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thalialunacy · 6 months ago

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[for the @calaisreno Prompts May-hem (get it?!); cw for more violence than I usually do, ymmv. Also I have a feeling this one shows my American-ness more than most, so uh, sorry? ^^;]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) 15: nightmare (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

'This,' John mutters to himself as he eyes the flashing red on the departures board, 'is a bloody nightmare.'

Sherlock frowns beside him. 'We're being shunted to a less direct route. Inconvenient, but hardly the stuff to disturb one's sleep.'

John closes his eyes momentarily. By and large, he's a good fit for Sherlock's behaviours, even when they're--especially when they're?--somewhat off the beaten path. But sometimes he doesn't have the energy. He just doesn't.

They've been on a literally cold case in Nowhereton, Bumfuckshire, and although the jewellery was found and no one was hurt John could absolutely murder a home-brewed cup of tea. And he would very much like to hold his daughter.

'Don't worry, John, you'll be home to her soon,' Sherlock says to him as they board the overstuffed train. They're not the only ones whose night has been sidetracked, literally, but John's empathy is thin on the ground as he jostles his way to two open seats, fantasising about going for a rugby tackle if someone else gets their first.

Sherlock ends up doing the tackling, though, because he gives not one damn about how train passengers view him. And it's not really a tackle, just a Very Cold Look. And maybe a thrown elbow.

Amused, at least a little, John takes his seat.

They manage to get an hour in before it all goes to hell.

---

The sound of the train car sliding over something besides tracks is the first thing that happens -- and really it's more of a feeling than a sound, somehow.

At first.

'Sherlock,' John says quietly, his stomach twisting. 'What was that?'

'Likely just--'

But Sherlock is interrupted by a great dirty shake, like the train is a snake trying to shed its skin in a big ugly hurry.

'Shit,' John mutters, feeling adrenaline flood his system. 'Hang on to something.'

---

John doesn't wait until the dust clears; he's out of his seat and beating his way through the door at the end of the car the second there's stillness beneath him. Their coach is still on the tracks, but he somehow knows that those ahead of them are not so lucky.

The emergency lights are on, but they're flickering and John has to squint as he makes his way through. His gaze sweeps around and he listens hard, but everyone in the car seems to be suffering from merely shock, bumps and bruises, minor things.

The next car is where shit gets real. The angles are all wrong, and he can see several people tangled in an awful unnatural embrace with metal pieces popped out from seats and side rails.

'Jesus,' he hears himself mutter. 'This is not ideal.'

Sherlock is right behind him, which he'd known but not paid any attention to. 'Triaging a hoard of exhausted people in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere with no avenues of immediate escalation?'

'Yeah, like I said. Not ideal.'

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John has no time for whatever witticism is about to be gifted upon the world, so he steps away from the detective and further into the chaos.

He raises his voice, but tries to keep it calm. 'Hello, everyone. My name is John, I'm a medical doctor, and I'm here to help.'

---

It's a long fucking night. Four dead, a couple dozen injured. One cannot save them all.

---

Hours later, the sun peeking over the horizon and Molly sacked out on the couch, he's about to pivot onto the staircase to his room when Sherlock puts a hand on his elbow. 'Let's wash up first,' he says, voice low and firm. 'Your daughter doesn't need to see you covered in blood, even if it's someone else's.'

'God damn it,' John mutters, knowing Sherlock is right but hating it; his skin itches with the need to see his little girl. 'Fine, but quick-like.'

He sheds his jacket and button down, which had got the brunt of it, on the way to the toilet, then barely looks at himself in the mirror as he runs a flannel over his face and scrubs at his hands. Sherlock is quiet beside him, handing him soap and cloth when needed, without prompting.

John finishes, then looks up at him. 'Aren't you coming?'

Sherlock's face-- well, It does something very complicated before smoothing out into a small smile. 'All right, let's.'

---

Anticlimactically, Rosie barely stirs when John picks her up. His limbs are finally able to shake out the events of the last twelve hours, and he feels Sherlock's arms around him and beneath her like a bridge truss, supporting them both.

John breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of his daughter and his flatmate. His-- his family, he thinks, trying the word out.

'Stay,' he says quietly, not looking away from Rosie. 'Just-- Stay?'

Sherlock hums for a moment, then answers like it was never in question. 'Of course.'

They don't consider pyjamas, instead curling around each other's dusty skin in pants and vests while murmuring about inconsequential things, domestic things that send warmth spiralling through John to replace the chill that had settled in somewhere during the journey they've just finished.

'I do have one question,' Sherlock says finally, the words warming the skin at John's neck.

'Go on.'

'As you know, many common understandings about the English language, particularly when it comes to colloquialisms, are not part of my… erm, base worldview.'

'Right, I am aware.'

'So I'd like to confirm: When you called the train delay a nightmare, you were exaggerating for humour, and when you called the derailment "not ideal," you were…'

John chuckles tiredly. 'Being English.'

'Being facetious.'

'Yes.' He pauses, fingers in Sherlock's mildly tangled hair. 'Sometimes, it's all that gets you from one moment to the next. One body to the next.'

Sherlock murmurs a noise, and John feels his embrace tighten.

'Well,' the detective finally says, voice deep and sleepy. 'Besides all that, I really must say that watching you in action was quite... informative.'

'Oh? In what way?'

'Informing me that I find your medical competency viscerally pleasing.'

John huffs a surprised breath. 'Yeah?'

'Mm-hmm. You're very good, and it's very attractive.'

'Noted,' John murmurs, eyes closed. 'Next time.'

'Mm-hmm.' Sherlock's palm is warm on his solar plexus, and John doesn't think twice as he succumbs to a deep, quiet sleep.

[❤️]

[a/n- I have not been in a derailment, but I have been in a train car when it ran over a live human being going 70mph, so forgive me for not being keen to research the former for the sake of accuracy.]

ETA OH GOD I forgot the best part! My inspiration for this piece:

#BBC Sherlock #May Prompts 2024 #mayprompts2024 #It's gonna be MAY 2024 #kind of a downer despite starting as a funny tweet #Very British Problems

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gvtted-ratz · 8 months ago

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read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

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Mission Failed

Simon “Ghost” Riley x M!Reader x John “Soap” MacTavish

Last Edited: 17/03/2023

TW: slight angst, foul language, violence, blood, gore, gunshot wound, death mention

@denzellovehazelnuts: Hi! hope you have a good day! Can you do a poly "Ghost x male reader x Soap" (if you comfortable writing poly relationship) with slow burn, angst and fluff at the end? Where Ghost and Soap already in a relationship until the reader came into their team The two male thought the reader wasn't talkative around people but few weeks later, things change at first Ghost seems interesting in the male skill using gun and how fast he can run and Soap like the male sense of humour. Both of them thought it only a friendship type of things. Until the male save Ghost from the enemy on the battlefield and him laughing at Soap jokes. That when the two males known what happen to them, they weren't sure if M/n would comfortable in a relationship with them, so they start doing small things for him like making coffee or helping training,.. And M/n notice it, he even started to fall for the both of them. But he keep denying the things they did for him because he thought that what friend do. and M/n don't think he is ready for a new relationship, he wasn't sure he is good enough for them (the male got trauma from the previous relationships) (more angst please, I would like to suffer for a little bit) (・∀・) After a while, the three of them got into a mission together, everything went good until the male got shot. He thought he going to be de@d soon (only to find out that he only got shot at his leg) so M/n confessed how he feel about the two of them. (andddd I don't know what to do with the ending cause I'm ran out of idea. I would want to see how the treated each other when got into a relationship. Sorry about the grammar, English isn't my first language)

Word Count: 2,654

AO3 LINK -> HERE

Notes: hiiii! i dont do heavy angst but i did do some u know? slow burn it is!!! srry it took so long! irl things hold me back a lot. N since u wanted slow burn, n with all that uve put (about 350 words of things i can work on/with 2 get this drawn out as a full-on fic!! yay!) i had 2 like. try n put all u wanted in there so yea! hope u enjoy!! also! i threw in some other characters like gaz n roach. hope u dont mind em being in here since this is like, a mash of cod n codmw2 (canon? what cancon?) cause i rlly do wanna put some other characters in here that i find interesting n build some sort of character/personality 4 the reader. reader deserves some cool friends-2-brothers!

At first, you hadn’t wanted to join Task Force 141. You were comfortable with your position as the quiet, but light on your feet, knife specialist. Well, that wasn’t truly your title. You were just good with knives. You weren’t too shotty with a gun either. Either weapon being in your hands meant blood was going to be shed. KorTac needed those types, especially those who could use it to get in as well as out; you also couldn’t forget about using your skills to get information. Torturing the prisoners wasn’t something you particularly liked, but you were good at it too. Combining your skills with knives and guns, it truly was hell for anyone on the opposite side of your team. You also couldn’t forget that, out of the others, you were much faster. Sure, some could still beat you at times but that didn’t mean you weren’t good. Bets had been constantly taking place with you, along with others as it was one of the few things any of you could do to pass the time in a less-than-bloody manner.

The transfer from KorTac to Task Force 141 wasn’t smooth. Horangi, or Kim Hong-jin, didn’t let you go for weeks. You were part of his team, one of his men. The leader of KorTac is what most of you saw him as. He knew many of you like the back of his hand. Not to mention, a tiger can be cruel but would never devour its cubs for no reason, well, as some say. As far as you knew, because you were all together, you were a team and therefore family. While there were others who didn’t get along, out in the field, all of you had each other’s back. Very rarely did anyone get left to perish to the enemy.

With all that in mind, it took weeks for him to let you go. More or less, Laswell was the one to convince him; that is if you call bringing each plus every person in KorTac to ruins as “convincing”. She wanted you on a team she could keep tabs on you; doubting her power and skills was out of the question. Which meant leaving KorTac to ensure that everyone else was free from possible imprisonment or death was necessary.

Fitting in wasn’t too hard considering most of the people there were from all over the place. While it’s odd for a member from another team to suddenly appear on another, it didn’t bother most of the others. Just from a glance, you could tell who was into who; as well as who exactly was in a relationship. A man by the name of Ghost including another called Soap, you knew were together. Soap flirted with almost everyone, though it was more teasing and lighthearted. With Ghost though? The flirting went up by twenty percent. His dial for teasing went up tenfold too. Meanwhile, Ghost hardly looked at anyone else, nevertheless, stare at them unless they were the Scottish man. Frankly, you didn’t mind. Who were you to judge the two? Especially when they were good at what they did.

It takes weeks before you’re comfortable enough to so much as talk to anyone 141. Gaz, or Kyle as Soap tended to call him when annoyed, is the first to so much as approach you. While the others are interested, you coming from KorTac had put them off for a bit. Gaz on the other hand treats you like a brother. He’ll throw his arm around your shoulder, dragging you around as he laughs about the past or even at your jokes. At meals, he always throws a raised eyebrow at those who look at you oddly when you’re quiet or sitting with the man. He treats you like you’re part of the team, furthermore, that truly means more than anything to you.

The man is just as bloodthirsty as you are. His stories of falling out of planes along with taking out enemies only lead to you looking up to your new teammate and brother. His tales of meeting Captain Price, past missions, a few tidbits of him being with the SAS, together with some metals he’s earned, only makes you want to pry more stories from the man; not like you don’t have to try. Simply asking about his stories leads to at least an hour-long spill of them from the guy.

And with his stories comes a few of your own. You don’t share much of them, knowing Gaz spreads them to the rest of the team with more dramatics to try to get you to interact with the others. Something you do learn about him that you always keep in mind from his stories is that his blood type is B Negative and shooting any dog, wild or not, makes him feel a bit guilty; he had to shoot one a while ago and apologised to the poor mutt after having to put it down to finish his mission.

With all that he’s shared and how the both of you see each other as brothers, it’s only fair that you let yourself talk to the others in the team. Though your words are short, along with your jokes being told quickly to distract yourself from the stressful situations, you allow yourself to slowly relax with the others. Gaz’s constant support helps you finally allow yourself to bond with your new team and family. It’s only after a mission that things change.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Take the left! Keep your heads down and keep movin’!” Captain Price’s voice rings out in your earpiece. Everything has gone to shit. The intel you’ve been getting was entirely a trap. You’re running through an underground tunnel, Ghost and another man named Roach is running in front of you.

Roach is a quiet man, never talking or letting out a sound, but semi-friendly. From his actions and what you’ve been told of him, he does his best to complete the missions to the tea. The few interactions you’ve had with him were silent but nice. Whether or not he’s mute has crossed your mind time and mind again but you don’t ask; you’d rather leave the man be. After all, he has become something like a friend maybe even another brother.

“Copy. We’re nearly out. Roach and [Redacted] are with me,” Ghost responds, quickening his pace. The rifle smacks against your back as you speed up to keep up with the other two men. Despite the situation, the three of you remain as calm as you can be.

“You’re bein’ tracked like a rabbit is by a hound, Ghost! Move it!” The captain’s orders are clear and the worry is read between the lines. If you three don’t get out, it’s a huge blow to 141. Not only that, but Soap loses his boyfriend, Gaz loses two of his best friends as well as brothers, you three lose your lives, and Task Force 141 loses three of its members. Dying isn’t an option here.

“We have company,” Your words are muffled by your gear but the two soldiers in front of you hear them in their own pieces.

“Fuckin’ hell-” Ghost’s sentence gets cut off by gunfire from behind. Turning around, you fire the Lachmann Sub in your possession.

“We gotta go! They’re gaining!” You clip one of the enemies in the shoulder and another is hit in the stomach. Picking up the speed, the three of you try to beat them out of the tunnel. You cover the back, hoping the two get out before you. If you get surrounded, it’s over.

Thankfully, they haven’t reached the other end of the tunnel as the three of your burst out of the exit. You grab a grenade, pull the pin and throw it in the tunnel. As soon as it leaves your hands, you’re running faster to get to Roach and Ghost before anything else can; one arm wraps around each of your teammates’ necks, dragging them down to the ground as the little metal bomb goes off. Debris flies everywhere, looking for an area to land after being shot out of its place.

With the tunnel exist now collapsed along with no more flying rock and metal, you release the men. “How copy?” Crackles through each of your earpieces. You knock your forearm into Roach’s upper arm, eyes crinkling from your smile. He gives you a grateful nod, standing. You smack Ghost’s arm as he stands, glad to have escaped the enemies for now.

“Tunnel’s collapsed. We’re good. Ready for extraction, Sir,” Blunt and straight to the point are the skull-masked man’s words.

“Good. Heli’s close by. Move to the edge of the town.” With the three of you alive, you can practically feel Captain Price’s relief.

“Copy that, Captain,” Your muffled response comes before Ghost can send in his own. He scans you from the corner of his eye but doesn’t give you a retort. You do, however, hear a small huff of air leave him. You throw your arm around Roach’s neck again, puffs of air leaving you from happiness, meanwhile, his arm comes around your back. Seems the three of you live another day.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

After that mission, Ghost tends to lurk around you more than he originally had. It didn’t help that Soap tends to tag along as well. Thankfully, he finds your jokes hilarious if the loud, boisterous laughter he lets out all the time tells you anything. His teasing ends up piling onto you as well. Before, it was light as well as spread out. Now, it’s almost like he’s talking to Ghost with all the teasing and flirting he now does with you. His boyfriend hardly seems concerned but rather encourages his behaviour. Of course, that doesn’t mean he goes easy on you when the two of your spar together. He’s dead serious when it comes to sparring; it’s only a reminder that while he does good off, he’s just as dangerous as the rest of them.

The two men seem to be fixated on wanting to help you out in training as well. More pointers plus tips are thrown your way when you practice with either of them. Sometimes, they’ll even make you coffee for those sleepless nights. Mentioning such things to Gaz and Roach only leads to your sworn brothers giving you knowing looks or a few teasing words; Gaz is the one with the teasing remarks while Roach pats your shoulder in a mocking but teasing “you poor man” way. Neither seems keen on wanting to spill the tea on why the Scottish and British men have been more affectionate.

While you enjoy their kind gestures, including their company, you’re not sure if you’re ready to admit to yourself, or them, about such feelings or relationships. On the surface, you truly do want to ask them if this is some sort of flirting schtick they have going on. Deep down though, the idea of being with anyone again makes your stomach fill with the lead. How could you enter another relationship? After the last one ended with your soon-to-be fiance’s brains splattered all over a brick wall. How can you move past that? How can you allow yourself to find someone like them? Or even better than them? The answer to that is a sigh alongside a bitter smile. The ring hiding under your tactical gloves seems to burn your skin. Truly, how can you let your first love go? After all, if you weren’t good enough to keep them alive, how can you keep these two from meeting the same gorey end?

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“To think I’d find myself here… How fuckin’ funny,” You mumble. Another mission, this one just like all the others. Well, it would have been if you hadn’t been shot. The blood leaking from your leg alongside a knife wound to your side leave you in pain. Feeling weak isn’t something uncommon but neither is it constantly happening. Words are being spoken to you through your headset. You were to be the lookout but ended up being the enemy's first target.

“How copy?” Rings in your ears. Your eyes stare blankly in front of you. You feel pathetic. Too tired to talk. Too tired to get up. You just sit, popped up against a tree in the heavily wooded area. You’ve failed, failed, failed.

“C’mon, Mate, how do ya copy?” Soap’s voice is worried and winded. He and Ghost are the people you’ve been teamed up with and you’ve failed.

“[Redacted], how copy?” The next tone is Ghost’s. It sounds slightly strained.

“Mission Failed,” You croak, head tilted back and against the tree.

“Status report, Mate. Where are ya?” He’s rushing, possibly panicked now.

“Got two wounds. Gunshot to the thigh. Knife to the side. Bleeding pretty bad, Soap.” You close your eyes, sighing.

“State your location.” The Brit seems to be just as worried as his Scottish counterpart.

“Dunno. Woods. Against a tree… There’s a lot of blood. Feelin’ woozy.” When you open your eyes, your sight is blurred. You’re losing too much blood.

“Keep talkin’ to us then, yeah? You’ll make it out. We’ll get out together,” The Scot’s words, though hopeful, only make you scoff quietly.

“You know… If I get outta here… Think we can go out sometime? Bourbon and whiskey? The three of us?”

“When we get out, [Redacted]. There’s no if here,” The masked man makes it sound final like there’s no way you’ll die on them.

“Yeah… Yeah..” You don’t say anymore, everything slowly hazing away. It’s like your floating in winter with how cold you feel.

“[Redacted]? Don’t sleep! C’mon! Keep ya eyes open!” Soap’s words fade away along with everything else. All that waits is cold darkness.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“So… Think you can handle our drinking date after this?” Soap perches on the side table, messing with a lighter he took from Ghost.

“After he’s healed, Johnny. No alcohol before,” A semi-scolding is all the man gets from the brooding Ghost. You laugh slightly, jostling your wounds. You wince but wave off the concerned looks you get.

“After I’m no longer full of holes, Johnny-boy.” You take a sip of water afterwards, making Soap frown playfully.

“And to think I was gonna bring out the good shit fer ya. A shame. A damn shame.” You gently shake your head. It was a close call but Ghost got to you before you completely bled out. From what you’ve been told by Gaz, who yelled at you for an hour after you woke up from your four-day sleep, Ghost and Soap dragged you back to the helicopter. Both refused to leave your side. Captain Price ended up having to yell at the men and bribe them with a bit of alcohol to get them to even go to their own rooms. You made sure to apologize to Gaz, hugging him tightly after his blow-up. He thought he was going to lose a friend and family member so you couldn’t blame him.

Roach gave you the cold should for a while before appearing in your room with a cup of coffee. He made sure to smack the back of your head for your stupidity as well, though it was hardly rough. You grabbed the man before he could so much as bolt though when he saw you getting up to hug him. He hadn’t pushed you away though. And the captain? It felt like you were a kid again with how he pinned you with his stare. He made sure to tell you exactly how he felt, going from angry, to disappointed, to angry again. Another guy you couldn’t blame anything on. But you get to live another day at least. And you get to have that date with the two guys who were able to grab ahold of your heart after a long-time of heartache and loss.

#x male reader #x reader #my fics #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #poly ghoap x reader #poly ghoap x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #mdni blog

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callmelittlebuttercup · 1 month ago

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Peace Offerings Pt. 17

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Masterlist

Content Warning: 18+ MDNI

Chapter Summary: Reader has a dream and her reaction to it doesn't go unmissed by Joel. In an effort to distract him from it, Reader offers to do a favor for their saviors, Lydia and John, that sends them out to check the perimeter of the property. During their perimeter check, a freezing rainstorm barrels through and forces the two to take cover in an abandoned tool shed. Joel takes advantage of their alone time and asks Reader about the dream once more.

<3 CHAPTER WARNINGS ARE AT THE END OF THE TEXT TO AVOID SPOILERS <3

Part 17

The sun had dipped below the treeline and the little girl, Lucy had long since been put to sleep. I’d decided it was time to let Matthew sleep since his eyes kept fluttering while we were talking. He most definitely was not out of the woods yet. This thought kept me nervously rubbing the edges of my shirt between my fingers as I sat in the living room with Joel, John, and his wife who I’d learned was named Lydia. “He’d managed to miss both the tripwire and the pitfall and just wound up slumped over on our front porch. Lydia had heard him and found him there bleeding like a stuck pig- Sorry, for that visual.” John stuttered as he explained how they found Matthew. I cringed at the image of him in that condition. Joel was next to me on the couch and I felt his hand brush against my leg. A small action of comfort.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough for saving my brother.” I croaked. The fatigue of the day weighed down on my tone. “Of course. We believe that as long as you have the resources, save who you can.” Lydia said. “Your traps say otherwise.” Joel grumbled. I shot him a disapproving look. “Well, we do have a little one here to protect. Plus, they’re more for infected. We don’t come across many people these days.” John clarified. Joel rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say more but was thankfully interrupted by Lydia speaking again, “Well, it’s getting late. We’d be happy to let you two stay here while your brother heals. Unfortunately he’s taken up our guest room so all we have left is the living room or the master. You two are such a sweet couple and you must be exhausted from your travels, I insist that you take the master. I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch for a night or two.” John looked a bit annoyed at his wife for offering up their luxuries to strangers. “Oh- we’re not a couple. We’d be happy to sleep on the couch. Thank you so much for offering, though.” I said as I scooted farther away from Joel. Lydia’s smile dropped and she studied the two of us for a moment before snapping out of it and speaking again, “Oh! I’m sorry. Um… no problem, I’ll just grab you some blankets.” She hurried out of the living room and down the hall. John rubbed his knees awkwardly for a moment before standing, nodding, and then following his wife down the hall.

“You could be a bit more polite, you know.” I whispered through my teeth as soon as the man left the room. Joel stared at me blankly before answering, “They’re strangers. Can’t be too careful.” He stood up and walked to the window to examine the pitch black that went unnoticed as it fell over the sky. “They saved my brother Joel. The least we could do is show an inkling of trust or gratitude.” He pressed his lips together and gave a slight nod before sitting back down on the couch.

“They’re not much, but they should warm you through the night.” Lydia said as she entered the room and handed each of us a blanket. “They’re perfect. Thank you again.” I said as I accepted the soft, wooly fabric. “Of course.” She smiled before waving goodnight and heading down the hallway. I sat back down on the couch and began to cover myself with the blanket. Joel did the same and sighed heavily as he laid down on his back. I settled in on my side, still facing him. “Goodnight.” I whispered. He took a moment to respond before grounding out a quiet, “Night.”

Dream pov:

A soft wind blew through the kitchen window as I stood over the sink, rinsing the remnants of this morning’s breakfast down the drain. I hummed along to the crackly radio. I was lost in my own little world, but shrieked back to reality when I felt large arms snake around my waist. A sigh of relief left my lips as the comfort of realization flooded over me. “Hi, Honey.” I whispered before turning around to face Joel. His face was caked with dirt and sawdust, but I still peppered his cheeks and lips with light kisses. His grip around my waist tightened and I leaned into him, pressing my head against his broad chest. “I missed you.” He whispered into my ear, “Was a long day.” I pulled away and pushed his long hair away from his glossy forehead. “I missed you more. Go shower up before dinner.” I said before gently pushing him away and pretending to fan a bad smell away from my nose. A small smile crept across his lips and he came back for one more kiss before heading up the stairs. Before walking back to the kitchen, I gazed lovingly at the photos that hung on the wall along the stairs. My heart fluttered when my eyes reached the one of us standing under the big weeping willow tree hand in hand. My white dress and Joel’s suit jacket both whipping in the wind and huge toothy grins on our faces. My hand moved to my stomach and instinctively moved over the small curve that had started to form around my belly button. “Are you a boy or a girl?” I whispered softly to my belly before walking back to the kitchen.

“It’s a boy. I can feel it.” Joel said rather joyfully as he clopped down the stairs. His damp hair bounced atop his head as he reached the last step. “And what makes you so sure?” I asked sarcastically as I opened my arm to accept a warm, damp hug. “I just know.” He sighed into the crook of my neck. “You just want a boy.” I joked before gently pushing him away by his shoulders, “Anyways, do you want dinner or not?” There was no answer from him as his eyes traveled up and down my body, taking their sweet time once they found my midsection. “Are you on the menu?” He asked. His eyes were filled with mischief, and I couldn’t hold back the nervous giggle building in my throat. Quicker than I could catch my breath, Joel’s lips were on mine again, and his arms were wrapped around me as my bottom was pressed against the kitchen sink. He moved to pepper kisses along my neck and collar bone and soft, desperate moans left my lips as I revelled in his touch-

My dream was cut short when I heard my name being called. I blinked a few times, trying to snap out of my euphoric, yet confusing dream. My mind continued reeling. Was that our future? It couldn’t possibly be. Not in times like this. Not to mention the fact that he thinks being with me would make me a distraction. I heard my name again, and I turned to look at Joel who was sitting up on the couch across from me. It was almost light out and I could see the sleep still in his eyes. “You okay?” He asked. “Yeah, why?” I asked, my voice was hoarse from sleep. “You were… uh… makin’ some noises. Figured you were havin’ a nightmare.” He explained uncomfortably. Embarrassment flooded my chest and blood rushed to my cheeks. “Yeah, just a nightmare. Sorry.” I breathed. Joel nodded, but didn’t look too convinced. I squirmed beneath his stare and rolled onto my side to face away from him. “You wanna talk about it?” He asked hesitantly. I sighed and sat up to stretch the sleep out of my limbs before answering stoicly, “No. Not really.” I wasn’t lying. The dream left such a stange feeling in my chest. It was close to the feeling that I always had after waking up from nightmares, where my chest was tight, my heart was racing, and my stomach was in my throat. Except in this case, there was a hint of pleasure in that feeling and I wanted more of it. I yearned to finish the dream and see where the story led, but I did not want to discuss it with Joel.

Joel respected my wishes and kept his questions mostly to himself except for the puzzled furrowing of his eyebrows as he watched me walk into the kitchen and throw water onto my face. After that, I left the living room quietly to go check on Matthew. I padded down the dim hallway, cringing each time a squeak sounded out from the floorboards. When I reached his door, I knocked gently. No answer. My hand gripped the door knob and I opened it a crack to see him fast asleep under the ratty covers of his makeshift bed. His chest moving slowly, but surely, up and down. My eyes welled and my gratitude towards this sweet little family finally set in. At first all I was feeling was shock and could barely process the fact that I found my brother by chance in such a secluded area. I had so much to be thankful for. Thankful that my brother was alive, that I was alive, and that Joel made the efforts to be by my side this whole time. I stood at the doorway of his bedroom watching him sleep peacefully and enjoying the calm quietness that fell over the house while everyone was sleeping.

The house wasn’t quiet for much longer since Lucy had woken up and bounded into the living room to greet us. She was entertaining us by doing somersaults back and forth on the couch Joel had slept on while the both of us sat opposite as her captive audience. “Luce, it’s a little bit early for that, don’t you think?” Her father asked before shooting us a sympathetic shrug. “I’m practicing for the Olympics. I’m gonna be a gymnast, daddy!” She answered. The room became heavy and quiet from none of us having the heart to tell her the truth about her future. “She uh- read that in a book.” John said wearily as he set two cups of coffee in front of Joel and I.

“If we’re going to be here for a while, please tell me what we can do to help around the place.” I insisted. John shuffled his feet and chewed his lip for a moment before his hand moved to massage his knee. Lydia touched his shoulder and gave him a look, one saying go ahead. “Every day we do a perimeter… just to check the traps. I-uh twisted my knee a while back and it hasn’t stopped hurtin’ since. If I give y’all some direction… would you uh-“ I interrupted his nervous stuttering by blurting “Of course. Anything we can do.” Joel shot me a look but I didn’t meet his eyes. “How big is the perimeter?” Joel asked. “Same as the distance we traveled yesterday. About a mile.” John answered. Joel winced and I rolled my eyes. “There’s no other way we can-“ I cut Joel’s protest off, “We’ll do it. Just tell us where each trap is and arm us and we’re good to go. Joel patrols in Jackson as a side gig.” My volume dropped the moment the words left my mouth. Shit. Joel’s eyes went wild as they glared at me. “Jackson?” John repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve heard of that place before.” Lydia said as she took a few steps into the living room. I quickly moved to change the subject of the conversation. “Anyway, we better do the perimeter check before it starts raining.” I said as I gestured to the dark gray clouds looming in the window. “Yes. Honey, go ahead and brief them and I’ll go change Matthew’s bandages and see if he’ll eat.” Lydia said before hurrying down the hall.

In preparation, John showed us a rough map he’d drawn out of the property. It displayed the perimeter lines and the approximate location of each trap, warning us to stay at least 10 feet away from each area as a safety precaution. I asked questions and Joel stayed silent, resorting to a short grunt of acknowledgement for John’s instructions. We ate some oatmeal made by Lydia, grabbed our guns and flashlights and bundled up. “If you guys aren’t back in 2 hours I’ll come lookin’.” John called out as Joel and I headed down the path towards the woods. I wasn’t sure whether that sentiment was comforting or scary.

Unsurprisingly, Joel had nothing to say as we walked and checked each trap. He walked in front of me with the map, stopping and hap-hazardly looked to see if anyone, or anything, was in the trap, and would move on. So far, they were all empty. We were about three quarters of the way around the perimeter when I began to feel raindrops hitting the top of my head and shoulders. The wind picked up and sent fallen leaves swirling across our path. “Shit.” Joel cursed, looking up to the sky.

The rainfall was hard and unforgiving, just degrees away from freezing rain. I could barely see from being pelted in the face with the water. Joel grabbed my elbow and pulled me so hard I nearly fell into him. I scowled and began to question what his motive was but was cut off by a huge branch slamming to the ground in my previous spot. “Thank you.” I said breathlessly. He, as per usual, grunted in response and urged me forward. “Let’s find that shed we saw back that way.” I called out through a huge clap of thunder. Joel nodded and began walking back towards the small wooden structure in the distance. Thunder clapped again and we broke out into a jog, urgent to escape the relentless storm. I grabbed the handle of the shed door and turned the lock before swinging it open and hurrying inside with Joel close behind. We leaned against the wall opposite to each other, taking a moment to catch our breaths.

The air was cold from the recent snow and my sopping wet clothes clung to my body, causing me to start shivering. I looked around the dim, dusty shed for anything to wrap myself with. I saw shovels, buckets, miscellaneous tools, ropes, but nothing that would warm my trembling self. I heard Joel curse under his breath as he peered out the small window at the downpour. “Doesn’t seem to be lettin’ up.” He grumbled before his eyes shifted to me, “Are you glad we helped them now?” I rolled my eyes and kept my gaze out the window at the tall trees taking a serious beating from the huge raindrops and furious wind. “I don’t want to hear it, Joel.” I said, letting the tone of my voice be a warning to the stubborn man.

He let a few moments of quiet go by as he studied the weather out the window. His eyes shifted to me every once in a while, probably annoyed at the sound of my chattering teeth, then finally he spoke, “Take your clothes off.” I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly, and blurted “What?” He shook his head and stepped towards me, “Your wet clothes are makin’ you colder. Take em off.” I stared at him in disbelief. “And put what on?” I questioned, shock and confusion raising the pitch of my voice. He shook his head in frustration. “I’ll give you my flannel, it’s dry. Unless you want to keep shivering and make yourself sick.” I knew he was right, but he was crazy to think I would just strip down to my underwear in some random shed in the middle of- “Oh fuck it.” I sighed shakily and began to unbutton my soggy jeans. I watched as Joel tried to pry his eyes away from me as I clumsily stepped out of the pant legs. “Shirt please.” I demanded as I turned around to take my jacket and t-shirt off. After some shuffling of clothing, a warm flannel wrapped around my shoulders. I pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up to my neck before hugging myself and taking in the warmth. “Better?” Joel asked as he picked my jeans and shirt up off the floor. I nodded and watched him spread my clothes over the counter to dry. “What now?” I asked, pressing some of the fabric up against my face. My goal was to make it look as if I was just drying my face, but in reality I was breathing in his familiar scent. A scent I didn’t know I’d missed. “Not sure. Just wait it out I guess. Give your clothes a chance to dry.” He said. “What about your clothes? Aren’t you cold?” I questioned. He shook his head, “M’fine.” I didn’t believe him. From what I could see, he was freezing, but just trying to tough it out. “You’re cold Joel.” I insisted. He shook his head again, “I said I’m fine. Just relax.” I huffed and leaned against the wall of the shed. I was shocked at how warm I was. It had snowed just days ago and the air was still cold, but even so, I was warmer than when I had my soaking wet pants on.

The rain wasn’t letting up. It had been at least a half hour since we’d been in the shed. My boredom got the best of me and I’d begun to play around with random tools. “What’s this one?” I asked Joel, the renowned contractor. “S’a nail puller.” He answered nonchalantly. “Ever use it?” I asked as I fiddled with the handles and tried to figure out how it worked. “‘Course I have. Used to go around behind my men and pick out the crooked nails. Made ‘em re-do them all.” He said. I was not surprised at all by his words. “Wow, they must have loved you.” I joked. “They did, actually. I was hard on them for a reason. I saw potential, and they just needed a little push.” He explained. I hummed out an “Mhmmm,” as a response before I picked up a huge circular piece of metal with serrated edges. “What’s this one?” I asked as I spun it around in my hands. Joel moved towards me quickly and tried to snatch it out of my hands. “It’s a fuckin’ saw blade. Put it down.” He demanded. I did as he said and turned around to face him, “Sorry boss.”

His unimpressed face softened as our views met, and for a moment, he had a glint of hunger in his eyes. That familiar hunger I’ve seen before in our brief moments of intimacy. “Are my legs being exposed too much for you, Miller?” I asked sarcastically. I expected him to blink the look in his eyes away, but instead I saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a miniscule smirk. “That and somethin’ else.” He said in a low tone. I thought the weight of his eyes on me was enough to make me melt, but when his voice became soft and buttery like that, my knees almost buckled. “And what’s that?” I asked, my voice close to a whisper. His hand moved up to push a wet piece of hair off of my face before he cooed, “I know that wasn’t no nightmare this morning.” His hand settled in on the nape of my neck and I nearly stopped breathing. “What?” I choked. His smirk became more prominent. “I wanna know what happened in that dream to bring those sounds out of you.” Out of all of the things I expected from Joel today, this was not it.

I wanted to lie. To say that it was a nightmare and I can’t control what noises I make in my sleep. But Joel knew the truth. Whether I liked it or not, he knew me from the weeks of travelling together. “You do?” I managed. “I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.” He gasped before resting his hands on the counter on either side of me. “What happened to no more distractions?” I asked slyly, unwilling to let him forget his past remarks. “Well, its pourin’ out there, your brother is safe with those people, and we’ve got nothin’ to do besides wait in this shed. In conclusion, what was that dream about?” He asked again. “I don’t know… if I should tell you.” I said, becoming flustered all of a sudden. Joel’s face dropped. “Was it about someone else?” He asked in a sullen, yet guarded tone. My first instinct was to insist that it wasn’t about anyone else, but the shitstirrer in me was curious to see his reaction to the fact that it wasn’t. “What would you do if it was?” I questioned. His face darkened and I watched as he took another lustful glance at the way the curves of my body made way for themselves in his shirt. Goosebumps prickled my arms and legs as his rough hand made contact with my thigh, fully palming my soft skin before sliding upwards so slowly that it was almost painful. When his fingers ran into the fabric of his shirt, they tenderly pushed themselves underneath the flannel and changed their path to meet the waistband of my panties. I drew in a short breath as his hand skimmed the elastic, searching for an entrance. The sides of his mouth turned upwards slightly and he leaned in to press his lips against my neck all the way up to my ear. “I’d show you why it should always be me.” He droned.

Just then, he found his way into my panties. The slippery, honey-like substance I’d made just for him guided his fingers inside of me. My mouth fell open and a quiet moan escaped my lips. His fingers continued to move in and out of me, pulling more and more breathy moans from my lips. I felt his breath on my neck as he kept his ear close to my mouth, taking in every pleasure filled sound that escaped me. Just as I was beginning to feel the coil of pleasure building in my core, he stopped.

“Need you to be louder.” He ground out before kneeling down and positioning himself between my legs. His hands wrapped around the edges of my panties and pulled them down. The cold air met my skin and my legs clenched closed, but Joel wasn’t having that. I yelped as his hand grasped the back of my knee before pushing it upwards and over his shoulder, forcing me open. His eyes gazed hungrily at my exposed center but he slowed himself down by pressing kisses to my inner thighs. His scratchy beard against my skin caused me to shudder in anticipation. I craved the feeling of his mouth on me again. So badly that my hips began bucking towards his face. He pressed a few more kisses to my thigh before moving to my center. He teased me first. His only touch being a few small, light licks on my clit. He wanted to hear me beg.

“Please Joel,” I breathed. “Please what?” He asked, his warm breath on me caused me to push myself towards him even more. He pulled away. “Tell me what you want, or I’m not doin’ anything.” He demanded. “I want your mouth on me right fucking now.” I whined frustratedly. I watched as a satisfied smirk came across his face before he finally ducked down and captured my clit between his lips.

It became a fever dream. My head fell back and I instinctively arched my back forwards, needing more and more of his mouth as his tongue swirled over the bundle of nerves. Joel hummed his approval, the vibration sending spikes of pleasure up through my core. He lapped and teased as he gripped my thigh to keep it flush against his shoulder. He teased my pussy with his other hand and slid two of his fingers into me. I moaned and writhed beneath his touch, the onslaught of sensations he was sending through my body made it nearly impossible for me to keep it together. My moans became more and more desperate. Sounding less like moans and more resembling breathless cries. “That’s it…that’s what I heard this morning.” Joel purred between swipes of his tongue.

I tried to answer, but it all became too much. The feeling of his fingers inside me, his mouth on me, his gruff voice ordering me around all combined to send me reeling over the edge. I cried out and my body began to tremble but Joel had no plans to stop. He relentlessly rode out my orgasm, continuing to pump his fingers while licking and sucking the most sensitive part of me. It was as if he was trying to draw as much pleasure as possible for me and it was working. The sides of my vision were shrouded with white.

Soon, my legs began to give out and Joel finally stopped. He stood up, grabbing onto my waist to support me as my body practically went boneless. Both of us stood there panting, our chests moving against each other’s. I was slowly regaining my full vision and looked down to see the bulge in Joel’s jeans. His gaze followed mine and he began to back away, but I grabbed him by the belt buckle, feeling his body go rigid beneath my touch. I leaned in towards his ear and whispered, “I want you Joel. Don’t you want me?” A deep, shaky breath left his lips before he grabbed my hand and pushed it away from his torso. “More than you know,” he muttered before taking his belt in his own hands and unbuckling it.

My mouth fell slightly open as he revealed himself to me and I caught his gaze. He looked away shyly as if the swelled, veiny, pulsing cock between his legs was nothing to be amazed by. But the throb between my legs said otherwise and was becoming unbearable. I bit my lip to keep myself from begging to touch him as his hand stroked his length up and down slowly, using the precum that was leaking from him to slick himself. I couldn’t take it any longer and said insistently, “You want me, so take me.” The hunger in his eyes told me he couldn’t wait any longer either and he practically fell towards me. His hands gripped my waist again and I felt the tip of him poking at my core. “God- please Joel.” I practically whined from the painful pulse of longing in my core. He finally closed the gap between us and slowly pushed his huge self into me.

Our mouths fell open to let out a harmonious gasp and our foreheads fell against each other. I heard him mutter “Fuck,” followed by my name under his breath. He took it slow at first, allowing me to adjust to his size, but when I got visibly impatient and began pushing against him on my own rhythm he grabbed my hips and spun me around to face away from him. His cock continued to pump in and out of me as he wrapped one arm around my stomach, the other around my ribs, just under my breasts, and held on protectively. His face buried into the crook of my neck and I turned towards his ear to make sure he could hear my gasps of pleasure.

I felt like I was being consumed. His hands sliding over every inch of me, his mouth sucking and biting at any skin he could possibly reach. The sensations were building me back up towards what I knew would be another blinding high.

All of a sudden, he spun me back around, never taking himself out of me and resumed fucking me as we stared at each other hungrily. ”It should only be me fuckin’ you like this,” he grunted between thrusts, “tell me you want it to be me.” His voice was raspy and demanding. Though it had an air of desperation to it, as if he was pleading for me to vow myself to him. I did it without question. “Yes Joel, I want you always. Only you.” I professed breathlessly. I realized I wasn’t just saying that in the heat of the moment. I’d wanted to say it for so long. It just so happened that now felt like the right time.

He acknowledged my answer by picking up his pace and the impact of his body hitting mine shook the bench, sending the forementioned items I’d seen on it tumbling to the floor. “That’s right baby,” he ground out, “not lettin’ anyone else take you from me, ever.” His voice was strangled, and his forehead sweaty.

My stomach fluttered at his use of pet names and I felt myself tightening around him once more. My hand gripped his shoulder tightly as I waited for his permission to cum. “Go ahead. I feel you gettin’ tighter and tighter, just look at me and tell me what you need.” He breathed as he cupped my cheek with his hand to keep my gaze from wandering away from him. I opened my mouth to speak but the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of me and hitting that perfect spot over and over again overtook my body, rendering me speechless. What left my mouth instead was breathless whimpers and profanities as I let myself loose all over him.

Soon after, his mouth fell open, his breaths became shorter, more shallow, and his thrusts became quicker. I knew he was close. “Please, Joel.” I begged. “That what you want baby? My cum all over you?” He asked breathlessly. “Mhmmm.” I hummed, and suddenly he pulled out and shot his warm self all over my breasts.

We were left there naked and out of breath with our sweaty foreheads pressed together. “Did that convince you?” He asked before pressing a gentle kiss to my head and moving to pick his pants up off of the floor. “Almost.” I lied, unable to keep my eyes off of the mess he left on my chest. Soon, he was back over me pressing his undershirt over the sticky substance, cleaning me off.

When he finished cleaning me off, he kissed me once again and gave my body an affectionate, somewhat surprising squeeze. “God you felt so good.” He sighed into the crook of my neck, “Better’n I imagined. If that’s even possible.” I smiled lightly and a swooning warmth entered my chest. “You were ‘imagining’ me?” He squeezed me again and lifted his head up to meet my eyes. As he pushed a stray hair out of my face, he whispered, “You aren’t the only one havin’ dreams, babygirl.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER WARNINGS: SMUT!, Unprotected p in v, oral (f!receiving), fingering, dom!Joel, sub!(ish)reader, dream pov, severe weather, implications of pregnancy, implications of marriage - I think thats it?

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Author's note: Hellooooo! How I've missed writing!! Thank you guys so much for giving me the time to get my shit together. It was a crazy summer, but I'm back at it again. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!! <3

Taglist: @ashleyfilm @ayamenimthiriel @jellybeanxc @quakeismyhero @demonsasss @scarlet-daisy-blog @jellybeanxc @hujickova @morgaussy @vivian-pascal @rav3n-pascal22 @rav3n-pascal22 @all-in-the-fandoms @joelmillersblog @mirandablue1 @immyowndefender

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walkswithmyfather · 11 months ago

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Revelation 1:4-6 (NLT). “‭‭This letter is from John to the seven churches in the province of Asia. Grace and peace to you from the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come; from the sevenfold Spirit before his throne; and from Jesus Christ. He is the faithful witness to these things, the first to rise from the dead, and the ruler of all the kings of the world. All glory to him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by shedding his blood for us. He has made us a Kingdom of priests for God his Father. All glory and power to him forever and ever! Amen.”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:6‬ (‭FBV)‬‬. “Jesus replied, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

‭‭1 Thessalonians‬ ‭4:17‬ ‭(FBV‬‬). “Then those of us who are alive and still here will be carried up together with them into the clouds, and we shall meet the Lord in the air. Then we will be with the Lord forever!”

“Jesus, the Faithful Witness” By In Touch Ministries:

“Sometimes the best encouragement comes from reminding ourselves who Jesus is.”

“John wrote the book of Revelation to encourage Christians being heavily persecuted by the Roman emperor Domitian. Approximately 25 years earlier Rome had destroyed Jerusalem and taken away Christians’ rights. Many believers were beginning to wonder, Where is Jesus? Is He still Lord? So John’s main purpose in writing this book was to remind believers that Jesus Christ was alive, and He was and would continue to be the same loving, all-powerful Son of God.

We also can be encouraged by remembering who Jesus is. Revelation 1:5 reminds us that He is the faithful witness, which means we can rely on every single thing He says. And not only are His words true, but according to John 14:6, He Himself is the truth. In other words, if He says He will do something, we can trust that it will happen. And that includes not only His statement that life on earth isn’t all there is, but also that He will be with us forever (1 Thessalonians 4:17).

We know Jesus’ words are trustworthy because He conquered death through the cross and His resurrection, preparing the way for all who trust Him. If you’re unsure whether Jesus is alive and active in your life, remember what lengths He went to in order to keep His word.”

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science-lover33 · 1 year ago

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🔬🌀Demystifying the Krebs Cycle: A Deep Dive into Cellular Respiration! 🌀🔬

Prepare for a thrilling journey into the heart of cellular metabolism! 🌟✨ Today, we unravel the intricacies of the Krebs Cycle, also known as the Citric Acid Cycle or Tricarboxylic Acid Cycle, a cornerstone of energy production in our cells. 💡🤯

The Krebs Cycle: Named after its discoverer, Sir Hans Krebs, this metabolic pathway occurs within the mitochondria and is a central hub in cellular respiration.

🔍Step 1: Acetyl-CoA Entry

Acetyl-CoA, derived from the breakdown of glucose or fatty acids, enters the cycle.

It combines with oxaloacetate to form citrate, a six-carbon compound.

🔍Step 2: Isocitrate Formation

A rearrangement converts citrate into isocitrate.

The enzyme aconitase facilitates this transformation.

🔍Step 3: Alpha-Ketoglutarate Production

Isocitrate undergoes oxidative decarboxylation, shedding a CO2 molecule and yielding alpha-ketoglutarate.

NAD+ is reduced to NADH in this step.

🔍Step 4: Succinyl-CoA Synthesis

Alpha-ketoglutarate loses CO2 and acquires a CoA group to form succinyl-CoA.

Another NAD+ is reduced to NADH.

This step is catalyzed by alpha-ketoglutarate dehydrogenase.

🔍Step 5: Succinate Formation

Succinyl-CoA releases CoA, becoming succinate.

A molecule of GTP (guanosine triphosphate) is generated as a high-energy phosphate bond.

Succinate dehydrogenase is pivotal, transferring electrons to the electron transport chain (ETC).

🔍Step 6: Fumarate Generation

Succinate is oxidized to fumarate with the help of the enzyme succinate dehydrogenase.

FADH2 (flavin adenine dinucleotide) is formed and transfers electrons to the ETC.

🔍Step 7: Malate Formation

Fumarate undergoes hydration to form malate, catalyzed by fumarase.

🔍Step 8: Regeneration of Oxaloacetate

Malate is oxidized back to oxaloacetate.

NAD+ is reduced to NADH.

Oxaloacetate is ready to initiate another round of the Krebs Cycle.

The Krebs Cycle - an intricate dance of chemical transformations fueling the cellular machinery of life. 🕺💃 Dive deeper into cellular respiration, where molecules tango to generate ATP, our cellular energy currency!

📚References for In-Depth Exploration📚

Berg, J. M., Tymoczko, J. L., & Stryer, L. (2002). Biochemistry (5th ed.). W. H. Freeman. Chapter 17.

Voet, D., Voet, J. G., & Pratt, C. W. (2008). Fundamentals of Biochemistry (3rd ed.). John Wiley & Sons. Chapter 17.

Lehninger, A. L., Nelson, D. L., & Cox, M. M. (2008). Lehninger Principles of Biochemistry (5th ed.). W. H. Freeman. Chapter 17.

#science #biology #college #education #school #student #medicine #doctors #health #healthcare #biochemistry #cell #science nerds

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 1 year ago

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Kaiju Week in Review (September 3-9, 2023)

I was a bit nervous about GAMERA -Rebirth-; the animation looked dodgy and Netflix has a shaky track record with kaiju shows. I'm pleased to report this is the best entry in the genre that they've put their name on. Good characters, great action (brutal as always), and actual episodic storytelling that effortlessly weaves in elements from the Showa films beyond all the returning kaiju. Watch it immediately.

Tie-ins abound for GAMERA -Rebirth-: a two-part novelization, a manga adaptation, and a prequel manga that sheds some light on [UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE SPOILERS]. That prequel manga (GAMERA -Rebirth- code thyrsos) is being published online for free in both Japanese and English. You can read the first chapter here.

In unofficial translation news, English subtitles for GAMERA.1999 (1999) and yokaipedia (2022) are now available. The former is Hideaki Anno's making-of documentary for Gamera 3: Revenge of Iris; the latter is a fun, child-friendly fantasy from Godzilla Minus One director Takashi Yamazaki with a big ol' centipede-dragon at the end. (It's also maybe the first Japanese kaiju film I've ever seen with a major Black character.) I haven't gotten to GAMERA.1999 yet, though from scrubbing through it, it seems like a lot of dialogue was just ignored by the translator. Shame, as that's one I've wanted for a long time.

youtube

We have a teaser for Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, as well as a premiere date for the first two (out of ten) episodes: November 17. (I am being showered with Media for my 30th birthday.) The big news from this trailer is that John Goodman is reprising his role as Bill Randa from Kong: Skull Island. I assume that's going to be through flashbacks and old recordings only, since he was eaten by a Skullcrawler in that one. We also catch glimpses of two new creatures, a dragon and a crab from what I can tell. The latter looks to be fighting a Mother Longlegs.

Fandango and AMC have added mostly-empty listings for Godzilla 2000 on November 1. Fathom Events screened Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla on November 3 last year; despite randomly showing Tokyo SOS back in March, I gather they're making a tradition out of Godzilla Day. Note that the listed runtime is longer than the film itself. Predictions for the program: another message from Keiji Ota, the 2022 Godzilla vs. Gigan short, and the Japanese version of G2K. Interesting that they're running the last Toho Godzilla film to receive a wide release in the U.S. exactly a month before Godzilla Minus One has a wide release of its own here.

Gamera isn't a meta-defining Godzilla Battle Line unit... but he's Gamera in a Godzilla game, so I've been using him in every match since I unlocked him. He's gearing towards demolishing flying units, with fireballs that deal more damage against them and knock them back. A pity that he's arriving well after those units were at their most dominant.

Godzilla: Here There Be Dragons #3 still isn't giving me much to write home about, but the kaiju cult creeping to the forefront intrigues. Also cool to see Ebirah in a starring role.

youtube

Marubeni, one of Japan's biggest general trading companies, put out a bizarre commercial featuring samurai, zombies, a meteor, and a refurbished GMK King Ghidorah. The ad now has English subtitles, and you can watch a Ghidorah-centric behind-the-scenes video here.

I cannot believe I have more Cleopatra Entertainment fuckery to report on with regards to their Shin Ultraman releases, but they're truly trying to take the "Worst Film Company of 2023" title from the members of the AMPTP. Their third attempt at a barebones disc is starting to reach customers... but the ones who already received the initial replacement disc are being told no more will be sent. @starestream is trying to figure out if they'll be selling the third edition on their site, since it seems buying it anywhere else is a gamble. (Physically, the third edition looks almost the same as the first two, set apart only by the "SUBTITLED" text on the disc.) Either way, it's another blow to a movie that truly doesn't deserve this.

#kaiju week in review #gamera #gamera rebirth #godzilla #kaiju #yokaipedia #Youtube

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ltwilliammowett · 8 months ago

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Good day to You!

I came here to seek naval guidance, and you're my first go-to source as usual. My current module at university revolves around the sinking of The Lusitania and I'm to build one of the lifeboats that were successfully launched.

Sadly, I couldn't find anything specific regarding the dimensions of a lifeboat and I was wondering whether you could shed some light on it.

I give you joy, hoping you're having a tremendous day!

Hi, first of all it sounds like a very cool project and I don't know if I can help dri but I have put together something here that might help or at least be interesting. Wish you also a nice day

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emptybattlefield · 1 month ago

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Day 15 - "Childhood Trauma" / "Healed Wrong"

Karkat breaks his arm while laying shingles on the roof outside—unfortunately, it harkens back to similar incident when he was a kid. Luckily, this time he has John and Dave by his side.

Another Earth C fic! All the kids and trolls are 17 years old or equivalent.

—————————————————

One minute, Karkat had been kneeling on the roof of their shed, and when John looked again, he was lying in a crumpled heap in the grass amongst the discarded shingles.

John bolted outside. Poor Karkat’s right arm had an extra bend in it. It hurt just to look at.

Dave was outdoors in an instant as well—and together, they lifted Karkat to his feet.

“C’mon buddy, let’s get you inside.”

Karkat sat forlornly at the kitchen table, bright direct sunlight from the window falling on his right arm, which was gingerly cradled in his left. Meanwhile, John scrambled to find his license, phone, and car keys. Even as a god-tier Earth C overlord—he still needed a license to drive. Dave emptied the freezer, and placed a package of peas by Karkat’s placemat.

Karkat got up from the table and slowly headed upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Dave asked wildly.

“I just wanna be alone right now. Is that too much to ask?” he said begrudgingly from the staircase.

“Dude, are you insane? You have to go to the hospital.” Dave looked at him with eyes as large as saucers.

“Karkat. I know you’re not a fan of doctors, but you need to have that looked at. Seriously. Do not go back upstairs,” added John worriedly.

“Okay! Geezus Christ, calm your grub glands, both of you.” He thumped down to the landing, and the three headed to John’s car.

“What the hell is he gonna do?!” Karkat could be heard sniffling in the back. “I just wanna be home. In my bed. The arm, it hurts like hell.”

Things got quiet and awkward for a minute. “They’ve got pain medicine at the hospital,” John said weakly.

Dave started, “I’ll never forget the day when I was 10 and broke my wrist. Twice, actually. Looked just like that. Brutal. Don’t underestimate the kind of pain he’s in, bro.”

“Well—sorry, I just—thought that since the Alternians lived the rough-and-tumble life, that their pain receptors are just not as sensitive as ours are,” John replied.

“You did not break your wrist, Dave,” Karkat scoffed. He was in the back with Dave, while John panickedly drove.

Dave said coolly, “Mm, the doctor seemed pretty sure that I did.”

“Dave. You’re not making him feel any better,” John said admonishingly.

The car slammed to a halt. Karkat howled in pain. Red lights all around blared through the front windshield.

“Fucking Christ—what are you doing?!” Karkat hissed.

“C’mon, Egbert. Focus,” urged Dave.

“I’m sorry!! I’m just—I’m really sorry,” John answered panickedly.

Karkat began again, “But you don’t have this.” He traced a lightning bolt shaped line with his finger along Dave’s wrist. He made a gruesome face. “Yours is completely straight.”

“Yeah, it’s because they set it, and cast it,” said Dave obviously.

One of the first things John noticed upon finally meeting the trolls, was that Karkat’s leg was crooked, and he walked about with a prominent limp. That wasn’t the kind of thing you knew about someone, until you met them in person. He never talked about why or how it got like that—so everyone, trolls included, presumed the topic was simply off-limits. Maybe it was a mutant thing—a birth defect. Maybe he’d narrowly escaped the drones. Maybe he’d contracted Alternian polio as a boy. In private, John and Dave speculated.

“Karkat, did you break your leg when you were younger?”

He shot Dave a dubious look. “Yes. Is that not obvious enough?”

It should have been obvious—Dave and John exchanged looks on the rear view. But, both of them had thought it best not to broach the subject before now.

“Why didn’t you ask me about it, if you were all so curious?” Karkat asked curmudgeonly when the other guys admitted to the group curiosity.

John replied sheepishly: “We—figured you were sensitive about it. Like you were with your blood color, and stuff.”

“Oh, please. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings by asking. God,” Karkat said, tutting. “What to you take me for, a friggin—snowflake, is that what they call it?”

He told the others about how when he was 5 sweeps, he ran straight off a stone cliff, hit his thigh on a rock.

“And then it never healed right. Oh Karkat, that must have been awful,” said John.

“Well, it healed how it broke. That was how the chips fell.” He crossed his bad leg nonchalantly over his good one.

John began, “This time, they’ll make it right. The doctors will fix it, so you won’t even know it was broken.”

Whenever John spoke about what they were gonna do once they got to the hospital, Karkat grew tense in the back seat. Dave noticed, and tried to distract him, to little avail.

When they finally arrived, Karkat had to go alone to the operating suite. His pale face stared back at the two of them, still as a stone, as they wheeled him in.

“He’ll make out just fine,” Dave said before John could even say anything.

Dave knew John, and he knew that John’s heart broke easily for other people. That look on his face while they hauled Karkat away…geezus.

“He’s just…not accustomed to doctors, Dave. It’s not fair,” he said.

“Life on Alternia overall didn’t seem very fair,” Dave answered.

***

Karkat was in there but an hour. When he came out, he was practically bouncing with unbridled excitement. His arm was bandaged close to his chest in a sling.

“How’d…it go?” John asked cautiously.

“Everything went as planned, with no complications,” the doctor pushing his wheelchair said.

“They kept telling me not to look, while they literally just—finagled it back into place. Like, what the fuck,” said Karkat, floored.

“They…kept you awake?” John asked, horrified.

“We utilized a local nerve block just above the elbow—”

“Yeah, they numbed it, so I don’t feel a fucking thing,” said Karkat happily. “Doc here took a video on my phone, the white stuff is my bones—”

“That’s okay, dude,” Dave said, dismissing him.

“Whatever. Kanaya will find it interesting,” Karkat said reproachingly.

“I’ve assured your friend here that once the fracture properly heals, he should regain full functionality and the fracture will be virtually unnoticeable,” said the doctor.

“Oh, Karkat. You thought it was gonna be stuck like that forever,” said John consolingly.

Dave said, “You seriously have to be the happiest person ever coming out of an operating room.” Although, based on the way the doctor was talking, it seemed like this wasn’t an uncommon course of reactions for the numerous trolls he’d treated in the past for this very thing.

“Do you blame me? My leg is stuck like this forever. Shame no one like you was around at the time,” Karkat said flatly into his lap.

“It might not be too late to do something about,” the doctor said. “It would be a major surgical procedure, and the recovery wouldn’t be easy. But, that leg has a lot more years it’s gotta carry you through. So, it’s something to think about.”

Karkat’s countenance fell into uneasiness. John chimed in, “It’s not like you have to decide on that today—”

“Here—” The surgeon handed Karkat his business card. “My nurse’s name is Uldira. Ask to speak with her.”

Karkat pocketed it, and smiled a private smile.

The three boys drove back to the house. John repacked the freezer, while Karkat returned to his bedroom to take it easy. Outside his window, Dave cleaned up the shingles on the grass. He curled up with one of his romance novels—it was hard to turn the pages with only one hand.

“Hey Karkat?” John appeared at the door. “Before you get too far into that, you wanna have lunch.”

“Right,” Karkat replied. With all the excitement, he’d forgotten all about it. He withdrew the business card from his pocket, stuck it into the pages, and followed John down the stairs.

<end>

#whumptober2024 #no.15 #no.6 #no.25 #childhood trauma #healed wrong #surgery #homestuck fanfiction #homestuck #karkat vantas #dave strider #john egbert #j egbert #earth c au #homestuck 2024

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justforbooks · 1 year ago

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The sultry 1969 hit single Je T’aime … Moi Non Plus was a four-and-a-half-minute distillation of languid Gallic cool, in which a Frenchman, his voice coarsened by Gitanes, is heard billing and cooing with an ecstatically sighing young Englishwoman over the swirling motif of a baroque organ. That man was Serge Gainsbourg; his companion was Jane Birkin, the actor and singer, who has died aged 76. Though Birkin worked with some of the world’s finest film-makers, including Jacques Rivette and Agnès Varda, she knew that Je T’aime … would be remembered above everything else she did. “When I die, that’ll be the tune they play, as I go out feet first,” she said.

Birkin was 21 when she and Gainsbourg met while starring together in the film Slogan (1969). He was 40, and had previously recorded Je T’aime … as a duet with Brigitte Bardot, only for the actor to withdraw permission for it to be released. Birkin had already starred in a 1965 musical, Passion Flower Hotel, scored by John Barry, whom she married that year at the age of 19 and from whom she was divorced in 1968; he was the father of Kate, the first of Birkin’s three daughters. But it was on the duet with Gainsbourg, she said, that for the first time “somebody thought I had a pretty voice”.

She sang her part an octave higher than Bardot. “It gave it a choirboy side that [Gainsbourg] liked a lot,” she said. Rumor's that the vocal track was recorded under the covers during a moment of intimacy were untrue (the couple were standing at separate microphones in a studio in central London) though they did nothing to harm the mythology surrounding a song that was later condemned by the Vatican. “I just remember thinking it was all terribly funny,” she said.

Among the countries that refused to give the song airplay was Britain, where it became the first banned single to reach the top of the charts, as well as the first non-English-language No 1. It was also the lead track on the 1969 album Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg.

Birkin’s life remained inextricably linked to his. They were together for 11 years, and had a daughter, Charlotte, who became a successful singer and actor. Even after they separated in 1980, he continued to write for her, and she went on performing his songs for the rest of her life.

Far from being an adjunct to Gainsbourg’s legend, she possessed her own style, intelligence and attitude. Her wistful beauty was rendered unorthodox by an eager, gap-toothed smile. Her voice was as bewitching as her face: though she lived in France from 1969 onwards, and spoke French fluently, she never shed her breathy, crisply English accent.

She was born in London to Judy Campbell, an actor who had been a muse to Noël Coward, and David Birkin, who was a lieutenant commander in the Royal Navy and a spy during the second world war. His duties included taking British spies across the Channel to France and bringing back stranded airmen and escaped prisoners of war.

Jane was educated at Upper Chine school on the Isle of Wight. At 17 she starred with Ralph Richardson in Graham Greene’s play Carving a Statue; Greene himself had a hand in casting her. Her screen acting career began with a walk-on part in The Knack … and How to Get It (1965) and a controversial nude scene in Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up, which she agreed to because Barry had told her she wouldn’t dare.

She had a small role in the Warren Beatty caper Kaleidoscope (also 1966), played a model called Penny Lane in the psychedelic curiosity Wonderwall (1968) and starred with Romy Schneider and Alain Delon in the psychological thriller La Piscine (1969). She got on famously with Bardot when they starred together in Don Juan, or If Don Juan Were a Woman (1973). Gainsbourg directed her in a 1976 film named after their hit song; he cast her as a boyish woman who attracts the attentions of a gay man, played by the Warhol regular Joe Dallesandro.

Birkin was tremendous fun in two star-studded Agatha Christie thrillers, Death on the Nile (1978) and Evil Under the Sun (1982). In the cryptic Love on the Ground (1984), Rivette cast her and Geraldine Chaplin as actors drawn into a playwright’s mysterious world. She appeared in two films, The Pirate (1984) and Comedy! (1987), made by her then partner, Jacques Doillon, with whom she had her third daughter, Lou, also a singer and actor. Jean-Luc Godard directed her in Keep Your Right Up (also 1987), while for Varda she played a woman besotted with a 14-year-old boy in Kung-Fu Master! (1988); the film co-starred Charlotte and featured Lou, and was inspired by an idea by Birkin herself.

In the same year, Varda made her the subject of Jane B For Agnès V, in which the actor performed a variety of specially scripted scenes (in one, she was a Stan Laurel type, in another a cockney mother) interspersed with musings on her life. She received the documentary treatment once again when her daughter directed Jane By Charlotte (2021).

Her two most impressive performances came in Bertrand Tavernier’s These Foolish Things, aka Daddy Nostalgie (1990), in which she was moving as a woman trying to repair her relationship with her dying father (Dirk Bogarde); and La Belle Noiseuse (1991), Rivette’s spellbinding four-hour study of a painter (Michel Piccoli) and his new muse (Emmanuelle Béart), in which Birkin played the artist’s wife and former model, who must deal with the indignity of having her younger self literally painted over.

Later films included Alain Resnais’s musical On Connaît la Chanson (1997) and the Merchant-Ivory coming-of-age story A Soldier’s Daughter Never Cries (1998).

In 2002 Birkin was diagnosed with leukaemia, but by 2006 she had made her directorial debut with the autobiographical family drama Boxes, which she also wrote and starred in, along with Chaplin, Piccoli, John Hurt and her daughter Lou. She appeared in Rivette’s final film, Around a Small Mountain (2009), played herself in Hong Sang-soo’s Nobody’s Daughter Haewon, and was reunited with Tavernier for his comedy The French Minister (also 2013).

Her look had been widely applauded in the 1960s, and seemed never to go out of date. In the 80s Hermès introduced a large and exorbitantly priced leather bag, named “the Birkin” in her honour. Fashion journalists in recent years could still be heard celebrating the “Jane Birkin top”, referring to the white lace dress made famous by her in the late 60s. “Real life was what I was best at,” she told Vogue magazine in 2016. “I didn’t have confidence in movie cameras or on stage. But I did have confidence in what I wanted in real life. If I wanted to be barefoot and wear a mackintosh, I would do it. I didn’t give a hoot.”

It was at 40 that she finally discarded her youthful ingénue image and performed her first live concert: “I cut my hair off like a boy, I wore men’s clothes. I only wanted people to hear the music and words. It was fantastic. And it was so frightening. Serge was there and he kept lighting his cigarette lighter to make everybody put their lighters on.” That show was preserved on her 1987 album, Jane Birkin au Bataclan. She continued singing and recording into her old age; among her later albums is Birkin/Gainsbourg: Le Symphonique, from 2017, in which the couple’s songs received new orchestral arrangements.

In 2020 she published Munkey Diaries 1957-1982, containing diary entries addressed to her favourite cuddly toy from childhood, which she can be seen clutching on the cover of Gainsbourg’s 1971 album Histoire de Melody Nelson. She buried the toy with him after his death in 1991.

She is survived by Charlotte and Lou, and six grandchildren, and by her brother, Andrew, and sister, Linda. Kate, a photographer, died in 2013.

🔔 Jane Mallory Birkin, actor and singer, born 14 December 1946; died 16 July 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Jane Birkin #in memoriam

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