#the world’s in ruins; you’re still a monster ( apocalypse verse ).

[anthrcpophagi-moved]

open to: m/f/nb ( not limited to mutuals ) ! muse: maren yearly, c*nnibal plot: tlou based, can be twd too just had tlou in mind notes: this got unreasonably long so please don't feel like you have to match lengths!

It was hard to say if her life had become harder or easier since the fungus took over. She had already lived her life like a vulture, picking on the leftovers of those more fortunate to have a house and a home and a family. Maren wasn’t ashamed to do what she had to do to survive, not like a lot of other people were. In some ways, her life as a vagrant had been helpful in preparing her for this sort of thing. She had no ties to any one spot, no family to feed, no home to protect or obligations to uphold. She was a whisper in the wind and she liked it that way.

Eating had become more of a challenge. Before the pandemic took the world by storm, she’d gotten away with feeding off the weak, as terrible as it sounded. Those who wouldn’t be missed, who were better off digested in her stomach than polluting the world and those around them. It’d never been a mission statement or anything, but it was certainly harder to find the weak links. Or at least those that wouldn’t turn her into a shambling bag of bones.

One of her favorite things were the books. And in every new city and town she passed through, she always made a point to locate the resident bookstore or library with the hopes of scouring a new read. Perhaps it was trivial to others, but Maren found a solace in novels that nothing else could possibly bring her. And with the world serving as nothing more than a giant garage sale, she was glad to take whatever literary leftovers she could find. And that’s exactly what she was doing in this house.

After patrolling the streets, she’d failed to come across any accessible book stores or libraries. She did manage to find a pretty well-stocked house, though. Maren passed by the shelves of canned goods and water bottles. She strolled right past the medicine cabinet, left ajar by a single broken hinge. Her eyes were locked on the far wall of the main room, entirely covered in shelves filled with books. It was like a scene straight out of Beauty and the Beast, all that was missing was a squeaky ladder to bring her to the top shelves.

Her mind was humming with the possibilities. The house was nice and maybe there was a bed or sofa safe enough to crash on for the night, but she knew what she’d be doing until her eyelids grew too heavy to read. Or until the sun went down and she was forced to save her flashlight for emergencies.

Just as she reached for a dust-coated book, a creak in the floorboards made her freeze. She didn’t have a gun with her, only her knife and baton she’d swiped from one of the dead crossing guards. If a horde of infected cornered her now, she’d be fodder. Quickly, she darts to the side, hiding behind an old rocking chair, holding her breath. The things couldn’t see, so if she stayed quiet then maybe she could slip out the side door before it could sniff her out. But as she perked over the carved backing of the chair, an unexpected sight causes her knees to go weak and she wonders how much time she’d have to run before they could shoot her.

“I don’t want trouble.” Her voice quivered as she held up her hands in surrender. “I’m just looting.”

[anthrcpophagi]

tag dump

[fenfyre]

Apocalypse

Day 1 of @erejeanweek - Injury/Apocalypse

The morning air tasted of ash when Jean crawled out of the partly caved in basement he had used as shelter last night. He was careful not to skim his knees on the rubble he had to climb over, then made sure there were no signs of life around the destroyed village before setting off on his path again.

The sun was still hanging low above the horizon but the heat was already sweltering, adding more sweat stains to his threadbare tunic as he wandered the winding roads through burnt farmland.

He remembered this area from his youth, remembered the golden ocean of wheat swaying in the warm wind. Remembered playing hide and seek with the village kids in the towering corn fields on the other end of the forest.

Remembered Armin's bright blue eyes when Jean snapped and made colourful sparks explode from between his fingers. Remembered long nights of studying scrolls and dusty books just so he could make those green eyes he adored so much shine with the same fascination.

Nowadays when Jean snapped nothing happened, no sparks emerging, no spells manifesting his will. And certainly no pretty green eyes sneakily watching him with wonder.

With the sacrifice of the Iris many years ago humanity had given up their chance to control the Flow. A sacrifice greater than even those who made it had been able to predict at the time but a necessary sacrifice nonetheless. It had bought them the months they needed, had protected them until they could take care of everything. Had pushed the Greekin back long enough to retrieve those still alive.

But it was never supposed to be a solution. Before long their enemies had torn down the protective barriers and laid waste to the land they had not yet destroyed, forcing the humans to retreat even further behind the walls they had been able to build. Walls that would stand at the very end of Jean's journey. Once he had found what he came for, out in the barren wasteland of Shiganshina.

He had been travelling for most of the day, the sun beating down on his burnt neck, forcing him to work his way through his water supply more quickly than he had calculated for, and the only sign of life he had seen were the hulking, moving outlines far on the horizon. The danger of being detected by the monsters was ever present but never did any of the shifting shapes move closer, keeping their distance as they roamed the once fertile land.

It was close to nightfall and hunger was stabbing painfully through Jean's stomach when he finally saw the familiar shapes of Shiganshina's gates appear behind the top of a flowing hillside. The town was much smaller than he remembered. Partly due to him having been barely fourteen years old the last time he had visited, partly due to entire streets of houses having collapsed under the onslaught of the Greekin.

As he made his way through the rubble Jean recognized certain corners and buildings, memories of the happy summers he had spent out here, so far from the cold, dark walls of the academy. He remembered the stairs leading to the market place that he would race up and down while playing catch with the other children, remembered Armin's house where they would sit on the steps in front of the door and read together. Remembered the old church, the bells ringing out around dinner time. Remembered the street corner where he had first run into the green eyed boy he would kiss many summers later, under the shade of the sturdy oak tree just outside the gates.

The oak tree had long since been burned down, only a charred stump remaining where it had once stretched its mighty crown into the sky.

Jean was not able to make out where Armin's old house had once stood, among the rubble of the buildings that had collapsed during one of the attacks. The church had been reduced to burnt out remains, the bare skeleton keeping part of the structure upright, threatening to collapse at any gust of wind strong enough to shake it.

But the corner where he had first met Eren, barrelled straight into him running to make it to his lesson on time only to get right into a brawl with the moody boy, that corner he found almost untouched. And when he rounded the corner and peeked into the alley that lay behind, a leaden weight began to loosen its tight grip around Jean's heart.

The house was not exactly like he remembered it. The roof had partly collapsed but the walls seemed to still be intact. If he was lucky, and Jean always hoped to be, he would be able to find what he was looking for. The front door was barely hanging on its hinges, creaking ominously as he pushed it open and stepped into the house. In his memory it had been much larger but memories could be deceiving. He had been just a boy back then, enjoying his summers without a care in the world about what was creeping up on the horizon. Now he knew better and he needed to be prepared.

The steps leading down into the basement were creaking under his boots, the noise loud enough to make him flinch. He dearly hoped there was nothing hiding in the ruins around him that might be interested in investigating the disturbance.

Once he reached the bottom of the stairs Jean wrapped a careful hand around the door knob and tried to turn it, but of course the door was locked. Examining it for a moment he decided that it seemed to be much more sturdy than the front door and had survived the years of decay without much damage at all.

Years ago, when Jean had still spent carefree summer in Shiganshina he only had to reach out and mutter an incantation for locks of any kind to spring open for him. This one had posed as little a problem as any other ordinary lock and he remembered sneaking down here at night with Eren, eager to find out just what his father was hiding behind that unusally sturdy door. Neither of them would have expected just what they found after Jean had whispered the door open.

Nowadays Jean had to use much more traditional methods.

The lockpick was a familiar weight between his fingers as he pulled it from his bag and inserted it carefully into the keyhole. But he had only been working to pry open the rusty old lock for a few minutes when he heard the creak of floor boards behind him.

Before he could compute the cold shiver running all the way from the back of his head down his neck and spine, let alone try and turn around to see who or what was approaching, he heard a familiar metallic clicking noise. Then there was a voice coming from the upper landing of the staircase.

"Step away from the door."

With no real way to defend himself, gun strapped to his thigh but too hard to remove and whirl around before a hole was blown through his skull, Jean followed the command. He went so far as to slowly raise his hands above his head, making sure the man at the top of the stairs could see the object in his hands was not a weapon. Then he took a slow step back, still facing the heavy basement door.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. I just came here for a book and then I'll get out of your hair."

A dry laugh full of sarcasm.

"You're gonna get out of my hair, period. There's no way I'll give you anything behind that door."

That gave Jean pause. He took a shallow breath, narrowed his eyes. If the basement still contained what he had come here for it would be useless to most people. Dusty spell books and incantations only those with a suitable background would understand. Only those practised and well versed in the arcane who had studied the subjects long before humanity had lost the Iris.

Aside from fellow former sorcerers there were few people who would care if Jean broke into this basement to retrieve a dusty old book. And only one his mind immediately jumped to.

"Eren?"

His lips had formed the name, so familiar yet distant like a memory almost lost to time, before he could consider just how likely that suspicion was.

The floor boards upstairs creaked like the other man had shifted his weight. He gave no indication if Jean was right, though.

"Turn around", the voice bellowed and Jean slowly followed the command.

On the top of the stairs, backlit by the orange glow of the setting sun, stood a man of roughly the same age as Jean. His clothes were stained and tattered, his hair a mess, his jaw stubbled. But those eyes Jean would recognize anywhere.

The man seemed to recognize Jean in turn, his hard expression shifting into confusion as he slowly lowered the gun that had been steadily pointed at Jean.

"What ... what are you doing here?", Eren asked, his voice much quieter than the command he had snapped before.

This was not at all like any reunion Jean had ever pictured in the privacy of his bed. Yet his heart was thumping against his ribs all the same and it was not just because of the barrel he had stared straight into moments ago.

"I told you: I'm looking for a book." A brief pause. Then he added: "I heard your father won't need it anymore. I'm so sorry."

For a second Eren's face twisted into something hard and unforgiving that almost turned him unrecognisable to Jean. Maybe he should not have mentioned the old man. Or his death.

The message of Master Jäger's end had reached Jean mere weeks ago even though the event itself had come to pass months before. The old sorcerer and the handful of his guards had been attacked by Greekin on their way to Shiganshina, caught outside without shelter and overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies crossing their way.

But the circumstances of his death had made Jean suspicious. There were whispers on the streets about something in the destroyed settlement that would tempt the old man to hire personal guards and leave the secure walls of the Bastion. Something that would help him rebuild what had been lost. Even though nobody Jean talked to seemed to believe in any of the rumours they still circulated. They still gave hope to those who had lost it.

Maybe it was the most foolish thing Jean would ever do but he could not resist undertaking the same journey, needing to find out just what Master Jäger had been on the hunt for. What he had not gotten the chance to rescue from his basement while fleeing the city.

"His books are not here anymore", Eren said, his voice still cold. But there was something in his eyes, still as expressive as they had been all those years ago, in the blistering summer heat under the old tree just outside the gates. "I took them away."

"Away...", Jean mindlessly repeated, then blinked once, twice. "Where did you take them?"

Eren had never seemed very interested in his father's research. Even when they had been kids quietly sneaking into the basement the intrigue on his part had stemmed from the secrecy, the hidden things he could uncover where his father went to work without him. Once they had broken in and his father's lab had turned out to be a whole lot of books and not much else of interest to him he had been disenchanted rather quickly.

Unlike Jean who would have spent hours upon hours sifting through the notes and scroll and books on topics he could not even find in the grand library of the academy if it hadn't been for Eren's mother catching them in the act. What he had caught glimpses of during their brief foray into the basement though had stayed on his mind for all the years to come. And he still remembered it now, well enough to leave the secure walls of the Bastion in search of the knowledge he had once been kept from soaking up.

Enough time had passed after his question that Jean decided Eren wouldn't answer him like that. Not without being properly persuaded at least.

"Back in the Bastion of Dawn there was word on the street your father worked on restoring what we lost. A kind of ... artificial Iris that would allow us to connect with the arcane again, that would give us a fighting chance against the Greekin. Whatever he wanted to come here to look for was important enough he risked being killed. It must be something valuable, something that can help."

Instead of showing the reaction Jean had hoped for, maybe relief or excitement, Eren only scoffed, rolled his eyes. That he did not raise the gun again out of sheer annoyance was the only good thing Jean took from that kind of reaction.

"Because sorcery helped us so well the first time we got attacked", he mumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

And with that Jean understood the sudden hostility.

He had heard about the fall of Shiganshina, how the few villagers gifted with a connection to the Iris had stood in the way of their attackers, had tried to defend the settlement long enough for a successful evacuation. But they had fallen much too soon, leaving the village defenceless as the Greekin approached. More than half of the population had been razed, Eren's mother among them.

Grisha Jäger had travelled for an emergency meeting at the old capital mere days before the attack, leaving the less trained magic users to fight for themselves. Had there been more sorcerers, or simply ones that were better trained, maybe Shiganshina would not have fallen that fast. Maybe more people could have been saved.

But the tragedy had gotten lost among the many others and Jean had pushed it away, assuming Eren had fallen alongside his mother and their childhood friends, slain on the dusty streets of Shiganshina.

"I had a feeling some thief would come to search for his old stuff sooner or later. But I never expected it to be you..."

Jean's arms and shoulders began to ache but he didn't yet dare lower them. Not while Eren was still holding that gun and was this obviously pissed. He did try to gave a nonchalant shrug though, not sure if he really projected the ease he wanted to with the movement.

"Why not? I learned from him, I know his work. If there's anyone who can finish what he started it's me."

Another scoff but this one did not carry quite as much heat.

"You always were a cocky asshole." The grumble was low but Jean liked to imagine it carried traces of old fondness. It was the only thing giving him the bravery to utter:

"And you always liked that about me, if I remember correctly."

Eren didn't visibly react to the words but, once again, neither did he raise his gun to shoot Jean for his audacity. That was as good a sign as any, Jean supposed.

"The only thing I liked about you was how you'd leave me the fuck alone come autumn."

The words were harsh but they didn't bite Jean the way there were probably supposed to. Not when he remembered their kisses underneath the oak tree and the way Eren's eyes had glistened suspiciously the last time they said goodbye to each other standing underneath the sturdy gates.

That had been the last autumn of peace before the Greekin attacked in the following spring, weeks before Jean was supposed to travel to Shiganshina to continue his studies with Master Jäger.

Jean let out a tense breath through his nose. Eren had always been more stubborn than anyone else he'd known. This song and dance didn't help and time was ticking by fast while they were standing here. The sun was already dipping low against the horizon and he really had not planned to be here after it set.

"Are you gonna tell me where you took the books or not?"

For a moment Eren hesitated and it seemed like he would evade the question, dance around the subject even more. Tell Jean to mind his own business, to leave and never come back.

But in the end he let out a long, slow sigh, shoulders sagging.

“It’s quite a way. Didn’t want anyone to just stumble over them while searching the ruins.”

So Eren had taken them away from the village? Several backpacks worth of old books and scrolls? No matter what he said he had to see the inherent value in his father’s notes or he wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to protect them. Let alone from made up thieves.

He wouldn’t have done that, taken the books to a secure location instead of destroying them, if he didn’t think someone could make good use of the collected information.

“How far did you take them?”

“Two days west”, Eren shrugged, his piercing eyes trailing down Jean’s body, bruised and dirty from his travels. “Maybe three, considering the state you’re in.”

Of course. It was suitable to Jean’s luck that just after reaching what he thought was his destination he would find out he still had three more days of travel before he could find what he was looking for. But then again it had been his inherent luck that Eren even found him here. Otherwise he would have broken into an empty basement and never found what he set out to retrieve at all.

In the end, Jean gave a grim nod, ready to keep going on his journey until he had found the valuable information he was hunting.

“I’m not going back before I have the notes”, he said and Eren’s expression shifted again. His challenging stare softened, a smirk appearing on his lips that could almost be called proud. There was still that old fondness lurking behind his green eyes as he stepped back and nodded for Jean to follow.

“We should get going, then. The sun is setting and the next suitable shelter is at the other end of the village.”

He didn’t have to tell Jean twice. Taking two steps at a time he climbed the stairs until he had reached his childhood friend at the top. As they turned toward the open door they fell into a rhythm of quiet steps that was more comforting and familiar than anything Jean had been able to build even in the safety of the Bastion of Dawn.

~

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[secret-engima]

Worlds Unseen verse Drabble: Stand By You (Even in Dreams)

(here I am, writing something I have no idea what to do with. Enjoy the angst? This ends really abruptly but I didn’t know how to wrap it up. gfhgfd it was interesting to write at least. Also, potential spoilers for Horizon Zero Dawn).

...

     He showed up about two days in. A silent companion walking steadily at her side even though that —he— was impossible. She was determined to ignore him at first. She didn’t know if he was born of her increasing hunger and thirst, her loneliness, or if the air was turning toxic the more damage the swarm did to the world, but he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. So she ignored him.

     Still, he walked beside her. Not speaking, not ranting or babbling or screaming, just-. Walking. Watching. He watched the world around them with sad eyes, very emotive eyes. Sometimes he almost seem to stumble over the rubble of the road. If it hadn’t been for the impossibility of it, of him, she might have believed he was real. Her imagination was too strong apparently.

     But he was impossible. Dressed like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, furs and leathers mixed with machine piping and wires, his painted face exposed to the ruined world without dying even though she knew that people needed vacuum-sealed suits now just to survive. He was impossible.

     She would never admit that it felt good not to be alone. Even if her company was just a figment of her imagination.

     She made it through three days of silence before she broke, “You ever gonna talk, or are you a silent hallucination?”

     Blue-grey eyes, more like storm clouds than skies, shifted away from the landscape to look at her, “You didn’t seem in the mood for conversation,” he spoke, and she noted what almost sounded like a Japanese accent —odd choice brain, why not a southern accent like Travis or something?—, “so I left you alone.”

     She sighed, “Well, not much else to do out here but indulge my insanity.”

     “You think you’re dreaming me up.”

     “Aren’t I?”

     The hallucination shrugged, “I don’t know. I think that I’m dreaming you up, personally, and you believe you’ve dreamed me up. Maybe we’re both dreaming up each other. Or maybe we’re both just dreams. Does it matter?”

     She mulled over that for probably longer than it deserved, “I guess not.”

...

...

...

     “Where are we going?”

     She looked up tiredly at the words, jolted out of the daze that had been settling into her bones by the soft voice of the impossibility following her around, “I’m trying to get home. You can leave whenever you want.”

     A loose shrug, as if her words were merely a polite suggestion and not a jab at her insanity, “Are you sure you want to see it this way? It’s not going to be pretty.”

     They both paused to look around at the ruined landscape. Skyscrapers smoking in the distance, roads cracked and torn apart, the entire world either burned or eaten by unstoppable metal monsters, the sky turned unnatural colors as the atmosphere was ruined ever further. No, she mentally agreed. She probably did not want to see her home this way. But still … “I have nowhere else to go. I’m a dead woman anyway. I want to die at home.”

     He shrugged again, as if to say without words that it was her choice, and they kept walking.

     She wondered distantly when his footsteps had started to make sound, just like real ones did.

...

...

...

     “You got a name? It’s getting boring just calling you the Hallucination in my head.”

     An amused glance her way, “I thought you weren’t supposed to indulge hallucinations because it would only make them worse.”

     She scoffed, the sound laced with static through the speakers of her suit, “Worst case is that I die before I get home, talking to thin air. Best case is that I die at the ranch, still talking to thin air. Might as well risk it. So, do you have a name?”

     He tilted his head and considered her. There was something eerie in his gaze, something too keen and too alive. Something too old. It fit the strange military uniform he was wearing today, “Bast,” he finally said, “Bast Lucis Caelum.”

     “Pretentious,” she huffed, and his lips twitched like he agreed and found her opinion amusing. It was stupid to introduce herself to a hallucination of her own mind, because surely he knew everything about her already. But even so, boredom and manners made her tap her chest plate and say, “Elisabet. Elisabet Sobeck.” He stopped and stared at her with wide, startled eyes, the most open emotion she had yet seen from him. His mouth opened, then shut, then he shook his head and muttered something that sounded distinctly like “should have known” and she was intrigued despite herself, “You didn’t know who I was. Shouldn’t you know everything about me?”

     He scoffed, a dry, tired noise, “No. I didn’t. I knew your voice was familiar, but I can’t- I can’t see you under that suit. I wasn’t sure. And I don’t know much about you. Not really.” A pause, a thoughtful look at the ruined horizon and the swirling dust beneath their feet, “Tell me?”

     Elisabet didn’t feel much like talking about herself to, essentially, herself, but she was used to answering vague, childish questions after so long working with Gaia, and somehow she found herself talking as she hiked through the empty landscape. About herself, about her past, about her dreams. Bast listened without judgement, just occasionally made a questioning noise that let her know he was listening.

     It was a relief to not feel alone in this place. Even if she knew logically she was more alone than she had ever been before in her life.

...

...

...

     “If you had a daughter,” Elisabet jerked awake from her daze at the sound, blinked and tried to shake off the effects of dehydration —the suit had run out of water stims to inject into her bloodstream yesterday and she was already feeling the effects—, “what would you say to her?”

     “I don’t have any children,” she retorted and tried not to sound bitter about it, “for the best, really, considering … this.” She waved a hand at the fallen buildings and smoking spires. Ruins without bodies, everything already picked clean of organic material by the swarm as it had passed by. That was probably the only reason she was still alive. This area had already been deemed empty by the swarm and it had moved on before she had … left.

     “Humor me.”

     She looked at her imaginary companion. He was dressed in post-apocalypse leathers and cables again, his blond hair half shaved, the other half left to flop to the side like some kind of sad not-mohawk. His weapons hadn’t changed. They were just as anime as ever. A katana at one hip, a bow on his back and a quiver of arrows on his other hip, knives peaking out from seemingly every pocket. He was watching her with something very focused and serious in his gaze. Like he could see through her suit and into her eyes. She licked dry lips beneath her visor, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have anyone.”

     He stopped walking, she stopped instinctively so as to not leave him behind. He reached out as if to grab her shoulder, paused before he could touch her and lowered his hand. Grey eyes looked dark with intent, with desperation, “If you had a daughter,” he started to repeat.

     “Well I don’t!” She snapped, temper breaking free of its leash, “I’m childless! I have no daughter, I have no future! I’m talking to a hallucination! You’re a figment of my mind, why won’t you just change the subject?”

     “Because this is important!” He snarled back with more ferocity than she expected. He stormed forward until they were almost touching, his nose inches from her faceplate, “This is important, Elisabet. I don’t know what’s going on, if I’m dead or dreaming or what, but I have a chance to ask this and I’m taking it!”

     A fractured pause between them, tense and disbelieving on both sides. Then Bast ran a hand through his hair and stepped back, “Now please. If you had a daughter, what would you tell her?”

     A pointless question. A pointless question that was painful to even think about, especially here. Especially now. She turned away and resumed walking, listened to the crunch of footsteps that couldn’t really be there as they followed her and thought about changing the subject.

     And yet…

     “If I had a daughter … I would tell her that I loved her. So much. I would tell her … to be brave. And curious. And kind. That- that the world has enough people out there hurting it, and that it takes a special kind of person to heal it instead. If only a little bit. I would tell her that I support her, no matter what she decided to do with her life, and that wherever she went … whatever she did, I would believe in her. Anything she wanted to be, or achieve, she could do it. I know she could.” Elisabet looked up at the sky, taking in the starscape just beginning to be visible, “I would tell her to reach for the stars, because if she wanted to, she could touch them. And no matter what happened next … I would be … so proud. I would love her, and I would… I …”

     “I would tell her that I would always be proud of my baby girl.”

     Bast let her fall silent after that. Politely looked away as her shoulders shook and her breath hitched inside the suit. Then, after minutes upon minutes of aching silence, he whispered, “I’ll remember that.”

     And Elisabet wondered why it felt like such a relief to hear those words. Even though logically she knew that she had no child, and even if she had, they would never hear what Elisabet had to say.

...

...

...

     It was getting hard to see straight. Hard to think. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since the suit ran out of nutrient stims. Just that it had, and she had kept walking. She had avoided the swarm, somehow, and now … now she was so tired. So very tired.

     “Keep walking,” Bast said, and she wondered when she had stopped caring that he was a figment of her mind and instead clung to the comfort of his presence. To the steadiness of his voice even in a world eaten alive. “That’s it, isn’t it? Up ahead.”

     She looked up. Cried when she saw the weathered letters of the Sobeck Ranch looking back, “Yeah. That’s it. That’s home.” She had made it. She had made it home. Crazy and dying and alone at the end of the world but … she was home. She staggered past the wrecked gate, tried not to look at the devastation. The swarm had been through here, she could tell. All the trees were gone, all the grass ripped out of the ground by the roots. The walls caved in to get to the ivy that had been growing on them. Her home was in as much ruins as the rest of the world.

     But it was still here.

     She sank shakily onto the old stone bench that faced the house and sighed.

     This would be a good place to die.

     Bast settled next to her, crouching on his haunches near the bench rather than risk touching her —he never touched her, and she wasn’t sure if that was out of respect for her boundaries or because they both knew it would break the illusion that he was ever there—. He was quiet. He had been getting a lot quieter, the longer the journey went on. The more Elisabet faded. He only spoke now to wake her up, to tell her to keep moving. But she was home now, so there was no more reason to stay awake, or to walk. This was it. This was where she was going to stay until the end.

     She wondered, a little dazedly, if it would be scary for Bast. If he would fade with her consciousness, acting alive until the end, or if her brain would just get too tired to keep him around and he would wink into nothing between one heartbeat and the next. That thought scared her more than it should.

     “Hey, Bast?”

     “Yeah?”

     She licked dry lips and shifted to be marginally more comfortable on the bench. Tilted her head back to the sky and idly rolled her little globe charm in her fingers as she whispered, “If I had a daughter … what would her name be? What … would she be like?”

     The silence that followed was deep and long. So long she closed her eyes with a shaking sigh, sure that her brain had finally gotten bored with making him and left her well and truly alone. Then.

     “Aloy. Her name would be Aloy. She would … look just like you. Red hair, bright green eyes that try to pick apart everything in the world around her. She would be … curious. Brave. Unstoppable. The smartest person in the room wherever she went but not … arrogant about it. Always looking for knowledge, always looking to learn. She would be … afraid of a lot of things, but she would never let it stop her. She would be very kind. Always willing to help other people in need, even when it’s risky, or when she would rather do something else. She would … look at a boy about her age that … no one wanted anything to do with because he was weird and she would hold out a hand in friendship. She would learn a foreign language just so she could talk to her new friend better, and ask questions no else thinks to ask. She would do … so many amazing things.”

     Elisabet tried to picture it. Indulged in the fantasy of it, just for a little while, “What things?”

     “Well,” Bast mused slowly, a note of gentle, nostalgic fondness in his voice, “there was this one time when we were eleven, and Aloy decided she wanted to surprise Rost, our … caretaker, so…”

     Elisabet listened. Eyes closed, breath slowing, basking in stories of the impossible. Of children and curiosity, of teenagers and bravery. Of a daughter who was unstoppable, and curious, and kind enough to fix the world, just a little bit. She listened to Bast’s voice rise and fall in stories of hope and heartbreak and danger and kindness. Her hand slowly relaxed around her little globe charm. It would be alright to doze off just for a little while, right? To dream of these fanciful stories her own mind was telling her.

     Just for a little while. Maybe … maybe she would get to see them? In her dreams if nothing else.

     Just for a little bit.

     Thank you, she tried to tell Bast past lips too tired to move. Thank you for staying with me, even if you aren’t really here.

     Thank you for not letting me die alone.

...

...

...

     Bast finished his story, one of many he had been telling, through the day and night and into the dawn again. He looked up from the pebbles he had been fiddling with, only half feeling them, as if he was touching them in a dream.

     He couldn’t hear Elisabet breathing anymore.

     He closed his eyes. Opened them and looked around the ruined world one more time. He could feel it, the tug in his soul that had been trying to make him wake up for a while now. He could have left days ago, followed the tug and gone back to the world of the living. But even if this was all just a dream —which it might be, or it might not, could he really judge after all the things he’d seen?—, he hadn’t wanted to leave yet. He hadn’t wanted to disappear and leave her alone.

     It was the least he could do, for Aloy’s mother.

     He stood up, letting the tugging sensation unravel through his soul as he stared at the unmoving figure slumped over on the stone bench, “I’ll come find you,” he whispered, “when I wake up. When this is all over. I’ll take Aloy here to meet you. Just wait for me until then, okay?”

     There was no answer. He didn’t expect any.

     The tugging feeling grew stronger and yanked him away, and Bast had just enough time to whisper goodbye before he opened his eyes in the real world, aching all over and with a relieved Aloy crying at his head.

     “-you thinking? You almost died!”

     “Sor’y, Aloy.”

     “I’ll show you sorry, all those lectures on being reckless and there you go and do something stupid like that-!”

     “Your Mom says hi.”

     “I’m going to- what?”

     Bast shook his head with a sigh. She didn’t know yet. She still had hope.

     He would tell her later. When he took her to meet Elisabet, “Neverm’nd. Tell you later.” He reached up and tugged one of her braids gently, “Missed you.”

     He squinted past the tears dripping onto his face as she pulled him into her lap, “I missed you too you big idiot. Don’t scare me like that again.”

     “Okay.”

[codependentsoulmates]

RANKING EVERY SEASON OF SUPERNATURAL

Let’s a-freakin’-go, Mario.

12. Season 7. Leviathans. And Sam’s god-awful wolverine sideburns. ‘Nuff said.

11. Season 6. Soulless Sam was hilariously, sarcastically endearing for a little while, but towards the end of the Soulless Sam arc, just, ugh. I wanted to fast forward so bad. Samuel coming back was unnecessary and anticlimactic, “evil Cas” was an eye roller, I didn’t give a shit about Lisa and Ben, um... EVE??? What the actual fuck was that. She was possibly the single most wasted, ultra-super-anticlimactic use of a story arc that I’ve ever seen. There were a few redeeming episodes (i.e. Clap Your Hands If You Believe).

10. Season 9. Okay, this could be biased just based on how much I truly cannot stand God!Metatron. S10/11 Metatron is great; he’s such a little jerk that you cant help but find him funny. But S9 Metatron... holy shit. It was like being subjected to hours upon hours of having to watch only the Umbridge scenes from Harry Potter on repeat. It felt like legitimate torture trying to force myself to finish the season. Plus, yes, I ended up liking Gadreel later (much later) on, but Gadreel!Sam felt like it went on forever. I was over it and it was like the end of it would never come. Also, I’m just gonna say it: Abaddon was boring and annoying, and the only reason she was even an issue was because Sam and Dean thought, “Hey, wow, let’s experiment on the most powerful demon we know of roaming the Earth right now. We cut off her hands, nothing will go wrong!” Riiiight... okay. Also, Kevin’s death was seriously messed up and unnecessary and I still haven’t forgiven them for it, so. But uh, human!Cas was super endearing though, and even though I really don’t ever want actual human Cas to become a thing, it was cute for awhile. 

9. Season 12. Alright. I don’t share the exact same sentiment or level of hatred that a lot of other people seem to for this season, but it had... a lot of issues. So, uh. Buckle up. First of all... Lucifer. While I don’t... hate the idea of him coming back as a villain, just so many things about this were... sigh. Rockstar!Lucifer was - and I’m gonna fucking say it - truly awful. So, so awful. Maybe he could’ve worked on another show, but with Lucifer’s character/personality having already been so established and defined on Supernatural, it just felt out of place. He was not the same character - which is something I often complain about with the Rubys. We had just come from Casifer - which was brilliant and so, so in character - and then we get this... weird, unsnarky, not sarcastic or playful at all version of Lucifer and... pass. Moving on... they finally get to put Luci back in his cage and... then Crowley decides to keep him as a pet? And believe Lucifer - fucking LUCIFER - now bows to him and won’t get away? And assume the demons who have time and time again always helped Lucifer, will now follow him instead? What??? Crowley isn’t that dumb, and he could’ve achieved ruling Hell again with no problems if Lucifer was in the cage. It made no sense to me. And um. Lucifer having a child? Seriously? So much reaching going on. Now to the second issue: The British Men of Letters. Okay. They started off as the enemy this season. The title sequence was the MoL symbol. And yet... they weren’t that relevant or threatening until the last couple of episodes (and those were, well, in nicer terms... questionable.) They either should’ve saved a Lucifer-returning-as-the-enemy storyline for later or saved the BMoL. Together, it was just too much and not enough expansion. Side note: I loathe the BMoL like I loathe God!Metatron. Which brings me to the third - and maybe biggest - issue I had with this season: Mary fucking Winchester. What the fuck. What the actual fuck, were the writers thinking. They legitimately ruined her. Throughout the series you have this wonderful idea built up about her: she was a badass hunter and she sacrificed things for John and she loved her boys so, so much and she gave up hunting for good because that was never the life she wanted and just. Then she’s here and you’re like finally Sam and Dean get to have a fucking parent who is there for them and can nurture them for once in their goddamn lives, and then. Then she’s a different Mary and she’s back to only caring about hunting even though she never liked hunting in the first place and she’s working for the people who tortured her son and she’s leaving her boys who just got her back, who she just got back, and she was going to let them die or get hurt for the goddamn Colt that she didn’t even know was the Colt. And I just. I couldn’t get with it, I’m sorry. Oh, and also everyone fucking DIES this season, so that was just fucking great, too.

8. Season 10. This is an unpopular opinion, I’m sure, but I hated Deanmon and I was glad we didn’t have to see him that long and suffer like we did with Soulless Sam. That being said, they did way overhype Deanmon, which was pretty uncool and unfair. But I honestly hated the Mark of Cain - it went on waaaaay too long - and I really, really dislike seeing Dean be... not Dean... so... Also, I am still pissed the fuck off at Charlie’s death, so I refuse to rank this any higher out of spite, too. But um. They killed fucking DEATH this season. And while I was actually really unhappy about it because Death was cool as hell, that scene with Sam like, just wrecked, and Dean’s “Close your eyes, Sammy” kinda made it really, really almost worth it. (You’ll soon realize I really only care a lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship and their Absolute Best Moments™ that wrench my heart.)

7. Season 8. Unfortunately, the writers decided hey, let’s ruin Sam’s character a little fucking more and write him as OOC as possible by having him not actually give a shit where the fuck Dean was for an entire year because he was too busy fucking some piece of shit girl! Seriously, I didn’t think I could dislike anyone more than I hated Ruby 2.0 or Gordon... and then came Amelia. I have yet to encounter a person in the Spn-verse that is worse than her. No joke. This season ranks above the others though because it was less “meh” or all over the place. And because Mrs. Tran being a complete baller for just a single episode was more entertaining that any of the main story arcs for any of those seasons below. Also, more importantly, it had more of a return to what Supernatural is supposed to be - I’m looking at you S6/7 - and even though trying to close the gates of Hell was pointless and we knew it was never gonna happen, I have a sick love for suffering!Sam at any given time because then Dean goes into overprotective big bro mode and they stop fighting and being jerks to each other for a lil’ while and we get Seasons 1-5 (eh, minus 4) bro’ lovin’ and protectin’ again. Plus, this season holds my favorite quote/speech Dean has ever said to Sam (you know what I’m talking about) and I already said I’m a sucker for heart-wrenching moments between them, so.

6. Season 4. Probably yet another unpopular opinion, but oh well. Ruby 2.0... gag me. Way to ruin a good character. Plus, as much as I love Gen, I loved nothing about her portrayal of Ruby. It wasn’t the same character. That’s the bottom line. Also Sam’s demon blood addiction and him so far up Ruby’s ass all season??? Vomit. Skip. Next. Literally if Sam listened to Dean for legit two seconds, the Apocalypse could’ve been avoided. But Castiel! And the angel arc! The actual saving graces (hah, literally) of the season.

5. Season 1. I feel really weird about placing this season this low because it’s really just as good as the two I’ve ranked above it, but. I suppose that’s cheating. Season 1 holds a very, very special place in my heart, is all. It’s the OG season, monster-of-the-week episodes (which, side note: makes no sense to me when people rank S1 super low because there were “too many monster-of-the-week episodes.” Um, yeah.. that’s kinda... what the show is fucking about? Sam and Dean... hunting monsters? But okay, anyway...) Baby Sam and Dean!!! The world wasn’t fucked yet! Lil’ skulky Sam!! Okay, real talk, S1-3 (and 5) Sam was fucking BALLER. He was the best Sam, and then the writers trashed his character, so. Cool. This season is really only this low because I had to fully rank this and because John was kinda a dick. But I loved Sam fighting with him and Dean getting in between them to protect Sam. (Also, on another note: John was a piece of work but he was a better parent than S12 Mary, jussayin’.) (Also, also, it irritates the shit out of me just how much they ruined John’s character and who they made him out to be post-season 5. He was truly something else and he did some really shitty things, but I don’t think it was fair to do and I don’t think that was ever what Kripke intended for his character, but. Oh well. I digress.)

4. Season 11. Once again, I don’t necessarily rank this fully above S1 or below the next ranking, but. There was a lot of good things going on this season. Casifer was brilliant and delivered some of my favorite one-liners of the series. His interactions with God!Chuck were great. Him helping instead of being a villain, but still being a ridiculous child. God!Chuck was wonderful and handled really, really well. Also, his World’s Best Dad mug? I heart. Freakin’... Baby? Brilliant, incredible, amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Rowena was also bitchin’ this season, the whole flippin’ demons, angels, witches working together (even though it was just one episode) was suh-weeeet, Sam and Dean were vibin’ like early seasons Sam and Dean. I really wasn’t here for the forced Dean/Amara weird as hell relationship/attraction, though. It was... no. Just. No. Also like, Amara was okay and they did mostly show how powerful she was but like. Azazel, Lucifer, the Leviathans, Gordon, or basically... anyone felt like more of a threat than her, even though she was the only actual unstoppable force ever on the show. And while it was kinda nice for the finale to be her and Chuck working it out, it was also... kinda lame. Here’s this dark force that is the most powerful thing in existence, and it’s stopped by God... apologizing and hugging it out with her? Um... okay, I guess.

3. Season 3. Even though this season was short and waiting for Dean to die kinda sucked and put a damper on the whole season, it still is by far one of the best ones, hands down. Not only did we get Katie Cassidy’s badass, savage, cool as hell Ruby 1.0, we got Bela (who had so much wasted potential, sigh) and return of the Trickster, Bobby really becoming the boys’ father figure, and Sam finally getting to kill Actual Piece of Shit™ Gordon Walker. Season 3 also has some of the best episodes of the whole series - Bad Day At Black Rock, Mystery Spot, Ghostfacers - and we got A Very Supernatural Christmas, which gave us the birth of the Samulet, and I swear to god that scene made me actually cry a little bit. (A lotta bit.)

2. Season 2. This is like. THE Supernatural season. All the cool kids are introduced: Ellen, Jo, Ash, the Trickster, Tessa. Bobby becomes more involved, brotherly bonding up the wazoo, total badass, pure monster hunting. Episodes like Tall Tales and Hollywood Babylon. And episodes like Croatoan and Heart (which had one of the best endings to an episode in the series just in terms of emotion and how well it was set up with the song and ugh), and had debatably the best season finale of the whole show with All Hell Breaks Loose Parts 1 & 2. (It killed me.) Great monsters are introduced like shape shifters and djinns. Azazel was annoying but was an actual villain (unlike some of the later big “villains”) and he was that start and end of everything. He was the Winchesters’ reason for hunting, he catapulted everything. And everything was so simple and pure and made fucking sense. 

1. Season 5. I mean, there’s really no surprise here. It baffles me when S5 isn’t at the top of everyone’s list. While I don’t necessarily wanna go back and watch S5 episodes like I do with most other seasons, it was just the most well-rounded, well-thought out, well-executed season. No competition. Everything had a purpose and a meaning. Everything was tied up. Ellen and Jo die, which is a downer, but at least they were badass. Lucifer is a total tool, and you love it. It’s also Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer, which is - quite obviously - the best Lucifer. Death is rad as hell. Cas is in his fucking prime this season. Sam and Dean love each other so fucking much this season. The Trickster/Gabriel is revealed as an archangel!! Crowley!! Bobby in his prime as Sam and Dean’s father figure!! Dark Side of the Moon A.K.A. one of my all-time favorite episodes and also one of the most beautifully shot episodes!! (And Ash in heaven! “Some people share, like soulmates”!!!!!!) The fucking END!!! I honestly would probably rank S5 at the top of this list solely for the scene where Lucifer is beating the crap out of Dean while Dean just keeps saying, “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here” and then Sam’s montage of memories of him and Dean as he takes back control, and jeez holy shit is that montage beautiful and brilliant. That scene alone is probably the best scene in the whole show and I will defend that opinion until I die. The only bad things really in S5 were how unbelievably annoying Zachariah was and how I still think throwing their random half-brother in there just so Dean didn’t have to be Michael’s vessel was ridiculous and absurd. But really, this is the season. I’m glad the show didn’t end after this season, but holy fucking shit would it have been one of the sickest, best, most baller series finales of all time, and no matter what they do for the series finale now, this finale is so untouchable that it will never even come close to living up to it. 

[phoenix1966sbottom]

Stories where Jared/Sam are or interact with superheroes. As always, heed the author warnings where the story is posted.

 Jared

This Hell We’ve Made by BewareTheIdes15 on Ao3.  Except for the fact that they were both born with remarkable superhuman abilities, and a seething mutual dislike, Jared and Jensen have nothing in common. Turns out, though, that they may also be the only ones who can save each other from themselves. (talk of switching in the future, but Jared only bottoms onscreen)

The Supervillain !verse by linvro21 on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. Jensen’s mother wants him to dominate the world. He’ll start with just one man at a time.

Super Pretty Awesome Man by phantisma on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. In which Jensen is a superhero. And Jared is a dry cleaner. No, I’m serious. (you must be logged in to read)

Winged!Jared Series by zubeneschamali on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Even in a world where extraordinary mutations are increasingly common, being born with wings makes it difficult to lead anything like an ordinary life. When Jared uses his extraordinariness to save Jensen’s life, he changes both of their lives irrevocably. (nothing explicit beyond mutual masterbation, but avoid the last, full length story, Darkest Before the Dawn, as that is top!Jared only)

How to Disappear Completely by Las on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared loses his powers and everything changes. (no penetrative sex)

Into the Light of the Dark Black Night by dugindeep on Ao3. Jensen/Tahmoh, Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. In the twenty-second century, Chicago still stands as the Second City, but much of it has crumbled under the weight of a changed world. Failed industries and a changing climate have led to ruin, and half the city—and Earth—is not what was once promised: a strong, sustainable future.Jared has been consumed with knowing all he could about the Black Falcon for years, and is fascinated by the winged creature that once stood as the city’s saving grace. On a stormy night, Jared is spared from death by who he swears is the Black Falcon, and is spurred to track him down. There’s more to the Falcon’s story, and Jared finds himself in greater trouble than a tragic car wreck. Jared’s modern fairytale unravels on a dark and dirty backdrop, but there’s still a damsel in distress and a hero who will need saving. (no penetrative sex)

The Freckles in Our Eyes by samshinechester on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. j2 AU. So, the superhero thing? The whole having cool powers, defeating villains left and right, holding back all the chicks and dudes who wanna jump into his pants schtick? Well. It’s not as great as it’s chalked out to be, really. Most of the times, it’s just a pain in the ass.Allow Jensen to demonstrate.(Or, how Jensen lost his powers two days before Christmas)

baby come and save me by dimpleforyourthoughts on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared's a reporter with a not-so-slight crush on the city's superhero. (no penetrative sex)

The Real World is not about Happy Endings by all_the_damned_vampires on Ao3. Jared/JDM.   Jessica Jones inspired AU. At his best friend's insistence, Jared sets out to become a superhero. On his first night out, he runs into Jeff. (must be logged in to read)

Age of Fish by Liralen on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. j2 AU.  Jared can think of a worse situation to discover he has mutant powers. A trip to the Field Museum with 30 of his senior AP History classmates is still pretty goddamn bad. (no penetrative sex)

What I Do Best Isn’t Very Nice by roslindi on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jensen is feeling pretty morose, because now that he has his utopia of evil and has had a steady rule over it for a few years, life is kind of...boring. (no penetrative sex)

Birthday Wishes by ellia on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. It's Jared's birthday, and all he really wants is a quiet, stress free day; and a nice meal with his boyfriend. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite go that way.  (no penetrative sex)

Everybody Wants to Rule the World by tebtosca on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Starting a specialized high school for Superhero progeny with his best friend Jensen sounds likes a blast to Jared--until he discovers that he's the only one there without any actual powers.  (no penetrative sex)

Superhero J2 series by immortalwriter on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared hated his superpower with passion. From all the powers he could've gotten he was stuck with sticky slime and mucus, not to mention that his long tongue was a major turn off. Why couldn't he be like the Four Magnetics? Especially someone like Jensen, his superpower was badass.

Helping Hands by dimeliora on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared, an everyday superhero with a little secret, is in love with the Captain of the world's most powerful supergroup.

Sunset on the Highway by bertee on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. Superhero!Jared and firefighter!Jensen take a roadtrip during the zombie apocalypse. (no penetrative sex)

I’m Staying (Until You Kick Me Out) by mishapshappen on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared is the failing new supervillain in town, Jensen is the local superhero who can't seem to be able to arrest him. Must be logged in to read.  (no penetrative sex)

Holograph by kalypsobean on Ao3. Jensen/JDM, Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared's interest in the two-person team of Magic Man and Bantam turns personal when he meets Jensen Ackles.

An Unexpected Talent by iminurface on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  “The Shadow.” Jared’s putting it together now. Hell, he would’ve sooner, but a fainting, poison drenched classmate turned superhero makes for a compelling distraction. Add in the nudity and it’s a wonder Jared can think at all. “I read about you, ‘the latest in a spree of costumed vigilantes bent on restoring order to the city.’ You took down that cartel at the docks last weekend,” he says, breath hitching to feel Jensen’s fingers at the buttons of his jeans. They’re soaked and unwieldy, but Jensen gets them over Jared’s hips like they were little more than wet tissue. “You’re insane.” (no penetrative sex)

as though nothing could fall by kellifer-fic on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared Padalecki is born with power into a world of superheroes, but when you’re a minor player in a world of champions it’s easy to lose your way. Assigned a sidekick, Jensen, that seems to find him exasperating and part of a team that couldn’t fight their way out of a wet paper bag, Jared starts thinking that maybe all he’s destined for is obscurity. (no penetrative sex, although Jared wants to bottom)

Perks of the Job by zubeneschamali on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.   Costumed crime-fighter Jensen saves hooker!Jared from a bunch of thugs while on patrol. He didn't Jared to be quite so...grateful. (no penetrative sex)

My Love is Like to Ice, And I to Fire by __tiana__ on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  In a world where superheroes exist, Jensen and Jared possess opposite abilities: Jensen controls ice, and Jared fire. Their first meeting results in Jensen's accidental near-death, so imagine his dismay a few years later when Jared joins his team. Team Alpha includes heroes with powers ranging from electrokinesis to teleportation. Jensen will have to face his painful past, his opposite-powered teammate, and his unexpected feelings for Jared, codename Phoenix, in that order. When a crew of villains sends the team into a tailspin, will this be a turning point for Jared and Jensen, or the end of all they've begun to build?

Free as my Hair by zubeneschamali on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.   Jensen has had a crush on his superhero partner Jared for what feels like forever. But when they try to take on a supervillain with mind control powers, it could be the end of everything for them.  (no penetrative sex)

Possibilities You Don’t Even Know You’ve Got series by Chash on Ao3.. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Teen superheroes and the high school newspaper reporters who stalk them. Or, the one where Jensen is kind of Superman and Jared is kind of Lois Lane, but not really. (no penetrative sex)

The Seeds You Plant by BewareTheIdes15 on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Depending on who you ask, the Reaper is A) a criminal B) a hero C) a lunatic or D) all of the above.  (no penetrative sex)

Lucky man by crimsonepitaph on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU. Jared's talent of telepathy makes it a struggle to live in a world that he has to fight to keep out of his mind. Then he meets the mysterious Jensen and everything changes.

Gods & Monsters by sinestrated on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 Non-AU.   Jared discovers something unexpected about Jensen. (no penetrative sex)

Mindgate by madebyme_x on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared's a secret agent with superpowers—at least he was, until he was kidnapped by The Movement and his memory wiped. Now it's Jensen's job to help Jared remember his powers so that they can both escape the General and his evil plans. (no penetrative sex)

The Last Light I See by pennydrdful on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  When Jensen wakes up in the hospital, he wakes up confused and alone. There's no family or friends worrying over his bedside, no cards or flowers. The doctor quietly informs him of three things: his name, that he was beaten and mugged, and that he's tested positive for Super. On the long road of recovery from a brutal attack, Jensen slowly starts to piece together what kind of man he was, the kind he wants to be, and why the tall, ridiculously gorgeous gardener seems to hate his guts. Jensen-centric. (no penetrative sex)

Whatever the Question Is by hunters_retreat on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared and Jensen have never gotten along.  They've never made a secret about it, but when their foster parents are lost on a mission and the boys are their only hope, can they put aside their feelings?   Or will the Minion add Jared and Jensen to his list of Supers under his belt?  (no penetrative sex)

Coffee Heroes by morrezela on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jensen thinks that Jared keeps trying to steal his good press from him, but he might not be right about that.  (no penetrative sex)

Twisted For You by brokenhighways on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared could literally spend an entire day telling someone just how much Jensen Ackles (the multi-billionaire head of Ackles Industries, who just happen to be the country’s largest oil manufacturers) sucks, but Jensen's surrounded by unwavering levels of adoration and nepotism regardless, so it'd be pretty pointless. However, when Jared and Jensen's lives collide and he's forced to spend time with the other man, he realises that maybe he had the wrong idea about Jensen all along. (no penetrative sex)

go and tear me apart by probablyonfire on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jensen has been avoiding Jared ever since Jared's superpower turned out to be mind-reading. (no penetrative sex)

Mindgames by ashtraythief on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared really can’t help his dirty thoughts, not when the meeting is so boring and Jensen so pretty. And if he has to suffer through this, well he’ll make sure Jensen is right there with him.

The Outer Layer by hybridshade on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Every day Jensen deals with the threat of losing control looming over him, but he lives his life in the safest way he knows how. When Jared becomes a part of that life, the cracks begin to show. (no penetrative sex)

hand to hand by bertee on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  In which superhero!Jared is not that fond of superhero!Jensen. (no penetrative sex)

Bring the Rain by sinestrated on LiveJournal. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  In a future torn apart by war, Jared and Jensen were two orphans just trying to survive in the filthy slums of Dallas, Texas. But when Jared was kidnapped and nearly sold to a prostitution ring, Jensen signed himself over to the military’s Supersoldier program, effectively giving up his life and his memories so that the government would keep Jared safe. Now, fourteen years later, Scout Padalecki has arrived on a military base in Boulder, Colorado, intent on finding a Supersoldier with hazel-green eyes, but when he meets Captain Ackles, it quickly becomes apparent that things aren’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. Struggling with his own emotions and a Jensen who doesn’t remember who he is, Jared must find a way to save them both – before the war destroys everything they’ve worked so hard to build.

J2Powers!verse by queerly_it_is on Ao3. Jared/Jensen. J2 AU.  Jared has been a telepath for as long as he remembers. That means that in some ways he has learned to close his mind when things get overwhelming. Meeting Jensen is a test on his patience, however, because he has never met anyone as loud or with as dirty a mind as Jensen. (Warning: while this doesn’t end on a real cliffhanger, this series has been abandoned)

Sam

Based on a True Story by clex_monkey89 on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Wincest.  poor_choices had a reverse drabble meme and my prompt was I would love some Sam/Dean fic involving Dean actually being Batman. (no penetrative sex)

X-Men: Winchester Class by hunters_retreat on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Wincest AU. John Winchester left a huge whole in his boy's lives when he died and Bobby Singer had no idea how to fill it.  The boys were too young to be on their own though so he did the only thing he knew to do; he had Dean follow him home in the Impala with Sam in tow.  He meant to keep an eye on the boys and keep them safe, but nothing is what it seems and when Sam starts having nightmares it means more than just sleepless nights.  With no one else to turn to, Bobby calls on an old friend to help him.  After all,Charles Xavier has been in the business of helping the outcasts of the world since Bobby met him.Sam and Dean go to Xavier's School for the Gifted but when school is out and Sam has his sights set on Stanford, all hell begins to break loose. Literally, because a mutant has found out about the demons and Magneto wants to be the one pulling the strings behind the boy who could be the king of Hell.

Because I Have To series by NeutralDeviance on Ao3. Sam/Dean/Gambit. Wincest AU.  On Sam Winchester’s 14th birthday, a tragic accident changes his life, and leads him down a road to self-discovery he never thought possible…(I don’t normally warn for bottom!Dean when it’s someone else topping, but FYI he bottoms for Gambit).

X-Men/SPN Feral Attraction 'verse by NeutralDeviance on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Wincest AU.  Sam and Dean are Demon hunters with a twist. They were born superpowered mutants. When Sam is kidnapped, Dean must turn to the X-Men for help...

If Deams Could Make Wishes Come True by AmyPond45 on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Wincest.  On the night of November 2, 1983, the Yellow-Eyed Demon killed Mary Winchester and baby Sam. Or did he? Little Sam Smith grows up in foster care, lonely and unloved, comforted and sustained by vivid, recurring dreams of a normal life growing up in a happy, middle-class home in Lawrence, Kansas with his mom, dad, and big brother. When a shadowy government agency takes an interest in Sam's nascent psychic abilities, Sam suddenly finds himself in training to be a kind of psychic superhero, and things start looking up. Until the day he runs into a tall, freckled teenager on an old country road, and Sam wonders if dreams can make wishes come true after all. A coming-of-age AU where the boys are raised separately. (First in a trilogy...Sam tops in the third one)

Bad Moon Rising by RavenGray on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Unrelated wincest au.   “I’m off duty.” Sam offers blandly, testing the strength of the cuffs casually and heaving a sigh when they don’t bend or break.

Back on Solid Ground by gaialux on Ao3. Sam/Dean. Wincest AU.  It doesn't matter how far they run or how they were born, they were always destined to be heroes in one way or another. (the sex is ambiguous)

[headfulloffantasies]

Angel with a Shotgun

Chapter 21: Negotiations

Ao3 Guess what guys, I’m finally caught up to my Ao3 account. Seriously, if you want to read this fic you should follow the link. It’s much easier to post there and so I make more regular updates.

“Where would he go?” Sam asked for the millionth time.

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his beard. Dean wasn’t answering his phone. He dialled again anyways. It went straight to voicemail. The battery was probably dead.

Sam paced the motel room. Bobby was dizzy just watching him. The shag carpet was going to be worn to threads before Dean got back.

“Maybe he went for coffee,” Bobby suggested for the hundredth time.

“Without saying anything? Not even a note?” Sam turned another circuit of the cramped room.

Bobby watched him. A gulf as wide as Hell had opened between them. It was about time he tried bridging the gap.

“How are you doing, really?” Bobby asked.

Sam shrugged, his shoulders staying hunched around his ears. “I dunno. I feel… sore. Achy, like all my joints are loose. But I’ll make it.”

“I know you will,” Bobby said. “You’re my son, you’re tougher than nails.”

A horn honked. Bobby frowned as a monster engine roared. Sam ran to the window. He whooped suddenly and burst out the door as the sound of the engine growled louder. Bobby followed slower, inwardly cursing the stupidity of teenage boys.

Dean roared into the parking lot in the Impala. The huge, nasty grill shone, and the black paint practically sparkled as the engine growled. It was a beautiful machine.

The car skidded to a halt on the asphalt. Dean leaned out the driver’s window. “Ain’t she something?”

Sam smoothed his hands over the chrome detail on the passenger’s side. “Not bad.”

“Not bad? My Baby would crush any foreign sportscar.”

“Yeah, sure, Dean,” Sam piled his tall self into the car. “Just drive.”

Dean honked the horn and waved at Bobby. He waved back, supressing the smile fighting to break through.

***

The Impala growled down the highway. Dean pressed her to her limits, flooring the gas. Trees and fields rushed by in a blur. Sam rolled down his window to shout into the wind. Dean grinned. His heart swelled. This was all he needed; just two lanes of asphalt and a motor. Finally, he turned the car around and headed back towards town.

“What happened to your wings?” Sam burst the bubble of silence enveloping them.

Dean shifted in his seat. “Cas has been teaching me to focus my energy. I figured out how to hide them myself.” He glanced at Sam, “Now I don’t need Cas if I want to go out in public.”

“What do we do now?” Sam asked quietly. He twisted his hands in his lap.

“We keep doing what we always do. Fight monsters. Stay away from angels.”

“I thought Zachariah had a plan for you?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Well, he can shove it. I don’t want to sit on a cloud and play a harp all day.”

“Isn’t Heaven where we belong, though?” Sam asked. “I mean you do anyways. Me-,”

“You’re still an angel.” Dean interrupted. “At heart, or whatever. We’ll fix you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam groused. “I’m hungry,” he suddenly changed the subject. “Are humans always this hungry?”

“Burgers?” Dean suggested.

“Yeah. And pie.”

“Now we’re talking,” Dean pressed down on the gas.

The little diner was bustling. Sam and Dean ordered and sat in a booth by the window. Sam ate like a man starved. Worry gripped Dean’s gut. He’d never really thought much about food beyond how much he enjoyed the taste. Angels, even fledglings, didn’t need much sustenance.

Dean finished his burger and shoved back his chair. “I need to stretch my wings.”

“Very funny,” Sam said over his second milkshake.

Dean smirked and sauntered to the restroom. He pushed through the door and froze. He wasn’t in a crusty diner washroom. A dark cement walled room greeted him with junk filled shelves on all sides. Dean turned to run back the way he came. The door had vanished.

“Hello, Dean.”

Zachariah stood in the center of the room, his hands in his pockets.

Dean’s heartrate kicked up a few notches.

“Zach,” Dean answered warily. “I’ve got a cellphone, you know. You could just call me.”

Zachariah smirked, “I need a minute of your time, Dean.”

“Where are we?” Dean studied the eclectic collection of tools and machinery on the dusty shelves.

“Some basement in Delaware, I believe.”

“Delaware?” Dean sputtered. “I’m supposed to be in Wyoming.”

“No, Dean, you are supposed to be in Heaven,” Zachariah snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Man, I’m not the guy you want to run an army.”

“Oh, you’ll join us, Dean,” Zachariah said. “But this visit is to discuss Sam.”

“Sam?” Dean’s stomach dropped.

“You weren’t supposed to rescue him.” Zachariah said. His calmness sent a chill down Dean’s spine. “You’ve ruined everything.”

Dean’s head spun. “You told me you had a plan to save him.”

“Heavens, no. We have a plan. That plan includes your brother becoming a hellspawn. And you commanding Heaven.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How could you? You’ve been raised by mud monkeys.”

“Watch your mouth,” Dean snarled.

“You and Sam are supposed to be the greatest adversaries ever.”

Dean felt like someone was dropping bricks on his head. He couldn’t process all this new information. “What?”

“Heaven verses Hell, starring two brothers slaughtering each other on the battlefield.” Zachariah spread his arms wide. “Come on, haven’t you been paying attention? Cain and Abel, Pharaoh and Moses, Romulus and Remus, Claudius and Hamlet Senior. It goes on and on, written into the fabric of humanity. Precursors to the End.”

“I won’t kill Sam,” Dean said firmly.

Zachariah met him with determination. “You will if it’s the only way to stop him destroying the world.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “He won’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you,” Zachariah spit. He raised his hands and intoned. “As it is written, The King of Hell will burn the world in fire. And only the Righteous One will be able to stop the bloodshed. They will meet as brothers, and one shall slay the other. Then Heaven shall reign on earth for a thousand years.”

“You’re talking about the Apocalypse,” Dean gasped.

“What did you expect?” Zachariah asked, adjusting his suit. “We were hunting the ends of the earth for some lost fledglings? Who cares about a couple of abandoned puppies? No, you and your brother have been destined since birth for these roles. There is no one else who can do it.”

“It being the End Times.” 

Zachariah shrugged. “Call it what you will. The big showdown. The last stand. It’s all the same. And it all ends the same; with you defeating your brother and Heaven triumphing over Hell once and for all.”

“I don’t think so.”

Zachariah took a threatening step forward, “Come again?”

Dean lifted his chin, “I ain’t leading any angel army, and Sam sure as Hell isn’t on board with the demons.”

“Eh. Semantics.” Zachariah brushed Dean’s words away like lint off his suit. “Whether you like it or not, the end will happen. And it will happen as it is written.”

“Well then strap in, ‘cause we’re throwing out the book.”

Zachariah was in his face with angelic speed. “Listen here, you little maggot. You’re either going to say yes, or I’m going to tear you a cosmic new one.”

Dean’s heart stopped. He clenched his jaw and smirked. “Eat me.”

Zachariah took a sobering breath. “Fine. Let’s see how you feel if we add a little sweetener to the pot.” He snapped his fingers. Sam appeared suddenly behind Zachariah’s shoulder.

“Sam!”

“Dean? What’s going on-?”

“Hush,” Zachariah lifted a finger to his lips. Sam buckled, a gasp spilling from his mouth.

“Leave him alone!” Dean shouted. Sam crumpled into a ball on the floor, clutching his chest.

“Now. Where were we?” Dean had to tear his eyes from Sam to focus on what Zachariah was saying. “Oh yes. Either you agree to my offer, or we see how fragile Sam is as a human.”

Sam made a sound that gutted Dean to the core.

“Bastard,” Dean spat.

Zachariah hummed and snapped his fingers again. Blood splattered the floor under Sam.

The fire of Dean’s anger drowned in icy fear. The smug douchebag would kill Sam, Dean had no doubts about that. “Stop.

Zachariah cupped a hand around his ear, “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“No,” Sam’s weak cry shattered Dean’s resolve. “Dean, don’t do it.”

“Fix him first,” Dean demanded.

Zachariah sucked at his teeth, considering. Every moment he deliberated was shards of ice in Dean’s stomach. “You say yes, then I put your pathetic excuse for a brother back together.”

“Please-,” Dean started.

“Oh, you don’t like it? How about this?” Zachariah lifted his hand to snap his fingers.

“Wait!” Dean lunged forward. “Stop it, damn you. I’ll do it.”

Zachariah lowered his hand with a smirk. “Now was that so hard? Everybody’s happy.”

“Except you,” Sam croaked. Dean and Zachariah moved as one to look at Sam. The puddle of blood under Sam was now smeared into a complicated configuration. Zachariah’s eyes widened in horror. Sam slammed his hand down on the angel banishing sigil. Dean threw his arms up to shield his eyes from the blinding light as Zachariah disintegrated.

Dean scraped his knees on the floor in his haste to get to Sam.

Sam coughed, shoving himself up to sitting. Blood dribbled down his chin. The same fear that had gripped him in Hell latched onto Dean at the sight of blood on Sam’s face.

“Are you good?” Dean’s hands fluttered over Sam, searching for more hurts.

“I’m fine,” Sam wiped the blood on his sleeve, smudging a horrible red streak across his face. “He’ll be back. We have to go.”

<<<Previous    Next>>>

[wyrdwordsandeffigieshaunt]

My Sacred Spaces

Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes. The world could throw whatever it wanted at me, I always had libraries.

I can walk into a library feeling horribly depressed, and within a matter of moments I find myself healed, healed by the scent of print, by the sight of the seemingly endless shelves, by the millions of words just waiting for another set of eyes to find them. I feel a surge of optimism in libraries, and a beautiful warm wave of peace and satisfaction washes over me.

This happens with every library I walk into, and I’ve been in ones all over the world: Norway, Sweden, Iceland, England, America, Canada… The moment I’m in a new place, I’m like ‘okay, so where’s the library at?’

I have been living in Sweden for almost two years, and I have just now got myself a library card. Up until yesterday I was using my boyfriend’s and it never felt…right. One of the very first things I do when I move to a new place is get myself a library card. It’s a top priority. To not have my own feels…just…wrong. Now I have one for Borås City Library, I feel that I can breathe better.

Cravings

I’ve mostly been reading non-fiction in recent years, but I’ve been craving a really solid novel and some life enhancing short stories recently. I’ve also been feeling the need to spend less time online and more time between the pages of books. I think doing so will do my mental health the world of good.

So yesterday I spent over an hour among the horror and fantasy shelves sampling and putting back and sampling and adding to my pile. Before long I was lugging around about 20kg of books.

I can get majorly protective over my haul. Say, when I put it down for just a moment, I always have one eye on the shelves another eye on my pile to ensure that no one so much as glances at it. When someone would drift close I’d think ‘touch any of those books and I’ll kill you were you stand…’ Slightly over the top? Perhaps. But you get my point.

The Haul

If you’re interested in buying any of the books from my haul, click on the titles!

  Pretty Monsters By Kelly Link

It was the illustration by Shaun Tan on the cover which initially made me snatch Pretty Monsters up. Then I was further seduced by the promise of six stories from a variety of genres including  magic realism, fantasy and horror – three genres I’ve been starved of recently and have been craving.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS TEN SHORT STORIES

And: A phone booth in Las Vegas ~ Aliens ~ Unhelpful wizards ~ Possibly carnivorous sofas ~ A handbag with a village inside it ~ Tennessee Fainting Goats ~ Dueling librarians ~ A statue of George Washington ~ A boy named Onion ~ Pirates ~ An undead babysitter ~ A nationally-ranked soccer player ~ Shapeshifters ~ An unexpected campfire guest. . . . – Amazon.co.uk

I’d never read anything by Kelly Link before, but with staggering reviews from some of my favourite authors, including Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman, I had a feeling I was going to be putting my time into good hands.

(I chose Pretty Monsters to start off with. The first story The Wrong Grave was massively enjoyable…the second story The Wizards Of Perfil…not so much. I ended up skipping much of it. Hoping things will pick back up again with the third story, Magic For Beginners. Just learned that this is supposed to be a collection for young adults…which does explain the vibe somewhat.)

The Three By Sarah Lotz

I had (still want to have) high hopes for this novel because I think the idea is excellent…but many of the reviews on Amazon are pretty dire, saying that there’s ‘too much padding,’ and that it’s ‘good just not great.’ I never do put my whole trust in Amazon though, and I still intend to dive into this with the same enthusiasm as I felt when I first found it on the shelf.

Four simultaneous plane crashes. Three child survivors. A religious fanatic who insists the three are harbingers of the apocalypse. What if he’s right?

The world is stunned when four commuter planes crash within hours of each other on different continents. Facing global panic, officials are under pressure to find the causes. With terrorist attacks and environmental factors ruled out, there doesn’t appear to be a correlation between the crashes, except that in three of the four air disasters a child survivor is found in the wreckage. – The Three Website

Trigger Warning By Neil Gaiman

Neil oh Neil oh Neil…is this going to be another treat that I’ll feel the need to read as slowly as possible so that I can savour each word? I have a feeling it will be.

It was through the comic book series The Sandman that I was first introduced to the work of Neil Gaiman, and I’ve never been quite the same since. (In the best kind of way.)

It was the cover of Trigger Warning that wowed me initially (and it’s even more beautiful in real life) and the tantalizing offerings of dozens of ‘short fictions and disturbances.’

In this new anthology, Neil Gaiman pierces the veil of reality to reveal the enigmatic, shadowy world that lies beneath. Trigger Warning includes previously published pieces of short fiction–stories, verse, and a very special Doctor Who story that was written for the fiftieth anniversary of the beloved series in 2013–as well “Black Dog,” a new tale that revisits the world of American Gods, exclusive to this collection. – Amazon.co.uk

Release By Patrick Ness

The cover of Release – illustrated by Levante Szabo – hit me like a full blown smack in the face. Just like the cover for Ness’s young adult book When A Monster Calls. I knew that I’d be taking this ‘personal and tender’ novel home even before I knew what it was about. The Guardian have described this ‘coming-of-age story’ with themes of sex, shame and sexuality, and touches of the supernatural as as Ness’s most ‘heartfelt novel to date.’

It’s Saturday, it’s summer and, although he doesn’t know it yet, everything in Adam Thorn’s life is going to fall apart. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find freedom from the release. Time is running out though, because way across town, a ghost has risen from the lake…

Missing Mom By Joyce Carol Oates

I first read Joyce Carol Oates back in 2010. I was travelling in Sweden and one of her books had been left on a hostel ‘free for all’ library shelf. The book was her 2008 novel My Sister, My Love and it raised the bar for me and whom I chose to give my reading time to. Since my introduction, I’ve admired her rich use of language and unparalleled story telling.

Whenever there is a death in the family, I have a tendency to surround myself with death orientated literature. While the story is quite close to home – except it was my Nanna who died – I know that I’ll finish it feeling like a more well rounded person because of it, and better educated on the greatest mysteries of our time – life and death.

Nikki Eaton, single, thirty-one, sexually liberated, and economically self-supporting, has never particularly thought of herself as a daughter. Yet, following the unexpected loss of her mother, she undergoes a remarkable transformation during a tumultuous year that brings stunning horror, sorrow, illumination, wisdom, and even—from an unexpected source—a nurturing love. – Amazon.co.uk

Harbor By John Ajvide Lindqvist

I have a confession to make. I never finished John Ajvide Lindqvist’s novel Let The Right One In. I don’t know why. Something just didn’t click with me. But I was all over the film like a rash.

Anyway, I wanted to give the Swede another chance so picked up his novel Harbor. The cover didn’t do anything to wow me (it’s not the one you see here), but after having a quick glimpse at what I have waiting for me between the pages, I’m going to let it slide.

It was a beautiful winter’s day. Anders, his wife and their feisty six-year-old, Maja, set out across the ice of the Swedish archipelago to visit the lighthouse. There was no one around, so they let her run on ahead. And she disappeared, seemingly into thin air, and was never found.

Two years later, Anders is a broken alcoholic, his life ruined. He returns to the archipelago, the home of his childhood and his family. But all he finds are Maja’s toys and through the haze of memory, loss and alcohol, he realizes that someone – or something – is trying to communicate with him.

His return sets in motion a series of horrifying events which exposes a mysterious and troubling relationship between the inhabitants of the remote island and the sea. – Amazon.co.uk

Doctor Sleep By Stephen King

I think this has to be one of my favourite Stephen King covers, if not my favourite. It’s been a long time, a terribly long time since I’ve sat down with some King, so it was round about time I changed that. There were several King novels that I hadn’t read, but it was the creepy as shit title and just as creepy as shit cover that saw Doctor Sleep come home with me.

King says he wanted to know what happened to Danny Torrance, the boy at the heart of The Shining, after his terrible experience in the Overlook Hotel. The instantly riveting DOCTOR SLEEP picks up the story of the now middle-aged Dan, working at a hospice in rural New Hampshire, and the very special twelve-year old girl he must save from a tribe of murderous paranormals.

On highways across America, a tribe of people called The True Knot travel in search of sustenance. They look harmless – mostly old, lots of polyester, and married to their RVs. But as Dan Torrance knows, and tween Abra Stone learns, The True Knot are quasi-immortal, living off the ‘steam’ that children with the ‘shining’ produce when they are slowly tortured to death.

Haunted by the inhabitants of the Overlook Hotel where he spent one horrific childhood year, Dan has been drifting for decades, desperate to shed his father’s legacy of despair, alcoholism and violence. Finally, he settles in a New Hampshire town, an AA community that sustains him and a job at a nursing home where his remnant ‘shining’ power provides the crucial final comfort to the dying. Aided by a prescient cat, he becomes ‘Doctor Sleep.’

Then Dan meets the evanescent Abra Stone, and it is her spectacular gift, the brightest shining ever seen, that reignites Dan’s own demons and summons him to a battle for Abra’s soul and survival . . . – Amazon.co.uk

The Bazaar Of Bad Dreams

While I’m a king fan, I don’t keep track of every word he has published…which actually has its advantages because then I stumble across unknown works and my entire day can shift from something good into something magnificent.

This is what happened when I found his 2015 collection of short stories, several of which have never appeared in print before. AND before each story, King provides a short essay about how the piece came to be. I think I’ll be saving this one to read last.

There is a treasure here for every reader: a man who keeps reliving exactly the same life, repeating his mistakes over and over again; a columnist who kills people by writing their obituaries; a poignant tale about the end of the human race and a firework competition between neighbours which reaches an explosive climax.

‘I made them especially for you,’ says King. ‘Feel free to examine them, but please be careful. The best of them have teeth.’

Reading In The Dark : Library Haul

My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.

Reading In The Dark : Library Haul My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.

[wyrdwordsandeffigies]

My Sacred Spaces

Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes. The world could throw whatever it wanted at me, I always had libraries.

I can walk into a library feeling horribly depressed, and within a matter of moments I find myself healed, healed by the scent of print, by the sight of the seemingly endless shelves, by the millions of words just waiting for another set of eyes to find them. I feel a surge of optimism in libraries, and a beautiful warm wave of peace and satisfaction washes over me.

This happens with every library I walk into, and I’ve been in ones all over the world: Norway, Sweden, Iceland, England, America, Canada… The moment I’m in a new place, I’m like ‘okay, so where’s the library at?’

I have been living in Sweden for almost two years, and I have just now got myself a library card. Up until yesterday I was using my boyfriend’s and it never felt…right. One of the very first things I do when I move to a new place is get myself a library card. It’s a top priority. To not have my own feels…just…wrong. Now I have one for Borås City Library, I feel that I can breathe better.

Cravings

I’ve mostly been reading non-fiction in recent years, but I’ve been craving a really solid novel and some life enhancing short stories recently. I’ve also been feeling the need to spend less time online and more time between the pages of books. I think doing so will do my mental health the world of good.

So yesterday I spent over an hour among the horror and fantasy shelves sampling and putting back and sampling and adding to my pile. Before long I was lugging around about 20kg of books.

I can get majorly protective over my haul. Say, when I put it down for just a moment, I always have one eye on the shelves another eye on my pile to ensure that no one so much as glances at it. When someone would drift close I’d think ‘touch any of those books and I’ll kill you were you stand…’ Slightly over the top? Perhaps. But you get my point.

The Haul

If you’re interested in buying any of the books from my haul, click on the titles!

  Pretty Monsters By Kelly Link

It was the illustration by Shaun Tan on the cover which initially made me snatch Pretty Monsters up. Then I was further seduced by the promise of six stories from a variety of genres including  magic realism, fantasy and horror – three genres I’ve been starved of recently and have been craving.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS TEN SHORT STORIES

And: A phone booth in Las Vegas ~ Aliens ~ Unhelpful wizards ~ Possibly carnivorous sofas ~ A handbag with a village inside it ~ Tennessee Fainting Goats ~ Dueling librarians ~ A statue of George Washington ~ A boy named Onion ~ Pirates ~ An undead babysitter ~ A nationally-ranked soccer player ~ Shapeshifters ~ An unexpected campfire guest. . . . – Amazon.co.uk

I’d never read anything by Kelly Link before, but with staggering reviews from some of my favourite authors, including Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman, I had a feeling I was going to be putting my time into good hands.

(I chose Pretty Monsters to start off with. The first story The Wrong Grave was massively enjoyable…the second story The Wizards Of Perfil…not so much. I ended up skipping much of it. Hoping things will pick back up again with the third story, Magic For Beginners. Just learned that this is supposed to be a collection for young adults…which does explain the vibe somewhat.)

The Three By Sarah Lotz

I had (still want to have) high hopes for this novel because I think the idea is excellent…but many of the reviews on Amazon are pretty dire, saying that there’s ‘too much padding,’ and that it’s ‘good just not great.’ I never do put my whole trust in Amazon though, and I still intend to dive into this with the same enthusiasm as I felt when I first found it on the shelf.

Four simultaneous plane crashes. Three child survivors. A religious fanatic who insists the three are harbingers of the apocalypse. What if he’s right?

The world is stunned when four commuter planes crash within hours of each other on different continents. Facing global panic, officials are under pressure to find the causes. With terrorist attacks and environmental factors ruled out, there doesn’t appear to be a correlation between the crashes, except that in three of the four air disasters a child survivor is found in the wreckage. – The Three Website

Trigger Warning By Neil Gaiman

Neil oh Neil oh Neil…is this going to be another treat that I’ll feel the need to read as slowly as possible so that I can savour each word? I have a feeling it will be.

It was through the comic book series The Sandman that I was first introduced to the work of Neil Gaiman, and I’ve never been quite the same since. (In the best kind of way.)

It was the cover of Trigger Warning that wowed me initially (and it’s even more beautiful in real life) and the tantalizing offerings of dozens of ‘short fictions and disturbances.’

In this new anthology, Neil Gaiman pierces the veil of reality to reveal the enigmatic, shadowy world that lies beneath. Trigger Warning includes previously published pieces of short fiction–stories, verse, and a very special Doctor Who story that was written for the fiftieth anniversary of the beloved series in 2013–as well “Black Dog,” a new tale that revisits the world of American Gods, exclusive to this collection. – Amazon.co.uk

Release By Patrick Ness

The cover of Release – illustrated by Levante Szabo – hit me like a full blown smack in the face. Just like the cover for Ness’s young adult book When A Monster Calls. I knew that I’d be taking this ‘personal and tender’ novel home even before I knew what it was about. The Guardian have described this ‘coming-of-age story’ with themes of sex, shame and sexuality, and touches of the supernatural as as Ness’s most ‘heartfelt novel to date.’

It’s Saturday, it’s summer and, although he doesn’t know it yet, everything in Adam Thorn’s life is going to fall apart. But maybe, just maybe, he��ll find freedom from the release. Time is running out though, because way across town, a ghost has risen from the lake…

Missing Mom By Joyce Carol Oates

I first read Joyce Carol Oates back in 2010. I was travelling in Sweden and one of her books had been left on a hostel ‘free for all’ library shelf. The book was her 2008 novel My Sister, My Love and it raised the bar for me and whom I chose to give my reading time to. Since my introduction, I’ve admired her rich use of language and unparalleled story telling.

Whenever there is a death in the family, I have a tendency to surround myself with death orientated literature. While the story is quite close to home – except it was my Nanna who died – I know that I’ll finish it feeling like a more well rounded person because of it, and better educated on the greatest mysteries of our time – life and death.

Nikki Eaton, single, thirty-one, sexually liberated, and economically self-supporting, has never particularly thought of herself as a daughter. Yet, following the unexpected loss of her mother, she undergoes a remarkable transformation during a tumultuous year that brings stunning horror, sorrow, illumination, wisdom, and even—from an unexpected source—a nurturing love. – Amazon.co.uk

Harbor By John Ajvide Lindqvist

I have a confession to make. I never finished John Ajvide Lindqvist’s novel Let The Right One In. I don’t know why. Something just didn’t click with me. But I was all over the film like a rash.

Anyway, I wanted to give the Swede another chance so picked up his novel Harbor. The cover didn’t do anything to wow me (it’s not the one you see here), but after having a quick glimpse at what I have waiting for me between the pages, I’m going to let it slide.

It was a beautiful winter’s day. Anders, his wife and their feisty six-year-old, Maja, set out across the ice of the Swedish archipelago to visit the lighthouse. There was no one around, so they let her run on ahead. And she disappeared, seemingly into thin air, and was never found.

Two years later, Anders is a broken alcoholic, his life ruined. He returns to the archipelago, the home of his childhood and his family. But all he finds are Maja’s toys and through the haze of memory, loss and alcohol, he realizes that someone – or something – is trying to communicate with him.

His return sets in motion a series of horrifying events which exposes a mysterious and troubling relationship between the inhabitants of the remote island and the sea. – Amazon.co.uk

Doctor Sleep By Stephen King

I think this has to be one of my favourite Stephen King covers, if not my favourite. It’s been a long time, a terribly long time since I’ve sat down with some King, so it was round about time I changed that. There were several King novels that I hadn’t read, but it was the creepy as shit title and just as creepy as shit cover that saw Doctor Sleep come home with me.

King says he wanted to know what happened to Danny Torrance, the boy at the heart of The Shining, after his terrible experience in the Overlook Hotel. The instantly riveting DOCTOR SLEEP picks up the story of the now middle-aged Dan, working at a hospice in rural New Hampshire, and the very special twelve-year old girl he must save from a tribe of murderous paranormals.

On highways across America, a tribe of people called The True Knot travel in search of sustenance. They look harmless – mostly old, lots of polyester, and married to their RVs. But as Dan Torrance knows, and tween Abra Stone learns, The True Knot are quasi-immortal, living off the ‘steam’ that children with the ‘shining’ produce when they are slowly tortured to death.

Haunted by the inhabitants of the Overlook Hotel where he spent one horrific childhood year, Dan has been drifting for decades, desperate to shed his father’s legacy of despair, alcoholism and violence. Finally, he settles in a New Hampshire town, an AA community that sustains him and a job at a nursing home where his remnant ‘shining’ power provides the crucial final comfort to the dying. Aided by a prescient cat, he becomes ‘Doctor Sleep.’

Then Dan meets the evanescent Abra Stone, and it is her spectacular gift, the brightest shining ever seen, that reignites Dan’s own demons and summons him to a battle for Abra’s soul and survival . . . – Amazon.co.uk

The Bazaar Of Bad Dreams

While I’m a king fan, I don’t keep track of every word he has published…which actually has its advantages because then I stumble across unknown works and my entire day can shift from something good into something magnificent.

This is what happened when I found his 2015 collection of short stories, several of which have never appeared in print before. AND before each story, King provides a short essay about how the piece came to be. I think I’ll be saving this one to read last.

There is a treasure here for every reader: a man who keeps reliving exactly the same life, repeating his mistakes over and over again; a columnist who kills people by writing their obituaries; a poignant tale about the end of the human race and a firework competition between neighbours which reaches an explosive climax.

‘I made them especially for you,’ says King. ‘Feel free to examine them, but please be careful. The best of them have teeth.’

Reading In The Dark : Library Haul My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.

[wyrdwordsandeffigieshaunt]

My Sacred Spaces

Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes. The world could throw whatever it wanted at me, I always had libraries.

I can walk into a library feeling horribly depressed, and within a matter of moments I find myself healed, healed by the scent of print, by the sight of the seemingly endless shelves, by the millions of words just waiting for another set of eyes to find them. I feel a surge of optimism in libraries, and a beautiful warm wave of peace and satisfaction washes over me.

This happens with every library I walk into, and I’ve been in ones all over the world: Norway, Sweden, Iceland, England, America, Canada… The moment I’m in a new place, I’m like ‘okay, so where’s the library at?’

I have been living in Sweden for almost two years, and I have just now got myself a library card. Up until yesterday I was using my boyfriend’s and it never felt…right. One of the very first things I do when I move to a new place is get myself a library card. It’s a top priority. To not have my own feels…just…wrong. Now I have one for Borås City Library, I feel that I can breathe better.

Cravings

I’ve mostly been reading non-fiction in recent years, but I’ve been craving a really solid novel and some life enhancing short stories recently. I’ve also been feeling the need to spend less time online and more time between the pages of books. I think doing so will do my mental health the world of good.

So yesterday I spent over an hour among the horror and fantasy shelves sampling and putting back and sampling and adding to my pile. Before long I was lugging around about 20kg of books.

I can get majorly protective over my haul. Say, when I put it down for just a moment, I always have one eye on the shelves another eye on my pile to ensure that no one so much as glances at it. When someone would drift close I’d think ‘touch any of those books and I’ll kill you were you stand…’ Slightly over the top? Perhaps. But you get my point.

The Haul

If you’re interested in buying any of the books from my haul, click on the titles!

  Pretty Monsters By Kelly Link

It was the illustration by Shaun Tan on the cover which initially made me snatch Pretty Monsters up. Then I was further seduced by the promise of six stories from a variety of genres including  magic realism, fantasy and horror – three genres I’ve been starved of recently and have been craving.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS TEN SHORT STORIES

And: A phone booth in Las Vegas ~ Aliens ~ Unhelpful wizards ~ Possibly carnivorous sofas ~ A handbag with a village inside it ~ Tennessee Fainting Goats ~ Dueling librarians ~ A statue of George Washington ~ A boy named Onion ~ Pirates ~ An undead babysitter ~ A nationally-ranked soccer player ~ Shapeshifters ~ An unexpected campfire guest. . . . – Amazon.co.uk

I’d never read anything by Kelly Link before, but with staggering reviews from some of my favourite authors, including Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman, I had a feeling I was going to be putting my time into good hands.

(I chose Pretty Monsters to start off with. The first story The Wrong Grave was massively enjoyable…the second story The Wizards Of Perfil…not so much. I ended up skipping much of it. Hoping things will pick back up again with the third story, Magic For Beginners. Just learned that this is supposed to be a collection for young adults…which does explain the vibe somewhat.)

The Three By Sarah Lotz

I had (still want to have) high hopes for this novel because I think the idea is excellent…but many of the reviews on Amazon are pretty dire, saying that there’s ‘too much padding,’ and that it’s ‘good just not great.’ I never do put my whole trust in Amazon though, and I still intend to dive into this with the same enthusiasm as I felt when I first found it on the shelf.

Four simultaneous plane crashes. Three child survivors. A religious fanatic who insists the three are harbingers of the apocalypse. What if he’s right?

The world is stunned when four commuter planes crash within hours of each other on different continents. Facing global panic, officials are under pressure to find the causes. With terrorist attacks and environmental factors ruled out, there doesn’t appear to be a correlation between the crashes, except that in three of the four air disasters a child survivor is found in the wreckage. – The Three Website

Trigger Warning By Neil Gaiman

Neil oh Neil oh Neil…is this going to be another treat that I’ll feel the need to read as slowly as possible so that I can savour each word? I have a feeling it will be.

It was through the comic book series The Sandman that I was first introduced to the work of Neil Gaiman, and I’ve never been quite the same since. (In the best kind of way.)

It was the cover of Trigger Warning that wowed me initially (and it’s even more beautiful in real life) and the tantalizing offerings of dozens of ‘short fictions and disturbances.’

In this new anthology, Neil Gaiman pierces the veil of reality to reveal the enigmatic, shadowy world that lies beneath. Trigger Warning includes previously published pieces of short fiction–stories, verse, and a very special Doctor Who story that was written for the fiftieth anniversary of the beloved series in 2013–as well “Black Dog,” a new tale that revisits the world of American Gods, exclusive to this collection. – Amazon.co.uk

Release By Patrick Ness

The cover of Release – illustrated by Levante Szabo – hit me like a full blown smack in the face. Just like the cover for Ness’s young adult book When A Monster Calls. I knew that I’d be taking this ‘personal and tender’ novel home even before I knew what it was about. The Guardian have described this ‘coming-of-age story’ with themes of sex, shame and sexuality, and touches of the supernatural as as Ness’s most ‘heartfelt novel to date.’

It’s Saturday, it’s summer and, although he doesn’t know it yet, everything in Adam Thorn’s life is going to fall apart. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find freedom from the release. Time is running out though, because way across town, a ghost has risen from the lake…

Missing Mom By Joyce Carol Oates

I first read Joyce Carol Oates back in 2010. I was travelling in Sweden and one of her books had been left on a hostel ‘free for all’ library shelf. The book was her 2008 novel My Sister, My Love and it raised the bar for me and whom I chose to give my reading time to. Since my introduction, I’ve admired her rich use of language and unparalleled story telling.

Whenever there is a death in the family, I have a tendency to surround myself with death orientated literature. While the story is quite close to home – except it was my Nanna who died – I know that I’ll finish it feeling like a more well rounded person because of it, and better educated on the greatest mysteries of our time – life and death.

Nikki Eaton, single, thirty-one, sexually liberated, and economically self-supporting, has never particularly thought of herself as a daughter. Yet, following the unexpected loss of her mother, she undergoes a remarkable transformation during a tumultuous year that brings stunning horror, sorrow, illumination, wisdom, and even—from an unexpected source—a nurturing love. – Amazon.co.uk

Harbor By John Ajvide Lindqvist

I have a confession to make. I never finished John Ajvide Lindqvist’s novel Let The Right One In. I don’t know why. Something just didn’t click with me. But I was all over the film like a rash.

Anyway, I wanted to give the Swede another chance so picked up his novel Harbor. The cover didn’t do anything to wow me (it’s not the one you see here), but after having a quick glimpse at what I have waiting for me between the pages, I’m going to let it slide.

It was a beautiful winter’s day. Anders, his wife and their feisty six-year-old, Maja, set out across the ice of the Swedish archipelago to visit the lighthouse. There was no one around, so they let her run on ahead. And she disappeared, seemingly into thin air, and was never found.

Two years later, Anders is a broken alcoholic, his life ruined. He returns to the archipelago, the home of his childhood and his family. But all he finds are Maja’s toys and through the haze of memory, loss and alcohol, he realizes that someone – or something – is trying to communicate with him.

His return sets in motion a series of horrifying events which exposes a mysterious and troubling relationship between the inhabitants of the remote island and the sea. – Amazon.co.uk

Doctor Sleep By Stephen King

I think this has to be one of my favourite Stephen King covers, if not my favourite. It’s been a long time, a terribly long time since I’ve sat down with some King, so it was round about time I changed that. There were several King novels that I hadn’t read, but it was the creepy as shit title and just as creepy as shit cover that saw Doctor Sleep come home with me.

King says he wanted to know what happened to Danny Torrance, the boy at the heart of The Shining, after his terrible experience in the Overlook Hotel. The instantly riveting DOCTOR SLEEP picks up the story of the now middle-aged Dan, working at a hospice in rural New Hampshire, and the very special twelve-year old girl he must save from a tribe of murderous paranormals.

On highways across America, a tribe of people called The True Knot travel in search of sustenance. They look harmless – mostly old, lots of polyester, and married to their RVs. But as Dan Torrance knows, and tween Abra Stone learns, The True Knot are quasi-immortal, living off the ‘steam’ that children with the ‘shining’ produce when they are slowly tortured to death.

Haunted by the inhabitants of the Overlook Hotel where he spent one horrific childhood year, Dan has been drifting for decades, desperate to shed his father’s legacy of despair, alcoholism and violence. Finally, he settles in a New Hampshire town, an AA community that sustains him and a job at a nursing home where his remnant ‘shining’ power provides the crucial final comfort to the dying. Aided by a prescient cat, he becomes ‘Doctor Sleep.’

Then Dan meets the evanescent Abra Stone, and it is her spectacular gift, the brightest shining ever seen, that reignites Dan’s own demons and summons him to a battle for Abra’s soul and survival . . . – Amazon.co.uk

The Bazaar Of Bad Dreams

While I’m a king fan, I don’t keep track of every word he has published…which actually has its advantages because then I stumble across unknown works and my entire day can shift from something good into something magnificent.

This is what happened when I found his 2015 collection of short stories, several of which have never appeared in print before. AND before each story, King provides a short essay about how the piece came to be. I think I’ll be saving this one to read last.

There is a treasure here for every reader: a man who keeps reliving exactly the same life, repeating his mistakes over and over again; a columnist who kills people by writing their obituaries; a poignant tale about the end of the human race and a firework competition between neighbours which reaches an explosive climax.

‘I made them especially for you,’ says King. ‘Feel free to examine them, but please be careful. The best of them have teeth.’

Library Haul

My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.

Library Haul My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.

[wyrdwordsandeffigies]

My Sacred Spaces

Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes. The world could throw whatever it wanted at me, I always had libraries.

I can walk into a library feeling horribly depressed, and within a matter of moments I find myself healed, healed by the scent of print, by the sight of the seemingly endless shelves, by the millions of words just waiting for another set of eyes to find them. I feel a surge of optimism in libraries, and a beautiful warm wave of peace and satisfaction washes over me.

This happens with every library I walk into, and I’ve been in ones all over the world: Norway, Sweden, Iceland, England, America, Canada… The moment I’m in a new place, I’m like ‘okay, so where’s the library at?’

I have been living in Sweden for almost two years, and I have just now got myself a library card. Up until yesterday I was using my boyfriend’s and it never felt…right. One of the very first things I do when I move to a new place is get myself a library card. It’s a top priority. To not have my own feels…just…wrong. Now I have one for Borås City Library, I feel that I can breathe better.

Cravings

I’ve mostly been reading non-fiction in recent years, but I’ve been craving a really solid novel and some life enhancing short stories recently. I’ve also been feeling the need to spend less time online and more time between the pages of books. I think doing so will do my mental health the world of good.

So yesterday I spent over an hour among the horror and fantasy shelves sampling and putting back and sampling and adding to my pile. Before long I was lugging around about 20kg of books.

I can get majorly protective over my haul. Say, when I put it down for just a moment, I always have one eye on the shelves another eye on my pile to ensure that no one so much as glances at it. When someone would drift close I’d think ‘touch any of those books and I’ll kill you were you stand…’ Slightly over the top? Perhaps. But you get my point.

The Haul

If you’re interested in buying any of the books from my haul, click on the titles!

  Pretty Monsters By Kelly Link

It was the illustration by Shaun Tan on the cover which initially made me snatch Pretty Monsters up. Then I was further seduced by the promise of six stories from a variety of genres including  magic realism, fantasy and horror – three genres I’ve been starved of recently and have been craving.

THIS BOOK CONTAINS TEN SHORT STORIES

And: A phone booth in Las Vegas ~ Aliens ~ Unhelpful wizards ~ Possibly carnivorous sofas ~ A handbag with a village inside it ~ Tennessee Fainting Goats ~ Dueling librarians ~ A statue of George Washington ~ A boy named Onion ~ Pirates ~ An undead babysitter ~ A nationally-ranked soccer player ~ Shapeshifters ~ An unexpected campfire guest. . . . – Amazon.co.uk

I’d never read anything by Kelly Link before, but with staggering reviews from some of my favourite authors, including Audrey Niffenegger and Neil Gaiman, I had a feeling I was going to be putting my time into good hands.

(I chose Pretty Monsters to start off with. The first story The Wrong Grave was massively enjoyable…the second story The Wizards Of Perfil…not so much. I ended up skipping much of it. Hoping things will pick back up again with the third story, Magic For Beginners. Just learned that this is supposed to be a collection for young adults…which does explain the vibe somewhat.)

The Three By Sarah Lotz

I had (still want to have) high hopes for this novel because I think the idea is excellent…but many of the reviews on Amazon are pretty dire, saying that there’s ‘too much padding,’ and that it’s ‘good just not great.’ I never do put my whole trust in Amazon though, and I still intend to dive into this with the same enthusiasm as I felt when I first found it on the shelf.

Four simultaneous plane crashes. Three child survivors. A religious fanatic who insists the three are harbingers of the apocalypse. What if he’s right?

The world is stunned when four commuter planes crash within hours of each other on different continents. Facing global panic, officials are under pressure to find the causes. With terrorist attacks and environmental factors ruled out, there doesn’t appear to be a correlation between the crashes, except that in three of the four air disasters a child survivor is found in the wreckage. – The Three Website

Trigger Warning By Neil Gaiman

Neil oh Neil oh Neil…is this going to be another treat that I’ll feel the need to read as slowly as possible so that I can savour each word? I have a feeling it will be.

It was through the comic book series The Sandman that I was first introduced to the work of Neil Gaiman, and I’ve never been quite the same since. (In the best kind of way.)

It was the cover of Trigger Warning that wowed me initially (and it’s even more beautiful in real life) and the tantalizing offerings of dozens of ‘short fictions and disturbances.’

In this new anthology, Neil Gaiman pierces the veil of reality to reveal the enigmatic, shadowy world that lies beneath. Trigger Warning includes previously published pieces of short fiction–stories, verse, and a very special Doctor Who story that was written for the fiftieth anniversary of the beloved series in 2013–as well “Black Dog,” a new tale that revisits the world of American Gods, exclusive to this collection. – Amazon.co.uk

Release By Patrick Ness

The cover of Release – illustrated by Levante Szabo – hit me like a full blown smack in the face. Just like the cover for Ness’s young adult book When A Monster Calls. I knew that I’d be taking this ‘personal and tender’ novel home even before I knew what it was about. The Guardian have described this ‘coming-of-age story’ with themes of sex, shame and sexuality, and touches of the supernatural as as Ness’s most ‘heartfelt novel to date.’

It’s Saturday, it’s summer and, although he doesn’t know it yet, everything in Adam Thorn’s life is going to fall apart. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find freedom from the release. Time is running out though, because way across town, a ghost has risen from the lake…

Missing Mom By Joyce Carol Oates

I first read Joyce Carol Oates back in 2010. I was travelling in Sweden and one of her books had been left on a hostel ‘free for all’ library shelf. The book was her 2008 novel My Sister, My Love and it raised the bar for me and whom I chose to give my reading time to. Since my introduction, I’ve admired her rich use of language and unparalleled story telling.

Whenever there is a death in the family, I have a tendency to surround myself with death orientated literature. While the story is quite close to home – except it was my Nanna who died – I know that I’ll finish it feeling like a more well rounded person because of it, and better educated on the greatest mysteries of our time – life and death.

Nikki Eaton, single, thirty-one, sexually liberated, and economically self-supporting, has never particularly thought of herself as a daughter. Yet, following the unexpected loss of her mother, she undergoes a remarkable transformation during a tumultuous year that brings stunning horror, sorrow, illumination, wisdom, and even—from an unexpected source—a nurturing love. – Amazon.co.uk

Harbor By John Ajvide Lindqvist

I have a confession to make. I never finished John Ajvide Lindqvist’s novel Let The Right One In. I don’t know why. Something just didn’t click with me. But I was all over the film like a rash.

Anyway, I wanted to give the Swede another chance so picked up his novel Harbor. The cover didn’t do anything to wow me (it’s not the one you see here), but after having a quick glimpse at what I have waiting for me between the pages, I’m going to let it slide.

It was a beautiful winter’s day. Anders, his wife and their feisty six-year-old, Maja, set out across the ice of the Swedish archipelago to visit the lighthouse. There was no one around, so they let her run on ahead. And she disappeared, seemingly into thin air, and was never found.

Two years later, Anders is a broken alcoholic, his life ruined. He returns to the archipelago, the home of his childhood and his family. But all he finds are Maja’s toys and through the haze of memory, loss and alcohol, he realizes that someone – or something – is trying to communicate with him.

His return sets in motion a series of horrifying events which exposes a mysterious and troubling relationship between the inhabitants of the remote island and the sea. – Amazon.co.uk

Doctor Sleep By Stephen King

I think this has to be one of my favourite Stephen King covers, if not my favourite. It’s been a long time, a terribly long time since I’ve sat down with some King, so it was round about time I changed that. There were several King novels that I hadn’t read, but it was the creepy as shit title and just as creepy as shit cover that saw Doctor Sleep come home with me.

King says he wanted to know what happened to Danny Torrance, the boy at the heart of The Shining, after his terrible experience in the Overlook Hotel. The instantly riveting DOCTOR SLEEP picks up the story of the now middle-aged Dan, working at a hospice in rural New Hampshire, and the very special twelve-year old girl he must save from a tribe of murderous paranormals.

On highways across America, a tribe of people called The True Knot travel in search of sustenance. They look harmless – mostly old, lots of polyester, and married to their RVs. But as Dan Torrance knows, and tween Abra Stone learns, The True Knot are quasi-immortal, living off the ‘steam’ that children with the ‘shining’ produce when they are slowly tortured to death.

Haunted by the inhabitants of the Overlook Hotel where he spent one horrific childhood year, Dan has been drifting for decades, desperate to shed his father’s legacy of despair, alcoholism and violence. Finally, he settles in a New Hampshire town, an AA community that sustains him and a job at a nursing home where his remnant ‘shining’ power provides the crucial final comfort to the dying. Aided by a prescient cat, he becomes ‘Doctor Sleep.’

Then Dan meets the evanescent Abra Stone, and it is her spectacular gift, the brightest shining ever seen, that reignites Dan’s own demons and summons him to a battle for Abra’s soul and survival . . . – Amazon.co.uk

The Bazaar Of Bad Dreams

While I’m a king fan, I don’t keep track of every word he has published…which actually has its advantages because then I stumble across unknown works and my entire day can shift from something good into something magnificent.

This is what happened when I found his 2015 collection of short stories, several of which have never appeared in print before. AND before each story, King provides a short essay about how the piece came to be. I think I’ll be saving this one to read last.

There is a treasure here for every reader: a man who keeps reliving exactly the same life, repeating his mistakes over and over again; a columnist who kills people by writing their obituaries; a poignant tale about the end of the human race and a firework competition between neighbours which reaches an explosive climax.

‘I made them especially for you,’ says King. ‘Feel free to examine them, but please be careful. The best of them have teeth.’

Library Haul My Sacred Spaces Libraries have been an invaluable resource for me since before I could walk. They have been my go-to safe and sacred spaces, my own little universes.