I'm just an author...

Multimuse featuring characters and OCs from Doctor Who, Sherlock, the X-Files, and more

[imjustanauthor]

Active since February, 2012. Crossover friendly with alternate versions of franchises and other fandoms. IM to plot

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[ladiesandwitches]

"A replacement?" Scully repeated, not sure whether she was feeling scepticism or horror more. Either way it sounded like something straight out of Stephen King novel and she'd never had any desire to be a female protagonist in any of his work; too few answers and too many female deaths.

"So if that were true, Mulder, then that would mean everyone in that ridiculous English Pub yesterday knew we had been in there and had failed to be taken by the scarecrow. Would those men really have answered our questions so freely if that was the case?"

Scully hated to admit it, even privately to herself, but the unsettling experience in the maze, whatever that had been in there, had her considering Mulder's theory more than she normally would, and she was only hoping her logic would hold out.

"I'm saying we have coffee and breakfast, and then we do our research at the library's archives. If we're going in there, Mulder, whatever it is we need to do, I want to be prepared." Heading around to the passenger side of their car, Scully gave her partner a wry look. "But I've no intention of being anyone's replacement."

[imjustanauthor]

Mulder shrugged. "If you can take inspiration from your aunt's stories, then I don't see why I can't take inspiration from The Wicker Man," he replied.

Why couldn't the whole town be in on it? Just because it had happened in a movie didn't mean that it couldn't happen in real life too! After all, they'd seen it before - or had Scully so quickly forgotten that town with a chicken processing plant and a spreading prion disease? They'd answered their questions there too, but that hadn't stopped them from continuing with their nefarious plans.

Research sounded good. Coffee sounded better. Scully was right; they needed to be prepared. Delving into the history of the town would be interesting. Really, there was no way they could lose with it! Whether or not their efforts dug up anything useful, the scarecrow still existed. If they found mention of it in their history, it would be fascinating. If they didn't, it'd be a bit more irritating, but it'd still be just as fascinating. Either way, they were going to learn something new.

When they were back in the office, perhaps he'd make a slideshow about the case...

"Don't worry, Scully, I don't think anyone could ever claim you were a mere replacement," Mulder said as he climbed into the driver's seat. He flashed her a small smile - the expression akin to a smirk in his own typical fashion - before clicking his seat belt into place and starting up the car.

"Coffee first," he confirmed as he pulled out onto the road, "then the library. We'll go to that diner we passed on the way into town last night."

[brittunculii]

Arthur was home by eight that morning. He’d slept badly on the plane, and the tedious drive from Heathrow drew out the end of a long, slow month. The post had piled up in his absence, and he worked through most of it by ten. He then spent two hours on the phone with Charles, going over what had been happening domestically while he was away. It was the weekend, at least, and since meeting Charlie, Arthur had started to take those seriously. He ate something, changed out of his travel clothes, and occupied himself around the house as he awaited his ill-advised mortal lover's arrival.

Five weeks was a long time to be separated, though this was hardly a thought Arthur ever expected to be indulging. He was rarely in the habit of missing people; centuries of practice saw to that, but Charlie had somehow dismantled this with very little effort. A month away from him felt different from the solitude Arthur had previously resigned himself to—less empty, and more filled with wanting.

The video calls had hardly helped matters. Charlie appeared on a screen every night, entirely sincere in the belief that putting himself on display would make up for the distance. Stripped, flushed, and doing exactly as he was told, holding off until Arthur said otherwise, working himself to the edge and back again while Arthur sat three thousand miles away, tormented by the fact that he could not touch him. And then, in the final weeks, he had taken to keeping his shirt on despite Arthur’s demands, which Arthur read as deliberate provocation. Charlie knew how Arthur liked to watch the marks slowly fade from his skin, knew exactly what the sight of his body did to him, and seemed to have taken satisfaction in the withholding of it.

He had not slept around while he was gone. He didn’t do that anymore. It took some adjustment at first; Arthur wasn’t, historically, a man who had ever had particular cause to exercise that kind of restraint, but he found that he could not put up with any more guilt over Charlie. Ashamedly, Arthur used drugs to get through the worst of the trip instead—the constant travel, negotiations, and the performance of being exactly where and what everyone needed him to be all the damned time. He wasn’t in a bad state, but a certain fatigue had settled behind his eyes and would not lift, sleep doing nothing to ease it. There was no reason to mention this to Charlie however; his immortal constitution meant that it could easily pass for jet lag. It was what it was—a month's worth of uncomfortable pinning on top of an already demanding trip, but he was home now, Charlie was almost here, and Arthur fully intended to make up for the lost time.

Charlie eventually let himself inside with Churchie at his heels, and Arthur came through from the kitchen to meet them. The dog went for him immediately, beside himself at the sight of his master. He tended to Churchill first, then to Charlie. It was barely ten minutes into the reunion before the other said he had something to show him and reached for the buttons of his shirt, which gave Arthur brief pause. Not unwillingly—only an observation that even by his standards this was fast. An amused grin pulled at his lips as he watched the garment fall to the floor, his slightly red-rimmed eyes moving over him hungrily, and then widening as sudden recognition hit.

Arthur’s own words, written in his own hand in that distinctive malachite green, set directly over Charlie’s heart.

So long mine heart lay in a lonely mist till thou cam’st changed, and in thy changing found; thine love, offered blind, knowing not what bliss thou didst bestow on this drear soul, made kind. ⸺ A. Kirkland.

He had wanted Charlie to have it; it seemed, at the time, the closest thing to the truth he could give him, but he had not expected this. He did not expect to see those words now, branded on Charlie’s skin like some mark of ownership.

"You're having me on, aren’t you?" Arthur said, the words close to pleading as he reached for him, pressing his thumb hard into the writing on his chest, as though it might scrub away under pressure. Arthur had left his mark on people before, in ways they did not choose and could not refuse, dressed up in finer language than it was. Right now, despite Charlie having done it out of his own volition, it felt no different. Arthur could not stop the guilt from flooding over him. Oh God—what had he done? He’d utterly mislead this man.

He watched the skin redden beneath his own persistence, but his poetry remained fixed there. A promise of forever etched across Charlie’s heart, when Arthur was in no position to offer anything of the sort. “This is permanent,” he sputtered, dumbfounded. “Charlie, what were you thinking!?”

[imjustanauthor]

It was not the reaction Charlie had been expecting. He had thought - had hoped - that Arthur would see what he had done and find himself overwhelmed with feeling in response to such a clear display of devotion, and then perhaps that they might spend some time indulging in the raw emotion it created while they refamiliarised themselves with each other's bodies. He had not expected to be hit instead with a pain in his chest, both physical and metaphorical, only heightened as Arthur pushed into the still tender flesh before him until his touch turned it an irritated red.

With a hiss of pain, Charlie's hands rose on instinct to grab the other man's wrist and pull him away. For a moment, the sharp feeling had at least worked to distract him from the troubled disbelief in Arthur's tone, but that couldn't last forever. His face had already fallen in response to the pain, his excitement along with it, and the expression only continued to shrink away as the reaction he'd received started to register.

As he was prone to, and perhaps as a defensive reaction, the upset he felt as a result of his lover's rejection swiftly morphed into indignation. Of course he knew it was permanent! Despite what was apparently popular belief, he wasn't an idiot. He was still perfectly capable of coherent thought and could make informed decisions for himself, thank you very much!

And why would it be a joke? What was so unbelievable about his display of love? Arthur felt the same way in return. Charlie knew that. Okay, so maybe he didn't say as much with his words in any simple way, but the poem's meaning had been clear enough, and he other man's body and behaviour spoke wonders about his thoughts. When it came to declaring his love, it was only his ability to say it in basic terms that fell short, but that was okay. Arthur had his reasons for his silence and Charlie accepted that. He didn't mind navigating around the lingering effects of past damage, and anyway, it was hardly like he didn't bring any complications of his own to the relationship, was it?

Under any other circumstance, the hold on Arthur's wrist would have inevitably transitioned into an attempt to entangle their fingers together for a while. However, instead of trying to take his hand, Charlie found himself pushing Arthur's arm away and dropping it, making no further attempt to continue the connection as his sparking temper took over.

"What do you think I was thinking?"

So what if it was permanent? When Charlie imagined his future, it was never without Arthur by his side. They were going to be forever. In a decade's time, when Arthur was still an important man with a diary full of international travel, and Charlie had recalibrated the trajectory of his own career, he was going to be able glance down and see the words on his chest to remind himself that their time apart was only temporary. And later, when they were both grey and enjoying retirement together, the stanza would still remain etched in place, as unchanged as their relationship.

Besides, if he was going to have anything scratched into his skin, at least he had got something meaningful. Who was Arthur to comment on his choice of tattoo when he'd chosen to decorate himself with a guitar? Sure, he liked music, but that hardly seemed important enough to warrant modifying his body. And how about that ship on his chest? Compared to what Charlie had chosen, it seemed out of place. In fact, Arthur's whole collection seemed disjointed. What had he been thinking when he'd got them? At least Charlie's tattoo had significant meaning behind it, and he wasn't planning on turning himself into a haphazard patchwork of ideas by adding anything else.

The question of what he had been thinking was more warranted than he would admit, though. The fact of the matter was that Charlie hadn't been thinking - not in any way that actually considered the ramifications of his decision, anyway. Now the question had been raised, a small voice in the back of his mind finally managed to make itself heard. Maybe he should have talked to Arthur about the tattoo first. If he'd done that, maybe he would have liked it. They could have picked the words together, and they could have spent hours deciding exactly where to place them. It would have been something belonging to them both rather than a decision Charlie had made alone. That would have made it a better symbol of their relationship.

Was that why Arthur wasn't reacting like he should? Because he would have preferred it to be something else? Or, instead, because he felt left out of the process?

The wave of irritation that had overcome Charlie passed as quickly as it had arrived, replaced instead by the dejected feeling that came from being unable to deny that his gift had not been as well received as he had hoped it would be. In all his time knowing Arthur, he'd never been able to successfully mask his emotions, and a look of hurt was evident in his entire being as he bent down to pick his shirt up and pull it back on.

"I thought you'd like it," Charlie mumbled as he began fumbling with the buttons. "It seemed like a nice idea. The thought of it made me happy..."

[multipleoccupancy]

The eyeroll was blatantly obvious and he'd not even made an attempt to hide it, Lorenzo just watched patiently and waited for him to respond verbally, sensing one would come and he didn't have to wait long. He chuckled warmly at the questions.

"I have many travels to make across l'globo," he was a busy man after all. "After I am done en your York-shire, I will be going back home at last." He smiled but then cast a more thoughtful look over Charlie. "I am sorry that we could no' come to see you sooner, would you have preferred that en the hospitale?" He doubted it, "People they panic when a priest comes ento a room like that too," he tried to reason but really given Charlie was not possessed, he didn't need to know the Vatican had worried his miraculous recovery was a demon in his head.

A more patient little laugh escaped him at his comment on his mother, taking a sip of the coffee again and looking out across the park.

"You know, people feel their connection differently," Lorenzo began gently, "You do no' want to go to church, that es ok, you live, you talk to strangers who turn up en your office, you buy him coffee," he toasted his cup to him but not for a connection, just an acknowledgement. "These things they are small but show en you a thoughtfulness, you do no' have to speak to Dio to still feel him. He es en what good you do and loves you anyway." Priestly, used to this talk of course but he was more careful with Charlie, he was a little more volatile than others.

"Your name, Lazarus, given what you have been through, I am no' surprised your madre thinks you should look to Dio."

[imjustanauthor]

Well... Okay, maybe that was a good point. Charlie probably wouldn't have appreciated a hospital visit too much. Unsurprisingly, things had been very confusing for him at that point. A severe brain injury had guarantee that, and an induced coma had only made it worse. It had taken for his memory to start to work again, but with that had come the ability to dwell on his situation and start to notice the changes that had occurred. Resentment had quickly followed.

A visit from a priest may have changed that. If someone could have seen him before that stage, perhaps he'd have never started down the thought path that had led to his disillusionment with the church. He'd been a new person at that point. In many ways, he still was. Instead of panicking, Charlie didn't find it too hard to imagine that he might have latched onto the chance to be offered answers instead.

But it was too late for that now. Charlie had decided on his own answers, and they included the fact that if an almighty being was willing to let such terrible things happen to him, then he shouldn't see anything of worth in them.

"Yeah, it's almost like fate, isn't it?" Charlie muttered in response to the comment about his name. The same had been said on one of the days where his parents had dragged him along to church with them. It hadn't been malicious - just someone trying to comfort a man who clearly needed it - but, in the moment, it had felt so infuriating. Charlie's response hadn't been kind. It had been an angry torrent of emotion which had resulted in his parents having to make countless apologies for him as they tried to explain that the mood swings couldn't be helped and his words shouldn't be taken seriously. In hindsight, that was regretful, and he had ensured that he apologised himself once he realised that, but on the positive side, it had at least meant that he'd been left at home on Sunday for a good few weeks afterwards.

That wasn't something Charlie wanted to talk about, though. What he wanted to talk about was absolutely anything else, and he quickly found himself trying to work out what exactly that could be. He could start recommending things to do in Yorkshire? Or talk about how nice is it to go home? Actually, no, that wasn't a good idea. That could get shot back at him, which wasn't ideal seeing as his home didn't really feel like anything of the sort anymore. So, how about-

Oh, actually, he had an idea! A good idea, too. One that could be useful for more than just idle chatter.

"Hey, you must speak better Latin than me, right? Before you leave London, I don't suppose you'd have a look at some evidence I've got in an old case I've been given? It must have slipped through the cracks because it's definitely one of those weird ones that I'm supposed to hand off to this other department, but I reckon I have some ideas about it so I want to see if I can give it a shot myself first. Would you mind? It shouldn't take long. It's just some old documents they found on the victim."

And some phrases carved into the victim's skin, but Charlie reckoned it was best not to lead with that.

[imjustanauthor]

@brittunculii (@ Arthur)

Charlie was not being particularly respectful of Arthur's car as he leant against it, two hands excitedly tapping the bonnet in no particular rhythm as he waiting for the other man to join him. To give him his dues, though, it could be worse. When he'd first started waiting, he'd gone to try and sit on it, before quickly remembering the scolding Arthur had given him the last time he'd tried that and correcting the behaviour before anything ended up damaged. A dent in the car would have been a surefire way to put a damper on the evening before it even began, so Charlie definitely wanted to avoid that - extra so considering what day it was!

By his feet sat a paper bag, bunched up tissue paper sticking out of the top. Personally, he thought it looked rather neat! He reckoned he'd done a good job with the present, too. It wasn't anything particularly fancy, mind you. The problem Charlie had immediately faced upon trying to decide on a birthday present for Arthur was the fact that, when it came to physical goods, the man seemed to either have everything he wanted already, or his tastes were so expensive that they made even Charlie stop and rethink the purchase. Originally, he'd wanted to buy him a bottle of something he seemed fond of, but after searching for some of the labels on a variety of online shops, he had quickly determined that they were more than a little out of his price range. So, what to buy instead? He'd had a few ideas, but they'd all be forgotten when he'd passed by a charity shop and spotted something absolutely perfect in the window.

It was a teapot. One of those silly novelty teapots that were probably never meant to be used and were in no way practical, but looked amusing on a shelf. It had caught Charlie's eye because it looked exactly like the cottage. Well, okay, it didn't look exactly like it, but it looked a lot like it. Certainly close enough that he thought it made for a great gift. Add in dinner together followed by the rest of the evening in each other's company and it was shaping up to be quite the nice, quiet birthday celebration.

There were flowers too, of course. As soon as Charlie spotted Arthur walking towards the car, he snatched them off the bonnet and hid them behind his back in an attempt to keep them a surprise. He'd picked them up on his lunch break from a proper looking florist. Aware that Arthur liked to assign meaning to the different types of flowers, he'd even specifically asked for a bunch that represented something both romantic and celebratory. Whether the florist had managed to do that, though, Charlie wasn't too sure. He'd tried googling some of the flower meanings once he was back at his desk, but there had been some conflicting information and eventually he'd given up on the translation. Still, they were pretty, and wasn't that the only thing that mattered in the end?

At Arthur's approach, he couldn't control the grin that broke out across his face. There was no question about his happiness at seeing him, nor his excitement for the evening. It was going to be nice, Charlie had decided, to do something for Arthur. He deserved a display of appreciation, no matter how small it was.

"Hi," he greeted, "did you have a good day at work?" Charlie pulled the flowers out from behind his back and held them out for Arthur to take. "I got these for you, and-" he picked up the paper bag "-this too. Happy birthday!"

[multipleoccupancy]

Taking his Father's name in vain, Lucifer cracked a smile at first but then laughed along with the comparison and talk of common sense. He did find it humorous at least and Dallas for better or worse now certainly had The Devil's attention as he missed his question and moved on instead to the idea of agreeing to invite him over. That had been easier than expected but Lucifer didn't let on any sort of malicious glee, instead he took a sip of his whiskey and laughed. "You might have wished you had, I'm more a rifle man than a handgun guy," he leaned into the rich upper class look he had going for him.

But he acknowledged the invitation, "Sure, I'd appreciate that," confirmation and now it was said, it was not something Dallas could back out of in Lucifer's mind. He'd be turning up there regardless. Though the idea of catching rattlesnakes took him by surprise and Lucifer gave a hesitant nod, "Sure, I can give it a go or at least get you to a hospital if things go wrong." He would not be doing that, why bother?

"Maryland," Lucifer answered for his home state, though it was pulled at random, it was meant as an affront to its namesake in any available opportunity to insult those on the other side of morality. But it also served a second purpose given it was the state that nearly surrounded Washington D.C. "Born and raised, but you're a Texas man through and through?" For obvious reasons but he wanted to see if Dallas would reveal he worked in Washington or not, hardly a test and more a curiosity.

[imjustanauthor]

With drinks in his present and the promise of guns and rattlesnakes in his near future, Dallas was a very happy man. He raised his glass to Nick's agreement before promptly draining it, slamming it down on the bar, and requesting another.

"I've been to Maryland... I think." In that moment, aided by the alcohol, Dallas wasn't quite sure. Geography had never been his strong point (nor had any other academic subject). He knew his states, of course, and he knew that D.C. was next to it, but he couldn't remember if it was its own thing or part of Maryland - or, for that matter, part of Virgina instead! Either way, though, he must have been there at some point, right? Even if only to go to a bar a little more out of town, or a store, or something like that.

In fact, he must have definitely been to Maryland because he'd been been all over the country with work. After accompanying Bush all those years, he reckoned he must have been to all of the states.

But whatever the case, he couldn't remember anything about the place, so it can't have been all that good. Still, Nick was interesting enough. Just went to show that everywhere had some positives, didn't it? Other than Detroit, anyway. Nothing good ever happened up there.

"Mhm, cut me open and I'd probably bleed Texas," Dallas agreed. "From around here near enough, actually. Didn't wander far. Now don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of travelin' too. I've been to places that'd take your breath clean away and done things that'd make your boots shake, I always find my way back home, y'know?"

[multipleoccupancy]

Moriarty did not find the joke funny but he saw the opportunity to appear personable and receptive to his personality and indeed his condition of which a man like Moriarty would thoroughly enjoy taking advantage of. He managed a laugh as the joke, his teeth showing and eyes light as if it was indeed a clever quip.

The suggestion that showing him the case files was already an indication of trust and also a habit frowned upon at least told Moriarty that Charlie was not too scared of breaking a few rules now and then. He would work on that, test the limits carefully and subtly, feign ignorance for mild illegal acts or incorrect procedures. "I see, I will be mindful but I figured this informal consult would be confidential." He tried to reassure him, "call it a test run," a smile as he handed back the case files, he didn't need to see them again but he knew it would look better showing he was conscious that it was best he wasn't the one caught with them in his office.

"If there is anything you should need from me to help those papers, by all means you should only say so." He promised while he sat back in his chair and relaxed, knowing full well that background check would come up gleaming. "I do hope we will be able to work together... officially," he smiled and tried not to think too fondly of his comment to Holmes. "When would those papers be cleared by? Provided that we're still correct in that there's no standing orders against the Irish of course?" A smile and a chuckle as he shot Charlie's joke back to him.

[imjustanauthor]

A test run, yes! And one that was, in Charlie's opinion, proving to be pretty successful so far! He wasn't an idiot; he knew that he shouldn't actively talk about breaking the rules. In fact, he was of the opinion that people shouldn't be breaking the rules in the first place!

At the same time, though, the part of his brain that prevented he himself from breaking them was no longer fully intact. He knew what he was doing and he was doing it for the right reasons, so why shouldn't he take a few liberties here and there? Was it hypocritical of him? Yes, but Charlie didn't see it that way. To be quite honest, he didn't see it in any way at all. Having a hole in your head tended to cause your internal logic to become somewhat wonky, and he was far from an exception to this.

Charlie laughed back at Moriarty. If the joke was being returned, then it had clearly been appreciated! Good. When people were nothing but serious, they didn't seem to work with him so well, although he wasn't sure why, yet again oblivious to his own behaviour. Another result of his injury was anosognosia - the inability to recognise the effects of the damage done to him. This wasn't always the case, but it happened often enough that he'd be concerned if he could accept what people told him what he was missing.

"I reckon I can get it sorted out within the next few weeks. I don't think I'll be able to push it through as a priority, but someone like you must have had background checks done before, right? So hopefully they can reference them to speed it up."

In the meantime, if they needed to get on with things, there'd be no issue with just doing it on the sly, would there? By all reports (other than that of Sherlock Holmes), Professor Moriarty was an upstanding citizen. What harm could it do to continue to work with him?

"I'll give you a call when I've got confirmation and we can arrange another meeting. Why don't you come down to London next time? Only if you have time, of course, but it would mean easier access to resources. We can always see what works nearer the time, though."

[imjustanauthor]

"Answer me this: how far does your loyalty go?" Lucifer for Jeremiah

The Horus Heresy Sentences, Vol. 1

Over the course of his career, Jeremiah had been asked many strange questions by tourists in the woods. Usually, they revolved around his work, at least to some degree. Where are the nearest toilets? Can we stroke the bears? Why can't we light our portable BBQ here? That sort of thing. It was rare, though, for them to immediately jump to the personal.

"Oh. Um..."

What was he supposed to say? What kind of question was that, anyway? Were people just asking each other these things now? All things considered, though, it wasn't the strangest thing Jeremiah had ever been asked, and it certainly wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever experienced. Maybe that was why he found himself wandering closer to the stranger to continue the conversation despite the somewhat off nature of it.

"I guess it depends on who I'm being loyal to?" He replied, one hand awkwardly adjusting his park ranger's hat as he spoke. "It's a different type of loyalty between your brother and your boss, isn't it? And then I suppose those personal loyalties are also different to the bigger, more conceptual loyalty of a general one to our fellow man and the world around us..."

As he trailed off, Jeremiah began glancing around, checking the clearing they were in to see if there was anyone else nearby. This wasn't one of those secret filming TV shows, was it? No one was hidden behind the trees somewhere? Actually, no, it couldn't be a show, could it? Not an official one, anyway. You had to have permission to film in the park, and he hadn't been notified of anybody having done that for the day.

So, no hidden cameras. Maybe the guy was just strange? Jeremiah could hardly judge; he was strange too.

[multipleoccupancy]

"Do you want to know how many hours I've been awake? 87 hours!" Jeremiah @ Killian

Tired Sentences Vol 4

That seemed like a terribly long time to go without sleep. While he understood that disorders came in all forms for agents he dreaded to think what one around sleeping would be like. Should he maybe knock him out or would that make it worse? Was something hunting him in his dreams or was it a case of something in the waking world?

"You must be exhausted," because no one could function on that long without sleep. "Is it that there's a problem in your sleep or are you worried about something coming for you while you sleep?" One he understood more than the other and could at least help with, supposedly anyway.

"If it's the latter, I don't mind keeping watch while you get some sleep, I'm a vigilant guy," Killian managed a smile, "Do you have some sleeping pills or something to help you too? We can go to a pharmacy if you need?"

[imjustanauthor]

Oh, if only it were as simple as that. Jeremiah's sleep habits weren't predictable. There was no single reason behind his inability have a restful night, nor did there seem to be a reliable cure. Having somebody keep watch definitely didn't help. If it did, then Dog could do the job, but even his presence didn't always help.

Jeremiah did have some sleeping pills, but he shook his head anyway. "They don't always work," he explained. Despite the exhaustion, eyes were wide and continuously flicking back and forth, as if he were watching for something he couldn't quite see. At what point did people start hallucinating due to lack of sleep? It had to be soon, right? Jeremiah would really avoid that if he could. Considering the things he'd seen and done, he dreaded to think what horrors his subconscious mind could up given the chance.

"Sometimes I have bad dreams, sometimes I'm worried about what may be nearby. Sometimes I can hear things nearby, and sometimes I see them. I like those times the least. If I had to pick, I'd rather just have the nights where there doesn't seem to be a reason for it all and I just can't drop off, I think."

There were probably other causes too. To tell the truth, Jeremiah didn't really keep track anymore. Not sleeping had become as much a part of his life as anything else. No point in spending time thinking about it when it wasn't something he could fix, was there?

"I think maybe this time it's because of the coyotes. I've been thinking about them a lot, you know? It really worries me. I mean, I don't actually want to be one, do I? That would be really bad, and-"

Jeremiah suddenly cut his own rambling off, a thought seemingly coming to him. His eye fell back on Killian, a serious look in them.

"If you ever think I'm not me, you need to check how many toes I've got, okay? I've only got nine."

[multipleoccupancy]

He should have been expecting that he supposed, Dallas had the look of a cowboy and certainly seemed to fit into the stereotype, it made sense that he had grown up idolising John Wayne and Clint Eastwood in their epic westerns. While Edgar certainly had some fanciful adventures of his own which he couldn't share with Dallas even if he wanted to, he could see how it was a young fatherless boy would end up wanting to emulate the characters in those films. Edgar nodded his understanding and offered him a smile as he moved between the pans again, thinking how life might have been different for Dallas if he had been there after all.

"Things always hit people differently and the loss of someone you look up to at a young age isn't going to be easy to digest," especially if he had come to think of John Wayne as his pseudo father figure. He felt guilty in some way but as ever with Edgar, it was easy for him to shrug off, he didn't know so how could he have possibly done anything about it? He was there now that he did know and that was good, right?

"I'll know what to get you for Christmas now then," he mused with the idea of just collecting remastered DVDs of the westerns he seemed to have enjoyed. "We can watch some together actually, you can show me how it was cowboys always rode off into the sunset on their own." He cracked another smile and moved the veg onto a pair of plates. "Not much of a film buff I'll admit," cinema had not really interested him given the exciting life he had lead already. "But that can change with some good drink and company, an easy habit to fall into."

Edgar moved the steaks onto the plates next and paid attention to their positioning and just how much of the juice went with them, watching the meat absorb just that last bit off of the plate before they would be ready to serve. "My father was a senior accounts manager for a defence company," Dallas might as well know about his grandfather, "I know it's not the sort of thing that sounds glamourous, but we travelled a lot when I was a child, picked up some of the languages too, French, Spanish, Arabic," he listed off, missing a few out. "My parents both died when I was eleven, I had to navigate the rest by myself."

He gently pushed Dallas' plate towards him to collect and offered a small shrug, "I'm sorry you grew up without a father in your life, but you've found your own way, you've done just fine on your own."

[imjustanauthor]

Watching movie together did sound like a nice activity. Dallas had never been too into cinema himself - not outside of his specific favoured genre - but he'd been watching some with Ethan, and they were usually pretty fun. Sure, sometimes the company was better than whatever story they were watching unfold, but that was all part of family, right?

"I've got me a DVD player back in D.C, y'know. You could come over to mine," Dallas suggested. His flat in the capital was a lot nicer than his run down ranch. It was even tidy and everything! Admittedly, that had a lot to with how little time he spent there - his life in the city mainly filled with work - but what did that really matter when Edgar seemed to work a lot too?

Dallas was interested to hear about what he supposed were his grandparents, though the concept was an alien one to him. Obviously his mother had parents too, but he'd never met them. In fact, they'd never even been mentioned, which he'd never questioned too much but did make a lot more sense now he knew she used to be a spy. Presumably, she was in hiding for some reason. Dallas wanted to know more, but there was no point in asking her. Even if she happened to remember, the information was presumably top secret.

Truth be told, though he supposed there were benefits to travelling as a child, Dallas found himself glad that he'd strayed in one place. His childhood hadn't been a perfect one, but at least he'd felt as though he belonged. Had Edgar felt the same? Maybe, but even if he did, it must have been more difficult.

"Oh, there's no need to apologise. Not like you knew I was alive, is it? 'Cause if you'd known, you'd have been there for me, right?"

Dallas did not know that as a fact. He was making assumptions based on the reality he wanted. It like like there was evidence to support his theory, though. Edgar looked after Ethan well, didn't he? Arguably too well, judging by his brother's lack of motivation to make anything more of himself, but that was another conversation for another time. So, if he'd known that he had another son, then he'd have looked after him too, wouldn't he? It just made sense that way!

As he spoke, he moved around the kitchen to pull cutlery out of a drawer and drop them onto the small table in the corner of the kitchen. The steaks looked good! They smelt good too, and Dallas was eager to try his!

"If your folks passed when you were a kid, then what did you do after?" He asked with honest curiosity as he moved his plate to the table, pausing to thank Edgar for it after picking it up, and took a seat. "Why'd they die, anyway?"

[livedtough]

"Worse than unlikely," he agreed. "A waste of everyone's time, and we'd get laughed out of the building." Of course, after so long, there wouldn't be a single thing for any dog to find. If Sebastian couldn't find it, a dog wouldn't, and both he and the dogs were still shackled by the facts of passing time. No, dogs wouldn't do anything for them. He knew that, and it was obvious when he'd suggested it, but that didn't make it any less frustrating to admit. Maybe...he didn't know. Maybe there was something they could dig up, but with what scent? The poor girl had been gone for too long. His heart broke for her, for the possibility that they wouldn't be able to help her. She was gone, and nothing they could do would be able to bring her back, but they could give her the dignity of being found.

Sebastian felt the same way that Charlie did, frustrated and lost, but it wasn't the first time he'd felt that way, and it wouldn't be the last. It was, unfortunately, a part of the job. There would always be losses, but it was their job to continue, to push on and get past it. Hopefully, together, they could.

And he did have faith. Not faith in any higher power--though he did, in a strange and complicated way, have that, too--but faith in himself, and faith in Charlie. He didn't know the entirety of the man's history, or any of it, really, but he still had his badge, and he still had his instinct, and that was enough for Sebastian. They'd figure it out. Charlie had the instinct to come to him, and that counted for something. He'd given Sebastian no reason to doubt him, and until that happened, which he didn't think it would, he would continue to believe in him.

For all of that, though, Sebastian's eyes were not on Charlie. He didn't see his frustration, though he did hear the sound of the kicked rock, his head turning to it, excited until he realized it was Charlie. Maybe he should have asked, should have realized that there was something deeper bothering him, but he didn't. There was enough frustration to be felt in general about this that he didn't realize it was anything else.

He was right, though, that they should have brought the papers. Though it was good to get an idea of what they were looking at, to get something of a base of just what it was they were looking at. He nodded, exhaling softly. "Probably should have. But we know what we're looking at now. Let's go back, and we can use what we've got to see if we can connect any dots."

[imjustanauthor]

With a frustrated sigh, Charlie stopped on the spot and turned around. Well, at least they hadn't walked too far yet. It wouldn't take long to get back to the car, so the day hadn't been completely wasted. Not yet, anyway.

What would they do next, though? Return to the car, retrieve the files, and then... What? As much as Charlie hated to admit it, this had been his only real idea. He'd known it had been unlikely to turn up anything new, of course, but with no other leads in mind, what else was he supposed to do?

Needless to say, the lack of knowing what to try next was doing little to reduce Charlie's irritated state. It wasn't helping his need to prove himself either, but in all reality, there wasn't really anything that could fix that particular problem. There wasn't a way back to the place he'd been before. Charlie was lucky to have got his job back at all, and now he was stuck in place - held where he was by a head injury that was never going to get better.

Maybe Sebastian would have an idea about their next steps. It had to be said, it was nice to be working alongside another person again. The company was appreciated, and the ability to bounce ideas off another person even more so.

"So you're thinking we get the files, hope there are photos of the forest, then we go back in and try to find the same spots to see if they're different?"

It was another long shot. If there were photos of whatever search had occurred in the woods, they wouldn't cover the whole thing. If their luck so far was anything to go by, there'd be photos of everything except the area they needed.

"There must be an easier way to go about this, I'm just not sure what it is. I've spoken to the missing girl's friends and family - they all claim they've not heard from her. They could be lying, I guess, but I see no reason why they would. So, what else could we try?"

[crownmemes]

Caring & Reassuring Sentences, Vol. 10

(Sentences from various sources for muses that care for each other. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Just because something seems inevitable doesn't mean there isn't hope."

"I never want to see you hurt. Not even a bruise."

"You know, change can be a good thing. The future is a curious creature."

"You did your job, and you did it very well. For that, you should be proud."

"Just promise me that if you get lost, we get lost together?"

"I wasn't there to protect you once. I won't make that same mistake again."

"I don't want you to every give up, alright? Promise me you won't ever get bitter, or cynical, or tired?"

"I'm not your dad. I'm not going to do what he did."

"It's okay if you're scared right now. I know I am."

"Whatever's wrong with you is wrong with me too."

"I know you. I can see the real you."

"We're never alone. Don't you know that?"

"I promised to stay, and I will."

"I care about you. I want to make sure you're making the right decisions."

"You know, sometimes we think we have to do something, but we really don't."

"I know what it's like to be alone. Believe me."

"For whatever it's worth, I thought what you did today was pretty damn terrific."

"I wish I knew what to say to make it all better, but I don't have the answers. Nobody does."

"You've been looking behind you. Try looking ahead."

"This moment is not about me. It's about you."

"You are more than the stone and steel face you show the stars. You are allowed to be open."

"For me to help you, you're going to have to talk to me at some point."

"You know where I am if you need me, but don't leave it too late."

"When you think about this later, it'll just seem like some nightmare you had."

"Being frightened is a normal, natural human function, just like breathing. It's how you react to fright that really counts."

"You're okay. You just had a nightmare."

[crownmemes]

The Horus Heresy Sentences, Vol. 1

(Sentences from The Horus Heresy (2006-2024) and related stories. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"The difference between gods and demons depends on where one is standing at the time."

"A weapon doesn't question who it kills or why. That isn't the point of weapons."

"I have never quite come to terms with my status. I see what I am capable of, and what is expected of me, and I shudder. The mere fact of me frightens me sometimes."

"You have a very lovely voice. You could ask me to do anything."

"The truth can't be wrong, even if it is ugly."

"Are you saying that I bore you?"

"Some of the things you have told me sound like wonders, yet you yourself do not seem to wonder at them."

"Have you not seen things so bizarre they left you speechless?"

"There is no fundamental immutable evil in the cosmos. It is too large and sterile for such melodrama."

"I could give someone a bad name just by standing next to them."

"If I insulted you in any way, let me assure you, I meant it."

"Does it hurt? The truth you keep hidden?"

"Answer me this: how far does your loyalty go?"

"Did you not see the warnings I left?"

"Why have you tasked me with this? Why have you forsaken me? Why?"

"It is too hard. It is too much. Why did you leave me to do this on my own?"

"Have you ever known me to lose a fight?"

"You always want to be the first, don't you?"

"I am your sword. Tell me where to strike."

"What do you leave here for me that you don't dare bring me directly?"

"Will you follow me no matter what I do?"

"Common decency and civil behaviour are just a thin veneer over the animal at the core of mankind that gets out whenever it has a chance."

"Find some other gullible fool to seduce. I don't have time."

"It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shriek and groans of the dying who cry aloud for blood, vengeance, and desolation."

"If you think you can bully me with your bad manners and your high and mighty attitude, you can go to hell!"

"I usually make up my mind about someone in ten seconds, and I very rarely change it."

"You have a thinker's head on you, but wars are not won by thinkers. They are won by men of action."

"There's always room in my life for temptation. I count it a bad day if I'm not tempted by something or another."

"We are brothers, yes, but like all brothers, we squabble and seek to outdo one another."

"One should never see a drinking establishment well lit. It just makes them look even sadder."

"There is little of you that can still be called human, isn't there?"

"Only one person has a need to know what's the things inside my head, and that person is me."

"A sacrifice is not a sacrifice if it is not valued by the giver."

[multipleoccupancy]

Lorenzo just nodded his understanding as Charlie explained about his degree and career, fair enough he supposed, he had never personally looked into how anyone joined the police, it was in some way good to know and understand. There was no judgement though, he wasn't sure he'd have done anything in education if he had not gone through the church after all. "We do what we love, hm?" he smiled in response.

"Si, et was very interesting," he confirmed, more so than he thought others would consider, "I think people believe et es prayer and scripture studies and no learning how people work, how communities come together." Psychology in some sense but anthropology was more obvious. Lorenzo had certainly learned how to handle himself in that time, his jolly persona lingered after working out its what granted him access to things and people he supposedly wouldn't have in the past. Not that it was a barrier anymore.

He smiled when he revealed he had considered joining the church and he looked at him thoughtfully, he didn't think Charlie could be an exorcist but there were other roles in the church that might fit him perhaps. "Never too old to follow the call," he encouraged gently, no point in forcing it given Charlie had revealed he was already very disillusioned with the church.

Surprise crossed his face at Charlie's check what they were supposed to be talking about, in truth, Lorenzo already had his answer, Charlie was not possessed and he could in theory end his talk with him and head up to Yorkshire early. However, he didn't want to do that and as he stole another sip of his coffee he eyed him patiently considering his options.

"I come to see you are ok," he smiled and lowered his cup, "your story, et was in the news. I wanted to talk about what you went through."

[imjustanauthor]

Right. How people worked. The ways to subdue conflict and nudge people into confessing their secrets. It was something Charlie had to do in his own line of work, just as it was something that, now he thought of it, Lorenzo was presumably doing to him too.

They all did it, these priests. That was one of the reasons why Charlie didn't want to go to church anymore. He didn't want to feel like he was being placated, or gently herded in a specific direction because someone else thought it would be best for him. Everyone had been so kind to him after his injury. No matter how genuine - because it had been genuine, he knew that - it had felt stifling. In the end, Charlie had only been able to take so much talk of God's plan for him and how these events were a test, and of people treating him as though he were a broken thing to be pitied and nursed back to health.

He didn't manage to resist rolling his eyes in response to Lorenzo's comment about never being too old. In truth, Charlie didn't even try to resist. The action happened without thought, as had become the norm for him nowadays. Once again, he felt a wave of irritation wash over him. Why would he want to join the church now? Was it an attempt at a joke? If it was, then it wasn't a funny one.

"Right. And you thought it better to turn up now, once my life was back on track, rather than when the wound was still fresh?"

Not that he'd have appreciated a visit while he was in the midst of recovery, mind you. It was a bit of an odd decision though, wasn't it? Was his return to work the most interesting part of his story? Or had it just not been noticed until now?

Smile gone, one of Charlie's feet kicked at the dirt under the bench, grinding into it with clear frustration. "Mum'll be right glad to hear this, at least," he muttered. "Might complain about how you've not managed to work some magic on me and bring me back around again, mind you. It's not right to not want God anymore, she says."

[multipleoccupancy]

What he would have given to have Agent Scully in front of him too in that moment, it would have been easier to pull rank and send them away properly if she were there but Agent Mulder on his own did give off the run away dog at the beach situation. He was better keeping him close than shooing him away. "Then it seems we're both in luck," Theo responded all the same but it was not said with a smile, he was not happy about the situation, pretending or not.

He just raised an eyebrow which was admittedly partly hidden by his hat at Agent Mulder did not in fact hold back about his opinions on how extra-terrestrials interacted or manifested. Theo had of course seen the real deal for himself and while he couldn't be sure Mulder hadn't he knew he had to do his best not to appear not to take him seriously. The better he suggested he didn't believe in such things the more convincing his by-the-book stance on it would be while he did indeed do everything by the book for Delta Green.

Then came talk of the Men in Black and Theo pinched at the bridge of his nose in some frustration. It was going to be a long cover up and he wondered if he would have to hand everything over to another Delta Green agent so that he could secure the cover up story.

"I appreciate your input Agent Mulder, but I have to stress again how important it is that you keep your head out of the clouds on this one." He dropped his hand and looked to him seriously, "A light doesn't indicate that there's some sort of alien or whatever, here in reality, it means either a torch or a vehicle." It was in some ways hard to lie to Mulder given he worked so hard to find the truth, he was no enemy to Theo but in this case he had to do as the mission needed.

"I encourage you to speak up when you think of something," he then added on, "I'll take what you say into consideration but you have to accept this is my case," corporate speak, he was fluent in it as he assessed Mulder in front of him. "We rule out human involvement first, because she's been taken and could be half way across the country by now, I don't and can't waste time. Is that understood?"

[imjustanauthor]

"Whatever you say, boss."

There was a dryness to Mulder's tone that could flawlessly accompany rolling his eyes. He managed to resist that, though, and, in fact, monotone was the man's default state when it came to tone of voice. It came through with the vast majority of situations - interest, happiness, even excitement. Not to say that Mulder wasn't being sarcastic, though. He was, only he wasn't putting much effort into it.

Sometimes, his cases did turn out to have normal explanations. These situations were unusual, but they did happen. Notably, there had been one case where even Scully had been wrong. He'd thought it was ghosts, she'd thought a cult. The reality? A lottery run by organised crime where if you lost, you paid in body parts.

Then again, though, somehow that sounded just as absurd as some of their other cases.

"How'd you want to start, then? Have you talked to the family yet?"

Of course, Mulder knew a thing or two about the mysterious disappearance of a child himself. The abduction of his sister, as well as his theory that she was taken by aliens, was no secret. His sister hadn't come home, though. Still, he'd find her one day. He had to.

More recently, Mulder had investigated a number of these cases over the course of his career. He had the files memorised, too. To be quite honest, Mulder thought himself the biggest asset Beneventi could possibly have for this investigation!

And it was an alien abduction. Even ignoring that was that Mulder had a hunch about it (and his hunches were usually right), what else could it reasonably be?

"Has a doctor looked at the marks on the kid yet? Checked for any implants?"

[il-mostrc]

The corner of Hannibal's mouth quirked upward into that asymmetrical smile of his. Fire. One of his favorite little amusements to display, though few were ever granted such a performance. It wasn’t a known topic; Mulder just so happened to be special enough to be privy to it now. After all, if humanity was destined to burn itself to ash eventually, why shouldn't he accelerate the process with his own particular talents? Even Mulder seemingly agreed to it all.

"True entertainment requires innate gifts," Hannibal remarked with casualness. He extended his open palm toward Mulder for inspection; no residue, no hidden mechanisms. He tugged at his cuff, demonstrating the absence of any concealed compartments that might explain the upcoming spectacle. With a twist of his wrist, he brought thumb to middle finger and snapped. A flame materialized between them. His fingers pinched, cradling the fire as it danced obediently at his fingertips.

"Observe," he stated, that telltale smile returning as his other hand mimicked the motion but instead of creating another flame, this gesture extinguished every light in the room. Only the single flame remained, casting Hannibal's features in dramatic shadow. He enjoyed Mulder enough that he wouldn’t snuff out his soul flame, no. There was intellectual conversation with him, something he had searched millennia to find: intellectual stimulation worthy of his attention.

It was harder to find than one would think.

[imjustanauthor]

For once in his life, Mulder didn't immediately jump to conclusions of the unnatural. Oh yes, magic was real - usually in the form of strange science or demonic ritual - but that didn't mean that every magic trick was automatically something otherworldly. Stage magicians still existed, and they were something that Mulder knew a bit about.

As a child, he'd been enamoured with the TV show The Magician. He'd been watching it the night his sister had been taken, and in the following days it had become so easy to throw himself into researching those types of illusion. It had been a distraction, but it had also been a way to convince himself that it had all been a trick. Samantha wasn't gone; it was all an illusion, and she'd come back laughing about it.

Of course, that hadn't been the case. That had become clear soon enough, but it hadn't been until years later, after trying hypnotic regression, that Mulder had discovered the truth of the night.

Inspecting Hannibal's hands with the eye of somebody who was familiar with what he was looking for, it was clear there was no sign of any device or other traditional method of summoning a flame. Hannibal's repetition of the trick further demonstrated this. It was at that point that the gears began to turn in Mulder's mind.

He'd met pyrokinetics before. The phenomenon had been recorded numerous times in a variety of circumstances. Could Hannibal be one? Were he talking to a stranger - not somebody Mulder had worked with - he wouldn't hesitate to say so. It was, after all, what the evidence was telling him. Hannibal seemed so normal, though.

Okay, sure, he was an eccentric. He lived in a dramatically lit house and his idea of dinner was like something out of a gothic novel. He wasn't a abnormal, though. He wasn't a monster.

But if that was true, then how was he doing the magic trick?

There was a long moment of silence before Mulder spoke. "How long have you been able to do this?" He decided to ask - playing it cool with one last chance for Hannibal to reveal it as all a trick. If he didn't... Well, Mulder wasn't sure what he would do. Ask questions, most likely, followed by getting excited about the prospect of knowing somebody with such a talent and not having to worry about needing to arrest them.

[multipleoccupancy]

"Mmhm, there are so many and often for the strangest things." Lucifer agreed comfortably, he hadn't bothered learning them all either though he had a good and accidental hand in creating a few of them. Which continued to amuse him centuries later.

He scoffed a laugh at the assumption and did indeed give a little gesture to himself, certainly not dressed for the country life, or at least not that country life anyway. "Hardly here in disguise," he teased gently and airily, "I just figured somewhere remote would be fitting but not so remote that there wasn't indoor plumbing, a bar and some good company," he pointed a finger around his whiskey glass at Dallas with a little nod his way for good measure.

Dallas was careful in what he revealed about his real job.... and the other one he did on the side. Lucifer of course was cheating in already knowing it all but he was more than happy to play along for now. "Sounds like there's a story in that, how'd you end up going from ranching to protection? Quite the leap. Are you perhaps some sort of gunslinger?" Another careful joke to play into Dallas' assumptions.

Lucifer was of course not actually on the run and was looking simply for an opportunity to cause some appropriate trouble to get humanity to doubt and if they committed a couple of the deadly sins along the way that was all the better. Dallas had his attention for now and he was sure he could have a good time messing around with him, newly converted and all.

"Something like that," Lucifer mused for why he was there, letting Dallas believe whatever he wanted. "Oh I don't know I would be much good at it," he didn't need a gun to make things explode, "not that I thought it's something I thought you did all day. You have to drink too right?" He couldn't help himself but he was smiling, enjoying the company and the 'banter'. "But let's say we have a few more drinks and then we can go and try just that," Lucifer leaned towards him, he smelled nice, refreshing but with just the hint of bonfire, as if he'd been sat in the smoke of one all day. "I'll even put down a bet on who's going to be the better shot."

[imjustanauthor]

There were, in fact, some houses in the area that didn't have indoor plumbing. Dallas had almost bought one when he'd moved out of his childhood home. After all, why not? It had been cheap, and he was going to be spending the vast majority of his time on the ranch where he'd managed to get a job anyway. Thankfully, his mother had talked him out of it. That was definitely a choice he'd have regretted later down the line!

Dallas didn't say any of this, nor did he respond to the question about how he'd moved into his current job. One of the things he'd always been taught back in the heyday of L-Cell was that it was wise to say as little as possible. Of course, Dallas had never been the best at doing that. He'd always been more prone to running his mouth with a half-planned cover story and hoping for the best than anything else, and recent experiences proved that nothing had changed in that regard. However, in this particular case, coincidence had it he'd been too busy laughing at the idea of being some kind of old-time gunslinger to say anything he shouldn't.

"Now, if I know one thing 'bout gamblin'', it's that if a man tries to rope you into a bet, then you ain't got the common sense God gave a tangerine if you take it!"

Dallas was a good shot. That was undeniable. In a room, he could usually assume he was the best with a gun in there. That didn't mean he was the best in the world, though, and he still had enough of his wits to know that he shouldn't allow himself to be neither enticed nor goaded into making bets with a stranger!

However, apparently that good common sense didn't extend to inviting said strangers into his home. Why should it? If Nick tried to hurt him, then he'd have Nibbles to deal with!

"Sure, you can come on over to mine. Dunno if havin’ a few more drinks first is the best idea, but I can’t lie, it wouldn’t be nothin' I ain’t done before. You fancy tryin' to find some rattlesnakes too? Used to try catchin' 'em when I was a kid. Mama'd always say, 'Boy, you're fixin' to end up in the ground before your time!' but that never did stop me. You got rattlesnakes where you're from? Where'd you say you were from, anyway?"