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nahoney22 · 7 months ago

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Saying Something Stupid Like I Love You 🌊

🫧 pairing: Wrecker X Gender Neutral Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

*flustered rambling* ...And I love you!" / "Huh?" / "I said achoo."

“I really like you. Or, love you. Yeah. I really love you."

Summary: Your feelings for Wrecker were out of control. So, with enough courage, you tell him how you truly feel. Kind of.

warnings: none, complete fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining, first kiss, gender neutral reader.

Authors note: Hope you both don’t mind me joining requests? It just makes sense to kill 2 birds with one stone 😊 enjoy! 🫧 🩵 @dr-carew-jekyll

You found it impossible to tear your gaze away from him, captivated by every detail of his presence. The flutter of your heart matched the rhythm of the sunlight dancing across his features, leaving you utterly breathless. How could one man do this to you?

Your adoration for Wrecker had been a slow burn, a continuous journey that had been marked by bittersweet longing, knowing deep down he may never reciprocate your feelings. So, you nurtured your affection quietly but in doing so allowed it to bloom despite the ache it brought you daily.

“Why don’t you join me?” His invitation shattered your trance, drawing you back to reality with a jolt of embarrassment. Hastily, you averted your eyes, pretending to focus on your data pad to mask your blatant staring from just now.

Tentatively, you met his gaze, mustering a smile to act as though you didn’t realise he was there. "Me?" Your response came out in a nervous whisper, but his easy laughter washed away your self-consciousness.

“I don’t see anybody else, so yeah. You.” He laughs and With a pat on the space beside him, he beckons you to his side, nestled beneath the weeping maya tree, both of you now bathing in the golden embrace of sunlight.

As you settle beside him, a rush of nerves tingle down your spine. "This spot is my favourite here," he mused, his voice tinged with a quiet awe.

You observed him, drinking in every detail of his rugged charm, from the strength etched into his features to the warmth of his gaze. His eyes closed, basking in the sun's embrace, and you found yourself once again lost in admiration for him. “I need to tell you something.”

The words escaped your lips like a runaway speeder, before your brain could even hit the brakes, and Wrecker, with his signature grin, raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"More fruit smuggling, huh?" he quipped, his tone dripping with playfulness, but as your nerves practically formed a dance line on your face, his expression softened into concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost bantha. Everythin’ okay?"

With a gentle touch, his rugged hand found its place on your shoulder, a stark contrast to its usual strength, now exuding a surprising softness.

Your breath caught at his touch, his presence engulfing you in a whirlwind of emotions. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze, the words tumbling out in a rushed gasp, "I-I'm fine. Just fine."

But Wrecker wasn't easily swayed. His eyes held a silent inquiry, piercing through your facade. "What's on your mind then? Has someone hurt you?" He asks quickly, eyes wide as he looks around for a possible suspect.

“What? No, no nothing like that Wrecker.” You say with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach with how protective he was. “It’s.. it’s complicated.”

Relief washes over him and offers a smile, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "If it's about fixing up the Marauder, I'm afraid you're looking at the wrong guy."

You chuckled softly, but a nervous energy bubbles beneath the surface. "Somehow, that seems less complicated."

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes so tender and captivating that you felt yourself getting lost in their depths. The urge to lean in and plant a kiss right then and there surged within you, tempting you to dive headfirst into your fantasies that had kept you up at night. But you resisted, swallowing back your nerves and summoning all the courage you could muster.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and lift your chin, meeting his gaze head-on. Here goes nothing. Or everything…

“So, I don’t really know how to say this and I am sorry if you feel any different towards me or if this ruins our friendship but I just…” Your words stumbled out in a jumbled mess, a chaotic spiral of thoughts and feelings colliding in your mind like asteroids in a meteor shower. Why were you mentioning Batcher? The ocean? What you ate last week with Phee and Omega? It was like your brain had taken a detour.

Wrecker's brow furrowed in bewilderment, his gaze searching yours for an answer amidst the storm of your flustered rambling. Your hands grew clammy, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you even as you remained seated. You rambled on, words tumbling out like a malfunctioning hyperdrive until, finally, you blurted it out.

"And I love you!"

"Huh?"

"I said achoo."

Your heart sank as Wrecker's expression morphed into one of confusion, tinged with an emotion you also couldn't quite decipher…

"You love me?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper for a man so loud, the words hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Did... did I say that?" You choked out, your voice barely audible over the thudding of your own heartbeat. Avoiding his gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He nodded slowly, his mouth agape, as if struggling to process the revelation. "It's not somethin' I ever thought you'd say to me."

"Yes, well," you began, clearing your throat in an attempt to mask your nervousness and pent up emotions, already mentally planning your escape to the safety of the Marauder or perhaps even a boat to sail far, far away, "I thought you ought to know."

As you rose, Wrecker's gaze followed you, but before you could make your getaway, he was quick to intervene, standing and catching your arm with a gentle touch that rooted you in place. "Wait, don't just run away," he urged, turning you to face him with a tenderness that belied his usual gruff demeanor. "Do you mean it?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, words caught in your throat like a tangled net. "I did... I do. I do really mean it," you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze as he released your arm.

He smiles, soft and delicate unlike his rugged and scarred features. Aside from those eyes… eyes you’ve grown to adore due to the warmth that emanated from them. Trying not to get entranced again and make an even bigger di’kut of yourself, you took a step back but noticed him start to shift.

Watching him, even holding your breath as he took one, his next words hung in the air. "I like you."

Ouch.

Was this the dreaded ‘friend zone’? Would the ground open up and swallow you whole? You could only hope.

"Or, love you," he added quickly, seeing how your demeanor changed as your eyes began to gloss over. "Yeah, I really love you."

Stunned, you struggled to find your voice, bewildered with the weight of his confession. "Are you just saying that to be nice?"

In response, he closed the distance between you in two purposeful strides, his hand lifting to delicately trace the curve of your cheek before cradling it in his palm. A tremor of nerves passed through him, matching the fluttering in your own chest. Before you could utter his name, he silenced you with a tender press of his lips against yours.

Explosions ignited in your gut, your eyes widening in shock. Was this real, or just a figment of your wildest dreams? But, you were determined to seize the moment even if it wasn’t real. You melted into the kiss, arms winding around the back of his neck as you kissed him back with fervour. His smile against your lips sent shivers down your spine as his embrace tightened, drawing you closer against his broad chest.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his with a mix of warmth and hope. "I've wanted to do that for a while," you admitted, breathlessly. The question of how long however can remain a secret.

His laughter rumbled against you as he held you close. "You should've told me sooner! I was going mad."

"I could say the same thing," you retorted with a smirk, catching him off guard.

"Okay, okay. I should've," he agreed sheepishly. "But I never knew you'd feel the same way back. I didn't want to ruin what we already had."

"Well, luckily for us," you leaned up to steal another quick kiss, savouring the sensation of his lips against yours, "we don't have to worry about that, do we?"

A grin spread across his face. "I don't think so." With a playful sweep, he lifted you off your feet, and suddenly, the weeping maya tree wasn't just his favourite spot—it was yours too.

As it turned out, your worries had been for nothing.

Masterlist

Wrecker

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#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #bad batch #wrecker bad batch #the bad batch wrecker #nahoney22 writes

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artyandink · 3 months ago

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amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago

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Noah Lyles' collapse underscores our collective COVID denial - Published Aug 10, 2024

Read the full story at either link! (covidsafehotties archive is always free of pesky in-line ads!)

We keep pretending that the pandemic is done and over, but it keeps knocking us off our feet

The 2024 Olympic Games are serving up some less-than-subtle metaphors for how poorly we handle public health. Just after winning a bronze medal in the much-anticipated men's 200-meter race, U.S. sprinter Noah Lyles collapsed on the track in exhaustion — not just because he’d completed a brutal run in just 19.7 seconds, finishing third, but also because he was sick with COVID-19, a diagnosis that he’d concealed from others. He had been favored to take home gold, as he did in the 100-meter race a few days earlier.

But seeing an American Olympic star sprawled out and gasping on the track, and then taken away in a wheelchair, was more than a shocking image. It also represented the general “mission accomplished” attitude toward SARS-CoV-2: We think we’ve won against this virus and we haven’t.

COVID isn’t just spreading like wildfire through the Olympic Village in Paris — we are undergoing surges across the globe, with the World Health Organization tracking steep rises in infections in 84 countries. After more than four years fighting this thing, it is still knocking us out.

In some parts of the U.S., the amount of COVID is so high that experts are claiming this summer surge is on par with winter waves of the virus. But none of this should be unexpected at this point. This is no longer the “novel” coronavirus that once terrified people with its unpredictability. We know how it behaves, with surges in both summer and winter, and we know how to fight against it — yet our apparent strategy at the moment is to pretend it doesn’t exist at all, even when it swipes us off our feet.

It’s true that the pandemic is much different than it was in 2020. For one thing, in spite of this surge, deaths are relatively low, following trends since vaccines became available. In 2023, COVID dropped from the fourth leading cause of death in the U.S. to the 10th, according to recent provisional data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. That's not great, but it does indicate that widespread immunity (from vaccines, previous infections or both) is giving us some level of protection. Though let’s not forget that at least 1.2 million Americans have died to date from COVID. It’s nothing to sneeze at.

Deaths aren’t the only concerning metric, of course. Sometimes a COVID infection is asymptomatic, while at other times, the symptoms last for months or years or never fully go away. Patients call this long COVID and public health experts have described it as a mass disabling event. Lyles isn’t just lucky he won a bronze medal — he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t experience months of headaches, lung issues or extreme fatigue that never goes away.

Yet long COVID is rarely factored into discussions about this pandemic, even when kids get it. Instead, it’s treated as if infections are merely a mild cold at this point. Just shake it off, as Taylor Swift might say, while her summer tour dates become superspreading events.

Millions of patients can attest that COVID is anything but mild — and it's definitely not the flu. The SARS-CoV-2 virus can worm its way into nearly every part of our bodies, trashing our immune system and damaging our organs. We tend to think of the disease as a respiratory problem, given all the coughs and sniffles it produces, but it’s really more of a vascular disease, impacting any system that relies on blood vessels. That can include damage to the brain, which can manifest in symptoms like long-term cognitive impairment and Parkinson’s disease.

Yes, a virus that can literally cause brain damage is spreading at record levels and most people are acting like it’s just another wave. Just keep running.

But we’re not just paying the price with our bodies. The economy is also getting smacked by long COVID. A recent comprehensive review in the journal Nature Medicine found that the “cumulative global incidence of long COVID is around 400 million individuals, which is estimated to have an annual economic impact of approximately $1 trillion.” That's ignoring the long list of ways that long COVID wreaks havoc on the body, including, as the study notes, "viral persistence, immune dysregulation, mitochondrial dysfunction, complement dysregulation, endothelial inflammation and microbiome dysbiosis."

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #coronavirus #wear a mask #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator #long covid

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laurellynnleake · 11 months ago

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🎇 NYE COVID-19 RED ALERT - AVOID CROWDS & MASK UP 🎆

You wouldn't know it from our governments, but Turtle Island, aka the US & Canada, are in the worst spike of illness and deaths since 2020's deadly Omicron surge.

That means it's more dangerous to go to a New Years party this weekend than it's been for approximately 96.4% OF THE ENTIRE PANDEMIC. It's bad out there tonight, and your odds of staying healthy after an unmasked gathering are NOT good.

The more people at your party, the higher the chance you'll catch COVID-19. You may think it's worth the risk, since many people appear to have "mild" infections, but that's not the whole story.

The first 2 weeks of COVID-19, aka the "acute phase", are just the beginning. Even if you don't need emergency hospitalization, or even if you never have any symptoms at all, the virus SARS-CoV-2 responsible for COVID-19 silently turns your immune system against you and shreds the lining of your circulatory and nervous systems. This can permanently elevate your risk of heart attacks, strokes, digestive problems, and even life-changing disabling disorders like ME/CFS.

And even if you escape relatively unscathed, you could pass the virus onto loved ones who WILL get hit hard, and survive with new life-long disabilities, or not survive at all.

COVID-19 never left, and our healthcare systems are NOT looking out for us. We have to take care of each other. Please, please rethink going out to that party tonight. If you can't avoid socializing, please protect yourself as much as you can:

Wear WELL-FITTING respiratory masks like N95s & KN94s

Use nasal sprays before & after, & CPC mouthwash after

Gather outdoors whenever possible

Get good air circulation indoors with air filters like CR Boxes, or open windows for outside air (bundle up if it's cold)

More resources on these tips, and how to reduce the damage if you do get sick, can be found on this COVID Safety Roundup list. All graphics courtesy of the Pandemic Mitigation Collection and Dr. Michael Hoebert, from their website. Hoebert further breaks down the data on his twitter too.

You can also ask me any particular questions and I'll do my best to help! We all deserve to survive this, and we'll do it together.

#covid 19 #long covid #still masking #mask up #actually disabled #covid isn't over #covid19 #new year #happy new year #new years eve

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misguidedghoststories · 7 months ago

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Chapter 9 ~ Reunion

“Ashe?!”

“Jason?!”

Ashe's mind went blank, unable to process the shocking revelation before them. It was Jason Todd but wearing the Robin suit and standing here in the Titan’s Tower. Ashe couldn't wrap their mind around it - how could this be? But there he was standing right in front of them. Their feet felt rooted to the ground as they stood still, unable to process the reality before them.

Jason brushed past Dick and strode towards Ashe, his eyes filled with disbelief. He placed his hands on Ashe's shoulders and let out a sigh. "Ashe, I've been searching for you." His voice was filled with emotion, a mixture of relief and confusion.

Ashe took a minute to come back to reality and took a step away from him. “J-Jason? How are you here? And why are you dressed like Robin?” They questioned, still unable to wrap their head around this.

In the living room, Garfield and Rachel stopped what they were doing and leaned over the back of the sofa to get a better look at the strange reunion unfolding before them. "Sooo...you two know each other?" Garfield asked curiously, breaking the tense silence between Ashe and Jason.

Ashe found themselves lost in the depths of Jason's sky-blue eyes. Conflicting emotions swirled within them - comfort mixed with confusion. Their gaze flicked to Dick, who was standing nearby looking just as bewildered by this unexpected visit.

Taking another step back, Ashe gathered themselves and tried to regain their composure. Seeing Jason again was a shock, but they knew they still had to leave.

Ashe stood with a firm resolve, their eyes meeting Jason's as they spoke. "I don't know why you're here, Jason, but this changes nothing. I have to leave." They stepped past him, their body radiating a cold determination.

But before they could make it far, Jason reached out and grabbed Ashe's wrist, stopping them in their tracks. Their eyes met again and Jason shook his head. “Nope, I came this far to find you. No way you’re leaving now.” He stated, his voice was decisive.

Ashe felt a surge of frustration and anger bubbling inside them, but Dick quickly intervened, stepping between them and calming the tense situation. "Okay, okay, We are going to go talk this out. Come on.” Dick said, using his calm and commanding voice to mediate the situation.

Jason released his grip on Ashe's wrist, but his determined expression remained unchanged. Ashe held eye contact with Jason for another moment before begrudgingly following Dick.

Silently, Dick led them to the elevator and down to a lower floor. As they stepped out, they were met with a room that could have been a replica of the Batcave. The walls were lined with high-tech equipment. In the center of the room stood a desk shaped like a half circle, surrounded by multiple monitors displaying various feeds and data. Dick sat in the chair at the desk and turned to Ashe and Jason.

Ashe leaned against a nearby table, avoiding eye contact and keeping their gaze fixed on the ground. Jason stood with his arms crossed, shooting worried glances at Ashe as if he feared they would disappear if he looked away.

“Ashe, whatever trouble you’re in, just tell us. Trust me we can handle it.” Dick said, his voice tinged with concern and his eyes scanning over them.

Ashe was hesitant, they were trying to hold it together but their whole body was shaking. They kept their gaze fixed on the ground, afraid that if they looked into Jason’s intense eyes again, they would break down in tears. Tonight had been overwhelming, to say the least.

“What the hell is going on, Ashe? Grayson is right. Whoever you’re scared of, I’ll kick their ass myself.” Jason growled, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. The anger in his voice was palpable, mixing with a fierce protectiveness for his friend.

It was strange, Ashe thought, how things could change so much but stay the same. Jay had always been protective of Ashe. He would try to play it off as cool and uncaring, but Ashe had known him long enough to see past that facade. Ashe noticed the changes in Jay's appearance, his once lanky frame now filled out with lean muscle. His piercing blue eyes still held the same intensity, but there was a newfound confidence in his stance. He was still the same bullheaded Jason Todd, unyielding and unwavering in his ways. The familiarity of it all brought a sense of comfort amidst the chaos of their reunion.

With a heavy sigh, Ashe finally conceded to telling their story. “After you left Jason I joined a crime syndicate and now I realize there really isn't an out to this. Eventually they will find out that I am alive and if they knew I was here… I’m scared of what the Boss would do.”

“The Boss?” Dick inquired, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"I don't know his real identity or anything about him," Ashe explained, their voice trembling. "But I know that he is a very powerful metahuman. His ability is basically mind control. He can suggest anyone do anything and they have to follow his command." Ashe's words were laced with terror as they continued, "One guy tried to steal from us and run away. Well that night...he ended up slaughtering his entire family and turning himself in to the police. It was absolutely the Boss getting his revenge and then keeping the man alive so he had to live with that guilt." A shudder ran through Ashe's body at the thought of such cruel punishment. “So the longer I associate with you guys, the more danger I put you in. You don’t know what he is capable of.”

Jason nodded with a determined glint in his eyes., “Great then we kill this douchebag and we’re all set.”

Ashe finally lifted their gaze to meet Jason's, their expression one of disbelief. “What? Did you hear anything I said? The Boss is a powerful person surrounded by highly trained metahumans who would die for him.”

Dick looked to Jason as if he had not heard Ashe. “Well, we could definitely apprehend and turn him in. I can brief the team and we can start getting prepared.” He trailed off.

Stepping forward, Ashe's frustration boiled over as they raised their voice. "Are you even listening? This is too dangerous for anyone else to get involved. I have to handle this alone." Their fists clenched at their sides, the weight of the choices feeling heavier than ever before.

A moment of tense silence hung in the air, broken only by a stifled laugh from Jason. “Sorry sorry, it just sounds like some over dramatic stuff Dick would say. But really Ashe, we got this. Just tell me where they’re at.”

Ashe paused for a moment, weighing their options before finally speaking. "Okay, fine. There's an abandoned bank on the east end of town. After we made the deal, the Boss was supposed to follow and set up a temporary headquarters. So I assume he's there."

"Great," Dick said, turning around to face the computer and cracking his knuckles in determination. "I'll see what information I can gather from here. Maybe I'll do a little stakeout. I can figure out a plan of attack and brief the team. Give me 48 hours." He seemed almost giddy with excitement as he got to work, as if he had forgotten that Ashe and Jason were still in the room.

Jason looked up like he was going to make a remark to Ashe, but they quickly turned and left the room. Ashe didn't slow down despite Jason calling after them; they were already halfway down the hall towards the elevator before Jason caught up to them.

He caught Ashe by the wrist, “Hey wait up! Can we just talk for a second?”

Ashe swung around with a sharp motion, abruptly pulling their hand away from his grasp. They stood there in front of him, arms crossed and gaze unwavering. After a tense moment of silence, Ashe finally spoke, “What do you want to talk about?”

Jason felt himself becoming frustrated, but he tried to remain calm. "I don't know, Ashe..." His voice rose in volume before he caught himself and took a deep breath. "...I'm sorry, okay?" His words came out as a mumbled whisper.

A wave of emotions crashed into Ashe, starting with a surge of anger that quickly transformed into a mixture of confusion, sadness, and intense loneliness. And as if fate had a cruel sense of timing, Jason appeared out of nowhere during this difficult time in Ashe's life - just like he always did. He had a knack for showing up at just the right time.

Before Ashe could stop themself, tears began to well up in their eyes. Without hesitation, they closed the distance between themselves and Jason in one swift step. They wrapped their arms around him tightly, seeking comfort and solace in his embrace. Jason seemed taken aback at first, standing frozen for a moment before gently wrapping his arms around Ashe.

"You idiot," Ashe whispered softly, barely able to speak through the tremble in their voice. "I missed you." After only a brief embrace, Ashe pulled away, trying to discreetly wipe away the tears before Jason noticed. With their gaze fixed on the ground, they couldn't bear to let him see the embarrassed flush on their cheeks.

Jason was breathless and seemed to still be processing. His smirk widened into a captivating smile as he teased, “Yeah I missed you too… or whatever. Can you come back to my room so we can talk?”

Ashe didn't say anything but nodded, silently following Jason back to the residential part of the tower. His room was just a door down from where Ashe had been staying. Jason opened the door and gestured for Ashe to enter.

Ashe stepped inside, taking in the sight of Jason's room with wide eyes. They weren’t sure what they had been expecting, but this space was undeniably his. The room was the same size as theirs, but it felt lived-in and personalized. The bed was pushed against one wall, unmade red bedsheets rumpled on top of it. Posters of various bands adorned the walls, along with shelves filled with vinyl records. A large flat screen TV was in one corner of the room, complete with a gaming console and a round chair positioned in front of it. And instead of the sterile white walls of Ashe's room, Jason's were painted a bold black that contrasted with the brightly colored posters and decorations.

The room was uniquely his.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, Ashe’s eyes bounced around the room trying to take everything in. Meanwhile, Jason made his way to the closet tucked away in the corner opposite the bed. He began peeling off the layers of armored plating from his Robin suit, revealing a well-toned physique underneath. Despite Ashe's attempts to look away, they couldn't help but steal glances at him as he discarded his undershirt and slipped on a thin red t-shirt that hugged his athletic frame. The room was now filled with a subtle musky scent, a mix of sweat and cologne.

He walked to the record player and put a record on it. Ashe didn’t recognize the song but Jason tapped his foot. Shifting on the bed, Ashe tried to at least appear not so uncomfortable.

With a raised eyebrow, Ashe turned to their friend Jason and asked, "Sooo... Robin huh? How did that happen?" They watched as Jason dragged a nearby chair over to the bed and flopped down onto it.

"Yeah," he replied with a grin. "It's basically the coolest thing. Remember how we used to talk about stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile? Well, I actually did it. And now I'm Robin." He leaned back in his chair. There was a certain smugness in his voice that Ashe wasn’t accustomed to.

Jason continued, “It’s fucking awesome. I go out every night and kick ass. I hang out with Batman and chill in the Batcave. Anyway, you never mention that you have powers?”

Ashe nodded, “It’s nothing cool really. I can manipulate kinetic energy and I can kinda move things with my mind. I was training to strengthen my power but I didn’t get too far.”

“That’s cool. Can you move something now?” Jason asked excitedly.

Ashe's eyes scanned the room, searching for a target. They finally settled on an empty soda can perched on top of the dresser. With a flick of their wrist, Ashe sent the can flying across the room, where it ricocheted off the opposite wall before landing with a clatter on the floor.

Jason's eyes widened in amazement. “Woah that’s awesome! Can you like read minds too?”

Ashe shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back against the pillows. "I was working on that, but I never really got the hang of it. If I can see the person and focus really hard, I might be able to get glimpses of their thoughts. It seems to work better with people I know well." They explained.

The two friends continued to catch up and chat, reliving old memories and making new ones. For Ashe, it felt like they were kids again, carefree and filled with endless possibilities. As the night wore on and exhaustion crept in, Jason chuckled and offered to walk Ashe to their room so they could finally get some rest.

#dc comics #dick grayson #dick grayson x oc #jason todd #jason todd x oc #robinsandash #batfamily #fanfic #9

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beardedmrbean · 6 months ago

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May 14 (UPI) -- European Union member states on Tuesday adopted landmark reform of the bloc's migration and asylum system with new rules designed to process arrivals in an orderly and efficient way, standardize procedures and relieve pressure on front-line nations.

The 10 new laws adopted by a European Council meeting in Brussels include triaging of arrivals at the border, enhanced data collection to inform policy and get migration under control, a standard asylum procedure for quick initial assessments, a new mandatory border procedure for well-defined cases together with a return procedure regulation to send back people whose application is rejected, the council said in a news release.

Significantly, a new asylum and migration management regulation determining which member state is responsible for international protection claims will for the first time see responsibility for asylum seekers shared equitably among EU states.

Where previously support for member states dealing with major influxes of migrants -- Greece and Italy have been particularly impacted -- was discretionary, the so-called "solidarity" rule makes contributing to the responsibility mandatory, although there is leeway on the nature of the help provided.

These can be relocations, financial assistance, providing border guards or helping build reception facilities.

The council said that new homogenous criteria for granting international protection and standards for asylum seekers should also help to tackle secondary movements where people fail to make a claim in the first EU country in which they set foot, instead moving on to countries seen as more desirable in the bloc, and beyond.

A resettlement regulation deals with legal and safe routes to the EU by establishing common rules for resettlement and admission on humanitarian grounds.

The reforms also include a mechanism for coping with crises sparked by mass arrivals, the weaponization of migrants and force majeure, with rules member states are permitted to breach ranging from deadlines for registering asylum applicants and the duration of the border procedure.

Its use, subject to Council authorization, is only in exceptional circumstances and for the time strictly necessary to address situations of crisis or force majeure.

The council did not mention that Poland and Hungary voted against the legislation in Tuesday's vote while the Czech Republic and Slovakia abstained.

Belgium's Migration and Asylum Secretary Nicole de Moor hailed the reform package, pledging that the EU would work with partners in Africa, the Middle East and beyond to deal with the issues that cause people to migrate.

"The asylum and migration pact will ensure a fairer and stronger migration system that makes a concrete difference on the ground. These new rules will make the European asylum system more effective and increase solidarity between member states," she said.

"The European Union will also continue its close cooperation with third countries to tackle the root causes of irregular migration. Only jointly can we find responses to the global migration challenge."

However, Amnesty International said the pact represented the worst of all worlds by both making it more difficult for those fleeing war and persecution to get to safety while not doing enough to support countries bearing the brunt of arrivals to Europe, including Italy, Spain and Greece.

"This agreement will set back European asylum law for decades to come. Its likely outcome is a surge in suffering on every step of a person's journey to seek asylum in the EU," said Amnesty International European Institutions Office director Eve Geddie.

"From the way they are treated by countries outside the EU, their access to asylum and legal support at Europe's border, to their reception within the EU, this agreement is designed to make it harder for people to access safety."

Geddie also said the new rules would almost certainly see more people placed in de facto detention at EU borders -- including families with children and the vulnerable due to more people being channeled through "substandard border asylum procedures, rather than receiving a fair and full assessment of their asylum claims."

Amnesty also attacked the opt-outs permitted during crises saying they set a dangerous precedent for the right to asylum around the world through the normalizing of disproportionate emergency measures at European borders and exposing people to the risk of severe human rights violations.

The pact comes five months after the council and the European Parliament reached a deal to deliver on a promise to resolve long-running rows over which EU member state is responsible for handling an asylum application, inter-state cooperation and how to handle crises, including the use of migrants for hybrid attacks.

Member states have two years to implement the new laws with the help of a common implementation plan being drawn up by the European Commission to assist with the process.

#nunyas news

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kiranapassionategamer · 7 months ago

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Get Started with the Indian Ludo Earning App

Ludo, a traditional board game with ancient roots, has evolved into a digital phenomenon across India. Today, not only can you relive the nostalgic charm of Ludo through your smartphone, but you can also earn real money while doing so. Indian Ludo earning apps have surged in popularity, combining the classic gameplay of Ludo with the thrilling opportunity to win cash prizes. The appeal lies not just in the entertainment value, but also in the financial incentives that these apps offer.

How to Get Started

Getting started with an Indian Ludo earning app is straightforward. First, choose a reputable app from the Google Play Store or Apple App Store. Look for apps with high ratings and positive reviews to ensure credibility. Download and install the app by following the on-screen instructions. Once installed, you'll typically need to register an account, which might require verification through an email or mobile number. After setting up your account, you can begin playing Ludo and potentially earning money.

Understanding the App's Features

Most Ludo earning apps come equipped with various game modes, including classic, quick, and master versions. Each mode offers unique challenges and rules, catering to different player preferences. To navigate the app, use the main menu to access different games and features. You can join competitions or practice to sharpen your skills.

Tips for Success

To excel in Ludo and enhance your chances of winning, consider the following strategies:

Control the Center: Occupy the center of the board to give yourself more options and block opponents.

Spread Your Tokens: Don’t just race one token to the finish; spread out your tokens to increase your flexibility.

Plan Your Moves: Anticipate your opponents’ moves and plan accordingly to block them or escape threats.

Use Safe Spots: Keep your tokens in safe spots as much as possible to avoid being captured.

Be Patient: Sometimes, the best strategy is to wait for the right roll.

Prioritize Tokens: Focus on moving the tokens that are closest to your starting point to the finish line first.

Take Calculated Risks: When the opportunity arises, take risks to capture opponent tokens, but be mindful of potential vulnerabilities.

Understand Dice Patterns: While dice rolls are random, understanding probability can help in making more informed decisions.

Learn from Defeats: Every loss provides insight into your strategy; use it to refine your approach.

Practice Regularly: Frequent gameplay will improve your familiarity with the rules and nuances of the game.

Managing Your Finances

Responsible financial management is crucial when playing games for money. Set a budget for how much you’re willing to spend and stick to it. Always use secure payment methods for deposits and withdrawals, such as credit cards, e-wallets, or bank transfers. Be aware of the transaction fees and withdrawal limits. It's important to understand the terms and conditions of your earnings and cashouts to avoid any surprises.

Community and Social Interaction

Indian Ludo earning apps often feature robust community elements. You can connect with other Ludo players, exchange tips, and participate in tournaments. Utilizing these social features not only enhances the fun but can also provide strategic advantages. Engaging with the community can lead to learning new tactics and forming alliances that can be beneficial in team modes.

Responsible Gaming Practices

It’s essential to engage in responsible gaming. Set time and money limits to ensure that the game remains a source of enjoyment rather than stress. Most apps offer tools to help you track your spending and gaming time. Additionally, be aware of the safety features within the app to protect your privacy and data.

Starting with an Indian Ludo earning app opens up a world of fun and financial opportunity. By following the steps outlined, you can embark on an enjoyable and potentially profitable Ludo journey. Dive into the vibrant world of Ludo, practice your strategy, manage your finances wisely, and most importantly, play responsibly. The excitement and rewards of playing Ludo for real money await.

#indian ludo earning apps #ludo earnings #play ludo win cash #ludo app #ludo gaming #real money games #indian ludo gaming #ludo players

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mariacallous · 2 years ago

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Americans bought an estimated 150m guns in the past decade, as a drumbeat of mass shootings and other violence has convinced more people that owning a gun for self-defense will make them safer.

In a country where the leading cause of gun death is gun suicide, public health experts say a growth in gun ownership is likely to lead to more deaths.

In the 10 years since the mass shooting at Sandy Hook elementary school, the US gun safety movement has gained some political power, while the National Rifle Association has been weakened by internal disputes and legal battles. At the same time, overall gun ownership in the US appears to have grown.

People who choose to own guns are still a minority of the US population, with about a third of Americans saying they personally own a gun, and fewer than half saying they live in a house with a gun, according to survey estimates.

But the total number of American gun owners appears to have risen in recent years. One large survey conducted by Harvard and Northeastern University researchers estimates that the number of American gun owners rose by 20 million since 2015, from an estimated 55 million to 75 million people.

The number of Americans who choose to carry guns in public also appears to be rising, with 16 million people saying in 2019 that they carried a handgun at least once a month, and 6 million saying they did so daily, according to a new research study. That’s roughly double the number who said they regularly carried handguns in public in 2015.

Surveys over the past few decades show that an increasing proportion of Americans say they own a gun for self-defense, not hunting or recreation, said Deborah Azrael, a Harvard firearms researcher. In 2021, Gallup found, 88% percent of gun owners cited “crime protection” as their reason for owning a firearm.

Americans’ perception of the risk of crime and violence has often not lined up with reality: Gallup also found that, for nearly three decades, large majorities of Americans said almost every year that crime had risen nationally since the year before, even in the years when it was falling sharply. In 2013, Pew found that the majority of the public was simply unaware that the country’s gun homicide rate had fallen nearly 50% since 1993.

In the past three years, the coronavirus pandemic, nationwide protests against police violence and the insurrection at the US capitol supercharged US gun sales, with an estimated 5 million Americans becoming gun owners in 2020 and 2021, researchers found.

The top reasons for buying a gun early in the pandemic, according to a survey of California residents, were concerns about lawlessness, concerns about people being released from prison, the “government going too far,” and “government collapse.”

“When social problems happen, guns are one of the tools at the disposal of Americans”, and for many Americans, they are “a familiar tool”, Jennifer Carlson, a sociologist who studies US firearms culture, told the Guardian in an early 2020 interview, as gun sales surged. “If there’s a run on toilet paper, what’s going to be next? It’s just the prudent thing to get a gun.”

The majority of US gun owners are still white men, and the largest proportion live in the South, according to survey data. But research studies and gun industry sources agree that the demographics of gun ownership is shifting, with women estimated to make up half of new gun purchasers since 2019, and people of color making up nearly half, according to one major survey. Between 2019 and 2021, an estimated 5% of Black adults in the United States bought a gun for the first time.

Because of the political influence of gun rights advocates, there is no official government data on how many Americans own guns, or even exactly how many guns there are in civilian hands. Estimates range from 345m to 393m to more than 420m, according to the firearm industry trade group’s most recent data.

While there’s lots of interest in the eye-popping total number of guns in the US, “what matters is how these guns are distributed across people and households”, said Matthew Miller, a Northeastern University professor who specializes in firearm research, and what that distribution means for their increased risk of gun suicide, homicide or accidental injury.

His 2021 study found that a surge of gun buying before and during the pandemic meant that an additional 5 million US children now live in households with guns.

The best proxy for US gun sales over time is examining the number of federal criminal background checks conducted on gun sales by licensed firearms dealers. (In many states, individuals can sell guns to each other without any background check.)

Two widely cited estimates, both based on the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms’ background check statistics, put the number of gun sales in the US since January 2013 at around 150m, though that figure is likely an undercount.

Because Americans can buy multiple firearms at one time with a single background check, and because some states also allow people with a concealed weapons license to buy guns without background checks, the actual number of gun sales in the past decade is almost certainly higher than 150m, said Mark Oliva of the National Shooting Sports Foundation, a gun industry trade group that estimates there were at least 152m guns sales since January 2013.

At the same time, the number of background checks over the past decade will also include some double-counting of the same guns re-sold between people, said Jurgen Brauer, the co-founder of Small Arms Analytics, a firearms data company. Brauer estimates that, by the end of December, the total number of US gun sales in the past decade will reach nearly 164m.

Gun deaths have been rising in recent years, with a stark 35% increase in the nation’s firearm homicide rate in 2020, but a study that examined the pandemic surge in gun sales and increase in gun murders at the state level found no evidence of a clear association.

There were nearly 21,000 firearm homicides and more than 26,000 firearm suicides across the US in 2021, according to preliminary data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

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oldxenomorph · 1 year ago

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succession. [for @fatherentropy]

warnings: gore, eating said gore.

“Did you know that there’s an Arterius in the Spectres again?”

Red eyes shift towards the flanged voice. They observe Yorick as he attempts to pick up one of the younger princesses, who immediately squirms away from him with a hiss and some chittering, like an uncooperative child. [Y' ah nafl geb, she says. I am not here.] He attempts to pick up another one, but she slips away easily, back into the Ziggurat’s darkness to join the rest of her sisters. An exasperated “Fine, be that way” could be heard from the being.

The light from the console with holographic representations of the Milky Way and Andromeda barely touch the Emperor’s face, or the rest of her shape. Always shrouded in darkness, the red of her eyes and scarification searing through the cold, black air. The Ziggurat thrums through the walls.

A scrolling report emerges from a quadrant of the Milky Way, lines upon lines of Reaper code containing data that she already knows, already received. It makes the large console in the room a little redundant, but these physical things are part of an intricate ritual, an impulse within the Emperor, something left over from her time as Shepard over six centuries ago.

“I am aware,” the Emperor replies, her cold machine-baritone voice filling the space.

Pieces of Yorick’s glasses and jewelry, gold pins and pearlescent threads of lace, catch the light of the galaxies. So few beings outside of the Great Family are allowed to be this close to the Emperor, to see her face unveiled, or even touch her. But she doesn’t seem to mind, not at all bothered by his closeness, the way he regularly weaves in and out of the threshold of her personal space.

“Hope they don’t meet the same fate as their ancestor," he says flatly. Yorick props his chin on his hand, elbow resting on the great arm of the Emperor’s chair, bright blue luminescence in their pupils watching her.

[She pounds her human fists into the turian’s mutilated face, breaking what remained of the protective plating, her fingers pulling apart the shattered remains. The blue light of life flickered in his eyes behind the red, a kernel of his personality trapped within his own mind, unable to scream in pain. His last moments were spent witnessing a horrific truth about Shepard, about the Reapers, about the very fabric of the cosmos.

It is hard for her to close her jaw, but the black tentacles squeeze and crush as she ingests everything; meat and bone, atom and spirit, metal and technology. Fluid gushes, blue blood bubbling up to the surface to coat the lower half of her face. The bloom of euphoria grows in the pit of her stomach, a surge, a rush of signals and chemicals.

Mouth of a young black hole. It all gets pulled into her and her ruined jaw begins to ache. But it soothes her hunger, she takes into herself her inheritance, what Azathoth made just for her.

Every part of Saren’s insides belonged to her. Every piece of Reaper technology he ever grafted to himself belonged to her. So she ate and ate and ate until there was nothing left of him.]

The Emperor’s expression remains neutral.

“I doubt it will come to that,” she says finally.

A hum from Yorick. “So you say.” Sender fingers and gold nails idly play with the black embroidery on the Emperor’s black robe.

“This new Arterius descends from Desolas, not Saren.”

“Ahhh.” A sound of acknowledgement, an old memory emerges. “But wasn’t Desolas the first of the brothers to become indoctrinated?” Yorick moves to position himself just above the Emperor, their much smaller frame hovering above her shoulder, his face mere inches from her ear. The way he maneuvers is as if the Ziggurat is filled with cold, dark water. The Emperor's gaze is fixed upon the rotating galaxies in front of her. “Seems to me like that whole family is doomed one way or another.”

It is not just the Arterius family that has had to bear the weight of their ancestors' actions for all these centuries. Avitus Rix was so disgusted by Saren’s betrayal that he accepted the invitation to join the Andromeda Initiative. Perhaps to atone for his mentor’s sins and escape the ruination he brought to the galaxy. He could not have known what truly happened to Saren, nor could he have expected that the doom of all organic life would find him in another galaxy. Cursed to bear the responsibility as the turian Pathfinder, cursed to become indoctrinated like Saren.

The Emperor’s indoctrination is far more elegant than Sovereign's, but no less insidious. It is a reflection of her own ravenous hunger; will continue to eat at Avitus’s dreams, it will devour his thoughts, it will grow in the coils of his brain, in the dark spaces in his skull. He is one of the last organic beings in the universe that remembers Saren’s face, that remembers his voice. A legacy that will haunt him until the end of his days.

After all…..

Is submission not preferable to extinction?

There is the ghost of a smile on the Emperor’s scarred black lips. Some inscrutable expression almost verging into amusement, satisfaction; a great and terrible entity allowing herself to be entertained by events past, present, and future. A hum escapes her, low and abyssal, the sound of annihilation waiting at Andromeda’s edge, in the fringes of time. Yorick studies the Emperor, his hand once again propping up his chin as his strange eyes study her countenance.

“It remains to be seen what this new Arterius will do.”

One of Yorick’s eyebrows quirks upwards, peeking over the frame of his glasses. “So the cycle continues.”

There’s no verbal response from the Emperor, but the corners of her mouth spread by just a fraction, pushing pale and alien and scarred skin like it was drawn tightly across the architecture of her face. Her fingers itch, though they remained neatly intertwined and folded in her lap. It is impossible to truly know what goes on inside the Emperor’s head, which immense ideas are processed into fully fleshed out thoughts and which ones linger between the signals, the code, the synapses.

Yorick knows this expression she wears, finally able to coax something out of the great entity. He finds amusement in it where organic life may find it skin crawling and unsettling if they could ever look at her face.

What a terrible thing it is: to be doomed by Extinction, to be chosen as your ancestor’s successor.

A hunger begins to bloom in the core of the Emperor.

#creative impulses #creation: writing #the reaper emperor #puts this in an envelope and slides it underneath your door #a lil something for my favorite eel

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crisp-writers · 1 year ago

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Navigating the Evolving Labor Landscape: Adapting to Technological Advancements

The European labor markets have undergone profound transformations since the early 1980s, redefining conventional notions of employment, unemployment, and work-life equilibrium. This article explores salient characteristics that have emerged within European labor markets, encompassing the ascendancy of marginal employment, heightened labor mobility, innovative retirement trajectories, and amplified work flexibility. These dynamics have blurred the demarcation lines between traditional work paradigms, offering both prospects and challenges to individuals striving to navigate their professional paths within this dynamic milieu.

Part 1: Shifting Dynamics in European Labor Markets

The European labor landscape has experienced a tectonic shift since the early 1980s. Marginal employment, typified by part-time or temporary roles, has ascended to prominence. This transformation is attributed to evolving corporate requisites, cost imperatives, and labor market regulations. Concurrently, labor mobility has surged, propelled by globalization, technological strides, and mutable skill prerequisites. Conventional retirement conventions have been disrupted, yielding novel retirement trajectories such as phased retirement and post-retirement work. Factors like increased life expectancy and pension system alterations have fueled this transformation. Additionally, a surfeit of flexible work arrangements, spanning flexible hours, remote work arrangements, and self-employment, has granted individuals autonomy while concurrently presenting challenges related to job security and work-life equilibrium.

Part 2: Influential Factors in Labor Market Transitions

The International Labor Organization (ILO) discerns the pivotal role of labor market transitions in the realm of future work. These transitions encompass fluxes between employment, unemployment, and inactivity, alongside transits between formal and informal sectors and shifts across diverse industries or vocations. An array of factors exerts influence over these transitions:

Economic Conditions: Economic vicissitudes, including recessions and technological innovations, can precipitate job reallocations. Economic expansion or contraction may engender novel employment avenues in specific sectors while curtailing opportunities in others.

Technological Advancements: Automation, artificial intelligence, and digitalization have reshaped industries and necessitated evolved skill sets, impacting labor market dynamics significantly.

Globalization: Escalating globalization has ramifications for job mobility, outsourcing, offshoring, and industrial competitiveness.

Demographic Shifts: Population demographic fluctuations, encompassing aging populations and birth rate fluctuations, can reverberate throughout labor markets, influencing labor supply-demand dynamics.

Education and Skills: Individual education and skill levels wield a discernible influence over employability and adaptability in response to evolving job prerequisites.

Labor Market Policies: Government policies, including those concerning employment protection, social security, minimum wage mandates, and labor regulations, can sculpt labor market dynamics.

Social Factors: Gender-related norms, discriminatory practices, social inequities, and cultural proclivities concerning work influence labor market outcomes and transitions.

Part 3: Technological Advancements Reshaping Industries and Occupations

Technological advances have markedly transformed an array of industries and job roles across Europe. Below are illustrative instances:

Automation and Robotics: Automation technologies have revolutionized sectors like manufacturing, logistics, and agriculture, augmenting efficiency and productivity through the implementation of automated assembly lines and robotic workforce.

Digitalization and Data Analytics: The ascent of digital technologies has wrought radical shifts in domains like finance, marketing, and healthcare. The advent of data analytics tools has empowered organizations to glean actionable insights from voluminous datasets, underpinning data-driven decision-making and personalized consumer experiences.

Internet of Things (IoT): IoT technologies have left an indelible imprint on industries encompassing transportation, energy, and healthcare. IoT-enabled smart grids optimize energy dissemination, while wearable health devices enable remote monitoring of vital signs.

Artificial Intelligence (AI): AI, encompassing technologies that mimic human intelligence, has left an indelible imprint on sectors like finance, customer service, and cybersecurity. AI-driven chatbots provide automated customer support, and AI algorithms detect fraudulent activities.

Augmented Reality (AR) and Virtual Reality (VR): AR and VR technologies have ushered in a paradigm shift in gaming, entertainment, and education. AR overlays digital information onto the tangible world, enriching user experiences, while VR engenders immersive virtual environments, facilitating training simulations and virtual tours.

Biotechnology: The domain of biotechnology has wrought a revolution in healthcare, agriculture, and environmental conservation. Gene-editing methodologies such as CRISPR-Cas9 enable precise modifications to DNA sequences, potentially heralding treatments for genetic disorders.

Part 4: Preparing for the Future of Work

In the backdrop of these burgeoning technological advances, individuals can prudently navigate the future of work by adopting the following proactive strategies:

Stay Informed: Diligently monitor technological trends by engaging with professional associations, attending industry symposia, and maintaining daily immersion in technology news.

Skill Augmentation: Enhance proficiency in technology skills pertinent to your domain, aligning your competencies with evolving industry requisites to remain competitive.

Lifelong Learning: Internalize the ethos of perpetual learning, availing yourself of online courses, certifications, and advanced degree programs to perpetually bolster your knowledge.

Networking: Forge robust professional networks to gain insights into nascent technologies, cultivate career prospects, and remain conversant with industry trends.

Adaptability: Cultivate adaptability and flexibility, readily embracing modifications in job roles and mandates, and demonstrating a disposition to acquire new proficiencies.

Problem-Solving Prowess: The ability to proactively tackle complex challenges and exercise critical thinking is pivotal in technology-infused vocations. Acquire these skills through rigorous practice, engagement in intricate projects, or problem-solving exercises.

Mentorship: Seek mentorship from seasoned industry veterans for valuable counsel concerning industry trends, career progressions, and personal advancement.

Part 5: Leveraging Strong Resumes and LinkedIn Profiles

In the milieu of this ever-evolving job landscape, the strategic deployment of a meticulously crafted resume and a compelling LinkedIn profile can serve as indispensable assets for job seekers. These pivotal tools facilitate differentiation and meaningful connections in an increasingly digital professional realm:

1. Resume: An impeccably tailored resume serves as a succinct dossier, spotlighting your competencies, experiences, and achievements. It should be meticulously crafted to not only underscore your qualifications but also underscore your adaptability in response to technological progression. Deploy industry-relevant keywords and accentuate your capacity for continued learning and adaptation.

2. LinkedIn Profile: A professionally cultivated LinkedIn profile empowers you to foster valuable networks, exhibit your expertise, and stay apprised of industry trends. Regular updates should reflect your latest skills, project involvements, and triumphs. Active participation in industry-relevant LinkedIn groups and contributions to discussions showcase your commitment to staying technologically current.

Conclusion

The future of work in Europe is an intricately woven tapestry, woven by evolving labor market dynamics and the rapid cadence of technological advancements. While these metamorphoses proffer a bounty of advantages, including augmented productivity and a heightened quality of life, they concurrently necessitate unwavering adaptability and ongoing skill enhancement from individuals. By actively absorbing knowledge, perpetually improving their proficiency, cultivating a proactive attitude toward learning and adaptation, and capitalizing on potent tools like meticulously constructed resumes and LinkedIn profiles, individuals can not only flourish within this dynamic milieu but also engender growth and prosperity within European labor markets. Embracing the future of work necessitates the embrace of lifelong learning and an unflinching commitment to personal and professional enrichment within an era marked by ceaseless technological evolution.

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