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happy74827 · 20 days

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A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Harry was right, after all. He didn't feel. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita. But then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was smart if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bore into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted. Bold. If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

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congratzams · 2 months

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𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖚𝖇𝖚𝖘

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: dexter morgan

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: dexter had to save his own skin and you had a little bit too much of faith in him; fake priest!dex

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: church related themes, mentions of somnophilia

𝐀/𝐍: bear with me, I've only watched one season of Dexter but I've fallen hard for the character and there's so little content of him 😭 also, I'm far from religious so the details might be a bit off for those who attend the church

Dexter only became a priest because he had to; his vigilante activities were discovered and he had to save his own skin. At that moment, a small town far away from Miami seemed like a good choice.

Oh, and how people were too trusting of him once he stepped into the unknown territory. A couple smiles here and there, some occasional name-drops and all was good. Soon enough, he became a wolf in sheep's clothing. Who would dare to suspect a priest?

Sure, he had to do his own research before taking the role, but it was not as difficult as other things he had to learn. Camouflage was one of the many skills he had mastered in order to survive.

But you, oh, sweet and ingenue you. You had to show up and put his plans to the test. You always stayed behind after masses, even during late hours, seeking advice from his priest persona.

And it almost seemed like you wanted Dex to look at your manicured fingers toying with the hem of your pastel pink skirt. Maybe you weren't so naïve as he initially thought.

But the suspicion could've been only a part of Dexter's own twisted thoughts, stirring something up in the deepest parts of his mind. That way, your next encounters could've been summarized as his eyes marked by a new and dark glisten, especially whenever he looked at you during the mass or when you got too close to him while sharing your worries. Dexter certainly did not put the ‘Holy’ in ‘Holy Father'.

Soon, your confessions began to approach this certain ‘warm’ feeling in your womb and impure thoughts and impulses — which you believed to be the devil's work. Dexter couldn't dare to risk his disguise and have you all for himself, even when there was a suffocated plea written all over your eyes and your will seemed to weaken the more you asked for his help.

So he requested you knelt in front of him and confessed to him all of your sins. To see your chest heaving with every word you said, oh, he felt like the Lord himself.

He could also see with such clarity the ones involved in your fantasies: a certain red-headed that forces the lady to succumb to lust. And to that, his eyes stared deep into yours, locked in place, as if you were his new prey.

“Father, I think I may be under the influence of an incubus…”

Dexter, as the priest, seemed to give it a thought. “Do you feel like this creature has sexual intercourse while you sleep?”

You shook your head before his voice reached your ears, now deep and full of maliciousness. Maybe his dark passenger should pay you a visit.

“Would you like it to?”

#dexter morgan imagines #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan

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sitaxdebster · 1 year

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#dexter #dexter morgan #debra morgan #debster #dexter x deb #dexter x debra #deb morgan #dexter tv show #deb x dexter #otp #dexter new blood #soulmates #how i imagine dex felt after deb died #my heart #😭

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embodies · 1 year

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❛ First of all: he wasn’t gutted. I made it up. His throat was slashed. ❜ / from dolores to dexter.

❛ right. ❜ the social influencer life just isn’t something dexter knows how to get behind : there aren’t many lives he empathises with, admittedly. he has always shied from the limelight, never understood the need to document in front of a lens nor the inevitable farce that comes with it. what does he know about leading a life of lies ? nonetheless it is equal parts fascinaton and apprehension that leads him to pry — he knows what the forensics squad has and can funnel the leads accordingly, but the general public is another creature altogether, alive and pulsating. what information are they privy to ?

𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚂𝙷𝙰𝙻𝙻 : #𝟸 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 : 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝙰𝚃 𝚂𝙻𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙺𝙽𝙸𝙵𝙴, 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰 𝙵𝙻𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃, 𝙲𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝙳𝙴𝚇𝚃𝙴𝚁'𝚂 𝙲𝙰𝚁. 𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 : 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴 ?

the details flit behind his eyelids like photographic slides on a carousel. he feels no egotistical need to correct the stories, no entertainment at hearing his conquests recounted by a third party. no remorse for the lives snuffed out. ❛ and just how much more of the story did you make up exactly ? how much of it is true ? ❜

#fantasmaz #ok but the TENSION.... imagine snooping into a case and the killer is right there #could NOT be me #( * dexter morgan / writings. )#( * the floodgates have opened. the tide is high. / d. morgan. )#( * misc / ask message. )

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copperbadge · 5 months

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You can pick one character to DM your next DnD campaign; Tony Stark, Dean Winchester, Dexter Morgan, or Ianto Jones?

You know I haven't done much table top roleplaying but from my understanding, what you want in a DM is a mix of organization, flexibility, creativity, and patience.

I think we can pretty much disqualify Dexter and Dean right off the bat because while they are patient and organized men in their chosen careers, I can't imagine they...enjoy D&D, and would have the patience to run a good campaign. I also think Dexter would probably not show up super well in the "flexibility" metric, and people who spend time around Dean Winchester tend to die horribly from demon.

I think Tony Stark probably does enjoy D&D and he is a very organized and creative person, but he's also on rails when it's not him doing the improvising -- I can see him concocting intricate, clockwork plotlines and getting frustrated when nobody quite follows the map. Possibly some form of hybrid D&D involving advanced math and physics would be functional for him if it was geniuses involved; I can see him and a couple of the other Super Brains in the Marvel universe having a running game that's 99% about whether they did the math correctly and 1% about showing their work. But for ordinary people like me, not so much.

That leaves Ianto Jones by process of elimination but I also think he'd be a genuinely good DM -- he's organized and prepared, we've seen him be extremely flexible on the fly (shut up, Jack) and we know he's fairly creative particularly (shut up, Jack) particularly when it comes to narrative -- like when we see him present himself to Jack as several different stereotypes when he's trying to get hired.

Mind you, none of them would be half as much fun DMing a game as Willow Rosenberg.

#fandom #dungeons and dragons

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c0ffinshit · 1 year

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✭ MASTER LIST ✭

───⋆☆─────────────

hello y’all! this is my official master list! included is every piece i’ve made up to the current year! so spend as much time as you need, reading! have fun hehe!

───⋆☆─────────────

ETHAN HAWKE ⚝

Ernst Toller-

May Loving You Be The Death of Me : Part One , Part Two

The Grabber-

Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome : Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four

Angel Eyes

James Sandin-

Her : Part One , Part Two , Part Three

Ellison Oswalt-

Then I Saw Her : Part One , Part Two

Ray Harris-

Snap Out of It : Part One , Part Two

OTHER CHARACTERS ⚝

Theo Dimas-

Maybe You Are Prefect , Back to December

Adam Sackler-

Our Own Meet-Cute

Gary King-

The Music or The Misery

Francis Munch-

The Girl Behind The Aura

Dexter Morgan-

Hello, You : Prologue

Nathan Bratt-

That Boy From School ( coming soon )

Peter Strahm-

Don't Stand Too Close To Me ( coming soon )

Robert Renfield-

Lust for Life

Make Damn Sure

Aziraphale x Crowley-

Somewhere Only We Know

MISCELLANEOUS ⚝

Headcanon, Imagines, Requests, and Other Short Creations by c0ffinshit

The Doctor Will See You Now: A Short Story Collection

#masterlist #people keep asking for it so here #occtaika answers

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sundove88 · 1 year

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Night at The Museum (Sundove88’s Version) Casting

This is a Birthday present for @thehyperrequiem! Happy B Day!

Dreamer Joe Puddy thinks he's destined for something big but his imaginative ideas never pay off and in desperate need of a job, he accepts to be a security guard at the Natural History Museum. During his watch, Joe makes a startling discovery. Thanks to the unleashing of an Egyptian curse, the museum's characters spring to life after the building closes. Joe must find a way to save the chaotic situation.

Once the night guard at the Museum of Natural History, Joe Puddy is now a successful purveyor of infomercial products. Soon after learning that his museum friends have been shipped to the Smithsonian Institution, Joe receives a distress call from Arthur Morgan, who warns him that four of history's greatest villains have come to life and are planning to take over the Smithsonian first, then the world. Joe joins forces with friends old and new to stop the quartet's nefarious plans.

When the exhibits at New York's Natural History Museum start behaving strangely, Joe Puddy -- now the director of nighttime operations -- must find out the cause. He learns that the Tablet, which magically brings Speedwagon, Arthur Morgan, and the other exhibits to life at night, has started to decay. Joe, along with his son and museum friends, must travel to London's British Museum to learn how to prevent the Tablet's magic from disappearing.

Joe Puddy as Larry Daley (Poptropica)

Robert E. O. Speedwagon as Teddy Roosevelt (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Elaine Puddy as Rebecca Hutman (Poptropica)

Edgar as Nicky Daley (Poptropica)

Eclair Cookie as Dr. McPhee (Cookie Run)

Ganondorf as Cecil Fredricks (The Legend of Zelda)

Licorice Cookie as Reginald (Cookie Run)

Poison Mushroom Cookie as Gus (Cookie Run)

Arthur Morgan as Jedediah (Red Dead Redemption)

Mixmaster and Scrapper as Themselves/Larry’s Friends (Transformers Animated)

Gohdan as The Moa Head (The Legend of Zelda)

Cal Suresh as Octavius (Balan Wonderworld)

Sana Hudson as Sacajawea (Balan Wonderworld)

King Dedede as Attila The Hun (Kirby)

Yoshi as Rexy (Mario)

Pikachu as Dexter (Pokemon)

Yugi Moto as Ahkmenrah (Yugioh)

Fiibo Fiddlepie as Christopher Columbus (Bugsnax)

Tart as Joan of Arc (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Medli as Amelia Earhart (The Legend of Zelda)

Marik Ishtar as Kahmunrah (Yugioh)

The Major as Ivan the Terrible (Hellsing)

Affogato Cookie as Napoleon (Cookie Run)

Muzan Kibutsuji as Al Capone (Demon Slayer)

Escargoon as Brundon (Kirby)

Daroach as General George A. Custer (Kirby)

Alolan Raichu as Able The Space Monkey (Pokemon)

Leon as Abraham Lincoln (Pokemon)

Boom Boom as Oscar The Grouch (Mario)

Colress as Darth Vader (Pokemon)

Ug as Laaa (Luigi’s Mansion 3)

Tea Knight Cookie as Sir Lancelot (Cookie Run)

Tatiana as Tilly (No Straight Roads)

Bowser as Merenkahre (Mario)

Golden Cheese Cookie as Shepseheret (Cookie Run)

Birdo as Trixie (Mario)

Cygnus Hyoga as Garuda (Saint Seiya)

Rayquaza as The Xiangliu (Pokemon)

Zhongli as Hugh Jackman (Genshin Impact)

Qiqi as Alice Eve (Genshin Impact)

Stone Kirby as The Pompeii Bust (Kirby)

Whew, that was a big one! Happy B-Day, @thehyperrequiem! Anyways; here’s your hint for the next casting:

🐼☯️🥋

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sharlinefreire · 1 year

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hello there! ♡

my name is sharline freire, my pronouns are she/her, i am brazilian, writer, journalist student, vegetarian and i love films, tv shows, fanfictions, books, comics and music.

my fav artists:

fav actors: jack quaid, diego luna, michael fassbender, matthew macfadyen, bill hader, colin farrell, adam scott;

fav directors: greta gerwig, céline sciamma, guillermo del toro, m. night shyamalan, paul thomas anderson, darren aronofsky, steven spielberg, jonas mekas;

fav writers: pedro bandeira, neil gaiman, elena ferrante, clarice lispector, taylor jenkins reid;

fav singers/bands: taylor swift, sufjan stevens, hozier, florence and the machine, lorde, mitski, the lumineers, the national, kodaline, glee cast, elton john, the beatles, imagine dragons, coldplay, bts;

my fav shows, films and characters:

my fav shows: good omens, doctor who, hannibal, sherlock bbc, house m.d, star trek tos, cobra kai, what we do in the shadows, dirk gently's holistic detective agency, glee, dexter, twin peaks, better call saul, succession, my brilliant friend, ozark, the office, the big bang theory, anne with an e, this is us, over the garden wall, queer eye, mr. bean;

my fav characters: sherlock holmes, john watson, the doctor, donna noble, aziraphale, crowley, tom wambsgans, magneto, johnny lawrence, daniel larusso, gregory house, james wilson, hannibal lecter, mr. spock, loki laufeyson, dexter morgan, dale cooper, benji dunn, obi-wan kenobi, cassian andor, mike wazowski, mr. bean;

my ships/couples:

aziraphale/crowley (good omens); canon!

clara/12th doctor (doctor who);

donna/10th+14th doctor (doctor who);

obs: aziraphale and crowley are non-binary and the doctor is agender/gender fluid so i don't put them in m/m or f/m.

my m/m ships:

sherlock/john (sherlock holmes);

house/wilson (house m.d);

charles/erik (x-men, marvel);

jim/dwight (the office);

daniel/johnny (karate kid, cobra kai);

jack/ennis (brokeback mountain); canon!

butcher/hughie (the boys);

tom/greg (succession, hbo);

spock/kirk (star trek);

finn/poe (star wars);

hannibal/will (hannibal, nbc); canon!

merlin/arthur (merlin, bbc);

dean/castiel (supernatural);

benji/ethan (mission impossible);

stede/edward (our flag means death); canon!

dirk/todd (dirk gently's holistic detective agency);

rajesh/howard (the big bang theory);

félix/nico (amor à vida); canon!

steve/tony (avengers, marvel);

abed/troy (community);

nick/gatsby (the great gatsby);

nandor/guillermo (what we do in the shadows);

connor/oliver (how to get away with murder); canon!

my f/f ships:

emma/regina (once upon a time);

eve/villanelle (killing eve); canon!

rory/paris (gilmore girls);

my f/m ships:

amy/sheldon (the big bang theory); canon!

sydney/carmy (the bear, fx);

kim/jimmy (better call saul); canon!

scully/mulder (x-files) canon!

lorelai/luke (gilmore girls); canon!

eleanor/chidi (the good place); canon!

gerri/roman (succession); ???

willa/connor (succession); canon!

leia/han (star wars); canon!

anyway, my ao3 account is sharlinefreire and my user on twitter is also sharlinefreire.

check my carrd of more informations: sharlinefreire.carrd.co

welcome to my tumblr! ♡

#about me #hi i am sharline #welcome to my tumblr #fixed post #pinned post #this is my life i guess #unfortunately i love queerbaiting im sorry

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vole-mon-amour · 2 years

Text

7x11.

He. Him.

I do wonder what kind of paycheck he has & if it matches the amount of work & of responsibilities he has. Also, I can KINDA imagine Aaron buying himself a Rolex, but I mostly see it as a gift from David, not gonna lie.

"Dave"

I find it very interesting, fascinating almost, how hard this case hit Spencer. "You're not as smart as you think" & he's already losing his mind over this killer. Different sides of the same coin, huh? Kind of.

Spencer, baby, darling, my love. You're still special and have all the potential, you know that, right? Right?

Killer to killer communication, when will they kiss? I've been waiting for it since the moment he implied that he is Harvey's soulmate. This is such a nice episode, and using Zodiac that was never captured... I'm conflicted about it, but at least they had the decency to portray this as Zodiac's fanboys & not as Zodiac himself.

You can see a moment of hesitation because Harvey actually considers going with Caleb. What a nice episode, truly.

Oh, that tragic love. Idk why but with cases like this one, it always makes me think of Batjokes. "We're destined to be together" or something like that. Or about Brian and Dexter Moser (Morgan). There's something about the hero falling for the killer or two killers getting worse and worse while having fun. Or the hero becoming the killer, too, and loving it to his horror. Those tropes are chef's kiss, along with some other juicy ones. Fanfiction for Harvey and Caleb when?

What a beautiful episode. The case making Spencer's brain work more than usual, being so involved is such an extra bonus. <3

Okay, but Dark!Spencer?.. That trope terrifies me because I never want to see even a glimpse of that in the show. At the same time, though, I would probably read something like that. Spencer is so good at his job and those talks & I don't think he gets enough credit for it. When he reads that body language and those minds & knows exactly what to say to set the killers off, that's... wow. That's A LOT.

On top of that, Harvey switching between his girlfriend & Caleb, trying to squirm his way out of this, manipulating Caleb. Beautiful.

"Uh oh, Dad is unhappy with me."

Happy & proud Dads of their 30 year old <3 Aaron smiling while David gives Reid kisses on both cheeks is absolutely adorable, heartwarming, and makes me smile to the point of my cheeks hurting.

One of the best moments in this show & probably one of the best episodes, too. I didn't notice how half of it passed. Seeing so many smiles, Spencer being so involved, doubting himself and then finding himself again with the help of his found family (his team). Aaron being Aaron, but allowing himself to be happy for a couple of minutes. David being DAVID aka a loving Italian <3. Garcia calling Spencer "boo" on the phone in a nice way. I absolutely love it. Episodes like this makes me glad this is my first (blind) watch.

#cm #natiswatching #aaron hotchner #hossi #david rossi #spencer reid

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happy74827 · 16 days

Text

Contagiously Human.

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Killing was always the easiest part for him, but this… you… well, as fate would have it, that created a new problem for him. {GIF Creds: brothermoser}

WC: 1881

Category: Plot-Driven, Maybe Some Fluff/Angst…?

Someone asked me if I’d ever thought about writing Biney… and well, I decided to put my thought into actual words 🤷‍♀️

Just for some minor clarification, this is pretty much a “what if” fic in which Dexter does not end his life. This being said, I picture this taking place around season 5-6 ish.

『••✎••』

Hesitation.

The thing that makes or breaks a killer. The line that separates predator from prey. It's the pause between life and death, the time a man takes to make the decision, and whether he'll live to regret it or not.

He’s never had hesitation. Not once. In fact, he relishes in it; he finds peace in knowing that he can decide one way or another and be content with either outcome. It makes him a dangerous man, unpredictable, a ticking time bomb.

His baby brother, his blood, had the disease. The disease of being too much of a good person, feeling guilt, having morals, a sense of what's right and wrong. He was weak, he hesitated, and he wasn’t even aware of how much the disease was eating him alive until that Trinity Killer came around.

He was supposed to protect his brother, save him from himself, and show him the proper way of things. The way of survival. Of the hunt. But no, Brian wasn’t there to catch him. To stop him.

So, as all good brothers do, he’s here to fix him. To set him straight and rid him of the disease. Forever.

It's an easy task, really. His little brother is so trusting and caring that he'd do anything for the ones he loved. Why not start by showing him why he shouldn't?

Because clearly, the loss of his apparent wife wasn’t enough. He needed to understand, truly and absolutely, that the world would only disappoint him. It's a harsh lesson but a necessary one.

So, that led him to you. His brother’s friend from school. The woman, aside from Dexter’s poor excuse for a sister, that his brother actually cared about.

Just like him, you were naive. Trusting, too. Friendly to everyone, completely unaware of the monsters that hid in the shadows. His brother included.

You might’ve never killed someone, but with everything else, it was clear why his brother was so interested in you. He always loved the innocent ones.

So, the question was, how would he go about it? He could take you somewhere, but the element of surprise was an important factor. You had to believe you were safe and comfortable before he could make his move.

A Debra repeat? Or a more... Unique approach. He'd think about it, plan it out, and strike at the perfect moment.

He wouldn’t hesitate, after all.

When the day presented itself, the stars had aligned, and everything was just right; he made his move. It was noon, a warm Sunday.

You were in your little bookshop, reading one of the books in your free time. Business had been slow today, as most people were enjoying the weather.

You never saw him coming. He was the type to blend into the crowd, the type that you'd see once and forget about. The type you'd pass on the street without a second thought.

He had his ways, of course, and his way was simple. A simple, kind greeting. One that had your eyes lighting up as if you'd never seen another person before.

He was charming, handsome, the perfect man to lure you in. You didn’t stand a chance.

That's what led him here, picking up your fallen book and handing it to you, watching the smile that graced your lips.

A romance novel, of course. How ironic.

"Oh, uh, thank you. That’s very kind."

You smiled, a hint of blush dusting your cheeks. Far more tame than that Debra woman, thankfully. He didn’t have to fight back the urge to roll his eyes.

"Tea and romance? Can’t say I blame you." He pulled a gentle grin, one that had you blushing further, more so of embarrassment this time.

"It's the first of a series. A favorite, actually, I’ve been rereading it." You explained, holding the book to your chest. He didn’t miss the way your thumb rubbed over the spine, fond and gentle.

Just from that, he knew. He was going to have fun with you. “Believe it or not, I read the first one too. A few months ago, actually. It was quite the page-turner. The ending had me on the edge of my seat, I swear."

You laughed, soft and airy, and for a moment, he found himself smiling genuinely. His lie was working, and he couldn’t believe it was that easy.

"I've only heard mixed reviews on it.” You spoke, moving to place the book back on the shelf. "I'm glad to hear you liked it. Marienne’s death was hard, wasn't it?"

"Very." He agreed though it was a lie. He had to pretend he cared. "It was a shame; I really enjoyed the character."

"You did?" You raised a brow, surprised. “Most people didn’t. Given that she doesn’t even exist.”

Shit.

He cleared his throat, a slight pause. He was so blinded by the idea of finally getting to his brother that he'd forgotten.

You were a reader, an author; of course, you would know the ins and outs of the story. The characters, the plot, and every little detail. Why would you not?

First rule of hunting. Don’t get cocky.

"Alright, I admit. I've been caught." He gave a small shrug, his voice holding a hint of sheepishness. Maybe you’d fall for it. “I couldn’t help myself; I figured you wouldn’t appreciate my love for fantasy books."

"Fantasy?" You tilted your head, and he knew. You bought it. You were a sucker for fantasy; you didn't like it when others looked down on them.

"I'm a bit of a nerd. Guilty pleasure."

"I didn’t peg you for the fantasy type…” You raised your eyebrow, though a smile still rested on your lips—a look of amusement.

"Really? Most people can't seem to look past the collared shirt.

"No, it's not that. It's your aura." You shook your head, and now, it was his turn to raise his brow. What the hell did that mean?

"My aura?"

"Those books in your hands..” You nodded towards his bag, a small smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. "You're definitely not a casual reader. My guess is everything in there is a throwaway.”

"And that means...?"

"You're bullshit through and through. You don't like romance or fantasy. In fact, I think you absolutely hate it."

Oh. Oh, you clever thing. Now, he truly understood why his brother connected with you so much. You'd figured him out, and yet, you had no clue. You were clever, smarter than you let on.

"Alright,” He held his hands up in mock surrender. He was enjoying this; for once, someone could see through his façade. See his true self. It was a rush.

“If you’re so smart, what do I like then?"

"Hmm, let's see...” And just like that, you were off with him in tow. You were taking him along on a trip through the shelves, looking through the genres, searching and searching.

He was intrigued, his eyes locked on you, his ears drinking in the sound of your hums and contemplation. Your mind was running, spinning, thinking. You were truly in your element.

"Well, let's start with what I know. You like horror." You said, turning towards the horror section and picking up a book. "You seem like the type who enjoys the dark side of humanity and likes to see the bad guy win."

Damn.

He was almost impressed. Almost.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Eyes. They tell the most about a person. You’ve seen a lot, and it shows. I could tell just by looking at you. Your eyes are... Cold. Empty." You said, and it was then that he realized you were more observant than you appeared. Naivety might’ve not been a part of your personality, but trust was. You trusted a lot. Too much. “Are you a cop, by chance? You've got the whole detective thing going on."

"Prosthetist, actually." He answered, his hand reaching out and picking up a book at random. He wasn't a fan of fiction, not really. He preferred nonfiction; it was more realistic—less pointless details.

"Oh, wow, I was completely off. I didn’t expect that." You mused, looking up at him with those eyes. You had such an expressive face; it was amazing how easy you were to read. He could practically see the gears turning. How could he use this?

"Expected an axe murderer, did you?" He joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Maybe. Wouldn’t that be a twist?" You grinned a glint of amusement in your eye. “Speaking of, that’s probably what you like. Thrillers. Those kinds of stories are full of twists and turns. No one is who they appear to be. Kinda like you, hm?"

"Ouch."

"Sorry, am I being too honest?"

"No, I like it. Keep going." He was having fun. With Debra, it was exhausting. She was so stubborn, so headstrong, she never listened. It took him about three coffees just to have enough patience to deal with her sob story.

But with you, you were a breath of fresh air. He didn’t have to force himself awake or hide his boredom. He could just enjoy it, relish in the moment, and the fact that you were so easy to play with.

You pulled out three books: two thrillers and one horror. A classic and a new one. "These are what I recommend. Start with Primal Fear; that’s the one I believe you'll like the most. The first one might take you a while, but if you stick with it, the sequel will be worth it.

He reached forward, his hand brushing over yours, his touch lingering as he took the book. He purposely brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, just enough for a spark to go through your veins.

He saw the way your breath hitched, and he smirked. This was too easy.

"Thank you, you've been a great help."

"One more thing before you go." You spoke, stopping him. His eyes moved up from the book to your own, and there he saw something that made him falter.

Something that made him freeze longer than he should have.

You had a fire behind those eyes. A flame that burned with a passion, a curiosity that threatened to eat him alive. A want, a need, to get into his head. To peel him open and look inside.

Your eyes weren't cold or empty like his. They were alive. Full of life.

"Books don’t impress women,” Your voice was low, a secret, something meant only for him to hear. “It’s the passion that opens their hearts. You have nothing if you can't show it."

"I think I've misjudged you." He spoke, his hand resting on the shelf above your head. He had no choice but to lean closer, and he felt the way your breath fanned across his skin.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're a lot more than you appear, aren’t you?"

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

The question was left unanswered. He didn't give a response because, in truth, he didn't know.

He left that day not with his brother’s cure or even the thought of him. He left with three books.

Three books and the disease he believed to be immune to…

Hesitation.

[@numetalnerd2007] Since you asked, I figured this would automatically mean you were interested. At least I hope you were 💀

That being said, please be nice to me for this one since it’s my first time writing for Biney here (and I haven’t rewatched season 1 in forever), so his character probably isn’t 100% solid. It’s a work in progress 🙏✨

Also, for all my Joe Goldberg fans out there, did you catch the reference I made? I see a slight resemblance between Brian and Joe, so I wanted to sneak it in a little something. I think it’s the hair, honestly.

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starlit-mansion · 2 years

Text

runs in the family, fallen london (2.3k words)

A few months before their wedding, Morgan’s fiancee deals with the aftermath of an unexpected family reunion in the Tomb Colonies.

***

Hepsibah had been quiet as soon as she'd returned to the ship, staying out of the way and staring out to zee, turned away from any lights of any warm settlements. It worried Morgan, and they found a spare moment to sidle up and touch her arm.

"Hepsi?"

She smiled, but it was only for their sake. There was still trouble underneath. "Yes, my love?"

"It's dangerous to be so close to the railings. You should go below deck if you can."

She nodded and picked her way unsteadily across the deck. Morgan wanted nothing more to join her, and as their body went through the motions and their mouth spoke to their crew, their mind lingered in Venderbight. Hepsi had been in a strange mood when she reintroduced Morgan to Simon, in the new context of him being their future father in law. It was the brittle cheer after a fight, aftershocks of anger making innocent words sharp, but no one taking the bait.

It reminded them of the moods Eliot would get into on the surface after getting a letter from his parents, or at least the sullen lull before the ranting to Henry in their shared bedroom that Morgan could almost hear through several walls.

There was a disconnect between the bounds of Morgan's empathy and their sympathy. They felt for her -- and Eliot too, when they weren't feeling unkind -- but couldn't understand the places where love failed on its own, and people chose to part from their family. And they hoped they never would.

After some time, the zee was calm and the ship was sound, and Morgan descended to their quarters below deck. Hepsi was lying on her side on top of the covers of the bed, still fully clothed save for her boots. She didn't stir as they came in.

"Do you want some company?"

"Yes," she replied in a very small voice.

They got their boots off, and didn't bother with anything else, instead getting into bed and draping themself over her as comfortably as they could manage. They'd done this for every stressful turn in Hepsi's life since they'd started sharing a home, and they'd gladly do it for every one yet to come. She was vitally warm and soft after the chill of the zee air. Morgan hadn't noticed they were cold until they were beside her.

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know," she said. "I just feel sick about it. Everything is just racing through my head."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I have no idea how to start."

"Well… I'll be here either way."

Hepsi was silent for what felt like a very long time, but was probably a few minutes.

"So you knew Simon for a while, didn't you?" she asked eventually.

"Not well, but I suppose, yes." He was a fixture of the docks, offering overpriced tours to new arrivals or running a game of Find the Lady, his few stumpy fingers still dexterous enough under his bandages to make a meager take from terror-addled zailors coming back from a long haul.

"What did you think of him?"

"Honestly? Fairly charming, but sort of… pathetic. Like he might have had it once, but he's far past his prime."

She hummed noncommittally. "He was like that when I was a child, too. It's not new. It's not really an act either, but it works. I mean, you've given him money, haven't you?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, but I didn't really think about it."

"Now imagine it's a few hundred pounds, and he's selling you a deed, or a partially matured bond, or some other official looking piece of paper because he's fallen on hard times and he's giving you a deal, and he's got a young daughter in a ragged dress sitting quietly off in the corner playing with a sad little dolly, and he really would appreciate it so much, it's just so hard to make ends meet." She did a shockingly good impression of the earnest waver in his raspy voice. "I hated that damned doll."

"...Ah, I see." Morgan would have parted with the money, they were sure, and if the papers turned out to be forged, well… A shame, but not worth sending a man to jail over, especially not a father of a young daughter. Were they a mark? Well, maybe. They'd rather be a mark than be heartless, though.

"We had a fight when I was seventeen, and I ran away. That was the last time I saw him before we just met again. I wish I was surprised."

"Would… you rather not have met him again?" Morgan asked hesitantly.

"I don't know… He was a bad father, alright?" she snapped, her irritation clearly not aimed at them. "Not for lack of trying. Oh, he tried. He was always just about to turn a corner, about to make a mint, then we'd finally be set, but it never turned up. How much of your life can be a temporary downturn before you accept that there's just no fucking way up?"

"...Ah."

She softened a little, clearly uncomfortable with the lack of varnish on that truth. "There were some better times. Mostly when he weaseled his way into somebody's household and we had a roof over our heads and a bite of food. But it was always just a moment away from him crossing the line and getting tossed out. Even…" She sighed, and didn't finish her thought.

"That sounds awful," they said, feeling inadequately eloquent.

"I tried to be better than him. With Isaiah, I mean. I tried to be a good parent. I never made him perform, never made it out to be his fault if we didn't have enough money or enough food, didn't move him around all over God's creation. I… I prided myself on that. But I don't know if I really was any better. I see… so much of myself in my father, and I can't stand it."

"Oh, Hepsi, no… You were a good mother. Everyone knew that."

"But Isaiah didn't have a good father, and I made him keep all my secrets, and I had to give him up, at an even younger age than I was when I left my dad. I couldn't give him a better life than being a dockworker without losing him, no matter how hard I tried."

Hepsi had never once indicated a shred of animosity towards Morgan for pawning their inheritance at a fraction of its worth and fleeing Liverpool, but their mind could pull at the threads of the repercussions all day. If they hadn't left, if they'd been any other sort of person than who they were, if they had helped their brother's two favorite people at all instead of avenging his murder, maybe Hespi wouldn't have needed to give up custody of her only son. But if they'd been any other person, Henry would still be alive, or at least unmurdered, so that sort of rambling always led back down the same path.

Surely Hepsi had those same thoughts, but about circumstances they could barely comprehend. They didn't know what coin she'd shared in kindness that she regretted later, what scheme left unventured or vault not ransacked that haunted Hepsi's heart in the middle of the night, but they did know it was as useless for her to speculate as it was for them. She'd done the best she could with what she had.

"You don't need two parents to be a decent person, and Isaiah always seemed decent to me, even when he was an awful little boy and I was an insufferable teenage brat." Hepsi gave a sad little chuckle at that, and Morgan continued. "And Henry loved him very much. I used to joke that he'd replaced me, because every letter from home had about 3 inches of writing about what Isaiah was doing."

"Oh… Of course. That makes sense, but I never really thought about it. Well, in any case, I'm glad Izzy had a decent male role model in his life besides his bloody father."

"There's that, at least."

"The only reason I think I was ever any better than Simon was the people he left me with when he was trying to do business. I called them all my Aunts and Uncles, but really they were just people who took in the poor wandering widower and his daughter for whatever reason. Usually because he was sleeping with them, but not always. Sometimes they were just lonely. The longest I'd ever spent in one place before Liverpool was three years. That was nice…"

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

She nodded, then shifted in bed, arranging herself more comfortably and wrapping her arms around Morgan. They pillowed their head on her chest, letting their eyes fall closed as they settled in to listen.

"I never told anyone about this except Izzy, but I also never told him that my father and my so-called Uncle Jeremiah were lovers. I can't remember if he was a widower, or had just never married, but he was well past speculation at the point where my father wandered into his life. I think he must have seen through my father right away, because there was never a long term plan to creep into the will or steal the valuables like there was at other places. We were just staying there. Dad had to chop firewood. I swept the floors, though I think it was just to keep me busy. Jeremiah ran his own house other than that, top to bottom. He…" Her voice hitched, and Morgan felt her chest jerk in a suppressed sob. "He started to teach me how to cook."

"Oh, Hepsi…" Morgan hugged her tighter, and the threat of tears passed.

"I was 8 or 9 when we started living there. I'm still not clear on when my birthday is, my dad lied about it so many times. Anyway, I think for a while, Dad was trying to go straight, or at least switch to being the indulged younger lover of an older recluse of some means, which is good work if you can get it. He couldn't do it, in the end. I don't know if he was bored, or the trouble in their relationship began before he started up with his old ways. There were a few burglaries in town, then one of Dad's "investment" schemes that fell through. All things we could have easily run away from, but then Uncle Jeremiah just… made them go away.

"I'd find out later, when they were screaming at each other, that it was for my sake. He was furious that I showed up barely able to read, unaware of even a scrap of history and philosophy, and utterly clueless about housework. He was trying to make a stable home for me and give me an education, and Simon was ready to throw it all away for a fistful of fast cash.

"I wanted it to be simple. That Uncle Jeremiah was the good one who really loved me, and my father was the bastard. I used to think that. But I've met enough people who decide they can fix you. It's not a simple thing. Eventually, Dad stole something valuable from Jeremiah, and he was finally thrown out, and I had to go with my father.

"We were in many more houses over the next six years, as guests and servants. After that, I always learned what I could, from books and from people. I made myself useful. And I learned to steal, just like my father. I never found out what happened to Jeremiah. By the time I could go back, I was afraid to. I didn't want to risk him seeing what I'd become, and what I'd failed to be. Better just to leave it in the past."

Morgan had never let anything stay in the past even once in their life, but they could understand Hepsi's way of thinking. They'd certainly regretted dredging things up enough to understand.

They moved so they could face her. She looked exhausted. They doubted she'd slept much in the Tomb Colonies, especially with no one to shake her out of her more violent nightmares. They leaned down and kissed her cheek gently.

"I wish someone had been there to hold you every time you felt lonely, and cherish you every time you felt unloved." They kissed her other cheek. "And I'm so grateful that you survived every injustice that the world threw at you, and became the woman I love."

Morgan was using up part of the wedding speech they'd been writing in their head for several weeks, but they couldn't bring themself to care when she dragged them down and kissed them like that. They'd think of something else later.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Hepsi stroked their face. "You know I feel the same way about you, right?"

"I know." They really did. They still had a thousand doubts in the dank underbelly of their mind, but even just the memory of her light could banish any that tried to creep out and take over.

"Except the woman part, obviously."

They laughed, and kissed her again. Then they settled cozily against her.

"There's something I've been wanting to ask you but I haven't been sure how to. Do you want to write Isaiah about the wedding?"

"I'm not sure how to get a letter to the surface."

"Well, there's a few ways… There's some exchange of post to and from the surface via the shipping channels, or you can bribe special couriers for direct delivery if you know the right people…"

"Hmm, and would you perhaps know the right people?"

"If I didn't, I'd find some."

"I'd bet you would," she said fondly.

#fallen london #fallen london ocs #oc: morgan fletcher #oc: hepsi brewster #(izzy's being referred to with he/him because they don't know he's trans yet)#also hepsi is 14 years older than morgan and she knew them a bit as a teen and young adult bc she was their older brother's best friend...#then they met again in morgan's mid twenties in london after them living there for serveral years #and it took them a few more years after that to get together romantically #if you were curious about why they knew her kid when they were a teen

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viciousapathy · 2 years

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( michiel huisman . cis man . he/his ) ➶ DID YOU SEE THEM ?! they’re finally back as a MENTOR , and you know they’re one of my favourites ! it’s EBEN GREYFIELD , the FORTY SIX year old WINNER of the SIXTIETH hunger games! i’m just so excited to see them returning to the capitol all the way from DISTRICT THREE ! they won their games using THEIR BARE HANDS / BRUTE FORCE so their tributes will no doubt be desperate for their wisdom. the capitol just loved them for being so DRIVEN , even if they have been known to be DISCONNECTED at times. they DON’T have a tribute in this years games. ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

triggers below for: child death, eye injury, severe depression, ptsd

— BASICS —

Name: Eben Greyfield. Age: 46. Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis Man, He/His, Heterosexual. District: Three. Affiliation: The Capitol, against his will. Job position: Mentor. Skills: Mechanical and electrical knowhow via his parents. Relationship status: Single. Family: Hawker Greyfield (father, deceased), Satine Greyfield (mother, deceased), Sypher Greyfield (younger brother, deceased). Children: Father of Mina DeWitt’s child (unaware). Positive traits: Capable, driven, independent, protective, steadfast. Negative traits: Aloof, disconnected, nihilistic, ruined, unfeeling. Character Comparisons: Dexter Morgan (Dexter), Marty Byrd (Ozark), Nick Blaine (Handmaid’s Tale), Mike Ehrmantraut (Breaking Bad), Ray Arnold (Jurassic Park), Dr. Eric Foreman (House, M.D.), Gus Fring (Breaking Bad), Kaz Brekker (Shadow and Bone)

— BIOGRAPHY —

The Greyfield family was always tinkering, always apart of some technological uptick in Panem. Never attached to anything spectacular outright, the Greyfields worked in the background, behind the scenes, toiling and putting together the computations and electronic goods that the people of the Capitol so often overlooked. The things that made their lives easier, safer, more fluid - Greyfield was almost always somehow attached.

Hawker and Satine Greyfield had two children ---their oldest, Eben, by just one year and Sypher. Two sons, two boys who could easily carry on the quiet family legacy, the family name that was a silent pride in a world where so few things to be proud of were afforded to those outside of the Capitol and the first two districts.

Eben and his brother were always close. One could not be found without the other unless explicitly given separate tasks. They had the hobbies and inside jokes of children, whispered secrets to one-another, little tricks with their tinkering and tactics for bettering whatever they were working on.

It came to no surprise to anyone that Eben volunteered for his brother when Sypher was reaped at the age of 12. 13-years-old and awkward, thin, knobby, and more quiet than he was outspoken - nobody believed Eben would survive long in the trials. The goodbye’s were tearful, but Eben himself refused to shed a single one. He didn’t want his family to think he’d made a mistake, or that he doubted himself. If it was to keep Sypher safe, he’d do it in every lifetime.

His awkward and withdrawn personality kept him from being a crowd favorite. Softspoken in his interviews and low-rated against fellow Tributes for his wiry frame (and that he hadn’t his puberty quite yet), someone that was often overlooked. Eben used this to his advantage and kept and eye on the other Tributes: studying, observing, learning. Personalities, skills, and behaviors were marked and memorized in hopes they would prove useful.

The 60th Hunger Games Arena was a sight to behind. Rotating clockwise, the mostly forested space boasted the most severe versions of the four seasons imaginable. Arid summer, decrepit fall, barren and frigid winter, and overgrown spring all shifted consistently like the face of a clock. If Tributes sought to chase a season and chance it out they fought through rough terrain to do so. Each season had a drawback, each season had a benefit. The arena claimed many Tributes.

Eben was lucky ---so very lucky in so much of it. In the initial Bloodbath he snagged a backpack and broke for the autumn woods, disappearing from sight until nightfall. The first few nights were dicey when he inhaled fumes from one of the poisonous plants, but a sponsor took pity on him and sent him an inhalant that cleared his lungs. He survived until the Cornucopia, which he passed on.

Instead he operated through the fall of darkness, the leaves. He raided camps at night, watched for patterns, alliances. One by one (sometimes more) his competitors fell and he paid close attention to the cannons that boomed each night. He’d made it further than anyone believed.

With only three Tributes left and his cover eventually blown, Eben led his Career pursuers into the unforgiving cold of the winter biome. The district 1 career perished at night when she failed to find cover against the subzero temperatures. The course of the next day had Eben being stalked by the district 2 career ---a boy almost twice as tall as he was.

How he survived was a blackout, mostly. Rage, fear, pure adrenaline in the face of death. After leading his pursuer on a goose chase it came to blows, and the ensuing scuffle felt both eons long and over in a blink. The image of his defeated opponent remains burned into his eyes when he closes them to sleep at night ---a brilliant splay of dark red ichor against pristine, diamond-white snow.

When he was lifted out of the arena and claimed Victor it all settled in. Injured, nearly hypothermic, shaken and terrified, Eben was swathed in praises and shipped off to recover in the belly of the Capitol - only the finest for that year’s darling.

When he was well-enough to assimilate back into the real world, to give post Victory interviews, he was escorted to the Victors’ Village in district 3. His family was uprooted and brought there as well, and all as blissful. For one year.

Horrible luck as it was, Sypher was reaped once more. With nothing more that Eben could feasibly do, he was helpless to watch as his brother - now the same age as Eben himself was during the Games - was trained and dropped into imminent danger. He made it three days before he was brutally murdered. A piece of Eben died that day.

Throughout all of the peace and calm of the aftermath of his games, throughout the extended period of grief that Eben still suffers to this day, he managed to find common ground with a childhood friend. KT was kind, gentle, and patient with him. She was soft-spoken, beautiful, and accepted him for the tribulations he’d been through - what he continued to go through.

For the next six years their relationship kindled. What had started as friendly acquaintances throughout their youth moved to sincere friendship, to severe admiration, to affection, and when they came of age - to love. Eben believed he’d marry her ---planned to when he was in a more stable place, when he could offer her more than hollow promises and cold hands.

Unfortunately she was reaped for the 66th annual Hunger Games. She died in the initial bloodbath, almost as horrific as Sypher’s passing. The rest of Eben died then.

He’d say it was kismet, or perhaps the Capitol knew and continued to punish him. Shortly after the 66th Games concluded Peacekeepers knocked on his door and collected him to visit Panem’s bustling hub. He was given a choice: entertain the denizens of the Capitol in any way they saw fit or lose his parents. He chose the former, and became truly numb. The true gift, they argued, was that he would serve a mentor for District Three as well ---in the next and upcoming games, until it was time for him to well and truly retire.

And so it’s been for the past 26 years. Caught under the thumb of the Capitol, serving in whichever way most pleases the upper crust who wish only to touch the man who beat the odds. Training frightened children on how best to survive impossible odds and taking no pleasure in watching them lose their lives against machines trained from the moment they could grip a weapon how to kill. No attachments, no connections, nothing but numbness.

— SMALL FACTS —

He is blind in his right eye, a circumstance of his victory. The eye is intact, save for a cloudy occlusion over the iris ---it appears almost entirely white due to the injury he sustained in the scuffle. Eben typically allows his longer hair to stay in his face, obscuring the eye from outright sight to anyone looking at or speaking directly to him, but he’s not ashamed of the injury or how he appears, nor has he ever been. He simply wishes to avoid conversational topics on it.

Hawker and Satine passed away in tandem when Eben was 40. Despite how disconnected he’s become he gave all that was left of him to his parents, feeling as if he owed them a debt that could never be repaid for the loss of their youngest son. To this day Eben blames himself for Sypher’s death, as if he could do anything more to save him.

Privately, he collects the information that pillow-talk affords him in the aftermath of his nights entertaining. He doesn’t know what he’d do with it, but he figures that the Capitol’s secrets are valuable and worth something somewhere.

Has a pet cat named Thomas. The cat is better cared-for than Eben cares for himself, easily.

— WANTED PLOTS —

let me collect my spoons and i’ll update this ~-~

#mj.intro #eben. intro

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dead-dog-dont-eat · 3 months

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trazuil hcs plzzzzzzzz!!?? (pos)

(also I noticed that ur ask sentence is a lyric from ice nine kills 'enjoy your slay'-)

haha! Knew someone would notice it, lol.

Also, since I mostly deleted my OG post of Trazuil (I didn't like it so I wanted to remake it) I might as well dump all my info about xem right here on this ask. And heads up, there's mentions of violence and abuse up ahead in this post btw:

-to start off, Trazuil is a AMAB nonbinary person (he/him and xe/xem), he is also an arospec gay

-Xer autistic, borderline (like me), have PTSD, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, gender dysphoria, is a selective mute and also has ASPD

-He's a slasher (a killer who mutilates/kills people with knives, blades, chainsaws, etc; just wanting to save you the google search of the definition of a slasher)

-OG idea was that Trazuil was mostly going to be Nigerian; but I was also leaning that he would be Afro-Latine instead, so I went ahead and made him both afro-latine AND nigerian. He would be VERY fluent in both Spanish and Swahili.

-I was struggling a bit for this one, because I couldn't find a good VA that would fit Trazuil, so given that, my choice would have to be Joel Perez (aka, Valentino's VA from Hazbin Hotel). Of course, Trazuil wouldn't be acting like Valentino because there is a HUGE difference between the two. One is, of course, Valentino is an abusive rapist pimp while as Trazuil is a slasher with a dark past. Oh, and Trazuil would absolutely OBLITERATE Valentino when you put them in an room for an hour and half an hour in you'll be hearing Val's screams and his insides just PAINTED the entire room.

-Personality wise, he would be a mixed of Shadow the Hedgehog and Spawn from Todd McFarlane's comics. He would also be a bit of a foodie like Hannibal Lecter.

-Another difference would be between Val and Trazuil xemself would be that Val most likely has killed innocent people (cuz it was mentioned that Valentino in Episode 4 has killed past sex workers/employees of his that didn't do a good job before and/or during when Angel Dust arrived in Hell). Trazuil, on the other hand, is basically like Dexter Morgan; he mostly killed people that were murderers, abusers and rapists since he still has moral values and also because he was a victim himself. He only has killed a few innocent people only because they were pissing xem off.

-Xe are younger and somewhat shorter than Bezel; his age range would probably be mid-20's but he kinda acts like a bit of a grumpy old man lol

-Going back, he would often times keep the flesh of his victims for meals. Like being said before, he's a bit of a foodie like Hannibal, always finding creative ways to upgrade his meal. Sometimes, when the kill is slow he'll just hunt animal meat as a substitute.

-He wears mostly long-sleeved or any long clothing to cover his body because of the scars he has all over xer body. Xe's insecure the most about them since they were a reminder of the way he was abused--hence his gender + body dysphoria

-Mentioning, he was mostly abused by his family when he was young. Xe were raised by a group of fallen-angen-turned-powerful-demons that had a toxic tradition of viewing one's values. Hence, he was abused and almost left to die on Earth because his family exiled him and took away his powers. Afterwards, he was left to defend himself and mostly replied on sharp weapons.

-Trazuil mostly lives in the woods in his cabin, and he keeps all his weapons in a shed he built

-He knows color theory, astronomy, and vintage stuff really well; someone would ask "how do you make teal?" And he'll be like "Just use equal amounts of blue and green, that'll do." Along with having an knowledge for exo planets, black holes, etc.

-He's a big softie for dogs and other species in the canidae family

-Oh, and I should probably mention: whenever he's angry (not pissed) xe'll swear/mutter in either Spanish or Swahili as a way to censor himself. HOWEVER, I do imagine that he's a bit sadistic and unhinged when it comes to killing his victims. Like picture that one scene in the movie adaption to "The Shining" where Wendy is scared for her life while holding that bat to defend herself as Jack is walking up the stairs to her while saying "Wendy, dearest, love of my life...I'm not gonna hurt you...I'm just gonna bash your brains in" in the most intimidating way. Imagine that in the woods, but Trazuil is holding an axe and he's chasing his future victim.

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yadown · 5 months

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[Out of date as of 2023-12-25]

Mamba (Personality, Subsystem)

Alter count: 6 (5 M; 1 F) Emblem: snake Role: time; cunning manipulator Inner world: wire meshes, numbers Verbal accent: confident, insightful, foreknowing Colours: leaf and lime with onyx highlights Fragrance: alluring, slightly off, confusing Abilities: “terrorsight” (adrenaline state, visual projection / imagined visual overlay / HUD). Can play games having fixed rules, from memory.

Mamba's Prayer

Show me the measure of things; the strength and the weakness; the strike, the lunge, the parry. Remind me the mortality of all. That all things are governed by numerical law, confined by shape and boundary. Endow me with speed and dexterity. May I see where things came from and where they are heading. Show me future, present, and past, stood together, overlapping. By my opponent’s ghost, betray him; see, his leaking spirit has confessed! By the duplicity of my hands, he will not expect the blow. Entropy’s shroud conceals us; his every intent will be found rigid and evadable; a sunken stone in the waters of possibility.

First name: Cobra; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: game piece [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Private Appraiser Subordinate to: Morgan Morganite, Providence Mamba, Terminus Intero Typical weekly activation duration: 1 hr+ Worth: Soft Age: 18 Sex: Male; Gender: Agendered; Sexuality: Bisexual; Romantic orientation: Biromantic Appearance: long white football socks to half-shin height, grey lounge trousers or navy blue tracksuit bottoms, an oversized t-shirt, cheap deodorant, carries a sports bag, white or black trainers with red or blue highlights. Idly stims himself with a football, basketball, ping pong ball etc. Music: drum and bass Other info: loves video games; fast reflexes; strategy & tactics; sports observer

First name: Dice; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: a dice [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Private Worker Subordinate to: Terminus Intero Typical weekly activation duration: 10 minutes Worth: Soft Age: 27 Sex: Male; Gender: queer; Sexuality: Homosexual; Romantic orientation: Homoromantic Appearance: Dice only ever converses with us internally as Dice; externally, he acts by proxy of Gharial. Dice has the demeanor, facial expressions, and posture, of a casino card dealer. Music: suspenseful, prepared piano Appearance: It doesn't matter what, as long as there's something off about it. It might be mismatched, clashing, asymmetrical, nonsensical etc. Other info: luck & randomness, behaving unexpectedly; Informal level of formality. He is like Equa in that acts as a neutral arbiter, but Dice is an arbiter of randomness, whereas Equa is an arbiter of finding common ground between all alters in the system. Dice's role is to shake things up, and suggest when we might shake stuff up. He encourages us to explore and try things we never otherwise would have.

First name: Mongoose; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: Megaphone [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Private Worker Superordinate to: Paternus Charon, Unity Charon Subordinate to: Execa Shaarga, Terminus Intero Typical weekly activation duration: 10 minutes Worth: Soft Age: 30 Sex: Male; Gender: Agendered; Sexuality: Asexual; Romantic orientation: Heteroromantic Appearance: light blue shirt, grey suit jacket with white hatching, grey trousers; gelled hair; big cheeks; always following a business executive around as part of their entourage. He's never sure enough of himself to provide a strategy of his own; he feeds in to somebody else's strategy based on his research findings. Music: opera Other info: snake eater; sociology, politics & foreign policy

First name: Quail; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: spy [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Private Worker Subordinate to: Gideon Shaarga, Terminus Intero Typical weekly activation duration: Ad-hoc Worth: Soft Age: 20 Sex: Male; Gender: Masculine; Sexuality: Heterosexual; Romantic orientation: Heteroromantic Appearance: Were Quail a singlet, he'd wear a trenchcoat and other stereotypical spy's clothes, but as he already has a multitude of alters to occupy observers, he intentionally doesn't want to break cover. Music: wind instruments Other info: satiation (the Israelites kept complaining there was no quail to eat, so god rained quail on the them until they were buried in it); spying, feigning obedience; seemingly weak. The image of a quail looking over its back, is an omen and warning that we can "giveth, and taketh away". It can be used to mark something as booby trapped; Quail likes to set traps in case we're betrayed, allowing us to account for both the best and worst case possibilities. The quail shaking its crest means the trap is about to be sprung.

First name: Providence; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: statistics chart [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Private Executive & Internal Interface Superordinate to: Execa Shaarga, Cobra Mamba, Unity Charon Subordinate to: Exo Shaarga, Isaiah Charon, Terminus Intero Typical weekly activation duration: 1 hr+ Worth: Hard Age: 35 Sex: Female; Gender: Feminine; Sexuality: Heterosexual; Romantic orientation: Aromantic Appearance: Sophisticated businesswoman; formal attire; likes the finer things in life; very thorough, high self-esteem, high confidence; white blouse, black trousers, black blazer, black tights, black heels with a slight platform, wears her hair in a bun with a conspicuous plastic black glossy clamp hair clip. Music: classical Other info: business & economics; finances; logistics; maths

First name: Gharial; Last name: Mamba; Emblem: Crocodile [Alter, Personality Aspect] Personality role: Public Actor Subordinate to: Cobra Mamba, Providence Mamba, Quail Mamba Typical weekly activation duration: Ad-hoc Worth: Soft Age: 40 Sex: Male; Gender: Masculine; Sexuality: Heterosexual; Romantic orientation: Aromantic Appearance: formal or informal level of formality (cocktail party), dark green shirt, green belt, brown or ruddy orange tie, brown or ruddy orange shoes. Gharial wears a trilby with a green or ruddy orange ribbon around it. Gharial likes to sit in the corner of a room and scope out the floor, to decide who to snap up; keeping his hands busy with a cigar and sipping whisky. His snout is precise. He has thick skin, swimming up to anyone, brave, no matter his chances. His job is to break the ice and get a conversation started, before we make ourselves vulnerable, and he hands over to Fandango, taking off the trilby as a sign he has swam back in to the water, leaving Fandango with the quarry. Music: electro, slow smooth jazz, smoke bar, saloon, slow-er ragtime Other info: External ambassador of the Mamba subsystem. Anthem: Bugzy Malone - Street Life

- Notar

#did osdd #did personality #did #dissociative identity disorder #dissociation #plural system #plural #plural community #multiplicity #subsystem #did alter #meet the alters #did headmates #alter intro #endo safe

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