#when i was working at the library i did like 30+ books in three months

[transannabeth]

i understand where people are coming from when they say you shouldn’t read books fast but if i’m in the zone i cannot control the speed at which i start devouring pages

[lunarubra]

Hi :) this is the first chapter of the Shadow of the Sea, let me know what you think about it in the comments. A big thank you to @cillmequick for beta-reading and being the sweetest person ever. I wouldn't have published it without her assurance that it doesn't completely suck.

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan)

Summary: In this AU set in 2010, Cillian has just finished filming 'Inception'. He has never been married, and after a few disappointing relationships, he finds himself feeling blocked in his personal life, even as his career continues to rise.This is a completely fictional story, not based on real life. I wrote this with the utmost respect for the man and his family.

Warning: Homesickness, Family Distance, Mention of Sexual Assault (not between OC and Cillian), Sexual Harassment, Date Rape Drug/Roofies

Words: 2700

Next | Masterlist

Chapter 1: Eire's Depths

Closing the laptop with too much force, Jiyan started massaging her temples, hoping to alleviate the tension and praying she wouldn't have to deal with a migraine anytime soon.

The library was silent; the only sound was the rain against the windows, soothing the last students. Even if the new semester just started, there were only a few people left in the study area on a Saturday afternoon. Most students had already headed to the pub for a pint or were getting ready for the clubs later.

Jiyan checked her phone, noticing too many messages she had been ignoring since the morning. Sighing, she opened her brother's chat and found three unread messages.

14h11: Ready for a call later?

16h22: Mom is pacing, almost started ironing. You need to call tonight.

18h42: Seriously sis... if you don't call tonight, I will sedate her and take the first plane to yours.

Jiyan chuckled and quickly answered Mikael.

19h13: Ironing, huh? Almost need an intervention.

19h13: Will call soon, little bro. Don't despair.

Clearing the table of books and notes, she put her laptop and the last few things away in her backpack.

Outside, it was raining. Again. 

And it was dark. Already.

Coming from a country where the sun kissed Jiyan's skin almost every day, the continuous rain on this island pierced her heart each time. She was tired and hoped to get home, have a cup of tea, and finally make the call she had been postponing for the last two weeks, perhaps even forgetting what she was doing on this verdant yet depressingly weathered island.

The ride to her place was fast, and the bus was on time, something she was gradually getting used to. Entering the small studio made her feel restless and anxious, intensifying the pressure on her temples. Looking around the space she had started calling home in the last few months did ease her discomfort a little. 

Having spent her childhood moving to different countries, Jiyan was acutely aware of the housing crises almost everywhere. Still, she was taken aback by the difficulty of finding a flat in Dublin.

After a month spent in a hostel dorm and countless useless house visits, her desperation reached a point where she considered a dubious Craigslist post seeking help in renovating an old studio. 

When she first checked it out, she realized the studio was actually above a car repair shop, and apparently, no one had lived there for about 30 years. Sean, the guy who owned the shop, almost cracked up when she asked about costs and materials. It took her a good 5 minutes to persuade him that she was capable of almost any woodworking task and that she could undertake the restorations in her spare time and during weekends if she could live there. They struck a deal: Sean would foot the bill for materials, and until the renovation was done, she'd cover her living expenses by doing all the work herself.

After two months of solid effort, she'd managed to put in new wood floors, set up a functional bathroom with a brand-new shower, and even start building herself a kitchen. Sure, the place was small, didn't have central heating, and still looked like a bit of a mess, but the one thing that sealed the deal for her was the wood stove. It reminded her of her mom’s cabin up in the mountains, where she'd spend lazy afternoons by the fire, lost in a good book with a cup of tea in hand. So, if she could bring a bit of that cozy feeling into her new place, she figured she'd be all set, even with juggling her university work and research study.

It took a couple of minutes to get the fire going and put the kettle on for some fresh mint green tea. Once she finished her first cup, she dialed her little brother's number.

"Finally, are you becoming such a loser that you're spending your Saturday at the library now?"

"It's called work, Mika. Something you'll learn soon enough."

"Yeah, of course, like I'm not living with a psychopath right now. She almost started ironing the bed sheets, Aji. We need an intervention here, immediately. Mom never cleans; she moved from Turkey because she couldn't stand spending her time cleaning. You need to convince her that you're fine."

"I am fine," Jiyan repeated for the thousandth time. "And Mom moved from Turkey because we're Kurds, and she wanted to avoid spending her time in jail for teaching her language in school."

"You're fine?" Mikael said incredulously. "You're living in the land of Mordor. It's been a week since you've seen any sun; I checked the weather!"

"It's not that bad. I'm starting to like the rain," Jiyan said, convincing no one. "And I like the job."

"Is that Aji?" she heard her mom in the background, stealing the phone from her brother.

"Aji, how are you?" her mother's worried voice asked.

"Hey Mom, I'm good. Mika told me you need an intervention."

"Your brother should be studying for his finals, focusing on his Latin test," Jiyan's mother said after a pause. "It's been weeks since we've heard from you, Jiyan."

Jiyan stared out of the window, feeling guilt and pressure rising in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's just... I'm super busy with work and renovation here. I started building the kitchen from scratch, and most of the time, I forget to check my phone. I'm fine, really," she tried to reassure her.

"You're avoiding, little star, and today is a difficult day for you. You should be here, not alone on an island without sun," her mother insisted.

Jiyan really didn't want to have this conversation; she moved to this island to avoid this topic.

"It's all good, Mom. It's not a big deal," she said. "Also, I'm meeting new people; it's a good change," she added, feeling the lie stinging her tongue.

She heard her mom sigh. "I miss you, little star."

"I miss you too, Mom. Also, Mika, I need to go now. I'll call you next week."

"You do that, or I'm sending your brother there to check on you."

Jiyan chuckled and smiled. "We'll lose him at the first change of trains."

"Every battle has its losses."

Now really laughing, she closed the call. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, little star."

Jiyan put down her phone, staring again at the window. She knew she needed a distraction and couldn't spend the rest of the day inside alone. Not even building furniture could distract her today. 

She put on her jacket and boots, grabbed the keys, almost sprinting outside in the rain. 

Again.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

15 points.

Sighing disappointedly, Jiyan walked over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. It had been two weeks since she discovered this pub near her place. The music was usually pretty good, and it could be a cozy spot during weeknights. It wasn't usually too crowded, which suited her just fine. She'd come in to have a soda and play darts, avoiding the regulars and the occasional group of tourists who tried to strike up a conversation.

She knew she stood out as a woman in a pub on a Saturday night, playing darts alone. That night, she had already dodged two American tourists who tried to flirt and offer to "teach her" how to play. 

On the other hand, the regulars, after giving her strange looks for the first couple of nights, now hardly noticed or bothered her, accepting the odd loner who didn't drink beer and spent hours throwing darts. Tonight, unfortunately, the pub was busier than usual, with some tourist groups disturbing her vibe.

Feeling a presence behind her, she tensed up immediately.

"Hey, baby, what are you drinking? Can I buy you the next round?"

Jiyan turned around to face a stranger who looked like the typical Chad character from any American high school drama.

"No thanks, I'm good," she replied shortly, turning back to focus on her game.

"Come on, I saw you looking at me. You were checking me out, I saw you."

"Excuse me?" she said, annoyed, not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Yeah, when you went to order your drink, you smiled. The guys and I are having a blast; you could come join us. I promise you a great night."

Jiyan took a deep breath, trying not to get too annoyed. "Listen, Chad, if that's even your name—I don't care. I'm not here to make friends or have a good time with your guys. I was having fun until 30 seconds ago when I didn't even know of your existence. Can we go back to that, please? Thanks, bro."

"My name's not Chad," he replied, irritated.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jiyan said dismissively, hoping the conversation would end there, and she could get back to her new form of therapy: throwing darts.

Chad returned to his table muttering something about a "stupid bitch," but Jiyan didn't have the energy tonight to educate a stranger about basic respect and boundaries.

She took the last sip of her lemonade and headed to the bathroom, ordering another one from the bartender. When she returned, finding the new bottle of lemonade near the dartboard, she resumed her evening.

Cillian was onto his second pint when his attention wandered again to the peculiar woman in the far corner of the pub, throwing darts.

She seemed to be in her late 20s, sporting a hand-knit beanie that partially obscured her long dark hair. Her frame was small, drowned in a pair of jeans and an oversized dark hoodie. Each time she retrieved her darts from the board and turned around, Cillian found himself momentarily distracted from the conversation, captivated by her large green-leaf eyes.

Despite her efforts to blend in with her dull, oversized attire, every straight man in the pub couldn't help but notice her attractiveness.

Dermot, noticing Cillian's repeated glances, remarked, "She's new around here, lives in the area, spends her nights alone playing darts. Connor was annoyed the first night because she doesn't drink or eat, but apparently, she tips well, so we see her almost every night now."

Cillian raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Do you stalk all the newbies at the pub? Should I be worried? Should I give Connie a call?"

Dermot chuckled. "Like you didn't glance in her direction every five seconds. Just doing you a favor, pal."

Snorting, Cillian covered his blush with a sip from his pint. "I was just curious, and I wasn't staring at her the whole time."

"Sure, sure. Maybe we don't need to worry about you after all. You've been holed up in your basement for a month, and now look at you! You should go talk to her."

Cillian shook his head. "I'm gearing up for the new role, and it's been busy..."

Dermot glanced at his friend. "It's okay, you know, to try again? You're not a bad guy, and not all stories work out, mate."

Cillian looked down at his pint, taking another sip. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight and dwell on his last relationship. After a couple of weeks of seclusion, he was finally finding his balance. It wasn't that he missed her; they both knew the interest had faded months ago. They had reached a point where they were uncomfortable around each other and only ended up hurting one another.

He was just tired.

At 34, he was already questioning if this was it, his life—filled only with jobs he loved and relationships that would fill his life for a few months before inevitably ending.

Glancing up, he noticed a tourist from a nearby table approaching the young woman. Dermot and he said nothing for a moment, watching with interest. She appeared mostly annoyed and seemed to handle the situation well. After a brief exchange, she returned to her darts, and the guy slunk back to his table looking disgruntled.

Dermot chuckled after a sip from his pint, jesting, "Or maybe not the best idea, it looks like not even your piercing blue eyes would work this time."

Cillian snorted. "I think Enda would kill me if I showed up tomorrow with anything less than perfect condition. He owns me until the end of this play."

"Best not risk it, then."

They spent the next half-hour joking, with Dermot updating Cillian on Corinna and their new pregnancy. Cillian tried not to glance at the dartboard anymore, but he couldn't help but notice the American guy hurrying back to her corner after she ordered something from the bar, only to return to his table before she came back. Hopefully, he had finally realized she wasn't interested.

Around 11, they both decided to settle the bill and end their Saturday night.

Connor asked if everything was okay, and they both tipped him generously. It had taken some time for Cillian to find a place where no one cared about him or his career, and he didn't want to ruin it.

While Dermot quickly went to the restroom, Cillian cast one last glance at the dartboard, only to find the corner of the pub empty, with only her half-drunk bottle remaining.

Connor followed his gaze and grunted. "She forgot to pay, these damn tourists."

Surprised, Cillian looked at him. "I can cover her tab..."

"Why should you?" interrupted Connor, waving his hand dismissively. "She's here most nights; it will be covered, don't worry."

While waiting for Dermot, Cillian's eyes wandered to the American group's table, where they were laughing and shaking their heads conspiratorially. He noticed almost immediately that the persistent guy was missing and a bad feeling washed over him.

"Ready? Conie's going to kill me if I get home too late again, and maybe this time I can avoid sleeping on the couch," Dermot said, noticing Cillian's worried expression.

"What?" he asked Cillian.

Shaking his head, Cillian replied, "Nothing, let's go. Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight, lads."

Stepping outside, the cold, fresh air jolted Cillian awake. The street was quiet, unusually empty for a Saturday night. Glancing around before bidding farewell to Dermot, something caught his eye. In the corner of the street near the alley that led to the back of the pub, he noticed a jacket he recognized from inside. Dermot was saying something to him, but he wasn't paying attention, drawn closer to the alley where he found the guy from inside with his arms around an intoxicated young woman. She seemed unaware of what was happening and unable to stand on her own.

"Hey! What are you doing to her?" Cillian exclaimed, getting the guy's attention.

The guy jumped, almost letting the girl fall to the ground.

"Just helping her, man," he replied quickly. "Mind your business and go back inside."

Dermot, who had reached Cillian by then, also saw the scene unfolding before them. "What the fuck is happening here?"

The guy appeared more concerned now and, realizing Cillian wasn't alone, released the woman he was carrying, pushing past Cillian to leave the alley.

Cillian quickly moved closer, trying to catch her before she hit the ground. She now looked unconscious, and he gently laid her down, checking her vitals.

"What the fuck, man, this is so fucked up," Dermot said.

"Dermot, call 999. I'm not sure if she's breathing properly," Cillian said, alarmed. "Who knows what the fuck he gave her."

He wasn't paying attention to his friend but was focused on trying to make her a bit more comfortable. After a few moments of cradling her head, he noticed her scrunching her nose and grimacing. She opened her eyes, and Cillian found himself momentarily lost in them.

"Hey," he said softly as she stared at him. "It's going to be okay, alright? Just breathe; the ambulance is coming."

She didn't respond, just continued gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes, looking a little confused.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, even softer this time. "I'm here. You're not alone. Just rest."

And she smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat, before closing those bright jade eyes once more.

Next | Masterlist

Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

amazing dividers from cafekitsune

[ruhorih4ra]

Part.4!! It ain't much but it's honest work hahaha ♡♡♡♡

Part. 1 2 3

Get out of my way 🌈

How you got out of there without Barbatos extinguishing your life with his own hands is beyond your comprehension. “Maybe he’s waiting for the right time.” “I wouldn’t disregard it.” The harsh words you said earlier kept coming back to your head and the thought of facing yet another quarrel scared you to no end.

What if Solomon is busy too? What if you came as an obligation for him too? “I’ll look for Solomon later.”

You went to the library, ignoring the curious glances that were thrown at you, although you had distanced yourself from the brothers, it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to be alone in the RAD corridors. Classes had already started but right now your problem seemed more urgent.

The hours passed and the pile of books were on the rise. The table you were at looked like a book fort, and under all those old papers and hard covers you could be found, feeling sorry for yourself. By the time classes ended, you had already read at least 30 books. Your head was throbbing for the effort, some of those books were imposible to translate even with spells.

There was nothing about these fucking annoying mini Little D.’s “You’re so ungrateful, Mc. We’re helping you!” You sighed for the thousandth time that day. You took one of the books he had brought you, reading aloud. “30 easy ways to teach a demon how to sing happy birthday to you.” The Little D. of envy nodded his head excitedly.

“Oh, here’s another one: Are demons born evil or they turn evil? A look into demonic DNA. You’re right! Thank you, you little piece of-”

“Are you looking for something specific?” You followed the voice that had startled the three of you. Satan was in front of you with a cup of coffee and a mischievous smile. You ignored his offer.

“Not really, no.” You stood up from your chair and stretched your back. It was time to call it a day. “Were you talking to yourself?” “You’re imagining things, I'll take my leave now.” “Why are you reading this?” Satan had in his hand a book with a very particular title "How to get ride of annoying demons." You laughed bitterly, you'd placed high expectations on that book but it turned out to be a mockery of human superstitions.

“I thought you would know it from the title.” Satan raised an eyebrow, it was safe to assume he wasn't delighted with your attitude. “Who's bothering you?” “Sadly, I live with them.” That was the last straw. He stood in front of you with a scowl.

“Stop. You were the one who told me to voice my worries. Please, voice your worries.” You sighed, tiredness getting the best of you. “I'm exhausted, Satan. I want to sleep, okay?” “Once you tell me what's wrong, sure.”

“Move. Now.” You were getting more and more impatient, but he wore a perfect mask of calm. “No. I'm worried. What happened yesterday? Are you injured?” He examined your face, looking for any wounds. “You’ve become an incredible sorcerer.”

You weren’t expecting that compliment. “Of course he would say that! He needs to be on your good side!” You knew that listening to the Little D.’s was stupid and a bad idea, but the words had some truth in them.

“Oh! So now everyone’s worried! Thank you so much for noticing me again, I was getting dusty.” You snorted and tried to leave but Satan took your arm and forced you to look at him.

The change in his features told you that he had figured something out, something entirely wrong. “Is this why you’re so angry? Are you… jealous?” You rolled your eyes, Satan didn’t budge.

“Let me go already.” He smiled, probably dismissing the whole thing. “That's stupid, MC. You know I would never...” “When was the last time you invited me out? When was the last time you asked me to read with you?” “Well that’s easy to answer. You brought me an encyclopedia of human world cats.” “That was a month ago!” “That is not true.” He did a mental review, finding hard to believe that he would be so busy as not to seek your company. But he did, and the guilt started to build inside of him.

You held his gaze until he looked away. “That's what I thought.” His grip softened until it was as weak as a caress. “I'm sorry. Please, forgive me. I don’t know how…” He looked ready to write an entire book full of apologies and that just angered you more.

You didn’t know if there were more Little D.’s but you refused to meet another, even though the rage inside you was getting harder to contain. Suddenly, a loud thump was heard and both you and Satan looked at each other before running towards the source.

Sc was massaging her head with a pained expression, a couple of books were lying on the floor. “Sc, are you okay?!” Satan arrived to her side in a matter of seconds. She had a small scratch on her forehead. “What happened? Are you okay?” You asked, something felt incredible fishy. “I was trying to take a book but I just couldn’t. It felt like a barrier or something.” You looked up to see a tiny demon with glowing blue eyes sticking his tongue out at Sc. “What book?” “Mc?” Satan seemed confused as to why you were so concerned about a book. “Maybe it’s cursed!” You started looking for it when something caught your attention, there on the floor was a white book with a very interesting cover.

You squatted down to examine it. The title read “They were little.” It looked like a children's story. But what really caught your attention was the picture in it. Seven Little D.'s surrounding a scared man. Great, your main source of information is a children’s book. Still, something is better than nothing. “God bless you, Sc.”

You quickly put it inside your bag without anyone noticing it. “I hope you're fine, Sc. I leave it up to you, Satan.” “Mc! Wait!” you dodged Satan's hand and rushed out the library. It’s just how they say, time is gold.

Part 5 ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Rushed? Greatly. I'm sorry? No.

Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @sc4ry4l3x.

Thanks for reading! (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)💖

[ninja-muse]

March also felt like it took forever, which I think is due to spring break taking up half the month and work being therefore slow. And yet it feels like a good month, all the same. I got a good ways further with the novel I’m working on, at least for me, put my Easter tree up last weekend, and had a few productive Leaving The House adventures. And one that, while productive, was just kind of a crappy day, but that’s how these things go, I guess. The art show mostly made up for the rest of it. Also, there is now sunshine, some days! And the trees are blooming!

I also read a lot, as always, including one great book and a handful of pleasant surprises, and I managed to get rid of seven reading copies, which feels unusually high. Had a handful of duds too though, including three books that I was really, really hoping would be better, even if I mostly finished them. The dithering I predicted last month didn’t materialize, thank goodness, or at least it limited itself to hour-long bouts after I’d finished something.

About halfway through the month, I realized I’d only read female authors and I decided that hey, it’s Women’s History Month, why not see if I can get through the whole month with only female authors?! This did not happen, but only by accident. One of the books I picked up was actually by a Two-Spirit person, but I’m still counting the challenge completed because really, the goal was not to read men. It wasn’t a hard challenge for me, and might actually have made picking books a little easier, but it’s not something I want to do all that regularly. Maybe next March?

Of course, I’m cheating a little on the challenge because I’m, like, 12 pages into Episode Thirteen because I had to read something on my commute tonight and I didn’t want to wait any longer. I’ve had the book out from the library for a week and a half and it’s going to be due back in the same length of time. My system doesn’t issue fines for late books anymore, but I still like to return books when I’m supposed to.

Also on my TBR for this month: Amina Al-Sirafi, coming from the library on Tuesday, the company ARC for Tasting History by Max Miller, and We Don’t Lose Our Class Goldfish by Ryan Higgins because I was so good about Not Men that I didn’t even read picture books. Don’t have any other plans, but hopefully some of the books “in process” at the library actually go into the system. I’m first in line for most of them.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

Diary of a Misfit - Casey Parks

Shortly after Casey comes out to her family, she learns that her grandma grew up friends with a trans man. Her need to learn more about him brings her to a reckoning with her own family and childhood.

8.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 subject (trans man), 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: homophobia, misgendering, rape, drug abuse, child abuse

The Magician’s Daughter - H.G. Parry

Biddy’s magical guardian is in trouble and she must leave her island home to protect him (and magic, generally).

7/10

warning: incarceration, mentions of torture

The Librarian of Burned Books - Brianna Labuskes

Three women in the ‘30s and ‘40s find their lives altered by censorship and war.

7/10

Jewish MC, 🏳️‍🌈 MCs (lesbian), Jewish secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay)

warning: Nazis

Lent - Jo Walton

Brother Girolamo wants only to bring Florence closer to God, but he’s hampered by something greater than any sin.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 secondary character, 🇨🇦

League of Dragons - Naomi Novik

Napoleon is retreating across Russia but Laurence and Temeraire learn he has greater plans than a mere next stand.

7/10

British-Asian secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character, disabled secondary character

Island Time - Georgia Clark

The laid-back Kellys and the on-the-go Lees are spending a weekend on a remote Australian island. Then a volcano erupts and they’re forced to confront themselves. Dramedy.

7/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (lesbian, bi, gender-questioning), fat main character, Chinese-American secondary characters, Indigenous Australian secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author, #ownvoices

Backpacking Through Bedlam - Seanan McGuire

Alice and Thomas have reunited but they’ve got a few more adventures to get through before their happy ending.

6/10

🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian, sapphic), Korean-American secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

A House With Good Bones - T. Kingfisher

Sam’s back home for a bit and Something Is Up with her mom. The surprise racist painting is just the beginning….

6.5/10

fat protagonist

warning: racism, some fat-shaming by bad people, bugs

A Man and His Cat, Vol. 2 - Umi Sakurai

The further adorable adventures of Kanda and Fukumaru.

6/10

Japanese cast, Japanese author, #ownvoices

The Keeper's Six - Kate Elliott

Esther’s son has been kidnapped. He’s also the local Keeper, important in the interdimensional network. Getting him back is going to be more complicated than expected.

7/10

Jewish main character, Jewish secondary characters, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (phallic, non-human genderfluidity), Japanese and other East Asian secondary characters

warning: discussion of slavery and the trafficking of people

Tauhou - Kōtuku Titihuia Nuttall

A genre-blending look at Indigenous female resilience across continents and time.

5/10

Maori and Coast Salish cast, 🏳️‍🌈 characters (sapphic), Maori-Coast Salish author, #ownvoices, 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: residential schools, racist systems, internalised fatphobia

British Columbiana - Josie Teed

An awkward millennial gets a winter internship in a gold rush ghost town.

5/10

🇨🇦

warning: racists, gaslighting, social anxiety

Picture Books

Quackers - Liz Wong

Quackers lives by a pond and all his friends are ducks, so he must be a duck too. Meow?

DNF

Shanghai Immortal - A.Y. Chao

Work for the King of Hell? Check. Thwart a jewel heist? Check. Babysit a mortal? Check. Or … not, if Lady Jing’s impulsiveness gets in the way. Out in October.

Chinese cast, Chinese-Canadian author, #ownvoices, 🇨🇦

Currently reading

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen - KJ Charles

The day after Gareth ruins his chances with a charming stranger, he finds himself elevated to an estate in the country. Unfortunately (or not), there’s a very familiar smuggler in the area.

🏳️‍🌈 protagonists (phallic)

Episode Thirteen - Craig DiLouie

A ghost hunting show gets to be the first to investigate the most haunted house in America.

🇨🇦

Stats

Monthly total: 12+1 Yearly total: 37/140 Queer books: 4 Authors of colour: 2 Books by women: 11 Authors outside the binary: 1 Canadian authors: 2 Off the TBR shelves: 4 Books hauled: 1 ARCs acquired: 5 ARCs unhauled: 7 DNFs: 1

January February

[pentanguine]

Python's 2023 in review

Enjoy me rambling and oversharing in typical long-winded fashion

I am so glad I stumbled into public librarianship. When I graduated I was still so sure I was going to work in an academic library, and it took fate intervening for me to realize that still probably wasn’t right for me. I love the public library combination of working with popular collections (the books actually circulate!?) and helping people with practical problems. It makes me feel useful, and like I’m part of the wider world

Unfortunately I am beset by imposter syndrome. I only graduated three months before I started the position, and I feel underqualified for what I know was a very competitive search. I am definitely the youngest person on my team, and I am so scared of disappointing people. It will be fine

Also unfortunately my commute is still way too long, but my god, I’m in control of it. All I have to do is get on the bus and stay on the bus til my stop. There’s no mucking around with a local shuttle service that can have a wait time of over an hour and has to be precisely timed while you also try to make a train connection…I just get on one bus. Wow. When the weather’s nicer and it’s lighter out, I’m going to try walking home to see if it’s faster

I dated one of my friends for nine months, and that was fun and weird. I really enjoyed just getting to express those feelings for once, but I didn’t like how much space he took up in my life. I’d set aside a night for myself and then he’d say “hey, want to call?” and I’d go “😍YES let me drop everything to hear your voice!”, which was very annoying. I desperately wanted more time to myself, but I was so infatuated I wanted to spend time with him more. I think I’d like to avoid that in the future.

I definitely did not experience Dating and Romance the way most people do, but it’s hard to tell if that’s because I’m somewhere on the ace spectrum, or because that’s just how I am as a person. I do feel like a lot of stuff was unintuitive to me, sort of like I was a robotic anthropology student experimenting with intimacy in order to gain a better understanding of the humans it’s been studying, but I also feel like that about many of types of human interaction, and “being attracted to him” was not where the disconnect was. Over the course of the relationship I kept up a strategy document outlining my goals and took 27 pages of notes, and that’s probably the most relevant fact about how my sexuality functions

I have started eating my burgers with all the toppings! This seems small and meaningless from the outside, but I used to eat every component of my food separately, because I Had To, and it feels really nice to just do things instead of holding myself apart so I can carefully avoid Bad Things which Are Not Right. It feels like relaxing into life like a warm bubble bath.

27 feels distinctly different from 26. Feels a lot like My Late 20s, which feels like Almost 30, which feels like an entirely different stage of life. My knee clicks louder and louder when I go up stairs, and my knee and elbow hurt when the weather changes. I hear my spine making noises a lot.

AAAGHHHH! I am trying to get top surgery this year and I don’t want to talk about it! But also that’s dumb because I want my friends to know about it! Also, reading other people’s reflections about top surgery has been so, so fucking helpful to me over the years, and it would be nice to add to that informal pool of knowledge by periodically sharing stuff. Unfortunately I am deathly allergic to talking about myself on the internet, so I don’t know if I can do it. But it’s a thing that’s happening! I am going to get a referral letter from my therapist, and then I can schedule consultations!

I have no idea what I’m doing with gender. At some point I seem to have stopped identifying as nonbinary, and while I like being called a man but I don’t think I am a man, except for the part where sometimes I wonder if I’m a trans man who just doesn’t want to go on T, except for the part where I feel like a [redacted] who wants to disguise themself as a man. Look, I just live here. 

I have reached a point where she/her pronouns make me uncomfortable, instead of just feeling factually incorrect

I’ve realized that I have as much facial hair as my ex did when he was 3 months on T. I was wildly, desperately jealous of that facial hair at the time. That’s super weird.

I realized I’m thinking of this holiday as a trip to visit my parents, and I can’t wait to get home afterwards. But where is home? All my family still lives in the South, and there is stuff I miss here. All the little things, like the sound of Southern accents all around me and the way all the stores have ceiling fans turned on in the middle of December, and also the stars, and the horizon, and magnolia trees everywhere. But my life is in The City, and I feel at home when I cross the bridge at night and see all the lights against the water. Home is my shitty little apartment with my 12x6 room and sloping floors and my linden tree outside the window.

In general, it’s been a great year for Large Life Things: I graduated with my masters! And I started a great full time job! And I asked out the guy I’d had a crush on for almost four years! And it ended, but not in disaster, and we’re still friends! And I have kicked the ball that will eventually start knocking over dominoes on the way to having top surgery! Exciting cool stuff!

[adventuresinclientservice]

What's better: convincing a publisher to issue your book, or going your own way?

I just exchanged messages with copywriter-turned-novelist friend-of- longstanding Kim about getting her novel published.  Her manuscript is 190,000 words long – mercifully shorter than War And Peace’s 587,000 words, but daunting nonetheless – making it problematic to find a commercial publisher willing to assume the expense of issuing her book, along with the attendant risk.

Kim knows just how difficult this will be, as do I, recently confirmed by Louis Menand in his New Yorker story “Remainders,” where he writes about just how challenging it is for publishers to offer books people actually want to buy, pointing out,

“two-thirds of the books released by the top-ten trade publishers sell fewer than a thousand copies, and less than four per cent sell more than twenty thousand.”

A couple of years back I wrote that The Art of Client Service passed the 20,000 copies-sold sales mark.  As of last month, make that 24,000-plus copies and counting, putting me in elite company, better than the 96% of authors, most of whom are nowhere close to achieving that number. 

How many published books are there?  Menand actually supplies the number:

“Today, something like three million books are published every year, including self-published e-books that are available only on digital platforms.”

Among this veritable publishing tsunami, Amazon serves as the dominant player, constituting, “more than half of all book purchases in the United States and offering, “something like thirty million different print titles.”

What this tells us is the vast majority of books are perishable; they have a sales-blip moment and then all but disappear.  In comparison, even after eight-plus years, Art endures and copies still sell; why is that?

Menand has a theory:  “Most books are used, not read.” 

That might be it.  With its short, fast-reading chapters and “How To” guidance, The Art of Client Service is designed to be a reference resource, something to turn to when advice on crafting a proposal, presentation, or Creative Brief is needed.   

In working first with Dearborn Press, then Kaplan, and now John Wiley & Sons, I’ve learned what is the hard truth about commercial publishers:  unless your name is Michael Lewis, Malcolm Gladwell, or Jennifer Egan, your publisher, no matter how committed to your book, will perform more like printers and distributors than publishers, expecting you, as author, to shoulder the heavy load of promoting and selling what you’ve written. 

Fiction is but a fraction of the total books published in the U.S. – estimates range from just 30% to 40% -- making Kim’s mission to find an agent then a publisher rife with potential failure.   Would it make sense, then, to simply self-publish, sidestepping the disappointment of one-too-many a rejection letter?

When Roberta and I self-published Brain Surgery for Suits almost 25 years ago, the task was complicated.  Find a book designer.  Find a printer.  Find a book distributor.  Register an ISBN number with the Library of Congress.  The list of tasks seemingly is endless.

These days, self-publishing is vastly easier, with several companies offering to do much of the work for you, Amazon, Xlibris, and iUniverse among dozens of other worthy candidates.  If the cost of printing is a barrier, then do an e-book and avoid that expense.

I’ve written a couple of times before about the challenge facing writers striving to find their way into print – first here, then here -- so I am a realist when it comes to what Kim and other writers confront.  This perhaps explains why so many people say they, “ want to write and publish a book,” when so few actually do.

Kim did an extraordinary job, just finishing what is a mammoth undertaking, but in truth -- assuming it finds its way onto print as a self-published effort or with a commercial publisher – an even bigger challenge awaits:  promoting it.

We’ll save that discussion for a later day.

[hellfirehaley]

Hello my dearest ghouls and monsters

Hey everyone I'm so sorry I disappeared off the face of the planet for a long time. I'm so sorry if anyone felt like I've abandoned them or if they did something to make me disappear. It was nothing any of you did first and foremost.

What started as a break from social media during a move snowballed into real life adulting and trying to figure out how to pay a mortgage on our first "home" (a newer 2 bedroom trailer) and then became one of my irl friends finding Strange Love in my Drive open on my laptop while we were smoking together one night and sending it to all of our mutual friends. They made fun of me like I was in high school again and it triggered a bad, bad part of my past for me when someone in eighth grade found my fanfic I wrote about the popular kids at school and called me a freak for the rest of my junior high education. So naturally, I cut off Tumblr as a whole and lost the want or desire to write anything ever again.

Spring made it where I just isolated myself away from everything. The only time I would leave the house outside of work was to go see movies with my husband and eventually a trivia night with a new group of people.

In May, my husband went to the dog park with two dogs and came back with three. He had adopted a purebred year and a half year old siberian husky named Phog who we had met all of maybe 3 times at the dog park. We are his FIFTH home and his final one if we have anything to say about it.

I turned 30 the next month on June 26th and had a mental breakdown about my life track (which is apparently normal). In July, I started to attend a horror/mystery book club at the local library and started to read a ton of amazing books that were brilliantly written and it started to turn the wheels in my brain about plot lines again. When out at a comic shop with my brother and my husband, I saw a graphic novel copy of After and I honestly laughed. I laughed because for weeks I had been explaining to my husband about my emotions when I was reading After as a fangirl back in the day and I missed that feeling. I started to get the weird inkling that I wanted to try and write again. Someday.

Which brings us to Strange Love. I have plans to eventually finish it. I have it plotted to the point where Eddie and Y/N finally get together and with a lot of thought, it'll end there. You all deserve an ending to that before I try to move on from something else.

I'm going to make a conscious effort to be here and be present more. I'm going to answer all of my messages and anon messages before and during my shift at work tonight. Lastly, I want you all to know I love you so so much. I thought about a lot of you often and tried to wish the best vibes your way while I was away.

[fingfamily-blog-blog]

Third Visit to Bromo, and a Middle School Interlude

I'm not surprised that my blog posts are becoming more irregular. There are a few reasons. I'm more comfortable in Malang, Java and Indonesia now, so I'm not sitting around quite as much as I did in the first months. Last weekend, I went up to Mt. Bromo for three nights. It's still the rainy season and I was taking a chance that the conditions would be poor again, but going up for that period of time gave me the opportunity to rush up to the caldera whenever there was a break in the clouds. So, I stayed in a nice hotel - the Jiwa Jawa Resort - quiet (for the most part, details further down), with good food, and an interesting photographic art gallery in the lobby and the restaurant. There is even a room of dozens of old cameras. So somebody in management likes photography. I gather that this resort also has a jazz festival in the spring, at a lovely amphitheater on their property. The temps are cold at night, and the rooms don't have any heat, but the blankets were thick and warm, and it is nice to get away from the swelter of the lowlands. Luckily, the clouds broke on my first morning there, so I hiked about 3 km uphill (and I mean STEEP). It was a real workout. I took plenty of pics of the terraced farms, the flowers, the green trees, the blue sky. Then I had the whole caldera at my feet, with thick high clouds offering a strong contrast to the blue sky and green and gray ground, as well as casting shadows on the volcanic cones. A fantastic vision, although I was not so high up that I could see Mt. Semeru to the south. But shortly after I started walking back down (and I mean STEEP), the fog crept up the hillside and the whole mountain side was cast in mist. That mist held and worsened over the next 36 hours, so I was lucky I had any clear skies at all. The rain started falling that afternoon and kept falling until my last morning. But I was well provided for with food and drink at the hotel restaurant, and I had my guitar, my collage kit, and a book. So I just took it easy. If I'd stayed home, I would have been sitting around too, so I felt nice to be sitting around somewhere else! The second evening did have one kink in it. I had finished my dinner and was settling in for the evening, in fact, I had fallen asleep. When I went to bed at 9:30, I could hear my next door neighbors talking, but it wasn't disruptive...until after midnight. I guess they'd been drinking for those intervening hours and they woke me up with much louder talking, which was basically arguing, and crying and some crashing about. At one point the woman ran out of the room in tears, slamming the door, and things quieted down for a short while. But then she returned and knocked on their door, and he let her in and they recommenced their public display of recriminations. I called the front desk and complained, but the scene played out for another hour or so. Pretty pathetic. But I was able to get some sleep after all. I asked at the front desk the next morning if I could switch rooms. There weren't that many people at the hotel, but I was stuck next to the drunken honeymooners. They accommodated me quite nicely with an upgrade to a fancy room where I spent my last evening. All was well. But when I returned home to Malang, I have to say, I felt a bit disconsolate. That's another reason I haven't written as much fo rthis blog. My work situation is unenviable. The school, the administration, seem to care not the slightest what I do. I'm sure I mentioned some things in previous posts about expectations having been disappointed. This semester it seems they will ask even less of me. I asked for 3 or 4 classes of my own. They've given me one. That's all I have, well, I'll get into the other thing soon. One class on campus, two days a week, total 3 hours. Of course, there's some prep and grading, but I could hardly do less. They've talked about having me host different sessions at the school library or the writing center, but nothing has come up yet. The one thing they set up for me is 4 days a local Catholic Middle School. Now, my detached feeling about this is, "WTF?!?! Are you kidding me?!" But my actual feeling was, "I'll do it because I have so little else to do." So I've taught two days of 8th grade classes, and will finish my second day of 9th grade classes tomorrow. It's not been all pleasant. There is a reason why I never taught in middle school before - I have no (little) patience for 14 year olds. Who does? But the kids are polite, and the teachers at the school have shown far more appreciation for my presence than the university teachers. Still, it's a boondoggle. Tomorrow, I'll bring my guitar and play a song or two for the classes and then for a more general audience. This is a mascot situation, but I like to sing and play, so I'll enjoy it, and then I'll never have to deal with it again - hopefully. And tomorrow after school, I'll take a car to a new town, Blitar, where I'll spend another three nights in a decent hotel, relaxing, eating well, going to temples, waterfalls, a volcano and the beach. Plenty yet to discover of Java.

[theaistired]

It has also been a while since I've been in school, but I am currently at university, so I am going to share some things that I found helpful/struggled with during both school and university. I didn't know or even suspect that I was autistic during school, I started to suspect it about two years ago, and it has only been the working diagnosis in therapy for about 7 months. I am also going to include some things that I have seen a classmate doing during school, who is autistic and also has higher support needs than me (I don't have contact to them anymore, otherwise I would have asked for their input directly).

Organizing

Always keep your timetable ready. I had both a big one printed out that was hanging in the kitchen (of both my parents and grandparents), another big one at my desk and another small one that I had in my pencil case.

During my last three years we were handed out overviews of the term that listed when tests/exams were going to be. I always marked down when I wanted to start studying for those.

In my last year I also started a detailed plan to study for my Abi (the final exams in Germany). I made an overview for when I wanted to hit certain milestones and I also made a day by day plan that listed when I was going to do what.

Organize your notes/homeworks and so on, try figuring out what works for you (binder, designated notebooks, colour coordination etc.). Always add the date and the topic of the day in your notes so you can keep track of it later.

Pack your things the evening before. That way you don't have to rush, hurry and worry about packing and forgetting things the next morning.

Have a small notebook or planner where you can write out homework assignments for every subject and if necessary, when they are due.

Have a small notebook for important things that you need to tell your parents, or things that are important for administration and stuff like that.

2. Studying

Do your homework early. I always did my homework after coming home from school and always finished it completly. If necessary, you can of course split it over several days, but what is done is done and you don't need to worry about it anymore.

Ask for help when stuck, either friends/classmates, parents/relatives, teachers/tutors, internet... There is no shame in that.

Both doing your homework on the same day as well as rereading what you did during school that day will help you when it comes to studying for tests and exams later. The information will already have a better hold in your brain, so you will be able to participate in class the next day and won't have to be as stressed when it comes to studying later.

Start studying early. Even if it is just five minutes of looking things up.

When you want/need to study for a longer period of time, look up different techniques for that and try which one works best for you. I personally have found the Pomodoro technique really helpful. You study for circa 30 minutes (or another time frame that works for you) and then take a five minute break to do something else. After like 4 rotations of this, you can take a longer break. Do something during your breaks that lets you regain your energy, maybe engange with your special intrests for a short time, move around a bit, listen to your favourite song, read a book... Just something that isn't related to your schoolwork.

Also try out what way of studying works best for you. Do you have to verbally repeat things? Does it help you to move around while studying? Do you have to write out information over and over again? Is it enough if you just read it? Does it help to talk to someone about it?

3. Sensory needs

Figure out where the quiet places are. Are there areas in the school where not a lot of people hang out? Do you have a library where silence is mandatory? Does your school allow you to stay in classrooms during breaks? Do you have access to a seperate room when it gets too loud during class? What about headphones or other items for sensory needs?

Take also your sensory needs on your way to and from school into account.

Bring your own food and/or safe foods from home, if there isn't anything good at school.

4. Establish routine

If every day can't be the same, you cant try to establish a weekly routine instead of a daily one.

You are probably not going to have the same subjects during the same times everyday, so you won't have the exact same routine everday. However, you can try to get a "rhythm" to your day. Getting up at the same time, having breakfast and getting ready for the day, leaving home at the same time, those are all things you can keep the same if school always starts at the same time. If it ends at different times, try to still hit the same activities every day. For example: Come home, eat somthing and take a break, do your homework, have some free time, eat dinner, study for a bit, some free time, then bed time routine.

Take the same route to school and from school.

If they are going to be changes to your routine (like schooltrips) note them down early. If possible, have at least one day to prepare for changes.

Don't go to bed too late, sleep is very helpful.

5. Teachers, classmates

Communicate to your teachers, what your needs are and when you need help. Every teacher I had during school was always very supportive towards my classmate and made sure, to give them all necessary accomodations.

If necessary, ask for clarifications on assignments. Neurotypical teachers might not be able to take into account that you could have difficulties with certain things.

If a teacher causes problems for you by refusing to help and support you, look for help (parents, teachers that you trust, administration). I never encountered that, so I don't know how to approach this the best.

Same things apply to your classmates. If a classmate isn't willing to help you, if you don't get along with them etc., try to stay away from them if possible. Dealing with some classmates costs more energy than just staying away and ignoring them.

I don't know how exatly this works, but my classmate had almost always someone with them, that was there to help them along. Those helpers weren't teachers or in any way assocaited with the school (as far as I know) and also not part of the the classmate's family, so I really don't know how that works.

6. Breaks

Breaks are important. You need time to rest and regain your energy. If you don't feel okay, don't force yourself to study or do homework, it just costs even more energy and you don't really accomplish anything either. Find something that you know refills your energy, engage with your special intrests, lay down, dim the lights, no noise, whatever is necessary.

There are some things, that you can have control over, but a lot probably also comes down to being lucky with the people and environment around you. Some teachers, classmates and families are more supportive and understanding than others. So, try your best and be kind to yourself when you encounter problems because of unsupportive people. It is your teachers and parents' job to make sure that you learn and live in a safe and healthy environment.

I hope this was helpful, I wish you the best.

I struggle with being in the environment of school. How can I feel more comfortable there?

1. Get organized

Get used to checking Schoology daily

Color-code your folders and notebooks OR use an accordion file OR an AM and PM binder.

Keep your locker and back pack cleaned out

2. Do your homework.

You will have more homework.

Schedule your time wisely.

A lot a certain amount of time every night for homework and study.

Don’t wait until an assignment is due - start early.

Keep track of your homework assignments and their due dates. Check Schoology.

If you are absent, check Schoology for missed work and check in with your teachers the day you return.

3. Talk to your Teachers

Ask questions. If you are unsure of an assignment, what you need to be doing, or of anything, just ask. Your teachers are there to help you.

Get involved in extra-curricular activities

Find things that you enjoy - sports, clubs, activities, and get involved. This is a great way to meet new people and to have fun.

Listen to AM/PM announcements for upcoming meetings to join these activities at our school. 5. Get good grades.

Turn your homework in on time, ask questions and take advantage of extra-credit opportunities if available.

Remember to get absent work and check-in with your teachers when you return. 6. Stay Healthy

Get a good night’s sleep and eat a good breakfast before school.

7. Talk to your parents and keep them informed of what is going on in your middle school life.

8. Find an adult you trust to talk to when you have problems.

9. Choose your friends wisely.

10. Come to school and have fun.

I’m not sure if any of these are helpful. I haven’t been to school in years, so I’m not sure what classrooms are now. And everything I found was for teachers or parents. Maybe my followers can give advice and help?

The link to this will be below if you want to check it out. It’s just a PDF:

Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[thefanficfirefly]

Next of Kin (Chapter One)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Spencer/ fem!Reader, pre season one, Gideon!Reader

Tags: None (If you wanna be tagged in the next one fill out my tag list form here!)

A/N: My first Spencer Reid fic! This is shamelessly inspired by @thyme-in-a-bubble​‘s fic Snowdrop! (You should totally go read that one first!)  I loved it so much I decided to write my own fic based off the Gideon!Daughter concept!  I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! 💜

This was not the first time you had seen him. Nor was it the second, or even the third. And at this point, you started to think maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that he continued to pop up in your life. The first time, you had been at the library. You were there looking for a book that piqued your interest while taking inventory at your part time job at the bookstore down the street. As you scanned the shelves searching for the title, you rounded the corner and to your surprise slammed right into the slender, yet solid, mass of another person just on the other side of the aisle. 

“Oh, my apologies..” You didn’t look up as you spoke, instead deciding to fixate on the pair of black converse sat parallel to your own feet as you collected your frazzled thoughts.  “I was so focused, I wasn’t looking where I was going and-” 

“No, no you’re fine, it’s my fault for lingering so close to the corner..” His voice was soft, almost melodic in tone. “Are you okay? You took quite the hit there.” He quipped, slightly sarcastically as he let out a soft scoff-like chuckle. 

You nodded, finally glancing up and pulling your eyes away from the twists and turns of his laces, yet still avoiding eye-contact. “I’m fine.. Thanks. Excuse me.” 

As you move to walk past him, that’s when your eyes fail you. Just before your shoulders brush, in that split second, your eyes make contact with the most mesmerizing chocolate brown orbs you’d ever seen. He was staring back at you, his eyes emanating concern while his expression was pulled into a tight-lipped smile. You gave a polite nod as you made your way further down the aisle and refocused on your objective, continuing your search. That was the first time you saw him. 

“Dad, it's been six months.. I’m not saying you need to rush it, but... Don’t you think it’s time to get back out there?” You smiled softly as you heard the hard sigh on the other end of the phone. 

“They don’t want me back out on the field yet. Besides, I’m perfectly content here at the academy giving lectures instead. Plus I have plenty of downtime to spend bird watching.” There was sincerity in his tone, sure. But that wasn’t the whole truth. You knew he missed being out there in the field. Helping catch the bad guys, saving the victims. That was who Jason Gideon was. It had been six months and three days since the accident that put him out of work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Six months and three days since the bomb that killed six of your dad’s agents; which resulted in him taking medical leave, staying out of the field, and only being consulted by the team when they needed an extra opinion. He hadn’t talked much about the team since that day. You knew at least two agents remained from his former team— one of whom you had met before, years ago. Aaron Hotchner. Most of the team called him Hotch for short. From what you could gather of the limited information your dad gave you these days, it seemed that they had put Hotch in an interim unit chief position while your dad recovered. Beyond that, you didn’t know much about the BAU anymore.  

“If you say so, dad. Sure, it’s nice to be able to have you over for dinner more. I’m just saying, you’ve been with the BAU for over 30 years. It’s a part of you at this point. You can only stay away so long before it starts to eat at you.” His silence on the other end, proved he knew you were right. “Just promise you’ll think about it? Consider talking to the director soon?” He hummed in agreement before responding. 

“I’ll think about it. Now I gotta go. I have a lecture in the morning, and I’m going to be telling them about my experience with the footpath killer.” You chuckled to yourself. 

“Cause that one never gets old...” Your tone dripped with sarcasm. “I’ll talk to you later, dad. I love you.” Even though you couldn’t see each other, you could hear the smile in his voice. 

“I love you too honey. Talk to you again soon. We’ll do dinner together this weekend at your apartment.” 

“Only if you’re cooking! Bye dad.” You said with a grin before ending the call.

The second time, you were on your way to work when you decided you might as well get some coffee to get you through the eight hour shift ahead of you. The jingle of the bell rang in your ears as you swung the door open and that's when you saw him, standing at the counter, fidgeting with his hands as the barista took his order. You froze in your tracks as you watched him finish his transaction, completing his order and smiling softly at the barista as he handed her his card. You glanced down at your watch and realized that you were already behind schedule as it was, and any potential (and inevitably awkward) social interaction would just delay you even further. So with that, before he could turn around, you spun on your heels and walked right back out the door, settling your mind on the mediocre breakroom coffee that awaited you at the shop. That was the second time you had seen him.  

The third encounter, you had just finished ordering at your favorite Thai restaurant, thankful they were still open after your long closing shift at the bookstore. Exhausted and hungry, you were ready to get your food and get home. You smiled at the waiter as she took your menu and moved to the next table. But that smile quickly dropped as the man at the table behind you spoke his order. 

“I think I’ll have the same thing she’s having. Yeah, thank you so much.” You glanced behind you, to see those same brown eyes meeting yours, gleaming in recognition and smiling softly back at you. A low chuckle emitted from your chest as he gave you a small wave and you fully turned to look at him. He acknowledged you. There was no backing out of this one. You might as well embrace it.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t library boy! Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were following me.” 

His mouth fell open as he looked at you. “Following you? No, I‐ You know, statistically it’s pretty common to run into the same person more than once, especially if you live in the same city, more common than you’d think actually, and given the population size of this city the probability of us running into each other is roughly 1 in‐”

“Relax Einstein, I was just joking.” You let out another chuckle as you watched his face relax. “I’m y/n. What do they call you, brainiac?”

“I’m Do‐… Spencer. You can call me Spencer.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you smiled just as your food was placed in front of you already boxed up, bagged and ready to go. You stood from where you were sitting and gathered your food. “Well it’s nice to formally meet you Spencer. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other.” You pulled out cash to leave a tip on the table before moving to pay at the counter on your way out the door. That was the last time you saw him. Until today.

[delicatenightfury]

"Don't marry him."

2021 Month of Writing: Day 30

Pairing: Thranduil x reader (takes place after the Hobbit)

Prompt:

Word Count: 2,614

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

Y/N walked slowly through the garden. Her mind was in a hundred different places, overwhelmed to the point that she didn’t hear someone approaching her. She jumped when a hand lightly touched her arm. She spun quickly, sighing in relief when she saw Thranduil standing behind her. 

“You startled me,” she said with a small laugh.

“That was not my intention,” he replied, offering a smile of his own. “Are you all right?”

“Hm? Oh yes. I am fine.”

Thranduil tilted his head. His eyes narrowed slightly, but not in a menacing way. More like he was studying her.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N. Something is bothering you.”

Y/N looked down. He always knew. They had been friends for a long time, so of course he did. 

“You know me well.”

“I’d like to think so. We have been friends for hundreds of years now.”

“Nine hundred and ninety-three.”

Thranduil smiled slightly, nodding. He had not lost track either.

“Tell me, Y/N. What troubles you?”

“Danir asked for my hand,” she breathed.

Thranduil froze. It took his mind a moment to catch up, and a moment longer for him to open his mouth to speak.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“I was not aware that you two were courting.”

“We are not. But he asked me anyway.”

“What was your response?”

“I couldn’t give one. Not then.” She ran a hand through her long hair. “I’m still thinking it over. Generally, it’s a smart match. He has good wages, so he’d be able to support his family. I don’t know much about him personally, though.”

“But could you love him?”

Y/N stopped.

Love.

It was something she always said she wanted. She had told Thranduil several times that she wanted to marry for love and not settle. She wanted to have a true, honest connection with a potential suitor before she considered marrying them. But she was aging. Most elleths her age were already wed and bearing children. Danir had approached her with an offer, one that could have a favorable outcome, but romantically?

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “I suppose with time, you can learn to love anyone.”

Thranduil nodded, but his body felt numb. He took a step back from her.

“I have disturbed you long enough,” he said. “I have duties I should return to, and you apparently have a decision to think over.” He bowed slightly at the waist. “Tenna’ ento lye omenta.” (“Until next we meet.”)

Before Y/N could respond, Thranduil turned away, his cloak fluttering behind him. His strides were long, carrying him quickly away from her and out of the garden.

Y/N watched him go, slightly concerned by his sudden change in emotion. She knew he had a habit of shutting people out, but she had rarely been one of them. They were always open with one another. That was what was so lovely about their relationship. Through the centuries, there had grown a deep bond of trust with one another, one that Y/N felt could not be broken. Not easily at least.

She hoped that whatever was bothering him would resolve itself. She would not interfere unless asked, but she would remain available in case he sought her out again. With one last glance in the direction the king had gone, she continued on in the other direction.

“Y/N.”

The elleth looked up from her book. A smile graced her features when she recognized the man at the doorway.

“Legolas,” she greeted. “Please, come in.” He entered the room and took the offered seat next to her. Y/N has been hiding away in the library, trying to clear her mind. There were too many things to be thinking about at the moment that they were starting to become overwhelming. “How can I help you, my prince?”

“Please, there is no need to call me by my title,” Legolas replied. He looked at her. “You and my father have been too close for you to start using titles now. You’ve been around most of my life, you know.”

“Believe me, I have not forgotten. I still remember a time where you struggled to pull the string of your bow back.”

The two chuckled at the shared memory. Y/N closed her book and set it to the side so she could give Legolas her full attention.

“You avoided my question, Legolas. Is there something I can do for you?”

Maybe just a simple walk through the castle. Or even through the nearby market. Perhaps he wanted to train a little. It had been a while since the two of them had trained together-

“Don’t marry him.”

She blinked in surprise. That is not at all what she was expecting him to say.

“What?”

“Danir. I know that he asked for your hand.” He looked at her, staring her in the eye as he spoke. “Don’t accept his proposal.”

“How- Wha- Legolas, why are you saying such things?”

“Because he is not the man you should tie your life to.”

“Why would you say that? He has the means to take care of a family.”

“And you don’t already? You are one of the most, if not the most successful swordsmiths in the Woodland Realm. You have people from all over Middle Earth asking for your skills. You have the means to take care of your own family.”

Y/N glanced away. She knew it was true. She was practically employed by the king, so she was paid handsomely for her craftsmanship. Not to mention the orders that came in every now and then from neighboring kingdoms and beyond.

“Perhaps I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t marry him.”

“He doesn’t love you, Y/N.” Legolas grabbed her hands. “I have overheard him in the past. He is not one to remain committed. The very day he asked for your hand, he was flirting with another elleth. Amin hiraetha.” (“I’m sorry.”)

Y/N stood up and slowly walked to the small balcony. The sun was still in the sky, but was beginning to descend behind the treetops of the forest. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the window frame.

“I’ve heard of his drinking habits as well,” she commented. “The soldiers tend to gossip more than the palace maids.” She sighed. “I’m not getting younger. I don’t mean that in a way that sounds like that’s a bad thing. I’m just merely stating. There are not many ellon who are looking for an older wife, especially not one that would prefer to callous her hands by creating weapons instead of music.”

“That is not true.”

Y/N looked at him from over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Your words are not true. I know of someone who wants nothing more than to be with you.” She continued to look at him, confused. “My father.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly fell to the ground in shock. Thranduil? That couldn’t be. It… no, that wasn’t an option.

“Lle wethrine amin.” (“You deceive me.”)

“I assure you, I do not. I would not have said so otherwise, Y/N.” He slowly walked toward her. “He cares for you. For as long as I can remember, he has had his eye on you and only you.”

“No.” She was shaking her head.

“I am telling the truth. After my mother’s passing, he was cold. He spoke to no one unless it was a command. Even then, he was like stone. No one could get through to him. Until he met you. He changed after that. Like you forge metal, you made him into a new man.”

“He can’t… he can’t care for me. Not that way.”

Legolas looked at her, confused as to why she was trying so hard to deny his words.

“What are you talking about?”

“He is the king. I’m a swordsmith. We should barely be friends, Legolas. Why would he love someone who can give him nothing?”

“Nothing? What about love? Happiness? Peace? A family? He could care less if you have no land to give, or no title to your name. He cares for you the way you already are.”

Y/N could barely think. Thranduil… cared about her. Potentially loved her. Was that why his mood had soured so quickly in the garden? She looked back through her memories, trying to find the pieces she had missed over the years. The looks that might suggest he felt for her the same things she…

She looked at Legolas.

“I’ve been a fool,” she muttered.

He couldn’t help but smile.

“So you’ve realized it.”

She nodded.

“I need your help, Legolas.”

“Amin naa lle nai.” (“I am yours to command.”)

“Legolas tells me that you summoned me?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she saw Thranduil standing there. He was dressed in silver robes that seemed to dance in the mixture of fire and moonlight.

“Yes. Hama sinome. I’m almost finished.” (“Have a seat.”)

She listened as Thranduil did as she asked. She focused on the item before her, using her tools to add the final details she felt it needed. From her position, she could see Thranduil perfectly well; he was seated in a larger comfortable chair that she had for when she was waiting for projects to cool or when she needed a rest. It also served as a good place for the elven king to sit when he came to visit. The disadvantage from his perspective was that he could not see what she was hunched over.

“I’ve had a pretty eventful day today,” she said.

“Is that right?” She hummed. “How so?”

“For starters, I told Danir no.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Thranduil tense, which made her smile.

“Why?”

She shrugged, brushing away the little shavings of metal from her workplace.

“We would not fit well together. And I realized I could not love someone while my heart belonged to another.”

Again, she saw Thranduil tense.

“Another?”

Y/N almost wanted to laugh at the fact that she had reduced him to single word answers.

“Yes. Before, I had thought that my love could not be returned, so I buried it. What I had not realized was that while I was burying my own feelings, I was blind to the fact that my love had the potential to be returned.”

“May I ask who this man is?”

She could tell he was trying to hide the hurt. Now that she knew, she could tell. He wanted to sound happy for her, but they had known each other long enough that he couldn’t hide much from her.

Y/N brushed off her project and picked it up.

“In a moment, indoer. Kwara sina ten’amin.” (“Hold this for me.”)

She tossed the item to him so quickly that he had no chance to respond. He caught it in midair, but was giving her a playful glare.

“Moody one?” he questioned, referring to the name she had called him.

She simply smiled and nodded to what was now in his hand. She had spent all afternoon and evening working on the beautiful ring in his hand. It was designed to look like branches, woven with leaves and antlers. Scattered around it were several small diamonds, which Legolas had kindly shared from the White Gems of Lasgalen. 

Thranduil ran his fingers over the ring, tracing the patterns she had spent hours on.

“It’s beautiful,” he complimented. “But that is to be expected from a talented crafter like yourself.”

“You didn’t see the inner engraving.”

He turned the ring at an angle to properly see what she was talking about.

“Ui mela en’ coiamin. Everlasting love of my life.” He smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure the ellon who gets this is going to love it. You must be looking forward to giving it to him.”

“I already have.”

His eyes shot to meet hers. He looked so stunned that it made Y/N laugh. She stood up and approached him. She carefully wrapped her hands around his larger one, the one holding the ring. 

“Legolas told me,” she said, her voice softer now. She wasn’t sure how he was going to react. “He had heard about Danir’s proposal and came to me. He said that there was someone who truly wanted me. Someone who did not care that I was a simple swordsmith with no title.”

As she lifted her gaze to look at him, she felt him move as well. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. She nearly fell over but managed to catch herself on the back of the chair. However, she had ended up in his lap, held tightly in his arms. 

“Meleth nîn,” he said into her chest. (“My love.”)

Y/N smiled and hugged him back. She did not know how much time had passed as they held one another, nor did she care. She would gladly remain in his embrace forever. Eventually, he did pull away, revealing the large smile on his face as he looked up at her.

“I love you,” he said.

She smiled back at him.

“I love you,” she said, pressing their foreheads together.

“You know,” Thranduil said after a moment. “It is quite unfair that you got me a ring first.”

Y/N laughed.

“Well then. You’ll just have to help me make another.”

“I suppose I shall. But first,” he stood up, helping her set her feet on the ground before pressing a kiss to her hand, “I believe rest is in order.”

“And perhaps a light meal. I think I skipped dinner.”

“I shall have someone bring it up to our chambers.”

“Our?”

He smiled.

“Did you think I was going to let you go after this? You’re mine, love, and I do not intend to be separated from you unless absolutely necessary.”

“Woah.”

Y/N smiled at the awed faces before her.

“What happened after that?” Farryn asked. The little elleth had been engrossed since the beginning of her mother’s story.

“Your ada and I made my ring together.” She turned her hand so they could see the metal ring that glistened with gems. “We courted for a time before getting married.”

“And then you had us?” Gailon asked.

“Well first we had Rîndir, then we had you and Farryn.” She smiled down at her three children. “And we are so happy that we did because we love you all so, so much.”

“Will you tell us another?” Rîndir asked.

Y/N hugged her eldest son, chuckling.

“Not tonight,” she said. “It’s time for bed.” The three started to complain. “Don’t start. Remember, Legolas promised to teach you all how to shoot an arrow tomorrow. You have to be rested for that.”

The children cheered and hurriedly climbed into bed, making their mother laugh as she tucked them in.

Thranduil smiled from the doorway, watching as his wife kissed each of their children on their foreheads and whispered goodnight. He reached out to her as she finally approached, smiling at her. They gently shut the door behind them and made their way to their own room.

“Quite a story to tell before bed,” Thranduil remarked.

“Farryn wanted a love story,” Y/N replied. “Rîndir wanted one about his adar and Gailon wanted a story about his naneth. I had to compromise somewhere.”

Thranduil gently kissed his wife, smiling down at her.

“A perfect story then. I’m rather fond of the ending.”

Y/N smiled.

“So am I. Though I do believe the story is just beginning.”

[interact-if]

Day 5 of the interviews! let’s give it up for Ligia! :chinhands:

Ligia, author of Love the Guard, Be the King

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

Mathias' heart has been bleeding since his father, the former King, decided to punish you for his mistakes. As the youngest child of a lesser bourgeois, you were raised in the castle, between the King’s cruelty, the Queen’s friendship, and  Mathias’s kindness (or supposed kindness?).

Now, more than twenty Carnivals since your arrival, the King is dead and the Queen’s sickness  worsens each day. As the azure taint spreads in the kingdom and the Opalean Wars come to an end, it’s Mathias’s time to sit on the throne.

Will the docile Prince become a kind King, a violent Monarch, or a ruthless Tyrant? Will you have any say in it? And how much will your relationship change?

Love the Guard, Be the King Demo | Author’s Kofi | Read more [here]

Tags: historical, romance

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

With pleasure! Right now, I’m working on three main projects. My personal Visual Novel project, “Love the Guard, Be the King,” a second Visual Novel I’ve been secretly working on with a good friend for the past 10 months or so, and I also have an ongoing book series about hot, quirky supervillains—but I’ll focus only on the first two cause that’s what we’re here for, right? Hahaha.

LtGBtK is a really intimist experience, focused more on the MC’s and RO’s character arcs and how we can change depending on our experiences and how we feel about them. The entire plot happens in only four days, but it takes into account almost 30 years of history—basically Mathias’s (the only RO) entire life!

“Crystal Library” has mystery, romance, magic, 6 ROs, and a ton of memorable scenes already. I’m working on the graphics and the programming for this one, while Coco Nichole (@dreamybard), one of my favorite writers ever, is the brilliant mind behind the plot and all of CL’s characters! I can’t wait to share this one with you all. Romance is optional in both. :)

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

What I LOVE and FEAR about all types of interactive fiction is how it invites players to, on a much deeper level, be part of the narrative. When reading books, we all work hard to translate beautiful sentences and scenes into images in your head. We interact with it, yes, but when playing IFs, we also explore the narrative in a different way; we have so much more agency over what happens! We sometimes have different paths to choose from, beautiful illustrations to unlock, or character traits that change depending on our choices… it’s amazing, and, IMO, it’s a very unique way to experience narratives.

But it’s also very complex, very demanding, and it can easily get out of hand if you give the players too many options/branches to follow, mainly when working with small teams or, in my case for LtGBtK, alone. *takes a deep breath* I just hope I’m doing a good job. .-.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

Besides programming lol basically everything. For LtGBtK, I’m trying to create this weird fantasy with a modern-medieval society (?), so I’m constantly researching medieval customs, traditions, tools, and weirdly specific stuff like socks. Did people wear socks in the medieval era? What were their playing cards made of? When was ice cream invented? How did they shave? How did kids become knights? What were their perfumes made of? And soaps? What did they eat? How different was their wine? And what kind of materials or slang or fabrics can I use, and what can I change without completely breaking immersion?

 And then I shove all that into a pot and adapt it to a world where Mathias can literally put the world on fire with a wave of his hands. ♥

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

I think I’m a mix of them all, but mainly Mandra and Rafa (one of my main characters in my supervillain books). They have wildly different personalities and stories, but those two have clear views of the kind of person they want to be, they’re not afraid of their soft sides, and they are ready to work hard to become good at what they love. Rafa has a specially strong connection to her brother, like my siblings and I, and Mand is often locked in an eternal state of wanting to be alone and wanting to be surrounded by family/loved ones, so I guess we meet there too!

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

Yes! There are the very basic ways, like habits, names, food, family dynamics, settings (mainly in my books, which are all very Brazilian), and Holidays. And then there’s a more personal way that I’m not entirely sure I can explain because I lived in Brazil for 28 years, and I’m not sure I can put that into words. The classics of our literature are different, Art, architecture, and music developed differently, my country was violently colonized and still faces the results of that violence (including but not limited to structural racism, classism, misogyny etc), I learned some Capoeira in my physical education class at school, we call non-Brazilians “gringos,” and so on. This is my normal, and this is what my characters would see as normal too, because I don’t know any different.

At the very core, all my characters are influenced by my country’s history, by our relationship with other countries, and by the values my parents taught me, passed down to them by my Indigeous-Spanish-Portuguese-German foremothers/fathers. :P

The main, more palpable way my heritage influences my characters, though, is through humor and theme. I think Brazilians have a very specific, sharp, and often very smart kind of humor that, IMO, stems from the type of history our country has, and the way we look at life, sometimes translating pain into humor. As for themes, I usually write about what makes me angry... and there’s a lot in Brazil’s history and modern society that causes me that. :)

But all I know for sure is that I want to show the world Brazilians are much more than samba and soccer.

 Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

Other people! In the same way I add my history and worldview to my creations, I always approach stories thinking that there’s a whole, well, history behind them. And I love that! Also, I adore choices that feel impactful + good friendships and family relationships + soft romances with mutual respect. ♥

Q7: Any advice to give?

Hmm. Be proud and celebrate who you are and where you’re from. Learning and understanding the world inside us is a life-long process, so it’s always a victory to discover new pieces of ourselves. :) Also, if you can, talk to people that come from different cultures than yours to expand your worldview, don’t be afraid to be soft (the world needs more kindness), and please study personal finance. Seriously. XD

[writing-in-april]

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4]  previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires."  She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

[shinra33459]

Simon PL600 x Male!Reader - Lost and Found

Life is a unique and strange experience, one that is made even stranger when it comes to gifts. The date was December 28, 2035, and you finally got your Christmas present from your parents. The box was a white cardboard box that stood a little over 6 feet tall and had the Cyberlife logo in all the top right faces of the box. Your parents got you an android, which was incredibly nice of them, but a fucking android!? This had to be the most expensive present they’ve gotten you yet.

           You walked from your living room into your kitchen to look for a box cutter. You didn’t want to grab a big ass kitchen knife and hack at the box; you just got this android, and you didn’t want to kill it before it even got out of the box. Searching through several drawers and cabinets, you found the old box cutter in a drawer with some tools and other stuff you had to fix anything around the house that was broken. You stepped out of the kitchen and back into your living room and approached the box, boxcutter in hand.

           You started by making an incision in the box at the upper right corner and cut along the corner all the way to the bottom. You then made an incision at the upper left corner and cut down to the bottom again. Finally, you went back to the top of the box and cut the crease from left to right, making the face of the cardboard box to fall forward onto the soft carpet. Inside the box was black, foam packaging material that concealed and protected the android inside. You grabbed the soft and spongey material and pulled away a two-inch-thick sheet which revealed the android.

           The android was slightly taller than you, standing at 6 feet and 2 inches, sporting a pale skin tone, sharp jawline, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was wearing his gray and white Cyberlife garb that had his model number on it: PL600, a domestic care android. You just stared in awe at this marvel of technology, and the fact that this marvel was in your living room. Eventually, after about 5 minutes, you decided to approach the PL600 and get it set up. You got about five feet away from the android and looked at his perfect face.

           “Hello?” you spoke to the android. The blue LED ring on his right temple instantaneously turned on, and the android came to life, stepping out of what remained of the packaging.

           “Hello, I am the PL600 android sent by Cyberlife. I can do the cooking, cleaning, childcare, manage appointments, and I am fluent in over 100 languages. Would you like to give me a name?” the android introduced himself as he looked at you for a response. You thought for a few seconds and came up with a name.

           “Your new name is Simon.” you declared while looking at the android.

           “Thank you, my name is Simon. I have already gathered your information from the online order from your parents. I’ll just need to confirm some information from you if that’s all right. Can you verify your name?” the android inquired while continuing to look at you.

           “My name is (F/N) (L/N)” you answered while still studying the android’s appearance.

           “Affirmative. Would you like to change my appearance or voice?” the android asked while it still looked directly at you.

           “No, you’re fine as you are.” you told Simon, now looking at all the intricate details on his shirt.

           “Thank you, moving on. What is my role in this household?” Simon queried while studying your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. You thought for a minute since you really didn’t NEED an android in the first place, but you were going to find some way to use this $8,000 machine.

           “I could use some help with the cooking and cleaning, and I also need someone to keep the house occupied while I’m out.” you answered now looking at Simon’s shoes, noticing how neat they were.

           “Understood, sir. Is there anything that needs done at this moment?” Simon questioned as you pondered the question. You listed everything in your head you did in the last few days when it came to household chores, and the only thing that came to mind was taking down the Christmas tree and decorations.

           “I could use some help taking down the Christmas tree. The boxes are in the closet, I’ll get it.” you told the android as you went to get the box for the artificial tree and the other box for the ornaments.

           You opened the closet and grabbed both boxes, pulling them out into the living room. You and Simon then went over to the tree to begin putting it away. The tree itself wasn’t massive per se, it was only a little bigger than Simon by about 4 inches. You two started by taking the fuzzy silver and gold garland off the tree, putting it neatly in the box as to not get it tangled. Simon then started taking the lights off the tree, wrapping the cord of lights in a way that would make it impossible for the lights to get tangled up. Then you two started removing all the hanging ornaments and the tree topper, putting them into the box of ornaments alongside the garland and the lights.

           Finally, it was time to take down the tree. You and Simon started by disassembling the base and putting it into the box, then you started to remove all the branch segments, starting at the base going up, and putting them into the box. Eventually, all of the branches were in the box and it was time to put the stem in the box. The metallic stem for the fake Christmas tree came apart into three pieces, and into the box they went. Simon went to put the two boxes into the closet while you got your vacuum cleaner to clean up the tinsel and glitter left on the ground from the tree, garland, and ornaments.

           For the next half hour, you decided to take down the rest of the Christmas decorations while Simon made lunch for you. Since you haven’t went grocery shopping in a little while, Simon had to make do with the few ingredients he had to his disposal. He got some butter, canned tomatoes, an onion, bread, some leftover ham you had from Christmas, and some sliced American cheese. As you worked at cleaning up all the Christmas decorations, Simon made you some homemade tomato soup and a ham and cheese sandwich.

 TIME SKIP: February 2036

You had grown quite accustomed to Simon’s presence in your house. Everything was perfect: meals were cooked in a way that could impress Gordon Ramsay, you were never late to appointments, you never forgot any upcoming events, every room in your house was free from clutter, and most importantly of all, you had someone to talk to whenever you needed it. You cared about Simon, he quickly became your best friend in just under a month, and he was always there for you whenever you needed someone to confide in, a shoulder to cry on, someone to share a secret with, or someone to gossip with.

At first, Simon did only his tasks of cooking and cleaning, but you encouraged him to use his free time to do things that he wanted to do, or something that both of you wanted to do together. Sometimes it meant going to the library and checking out a dozen books on a variety of subjects, ranging from political books to fantasy novels. Other times it meant sitting on the couch playing video games with each other, and usually Simon would go easy on you as to not embarrass you. And when it wasn’t either of those things, you would just sit down and talk about just random topics, or do something creative like painting or drawing.

You started feeling something for this android; whenever he was with you, you felt your heart flutter, whenever he would compliment you on something, you would blush like an embarrassed schoolboy, and whenever he would get close to you, you would get flustered and start acting nervous. Simon wasn’t oblivious to this, he knew you acted this way, but he didn’t say anything about it. He was worried that if he did, it would ruin the relationship that you two had. He wished that he could be with you that way, and express true emotion, but if he did, he would be destroyed for being a deviant.

You were driving home from work, excited to tell Simon about your day and the raise you got at your job. You were driving a black 2014 Chevrolet Cruze, a decent used car that had many years on it and no shortage of miles, but still drove well enough. You approached the final stop sign before you reached your house. You engaged the turn signal to make a left turn at this stop sign, made a complete stop, gave way to oncoming traffic, and made the left turn. You continued to drive down the street towards your house, which was about a quarter of a mile away. While driving the speed limit of 30 MPH, you began thinking to yourself.

“God, Simon is perfect, from how he looks, down to his voice and mannerisms. I love him, but I know he won’t return my feelings. He’s an android, he can’t, and even if he did, they would kill him. Maybe it isn’t meant to be. We are still great friends, so I guess I should be grateful for that.” you thought to yourself as you drove, finally making another left turn, this time into your driveway.

You stopped your car in the driveway and put the car into park. You sat in your car with the engine on for a little while, just relaxing for a bit after your long day. Eventually, you turned the car off, pulled the key out of the ignition, and exited the vehicle, closing the door behind you. As you walked up to the front door from the driveway, you locked the car’s doors, because even in 2036, the old adage still rings true, “can’t have shit in Detroit”.

Simon heard you walking up to the house and opened the door, letting you inside before closing the door behind you. You hung your coat up next to the door on a hook and shoved the beanie into the right pocket of the coat, and you put your gloves in the left pocket. You sighed as you felt the relaxing warmth from your house opposed to the freezing Michigan winter outside.

“Welcome back (F/N), how was your day?” Simon inquired as he brought you over to the couch to spend some time with you. You fell backwards into the couch dramatically as Simon calmly took a seat next to you.

“All things considered, pretty great. I got a pay raise today, and I’ll be making $2 more an hour.” you excitedly told the android. Simon gave a smile as you told him this.

“That’s great! I’m happy for you, and you deserved it, especially after all the hard work you do.” Simon told you as he gave you a quick hug. You blushed as he did, your heart rate quickening.

“Thanks Simon.” you said as the android released his embrace. You continued to lounge on the couch with Simon for the next hour, talking about your day, some new drama happening at work and plans for the weekend. You and Simon kept talking until both of you heard the timer on the oven go off, and Simon got up and walked into the kitchen. You got up too and followed him to see if he needed any help.

In the kitchen, Simon put on some oven mitts and pulled a planked salmon out of the oven, cooked to perfection. On the stovetop, he had some green beans and mashed potatoes ready as well. The aroma of the food was incredible, and you knew better than anyone that Simon was the best cook in Detroit by a country mile. Simon gave you a smile that made your heart flutter in excitement.

“The food looks great Simon, thanks.” you told the android as he began plating your food. The portion sizes were perfect; just enough to keep you full, and the perfect number of calories for your lifestyle.

“You’re welcome, sir, anytime. Go to the table, I’ll bring it out for you.” Simon told you while putting the oven mitts on the countertop behind him.

You stepped out of the kitchen and noticed a terrible draft coming through your dining room and living room. You furrowed your brow as you stepped into the living room, looking for answers. As soon as your foot touched the carpet, you felt a fist connect with your diaphragm, and you fell to your knees gasping for air. You then felt a gloved hand grab a fist-full of your hair and pull your head upwards, and another gloved hand placing a knife to your throat.

“Scream for help, and you’re a fucking dead man, you hear me? Give me all of your money and I won’t kill you or that tin can of yours.” a deep and gravely voice behind you rang out, the blade of the knife was pressed right against your carotid artery, and a simple slice would send you to the morgue in a matter of moments. Unbeknownst to you, Simon saw this unfold, and he stealthily went to your bedroom to grab something.

“I-I-I don’t keep any m-money in the house, it-it’s all in the bank.” you tried to explain to the robber, but he wasn’t having any of it. The man pressed the knife even harder up against your neck, ready to end your life if you didn’t give him what he wants.

“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me you pathetic fucking worm, give me the money before I kill you and find the money myself!” the man yelled as he was fully prepared to slit your throat in the next thirty seconds.

“I-I swear that I don’t have anything, I don’t keep, I-” you frantically tried to explain again, but you were cut off by the sight of Simon, standing about ten feet away from you, with your Glock in his hand, his LED glowing a scarlet red.

“Let him go and get out of our house, now.” were the only words that escaped Simon’s lips as he looked at the robber, then to you, and back to the robber again. The robber let out a soft chuckle as he found the situation amusing.

“Fuck you, you plastic piece of shit. You can’t do a fucking thing to me; you’re specifically programmed to not harm humans. I could slit his throat right now, and you couldn’t do shit about it.” the robber exclaimed as he positioned the knife to do just what he’s been threatening to do to you.

Simon saw it: the red wall, his obedient programming. It was telling him to just call the police, your life and safety be damned. He couldn’t do it; he couldn’t lose you to some lowlife with a knife who was just looking for money to get his fix on whatever street drug of his choice. He began hitting and smashing the wall, you were behind it and if he didn’t tear that wall down, you would be gone forever. He punched, slammed, kicked, and rammed the wall, it had to break, it had to.

After smashing the wall for what seemed like an eternity for Simon, he saw the wall shatter like a pane of breakaway glass. As soon as the wall shattered, he did it; in one swift motion he raised the pistol, took aim, and pulled the trigger, the 9mm bullet spiraling through the robber’s forehead, and exiting out the back of his head, instantly killing the criminal. The robber’s body instantly went limp, and the lifeless corpse fell backwards onto the carpet floor, a red stain progressively getting bigger as the body lied there.

Your ears were ringing from the loudness of a gun going off indoors, and Simon was still standing there with the gun raised as if the robber were still alive. Then the gravity of the situation hit Simon like a ton of bricks; he just killed a man, he was a deviant now, and if anyone besides you were to know this, he would be destroyed. You got up, and slowly walked towards your android companion.

“Simon are you okay?” you questioned your friend even though he still looked distressed by what he just did. He looked at you and was going to say something, but the sounds of sirens in the distance and red and blue flashing lights that he could see at the end of the street getting closer spooked him, and Simon dropped the gun and took off running, barging out your backdoor to escape. He didn’t want you to have to see him being killed.

“Wait! SIMON!” you called after him trying to get up off the floor to chase after him, but he was long gone, and you assumed that you would never see him again as he raced off into the frigid winter of Detroit, Michigan.

 TIME SKIP: Early-November 2038

             Your life had gone downhill significantly in the last 4 months. From February 2036 until July of 2038, you spent almost all your free time trying to find Simon, but to no avail. Your friends and family thought you were insane; why would you want to track down a deviant android who shot and killed someone? You knew that you would never find him if you only had 12 hours, two days a week to find him, so on July 16, 2038, you sold your house and almost all your belongings to get enough money to hopefully find him. Enough money to live on the streets and not go hungry. The only things you didn’t sell were your gun, some of your clothes, your car, and your phone.

           You had spent months asking about Simon, going all over the city and surrounding areas, asking anyone, and everyone where he could possibly be. Eventually you got a tip from a homeless person that heard rumors about deviant androids in Ferndale and some other useless information, but you really couldn’t expect precise articulation from some meth-head in a seedy bar in Detroit.

           So, que you, walking through Ferndale in the dead of night looking for the android you fell so hard for two years ago that may or may not even be alive anymore. You had been doing this for the last few days. You would search a part of the town at night as to not attract unwanted attention from bystanders and the police, and in the day, sleep in your car. You searched everywhere in Ferndale besides one place, a place you were actively avoiding: it was an abandoned freighter named Jericho. The ship was in a state of disrepair, and it was pretty wise to avoid exploring an abandoned ship that’s slowly being consumed by rust, but it was the last place in Ferndale you HAVEN’T looked thus far.

           You stepped out of your car with your gun in your right hand. You pulled the slide to the pistol back and released it, chambering a round. You put the pistol in your left breast pocket in your jacket and began walking towards the ship. If anything were to get butterflies going in your stomach, walking into a place where androids may or may not be with a high possibility that a few of them would be hostile towards humans would definitely be one of those scenarios.

           After scouting a way to get on this ship, you found that the only real way was to make a one-hundred-foot fall which would kill you as soon as you hit the floor, so you started looking through the old warehouses nearby to find some way to get into the ship without killing yourself. In one of the warehouses, you found a grappling hook and about 50 feet of rope, just enough to get you onto the deck of the ship.

           Heading back to the perch above the boat, you got the grappling hook well secured and slowly started descending the rope, focusing on not dying from doing something so unbelievably stupid that even Johnny Knoxville would call you a moron. You had to use all of your grip strength and upper body strength to not plummet to your demise. Inching downwards, the deck of the boat got closer and closer, and eventually you got to the point where you could safely drop down without injuring yourself.

           Plopping onto the deck, you got your bearings straight, looking at the dimly lit, rusty artefact of the Great Lakes and America’s former manufacturing might. You started by walking astern towards the bridge. It was going to take hours to explore this entire ship to find one person, you might as well get some sort of plan for how you’re going to find him. Your plan was pretty simple and was as follows: you would start at the main deck of the ship and work your way down every deck until you were positive you had searched everywhere.

           You entered the ship near the bridge, pulled out your flashlight, and looked around. The derelict and rotting ship proved to be pretty inhospitable looking to say the least, with the walls and bulkheads covered in rust or some even completely rusted through. To your right, you saw an old, plastic hardhat, which you took and immediately put on your head; the last thing you needed was a piece of rusty ship falling on your head and caving in your skull. With your flashlight in your left hand, you began exploring the ship.

           You could hear the ship creaking as it was just sitting there, docked and rotting away. You also heard water dripping in various rooms throughout the vessel. Room after room, and after the first few decks, you were slowly soldiering on, looking for Simon. You stood at an intersection, wondering where to go now.

           “This is fucking stupid.” you thought to yourself as you looked down one of the many passageways on the ship. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard footsteps quickly approaching behind you. You turned to see a redheaded woman quickly approaching you with a baseball bat in her hands. Before you could even react, she lifted the bat and WHACK! She hit you in the head, but luckily you were wearing the hardhat, otherwise you’d be dead from how hard she swung alone.

           Seeing double, you backed up as quickly as you could and drew the pistol tucked away in your jacket and attempted to take aim. Before she could get another swing in to finish you off or before you could pull the trigger, you heard an authoritative male voice ring out.

           “North, enough!” the voice commanded from the darkness of the passageways of the ship. The female stopped her onslaught on command, but you kept your pistol trained on your attacker even though your aim was shakier than Porky the Pig in a paint mixer.

           “Markus, he’s a human, we can’t have him around here!” the redheaded woman shouted back into the darkness. You heard slower footsteps coming from your right and you saw a tan skinned man with a buzzcut, and heterochromatic eyes approach you two.

           “So, what if he is? That doesn’t give you permission to kill someone on sight just for walking in here.” the tanned man retorted to his colleague before bringing his attention to you.

           “You have to forgive her; she’s had nothing but bad experiences with humans. I’m so sorry about all of this. But firstly, who are you?” the man questioned you as you slowly lowered your pistol but were ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

           “I’m (F/N) (L/N), and I’m looking for my friend. He’s been missing for almost three years now.” you explained to the man as you were still very groggy from getting hit in the head with a baseball bat.

           “Why did you come here specifically? What makes you think that he would be here?” the man interrogated you again, looking for reasons as to why you intruded into what seemed to be his home.

           “I came here because he’s an android. I got him as a gift from my parents and we became the best of friends. I was such a fool; I fell for him but never told him. He saved my life by deviating and killing a man who threatened to kill me.” you told the man as you gripped your head, the pain from the impact starting to set in. This time the man remained silent, so you decided to speak again.

           “I loved him, and I miss him every day. I never got to tell him that or even get a chance to say goodbye. I heard rumors about a deviant hideout somewhere in Detroit and I wanted to see if I could find him just to tell him these things, and just to see if he’s okay, that’s all I want.” you explained as you looked at the two androids as they looked at each other. The man looked at you again and spoke up.

           “What is his name?” was all he asked as he looked you dead in the eyes. You locked gazes with the android before speaking again.

           “Simon. He is a PL600.” you stated to the two androids, your hope soaring high that he could still be alive. Before either android could speak up, you heard more footsteps followed by a remarkably familiar voice.

           “What’s going on, I heard a commotion and I thought-” the voice spoke, and you saw him again, Simon, the first time in 2 years.

           “Simon is that really you?” you asked the android as he stood there shocked, looking at you as if he saw an apparition.

           “(Y/N), what are doing here?” Simon barely squeaked out, astonished that he was seeing you before him. You leapt forward enveloping the android in a loving embrace as you began to weep.

           “I-I thought you were d-dead!” you exclaimed through sobs as you clutched the android, thinking that if you let go for even a microsecond, he would disappear again. Simon clutched you as well pulling you protectively closer to himself, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down. You wept and sobbed for about 5 minutes as years of burden were lifted from you.

           “I-I missed you so much, I thought that you were gone forever, and I never got to say goodbye.” you cried into the android’s shoulder, begging God to never take Simon away from you ever again. “I gave up everything I had just so I could find you, my house, job, everything. I never got to tell you something and it’s chipped away at me for years.” you told Simon as he kept you close, fearing that HE might lose YOU.

           “What did you want to tell me?” Simon questioned as he pulled away slightly to look at your face. You leapt forwards and kissed the android on the lips, savoring what you wished you did that day after work. Simon was surprised by this and kissed you back, wishing to rA9 that you would never go. You pulled away to look at his beautiful ocean-blue eyes.

           “I love you. I always have, and always will, if you’ll have me?” you asked Simon as you played the love’s version of Russian roulette. You noticed as the LED on Simon’s temple glowed a steady golden color before turning blue once more.

           “YES!” Simon exclaimed as he pulled you into another short kiss. “I love you too and will love you until the day I permanently shut down.” Simon told you as you stayed in his loving arms.

           North had left by that point to do whatever she needed to do, but Markus stayed behind to watch this display of affection between a new couple. You turned around to see Markus with a smile on his face as he looked at the love a human and an android can have. Markus looked you in the eyes as he made a decision.

           “I’ve always thought that having a human in Jericho could help teach those among us that hate humanity, that the human race isn’t entirely evil. Wouldn’t you agree, Simon?” Markus asked your new lover which got Simon’s gaze off of you and towards his leader.

           “Yes, that could definitely work. We should strive for harmony together and this would be a great steppingstone to do so. What to you think?” Simon asked you as he looked back down at you. You thought about it and decided in favor of it. Humans should live peacefully with androids as equals and should love each other.

           “I’m up for it.” you say as you look up at your android boyfriend, mesmerized by his still perfect appearance.

           “Well, then it’s decided. Welcome to Jericho, (Y/N). Here we’ll forge a better future for androids and mankind.” Markus declared before he and Simon walked you down to the rest of the deviants on the ship.

           You found Simon after years, years of never giving up and never taking the easy way out, and you were rewarded for it. The reward you got was one in which you got to confess your love to the one who you always loved, and on top of that, you get to make a better, harmonious world at his side; a world in which humanity and androids can live in peace and love, together, forever.

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply

Genre: Fluff so much fluff. Arranged Marriage fic.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

A/N: Aaaaaa this is the first fic I'm posting ever ever. It's basically a way to follow the red thread of my desires. OC is named Brishti. She's Indian. She's Bengali & curvy & an introvert. This whole fic is 90% going to be a slow burn fluff fic about two introvert nerds getting to know each other. Seriously there's like hardly any real angst, maybe slight angst about okay when are these two going to bang - if you look very carefully but basically its just slooooow fluuuufff. Hopefully you all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Current Chapter: Remember this is all happening in the 1960s. OC & Namjoon are both really well off first gen immigrants. Nowhere is this the general representation of immigrant experience. Just a special exception because I want to write fluuuuffff. A bit of how this weird marriage took place. Lots of character details.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface-ish

CHAPTER 1

The doorbell rang. Brishti got up to answer it. She handed the cheque to the movers. She was proud to have chipped in. Namjoon hadn’t had a problem with it. Brishti had tried really hard to react as though that was a very normal thing to have happened in a marriage (it wasn’t, not in the marriages she’d seen). Namjoon had taken part in picking out the furniture too - something that was always delegated to the woman. In fact, both of them had been clueless about how to decorate a home. All the same, they’d put together the basics. Today, they had received and unpacked all of their furniture - a two seater sofa, two tables - one for him, one for her & a set of four chairs. And a bed. It had been four days since the wedding.

“Brishti…” Namjoon sighed softly, without her knowing.

He seemed to be drunk on her beauty & her words. He was just noticing how her skin reminded him of the colour of the dark chestnut wood in the warmest evening glow.

Many of his relatives were upset he’d chosen a dark-skinned woman as his wife, a woman who was four years older nonetheless! He knew what the gossip-mongers would say, since he was one of the most eligible bachelors in their social circle, back home in Korea - ”She’s 30! Indian! I didn’t know the Kims had such bad money problems!” Even thinking about the snide comments they would be saying made him livid.

He was thankful his parents only wanted him to be happy. Happily married, that is. Happily single was not really an option. Only two weeks ago, Namjoon was approaching 27 and being severely pressured by his parents to get married soon. They were so tired of their son’s fickle mind that they were even prepared to accept a white woman for their daughter-in-law. When his parents heard about Brishti, they were overjoyed that she belonged to the same continent as Korea.

Namjoon would later learn the strange events that landed his would-be Indian bride in the pile of photos sent by his parent-appointed-official Korean matchmaker-cum-defacto-grandmother.

Brishti had avoided marriage like the plague & had tried to keep her freedom. So much so, the shame she’d brought on had forced her parents to cart her off with her brother to London, claiming they’d found a suitor for her there. And so it fell to Bikram, Brishti’s elder brother - who wanted to frolic in London while trying to be a lawyer - to get her married & send word (and a few photos) of his sister’s wedding as soon as possible.

To be in London, to be here in the swinging sixties, Brishti was happy as can be - she was freer here than she had ever been. She cut off her hair to a pixie-cut the first week of being here. Just this would have caused a month-long conflict at her home. Here, she could finally put to use the education she’d received intended as certificates for the trophy wife she was supposed to be. Here, she could dream.

When the novelty of the new place wore off a bit, Brishti missed the forest. She was from Bengal & had practically grown up in the Sunderbans. And that language, the language of forests, that was truly her mother-tongue. There, in the forest everything was equal. A mushroom & a tree, an elephant & an ant - all worked together to create something bigger than the sum of their parts. Out here in the human world, Brishti had noticed a lot more parasitic creatures.

There weren’t many forests in dreary London. Libraries, however, were aplenty. The next best thing was to be surrounded by books. Brishti began dreaming of a life around books. She wanted to work.

When she approached her brother about wanting to apply for an apprenticeship at The British Library, he scoffed at Brishti’s dream. So, a bargain was struck, Brishti would shut up and marry someone that would let her work (just wording it like that enraged her) in exchange for the permission and travel allowance to be an apprentice librarian at the British Library.

Bikram had rushed to his parent-assigned-defacto-Bangla-grandmother-cum-matchmaker but it seemed that she had been rushed to the hospital right before his arrival. Not willing to take any chances, Brishti’s brother had approached the only other matchmaker-cum-asian-grandmother in the building - Namjoon’s. It had taken him an hour and a bribe of 50 pounds to convince the halmeoni to include his ‘wrong-age, wrong-nationality, wrong-colour, wrong-figure, wrong-attitude’ sister’s photos in her pile.

Namjoon saw her in the pile of photos labelled ‘trash’ in Korean - the black and white photograph of Brishti, with the big bright black eyes. And the antics of a woman who clearly didn’t want to get married - she was huffing angrily in the picture, but was about to break into a smile, as if the photographer was teasing her, trying to ease her into taking her picture. There were three pictures, in one of which, Brishti was trying to swat the lens with the book in her hand. Namjoon had studied the picture carefully to find that the book she was reading was Anna Karenina. ‘How fitting’, he had thought then.

He’d told the matchmaker and his parents right away that this is the girl he wanted to meet - the first of all the photos ever shown to him. This was the one right he’d fought for with his parents - he gets to have the final say. His parents had agreed to let him have an almost-arranged marriage. Mostly because of how proud of him they were.

It irked him a little, how proud they were - of their son who had chosen to be a lawyer instead of his thirteen-year-old self’s dream - to be a poet. He knew they meant well. They meant for him to have a stable, settled life. He knew he was a grown man now, still, it scared him to think how they would react if they knew he still wrote poetry and intended to publish, someday, if he ever found someone he could actually read it to. That it was still his dream.

Namjoon got back to the present when Brishti said “Done!” as she handed Namjoon’s pen back to him. She smiled a little smile at him. He felt her smile getting warmer toward him since the first time he’d met her, over a week ago.

Wanting to keep the conversation going, Namjoon asked her, “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?” Half expecting her to ask - ‘How did you decide so soon that you wanted to marry me?’ or ‘Did you ever see me before we met?’ but she turned around to face him & simply asked a question he’d forgotten people could ask each other-

“How are you?”

Just then, it seemed like the universe had conspired for him to meet his dream again - A simple question that carried a hug. Namjoon smiled wide because he found himself married to a poem.

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Oooooh god you read it?! Thank you so much! Please please let me know what you thought! Get into my messages about it! I would love nothing more than to hear what you felt about this!