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#//And carl is a general sadist

kohabielnin · 8 months

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General Relationships

To celebrate my birthday today (February 5th), I thought I'd share some General Relationships with my favorite characters, I just put those that don't have a general relationship or bf

To be honest, I had forgotten that the Cheshire Cat has one, but as I only remembered it when I was finished, I decided that it would remain

Morningstar/Ithaqua

• As a king, he is a bit busy and sometimes forgets to pay attention to you,

• For me, there are few things he doesn't know how to do,

• Another who is cute when he wants to be, but to the public he is an evil sadist,

• You are still the only person who has seen his gentle and loving side,

• A complete little love in private,

• He is very afraid of losing you, even if you say you won't leave him

Moonlight Gentleman/Joseph Desaulnier

• He often acts like a dog,

• He loves to caress his ears and especially if you massage them, you can be sure that you will have a puppy with a wagging head,

• Exorcist to this day has not said his opinion due to the relationship you have with Moonlight,

• This dog man, just hearing his name makes his tail wag,

• He tries to hide the fact that his tail is wagging in your presence because he thinks it's embarrassing, even if you say it's cute,

• To be honest, I would like to have a Moonlight of my own because he's so cute, but I have to settle for his skin

Exorcist/Aesop Carl

• I have some controversial opinions regarding him,

• He could go from calm to cold in seconds,

• Moonlight really likes your relationship for some reason he never said,

• As an Exorcist, he sometimes comes home very late,

• He's not much for physical contact, but he enjoys stroking your hair,

• You, him and Moonlight watch the sunset every day together

Phoenix/Aesop Carl

• This man is cute and shy because of his fear of being hunted,

• Likes to watch the stars with you,

• In my opinion, he and the Cheshire Cat are the cutest, right after Victor Specter,

• He tries not to be so cute, but he just can't,

• He really likes sweets and his food,

• A great, gentle and kind companion who won't leave your side unless you ask

Cheshire Cat/Naib Subedar

• He's cute, without a shadow of a doubt the cutest after Phoenix, or even before,

• Purrs while you stroke his hair,

• Even though he is half feline, he doesn't have much freshness to eat,

• Don't think you can pet his tail, he will still bite and scratch you if you do that, he doesn't like having his tail touched,

• He likes to sleep on your lap or on top of a tree like a cat,

• The only thing he doesn't like is you changing your tone of voice when calling him, after all he doesn't like feeling like a pet

Luca Balsa

• To this day he wonders why you chose him,

• Already made a kitten robot for you,

• He doesn't really know how to be affectionate, but the important thing is that he tries,

• He's a bit annoying because of his low self-esteem,

• Alva never stops thanking you for taking care of Luca,

• He's a little jealous and doesn't like seeing you around Kevin

Edgar Valden

• He is annoying, very annoying, doesn't like anything and complains about almost everything,

• The only thing he openly says he likes is painting with you, but only also,

• He's a real tsundere,

• When he wants to, he is kind and leaves his arrogance aside, but only if you two are alone,

• He likes having you sitting on his lap,

• You may have accidentally become his muse

Matthias Czenin

• His attitude has always been a little shy and almost everything scares him, not that you can blame him,

• You two already tried to get rid of Louis, but it didn't end very well, unfortunately,

• He loves your company and feels calm in your presence,

• Louis seems to have a strange attachment to you, honestly, this scary doll,

• Please try to get rid of this doll, he is completely scary...

• Sometimes, just sometimes Louis lets you two have your privacy, but just as he disappears, he appears

#identity v x reader #joseph desaulnier x reader #aesop carl x reader #naib subedar x reader #ithaqua x reader #matthias czernin x reader #edgar valden x reader #aesop carl Phoenix #ithaqua morningstar #naib subedar cheshire cat #joseph desaulnier moonlight gentleman #aesop carl exorcist #luca balsa x reader

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autixel · 2 months

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Dungeon Crawler Carl book 1 official summary:

“The apocalypse will be televised!

A man. His ex-girlfriend's cat. A sadistic game show unlike anything in the universe: a dungeon crawl where survival depends on killing your prey in the most entertaining way possible.

In a flash, every human-erected construction on Earth—from Buckingham Palace to the tiniest of sheds—collapses in a heap, sinking into the ground.

The buildings and all the people inside have all been atomized and transformed into the dungeon: an 18-level labyrinth filled with traps, monsters, and loot. A dungeon so enormous, it circles the entire globe.

Only a few dare venture inside. But once you're in, you can't get out. And what's worse, each level has a time limit. You have but days to find a staircase to the next level down, or it's game over. In this game, it's not about your strength or your dexterity. It's about your followers, your views. Your clout. It's about building an audience and killing those goblins with style.

You can't just survive here. You gotta survive big.

You gotta fight with vigor, with excitement. You gotta make them stand up and cheer. And if you do have that "it" factor, you may just find yourself with a following. That's the only way to truly survive in this game—with the help of the loot boxes dropped upon you by the generous benefactors watching from across the galaxy.

They call it Dungeon Crawler World. But for Carl, it's anything but a game.”

#this series is quality writing I'm not joking it is amazing #consider reading :3 you're seeing this post. chances are you'll like it :3 #IT'S SO GOOD I SWEAR #this message was brought to you by autixel #i would tag dungeon crawler carl but i think the ppl that use it are already into the series and i would rather not clog up the tag #if you're annoyed by me advertising dcc so much i cannot help you. sounds like a problem on your end. user error.

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wearejericho · 2 years

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Character outline.

FULL NAME : markus vaughn

TITLE(S) : none

NICKNAME(S) : mark, carl’s son

╳ FLAWS.

♔ STRENGTHS.

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES.

Tagged by: me, bitch

Tagging: you, bitch

#headcanon : markus #( queue. )

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theminecraftbox · 2 years

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That begs the question, what would Quackity do if Dream showed any affection for a pet?

I mean, he did join in when Tommy used Spirit to convince Dream to take down the walls around L'Manberg, and he did threaten a Living Talking Person with death while trying to get the book for the last time... but this specific creature hasn't hurt him. And now he's kind of attached to Cat George. He named it George, for goodness' sake. So who knows.

/dsmp /rp

Depends on the circumstances. Recall that Quackity leveraged Carl to get Techno to surrender, too. :)

So first of all, Quackity’s got a big mouth. If he felt he needed to, he’d threaten nearly anything, and that certainly includes innocent animals.

But the thing is, in Eldritch Confessions, Q isn’t actually trying to get anything from Dream. He’s given up on the revive book. He doesn’t really want to torture Dream. I mean, he certainly wouldn’t say no to the opportunity, Dream has been talking back and mocking him and just generally pissing him off, he’s incredibly stressed and he’d like nothing more than to put Dream back in his goddamn place. But that’s not the same as when he wanted information from Dream: information that meant power, and information that meant he’d be allowed to execute Dream. There’s not the same dire need to prove himself, either—Dream knows he’s not toothless.

So even if Dream was foolish enough to say “omg I really love this cat and I sure hope nothing happens to it,” Quackity would 100% leverage that but I don’t think he’d actually abuse the cat unless he thought it would get results. I can’t imagine that Quackity, knowing what he does about Dream and attachments, would actually believe Dream values the cat highly enough to, eg, surrender himself. (Unlike with Techno and Carl, and even unlike with Dream and Spirit.) But he’d threaten to kill the cat if Dream attacks him, for instance.

So that’s the situation in Eldritch Confessions. In prison, however… yeah, Quackity has more pressure to perform, more freedom to be sadistic. But that also means he can pick and choose which lines he wants to cross and which he doesn’t. Unlike in the AU, where he’s grappling for anything to use, Q has TONS of leverage over Dream in prison. He has the flexibility to ask himself, “will killing this cat even be helpful? Does Dream actually even like it that much? Will this really convince Mr. Dream ‘I Love Nothing’ Wastaken to give up when breaking all the bones in his legs didn’t? Eh doubt it. And the cat is cute. So I might as well leave the cat alone and just skin Dream alive instead.”

Quackity let Carl go once he had Techno, true to his word. He wants to hurt Dream directly, not indirectly.

Sam, on the other hand, in any circumstances is liable to kill any pet of Dreams before Dream can, like, make up some pet-related evil scheme.

#au: eldritch confessions #c!dream and c!quackity #animal abuse #torture.

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tragicblood-a · 4 years

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Character Flaws && Strengths

↳ Bold what applies to your muse!

╳ Flaws

♔ Strengths

Tagged by : MY BESTIE @justacomedy

Tagging : @thxwxlf @fatherly @vendettacanons (Jaal) @luciferian-drama (Devil) @inxthexshadows (Carl) & anyone else

#memes

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innermysteries · 3 years

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After nearly 2 years, I finally understand why I had to undertake this journey of voluntary poverty and endless wandering around the United States. Living as a homeless person simulates the vulnerable state of infancy in which I am completely dependent on a society that neglects, abuses and abandons me. This reopens and reactivates the primal narcissistic wound that caused the compensating defense mechanisms such as primitive dissociation between the hemispheres of the brain, the source of narcissistic rage, and causing failure to successfully complete the early stages of psychosocial development, resulting in a perpetual state of adolescent psychology into adulthood, otherwise known as narcissism. This existential therapy, which has no guidebook, allows a person to go back and re-experience the trauma so that the wound can heal. Only then can a person succeed at these early stages. In short, this provides a second childhood. Moving around the country simulates the exploration of toddlerhood in which the child learns to succeed and fail on their own.

I think that the primal wound is healed by seeing that people and the world are on one hand sadistic, neglectful and abandoning, but on the other hand are compassionate, attentive and nurturing. And the key is to understand why this is, that we have two hemispheres, and that the universe is made of opposites. The right of passage during adolescence is the appropriate time to be circumcised and integrate the dark side of existence. The problem is that infants and children in our culture are exposed to suffering and pain during a fragile period of development that operates on the pleasure principle.

The only way that the infant or child can survive this trauma is to dissociate The left hemisphere from the right hemisphere of the brain, and to dissociate the cortex from the limbic mammalian brain. This creates the shadow and the unconscious.

Narcissism is a secondary defense mechanism against borderline personality disorder. In order to eliminate the psychotic right hemisphere from the equation, the two hemispheres split apart. So treatment for either disorder would be the same. First, a time of infantile dependence in which more pleasure than pain is experienced and trust is developed, until the will to live is affirmed, nullifying the death drive, also known as the secret death wish. The next phase would be to resolve the existential crises of the early stages of psychosocial development, IE: self-acceptance and autonomy vs. shame and doubt, initiative vs. guilt, competence vs. inferiority. Then the rite of passage, the adolescent phase, can begin where one begins to experience humiliation, pain, suffering, adversity and integrate the dark aspects of life. If one does not voluntarily undertake this sacrifice and suffer of one's own initiative, then life will provide suffering in the form of physical illness or disabilities.

Before any of this process can take place, however, a person must first shed their respectable, grandiose, adult persona, or false beliefs about oneself. This is a complete farce, since there are few if any actual adults in our culture, and the sad truth of our psychological state is anything but grand or respectable.

Since the truth of our psychological state is, underneath the social mask, that of a traumatized infant.

The pain and suffering that life deals out in order to initiate this process, If not taking voluntarily, it's not a magical phenomenon, but a natural consequence of the secret death wish.

Here's a theory about how the false persona develops. Since the existential crises of the early stages of psychosocial development are not successfully resolved, when it comes time to develop an identity, during adolescence, since an authentic identity has not been achieved, a person forecloses on a false identity that is simply based on the expectations of society and a mimicry of those around them or based upon false beliefs that one has been conditioned to believe, brainwashed, In other words.

I may have laid out the first guide book for existential psychotherapy and the cure for borderline and narcissism, two of the most serious, most common, and most untreatable psychological illnesses. However, One can see why treatment would be difficult since this plan of treatment dabbles in the realm of mystical unconscious forces at work within the psyche, and the extreme nature of these methods of treatment.

Although I would give great credit to both Carl Jung and the Tao Te Ching as guides to existential psychotherapy and therapeutic methods for these mental illnesses, however cryptic, prone to mistranslation and difficult to understand.

I believe that the Taoist master is, in essence, the original existential psychotherapist.

This is why the Tao Te Ching says: If you want to be given everything, give everything up.

And this is what my unconscious said to me, with cranium shattering magnitude, before I left home, and so I did.

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.

I believe that this is well depicted in the movie The Game, starring Michael Douglas. He signs up to play a mysterious game given to him as a gift by his brother. He is drugged, kidnapped and dropped off in Mexico with nothing and finds that his bank account has been emptied. He then begins a life-changing journey.

We spend our lives idolizing the wealthy and working to generate greater and greater amounts of comfort, convenience, safety and security, when, to the degree that we manage to acquire these, they actually work against our psychological healing and maturity towards enlightenment, balance, wisdom, serenity and a truly harmonious existence.

It occurred to me that another way that we seem to work through infant and childhood trauma is by reenacting it in monogamous, romantic relationships. Our mate becomes a replacement for mommy or daddy, and through these relationships and breakups we re-experience the betrayal, abuse, neglect and abandonment, activating the primal wound.

This may actually be the reason for monogamous, romantic relationships in the first place. We are the only primate that practices this kind of sexual relationships. Even tribal societies practice polygamy the way that other primates do, this is the harem of the dominant males.

Since we tend to replace our parents with romantic partners in order to reenact infant and childhood trauma, it is interesting that we tend to call our romantic partners baby.

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sociopath-analysis · 4 years

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Sociopath Profile: DCAU Joker

Pre-acid dip appearance pictured on right Real name: Unkown Alias: Jack Napier Appearances: Batman: the Animated Series (1992-1995), Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993), The New Batman Adventures (1996-1997), Superman: the Animated Series (1996-2000), Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker (2000), Justice League (2001-2004), Static Shock (2000-2004), Justice League Unlimited (2004-2007) Voiced by Mark Hamill

One of the most iconic and defining portrayals of the Joker in the modern age. Even on a show geared towards children, he was still the same murderous sociopath he has always been known as. No punches being held back. (Literally sometimes.) And where exactly do we begin?

[SPOILERS BELOW; SPOILER-FREE VERSION HERE]

Let’s start with the fact that he has a complete lack of empathy for others. He obviously disregards the feelings of others by murdering them wantonly for shits and giggles. Many times, after killing someone, he moves on pretty quickly. After sending Sid Debris in a coffin plunging into a vat of acid, he immediately asks Harley and his henchmen if they want Chinese food.

There are many points where he sees people as nothing more than tools to be used and discarded. One example of this is what he does with Charlie Collins. He keeps tabs on him even through him moving and changing his name and forces him to do a favor for him while threatening his family. Why? Charlie cussed him out in traffic for cutting him off! It shouldn’t be that surprising that he’d torment the man for two years over something so simple. And he still planned to kill him after doing the favor (which was holding open a door for one of his plans).

This is one of the more disturbing aspects about the Joker. He can be so obsessively petty that he doesn’t differentiate between grand scale villainy and small petty villainy. Anything is worthy of either response. It’s the reason why Harley only got thrown out in “Harley and Ivy” for inadvertently disrespecting him and Charlie had been stalked and tracked down for two years as a way to torment him in “Joker’s Favor” all because he cussed him out in traffic. He takes any chance to make a darkly comedic joke at the expense of other people’s lives. Just look at his answering machine:

The Joker: (laughs) Boy, did you get a wrong number. Leave your message at the sound of the shriek. Man’s voice: No! Please! Don’t! (shrieks)

Even before he fell in the acid as shown in Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, he has shown signs of sociopathy. He kills Carl Beaumont and walks away with a smile on his face as Andrea mourns her recently dead father. Also in that movie, he shows no remorse as Andrea is about to murder him. The way he sees it, he is either going to be killed by Batman or his lover, a joke so good that he can’t help but laugh.

However, he still makes every bit of the showman that he is in the comics. The man can be very polite and affable on the surface even while threatening other people. He’s got a lot of charisma despite his insanity and he uses it both for his grandiose performances and to manipulate other people.

Harley is also one of the more prominent examples of him being manipulative. He could sense that Harleen was drawn to him for his extreme personality and knew she was a bit of a glory-seeker. So he decided to use that and her naivety to pull her closer and then give a sob-story about an abusive alcoholic dad. And she ate it up. And as Batman notes to Harley, he’s got a million of those stories. He’ll use them to drum up sympathy for an escape or just to mess with people.

And he still remains as sadistic as ever. One very big show of this is Joker-gas. While the network wouldn’t let him actually kill people, the showrunners retained his Joker-gas with the removal of its lethal intent. Effectively, this manages to be worse than if it killed them since people will laugh uncontrollably until they get an antidote or they literally laugh themselves to death which will take much longer.

One of his most famous crimes is torturing Tim Drake into becoming a mini-Joker for his and Harley’s “family.” And even worse, he implanted a microchip into Tim’s head so that he would be able to come back posthumously. He effectively wiped Tim’s personality to put his own in his place. That really shows how little he cares about other people. Tim was nothing more than a new body to hijack and use for his own benefit.

Later on in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker, he plans to hijack a military satellite armed with defense guns in order to carve a smiley face into Gotham City! Even after being resurrected with a computer chip, he doesn’t even slow down with his old personality.

And if you think you can control him, you have to be crazier than he is. Honestly, whenever he goes out working for other people on jobs, the Joker always goes off the leash or causes some problems that his employer didn’t expect. Lex Luthor and Sal Valestra learned this the hard way. In “World’s Fines,” Lex tried to hire him to kill Superman, but when he didn’t produce results, he tried to have the Joker killed instead. This proved to be a terrible mistake. And Sal Valestra ended up getting murdered.

And his rage issues are also one thing that makes him a very dangerous individual. You never really know what could set him off. Sometimes, the biggest mistakes will only earn you a stern talking to. And minor things can often result in killing his employees at best and full-scale mass murder at worst. He really doesn’t take it well when Mayor Hill on TV called Batman a villain as bad as him. His response was to go to his son Jordan’s birthday party, dress up as the birthday clown, and rig the place to blow!

He also has a very grandiose sense of self-worth that is evidenced by a few things. One thing is that he’s very narcissistic in general. When Harley calls him in “Harley and Ivy,” he picks up a hand mirror to admire his own reflection. And the reason he kicked her out in the first place is that she inadvertently undermined his contributions to the gang by agreeing with his facetious comment about her running the gang better. The worst of it is when she almost kills Batman in Mad Love. He knocks her out of a three-story window for getting closer to killing Batman. In fact, Bats used his ego to save his life. Something that makes him fly into a rage.

“I knew your massive ego would never allow anyone else the ‘honor’ of killing me. Though I have to admit she came closer than you ever did… Puddin’.” - Batman

The Joker also has many actions that are driven by his intense need for attention. He makes so many plans and makes so many actions just because they took attention from him or they took advantage of his image. “The Laughing Fish” is the most egregious example of this. He tries to trademark his fish when that literally is not how trademarks work! He basically threatens people’s lives just to profit off of his stupid laughing fish. (It was a stupid idea! We all know it was!) “Joker’s Wild” shows him being very angry with Kameron Kaiser making a casino using his image, something Kaiser was banking on so that the Joker could blow up the place and he could take the insurance money. When the Joker finds out, he just decides to kill Kaiser instead.

His ego and desire for a grand defeat of the Batman is one thing that Charlie Collins uses to scare the everloving crap out of the Joker. Charlie uses a fake bomb to make him believe that he’ll take the one dream the Joker ever had: a grand showdown with the Dark Knight. Instead, he was going to die there in some dirty alleyway at the hands of some worthless nobody. It scares him so much that he ends up calling out to Batman for help. (And the scene has to be seen to be believed.) But it shows that when something he wants is on the line, he’ll be calling for help at a moments notice. But he will still not spare the same sympathy for the lives he ruins and ends.

And it’s used against him once again by Terry McGinnis. He goes after him specifically where it hurts: his comedic prowess. Or rather, his supposed lack thereof. Terry becomes the natural enemy of the comedian, the heckler, and goes after the fact that he’s never made Batman laugh or never really told a good joke in his criminal career. This absolutely infuriates him.

It’s really no surprise that he manages to be one of the most monstrous villains in the whole of the DCAU (if not the most).

More Joker

#the Joker #Batman: Mask of the Phantasm #Batman: the Animated Series #Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker #DCAU #DC Comics #character analysis #spoiler profile

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serventur · 4 years

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FULL NAME: Aesop Carl

╳ flaws.

♔ strengths.

🖌 skills & hobbies.

Tagged by; no one! I stole it! ; Tagging: anyone who wants to do this!

#;headcanons #headcanons #;dash games #dash games #aesop has more flaws but i just felt like those listed in here didnñt particularly fit him?#like manipulative is a trait i would add in the flaws section #in some of these i was like -squints- doubting over whether he fit certain traits or not #in skills and hobbies i can tell he apreciates any form of art #origami is something i feel he would enjoy and be able to pull off since he is #very precise with his hands; he could have perfectly been a surgeon tbh #i do like to think he also collects old bottles of embalming liquids and i can see him also collecting pieces of clothing like gloves as wel #i feel like he would like puppetry for some reason i cannot explain other than he is very attentive to detals #*details #and customizing puppets i feel like would be something he would like #it doesnt mean he does it but i feel its something he would like #there was only crochet but he enjoys sewing #activities that require meticulous ability with hands is something that would work great with aesop in overall #same with activities that require paying close attention to details #like puppetry and sewing #BUT ANYWAYS IM RAMBLING WAYYY TOO MUCH OK I SHUT NOW

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morporkian-cryptid · 5 years

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Flowers in my lungs

This is a soulmate AU for the ship MorMor, exploring the childhood and their lives up to their first meeting. Beware the feels.

Many thanks to my beta @hiblovesandrewscott for her help and her corrections.

Content warnings: violence, war, school bullying, panic attack, beating up, knife wound, self harm, transphobia. This is not a happy fic, you are warned.

Note: this fic is also available on FFnet and AO3, in French and in English.

----

The first time the flowers pierced his skin, Jim was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected it to hurt that much.

“Don't complain,” his father replied. “It hurts you less than it hurts him.”

Jim had plucked the violet that had bloomed on his knee, then he went to curl up in a corner. His soulmate had probably scratched himself by falling. These were things that happened. The pain was bearable - after all, it was only a ghost of what the other kid had to endure. It was mostly the surprise that had hurt him. He was three years old; children were usually older the first time they shared an injury with their soulmate. Jim looked up to the sky through the dirty glass of his bedroom window, and thought of that other child, perhaps on the other side of the world, who was looking at the same sky. He rubbed his bruised knee distractedly. He hoped his soulmate wasn't in too much pain.

He hid the violet between the pages of a book in the house's small library. Then he forgot about it.

Flowers grew more often on Jim's skin than on that of his classmates. He had wondered what kind of life his soulmate was leading, to hurt himself so often. He was wondering if he was thinking about him, like Jim did every time he got hurt.

Tiny violets grew on his arms and legs, on his chest, on his back, and wilted before they could bloom. Although they hurt at first, now they only came with an unpleasant tingling sensation. He knew, by observing other people, that these tiny flowers were blows, bruises, small cuts, wounds that did not cause blood to spill.

Sometimes, entire bouquets of violets exploded in his mouth, in his nostrils or on his face. The echo of pain was overshadowed by the anger that immediately took over Jim's mind. He would have been hard pressed to say whether this anger was directed at the things or people who hurt his soulmate, at him who made Jim suffer in return, or at the children who laughed when they saw him throw up purple petals while choking on his tears.

No one had told him that some flowers stayed forever. Jim was eight years old, and he was sitting at the bottom of his tiny bathtub, furiously scrubbing at the skin of his belly. The scouring pad tore off his reddened skin by small flakes, but the tiny impression of a vibrant violet did not disappear. Eventually it became blurred by the tears of rage and pain that filled the child's eyes. The only thing that comforted him, in a cold and sadistic way, was to know that the other kid would also feel this reddened and irritated skin. The fact that his soulmate had already suffered to give him this tattoo didn't even cross his mind.

It was only a few days later that he gathered up the courage to open up to his mother.

“The flowers that grow when my soulmate gets hurt... is it possible they stay?”

His mother looked at him sadly from the kitchen table where she was cutting up vegetables for the family's dinner.

“It happens, poppet. If your soulmate gets a scar, then so do you. It stays, like a tattoo.”

She set her knife down on the board and rolled her right sleeve almost up to her shoulder, before reaching out her arm. White chamomile petals were inked into her diaphanous skin, symbols of old wounds that someone else had received. Jim examined them for a few moments, before turning his heels and going to lock himself in his room without saying a word. He had often seen his father with his arms bare. There weren’t any scars.

So it was like that, he would keep that small violet forever. He tried to convince himself that it was better to have a flower than a scar. He wasn't sure he believed himself.

Jim was thirteen years old when he began to realize that something was wrong with him. Clearly his classmates had understood this a long time ago - he had always been the target of laughter, mockery, pointed fingers, small everyday violence. He had grown accustomed to these, they almost didn’t hurt anymore. But to feel like he was a stranger, like he was trapped inside his own body, was something else entirely. It was an insidious and treacherous feeling, which crept into the nooks and crannies of his mind that had already been hardened by cold years. He hated the long, brown, almost black hair that fell before his eyes, which the children at school pulled. He hated his chest, which was starting to swell, take uncomfortable shapes and attract the attention of the boys. He hated that slender voice that lacked authority and that no one took seriously. He hated his name, which stabbed him in the guts every time he heard it. He hated this body that wasn't his and in which he was stuck. He hated the flowers and the pain, which reminded him that he was living someone else's life at the same time as his own, and neither seemed to be more pleasant than the other. But the pain, at least, he could reclaim it, control it. He smiled every time he looked at the basic bandages around his forearms, with a cruel and unhappy grin. These flowers, he thought as he pictured his soulmate, you will keep them for a long time.

The beating was a hard but important lesson. That day, Jim learned that if there was a problem with someone, it wasn't with him. And that he couldn't trust anyone.

“Hey, guys! Did you hear that? Jill thinks she's a boy!”

The herd of teenage boys had burst out with a raucous laugh - or rather what they imagined to be a raucous laugh, but in children between the ages of eleven and fifteen, it was more of a hysterical and ridiculous giggling. They were all gathered around Carl. He was the one who was laughing the loudest.

“Let's see if you're a boy, kid. Boys know how to fight.”

That day, Jim learned that love and feelings were worthless, that trust was a lie, and that secrets were meant to be kept to himself. But above all, he concluded that there was nothing wrong with him. He was exactly who he was meant to be, and the problem was not his weird twisted mind, but theirs, too narrow. Bullies attacked weaklings, and those they were afraid of. And Jim was certainly not a weakling.

The event was also a lesson for Carl's friends. Not for Carl himself. He would no longer have the opportunity to learn lessons.

Only after he had run away from his hometown, never to return again, did Jim spare a single thought for his soulmate. Wherever he was, he must have felt the echoes of the lesson Jim had just undergone. Much good may it do him. If Jim ever met him, he would continue his path without further ado. If he was a mentor, Jim would do without him, he could very well learn on his own. A loyal friend? There was no such thing. A lover? Jim clenched his fists. No. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The years went by, and Jim employed them to become himself. A self forged in pain, disillusions and cynicism. Crime was a preordained path for him. His cold and calculating genius could never be put at the service of the common good: it had long since abandoned him, and Jim was never generous to anyone - or anything - who had trampled on him since his early childhood.

Jim's resolution did not waver, but it changed over time. After his escape, he didn’t get any physical injuries anymore, and the mental injuries would not leave any trace on his soulmate. Jim hated the world for that, as he hated it for many other things. Why should he have to suffer his own traumas alone, when that man about whom he knew nothing shared with him every blow, every wound, every drop of blood spilled? And he didn't hold back on that. If in his childhood the purple flowers appeared suddenly and painfully, at least they remained occasional. Now it was almost every day that a violet or ten pierced his skin. Sometimes they were whole bouquets. On those days, Jim clenched his teeth and swallowed tears and pain, silently cursing that fool who put his life in danger every day. He would tear the flowers off in silence and throw them away.

At least the flowers taught him two things. Firstly, that this man travelled a lot. In his childhood, violets only grew during the day, when Jim himself was up, a sign that his soulmate lived on the same continent. Nowadays, they occurred mainly at night, disturbing his sleep or waking him up with a start; but sometimes also during the day. Secondly, that he had a dangerous occupation. Jim would bet on a soldier, or a criminal who was particularly incapable of staying under the radar. In either case, it showed a spirit of boundless stupidity. He wondered why nature had decided that such a moron should be his soulmate.

It was rare, but sometimes the pain became too much for him to do anything but curl up in a corner and wait. At first, he would pray that the other would hurry up and die and leave him in peace. Then he prayed that he would stay alive, that no one would steal his last breath. That one belonged to Jim. Jim would find him, force him to explain himself, then make him pay for all the pain he had caused him. In a slow way, that wouldn't cause any bloodshed.

Of course, many other tattoos had joined the solitary flower on his belly. There was a dozen of them, small and discreet, on his back, arms and legs. The one across his torso was much wider - three thin lines of purple flowers, long and perfectly defined, crossing the two very real scars running across his chest. It had deprived him of all his strength for two full days, while flowers bloomed and wilted relentlessly on his chest. Two other lines of flowers decorated his face. Every morning, he spent hours in front of the mirror, covering them up with makeup, while cursing his soulmate.

Actually, he wouldn't kill that man. He would make him pay, yes. But he intended to take as much advantage as possible of this tool that nature offered him. That complete stranger was supposed to be made for him. Well, he'd use him. He knew he had earned it.

The first flower that grew on Sebastian's skin was a Colombian lily, like all the others that followed. His tutor took the opportunity to tell him about this plant, where it grew, at what time of year, and why it was also called a tiger lily. At five years old, Sebastian didn't care that the flower that had just grown on his hand was a plant of the order of liliales, native to Canada. He was only thinking about the nasty cut his soulmate must have gotten. He found it sad that the first contact he had with that person was through pain. Turning the flower between his fingers, he prayed to heaven that the child who had just been hurt would heal quickly. The pain didn't really bother him. Only the irony of that first contact.

Sebastian had a good resistance to pain. And if he hadn’t, he would have quickly acquired it. His father had clear opinions on how to raise a child: let tutors and teachers take care of knowledge, and teach him good manners by kicking his arse - or beating him with a belt, or a stick, or anything else he could get his hands on.

The first few times, Sebastian thought with pain and sympathy of his soulmate, with whom he shared against his will the blows from his father. Sebastian didn't care about behaving well, but he was trying not to make someone who hadn't asked for anything suffer through these corrections. But over time, he learned that his father didn't need a reason to hit him, and Sebastian eventually forgot about that complete stranger who received flowers when he was receiving blows. All that mattered when his father hit him, was to protect himself to minimize the damage, try to ignore the pain, and then tend to his wounds alone in a corner. His tutors were not there to take care of his body, only his mind, and his mother was as present as his father was loving.

Lily growths were rare, and when they occurred, Sebastian thought of that child who lived far from him, and who seemed to have a calmer life than his own. He hoped that they were happy, and that they would agree to share some of that happiness with him when the two met.

To let off steam, Sebastian would provoke other kids to fight, on the rare occasions when he was allowed to see children his own age. Sebastian was taller and stronger than the others, and won almost every time. These battles were short moments when he felt powerful, when he forgot his weakness under the blows of his father, when pain was synonymous with glory. He wore his first scar like a medal: he was ten years old, and a street urchin had pulled out a small knife during a fist fight and stabbed it into his stomach. The wound was superficial, and healed quickly, leaving only a white line on his abdomen. He knew that the stab wound would also leave a mark on his soulmate's skin. He silently apologized to them, then moved on.

As time went on and the years passed, his father seemed to gradually forget about his existence. He was shipped off to Eton to study, and Sebastian was relieved that he no longer had to live in the family home. He continued to fight with the other teenagers, but as he was a good student, the teachers simply told him off without ever taking any real action.

He was fifteen years old when flower growths suddenly became more frequent, and especially more precise. The first time he felt a row of lilies blooming across his forearm, he was more surprised than scared. How could they grow in such an orderly manner? They didn't even really hurt, he only felt a strange tingling sensation. He reviewed all the ways of hurting oneself that he could imagine, every type of injuries. The realization of what had just happened hurt him much more than the flowers themselves. From that moment on, the rows of lilies appeared regularly on his arms and sometimes his legs, leaving behind them tattoos of orange petal, like a well-ordered flowerbed. Sebastian stopped wearing short-sleeved clothes, and wondered if his soulmate was doing this to punish him for all the injuries he had given them.

He eventually got used to the lines of flower, but nothing had prepared him for the sudden growth of lilies that occurred one day in the middle of a Latin class. A bouquet bloomed on his ribs, spreading under his shirt, and the pain that accompanied it almost knocked him to the ground. The flowers had only made rare appearances in the last years, and the recent cuts caused only unpleasant tingling or slight pain. But this time, the flowers continued to grow relentlessly all over his body as he tried with difficulty to get up, under the shocked eyes of his classmates.

He was used to the pain. It had been with him since he was a child. But he was certain that neither his spinning head, nor his numb limbs, nor his sudden shortness of breath and nor, especially, the feeling of terror and helplessness that crushed his chest came from his soulmate. He felt as if he was reliving the corrections his father used to inflict on him, but worse this time, without being able to do anything to protect himself. His terrified empathy for the person who was actually being beaten mixed with his childhood fears and memories of the blows, and immobilized him completely. He had to be carried to the school infirmary, spilling bright orange petals all the way there.

There, he was told that he had had a panic attack, that it was common when something bad happened to one’s soulmate, that he would get better very quickly, that it would not happen again. Sebastian simply nodded and shivered under his blanket, and said nothing about his certainty that it would happen again.

He wondered what might have happened to his soulmate. No tattooed scars remained, and the cuts stopped. He thought for a moment that they were dead, but finally small benign flowers assured him the opposite, and life resumed as before - Sebastian accumulating wounds, the stranger simply sending him a few lilies from time to time.

Sebastian no longer thought about his soulmate when he was fighting other teenagers. He no longer thought about them when he hurt himself when tripping or exploring the school at night. Nor when he grew up and the injuries became more serious. He had one apologetic thought for them, in passing, when he joined the army. He didn't know if he would ever meet them - probably not, now that he had enlisted. But if he died, at least they would be permanently rid of all the wounds he was giving them. Did the tattoos stay after the death of a soulmate? Sebastian had never thought to ask the question. It was probably an indiscreet question, anyway.

The war gave him new scars, which he collected like medals. He became the best sniper in his battalion, and according to rumours the best in the entire army stationed in India. Sebastian had no doubt that this was true. He had confidence in his abilities. Scars also accumulated on his soul and heart. One can't survive in the army without turning oneself into a weapon, and a weapon doesn't think, it has no feelings. In any case, that's what his companions and superiors said about Sebastian. And that's what he kept repeating to himself, and what he believed. That was the most important thing. He no longer thought of the flowers that the far away stranger received every time his blood was spilled. Although he couldn't help but think of them when tiger lilies sometimes bloomed on his own skin; but it was rare enough not to keep him from his task. He had hidden his sympathy and apologies for his soulmate in a coffer at the bottom of his heart, and it was covered with locks, chains and scars.

Unfortunately, neither the scars nor the army had managed to make him lose his free will, his rebellious spirit or, above all, his sense of honour that was twisted and stunted, but nevertheless as solid as a block of steel. So, when members of his battalion conspired to give away vital information to the enemy, their colonel gave them a first warning, but not a second, and he dealt out justice himself. The court-martial found no evidence of the treason, but it did of the murders. Sebastian avoided imprisonment only thanks to his rank, his reputation, and his father's influence. He would have rather rotted in a cell than see his begetter save his arse, but he was not given a choice. So he returned to London, disgraced, disowned, his self-esteem in pieces but his will stronger than ever. If he was to be a pariah, he might as well be a real pariah. Others than the British army might need his talents, and if the army had trampled him underfoot like some trash that it didn't want to touch, then he would sell himself to its enemies.

For Sebastian too, the path to crime was preordained. And the underworld may be vast and spread its tentacles everywhere, but in the end all roads lead to Moriarty.

Jim Moriarty was walking briskly down the hallway with white, bare walls in the basement of his HQ. Summer, his second, followed in his wake, struggling not to be left behind.

“He says nothing, sir, he refuses to say a word,” she explained. “Not even his name. We haven’t yet moved to harsher methods, we were waiting for you to give the order, I...”

“He attempted to kill me,” Jim exclaimed, stopping sharply in the middle of the corridor and forcing Summer to make an emergency stop. “My orders in this case are quite clear!”

“Yes, sir, but I...”

She hesitated for a moment under the murderous gaze of her employer, then plucked up her courage to explain:

“I thought you might want to see him before he's completely out of it, Sir.”

Moriarty’s dark eyes stared at her for just a few seconds too long to be comfortable. Then he turned on his heels and continued on his way at the same pace.

Some idiot had tried to murder him again. It had not been very frequent lately, most of his customers and competitors had learned that he was, firstly: untouchable and secondly: very resentful. But every now and then there was always a fool to think that they could slip past his guard where so many others had failed, and remove him from the London chessboard. Pffft. So presumptuous. Even if someone were to succeed in ending his life, his network would continue to function without him. Cut off the head, ten grow back. You could kill Jim, but not Moriarty.

This one didn't even get close to him… Actually, he wouldn't have needed it. Jim hated having to admit it, but the man had nearly managed to off him. He had been incredibly lucky that the client with whom he was making a deal placed himself between him and the window at the very moment the bullet shattered it. As for the building from which the sniper had fired, Moriarty had access to its entire surveillance system, like for all the surrounding buildings - a precaution he took before any major meeting, and which had borne fruit since his men had immediately located and intercepted the shooter.

The news should have made him happy, as the shooter would lead him to the employer, and he hated leaving an offence unpunished. Getting rid of a troublemaker would set an example for others. And the attempts on his life, although often badly planned and never completed, at least proved to him that he was important to his competitors. But of course, the violets had to choose that particular day to start growing in bouquets, and even groves, on his bruised skin, sending needles of second-hand pain through his whole body, and plunging his mind into a dark and murderous mood. He needed to take it out on someone. No luck for the aspiring murderer; but in any case, he had chosen his fate at the same time as his target.

The shooter was now in front of him, in an overly lit room in the basement under the HQ. Jim examined him with a scornful eye. He was already in a sorry state, slouched on the chair to which he was firmly tied, his head swaying against his chest to protect his eyes from the burning white glow of the neon lights. Strands of dirty blond hair fell like a curtain in front of his face, and his bare shoulders were covered with bruises and cuts. Jim knew his face was too, and he had confirmation when one of the two henchmen in the room pulled on the man's hair, jerking his head back sharply, his chin pointed in the air and his neck exposed.

The man was surely very handsome under all that blood, bruises and sweat, Jim thought as he dissected him with his gaze. He had a square and well-defined jaw, thick red lips - although that was probably the result of the beating he had received - and his eyes...

His bright blue eyes clashed with his dirty and mistreated face. They shone with a fierce, rebellious glint, but not one of anger or hatred. Jim was used to having prisoners insult him, stand up to him, or try to spit in his face. It only made their end slower and more painful. Those eyes did not express any of that. It was rather a quiet but certain resignation. They were the eyes of someone who didn't care about the beatings and wounds, someone who had nothing more to lose and who knew it, someone who was having fun watching bullies try to snatch bits of information from him, in vain.

Jim returned his gaze.

I will break you, in the end, he thought. I always do.

He approached the prisoner, close enough to invade his personal space, which had already been shattered by the interrogation anyway, but far enough away to show that he didn’t want to touch something as dirty and insignificant as him.

“So you thought it was a good idea to try to murder me, did you?”

At close range, he could see the features of the man's face better. High cheekbones, a broad forehead wrinkled by the lines of age and trauma, and always those blue eyes shining with a calm and quiet resolution, almost mocking him. Jim hated being mocked, especially by someone in an inferior position.

“Well, your employer only sent you to the cemetery. He should have known we would catch you. Dozens of morons have tried before you, and they all met the same end.”

He smelled like blood, sweat and tobacco, with a touch of metal - gunpowder, no doubt. A foul smell, but one that reflected very well the kind of person he was. Under the dried blood Jim could make out older cuts, scars... He held back the reflex gesture of reaching out to his own face, where his tattoos were hidden by a thick layer of makeup. He leaned a little closer to the prisoner's swollen face. His breath stroked the man's tanned skin like that of a predator holding its prey, while he added:

“Unless you got that idea on your own. In which case you're either suicidal or really very stupid.”

“As stupid as someone standing right in front of a non-reinforced bay window without a bulletproof vest?”

Jim froze. He couldn’t see the prisoner's mocking smile, but he could hear it in his voice. If he was to believe Summer, those were the first words the man had said since he had been here.

How could he know he didn't have a vest?

Jim straightened up, shot a meaningful glance to one of the two henchmen, and stepped back a few feet. The man approached with a heavy step, grabbed a handful of the prisoner's hair, and swung a right into his cheekbone.

Jim grimaced as a painful and familiar tingle started. He raised his hand to pluck the flower that had just appeared...

On his cheekbone.

He shot a dumbstruck look at the man tied to the chair. He was short of breath, and the blow had made him groan, but the damn smile was still there. Fresh blood was pearling on his face and trickling gently down his cheek.

By squinting his eyes, Jim could make out the scars under the dirt, the dried blood and the recent wounds. He had one across the bridge of his nose, and another one that went down from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. The prisoner's expression changed; he seemed uncomfortable with the sudden examination he was under, but it might as well have been because of the fetters that held him to the chair stuck to the ground, or because of the multiple injuries that covered his body.

Jim reached his hand behind his back to the second henchman standing behind him, next to Summer.

“Jordan, your knife.”

The man stared at the back of his boss's head, surprised by the request. He wasn't going to....

“YOUR KNIFE!!!”

Jordan shrugged internally and laid the folded weapon in Jim’s outstretched hand. It was unusual to say the least, but if the boss wanted to butcher up a moron who had tried to take him down, he certainly wasn't the one who would try to stop him.

The object made a sinister clicking sound as Jim unfolded the blade. For a moment he observed the reflections of the cold light on the metal, then turned his gaze back to Sebastian. The latter had regained his air of amused resignation, and did not seem at all afraid of being cut in two. He was much more surprised when Moriarty looked down at his own hand and cut a clear X into his palm. Panic began to grow when he felt a handful of crumpled petals popping into the palm of his right hand, tied in the back to the chair. Moriarty couldn’t see them, but Sebastian knew he knew.

“Untie his hands,” Jim ordered in a voice far too inexpressive to really hide anything.

Sebastian did not take his eyes off his tormentor as the man named Jordan walked around his chair and untied the fetters that held his wrists - not the others, of course, and Sebastian would not have time to undo them himself before he got his brains shot out. He didn't even think about it.

Under Jim's dark and penetrating gaze, he could almost feel the locks and chains he had placed on his heart breaking one by one and falling to dust, and the feelings, fear and mostly regret rising like bubbles to the surface. He waited for Jordan to walk away, then stretched his hands out in front of him, palms up. Two clear lines of tiger lilies were growing crosswise in his right hand, and thin rows of orange flowers were tattooed on his forearms.

Jim stood still, motionless, frozen on the spot and his eyes fixed on Sebastian's offered palms, for seconds that stretched like centuries. The prisoner watched his face gradually decompose, his mask of confident calm fall to pieces. Jim finally raised his wide dark eyes, plunging his gaze into the infinite blue of Sebastian's.

“Out!” he barked in a voice that trembled slightly.

The guards and Summer looked at each other. He couldn't be talking to the prisoner, he was tied up, so....

“I said...”

They were all already on the doorstep when the scream filled the room.

“OUT!!!!!”

The heavy door slammed like a sentence, leaving them both alone.

Jim hadn't turned around when he heard the noise, he hadn't even flinched. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on Sebastian.

There were thousands of things he wanted to say to his soulmate. Millions of ways he had pictured their first conversation. Billions of first words he had imagined shouting at him.

He...

“I'm sorry.”

Jim froze. He was already motionless, but his heart stopped beating, and his breathing halted.

This wasn't planned. This was not the way it was supposed to happen.

“What? For trying to kill me?”

“No. Well, yes. This is not how I wanted things to go, it shouldn’t have happened this way. But what I mean is… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Sebastian made no attempt to free himself or even to move, except for his hands, which were now resting on his lap. He continued to hold Jim's gaze, and the criminal could see pain in his eyes. A pain that wasn't for Sebastian himself.

“I'm sorry I lived my life without thinking about yours. There came a time when I had to make a choice, and I chose myself. I... I did my best to forget that you existed. I hope you can forgive me one day...”

Fury began to bubble up in Jim's chest. He clenched his fists, the metal handle of the knife painfully imprinting its shape into his palm. It wasn't supposed to go like this. What right did that man have, after all these years, to swan in, apologize, try to win his sympathy, as if he were the victim? As if he were the one who had had a life full of pain, insults and sabotage, leading him to become a monster to protect himself? As if he were the one who had to suffer the wounds of another throughout his life in addition to his own, invisible and intangible?

There were too many things he wanted to shout at him, too many reproaches he wanted to throw at his stupid face, but where to start? With what...

“Your name.”

The prisoner stared at him with unreadable eyes, much too blue in this dirty face lit by a blinding light.

“Sebastian. Sebastian Moran.”

He didn't return the question, but his eyes spoke for him. Jim was trying to convince himself that it was a good thing he recognized his authority, his position of power, but in truth Sebastian's respect and sudden deference were infuriating. He should not answer his questions easily. He should not open up, he should continue to stand up to him...

Since when did Jim Moriarty allow anyone to stand up to him? Or even wanted it?

“Jim,” he spat out in a condescending tone.

Sebastian must already know his last name. He nodded, confirming the criminal's assumption.

“I would never have tried to kill you if I had known who you were.”

He shouldn't have tried to kill him even just knowing he was Moriarty, but Sebastian didn't seem to value his own life very much.

“I don't know my client's name, but he calls himself the Fly. Apparently, he worked with you, but it didn't go well. That's all I know.”

So it was that easy to get Sebastian Moran to talk, after all?

“I can try to help you find him, if...”

“SHUT UP!”

The scream cut off Sebastian's speech. The anger that had been boiling in Jim for a long time was now overflowing, and his eyes looked like two black holes that could have swallowed him in an instant.

“I don't care about that fool. He’s insignificant. But you... YOU...”

With a raging gesture, he scratched through the layer of make-up that covered his cheek, revealing the purple flowers engraved in his skin, exactly where Sebastian had his scars.

“You have been killing me for years, you hurt me, you hit me, you go through life like a punching bag without worrying about the consequences, without thinking that the other person you're doing this to has his own life to survive, his own traumas and wounds to bear... then you give me an "I'm sorry" and you hope that I'll forgive you? That I'm going to put all the pain behind me, that I'm going to forget all the days I spent curled up into a ball in a corner hoping that you'll stop being shot at, or butchered, or hit...”

Jim's hands were flying in all directions, mimicking the blows he had received, while his face deformed to follow the angry words he was spitting out. He barely noticed the tears that were stinging his eyes, but Sebastian didn't miss them.

“I didn't inflict these wounds on you, Jim.”

The smaller man gave him an incredulous look.

“You think I wanted to get my arse beaten at every street corner?” the sniper continued. “Or to be whipped by my father? Or by your henchmen? I suffered them as much as you did, these blows, more than you, even. You got flowers and dulled pain. I got blood and scars.”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but Sebastian didn't give him time.

“All the wounds I have given you, I have suffered them just like you. And you? Self-mutilation and surgical operations. Choices. That you made.”

The tip of the knife Jim was still holding was suddenly pressed under Sebastian's chin, forcing him to raise his head. He didn’t look away from the criminal, challenging him silently to finish this. Let's see if he was able to make that choice too.

“The wounds I received, Sebastian,” the criminal snarled in a voice colder than deep space, “I kept them to myself. Otherwise, your soul would be covered in flowers just like my skin. And I didn’t get a choice.”

Jim's face was only a few inches from Sebastian's, who still held his gaze. They remained facing each other while the seconds ticked around them. Then Jim stood up, moved the knife away from the sniper's throat and walked a few steps back into the room.

“Now that I have found you, I don't intend to let go of you,” he said in a perfectly controlled tone. “This stupid concept of soulmates better work.”

“Excuse me?”

Sebastian raised an interrogating eyebrow. Jim turned around and looked at him like he was a complete moron.

“You're supposed to be made for me,” he explained in an impatient voice. “To help me become the best version of myself. To… better me.”

He spit the word out as if he thought the idea was stupid, and gave Sebastian a condescending look. The latter had regained his calm and amused expression, but nevertheless he seemed intrigued by Jim's comments.

“You are aware that the concept of soulmates is supposed to be reciprocal, aren't you?”

“Supposed,” Jim replied. “But I don't normally comply with the rules.”

“These are not the kind of rules you can break.”

“You underestimate me, Sebastian,” Jim replied in a cold and impatient voice. “In order for me to bring anything to you, I would first need to value your life in any way, which I do not. You're just a tool, nothing more. And I intend to make the most out of all the injuries I had to endure before I found you.”

Sebastian gave a light chuckle, which quickly turned into a bloodied coughing spell. Jim turned to him and stared at him.

“So... I am a tool, absolutely unique and made for you, for which you have suffered traumatic injuries... but I have no value in your eyes?”

Jim frowned. That idiot was way too perceptive. Well, at least it meant he wouldn't get bored by his side.

Why had he thought "by his side" as if it was obvious?

Why had his heart warmed up thinking that Sebastian wouldn't be too unpleasant to be around?

No... would be interesting to be around.

Jim slammed the door to the foreign thoughts that were beginning to creep into his mind, and walked fast towards the room’s door, which he opened with an abrupt gesture. Summer and the two henchmen were waiting in the hallway, their faces consumed by anxiety and confusion. Summer's eyes shone a little brighter when she realized that her boss was still alive, and surprisingly, that the prisoner was still tied up.

“Untie him, heal him, make sure he's presentable,” Jim ordered his henchmen dryly. “Find him quarters to live in and some clothes that are not torn or bloodstained. And have him brought to my office at six o'clock sharp. Not a minute later.”

He didn't even wait for confirmation, before dropping the knife on the ground and walking away into the hallway with big strides. The guards looked at each other, then looked at Summer. The woman hesitated only a moment before barking:

“You heard him! Come on, hurry up!”

Sebastian sat in his chair, still tied up, and watched them busy themselves with an amused smile on his lips. He didn't know what he had landed into, but the collaboration with Jim Moriarty was going to be full of interesting developments.

#mormor #jim moriarty #sebastian moran #soulmate AU

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soulstied-a · 4 years

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FULL NAME: Elijah Kamski NICKNAME: Eli, ‘Lij TITLE: Owner and CEO of CyberLIfe, Creator of Androids.

» bold: applicable » italics: somewhat or conditionally applicable » strikethrough: goes to great lengths to hide it

╳ FLAWS.

♔ STRENGTHS.

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES.

tagged by: stolen from myself @kinglyisms tagging: @negotiiator @deviatiions @deconstructlife @kindcoded @phckinglife @musetory @multixdisaster @missioncoded @jericholeader @trustinginthelight (Carl!)

#△ ╍ ⟨ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐄𝐎 ⟩ ↬ Kamski Facts.#△ ╍ ⟨ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐄𝐎 ⟩ ↬ Kamski Musings.

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trishvaylar · 4 years

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When I am having trouble with my job and my writing, I usually treat myself with The Blacklist episode, random, just what my heart desires at the moment.

This time it was The Good Samaritan (again). While watching, I caught myself thinking, again, of how personal those Blacklister crimes sometimes are, and how occasionally I side with one (I understood Frederick Barnes, and with Carl Hoffman...well, I understood all too well due to my job), like in this case...

But really my thought here wasn't just about thinking how just this seems, knowing full well what it is like to suffer domestic abuse due to working with many people who lived through it, to make the abuser expirience exactly what the victim did. You know, fear of retribution is a strong force, it would have stopped some of the abusers, if not for our "simple morality", as Carl Hoffman put it so aptly to Lizz Keen, who knew deep down that he was right.

But there are very different types of abuse out there, and some of them do not leave physical marks, they do not get treated in the ER. But they are none the less harmful and leave a lasting mark on the victims. It is mental abuse and torture I am talking about. And here it would be so much more difficult to bring the abuser to justice then in the first case scenario. And I imagine to myself a victim to such horrendous treatement, who decides to stop those kinds of abusers by going out to work with the victims who's getting treatment and help, this way rooting out the abusers, Sadists...and what then...This is what I ask myself, what then. And today the answer came, pure and simple - it is also possible to make this kind of abusers get what they deserve, only it would take so much more time.

If the abuser operates with fear, building his/her dominance by scaring/blackmailing/pushinv the victim into obidience, then fear is what they deserve to expirience. If the methode is to make the victim submit to the will of the abuser, then submission is what the abuser should be subjected to. If the victim is bring rid of life's joys, then that is what should be taken away from the abuser. For no, death isn't always the punishment they deserve, for death is simple, it has finality, when mental torture does not.

And then I thought of Floriana Campo, profiting from human sex trafiking. She got a fairly easy way out, poisoned to death with barbituats she used to drug her slaves...what she deserved was to be turned into a drugged sex slave and endure a few years of that life... Payback, that is what I call it.

It takes a very short time working with all types of domestic abuse victims to believe that retribution could only be achieved by way chosen by Carl Hoffman...a jail time for abuse? Only with the possibility of the abuser becoming the said abused. Red is right, torture is specific, individual. Then I thought of the Curier, who couldn't feel pain, and his father found another way of abusing him...

If someone wants to hurt someone else, the way shall always present itself. It is much more difficult with the healing.

There must be something essentially wrong with our world if a prime time veteran TV show proves beyond any doubt who is the real Hero of our time: an ex KGB agent turned an international criminal mastermind, dealing with all sorts of criminals and criminal organisations, who neither lost the honour of principles, nor the humanity of the soul. Having heart in the right place, generous and humain, loving, loyal, gentle being, caring both for the people important to both Katarina Rosrova and Raymond Reddongton. The two in one. Rederina. But that is a great topic - for another post.

#The Blacklist #Chosen Episode #The Good Samaritan #In fact a very apt description of Carl Hoffman #But for another reason #He was one for the victims of his victims #Lifes' little ironies #Red #Elisabeth Keen #Rederina #that's me #writing about one thing #getting to think about a tonn more #and that concernes that same episode of The Blacklist

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mysticandskepticmuses · 5 years

Photo

ALTERED CARBON VERSE SUMMARIES.

Adolphus Murtry. - Corporate mercenary / captain.

Alex Kamal. - Space pilot & navigator.

Amanda Waller. - Director, Protectorate spec ops division. (runs a protectorate kill squad made up of elite soldiers & criminals tasked to the purpose of doing the dirty deeds that need done behind the scenes.)

Amos Burton. - varies / verse; mercenary or mechanic.

A.N.N.A. (private muse.). - Artificial Intelligence,

Bucky Barnes. - Winter Soldier, ex spec ops, private stack, brainwashed. (an elite protectorate operative who remembers very little, if anything, of his life before the military; his stack is kept on ice and dumped into whatever sleeve is available or needed for a wet work job before he is once again returned to the ice. (multiple plot options available re: true identity and restoring his memory, etc.))

Cal Lightman. - Deception expert, known to work w/ Bay City PD & others.

Carl Hickman. - BCPD. (a beleaguered grounder cop, has worked a number of departments over the decades, has settled into organic damage. possibility of captaincy in his future if he wasn’t just quite so outspoken against the corruption and injustice that plagues the bay city police department & oversights.)

Chrisjen Avasarala. - Methuselah, UN ambassador / secretary general.

Clarice Starling. - Protectorate special investigator.

Clementine Pennyfeather. - sex worker / Earth, Bay City. ( a sex worker by trade who sends the majority of her funds off world to support her parents and her young siblings. clementine worked various brothels on the ground but has recently been hired to work at the head in the clouds; her stack was backed up without her knowledge by rei and her back up / stored memories have been used to revive her several times in a cloned sleeve with no knowledge of any previous deaths - she is the favorite of a particular few clients who are willing to pay the cloning costs for the repeat performance.)

Dig 301 (Annabelle Lee). - Archaeologue / co-proprietor of The Nevermore.

Emily Lightman. - student, daughter of Cal Lightman.

Enchantress. - Elder. SEE VERSE.

Frank Castle. - ex Protectorate / Wedge. Retired. Vigilante.

Galen Erso. Protectorate scientist.

Hanna Heller. - (the product of a secret protectorate project to craft supersoldiers from birth; when the project was blacklisted, the majority of the subjects were destroyed to prevent leakage of classified information; hanna was rescued by her ‘father’ erik heller. her life has consisted of learning to live off the grid while learning tactics, combat training and more to enable her to not only survive, but take down the elements in the protectorate and un that could prove a hazard to her continued existence.)

Hannibal Lecter. - Meth. Serial killer, cannibal, etc. (an intelligent social deviant with sadistic tendencies, whose intelligence and savvy, and now, his wealth and influence amassed over the last several hundred years enables him to toy with and take the lives of those around him that cause him displeasure, or are simply offensive to his sensibilities, with little to no fear of being incriminated in any of his many illegal activities. by day, a very well renowned psychiatrist and chef, social artiste and culinary master; by night, a man lacking any true moral boundaries, master manipulator, murderer and cannibal.)

Inara Serra. - Companion to the Meths.

John Robinson. - Retired Protectorate general, explorer.

Jessica Jones. - private investigator.

June Moone. - Meth, Elder archeologist; SEE VERSE. (june is the daughter of a 250+ old meth, daniel moone, and his wife, maria devlin-moone who is a meth and also uses her contacts to enable black market drugs, flesh trade, arms & artifact smuggling on and off world. june is (usually) oblivious to her mother’s dealings, though there is a great deal of not so subtle animosity between mother and daughter with a clear preference in her mother’s eyes for june’s older brother, jacob. june is a renowned Master Archaeologist and has run a number of dig sites across the universe. her specialty / obsession is the martians / ancients. she’s still on the ‘young’ side for a meth, coming in at 69 years old.)

Kaylee Frye. - spaceship mechanic. (she’s always had a way with machines, particularly anything with an engine, ancient or new. she works at her dad’s shop off one of the main spaceports on earth. she dreams of seeing the universe for herself, but without formal training and education, she hasn’t had much hope of that outside of virtual vacations (which she scrimps and saves for every chance she can get). )

Kristin Ortega. - Bay City police detective. (a bay city police detective, organic damage division, bay city, earth, kristin is typically overworked, tired, and dealing with way too much paperwork. her father was a detective, killed on the job and now her dad’s old partner is now her official partner after elias ryker, her partner and lover, was framed for murder – and dealing with a corrupt captain isn’t helping her uncover the truth behind ryker’s framing, or getting to the truth of the murders that ryker was investigating before things went south. (other timelines etc available, before and after season one, this is just the starting point for default.))

Laura Kinney. - (the product of illegal genetic experimentation by the protectorate, laura is typically on the run and trying to steer clear of the protectorate and or anyone else that might want to get their hands on the regenerative / healing abilities that her genetic code grants. she has a stack but it isn’t encoded / doesn’t register as anything / anyone in particular when it’s scanned which means any encounter with police, security, anything that requires registration is a threat to her and flags her location in the system. off the grid is her friend. )

Laurens Bancroft. - Methuselah; varies depending on verse/ timeline.

Malcolm Reynolds. - ‘retired’ Quellist, ship captain, smuggler etc.

Naomi Nagata. - space ship engineer.

Natasha Romanoff.- ex spec ops. ‘retired’.

Padme Amidala. - retired world governor, ambassador.

Penny Robinson. - explorer, travels w/ John Robinson.

Poe. - AI, proprietor of The Raven / The Nevermore.

Quellcrist Falconer. - leader of the Quellist rebellion.

Reileen Kawahara. - crime syndicate boss & more. (she’s got her fingers in all the black market / illicit trade / arms dealing / drug trade pies, she has blackmail and leverage on a ridiculously high percentage of those in the UN and the protectorate, on earth and elsewhere, and will do anything, literally anything, to get what she wants. yakuza era, envoy era, post envoy merc era, and kingpin era / season one era available. (more info available on request for any of these.))

Rick Flag. - spec ops, Protectorate special division.

Riddick. - sole survivor of planet Furya, criminal, rogue. ( murderer, escapee from a dozen max security prisons, somehow still in his original sleeve (what can he say, he’s attached to it), riddick is a genetic aberration, one of the few survivors of an off shoot of humanity from the now desolated planet furya. he exists off the grid, in the shadows, and if you see it coming it’s probably because he wants you to. (various plots available.))

River Tam. - Protectorate experiment; psychic; super soldier. SEE VERSE. (varies for plot.) (an elite soldier, gifted from birth and augmented further by the protectorate, river was one of the few that survived the process that created the elite unit crafted to hunt and track the envoys during the quellist rebellion. her ability to adapt, to absorb, to blend, to merge efficiently in any sleeve rivals that of the envoys, and she has altered abilities - precog and telepathy, though some say it’s just intuition and being able to predict the variables of any given situation, given enough data. envoy era & ‘modern’ season plots available.)

Rupert Giles. - historian.

Takeshi Kovacs. - ex Protectorate spec ops; Quellist. ( leveraged into service into an elite protectorate black ops squad at the tender age of ten, takeshi spent the next 20-30 years killing, torturing, decimating rebellious forces and or whomever the protectorate sent him after. when reunited with someone from his past, he fled the protectorate and went on the run, joining the quellist rebellion until that too, was destroyed. he spent the next handful of years on the run and doing various degrees of merc / wet work until he was gunned down and put on ice. 250+ years later, he gets pulled out to solve the murder of a methuselah - a 350+ year old man who promises him a fortune, a sleeve of his choice, and a clean slate / pardon if he can find the truth behind the murder… but there are so many more things at play than either of them could guess and it takes all of a night for things to go from bad to worse. (protectorate, envoy, merc, season one & post season one plots available.))

Winifred Burkle. - (a skilled astrophysicist and virtual reality coder, fred was recruited into the protectorate in her university years. it took her almost a decade for her to discover what the protectorate was truly using her work for and she waited for the opportunity to not just sabotage her research and the protectorate’s work, but to flee. backing herself up, she’s double-sleeved. she exists in the forays of the web, keeping herself mostly out of trouble, just wanting to try and find a way to undo the damage that her work was used for (brainwashing & torture). her second sleeve is root, @magicandsciencemuses who has, unbeknownst to fred, made a triplicate, whiskey, who uses her wiles and skills to ferret information and blackmail visitors of some of the elite brothels of earth.)

Villanelle. - assassin for hire.

Wilson Fisk. - crime lord.

Alena Mayberry. - SEE VERSE.

Alexander Petrakis. - Methuselah.

Ariel Hayden. - Meth’s daughter; runaway; high bounty on head.(the daughter of a methuselah who has left her world behind; traveled in cold storage in slow lanes to minimize risk of discovery. has a small fortune at her disposal that she squirreled away but knows she has to make it last. has an altered identity stack and is in a new, black market sleeve. can be on earth or any world really. just wants to see the universe without her father’s restrictive / protective rules in place. probably has a bounty for her SAFE return to her homeworld._)

Ashen Zenon. - High level merc / assassin for hire.

Belle Duponte. - Earth grounder, works to pay off father’s debt / sleeve. (the daughter of an once highly regarded scientist who has been shunned for his studies, she struggles to keep food in their stomachs and a roof over their head. she works several part time jobs, including at an antique book store that also specializes in luxury station, ink, quills, etc. and works part time as a waitress and as a ‘lab tech’ aka grunt labor at the local prison / re-sleeving facility. she is in her first, and likely, only sleeve.)

Felicia Adams. - geneticist, emergency care doctor / works at psychasec. (a doctor and geneticist, felicia plies her trade at psychasec modeling and crafting the elite and bizarre sleeves designed for the methuselahs of earth. the health insurance and re-sleeving package perks are the only reason that she continues to work there as she has a young daughter that suffers from a genetic disorder and requires constant care until felicia can afford a complete genetic makeover and re-sleeve into a healthy clone. (definitely options for her to get dragged into illegal / black market schemes for a quick buck. also possibilities for the Trouble that is the daughter’s dad to show up and find them too.))

Laurel Isley.. - Meth, brothel owner, sociopath; SEE VERSE. (a meth with her feet on the ground and her fingers in the muck, laurel runs several elite brothels that cater to the worst of the worst desires of the meths that want to play at being bad and the few grounders that can afford her services. her brothels also serve as anonymous meeting grounds for certain clients vs. service providers - mercs, assassins, etc. that she arranges for a ‘small’ fee. she also is a pro at creating false idents, which is no easy feat in this day and age. she is very much a sadomasochist and indulges her desires in the real and virtual whenever she finds a suitable playmate (willing or otherwise).)

Petra Nikonova. - verse dependent.

Rori Dearing. - bartender, tattoo artist. SEE VERSE. ( a young and rebellious meth, a social warrior, rori is the younger sister of @magicandsciencemuses ‘s claire dearing. she is a human rights / sleeve rights activist and is often found at rallies and protests regarding various lack of rights for prisoners, military service members, victims that are given the worst of the sleeves available, and in general, the money making machine that is the protectorate’s prison system, and the utter lack of opportunity for reform and education. she works as a 3-d / interactive tattoo artist and a part time bartender. )

Saori Dearing. - daughter of planetary governor, Quellist. SEE VERSE. ( the daughter of the lord governor on harlan’s world, saori is a secret ally and informant to the quellist rebellion. most of her plots take place during the envoy era where she works with quell to provide military information, travel codes, and helps supply weapons, food and basic supplies to the rebellion on harlan’s world / elsewhere. (I have verses where she is involved romantically with Quell and or Takeshi but that isn’t a necessity for plots!) she is primarily envoy based but aus / plots can be worked out for ‘modern’ day plots.)

#VERSE. ( altered carbon. )

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trustinginthelight · 4 years

Text

FULL NAME: Carl Francis Manfred NICKNAME: N/A TITLE: Celebrated Painter

» bold: applicable » italics: somewhat or conditionally applicable » strikethrough: goes to great lengths to hide it

╳ FLAWS.

♔ STRENGTHS.

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES.

tagged by: @soulstied tagging: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#clarity was far from reach { carl ; headcanons }

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religiousshitbaby · 5 years

Text

Carl Kindle

╳ FLAWS.

♔ STRENGTHS.

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES.

Tagged by: i stole this

Tagging: u can steal it too

#ooc #character info #all verses

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heyitsamorette · 6 years

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for the fanfic asks! 11, 10, 12, 15: how long does it normally take for you to complete a fic?

Thanks, anon

10. What’s a theme that keeps coming up in your writing?

For slash, probably power play and enemy ships. I used to have this big thing about discovering of sexual orientation and needing to come out, but I think I’ve drifted away from that lately; although most times my Harry is still characterized that way. I want to write more fics where he doesn’t have the internal angst over it, though, because I feel like I’m becoming one note. But I do love the trope of someone discovering their taboo kinks and being initially ashamed by them, I just find the inner conflict so delicious, and there’s like some sort of inherent dub-con about it; a character being so shocked by their own desire for something and yet being unable to stop wanting or doing it. So much fun.

For het, female sexual autonomy where the female sort of “discovers” her desire to almost take ownership of the man she covets. Sort of like an autonomous awakening as expressed through her sexuality. I like writing about a woman’s inner thoughts as she mulls over her own desire, letting herself feel it fully and just letting it be, letting it turn into what it must. Allowing herself to just have this desire. There isn’t as much need to overcome shame about it as there is with the slash I write; I just don’t enjoy that theme as much for women, maybe because it’s more cathartic for me to just see the woman shamelessly get what she wants and feel fulfilled by it. There’s quite a bit of dominant female/submissive male in my het, such as The Heart Knows and When the Tie Slips Around His Neck, although to varying degrees because I don’t think submission from men has to always look the same. Oh, and, I am currently obsessed with reading and writing men performing oral sex on women :D

11. What kind of relationships are you most interested in writing?

HMMMMMMM… well right now I REALLY want to write either A or B, both quite strongly:

A: Heart-pounding romance where Harry and Draco cannot live without each other, like they will quite literally die if they are parted—OF BROKEN HEARTS 3 Like with feels and fluff and romance and love and adoration and grand gestures and sonnets and love letters and love defying all the odds.

B: Negan, the most villainous of sadistic villains, seducing and ravishing a barely-legal Carl Grimes.

12. For E-rated fic, what are some things your characters keep doing?

Giving each other hand jobs. Like, can they just have butt sex, please? And I would like to write more rimming but sadly, all I write is hand jobs. And like, desperate frotting. Idk why.

15: How long does it normally take for you to complete a fic?

Ha! It’s really random and depends entirely on my mood, because I have written shorter things in a few days. But I will say on average, it takes me months to write something longer… not that I have completed many longer, plottier things. So for example, Terms of Endearment I wrote in 1 day and edited the next day, but that is because it was short. Fest fics force me to write fast but if I ever complete them, I usually feel like they are rushed at the end and I wish I could have written more to round them out better (ie, You Cannot Save People). So, I am still working on it, but generally it takes me a really long time (also because I don’t want fandom to take precedence in my life and I take many breaks for real life stuff, especially work tbh). Another example: I have been writing this one drarry fic about Draco finding himself in a situation where he has to wear a maid’s uniform and all kinds of lingerie… for over a year! Not consistently, like I have stopped for months. But I need to pick it up again because it has actually been a whole year. My original m/m slash novel I have “been writing” for like 2 years *CRIES*

Fandom asks!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13 14 15

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