind for strategy. her efforts to protect the roman encampment are usually carried out from behind closed doors and she is a figure heavily shrouded in mystery as she herself has never seen battle despite being the progeny of a war god ( this verse is still HEAVILY under construction but i am looking to develop it further ! )

#* canon: beth harmon

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the-smallest-star · 1 year ago

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"I meant you as an individual, rather than a member of the Vees. But alright. But I'm not using rumors." She could play this game. Reaching out, she took his hand, turning it in her smaller ones with care as she examined it. Her eyes raised and watched his expressions, from his grin to his crimson gaze.

"You don't give away much, meaning you hide big parts of your actual self for the image of perfection. You spend vast amounts to mirror the fact thats how you want to be seen, someone with power and endless resources. And you are someone like that, but theres a little more hiding." She held up his hand, "your claws are well kept, showing a keen maintenance routine, but the pads are a little worn. You put in the work, endlessly. You're addicted to it. Addicted to knowing everything. The fact you do your research means you want to be ready for any outcome, you want to surprise your target, potentially a little bit of a control freak who gets satisfaction from seeing the colour on people's faces change."

Her hand reached over the table, gently adjusting his tie, "You don't sleep much, you're constantly looking for feedback to be ahead of the trends or to adjust to the satisfaction rating be it a customer or someone you're interested in. Sadly your image doesn't give away any hobbies, am I close? Been a while since I evaluated someone."

"You want to talk about what interests me? Well, you more or less sit in the seat of the one currently interesting me." Vox said as he leaned over a tiny bit with a smile on his face. "But I'm sure there's a lot going around, sinners talk, what do you think is true when it comes about the gossip of the Vees?" He asked, interesting on what she would think was true or not, now is her chance to ask away about an overlord. Not many gets to be in her shoes.

#hazbin!verse #ClemtheImp #screentimeoverlord

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dddomenstarstwst1 · 2 years ago

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Ideas, you say? Then may I request with Lilia with a side of dollification… it started as a joke, but it’s not a joke anymore. This is my first ask, though take as much time. I adore your writings.. very addicting 💗

I don't know much about dollification, but I've done some research, so hope you enjoy! Thank you for requesting, honey!

My Perfect Doll (ft.lilia)

Warnings: sub!lilia, dom!gn!reader, dollification, dub-con, obsessive behavior, feminization, handjob, praise kink, excessive usage of 'doll'

a/n: this was harder to write than i imagined, but mama raised no pussy so i got this

It felt wrong at first. After all, how could you make your partner sit in one place, in one position for such a long time. Yet, Lilia never complained. Not a word left his mouth since you sat him on the bed.

You'd say it was frightening, if it wasn't... Arousing. Usually you'd never hear the end to his rambling, constant teasing and dirty talking. But right now Lilia was silent, a pretty smile on his face.

"What a beautiful doll I've got my hands on! So pretty. So mine." Your lips twitched into an amused smirk, hands run up Lilia's thighs. The hem of the frilly lolita dress rides up alongside your touch, revealing more smooth skin. It feels like silk under your palms, almost unreal, something of a doll.

Which he is. Your doll, that's what Lilia was. Yours only. With a content smile on your lips, you let the skirt fall down, taking it's place. You wonder how long it'll take you to crack that perfect facade.

Your fingers press on his chest, dropping his weight on the bed. He looks petite compared to it, which only awakens mischief in you. You dig your fingernails in his plush thighs, watching even the smallest of changes in his expressions. His face is still, though you're almost sure you saw one of his eyebrows furrow for a second.

"I'm a lucky person! To have something as beautiful as you, my doll, is a luxury. I want to play with you, I want to touch you, to be your only owner." Your face moves drastically close to his underwear, a pretty piece that matches the overall aesthetic. Carefully, as to not break him, you lift the skirt up, pressing a trail of kisses along his hipbone.

"Mh!" Your eyes shoot open, a wicked smile on your face. Lilia tries to look like nothing happened, but you heard it all too well.

"Don't believe that dolls make sounds. Do they, Lilia?" His lips part slightly, but no sound escapes him, "Good doll. I'm going to use you however I like, you'd like that, right? After all, that's all you're good for."

Crimson eyes follow your movements, stopping when you hook your fingers under his panties. The fabric slides down his legs, revealing aroused dick. Even down there he's petite and pretty, leaking drops of pre-cum.

You spread his legs wider, focusing all attention on his erection. It's clear how this whole situation turns him on, his expressions are the equivalent of desperation. He wants to touch you, wants to moan so loudly, but your piercing gaze wipes any thought off of his mind.

Slowly creeping up, your fingers wrap around his shaft, lazily sliding up and down. The rise and fall of his chest, barely noticeable blush on his cheeks, haziness in his half-lidded eyes - everything indicated how close he was, how edged he was.

"What is it, Lilia? You look on edge. How about I help you with that, let you have that sweet release you're craving for." You wait patiently for his response, but after a couple of seconds of silence you decide to have a mercy on him, "Answer me, doll."

"Please..."

A wicked grin finds it's place on your lips. You're going to have so much fun ruining him tonight.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #sub!character #dom!reader #dom!gn!reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge smut #sub!lilia vanrouge #dollification #cw dubious consent #cw dubcon #cw dollification

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feeblescholarmyass · 2 years ago

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Prologue

cw: panic attack/extreme anxiety, I swear that y/n isn't this nervous all the time, originally written in 3rd person so there may be some wrong pronouns (she/her for placeholder character)

Sumeru boys x GN!reader (together because y/n is a poly bad bitch)

Hello

"Hi, I'm Y/n! I'm a first year Amurta student in the Akademiya. Hold on, I think someone is calling for me. Coming, Tighnari!"

"I'm not sure this is the best idea anymore. Maybe I should have joined Rhawatist with you instead. What if I don't know anyone? I'm gonna fail." You tugged at a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

"Don't be silly, Y/n. You belong in Amurta. As much as I'd love for you to be in my classes, I know you'll do better there." Layla smiled reassuringly at you and squeezed your hand tight.

"Okay. If you're sure." You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "We got this."

The sound of Layla's stomach growling interrupted your gathering of confidence. Layla blushed and you crossed your arms over her chest.

"Layla, what was that?"

"Uh, I may have been so excited that I forgot to eat breakfast this morning... Don't be mad!" Layla whimpered, blinking sadly.

You sighed and shook your head. "It's fine. We can go get breakfast. Thank goodness we share a dorm. Otherwise, I don't think you'd ever have a somewhat proper schedule."

"Yes, Y/n. Sorry, Y/n." Layla giggled, pulling you over to a nearby cafe. The pair sat by a window and ordered their breakfast, both too tired to have much of a conversation.

The sound of voices arguing caught their attention.

"Are you an idiot? No, I'm not getting you coffee. You should have slept last night if you wanted to be less tired."

"Oh, then what's your excuse? You just like the taste?"

"No. I acknowledge my own issues with caffeine. I may have a small addiction. But I, unlike someone, can afford to buy it."

"Ugh! You're so infuriating!"

Layla slouched deeper into the cushion of her seat, using her hood to hide her face. You raised an eyebrow at her, asking Layla for answers silently.

"Don't worry about it. They're some upperclassmen. Alhaitham and Kaveh. They're pretty well known, both for their intellect and attitude."

"Oh. Makes sense. They're already so loud." You shrugged, grabbing your smoothie from the waitress and taking a sip.

"Take a seat, you two." A grouchy sounding voice joined in. You glanced up, searching for its owner. Long, silver hair and crimson eyes captivated your attention.

Your fingers itched for your pencils, hidden deep in your bag. He was so pretty. "And who's he?"

"Oh, that's Cyno. I don't know much about him. He's their friend, I think."

"Hm..." You rested your cheek on your palm, watching the group of boys. "And who's that?"

"Tighnari. He's the more mild one in the group, as far as I've heard. I think he's from the same darshan as you." Layla yawned. Her head nodded once, twice, then once more before quiet snores overtook anything else she had to say.

You sighed, moving Layla's food out of the way so she didn't land in it, then helped her lay her head on the table in a somewhat comfortable position so she didn't wake up aching.

"Maybe that will be my first project. I'll make a sleep aid for Layla that she can actually afford. If she agrees to be a test subject, I bet I could give it to her for free in the name of research." You muttered to yourself while twirling your straw around in your smoothie.

When Layla finally woke up, the two of you finished breakfast and hurried to the Akademiya. You now stood in front of the huge main doors, surrounded by fellow students. Layla pulled you to the side, knowing that you both needed some space.

"Okay, you're going to do great Y/n. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?" Layla smiled reassuringly, only slightly less tired than earlier.

"Mhm. Lunch," You muttered distractedly. Your hands were shaking and you felt a little like you might throw up. The thought of lunch made it worse. You were lucky that you had gotten that smoothie down earlier. If you tried eating now, your really would puke.

"Go make some friends in Amurta. You're good at that. You're gonna be the most adorable first year there, you hear me? You're cute, you're confident. The stars never lie." Layla squeezed your hands twice, not letting go first.

You squeezed back and took a deep breath. "Same with you. You'd better make some friends who can keep you awake during class, or at least let you borrow notes."

"We got this," Layla grinned. You grinned back. You let go of each other's hands and began on separate paths to your darshans.

You kept your eyes on the ground, your peripheral vision going just far enough that she could avoid running into others. You knew that if you looked up and saw the vaulted ceiling and crowd of people, the tears you had already fought down would return.

You knew all of this, but you looked up anyway.

"Archons, I can't do this," you whispered, panic overwhelming you. You looked for an exit, anything that would get you out. A familiar face or a room that had a lot less people.

You found a door to a copy room and snuck in, closing the door behind you. You covered your mouth and bit your lip, trying to force the tears to go away.

It didn't work.

You grabbed the chiffon scarf you had worn specifically to distract yourself, tugged it closer around your shoulders and crouched in the corner.

Amidst your panic, you hadn't noticed that the copy room wasn't empty. An older boy watched you silently, shock keeping him quiet.

After some time, you senses started to slowly return to normal. That was when you noticed someone standing in front of you. You breath caught in your throat and you slowly looked up.

The boy with pretty hair and cute animal ears looked at you with wide eyes.

"Are you okay?"

#🪻ash writes #alhaitham #cyno #tighnari #kaveh #x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #kaveh x reader #sumeru #sumeru boys #fanfic #long fic

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

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thingsiwannareblog · 7 months ago

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In high school I wanted to write a book about this, and these resources were EXACTLY what I was looking for! It was going to be a series of essays by various scholars, exploring all the things that vampires tend to be metaphors of: sex, death, disease, addiction, queerness, the Other, etc. etc. and why exploring these topics through a fantastical lens was helpful for certain time periods and so on! It was going to be titled “Thirst: What Vampires Mean and Why They Matter.”

It was going to be the third book in a series of four. The whole thing was actually constructed the same way as a multi-movement symphony in the Classical music canon:

Sonata-Allegro first movement (vampire novel 1, which would be an epistolary novel with portions in many different and modern formats - if Dracula has newspaper clippings and phonograph transcripts, then mine would have captures of websites, fictitious research papers and lab reports, and archived IRC conversations!)

a Theme and Variations movement (vampire short stories compilation, each sharing a nominal theme but progressing over the course of the book towards more and more twisty and indirect takes on the theme, just like a musical theme and variations)

a “Slow Movement” (the scholarly analysis I described above, also including a semi scientific explanation for how the vampires in the novels worked!)

and then the Finale, which would be another Sonata-Allegro and therefore the sequel to the first vampire novel!

The whole work would collectively be titled “A Symphony in Crimson” and was very very edgy and sophisticated and cool and surely the greatest thing ever! (Remember, I was in high school and also pretty damn pretentious!)

I actually did a substantial amount of research - literary for the essays, plus reading as much as I could about the origins of the myth and its evolution over time, scholarly work about Dracula and Varney and Carmilla all of them - and bio lit-review for the sciency vampire mechanics of the novels (how would super strength work? What would an obligate sanguivore’s metabolism be like? What could explain the aversion to sunlight and running water? What would the transmission mechanism be? I got so in-depth that it was to the point where I had identified certain phenotype traits that I suspected would correlate with someone as having a stronger resistance to the vampire retrovirus!). For like a year or more, I would stay at the school library for hours doing reading and research after my classes were done because that was my main hobby. …And definitely NOT because I was procrastinating and avoiding all my classes, extracurriculars, and studying for standardized tests, nope…

Actually writing is, of course, substantially harder. I got as far as nine plot summaries (including the two novels and several of the short stories) and one or two incredibly rough and bad chapters of novel 1.

And then something terrible happened. Something that shook me to my core and made me abandon my project entirely;

Twilight got big.

I was FAR too much of a hipster/contrarian/gatekeeper/snob to stand it! Vampires, my nerdy and niche and counter-cultural special interest, were suddenly mainstream! Just mere months ago I had been openly mocked for my fascination with them, and then suddenly they over saturated the pop culture zeitgeist to the point where it was “basic” of me to like them!

I was FURIOUS and devastated and swore off my magnum-opus-to-be… and DEFINITELY wasn’t secretly relieved because it was turning out that writing was way, WAY harder than geeking out in a library and hoarding books and articles.

Anyways, I still think about the whole thing sometimes. For one thing, I’ve realized how immature it was of me to abandon vampires as an interest just because they were suddenly popular. Twilight ain’t fine literature, but a lot of my objections to it were actually internalized misogyny rearing its ugly head (“it’s GIRLY and STUPID and TRIVIAL, and I don’t like it because I’m NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS!”). In the end, it’s an okay book series, and Stephanie Meyer *actually wrote and published* four books (in that series alone), which is more than I can say now and probably more than I ever will be able to say.

only if you feel like sharing - ive been thinking about vampires in lit/media recently and considering how there are sometimes parallels with media representation of addiction.. do you by any chance have any recommended resources related to this (or addiction rep in media in general)?

I'm going to be honest, I'm mostly a casual enjoyer of literature/media/etc. I tend to just point at various books/shows/movies and go "bitch me too". so I don't really know where to point you in regards to real actual resources. I will, however, point you in the direction of my beloved mutual @annabelle--cane... they Know and Understand this shit better than anyone else I know

#long ramble #ADHD #vampires #lofty plans and no follow through #my life in a nutshell #reformed twilight hater #Dracula

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crimsonforensicscience · 9 months ago

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The Emerging MDMA Pandemic

Editorial

A new wave of epidemic is emerging that is posing serious mental health risks to people all around the world. This epidemic is caused by a club or party drug 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine (MDMA). MDMA is a psychoactive drug with stimulant and hallucinogenic properties first made in 1912 by the German pharmaceutical company Merck. It was found to improve psychotherapy beginning but later became popular as a street drug in the 1980s [1]. In the year 2017, between 9 and 29 million persons between the ages of 15 and 64 used MDMA i.e. 0.19% to 0.71% of the world population [2]. It is used primarily as a recreational drug associated with the "rave" culture and, as yet, has no accepted medical uses.

Read More About This Article: https://crimsonpublishers.com/fsar/fulltext/FSAR.000552.php

Read More Crimson Publishers Google Scholar Articles: https://scholar.google.com/citations?view_op=view_citation&hl=en&user=BcljX0IAAAAJ&cstart=20&pagesize=80&authuser=1&cit crimsonpublishers ation_for_view=BcljX0IAAAAJ:_Ybze24A_UAC

#Crimson Addiction Research #Crimson Forensic Science #Crimson Publishers Google Scholar

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herstarburststories · 4 years ago

Text

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle.

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea, how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once.

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction.

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

#dean winchester x reader #YASPOCREADERCHALLENGE #deanwanddamons2Kcelebration #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x you

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twisted-crumpets · 5 years ago

Text

Hey guys, I wanted to make a g/n version of the kiss headcanons, because I felt bad that some people may not feel included or couldn’t properly enjoy the meal. If there’s any headcanons that you want me to do this for, please ask me it’s perfectly fine.

Quick note: Rook’s nickname for his darling had to be changed, because it was not gender neutral. However, this one “mon petit oiseau” (my little bird), is. This was found out through research, if I am wrong, please tell me.

━━ Trey Clover ━━

Trey was always pretty observant and soon noticed how his feelings may not be as unrequited as he previously believed.

Pink blushes and eyes dreamily locked onto each other’s for too long was sort of a dead giveaway. However, Trey wished to formally explain his feelings for his S/O.

Unfortunately, an Unbirthday Party was coming up and whilst all of the treats were made, the roses were a far cry from done and Cater begged anyone who’d listen for help.

Hearing the third year’s desperate pleas, his darling decided to meet up with Trey so they could both tackle as many roses as possible.

The job wasn’t completely unpleasant, yes they both would rather be doing something perhaps a bit more enjoyable, but they both treasured each other’s company and the small talk was rather entertaining.

It wasn’t long before it finally clicked in Trey’s mind that they were alone and peered down at his love, who was honing their all into making a stubborn rose red.

“S/O, I’m sure you are well aware but I just wanted to say.. I love you.”

His darling nodded at first before taking a violent double take and glancing at Trey, baffled and red at his casual confession.

“Hmm~ was it not obvious already? I would’ve thought you already knew.”

Teasingly chuckling at them, he pressed a gentle kiss against their crimson cheek, unable to hide his smirk. Cupping their warm face in his hands, he looked deep into their eyes to ask for permission before pressing his lips against their own.

The kiss was long and warm. It filled them both with a feeling of home and and comfort and neither of them wanted to leave.

Eventually, Trey pulled away, poking their still red face with his finger, unable to wipe his former smirk off of his face at her bashfulness.

The garden may not have been very finished, but they couldn’t care less when they had one another in their arms.

━━ Ruggie Bucchi ━━

Ruggie was worried. He always knew that he wanted to eventually confess how he feels to his love, but he knew that with essentially no money, he had limited resources.

Sneaking money out of Leona’s wallet little by little, Ruggie began to feel more confident in finding the perfect inspiration or possible gift for his beloved. As he stood in Sam’s shop, he felt a deep sense of regret for not just stealing a necklace to sell instead.

Prices so high it made him dizzy in the head and weak in the knees. Despair lingering in his chest.

That is, until he saw Trey buying some eggs which caused an idea take root in his mind. Baking was something couples did often and it did sound rather romantic. Plus, who was he to deny spending time with his love and filling his stomach for delicious doughnuts?

After class, S/O was nearly tackled to the floor by the blur that was Ruggie who had a strong determined look twinkling in his eyes. “Shishishi sorry about that... hey! Uh before you go, I’ve been asked to make some treats by Leona, but I barely know much about it. Do you mind giving me a hand?”

Tentatively, his S/O nodded their head, eyebrow raised in bewilderment before parting ways, delighted and perplexed.

Making their way to the kitchen, they began to wonder what was in store. The hyena loved to play pranks, maybe he had one in store for them?

It was however a great relief to see the cheeky student frowning at the recipe as if it was in another language.

His ears cutely twitching hearing their giggles, his head shooting up and with a grin so wide that it could’ve split his face in two adorned on his face.

Hours passed and they couldn’t deny that the evening was very gratifying, with the happy chatter and raucous laughter that filled the room. When doing a count of the doughnuts that were laid out on their tray, they soon noticed one had gone missing and quickly informed Ruggie, teasingly questioning him about its whereabouts.

“Shishishi ahhhh S/O this has been gone for ages~~ you are too easy to trick!”

Placing it back on the tray, they observed the design on the surface, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates after resist to messy “I love you” scrawled onto the surface of the small treat.

Cooing at the sweet gesture, they wrapped their arms around the trickster and softly responded to his feelings, immediately feeling him let out a gigantic sigh of relief.

Pulling away slightly, they stared at his lips entranced before finally connecting them, a cute yelp escaping from the boy.

The kiss was sugary sweet and fluffy and many more was stolen by the playful thief, accompanied by booming laughter and warm doughnuts.

━━ Jade Leech ━━

The Monstro Lounge has always been a rather busy establishment and had many a particularly busy day. Today seemed to be one of them as the orders kept piling up and showed no signs of stopping. Tireless hours catering and cleaning, until finally the crowd has thinned until the room was empty once more and the Lounge was finally closed.

Weary and stressed, Jade decided to go to the school pool and unwind. The tranquil silence flooded the room and Jade slowly sank into the room watery depths, feeling himself becoming truly serene. Which was sadly interrupted by voices from above calling his name.

With a slightly irritated sigh, he heaved himself onto the pool’s edge, scanning his surroundings with narrowed eyes. That was until they befell onto his love and instantaneously softened.

“Oya? What are you doing here S/O? Surely it is due time for you to be back in your dorm?”

His stomach suddenly felt light and filled with his butterflies learning of his dearest’s concern for him and slowly shut his eyes, not expecting them to stay and hurried rush a variety of sentences jammed together creating one love fuelled mess.

Disheartened by the lack of reply, they went to leave, slightly embarrassed before they were stopped by a cool hand wrapped around their wrist, revealing a slightly pink Jade.

“I must inform you that your feelings are not unrequited.. I love you too, my flower.”

Tugging their wrist to kneel by the pool side, he tilted his head upwards and connected their lips, completely intoxicated by the contrast between their bodies.

Gasping for air, his darling didn’t notice the toothy smile spread across Jade’s face as he pulled them into the pool, wrapping their arms around his neck and connecting their lips once more.

Addictive kisses were stolen and exchanged and neither of them could ever wish for more as they melted into one another, hearts swelling with every touch.

━━ Jamil Viper ━━

Jamil was ready to pass out. His usual menial chores were increased tenfold as a result of Kalim and his impulsive decision to let his wild pets roam free inside the dorm.

The chaos of the day finally reaching its end, Jamil dragged himself towards his room, ready to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Until, he set his eyes on his love sat patiently on his bed, instantly brightening and then furrowing their eyebrows in worry over the fatigue that seemed to radiate from every part of his body.

Ushering him to bed hurriedly, Jamil fought every urge to sleep as he inquired about why they waited for him at such a late hour.

When hearing them admit their worry for him, he scoffed and gently flicked them on the nose, thankful for the darkness of the room hiding the pink that was painted across his cheeks.

“That was rather foolish of you. This is my job and has always been, you don’t need to worry for me.”

He softened at their indignant whines of protest he brought their into a warm hug and sleepily murmured his feelings into their hair, blissfully unaware of what he just said until he felt his beloved stiffen up in his arms.

“Hmmmmm.... I love you, you know that right, Jewel?”

Calmly he apologised, unable to hide the slight disheartenment in his tone which left him as soon as he heard them shyly repeat his previous words.

Cradling their face, he pressed his lips to theirs in a small tired kiss, lips moving in sync lazily. Tiredly pulling away, Jamil crawled under his covers and gestured for them to follow suite as he pressed his warm frame against theirs and held their back close to his chest. His heart thumping wildly in joy, his brain still struggling to process the sheer amount of love he holds for his beloved.

“Goodnight my Jewel, I will wake you up in the morning.”

━━ Rook Hunt ━━

Rook had been acting suspicious. He already did have a shady appeal to him, but it was even more apparent than usual.

Whenever he appeared before them, his scent began to be rather sweet and fragrant and his hands where always stained green.

It didn’t help that he kept staring intently at his love like they was the last star in the sky, and despite his usual romantic bravado, this new behaviour screamed at them that he was planning something.

During the lunch break, Rook eagerly bounced up to them, hearts almost visible in his eyes, asking if they was free after school. Taken aback by his suddenness, they stood and stared for a while trying to gather their bearings. Agreeing apprehensively, they couldn’t hide the curiousity filling their eyes.

Upon hearing their reply, he could’ve sworn he entered heaven.

He almost launched them to the botanical garden, his heart running marathons, his mind a mess of thought out poems combining into one chaotic choir of infatuation.

With happiness radiating in every step, he took them to an picturesque area where an archway of orchids greeted them.

“Dear S/O, no amount of words could possibly describe how much my heart swoons for you, my love for you is as bountiful as the sea, encasing me in your radiance. This simple archway is a humble tribute to your golden heart, which I hope to one day own.”

Going weak at the knees at such a heartfelt confession, they responded with such excitability that could have put his to shame.

A stronger sense of devotion was glowing in the hunter’s eyes as he wrapped his toned arms around his love, span them in a circle, holding them close to his heart and kissed them with immense passion.

The kiss was fiery and warm and his darling could feel themselves melt even further into him.

The kiss went deeper and deeper, drowning them both.

Pulling away, Rook panted for air and presses his forehead against their’s.

“Hehe, mon petit oiseau, our love seems to truly be written in the stars.”

━━ Lilia Vanrouge ━━

Lilia was always very mysterious, but it truly did reach new levels of strange.

The mischievous fae had planned to hang out with his S/O a week in advance and seemed to be up to no good, with the telltale glint in his eyes being a dead giveaway.

Meeting up with his darling at their dormitory, he placed a hand on the small of their back, and began to lead them into the forest.

“Kufufufu I believe that in order for our small rendezvous to be truly enjoyable, one must insist for their guest to close their eyes and have faith in their partner.”

Apprehensively, they placed both hands into Lilia’s cold and calloused hands, shivering slightly at the temperature different between the two and closed their eyes, making them more aware of the sounds the dark forest created.

Sweet bird song and the light windy breeze clashed together in perfect harmony, gifting them the ability to completely relax and put their faith in the impish boy.

It felt as though they both had been walking for a millennia until they were finally stopped in their tracks, and the giggling from the man who was once before them turned silent.

Curiously, they opened their eyes and gasped in amazement. The scenery around them was nothing short of magnificent.

The moon had begun to peak out and painted the trees a beautiful silver. Small delicate beads of light flickering around, illuminating the forest gracefully.

Slowly turning around, they jumped at the sight of the usually talkative fae, quietly smiling lovingly at the innocent joy on his lover’s face.

“Sweet dove, the words I utter now are the words you are the true emotions that have taken flight within me. I love you. No, love isn’t enough, it scarcely passes as sufficient enough. There is no word that exists within any of the dictionaries in all the world that could possibly describe how much I cherish every part of you.”

Hearing their acceptance towards his feelings, he giggled so purely it reminded them of tinkling bells and elegantly dipped them, gazing at their loving expression that was aimed at no one but him and pressed his lips smoothly against theirs.

He could’ve sworn that nothing fit quite so perfectly as the two of them, lips moving in sync, hearts beating a thunderous rhythm, joy and mirth beaming through their lovestruck grins.

I hope you enjoyed your meal!

#twisted wonderland #twst #brain frying #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #g/n reader

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

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Hi lovely 💖 I have a request for some reca for the community. I have no idea how to search for it but I have a burning need for fics involving John being a confident flirt or coming on to Sherlock and S being a blushing disaster. I know I’ve read some before (like the one where John is a wereslut lmao) but I can’t think of anymore. Anyone in the remaining hive mind got ideas? 💖💖💖 thank you for doing god’s work in these trying times and always being wonderful.

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhh I think the fics on my John Centric Fics / Sex God John masterpost might be good!

Here’s some flirting fics, so thank you for the excuse to start a new list!! <3 Of course, if anyone has any suggestions, please add your own! <3

FLIRTING

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

The Effect of Memory by testosterone_tea (E, 6,430 w., 1 Ch. || Praise Kink, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Confused Sherlock) – John has temporary amnesia coming off of anaesthesia after an operation and not only does he not recognize Sherlock, he starts flirting with him! After John recovers, he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But Sherlock does. Confusion ensues.

To Quote Malcolm Tucker; or, Get The Fuck In or Fuck The Fuck Off by kim47 (T, 8,484 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous Sherlock, Flirting, Cockblocking) – Sherlock is cockblocker and a prick tease and John is not amused.

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

The shape of the world around us by Salambo06 (E, 15,058 w., 5 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock, Different First Meeting, John Has a Beard, Light Case Fic, Flirting, First Kiss / Time, Masturbation, Love at First Sight, Horny Sherlock, John’s Bum, Bottomlock, Tenderness, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Shy Sherlock, Sexual Fantasies) – Looking through the bush, Sherlock felt his heartbeat quicken as a man passed in front of him. Sherlock frowned, trying to get a closer look despite the bush. The man was wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up to his elbows, and Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off the man’s arms. Muscular, slightly tanned with golden hairs along his forearms. For some unknown reason, Sherlock found himself imagining them around his waist, holding him tightly. Closing his eyes for the briefest second, Sherlock shook his head. Opening his eyes and looking back to where the man stood only a moment prior, he found himself alone. Great, now his only chance to find his way back to town was gone. “Why are you wearing a suit?”

Second Chance by SilentAuror (E, 15,816 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Post-Divorce, Friends to Lovers, UST, Romance) – Now that John's divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that...

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Post-TRF, Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasm Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Prostate Massage, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging, Internalized Homophobia, Case as Foreplay, Anal Beads, Tickling, Dancing, Dry Coming, Romance) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

31_Days_of_Porn_Challenge_2017 Series by distantstarlight (E, 96,540 w. across 31 stories || Prompt Ficlets, Assorted Kinks, PWP) – A collection in response to the 31 Days of Porn Challenge issued by AtlinMerrik! Thanks for doing that because this has been buttload of fun (that joke never gets old). All stories will be brief stand-alone one-shots.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #flirting #my fic recs #captain-bumble

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babyboywilson · 4 years ago

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Tinsel and Tourists (A Hallmark Christmas Fic) Chapter Seventeen

Word Count: 1,047

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“I’m sorry,” were the first words out of Sam’s mouth when Dean got out of the Impala at the crime scene.

“Seriously, I’m gonna be lucky if Cas ever talks to me again. That’s twice now I’ve bailed on him because of this case,” Dean said, sucking in a deep breath as an image of Cas’ hurt expression flashed through his mind as they ducked under the police tape and flashed their FBI badges. “The sooner I can rip this thing apart, the better.”

“Ripping might not work. Burning, though, that just might,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow before motioning for Dean to follow him into the woods and away from the PD gathered around a body they were zipping up into a bag.

“Alright, what do you know? What did you and Bobby dig up? And please say whatever it is can be killed quickly and efficiently.”

Sam threw Dean a curious look as they crunched through the compacted snow. “What’s the rush?”

“I might have told Cas I’d meet him at the diner after we were done here.”

“Dude, seriously? Come on. You know better than to make empty promises. I don’t even know if we can track this thing down tonight, let alone kill it within a time window.”

Dean sighed, moving to tuck his gun comfortably into the back of his waistband just in case he needed it. “I know. But Cas is-”

“Different? Yeah, I gathered as much,” Sam said. And then, softer: “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

Ignoring the question, Dean replied, “If you’re about to give me the ‘no attachments and don’t care about anyone’ spiel, I’m going to stab you in the face.”

“Dean,” Sam said cautiously.

“I know, Sam! You think I don’t already know? That I haven’t been thinking about it every second of every minute over the last few days. But I can’t help fall-” Dean cut himself off violently. When he spoke up again, it was with a longing tone. “It’s too late. It’s already happened.”

When Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye to look over at Sam, he could see the way his brother took in a sharp breath. Whether in surprise, disappointment, or approval, Dean wasn’t sure. Before he could ask, they’d stepped out into a clearing.

Jumping at the chance to change the topic, Dean spun around, taking in the scenery. “Okay, what is this?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he saw it; the tree trunk shaped conveniently like a rounded altar, and the dried rusty stains that had dripped down the bark, bleaching the crisp snow a dark crimson.

“Sacrificial altar,” he muttered.

“Uh huh,” Sam said, moving closer to the ring of trees. “Tell me, what’s something you’ve seen around here a lot? More than you’ve ever seen growing in one place before.”

Dean pondered the thought for a second, eyebrows scrunching together as he searched for something out of the ordinary besides extreme Christmas decorations and bright blue eyes that had Dean weak at the knees. It was actually thoughts of Cas that triggered the answer. “Mistletoe,” he said, looking up at the massive tree that stood tall and proud next to the tree trunk altar; the tree absolutely covered in mistletoe in more bunches than Dean had ever seen in his life.

“Any idea what trees are around here?”

Dean shook his head.

“Oak. The whole town is basically overrun by them. And almost every single tree is bursting with mistletoe. I noticed it earlier, when I took a break from researching while you were out with Cas. Thought it was just the one tree outside the motel; turns out it’s all of them. So I called Bobby-”

“And? What did he say?” Dean urged.

“Well, we were able to narrow it down to something Celtic. Which fits with our theory of sacrificing for a God as opposed to actually being a God. Bobby needed more details about what the vic looked like after being killed, which was what I was on my way to do when the Sheriff called and told me about Ollie’s body being found.”

“Celtic? Why does that sound familiar?” Dean asked, voice trailing off as he wracked his brain, slowly pacing across the snow. Celtic. Celtic. Celtic. Sacrificial killings. Small town. Winter solstice.

“Dad’s journal. I think there might be something in there. I’m sure I’ve seen the word Celtic when I’ve been flicking through it,” Dean said, turning to look at Sam.

“Where is it?”

“In the Impala,” Dean said, already turning on his heel to walk back the way they’d come. Try as hard as he might, he just couldn’t bring the page in the journal into clarity in his mind’s eye. But he knew there was something there. Something about the mistletoe was ringing a bell, and Dean was determined to figure it out.

The sooner he figured it out, the sooner he could get back to Cas and kiss the daylights out of him; solely to prove to Cas that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Okay, and maybe because Dean had fast become addicted to the taste of Cas’ lips against his own. Yeah. It was definitely too late; he was well past falling at this point. He was utterly besotted by Cas. Well and truly love-sick. God. How much longer until he could see Cas again?

As soon as they got to the Impala, Dean yanked open the glove compartment with shaking hands as he pulled out the journal. Flicking through the pages, Dean skimmed each entry, looking for-

“There, right there,” Sam said, hand darting out to catch a page before Dean moved onto the next one; his finger hovering over the word Celtic.

Darting his eyes across the page, he saw the little sketch of another tree stump altar, almost identical to the one they’d just left in the clearing. Scratched next to it were the words: Irish, mistletoe, oak, ritualistic human sacrifices, blood omens, sinners.

Tracking along the page as fast as he could, Dean finally caught the word he was looking for. “That’s it,” he said, tapping the page with his fingertip as everything clicked into place with startling clarity. “That’s what we’re hunting.”

Tag List Part 1 Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)

Tag List: @cas-deserved-so-much-more @hello-x-sunshine @bibelphegor @likepurplemuses @expectingtofly @neo-neo-neo @shadowywerewolfqueen @a-sweet-indisposition @feraladoration @xojo

@oganizediguana @paintdriesfaster @adsp-destielcockles @destielangst @im-your-huckle-berry @justa-crayon @dea-stiel @superduckbatrebel @destielfactory @miluiel-erynion

@y-yo-a-ti-cas67 @cockleslovesdestiel @toxic-nebula @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @enchantinghairdoherringwombat @proudace @galaxymysteryelephant @aelysianmuse @ramennoodles-dean-cas @you-changedmedean

@gmos-winter-wonderland @deansotherotherblog @trekkie24 @geo-val @dizzypinwheel @hermionevaldez9 @gimmeprozac @iamsherlockedondoctorwho @dickspeightjrs @imbiowaresbitch

@destielle @hopefuldreamers-world @organicpurplepants @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @shut-up-dean @sapphirecobalt-1 @eshaninjer @spnobsessed50 @mishka @holygoddessofvictory

@jayus-fandom-writer @2musiclover2 @rainbowscas @bennedict @cassiecasyl @jensenacklesruinedmylife @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @chaoticdean @destiel-trash-asf @tlakhtwritesdestiel

@bri-winchester @50shadesofcockles @trasherasswood @spittingpagan @castielstolemyheart @becky-srs @phoenix13 @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @deancasology @top13zepptraxx

@love-neve-dies @good-things-do-happen-dean @tearsofgrace @thedirtytrenchcoat @a-porno-with-the-russian-mafia @on-a-bender @moi-the-bard @one-more-offbeat-anthem @naturallyathief @queen-rowenas

#casefic #dean winchester #sam winchester #christmas #destiel

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arastarboy · 4 years ago

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The Sparrow's Heart

Chapter 1 - Death

The bells rang ever so loudly in his head, their harrowing sounds growing evermore present, like an incessant nuisance. Until this critical juncture, where they at last silenced themselves. He found peace at last. The droplets of rain striking his smeared visage cleansed of the impurities that stained him, but there was an untraceable bitter taste that lingered on his tongue where the rain fell. The coldness spread from his core to the extremities, swallowing him whole. It wasn't long before the calming touch of the rain he relished mere moments ago, now felt like nothing at all. Genji turned his gaze from the endless cloudy sky to where he felt some sensation. He looked down, to see his severed arm paint the earth with a sorrowful crimson. A blade impaled through his sternum, the sparrow still felt the steel extend its reach beyond his bareback. Weakness overcame him but in a moment of solace, as he accepted his faith and prepared for departure to the endless nothingness that awaited him, he mustered the strength to grasp the hand that wielded the bane of his existence with the arm that remained tethered.

"Are you at peace, Hanzo?" The Sparrow muttered, an inquiry met by damning silence. "You've fulfilled your duty and slain your only brother." Still, he was met with silence and with frustration mounting a second wind sparked new life within. A grip that fixated on Hanzo's wrist now took him by the collar drawing Hanzo closer to his brother, as death's grip tightened around Genji. "You're despicable. You didn't learn a thing from our father. You let the elders played you like some pawn."

The blade from Genji's abdomen was extracted, at last, the venom in his dying words finally began to take effect upon the apathetic Hanzo, invoking the turbulence of emotions, he so desperately attempted to suppress, to surface. Angered, Hanzo gave his brother one final push, forsaking him to the earth. A solemn vow to fulfill his duty to the clan he valued above all else, including the life of his brother, upon which he metaphorically spit on with a last act of disrespect. "You're but a disgrace to the clan. You are not fit to be Shimada. You have forgotten the burden the name carries. We can no longer abide by your childish behaviour, Genji."

Turning heel the last living Shimada departed, kicking dirt onto the body that would soon be a corpse. It was only mere moments ago, that he could appreciate the colourless darkened sky in all its glory. It was monotone and drab, but there was beauty in simplicity. Beauty that slipped from his grasp with each passing second, slowly the crying skies above became nothing but a hazy reflection until it became nothing at all. An endless void from which light could not escape, the eternal nothingness. Genji verbalized nothing for he damned his faith, he did not embrace death willingly and it is only in his twilight he came to realize. Death had forced thyself upon him. How he longed for the pleasures of the flesh that he once drowned in, without a thought for consequence. A female companion wrapped around one arm and a drink that would make any man far more honest than he was capable of being in the other. Even the sounds of the arcade machines now played in his head like an addictive melody, even if such sounds were anything but. "I don't want to.." But the choice was not one for him to make.

"Calling Overwatch HQ, Agent ID: X-90843. Operation: Dragon's Breath. Code Alpha: Requesting immediate medical assistance. The subject is in critical condition. EMT has stemmed the bleeding but the wounds still prove to be fatal. Transporting subject to Tokyo facility. Priority: Valkyrie."

"Out of the way!"

"Operating room now!"

"Where is she?!"

"She's on her, ETA 15 mins. Tracer is with her."

"He won't make the 15 mins."

The hands of time mercilessly marched on. With each second that was lost to the sands of time, Genji's spirit communion to the great beyond intensified. A pitiless existence, transfixed onto the great divide between life and death, unallowed to cross into either.

"Even if she gets here now, there's nothing she can do.."

"Then it's a good thing Overwatch's medical research is ahead of its time wouldn't you say?"

A voice commanded the attention of the room as the doors to the operating room flung open. The committer, however, was careful not to contaminate the cleanroom and abide by the strict protocols set in place, dressed in a white lab coat, flaxen hair tied up and away from potentially hindering her work, a stethoscope slung around her neck. She walked with purpose and urgency, just a pace short of running. Approaching the patient with one glance she assessed his condition, the accompanying report was studied just as quickly and put to the side, which only served to reinforce what she had already predicted. "You over there!" She commanded personnel as if this was a battlefield and she was the presiding commander. Beeps of all kind sounded off, each one indicating one critical condition after another. They were cascading, mounting, becoming overwhelming.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!"

Even as the room around her descended the spiral of chaos, she stood steady at the eye of the storm, steadfast and resolute, armed with the skills and knowledge to navigate the storm. With two paddles she marched onto his bedside. "Move!" She demanded. "Clear!" She carried as she imposed the two paddles onto his chest. The electrocardiogram detected no significant change. So she tried again. "Clear!" And again. "Clear!" And Again. "Clear!"

"Dr. Ziegler.." A nurse placed a hand on her shoulder, to distract and detract but the same complexion of determination persevered. "Clear!" She slowly retreated the paddles. Perhaps it was time to admit, admit that even for all the advancements in medicine she made, all the times she stubbornly defied the odds, there are some souls the grim reaper was unwilling to let loose once more onto the world. It was then, the eternal void answered her remorse. The monitors once more established a steady pattern. The heartbeat she read was weak, but it was stable.

"Induce hibernation for at least a month." She directed. "Providing he can maintain this heart rate for another hour we can proceed with the operation. We'll need to amputate both legs. The tissue has already begun to die, we need to act quickly before an infection sets in. Ready the therapeutic cybernetics, we'll install them right away, as long as the neural interface is successful he should wake up feeling as if nothing has changed."

Drawing a pen from her pocket, she recovered a holo pad upon which she scribed all her directives and approved with her impression at the bottom, before handing it off to the appropriate staff to follow through.

"Prepare the healing pod. There's not much tissue left, but we'll at least be able to regenerate what remains."

The doctor turned to the patient once more, sapphire hues carefully studying what remained. From what patches of skin not stained by crimson, she could deduce the man either maintained an effective skincare routine of sorts or was blessed by genetics. He was an ideal "specimen" so to speak, a good bone structure served as the framework for his figure, upon which he maintained an ideal muscle tone. Perhaps the picture of health so frivolously the media often advertised. Yet for all his physical virtues, he'd now be forced to forfeit nearly all to cling to what little life still sparked within. A sense of remorse now burdened the prodigal doctor. The man appeared to be around the same age as her, uncertain as she didn't have the opportunity to study identity details yet, being consumed by the severity of his injuries. Despite his youth, he was massacred, defiled, what remained was a husk of who he once was. Wounds so deep it cut to the bone, and in some instances wounds, the cut bone was openly exposed to the contaminant-less air of the operating room. Angela bit her lower lip, a growing frustration burrowed in her chest, this was more than attempted murder this was all-consuming hatred unleashed onto another, an act of sincere evil.

Irrespective of the therapies that would restore his body's full functionality, in some instances enhancing his capabilities, allowing him to discard the limitations of the fragile human body, the extent of the mental trauma he'd now be forced to cope with remained an uncertainty. He'd continuously tread the line between man and machine, would he be able to establish equilibrium? The porcelain skin of her thin digits caressed the edges of the gaping wound upon his chest. It was a prayer if anything. Not that she invested much faith in an omnipotent force beyond human comprehension, but if there ever was such a thing, let it show him mercy. There she felt some reassurance, an answer to her prayer of sorts, a strong steady rhythm to his breathing as if he was stubbornly defying the odds and clinging to life. The crestfallen doctor found some solace, at last, which manifested as a subtle smile that curved to her pale lips. "Don't give up." She whispered

"Dr. Ziegler. Commander Morrison, Blackwatch Commander Reyes, and Captain Amari are here to see you." She turned her head in surprise, seldom did the three heads of Overwatch convene. To add to the exceptionality of the moment, the three gathered to addressed her, whereas more often than not, her correspondence with top brass involved exclusively Morrison. Intrigued Angela pried herself away from the table and departed the room. "Prep him for surgery." She instructed before her impromptu exit.

"Commander Morrison, if this is about the situation in Switzerland my team there is more than capable of handling it." She quickly commented, taking a stab in the dark as to what pressing concern would warrant such an intervention here.

"It's not about that Angela. But this a sensitive matter, let's find somewhere quiet." The air in the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy. Angela felt the temperature of the room plummet and her bones grow stiff. Something ominous hung between the two parties convened here, She studied their expression and she could already deduce whatever the matter was, it was something she wouldn't be able to stomach. The doctor sighed, venting the doubts that restrained her before she followed the three into an isolated room and as the door shut behind her the sense of tension only wrung tighter.

Nearly an hour had passed.

"No way!" She stated thunderously, her voice carrying to the nearby halls, warranting the few curious eyes to wander to the room through the glass window. All such gazes were met with a scornful one from Reyes, that immediately re-directed them back to their duties.

"Angela, calm down. This benefits Overwatch and the people of Japan. We haven't gained any ground in our fight against the Shimada, this is our best chance." Morrison interjected.

"I won't!" She protested with vigour once more.

"Angela, you're being stubborn." They presented a unified front, with even Ana echoing their sentiments. Angela felt as if she was being cornered, forced to do their bidding or else, but she was not so easily toppled, she'd stand her ground and uphold her morals. Superiors or not, she had no intention of following through.

"Stubborn!? I developed that technology to increase the survivability of our soldiers on the front lines. The technology isn't even finished, neural compatibility caps out at 75% on even the most trained soldiers who have been using enhanced augments for 10 or more years and prolonged connection could permanently damage the nervous system. But you're asking me to administer an upscaled version of that technology to a patient who barely escaped death. You're trying to turn him into a living weapon for your war and I won't do it! It's unethical and that putting it mildly." Angela explained, all the details laid bare before top brass, every argument a sound objection against their stance. Yet even after sharing a glance, they appeared to remain unmoved. "He doesn't deserve this…"

"Yes but I understand that the cybernetics can shock his nervous system awake once initialized it might even bring him out of his hibernation state," Morrison added.

"I-" Angela prepared to defy them one more, dissuade them if possible, open their eyes to this corrupted train of thought but she was interrupted by a hand being hammered onto the table that divided the two sides. Reyes, at last, stood from his seat and approached, the taller man now towering over her. Eyes that knew no compassion attempted to pacify her but it was met with a gaze deterministic gaze that did not crumble to such petty displays of power. Angela stood her ground against that scowl.

"Angela-" But Reyes was quickly interrupted. "It's Dr. Ziegler."

"Fine." After a huff, he continued, unperturbed by her open defiance. "I am the one responsible for Genji Shimada, as I am the leader of the operation, assigned by that man right over there." An extended index pointed to Morrison sitting across the table and the doctor's vision tracked to meet an apathetic gaze. "I allowed you to save him but if you won't do as you're told I'll easily give that to someone who has the stomach to do what is necessary since you do not."

"It's not a matter of having the stomach for it, it's about wanting to do what's right, and it's my technology," Angela answered his blatant insinuation of her cowardice. A slap to the face, how she would like to respond in kind but such an action would only weaken the position she fixed herself in. Ethics guided her judgement, and she could not comprehend why it didn't at the very least guide Morrison and Amari as well. Her response was met with a satisfied smirk from the Blackwatch commander. More than an insult, now he was mocking her. She didn't have the power to stop the proverbial train travelling at Mach speeds and he knew. So through his mannerisms, he provoked her, provoked her to do something imprudent and permanently validate him. Ziegler clenched her fist, ready to do just that.

"All technology you develop while working in Overwatch belongs to Overwatch. All I have to do is hand over all this tech to someone who sees things a little differently." Reyes carefully navigated the dynamics of power in this conversation, slowly robbing Angela of all of it. If this were chess, he'd be but one move away from checkmate and now he reached for the final piece to do just that. "But I wonder. Can you trust someone else to do it right? Are you willing to play with someone else's life just to defy a direct order, doctor?"

Enraged, Angela gritted her teeth, canalizing all her rage into that right fist, ready to unleash it all unto that smug face and permanently free him from his arrogance. Faith intervened however, a device mounted to her wrist sounded off an alarm, reminding her of her priorities and keeping her grounded in this trapped cage. She looked at Reyes. "You're despicable." She said with conviction, before marching through him and shoving Reyes aside with her forearm to exit the room.

"That was over the line Reyes," Amari commented, reflecting on his conduct before the doctor. It was met with nothing more than a shrug of his shoulders as a retort.

"Over the line or not. She has no choice now." The Blackwatch commander triumphantly remarked, without a thought to his methods.

Morrison simply observed, in silence, hesitant to the leap to the defence of either of his friends. As he saw it, the objective they established was accomplished, however crudely it may have been achieved.

Angela slowly traversed the halls to her destination, her thoughts all-consumed by the situation imposed onto her. She tried to internally reconcile the two opposing sides with an explanation that was sufficiently satisfied but she couldn't conjure on. From every which angle she approached this problem, it was unjust. She just simply couldn't do it. She soon turned her gaze up from the floor, her team was ready to undertake the surgery. What deliberations she had regarding the previously discussed subject would have to wait, as now this required her unbridled focus. As she entered the room a nurse had offered her a mask, one she placed against her face and the automated features of the masked worked to secure its position there. Angela looked down at her gloved hand where the sensation lingered, the feeling of his beating chest, the feeling of him fighting for his life. She was unsure why she clung to that feeling but it gave her some respite at this moment. Ste stepped forth, and beyond the curtain, there he was; Genji Shimada.

Links to this Chapter on:

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13817101/1/The-Sparrow-s-Heart

https://www.wattpad.com/amp/1025065233?__twitter_impression=true

#genji #gency #overwatch #overwatch gency #angela ziegler #mercy overwatch #romance #drama #fanfic

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phthalology · 5 years ago

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🎄 we go walking together toward the yawning grave

“Did you know the Pyramid was here?”

Without nerves, it was impossible for Toland to be startled. But the nature of the Hive’s necromancy was to preserve the essence of a soul, so he still felt the fear and surprise, even if it didn’t show. He wandered the moon in the guide of a tangle of lightning, finding what Guardians he could. Eris (Eris, every letter of the name forever marked by her) snuck up on him.

“This is an unexpected rendezvous,” he said.

She stared, the green fire in her hands seething, her words heavy with unknown questions atop the one she had already asked. “If you have any loyalty to me, answer truthfully.”

And he did have loyalty. Just days ago they had created a weapon from the skull of deathsingers together. He could not and did not think of it as mere convenience, or professional necessity. There was too much between them for that, even if both of them resisted getting too comfortable. Eris was not comfortable with anyone, these days. Toland understood this feeling, if for different reasons.

So, truth.

“No,” he said. “I had no need to trek paths Guardians had not already walked. Whether that be the World’s Grave or the Mare Imbrium, I follow the living, not the dead.” No use talking to the dead. They never answer.

Eris sat down on the rock in the shadow of the old colony and folded her hands on her lap. “These plains are full of slaughter. At least they are not full of lies.”

Toland was telling the truth, and knew that to assert it would only make him sound like a liar.

Eris wasn’t finished. “I have stopped living in those tunnels, although I did not for a long time after I walked out of them. ‘Do not fall to that which you have already overcome.’ It is easy to advise others. Far more difficult to understand what it means for myself. So.” Again she stared at him. “Did you willingly leave us to die, when we six went down into the Pit?”

The question was a whiplash, another unexpected idea. Had he? In his own memory, it was unclear. He certainly had not planned for the mission to fail. It was Eriana’s mission, and its success or failure were hers. He had simply found an addiction he couldn’t shake. It was not in his nature to be direct, not even to himself.

“Guardians wallow in immediate desires, failing to contemplate the greater design,” he said. “But Guardians do one thing better than all other life humanity has yet discovered in the universe. Guardians win. They are defined by it, assured of it. From this, all the rest of our actions follow.”

“The Moon is not a place of victory!” Eris snarled.

“Yes, we had just suffered a terrible loss. Brave Wei Ning defied fate most of all, and still fell. But we were so full of fervor. Eriana’s plan was solid, well-researched. Between her and I, everything should have worked.”

Eris took a deep breath. “That is not an answer.”

“Why would Eriana have needed me? Her mission was noble revenge; mine was craven curiosity. They just happened to share space.” He had wanted so badly to become truly immortal. Consumed by the fear of death like a starving man was with the idea of food, he supposed, and attracted to the escape the Hive represented. “Selfishness. Not malice. Both times. I became something great. I thought you would win with or without me.”

“And lacked tact enough for your ambition to become charming.”

“Perhaps that would be my next ambition, if the Guardians made it worth it.”

Eris gave a short, low laugh.

Toland hadn’t intended to be funny. But he suspected he knew what she was thinking. “I am an arrogant man, Eris. I do not shackle myself to lost causes on purpose. That mission was the greatest sign of ignorance I have ever shown. And I am thankful you are still breathing after it.”

“You gave me a bond, for protection,” Eris said. “And now …” She rotated one of the beads on her headdress. “I carry a memory of you. A sign that I did not let go of what you all were, even though I did not fall to the despair of those memories.”

“No. You never fell. Rise, Eris. Your dark work shines a light.”

Anger again. “And who shines a light for me?”

This time it was his chance to level the weight of an invisible stare. “Let me tell you of the victories you have brought. The Crimson Brood scattered, the Hellmouth empty of kings … A walk, perhaps. A map of what you have already wrought.” Toland was good at flattery. He also did not waste it.

Perhaps Eris balanced these two facts too as she reached out a hand, although he could not take it, and turned her eyes toward the Pit.

#destiny #eris/toland #writings #eris morn #toland #the timid truth

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cricketnationrise · 4 years ago

Text

Books Read in quarantine: Part 2

part 1 is here.

26. Free Little Library by Naomi Kritzer: tor.com short story. there’s a magical being that uses the free little library as the ultimate resource in gaining power and bettering their society. cute with a vengeful twist.

27. Sinew and Steel and What They Told by Carrie Vaughn: tor.com short story. i don’t remember this one super well but i remember the structure being cool

28. The Naming by Alison Croggon: book 1 in The Books of Pellinor series. cool magic system, some chosen one and mistaken identity, family LITERALLY found. looking forward to the next one

29. CHECK, PLEASE!, BOOK 2: STICKS AND SCONES BY NGOZI UKAZU: volume 2 of an amazing web series turned graphic novel about a college hockey player who likes to bake and falls in love with his captain its FANTASTIC and i recommend this series to literally everyone i know

30. Eric by Terry Pratchett: Discworld #9. Faust retelling as the premise. guy tries to summon a demon. gets Rincewind and his Trunk out of the demon realm instead. hijinks ensue from there. you probably need some discworld knowledge to follow this one

31. The Secret Life of Sparrow Delaney by Suzanne Harper: middle grade coming of high school novel. Sparrow Delaney can see and talk to ghosts, but she’s keeping her powers from her family (also ghost seers) because she just wants to be normal. a new family moves to town after their oldest son dies. oldest son’s ghost is hanging around his little brother and meets sparrow

32. An Explorer’s Cartography of Already Settled Lands by Fran Wilde: tor.com short story. what can you map? just geography? how sad for you. this narrator can map all sorts of things from bird migrations to emotions of a city

33. The Queen of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner: book 2 in the Queen’s Thief series (complete now). i got into these because of a few different fanfics mentioning them and they are AMAZING I’m very annoyed i didn’t know about them sooner. political intrigue, gods, competent people doing their jobs, everyone underestimating said competent people

34. A Pound of Paper: Confessions of a Book Addict by John Baxter: so i stopped reading this one about halfway through because i didn’t need to read about the various orgies thrown by authors/literary agents this man attended. also he’s not so much into reading as collecting and that’s boring to me.

35. Love Charms and Other Catastrophes by Kimberly Karalius: book 2 in the Grimbaud series. definitely need to read the first book for context. but its a really sweet series with a dark underbelly that gives a nice contrast. think the paper magician series but milder on all fronts.

36. First Kisses and Other Misfortunes by Kimberly Karalius: set after book 1 in the Grimbaud series it expands on what happens to the main couple from book 1 before book 2 opens. read on swoonreads which is now fiercereads.

37. The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle: goblin king retelling. first in a trilogy. i enjoyed it, especially as the narrator sticks it to abuse family members

38. The Golden Specific by S.E. Grove: book 2 in the mapmakers trilogy. fascinating world building that you absolutely need the first book to understand. aimed at high schoolers. across the world there are different times existing at once. middle ages, technological age, 1800′s, and more times are interacting depending on where in the world you are. sometimes the lines shift.

39. The Crimson Skew by S. E. Grove: book 3 in the mapmakers trilogy. back in america a war is brewing that has managed to weaponize some sort of airborne disease/??? that explodes people. yeah. satisfying close to the series.

40. Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik: why why WHY was this my first Novik book. what was i waiting for??? polish folklore inspired. theres a winter (elf? goblin?) king who needs gold and wife. a fire demon trying to escape his (metaphorical) chains to take down the winter world. and a girl who can turn silver into gold. (by trading). politcal intrigue, magic, a really heavy crown. well worth the read. on a wavelength with the winternight series.

41. The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop: A Memoir, A History by Buzbee Lewis: I picked this up because its about a bookstore and the author’s name is buzbee. cute little memoir with an overview of the history of books/bookstores from ancient times to now

42. All Systems Red by Martha Wells: book 1 in the murderbot diaries. this was actually a reread for me, but it had been long enough that i wanted to refresh and its a novella so its a fast read. A Security Unit (SecUnit) that calls itself Murderbot has hacked its own governor module so that it can watch its soap operas. Now if only the humans it was responsible for would stop being so dumb.

43. Artificial Condition by Martha Wells: book 2 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot has freed itself from its government contracts and is working on its own. Murderbot gets a lift to a planet from its past from an empty transport vehicle, named Asshole Research Transport (ART) by Murderbot.

44. Rogue Protocol by Martha Wells: book 3 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot’s story continues. pretty crucial that you read these in order. Murderbot continues to be put off by humans and their behavior. Still just trying to consume the media it wants without being bothered.

45. Exit Strategy by Martha Wells: book 4 in the Murderbot diaries. Murderbot meets back up with the humans from book 1. chaos ensues while trying to escape the company that Murderbot used to be contracted to.

46. Network Effect by Martha Wells: book 5 in the Murderbot diaries. first full length novel in the series. another one to come in April 2021. Murderbot gets kidnapped from its human friends. turns out ART needs some help and doesn’t have any other friends.

47. Airborn by Kenneth Oppel: steampunk pirates in airships. kind of similar in vibes to the aesthetic of the leviathan series, but strictly mechanical advancements. cool worldbuilding. teenage girl scientist protagonist. first in a series.

48. The Angel’s Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafón: book 2 in the cemetery of forgotton books series. very atmospheric. like you can almost see the fog while you read it. supernatural/elements of magical realism. helps if you read book 1

49. I Am, I Am, I Am: Seventeen Brushes with Death by Maggie O’Farrell: memoir told out of chronological order. each titled with the body part that almost caused death (neck, spine, blood, lungs, etc). by definition, not a happy read, but powerful. trigger warning for the neck story for an almost abduction/assault. content warning for chronic illness/disease.

50. Uncommon Type by Tom Hanks: yes that Tom Hanks. series of short stories. some of them are connected. i can’t remember anything super upsetting, and some of them are straight up comedic. elements of the absurd. in one a group of friends goes into space. like without nasa or any organization. they just. build a rocket. and go to space.

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