#and many characters belong to criminal organisations

[narudoblog]

Hello long time no see have some AU dorks.

[writing-blocked-me]

A Lost Chance

CW: Angst, betrayal, PM!Dazai, Dark Era Spoilers!, Mafia stuff ig?

Pairings: Akutagawa x reader, Platonic!Oda x reader

Author's note: A little OOC sorry! I don’t think I’ve really got Akutagawa down yet in terms of character.  Trying to expand beyond writing just for Dazai and Chuuya - though I have loads more fic ideas for them! 

Anyway hope you enjoy :)

You had been with the Port Mafia ever since you could remember.  Kouyou had recruited you at a young age, seeming seeing, as she put it, “a darkness in you akin to the flower of darkness being nurtured in me.”  She trained you and showed you how to flourish in the darkness.  You’d never questioned it; never asked why.

You took it all in stride, stayed in the darkness and even became comfortable there.  Making friends in the mafia was easier than it sounded.  Despite it being a criminal organisation, there were surprisingly many people your age.  The Akutagawa siblings were surprisingly who you’d grown closest to over the years.  Although each of you trained under different executives, in different factions of the organisation,  you became really close.  

Ryunosuke in particuar you felt you gravitated to.  He was angry and brash, so desperate to prove himself to Dazai as strong that he was often blinded to things around him.  However, you  admired how driven he was and how hard he worked.  Though, he wasn’t always so rage-fuelled.  Sometimes he could be gentle and sweet, especially when it came to Gin.  He was always soft and considerate of his sister and protective of her as well.  It was incredibly sweet.  

He was also soft with you, and just as protective of you as he was of Gin.  He had grown fond of you, as you’d pretty much grown up together.  You always stuck by him and seen his worth even when Dazai did not.  You were one of the few people he completely trusted and allowed himself to open up to.  It was not until his early teens when he realised he was falling for you, or rather, until Gin realised and told him.  He was never good with his emotions, often acting on whims, usually in violence or anger.

However, unknown to the Black-Fanged Hellhound of the Port Mafia, you were just as smitten with him.  Though, on your side you were aware of his short temper and inability to confront any emotions outside of the negative.  So, you were content to wait until he was ready for the next step in your relationship.  You had always been content within the darkness of the mafia’s walls.

Until you weren’t. 

When you met Oda Sakunoske, it was supposed to be a simple job.  You were there as extra muscle and firepower during what was later called the Dragon’s Head Conflict.  You were only 14 at the time and so had been kept out of the main action.  Though the mafia was desperate, so still they sent you in.  That’s where you first saw him.  Picking up any stragglers he could find, rescuing children and protecting them from the conflict.  He seemed determined to keep the kids out of the darkness - a concept completely mysterious to you.  At first you had been confused, but curious.

The second time you met him was when you sought him out.  He had sparked your curiosity and you wanted to know more.  You hung around with him; you asked him questions.  He always gave you the same blunt answers about wanting to help the kids.  He showed them kindness, a kindness that stemmed from light.  You had never been exposed to light before Oda; it was then that he opened the door for you, leading to light.

From then on, you had decided to help him, to be more kind.  You would look after the orphans when he was gone too long on mafia jobs and contribute to their living costs.  Eventually, they began to see you as an older sibling and, eventually, you became very attached to them.

Regardless of how kind you were when it came to the kids, you never forgot where you worked, where you believed you belonged.�� In the darkness.  You continued to work as a member of the mafia, alongside your friends.  You still cared for the Akutagawa siblings, still infatuated with Akutagawa, though you now attempted to prevent any excessive violence he attempted.  Life went on with only a few changes.

It was when you were 16 that Akutagawa finally told you he loved you.  He had just had an intense training session with his mentor and he returned to his and Gin’s shared abode battered and bruised, coughing and spluttering.  You had already been there, waiting for one or both of the siblings to show up to hang out, when he walked through the door.  You stood up to help him, only for him to fall on top of you, sending you both to the floor with a thud.  You gently rolled him off of you and rushed to get the med kit before tending to his injuries.  

It was then that he realised he did not want to lose you, you who treated him with respect and love, who showed him his worth was not just based on Dazai’s opinion of him, who reassured him of his strength when he believed himself weak.  He had been aware of his feelings for you before, but now he had no choice but to act on them and let you know of his feelings.  So he told you.  He communicated exactly how he felt, as he placed a soft kiss on top of your forehead, thanking you for loving him andf taking care of him. That was the beginnign of your wonderful and short-lived relationship as lovers.

The two of you remained professional as ever within the realm of the mafia, but outside you were much less hard and cold.  Akutagawa was warm and loving, though he showed it in his own way, and you in turn took care of him.  He had never been taken care of before, not like the way you did - intimately and without any sign of disgust or regret.  You loved him and he loved you, and, though you had been exposed to the light, you were content to live in this realm of darkness if it meant the two of you could keep on loving one another.

And then everything fell apart.

Akutagawa had stormed into the room furious one day, frustrated at the new enemy, Mimic, and his lack of usefullness to his mentor, the Demon Prodigy.  He had ranted about Dazai and how he had reprimanded him for botching the trap he had set up.  He went on and on about how Dazai’s friend was so much better than him.  Placing your hands around his, you attempted to calm him down, to no avail, as he shook your hands off and got even more worked up.  This time, however, his anger turned towards you.  He had never been angry at you before, not seriously anyway, not like he was then, with fiery rage burning in his eyes, brows scrunched together and lips tightly pursed together.  He had yelled at you, blamed you for making him weak, for allowing him to be soft, to let down his guard.  He screamed and shouted about how without you he would finally be strong, Dazai would finally recognise him as strong. 

Eyes full of tears and withou response, you sidestepped the mafioso and stormed past him.  You would not hear him say those things, although you knew that his anger was not truly directed at you, but it still hurt to listen to the boy you loved berating you.  You were aware of his lack of control over his emotions from the start, you just needed some time to cool down, and to let him cool down.

It was a couple days since your fight with Akutagawa when it happened.  You had thought he was going to visit you, but he simply still needed time.  Ryunosuke regretted lashing out and losing control, but he didn’t know how to make it right, so he opted to leave you alone, deciding until he could figure out how to fix it, he would let you have your space.

That was his mistake.

The news of the mafia’s success defeating mimic, whilst also attaining a permit allowing the mafia to legally operate with Gifted individuals.  However, few knew how it had been done.  You had been celebrating on with Gin in your apartment after hearing the news.  It was only when they left, late that night, that you started asking youself the questions of “who”, “what”, “where”, “when” and “why”.  That’s when you heard a knock at the door.  There stood the Demon Prodigy himself, Dazai Osamu, eyes slightly puffy, though his attempts to conceal it was commendable.  

You had met him a few times throughout your time in the mafia, through missions and jobs.  However, your interactions grew slightly more after meeting Oda.  You were aware of their odd friendship and that Oda trusted him, considering him a true, genuine friend.  That said, your respect for him was only for him as a superior, given your relationship to his pupil.  You were wary of the man at the door, unsure of why he would seek you of all people out, why he would come at such a late hour. 

“Odasaku is gone.”

It was the only thing he said before he dragged himself into your apartment, plonking himself down on your couch.  

Your ears rang with the words, your face displaying obvious disbelief.  He couldn’t be gone, that couldn’t be true, right? But you knew that Dazai would not be in your presence if it was fake. Your mind raced, what would you do without your mentor of light? What would the kids do? You hadn’t even thought about them yet, how would you break the news...

“They’re gone too.” 

As if reading your mind, Dazai lifted his head.  He recounted the events of Oda’s death to you and the death of the orphans.  As he spoke, he stared at the wall, it was apparent how desperate he was not to cry.  He looked almost innocent as the sorrow crossed his face. He turned to you.

“I’m leaving the mafia.  His last wish was for me to do something good, to live in the light and help people.  He asked if I could bring you with me.”

The former Demon Prodigy extended his hand to you, an invitation.  

And, without looking back, to honour the person you most looked up to, you took it.

Akutagawa knocked on your door.  One. Two. Three times.  No response.  You hadn’t been seen in days, he came to check on you.  The rest of the mafia was busying themselves with finding the former executive, now suspected traitor, but all he could think of was you.  He was finally ready to patch things up, ready to tell you how sorry he was.  Another knock.  No response again, so he busted down your door.  He’d apologise later but he had to talk to you first.  

Your apartment was empty, blank and cold - nothing like the warm environment it had been while you lived there.  Akutagawa tore through the apartment, room by room, still no sign.  You were gone.  

You had left and taken with you the last part of his soul that was not rage and despair.

[fandom-with-no-hope]

Ranting about that pokemon rp because I can't be normal anymore. We've had this going for two years. And a lot of shit happened

-All the drama from Unova and the bw games is canon + some things that we added for fun. It was with our main ocs

-we created a new region called Akkosia, with two legendaries & all. Unethical experiments & shit happened, someone was fusioned with his pokemon (it was my best friend Polaris), we overthrew the government, had to murder some evil people, took over the damned league, and had about 16 near death experiences. The whole Akkosia arc was insanely fun except that I probably cried 17 times because of Polaris alone.

And this is where it gets messy because we have like. 5 perspectives, all at once.

- had a sort of "beach episode" where our main characters spent a few days planning a festival in Alola. One of my oc (Sacha, whose best friend is Hoopa), met the love of his life (Marisa, whose best friend is Celebi). They also met Fukaku (he'll be more relevant later) *

-while this was happening, a guy from Akkosia (Mizuki) went to Kalos with his girlfriend (a former member of the Akkosia league / she was a villain but then she was spared). Most events from the Kalos games happened except like. 10 times worse. There was a second criminal organisation at work.

-Eden (former team Flare member, who was badly injured when the Supreme Weapon fired) was saved by Ringer (former member of the Black Eagles, the second evil organization) and they both had a lesbian escapade in. Spain. Where, after they got engaged, lost their house to a dramatic incident involving Darkrai (note: Darkrai used to belong to Mizuki).

-Darkrai Was caught by someone who can casually break the fourth wall, who gave an existential crisis to Eden, before she tried to find an "entertaining solution" in order to avoid catastrophes.

*going back to the main cast for a second. They went to Kalos because Sacha is looking for Hoopa's vase. Did I mention there's a cult in Kalos? Marisa traveled back in time hundred of times, in order to prevent Sacha from getting KILLED and he couldn't remember any of it

After this, they avoided problems a bit. Oh. No they didn't. Sacha and Marisa left to go on vacations in Kanto. It ended up terribly.

-Ringer faked her death. Eden joined team Rocket alongside Livio and Ekuren. They took over Kanto, became literally the best trio. Until they found Polaris (who is an escaped experiment), so Livio went ballistic (he's an experiment aswell and used to know Polaris until he abandoned him) so there was an entire arc where team Rocket was after Polaris (and they succeeded in catching him)

-The leader of team Rocket was eaten by Giratina and thus set Polaris free.

*A big cult, calling themselves "The Family" gained in influence. A small girl ran away and met the main group. Unfortunately, she's always been a bit different, but she befriended Fukaku, and they had a sibling - like relationship.

-Fukaku hunt down. And killed. All leaders of the Family. With one exception, being Mei, since she was mostly endoctrinated and not beyond reasoning

-Got tracked down by one experiment / daughter of one of the leaders (Orion), who was, in fact, spared. And who had to live with them, in order to repair her mecha

-Every single character was invited to a wedding (Sacha and Marisa). Even team Rocket.

Team Rocket got their redemption arc when the leader almost died so it's fine.

ALL THESE STORIES HAPPENING ALL AT Once and it's so hard to keep track of everything. I can't I legit cant'.

I have been mentally ill about this rp for. Years. And. Lukas. My bestie. Has the audacity to kill Fukaku after shit went down

So many character I didn't even mention Arael & Prismo, nor the Kalos dlc with Lyn & Floyd. I didn't even mention Yumeko (my boy) & Mikoto (Livio's lost brother)

So many things.

And the main characters

None of them had died thus far.

Unti' NOW.

But hey, at least I get to be happy Sacha and Pola are finally together again and this time they have something in common: they're both trans.

[artemisia-black]

The dark mark: imposing stigma on a privileged class.

In this meta, I am going to outline my theory that Voldemort administered the dark mark on his Death Eaters as a means of exercising control over them. And as a means of coercing them into loyalty.

1.0 Stigma and social power.

The word stigma is derived from the Greek word Stigmatos and refers to the tattoo/mark that was burned into the skin (usually the face) of slaves, criminals or traitors. This was to ensure that the person would always be marked and therefore be unable to integrate into society. Or pass unnoticed in a crowd.

In this day and age, stigma is now less of a tangible bodily marking and more of a cognitive/social marking.

The first real attempt to understand how stigma operates within society was by Erving Goffman in his 1963 book “Stigma: Notes on the management of a spoiled identity.”

In this book, Goffman defines stigma as a characteristic that is deeply discrediting, which disqualifies those who have the characteristic from social acceptance (Goffman.1963). According to Goffman these characteristics take three main forms:

• Physical differences such as a deformity

• Character based – associated with a characteristic. For the context of wizarding society, this is associated with being a Death Eater.

• Tribal based – such as belonging to a particular race or religion. Or within the context of the Wizarding world- blood status.

In addition to defining stigma as a discrediting characteristic, Goffman also defined stigma as being rooted in language. Where language is used to categorise and generalise anybody who exhibits a discredited characteristic (for example the use of the term ‘mudblood’).

Many people mitigate the effect of Stigmatising qualities by maintaining a façade which Goffman also explores.

According to Goffman face-to-face interactions govern and maintain the social order. And he states that people carry themselves much like players on a stage. This means that like the actors in an ancient Greek tragedy each individual wears a different mask and reads specific lines depending on the given situation.

Figure one: Ancient Greek theatre masks.

In summary, this means that the self is dependent on the scene we are currently acting in. This leads many to bury or deny unfavourable characteristics in order to not compromise their façade.

Goffman’s work has been built on and now includes discussions of social power. According to one paper, Stigma is,

“Central to the constitution of the (particular) social order.” (Parker et al. 2003)

Therefore, stigma seeks to maintain social order by ensuring that certain members of society are placed in a disempowered position by those in more powerful social positions.

At its essence social power is based on the fact that humans naturally form hierarchies, and these hierarchies occur in almost every aspect of our lives, from familial hierarchies to organisational hierarchies.

A good example of human social hierarchy was proposed in 1978 when discussing the power structure of a group of jurors (who had been strangers up to the point of observation). The researcher observed that the group quickly formed a hierarchy and those of a higher socio-economic background formed cliques, whilst those of a lower power merely observed in voluntary silence. Disturbingly he noted these cliques forming during a murder trial with the more powerful cliques changing the opinions of the less powerful (Christian.1978).

Much like the characteristics that stigmatise individuals, the characteristics that place individuals in positions of power differ in each context. However, the need to obtain positions of social power is almost ubiquitous. This is also a phenomenon that can be seen within the animal kingdom. Within a pride of Lions there is always an Alpha male, however when this alpha male becomes old/sick there is always a challenge for his leadership, and this is also seen within humans. An example of this is a person seeking election or a noble positioning a medieval king for more lands and serfs. Much like the feudal system, in order for there to be lords there must be serfs.

Therefore, stigmatisation is used in order to ensure that one group is always synonymous with the lesser, thus bolstering the social power of those in a higher social stratum.

2.0 Death eaters and social ruin

Within the context of the Wizarding world, muggle-born individuals bear the stigmatising quality of their blood.

And this stigmatisation is maintained by the mainly wealthy, pureblood elite in order to maintain their dominance of the social hierarchy.

Indeed, many of Voldemort’s inner circle are members of the wizarding world’s upper crust. So how does Voldemort keep them in line and more importantly how is he able to summon them to him when he has been presumed dead for 14 years?

In my opinion, it is because Voldemort understands the nature of stigma, particularly as he entered the wizarding world ostensibly as a muggle born.

So he has an understanding of being stigmatised and also understands that his inner circle of Death Eaters hold a great deal of social capital and privilege.

This makes them difficult to control in some ways (they have the means to nope out at any point) but also easy to control if you threaten their social standing using a physical stigmatising mark.

Whereas the dark mark is not widely known as a tattoo, it is known as a symbol of Voldemort and death/destruction:

“ Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed,” said Mr. Weasley. “The terror it inspired ... you have no idea, you’re too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you’re about to find inside. ..” GoF

So Voldemort strategically brands his social elite Death Eaters with the mark, which if revealed would send them tumbling down the social hierarchy. This would also explain why death-eaters who are already social pariahs, such as Greyback, do not receive them.

And would also explain the fear many of the DE demonstrated during the graveyard scene in GoF and why they returned despite their fear:

“The Death Eaters stirred, and Harry saw their eyes dart sideways at one another through their masks.” GoF

And why they wear masks during the Quidditch World cup scene.

Figure two: Death eater masks

The wearing of masks is also symbolic. While it is partly due to Voldemort operating a Mafia style system of people not knowing who is also part of a criminal syndicate. It also demonstrates an understanding of the social-ruin that comes from being a DE and are very reminiscent of the Greek masks discussed in Goffman.

In conclusion, Voldemort uses the Dark mark as a means of exercising control over his privileged follows using the threat of the system they uphold.

[angelmavmurdock]

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

-

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

-

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

-

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

-

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

[marvelloussynergy]

COMIC BOOK REFERENCES & EASTER EGGS - Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021)

The following is a guide to all the comic book references and Easter eggs I’ve spotted in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings along with any deviations from the source material. Note that owing to the convoluted and complex nature of comic books, I’ve tried to include only the most essential information regarding a character’s history and backstories.

In both media, Shang-Chi is known as an expert martial artist. As revealed in Special Marvel Edition #15 (1973), his comic book incarnation was raised at his father’s fortress in China. He was trained to fight by tutors and his father. At nineteen years of age, he was tasked by his father to assassinate Dr James Petrie (In the film, Shang-Chi is sent to kill the leader of the Iron Gang). After completing this assignment (in actuality Shang-Chi had attacked an android facsimile), he meets MI6 agent Sir Denis Nayland Smith, who reveals to him that his father is a criminal and not the noble man he was led to believe growing up. Shang-Chi returns to his father who confirms what he has learned. With this, Shang-Chi leaves, declaring that they are now enemies, and begins a new life in New York. Notably, this version of the character is half Chinese, with his mother being a White American. In the film, Shang-Chi’s mother, Jiang Li, is of Asian descent.

Wenwu is an amalgamation of two characters from the source material: the Mandarin and Fu Manchu. Though he claims to be a direct descendant of Genghis Khan, the comic book incarnation of the Mandarin was born to an unknown Chinese father and English mother who was a prostitute. In addition to being a superb martial artist and tactician, he possesses ten rings (worn on his fingers; in the film, they’re akin to bracelets), each of which grants him a different power. The ring worn on his right thumb allows him to rearrange matter, the ring on his right index finger can generate a concussive force, the one on his right middle finger enables the Mandarin to create a vortex from the air, the one on his right ring finger produces a disintegration beam, the one on his right little finger generates an area of darkness, the ring worn on his left thumb produces a range of electromagnetic energy, the ring on his left index finger can generate heat and flames, the one on his left middle finger discharges electricity, the one on his left ring finger enhances his psionic energy, and the one on his left little finger generates cold and ice. The Mandarin obtained the objects from the wreckage of a spaceship belonging to the Makluans (also known as Kakaranatharian).

In the comics, Fu Manchu is Shang-Chi’s father. He leads the secret organisation Si-Fan and has several bases around the world including one in Hunan, China. He’s a skilled combatant and has lived an extremely long life due to his consumption of the Elixir Vitae (In the MCU, Wenwu’s longevity is attributed to the ten rings). Fu Manchu was created by English author Sax Rohmer and featured in several novels before Marvel acquired the licence to use the character in their comics. With Marvel no longer having the rights to Fu Manchu, in Secret Avengers #8 (2010) it’s revealed that the character’s real name is Zheng Zu, with Fu Manchu being one of several aliases he’s used throughout the years.

While Xialing is a new character created for the film, Shang-Chi does have many siblings in the comics. The first one we learn about is Fah Lo Suee (another Rohmer creation), Shang-Chi’s half-sister. Although she initially sides with her father, she would go on to oppose him. Fah Lo Suee made her first Marvel Comics appearance in Master of Kung Fu #26 (1975). Then there’s Moving Shadow, Shang-Chi’s younger half-brother, who made his debut in Shang-Chi: Master of Kung Fu #1 (2002). First appearing in Black Panther #11 (2005) is Kwai Far, Shang-Chi’s sister who was offered as a bride to T’Challa. The story “Brothers and Sisters” (Shang-Chi #1-5, 2020-21)—released during production on Shang-Chi—would reveal the existence of even more siblings: Brother Staff, Shi-Hua/Sister Hammer, Takeshi/Brother Sabre, and Esme/Sister Dagger.

The Golden Daggers club is a reference to the Golden Dagger Sect of the comics, a criminal organisation led by Fah Lo Suee.

The comic book incarnation of Li Ching-Lin/Death-Dealer is an assassin and former MI6 agent who worked for Fu Manchu. He’s an experienced martial artist who wields triple-bladed weapons.

Several characters have used the Razor-Fist moniker in the comics. The first was William Young, who made his debut in Master of Kung Fu #29 (1975). Later, brothers Douglas and William Scott took on the identity. The pair first appeared in Master of Kung Fu #105 (1981). All three Razor-Fists have worked for drug lord Carlton Velcro. As their name implies, each of the Razor-Fists have had one or both their hands replaced with steel blades. The MCU version of Razor Fist, with his connection to the Ten Rings, may be partially based on the Razor Fist from Earth-13116. In this reality, the character is a student at the Ten Rings martial arts school (with the Master of the Ten Rings, Zheng Zu, being the emperor of K’un Lun).

In the comics, Ta-Lo is an extradimensional realm that’s home to the Xian (or Taoist gods). Creatures such as fenghuang, dragons, and haetae also inhabit the dimension. It made its first appearance in Thor #301 (1980).

In the film, the creature trapped in Ta Lo is referred to as the Dweller-in-Darkness. The comic book incarnation of the Dweller-in-Darkness originates from the Everinnye dimension and exists only as a head (though does use a robotic body). The Dweller-in-Darkness has the ability to cause others to feel fear, which he feeds off, making him more powerful.

There are also several MCU Easter eggs. The Blip is referenced on a poster while the Snap is alluded to by one of Shang-Chi’s friends. The street vendor from Spider-Man: Homecoming is a passenger on the bus when Shang-Chi fights Razor Fist. The Abomination (who now appears more reptilian per his comic book counterpart) fights Wong at the Golden Daggers club. Other contestants at the club include an Extremis soldier and an Asian Black Widow (we find out that her name is Helen). Wenwu watches footage of Tony Stark being held captive by the Ten Rings (taken from Iron Man). Wenwu holds Trevor Slattery prisoner having broken the actor free from Seagate Prison in All Hail the King. Shang-Chi meets Bruce Banner and Captain Marvel in the mid-credits scene.

Like the Facebook page. Follow on Instagram. Get the books: Phase One | Phase Two | Phase Three Listen to the podcast: Anchor | Breaker | Google Podcasts | Spotify

[mottlemoth]

Hey there, Moth!! I just finished Dr Holmes' 2nd part and started with A Matter of Evidence. I love it soooo much that I dont have words to describe that. It is one of the most wholesome fics I have read😍😍. I dont know how the courts or police function in UK. But I had a question: Will Helen,or rather the courts, be able to access the phone records, the messages of Greg and Mycroft's mobiles? Because if they can, wont their relationship come out? (1/2) - Anon

Hiyya Moth!! I am so sorry to ask that question. I hope I have not offended you by asking that. I absolutely love the plotline of your story, it was just that the question kept going through my head and I wanted to ask. In my country, they can use phone records as evidence, hence the doubt. Once again, I am really sorry if I have offended you by asking questions about your plot. Lots of love. (2/2) -Anon

Hi, secret person! ❤️ Don’t be sorry at all - thank you for asking. Curious questions are always welcome. I’ve done a lot of research while figuring out the plot for Dr Holmes and it’s nice to be able to share some of it.

Here’s the short answer: here in the UK, those kind of powers are only available to the police, and only when they're involved in the detection or prevention of an actual criminal offence. (Or if they have grounds to believe there’s a risk to national security.) Greg and Mycroft’s relationship is unethical, but it’s not illegal. 

So in a nutshell, don’t worry. She can’t do that.

[Beneath the cut: extended answer and discussion of the swirling vortex of legal and ethical nightmares that is Dr Holmes.]

Okay, so: even if there was a crime suspected, the UK police couldn’t just snap their fingers and be handed all the data they need. Let’s say either Greg or Mycroft was under the age of consent. That would mean an offence has possibly been committed, and the police might want to access phone and data records looking for evidence. They’d first need to prove there are reasonable grounds for suspicion. Then, some apps and service providers will only hand over certain elements of the data. I know for instance that when it comes to WhatsApp, the messages are encrypted end to end, so the police can’t actually read the content of the messages. WhatsApp would only confirm times of messages, how many were sent, etc. (There are more details about this here, for anyone interested.)

These laws are evolving at lightning speed to keep up with technology. Privacy debates are a massive thing, and this post might be out of date before I’ve even finished typing it.

But in short, there’s no way that Helen could legally get hold of Greg’s private messages to Mycroft. It makes sense, considering the implications of a world where she could. Anyone could access anyone else’s private messages at any time, just by saying, “I think this might possibly prevent a crime.” (or, “I think my partner might possibly be having an affair.”) There’d be no such thing as privacy.

Side ramble: researching this story has been crazy. I’ve learned all about injunctions and non-molestation orders. I’ve learned all about legal grounds for divorce. I’ve learned all about complaints procedures against therapists. (It differs between organisations, but it’s likely that Mycroft would belong to COSRT. Their complaints policy is an absolute beast of a document. I had to learn what would happen at every single stage of that process before I could decide what I was going to write about it.) So much research. It’s been wild. The situation in Dr Holmes is such an ethical and legal mess that figuring out a plot has been a massive undertaking.

For instance - and this is just for fun, okay, don’t expect this to happen in the story - let’s say at an early stage in the planning, I came up with a plot like ‘Helen steals Greg’s phone and the contents get Mycroft fired’. She takes the phone from Greg’s car one night, cracks the passcode and presents its contents as evidence to Mycroft’s professional body. Mycroft loses his job, the end. 

Seems solid, right?

Nope.

Looking into it, Mycroft’s professional body would probably report her to the police at once. If they laid so much as a finger on that phone, Greg would sue them inside out. He’s not given them permission to look through his phone. “We’re searching for evidence of misconduct by one of our members” isn’t going to hold up in court because the professional body are not the police. They don’t have the legal powers to search that phone. And even if they were the police, and even if they did have the legal powers, they’d have to be looking for evidence of a criminal offence, not an ethical one - and the only criminal offence that’s demonstrably taken place is the one where Helen stole a mobile phone.

On top of this, there are also narrative considerations. 

Following the same example, stealing a mobile phone is a fairly minor offence, especially if it’s Helen’s first. It definitely wouldn’t warrant a prison sentence. So if I ran with this phone-stealing plot, it would take chapters and chapters to write but Mycroft wouldn’t actually lose his job, Helen wouldn’t actually go to prison, and nothing would actually change. We’d be right back where we started. That’s not a satisfying story. 

It’s been a real challenge putting together a plot that’s fun to read, legally sound, and ends somewhere happy for the characters. I hope everybody will enjoy it. 

We’ll have to see ❤️

[tomsandal]

A Cup to go

a/n: brought to you by me asking what should i write and Pap answering "coffee shop au or whatever people write about these days"

characters: červená kapota, tom sandál, leva p. pneumatika (background), tobi polobotka (background)

warnings: none

words: 4,6k

The Luxorn cup

Part of the Artanar sterling silver tea and coffee set, originally belonging to a bygone Liechtenstein royal family and currently one of the most expensive antiques in the world. And that is for a good reason. The set is decorated with accents of gold and embellished with an array of rubies, garnets and red opals, with a large fire opal as its centrepiece.

All of that makes it shiny enough to make any respected lawbreaker want to get their hands on it.

It comes as a surprise then, that this piece of treasure is not sought after very much. That is, because it just so happened, that many years back this set was being transported across the pacific to a highly acclaimed auction when it mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again in the light of day.

That is, until now.

Word has been going around the streets of a certain long lost cup set piece. A hint here, a suggestion there and suddenly there is even a rumoured location. Location in the shape of a very unassuming coffee shop.

In front of which stood a certain red-clad thief.

Červená Kapota scanned the storefront of the shop from the other side of the street. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The outlet was painted in cheerful pastel colours with their display boards full of saccharine sweet words written in excessive loops and currently accomodating a fair share of customers inside. She got to give it to them, if this all truly is just a front for a criminal organisation, then they did a mighty fine job with it. What a cheeky plan though, simply hide a cup in a coffee shop and everyone is none the wiser. Well, except her obviously.

That's why she is here in the first place.

A week ago she applied for a job there, with a plan to assimilate with the staff and find out where the famed teaware was hiding and swoop it right under their noses. Easy job, just in and out, a deserved rest after her painstaking previous venture. So she didn’t need to worry about ruining her current streak of successful heists.

And luck seemed to be on her side.

Earlier that day Kapota received an email from the store owner, informing her that her application was accepted and to show up to the interview at -about now- o’clock, actually. She looked up from her watch and with a last glance at their display windows, she made her way inside.

The door opened with a cute little jingle and the heavy coffee aroma hit her right in the nose. Disoriented for a second, she quickly surveyed the place before proceeding to the counter with confident steps. Once there, an employee with a high ponytail and cherry drop earrings looked up at her and fixed her with a trained smile.

“Hello and Welcome dear, you are here for the interview, right?” the barista addressed her cheerfully.

“That would be me, yes”

“Good, good. Your resume passed with flying colours and the manager will see you now.”

Of course it did, I am no amateur after all. This will be a piece of cake.

“Now if you would please follow me to the backroom, the other person is already there so yall can get right to it”

...

The what

Before Kapota had any time to voice her confusion, the aforementioned barista led her to the back of the shop, knocked on a door at the very end of the hallway, gave her a reassuring smile and left her to her own devices.

Upon hearing “Enter.” from the other side, she took a deep breath and opened the door, peering inside.

The manager sat behind a desk with two other seats in front of him.

The one on the right was empty. But the one on the left was already occupied.

Said occupant was sitting back leisurely with one hand hanging over the backrest and a head full of loud purple hair.

oh...

oh no.

Kapota cursed inwardly when the person turned around, and it did in fact turn out to be the very same guy she was expecting, coincidentally also the actual last person she would want to see right now at this very moment in this very office.

Once he turned around and took a look at her, his face turned to a brief expression of surprise but he shook it off quickly and in its place was a beaming smug grin that could be mistaken for a friendly smile by anyone else, but she knew better.

“You!” she growled and pointed at him accusatory.

“Hii Red” he simply shot back with a wink.

The audacity. What a no-good, infuriating, pompous peac-

“Ah miss Redd! Come, come. Take a seat please.” interrupted the manager, quite rudely, her train of thoughts.

“So..” he continued as she sat down, “I take it that you two have met before, is that right”

Her workmate turned his attention back to said man and with his million-dollar smile, he answered “Oh! yeah, yeah, we go way back, chums pretty much”

“Just coworkers,” she shot back.

“professional associates☆”

“acquaintances at best.”

“You wound me”

“Good.”

“ow-” “-So as I see it,” interfered the manager (yet once again), “this situation turned out as well as it could have! Since it seems that both of you are acquainted with each other already, there won't be any reason for any petty rivalry out there.” they glanced at each other, wearing the same expression, “because, you see, well we, unfortunately, have only one spot on the staff free. And you might be wondering, what now? There is two of you. Well, both of you will simply go out there and will show us if you got what it takes and I’ll pick who will be staying at the end of your shifts”

when neither of them said anything he just shooed them away with his hands and finished with “that would be all thank you, ask Marcy to give you your uniforms and run-down of the place.”

As they were getting up, she looked back at her involuntarily gained companion and suppressed a sigh. It's not that she disliked the guy that much, but with the nuisance incarnate Tom himself here, there wasn’t a single chance of this going according to plan.

///

So far so good, thought a certain Tom Sandál to himself, while picking scattered porcelain shards from the floor.

It’s already been an hour since he has been reassigned to a server instead of a barista and this is only the first cup he broke! Going strong here!

When they started their shifts, he was the one they picked first to go work behind the counter, which they regretted soon enough and pulled him from there. Yeah so he may or may not know actual nothing on how to make a decent cup of coffee or operate any of their machinery but he tried his best, and it's not like Kap lasted in that position that much longer than him when they put her there to replace him. Admittedly she actually took to it a bit better than him and managed to make it work for her, which comes as a surprise in all regards since he was pretty sure that she didn’t like coffee one bit. Suspicious.

Speaking of suspicious, he’s also pretty sure she tried to poison him twice at least in her reign behind the counter, which yes, justified, but still.

He was being a cheek and ordered a cup for himself since there weren’t many people in and there wasn’t much to do. When he got his cup, instead of the typical caramelized nutty smell of a coffee there was something he couldn't quite place but very much out of place and on top of that there was a cream poured art in the shape of a skull in the foam. When he looked back at her with a quirked eyebrow in a silent question she just smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Never has he been this torn in making a decision. Prove a point or stay unpoisoned, choices, choices.

He didn’t dare drink it in the end.

But it was close.

The second time he did it, because yes of course he pulled it twice, he - definitely intentionally and according to plan not just a mistake thankyou- switched orders around and his poisoned cup of coffee ended up with a customer.

After that Kapota has been stripped of her coffee-making privileges and demoted to a server. So now they are both on the same playing field, only needing to look out for nudges from the other one when they are balancing a particularly high stack of tableware.

Tom finished sweeping all the stray bits of porcelain from the floor and dumped them in a bin.

A Job well done, I deserve a cookie.

And with that, he in fact pulled out a cookie from the front pocket of his apron.

Tobi swinged by the shop earlier to drop off his lunch, and also to make fun of him, but they also brought the said cookies so all is forgiven.

Munching on a cookie, he turned to the task at hand and got back to picking up cups and plates from empty seats.

When he was at his third table, with a decently sized cup tower in hands, something behind him caught his attention. Turning slightly, he saw his ol pal Kap standing over a table next to a seated customer with wavy dirty blond hair and a kind smile. The surprising part was that they seemed to be in the middle of a civil conversation.

“Well I be damned” he murmured to himself and leaned towards them.

Kapota of all people being able to make friends that fast? He was almost proud. Unless of course, it i-

/crash/

...

Aaaand that makes it a cup number two.

///

“I don't know… just give me the speciality of the house”

“Leva please I've literally worked here for two hours just pick”

///

Getting inside the head office and swiping classified documents unnoticed has been laughably easy.

When no one was looking, Kapota sneaked off to the backrooms and after confirming that the air was clear, slipped inside the now empty manager's office. With the soft click of closing doors behind her, she quickly scanned the room to see what she could work with. A computer, a corkboard, a card file cabinet and a large painting. Knowing that she was on borrowed time, she quickly proceeded with the task at hand. First, she inspected the corkboard, since it was closest to the door. A quick inspection showed that this was a dead-end, nothing more than useless paper junk and employees of the month, as she partly expected. On the other hand, the computer being also a dead end was a surprise. She searched through it back and forth and yet there was nothing relating to the cup or any nefarious activities, to be frank, there was hardly anything on the computer in general. Not good. Next, she probed the painting, an abstract piece with a decorated frame, hopefully hiding anything of use behind it. She gently lifted it off the wall and to her growing disappointment found only a bare wall hiding behind it. She took a peek at the back of the canvas, hoping to find at least some helpful note tucked to the frame, but all that was there was scribbled “dedicated to S.M., who wont pick up my calls”. She frowned and put the painting back a bit crooked.

“Looks like we’ll have to do this the old fashion way”, she said to herself as she made her way towards the card file cabinet and cracked her knuckles.

Bills, order lists, inventory stocktaking, employee files, folders upon folders of junk. Not looking good so far. She kept thumbing through the folders some more when finally a word caught her attention. “Combination safe”. The document itself was quite chaotic and all over the place, but Kapota gathered the meaning of it loud and clear. There was a safe somewhere in the building, with the combination to it scribbled charitably at the bottom of the page. Not only that, but it wasn’t just any safe that would hold the company’s earnings or anything. No, this was apparently the manager's own personal secret safe. That was about to swiftly change, sharing is caring after all.

She stashed all the folders back and turned to leave the place with her newfound goal. Though when she was across the office something made her scramble in place and dive under the desk. Something that was very unmistakenly footstep sounding, which was confirmed by the creak of the door seconds later.

Glueing herself to the inside of the desk, she held her breath and willed the person to just turn around and leave. This was far from the first time she was in a situation like this but it was nerve-wracking all the same. Few tense moments passed by and the person finally moved towards the desk.

I am a shadow the shadow is me you don't see me you cant see me you wont-

The person sat a paper cup upon the desk and promptly left.

Few more moments passed until the footsteps fully faded and Kapota finally let out the breath she was holding and quickly made her escape from the office.

///

The place consisted of the main room, with a second story of sorts that overlooked the bottom floor, an adjacent kitchen and back hallways that led to the aforementioned office, storeroom and a door to the back alley.

The main room and kitchen were currently a no-go. Can’t snoop around if everyone is pestering you to work and questioning everything you do. The second story was just filled with plants and didn’t offer any seatings for customers so it should be devoid of anyone, but you could also see there from the main room, so snooping there right now is risque as well. So that left Kapota with the office, storeroom, hallways and the back alley for all she knows.

Since the office was already checked, she proceeded to go through the storeroom next but came out empty-handed as well.

So now she was crawling along a wall in the middle of a hallway, prodding the wall for any secrets, step after step.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock kn-/

“I didn’t expect this place to have a boogeymen problem when I applied, they should probably do something about that before things get out of hands”

She didn't even look back, she knew perfectly who that was.

“Don’t you have tea to serve or something”

“I'm pretty sure its coffee and same goes to you”,

“Cool, cool”, she pinched the bridge of her nose “but we can’t both be missing, so go back or you’ll blow my cover.”

“Good”

what a prick.

She decided to not grace him with a response and just went back to her wall scrutiny.

She only managed to cover a few more meters of the hallway before Tom broke the silence again.

“So... why are you creeping in the shadows in the first place”

Now she looked back at him with a smile.

“Let’s just say that the higher-ups have been liberated of a certain safe intel”, she responded lightly before turning back to the wall.

Behind her echoed a commending whistle accompanied by “As expected of the resident sneakster” and then the hallway was filled with the sounds of her work yet once again.

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

“It's just a shame that my sources say something different”

/knock/

...

“Sources?”

“Oh you know...” he drawled with an audible grin “just chit chat here chit chat there with my dear coworkers, really bonded ykno”

“What, How did you make them trust you and spill so quickly, we haven’t been here longer than a few hours.”

“You’d be surprised what people will tell you for a cookie ;]”

Kapota, now fully facing Tom, just blinked for a few moments before gathering her thoughts.

“So hypothetically if i handed you a metaphorical cookie at this very moment could you disclose with me what this great source of yours said.”

“Well then hypothetically, I heard through the grapevine that mr bossman is quite particular about his flowers. Everyone says they look very fake up close but weirdly enough, everyone is also strictly forbidden from touching them or moving them even a centimeter from their spot, lest they wilt”, he finished with a dramatic sigh, before switching his expression to a mischievous smirk and continuing, “So of course i am currently on my way to dig through the dirt and see if there are hidden goodies”

Kapota thought about it for a while, it was very far-fetched, but not implausible. But it still didn’t fully add up and left loose ends…

“Alright flowerboy, but then explain why there were documents talking about spicy little secret safe that the manager is keeping to himself.”

Few beats of silence passed between them before they both exclaimed at the same time.

“The safe is hidden by a flowerpot!”

They were both wearing matching grins, which upon realization promptly morphed into matching glares.

What now.

...

“Alright thanks for the company, but it's time for you to return to the floor now. scram”, Kapota started pointedly and shooed him away with her hands.

“As if!” shot Tom right back. “You wouldn’t even know where to go if it weren’t for me.”

“First of all, I would get there eventually! And secondly, we can’t both disappear from our shifts, people will get suspicious and we will get easily spotted!”

“Well I’m going now and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“But I was here first!”

“I didn’t ask!!”

They held each other's glares. No one was blinking.

“Listen...” began Tom cautiously. “This is getting us nowhere, how about we decide the old fashion way”

Kapota squinted at him as he proceeded to rummage through his pockets and made a small sound of realization when he held out a small coin for her to see.

“A coin flip”

“Exactly”

“I swear Sandals if you say something like ‘tails i go get the loot, heads you go back serving’ i swear i will-”

“Nononon non ok nothing like that I swear just tails you get to go, heads i get to go?”

“... In that case that we could do yeah”

“Nice, nice, so can we blink now?”

“I suppose so”

“Neato”, the staring ended with that and Tom brought his free hand to his eyes.

“I have one condition for it though”, continued Kapota as she rubbed her sore eyes as well.

“I don't want your “showman hands” anywhere near that flip, so no catching or hand slapping and possible rigging of yours will be going on.”

“Fair I suppose, so I just flip it and let it clatter to the ground you say?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of me doing the coin catching.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then floor shall be our judge”

And with that the deciding flip was flipped, the metal gleamed in the shabby ceiling light and filled the whole hallway with anticipation.

As if in slow motion it turned

once

twice

thrice

and then it swiftly fell down and right in the gap between floor panels and clattered to a layer underneath them.

No one moved.

…

“I don’t think I have another coin”, piped quietly Tom.

“The floor is our judge”

“pardon?”

“The floor is our judge.”, repeated Kapota, now a bit more loudly. “We have to find out what the judgement is.”

“What does that, huh? So we are going to tear the floor apart to see what it landed on, or?”

“Yes.”

“...well, lets get to work then, shall we”

///

For anyone wondering, it takes one broken floor plank and a baffled employee to be demoted to a floor sweeper.

///

“That could have gone better”, murmured Tom to himself.

He and his floor vandalizing accomplice were currently stashed in the back of the main room with brooms in hands. Far enough to not be in the way but close enough to be watched over.

Thankfully they weren’t immediately thrown out when they were ungracefully caught with bits of flooring in their hands. He managed to, fortunately, swiftly sweet talk them out of their predicament so now they weren’t personnel suspicious of criminal activity but just two idiot clowns. And while yes, not being thrown out or arrested was sweet indeed, this outcome was not that ideal either. But what's done is done.

So Tom just leaned back against the wall and lamented.

“All that work and we haven’t even found out who won in the end.”

He would have continued to wail some more but a swift bonk to the head from his partner in crime stopped his next lament and instead he just let out a hiss of pain. He looked at her questioningly, because what was that for, but he only received a nod and tipping of her broom (that had been used for the bonkage moment prior) towards the dustpan in his hand. Upon further inspection, it turned out that his wall leaning, while effective for dramatic effect, also tipped over his dustpan and now most of it was back on the floor.

“Ay ay kaptn’ im I am on it Im on it..”, he muttered as he crouched down. “You could have informed me a bit more gently though. I will have a bruise for sure and we’re stuck here for a little while longer and you’re not exactly the one I would want to kiss it better” He dodged from her range with a cackle as she raised the broom threateningly once more.

They continued to sweep peacefully, each in their little corner.

“So… buddy..”

A humm of acknowledgement.

“What do you think are the odds of us being able to scamper off to grab the goods”

To that Kapota chuckled and responded with a small smile. “I think we have better chances of getting promoted than them letting us go anywhere out of their sight”

“drat”

“I second that”

Kapota then proceeded to lean on her broom tiredly.

Not the best of napping places, thought Tom to himself. He should probably be a good friend and provide her with somewhere more comfortable to rest. Like, the floor, for example. And by ‘provide’ meaning deliver a swift kick to her broom as a payback for the bonk. But he decided to be the bigger man and opted to not go through with it and let her be.

For about ten seconds.

///

So this was it.

They were seated again in the bossman’s office just like the many hours before that, except now they were waiting for the big reveal. Which one of them will get the spot and with that a chance to try again the next day. He wasn't delusional and knew neither he or Kap made a great first impression, but now it all comes to who was more of a disaster. He hadn’t looked to his right, but knew his competition next to him was as tense as he.

The manager finally decided to speak.

“Well, how do I put this.” Doesn’t matter, just put it out somehow please. “You have both shown that you are very passionate and prepared to put your all into this and I must commend you for that. But the thing is. Well… after a long evaluation, um I have decided that unfortunately neither of you get the job”. He paused for a short moment before briskly continuing so they couldn't get their two cents in. “It wasn’t an easy decision”, he coughed slightly, “but some, hm, alarming factors pushed me to make this decision. Thank you for your time, it was lovely having you here but I would kindly request of you to take your leave now. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”

///

Tom climbed the last few stairs leading to his door and with a jingle of keys promptly entered inside.

“heeyo I’m home”, he called as he closed the door behind him. In response, he got a muffled “Welcome home” from the kitchen and soft pitter-patter of little feet. Soon enough accompanying the patters was a grey cat-shaped furball striding towards him. He picked up said fuzz and nuzzled it in greeting.

“Hewwo Bean did’cha miss me little buddy?” cooed Tom at the cat which bapped him swiftly in the nose as a response.

“That is not his name and you know it.”, replied a scolding voice from the kitchen.

Tom just laughed and made his way to his dearest with a purring bundle of fluff in his arms. Tobi was standing at the counter, donned in a green sweater and hair in a bun, seemingly finishing putting away whatever it was they were using beforehand. Tom hopped onto the counter next to them.

“I won’t get a hewwo?”, they said over their shoulder.

“in this economy? We’re all out, sorry”

Tobi just smiled and after putting away the last glass they turned to Tom and put their arms around him and mr. Socks and planted a little kiss on their boyfriend’s brow.

“Care for a cup of coffee after a long day?”, they inquired mischievously.

“Don’t ask me anything like that in the next few months and I might find some leftover hewwo stock somewhere.”

Tobi chuckled and murmured in his hair “How generous. Should I put the kettle on instead? Care for a spot of tea perhaps. ”

“That would be absolutely perfect thank uu”

Tom might not have gotten his hands on the famed Luxorn cup, but a cup of tea from his partner seemed even better at the moment.

///

Kapota was standing at the doorstep to her apartment building, wanting to savour the pleasant crisp air for a while longer before going inside. She got here only now, even though she got kicked out of the coffee shop a few hours prior already, but Leva brought her along to their little personal pity party of sorts, to cheer her up. And don’t take her wrong, she had fun and was actually feeling better even though the plan was a bust, because Leva just had that effect on people, but she was exhausted and looking forward to going home and crashing down. So with a last deep breath, she entered the building and began her climb up the many stairs.

After her conquer of the staircase she unlocked her door and entered the comfortable familiarity of her apartment.

“Hey everyone I’m home.”, she called and back replied bubbling water and an oxygen pump whirring.

She put away her coat and shoes and made her way toward her fish tank, grabbing a box of fish food on her way there. She then proceeded to greet all of her bushnosed babeis. All very beautiful. Very powerful.

Once they were all accounted for and fed, Kapota all but fell to her armchair next to the fish tank. Letting out a content sigh, she burrowed down in the soft plush and relaxed. This was fine. This was nice.

She could hardly even remember what she was so bummed out about.

Oh yeah wait. Stupid gaudy cup. Who needs it anyway? She has plenty of cups right here.

So who cares that the heist was unsuccessful, at least she messed up Tom’s plans as well so he’s gone home empty-handed with her, and that's in her books just as much of a success as actually getting the prize.

And with that, she drifted off.

[princesstreaclefanfic]

Criminal Minds Kinktober 2019 Day Ten

Disclaimer - All recognisable characters belong to their original owners. I do not make a profit from writing this; I simply do it for my own amusement. No copyright infringement intended.

Aphrodisiac / Sex Pollen

It was the annual dinner, nothing special, yet JJ and Prentiss are determined to make sure Alvez and Garcia leave together - there's just one problem, they don't know the full story.

Luke glared at Prentiss from across the room, scowling as he sipped at his wine and tried his best to ignore the woman next to him sipping her drink.

It was the annual team dinner and as usual, Prentiss had organised the whole thing. She'd had some help from JJ and one evening he had overheard the two of them discussing what to do about him and Garcia. They'd been wanting to get them together for a long time and had decided to do something about it.

"Okay," Prentiss began, "for the main, we have oysters with asparagus and for dessert, we have strawberries dipped in chocolate! We just need to decide on an appetiser."

JJ giggled. "It's perfect - everything is an aphrodisiac; that will definitely get them going!"

"I don't know why they haven't got together yet…" Prentiss hummed speculatively.

"The attraction is clearly there. They need to stop fighting it."

"They're both as stubborn as each other." He could hear the eye roll in JJ's voice.

"That's why we have to do it for them - we will get Penelope and Luke together."

When Luke had heard that he had smiled, grinning from ear to ear as he backed away from the door slowly, struggling not to chuckle to himself.

As he got into the elevator, he pulled his phone from his bag and dialled the now familiar number.

After a few rings, she answered.

"Hello, you've reached your own personal sex goddess, how may I help you?"

"Hey, P," he greeted, his heart speeding up when he heard her voice. "You're not going to believe what I overheard…"

Yes - that's right. He and Penelope were already dating. It was like a stupid rom-com, it happened late one night when it was only the two of them in the office. They'd been bickering one moment and the next she was riding him as he sat in his office chair. They'd been inseparable since. They had yet to tell the team they were together. It had been two months and Luke knew this was it. Penelope Garcia was the only one he would ever want and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to make it official, in as many ways as he could.

Penelope had admitted she loved him but didn't want the team to know, not right away. She didn't want them to meddle in their relationship and to be quite honest, Luke was starting to find their countless attempts to set them up hilarious. They were purposefully sat next to each other at meetings, it was him he who to call Garcia when they went out of state and they were constantly pushed to work together - they didn't mind one bit.

He was currently trying to ignore her as she was wearing a dress that he was certain was made to kill him. It was a deep red and revealed a generous portion of her cleavage. It was floor length with a slit up the thigh and she had paired it with black high heels that had a strap that wrapped around her ankle rather seductively. She was wearing very little makeup but her bold red lip made him want to push her up against the wall and kiss her until her lipstick came off.

"Why are you ignoring me, Newbie?" her captivating voice asked and when he glanced at her, she quirked her eyebrow and bit her lip.

"Stop it," he growled, feeling himself harden in his slacks. "You know what you're doing to me and it needs to stop." He tried to look angry but failed miserably.

"You love it," she teased and he had to admit - he did.

Dinner was a torturous affair. He had to watch her pouty red lips as they wrapped around each piece of food on her fork and she moaned with delight, meeting his eyes from across the table every single time. At one point, she dropped some food on her cleavage and used her finger to wipe it up. Luke was desperate to know if it tasted better when it came from her skin - it probably would.

At one point, she dropped her unused spoon on the floor and crept under the table to apologise. She gave Luke a grin but he hadn't thought anything of it, not until he felt her hand on his crotch, palming his once sleeping erection. He jumped about a foot in the air and scared JJ who was sat next to him.

When she had asked what was wrong, he'd turned a deep shade of red and stammered out some excuse about his body jerking for a random reason. Penelope had returned to her seat opposite him and shook her head, her tongue running across her lip as he mentally cursed her.

After the desert when he had been forced to watch her lick chocolate from strawberries she had excused herself to the bathroom. He'd waited and then followed.

The bathrooms were secluded off on their own floor, so when she emerged from the bathroom, Luke pounced on her, pushing her up against the wall and kissing her for all it was worth.

Penelope moaned and kissed him back, grinning into his mouth.

"Something got you all hot and bothered Newbie?" she managed to murmur against his insistent lips.

"Shut up," he growled, tired of her mouth and the things it could do to him. His hands roughly grabbed her waist and he kissed her fiercely, pouring everything he had spent the last few hours keeping pent up out. His lips were strong against hers and in no time at all she was clawing at his back and pressing her hips forward, demanding he give her more.

One hand of his trailed down her body, caressing the soft dress before it slipped into the slit at her thigh and felt the creamy skin that was kept hidden.

His fingers ran up and down, teasing her as he got closer and closer to his destination.

She mewled when his fingers lightly touched her through her underwear, her head ripping away from his as she leaned her head against the wall behind her and closed her eyes, waiting for the pleasure she knew he could bring to her.

Luke was gentle, lightly fondling her, a quick press to her clit and then applying more pressure as he dragged his fingers up and down. One thing he had learnt about Penelope Garcia was that sexually, she was extremely responsive to him. There hadn't been a time when she hadn't come first when they were together. Her nipples puckered when he looked at them and when they had their morning sexcapades she was often warm and wet for him before he had even so much as laid a finger on her.

Her back arched and she pressed into his fingers more, not caring that anybody could come up the stairs and see them. She wanted Luke and she wanted him now.

"You've been teasing me all night," he whispered into her ear, moving closer. "Wearing that dress, eating the food like a pornstar and grabbing my cock under the table," he tsked. "Well, we can't have you doing that can we?"

She shook her head, completely hypnotised by him, his words and his fingers.

"I'll just have to punish you." With that, he pulled his fingers away and stepped back, smoothing out his jacket where she had grabbed him.

Her eyes shot open and she stared at him.

"What are you doing?" The glimmer of desire was still fresh in her eyes.

"You teased me - and I teased you." He began to back away from her. "Don't worry, I'll finish you off later." He winked and watched as she shook her head in disbelief.

"Besides - it will give the aphrodisiacs time to work." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she let out a loud laugh. He loved that he could make her happy.

"I don't need any aphrodisiacs, Luke," she told his as she approached him and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Not when it comes to you."

Unable to help himself, he leaned down and kissed her, his arms pulling her close and holding her to him.

"I knew it!" a loud voice shouted and the two pulled away from each other to see JJ stood looking at them with a triumphant smile on her face.

Before either Penelope or Luke could say anything, she JJ turned and practically ran down the stairs. "Emily! Emily! It worked - the aphrodisiacs worked; we got them together!"

Luke and Penelope shared a look before smiling at one another and following JJ back to the dinner. They'd tell her another time they had been dating for a while. She was so happy and neither one wanted to burst her bubble.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations DEAN! You’ve been accepted as JANUS with a FC change to CASEY DEIDRICK.

Dean, first let me say that when I saw an app from you in our inbox I screamed! Now, onto business. The way you created a backstory for Jackson that starts in Las Vegas and ends in Chicago kept me hanging on each and every word. I have to admit, the detail about how there’s only one form of identification with his true face and name was one of my favorite parts! I also loved how you broke name his name - it’s a little detail that went a long way in figuring out who Jackson is. We’re so excited to have you back on the dash and with our Janus! 

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

NAME/ALIAS: Dean

PRONOUNS: She/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT, fairly active

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Jackson Sawyer Raemers

GENDER/PRONOUNS: He/him

DETAILS & ANALYSIS: This is where you show us who the character is to you! The format of this doesn’t matter, whether it’s in bullet points or in para form, and can be as long as you’d like it to be. Feel free to get creative!

The name Jackson is a Scottish name. In Scottish the meaning of the name Jackson is: God has been gracious; has shown favour. Based on John or Jacques.

Sawyer was an English meaning, a occupational name for someone who earned his living by sawing wood, Middle English saghier, an agent derivative of sagh(en) ‘to saw’.

Raemers based on Ramer, The oldest form of the name is “Reinmar” or “Reginmar,” which literally meant “famous councillor.” Always prominent in social affairs.

He’s a walking contradiction, his mind never 100% made on a singular motive and distraction easily pulled him from one thing to the next. Jackson’s chaos is a subtle one, orchestrated solely for his own enjoyment until there’s reason to repel against something or someone. Opinionated in a way in which his argument could be swerved from one side the the other only because he wanted to play devil’s advocate and test other people’s beliefs because it gives him comfort to see witness the grey spots in other’s morals.

A lot of what he does was born from his own insecurities, the voice in the back of his head telling him that we were more worthless than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. So he hides his true self carefully, uses masks of humour and then hides behind other peoples identities. Carefully packaging away his own demons with false confidence that couldn’t be questioned.

BIO:

Fraud and robberies became second nature, easier than breathing yet essential to keep his head from sinking below the water. It was ironic, how swift his own actions turned from survival to pure indulgence. Disordered violence increasingly becomes addictive due to the way it supplied him with a steady rush of endorphins. The taste of rebellion even more rewarding when it was fuelled by the very mutation that he’d been discriminated for his entire life. He’d unlocked his true potential, a criminal with the ability to morph fluidly from one appearance to the next.

He supposes it was a form of obsession, in contrast to his former self, an upbringing spent repressing his powers to appease his terrified parents who feared the opinion of the neighbourhood than what may become of their son by neglecting a key part of his identity. Living life as an outlaw, adorning himself in tourist t-shirts and tacky dollar store sunglasses was a vast improvement. A lifestyle that saw him existing out of the trunk of his car, mustard stains from a drive-thru burger discolouring the map which lay open on his passenger seat, red ink circling his next destination. He couldn’t picture himself living an average life, didn’t want to be another cog in a well oiled cooperate machine where he’d become just another number sat at a desk until he’d worked up enough hours to pay off a mortgage.

Jackson’s luck fell short, naturally, the second his car pulled into sin city. Las Vegas with the luminosity of neon lights and slot machines was the single worst decision he could have made. Worse than disowning his family, worse than his impulsive decision making when getting tattoos and maybe even worse than the time he’d shifted into the body of a girl scout in some desperate attempt of getting a dozen boxes of thin mints free of charge. But like a moth to a flame, it was the adrenaline that led him to do it. Shifting from one casino owner to the next, he’d committed fraud multiple times each night and donate the remainder of the money after he’d loaded up on hawaiian shirts and sugary snacks, to organisations working against mutant laws and discrimination. Like a modern day Robin Hood, only driving a rusted up old Chevrolet in dire need of a new paint job.

It’s a mixture of arrogance and a blimp in his concentration that causes it to all unravel. Facading as a beer bellied Elvis impersonator in one of the chapels, he’d spent the evening pick pocketing gambling money from unsuspecting intoxicated couples who’d been making poor life decisions. It was easy work which naturally meant he’d become sloppy, the sort of stupidity that lands him an evening in police custody and unable to show any identification on himself other than a driving license that matches his true appearance. Jackson Sawyer Raemers, born November 22nd in the state of Arizona, an individual with an outstanding warrant for his arrest and a suspected mutant. There’s no court trial, no mention of imprisonment or bail. Instead he’s transported overnight to a medical research facility, sedated and left to answer for his crimes in what he would deem to be the pits of hell.

He’s carefully monitored, pumped with medication and used as a lab rat for illnesses to watch how his mutation may help him to recover- if at all. Cut open and stitched together again, regular interviews for insights on his ability and encouraged with rewards to see how far he could push his powers under supervision. Of course those rewards never met anything more exciting than a pudding cup with lunch or a ten minute stoll in the security monitored outdoor area. The three years he’s trapped there he learns a few things about himself and his mutation; no matter how many times they tried they couldn’t replicate it in a tube, even with the ability of cell reconstruction this hadn’t granted him immunity from the common cold and pudding cups definitely weren’t worth the amount effort he’d been putting in for them.

It was entirely by chance that a group of enraged mutants in the facility had grouped together to form a riot. The building caught up in an intentional blaze that triggered cell doors to swing open and allow their occupants to vacate. With such a perfect diversion in place, Jackson takes his opportunity to escape by shifting into the appearance of one of the women who had been treating him. Able to use her fingerprints to unlock the exit, the first thing he does is hot wires the Mercedes in the parking lot and takes off back on the road. They say old habits die hard, much could be said the same for Jackson. How easily he fell back into his old games of identity theft as if three years worth of reflection had taught him nothing.

He returns to what he does best, only now it was personal, the lust of rebellion replaced with spite for those who had been disceting him like a science project. Jackson spends his time examining the faces that appear in the media voice against mutant rights and the research entrepreneurs that treated as nothing more than a paycheck. It’s how he finds himself in Chicago, rumoured a place that was almost a santuary for mutants where he’d be able to meet like minded individuals. And of course, it’s how he finds The Jem Family. He’s still not entirely sure why Damien had taken a liking towards him, his only redeemable factor being that he was reckless enough to not question any given orders in which other members may shudder at. It was an overwhelming sense of finally belonging to something, that he’d mattered outside of his own world and could really make a difference.  

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Luca Medoza: He finds them entertaining, his own laid back rebellion in contrast to something much bolder. Subtle versus out right in your face. He’d spend a lot of time with Luca, telling her what had happened in the latest true crime series he’d been watching and not minding too much when the only thing she picks up on was that he’d spent 10 hours straight binge watching on Netflix again.

Neve Kaplan: She’s the first person in a long time that he doesn’t hide any aspect of himself from. He let her see every aspect of his personality, the gritty details and forbidden secrets he hadn’t dared to share with anyone else. For a while she’d been his home, the missing part of the puzzle that could take the bitterness away and ease his own reckless behaviours, until she’s gone. It still stings when he see’s her, but it’s also a pleasant reminder that at least what he’d felt had been real.

Cain Douglas: He gets pleasure out of his visits and will show up even if the damage is nothing spectacular. He’s absolutely rolled up with a paper cut before and made it out as if he’d lost a limb over texts on his way there. Jackson gets most his kicks from aggravating the hell out of people and with Cain it was almost too easy. Although when he is genuinely hurt it does become a little more difficult of Cain to take him seriously with all the jokes he plays. Sometimes he’ll fake an injury just to get some advice, doctors and therapists are basically the same thing, right?

EXTRA: This section is completely optional. You can add anything here such as: more para samples, headcanons, mock blogs, edits, playlists, etc. Please note that because it is optional, putting everything or nothing in this section will not be a determining factor in your application. This is just for fun!

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/dean_ie/janus/

Tag: https://stereotypicalcancerwrites.tumblr.com/tagged/ch:%20jackson%20raemers

-Jackson is obsessed with snacking, or any opportunity to stuff his face with food really. He’ll take it personal if you go out for a meal and he doesn’t get an invite.

-He can’t function without a morning coffee. 3 shots served black with one spoonful of sugar. He’ll have another at noon because he’s a night owl and eternally paying the price.

-He has a fear of blood, it makes him feel dizzy and he’s absolutely the worst person to have around if you were in a serious injury. He’d pass out before you would.

-Jackson can sing The Element Song by Tom Lehrer perfectly from memory.

-He has a habit of seeing the world from a very cynical perspective and is always anticipating the worst to happen in any given situation. It allows him to feel less surprised or out of control when things do turn sour.

-Jackson has a doberman named Bella, as in Bella Swan- he was trying to be funny

-He doesn’t trust easily and as a result he’s pretty distant. He’s always got a guard up and is very reluctant to let people into his life as most people that have seen the real him have resulted in negative connotation.

-He is allergic to shellfish so if someone wanted to kill him…

-He is always using humour and bad behaviour as a defense mechanism from people getting too close to see the real him.

-He had a stutter as a kid due to low self-esteem. It occasionally comes back when he’s stressed or upset. It’s one of the giveaways for his shapeshifting.

-Jackson is a reckless driver

-He’s obsessed with 1970s music

-Jackson is a hoarder, he collects a lot of pointless stuff like the top of bottle caps, funny slogan tshirts and cheap sunglasses from dollar stores

-He hates having to dress up formally, he feels like it draws attention to him and not in a funny showing off sort of way

-He has numerous tattoos and none of them were what you’d consider ‘good’, they’re shitty or only there to illustrate some pun or memory of a drunken evening. He’s upset some of the scars from the research facility have beheaded a hulahooping stick men on his leg.

ANYTHING ELSE: Did you have any questions or any changes you wanted to discuss with us beforehand?

FC change to Casey Deidrick

[zoebulukaki]

Fact Gallery

“FACT is the UK's leading organisation for the support and exhibition of art and film that embraces new technology and explores digital culture. We believe in enriching lives and shaping the future through film, art and creative technology” 

We are out again!

This time our class ventured of in Liverpool for a talk held in Fact Gallery. Now I will say that before attending this talk, I had no clue what to expect, I knew that they focused on technology-based art, but that it-self is such a broad spectrum. There were multiple exhibitions mentioned in the talk, but I’d like to talk about the two which left me with the biggest impression. The first project was made by Megan Broadmeadow and was a film based of a brief given by the gallery.

And what was the topic of this film?                                                            

Read Dead Redemption 2

Yes, you read that correctly. Now I do dabble with some video games such as Tomb Raider and Journey but I have never crossed paths with this one; so please forgive my attempt to explain the game itself as well as the concept inspiring this exhibition. For anyone who is isn’t familiar with the game, it covers a huge range of 19th century American landscapes and has a complex interaction between the NPCs (Non-Playable Characters) and the player. It is not necessarily an RPG (Role Player Game) however, you do have the chance to choose whether you have high or low honour through the decisions made in the storyline. For the film Broadmeadow wanted to create a court case against the player killing a suffragette, while collaborating with the over sixties and youth clubs participating in the gallery. We had a chance to watch small parts of the film in VR, however most of the film was played on screen. With a psychedelic colour palette and eccentric music I could only describe it as being ‘wacky’. To be honest the work didn’t appeal to me, however I appreciated the collaboration between the artist and the groups; as a way to get people involved in the art community. 

The second project we spoke about was inspired by Christophe Bo disco and his collaborative work with veterans. Fact decided to search the criminal justice system and the connection with veterans after their return from war. Due to the mental implications linked with such a violent environment a lot of veterans end up in prison and so meetings were set up to try and understand  this behaviour. Probationary was a board game developed with this is mind, so people can play as these individuals and go through the journey of the criminal justice system. The aim is for people to understand the struggles faced, as so many can be ignorant to the psychological effects of war.The project intrigued my interest in criminology, however I couldn’t help but wonder if this could be classed as art. I have mentioned before that I try not to claim what is and isn’t art but, in this case, I must question whether this belongs in a gallery or as a social project to try and help veterans.

What is the line between collaborative art and social collaboration? Should there be line? Or is any project considered art?

[tothemfstraydogs]

Regarding The Sheep

Warning:

I’m definitely over-analysing this.

I’m not sure if this has been asked before, but does anyone ever wonder what happened to Chuuya’s friends from the gifted organisation he belonged to before he joined the Port Mafia (The Sheep)? If I’m correct, Chuuya had been stabbed with a poison-bladed knife by one of his closer friends in The Sheep because they suspected him of betraying their organisation and joining the PM. Then they revealed that they had joined forces with Gerhardt Security Services (GSS), an enemy organisation. Chuuya manages to escape being killed. Dazai then appears to him with a bunch of Port Mafia duds on orders from the boss to eliminate both organisations and asks Chuuya who shouldn’t be killed during the eradication (Chuuya’s response: “Don’t hurt the kids” aka Spare the Sheep). There was quite large a number of youngsters in The Sheep so I’m pretty sure there was a lot of sparing to be done. Although we don’t see the actual battle between both sides (a volley of bullets is heard, though.), I’m certain that Dazai was true to his word and no harm came to the kids, including Chuuya’s two close friends.

 So then...what happened to them after that? Did they all go their seperate ways? Did they join other minor criminal organisations? Did they become poor and homeless, and wasted away on the streets? Did they die? There are many possibilities as to what became of them, and so far i haven’t noticed any reference of their whereabouts neither in the manga nor in the anime. (Keep in mind that I haven’t read the entire manga nor have I read any of the light novels, so forgive me if these question have already been answered.) But I do think that we’ll hear about them soon. Think about the potential in this storyline: Chuuya’s former comrades-turned rivals return after years in the dark to get their revenge on the two-timing hat-rack. There are multiple ways that the writers could make this play out. 

 They’d at least know Chuuya officially joined the Port Mafia after they betrayed him, right? So then it shouldn’t be difficult for them to come up with some way or other to find him again and get their revenge, especially if they stuck together all those years. Having once had him as a comrade, they should know a few things about him that would work to their advantage. Who knows, maybe they will come back, but as allies. I know there’s also a very large chance that they’ve forgotten Chuuya or simply don’t care about him anymore, making Asagiri’s (and any other involved writers’) pursual of this arc a huge “What if?” But we just never know. I, for one, hope they pursue this storyline and I’m excited to see how it would play out if they do, and that tiny bit of extra Chuuya’s Backstory we’ll get as a result.

 Feel free to give me your thoughts/opinions on this matter, and as always I’m always open to Character Analysis/ Plot Analysis requests! 

[mysunfreckle]

Wait what’s the Claquesous theory? I know who he is but I’ve never heard him mentioned in the context of the Le Cabuc thing before

Oh dear,coming to me for dark theories based on canon material is certainly a bit outof my comfort zone, but I will do my best!

Basically,Hugo himself puts forth the theory that Claquesous, one fourth of the core ofPatron-Minette, and Le Cabuc, the murderer Enjolras executes at the barricade,are actually the same person. It’s never stated with absolute certainty in thebook, it’s just said that the policethink he is, and there are a lot of strange facts about the two characters thatmake it very plausible.

I mostlystay away from canon era, not surprising for someone who likes thePatron-Minette, but I do appreciate this bit of canon compliant intrigue so inthe name of procrastinating my homework, let’s lay out the evidence~

(I usedthe Hapgood translation for this, but I’ve never gotten the hang of the properBrick reference system, sorry.)

When Claquesousis introduced the principle information we get is this:

“No one wassure whether he had a name, Claquesous being a sobriquet; none was sure that hehad a voice, as his stomach spoke more frequently than his voice; no one wassure that he had a face, as he was never seen without his mask. He disappearedas though he had vanished into thin air; when he appeared, it was as though hesprang from the earth.” (Book 7, Ch 3)

So, he is alet’s say eccentric criminal who “governed the third lower floor of Paris,from 1830 to 1835” with his three comrades, helps Thénardier in his endeavours,and has vanished into thin air by the end of the book. I could not find asingle instance in which he actually speaks on the page, Babet and Montparnassedo most of the talking in Patron-Minette, whenever Thénardier sees fit tofinally shut up that is.

But then,we have Le Cabuc, who is introduced in the very chapter title: “Chapter VIII ManyInterrogation Points With Regard To A Certain Le Cabuc Whose Name May Not HaveBeen Le Cabuc”. He is described as “a passer-by who had joined the rabble ledby Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac”, is dressed like a shabby street porterand is very loud and animated, giving him the look of “a drunken savage”. Hugo thenadds to this description:

“This man, whose name or nickname was LeCabuc, and who was, moreover, an utter stranger to those who pretended to knowhim, was very drunk, or assumed the appearance of being so”.(Book 12, Ch 8)

It is thentold how he gets the other men around him drunk and then takes up the idea toget into a certain house from which they would have a good view of the wholestreet. When the porter of the house denies him access, Le Cabuc shoots him.For the death of this innocent citizen, Enjolras forces him to his knees, ordershim to think or pray, and executes him. He kicks the corpse aside, three men throwit over the barricade into the street, and that is the end of him. 

BothClaquesous and Le Cabuc therefore, both have questionable names and even morequestionable conduct. It’s not up to us to make the connection between the twothough, Hugo does that himself, he ends the chapter with it:

“Let us sayat once that later on, after the action, when the bodies were taken to themorgue and searched, a police agent’s card was found on Le Cabuc. (…) We willadd, that if we are to believe a tradition of the police, which is strange butprobably well founded, Le Cabuc was Claquesous. The fact is, that dating fromthe death of Le Cabuc, there was no longer any question of Claquesous.Claquesous had nowhere left any trace of his disappearance; he would seem tohave amalgamated himself with the invisible. His life had been all shadows, hisend was night.”

After thisLe Cabuc is never mentioned again and Claquesous merely named as “having disappeared”in a summing up of all Patron-Minette’s associates.

Now, on tothe speculations! Why did Le Cabuc act the way he did and, more importantly forthis theory, why would Claquesous actlike that? It’s possible that Le Cabuc was just a rowdy, drunk, misguidedperson, but the police card on his body seems to imply something else.

After executingLe Cabuc, Enjolras proclaims that he has done this terrible thing because hehad to. He explains: “Assassination is even more of a crime here than elsewhere; we are underthe eyes of the Revolution, we are the priests of the Republic, we are thevictims of duty, and must not be possible to slander our combat.” If they areto fight for freedom they cannot be seen wilfully harming those they arefighting for.

Ifsomeone wanted to cause trouble among the revolutionaries, to turn the surroundingpublic against them perhaps, to stir them up into a chaotic riot instead of anorganised movement, they might well plant someone like Le Cabuc in their midst.And someone like Claquesous might very well take up an appearance like Le Cabuc’sto infiltrate a group like theirs.

Whywould Claquesous do this? Well…

“Thanks totheir ramifications, and to the network underlying their relations, Babet,Gueulemer, Claquesous, and Montparnasse were charged with the general enterpriseof the ambushes of the department of the Seine. The inventors of ideas of thatnature, men with nocturnal imaginations, applied to them to have their ideasexecuted.” (Book 7, Ch 4)

Now, this couldof course refer to other criminals, but…it’s just as likely that these “menwith nocturnal imaginations” are people in high places who want don’t want to gettheir hands dirty, but aren’t above ordering a little forced disappearance herand there. Something that becomes rather more tangible when Claquesous simply vanishes after Javet manages toarrest him:

“[O]ne ofthe principal prisoners, Claquesous, had been lost. It was not known how thishad been effected, the police agents and the sergeants ‘could not understand itat all.’ He had converted himself into vapor, he had slipped through thehandcuffs, he had trickled through the crevices of the carriage, the fiacre wascracked, and he had fled; all that they were able to say was, that on arrivingat the prison, there was no Claquesous. Either the fairies or the police hadhad a hand in it. Had Claquesous melted into the shadows like a snow-flake inwater? Had there been unavowed connivance of the police agents? Did this manbelong to the double enigma of order and disorder? Was he concentric withinfraction and repression? Had this sphinx his fore paws in crime and his hindpaws in authority? Javert did not accept such comminations, and would have bristledup against such compromises; but his squad included other inspectors besideshimself, who were more initiated than he, perhaps, although they were hissubordinates in the secrets of the Prefecture, and Claquesous had been such avillain that he might make a very good agent. It is an excellent thing forruffianism and an admirable thing for the police to be on such intimatejuggling terms with the night. These double-edged rascals do exist. Howeverthat may be, Claquesous had gone astray and was not found again.” (Book 2, Ch 2)

…ouch. (DidI need to use that entire quote in full? Not at all. But it’s my favourite, soof course I did.)

Ipersonally choose to see Le Cabuc as one of Claquesous’ personas, not as his ‘trueidentity’, but either way would work. Linked to all this, is also the possibilitythat Claquesous actually hides his face from his associates because he is infact a police informant, habitually ratting out his friends. But it seems morelikely to me that the whole of Patron-Minette will work for whomever offersthem enough to make it worth their while, and the fact that none of them haveever been caught has a little less to do with their own cleverness and morewith the fact that there are enough influential people around who do not want them to be caught.

Or, ofcourse, Claquesous really is connected to the fair folk. Which is a far morecharming notion and whenever I don’t want to be depressed about the mutualexploitation of political violence, that’s the one I’ll go with.

[aworldoffandoms]

Runaway - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: New Clues

Pairing: Liam x MC [Ariel], Drake x Olivia

Word Count: 1, 857

Rating: T 

Warnings: None

Summary:  Drake and Olivia contemplate Liam’s state of mind while Liam receives more information that could help find his wife.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @hopefulmoonobject, @annekebbphotography, @am-i-invisible777, @blznbaby, @khakie4, @lauradowning29, @blackcoffee85, @captain-kingliamsqueen, @moneyfordiamonds, @super-secret-fandom-blog

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list! [Some of the tags wouldn’t work...sorry]

A/N: Here is the second chapter! Let me know what you think :)

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them. The plot is all mine.

 “Is Liam alright, Drake?” Olivia says, leaning forward and running her hands over his shoulders. To her relief, they relax, the knots loosening under the taut skin.

Drake sighs, closing his eyes as he leans into Olivia’s touch.

“I’d like to think he is, Liv, but he isn’t. He thinks that he can hide from me but I know better. It’s still tearing him apart after all this time.”

“Well, I don’t blame him. His whole world revolved around . . . her.”

The only response was another heavy sigh, and this time the resignation and defeat was all too obvious. His soft side was showing again, she noted. Few people saw it, and fewer still saw the true flurry of emotions hiding within. It was enough to tear anyone apart.

“And it’s because of that…that Liam is falling apart and taking his country with him. It’s not healthy, Liv.”

Olivia stopped her ministrations on Drake’s shoulders and shifts, facing her boyfriend and admonishing him with one of her famous glares.

“Perhaps, but Liam is coping in his own way. You can’t put a clock on grief, Drake. If it takes Liam another year or even five years to grieve his wife, he has every right to.”

Well…when Olivia said it like that, it made all the more sense. Damnit. She was too smart, even for him.

Great. Thanks for making me feel like an ass, Liv.

“Well…when you say it like that it makes sense.”

Olivia smirks, shrugging her shoulders.

“Of course it did. It’s right because it came from me.”

Her expression darkens at the thought of her parents, and instinctively, Drake leans over to embrace her, weaving his fingers through her long red hair that cascaded down her back when unpinned. Olivia tucks her head underneath his chin, wrapping her arms around his waist in return.

“You can’t just keep telling Liam to get over it. You have to be patient,” Olivia says before pausing, pulling away to look him in the eye. “And that also goes for telling him to stop searching for her.”

Drake’s eyes widen as she says those last words. How did she know he’d mentioned that?

“I knew you’d say it to him because it’s a year since the last time and I had to nurse you back to health because of it. He might be your best friend but he’s a husband grieving for a wife that left without saying goodbye. That is the sort of thing that affects a person deeply, probably too deep for us to even see.”

Drake nods and kisses the top of her head, taking in a moment to breathe in her perfume. A faint scent of gardenias still lingers. Or was it camellia? He’d find out later.

“You’re right. I just . . . Liam’s going through hell and what can I do?” Drake exhales, absently rubbing his partner’s back affectionately. “Thanks for bringing me back to earth…just like you always do.”

Olivia squeezes his waist in response. “Of course. Who else can keep you on your toes?”

Drake chuckles as he pulls back from the embrace and leans down to meet Olivia in a kiss as they slip beneath the covers.

One last thought runs through Drake’s head before he falls into a deep slumber.

Where are you Ariel and what the hell have you done to Liam?

***

Liam rubs his eyes as he leans back against his seat in his study and releases a violent yawn. When he finishes he glances at the clock.

2AM.

He’d been at this for five hours straight and he didn’t want to stop but knew he had to. Drake had expressed his worry a week before, the day of the second anniversary of the worst day of his life. The day that his world stopped spinning. The day where he felt the colour bleed from his life only to be left with the dismal grey that had been demanding his world since.

He wasn’t sure if it’d ever be the same again but he had to try. He had to try and find her.

It was his purpose now. If he was sure about anything right now, it was to find her.

It might have been irresponsible and foolish at this moment in time but in his mind being King came second and finding his beloved was his top priority. He would only stop until his last breath or until he actually found her.

This cannot be the end. It can't.

His eye wanders to his right desk drawer. Not knowing what possesses him to do it, he slides it open and grasps at the stained letter that had to be opened more than a hundred times. He knew he was unwise for doing so, but he reasoned with himself that it was the last piece of his wife he could hold on to or at least draw some sort of clue from. Could he not give himself that?

If it wasn’t for this letter, he’d think that Ariel left because she didn’t love him anymore, but he shakes his head at that notion. She’d always proved to him how genuine their love was. He surely couldn’t doubt it now.

God, he missed her so much. The ache in his chest throbbing as he brings up a hand and clenches at the skin to stop the pain.

He felt it hard to sleep nowadays without reading that letter before bed. Maybe he liked the pain, since reading it now still broke his heart and brought tears to his eyes. Maybe after two years, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the pain because it made him feel something. He loathed feeling this empty. 

There were always questions which arose. Night after night, they flooded in.

Why did she have to leave? Was there a reason? What made her do it? How could she do it when they were so happy? How could she just leave him? Leave Cordonia when they were just getting started with their reign and their forever?

All these questions plague Liam and he can’t seem to get rid of them. Even in his daily meetings with everyone, from the common people to the haughtiest noble, he was almost always distracted.

Liam sighs and folds up the piece of paper, his eyes clamping shut as he closes the drawer with a slam. His fists clench instinctively as he feels the sting of tears pushing past his eyes.

He had to keep it together. He couldn’t fall apart now even though that would be the easy option. He had to be strong. He had to be competent.

Liam sighs as he stands up, sorting through the documents and the few leads that he’s gotten with Bastien’s help. He was running out of options, and hopefully, Ariel wasn’t either.

Just as his hand hovered on the light switch, a notification lit up the screen with the little ping noise he’d grown to dread. Liam sits down, neatly squaring the documents away as he opens the icon.

His eyes widen and the breath in his throat automatically hitches. His heart thunders in his chest as his stomach rolls around violently. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to continue to scan the email from his American contact.

The day after Ariel had vanished he had correspondence with a contact that he had used a few years prior to save Leo’s ass from another royal scandal when he got into a compromising position with a Vegas stripper. Honestly, Leo was so incorrigible that he had to have his little brother clean up his mess for him.

Liam’s hand comes up to his mouth and rubs against the five-day stubble that had formed.

To: Liam Rys [liam.rys@cordoniaroyal.com]

From: Damien Nazario [d.nazario@nazariopi.com]

Your Majesty,

Upon your request, I have surveyed and dug into the few leads that you asked me to look into in New York and I believe that I have found something of use to you.

I know it has been two years since your wife vanished without a trace as to where her whereabouts are. Yet, I believe the information that I have included in this email will be important.

I remember you telling me that Queen Ariel had a workmate Daniel and as far as we were both concerned, he didn’t lead us to anything. Well…I did a little more digging and found some information about Daniel’s father, Gregory, and his alliances and long criminal record.

It seems that he has connections in Cordonia...something to do with the Sons of Earth? Does that ring a bell?

Oh, it certainly did.

One of the many underground organisations that wanted both he and Ariel off the throne. They both had to fight tooth and nail to defeat Anton. Liam wasn’t sure he could do it by himself, given the instability of the crown right now without a queen at his side.

He continues to read with bated breath.

Well...the Sons of Earth have been flaring up all over Cordonia and some have been spotted in America and my guess, considering your history with Anton…it’s quite possible that they have been liaising with some high powered people over here and because of this it’s possible that Ariel could be involved. How much? I don’t know.

My hunch says she must have had something of value to them because from the research that I have taken and the evidence that you have provided for me, this organisation? They don’t make their dealings public and they don't like outsiders knowing their business.

This is all I can give you at the moment, your majesty. Be sure to look at the attachments.

But, I trust my instincts, and I trust that your wife is still alive.

I believe that we can get to the bottom of this and bring her back.

Until next time, King Liam.

Sincerely,

Damien Nazario

P.I. at Nazario Investigations

Liam’s heart almost stops as he reads the last of Damien’s email. Ariel had to be alive. He hopes against everything that Nazario’s right and not just saying it to appease him.

Liam groans, running a hand through his hair as he stares at the clock at the corner of his computer. It’s hit three am. There was an eight o'clock morning meeting the next day calling his name. Better to retire now.

Taking the time for one last thing, he opens the attachment that Damien had sent with the email. He prepares himself for a few extra materials and surveillance on The Sons of Earth. What Liam didn’t expect to see was the sole person which made his and Ariel’s lives a living hell, stepping out of a black limousine in the busy Manhattan streets.

Cursing under his breath, he snatches the phone off his desk and dials the King’s Guard, heart racing.

“Hello?”

“Bastien?

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Meet me in my study,” Liam growls. “We need to discuss something in concerns to the Queen.”

“Is everything alright, my King?”

“I have reason to believe that Anton Severus is back.”

[scripttorture]

I'm currently in the process of writing a sci-fi fanfic, where it follows the life of a homeless person through her teenage years to her early 20's. In the early chapters I intend to include a street gang that her older brother joins for her benefit, and when they both plan to leave Earth for the military in later chapters the gang attempts to force them into staying while one of them are home and the other in town. I guess what I trying to ask you is how do you think the gang would go about it?

That’s a pretty neat question and I think you’ve got a lot of scope withwhat you pick.

Now I am not an expert instreet gangs, so the vast majority of things I’ll be talking about come fromeither international people smuggling groups, police or the armed forces.That’s partly to do with the legal definition of torture: legally torture issomething that’s carried out by government officials while they’re on duty.

Street gang members can be legally criminals and abusers but bydefinition they can not be legally torturers.

I take questions on a lot of things that aren’t legally torture. Butwith something like this I think the distinction is important because whatarmed insurgents and trafficking groups do isn’t necessarily what street gangsdo. And my knowledge base skews more towards armed insurgents than streetgangs.

One of the patterns that come up in the UK is gangs threatening people’sfamilies.

This is particularly prevalent among people smuggling gangs enslavingpeople to grow cannabis. Young people (sometimes children) are smuggled intothe country having been promised a job and a new life in the UK. Theirpassports and identity documents are taken and they’re forced to work longhours in an occupation that means they’re at risk of arrest.

Many of them don’t go topolice or attempt to escape because of the credible physical threat the gangsgive to their families at home.

The fact they’re in a foreign country, with a marked lack of support,community and people who speak the same language also doesn’t help.

Following that pattern there doesn’t need to be any violence against thecharacters- instead the gang members need to show they’re a credible threat.

An easy way to do that is pictures. Having anonymous messages containingphotos of whichever sibling is in the gang’s territory would be reallydisturbing for the other sibling. There’s no obvious crime, nothing for apolice force to really pursue. But there is not only an implicit threat but ‘proof’the threats could be carried out.

Photos of the vulnerable sibling going about their daily routine. Photosof the places they commonly sleep. Photos of the places eat or hang out.Perhaps photos of the sorts of places the gang might commonly dispose ofbodies.

That’s a low-violence route that I think you could easily write asincredibly frightening.

A higher violence route that they still have the potential to escapefrom is- wellsomething I’d write more along the lines of what happened to this man.

It’s an unfortunately common scenario: he went to see his parents inanother country and they tried to take his passport and send him to so called ‘conversiontherapy’ to ‘cure’ his sexuality. (This basic pattern is also often used inforced marriages).

In your story the way I’d approach using that sort of scenario is havingone of the siblings ‘invited’ somewhere by a gang member they personally trustslightly more than the others. Something that appears to be a frivolous socialthing with few people would be perfect. It can be as simple as ‘do you wannahang out in this park and drink a few beers?’

Once the character arrives they find more gang members than theyanticipated and are taken away somewhere enclosed and in the heart of the gang’sterritory.

I’d suggest playing this with threats rather than actual violence. Havethe gang get the captured character to call their sibling. Have them pretend toappease the gang. ‘Oh no we’d never dream of leaving or betraying you. Ofcourse not. This is all a huge misunderstanding and of course my brother/sisteris coming back here soon.’

When the gang is convinced have them either release the captive siblingor have them escape.

Both scenarios are realistic and things your character could reasonablywalk away from (with no injuries that would prevent them joining the militaryafterwards).

From a writing perspective they play out very differently and requiredifferent amounts of space in the plot. A kidnapping is probably going to takeup a lot more narrative space than a series of death threats and consideringwhat works in the larger story is important.

And you can of course vary both of those basic scenarios.

If the pictures seem too impersonal than having the character who staysin the gang territory being stalked and harassed by aggressive gang members demandingthey bring their sibling back is also a reasonable way to write this. Verbalabuse, ransacking or stealing their belongings, verbal threats, destroying orsoiling their possessions or the place they sleep could all work in context asforms of harassment.

So is having a much more overtly violent kidnap attempt. Peoplesmuggling gangs have been known to force victims to phone their families, thenbeaten the victim in an attempt to extort money from the family.

If the gang has enough local clout they might be able to turn ordinarypeople in the town against the remaining sibling, creating an incrediblyhostile atmosphere which again, does not have to be violent. Being sociallyshunned can be incredibly traumatic and affecting. But how possible that is depends on how your gang functions. It’smuch more possible with a Mafia-style organisation with strong links to localcommunities then it is with a biker-gang type organisation.

I’m trying to avoid too much violence in my suggestions: partly becauseyou want the characters to be able to join the military afterwards and partlybecause the gang members presumably want both siblings to be physically healthif they’re working for the gang. If they still think they can bring thesecharacters round to their side then they’re unlikely to be too brutal. At thispoint that would against their aims.

Given that I think variations of the above two scenarios are probablythe best way to go.

If you feel like that potentially downplays the gang’s violent naturethen you could emphasise the reasons why they took these approaches with theseparticular characters. You could also mention much more violent consequencesbeing inflicted on characters the gang had given up on converting. Someone inthe past who tried to ‘get out’ of the life and was murdered or mutilated forinstance. A scare story that the gang can use to show your characters they’re acredible threat and the characters can use as an additional motivation to getaway.

I hope that helps. :)

Disclaimer

[em1049]

Come and Go Final Proposal.

*Any material following this post will be relevant to the current concept only and will not relate to any past experimentation*

Our newest concept sees our characters (Flo, Ru, and Vi) in a contemporary timeline and setting.

The three are part of an underground criminal organisation that partcipates in violent crime. The gang are successful and notorious thieves and have stolen from seveal places both domestic and commercial.

Flo is the leader of the gang and Ru serves as her deputy. They have worked together on many-a heist before, and are friends by trade not by affection. 

Flo is not the type to get her hands dirty, and uses malipulation and intimidation to get what she wants. Ru on the other hand, is more than happy to use her thuggish nature to her advantage when out on a job. Vi, is a typical femme fatale and Flo sees potential in her good looks. Despite her charm and verve, Vi is less morally quesitonable than the other two and fears for her life under the influence of London’s most dangerous double act.

Flo and Ru have requested Vi’s services to help them distract the occupants of a house they intend to rob, belonging to a Flo’s ex husband and his new wife. This is a revenge heist, Flo was cheated on by her husband (Ru was the woman in question but Flo doesn’t know that) and now the man has moved on to a new woman altogether leaving both of them seething with silent rage. The man is easily bored, and is interested in Vi. His attraction to Vi is something that Flo uses to her advantage in order to use her as a distraction on the job. However, the job is compriomised. The man and his wife are at home when the three arrive and Ru takes it upon herself to remove the evidence of their presence by killing them. Flo is unfazed, but Vi is clearly shaken by Ru’s Ruthlessness.

After the deed is done, the three sit around the kitchen table and inspect the spoils of their heist. Throughout the interaction, Flo and Ru both taunt and frighten Vi, but the dynamtic within the trio is not as it seems.

Ru plans to take down Flo as leader, Vi plans to overtake Ru and Flo plans to have Vi killed before the day is up as she is becoming somewhat of a nuscience.

Suddenly, the interaction is interrupted by sounds of approaching police sirens, someone tipped them off.

Flo tries to make her escape by rushing out the front door, Ru tries to follow but is blocked by Vi. Vi shoots Ru dead with the same gun she used on the occupants of the house and follows Flo with the intent of killing her as well.

Vi is found and arrested by the approaching police and sentenced to life in prison.