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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

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flickeringart · 4 years

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Scorpio Sun and Moon Combinations

Planets represent different energetic principals – the signs show how these energies express themselves.

Having an inner planet (or luminary) in the sign of Scorpio gives the personality an edge and emotional intensity. No matter what other placements the person has, the subtle stinger is going to come through.

To simplify;

The Sun represents individuation, ideal self-expression and conscious self-actualization.

The Moon represents instinct, emotional nature and needs.

Scorpio Sun – Libra Moon

Even if a Libra Moon suggests an out-going, graceful and social character, the ideal self is cunning, shrewd, suspicious, on the lookout to uncover people’s real motives. Scorpio Sun expresses through subtle attack. Irritability and poisonous moods would be easily triggered, which would compel others to keep at a safe distance – or keep them on their side. Scorpio Sun is prone to hold grudges, to test people emotionally. This placement indicates a need to intimidate with their presence, to let the world know that they are not afraid to strike back at any violation. A Libra Moon in combination with this Sun would do it in a way that is appropriate in the social context they find themselves in - and in a way that will increase their social esteem. Recruiting allies by the use of sweet words and smooth reasoning, the person guarantees emotional safety and closeness with others. Social harmony is the number one emotional need for a Libra Moon, they need others in their lives to complement them, to be fair and respectful. Scorpio Sun would facilitate this need by being on the lookout for betrayal or disharmony. There could be biting corrections of others and a whole array of defense mechanisms to be employed in the name of protecting the most refined social image and ideal. The person would likely thrive in a relationship because of Scorpio’s need to possess and merge and Libra’s need for admiration and partnership. The negatively labeled ”shallowness” of the Libra Moon would be nicely complimented Scorpio’s capacity to feel. However, the Libran emotional needs could suffer as the person’s self-expression would be quite sharp and confronting. If the person pairs up with someone who’s incapable to deal with constant probing and poking, the person might leave and the Libran ideal is crushed in the process. Expressing one’s personality versus satisfying one’s emotional needs could be a tricky balancing act.

Scorpio Sun – Capricorn Moon

Capricorn Moon needs to achieve something of material and societal value and the Scorpio Sun facilitates this through detecting threats against success. Scorpio can be described as a sign that is on hyper-surveillance mode, and when it teams up with Capricorn, it creates a resourceful and disciplined individual. The overall mood of this combo is very serious and somber, the person would operate from a place of compensation. The Capricorn Moon is restrictive of emotions and can’t generate genuine lightness by itself – it needs to compensate through working toward a societally approved goal and get confirmation on a structural level of their worthiness. High ambitions are necessary for their emotional fulfillment. Strategizing and planning, taking precautions and never letting anyone come too close would be characteristic of this combo. Scorpio Sun makes sure that other’s don’t take advantage or try to subtly sabotage their plans. The person would likely have the feeling of already being innately deprived and separated from bliss and so the only way is out of hell. This makes the person more resilient and capable of facing hard realities but it makes the person more prone to depression and pessimism as well. If there’s a charming and radiant Rising placement like Leo, the personality might seem warmer and more content than if the Rising sign falls in a more practical sign like Virgo. None the less, the Cap Moon will be insecure and prone to emotionally protect by condemning and judging, to over-compensate in terms of constant striving. Scorpio Sun could easily serve as the emotional bully, to mercilessly make themselves feel better through undermining and pacifying others through cleverly poking at the sore spots. There’s a lot of coping that goes on within this person, but that is not to say that it won’t have it’s rewards. The person might feel emotionally castrated with a Cap Moon, have a hard time displaying affection and fondness while Scorpio Sun is very passionate and dramatic in terms of self-expression.

Scorpio Sun – Cancer Moon

With a double water combo the personality is bound to be very emotional. While the needs and instincts of the Cancer Moon is more gentle and careful when navigating life, the self-expression of the Scorpio Sun is out on the emotional battlefield – strong in their passions and desires. The person might love to test the emotional impact they can have on another person and what makes their targets vulnerable to manipulation. However, the strong ego of the Scorpio Sun might have to take into consideration and work with the Cancerian need to make sure everything is sorted as to ensure that one has a safe space of gentleness and escape from the intensity of life. The need to bolster the emotions from too much challenge and harshness in characteristic of a Cancer Moon. The person needs to feel nurtured and taken care of, preferably by a close circle of friends or a family unit. Cancer might soften the sharpness of Scorpio and make the person more approachable and more easy to confide in. However, if there’s an insult to the person’s identity, they might retaliate without a second thought. Emotionally, however, the person is not prone to feel all-consuming rage, and would much rather show sympathy and understanding while staying out of harm’s way. If insulted or treated unfairly, water signs usually don’t forget and will not overlook any attack, however subtle. This combo would lend itself well to forming relationships although the Cancerian need for safety could cause the Scorpio Sun to be overly protective and distant at first. The person would embody both intensity and softness, and would seek emotional interaction with others in life – but perhaps at a safe distance at first. There’s loyalty, protectiveness as well as sensitivity to be found in a relationship with this kind of person but a whole lot of moodiness and drama as well.

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Scorpio Sun – Aries Moon

This combo is an interesting one. The person’s emotional and instinctual needs are to assert, to compete, to do things quickly, to be a leader, to feel independent and potent. The identity is emotional and strategic and needs to engage with others as to demonstrate power through emotional impact. This personality is very sharp indeed and runs on energy and hyper–vigilance that is beyond what one would think possible. A placement like a Taurus Rising or some other stabilizing earthy influence might take down the voltage of the personality a notch. Never the less, it’s still a bit like the person is on speed, not only energetically, but emotionally. Privacy would be valued as a general rule, but the instinctual impulse would be to just share things and not care. Aries is an extremely individualistic sign. When the Moon is here, the instincts become impulsive and rash, stemming from the desire to carry out intention without compromising. The Scorpionic ego might not be fond of this tendency as it leans toward strategic moves that is guaranteed to fulfill their purpose. Scorpio Sun is a personal expression that is careful and controlled because of the capacity for emotional intensity in relation to other people. The Aries Moon doesn’t have any other need that acting on it’s urges, it’s not particularly cautious or socially adapted. ”Me first” is the need of an Aries Moon. The person would be prone to see obstacles and threats to their will and be willing to go above and beyond to further themselves in the face of limitation and restriction. On a positive note, the energy and investment that can be put into themselves and their relationships are remarkable. There’s a lot of passion to this type of personality, a fighting spirit that is inexhaustible and a personality that is out to demonstrate it’s power.

Scorpio Sun – Aquarius Moon

This combo creates a personality that can be cool and detached from mundane existence while being very protective of their integrity and power. The Aquarius Moon with the Scorpio personality gives the person a jerky temperament that is sometimes perfectly detached and chill with everything but can switch on a dime and become defensive and biting. There person would be a bit of a loner – partly because of having high ideals, a fondness for freedom and a tendency to remain above the actual meat of human existence. It would also be because the person’s self-expression is guarded and defensive, a bit mean and threatening to others. In many ways, this personality setup presents a bit of a paradox, because on an emotional level the person stays above the battle ground, while the ego is sensitive to critique and attack. The person might be able to have intellectual closeness with others but is not instinctually suited for the more clingy, merging relationships. The Scorpionic identity on the other hand loves a good emotional confrontation and being viewed as mysterious and intimidating. Even though there’s certainly friction between the two signs, there’s also a possibility of understanding human nature in the broadest and the deepest sense. These signs combined gives the character an emotional intensity with an intellectual and original instinctual nature. The emotional needs are not concrete but abstract – just being shown understanding and recognition could satisfy the person. The basic instinct is to be reasonable, but the Scorpio tendency to be touchy could earn the person a reputation of being bad-tempered and mean. The core of the person is none the less more idealistic and cerebral than emotional.

Scorpio Sun – Taurus Moon

These signs is in opposition and are both at odds with each other and complementary. Both signs want control – Scorpio in terms of emotions and Taurus in terms of material value. Taurus Moon indicates a stable and stubborn temperament with a need for physical comfort and pleasure. The person would be emotionally satisfied through creating concrete and fixed foundations, which could be applied to relationships, work situation or any dimension of life. The person would be inclined to commit to permanent situations and dedicate themselves long-term to whatever endeavor they feel is meaningful. With a Scorpionic identity to top it off, the person would be very protective and possessive of belongings – which includes relationships. The person might have little tolerance for any kind of change in the structure of their life – reacting to the slightest fluctuation as if it was a life and death situation. Also, the intensity of Scorpio paired with the stubbornness of Taurus would make the person difficult to sway – opinions could be fixed and defended just because of pride. A mutable Ascendant might make the person more flexible, but when it comes down to it, they would probably just use the flexibility to get their own needs met. The sharpness and the volatile expression of the Scorpio Sun would be soothed a bit by the Taurus Moon. The need for things to remain the same on a physical level could however be thwarted by ego’s expression of living dangerously. The self-expression of intensity directly oppose the stable serenity of a Taurus Moon. The overall personality is aware that it is the unconscious psychological dimension that run the show and might seek to manipulate others into benefitting their material situation. Scorpios are excellent at getting down to the very core of things and Taurus has great stamina.

Scorpio Sun – Scorpio Moon

The characteristics of Scorpio applies to the identity and the emotions with both the luminaries in the same sign. The self-expression is domineering, piercing, secretive and emotional. The person find that they come into their own through these qualities, and luckily (or not so luckily) find that their emotions follow along the same lines. However, a Scorpio Moon is very different from a Scorpio Sun. All the qualities that are used as an expression of the person’s ideal self, is part of the person’s instinctive and emotional nature. Emotions are extremely intense, to the point of being physically painful. This person’s need for protection, power and defense will likely exceed the limits of what is “healthy” for the individual. The insight that there’s no where to go but through the ”fire” is not easy to deal with. Paranoia and spontaneous attacks could be directed outwardly as the person is very sensitive to any kind of violation of the emotional system. ”Everyone is out to get me” would be the experience more or less, or rather ”everything is out to get me”. Even people close to them could get a healthy dose of retaliation for something they didn’t mean to cause. No one is merely a friend – friends are enemies and enemies are friends. This realization is torture for Scorpios, they like everything to be black and white – but it’s never the case There’s no blind trust that is given from a person with these placements. Scorpios are very good at detecting the undercurrents within relationships and is usually right to react when they do. If they can’t detect a threat, there usually is none. If they detect guardedness and subtle undertones of resentment they will not tolerate it, and try to provoke an overt reaction as to reveal the person’s true nature. They would not be ones to hand out any ammunition that can be used against them later. This combo in particular will have no problem with danger and extremes – because they live on the edge between life and death anyway. Coping in crises is probably their greatest trump card – even though it looks like they could self-destruct any minute.

Scorpio Sun – Leo Moon

This is quite a combo, a lot of pride, integrity and ego to preserve with these placement. Leo Moon needs attention and admiration, they feel the need to dramatize their lives, to make everything part of their own show – bad and the good emotional experiences. With a Scorpio ego in the mix, everything that happens around the person could be blown out of proportion. Scorpio Sun has a penchant for emotional drama and likes to stir things up when the mood hits – making people uncomfortable and demonstrating their insight into other people’s inner lives. Leo Moon’s emotions will accommodate this and add theatrical streaks, making it into a performance more or less. Leo attempts to be noble and good – and above all warm. The individual will be passionate but there will be a kind of pleasant affectionate and playful spirit to the emotional nature. The stinging Scorpionic expression will assert itself but it might not be perceived to be as dark and threatening because of the person’s innate charm. The ego fulfills itself through the impact it can make – but the instinctual nature is playful and creative. The person might experience a friction between an emotionally volatile ego and a warm and radiant temperament that wants to be in the spotlight. Scorpio doesn’t really want to be in the spotlight, it deals with the emotional underpinnings and threats of separation (which is equated with attack) and the merging that is possible between people. The Scorpio personality like to keep things more subtly intense and is not necessarily craving attention and recognition on a superficial level. Leonine emotions are dramatic and take up space but they’re never attacking, probing or penetrating. They’re a display of satisfaction or dissatisfaction, not of deep seated fear. Both signs are fixed and gives the person an ability to stand their ground without budging.

Scorpio Sun – Gemini Moon

The sharpness of Scorpio is coupled with a high strung temperament that craves mental stimulation and constant interaction with the environment. This combo makes for a really good ”detective”, with a astonishing perceptive ability of the ins and outs of the human mind. The social disposition of a Gemini Moon will be modified slightly by the careful and private Scorpio Sun, but it gives the person an air of mystique. It gives the overall personality a deepening that allows the intellect to not only be used for fun but for real meaty business. However, there would be a risk of hyper tension and a sensitive nervous system. The Gemini temperament is very alert and active while a Scorpio identity is emotionally charged. The person would be difficult to pin down and very adaptive emotionally, however, Scorpio is a fixed sign and would stick to preserving the thing they perceive themselves to be. The self-expression would be that of confrontation and stinging attack, with a cleverness and an ability to out-smart other people. This really is a deadly combination because Gemini provides a quick and slippery nature, perfect for the Scorpio ego to control and navigate social interactions and warding of uncomfortable situations. It’s also a perfect combo for carrying out manipulative strategies and acquire power. Gemini has a wicked humor, which Scorpio kind of shares, although Gemini is more easy-going and is not as dedicated and Scorpio. This could present a point of conflict, since the ego would like to be squarely in the intensity of life while Gemini would tend to want to take short-cuts and cheat just for the fun of it – not for the sake of revenge or an inner rage.

Scorpio Sun – Virgo Moon

This is also a combo that is stress-prone. The intensity of the ego expression and the active intellectual temperament that has to process everything creates a person that is constantly on edge. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing – but there’s a potential for carrying the burden of needing everything to be perfect all the time, of avoiding mistakes to the point of detriment. The Scorpionic identity doesn’t help the Virgo temperament to calm down, it adds to the paranoia of spotting attack out in the world. There’s nothing glamorous about this combination, but it’s intellectually sharp and extremely efficient and to the point (with the exception of needing to process everything, which could take time). Virgo Moons, like Gemini Moons are never mentally inactive and they are working all the time even when it doesn’t look like they do. They ponder how they can fix this and that, how they should organize their everyday routines and chores as to ensure a smooth functioning of life. With a Scorpio Sun personality, this could become an obsession. These placements would point to a reserved personality and it might be a bit straining in social situations. Smaller friend groups and less stimulation would greatly benefit this kind of person. Real conversation, relevant and productive interactions would be the person’s cup of tea. Getting ”high on life” and just having ”fun” doesn’t come naturally, the person would crave more purposeful and useful activities. Diving deep into topics of interests and having genuinely valuable exchanges with others is what gets these people going. Although Scorpio is emotionally dramatic, the Virgo is not comfortable with ”irrationality” and would process things on the inside before letting it out – if ever. There would be a tendency to critique things, to correct others with the agenda to dominate them, although it could be done in a genuine attempt to help as well. The intellectual Virgo Moon needs to use information in the name of service of themselves and others, but the Scorpio Sun needs to attack and defend.

Scorpio Sun – Pisces Moon

This is a very emotional and deep combo. The dilemma of existence is felt on a daily basis. The Pisces Moon is idealistic, romantic and forever longing to live in a blissful state permanently. Scorpio Sun seeks to wield power and interact with life passionately. The need to love and be loved is very strong, yet there’s disappointment in the world for not delivering the treasures of salvation that one hopes for. The avoidant and dissociative nature of the Piscean temperament doesn’t blend well with Scorpio’s expression of confrontation and attack. The emotional nature is not black and white, more often than not very vague and abstract. The Scorpio persona likes to be either or – in or out, committed or uncommitted. The Piscean emotional nature is fluctuating and might therefore have a hard time sticking to a path of commitment. The person might feel like they’re loosing grip on what’s important to their ideal self and might be swept away by the fluctuating environment, unable to stay consistent and solid in terms of boundaries. Never the less, the emotional richness that comes with these placements would create a very intuitive and creative person, prone to lose their grip emotionally and space out occasionally, yet having the capacity to take control and not let anybody mess with them. There’s a generosity and unconditionality to the instinctual nature but a determined and persevering ego structure that attempts to keep it in check. The person would be able to love completely and intensely and would not go for shallow interactions in the first place. The person would likely be perceived as overly sensitive – soaking up influences like a sponge and desperately trying to draw boundaries between itself and the rest of the world. It won’t work, and might lead to emotional overwhelm, destructiveness and unhealthy coping mechanisms. There’s a tendency to feel like a victim, but the Scorpio identity won’t show this in the first place. Great intuition and capacity to feel into things comes with these placements.

Scorpio Sun – Sagittarius Moon

The easy-going, sunny Sagittarian temperament would add a lightness to the denser Scorpionic ego. This could very well be a deadly combo because Sagittarius is expansive and Scorpio is extreme – combining the two could create someone who can can be evil as a way of having fun. Inappropriate, morbid jokes, casual comments that is down right mean could be common expressions. Making things happen, heading out on adventures and exploring the world would be emotionally satisfying, yet it would all be done with the goal in mind to get some grip and control over oneself and others – to get some insight into the depth of existence. The person could seek to express their dominant character through engaging in a variety of activities – preferably risky ones that pushes the limits. The casual temperament might make the person unable to commit and the person would drift from one thing to the next, seeking intensity through the multitude of experiences rather than from an isolated singular experience. On an emotional level the person would crave freedom and independence – passion is fine as long as it’s not linked to a binding commitment. The Scorpio identity expresses itself a little differently, it loves and hates completely and likes to possess things permanently. This would cause some friction within the person, making it hard to combine an innate optimism and adaptability with a fixed and determined self-expression. However, the capacity for the Sagittarius Moon to perceive their emotions as meaningful in terms of a journey of unfoldment could bring some consolation to the fixed Scorpionic ego. The path toward knowledge would be pursued with a degree of seriousness and dedication. The person would possess enough spirit and enough will to explore existential dilemmas, to uncover the truth and transform themselves. Constant movement and improvement through intensity is what this person is all about.

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carminite-wyrm · 3 years

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Its an Empires SMP + Wynncraft crossover AU I guess

So, I’ve been playing a lot of Wynncraft recently, and man, the Wynncraft lore sure is wild. Halfway through doing a quest I suddenly remembered that hey, nether corruption sure is a thing over here, and isn’t there Also an invading corruption storyline going on over in Empires?

Anyways so here I am with yet another niche AU idea lmao (though also with the latest videos from Pix and Gem I...kind of already am thinking of a variant on this one lmao)

- Some indeterminable point in time in the future, the Empires gang are having the final fight against Xornoth, ready to take out the demon and cleanse their world of the corruption that had been taking hold of their kingdoms.

- Its down to the final few blows, with the Kings and Queens coming together, despite their grievances with one another, despite all the differences that had once been between them, to finally strike down the demon.

- Naturally, of course, it goes a little sideways.

- The final blow lands, and the hellish arena disappears in a flash of unholy light.

- When the heroes awaken, they find themselves in a spider-infested patch of woodland.

- Upon fighting/running their way out, they quickly realise that yeah, this sure isn’t the Empires SMP anymore.

- There are some shenanigans, probably, upon that realisation, but eventually, the group makes their way to the nearby city of Detlas, severely disconcerted by the clear presence of corruption in the land around them.

- They’re fairly certain that they saved their own land, only to land right in another world also beset by corruption.

- Their various communicators also seem to be displaying a different HUD from what they’re used to, including an actual mana bar along with their health, and more equipment slots and most baffling of all: the option to level up and increase a variety of skills.

- Also, there’s magic, though a different magic than what they’re used to

Added to that, the monsters are far more different to what they’ve encountered in their home world. Zombies, fairly standard, even if the ones in this strange land seem somehow more powerful than theirs. Spiders, easy. And then Joey stumbles across a flaming horse rocketing straight at him at roughly 40kmph, screeching demonically all the while. It narrowly misses pummelling him in the face with its hooves and oh, looks like this isn’t a standard world after all.

Character classes and more thoughts under the cut!

Character classes! (Wynncraft currently has 5 classes people can choose from!)

Warriors (uses polearms/hammers, generally the dps/tank build)

Scott – He has a pink battleaxe, yes of course he’s the heavy-weapon-using class. Also, bc I think it’d be really amusing to see this elf dude w/ an antler crown charging straight at someone with a massive axe/hammer/polearm.

Fwhip – King of the Grimlands, projecting an image of strength even as the corruption ran rampant and clashed with the inherent darkness of his own kingdom.

Lizzie – Ocean Queen w/ a Trident, enough said. Sure, there might not be any axolotls in this world for some reason, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have the powers that made her one of the most powerful Empires back home. Probably mains thunder elemental magic, bc sending chain lightning at enemies is very cool.

Mages (Magic staff goes brr. Also they can heal)

Gem! – I imagine she’d be highly adept at hitting enemies with the regular attack spell, and then suddenly casting a meteor and crystalline ice to obliterate her foes as the rest of the party watches on.

Katherine – Teleporting + fast attacks = magic menace. Also bc I think it’d look cool for her, and honestly that’s the majority of my decision-making here w/ the class selections

Pixl – Idk, something about the vigil and the whole candle thing makes me think he’d make a pretty damn good healer. Calm, collected, and the most unshakeable amongst the chaos of the Empires gang. (This AU idea was written like, a week before the latest video lmao so we're just gonna...gloss over the most recent plot developments for a bit until I can figure out how to make it make sense in the AU)

Assassins (Stabby stabby DPS)

Joel – Look I just think the imagery of Joel + Lizzie absolutely wrecking shit together on a battlefield is too good to pass up on.

Sausage – Man literally ran an assassin guild back in their home world, of course he’s an assassin here in this one. Probably has several sets of daggers hidden up his sleeves, and probably ends up with a life steal build.

Pearl – Pearl with knives would be terrifying and amazing to behold. On the other hand, I was considering either Mage or Shaman but we already have like three Mages, and I don't really have any ideas for how Pearl would utilise the Shaman abilities atm.

Archers (Ranged DPS or support)

Jimmy! – Swamp boi deserves to pop off and what better way than to be able to cause arrows to rain from the sky. And also to backflip out of danger. I imagine navigating a swamp has given him an actual dexterity or agility score.

Shaman (Buffs + support)

Shubble – Honestly I think she’d really vibe with the nature-y vibes this class kind of gives me, what with her mushroom kingdom vibes and the magic. Also, one of the most complex classes, but considering Shubble and her whole researching the corruption thing, I think it’d fit.

Joey – I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know much about his POV beyond ‘wants to court the demon’ at the moment, so contributions welcome here.

- Gem and Shubble’s initial investigations (because they absolutely hit the first library or archive they could find) whilst the others explored/adventured around the area eventually lead them to determining that in order to return to their own world, they’ll have to make their way to the most dangerous region of the Wynn region: The Silent Expanse.

Defeating whatever entity is chilling deep in that eldritch hellzone that’s pinging off Gem and Shubble’s (w/ machinery assistance from Pixl) cobbled-together ‘machine for detecting their world’s own magic’ should be enough to trigger the same event that sent them to this world. They think. Its enough for them all to hope, at any rate.

- Its an odd feeling, being at the height of their powers only to be thrust into a world where a tap from an armoured skeleton can take them down to a third of their health in one hit, at their current ability level.

- The party starts off at roughly level 5-7 btw, because I’ve had to do the tutorial quest and Enzan’s Brother quest like six times and I want to skip that here thanks.

- Eventually, the group does have to split into smaller parties for efficiency, though they’re understandably hesitant to be separate from everyone else in an unfamiliar world.

- Obviously, the parties do shuffle around a bit depending on what quests they end up undertaking, to play for each of their strengths and to cover for their weaknesses.

- Because they’re the Kings and Queens of the Empires SMP, they climb up the levels fairly rapidly, racing through quests in Ragni, Detlas, Nemract, Almuj, before finally venturing across the ocean to the province of Gavel.

- They’re well aware that something rather bad is going on in this world, something that looks and feels so similar to the corruption back home, but yet not.

- Their first encounter with the Parasites in the Dark Forest has those more in tune with the currents of magic, or the natural world, recoiling from the feeling of ‘wrong wrong that should not be in this world-‘

After that harrowing encounter, they are very, very glad, that in their world, the source of the corruption was clearly from a pesky demon, and not the result of warring planar powers.

One would think that, as the resident swamp dweller of their motley group, Jimmy would have been a tad more relaxed in the Olux Swamp. And yet, the magic from his Empire has him on edge throughout their travels in that area, the lingering sense of foreign magic, of what the locals refer to as the Decay, worrying away at the familiar scent of the swamp.

#empires smp #empires smp au #wynncraft + empires crossover au #carminite writes #im actually still working on the sunless skies hc au btw #the ficlet that's kind of becoming a fic at this point is just getting a bit long lmao so here's another au idea

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biteghost · 4 years

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How do you come up with so many cool characters?? All of your OCs seem so vibrant and fleshed out. Do you have a specific process for developing them, or do they just kinda come to you mostly formed? I find I struggle with building a compelling OCs for D&D games & would love to hear your thoughts on character development.

(This answer got long, sorry.) This is a super nice sentiment, I’m happy you think my characters are all cool and unique!!

As far as process goes, uh, it depends on the character? I’ve spent a long time (years) rewiring my brain when it comes to what I think about when creating OCs. They don’t usually come to me fully formed - I get an idea in my head about a concept, and then over like a week or even months of fiddling I end up with a character for that concept.

A lot of the time my characters are simply people I wanted to see more of in media as a kid! Mostly, female characters I actually relate to or are as nuanced and messy as their male cast members, haha... (It was a trip when I realized in high school that I didn’t hate female characters - it was actually that none of them were written as well as the cool boys in the anime series I liked, haha! Be the change you want to see in the world, basically.)

Inspiration for characters (and stories for them to be part of) come from a lot of places. An easy piece of advice is to make an effort to intake media you like! Read new comics, watch new movies and television shows, read books, play video games, listen to music and obsessively memorize the lyrics - hell, obsessively learn everything there is to know about black holes or public domain characters (that’s what I did, lol...)!

(Note: ’New’ meaning new to YOU - you don’t need to only be partaking of media that’s created in 2021 - you can find a lot to love in media that was created before your time, or for generations before you!)

I must reiterate: intake new media that you ENJOY! You don’t have to like all the same things as everyone else, you don’t have to be invested in the same shows and podcasts as your friends. Varied interests and taste is part of what makes us all unique! Increasing your pool of inspiration will help you come up with interesting ideas, and help you find YOUR voice. Your particular interests and the niche things that speak to you will help you figure out what kind of characters and what kind of stories you like to create! But the process doesn’t end at just intaking media... When you find the stuff that brings you joy, analyze what exactly it is about that thing that speaks to you... Put it into words. Explain it to a friend. Make it tangible, analyze the feelings and why the series made you feel that way... and then take it and shove it into your own stories, lol!

Engage critically and thoughtfully with work you like, with characters you like, and it will help you have the language and thought process to recreate it in your own work!

My creative process is like an exquisite corpse of all the characters and series I’ve liked over my lifetime. I mesh them all together in a grim blender and what comes out is a shake in the vague shape as an OC, lol

BUT... it seems like you’re asking more specifically about making characters for tabletop roleplaying games like D&D? And THAT is a different process for me than making OCs for my comics or original story ideas!

I don’t usually join a tabletop game with a fully fleshed out character, actually?? I don’t spend a long time on their backstory, and I usually figure it out like halfway through the story, or through collaboration with my game master!

My TTRPG characters are usually whatever I think would be most interesting in the given game setting or set-up and... usually they exist in opposition to whatever the core concept of the game is. So, the examples I have from games I’ve played are:

In Cardians: West (World of Darkness: Hunter the Vigil): we played in a modern-day urban fantasy setting, where players were recruited into a supernatural Hunter group that was also a criminal organization that Did Crimes and Broke The Law in the name of keeping peace and protecting humanity from the supernatural creatures that go bump in the night. I played Andrew, a Lawful Good Police Detective, because I thought playing a character who would need to grow past his original ideals of ‘Right and Wrong’ in the name of the greater good would be interesting! (And it was!)

In SINNING ADVENTURE (WoD: Geist: The Sin-Eaters) we payed in a modern-day urban fantasy setting with the premise that the players all Died and were brought back to life by forming a pact with a powerful spirit (and getting cool ghost powers in the process!) I played Cassius, a character who could not cope with his death, and thus refused to use his new powers because they were evidence that he was no longer strictly human. It caused conflict in the group and world, but I thought it would be interesting! (And it was! Cassius was a Bitch.)

In Rex Machina (Dungeons and Dragons 5E), I wanted to play an Aarakocra, but was having a hard time deciding on a class or backstory... until I found out that in the ‘canon’ of D&D Aarakocra only live to be like, mid 20s???? Their lifespans are insanely short compared to other playable races!! And I thought that was stupid, so I decided to make MY Aarakocra, Izzy, a warlock that’s looking for ways to extend his own stupidly short life. His pact essentially granted that to him, giving him extra time to find a way to achieve True Immortality. His conflict challenges what’s ‘true’ living in this world, and his extended life is in direct conflict with a lot of forces in the world we play in, and while it is very stressful I think it’s really interesting to play!

In Lamplighting (Monster of the Week), my character Aicen is an assassin who made a deal with a demon and gained supernatural perks out of it... except I decided that she doesn’t WANT to be in this deal. She is actively trying to undo it because it wasn’t her deal - she inherited it from a CEO that she killed during an unrelated job. (Aicen is probably my character I’ve put the most backstory into, and that’s just because at character creation in MOTW you are given a lot of questions about who your character is and why they’re where they are!)

In Hand of Adam (WoD: HtV), the concept was that all players were going to join a post-apocalyptic supernatural-hating cult. I played Shouter, who was a self-preserving pacifist coward who also turned out to be a fae (which the cult would have killed him over). It was stressful but very fun. I love Shouter. He ran away from fights and didn’t actually kill anyone until the last episode where they fought God (whom he killed, lol).

NOW. THESE ARE ALL JUST EXAMPLES OF HOW *I* LIKE TO PLAY CHARACTERS!! For me personally, I enjoy playing a character who has built-in conflict either with the world, the story, or the other players. I’m only able to play characters like this because my friend group are all really cool and we all know that conflict is not bad - it’s fiction and we’re just roleplaying! If I didn’t trust my GMs and fellow players as much as I do, I probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough playing some of these concepts.

I don’t think you need to know every little thing about a tabletop character, and in fact, not knowing some things and leaving it up to the GM and story to flesh out is an easy way to help you get more invested in both your character AND the story your GM is telling! Tabletops are a collaborative storytelling experience, so if you’ve already plotted out your character’s whole story, there won’t be much participation from other players or your GM. Figure out what your character wants, and let your roleplaying and GM slowly put all the other pieces in place over the course of your campaign!

But the TL:DR about how I make tabletop OCs is that I just... try to give them a goal, an ideal, or a personality that is in direct conflict with some aspect of the game we’re playing. I don’t want the character to be undermining the whole game, because that’s really crappy to do to your GM, but I have to have something for my character to grow through or change. I like giving them built-in character arc starters, lol. I haven’t played a game where my character has gotten along with every other player character and NPC over the entire campaign since my very FIRST game, lol!

Also, if you’re having trouble, why not ask your GM what they think? Again, tabletops are collaborative! Don’t be afraid to talk ideas out with your GM for your character.

A final note about playing in specifically oneshot games (i.e. games that are not long campaigns but are meant to be played in one or two sittings). Personally, I always just retrofit an OC I already have to play in oneshots! When I make a new character for a long campaign, it usually takes me two or three sessions to find their voice and figure out how to roleplay them. If the game you’re playing is only one session, I find it easier to jump right in and get the most out of your character and the game when you’re playing a character you already know pretty well! I’ve played characters from my webcomic quite a few times, and it’s always a lot more fun for me than figuring out a new character on the fly!

SO UH, IN CONCLUSION... sorry if this is mad unhelpfu!! My personal processes are unique to me! but that's the point - no one person will have the exact answer that works for you! You have to keep trying until you figure it out for yourself! Good luck! Keep creating! <3

#long post #asktime #not art #art talk #writing talk #tabletop talk #gif #iwishihadhorns

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poychachi · 4 years

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How to Write About PTSD

@writinghaven on instagram [source: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/]

PTSD is featured in many fictional works, primarily as a source of internal conflict for a character. However, many writers simply research symptoms and run with it. There is so much more to PTSD than flashbacks that can add emotional layers, depth, and connection to readers, as well as increase the accuracy of the representation. Here are some important things to remember/consider when writing about PTSD!

What do writers get wrong about PTSD?

Giving characters a traumatic past and an ongoing condition that hinders their ability to move on is great for character arc if you can pull it off. Otherwise it can come off sounding trite or melodramatic. The character struggling with PTSD is facing overwhelming odds, and any character who stands up to a bully of any kind (even when it’s a mental illness) is someone readers will cheer for.

Do more research than just symptoms. Flashbacks seem to be the most appealing aspect of writing a character with PTSD, but actual recurring flashbacks are a symptom of very severe PTSD which is absolutely debilitating in every way. Try talking to someone who struggles with this. Read blogs written by those who live with or struggle with this, or have a loved one who struggle with this. Know that the symptoms don’t encompass the whole struggle but are simply the tip of the iceberg.

What else is there to PTSD other than flashbacks?

Yes, flashbacks can happen with PTSD, but here’s the truth about flashbacks – not everyone has them frequently or even at all. Most writers love the idea of using flashbacks, I’ll admit they’re fun to play with, but where writers often miss the mark with PTSD are all the OTHER symptoms that are debilitating and soul-crushing. Far more common are triggers which require more subtlety and art to really convey how devastating they can be.

PTSD is a filing problem – basically. Where most brains are able to process and appropriate file away a traumatic memory, for whatever reason – a particular memory or file gets left out and never gets filed away (processed). It’s kept front and center for easy access essentially rewiring the brain.

When triggered, (a smell, a place, a feeling, a person, etc.), the inner-most part of the brain (the amygdala – stay with me) sounds off like a fire alarm. When that fire alarm goes off, the rest of your brain diverts all power/energy to that alarm center. So, once the fire alarm goes off, you’re incapable of “thinking” your way out of a situation. Instead, you’ll instinctively react in the way that’s most likely to “save you” whether it’s fight, flight, or freeze.

When PTSD rewires the brain, that fire alarm (which is useful, which is necessary) is now super super sensitive. It’s like placing a fire alarm over your toaster. You’re going to get a lot of false alarms. So, in real life we might take the battery out of the alarm, move the alarm or move the toaster. But with PTSD, because the brain can’t figure out where to file that memory, you’re kind of stuck with these constant false alarms. So most or at least a lot of energy goes into avoiding setting off that fire alarm.

This creates a near-constant hyper-vigilance that is exhausting. Utter, soul-draining, bone-weary exhaustion. To the point where you can’t think clearly – you struggle to order your thoughts or prioritize things correctly. It’s debilitating and can very thoroughly undermine your self-confidence. Every small task or outing gets weighed against the emotional and physical and mental toll it could exact. And let me tell you, this foggy thinking makes life seem pretty hopeless pretty fast.

And while only the most severe cases have persistent flashbacks, that hyper-vigilance and exhaustion is pretty common. The mental fog caused by the hyper-vigilance or a trigger is common. The frustration and internalized shame of not being able to sort your thoughts, or trust your own thinking is intense.

Give your character a coping mechanism

Most people learn coping mechanisms to manage the symptoms of PTSD simply to function, but those mechanisms wear out, their effectiveness wanes over time, our tolerance of them grows thin. If a trigger is the fire alarm, the coping mechanisms are essentially the broom being used the fan the fire alarm to prevent it from going off.

If that “broom” is the only way you can manage life at all, you’ll go to some pretty extreme lengths to prevent having it ripped from your hands. Now, that “broom” can be expressed in a wide variety or combination of ways: anger or violence, self-medicating with drugs or alcohol, workaholism, eating disorders, becoming a hermit, suicidal, etc.

At the same time, someone with PTSD is going to cover up their pain at all costs. People stare. They avoid you. They whisper. And all of that gets internalized over time. They’ll be fine in a social situation until they aren’t and they react in (what might appear to be) an irrational or erratic way, but internally they’ll have clamped down and “soldiered up” as long as possible.

Show the consequences of how ineffective that bloody broom strategy is! Show what happens when the broom is taken away (alcohol, a person, a schedule, etc.).

Show don’t tell a PTSD Trigger

You want to show and not tell, right. The person struggling with these kinds of anxiety or PTSD is going to go to great lengths NOT to think about the original traumatic event. Who consciously relives traumatic events? Nobody.

More likely, the traumatic memories are shoved to the very back of the mind and actively avoided, and numbed when avoidance isn’t possible. They’ll be ruled by emotions, and unless they dig down into the WHY of their strong emotion, the PTSD may go untreated for a very long time.

Instead, show the coping mechanisms (the broom) used to control the symptoms or turn their mind off (escapism, fantasy, porn, drugs, alcohol).

“For me there’s a predictable progression that happens that tips me off to that fire alarm detecting smoke. I feel it in my gut first, a clamping down, a tension, a tightness, and a feeling like I don’t want to be in that place. Then I start to blush, my face feels like it’s on fire. Then I start to tremble. I’ll look down and notice my hands trembling, but at times it won’t feel like I’m looking at my own hands at all. Then my last warning is profuse sweating – regardless of the environmental conditions.” - Lisa Hall-Wilson

When PTSD is triggered you’re at war with yourself quite literally. It will seem to come out of nowhere or can build up slowly to a crashing crescendo. A moment ago you were rationally able to recognize there wasn’t any danger, but then the switch is flipped and your body is absolutely convinced you’re in mortal danger.

Know what your character’s primal goal is when they’re triggered. Is it safety? Is it survival? Is it escaping? Have them seek that out at all costs.

They could have a mantra they recite to control their thoughts. They might have a safe person, someone they trust to watch their backs in new or upsetting situations. The slow removal of their dependence on their grounding techniques or coping mechanisms is a great way to show growth.

Those who know what their triggers are will actively avoid situations that might set them off. This is a potential for conflict – force them into a situation where they’re uncomfortable, where they feel threatened or unsafe. Spring it on them. Put them in new situations.

“I wasn’t aware that exercise fatigue mimicked my PTSD symptoms, so I was triggered by a jerk at the gym and couldn’t feel it coming on because I was in the middle of a workout. The times when you’re triggered without warning are the worst. Being blindsided sets you back days, weeks, even months.”

A blindsided character could be an “all is lost” moment

Being blindsided by a trigger at any point. A situation that’s been fine a thousand other times can trigger you that one day because someone new is there, because you can’t get your usual seat by the door, because someone’s wearing the cologne that your attacker wore. This is a great device to save for a pivotal conflict.

It’s like a two-by-four to the head. Show their emotional wounds bleeding all over the floor and have them keep going anyway. Show them growing stronger, trusting people again against their instincts, forgiving themselves because they couldn’t get a hold of themselves again, etc. Let the whole process be messy, two steps forward and one step back. The stories that end in a pretty bow and leaves everyone “cured” simply aren’t authentic.

SOURCE: https://lisahallwilson.com/how-to-write-about-ptsd-in-deep-point-of-view/

#writingtips #ptsd #ptsdawareness

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monstersandmaw · 5 years

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Male alien x nb human (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Here's the winner of the 'which monster to write next' poll (at least it was at the time I started writing it). It’s been on early release for Patreon folks for about a week now, and I was supposed to post it here yesterday, but I forgot. I hope you enjoy it!

Lex is non binary, and if they lived on Earth at the moment, would most likely be assigned male at birth. Tarann (alien) is male, an assassin, and didn’t have what we might view as a normal childhood by any standards. As such, there is an awful lot he does know, and a lot that he's completely unfamiliar with...

Content: fluff, the tiniest pinch of angst, plus mention of genetic modification and sterilisation, 'creation' of genetic 'super-soldiers', nsfw, tentacle cocks (plural) Wordcount: 8000

The dull, steady voice of his ship’s computer informed him that faster-than-light travel would not be viable with all systems in their current state of blaster-riddled repair.

He cursed.

It then informed him that actually, since barely sticking the landing in a crumbling red-stone canyon, Tarann would be lucky to take off again at all.

He let out a long string of curses, even switching languages a couple of times.

“That was creative. I even detected some Tch’larian in there,” Menot, the androgynous computer, commented. “Been a while since I’ve heard you use your native tongue, Tarann…”

“Go fuck yourself with a Savaranian spiked tuber,” he grumbled, to which the computer had no qualms responding that if they were not a mere collection of unfathomably complicated code - which he had had no hand whatsoever in creating, they sarcastically pointed out - they might consider the directive.

Tarann simply shook his head in frustration and used the lower of his two sets of arms to smash the bulkhead open by the button on the wall, and stalked through the smashed-up ship towards his cramped sleeping quarters. The Spark was hardly a ship built for comfort. She was utilitarian; designed for quick escapes and aerial combat, and short-range sorties. She’d been his home for over a year now, and he’d be lucky if he ever got her to limp into the upper atmosphere of this backwater planet, let alone space. An unhealthy layer of fine red dust was already clinging to her wings and the intakes would likely need some extensive work before he could get her air-worthy again.

Mounting stress made the old implant scar in the side of his neck throb and he trailed his three-fingered hand along it, his skin currently a neutral, dull grey. Barefooted, as nearly all Tch’larians preferred due to particular shape of their three-toed feet, with one additional thumb-like digit that didn’t quite meet the ground when they stood, he padded silently along the metal floors of the ship and began to check and clean his weapons back in his quarters. The familiar monotony of clicking, sliding metal, and the smell of gun lubricant always soothed him.

“Think,” he hissed at himself.

Menot’s voice sounded over the system twenty minutes later and said, “Incoming transmission from the Agency. Would you like me to play it for you?”

He closed his four yellow eyes and inhaled steadily. Reluctantly, he growled, “Yes.”

“Agent Triskelion,” the familiar voice of his handler rumbled. “We understand that your ship took heavy damage in a dogfight after completing your last contract.”

“That’s a fucking understatement,” he snarled but he didn’t interrupt the message further.

“While it was unrelated to the contract on the Red Flame, your unplanned skirmish with Invaranian Rebels did attract attention and we have intelligence to suggest that they might have attempted to trace you following your escape. You are ordered to keep a low profile and your open contracts have been reassigned to other agents until we can be certain that the Red Flame is no longer looking for you.”

The metal of his blaster creaked under his grip and he relaxed before he damaged it, taking another deep breath. He hadn’t had a contract reassigned since he’d first joined the Agency all those years ago. The humiliation of it forced his skin to change from the dusty grey to a vibrant blue, dotted with teal. Feeling like a teenager again, he forced his skin back to its neutral grey and set the blaster aside, reflexively checking the safety before it put it down.

Back at the bridge, though it was barely large enough for him to squeeze around the seat, he snarled, “Menot, record this and prepare to send it to HQ.”

“Very good.”

“Agent Triskelion, acknowledging receipt of transmission and instructions to lie low. Currently grounded in a canyon twenty clicks north west of a small mining town on a planet that’s so fucking tiny it doesn’t even have an official name.” Tarann steady himself and added, “But I’ll get Menot to send coordinates with this transmission. Ship’s pretty beaten up and I’ll probably need extraction at some point. I doubt this place has the parts I need, but I can look. I’m going to head into the town at sunrise and I’ll take Menot with me. And I’ll keep a low profile.”

“As low a profile as one of the galaxy’s finest killers possibly can,” Menot added, and Tarann cursed whoever had coded sarcasm into their system.

“Exactly,” he said. “A stranger rocking up out of nowhere in a town that tiny is hardly going to pass unremarked, but I’ll adapt.” He snorted a little at the irony of that, knowing that his rather unique genetic melange was designed for camouflage. Not for him was the messy application of paints and disguises, though he couldn’t actually change his bone structure beyond accelerated healing. “So yeah, for the love of all you hold dear, please don’t just forget about me here. End recording. Menot, send it to HQ.”

With that, he slumped into the pilot’s seat for a moment and sighed. Menot helpfully informed him that dawn was three hours away, and he told them to shut everything down save for the essentials and maintain a vigilant watch while he attempted to get some sleep.

“I’ll wake you if anything needs your attention,” Menot promised.

With the sun high in the sky, Tarann stalked across the dusty plain that formed a ring around the town. In fact, it was much larger than they’d initially thought, and Menot quietly informed him in his hidden earpiece that the town appeared to go down into the earth, perhaps following the original mine shafts.

“Puts a new meaning on going to ground for a while,” he snorted.

He was relieved as he passed through dirty, dusty, narrow streets, to note all sorts of lifeforms here - some familiar and many not. With limited biodiversity, he might have stood out like a sore thumb, but the place seemed stuffed to the brim with hopeless outcasts from all over the system. There were even some humans here, which surprised him. The temperature was hot and arid, not ideal for the creatures he’d only had brief dealings with. Earth was seen as a backwater, with the emphasis on the water. It was the kind of place people went to retire to, and that was… about it. Enterprising humans had left centuries ago and gone to the newly terraformed planets like Mars - if they still wanted to remain in their solar system - and many more had joined up with the Federation and scattered all over the known galaxies.

When he passed a bipedal, slender human male, he asked Menot to give him a run-down on the species. “Both surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult to kill, can be self-destructively curious and reckless, capable of making leaps of logic insurmountable to many species while being unfathomably illogical at other times…”

“Baffling,” he murmured. “Sounds like Agent Luna,” he said with a fond smile.

The legendary assassin had assessed him upon arrival at the Agency for unarmed combat, and somehow despite looking so… breakable, had had him on his back in two seconds flat. She’d also been the one to give him his field name, Triskelion, given that a decent number of things in his body, except his two hearts and four eyes, seemed to come in threes - three fingers, three toes, three lungs… The only trio of anatomical parts she hadn’t seen first hand was, well… elsewhere.

The fact that Luna was a fraction of his size and weight hadn’t seemed to matter at all in combat training, and he’d been very wary (and more than a bit in awe) of her since she’d returned from a mission with an injury that even the best surgeons at the Agency had said would kill her. Six months later, she was back in the field. He shuddered. Humans were like Anthariacs, once you thought you had a lock on their size and shape, they could simply morph into something else. Or perhaps they weren’t anything like that at all.

Unsettled, he shuddered again and nearly crashed straight into a small vendor’s stall in the narrow alley.

He heard the scraping voice say something, at which the ear piece translated, “Watch it!”

Shrugging off the encounter, he moved through the streets until he came to what looked like a bar with a noticeboard outside. Most of the listings were mundane requests and adverts for various services, and the rewards were in a currency he’d never heard of.

It took him a month on the planet to earn enough cash to stop having to make the twenty click trek out to the Spark every night to sleep. He would have slept in a doorway in the town had he not witnessed on his very first evening what happened to people who were caught unprepared and exposed. The sight of the slender wings being yanked off a tiny creature with a scream powerful enough to rupture eardrums had stuck with him and he’d risked the local wildlife - largely dirty great lizards - and gritty wind-storms on a daily basis to avoid that.

His handler at The Agency kept contact to an absolute minimum, except to update him periodically on the investigation that the Red Flame was still conducting and to tell him to stay holed up there. Boxed in with nothing to do, Tarann became irritable and jumpy. It wasn’t that he was itching for the next kill - he didn’t do his job for that - but the constant vigilance and insecurity of taking short, messy, shitty jobs here and there was waring him down, so when some jackass in the bar made a comment about that ‘four-eyed hill varanus over there’, he snapped. He’d encountered a hill varanus on one of his long treks back to where the Spark was still stashed out of sight in the canyon, and the enormous lizard had been curled up beside a large boulder, minding its own business until it decided to make Tarann’s sensitive inner calf its business with a maw full of teeth coated in thick poisonous saliva.

He’d been hallucinating by the time he’d managed to get back to the Spark - miraculously without dropping off the ledge and plummeting to the bottom of the canyon - and his body had been rippling through every colour in the known universe, and maybe even a few more, before he’d finally stuck a huge needle full of universal antidote into his left heart. It had taken him a whole day to recover enough to leave the ship.

Being compared to a hill varanus then - yes, his skin had the same gnarled texture as a number of reptiles found all over the galaxy, and yes, his saliva was also poisonous to a huge number of species - had suddenly broken all his carefully constructed control and he’d lunged at the large, slug-like creature, all four hands going around the thinnest point of its neck and squeezing until its eyes bulged.

“Oi!” a relatively high-pitched shout went up from behind the bar and a moment later a short blast of sound shot through the room and everyone cringed. The high-frequency noise made his insides crawl and he let go of the offending creature and staggered back a pace, toes splaying to try and steady himself. His skin flushed a sickly green before he could stop it.

Tarann turned his head and saw that the sound had emanated from a small, hand-held speaker which had been plonked down onto the surface of the bar. Behind it, wielding control of the button on the top of the speaker was - and he could have sworn that he felt his right heart lurch a little in his chest at the sight of them - a human. They had a blaster in their left hand and looked prepared to use it, if not necessarily formally trained. Their stance was pretty shoddy, but the distance of only a few spans between them more than made up for that. If the human fired, Tarann would die for sure.

“No fighting in my bar,” they said, voice stern and steady. “You got an issue with someone, you take it waaaay outside, am I clear?”

Both Tarann and the slug-thing nodded and he decided he needed another drink.

Approaching the human while they still held the weapon was probably not a wise move, but when he leaned his lower arms on the counter, his upper pair hanging loose and relaxed at his sides, Tarann saw a smile on their lips. “You must be new,” they grinned amicably, reaching below the counter to stash the blaster and pulling out a glass in its place. They then turned behind them to fill it up. “Haven’t seen any Tch’larians in here for a long time.”

He liked the way the human almost got the click at the start of the word but not quite. Some humans were known for their incredible mimicry skills, but this one clearly wasn’t as proficient. He also had no idea how to address a human after they’d just threatened his life, so he settled for a curt nod.

“And you’re about as chatty as the last one. Whatever that bit of pond slime over there -” they gestured with a bottle of distilled alcohol at the creature who’d insulted him “- said to you, just ignore them. They’re… a regular in here, but they don’t have many friends, if you catch my drift.”

“I wonder why,” he said flatly.

“It speaks!” the human chuckled. “And you’re fluent in sarcasm as well as Federation Common. Here, on the house.” And a small glass was shunted his way, sloshing with a clear, ruby red liquid. “You’ll like it. It’s a kind of brandy made with a fruit that grows in the mines. At least, the last Tch’larian I knew liked it. I could be grossly stereotyping an entire race based on one data point. Still, free booze…?”

“You talk a lot,” he said before sipping it. It burned his neon blue tongue pleasantly and then left a sweet aroma in his mouth that went up into his nasal cavity, leaving him with the impression he might breathe fire if he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah, well, you don’t, so… one of us has to balance the equation.” After a beat they added, “I’m Lex.” They held out their hand over the bar counter and Tarann vaguely remembered something about touch not being a taboo for humans. Not that it was taboo for Tch’larians either, but with so many people mingling under the Federation’s relatively peaceful protection in the past few centuries, it was still easy to offend someone inadvertently.

He noted the strength in the human’s hand as he slid his own three fingers into the grasp, and smiled at how smooth their skin was. Their hair was cut short at one side and had been left to flop a little longer at the top of their head, and he’d always wondered what a human’s hair would feel like beneath the pads of his sensitive fingers. Agent Luna hadn’t exactly been the type to let him try. He’d known that Agent Luna was female, but he had no idea what this human went by, and he was unfamiliar with human naming conventions, so that gave him no clue either.

Eventually he realised that he hadn’t told them his name, and murmured, “Tarann.” It seemed fairly safe out here, and most of the people who might want revenge on him for his line of work knew him as Triskelion anyway.

“Where are you staying?” Lex asked as they got back to work, keeping their head turned towards him a little so that he could still talk to them while they polished glasses and took orders from the odd patron.

“Out of town,” he said.

Lex paused halfway through pouring a bottle of something frothy and blue into a glass the size of a small bucket. “There’s nothing out of town…”

“My ship’s out there. Dead in the water, as it were,” he offered, taking another sip of his brandy. “This is excellent, by the way…”

His compliment was met with a grin, but the gesture quickly faded. “You’re not seriously sleeping in your dead ship out in the hills, are you?” they asked.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“You’re lucky the scavengers haven’t found you and stripped your ship - and you - bare…”

He tilted his head and blinked his four golden eyes at them. “I haven’t seen any sign of anyone out there except me. And the odd varanus…”

Lex winced dramatically. “Nasty fuckers those…”

Tarann nodded, rolling his right ankle. “Indeed.”

After a pause, Lex looked like they were about to say something, but the crash of glass on the other side of the room stopped them. “Shit, not those two again,” they hissed, and Tarann looked around just as a fight broke out for real this time.

They grabbed the blaster he’d seen before and the little speaker that emitted the unpleasant noise, and strode off around the bar, ignoring him completely where he sat. He had eased his lean, muscular frame onto a bar stool to take the weight off his frankly rather bruised and sore feet. The unpleasant sound seemed to do nothing for these two as they scrapped - all arms and teeth and roars, and even when Lex shot a quick, low-energy blast into the stone floor beside one of their feet, they didn’t break it up.

He should stay out of it. The human had guts, for sure, but the two creatures that were fighting were large and aggressive, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. A stray flail of the tip of one of their tails caught Lex in the face and they staggered back, yelling and spitting curses.

Making his mind up, he slid off the stool and approached the brawling patrons. Grabbing the nearest one by the scruff of their reptilian neck, he yanked hard and backed towards the doors of the bar, clearly catching them completely by surprise. Top thugs never expected to be bested by anyone, and it gave him a good few minutes of stunned compliance. Tossing them out onto the street with a snarl of his own seemed to sober that one up a mite, and a second later the other creature was booted out of the door with another curse, leaving Lex framed in the open doorway, blaster raised, face slightly bruised and utterly thunderous.

Something happened then in Tarann’s body that he was not expecting. A sharp, unfamiliar pang of arousal shot down his spine and fanned out through his entire nervous system. He shivered, a low-frequency rumble escaping him without permission. There was something about seeing a creature that should have been vulnerable in this situation - could have been crushed - standing there with a bruised face and blazing eyes, staring down two enormous beings three times their size, that made him hot all over. It was like mating season, or at least, his vague recollection of it from a brief talk at the Facility to explain that none of them would ever experience any of that because they had essentially had it edited out of their DNA. He’d escaped the Facility and joined the Agency and had never experienced the slightest tinge of lust since a brief flare in his teens. He bit those memories down and looked back at Lex.

“Thanks,” they grinned as the two brawlers separated and headed off in opposite directions down the street, yelling curses over their shoulders in their various languages. “How’d you feel about another brandy?”

He nodded and followed them back inside, watching the way their legs moved - their legs hinged forwards at the knee, which was intoxicatingly the opposite way to his own, their hips swaying rather alluringly.

“Listen,” Lex said as Tarann closed his fingers around his second glass of fiery brandy that evening. “If you’d like somewhere to stay, I’ve got a job opening here for a bouncer. The last girl I had got into trouble with some bounty hunter and had to scarper, but it comes with the offer of a room, use of the kitchen out the back, and a steady pay. It’s not great, but if I get tips, I’ll share them with you.”

Tarann blinked. “You can’t be serious…”

“Why not?” Lex shrugged, refilling a container with a viscous, silvery sauce that crackled softly as it sank into the jar.

Barely suppressing a shudder at the offending liquid, he made a mental note to avoid that at all costs, whatever the fuck it was supposed to be or go with.

Lex caught him staring sidelong at the fluid and laughed. “One of a small number of things on the menu that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except a hazmat droid, or an Efulgari bombardier -” they added nodding across the room to where a frankly enormous creature sat waiting patiently, presumably for the bucket of viscous gloop in Lex’s hands. “Now, do you have to get back to your ship tonight, or do you want to stay here and think it over? You can let me know what you decide in the morning.”

He scowled softly; wary and distrustful. “You’d just let me stay?”

Lex shrugged again. “You’ve already earned your keep for tonight,” they grinned, revealing hopelessly small teeth. How could they hope to defend themselves with those? His own, by comparison, were two rows of viciously pointed fangs that could rip open the jugular of most of the known species that didn’t have exoskeletons, and even some that did.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

Lex left him in peace after that for an hour or so, but when the patrons began to trickle out into the night, they returned to him and asked, “Want to head up to your room?”

He nodded silently, and followed Lex through a door behind the bar and upstairs.

“That’s my room,” Lex said, nodding at a door with peeling teal paint which stood ajar on his right. “And this is yours. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and I kept it pretty clean. There might be just a little bit of dust…”

Again, Tarann just nodded his understanding and set his small pack down gently beside the bed. The room was indeed humble, but that wasn’t an issue. He didn’t have many belongings anyway; just Menot in their portable device and some clothes and local coin. “It’s fine,” he said, turning round to find Lex leaning against the door frame in a way that spoke of casual trust and again made his skin flush hot. Embarrassed, he looked away, but Lex didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps they didn’t notice.

“Kitchen is downstairs - it’s the only other door than the one that leads to the bar. You can’t miss it. Help yourself. See you tomorrow, I guess?” they smiled, running a hand through their hair and messing it all up in a way that did nothing to help the rising temperature of his skin or the syncopated lurching of his twin hearts in his chest.

With a final nod from Tarann, Lex left him for the night.

He heard them closing up about an hour later, and then caught the steady tread of their footsteps on the metal stairs, the squeak and click of their door, the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and, another few moments later, the gush of hot water. In the corner of his own room was a sink, so he splashed the dust and grime off his face and decided to ask about a shower in the morning.

The rhythm of his life for the next few weeks was considerably easier than the first had been. Menot kept him abreast of activity both regarding his ship - nothing, mercifully - and the Agency. After three weeks working for Lex, the two had become the very thing he had always shied away from. Assassins don’t form attachments; they don’t form friends. Do the job, get out cleanly, and move on. That was how he lived, and yet, the regular ebb and flow of patrons - most of them familiar by now, a few of them new - and the easy manner of the ballsy human who ran the place lulled him quietly into a new life.

He constantly tried to remind himself that it was a borrowed life; a cover, almost. This cosy existence with its easy repartee between them and the comfort of a soft bed and regular meals was not his to keep, and he would have to shrug it off the moment that he was given the all-clear.

One evening, seemingly at random, Lex closed up early.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked as Lex politely shooed the last drunken creature out of the door and locked it behind her six scuttling legs. “What’s going on?” His natural instincts set him suddenly on edge all over again, perhaps because he’d grown so complacent of late. He didn’t like changes to patterns. It had taken him a little while to relax into this one, and even then, he didn’t exactly ease up on the vigilance.

Lex grinned at him like they’d won some kind of cash-prize, hands balled into fists at their hips, and announced, “It’s my birthday.”

He frowned. “What… What does that mean? You’re… You’re giving birth?” He looked at Lex’ body and couldn’t see any indication that they were carrying some form of offspring.

Lex gave a huge snort and bent nearly double laughing.

“Apparently not,” Tarann mumbled. “Apologies.”

“No,” Lex waved, straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s… that just… caught me off guard. No, I’m not giving birth to anything today or ever. It’s…” and then they fell quiet, almost sad, and said, “You really don’t know what a birthday is?”

He shook his head, feeling unsettled.

“Huh,” they mused. “Well, simply put, it’s a celebration of the day I was born. Back on Earth, we celebrate them roughly every 365 days because that’s one complete orbital cycle of our planet around our Sun. Roughly. Give or take a decimal point or two…”

They stared at him and he grew even more uncomfortable. Birthdays were not something celebrated at the Facility where he’d been… raised. The old scar in his neck where their implant had been throbbed and his skin changed colour quietly from grey to a dark blue.

Lex took a step closer and placed their fingertips on his upper forearm. It wasn’t the first time Lex had touched him, but it was the first touch like that; gentle, careful, concerned. “What does that mean?” Lex asked softly.

Tarann wanted to run, but instead he forced himself to ask, “What does what mean?”

“That colour change? I’ve worked out a few already. You go a kind of bright blue when you’re super embarrassed, but I’ve not seen you turn that colour before…”

“You noticed,” he said with a half-smirk, revealing all his dangerous teeth behind his thin lips.

Lex twitched a shoulder but didn’t let go of his arm. “It’s hard not to notice you,” they said voice shifting lower in pitch. “I love watching your skin change. You know, it reminds me of these old antique lamps back on Earth… they’re called ‘lava lamps’ but they’re not actually made of lava. It’s wax or something. Anyway, when you turn them on, they get hot, and the wax inside floats to the top of the liquid in a blob, and when it cools down a bit, it sinks down again. They’re super old and rare now, but some of them change colour slowly, and it’s kind of hypnotic. I remember going to a museum and staring at one for ages. It’s like that with your skin.”

They circled their thumb over a small area of his arm and he shuddered.

“I think it’s beautiful…” And then Lex’ skin flushed and he caught the way their pulse throbbed in their neck, the veins and arteries so close to the surface as to be impractically vulnerable, but they didn’t seem to want to protect it with armour. “Anyway,” they blurted, releasing him so quickly that he actually swayed a bit at the loss of contact, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What was I saying?”

“It’s your birthday,” he croaked after a pause.

“Yeah, so, uh… I figured maybe we could do something? There’s an Earth recipe involving pasta that I’ve finally managed to get all the ingredients for and I wanna make it. You game?”

“Game?”

“You want to help me?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Lex deflated a little. “You can take the night off if you’d rather.”

“No,” he said firmly. It never hurt to add to his knowledge.

“Ok then,” they smiled, and he caught the way their shoulders dropped a little, the muscles relaxing again. He’d answered correctly.

In fact, the meal ended up tasting alright. Human food seemed strange to him, and perhaps a little bland, but after the protein blocks he’d been raised on, anything tasted alright compared to those. What really made his evening was Lex’ obvious enjoyment. Their eyes were sparkling and alive, like jewels, and they laughed a lot.

They also made some significant inroads into the fiery brandy afterwards, and ended up slumped against Tarann’s left shoulders, smiling softly and running their fingertips over the slight, flattened bumps in his skin along his forearms.

“I can’t believe you have four arms,” they said, their voice slurred and their eyes vague.

Tarann, who wasn’t drunk, shifted slightly and jostled them. They snuggled up again immediately in a new position which forced him to put both his arms around their shoulders as they lay against this chest this time, and giggled. “Why not?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure what else to ask. They were beautiful and strong and tough at work in the bar and during the day, but he got to see a different side before and after work. The fatigue, the loneliness, the gentle-heartedness was never on show for the patrons of their scruffy, homely bar, but for him, they showed all that and more. Now, unwinding even further as the alcohol took effect, Lex became even more talkative than usual, which was saying something.

“Because you’ve got four!” they exclaimed, as if it was blindingly obvious. “And four eyes. I like your eyes. They’re like crocodile eyes.”

Tarann had no idea what a crocodile was and wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or not.

“And you said you’ve got two hearts?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, feeling brave and bringing his lower hand to rest quietly on Lex’s stomach as it rose and fell. Their body was warmer than his and he liked the tingling that ran across his skin at the touch.

Lex fell surprisingly silent for a while, their fingertips still trailing idle lines along his skin, until they looked up into his face from their slouched position - now with their head in his lap - and asked, “What did you do before you came here?”

Faced with the utterly open honesty in those deep eyes, he found himself suddenly unwilling to lie or even bend the truth. “I was a contract killer. I am still a contract killer. I’m just… lying low for a while.”

Lex blinked. “That explains it,” they muttered, eyes turning back to his arms.

They hadn’t even flinched at the revelation, which set a different prickling running across his nerves. “Explains what?”

“The way you watch people. You don’t see people though, do you. You see soft bits and armoured bits, dangerous bits and weak bits. You see exits from a room and weapons where there shouldn’t be any…”

Inhaling softly, he nodded. “Yes. Does that bother you?”

They shook their head. “No. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?”

“Because you… you haven’t really lived… have you?”

“I don’t understand.”

Lex lurched to sit upright then, dislodging Tarann’s hands from their stomach and swivelling to face him, their eyes now blazing with intensity. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you react when I touch you?”

The leap from ‘not living’ to ‘reaction to being touched’ was too great a one for him to follow and he narrowed his golden eyes in confusion.

Lex’s face softened and they climbed awkwardly into his lap, swaying slightly. The sudden, warm weight of their body so close to his own stole his breath for a moment and he felt his skin change from grey to acid blue to a dull pink and finally back to grey in the space of a few heartbeats. “See?” they murmured, rolling their hips invitingly and smiling as a low-frequency mating rumble left him before he had realised what he was doing. “You come alive beneath that touch…”

“I…” he began but stopped when he realised he had no idea what he was going to say. It was perfectly true. He did feel utterly different when Lex was touching him. “I’ve never… There’s never been any need.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, placing their hands on his chest, one over each thudding heart.

Tarann became almost painfully aware of his rasping breathing, the way his body was heating up, the stuttering rhythm of his hearts, the tingling in his groin that he’d never bothered to explore, even alone… “I was created to become a weapon. I was incubated and hatched in a facility which created weapons. They sterilised us before we were even born.”

Lex did look shocked at that. “Fuck… that’s… that’s so heartless… But even so, I can’t have kids, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to get my dick wet from time to time…”

Tarann, again, didn’t understand. Lex was speaking Federation Common, but the nuances that the human put into their words were frequently lost on him.

Seeing his confusion, Lex laughed, rolled their hips again, and this time Tarann noticed something a little different at the front of their pants, a hardness that hadn’t been there - or hadn’t been as prominent - a few minutes earlier. “I still like to have sex,” they grinned.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to have sex though,” they went on. “I’m just saying, it’s ok to let someone close. And to enjoy that. However you want to.”

“Oh.”

Lex laughed and tipped their head back a little, looking free and relaxed again now that Tarann’s confusion had been cleared up. Being unsteady with alcohol, however, they kept tipping back until Tarann was forced to grab them with both sets of hands to stop them toppling off; one pair around the waist and another around the arms.

“Steady,” he smiled. “I think maybe you should have some water. And head up to bed.”

“You’re probably right. I had a good birthday though,” they added, gently peeling the three fingers of Tarann’s lower right hand off their waist and bringing it up to their lips. The gesture they left there Tarann knew was called a kiss. Humans weren’t unique among lifeforms in nuzzling intimate parts of their anatomy against the other’s, but the strangeness of it for his species held an instant fascination. How could their lips be so soft? How could he never have done that? How could he never have wanted to share this kind of experience with anyone before?

And before he could stop it, his skin flushed a deep maroon all over like a drop of ink on wet paper, splotched here and there with dark purple. He knew what that meant for his species, and the sight of his own skin changing to the colours of an individual receptive to mating made him freeze.

“Well,” Lex chortled amusedly. Apparently they knew what it meant as well.

“No,” he said immediately, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was rejecting.

With a knowing but slightly melancholic smile, Lex clambered out of his lap and stood up. “Night, Tarann,” they said as they walked away. Their hands brushed against the door frame as they left the bar, and he stared at the spot where their fingers graced the woodwork even as their footsteps vanished up the stairs.

His skin did not change back that night, no matter how much he willed it to change. Half an hour later, as he lay in his bed, the sounds of Lex pleasuring themselves reached his acutely sensitive ears. The tiny, muffled moans and grunts that left their body set his skin aflame all over again. He moved one hand cautiously, experimentally down his torso to the slit where, to his astonishment, he was slick and sensitive. He gasped at the touch, and the three delicate, tentacle-like cocks which normally never left the sheath began to unfurl almost curiously into his hand.

Ordinarily, this might have repulsed him, but the sound of Lex gasping and the slick sounds that accompanied the moans, made the tentacles of his genitalia coil demandingly around his fingers. He knew almost nothing about his own species’ reproductive habits because he knew he would never need them. ‘You will never be a breeder,’ they had said when he’d hit sexual maturity - the first time he’d even bothered to explore his body, and, until that night, the last - and that had been that.

Sparks of pleasure shot through his whole body and he began to croon, the sound deep in his throat, rumbling and vibrating like an idling engine, filling the room. He couldn’t stop it. Balling his fingers into a fist, he felt his three pale cocks coil around it instinctively, and he began to kneed exploratively at the inside of the flower-shape they made around his hand, a thin, extremely sensitive membrane stretching between them from the root to about a third of the way down. The pleasure that that elicited made his back arch of the bed and his toes scrunched up the sheets as he lifted his hips too, pressing harder at the centre of the three smooth, increasingly slick tentacles.

Forcing himself to focus back on the sounds of Lex as they apparently approached their climax, he felt a wall of heat building in him. Something was approaching, and he let it sweep over him until the three tentacles surrounding his balled-up fist pulsed, gripping his hand tight as a vice, and warm fluid spurted from their centre over his clenched fingers in a series of messy gushes. His vision went white, his body went rigid, and his mind went completely blank.

Tarann floated in a blissful haze for a long time before he could even bring himself to move, his cocks too sensitive, his hand covered in sticky, slick release, but eventually his cocks retreated back into the sheath in his lower abdomen and he felt able to sit up. His hand was a mess, his lower body too, and when he tried to stand, his muscles felt shaky and weak, as though he’d run the training simulation at the facility for an entire day without breaks.

With his skin so sensitive that it was hard to fall asleep that night. Lex must have finished during his own orgasm because he never heard another noise from their room that night. Shame curled in to replace the pleasure as he realised that he’d eavesdropped on something that was private and not meant for his hearing, and in the morning, he could barely look Lex in the eye as he entered the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Lex, however, smiled warmly. The effects of the alcohol the previous night seemed only to have made their voice drop a little and their reactions were groggy and slower. “I think I'm going to keep the bar closed today,” they announced as they poured themselves a hot drink. “You’re not hungover at all, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “It takes more than that to get me drunk, let alone hungover.” ‘Hungover’ was a term he’d only learned since working for Lex.

“So…” Lex asked a little while later as they cooked breakfast for the two of them the hob. “If you’re only here to lie low for a while, do you know how long you’ll actually be here?”

“No.” Apparently Lex hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t remember their conversation last night. He paused and added, “But the last transmission the Agency sent me indicated that the people who were looking into the disturbance after my last contract were no longer investigating.”

“So… not long then.”

“Probably.”

Lex poked at the pan with a wooden spatula and sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

He could see the way Lex’s jaw worked from side to side for a moment and recognised it as one of their tells. They were upset. “You think you’ll miss me when you leave?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “You’ve been extremely generous to me when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Right.”

Tarann knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately, but none of his intense training had prepared him for this kind of situation. He backtracked through the conversation, searching for something he could have said differently, something he could have handled better. Lost, he asked falteringly, “Will… you miss me? Is that what this is about?”

Lex nodded without turning around. “Yeah,” they said, voice cracking slightly. They cleared their throat and poked at breakfast again. It smelled ready but they didn’t seem ready to turn around.

Tarann stepped closer, his feet silent on the stone floor, and placed his hands boldly on Lex’ hips. The human immediately eased and leaned back, resting their weight against his body, though their head barely came midway up his chest. Taking the opportunity at last and sensing it would be welcome, Tarann brought his hand up and stroked his fingers gingerly through Lex’ hair. It was every bit as soft as he’d thought it would be, and he watched his skin change colour beneath the strands as they brushed over his fingers. Lex moaned quietly.

When he lowered his hand and Lex saw the maroon fading back to grey, they smiled and turned around, switching the hob off as they did. They put their own hands on his chest and he ached suddenly to have nothing separating them; to remove his close-fitting space-suit top and Lex’ loose-fitting shirt. As Lex slid one palm tentatively up to his neck, he felt the touch in a wave of heat and closed his eyes. His fingers tightened on Lex’ hips and Lex moaned softly.

“I want you,” Lex murmured. “I thought about you last night.”

Tarann opened his eyes a crack and blinked softly. “I heard you,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Lex laughed, looking part bashful and part turned on. “What did you do when you heard me?”

“I…” he flushed neon blue and stepped back, ashamed.

“Hey,” they breathed, chasing after him. “It’s alright. It’s… really hot that you did that while thinking about me.”

“You don’t mind?”

They shook their head. “If you wanted to try together…”

That mating call thundered through him and he lowered his forehead, bringing it to touch Lex’.

“That a yes?”

“What about breakfast?”

“I overcooked it all already,” they laughed. “It’s ruined.”

Grabbing his hand, they tugged him out of the kitchen and back upstairs to their room.

They shed their clothes in a tangle, and once again Tarann was left staggered and enchanted by the human’s body. This time it was the sheer vulnerability of it. He could also see their arousal plainly - there was no sheath to tease - and something about that made his own sheath throb so hard he let out another mating croon.

“Fuck, that sound is so hot,” Lex gasped, lying back on the bed and tugging him down atop them. “Look at you,” they added, running their fingers down his heaving chest and playing with his sheath as he collapsed atop them. “I’ve always found Tch’larians attractive, but you… the way you move, the way you shudder when I touch you, the way you fucking croon like that…” He did it again - entirely involuntarily - as Lex crooked two fingers and delved carefully into his sheath, catching the inner walls of his three cocks inside and making them unfurl even quicker than they had last night.

They wrapped around Lex’ fingers and Lex moaned. “I want those on my cock… please…” they gasped, and Tarann felt like he might die if he didn’t do as Lex asked. His body was so tight all over, his skin flushing from dusky pink to dark magenta with every deep, sonorous groan that escaped him.

With one leg on each side of Lex’ thighs, he lowered his hips down until they were touching, and his cocks immediately curled around Lex’ own hard cock, covering it in weeping, slick fluid. Lex let out a string of curses and flung their head back into the bed beneath them, rutting their hips up into Tarann’s grip. The pressure of the tip of their cock against the point where the three cocks joined inside him made him growl with pleasure, his maw full of teeth opening, his saliva starting to fill his mouth, bright blue tongue lashing behind them.

“You know…?” Lex panted, thrusting up into the wet heat of the grip that his tentacle cocks had around theirs.

“Know what?” he snarled back, shaking from the effort of holding himself upright over Lex.

Lex reached up to his face with a fingertip and trailed it around his drooling mouth before putting it in his own and sucking. The sight of it sent Tarann into a fury of lust for some reason, and only then did he recall that his saliva was poisonous to many species. Before he could warn Lex, the human grinned and their eyes went wide, pupils blown until their irises were a mere whisper of colour. Apparently he wasn't poisonous to humans. Quite the contrary if the way Lex fucked upwards into his body and filled him with sparking pleasure with each thrust was anything to go by.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Lex hissed, and Tarann felt his cocks contract around the hard length inside him.

He didn’t have the breath or the words to agree.

“I’m… I -” Lex cried out, and suddenly heat flooded the inside of Tarann’s sheath and he felt his own cocks clench and pulse rhythmically around Lex’ cock as he came too. He drew every drop from Lex that they had inside them as his own orgasm rolled through him and left him mute, panting, and thrumming all over.

“Fuck that was intense,” Lex chuckled some while later, when Tarann’s cocks had finally let go of their own softening cock. “Are you ok?”

“Mmm,” he rumbled from his new position, slumped on the bed beside Lex, his trio of cocks lying limply across his torso, splayed out and spent and utterly sensitive.

Lex sat up, heedless that their own body was covered in their combined release, and trailed their fingers down Tarann’s torso towards his still pulsing sheath. “Can I?” they asked.

Tarann didn’t reply but he responded with a shrug. He had no idea what Lex intended, but he trusted them. What Lex did was to lean forwards and take one of his cocks into his mouth and suck on it gently. Tarann’s whole body lurched and he bellowed at the sheer volume of the sensation as it thundered in his head and under his skin all over again.

“Too much?” Lex laughed.

“No?” he gasped, trying to steady his spinning head and suddenly racing hearts. “No. Definitely not too much. Just…”

“Intense?” Lex supplied.

“Do it again?”

Lex did.

—

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#alien #male alien #alien x human #exophilia #alien boyfriend #monster boyfriend #non binary character #non binary human

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aelaer · 4 years

Note

Uhh can I ask for BBC Sherlock fic recs? (Preferably friendship and/or familial fics, but romance is okay too)

Ooohh boy are you in for a list. I know you asked this like, at the start of quarantine or at sometime where I decided that I was no longer interested in communicating with the wider world, but hopefully this will still be of interest to you?

Throughout 2018 I did very little writing because I was busy consuming everything offered by the Sherlock fandom produced over 7-8 years. I definitely read well into the millions of words. A lot of them were from specific collections on both ff.net and AO3. I recommend looking in “collections” on ff.net in particular (as I still can’t really figure out how collections work on AO3 and how to find them easily... it’s really easy to find them on ff.net).

To my knowledge, these are all complete.

If there is any romance tagged here, it’s because it’s really, really fucking good as romance is my least favorite genre. I cannot remember all of them, but there’s a lot of angst, definitely humour, and definitely some great canonical bits. Also whumpy ones that are either really really good or a bit ridiculous but there you go.

It’s long, so under a cut. If the cut doesn’t work, I have tagged it as well.

From ff.net (alphabetical order) - NOTE: I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because the list was already too freaking long! But be sure to check out the authors, you can sort by “category” on ff.net on their author page and then go down to “Sherlock” to find their works:

Anything by A Wandering Minstrel (sooooo many genres)

Most anything by chappysmom (tons of genres, some are excellent, some I could take or leave, overall good stuff)

Most anything by Dayja (she writes in a ton of genres, so some I *adore* while others aren’t my cup of tea, but overall good stuff)

Anything by Gwen's Blue Box if you want angst up the wazoo.

Anything by ivywatcher for fantastic character studies.

Most anything by Jennistar1 (another multi-genre writer, both friendship and slashfic)

Anything by Radon65 - a mix of stuff. Canon IIRC.

Anything by Richefic for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

Anything by StillWaters1 for good, canon-friendly gap-fillers

A Brief Account Of Life With Zombies by Silver Pard Sherlock thinks it's all a bit of a nuisance, John is having the time of his life, and Mycroft is Not Impressed. With anything, but mostly his minions' inability to provide a good cup of tea. Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,384 - Complete

A House is not a Home by selenityshiroi This is a prompt fill from the LJ Fic Meme. John and Sherlock got a flat share because they needed to split the rent. But when John comes into money, people wonder 'why hasn't he found a place of his own' The actual prompt is inside the story Rated: T - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,190 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Annie's Song by Berouge She has a second engagement with a man and his violin, in the park, at night. Sherlock's not going for it! ONESHOT! Rated: K - English - Romance - Chapters: 1 - Words: 8,869 - Sherlock H., Molly Hooper - Complete

Basic Training by chai4anne Summary: A death at a boys' school leads to conflict and revelations among Lestrade's team, Sherlock, and John. Set between "The Hounds of Baskerville" and "The Reichenbach Fall." No slash. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 10,851 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, Sgt. S. Donavan - Complete

Breaking Point by Haelia When Sherlock and Donovan are abducted and Sherlock is grievously wounded, it is up to Donovan to get them both out. "First things first, Freak. You do not give me orders. You are going to do everything I tell you to," Sally said sharply, "because we are getting out of here." Can they both escape with their lives from the most dangerous gang in London? Rated: T - English - Mystery/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 3 - Words: 14,401 - Sgt. S. Donavan, Sherlock H. - Complete

Firestorm by Dustbunny13 Sherlock returns, but his friendship with John is damaged. Nevertheless, they embark on their final hunt to finish off Moriarty's net, but it ends in a catastrophe: Sherlock is shot and lapses into a coma. As John keeps vigil, he reads Sherlock's diary written during the hiatus. Slowly, he begins to understand and finds himself wishing for another miracle. Completed. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Adventure - Chapters: 53 - Words: 133,754 - Complete NOTE: Probably my favorite novel-length multi-chapter you find only on ff.net for this fandom.

How To Accidentally Summon a Demon by patster223 Sherlock is possessed by a demon. A damned, wicked soul that uses the kitchen table for blood rituals and experiments. John doesn't even notice the difference. Rated: K+ - English - Supernatural/Humor - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,411 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

Kidnapped! A Comedy by scuttlesworth Poor kidnappers. Kidnapping John Watson is like pulling on a thread tied to all sorts of crazy. It's enough to make a bloke get a job and go straight. Rated: T - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 2 - Words: 10,758 - John W. - Complete

Mobile Phones, Rubble and Shock by prettybirdy979 In the aftermath of the explosion, Lestrade must work to keep Sherlock Holmes alive and make sense of his communications... with only a mobile phone and Sherlock buried under the rubble of the pool. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,679 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete

Mouth of Babes by Morgan Stuart Several weeks after the explosion at the pool following "The Great Game" episode, Lestrade visits the recuperating Sherlock and John at 221B Baker Street. He brings case files and food... and a visitor in tow. Rated: K - English - Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2,495 - Sherlock H., DI Lestrade - Complete NOTE: This is a whole series. If you like it, look up the rest under the author. It’s super cute.

Of Surgeons and Soldiers by EmRose92 Being a doctor has its advantages. He knows how to put people back together, and he knows how to take them apart. 221B is forced into a hostage situation, and John seems to be the only one who has the power to get them out of it. Includes BAMF John, protective Sherlock, and several unfortunate criminals who mess with the wrong army doctor. No slash. Rated: K+ - English - Adventure/Family - Chapters: 2 - Words: 9,695 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Empty Home by chai4anne Sherlock would always be haunted by memories of one particular case. The first body, its once-so-familiar features blurred by the passing of time and death, moved him more than he would ever have expected. But the worst was the skeleton he uncovered later, bits of hair and clothes still clinging to it—which had no effect on him whatever, until he looked up and saw John's face. Rated: T - English - Mystery/Suspense - Chapters: 28 - Words: 150,773 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The frigid trench by Nova-chan Sherlock is badly hurt. And alone. And incapacitated. Rated: T - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 15 - Words: 13,118 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Hand You're Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working. COMPLETE. Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 1 - Words: 12,092 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

The Secret Identity of John Watson by scifigrl47 Taken out of context, John Watson leads a terrifying life. You have to wonder what those poor women he dates thinks of it, especially if John decides to try keeping one away from Sherlock, and Sherlock decides that it'd be best if he could get rid of her Rated: T - English - Humor - Chapters: 3 - Words: 29,251 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

This Is What He Does For Fun by nyssa123 Sherlock and John go to the pub after a long day and Sherlock realizes that the man sitting next to them is a serial killer. He then proceeds to tell everyone how he knows. Written for a prompt on the LJ kinkmeme.

Rated: K+ - English - Humor/Mystery - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,147 - John W., Sherlock H. - Complete

Totem by IshkabibbleScribble Rescuing Sherlock from the clutches of a violent terrorist cell forces John to rely on a long-unused, lethal skill. Rated: T - English - Friendship/Drama - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,752 - Sherlock H., John W. - Complete

War Wound by SoulfireInc Set sometime after Sherlock's return, before John's wedding to Mary Mortsan. An old comrade of John's arrives at 221B Baker St, scared and desperate for the consulting detective's help. Perhaps, had Sherlock known the consequences he and John would suffer as a result of this surprise encounter, he never would have accepted the case ... [Written before season three aired.] Rated: K+ - English - Drama/Friendship - Chapters: 1 - Words: 21,319 - Sherlock H., John W., DI Lestrade, OC - Complete

From AO3 (alphabetical order) - NOTE: Just like the ff.net list, I did NOT include anything from the authors I recommended because these lists are just ginormous.

NOTE: I did *not* include warnings, pairings, etc in these summaries (too many tags to try and organize in the messy copy/pastes). Read the tags if you have any sensitivities/squicks/etc for all links!

Most anything by CaffieneKitty (over 100 shorts, so some I really love, others I can pass. Well worth checking out)

Anything by dragonnan if you want a huge wallop of angst. Also illustrations. Also writes in the MCU.

Anything by Jolie_Black (You thought stories written in script could only be bad? You thought WRONG. Very very canon-compliant goodness).

Anything by sgam76 (another multi-genre writer)

A Freak Adventure by dioscureantwins Words: 13,719 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Sally Donovan John Watson Mrs. Hudson Oh Christ, the Freak will be like a dog with two tails if she turns to him for assistance. Sally can feel her hands curling into fists ready to punch the condescending smirk off his face as she glares at the lift panel, willing the lift to go faster. But this is about Susy, Sally tells herself, not about him or Sally’s abhorrence of the atrocious git. She’s still convinced he gets off on it but he can wank himself into a stupor over Susy’s disappearance for all she cares as long as he finds her.

A Smelly Affair by dioscureantwins Words: 13,756 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Anthea Mycroft Holmes Sherlock had published an interesting thesis on the splintering of various woods on his website. As well as an equally fascinating treatise on different types of ropes and knots and the best techniques for securing someone. Obviously, his captors had followed those instructions to the letter; thereby disproving John’s theory nobody took notice of Sherlock’s website. A victory, perhaps, but one Sherlock felt he could have done without. Trust his readership to turn the tables on the author. Morons.

Constantly by thesignsofserbia Words: 4,530 Chapters: 1/1 Mature Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes Mycroft and Sherlock have a tenuous relationship at best, but with Sherlock taking down Moriarty's web, they might need each other more than they'd care to admit.

Croatia-Water-Blue by hollyesque Words: 12,117 Chapters: 1/1 Not Rated Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes “I…” John licks his lips, twitches his fingers as though he wants to reach out, “I’m here, Sherlock,” he says; “I know I haven’t been, but…but I am now.” Sherlock wrinkles his nose. Haven’t been—? “What on earth do you mean, you haven’t been here?” he asks, “You’ve been living here.”

Getting to Know You by Dimity Blue (Arnie) Words: 4,605 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes John picked up the kettle. "Nothing from Lestrade?"Sherlock flipped himself over on the sofa and presented John with his back; John sometimes felt he was living with a cat.Clicking the switch on the kettle, John grinned to himself and, keeping his tone casual, said, "Maybe you could send him an owl."There was silence for a few seconds, then Sherlock asked, "Why would I send him an owl?"

Landscape With The Fall Of Icarus by CaitlinFairchild Words: 4,572 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes Mycroft Holmes John Watson Closing his eyes, Sherlock allows himself a brief swell of feeling--let’s not put a name on it, just call it a feeling--for his big brother. He knows that when Mycroft opens that steel door again, every man now inside will be a fresh corpse.The East Wind will take them all, Sherlock thinks fuzzily, before the curtain of sleep descends.

London Orbital by merripestin Words: 13,642 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Greg Lestrade Sally Donovan Sherlock Holmes John Watson "I'm driving first," Sally said. "Guv can take over after me. If we're all still mad enough to be at this after that, John can drive third shift. Then the freak, if we decide we can risk it.""John doesn't drive," said Sherlock."Then what's John along for?" Sally protested. Which Greg reckoned had to be just Sally trying to wind Sherlock up. She knew better. All night in a car with Sherlock was bad enough. All night driving round and round the M25 looking for a killer, with Sherlock deprived of John Watson, sounded like a new circle of hell.

Official Recruiter by Captain_Author Words: 49,469 Chapters: 21/21 General Audiences Clint Barton Phil Coulson Sherlock Holmes John Watson Stephen Strange Crimes were so simple before aliens, gods, and supernatural abilities made themselves known. But Sherlock Holmes never enjoyed simple and these inhumans and mutants provided quite a challenge. SHIELD needed someone to find the superpowered. Funny how both their needs can be met.

Rigging screws, size 1 3/8 inch, galvanised by AJHall Words: 15,250 Chapters: 6/6 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson "How's a woman supposed to prove her husband's a murderer, dammit?" On the eve of a planned voyage to Brittany, Marjorie Jameson starts her day with no problems more pressing than forcing a boatyard to do an emergency repair to the family yacht. A chance encounter at the Cowes hi-speed ferry terminal begins to unravel a web of conspiracy and murder, with her charming, untrustworthy husband Julian right at the centre and Marjorie as the next intended victim.But no-one's going to trust the word of an aging housewife whose complaints of abuse the police have previously dismissed as delusions.

Somewhere in the Dinaric Alps by drpepperdiva91 Words: 1,735 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Sherlock is caught off-guard by a flashback to his time in Serbia, just before John arrives home from work. Sweet, but still semi-realistic, hurt/comfort.

The Case of the Missing Bus Ticket by Unsentimentalf Words: 10,543 Chapters: 1/1 General Audiences Dirk Gently Sherlock Holmes Richard MacDuff John Watson Mycroft Holmes When Dirk and Richard's new client inexplicably fails to stay alive long enough to pay them, their ailing finances mean that a certain amount of subterfuge is required to get them back to London. The sudden death of their client has, however, attracted the attention of another rather more famous (if less holistic) detective and the stage is set for a long distance bus ride of suspense…

The Green Blade by verityburns Words: 72,929 Chapters: 15/15 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Lestrade (Inspector) Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Anderson (Sherlock) Mrs. Hudson As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit... WARNING: COMMENTS CONTAIN SPOILERS!

The Holiday by Scriblit Words: 18,962 Chapters: 9/9 Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes Mrs. Hudson Greg Lestrade Molly Hooper Mary Morstan ACD Canon Characters A month following an horrific, sadistic attack during a case, Sherlock is still physically incapacitated and emotionally damaged. A holiday is suggested, but even stuck out in the middle of nowhere, he and John happen upon a case that could make Sherlock begin to feel like his old self again - or could kill him.BBC Sherlock Reworking of ACD's Devil's Foot, with Illustrious Client in flashbacks. Scenes of violence and implied "off screen" sexual violence/sexual assault.

The Shallow End by hollyesque Words: 6,923 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mycroft Holmes "I told you once that I don't have friends," he says to John's back, "Now you know why."

The Silence of the Bees by trappedinathoughtbubble Words: 14,169 Chapters: 7/? Mature Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mary Morstan Mary Watson Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes A kidnapped teenage girl. A political conspiracy. Bees. And somehow in the midst of it all, John learns a few things Sherlock forgot to mention about those two years. Note: Not completed, but the author's around and one of the sweetest people ever if you want to give encouragement to take a look again at this story!

The Triple Bluff by SarahKnight Words: 28,331 Chapters: 8/8 Mature Sherlock Holmes Greg Lestrade Mycroft Holmes Sally Donovan Philip Anderson Sherlock annoys his landlord at Montague street, grows to hate Donovan and gets into trouble a lot on a kidnapping case involving a woman who bullied him as a child.The events leading up to A Study In Pink. A case fic that answers questions from the first episode such as why Sherlock had to leave Montague Street and find a new flatmate, why he and Lestrade both quit smoking but didn't know the other had, why there's so much animosity between Sherlock and Donovan, and why Sherlock hates traveling in a police car.

Welcome Home by thesignsofserbia Words: 3,435 Chapters: 1/1 Teen And Up Audiences Sherlock Holmes John Watson Mrs. Hudson Mycroft Holmes "All my nightmares escaped my head. Bar the door, please don’t let them in. You were never supposed to leave. Now my head's splitting at the seams."

And of course I have my own Sherlock/Doctor Strange crossover up on AO3 if that tickles your fancy, illustrations and all. :D

But if you haven’t delved deep into the fandom, this should tide you over for some time.

This list is by no means an exhaustive list of recs. I didn’t really include anything that concentrated on a romantic pairing, for instance. I left off anything explicit as well. But yeah, here’s a small amount of the overall goodness produced by the BBC Sherlock fandom over the last 10 years.

#neutronstardust13 #long post #bbc sherlock #fic rec #sherlock holmes #john watson #gen fic #genre: humor #genre: angst #genre: fluff #crossover #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #martha hudson #ask #answered

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heartless-error · 4 years

Text

Broken, not perfect, but together. - Chapter 10

Fandom: DC comics, Batman

Pairings: Jonathan Kent x Damian Wayne (JonDami) & Jason Todd x Timothy Drake (JayTim)

Rating/Tags: Family feels, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, running away, unresolved romantic tension

Other(s) links: AO3

Broken.

The Batfamily was broken.

It was six years ago, and they had barely stood together since then, trying to stand up despite guilt and regret.

Damian was sure there was nothing to save, not after losing something that he didn’t know he cared about. But when a new opportunity to get back what they had lost appeared, he cannot help to doubt as his past decisions haunt him again.

If you love somebody, set them free. But you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Chapter Summary: He knew he wasn't a good father, he had always knew. But he was trying, like always. And he knew he couldn't get rid of all his mistakes too, but at least he wasn't alone facing them. He had Clark, he always had Clark, even commiting the same mistakes.

Chapter 10

Six years ago

Contrary to what many people seemed to think, Bruce didn’t always have everything under control.

He was trying, what was different. With all his strength, every day, with all the means and knowledge he had. Even if it was never enough, over and over again. The key was in that, in trying. It didn’t matter how many doubts were around him, how many problems arose against him or how much they tried to stop him, he had to keep trying, to solve it, showing a calm and in control facade so others didn’t know how much his mistakes or indecision haunted him in every step he took.

Bruce knew there was no need to do it, to be so controlling or to bury his insecurities so deeply and hidden from anyone who dared to look. But he also knew where those problems came from, everything that had fed them, and what brought them to light.

The desire to control even what he couldn’t born in him from the moment in which the sound of the lifeless bodies of his parents resounded in that alley, that fateful night, and since then he lived with it. That desire to watch, intervene, and always be prepared for the worst grew as he did too, and became the man, the supposed hero, he’s now. And it was when those closest to him suffered or were injured by his decisions or failures, which reaffirmed more and more in his being.

That feeling, that need, was like a vine with thorns. Pointy, infinite, dangerous, and sturdy, rooted within him without any limit, pressing and suffocating him everywhere, ready to hang him. It scratched his scars so that he would always remember them, suffocated his mind so that he would never forget it, and strangled his soul and that of those around him, because it was a double-edged sword where the line of protecting or controlling was easily blurred.

He couldn't get rid of it either, because then, what would be left of him? He was Batman. Batman. The one who always had a plan, a contingency, who stood out for his critical sense and his mind, what always had another alternative. He was the one whom the others looked at when they were trapped in a situation with no way out, the one who kept calm in extreme situations, the one who was able to save the day or the world thanks to his control.

He couldn't lose that, but it's not like he wanted to, or knew how, either. So, doing his best was all that was left. Keep calm, control. He tries it.

He tried but the manor was quiet. He knew it wasn’t something unexpected after what happened three nights ago, but it kept worrying him because it was as if everything had turned off suddenly.

Damian's firm, light footsteps were no longer heard in the hallways, his youngest son hadn’t left his room since that night, he had also refused to receive anyone and was recovering from his sprained ankle. The soft Richard’s laugh had also vanished, he was like a ghost, he knew that he walked around the corridors from time to time because he couldn’t bear the confinement, but he was impossible to detect. Alfred's courtesy couldn’t be seen either, he knew that the man was not only angry, but that he respected his desire to be alone right now. The presence of his daughter, Cassandra, was also lying much in need, as much as she was silent in itself, her stay was always appreciated. Stephanie's jokes had been replaced by cautious and angry looks upon learning what happened. Barbara hadn't even deigned to answer him when he asked for a certain favor the night before. Timothy and Jason had fallen into complete silence, nothing unexpected.

It was afternoon, but Bruce was in his office in the manor, thinking about how the place he had managed to fill with laughs, footsteps, and life over the years was now as empty and silent as when Thomas and Martha Wayne died.

He hadn't moved much, from the big chair in front of the expensive office desk, because he was still thoughtful and analyzing the argument that had happened in the cave three days before.

Bruce knew he wasn’t a good father. Like all of him, he was trying, but he was very aware of reality. If someone asked him about the mistakes he had made regarding his children, he could list each and every one of them by heart, classify them by different categories, and then recite them out loud almost without thinking. This, obviously, was because he had them in his mind and insanely at all times and, of course, feed again those cravings for control that dominated him. The fear of losing them was too much, he couldn’t bear it, and that led him back to enter that infinite cycle that dominated his life.

The more he loved his children, the more he needed to protect them. That, in one way or another, involved controlling them and their environment, and the more he tried to do it, the more damage he did directly or indirectly. He always ended up failing, making mistakes. And these mistakes were present again, trying not to be repeated for then commit others instead.

He was also aware that most of his children hadn’t had an easy life. Everyone came to him as children whose circumstances had been difficult and unfavorable. He couldn’t be responsible for the trauma or abuse that others had done to them, he just helped to mitigate it, give them the happy, healthy home they deserved and tried to change things where possible. But at the end of the day, the adult who took responsibility for them was him, and definitely had made mistakes.

The worst and what tormented him most at the moment, is that if he listed those mistakes and removed the most obvious and indisputable of the list -how, for example, involve all of them in their crime crusade - most of them involved Tim and Jason in some way or another.

That certainly didn’t help him.

If he initially wouldn’t have been so hurt by Dick's departure to the Titans, perhaps he would have considered not controlling Jason the way he did when he adopted him or making the same mistakes as with his first child. If he hadn't been so convinced that the wounded but brave boy from the Bowery, needed Robin, he might not have felt like he needed to fill his older brother's shoes and run away later. If he had made it to Ethiopia in time, to the warehouse, Jason wouldn’t have died. If Jason hadn't died, he wouldn't have fallen into the spiral of self-destruction that Tim had to save him from, and he wouldn’t have turned him into Robin. If he hadn't turned Tim into Robin, maybe his parents were still alive, maybe he would have had a normal and happy life. If Tim had a normal life, Jason wouldn’t have risen with so much hatred and resentment towards them and wouldn’t have tried to kill him. If he hadn’t "died" later, Tim wouldn’t have lost another person, nor fallen into the same self-destruction from which no one could save him now.

If... If not...

There were so many events that he could have changed, and others not. So many mistakes, so many things could have been better. Everything turned in his head and had harassed him for three days. His bad decisions, the possibilities, the memories, all of that filled him with guilt and uncertainty, blamed him that it didn’t matter how human he was, how much he felt, because his mistakes always had more weight and consequences in the people he loved, whatever he did.

He remembered the despair he felt while holding Jason's corpse, bloody and broken as the warehouse burned and collapsed around him. The fear that ran through him when he helped to trait Tim's wounds after Red Hood's beating him up at the Titans' tower too, knowing who had done it. He remembered the disappointment and pain that Jason's spiteful words provoked him when he was ready to kill the Joker. Also, the understanding of Tim's tears after his father's death.

They were his sons. His sons. He felt and suffered more for them than for himself, and for the fact that because of his own crusade their lives have been so affected.

They had big hearts, unshakable will, and unmatched bravery. A potential within them that drove them to help others innately, to fight with everything they owned. It was that light, that ability, why they were Robin.

However, that didn’t take away the fact that his field-acquired wounds, both emotional and physical, could affect them on a deeper level than they could think. Endangering themselves, the other, and the rest of them with that hidden relationship that was revealed three nights ago.

Jason was the brave and fighting boy from the streets who decided to fight the crime he experienced firsthand. But the trauma related to the abuse, the streets, and his own death was still very entrenched inside him, shaping his decisions both inside and outside his vigilant life. The Lazarus Pit had made him violent and angry, a killer who lost control when one of his triggers of said trauma appeared, including the bats themselves. As much as he had improved his control, they still had no guarantee that the Pit Rage would appear at any time and become a threat for all of them again.

Tim, the sweet little Tim, was still the smart and kind boy who threw away all opportunity to live a normal wealthy child life to become an extraordinary hero, someone who cared for and saved people in a selfless and sacrificed way. But the experiences that came along with that decision were not as kind as he was, and while Tim gave his all, without contemplation, in exchange he lost family, friends and stability. Bruce was not stupid, he recognizes a severe depression when he saw it, and although no one knows what happened to his third child during the time he was lost in time -or what he had to do to get him out- it had to be bad enough for Timothy became the lifeless emotionless shadow which was now.

“You’ve been years without knowing anything from us!” Jason said three nights ago.

It wasn't true, but it wasn't false either. He couldn't deny it with the same force as Richard did, because as much as he would like to say that both of them were still integrated in the family, it wasn’t true. They hadn't been in a long time, and they couldn't run away from it.

For him, it was always easier to treat Jason as if he had been a fallen soldier in battle because doing it as the son he left to die was too painful, it kept shaking him to the depths of his existence, perhaps that was why he hadn’t been able to integrate him among them again, in addition to all the history resulting from those events. He couldn't ignore his morality and methods, destructive and totally different from his. Neither the numerous attempts to harm him or the rest of the family, especially Tim. There was the fact that Red Hood operated in Gotham apart from the Outlaws, yes, but they hardly worked together or cooperated. They had their territories very defined, but he could barely catch a glimpse of Red Hood without twisting things, neither Jason. He knew that sometimes he was in the cave or the manor, but he always made sure not to see him and not stay long unless it was necessary.

For his part, Timothy, after he returned from his "death" and accepted Damian as Robin, he adopted the Red Robin alias and seemed to disappear entirely. He claimed to be in favor of carving out his own name as a hero, but he was elusive, smart, and determined. He went to live alone, to work with the Titans or at WE. It didn’t matter how many calls they made, how many emergencies or meetings would be held. Tim barely stepped on the manor, he didn’t stop to talk about anything other than the vigilant job, and long periods passed without seeing him. He hid his wounds very carefully and his habits began to be dangerous for him. They knew enough to realize that he was trying too hard and something was going very wrong but reaching out to help him without scaring him in the process was hard, complicated.

Maybe for all that and more, his sons didn’t trust him enough to reveal what was going on between them, that they were dating. He didn't blame them, he really deserved it, because he couldn't figure it out either. He also deserved they were angry with him and his opinion on the matter.

They could get mad at him, hate him, or yell at him. But he really believed that he had reason to say that relationship was something that should be discussed or thought more carefully.

Relationships on the field were dangerous, he knew it personally, and he still remembered the discomfort that had plagued the team when Barbara and Dick broke up so many years ago, not to mention Tim and Stephanie too. And he also remembers the serious injuries Jason inflicted on Tim, how much Red Hood lost control around him, and how little Tim has always valued himself and his injuries.

Jason's problems along with Timothy's emotional state were not a good combination at all. It wasn’t. It didn't matter how they looked at it, nor how many years will pass. Their story was too rough, there was too much torment, too much tension between them. They themselves were not in a position to have such a relationship with anyone, much less with the other. And if he already doubted the red team itself -despite its efficiency- he also couldn't help but doubt this.

He couldn't leave them to destroy each other, he couldn't. He knew that was how it would end, and the simple possibility that it might happen made his cravings for control beg him to take the reins of everything again, to fix all this and do it now.

However, he had already been too carried away by that feeling to know that it wasn’t a good idea to follow it. So, before he could do anything, he received a call. A call that lasted for hours, most of the night, where he got another perspective on the matter and helped him to decide and ask that favor from Barbara that he hadn't heard from yet.

Despite knowing there would be no response yet, he couldn't help but check his phone again to make sure, eager to be able to do something about it instead of sitting for hours in that office evaluating and planning the best course of action.

He was just going to think about that when a few firm touches on the window caught his attention, causing him to straighten and look at the window on his left suspiciously.

Even though he had told him that he didn't need him to come, there he was, his call.

Frowning, Bruce got up from his seat and went to the window to open it wide, looking at Clark Kent, who floated in front of him in his civilian clothes as if it were the most normal thing in Gotham in the middle of the afternoon.

Holding back a sigh, he opened the window and stepped aside to let him in, trying to decide what to say first.

He was debating between a "What the hell are you doing here?" or "I specifically told you not to come here.” before the Super raised his hand and talked.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked, looking at him closely.

Not even a "Hello, how are you?" before starting to enter the matter. It wasn’t necessary, they had already overcome that phase of their relationship for a long time. What's more, Clark didn't have to ask how he was doing, he already knew it, he knew it very well.

It had been him who had finished calling after the discussion in the cave with Tim and Jason because he knew that something happened to him only by his heartbeat. It's not like he could have hidden it from him, because not only would he have found out sooner or later, but because he already did, and he was his best friend, so he finished telling him everything. They talked too much, and the call lasted for hours, with both locked in their offices for more privacy and with Clark insisting on going to see him.

He said there was no need, but he had ignored it, as always.

“That’s not relevant.” He replied, frowning further.

To Clark, that was the fragrant confirmation that -indeed- he hadn’t slept for three days. In his defense, Bruce would say he was too busy thinking about other things to allow himself a little rest. What's more, he wouldn't even have done it if he tried.

Every time he closed his eyes he listened to Tim's choked sobs and his weak voice begging him to leave them alone.

Clark wasn't going to know that, but didn’t seem to like his answer at all, because he crossed his arms and looked at him the way he always did when he had no idea what to do with him.

For a moment, Bruce had the slight hope that Clark would let him go, but it was Kent. So, when he grabbed his arm and dragged him onto the couch in the office to make him sit down with him, he wasn't even surprised. He just rolled his eyes and reminded himself that trying to fight Superman for this was not worth it, because he already knew the result, he had tried too many times. So, he ended up sitting next to him on the sofa and sighing heavily.

“Sleep.” Clark said simply and shrugged. As if it were that easy.

“I don't think it works that way, Kent.” He replied with a snort.

Clark looked at him again disapprovingly a few seconds, then his annoyance softened, and his look turned into one of pure concern.

“Rest, please.” He asked softly. “I know you, and I know there have been rough days, but it wouldn’t be better like this.”

After a moment of silence, Bruce decided not to answer that and instead leaned on the sofa to look at the ceiling in silence, closing later his eyes and completely ignoring the tug on his chest that Clark's concern caused him.

That seemed to be an acceptable move for the Kryptonian, because then they were completely silent, together. Bruce could feel the warmth of the other's body, sitting too close. Also, how he tried not to move too much so as not to distract him or disturb his rest, which didn’t help much because he couldn’t rest by himself, but the effort was appreciated.

He didn't keep track of how long they were quiet and just being aware of each other's presence, but Bruce found himself breaking that peace after a few minutes without even hesitate.

“Why are you here?” He asked without changing his position.

He felt Clark stir in his seat and his bluish gaze fixed on him.

“I wanted to see how you were.” He replied directly. “Do I need something more to see you?”

Again, he remained silent, that tug on his chest appearing again. However, unlike a few minutes ago, this time he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him too, meeting his face closer to his than he had originally thought.

He didn't look away, neither did Clark. They just looked at each other intently and waited for the other to say something. A tension already known between them leaked into the room.

If someone had told Bruce years ago that Superman would be his most supportive person in his life, who he would trust the most, maybe he would have laughed, a lot. Now, he would have no choice but to agree and say thanks for it.

Because if it hadn't been for that call and those hours of conversation, things would have been much worse, and the situation would have only exploded after he had done something crazy. It was Clark who helped him see that it wasn’t necessary to carry the burdens of his mistakes alone, but that it was easier to do it together. It made it lighter. It was Clark who told him that even Superman made mistakes, everyone did, and the thing was learning to live with them and fix them after all, but don't let them dictate your life. And, above all, it was Clark who convinced him not to take hasty actions and try to clarify things with Tim and Jason without emotions clouding his judgment.

It was Clark, it was always Clark. The one who managed to make him reason, the one who broke each and every one of his barriers with ease, the one who gave him hope, the one who saw beyond the calculating and calm façade he showed. Clark, always Clark.

“My son was here yesterday.” The Super ended up saying in a whisper, they were close enough to hear it.

“I know.” Bruce answered.

He always knew when Jonathan showed up at the manor to visit Damian. This time he even thanked him, because he didn’t know the state of his younger son, but he did know that Superboy could cheer him up. As much as he broke Gotham's “no meta” rules and the limits set by his parents, he decided to let it be.

“And you were okay with that?” Clark asked, more curious than annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What do you think?”

His answer made that tension, known but unsolvable, grow even more. Clark swallowed hard and Bruce didn't look away.

The truth is that they would have had to be very blind not to have realized that their sons were in love for a long time and hopelessly they were going to end up together. After all, it was something that had been happening and developing in front of them since they made them team as children, and what they also had avoided talking at all cost.

If Bruce at this time wasn't so worried about what had happened with Tim and Jason and how to solve it, maybe he could stop to think about how unfair he and Clark were being not wanting to recognize the feelings that their sons had on the other.

They would like to; they would really like to. But admit that would openly lead to mention Conner's fixation with Timothy, which would lead to the conclusion of that, for some reason, always has existed a connection/fixing between the Supers and the Bats. And to admit this fixation would mean declaring that it really exists, along with that... Something, between them.

There was something. Something between Bruce and Clark which didn’t want to admit, speak, or recognize. They've been ignoring it for years and had always worked like this, they had no reason to bring it to light, nor act on it. However, recognizing the situation of their sons not only will make it much more real, if not that -in some way- impossible.

That doesn't make sense because it was already impossible anyway. Clark was married to Lois, Bruce was dating Selina, they have been best friends since the League was founded, and their children were going to end up together, so there was no way they could... What?

Do what? To say what?

There was nothing to do, nothing to say. It wouldn't do any good because it was too late. No matter how much they tried to ignore it, it was something that hung over their heads and the moment it arrived they had to impose their sons' happiness on theirs, because that was how it worked, that’s what it meant to be a dad.

Although maybe that's why they didn't want to admit it, maybe that's why they tried to postpone all that until they could no longer, because they knew that the moment their children spoke for themselves, the decision of both of them was made, and it was like closing a door definitively that they had never dared to cross, but whose existence knew.

But that wasn’t the important thing at the moment. The important thing was Tim, Jason, their relationship, making sure they were safe and secure, and waiting until Oracle managed to contact them in order to see them. But that was a matter of time, he just had to wait.

So, ready for it, Bruce turned away from Clark, snorted wearily, settled back on the couch, and closed his eyes to get some sleep after three days without rest.

And if Clark's hand held his in the process, was something between them and no one else.

~0.0~

When he woke up, he was alone.

The office was dark, it was already night, the window was closed, and Bruce was lying on the couch.

There was no sign of Clark, but before thinking about how he had taken advantage of the fact that he had fallen asleep to accommodate him and leave without saying anything, he focused on the light of the flashing notification from his phone that he had been waiting all day.

"Don’t thank me. Say hi to Hood before the patrol.” Barbara's text said.

She had done it; she had granted his request and had been successful. Oracle had managed to locate the red team to take them to the Cave and sort things out. To have a conversation about it without surprises or threats, just leaving the cards on the table at once. There were situations and secrets in the family that could no longer be ignored more, and this was one of them.

Bruce didn’t have time to be surprised that it was precisely Jason who agreed to attend that appointment, because he realized that he should head there. It was time to prepare for the patrol and it was better not to make anyone wait this time. He was determined to make his position clear and protect his sons, as necessary.

He was halfway to the cave entrance when a loud sound made his world stop and a jolt of terror prick him.

Bang!

He breathed for a second, and then, recognizing the sound as a shot, he went through the entrance and down into the cave as fast as possible. Everything in a pure ingrained instinct that he had acquired after so many years in the crusade against crime, which tightened his muscles and contracted his bones.

With his heart hammering hard and thousands of possibilities and explanations piercing his mind, when he arrived at the cave precisely the least expected received him.

The vision of Dick Grayson, gun in hand, with Jason Todd bleeding out on the floor, made him realize that everything had gone too far.

There was no longer a solution.

#myfic #jaytim #jondami #timjay #damijon #dc #dc comics #batman #superbat #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #red robin #red hood #superboy #robin #supersons

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underneaththesurface · 4 years

Text

The murder of Jason Blossom

Estelle: Good evening, Riverdale. I’m Estelle Ollier.

Omi: And I’m Omi Klyde.

Estelle: And this is Underneath The Surface, where we dive into the history of our town, Riverdale.

And today, we'll be talking about the murder of Jason Blossom.

Omi: The murder that sent this town in a downward spiral...Well, more than it already was.

Estelle: Well, let's just say that it sure gave a couple of families some unwanted attention.

Omi: Their meddlin' days were numbered!

Estelle: (chuckles) And this is how it happened:

Estelle: On the morning of the 4th of July 2017, the twins Cheryl and Jason Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an early morning boat ride.

Later that morning, the local scouts' group found Cheryl by the shore, crying.

She claimed she dropped her glove in the water, and when Jason reached for it, the boat tipped over. That was the last time she saw Jason.

Omi: This sounds like a much more abysmal version of Kim Kardashian losing her diamond earring.

Estelle: Maybe if Kim had lost it before people started dying.

Omi: Maybe the Blossoms and Kardashians could learn something from each other.

Estelle: (gasps)

Estelle: I'd rather not think about that.

Omi: Oh god, not like THAT!

Estelle: This is going to be a looooong night (chuckles)

Omi: Don't get me started on reality tv...I could talk for days.

Estelle: I'll just move on.

Omi: Yes, go on.

Estelle: About a month later, two teenage boys who wish to remain anonymous found Jason's body on the river shore, with a bullet wound in his forehead.

The coroner discovered that Jason had been a victim of animal scavenging. But he also found ligature marks, and signs that he was frozen.

And last but definitely not least, it turned out that Jason died on the 11th of July, instead of the 4th.

Omi: Yikes.

Estelle: Y-yeah, that changed the story.

Estelle: The results led the investigation to Cheryl, who voluntarily went with them as she claimed she expected them to find out she was guilty.

Omi: That girl’s been through Hell.

Estelle: Yeah, I guess being a Blossom is both a blessing and a curse.

Omi: I guess so. What happened next?

Estelle: In the principal's office, Cheryl admitted that Jason wanted to leave town and never come back and that she helped him come up with the plan, so their parents wouldn't go looking for him.

They made it to Greendale, and Jason left, saying he'd reach out in a month. But he never did.

She also mentioned hearing a gunshot the same day, and sheriff Keller let her go.

The next day, Archie Andrews admitted he too heard a gunshot that day. However, he claimed he didn't see who fired the gun.

When sheriff Keller asked why he was there and what he was doing, and if he was with someone who could've seen the shooter.

Archie answered that he was writing songs and that it was just him and his dog.

Omi: Was it really, though?

Estelle: Mmm, I heard things but I'm not sure it qualifies as evidence.

Omi: Same, that's fair.

Estelle: Fast-forward to several days later, on the last movie night at the Twilight Drive-In, someone broke into the Kellers' home, and stole all the evidence in the Jason Blossom murder case, including the documented files, background checks, and the video and audiotapes of police interviews. For sheriff Keller, this meant that Jason Blossom's murderer must be from Riverdale since the burglar must've known he wasn't home at the time.

Estelle: In September, sheriff Keller received a text from an unknown number, stating that Jason planned to run away with Polly Cooper as his parents disapproved of their relationship.

Polly never made it Greendale, however, as her parents sent her to Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

They had a getaway car parked on the side of the highway, along with Jason's belongings.

But by the time they reached the vehicle, it had been set on fire, destroying any potential evidence or clues.

Omi: What a coincidence...

Estelle: Mhmmm.

Omi: Alexa, play Things We Lost In The Fire... Wait, is that copyright? Do I have to sing again?

Estelle: Oh my God... Maybe play a snippet?

Omi: Lit... Like that car was. Ok, I’ll play it.

(things we lost in the fire starts to play)

Estelle: I'll try to chime in at a good moment.

Omi: (turns song off at the chorus)

Ok, I think that’s as far as my dad’s money can take us.

Estelle: (laughs)

Estelle: Ok, time to be serious again.

At the sheriff station, as he was about to start investigating the remains of the vehicle, the Blossoms let him know that Polly escaped the Sisters of Quiet Mercy on the same night that the car burned down, making this their new suspect.

Omi: Oh?

Estelle: Somehow, very short-lived, though.

Estelle: Meanwhile, during the investigation on the burned down vehicle, two fingerprints showed up, belonging to Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones.

Jughead's prints were on file from an incident that took place in 2011, where he attempted to burn down Riverdale Elementary School.

Omi: Queenie told me bout that, but I never thought it was true, damn. How did our lovely detective couple manage to involve themselves in this case?

Estelle: I guess, Betty got involved because of her sister.

Omi: True.

Estelle: Jughead, I don't know.

It didn't help him since they took him to the station.

During interrogation, Keller brought up Jughead's school records, stating that he was bullied a lot by the football team, whose captain was Jason, giving Jughead a motive to murder Jason.

Omi: Oh damn.

Estelle: Didn't look so good for him.

However, Keller later released Jughead after Fred Andrews claimed that Jughead was working for him the day Jason died.

Omi: Mr. Andrews always comin' in clutch.

Estelle: It felt a little too convenient if you ask me.

But that's also how I felt about the lie that Jason drowned since he used to be in our water polo team.

Omi: the Jones and Andrews have always been close. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was a coverup-LEGALLY I’m not saying it was though...

Omi: Wasn’t he one of the better swimmers, too?

Estelle: Yeah, so I don't understand why that was considered plausible before they found him.

Omi: It was an easy answer without taking the background into consideration.

Estelle: That applies to half the murder cases in this town.

Omi: Exactly...

Estelle: So, sheriff Keller returned his attention to Polly, who was pregnant and living at the Pembrooke at the time.

She confirmed that she and Jason intended to run away.

She then informed the sheriff that Jason was involved with the Southside Serpents, as he made a one time deal to deliver drugs for them in exchange for money.

Later that day, sheriff Keller received a phone call that two guys attacked an Andrews Construction employee.

The owner, Fred Andrews, mentioned that Clifford Blossom had his wishes to halt the project.

His son Archie, however, suggested that it may have been two members of the Southside Serpents, the location used to be part of their territory.

Omi: Is that so?

Estelle: It was one of the places the Serpents used to hang out, I heard.

Omi: Ahh, okay.

Estelle: I heard sheriff Keller let it slide, though. Which is weird to me.

Omi: Keller isn’t always the most...vigilant sheriff though.

Estelle: True, but his son also worked there. Makes me wonder if he'd let it slide then...

Anyway, let's move to the first real suspect of this case.

Estelle: On October 5, Keller received an anonymous tip, and he and his deputies obtained a warrant to search FP Jones' trailer.

In the trailer, they found the murder weapon in a lockbox, and they arrested FP Jones.

In the interrogation room, sheriff Keller informed Jones that the gun matched the bullet they found in Jason's body.

Omi: How did Jones react?

Estelle: According to FP, Jason approached him at the White Wyrm and explained his situation and that he needed money and a getaway vehicle.

FP made a deal that if he made a delivery for the Serpents, he'd give him money and a getaway car.

However, FP kidnapped him in Greendale, and he held him hostage in the basement of the White Wyrm.

Earlier, he learned that Jason was a Blossom, and he hoped to get a large amount of cash for his return.

But before he was able to make the call, Jason attempted to escape, and FP shot him, hid his body in the freezer, and later dumped his body in Sweetwater River.

Omi: Do we really believe that FP shot him?

Estelle: It is a little strange that he immediately chose to shoot him.

FP was a football player in high school, he'd know how to tackle him.

Omi: That seems like it would do more harm than good. One would think that, yeah.

Estelle: But sheriff Keller got a confession, and I guess that's all that mattered.

Omi: I wish this town would do better background checks.

Estelle: Sheriff Keller asked if FP also broke into his home, to which he admitted he was.

After the interrogation, FP's son and his friends approached sheriff Keller, claiming that someone planted the gun inside the Jones' trailer.

Omi: Oh?

Estelle: But like I said, sheriff Keller got a confession. And that was enough.

Omi: (sarcastically) Of course it was.

Estelle: The next day, the station received a 911 call that someone found a Serpent named Mustang dead in his hotel room.

In his hotel room, they found a duffel bag with a large sum of money, with the initials "H.L." on it.

At first, sheriff Keller assumed it was Hermione Lodge who gave him the bag until the daughter brought up that her father - who has the same initials - was in business with the Serpents.

Estelle: Well. Now we know why they gave up the Drive-In.

Omi: I was about to say... He’ll buy up this whole town when no one’s looking I swear.

Estelle: The world is just a Monopoly board for him. Even in prison. And, surprisingly, sheriff Keller let this slide.

But then, later that night, Alice Cooper handed Keller a USB flash drive.

The flash drive contained a surveillance video of Jason's murderer.

Despite his confession, it was Clifford Blossom and not FP Jones.

Omi: He’s got too many of those Get Out Of Jail Free cards, doesn’t he? Killing his own child? Disgraceful...

Estelle: Mhmm. And let me tell you why he did it.

Estelle: Jason wanted no part of the business, and Clifford feared that Jason running away could lead to his arrest, as his maple syrup business was a cover-up for transporting heroin. So, he had Mustang took Jason to the White Wyrm and later shot him.

Clifford then murdered Mustang and staged it as a suicide.

Arriving at Thornhill to arrest Clifford, they found Clifford in the barns where he hung himself.

Omi: Well, that was a rollercoaster.

Estelle: (laughs) I spent so much time trying to make sense of it for tonight. It's impossible.

Omi: I’m still not processing it. Like...what??? How the??? What??? That’s insane!

Estelle: It's like an episode of Dynasty.

Omi: I haven’t gotten to that show yet... Is it really?

Estelle: (sighs)

Estelle: Yes.

Omi: I'll put in on my list then.

Estelle: Back to the drama in our town:

Now that the real murderer was revealed, some people started to wonder what this meant for FP Jones.

Omi: Well, they obviously let him out, right? Or did he have a different but equally as essential role to play in this?

Estelle: Well, he was still guilty of tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice, mishandling a body, perjury, etc.

So, he still remained in custody.

However, Sheriff Keller offered FP a deal that the DA and Mayor McCoy were willing to offer him leniency if he handed them the names of the drug dealers.

Estelle: Basically, throwing his own people under the bus.

Omi: isn’t that like, against serpent law?

Estelle: It's one of their most important ones, so I've heard.

Omi: same. Damn...and he’s still the leader?

Estelle: Which is why he declined the offer, and had to await trial, possibly facing twenty years.

Omi: well that’s good at least...the not breaking rules part.

Estelle: Yeah you might go to prison and won't be out until you're well into your sixties but-

hey, at least you didn't snitch on your buddies.

Omi: that just seems like a lose-lose situation

Estelle: I know he made the better choice given his environment, but-

yeah.

Estelle: Well, I guess we reached the end of this episode of Underneath The Surface. I'm Estelle.

Omi: And I'm Omi.

Estelle: Don’t forget to tune in next week, and join us for our next topic: the horror on Wabash Avenue.

Omi: See y'all then!

#underneath the surface #omi klyde #estelle ollier #laurien oc #lou oc #riverdale fic #the swosie project

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indigosees · 4 years

Text

She Who Manifests

Fandom: Original work Character/s: Daiki Kwon, Anaïs Park

Author’s Note: Was actually their lore in someone’s Fantasy AU, though I believe this can be their own story if I so wish. Some other fantasy story of my own. And yes, I put them in a lot of different universes, lol. Lore behind this art.

It hurts… it hurts.

One moment, she was sitting idly in her throne, like how she has been for eternity. The next--her being, her existence, was being ripped at the seams and what the fuck is happening?! All she could do was scream as she felt what she has never felt before, not even once in her life: pain. It scratched and tore at her skin, her being, coming from all directions that she doesn't even know what to make of it and why it's happening.

There were loud noises--static and cymbals and drums banging in her ears and then everything feels like it's burning and she can't see anything and breathing fuels this chaos--

There was a voice. Soft, deep, smooth--a little familiar, but it spoke in quiet tones. She could barely make out what it was saying but when it stopped, she felt a bit more… whole. Stable. Her breathing wasn't as labored and it didn't hurt as much. But it still hurts.

Daiki circled around her, mesmerized. Her hair wasn't as pitch black as he saw them back then, but it was black all the same. Stopping right in front of her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. He spoke the final words to his chant, and noticed her shaking less than when she came into being, into this mortal realm. Finally, they did it. Finally, she can exist and live like anyone has , and experience life itself. It did come at a price of her losing her followers, though. All of them. After the ritual was performed, their collective belief, their flesh, and of course, their soul, was sacrificed to make her real. To make the Lady of the Void real. In the flesh, literally. It was a long shot, but it worked. He didn't think it would, and it may have just ended with a bunch of dead bodies and a kilometer radius crater at the face of the world.

Her existence would most likely cause some instability for the next couple weeks until he has stabilized her more. She would also need some time to adjust. He imagined it would be like teaching a toddler, only she's a full grown adult, physically. Maybe mentally, too. But emotionally? Oh man, it would be hilarious to see where her presumably lack of emotional stability would lead her. He has, of course, considered all the possible scenarios, though of course he has to work with it as they go along, as this has most likely never happened before. Angels and demons can have their mortal vessels anytime, easy, maybe some gods too as well. But when it was a god that has never been in the mortal realm and most likely lived in a realm that kept her almost nonexistent, the results tend to lean on the unexpected. All the more reason for him to believe that this was fated to happen. The stars and planets aligned for this night. "My lady," he began. "Can you hear me?"

The voice sounded garbled and muffled, she couldn't tell what it was saying. Her throat was dry and she had no idea if she could even speak.

He stared at her, waiting for a response. She sat motionless, her glazed eyes didn't even shift to look at him. Could she… even hear him? Huh. He wondered if she could see, or even speak. Ah. That was something he forgot to consider. Although, he was under the assumption that she will have all five working senses. But since she is the void… maybe one or two would not work as expected? He would have to see later, then. For now, he should carry her to safety. He managed to contain the blackhole she created so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but soon enough a couple guards and maybe mages from nearby holds would be investigating the commotion. Carefully, he picks her up--she was quiet--and carries her in his arms.

It took her nearly 24 hours to begin talking, and a week to hold a full conversation. One thing he's sure of is that she is in constant pain and there's little he could do about it. It must be her inherent abilities clashing with the form she has taken. Still, he kept with his enchantments day and night, as apparently it helps alleviate some of the pain and speed up her adjustment process. All her senses are working fine, aside from the fact that more often than not, she hears random noises and sees dark spots in her vision. There are also instances when her voice is.. strikingly different. Sometimes, it sounded like the world yawned then began screeching like tortured harpies while croaking like a frog. It would have made him terrified of her, if he knew fear. Regardless, he made sure to keep notes of her behavior and how she feels about things.

He worked tirelessly to gather as much information as he can that could maybe help her. Meeting mages, reading books from cover to cover, and talking to cultists from other beliefs… he is exhausting all possible resources. He plans on searching old ruins as well, once she’s better. He has been quite vigilant about her possible decay, or other possible signs of illness. It’s so risky… letting her into this realm. If there’s one thing he knows of the Void, it’s that things happen in a snap, in a blink of an eye, in a millisecond, that no one really has the time to do anything, not even the Lady herself.

His worries came to life when he came home from the tavern, after chatting up some undeniably charming mages and adventurers, and she was nowhere to be seen. None of the runes he set up to alert him of her activity registered her leaving--in fact, it still thinks she’s in their residence. He was sure it worked. Did she find a way to circumvent it? Was she really more capable than he’s giving her credit for? Or maybe his runes are just fucking broken and useless and he shouldn’t have trusted them in the first place--

Fortunately he has made it so that he’d always know where she’d be. Always. The sigils he carved in her skin served a purpose: mostly to keep her contained. Although he knew it’s going to work without a hitch, as he has used it with the people that made a contract with him, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated at how long it’s taking him to feel her. For fuck’s sake… she better not have gone back to the void. Not now. Not when he has made so much progress. Not when she’s so close to fully integrating herself here. He made sure that wouldn’t happen through his rituals. But if tonight’s any indication, he may as well expect none of them works on her...

Shuffling through the darkest corners of the city, the intricate web he has built is unseen, and it helps him navigate around faster. Frankly, many individuals benefit from it, especially those sensitive to magic. No one knows how but they are thankful all the same in easily finding their way home, as the night can get quite dangerous even within the city walls.

Relief washes over him when he finally felt a response from her--and she’s outside the city what the fuck! How far did she go?! And how the hell did she get there?? He didn’t waste any time and flew as fast as he could to where she was. Standing on a cliff side. Looking at the stars.

“They are… less seen… here,” she said, then turned to him. “You have… seen them. The void.. has plenty.”

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to get angry. If she wanted to go somewhere, she should’ve just told him. But there are more pressing matters to tend to. “How did you get here?”

She blinked. Twice. “Here?” Her eyes wandered to the trees behind him, and the grass beneath them. “Here…” She looks up at him. “Blink. Here. From home.”

Teleportation? Well, if it’s magical in nature, his runes should still go off. Unless her magic is the kind it couldn’t detect, since hers is new… fuck the void, man. He sighed, at least she’s safe. “Please tell me if you’re going somewhere, next time.”

“Didn’t… mean to,” she looked back down at her feet, the grass crunching against her toes.

He pulled her in his arms, feeling her hair in his hands. She is warm. His chest swells knowing she’s here with him. He’s happy he could almost cry. “It’s fine. We’re learning. As long as you know how to get home.”

And then he was hugging the air. He could only hope she went home, but just to make sure, he tried to find her again in his mind.

“I thought… we are… going home,” she was back beside him again, which almost made him jump. “I’ll take longer than you,” he smiled.

She nodded. “I’ll wait.”

He is alone again, on the cliff side. Well, that presents a myriad of new possibilities. He would have to adjust home security and perhaps come up with a better way to find her. He could only assume, again, that it was the void that is making this so fucking hard for him. Really, he should be lauded for all the effort he’s doing.

In time. In time.

#original content #writing #daiki #anais #oc #fantasy #lady of the void

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mustardbee · 5 years

Text

@craftywisp

I need to tell you all my thoughts on Lupin after finally watching my first movie! Here’s a cut so I don’t blow up the scroll of my other followers.

I’m going to go in increasing order about how much I have to say about them.

Goemon - I love him immediately despite how little action he sees in this title (castle of cagilostro, for those besides wisp who are reading). He’s basically samurai jack but even more serious, stoic and extra. He’s always in anime mode, 100% serious about everything, 100% dramatic, 100% reliable, and it’s great. I love him. His only crime in this movie is not being there enough. I can’t wait to see more.

Fujiko - I was really worried based on some of her artwork that she’d be there just to be the token girl and give some tiddy cred to the movie, and she does bring tiddy cred, but I was also surprised and pleased with how much personality and agency she has in this movie. She seems sharp, cunning, in control of her shit, and well written. I liked her, and I hope she’s like that in the rest of the series. Clarisse represents more what I was worried about--emptily written and just a prop for the main characters to play off of. I felt like I could forgive it a bit since it feels kind of harmless somehow? It’s not done too exploitatively, and ALL the characters besides the main 5 in the movie are like that, it just stands out more because I’m extra vigilant with how women are written. Given that Fuji is the only girl in this movie who feels like a real person, I’m glad she was actually pretty cool.

Jigen - I loved this character a lot more than I expected. I didn’t foresee him being so sensitive. His costuming made me expect him to be a tough, grumbling gangster and it’s not like that at all. I got much more of a sense that he’s genuine friends with Lupin and loves him and the work that they do. Him sensing that Lupin is pensive about something and just IMMEDIATELY kicking his ass to get him to talk about his feelings is when I fell in love with this character. He also shows emotions and playfulness in a variety of other ways, like how pleased with his gunwork in the car chase, and the unnecessary but iconic decision to wear Clarisse’s tiara when given the chance. He surprised me with his warmth, trustworthiness, and humanity. I’m starting to notice that “dependability” is a common thread among compliments I have to say about the characters. Speaking of which, Zenigata - I talk to you about this character a lot since he’s your favorite and I have a lot of thoughts on him too. I have a sweet spot for serious, hard-trying characters with no real magical abilities (let’s face it--all the thieves are a little magical) who get by with just effort, determination and the strength of their heart. He was actually the first character to catch my eye, the character that got me to start following you, and as such the character that made me curious about the series and what the heck was going on and ultimately got me in to it. (I also love detective fashion--long coats are a thing with me.) I’ll repeat my thoughts on him in this movie for good measure. I really expected him to be kind of a bumbling, useless comedic relief. What I was surprised and delighted to see was a portrayal in which he’s actually extremely competent, a sharp and resourceful detective with real skills, and a good heart. It suddenly made the dynamic between Zeni and Lupin much more interesting--instead of just being a randomly obsessed bumbling fool, Zenigata is shown as actually a *very* skilled and capable detective who respects Lupin in part because always being one step ahead of Zenigata isn’t actually so easy! I don’t know if it’s portrayed this way in the rest of the series, but I love the idea. I loved that he got to do some real good in the world by uncovering the minting press, and the way he does it with Fujiko is very cute. Additionally, I love how much all the thieves trust him! Lupin tips him off because he knows Zenigata will “help” him investigate the castle and actually do quite a good job of it. When they end up in the catacombs together, Lupin immediately knows he can depend on Zenigata as a competent teammate (and I love that the sentiment is shared--they both know the other is reliable, regardless of their allegience). And in a way, the thieves trust him to uncover the scam while they’re making off with what they came for. Also he can fight! That made me happy. I liked the dynamic of his chasing Lupin actually leading to him finding good cases for him to solve, and being a loophole that allows him to go above the law. I love the team Lupin and Zenigata make, even if Zeni hasn’t quite figured out how to admit to himself that they’re a team. Lupin - Considering that Zenigata is who got me in to the series, I was really surprised to find that Lupin actually turned out to be my favorite character. I think what caught me off guard is how uplifting, sweethearted and genuinely positive a person he is. He’s full of his own mischief and does what he loves, but it feels very much as though he doesn’t really wish anyone in the world harm and would much rather direct his chaos at people and establishments who probably need their lives shaken up a little bit, as is often the case with the rich and powerful. I’ve talked a lot about the trustworthiness of other characters at this point, and it occurs to me just now that you could imagine them as being the kind of people Lupin pulls together in to his life because Lupin himself is very trusting. He’s always so open and available to connect with the best in people regardless of who they are, and it brings him blessings.

The scene at the inn told me a lot about Lupin. I loved that when the waitress asked him about the ring, despite its importance and the would-be secrecy of him having it, he shared it openly with her and told her a (partial) truth about it. Treating commoners as trustworthy and worth listening to and sharing with endeared me to him because it made me feel like he invites a sense of community in to his life and made him seem that much more nonthreatening and friendly to common people (again with the idea it’s the powerful who have to worry about him). And sure enough, he’s rewarded for it! The waitress turns out to have some useful knowledge for him that helps him on his quest. Then he hits on her and she laughs and turns him away, both of them smiling. That interaction meant a lot to me, too--he was able to offer a night together in a very direct, honest way that gave her a chance to say no, and was completely good humored about letting her go when that’s what she chose. Her laughter made me feel like she didn’t feel threatened even though she wasn’t interested, and maybe it’s just the writing, but I really appreciated that Lupin was able to come off as sweet and silly rather than predatory. Neverminding his interest in flings, it also stood out to me that Lupin can be SO ROMANTIC. He was incredibly warm, expressive, and open-hearted with Clarisse. I’ve already said she’s kind of an empty character, so I acknowledge that she’s mostly there to contextualize Lupin for these parts, but what it brings out in Lupin made me love him so much. I’m a big romantic at heart myself and him expressing his willingness to just be over the top and flowery for love felt right at home to me. He’s also a storyteller!! I relate to that quite a bit too! Spinning the whole yarn about the various mythical characters to describe the situation to Clarisse--I assign archetypes to myself and my friends all the time.

Finishing up his relationship to Clarisse, I appreciate that he was so respectful when it came time for him to ask himself if he’d take her hand. You could tell from his body language when she hugs him he’s like “fuckkk she’s so cute and I love how I feel around her, it’d be niceeeee but I’m like 35 and she’s like 17, it’d be weird” and...he lets her go, making sure that he’s not taking advantage of her. It’s another way in which Lupin wants things to be fair and safe for everyone. He doesn’t like people having power over other people.

I love his constant sense of enjoying himself. I love his trust in the people and circumstances and how it lets him adapt and improvise to find something good or clever to make out of each moment. Most of all I love his sense of harmlessness, and the feeling that he’s actually got a very good heart.

That’s what I could gather from one movie, anyway.

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ofthemuses · 6 years

Text

True Detective Sentence Meme: Season One (another of my favorites, well, the first season at least.)

WARNING: Triggering content, NSFW content, religion/death/violence/sex/drugs/suicide mentioned. Lots of foul language

Regular Quotes

I'd consider myself a realist, alright? But in philosophical terms I'm what's called a pessimist...

Oh, just a regular type dude... with a big ass dick.

People out here, it's like they don't even know the outside world exists. Might as well be living on the fucking Moon.

It's all one ghetto man.

Stop saying shit like that. It's unprofessional.

So what's the point of getting out of bed in the morning?

I tell myself I bear witness, but the real answer is that it's obviously my programming. And I lack the constitution for suicide.

Let's make the car a place of silent reflection from now on.

Can I ask you something? You're a Christian, yeah?

I know who I am. And after all these years, there's a victory in that.

Can you get pills pretty easy?

Listen, when you're at my house, I want you to chill the fuck out.

There's nothing I can do about it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but... I'm gonna have a drink.

Given how long its taken for me to reconcile my nature, I can't figure I'd forgo it on your account.

Hmm. That sounds God-fucking-awful.

Isn't that a beautiful way to go out, painlessly as a happy child?

Trouble with dying later is you've already grown up. The damage is done. It's too late.

I can be hard to live with. I don't mean to, but I can be... critical.

Sometimes I think I'm just not good for people, that it's not good for them to be around me.

Such holy bullshit from you. It's a woman's body, ain't it? A woman's choice.

Girls walk this Earth all the time screwin' for free. Why is it you add business to the mix and boys like you can't stand the thought? I'll tell you. It's cause suddenly you don't own it the way you thought you did.

Is shitting on any moment of decency part of your job description?

Nothing man, sorry, forget it.

You got some self loathing to do this morning, that's fine, but it ain't worth losing your hands over.

What's your deal?

I don't have "a deal".

You're kinda strange, like you might be dangerous.

Of course I'm dangerous. I'm police. I can do terrible things to people with impunity.

Now what do you mean exactly... these visions you mentioned.

Shiiiiit, just what have you two heard about me?

What the hell good is cake if you can't eat it?

You know, throughout history, I bet every old man probably said the same thing. And old men die, and the world keeps spinnin'.

What do you think the average IQ of this group is, huh?

Just observation and deduction. I see a propensity for obesity. Poverty. A yen for fairy tales.

I think it's safe to say nobody here's gonna be splitting the atom.

You see that. Your fucking attitude.

Not everybody wants to sit alone in an empty room beating off to murder manuals.

Yeah, well if the common good's gotta make up fairy tales, then it's not good for anybody.

Well, I don't use ten dollar words as much as you, but for a guy who sees no point in existence, you sure fret about it an awful lot.

I mean, can you imagine if people didn't believe, what things they'd get up to?

Exact same thing they do now. Just out in the open.

Bullshit. It'd be a fucking freak show of murder and debauchery and you know it.

If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward, then brother that person is a piece of shit; and I'd like to get as many of them out in the open as possible.

Well, I guess your judgment is infallible, piece-of-shit-wise.

You figure it's all a scam, huh? All them folks? They just wrong?

People incapable of guilt usually do have a good time.

Do you wonder ever if you're a bad man?

World needs bad men. We keep the other bad men from the door.

But I think I'm all fucked up.

You don't have to fall in love at first sight, you know.

Every time I think you've hit a ceiling, you, you keep raising the bar. You're like the Michael Jordan of being a son of a bitch.

Fuuuck! Hell of a bedside manner you've got.

Ahh, you know, being stupid is different than going in sick, and this is a bar, not a fuckin' bedside.

All the dick swagger you roll, you can't spot crazy pussy?

So, enough with the self-improvement-penance-hand-wringing shit. Let's go to work.

Oh God damn it, I am so done talking to you like a man.

What the fuck you think I want with you, huh?

I'm sorry. What are you suggesting, exactly?

I will skull-fuck you, you bitch!

This is none of my business... I don't want to hear it.

Do you know the good years when you're in them, or do you just wait for them until you get ass cancer?

What always happens between men and women? Reality.

Someone once told me time is a flat circle.

The newspapers are gonna be tough on you.

No, buddy, without me... there is no you.

Yeah. Fuck this. Fuck this world.

You know, people that give me advice, I reckon they're talking to themselves.

A man's game charges a man's price. Take that away from this, if nothing else.

I'm the person least in the need of counseling in this entire fucking state.

Thought maybe we should talk.

If you get the opportunity, you should kill yourself.

Hey, man, look. Why don't you just get out of here, please? I don't want to get arrested. Just - just get... before I do something to you.

I slept with someone... And you know him/her... You're close.

Oh... Now, what-what are you saying?... What - what are you - what the fuck are you saying to me?

Life's barely long enough to get good at one thing. So be careful what you get good at.

If you were drowning, I'd throw you a fuckin' barbell.

Why would I ever help you?

Hey. You better get those jumper cables ready, the motherfucker is lying.

Get on out of here, you're classin' the place up.

My family's been here a long, long time.

He ain't gonna talk with you.

I got a car battery and two jumper cables argue different.

A man remembers his debts.

Fuck, I don't like this place... Nothing grows in the right direction.

What happened in my head is not something that gets better.

Well you know what, I just got here; I was gonna leave, but then you woke up - Jesus, what's your fuckin' problem?

Not a care in the world.

I'm not supposed to be here.

Yeah... well, I'll come back by tomorrow, buddy.

Don't ever change, man.

Agh. Ah, fuck. Ah, he got me pretty good...

Do I strike you as a talker or a doer?

You'll rip out your fucking stitches. Stop it.

This is the place.

Everybody's got a choice, ____... Shit, I sure blamed you.

There you go... Everybody's got a choice.

It's hard to find something in a man who rejects people as much as you do, you know that?

Come die with me, little priest.

The DEEP SHIT™

I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution.

There can be a burden in authority, in vigilance, like a father's burden.

I think the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming. Stop reproducing, walk hand in hand into extinction - one last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.

This place is like somebody's memory of a town, and the memory is fading.

I contemplate the moment in the garden; the idea of allowing your own crucifixion.

I don't sleep, I just dream.

You got kids? I think of the hubris it must take, to yank a sole out of nonexistence into this meat; a force of life into this thresher.

I know who I am. And after all these years, there's a victory in that.

Yeah, back then, the visions, yeah most of the time I was convinced... Shit... I'd lost it. But there were other times... I thought I was mainlining the secret truth of the universe.

I mean, it's like somethin's got your name on it, like a bullet or a nail in the road...

People... so goddamn frail they'd rather put a coin in the wishing well than buy dinner.

This... This is what I'm talking about. This is what I mean when I'm talkin' about time, and death, and futility.

They welcomed it... not at first, but... right there in the last instant. It's an unmistakable relief. See, cause they were afraid, and now they saw for the very first time how easy it was to just... let go.

All your life--you know, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain--it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person.

And like a lot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it.

You see, we all got what I call a life trap - a gene deep certainty that things will be different...

Nothing's ever fulfilled, not until the very end. And closure - nothing is ever over.

I have seen the finale of thousands of lives, man. Young, old, each one so sure of their realness. You know that their sensory experience constituted a unique individual with purpose and meaning. So certain that they were more than biological puppet. The truth wills out, and everybody sees. Once the strings are cut, all fall down.

In eternity, where there is no time, nothing can grow. Nothing can become. Nothing changes. So Death created time to grow the things that it would kill.

And you are reborn, but into the same life that you've always been born into. I mean, how many times have we had this conversation? Well, who knows?

When you can't remember your lives, you can't change your lives, and that is the terrible and the secret fate of all life. You're trapped by that nightmare you keep waking up into.

I can see your soul at the edges of your eyes. It's corrosive, like acid.

Sometimes... this feeling like life has slipped through your fingers... like the future is behind you, like it's always been behind you.

There's a shadow on you, son.

I saw you in my dream. You're in Carcosa now with me... He sees you... You'll do this again... Time is a flat circle.

There's no such thing as forgiveness. People just have short memories.

All my life I wanted to be nearer to God. But the only nearness - silence.

Some people, no matter where they look, they see themselves.

You see, sometimes people... mistake a child as an answer for something, you know, like a way to change their story.

Look, as sentient meat, however illusory our identities are, we craft those identities by making value judgments: everybody judges, all the time. Now, you got a problem with that... You're livin' wrong.

Once there was only dark. If you ask me, the light's winning.

#roleplay meme #rp meme #askbox meme #inbox meme #sentence meme #sentence memes

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discerningdisasters-blog · 5 years

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Welcome to Brgy. San Isidro!

My Barangay Disaster Risk Reduction Management (BDRRM) kwentuhan with Mr. Benjamin Canillas Jr., assistant to the secretary, was conducted in the pleasant afternoon of December 6, 2019. We discussed about the disasters that can happen in Barangay San Isidro of Cainta, Rizal. I realized that there are disasters in the barangay that are highly preventable, it is just that people are lacking discipline. There may be shortcomings on the part of the local government, but we should also take the initiative to not let disasters happen. Because they are natural disasters, they happen on their own and will affect everyone so it is inevitable that we should plan ahead according to our living conditions to minimize the risks disasters bring with them. My walk around the community with my mother is a good way to conclude the discussion. There I realized that the government and the people really need to team up for the betterment of the barangay. It should be in the government’s best interest to make safety a top priority even before catastrophes happen. After all, it is called Barangay Disaster Risk Reduction Management because it is a management that reduces risks from disasters in a barangay. So to the residents of Barangay San Isidro, and to Filipinos in general, I hope this blog becomes of great help to you to ensure your safety and your barangay’s too in times of calamities.

Barangay San Isidro, in Cainta, Rizal, covers a land area of 2,158.9 hectares. It is about 6 kilometers from the center of Cainta where there is the balcony of the town. In the east there is the Barangay Mayamot of Antipolo City. In the west, Barangay Sto. Niño of Marikina City can be found. While in the north, it is bordered by Concepcion II in Marikina City and in the south one can find Barangay Sto. Domingo, also in Cainta, Rizal.

Creeks that easily get overflowed when it rains pose a danger of flooding. We have complete and working drainage canal but since such creeks are full of garbage, this a reason to invite floods in our area. Aside from lack of discipline from the residents, not having proper garbage disposal places contribute to the clog-inducing garbage. Floods affect the livelihood of people and those that live in low-lying places. During storms, our barangay relies on PAGASA for weather updates so we can prepare accordingly. It is crucial that our barangay be one of the first to know because our barangay is in Cainta, a low area, making it a catch basin of flood water from the high-lying grounds around. As everyone knows, earthquakes can’t be predicted so no early warnings can be disseminated to the community. But since we are located near the Marikina/Valley Fault System, we can be affected in case an earthquake stems from this fault line. It also happens that the soil where our barangay stands is soft. Soft soils amplify ground shaking. If one lives in an area that in past earthquakes suffered shaking stronger than that felt in other areas at comparable distance from the source, he is likely to experience relatively strong shaking in future earthquakes as well.

Here is a table included in Barangay San Isidro’s BDRRM Plan that shows how vulnerable it is to the disasters it can experience.

Twenty percent of houses in the barangay are made from light materials, making their inhabitants easily lose their homes even if a disaster is relatively low impact. Forty percent of houses here are close to the neighboring house, touching each other’s walls. This presents a problem during earthquakes where there can be a domino effect of casualties in the entire neighborhood. People have few alternative livelihoods here so it would be difficult to get up again after a disaster when one cannot utilize other forms of livelihood in case he can’t go back to his own for a temporary amount of time.

We have an Early Warning System (EWS) that according to the BDRRM, is easy to understand by the residents about what disasters are about to come. We even have an EWS for PWDs and other vulnerable groups such as children and senior citizens. The popular Filipino trait, “bayanihan system” is very evident in our barangay in times of great need because we go out of our way just to help others so everyone can be given their physiological needs and social support too. We listen to our barangay officials and persons of authority so we know what to do before, during, and after a disaster. The barangay officials enforce the Manila Clean-up Drive which happens every Saturday in all creeks of the barangay. This is a good way to reduce the level of flooding when it rains. But because there are people who need to know discipline, creek cleaners are always greeted by a new batch of trash every Saturday, signaling the need for stricter policies in the community.

Our barangay has safe spaces and people who aid in achieving safety. We have 13 covered courts or gymnasiums, thereby promoting the importance of physical health as it an asset in times of disasters when physical strength aids in survival. We have 1 multi-purpose building that can house relief goods before they are given away to those in need. There are 22 evacuation centers and in addition to that, there are barangay halls and 9 public schools that can be utilized as temporary shelters for the victims of disasters especially flooding. We have 1 private hospital and 4 barangay health centers that can accommodate those who are injured or in critical condition when disaster strikes. They can provide medications for leptospirosis in times of floods and for the injured when raging waters carry with it things that can hit and wound a person. For safety from the disaster itself, there are 5 trained emergency response teams in our barangay, and 10 trained BDRRM operations center and trained personnel. The houses of informal settlers pose a danger to the informal settlers themselves in times of storms when the strong wind would blow away their light-weighted houses, becoming a threat to them in losing their shelters and a threat to others who might get hit by the drifting materials. Creeks also pose a danger when they overfill and cause flooding because of their clogging garbage.

It is apparent that Barangay San Isidro needs help when it comes to storms, floods, and earthquakes that’s why the local government has taken steps to address these issues. There is always room for improvement and because the barangay still experiences high impact from disasters, the local government can improve and implement policies. The clean-up drive, for example, can involve the whole community so we can see the true state of our creeks and then there would be lesser or no more littering the next time the clean-up drive will be held. Housing projects can be implemented for the informal settlers because houses made from light materials can easily get blown away by the strong winds of storms. Not just for lessening the number of casualties, but such houses are also a sign of kindness from the government. For now, earthquakes cannot be detected so we should be prepared anytime. Infrastructures should be the focus of the government when it comes to this to somehow reduce casualties because the land where the barangay stands is a soft soil.

It is always good to learn more and be aware of the disaster situation of the country, not just my barangay. Storms can greatly affect my barangay because some have poorly built houses. In the whole country, informal settlers are rampant and an issue. It is hard for them to recuperate their homes after a storm. Even with assistance from the government, life will never be the same for a family to go and find another home even if they are used to it, being informal settlers. The country has issues with proper garbage disposal, just as my barangay has issues with it. Flooding now becomes a problem even with just rains brought by southwest monsoon or Habagat. The typhoons that habagat brings, unfortunately, cause millions, sometimes billions, worth of reconstruction damage and kill hundreds of Filipinos. Earthquakes are a concern of our barangay because of its proximity to a fault line. The whole country itself is cautious about earthquakes because it is located in the Pacific Ring of Fire. The majority of Earth’s volcanoes and earthquakes take place along the Ring of Fire. Ninety percent of Earth’s earthquakes occur along its path, including the planet’s most violent and dramatic seismic events. Being in the Ring of Fire, extra vigilance is expected from residents of Barangay San Isidro and citizens of the Philippines.

Disasters. We know about them. But why do we need to? We need to know about them because it is part of reducing losses acquired from them. When you know what a flood is, when and how it happens, you are pretty much equipped when an actual flood affects you. When you also know the preparations that have to be made, the actions that you must take up when the waters come raging, and the plans on how to recover be it for your shelter or livelihood, you can survive floods with minimal risks experienced. The same process goes to all the other calamities that can occur out there. Keep in mind that it is always better to be prepared than suffer the consequences.

Looking at a larger scale, the country should address the disasters it is experiencing. But how? Policy makers can make sure that risks are lowered through making laws that are targeted towards the prevention of disasters. For the people, prevention can be in the form of conducting seminars, handing out prepared kits to be used during disasters, and clean up drives that involve the whole community that instill a sense of discipline so they can know the state of their place and be more cautious the next time they do something, such as disposing of trash improperly, that can lead to disaster. Ecobricks can be made from trash and it also helps the homeless too for they can be used to build houses. An ecobrick is a 500ml to 1.5L sized plastic bottle tightly filled with plastic trash until it becomes almost as hard as a brick. For the surroundings, the creating or reinforcing of infrastructures can be utilized. Drainage canals are, well, for draining flood water, but they can’t do so if they don’t pass architectural and engineering standards. For the environment, policy makers should see to it that trees are utilized. Trees can reduce flood water by up to 20%. It may not be much, but it definitely helps. Besides, trees have other benefits such as providing clean air and adding to the aesthetic value of a place. We can have more trees around us if each one of us plants some. Not all seedlings become trees and so it greatly helps if everyone takes part in this so we can have a significant contribution to the environment.

Here are planned activities for the tree-planting activity and ecobrick-making.

“Flooding is preventable. Through trees, it’s feasible!”

1. Schools can organize tree-planting activities for students. Since it takes a long time for trees to grow, the next batch of students should take care of the planted trees and at the same time, plant their own trees.

2. Social media influencers can be tapped to create their own “challenge” regarding tree-planting so their followers can be motivated to participate.

3. Whenever one passes by a plot of land with seedlings or saplings, he must water them as he sees it fit.

“Houses made from rubbish. Don’t be fooled, they’re sturdy!”

1. The creation of ecobricks. People are to bring them to drop off points for ecobricks where they can earn certificates and tokens after reaching a certain amount.

2. People can post on social media the ecobricks they made and make it a competition about who can make the most in a month.

3. Houses made of ecobricks will be erected for the homeless. Other structures can be built too but the creation of such houses is the top priority.

References

Harrabin, R. (2016, March 11). Tree planting 'can reduce flooding'. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-35777927.

National Geographic Society. (2019, April 5). Ring of Fire. Retrieved from https://www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/ring-fire/.

Scotty’s Action Sports Network. (n.d.). The two seasons in the Philippines: Amihan and Habagat. Retrieved from https://www.divescotty.com/underwater-blog/amihan-habagat-monsoon.php.

U.S. Geological Survey. (n.d.). Soil Type and Shaking Hazard in the San Francisco Bay Area. Retrieved from https://earthquake.usgs.gov/hazards/urban/sfbay/soiltype/.

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carmenxjulia · 5 years

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You Never Did Get My Name Ch6

Title: You Never Did Get My Name, Chapter 6

Description: How do you view the world in shades of grey when a shade of brilliant red just won't go away?

[Read on AO3]

Everything about this felt crazy.

Well, maybe crazy was an exaggeration.

Julia considered herself a logical and level headed person, most of the time. She always thought things through, always tried to look at situations from all sides and angles. Usually it led to her being commended for her keen observation. At the moment, her need for thoroughness had gotten her into a predicament. She was torn between wanting to do what she thought was right, and what her superiors told her was right.

Her job was to help hunt down and capture Carmen Sandiego, because she was a criminal. But she wasn't really a criminal, as Julia had recently found out. The obvious solution should have been for her to contact A.C.M.E., inform them of her recent discoveries, and await further instruction. But her previous inability to sway Chase Devineaux to examine evidence that Carmen Sandiego might be innocent caused her to reconsider. What if Chief didn't want to listen to her, either? She could easily have her removed from the force for conducting her own rogue investigation.

It didn't help that Carmen had been seen at the scene of Agent Devineaux's kidnapping. Julia now knew her motives had been to save him rather than cause him harm, but the means by which she'd acquired this intel were not exactly within protocol. No interrogation room, no handcuffs, not even any recording devices. She really didn't have any concrete proof other than her own word, which was based on what she'd been told by a supposed thief.

She would have had no problem keeping her secret talks with Carmen from Chase, if he was still her superior. Agent Devineaux consistently refuted any evidence that contracted his personal bias, blatantly ignoring the presence of other criminals at the scene of a crime in favor of blindly blaming Carmen Sandiego. It was frustrating. He called facts "dull" and "boring", and more often than not dismissed Julia's own findings. How could a detective as seasoned as Chase not care about facts? Time and again, it was clear he did not see her as any kind of equal, even when her knowledge trumped his own. Especially when her knowledge trumped his own.

Chief was different. Julia knew Chase would call her foolish and attempt to have her stripped of her position immediately for not capturing Carmen when she had the chance. But Julia didn't work for Interpol anymore, so Chase's authority over her was much less daunting. Chief, on the other hand, had previously praised her for her intellect, and actually listened when she wanted to investigate further, instead of jumping to baseless conclusions.

While Interpol wanted to catch her because she was a thief, for A.C.M.E., Carmen was meant to be a means to gain access to V.I.L.E. As it turned out, she wasn't working with them, or so she had led Julia to believe. The agent could only guess the mysterious enemies Carmen had referred to at their meeting were somehow related to the organization.

Perhaps her trust and belief that Carmen's words were genuine came from the fact that she'd always believed in her innocence. She wanted it to be true, and ate up every shred of information that validated her theories. Perhaps her bias blinded her, and she was being duped by the nefarious scoundrel.

But that didn't make any sense. Why would Carmen Sandiego go so far out of her way and craft so many lies just to convince Julia she wasn't at fault? Julia was not in any position of authority to clear her name, and she must have known it wouldn't be as easy as showing up and claiming she wasn't responsible for all of her crimes.

The problem was there was no right thing to do. The right thing for Julia, for her job, her career, her future, would be to turn Carmen Sandiego in. Be applauded as a hero, and show Chase Devineaux she was capable of apprehending lawbreakers. On the other hand, Carmen Sandiego had trusted her, and betraying that trust definitely wasn't the right thing to do. Especially since they were technically both on the same side of justice. Carmen's questionable methods had simply caused her to be mislabeled by the authorities.

Wasn't this exactly how she was supposed to think? "View the world in shades of gray", as Chief put it. Nothing about this situation was black and white. Julia, operating on her own accord, taking risks, defying authority. All in the name of proving her theories right and clearing the name of an outlaw. Maybe that's how she'd justify her actions to Chief if she ever got caught.

The more she thought about it, the more Julia convinced herself it was too late to turn back now. She briefly consider gathering a DNA sample from the hoodie Miss Sandiego had carelessly left behind. It sat, folded neatly on the back of the couch where she'd placed it after their afternoon together. Even if it didn't match to any known persons, they'd at least be able to match the sample to others collected at future crime scenes.

Come to think of it, Julia had never known her to be careless. Her vigilance kept her from being caught, and leaving behind such a conspicuous item seemed almost… deliberate. She frowned at the idea that leaving the jacket behind might have been on purpose.

What did Carmen Sandiego want with her? Julia had been so focused on her own intentions and questions, she hadn't even considered why Carmen wanted her to contact her in the first place. She wasn't the type to take hostages or threaten law enforcement, and in all of her heists authorities and civilians came away unscathed. Aside from the antics of Chase Devineaux, which could more so be attributed to his own incompetence rather than on the direct actions of the woman in red.

She'd mentioned she was lonely, but it couldn't be as simple as that. Could it? Carmen Sandiego had accomplices, Julia was almost certain of it. Did her relationship with her partners in crime stay purely professional? Did she prefer to keep her work and personal life separate?

Why pick Julia, of all people?

The burning desire for answers was maddening. She paced back and forth across the living room of her apartment, head spinning as she sifted through the pieces of information she'd been able to compile over the last several months. Digging for a reason that would explain her current unprecedented actions.

"Now she's going to know where you live!"

"You really think she didn't already know?"

"Then why did she ask?"

"Probably to not seem creepy by knowing everything about you."

"Does pretending not to know somehow make it better?"

"I don't know, does it?"

"Stop talking to yourself, Julia."

She flopped down on the couch, pressing her face into her hands, fingers sliding up under her glasses. The jostling of the furniture caused the red sweater to fall forward, gently brushing against Julia's shoulder as it unfolded.

She glanced at the clothing item next to her, picking it up with both hands and holding it out in front of her. It was so plain. So ordinary. It could have belonged to anyone. She brought the fabric to her face, inhaling, the sweet scent of orchid hitting her senses. So that's what she smelled like.

What are you doing, Julia?

She threw the sweatshirt to the side, to the empty space next to her. Traces of the phantom scent lingered on the edge of her mind. She glanced around her quiet apartment, all at once acutely aware of just how few people she'd ever invited to visit. Outside of work, she tended to keep to herself, but the lack of close relationships had never really bothered her.

But wouldn't it be nice to have someone to come home to? Someone who wouldn't be driven away by her passion for her career and semi-regular trips out of the country. Someone who delighted in listening to her tales of far off places and wouldn't mind her frequent absences. Someone who would appreciate her fondness for history, and would delight in her randomly spouting facts every once in awhile.

Not that that had anything to do with Carmen Sandiego.

Chase Devineaux was the one who had been obsessed with Carmen Sandiego for months. Julia could only imagine the sleepless nights he spent trying to anticipate her next move. Trying to outsmart her. Reimagining every escape he had witnessed, over and over again. No wonder he seemed a little crazed in his pursuit of Le Femme Rouge.

And yet, it was Julia's life she had chosen to waltz right into. Julia, a fresh face on the force and coincidentally the only person who believed in her innocence. Did the Crimson Phantom have some kind of sixth sense that drew her to Julia? Some inner instinct that she could be trusted above all others?

Or maybe they were just two lonely, work obsessed women fate had brought together. Would things have been different if Julia had never become a government agent? Would she feel bad about being friends with someone who was on the run from the law? Would they have ever even met if Julia hadn't accepted the mission from A.C.M.E.? There were so many scenarios where their paths would never cross, and yet, they were both traveling down one in which they had. It must be for a reason, Julia decided.

Sitting around her apartment puzzling was turning out to be less fruitful than Julia had hoped. She'd have to figure out later what she was going to do once A.C.M.E. called her back into action and she had to pursue the Scarlet Outlaw again. Well, Carmen had still been recovering when they'd met, so Julia would have plenty of time to decide on a plan of action. For now, she had a more pressing matter to attend to.

What on Earth am I going to wear?

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#Carmen Sandiego #Julia Argent #Carmen X Julia #Carmelia #Fanfiction #You Never Did Get My Name #MINE #Carmen #Carulia #JuleThief #Carjules

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