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bobbyonboard · 2 years

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Peppermint [Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Reader]

Summary: i saw this tiktok of lewis pullman and it was so goddamn sexual my brain wouldn’t shut up until i wrote something about it. also know as--it’s 115 degrees in Lemoore and the AC in Bob’s truck is busted.

Warnings: swearing, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, hair pulling, please assume the reader is always on some sort of contraceptive in my fics unless i state otherwise, bob is a switch and no i will not be taking any questions at this time, minors DO not interact with me you lil shits

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: y’all were so nice with my last one regarding Rooster, I had to write one for my main man!!! also cannot get over I have like 300 new followers. never be afraid to come talk to me!!

“Fuck. Off,” you grumbled in the direction of the television as you heard the chipper weatherman inform you that the high today in Lemoore, California was going to be a record-breaking one hundred and fifteen degrees fahrenheit. One hundred and fifteen fucking degrees. You never hated the Navy more than you did in that moment. Who the fuck gets stationed in Lemoore? No beaches, no shade. Just heat, and lots of it. But where your husband goes, you go–and unfortunately, you both were stuck in Lemoore.

The July air was thick and it wasn’t even nine in the morning, so you made sure that you didn’t have a single thing to do that day except stay inside the apartment, laying upside-down on your couch directly in front of your tiny window AC unit. You’d always loved being a teacher, but days like this, when you thought you actually might melt if you went outside, you were sure as hell glad you had summers off.

Your day passed by lazily, only shuffling between the couch and the kitchen to get more water what seemed like every thirty minutes. Before you knew it, it was already four o’clock, and you were expecting Bob home any minute.

Bob had told you that morning he was heading out to run a few test flights on some newer planes, so you expected him to come home freshly showered from the Naval base locker rooms, smelling of Old Spice and car air freshener that had been blasted over his clothes from his aggressive truck air conditioning. But instead, when you lazily glanced over your shoulder to the sound of keys jingling, you were greeted with…well, certainly not that.

Bob’s hair was frizzed and stuck straight up in the back, almost as if he had just taken off his helmet. His clothes were stuck to his skin, large sweat stains covering most of the material of his t-shirt. His cheeks were a dark shade of red, and his eyes looked as though they were currently in the process of holding back unshed tears.

“Bobby?,” you frowned, quickly standing up, crossing the room, and quickly taking his duffel bag from his hand to toss on the floor. “Honey, whassamatter? You okay?,” you asked, putting the back of your hand on his forehead and physically wincing at how hot his skin was to the touch.

“Pipes burst,” was all he murmured out, bottom lip trembling just slightly, and it was quite literally breaking your heart to see him so miserable. “We landed and–and went to go shower and they told us a pipe burst, so the showers weren’t working. So I couldn’t shower and–,” he started to breathe a bit heavier, almost as if his own clothes were weighing him down worse than any g-force.

“I got to the truck and the AC was just blowing out hot air. So I rode all the way home with the windows down and I’m just so hot,” he finally whimpered, and you just brushed his wet hair out of his face with a soft coo.

You hated to see him like this. You couldn’t imagine how hot he had to be in that plane today, only to land and not be able to cool down like his body so desperately needed. An idea suddenly popped into your brain, and you were taking off down the hallway.

“Put your arms up, honey,” you purred ever so gently once you returned, producing a cold packet of wet wipes. You pulled one out of its bag, sighing softly at the gentle smell of peppermint, and you immediately began to wipe down Bob’s face and neck.

“Thank you-u-u-u,” he practically sobbed, arms stuck straight out at his sides as you began to slide the wipes under his t-shirt, along his shoulders, under his armpits, his chest, and his waist. “What does it do?,” he asked after a moment, almost afraid to open his eyes for fear that this was all some fever dream and he’d be standing back on the tarmac, dripping sweat.

“I keep these in my little fridge in the bathroom, with all my skin care stuff,” you hummed sweetly, pulling a fresh wipe out and continuing on the bit of skin where you left off. “It helps me freshen up before I go to bed at night, or when I come back from the gym and I’m just too tired to shower before bed,” you chuckle, ghosting a feather-light kiss over his brow as you continued to work on cooling him down.

“Feels so good,” he whimpered, and his once red cheeks were now only a soft pink, his breathing returning to a relatively normal pace.

“Good, baby. You’ll feel better in just a minute, yeah? Got this AC on you, and you smell all peppermint-y,” you teased, and you don’t know if it was the practically obscene noises Bob was letting out, or the way he was absolute putty in your hands, but you let the wipes in your hand dip a little lower into the waistband of his pants.

A strangled moan escaped Bob’s lips, and you just let one hand pop open the buttons of his pants, sliding them down his legs.

“Gotta get you completely covered,” you whispered, dropping down to your knees where you began to work on wiping down his thighs. After mere seconds, you glanced up to see a ten already forming in your husband’s boxers, and damn, if that didn’t make a girl’s ego soar.

“M’sorry,” he almost cried, shivering under your touch. “Just–feels so good. You make me feel so good.”

“I always wanna make you feel good, honey,” you purred, peppering his thighs with kisses and feeling the leftover peppermint oil tingle your lips. You eventually stood back up (despite a noise of protest from your husband) and stripped him down to only his boxers, getting a final fresh wipe out of the pack and letting it drag along his skin.

“Come sit,” you took his hand, leading him over so he was directly in front of the AC unit, resting on the plush couch as he immediately tossed his head back out let out a pornographic moan, which caused you to clench your thighs together in delight.

“Y’so good t’me,” Bob practically slurred, completely overwhelmed with the lavish attention he was receiving, and his skin began to prickle when the freezing cold air blew against his minty skin.

“You deserve it all, Bobby,” you whispered, moving to straddle his hips, your thin pajama pants and his boxers the only thing separating the two of you as you wiped his cheeks down for the final time, before pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of each one.

Bob said your name with a strangled cry, hips immediately rocking up to get some friction, any friction at all. And who were you to deny such a pretty boy something he wanted so desperately? So you just relaxed yourself slowly, lazily rocking down on his achingly hard cock and letting out a soft moan of your own.

Your nipples were hard from where they were currently being assaulted by a barrage of cold air from the unit, and they were settled right in front of your husband’s face, which proved to make his next task considerably easier. He hooked his fingers in the straps of your tank top and tugged them down your arms before his lips were wrapped around your right nipple, sucking on it lightly and letting it roll between his teeth. You let out a soft cry, your fingers tangling immediately in his damp hair as you began to rock yourself against him a bit faster.

It was only a few minutes before he pulled off with an obscenely wet ‘pop’, letting his head rest against your sternum.

“Y/N–,” Bob choked out, his hips stilling immediately.

“Okay, sweetheart,” was all you said, lifting yourself just slightly out of his lap to give him a moment to focus.

It didn’t take him long at all, because just a second later you were being pushed onto your back on the couch, with your lover’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. Not a moment was wasted as he immediately licked a long, hot stripe between your folds, fingers digging into your hips.

“Robert,” you gasped, and you swear you could feel that son of a bitch smirk, even face first in your cunt. If his hair wasn’t already a mess, it certainly was now, the way you were tugging on it and rocking your hips against his face to try and get the perfect rhythm.

It didn’t take long. It never did with Bob. He somehow knew exactly what to do to have you coming on his tongue in five minutes flat, keeping your hips pressed down to the couch.

“Bobby–,” you tried to warn, but it was too late. At your cry of his name, he gave a certain flick of his tongue and you were coming fast and hard, riding his face like your life depended on it, his tongue pressed flat against your clit as you shook with each pulse of your orgasm.

You barely had time to think, no less to actually say anything, before he was tugging you into a new position. You were bent over the back of the couch, face perfectly aligned with the air conditioning as Bob got behind you, one knee on the edge of the couch.

“You ready for me, darlin’?,” he asked, and God, you could have died right there.

“Always, baby.”

You felt him slide into you smoothly, using one hand to guide himself and the other slide up your body to your hair, gathering a handful and giving you a harsh tug. The way he bent you had your chest getting covered with cold air, nipples hard enough to cut diamonds.

“Fuck, you always feel so fuckin’ good,” he moaned, putting his other knee on the couch as he began to piston his hips against your ass, the slapping sounds your skin made filling your small apartment, loud enough to be heard even over the roaring AC.

You, however, were unable to respond, due to the absolute overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through your body. Your head and neck began to ache deliciously, and the way the head of Bob’s cock brushed against your sweet spot with each thrust had you mewling under his hands.

“I’m not gonna–,” Bob grunted, and you understood, Whenever he was needy, he never lasted long, and that was certainly fine by you. Like you said–it was an ego boost.

“S’okay, baby,” you panted, and he reached forward to play with one of your tits, his chest pressed to your back as he fucked you even harder.

“So good for me. Fuckin’--fillin’ my pussy up. Fuck, Bobby, you’re gonna make me come again,” you practically sobbed, and the fact that the two of you were sweating from exertion but also cool from the air conditioning made everything that more sensitive.

The praise went straight to Bob’s dick, and you could feel it twitching already.

“Please–,” he gasped, trying so hard to last until he could make you come again.

“Go ahead, honey. Come for me. Come for me, Bobby,” you groaned, wincing in pleasure at how your sensitive cunt was already teetering on the edge of orgasm.

You had barely finished your command before Bob was spilling himself inside of you, letting out a high-pitched whine as he emptied himself. He managed to let the hand that was in your hair slide down your body and move to your pussy, fingers rubbing quickly at your clit.

“Baby, come for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock,” he practically begged, even though he had already orgasmed, he would simply die for the chance to feel you clenching on his softening cock still inside of you, practically milking every bit of come he had given you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, gripping tight at the back of the couch as you felt your orgasm wash over you for the second time that evening, cringing out softly each time your cunt squeezed your husband’s cock, feeling it nestled deep inside of you.

Soft whimpered and moans spilled from Bob’s lips, along with various words of filth that didn’t exactly form a coherent sentence, but they were so goddamn sexy all the same.

As he pulled out slowly, he leaned over to press a soft kiss to the small of your back before two of you landed in a messy pile on the couch, trying to catch your breath.

You curled up next to him, almost (dare you say) chilly from the constant cold air on your skin, and your eyes closed to enjoy those post-coital moments together before you had to get up and clean yourselves off.

“You know,” Bob started, fingertips brushing lightly over your sides. “Bet we could really cool down in the shower.”

taglist: @walkonthewiidside

people that might be interested in this idk: @bradshawsbaby @callsignbob @thebradleybradshaw

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lanawinterscigarettes · 4 months

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my house of stone, your ivy grows (Whittaker! Master x reader)

Summary: you find yourself growing feelings for the person who's supposed to be your enemy

Warnings: Dhawan! Doctor and Whittaker! Master (whoo!), secret relationship, worries of possible disownment (it doesn't happen), this has a pretty happy ending given the direction I could've gone with it

A/N: I don't know if anyone will read this because I'm not sure how popular Whittaker's version of The Master is but I find her to be incredibly attractive mkay. and I've currently been obsessed with evermore so naturally I just had to write another song fic, this time based loosely off ivy (my other evermore based fics are still wips, but I plan on finishing and posting those soon <3)

You didn't know how you went from despising The Master to loving her, but it had happened. All too fast and all too soon for you to recognize until you were in too deep to pull yourself back out again.

Her tidal wave swept over you, the rough waves keeping you from swimming back to shore, threatening to drown you if you made the wrong move. But they never would, because as unbelievable as it was, she loved you back.

You were just a simple house that stood out in the woods somewhere, abandoned, old, forgotten. Until her ivy was planted. It grew and grew, spreading quickly until you found yourself completely engulfed.

You would never be the same again. You could never give her up. And she could never take away her love without destroying you both in the process.

The way it came about was simple, really. You and The Doctor were under attack yet again by some alien species for trying to fix whatever damage they'd created, causing you to be separated.

You'd been hiding, doing your best not to get caught when you heard a silky voice coming from behind you.

"You know, if you're trying to avoid being seen, there's not the best place to do it."

Knowing who it was, you turned hesitantly, coming face to face with The Master.

"I could see you from your little 'hiding spot' miles away, and I have no doubt the people you're hiding from could, too." She had a smug look on her face, almost as if she was proud for calling you out on your poor decision making.

"What do you want?" You asked with a frown, immediately under the impression that she was up to no good.

She made a face of mock offense. "What, I can't offer you some simple, life saving advice?"

"You can't, no. Not without wanting something in return." You eyed her suspiciously, trying to figure out what her game plan was in being here.

"Oh, really? And why's that?" She leaned forward, her piercing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike most individuals she came across, you didn't look away.

"Because you're always up to something. You always have to have an ulterior motive," you said calmly, not at all deterred by her closeness.

The Master had to admit, she was impressed by both your reasoning and your lack of fear. "Alright, fine. I'll admit it, me giving you some piss poor advice is not the only reason why I'm here." She straightened herself back up, no longer standing as close. "I'm here because..." She let out a deep sigh, looking away. "I was- worried about you."

You let out a laugh at her statement. "You were worried about me?"

"Don't laugh." The Master snapped at you suddenly, shooting you a glare. "I didn't have to come rescue you, you know. I could've just left you here. To die."

"But you didn't. Because you were worried about me," you lightly teased, finding it amusing that one of the most ruthless and ambitious people in the universe cared enough to save the companion of their enemy.

She groaned in frustration. "Yes, okay, fine. I was worried, alright? Is that what you want to hear?" She held out a glove cladded hand for you to take. "Now, do you want to get out of here and survive, or not?"

You decided it would be wise not to push anymore of her buttons, as it was entirely possible she could change her mind and actually leave you there. So, you simply nodded in response, taking her hand and allowing her to guide you away from the fighting and back to her TARDIS. She then dropped you off at a safer location nearby, making sure you agreed not to mention any of what'd happened to The Doctor.

"I won't tell a soul, I swear," you'd promised her, your words sincere. It almost looked like she was smiling when the TARDIS doors shut. Then she was gone, leaving you to face The Doctor and his worried filled questions alone, but not before taking a piece of your heart with her.

You'd caught up with her again at some sort of alien marketplace, gifting her one of the planet's many different kinds of flora as a gift, your own way of saying 'thank you for saving me'. She'd accepted it wholeheartedly, setting it someplace beside her bed so it would be the last thing she'd see every night before she went to sleep, and the first thing she'd see every morning when she woke.

Your first true 'date' was the time she left a note on your dresser (how she got it there, you'll never know) telling you to dress somewhat fancy and be ready by nine. She took you to see the first ever showing of the musical Cats, of all things, though it was really just an excuse to see you again. Regardless of whether you enjoyed the show or not, the night ended on a high note (pun intended) when she gave you a gift of her very own; a kiss.

This back and forth dance of sneaking away together and leaving each other again when it was finally time to part went on for months, and though you never put a name on it, it was quite clear to both you and everyone else that you were head over heels in love.

You thought the two of you could be like that for the rest of eternity, hiding out from unknown forces who planned to take you away from her arms, cherishing each other in secret while your enemies threatened to rip you both apart and tarnish your new found love had they known. But as you had learned from your many travelings, nothing could last forever.

The Doctor had noticed you were acting differently. You'd been staying out later and later, and seemed much more occupied with whatever was going on in your mind than any adventures he took you on. As it was none of his business, he really didn't want to pry, but eventually his curiosity got the best of him and he just had to know.

He was tinkering with some sort of ancient alien tech when you walked into the TARDIS's control room.

"Whatcha working on?" You questioned as you made your way over.

"Oh, nothing. Just a piece of junk, really."

You nodded at his response, completely unaware of the absolute bomb of a question he was about to drop.

"Have you been seeing anyone recently?"

You froze, unsure how to process what he just said. "...what?"

"It's just-" he set down what he'd been holding on a nearby table and sighed. "You've been acting differently, these past couple of months. And, it's not that it's necessarily a bad thing, as you seem to be much happier, I'm just- curious, to find out why. Meeting someone new and being in a relationship can definitely cause that, so I was just asking."

You didn't know how to respond. Of course, you were seeing someone. Someone you probably shouldn't be. You didn't want to lie to him, but you knew he was bound to find out the truth eventually, so...

"I am seeing someone, actually." You said cautiously, testing the waters.

The Doctor perked up at this new piece of information. "Really? That's wonderful! Tell me, who are they? What are they like?"

You sucked in a deep breath while making a face that was full of pure nervous energy. "You won't like it."

"Nonsense! I'm sure I'll like whoever you've decided to take as a potentional life partner."

You blinked a few times at his choice of words before shaking your head, deciding it'd be best to just ignore it entirely. "Are you positive? 'Cause I... I just really don't want you to hate me." You said awkwardly, accompanied by some weak laughter.

He frowned slightly at your words. "That's ridiculous, I could never hate you. Now, tell me, who is it? Come on, I promise I won't be too mad," he lightly joked as he gave you a reassuring smile. "I trust your judgment, I'm sure they're fantastic, whoever this person is-"

"It's The Master," you suddenly blurted out, knowing the longer you listened to his praise the worse it would feel once you finally disappointed him. "I'm- I'm seeing The Master."

The Doctor just stood there, a look of bewilderment frozen on his face. "...what?"

You let out a sigh, having expected this kind of reaction already."It's The Master," you affirmed, having crossed the point of no return. "I- I know you're probably upset, and rightfully so, but she's really not that bad, once you get to know her-"

"Has she hypnotized you?" This time, it was you who was getting cut off mid sentence. "Has she threatened to hurt you in any way? Is she forcing you to go traveling with her?" Surprisingly enough, he didn't sound mad, like you thought he would. He didn't look it, either. He just seemed to be the reasonable amount of concerned.

You shook your head no at his questions. "No, she hasn't. I travel with her because I want to, because I like doing it. She-" you voice became slightly quieter as you recounted one of the many dates she'd taken you on "-she took me to see the aurora borealis, once. On a planet that had been completely covered in snow and ice."

That trip was especially vivid in your memory, partially due to how many layers you had to wrap up in so you wouldn't get cold. The part you remembered the most, though, was when The Master had noticed you'd forgotten to bring a pair of gloves with you, and took off her own in an effort to help keep your hands warm.

She could've just given you her gloves to wear, which might've been easier, but she hadn't, choosing to take your hands tightly in hers instead. That was the first time she'd ever done that, both in holding your hand properly and taking off her gloves in front of you.

The Doctor noticed the look of calm that washed over you when you were talking about her, one that not even hypnotism could conjure up. "Do you love her?" He asked softly, already getting a sense as to what the answer might be.

"Yes, I do." You professed as your eyes met his. His gaze was understanding and warm, the exact opposite of what you'd thought it'd be.

"Well, if that's the case-" He began, walking over to the TARDIS's control panel and fiddling around with it some "-then I suppose I have no choice..."

You sucked in a breath of air, incredibly tense as you waited for him to say what he was going to do with you. Maybe he'd just throw you in a black hole and be done with it. Or, worse, maybe he'd drop you off on some random planet somewhere where there was absolutely no chance for survival.

"...but to take you to see her." He finished with a flourish as the TARDIS landed. The Doctor opened the door and stepped outside, gesturing for you to follow him.

"This had better be good," a voice grumbled from in front of you, belonging to none other than The Master herself. Her gaze softened when she spotted you, though it didn't last very long, her eyes narrowing at The Doctor in suspicion. "What's all this?"

"I just wanted to say-" He turned, beckoning you to come closer "-that I know about your relationship with each other. And I'm not mad. In fact, I'm delighted."

You and The Master exchanged a look of confusion and disbelief. The Doctor noticed this, continuing nonetheless.

"It's true. Now, I know we haven't always been on the best of terms-"

"That's one way to put it," The Master muttered, crossing her arms.

"-but I don't want to make any unnecessary assumptions about the two of you. And while part of me does believe this could possibly be some sort of an eleborate plan to take me down-"

"Doctor," you whispered harshly, The Master smirking in amusement at your reaction.

"-I also don't want to define you only by your past mistakes." If he heard you, he didn't show it.

"I have a million reasons why I shouldn't trust you." The Doctor said directly to the clearly unimpressed woman standing in front of him. "But so did they, and now look where we are."

His words seemed to actually have an affect on her given how she'd uncrossed her arms and appeared to be actually listening. Until she opened her mouth. "So what is this then, you deciding to give us your blessing?" She sneered, going back to being defensive.

"Master." You took a step forward, offering your hand out to her, which she gladly took. "I think what he's trying to get at here, is that even if he doesn't trust you, he's not going to judge or shame me for doing the exact opposite. I can still be friends with him while also seeing you. That's all I've ever wanted."

The words you spoke seemed to have finally gotten to The Master. The ever permanent scowl she usually had on her face when being forced to interact with The Doctor disappeared, replaced by the faintest smile that only you could discern.

The Doctor clapped his hands together once in satisfaction. "Great! I'll leave you two to it, then."

The Master rolled her eyes in annoyance, causing you to let out a quiet giggle. "Yeah, you do that," she sarcastically replied, watching as The Doctor entered the TARDIS.

You waved him goodbye before turning back to the Time Lady in front of you. "So, where to now?" You asked excitedly, giving the hand you were holding a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed yours back, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. "Wherever you want."

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @theonetruepotato87

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criminalskies · 10 months

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BLOG NAVIGATION

hi honey, welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy your time here :D. I post a LOT about criminal minds and about my life, other fandoms include bobs burgers, house MD, 911, Oceans Eleven, Studio Ghibli (I also just love the art pls), X-men, and more!!

So, my name is Rome. I’m 21 and non-binary, I go by they/them pronouns <3!

🌱💌 This is a safe space. Homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, hate speech of any kind are not tolerated here. Everyone is welcome just as they are. Please respect that. 💌 🌱

Please note this post contains some NSFW content, minors DNI.

Request Guidelines: I know I have written some fem!reader in the past, but generally please avoid requesting pregnancy/period/non gender neutral subjects from me. I know it's a weird line for me to draw, but I could suggest probably ten writers who could do a 10x better job writing these topics. I prefer writing Gender Neutral, so I like to keep things this way wherever possible.

I currently also have quite the pile of requests, so while my requests are open, please note it may take me quite some time to get to yours. (I work oldest > newest with the occasional non-requested fic here and there)

Without further ado, please enjoy my works! :D

Fics:

Safety Net: You spend the night reflecting on a beautiful love you shared with Aaron Hotchner, more accurately, you spend the night reflecting on the last two months of heartache without him. It will take one unexpected visitor to bring the two of you to face the reality you’ve found yourselves in.

Looking Out For You: Hotch seems to be babying you on the chase for an unsub, but you quickly realise, he knows what he's doing. also hotch looks hot driving.

In Your Orbit:

part one. Hotch doesn’t understand why the newest member of the team is so dedicated to spending all their time with him. He finally asks and he’s overjoyed with the answer.

part two. Normal Criminal Minds Case type content, hostage situation, use of guns, an accident involving a knife, Unsub talks about suicide and thoughts of self-harm, please DNI if this is at all triggering for you!!!! ⚠️⚠️

Drunk! Aaron - aaron gets wild on a team bonding night and tries very hard not to let reader undress him because he's taken... by reader. (very drunk hotch being a cutiepie)

Sweet Creature: Aaron has never known exactly where his 'home' was, until he met you.

Walk Me Home: Inspired by the p!nk song, Aaron is having a hard time processing the last case, reader is there to comfort him.

Reprieve: Hotch x Autistic!Reader. Reader is having a very hard day at the BAU and Aaron is able to help.

Sleepless In Seattle: part one. part two. part three.

To Catch A Profiler - A Parent Trap Story. - This is a part one of an incomplete series based on the Parent Trap movies. This sets the scene for when your little girls find one another later in life <3

A Bookstore type of Love. - This was an anon request for brother!spencer reid and boyfriend!aaron to take reader to the bookstore and geek out on new book smell, harry potter and the high school musical/john denver soundtrack on the way. Hotch thinks about how desperately he wants to marry reader.

When the spark lit the fuse - Hotch has been in love before, but he's never been so in sync with someone, bodies moving in harmony like his does with your own. Looking back on how your relationship began, Hotch reminisces on how he himself has changed for the better. because of you.

Meet my big, crazy family: Your boyfriend finally meets your big, loud, crazy family. Inspired by my big fat greek wedding movies <3

This Isn't Me: Hotch comforts reader through their period as they go through some serious dysphoria, having not come out as nonbinary yet </3.

Thoughts/Blurbs:

Across the Multiverse: Haley shows hotch all the universes in which he is happy, and he just so happens to be with you in every one of them.

Fratboy!Hotch: In high school, rumours and dishonesty pushed you and your childhood-best-friend-turned-love of-your-life Aaron hotchner apart. Now, the two of you have showed up at the same college party. Can he make it up to you?

WW2 Hotch:

I will add many many more to these lists as I progress, writing more in the future <3

#welcome my babies #criminalskies masterlist #criminalskies blog navigation #navigation #masterlist

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fizzyxcustard · 7 months

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Just My Imagination.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x Original Female Character (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Undercover agents, angst, insecurity, anxiety.

Word count: 5725

Summary: From the imagine: "Imagine that you are on an operation with Lucas North, where you have to use a cover story that you’re in a relationship. Only Lucas plays the part a little too well."

Comments/Notes: Requested by anon. Requested as Lucas x Amy. THANK YOU. You know how much I love writing about Lucas and Amy. This piece was requested to be a romantic comedy, but I’m so sorry to say that it wound up just being angsty again.

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Operation Greenacre.

Amy looked back over the folder in front of her, memorising all the information inside. Her name while on this operation was Amanda Reynolds, an office assistant in central London at a family law firm. Recently engaged to boyfriend of two years, Ben Waverley, aka Lucas North, her current operation partner.

Amy and Lucas had been given keys to a one-bedroom flat where they would act out their pretend lives, hoping to gather more inside information from their next door neighbours, a couple who were potentially funding terrorists through their charity.

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” Lucas asked, hovering at her desk. “If you don’t feel comfortable then tell Harry and we can stand you down.”

“I don’t want to let anyone down,” Amy sighed, giving him an anxious and embarrassed smile. Next to Jo Portman, Amy was the closest in age to Lucas, so could easily pass off as his fiancée. However, Jo was on another operation.

Lucas pulled a chair across from the desk opposite and sat down next to Amy. “Look, you’ve never done this before, and it’s kind of going against procedure here and taking a risk. You don’t have to say yes just to please Harry or to impress anyone. Your safety and wellbeing comes first.”

“But the only other person is Ros.”

“So?” Lucas asked, raising his eyebrows. “Ros and I have had cover stories before where we’ve been in a relationship. We can easily make it work.”

Amy looked at Lucas and felt the butterflies flap more viciously in her stomach. The man was gorgeous, and in Amy’s mind her being seen as his fiancée was even more inconceivable than Ros taking the place. Ros Myers had the confidence and grace that Amy didn’t. Amy was of short stature, more curvaceous, with short dark hair and what she considered more ‘plain’ features. While Amy had proven herself as a damn good analyst and office based intel officer, her confidence waned when venturing into new situations, or when in the company of Lucas.

Near the end of Lucas’ shift, he tapped on Harry’s door.

Harry Pearce, government renowned intelligence officer and senior lead of Section D, raised his head. “Yes, Lucas. Come in.”

Lucas closed the door behind himself and sat down opposite the middle aged man. “I want to talk to you about Operation Greenacre. I don’t think Amy is ready, Harry. I’ve got a feeling that she’s accepted this to try and prove herself to you.”

“Is this because you’re concerned about having to watch out for her, or a genuine interest in her safety?”

“I can’t believe you’d ask me that question,” Lucas scoffed. “I’m worried for her, not me. She’s not ready for field work. Can we just ask Ros to do it?”

“Lucas, Amy has already agreed to this and your documentation is being processed. I can’t stop this from going ahead, and Ros has, as of this afternoon, been put onto Op Hickory. I trust that you’ll be able to help her; the two of you seem to work well together and there’s something about the way she interacts with you. There’s an ease and a trust I sense.”

“I’m not questioning how we work together. I’ve always got on very well with her.”

Harry saw a very faint blush hit Lucas’ cheeks, which was quite rare for him. Not much seemed to faze him, but this conversation appeared to be bringing out the very first signs that Lucas may have been holding a secret close to his heart.

Amy woke early the next morning and rolled over to see that it was quarter to five. She had only gotten a couple of hours sleep, sporadic through the night. Her mind was ablaze with all the details of her new life she was about to live.

Amanda Reynolds. Thirty one years of age. Born in Manchester. Older brother named Thomas. Fiancee of Ben Waverley. A gorgeous man like him wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like me….

The thoughts had trailed off many times, departing from the facts she had to memorise. All she could think about was how appearing engaged to Lucas would seem so far-fetched. She had even looked upon the engagement ring many times, wishing that it was all for real. What an absolutely stupid dream. This woman that she was pretending to be, Amanda Reynolds, had a better life than she had ever had.

At around half seven, after showering, pacing her flat with podcasts playing in her ears, Amy heard her front door buzzer sound. It couldn’t have been the postman, as he normally left all mail in the boxes in the lobby. Deliveries weren’t usually this early.

Amy clicked the intercom. “Hello?”

“It’s Lucas.”

Just his voice was like a wave of pleasurable electricity. It ran down her spine and made her smile. “I’ll let you in.”

As Amy opened her door, she saw Lucas walking up the hallway. He was dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt, with the top two buttons opened. He held something in his hands.

“I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet, Aim,” he said softly.

“I thought we were meeting at nine, at the flat,” Amy said stupidly.

“I just thought you might like to have a bit of food first and relax a bit.”

Amy let Lucas into her flat, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves begin to descend.

“Malcolm has organised the moving van this morning, so a lot of the stuff should be there when we arrive later,” Amy told Lucas, stepping into the kitchen, with him just behind.

“Come and sit down for a bit and don’t think about the op. Relax and take your mind off it.”

Amy looked down at the brown paper bag on the counter and then back up at Lucas, feeling something in her chest, an ache that she had never quite felt before. Not only was he gorgeous, but kind. He actually saw her, and made her feel like she mattered. Or was this purely to try and help her feel more confident to better the outcome of the op? A method of getting the best out of her.

“Did you manage to get that sketch completed?” Lucas asked, taking a large bite out of a croissant.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d remember that,” Amy said. Only a few days earlier and Amy had been sketching a photo of her nephew at her desk in work. It was a gift that she wanted to give to her sister for her birthday.

By the time that Amy and Lucas had made it to the flat where they would be spending at least the next couple of weeks, Amy felt a little more at ease. The two of them greeted the moving men.

Every now and again, Amy would catch a glimpse of a shimmer of rainbow colours from the corner of her eye, as the sun caught the diamond on her left hand.

It all felt natural as Amy and Lucas began putting items away after unpacking boxes. However, it all changed, when a tall red-headed woman came to their open door. She tapped on it and stepped over the threshold and into the living room. “Hello?”

“It’s okay,” Lucas whispered to Amy as they remained together in the bedroom, still opening boxes. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he winked at her, watching as her startled face disappeared out of view.

“Morning,” Amy said, her face beaming at the sight of the redhead. “I’m guessing you’re a neighbour?”

“I am. I’m Pamela from next door, at number five. I heard we were getting new neighbours. It’s been so long since anyone has lived here, and I was starting to wonder if they’d ever find tenants.”

Amy chuckled nervously. “I’m Amanda. My fiancée Ben is still in the bedroom trying to put the bed back together, so he should be out in a bit.”

On cue, just as Amy spoke those last words, Lucas appeared and approached. He curled his arm around Amy’s waist and drew her in against him. “Hi, I’m Ben. I hate moving. It makes me do some DIY which is one of my pet hates.”

As Lucas spoke, Amy was sure that she could feel Lucas’ fingers moving in an almost circular motion against her waist. She could feel heat rising up her body at the sensation of being in such close proximity of him.

“Is that a diamond I see?” Pamela asked, her dark eyes growing bright.

Amy raised her hand to show her new neighbour. “We’ve been engaged about two months now.”

Lucas pulled Amy that tad closer as she spoke, feeling a deep warmth rise upward and fill him. Without even thinking, he placed a kiss on her temple. Her skin was so soft under his lips and he could smell strawberries, no doubt from her shampoo.

“You’ll have to come over for dinner tomorrow,” Pamela offered. “We always enjoy hosting dinners for our neighbours. Ted is ever the showman.”

“That sounds lovely,” Amy said, her voice ever so slightly teetering on the edge of nervousness. She could feel the change in her voice now that Lucas was touching her.

“I’ll let you both get back to it. I’ll see you around no doubt.”

As Pamela disappeared into her front door, Amy immediately pulled from Lucas. She turned away from him and dashed away into the kitchen, where she flicked on the kettle for a drink. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel her legs shaking. For a few seconds, she watched out of the window, focusing on the clouds and took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asked. “You did well, Aim.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little flustered, that’s all.”

The rest of the day was fairly lowkey, with Amy and Lucas putting the belongings away, which hopefully wouldn’t be needed for too long. At the briefing, Harry and Lucas had explained that they hoped that the undercover part of the op wouldn’t be any more than two or three weeks. Most of it hinged on Lucas being able to wind his way into Ted Delaney’s trust and gain any hints as to his reasoning and motives for working alongside terrorists.

At around six there was a sharp knock at the door.

Lucas opened the door, only to see Ted Delaney in front of him. Positive ID made from all the documentation that had been gathered prior to the undercover portion of the op going live.

“I’m Ted from next door. Pam told me you’d moved in and that she’d invited you to dinner tomorrow. Thought I’d come over and extend my welcomes to you both.”

Ted Delany was a man who was easily in his mid-fifties. His greying hair was swept back and oiled, and his grey eyes were piercing. His clothing showed that he had money and position: a well-tailored navy suit and shined shoes.

“Would you like a drink with us?” Lucas asked.

“Sure,” Ted said, flashing a broad smile.

Lucas immediately approached the whiskey and vodka bottles that were neatly placed out on a small table next to a large bookcase.

Amy could hear faint chatter as she remained in the bedroom. For a second, she stood with her back to the wall, took a deep breath and then exited.

“Hey, babe,” Lucas said, seeing Amy. ‘Babe’ somehow felt wrong in his mouth, and he hoped that to Delaney the word didn’t come across too alien. “This is Ted from next door.”

“Ted, this is Amanda. The love of my life and wife-to-be.”

I think that may be a bit too much, Lucas. Amy mused.

Amy sat down on the black leather sofa which was opposite a matching armchair, where Ted had perched himself.

Lucas handed the glass of whiskey to Ted and then placed himself down next to Amy. His hand rested on her thigh, again doing that circular motion with his fingers. He looked at Amy, passing her a glance. “Do you want me to get you anything from the kitchen?”

“You’re missing out on the good stuff, love,” Ted said with a hearty chuckle and raised his glass in the air.

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Amy replied. “I’ve never been able to hand alcohol particularly well. It just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“I remember when we first met, and she tried to impress me by drinking a couple of pints,” Lucas said. “She’s always tried to impress me when there’s no need to. She’s perfect the way she is.” Lucas, on instinct, squeezed her leg.

Amy felt a rod of red hot head swarm in her head, as if angry wasps were buzzing there. “I always felt I was out of your league, Ben, you know that.”

“Pam was always like that with me, too. Some women might seem like they have confidence, but deep down they don’t, and feel they need to be something they’re not. In fact, they’ve always been the apple of your eye from the very beginning.”

Lucas chuckled. “That’s definitely always been the way with her. She doesn’t see how amazing she is.”

Ted only stayed for approximately twenty minutes, before leaving Amy and Lucas for the night. There was a silence that had grown between them both now, and as Lucas remained in the living room, Amy sat in the kitchen with a mug of tea between her arms, which were resting on the table.

“Aim, what’s wrong?” Lucas asked, finally following her into the kitchen. “You’ve been quiet since Delaney left. Is it making you uncomfortable?”

Lucas looked down at the table to see the engagement ring. It was in the centre of the table, not on Amy’s hand where it should have been for the op.

“I can’t wear it, Lucas,” Amy said softly. “Not when it’s not real. I can’t close the door and still have it on my hand. It’s bad enough having to have you touch me.”

“Amy…”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. We see this op through and then go back to the grid and get on with things.”

Lucas lay on the sofa, while Amy had the bed, and thought on her words. It’s bad enough having you touch me. Was she disgusted by him? That very thought made his jaw clench and an ache rise in his chest. That was why she had dashed from him when Pamela had been at their door; Amy found him disgusting and couldn’t stand him touching her. And that touch had been real, so real in Lucas’ mind. To hold Amy next to him had felt like everything was perfect, and nothing was an act. The kiss on her temple...that was all from Lucas’ heart.

Amy tossed in bed, replaying the events. The way Lucas had touched her, and those words. They seemed to be somehow as though he was telling her, behind a mask of someone else, that…. Of course he wasn’t!

Lucas is good at his job. He’s done this so many times before and played the part well to get what’s needed for the case and then move on. Nothing is different about this operation whatsoever. It’s just my imagination.

Being in a different bed meant that Amy couldn’t quite get comfortable in the bed, and would keep peering out of one eye at the clock on the bedside table. The bed was big, enough space for her to roll around, but it reminded her of how isolated she felt. Cut off. Unwanted.

It was just after four ‘o’ clock and Amy knew she wouldn’t sleep any more that night. It was like the night before, just a couple of hours made up of half hour dozing phases. A dull thump was already starting up behind her eyes. As Amy pulled herself out of bed, she heard the whishing of blood in her ears.

She staggered out of the room and across the living room, heading for the kitchen. There, on the sofa, sprawled out was Lucas. He was on his back, mouth wide open. The patchwork quilt had fallen off him, so Amy tottered over to him, and placed the quilt back over his sleeping form. He twitched as the quilt touched him, let out a loud snore, and then rolled over.

Amy made a cup of herbal tea and sat in the kitchen, her eyes stinging and head thumping. It seemed as if Lucas slept easily, not worrying about the operation and certainly not about the tension that had risen between them. Was it only Amy that sensed any kind of tension? She was starting to assume it was.

By the time it had turned half six, Amy got dressed into a fresh strip of clothing, choosing jeans and a frilled white blouse: the attire of Amanda Reynolds. Amy Holland, MI5 analyst, would have opted for jeans and a rock band T-shirt with a waistcoat, or a bright coloured hoodie. Sophistication wasn’t something that Amy felt she had.

The streets were fairly quiet and Amy slipped into a café, ordering two bagels and two Americano coffees. Then she walked back to the flat, feeling that she could finally find a sense of peace out in the chilled mid-March air.

By the time Amy got back to the flat, she walked in to find that Lucas had vacated the sofa. She could hear the splashing of bathwater and an offkey singing voice coming from the bathroom.

Amy giggled and placed the breakfasts down on the coffee table in the living room, waiting for Lucas to re-appear.

When he finally made an appearance, Lucas sauntered over to the sofa and sat down, leaving a gap between Amy and himself.

“I hope you like bagels,” Amy said, giving a smile. “You brought breakfast yesterday so it’s only fair I do so today.”

***

Amy ventured out the flat after breakfast, deciding to get out of Lucas’ way for a few hours. The cover story was that Amanda and Ben were on annual leave for a week while they moved into their new property. Ben, being the owner of his own accountancy firm, had left the company in the capable hands of his best friend, and co-director, Patrick Lange. If any kind of phone call was needed to or from Patrick, Tariq had been asked to step in and lend his vocal skills.

First off, Amy sat down in a coffee shop and watched people wander past the window; tourists, residents. Some of them she could tell immediately as residents of London, carrying briefcases or dressed sharp for an upcoming meetings. Tourists tended to walk slower, some with cameras around their necks, and gazed around in excitement and wonder.

Her phone chimed. Well, Amanda’s phone. It was one of the many iPhones that were kept on the Grid specifically for operations, with disposable SIM cards.

Ben: Are you sure you’re okay? You didn’t seem yourself this morning. Love you. Xxx

Of course all text messages had be sent in character, in case the devices were ever compromised. No personal devices were allowed. One very basic Nokia 3310 model was kept in order to report back to Harry in case any challenges occurred, and that was in Lucas’ possession.

Amanda: Yes, I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be back later.  xx

Sweetie. Acting out this whole made-up scenario was angering Amy.

Amy continued on walking, disappearing in and out of shops. All of the money she had was in physical cash. No personal credit and debit cards were to be used while on operation. Every aspect of who she really was had been erased. For the next two or three weeks, Amy Holland didn’t exist. When she looked into a mirror, Amanda Reynolds looked back. Amy could imagine the reflection smirking at her, the diamond sparkling so brightly on her left hand, with Ben’s arm wrapped around her. Ben’s steel blue eyes looking back, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the mere sight of Amy.

Like I’d ever look at you twice.

Back at the flat, Lucas put more items away, concentrating on the kitchenware. However, his mind couldn’t stop spiralling into thoughts of Amy. She was confusing him and it was twisting his gut so tight. Suddenly he got up from the tiled floor, where he had been putting pots and pans into the cupboards, and called her.

“Amanda?” he asked.

“Ben,” she replied matter-of-factly.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“No one is directly around me.”

“We need to talk on neutral ground.”

“Please, no. We can talk when I get back.”

“We have to be careful as we can be compromised, you know that.”

“I’m on my way back now. We’ll talk more after the dinner. I’ll be back in about half hour.”

The line then went quiet as Amy terminated the call.

Lucas sighed in frustration. In all the months that he had known Amy, which was almost a year, he had never known her be so aloof. She was naturally a shier person, but he had never known her react like this.

Amy got back to the flat within the half hour that she had promised. She stepped into the living room to see Lucas sat on the sofa. The gorgeous bastard looked up at her and smiled sadly.

“After the dinner, we’ll go for a walk,” she proposed.

***

Amy and Lucas prepared themselves for the dinner with their new neighbours at around six.

Lucas was dressed in a black suit jacket and white shirt, with the top two buttons popped open. It was complimented nicely with a pair of dark jeans, giving a casual edge.

Amy stepped out of the bedroom, her short pixie cut freshly washed and neatly brushed. She wore a black dress with frills on the wrist, and paired with black dolly shoes. Her whole look was sophistication mixed with a sense of comfort.

As Lucas looked at her, he swallowed hard. She was wearing a dark eyeshadow and mascara which accented her deep green eyes perfectly. He could sense her discomfort at the get-up, knowing that this wasn’t her usual style, but he couldn’t help feel it suited her so well.

Amy tried to avoid eye contact and made her way to the door in silence.

Lucas followed on behind, feeling his stomach twist yet again at her distance from him. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table by the door, and then closed it behind them.

Pam was the one to answer the door. She grinned at her new neighbours and let them in. “Take a seat. Dinner won’t be too long now. I’m preparing smoked salmon, topped in my special sauce. Chef’s secret as to the recipe. Everyone who has ever tried it has raved over it.”

“Good man!” Ted exclaimed, taking the bottle of red wine from Lucas. “Priorities.”

Amy glanced around the living room, noticing that there was far less in it than hers and Lucas’ temporary abode. The flooring was wooden, and the lights bright. Everything felt too clean and sterile for Amy’s liking. She sat down on a black leather sofa, and then tensed as Lucas perched beside her. He took her hand and rested it on his knee, then caught her gaze and smiled, giving her a very slight nod.

“So, how did you two meet?” Pam asked, preparing glasses as Ted popped open the wine bottle.

“Do you want a coffee? You said last night you don’t drink,” Ted asked Amy, interjecting himself into the conversation before anyone else could speak.

“Oh, yes, please. That would be perfect,” she replied with a grateful smile.

Lucas began to talk, still holding Amy’s hand. He rolled out the spiel that he and Amy had been given as part of their briefing pack. Amanda and Ben had met through mutual friends at a Christmas party.

The words rolled effortlessly off Lucas’ tongue, Amy mused. And how she wished all of it was true. To be loved, wanted, proposed to, lived with. She desperately wanted it all. Life was cruel. Rather than be dealt such a lucky hand, she instead had to act it all out, pretend, and live behind a happy mask, where her heart beneath was breaking.

“You definitely struck lucky, love,” Pam told Amy with a wink.

The conversation between Lucas and Ted seemed to flow without much thought. However, Lucas’ hand moving up Amy’s thigh, curling further into the inside of her leg.

Shivers began to race up Amy’s spine as she felt his fingers caress her skin through her thin tights.

Most of the conversation seemed to merge into a mindless chatter as Amy concentrated on Lucas’ hand on her leg. She studied the veins in the back of his hand, which then caused images of him touching her in more intimate places to flicker through her mind.

By the time that dinner was ready and the group had moved into the dining room, which again was a sterile looking room, Lucas had finally got onto the topic of conversation that he needed: Ted’s work.

The table was only small, considering that the flat was large. It gave way for more kitchen space and cabinets. This meant that Amy was sat directly next to Lucas again, with Pam and Ted opposite them.

“How long have you owned the charity, Ted?” Lucas asked, slipping into his seat.

Ted began to answer while Pam laid out all the dishes in the centre of the table, her hands covered in oven gloves. “The charity was actually started by my father, who died five years ago, so it was handed down to me. He always spent his life helping disadvantaged children; it was all he cared about.” Something flickered across Ted’s face. Resentment, anger? Lucas couldn’t quite tell. But maybe that was where he could probe further.

“Are you alright, love?” Pam asked, sitting down directly opposite Amy. “You look a bit pale.”

“It’s probably the new foundation I’m using. I decided to try a lighter colour as the one before, by Clinique was too dark.” Where had that response come from? Maybe Amy wasn’t quite as bad at this acting while undercover thing as she had originally thought. Suddenly she felt something on her leg and jumped. Thankfully, Pam had started talking to Lucas and Ted again, so none of them noticed her jump. Why was Lucas touching her leg? Their lower halves were concealed beneath the table, which meant he didn’t have to touch her in order for anyone to believe they were lovers.

While Amy eat her meal, she couldn’t stop thinking about Lucas’ hand coming back to her leg.

“So, how did you choose to propose?” Pam asked, grinning. “I always adore love stories.”

Lucas blushed and then looked at Amy, catching her gaze. Then, he touched her leg again. Only this time, Amy didn’t flinch. In fact, upon instinct, she leaned her leg into his touch. “I just knew that I couldn’t live without her in my life. I wanted to wake up next to her, have kids with her. Cliché, I know. So I took her away for Christmas, to New York where she’d always wanted to go, and proposed in front of the Statue of Liberty.” His eyes were still locked on hers as he spoke.

A sudden wave of nausea hit Amy and she leaned to the side, away from Lucas.

“Are you okay, babe?” Lucas asked. “She’s been like this on and off the last couple of days.”

Pam’s bright blue eyes lit up in excitement. “Maybe it’s the pitter patter of tiny feet.”

“I’m going to have to head back to the flat. I’m so sorry to both of you,” Amy said, bolting up from her seat.

Lucas got up beside her and wound his arm around her waist. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, but she comes first.”

“Of course,” Ted chuckled. “We’ll have to re-schedule for a better time.”

Amy and Lucas bid their farewells to their guests and head back to the flat. Amy dashed inside and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door. Rather than vomiting, she got to her knees on the floor and felt the tears of sadness roll down her cheeks.

The door opened and Lucas stepped inside. He looked down as she sobbed and fell to his knees beside her. “Aim, what’s wrong?” he whispered. “You’re scaring me.”

“You don’t have to keep the act going, Lucas,” she snapped, glaring at him. “Pam and Ted aren’t here.”

“Get dressed into something more comfortable and warmer. We’ll go for a walk,” Lucas said, his voice becoming authoritative.

“I don’t want…”

“While we’re on this operation, I’m the senior officer. Please get changed and we’ll go for a walk.” Lucas felt a stab of shame as he spoke those words, knowing he was using his own position for gain, but he needed to know what was happening. Her behaviour was becoming more erratic. Not only was she worrying him for her wellbeing, but if she continued to act like this then the op would be compromised.

Fuck the operation! I care more about her.

Fifteen minutes later and Amy walked beside Lucas, the darkness and cold evening air wrapping tight around them. Once they were a few streets away from the flat, Amy and Lucas sat down on a bench in a small park.

“You really are scaring me, Amy. What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “This is me asking because I care for your wellbeing. It’s not an act.” The word ‘act’ dripped with anger. He noticed that, yet again, she’d taken the engagement ring off.

Amy noticed him look at her hand. “I can’t wear that ring, Lucas. Please don’t make me wear it when I don’t have to.”

“We’re on surveillance and undercover twenty-four seven with this operation. You shouldn’t take it on and off when you please like this. This goes deeper than that, Aim. I know you hate me touching you, and I’m sorry I have to do it.”

“I know it’s all an act for the op, Lucas. Don’t apologise.”

“Is it all an act?” he asked. His gaze locked on Amy’s. “I know I shouldn’t have touched you under the table. There was no need for that. The truth is, none of this has been an act for me.”

Amy’s eyes were wide in shock and sadness as she stared at him. “It’s not just my imagination?” she whispered.

“No,” Lucas replied with a smile. “And when you said about not wanting me to touch you…”

“I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you to touch me. It’s I…I’ve liked you for a while Lucas, and it was getting too much. Playing it all like a game when deep down it’s something I want. I’m living another woman’s life that I want.”

Lucas slipped closer to Amy and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Is it me or Ben Waverley that you want?”

“Of course it’s you I want.” Amy replied, her face broad with a huge smile.

Lucas moved even closer to her still, until their lips touched. The kiss started as a simple peck, a moment of uncertainty, but Amy’s hand tugging Lucas’ jacket spurred him on. The kiss grew deeper, their tongues meeting and warmth rising.

As they both parted, Lucas smiled upon the slight of Amy’s beautiful flushed cheeks. She looked so innocent and angelic in those moments; her eyes sparkling in happiness, her cheeks flushed and her lips plump.

“Does this mean that if you want Amanda’s life that you’re planning on leaving MI5?” Lucas chuckled. “Pack up and go work as a solicitor’s secretary. We’d miss you.”

“Maybe I don’t want that part of her life.”

“If we do this, Aim, and have a relationship, we won’t be put together undercover again, you know that, don’t you?” Lucas asked. “Harry can’t risk any compromise. We’d be a weakness to each other.”

“Maybe on this op we can draw strength from each other. It’ll definitely make the act easier to keep up.”

Lucas and Amy walked back to the flat hand in hand. The whole time and Amy was beaming, unable to hide the happiness she was feeling in those moments. Her gaze would drift down to their joined hands every few minutes.

Back at the flat, Lucas let Amy in ahead of himself, his hand brushing against her lower back. He followed on behind her and closed the door. The way she turned to face him and looked up smiling, her cheeks still flushed, made his heart skip and his stomach flutter. She was so beautiful, with innocence shining brightly in her eyes and love curling her lips upwards.

Lucas stepped forward and wound his arm around her waist, drawing her in and then leaned down to kiss her again.

Their kiss grew hot very quickly, with their bodies entwining.

Amy opened her eyes slowly, looking up into the silver blue depths of Lucas’ gaze. That all too familiar smirk began to form in the corner of his mouth.

Amy slipped out of his hold and walked slowly into the kitchen, looking down at the table. The engagement ring was still in the centre where she had left it.

Lucas moved around her and picked up the ring. Then he gently lifted her left hand. “I know you don’t want to wear it, Aim, but please do this for me.”

With a sigh, Amy watched as Lucas slid the diamond solitaire ring onto her hand. It felt as though the ring had been sized perfectly and belonged there. “Maybe one day I’ll have someone doing it for real.”

Lucas smiled sadly, feeling a lump form in his throat. Words swarmed in Lucas’ mind. Just one sentence to respond to Amy’s sad comment. But the right one would not come. Instead, he remained quiet. Perhaps one day it might have been him putting a ring on her hand, and meaning it. However, for now, he would have to wait and see, and hope for that future to come.

***

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#Lucas North #Spooks #MI5 #Richard Armitage #Fanfic #Lucas North x OFC #Lucas North x OC

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teddy-bear-baby · 3 months

Text

Their Deadly Flower - Fourteen

(A/n: With the end of the fic drawing near, I'd like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone's support on my first fully released writing project. It really does mean the world to me and gives me the motivation to continue writing(Even if it's a slow process). I love you all, my Lovelies.)

Pairings: Ghost X GN!Reader, König X GN!Reader

Warnings: Heavy violence, mentions and depictions of torture

Prolog - One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven - Eight - Nine - Ten - Eleven - Twelve - Thirteen - Here - Epilog

Bloomed in Poison - Prolog

Ghost’s tired eyes widen at the sight before him. An angel had stepped into the room, covered head-to-toe in blood-soaked tactical gear. Bright white light illuminates the figure as they step further into the dimly lit room, though that could have just been his mind slipping further into madness. The lack of sleep and immense amount of pain he’s been put through have done some strange things to his head. He often found himself talking to conjured images of his team, telling them how much he missed them and needed them, only for them to disappear seconds later.

Iris had been a particularly common and vivid hallucination. Popping up at least twice an hour to let Ghost know how well he was doing or to tell him he just needed to hold on a bit longer. Everytime it happened, he’d keep himself from blinking for as long as possible hoping to prolong the visit from his conjured lover and the brief reprieve it gave his broken mind. Even now, watching as Iris approached him with tear stained cheeks, the only thing he could focus on was keeping his eyes open to keep the illusion here with him.

~~~~~

Gone. She’s just gone. The moment you think you have the leverage to get Ghost and König back it all disappears. Rain had somehow vanished from the base, though you’re certain you saw her just a few hours ago in the mess hall. Maybe it was just bad timing and she had slipped out of the base just before you’d put the pieces together. Or maybe she’d seen you rushing down the hall looking like a madman on your way to tell Price. Either way, the lockdown and search of the premises had turned up nothing. She was gone without a trace of her ever having been there.

“I can’t believe this shit,” You mumble angrily as you tighten your vest to your body, readying yourself for the suicide mission.

Soap sighs as he double checks the magazines for his rifle, clearly having had enough of this past week. “How did all go so sideways?”

You couldn’t help but feel like it was mostly your fault. Obviously, Alice had it out for you for some reason, Ezekiel made that pretty evident. All the thought does is piss you off more. Deep down you knew that it wasn’t just a feeling, it was your fault. Your men were captured, in god knows what kind of state right now, and the team was going on a suicide mission because of something you’d done to Alice. Because you wouldn’t open up and spill your secrets to your ‘best friend’ or what you believed to be your best friend at the time.

A disheartened sigh falls from your lips as you continue to ready your gear, tightening straps and holstering weapons as your mind continues to lay all of the blame on you. It doesn’t make sense. Why go through all the trouble of hurting so many people because someone you don’t even like wouldn’t open up to you? Perhaps that wasn’t her reasoning, maybe there was something else causing her completely irrational plans. Or maybe they weren’t her plans at all.

The emptiness of the halls and rooms has you thinking you may have been lied to. Or maybe you had the wrong warehouse. But that all-too-familiar magnetic buzz has you moving deeper into the building. Like a ship to a siren’s call, you lead the other four into the unknown, fearing the worst while hoping to find the source of your current hardship. Hoping, praying, pleading with whatever god would listen, to be reunited with König and Ghost. Whether you made it out alive didn’t matter to you anymore so long as you got them back where they were supposed to be.

A long, disheartened sigh escapes your lips as you glance around the last hallway. Having found nothing but empty rooms and silent halls thus far, you begin to wonder if coming here was even worth it. What a waste of time and effort you may have put into a completely empty building after all the trouble you’d gone through to get here in the first place. Suddenly all the fighting and yelling at superiors didn’t seem right anymore. The fear of being fired from the only job you want, of being pushed away from your family again settles low in your gut like brick.

Those thoughts only last a moment as one of the men taps you on the shoulder. “There,” He nods toward one of the doors on the left side of the hall. It appears to be made out of solid metal and there’s a keypad on the wall next to the handle.

Your brain fails you as you step closer to the door, all caution thrown to the wind as you grab the handle. It doesn’t budge, so you try again. And again. And again, until you're practically shaking the door free of its hinges trying to get it open. You want to cry as the magnetic pull grows exponentially stronger. You're on the verge of tears when you finally snap out of your little tantrum and pull yourself together. Now equipped with the knowledge that this door was extra secure, you take a step back and attempt to reassess the situation.

Your head shakes on its own as you stare Price right in the eyes. “I won’t.” You’re not only disobeying his orders but you’re also directly telling your captain no. If it were any other man standing not even five feet from you, you’d probably be scared to death by the mere thought of telling a superior no. But this was Price after all, and he was like family to you and understood your side. “I can’t.” Your voice shakes with unshed tears as you continue shaking your head.

Price nods slowly as he looks around at each of the soldiers standing around you both. “Alright.” He gestures to the four KorTac members. “Team two, you’re with Iris.” He steps forward and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Lead them well. Bring ‘em home alive, yeah?”

Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the meaning of his words. Not even ten minutes ago, he’d been ordering you and all the others to climb into the armored vehicle so you could get the suicide mission over with. You’d stood there, unmoving as all the others clambered begrudgingly toward said vehicle. But you couldn’t move, you were glued to your spot stuck on the thought of your men being tortured for something that wasn’t their fault.

Now, Price is telling you to take these four men and lead them on an unofficial mission to save Ghost and König. The thought of the repercussions this could cause flash only briefly through your mind as you look over at the team of operators. “Will you follow me? Allow me to lead you through enemy territory to retrieve Ghost and König?” You nearly choke on air as they all give nods and stand at attention before you. Clearly, they’d gained quite a bit of respect for you over the past two months, something you hadn’t expected at all. Especially not after the scene that had been caused during the training for your first mission with the group.

It wouldn’t open. The stupid fucking door wouldn’t open. No matter how many different number combinations you entered, the damned thing just stayed closed. The only other way to open it would be to find a keycard with access to whatever system the electronic lock was linked to. That feels impossible considering the rest of the warehouse had been completely empty. Your hope of getting Ghost and König back was quickly diminishing as you did the only thing you could think to do, stare at it blankly.

A growl of frustration bubbles up your throat as you throw a heavy punch at the keypad on the wall, watching as it cracks in half from the force. A few sparks fly from the broken tech as it begins to short-circuit. And then you hear, like the most beautiful song to ever be written, sung by the voice of a goddamned angel. The lock clicks open as the power supply to the keypad fails.

You huff out a laugh as you slowly push the door open, revealing a long concrete staircase. The irony of your anger issues tickles the back of your brain as you force yourself not to burst into a fit of insane laughter. For years you’d been swallowing down your anger, focusing it into your work and training, and all it took to overcome this obstacle was to let yourself feel frustrated again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to show a little aggression and anger.

You shrug at your own thoughts and usher four men to follow you down into the basement. The cool, stale air filters through your balaclava as you descend the steps as quietly as possible. You make sure to keep your eyes trained on the opening at the bottom so nothing could take you by surprise.

You're only three steps from the bottom when you begin to hear voices. Your hand shoots up over your shoulder as your feet come to a halt, signaling for the others to stop as well. Three distinct voices can be heard from around the corner, you’re able to pick up a bit of their conversation.

“Any new information from our puppets in there?” A gentle, sultry male voice questions, a small snicker following his question. A deep, gruff male voice speaks with what sounds to be agitation. “Won’t say anything, not a word from either of ‘em.”

A familiar sounding female voice chimes in, “Keep trying, one of them is bound to crack eventually. I’m willing to bet you could get the giant to talk first.”

That voice strikes an animalistic feeling in the back of your neck causing your spine to become unnaturally straight. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, raking against your eardrums in the most mind breaking ways. Rain’s face materializes behind your eyes, that all-too-familiar heat returning to your chest as you physically force yourself to stand still. The last thing you need right now is to lose what little chance you had of getting Ghost and König out of here alive.

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a speeding truck. They’re alive. They’re here and alive. Relief floods your entire being, your shoulders loosening and jaw unclenching for the first time since they’d been taken. It feels as though you can breathe again, the stale air of the warehouse basement suddenly seeming as fresh as the ocean breeze. A small smile forms on your chapped lips, the thought of getting them out of here is the only strength you can find to hold back the tears.

The sound of retreating footsteps is briefly stifled by the gruff voice once more. “I don’t think either of ‘em will crack. Been here for a week, beaten, tortured, threatened and still won’t talk? I think it’s time to give up and just off ‘em.”

You swallow a growl that forms in your throat as you push the graphic images out of your head. You nod once and motion for the others to follow you as the footsteps continue to grow quieter. Poking your head out of the stairwell, you run your eyes over your new surroundings. Small tables and metal chairs haphazardly litter the large room. Most of the tables hold trash of some sort. Empty booze bottles and plastic cups are strewn across the stone floor. The place seems to be in complete disarray, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is.

It didn’t take long for your small group to be noticed. iver heavily armed soldiers sneaking through rooms and halls that were mostly white and light gray were bound to be spotted eventually. On top of all the other disadvantages you’d found yourself to have, you hadn’t taken into consideration that breaking the keypad might send out a security alert. So, everyone residing within the small compound was aware of, and on the lookout for, intruders.

While you’d never been a huge fan of killing people, you knew in some cases it was unavoidable. So when a few of the residents found you and your merry band of KorTac operators, your choices were to turn yourselves in and cause a ruckus, or subdue them by whatever means necessary. You all chose the latter, and proceeded to defend your freedom with swift, less than merciful deaths for anyone that tried to get in your way.

It seemed there were at least three hostiles for every corner you turned and two more for every room you looked through. Waves of people coming at your group over and over again as you make your way through what you had previously thought to be a small warehouse basement. That wasn’t the case at all though. In fact, there was an underground tunnel system tucked in the back of the original basement. Three whole underground floors, each of which contained housing units, offices, bathrooms and small kitchens. It was like moving through the equivalent of three military bases.

You probably wouldn’t have made it this far if team one hadn't shown up thirty minutes ago. All of team two had sustained minor injuries, mostly bruises, small cuts and grazes from near misses of bullets. Ammo had been running low and you were down to two of your six combat knives by the time Price, Soap and Gaz made their surprise appearance. The confusion that overtook you nearly made you dizzy, until they explained what they found. What they found being absolutely nothing, which made this elaborate base make a hell of a lot more sense.

“So, they’re alive? You’re positive?” Cautious concern and elation snake through Price’s tone as he speaks. His eyes are glued to you and the team you’d been leading.

You nod slowly, honestly uncertain of how to answer without bringing the team’s morale down. “As of an hour and thirty-six minutes ago, yes.” You hadn’t seen Rain at all during your extensive expedition of, what you now suspect is, the organization’s new headquarters. Your eyes find Soap as he works deftly to rig a small charge on a security access door. The hope being it’ll give you all a quicker and quieter way to travel around the labyrinth of never ending rooms and hallways.

Soap finishes placing the charge and ushers everyone around the corner of an intersecting hall. “Shouldn’t need this much clearance,” He shrugs as he peers back around the corner at the door. “But you can never be too safe.” He steps back behind cover and holds up the charge trigger. A small bang echoes through the hallway, causing slight ringing in everyone’s ears. “Maybe it was a bit too much?”

You snort out a laugh and follow Soap around the corner to the security door which is now blown wide open. “At least it’s open.” You shrug as you both walk into the room, monitors full of video feeds fill the back half. Your eyes widen slightly as you scan over each of the feeds, unconsciously looking for two very specific people. “Oh, God,” You gag as your eyes finally find the feed for the ‘interrogation’ rooms.

Tears fall from your lashes as you take in the horrendous sight of your men, bound and tied to chairs. The cameras face both of them directly, neither wearing their masks but both recognisable from the clothing they wore. Clothing you had seen them wearing just before they disappeared, only now it was cut open and stained the color of rust in some places. Cuts and bruises litter their bodies, fresh blood seeming to seep from their skin in places. Your stomach twists with the need to evacuate anything that may be contained within as your heart squeezes, trying to fold in on itself.

You knew it would be bad, you knew this is what was happening to them, but you could stand to look at it. Couldn’t stand knowing you were the reason for the days of torment your lovers had been through. And now, standing here, more or less fine, while they suffered endless amounts of pain, had broken you. Your usually strong exterior, your need to be fine even in the hardest of situations dissipates. The emotional turmoil you’d thought would be the end of you couldn’t compare to what they’d been through.

Guilt and disgust fill you as you think back on how bad you’d felt for yourself. You felt pathetic, nearly breaking from their absence was so stupid in hindsight. You’d been so focused on holding yourself together while they’d been here, counting on you to come for them.

They’d been paid a visit recently, that much was obvious and it made your blood boil with white hot rage. You want to shriek in anger, to wail in sadness and throw things. You don’t though, you keep it together as you knew you’d get your chance to be emotional once they were back in the confines of safety. Your eyes scan the screens once more, finding the room numbers before you turn and rush out of the security room.

The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sound of your rapidly beating heart drowns out the calls of your team. You were on a mission and nothing would stand in your way. So they were either with you, or they weren’t.

The next twenty minutes blur in your head, flashes of the events that transpired are all that remain. Images of you sprinting through the halls, picking off the residents of the facility one by one. The cuts and bruises you’d sustained, the single bullet that had managed to hit you in the midst of the absolute rampage you’d gone on stick in the back of your head. You don’t feel them though, your whole body feels numb and you can’t think of anything but pulverizing the two people you know had a hand in Ghost and König’s torture.

You vaguely remember team two following hot on your heels as you massacred a fifth of the people on the third floor. They’d followed you without question, either having full confidence in your abilities or having that little control over themselves as well. It hadn’t really mattered to you either way, you were just glad to have some sort of backup when it came time to bust into the room that contains the holding cells.

Many well-equipped guards stood in your way, but you weren’t deterred in the slightest by their presence. Neither were the four men from KorTac. In that moment it became clear why they had followed you so willingly, all of them standing at your side waiting for you to give the order. Waiting for you to lead them into what would most likely be a bloodbath for your small, now ammo-less group.

“This will most likely end in at least one of our deaths,” You explain in a hushed voice as you glance between the four men. “You’ve come this far with me and not questioned any of my rash decisions, I wouldn’t blame any of you if this is not a risk you’re willing to take.” You swallow hard, nerves slowly wiggling their way past the wall of numbness and determination that had gotten you this far. “You’ve all done well and I commend you all for the bravery you’ve shown by blindly following my lead.” You salute them all as a show of respect, nodding in approval as they follow suit. “I’m going to turn around, you have thirty seconds to make your decisions. After that I’ll be moving forward with no knowledge of who has chosen to stay and who has chosen to go.”

You take a deep inhale and turn toward the door that would likely lead to your death. You wouldn’t make the choice for these men, you wouldn’t lead more people than necessary to their deaths for what felt like a selfish and reckless move. Your stomach churns with a mixture of respect and fear when you hear four sets of boots come to stand in a line beside you.

“If we play this right,” Horangi pipes up quietly. “We can get weapons from a few of the guards before they realize we’re even here.”

~~~~~

Blood. So much blood. Covered in it, head to toe and back again, absolutely soaked. Yours, Ghost’s, König’s, and everyone else you’d come in contact with in the past three hours. But most of it belonged to that prick who’d suggested just offing your men. It’s sticky and wreaks of iron, leaving a tingling sensation in the back of your nasal cavity. It serves as a stark reminder of the things you found out you were capable of about forty-five minutes ago and it’s the last sinsation you feel before everything around you fades to black. Your whole body ached from a hard battle your team had barely won. None of you had escaped without injuries that ranged in severity from simple bruising to bullet wounds. Through all of it the only thing keeping you upright was the hope that that vile man hadn’t managed to follow through with his suggestion.

As the last guard falls by Soap’s hand, the whole group breathes a collective sigh of relief. The room grows deathly silent as we search the fallen guards for keys to the cell that Ghost and König were held in.

You’re the first to enter the room, your feet dragging slightly as you step in and come face to face with the bruised and broken forms of Ghost and König. Your first instinct is to run up and embrace them but that thought is quickly stunted by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you. You think better of it anyway, better not to crush them in your embrace and further cause them pain. Instead you settle for a gentle caress to each of their cheeks as your team moves in around you, readying themselves to haul the two large men out of the underground compound.

On the long walk back to the surface with the team carrying your most injured companions, your eyes catch sight movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head turns just in time to catch the back half of a man trying to sneak behind a corner. Unluckily for him, and luckily for you, your eyes are sharp from years of paranoia and working with 141 and you rush to subdue the man in hopes of getting your hands on Rain once and for all.

Much to your surprise as you round the corner you find that the man is accompanied by the woman you’re after. Your heart pounds as the anger you’d recently resolved comes flooding back, mind reeling with all the ways you’d enjoy tormenting these two cretins as soon as you got your hands on them. The aching in your body is quickly forgotten as Rain begins to make a run for it. You move to follow, determined to take her down before she manages to disappear for the third time but this man, whomever he may be to her, steps in the way.

His form is larger than yours, appearing almost bodyguard-like as he blocks your path. His arms are outstretched so even if you attempt to move around him, he’d have a good chance of catching you.

Your anger turns to pure, unadulterated rage, watching over the man’s shoulder as Rain disappears around another corner in the maze of hallways. A frustrated yell falls from your lips as your eyes harden and move to the man’s less than pleasant face. “I’ll fucking kill you!” THe last word to leave your lips before you pounce on the man. Your hands find their way around his thick neck as he falls back from the sudden attack. You don’t give him a chance to react before using your grip to take the air from his lungs. Pounding his head into the concrete floor as the fire in your eyes intensifies.

For ten solid minutes you remain on top of the man. Long after the light had drained from the man’s eyes and he’d stop clawing at your wrists. Still you continue to abuse the man’s body as an outlet for your rage. All of your usual management skills are gone and the anger deep in your bones, anger from years past, spurs you on. You only stop once the adrenaline that fueled you ran out completely. Your body grows weary as your arms fall heavily to your sides. It takes every ounce of energy and strength you have left to drag yourself out of the compound to the awaiting vehicle. You collapse inside next to Ghost and König’s unconscious forms before slipping into darkness yourself.

(Don’t forget to ask about joining the tag-list: @josieguts @strangepuppynightmare @theredviolets @poohkie90 @giulia2372 @fillechatoyante @buckysjuicyplums @running-writing @darkravenqueen98 @bigman101 @birdiiiiiiiiiii @kessi-21)

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steddieunderdogfics · 28 days

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: foresthearts! @kiaramori has 11 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 7 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @kiaramori:

Suspended Bridges

Consensual Catfishing

Just Because You've Done It Before Doesn't Mean You'll Do It Better

In My Head (I See a Supercut of Us)

finding a cozy place in you

I read her first Steddie fic (Suspended Bridges) as it was updating and I fell in love!! The world building and plot in that fic, compared with the writing make it absolutely irresistible. I've been reading all of her fics since then and there have been no misses! Every single one is incredible. Can't recommend them enough ❤️❤️ -- anonymous

Below the cut, foresthearts answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I heard that a lot of times when people ship things, it’s a character they project onto with a character they’re attracted to. I find that I feel both things towards Steddie: I can somewhat project onto both of them to a degree, and then I also find them both pretty attractive. So it’s the best of both worlds (lol). I also think that both Steve and Eddie are at this really cool point in their life. After high school there’s a lot of self-discovery. Finding your own independence, figuring out who you are, deconstructing the messages you were raised with, finding your path…I think that’s a really cool time to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

One of my favorite tropes for this pairing is Kas!Eddie. I really like fics where Eddie is a vampire, they’re great. Another favorite trope with these two is idiots-to-lovers. I love the way both these guys can be dumbasses for different reasons.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I think miscommunication (in a playful way, not so much an angsty way) is a favorite for me. Especially oblivious!Steve. Anything I can do to maneuver Steve into a slutty little outfit and have Eddie thirsting over him, I love it. Especially when Steve has no clue Eddie is thirsting over him. I think I have that in almost every single fic I write.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I have so many, it’s hard to list just one. “Sub-culture” by palmviolet was the first Steddie fic I read, so it has a special place in my heart. I’d also say “Rock of Ages” by BoudicaMuse and “You’re Divine” by OonionChiver. One I’m reading currently is called “House of Pain” by mynameis152. It features Steve and Eddie in a group home, and I really like the exploration of both of their characters.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I have a fic I’ve half-written with Merman!Eddie and Grad Student in Marine Biology!Steve (extremely loosely based off the chinese novel Desharow Merman). I think that’s one I’d love to explore in more depth.

What is your writing process like?

My process usually starts with daydreaming up a certain scene. Then, I’ll kind of expand it from there. Sometimes, I’ll take notes or write short outlines at night to get my thoughts down. Then, I’ll usually write a first draft. Something that’s pretty stream-of-consciousness. I don’t worry about it sounding good. Then I’ll delete most of my first draft and start over with a second, keeping only the parts I like the most.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I’m not sure if other people do this, but I think a quirk of mine is how much I’ve come to enjoy rewriting things. It’s not unusual for me to write half a chapter, delete the whole thing, and then start over again. I find that I typically like the second draft a lot better than the first. When I was younger, it was such a struggle to delete things and start over. It felt like I was erasing all my hard work. But now, I just see it as part of the process.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

This is a funny question for me because my favorite way to do things was definitely how I did Suspended Bridges. I had about 80% of the plot written before I posted anything, and as I posted each chapter, I could comfortably go back and edit each chapter/add foreshadowing/add substance to the fic before posting it. But I haven’t done it that way since then; now I pretty much post things as I write them.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I think I’m most proud of Suspended Bridges, partially because it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written, so I’m pretty proud of the work that went into it. I also am pretty proud of Just Because You’ve Done it Before, Doesn’t Mean You’ll Do It Better. It’s my most recent one, and I can feel myself growing as a writer as I write it.

How did you get the idea for Suspended Bridges?

Suspended Bridges is really an amalgamation of a lot of different pieces of inspiration. I think at the time, there weren’t a ton of omegaverse fics out for the pairing. I had a lot of omegaverse headcanons for the characters and how they would fit into an alternate season four. Since there weren’t a lot of fics out at the time, I figured if I wanted something that was so specific (canon divergence, Steve being a secret omega, life-saving mating bonds, etc) then I was going to have to write it myself.

When writing Suspended Bridges, what was something you didn’t expect?

I’d have to say 1. the writing process, and 2. the reception. Firstly, it was a really unique fic for me in that it was so easy to write. It felt like the words just flowed out of me. I wrote the first 60,000 words of it largely on my phone while on vacation. I just couldn’t stop writing. It was more than I’d ever written in one sitting before. Secondly, I was not expecting the reception it got at all. It is far and away the most popular thing I’d ever written, and I was so floored at the amazingly kind comments people wrote and the way it was able to resonate with so many people.

What inspired Just Because You've Done It Before Doesn't Mean You'll Do It Better?

I really like Time Travel Fix-Its, they’re one of my favorite types of fics. I watched this clip where a comedian was talking about how if he went back in time, he’d be effectively useless. And I thought to myself, “what would it be like to have someone go back in time and kind of mess things up even more?” which is what inspired this fic. Steve’s back in season 1, trying to change the past so that things can go better…but it’s a harder job than he expects. There’s a lot that he doesn’t know, and his assumptions about the world can often cloud his judgment.

What was your favorite part to write from Consensual Catfishing?

I think my favorite part was just all the little internet references. Consensual Catfishing was really fun to write because it was a bit of a love letter to my own fandom experiences. My favorite part might’ve been in chapter 1 when we see the clip of the 1DxY/N fic parody. I was laughing pretty hard as I wrote that. I also just liked all the little clips of Hellfire’s DnD podcast. I really enjoyed writing their friendship.

How do/did you feel writing In My Head (I See a Supercut of Us)?

Uh…horny? Haha Supercut was one of the most explicit fics I’d written and so sometimes I would kind of post it while blushing bright red haha. It was fun, though. I think comedy is a bit of a niche for me. I really like to write stuff that makes me laugh, and Supercut was definitely that. Steve’s first fantasy he gets dragged into cracks me up every time.

What was the most difficult part of writing finding a cozy place in you?

I think the hardest part was just making it short. I suck at writing one-shots, I typically like leaning into the conflict of the story and making some elaborate worldbuilding. But this one I wanted to be soft and sweet, to feel a bit like curling up on the sofa with a warm cup of tea. It was a different vibe than I usually write, so it definitely stretched me.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think one of my favorite scenes is in Suspended Bridges, when I rewrote the fight against Vecna. There were a lot of powerful moments: Max, Dustin and El all standing up to Vecna at various moments, Steve playing Dustin’s song to stop his possession….then the life-saving bond right after that. That was definitely a highlight for me.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Right now I’m mainly looking at my current projects, rather than any future ones. If there’s one I’d promote, it would be “Just Because You’ve Done it Before, Doesn’t Mean You’ll Do It Better” It’s an omegaverse time-travel fic, where a gruff alpha Steve goes back into his season 1 (unpresented) body. He wants to change the past, save Barb, and get Nancy back, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know. And things get pretty off the rails when he presents as an omega in the new timeline.

Thank you to our author, foresthearts, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @kiaramori works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday #ao3 writer #steddie writers #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

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honey-beann · 1 year

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Bro please can I get “I broke the lock. You were screaming” with nines and our little detective? I don’t really have much of an idea for a story… maybe a case gone wrong and nines insists on staying with her because she’s clearly shaken?!? Idk I love your writing it’s def one of the things I look forward to on my feed <3

Okay SO first things first thank you, Anon, for your super kind words!! You are the sweetest <3

Secondly, I took the liberty of assuming based on the descriptor of "our little detective" that you're talking about the reader from Ruiner, Ruination, so I wrote this fic within that universe (which i hope is alright).

This idea led me to the creation of an offshoot series stemming from Ruiner, Ruination, which I have titled Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus. The point of this series is to highlight little canonical moments that have occurred between Nines and the Reader that went unsaid in the main series (hence the name Indictus, meaning "unsaid").

The creation of this series is super exciting for me because it allows me to write out requests in the Ruiner, Ruination universe AND make them canon without it being too confusing or weird to map out, since I can simply say where each fic takes place in the timeline as things are planned out and published in the original fic.

Anyways, sorry for the rant on the new series, but I hope you enjoy this fic and any upcoming Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus pieces that follow!

Avoidance Tactics (rk900 x reader)

A Ruiner, Ruination - Indictus chapter

Timeline - This fic has a lot to do with the events of the 7th Ruiner, Ruination chapter and takes place after the (currently unpublished, oops) 8th chapter.

Nightmares/sleeping dialogue prompt #2 - "I broke the lock. You were screaming"

Word Count: 3,586

"Could you hover a little bit less ominously? You're really creeping me out."

You muttered under your breath as you passed a wandering gaze over the incident report you had spent the past few hours filling out. Once you were done, you would finally be finished with the process of submitting Nines' work related injury to the DPD's HR department, which you were eager to be done with for good.

It had been two days since your partner's accident, and you had spent nearly every waking hour since avoiding the subject as much as possible by working yourself to the bone.

The unfortunate downside of this was that just 48 hours later there was nothing left for you to do but file away the very incident report you'd been avoiding, and honestly, that had been just as awful as you'd feared it would be.

It required you to go into immense detail pertaining to not only Nines' injuries, but also his reactions to them, the lethality of them, and the traumatic responses that may have occurred as a result of them.

Gavin had filled out his end of the form on the day of the injury back at the DPD with you, and now it was your turn to fill out the individual portion.

And to an extent you hadn't truly expected, the memories were haunting.

Your hands had shaken vigorously above the keyboard as you'd typed out the amount of blue blood that you had gotten on yourself in the process of stopping the bleeding,

the stickiness that lingered between your fingers for hours afterward,

the way it had remained spattered on your clothing even when you could no longer see it,

the scent of it and the way it had stuck to you until multiple showers later.

You had bit back tears when recalling the staticky quality to Nines' voice as his vocal modulator had struggled without the support of his circulatory regulator,

the slightly glazed quality of his eyes,

the way he had groaned in pain as they loaded him into the android care ambulance,

and the trail of blood he had left behind in the process.

It had all been so awful.

And the extent of his injuries had been no small issue either.

Without his stock circulatory bio-component, Nines' thirium pump regulator, and therefore his thirium pump as well, had been put under unnecessary strain for days now, unnecessary strain that would doubtlessly cause a machine like him to falter and shut down sooner than he ever would have otherwise.

And somehow, it was this fact that terrified you the most.

Sure, you had always known that Nines would outlive you,

that fact had never once bothered you,

but the idea that his likely absurdly long life would be cut short, even slightly, by this accident?

It unsettled you that such a thing was even possible.

Years off of the life of a thing that some didn't even view as living at all.

The humanity of it all struck you in the very worst way,

But fortunately you wouldn't really have to dwell on that for long.

"I am not hovering, Detective."

Nines replied coolly from where he stood beside the entryway of his dining room, where you had been sitting for hours as you worked tirelessly to write up your incident report.

"I am simply analyzing you to discern whether or not you are still capable of writing your report in a manner that will meet the Captain's standards."

You rolled your eyes,

"Well that really doesn't matter now, because I just submitted it."

Nines gave a low hum in response, but neglected to say anything more.

You were right though, he had most definitely been hovering, and for quite some time, at that.

He had started making his way throughout the apartment around the time you'd started your write up, and had been careful to ensure that he never stuck around you for too long as he performed his scans, which allowed him to discern whether or not your actions were causing you any emotional strain.

And every time that he had scanned you, the results always came back the same: judging by the amount of cortisol present in your bloodstream, the report was almost assuredly bringing back traumas you were not yet ready to unpack.

And yet, try as he might to think of something he could do, Nines had yet to come up with a single solution.

He was resigned to let you finish, and then, maybe, he might just get you to talk about what was bothering you.

Except now, as you looked over at him for the first time in hours, he could see how exhausted you were, and pushed the thought out of his mind.

It was time to get you to bed.

"Would you like to stay the night, Detective? The spare tooth brush you utilized the other evening is still in the bathroom, and I believe you packed an extra work outfit in your trunk after last time."

You glanced towards your partner quizzically, raising a brow as you closed your laptop,

"Seriously? I thought for sure you'd want me out of your hair by now."

Nines shrugged a bit at your statement before he moved to plug your computer in on the counter where the cord was located, just out of your reach.

"I have no qualms with you sleeping here if it would be easier. It is not as if I require the use of my bed for any particular purpose."

You gave a small laugh at that, but Nines was quick to note that it didn't reach your eyes, despite the distinctive lack of sarcasm found within it.

Your mannerisms were certainly concerning, but he tried not to over analyze for the time being.

You spoke up,

"Yeah, I guess not huh? In that case, if it doesn't bother you I think I might as well just stay over again. It'll give me a little extra sleep, which I could really use right now."

Nines gave a brief nod in response before heading into his bedroom at the end of the hall,

"Alright, in that case I should find you something to wear to sleep for the night. Any preferences?"

Your cheeks were dusted a slight pink as you spoke, and Nines noticed a sudden increase in your body temperature as well, but even so he chose to ignore it in favor of paying more attention to your response instead,

"Uh, I didn't mind the shirt you gave me the other night? If its clean?"

Nines hummed and retreated to the bedroom without another word, leaving you to make your way to the bathroom to get yourself ready.

You sighed as you stared at your face in the mirror, taking note of your haggard and saddened appearance.

God, that report had taken a lot out of you.

Forcing yourself to give a brief smile, you squeezed some tooth paste out onto your tooth brush before beginning the familiar motions that went along with brushing your teeth as you waited for Nines to return.

To your surprise though, by the time you were finished, your partner still had yet to come back from his detour at the end of the hall, so curiously, you opened the bathroom door, only to shriek in surprise when you saw that Nines was standing on the other side, that familiar shirt of his that you had worn the other night in hand.

You placed your palm against your chest as you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, shooting your partner a wordless glare as you did so.

"My apologies, Detective, I didn't mean to scare you."

You groaned and rolled your eyes before ultimately choosing to forgive the man in front of you, offering a gentle thanks as you took the shirt from him and re-entered the bathroom, closing the door behind you once more.

You took another deep breath as you looked back into the mirror, the scent of Nines' shirt wafting into your nose as you did so. You were a bit surprised to find that this was oddly soothing, and elected to ignore the comfort that warmed you as a result of it.

Afterward, you told yourself that you just happened to require a rather deep inhale at the very same moment that you were pulling the white undershirt over your head.

You glanced over at yourself in the mirror, legs bare and hair mussed from changing your shirt, and let out a soft sigh as you ran the pad of your pointer finger over the dark circles beneath your eyes.

It was definitely time for bed.

So, with that idea in mind, you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, letting it absorb some of the heat from your palm for a while as you basked in all of the external stimuli that surrounded you, grateful for the proof that the world around you was real at all.

And then, quietly, as if afraid you might be frightened once again, you pulled the bathroom door open, allowing yourself the time to glance up and down either end of the hall before making your way over to the door found at the very end of it, which remained cracked as an invitation for you to enter.

Nines looked up at you in greeting as you pulled the door open further, closing the door to his closet before he made his way over to the bed you were now working to climb on top of, his foot steps quiet and lithe behind you before they halted at the foot of his queen sized bed, which was fitted with the same huge black comforter as last time.

You glanced up at him as you laid your back against the soft pillows found at the head of the bed, struggling to make eye contact as you tried not to think too hard about the comfort his scent had offered you previously.

God, what a weird thing to think about your partner. Maybe you should buy him a cologne so he smelled different or something.

You shook off your thought as Nines brushed imaginary lint from the blanket you were now comfortably laying beneath as he finally spoke,

"Is there anything else you need, Detective?"

He watched you intently as you shook your head, and gave you a few moments afterward to change your mind before he finally started turning around to head back out the door.

"In that case, I'll just be out in the living area. I will remain in light stasis so you won't have to worry about me being hard to wake up if you find that there is something you require my assistance for. I will also be locking the door, as my research has supported that this will help you feel safer. Is that all agreeable with you, Detective?"

You were a bit taken aback by the sudden influx of information, but nodded nonetheless after allowing yourself a few seconds to comprehend what was being said to you,

"Oh uh sure, yeah, that's fine, whatever you want."

Nines gave a slight nod in response before clicking the lock in place, taking a step over to the other side of the door frame before he turned back to look you over once more, his eyes traversing your frame slowly as he did so,

"Sleep well, Little Mouse. I will see you in the morning."

And with that, he was closing the door behind him before you could say a word, leaving you with nothing left to do but drift off to sleep.

And drift off to sleep you did, though it was far from the peaceful slumber you had anticipated.

You fought back a cry of pure anguish as you watched the android, the same AV500 model from the abandoned car factory, shoot Nines for the fifth time that night, this time right between his eyes.

Your partner fell back soundlessly, his body hitting the ground with enough force to make the floor shake as he stared up at you with those unseeing gray-blue eyes of his.

They were so haunting like this, when you could tell they were observing nothing despite their unnatural openness, and you forced yourself to reach over the close them in spite of the blue blood that coated your fingers as you did so.

It was sticky and warm, just as it had been every other time he'd been shot within this hellish nightmare, and you had to stop yourself from vomiting as everything started all over again.

Here you were, for the sixth time, standing in that same room with that same murderous android, and once again, there was nothing you could do to stop him from killing your partner.

You couldn't plead for mercy, tackle the man to the ground, or even shoot him with the gun Nines had provided you with. You had no choice but to simply stand there and watch as he gunned down your partner, your friend again and again.

It was torturous.

And this time, as he shot Nines right in his thirium pump, and you saw that pained and confused look on his face for the sixth time that evening, you couldn't help yourself.

You screamed.

You screamed out of fear, out of frustration, and above all else, out of grief.

Here in this nightmare, you couldn't even tell what was real anymore, and with each passing murder, you could swear that Nines had really died back at that factory, and that this reality, where you simply had to watch and suffer wordlessly, was the real one.

You screamed for so long your throat hurt even within your own dream, raw and painful as you prayed internally for this torture to end, eyes squeezed shut and brimming with tears as you heard distant gunshot after distant gunshot go off before hitting thick plastic over and over again.

You would never be able to forget that sound.

But then, even more distantly than those gunshots, came the sound of Nines' voice, far off and calling out to you as if he were searching aimlessly while alone in the dark.

And without a second thought, you called back.

You awoke gasping for air, throat aching tremendously, and eyes stinging both from your tears and from the much too bright light coming from the lamp to the left of you.

But none of that was nearly as noticeable as the android who was hovering above your form as you laid on your back, his arms poised on either side of your head as he looked down at you with an almost fearful look on his face.

"What the- Nines?"

You croaked out in confusion, glancing over at the previously locked bedroom door as you attempted to make sense about what was going on.

“I broke the lock. You were screaming”

Nines all but panted out, eyes still a bit wild as he slowly began to pull away from the bed, standing at the edge as if afraid you would start screaming all over again the moment he moved.

You squinted your eyes in confusion and in an effort to mitigate the impact the lights were having on your head,

As if he could read your mind, Nines reached over the turned the lamp off without a word.

You sighed softly, noting the way that the air barely managed to leave your mouth due to how shaky you were feeling.

That nightmare had to have been one of the worst you'd ever had.

And the worst part yet? It wasn't going away.

You could still hear the sound of a single strong bullet hitting thick hard plastic, and you could feel the splash of warm thirium against your skin as a result.

It was horrible.

Tears filled your vision as you sat up slightly, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to make sense of what was going on.

Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? Why were you torturing yourself like this?

You were just about to ask Nines what was wrong with you when he spoke up first,

"May I see your hand, Detective?"

He asked not unkindly, and hesitantly, as if afraid this could somehow go awry, you gave it to him.

You then watched in the dim lighting of the bedroom as your partner raised your hand up to where his thirium pump worked tirelessly within his chest, pumping in a manner that you could feel as it did so.

"I am alive."

He murmured softly, and you briefly wondered how he had known what was bothering you without you saying a word before you simply let it go and pressed your hand harder against the area below his sternum, feeling the evidence of his existence thump strongly against your palm and the pads of your fingers.

You looked up at him then, tears pooling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks, and asked him for something you had never once expected to throughout the entire duration of your partnership,

"Nines, can you lay here with me?"

You murmured, watching as the android briefly contemplated your request before nodding once in compliance.

The bed dipped slightly as Nines dropped his knee on to the mattress before climbing the rest of the way over to the empty spot beside you, where he sat a bit awkwardly as he awaited your next request.

None of this was familiar to him in the slightest, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not figure out what you might want from him.

You sighed in slight relief as you laid yourself back down, noting the way that Nines watched as you did so before slowly doing the same, his head propped up by the pillows as he laid his palms face down on the mattress at either side of him.

He was very clearly not used to laying down, but you almost found it endearing that he remained so stiff even when in a position that was meant to be relaxing.

How very Nines of him.

Giving a gentle sigh, you turned your body on its side in order to better face your partner, who immediately shifted his gaze towards your own as you spoke, your hand raised ever so slightly towards him as you did so,

"Would you... Do you mind if I feel it again?"

Your cheeks burned as you considered your own request, but before you could back out, Nines shook his head before expressing his response verbally to reassure you,

"Not at all, Detective. I have no issues with you touching me if that is what you require."

You couldn't help but clear your throat upon hearing his words, but slowly lowered your hand onto his chest anyway, feeling yourself relax a bit as you once again felt his thirium pump beat strongly against your palm.

"Does it help you to know that I am well?"

Nines murmured, giving a low hum of interest as you nodded in response.

The room was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again, his voice quiet despite the silence of the room around you.

"I did not realize you had been so deeply impacted by my injuries. I apologize for my ignorance."

You were quick to shake your head upon hearing his words, and raised yourself up onto your forearms to better address him as you spoke,

"Don't apologize. I didn't realize either... I think I was just hoping to ignore it until it went away on its own."

Nines didn't reply, but instead gave a gentle hum of acknowledgment as he further considered your words.

You, on the other hand, took the silence as your queue to try and get back to sleep, something you were more than a little bit eager for after your night of terror and exhaustion.

Even still, you found yourself struggling to drift off, despite the added comfort of Nines' thirium pump as it beat steadily beneath your palm.

And after waiting and waiting for sleep to overtake you for what felt like far too long, you sat up on your knees and faced your partner in the darkness, your cheeks tinted pink as you made your second humiliating request of the night.

"I uh I can't sleep. Can I try something?"

Nines gave a small nod of approval, curiosity evident in his tone as he replied,

"I don't see why not, Little Mouse."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the familiar nickname, and swallowed thickly as you pulled yourself closer to your partner, letting out a nervous sigh as you lowered your torso back down onto the mattress, straightening out your legs beneath you as you let your head fall to Nines' chest, where the sound of his thirium pump working tirelessly within immediately filled your ears.

And with that, even more so than before, you found that your body grew relaxed, your eyes becoming heavy as you allowed your newfound comfort to will you to sleep once more.

Nines remained silent all the while, but watched you as you slowly drifted off to sleep with your head lying atop his chest, soothed by the sound of his artificial heart as he relished in the knowledge of your safety and comfort, even within a presence as dangerous and cold as his own.

AO3 Link

#s: ruiner ruination #s: ruiner ruination - indictus #c: nines #rk900 x reader #dbh x reader #request #prompt requests

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ghostoffuturespast · 4 months

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hey ghostie i was gna get specific for the ask game but I wanna know *all* of it now, the acronyms, the full names, all of em! are they for cyberpunk or other fandoms? no matter how much there is to know, i wanna know! talking about an idea helps a lot, i speak from experience! thanks for the mention, ill get on the wip game soon, too! ❤️

WIP Game Here

Thank you for the ask! I appreciate it :) They are all Cyberpunk 2077 things lol. I’ve largely been a lurker in other fandoms until this one, and this is the first one that finally compelled me to make stuff and that I’ve had the bravery to share. Don’t have many snippets at the moment, all of what I have so far is already out there. Since you asked for all of them though, I shall dish and give you a bit of a peak behind the curtain on how all this got started…

(I’m sorry, this got very rambly.)

And def tag me when you do yours! I will come find you and your wips! 🧡

SIG - So It Goes

(The title is based off the radio song from the game that you can listen to on Morro Rock. Never officially released and credited to the fictional band Fingers and the Outlaws in the game. Officially sung by Ryan Kattner, the front singer of the band Man Man.)

SIG is my current V/River conspiracy theory long fic that I’m working on, and the project is coming up on its two year anniversary. It’s also my first fic. I’m hoping to wrap it up this spring so I can move on to other creative endeavors. There are a lot of art projects, fandom and non-fandom related, that I’ve held off on because of this and I miss those hobbies. I also feel like I’ve been missing out a lot in the writing corner of the fandom too because a lot of new writers have popped up on the scene since I started (back when there was still a monopoly on the tag, but that’s a different story) and everyone else seems to be having fun reading everyone else’s fics, except me… Reading’s complicated for me right now. Writing this had a lot of ups and downs, but overall I’ve loved telling this story, learned a lot, and I’m really proud of it!

I think most people get into fic writing for the ships, the romance, the smut, the processing of internalized trauma, a more satisfactory ending, weird niche interests… And don’t get me wrong there’s a lot of appeal with all that, and definitely those aspects in my own work. But this whole thing got started because of conspiracy theories. I fucking love mysteries and puzzles, so after playing the sun ending and then I spotting Mr. Blue Eyes on the balcony during the conclusion of Dream On, I just about lost my damn mind. I went down the rabbit hole, spent hours reading shards and messages in the game, combed reddit theory posts, and started picking up on all the hints and foreshadowing of something larger looming throughout the game.

I initially didn’t have any answers when I made the decision to start this fic (fuck, high probability I still don’t), it was largely me brainstorming and trying to figure out what kind of story I wanted to write. Seeing if I could even piece things together. But in the process of thinking all that through, I came up with this little theory. I thought it was pretty mind blowing at the time (still think it is) but it’s been my little secret since I got here and I’m very anxious to finally share it.

Most people probably would have just written a theory post and been done with it, but I decided to turn mine into a fan fic lol. Which may or not have been a mistake, we’ll see. This is either gonna be game changing or everyone is going to think it’s dumb and I’m gonna be wearing a dunce cap for the next fifty years.

River Ward. The other half of my reason for writing this fic. I actually wasn’t sure if I liked him at first, it took me a while to warm up to him. But the more I got to know him, the more I started to like him. The more he grew on me. He got hotter over time. Plus, I’ve got a fondness for detective characters and unusual coats, so I should’ve seen it coming.

River’s gotten a lot of flak from this fandom. People claim he’s boring. He’s a cop, so acab. Being unemployed and living in a trailer park with your sister, niece, and nephews isn’t a particularly redeeming quality. I don’t agree with most of those statements, but I do agree with the folks who do appreciate his character, that in terms of development, he absolutely got shafted in the game. This fic is also an attempt to rectify that.

For as underdeveloped as his story arc was, there’s a lot of nuance to his character that I think gets glossed over by the game and most people. We didn’t get much, but out of what we did get, it’s been interesting trying to piece a story together that’s in line with what we got. And I did mention earlier that I like puzzles.

I’ve noticed that a lot of folks tend to lean very hard into the cop aspect of his character, but as far as I’m concerned, River Ward doesn’t give a shit about the law. Conducting an off the record investigation, intimidating a confidential informant, illegally obtaining evidence, breaking into a restricted lab, committing arson for your ex so she can pass a medical exam, conducting another investigation after being suspended; those are not the actions of a man who holds the letter of the law above all else. Those are the actions of man who is determined to get to the bottom of things, and protect people, all while navigating a system that is anything but equitable or fair. They are the actions of a man who is willing to go above and beyond for the people he cares about, even to his own detriment. His own safety. For River Ward, it was never about the law, it’s about justice. And pursuing that sometimes involves breaking the rules.

River is also Pomo. Which is something that was only added in subsequent patches, heavily glossed over in the game, and is only disclosed if you choose to actually romance him. But he’s Indigenous. Native American. And yet he still made a conscious decision to join the NCPD. Given the historical participation by law enforcement and government institutions in North America, and around the world, in the cultural erasure and mass genocide of entire nations, tribes, and communities of people. And given the current state of issues regarding law and judicial enforcement on tribal lands, I think River's character is a rather poignant reflection. Of wanting to good, of wanting the world to be better, but being confined in systems that simply won't allow that. There's a billion other little details I could ramble on about, but his character had the capacity to walk a very fine line of complexities which the game never really did justice to.

Diversity and representation in media are important to me, and I want this fic to reflect that. Being bi-racial, I didn’t get very much of it growing up, so if I can provide representation, even in some small capacity, I think it’s better than nothing. And while I don’t know if I’m achieving that, well, shit if I’m not trying.

I wouldn’t say this story was really meant to be original, but rather to fill in the gaps on the story we got and for me to practice writing. Practice telling a story. CP2077 is a violent game set in a violent world. And I somehow managed to start writing a story that accidentally ended up being a love letter to aikido. (Much to my chagrin. It’s everywhere. In everything. I cannot escape it.) Aikido is a martial art that translates “to the way of peace” or “the path of harmony.” Yet again, another study in dichotomies. How can a martial art, an art form designed to inflict violence, be peaceful? Aikido is as much of a martial art as it is a philosophy. We train to practice and learn that philosophy.

One of the major themes I’m exploring in this fic series is the nature of violence. What it is, the forms it takes, how cyclical it is, that it is a relationship - violence requires your participation. So the question ends up being: how do you break cycles of violence when you live in a world where you are beholden to it? V and River are very much two characters that are caught up in cycles of violence. Will they find peace? I don’t know, but maybe they can find out together.

From The Top

(This one isn’t named after a song. I just decided to start from the beginning.)

From The Top is the VP project I started up last spring where I’ve been taking storyboard style photos of all the main missions. Plus whatever else I feel like. I take all of my photos on PS5 in vanilla photomode and randomly started snapping pictures just because. I did landscape photos, shared a few. Got a bit of nice feedback from people who cared to look and then started branching out. I eventually got to the point where I started a new playthrough for the sole purpose of snapping photos.

Taking VP is very different from writing for me. I don’t have to think about. I don’t agonize about making sure every tiny detail is just right, because for the most part I don’t have very much control It’s candid, intuitive, experimental, it’s straight up play. I simply wait for opportunities to present themselves and capture whatever I think looks or feels interesting to me. It’s easy for me to walk away from it if it doesn’t do well when I post. Unlike my writing, there’s no ego attached to it.

I’m getting to the tail end of this project, I still have a couple of the base game missions to get through, but I’d also like to do Phantom Liberty as well. Not sure what my VP career is going to look like after this, might go into soft retirement. But that’s okay.

NR - Night Running

(Named after Night Running by Cage the Elephant)

Is a sleeper wip that’s currently in the notes, brainstorming, and kitchen drawer phase. It’s part 2 of my Nothing Comes Before Night City series. So It Goes is part 1.

It takes a long time for me to mull over and ruminate on ideas, so this document is largely just a repository for notes and thoughts. Jamming the utensils in the drawer until I’m ready to organize them. I have a very broad idea of what I’d like to happen in this fic, key moments I’d like to hit, but there’s still a lot of refinement that needs to happen, and stories this involved require me outlining. I do already have a running set list of songs to draw from though.

Les Preludes

(Named after Les Preludes by Franz Liszt)

Another sleeper wip, also in the brainstorming phase. These are meant to be one-shots or short stories from the Nothing Comes Before Night City series. Moments I mentioned in the series, but can’t fit into the larger story. Character studies and background lore from V, River, Johnny, Jackie, a couple of OCs and whatever else I can think of.

I will probably start casually working on these after I finish SIG and while I’m outlining NR. I’d like the series to go in chronological order. Should be fun. And I think it’ll be good practice for being more concise. Unlike, this response...

If you stuck around for this TedTalk and made it all the way to the end, thank you! 👻

#wip game #ask away!#tag you're it #cyberpunk 2077 #from the top #fic: so it goes #works in progress #long post #river ward #nothing comes before night city

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kaihuntrr · 4 months

Text

Sea Prince: 2024 Plans!

Hello hello! No new art for now (currently I’d like to focus on my personal OCs before I settle back in to drawing things for the AU) but I got some lovely updates for the future- likely the rest of the year, actually!

I will say- thank you all so much for your support and love for the fic, even if it’s barely begun! There’s so, so much in store for this AU you won’t even believe it!

It’ll be a long post, so here’s the TLDR; Act One is complete, it only needs to be edited and beta read! + Act Two is currently in production

Thank you all so much <3 now, unto the nitty-gritty below!

First things first, how is the AU faring?

I wrapped up the entirety of Act One in November (you could say the second half of TSP was my Nanowrimo, as I wrote about 48-51k words that month- and Act One sits pretty at 112k!) and currently my good partner in crime @mewhoismyself is editing Chapter 20! We’re starting back up after the new year celebrations, and I’m happy to say we’re pretty rested and hyped to present Act One’s entirety! The schedule is the same as always (chapter every other week) just to keep a good distance between where you guys are at and where we’re at, so no sudden hiatuses!

As a treat, here are the chapter titles for the posts after the upcoming one! I feel I’d be spoiling the surprise if I announce the title now.

OH! And Act Two has officially started production!

I am currently in the process of writing the prologue (I’ve mapped out the timeline of Act Two during my December break), and it’s exciting to say the least.

Of course I can’t share any details (wouldn’t want to spoil anything ;) ) but I’m excited for you to get here!

My goals for this year is to complete Act Two and Three!

Mostly just working on Act Two and bullet out Act Three (at this point, I am aware of roughly everything that will happen from Act One to Five) so that’s fun!

Another question- will the other Life Series be canon (ie. Secret Life)?

I mean, prooobably? This is a pretty lengthy fic so I can imagine some hints/ easter eggs could be fine but I’m focusing more on the first four series (and personally I wasn’t super into Secret Life, but that’s just a me thing, not a plot thing)

I’m considering doing that Flower Husbands AU for Secret Life, but for now I want to focus on this AU and the four series it’s based on.

Here’s a random fun fact that I’m a bit miffed about but I’m sure will be worth the payoff- I love, love Scott and Pearl’s dynamic in this fic a LOT (god forbid the four playlists I made for this AU and one of them is JUST those two.) but you don’t see their dynamic until a certain point. grrr.

Not sure if I’ll ever have these playlists go public, but if you’d want to hear em let me know and I’ll switch em on!

So yeah, that’s all for now! I hope everyone is just as excited as I am, and I cannot wait to show you what’s behind these curtains. See you in the next chapter!

#the sea prince au #limited life smp #limited life #life series #life smp #trafficblr #majorwood #mean gills #coral kids #scottyn #martyn inthelittlewood #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname

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lady-bess · 2 hours

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An Open Letter to Fanfiction

Today, on the 15th of May 2024, marks a special day for me. Specifically it is a special day for one particular work of mine over on A03.

A Rough Sketch.

Now, I don't usually talk about this fic on my social media. In fact, with it being RPF, I have made a conscious decision not to. It exists on my profile for those who are interested to read on, and for those who would rather not read RPF, I don't actively promote it.

But today, I'd like to discuss it. Not so much to promote the work, but rather as a way to talk about how that worked fundamentally changed my life.

And how, had it not been for that work, I'd probably not be here today.

I was talking with some friends the other day about why we personally write fanfiction. Is it to share stories? Sure! Is it to find people with common ground? Yeah, of course! Fandoms are a wonderful place, and finding more people to talk about your interests with is always a delight.

But it got me thinking; why do I write? And so, on on the anniversary of A Rough Sketch, I decided now was a good a time as any to reflect. To look back on this last year, and what led me to be where I am today.

A Rough Sketch, for me, was the beginning of a journey. A journey which helped me process a grief I didn't even realise I was harbouring. What started as a silly little idea based on a trope I (shamefully) adore, the classic "meet the love of your life in a quaint coffee shop", became a story that has currently reached over 26,000 people.

The more I wrote, the greater the community I found online, and one by one those individuals found their way here onto my Tumblr, or onto my Twitter (@/this15theway, by the way!).

From these interactions I've forged friendships and loves that will last me a lifetime. I have grown closer to more people in this last year, and forged deeper connections with some, than with people I have known in my every day life for years. The power of the written word brought kindred spirits together, and created bonds that won't be broken.

That is why I write. Community. Friendship. Love. Belonging.

And writing, at the end of all this, has saved me.

I've had one hell of a year. I won't dive too much into it here, but I've taken some huge steps up in my career, while simultaneously experiencing my mental health hit absolute rock bottom. If you told me a year ago I'd be in therapy and on anti-depressants today, I wouldn't have believed you. Naively I thought that I would never need such things, that I was fine! Alas, I was not.

But what I also wouldn't have believed was that I kept writing. That A Rough Sketch, as well as so many other of my works, would reach far beyond my imagination. That I'd one day have my own online community over on Twitter full of people who love and enjoy the same things of me.

That, once again, I would have a sense of belonging in this world.

To everyone who I have met this last year, be that someone who I haven't heard much from recently, or those of you who are in my inbox daily - thank you. Words can never describe just how much you all changed my life. I wouldn't have much life left in me if I hadn't gone down this road, and truthfully now I cannot see my life without you all in it. You litter my life like stars speckle the dark night sky, brightening up an otherwise somber existence.

While this post, this "letter", is for me rather personal and stems from one particular work, I hope that there is something here which resonates across to many of you reading. Author, or reader, I hope that everyone experiences this same sense of community and belonging that I have this last year.

Happy Birthday A Rough Sketch. Thank you.

If you want to read the work referenced, the link can be found here. This will be my only promotion for the series, given the content.

Thank you, each and every one of you.

All my love,

LadyBess xox

#pedro pascal #fanfiction #archive of our own #a03 writer #writer #writers on tumblr #an open letter #fanfic

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cha-melodius · 7 months

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Weekend WIP Game

You say WIP game and I say "you son of a bitch, I'm in!" Thanks for dreaming this up, @welcometololaland!

1. WIP List: listing only WIPs that actually have text written and are not abandoned lol. I have a lot of to-be-written prompts, but I'm not including them here.

False Dichotomy (firstprince, aka the You've Got Mail AU)

Noir PI AU (firstprince)

Kissed Out (firstprince, pro billiards AU)

Modern magic AU (firstprince)

The Thief Who Stole My Heart (napollya, art thief/gallery owner)

2. Which of your WIPs is currently the longest?

False Dichotomy at 18k written so far (4 of ~11 chapters?)

3. Which WIP do you expect will end up the longest?

Also False Dichotomy, which I'm guessing will be >50k but honestly that's a very rough number.

4. Which WIP is your favourite to write/the most enjoyable to write? Why?

Probably False Dichotomy, though it's almost by default because I don't tend to jump around between WIPs too much. But I love the story I've set up and it has a lot of great scenes.

5. Which WIP do you find the most intimidating to write? Why?

Probably the noir AU, because I feel like it needs to have a particular noir vibe that will be tough to capture.

6. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

Right now? Surprisingly the modern magic AU. Idk I'm in a bit of a funk and not super happy with anything I'm writing, and particularly this fic. But I have 3k written so I might as well finish it and yeet it out.

7. Which of your WIPs will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? Why?

These days I get @celeritas2997 and @cricketnationrise to read through most of my rwrb fics. It's especially good for longer fics like False Dichotomy, and that one will have the most tricky moments in it too.

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of writer's block?

Not exactly? I've just set a few of them aside while I focus on others.

9. Which WIP has your favourite OC? Tell us about them?

LMAO well False Dichotomy includes Kyle, who is an OC I made up originally for a missing moment in Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood (he's not even in the actual fic), but now he gets to be a real character in this one. He's a queer kid who lives at the Okonjo shelter and works at Alex's bookstore (and occasionally Coney Island lol).

10. Which WIP is the sexiest?

Definitely Kissed Out, which is based on an enemies/rivals AND lovers premise and is earmarked to include lots of scorching smut.

11. Which WIP is the angstiest?

False Dichotomy will probably have the most sustained angst. I think Kissed Out will have possibly the most intense angst, and the noir AU will have the most peril-based angst.

12. Which WIP has the best characterisation (in your humble opinion)?

ALL OF THEM. 😂 Oh so humble, I know. But seriously, I hope they all will be.

13. Which WIP has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

I think it's going to be the noir AU, can't wait to really dig into the scenery of that one. It will have a really different vibe that I hope will be unique and exciting.

14. Which WIP have you worked the hardest on?

Thus far, False Dichotomy I've put the most work into.

15. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for? Why?

Broken record here, but False Dichotomy. Sometimes I feel like they're too high. People seem very excited. I feel a not insignificant amount of pressure.

16. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

Can't say that I have lol.

17. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other fics don't?

Not really! Most of my wips right now are pretty straightforward, in the end.

18. Which WIP is the funniest or has the most humour?

The modern magic AU, probably. Definitely the silliest and crackiest of the lot.

19. Do any of your WIPs contain outside POVs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? How are you finding that process?

No different POVs here. False Dichotomy is going to have a little interesting side exploration of Raf and Alex's relationship that isn't something I've really gotten into before.

20. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

HMMMMM. If you're a You've Got Mail movie fan, I think you will be quite surprised at some of the turns in the AU. No, I'm not going to tell more than that yet lol.

Ok, I'm trying to tag people not tagged in the first post, and spreading to new fandoms. Questions for artists below! @petrodobreva, @sherryvalli, @liminalmemories21, @myheartalivewrites, @leaves-of-laurelin, @celaestis1, @historicallysam, @14carrotghoul, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @treluna4, @adreamareads, @cheesecurdsgravyandfries, @ikeepwatchinghelicopters, @nicijones, @thetamehistorian, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @dewdropreader, @hummingbee-o0o, @wolfpup026, @natendo-art, @dreamycloud, @heytheredeann, @mirilyawrites, @jettestar, @sweatersinthesummer, AND anyone who wants to jump in!

A list of questions for Artists!

1. WIP List:

2. Which WIP is your most complex?

3. Do any of your WIPs involve you using a technique/style that you haven't used before? What inspired you to try it?

4. Which WIP do you expect will take you the longest?

5. Which WIP are you finding the most enjoyable to create?

6. Do you have a favourite character to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

7. Which WIP do you experience the most self-doubt about. Why?

8. Have any of your WIPs been struck by the curse of creator's block?

9. Do any of your WIPs contain characters outside the main ship? How are you finding creating those?

10. What emotions are you hoping to convey through your WIPs?

11. Are there any features/details you are finding challenging in your WIPs?

12. Which WIP has the most complex shading/colouring?

13. Which WIP has the most complex background?

14. Which WIP do you have the highest expectations for?

15. Do you dream about any of your WIPs?

16. Do any of your WIPs have particular complexities that your other art doesn't?

17. Are any of your WIPs commissions?

18. Do you have a character that is more difficult to draw/stitch/paint/depict? Are they in many of your WIP projects?

19. Tell us one thing we don't know about one or more of your WIPs.

#about my writing #my wips #weekend wip game #tag games #rwrb #rwrb fic

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lastweeksshirttonight · 5 months

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Lee is re-watching Sherlock for some fucking reason - Season One

I'm well aware that the crossover between "currently popular and loved British comedian in the US updates, thirst, and accoutrements" and "BBC show that went so off the rails that people now like to pretend Andrew Scott's breakout role was the Hot Priest in Fleabag" is limited, but weirdly, returning to Sherlock was one of the few things that was keeping my brain somewhat grounded and whirring during Work Hell.

We're in uncharted territory here. You're gonna learn a bit about the things I do when I'm not tracking John Oliver obsessively. I am nervous about this but hey, I'm guessing most of you knew I don't solely live and breathe John Oliver. (I know. I have multitudes. This is a shocking revelation. Please take time to process it.)

Firstly, a content note - there's going to be discussion about queerbaiting and queercoding villains, and the beginning of this goes into some of James Somerton's absolutely disgusting claims about the AIDS crisis. This post will only be focused on Season One, as that's all I've finished at this point.

Let's go.

(above image sourced from Writing Tips and Memes)

My sudden re-emergent hyperfixation started because of the hbomberguy takedown of James Somerton, weirdly. I don't follow many YouTubers - I like Bright Sun Films because he goes urban exploring, something I've always wanted to do but have never managed to make happen, and also Todd in the Shadows, whose Trainwreckords series is very well-done and expertly researched. Seeing that name, you might know where this is going. Todd dropped a video about James Somerton, who I had never fucking heard of and now wish I'd known about before, so I could scream bloody murder about what an absolute fuckwad he is.

(I don't want to get too in the weeds here, but the things James asserted about WWII, Nazis, and the AIDS crisis are so vehemently offensive that I'm still struggling with them. Claiming that only boring gays survived the AIDS crisis in particular is so vile that I have gotten anger flashes thinking about it almost daily since hearing it.)

Todd recommended watching all four hours of the hbomberguy plagiarism video, and I ran that in the background while working about two weeks ago. Eventually I had to stop doing that because the plagiarism revelations were so distracting and shocking. Todd's video was even more of a goddamn mindfuck, and even the smaller, less offensive things have taken up far too much space in my brain. Californians, does anyone at all deify Bob Iger??? Like... what the goddamn fuck??? Bob Iger????

After watching one hbomberguy video, the algorithm did its thing, and gave me a video called "Sherlock is Garbage and Here's Why". Posting it here for posterity:

youtube

Because my brain works in mysterious ways (-cough-ADHD-cough-), watching this... made me want to rewatch Sherlock.

I initially saw Sherlock for the first time thanks to someone I met in my last year of college, 2012. At the time, Michael (a nickname) was my neighbor in the dorms; over the past ten years, she's become one of my closest friends and a true rock in my life. One of the first things we bonded over that I introduced her to was the San Francisco Giants and the ghost I will always be chasing, Tim Lincecum; one of the first things we bonded over that she introduced me to was BBC Sherlock. The show was in the early months of its extended hiatus after Season Two, at the height of its fandom, and we were both completely obsessed. I read all the Doyle stories, took in a truly wild amount of fanfiction, wrote a not-very-popular AU fic, became part of a strange inter-dorm ARG based on Sherlock orchestrated by Michael... it consumed a huge part of our lives.

When Season 3 dropped, I almost stopped watching after "The Empty Hearse". I don't want to get into why it offended me so much before we get to a Season 3 post, but just know my enthusiasm severely dampened there. The rest of Season 3 I think of with blase emotions, especially the ending, which I found just dumb, save one part of it. I recall going to see The Abominable Bride in theatres with my mom (and maybe Michael?), and I think I liked it fine - aside, again, from the ending. But I had no interest in a Season Four, and when it dropped, Michael's long rambling phone calls describing the absolute shitstorm of a plot cemented that I was never going to watch it again.

Until now.

I definitely don't think the hbomberguy video is perfect. His insistence that Doyle canon never had Holmes pull answers to cases out of his ass is... something, lol, as is his opinion that changing the solution to certain puzzles in A Study in Pink disrespects the original canon. (Bro, these stories have been retold a bajillion times, they need to mix it up to keep it interesting.) But he put a finger on something that I'd wrestled with regarding Sherlock for a long time - that the show's writing often teased something big and new and conclusive in the horizon, but almost never delivered. That wasn't an issue in early days when there was less invested in an increasingly convoluted mythic story, or when they weren't fully blowing off the resolutions to cliffhangers, but the flaw in writing a story where you promise something huge on the horizon and never deliver should be obvious.

The first season doesn't trade much in that idea, and going back to it was something I found exceptionally enjoyable!

Before I watched:

I remembered bits and pieces of "A Study in Pink" and the whole plot in summary.

I truly didn't remember anything about "The Blind Banker" except that I found it fairly 'yellow peril'-y when I saw it in 2012.

I mixed up huge chunks of Season Two's "A Scandal in Belgravia" with "The Great Game" in my head and somehow forgot the main plot thrust was Moriarty kidnapping people and strapping bombs to them.

I genuinely forgot Sebastian Moran was a character basically hallucinated into existence by the fandom and didn't appear in the show at all until a brief appearance in Season Three.

In a way, it was like I was watching the show for the first time all over again. My partner also watched the first season with me, and it was interesting to get his thoughts on the show as we watched.

To start, his favorite character is Mycroft. Watching Season One, I had to agree that Mycroft has a depth of character that I'd forgotten about. Mark Gatiss plays him perfectly, aloof and smarter than you but unsure of how to deal with his natural feelings of concern and fear for his oft-spiraling, danger-seeking younger brother - and how those feelings magnify with the influence of extreme danger-seeker (at least in this season) John Watson. The show wants you to believe so badly that he's Moriarty in "A Study in Pink", which I don't think works even if you know he isn't Moriarty - there's a warmth to Gatiss' Mycroft that, even while he's doing incredibly ominous things like shutting off all cameras in a busy intersection, still comes through.

My favorite character is Moriarty. I haven't mentioned this very much here, because why would I, but my favorite character type in media is "theatrical abject shithead". It's why I cosplay Bakugo from My Hero Academia and loved everything about Akechi in Persona 5. Hell when I was a kid, I told teachers that when I grew up, I wanted to join Team Rocket. I love the theatrical shitheads. And boy, is Moriarty some sort of theatrical shithead. I don't DISAGREE with hbomberguy pointing out that, as written, Moriarty is a complete mess of a character, a queer-coded literal terrorist with no motivations besides "I did that because I'M CRAAAAZY!"... but he's my queer-coded literal terrorist, ok? I could write a whole paper on all the harmful stereotypes inhabiting this version of Moriarty... but I can't deny that the flamboyance and violence pulsing just beneath the surface of Andrew Scott's performance was the beating heart of that show for me. Sure, Sherlock and John, at least early on, were a compelling duo, but the show was at its best with Moriarty pulling strings for inexplicable reasons in the background. I love him.

(An aside: watching Sherlock made me remember how hilarious it was to see basically every major actor from the show in one of my favorite movies of all time, 1917, to the point that I actually kinda laughed in the theatre thinking about it.)

The entirety of the first season also is more devoted to actual crime-solving and detective work than I remembered the show being. I think that works strongly in its favor, and as I recall things from later seasons, drifting from that element definitely hampers the show greatly. In particular, while the lazy and uncomfortable Orientalism of "The Blind Banker" is still incredibly glaring, the actual mystery at the core of it is very excitingly tracked and easily followed while watching. The fact that John is treated like an equal (mostly) throughout only enhances my thoughts on that. "The Great Game" is a little more slapdash (and hurt by the fact that the entire Vermeer section would be solvable with a smartphone nowadays), but you can still make connections mentally with most of the cases and deduction/investigation is being shown logically. (hbomberguy cites the Golem as a problematic logical leap akin to some of Season Two's dumbest, and I can't agree. It's a reasonable suspension of disbelief to assume Sherlock knows about assassins and is followed by some more sensible investigation and inspection of the Golem's victim. The sequence of Sherlock fighting the Golem, however, is very, very silly.)

Related to that... the autopsy doctors on this show are fucking AWFUL at their jobs. Like straight-up negligently awful. How in the actual fuck did they not investigate the puncture marks on Connie Price's body? How did they not notice a highly distinctive heel tattoo on three recently-murdered corpses? Is Molly the only vaguely competent person in the mortuary? My partner and I were extremely amused that, while Lestrade and his police force are thankfully shown with much more intelligence than in other Holmes adaptations and BBC!Watson wouldn't think jam is a clue, the writers seem to have shunted the stupidity straight to the invisible autopsy doctors.

The first season also does a good job of making Sherlock seem like an overly intelligent if socially stunted human being, instead of the condescending prickish intellectual Ubermensch he ends up becoming as the show progresses. "A Study in Pink"'s ending being Sherlock throwing aside his deduction of the cabbie's killer when he realizes it's Watson, unconvincingly lying to Lestrade and insisting he's in shock before rejoining the other man and genuinely bonding with him, is remarkably compelling as fulfillment of a promise we get from Lestrade earlier in the episode - "Sherlock Holmes is a great man. One day he may even be a good one." My memory is admittedly faulty, but part of why "The Empty Hearse" turned me off so viscerally was Sherlock's (and to an extent, Mycroft's) insufferable growing smugness, particularly where explaining plans or mysteries to John. We get told often that Watson humanizes Sherlock and that the two have a strong bond throughout the series, but Sherlock gets much more dickish in general as the series progresses. One thing I do remember with stark clarity is that after being utterly chastised at a Christmas party in "A Scandal in Belgravia", Sherlock does visibly treat Molly MUCH better throughout the remainder of the show. So, uh, why did we lose that energy with the show's central pairing?

Speaking of the show's central pairing, the queerbaiting starts SO EARLY on this show. I want to make it clear that obviously the benefit of hindsight and knowledge of how the show ends really colors a lot about the Johnlock relationship now, and as a society, we're more aware of what queerbaiting is and what it looks like, which will obviously alter how I perceive these interactions now. I also want to make it clear that I never really shipped Johnlock outside of just kind of assuming that it would be canon because everyone seemed really convinced of it. (I was an absolute degenerate that shipped John with Moriarty. On top of enjoying theatrical disasters, I enjoy ships with an abundance of chaos and impossibility.) There's some biases at play here.

Even so, we are not far into the episode where John is protesting that obviously he needs a second bed in 221B to Mrs. Hudson, he's not gay! The scene in the restaurant has such an aggressively shippy energy to it (despite Watson's consistent denials) that I actively commented on it to my partner as it was happening, saying "the queerbaiting happens WAY SOONER than I thought!" It's distracting and has aged absolutely terribly. The worst by far is John quipping, after being removed from a bomb vest at a pool in "The Great Game", that people will talk because of Sherlock ripping his clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. Why is Watson's heterosexuality so fragile that he's thinking about gossip rags as he's actively recovering from a near-death experience?!

(Aside: I'm aware that last point is not as effective when you think about the fact that I shipped two characters whose sole canonical interaction was one man kidnapping and forcing the other into a bomb vest. In my defense, a) I love mess and b) John never quips about thinking people will talk because he got kidnapped.)

Moriarty's first appearance in "The Great Game" sees him as Molly's fake boyfriend slipping a phone number to Sherlock, which lead to my partner commenting about how distracting it also was, on top of the queerbaiting, that almost every single person on the show has some sort of deep metaphysical attraction to Sherlock. Those people aren't on the lighting and cinematography team for sure; Benedict Cumberbatch is lit ominously and sometimes demonically throughout the first season, highlighting his antihero and brusque nature effectively. But many, many characters in the show - just in season one, Molly, Moriarty, multiple characters of the day, the Cabbie, and John - are all drawn to Sherlock and his very special brain and his very sharp cheekbones. Signs of a big future problem come through in this way, where the show starts sidelining Watson as our central figure and puts Sherlock squarely at the center of everyone's universe and makes lesbians fall in love with him.

(My partner also laughed pretty hard at how obvious Moriarty's pratfalls were as Molly's boyfriend, noting that the show was pretty bad at hiding who Moriarty was every time it came up.)

Some of the seeds of Sherlock's destruction are sown in this first season, obviously. The big one I haven't touched on is the ending cliffhanger itself. Moriarty has John and Sherlock trapped in the pool, tens of sniper sights trained on them, and says that he can't let them escape. Amazing cliffhanger here! It is not fulfilled on at all, but because Andrew Scott can carry anything on his back (including Spectre, which I cannot start talking about because we'll be here all day), the scene doesn't feel like a total waste and makes you want to hang on to find out what happens later.

But there was so much here that was delightful. All the acting is uniformly excellent, and the overt physical tics that come to define Sherlock's mind palace and mental prowess being showcased are barely evident here. The actual detective work, like I said earlier, is really involving! I don't feel like I figured out the solutions for the mysteries I couldn't recall the answers for too easily and thought Sherlock's deductive reason largely followed and wasn't too obscure. I'm still such a sucker for the show's style - that opening credits sequence is so perfectly put together, the text messages that interact with the scene and at the time made this show feel so fresh and modern to me, filming the character's faces in taxis through panes of glass and obscuring material in "A Study in Pink" to give everything an obfuscating sheen... give me all of it.

The music, too, was something I'd forgotten about and truly ended up adoring. Taskmaster (and The Horne Section's score for it) really owes a debt to Michael Price and David Arnold. So much of Sherlock's score could probably be dropped straight into a Taskmaster episode and I would have to think pretty hard to notice a difference in the show's usual musical palette. I've been eyeballing the vinyl on eBay, to give you an idea of how much I love this score. "The Game is On" is a perfect piece of music, clockwork spinning noises emphasizing the jauntiness of Sherlock as he drags Watson on his latest case before sliding into the more subdued, vaguely ominous thrum of its second movement descending into the madness of the third part, violins shrieking as the action reaches its apex.

youtube

Normally, with such a degree of pleasant surprise, I'd be eager to move forward to Season Two. Unfortunately, I know the first episode of Season Two is... a doozy. To say the least. A doozy that may get its own essay because of how doozy-ish it is.

In any case, I ended up really enjoying going back to Season One of Sherlock! Super down to talk further about the show, future write-ups, and my horrible taste in fictional ships and men - shoot me a message, reply to this post, wherever, I'll be here! <3

#not john oliver #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #Youtube #too long didn't read - the lee lastweeksshirttonight story #hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #fuck james somerton #3k words on a hyperfixation

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velvet-cupcake-games · 11 months

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Made Marion June Development Update: Schedule Edition, Straight Talk

[I decided to post our June dev update early, because I have some difficult things to say, but I hope this will get us all on the same page about what's happened with Made Marion since our Kickstarter.]

Hi everyone! I've decided to check in early with a report on our development schedule and some straight talk on some tough stuff. I hope this will help us all get on the same page and be excited instead of worried about Made Marion's development process.

First of all, thank you all so much for your magnificent patience and concern! This is definitely not how I wanted Made Marion's development to go or how it would have gone if things were still the way they were for our team back when we ran our Kickstarter. We have been seriously kicked in the teeth repeatedly, and I'd like to offer a better explanation and our proposed solutions and revised schedule.

I'm also sorry for the lack of pretty pictures this month! There will be many available very soon when Robin's beta test is ready to go!

The Problems:

1. As of fall 2021, things were going pretty well! We'd just run a beta for Made Marion's prologue and my route outlines were shaping up nicely. Then things began to go wrong. I had some issues at home that took up my attention, and then my darn town flooded. Drat it, ok, lost a couple months, but we can get back on track in 2022...

2. Then 2022, for various reasons was a disaster for pretty much our entire team (I'm only going to talk about my problems here, because those are the ones it is mine to share). It ended up being basically a wash for development. Why wasn't that obvious from our development updates? Because of my brain. I contracted Covid in January of 2022 and a few weeks later, the Long Covid symptoms started. I was near-narcoleptic for several months. It was scary and embarrassing and I didn't know how to talk about it. So I was as positive as I could be. Around May, my body started to recover. I was able to live more normally and I figured that meant I could get back to development.

What I didn't know and couldn't effectively communicate was that the brain fog was still there. I was writing, but not in a straight line. I wrote scenes for all the love interests here and there, scribbled a bunch in my notebooks, but a full, logical route for Robin wasn't happening. And the problem with your brain not working right is that it's very difficult to understand that your brain isn't working right. I thought things were cool! So it appeared that I wasn't being honest about the status of development without me realizing it did or even fully understanding that development wasn't going well. I'm very sorry about that.

3. Around November of 2022 my brain started working better again, but I was demoralized and felt like I'd forgotten how to write. I "eased" myself back into writing with a huge fic, along with finally getting back to putting words together for Robin. I wrote words! Lots of words! Good words! Yeah! We pulled together as a team and got our enhanced demo out, which was a lot of work but was super exciting.

4. Feeling guilty about the wash that was 2022 and excited because of how much verbiage I'd put out, I created an ambitious schedule toward an Early Access release of all the Sherwood routes this fall. It was based on the amount of words I'd been putting out, so I was convinced it was doable. Some of you wrote in to Tumblr with concerns that it was overly ambitious. You were wonderful and primarily concerned for my well-being. You were also correct.

The Solutions:

1. I need to accept that I have a disabling condition that currently has no cure and that, although it has greatly improved since last year, means that I can't always work at my peak capacity. This is super tough for a high achiever with general anxiety. I hate even talking about it, but I want to be as transparent with y'all as I can be.

2. The schedule: I still wish to keep a relatively ambitious target schedule for the remainder of development. I think it is helping us all Get Shit Done(tm). I just need to be a little less ambitious. I still plan to release Early Access this fall and I'm still hoping for October (which was always tentative), but November may be more realistic. It depends on how well my body and mind cooperate over the summer, and on the individual situations of our artists. Early Access will launch with Robin and Will's routes. John is going to need to take more time. It will be worth it, because he will get the full attention and care that his wonderful self deserves.

3. The weekly mini-dev updates: I have started posting mini-dev updates on Mondays on Tumblr. This is the place to go if you want a more granular report of the progress we've been making, and I think they're going to be very helpful for maintaining clarity and helping keep us all on-task.

4. Beta: I have more detailed information about Beta in the Kickstarter version of this update.

Conclusion:

Looking back from here, our original release date estimate from Kickstarter was too ambitious even under ideal circumstances. That was my development inexperience speaking. The rest was a lot of IRL horribleness. However, the gang is back together now, and the game is now, actually, truly, progressing nicely once more. Going forward, I'll be able to post much more concrete progress and I think doing so as I write each route is a better choice than posting a bunch of specific completion dates that we may not meet. You'll be able to see our progress as it happens instead.

Notes and Goodies:

Robin's new expressions are in! I love the way he turned out and Arrapso (a fellow perfectionist, err, high achiever) seems happier with him now as well. Awesome! I will post some previews on Tumblr soon, once I have coded a few of the new expressions into the game client.

John's role-playing choice has been re-configured a bit. I was previously calling it "conflict or compromise," but I was getting stuck on the "conflict" part because I didn't want Marion and John to be fighting all the time if you made those choices. It didn't seem like fun, or particularly in-character for John. I am now calling it "challenge or compromise." Because John is kind and wonderful and protective but is also traumatized and stubborn and overprotective. Sometimes he needs to be challenged, and it won't always lead to an argument. I think this makes for more interesting choices and for John to have more room to be John.

I coded in Will's first use of his genuine smile expression (you get to confront him about his attitude early on in Robin's route) and am happy to report that it is SUPER EFFECTIVE.

For any of you Ren'py devs out there, I continue to evangelize matrixcolor. It's relatively new, but you should absolutely check out what it can do. Previously, I used it to tint our characters a bit so they blended in better with evening and night backgrounds. I also used it to sepia-tone memory sequences. I've now used it to make images slowly disappear via transparency and turn our blood animation green instead of red for... spoiler purposes. It is so easy and flexible, you should absolutely play with it!

I'll be reporting in later this month on our Beta test status!

#made marion #made marion dev update #tough stuff #Brains and nervous systems are super duper weird and modern medicine doesn't have a good handle on them yet

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