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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years

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Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Chapter 2: Emma Swan

Emma sat on the plane with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. She had never felt so trapped in her entire life. She bit the inside of her cheek and her knee began to bounce nervously.

“Emma, everything is going to be alright.”

Emma glared at her mother. “Easy for you to say, you aren’t about to be a prisoner in the middle of the fucking ocean.”

“Don’t you dare talk to your mother with that language.”

Emma narrowed her eyes in her father’s direction. “Apologizes Mother.” The woman smiled sadly. “Happy now, Dave?” She added icily.

“Emma Grace Nolan!” She smirked; her father hated that she had begun calling him by his first name. A fact she took great pleasure in.

The pilot announced that they would be landing, and she turned toward the window, avoiding further conversation with her parents.

Growing up the heiress to the Nolan empire would have been a gift to anyone else, but Emma had always considered it a curse. Her entire life she had been expected to dress to perfection, act like royalty, and most importantly, never soil the family name.

“What’s your name?” “Wouldn’t you like to know!” “Girl, you are in a lot of trouble right now. You can tell me your name or not, either way I’m going to find out.” “Go to hell, officer.” “Have it your way.”

The jolt of the wheels touching down tore her from her thoughts. She closed her eyes, wishing she were anywhere but here.

“I can do this on my own.” She said defiantly as her parents followed her to the waiting limo.

“Not happening.” Her father nodded at the driver and opened the door, waiting for Emma to enter the car before sitting down beside her.

“This is ridiculous, I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“David.” Her mother scolded.

They rode the rest of the way in awkward silence. When Emma stepped out of the limo, she grabbed her mother by the arm. “If I have to do this the least you can do is let me go in alone.”

Her mother stared at her, and her face softened.

“Emma we just want you to get better. You’re sick.”

“Yeah, well I’m here right? I’m on an island I can’t escape from. What is the harm in letting me walk in there on my own?”

Her father grabbed her bags and started walking up the path to the center. “David.” He turned around, making his annoyance clear. “I think Emma can do the rest on her own.” He paused, looking between them both and then setting her bag down.

“Fine.”

She bent down and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Well, I’m off to prison.”

“Don’t think of it that way, Emma.” Her mother pleaded.

“Whatever.” She turned and walked away, not bothering to look back, choosing to ignore the pain on her mother’s face or the anger on her father’s that she knew was the mask he used to hide his concern.

She swung open the door to the center and walked up to the front desk. The man dressed in a security uniform looked up at her. He was gorgeous, but not the type of gorgeous she was used to seeing. Men in her circle knew they were good looking and with that brought the attitude and money to get any woman they wanted. He had a more down to earth sexy look that she didn’t see in the men she knew.

“Name, please.” He didn’t even bother to hold her gaze, he looked away and frowned.

“Emma Swan.”

“Say’s Nolan in my logbook.” He glanced at her and shrugged.

Emma groaned, ok gorgeous but annoying.

“Listen asshole, it’s Emma Swan. Update your damn records.”

She looked around anxiously as the man typed into his computer. Across the hall her gaze landed on the bluest eyes she had ever seen, staring holes into her. The corner of his lip turned upward into a cocky smirk. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” She cursed under her breath.

He strolled across the room toward her, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of his stare. “Haven’t met Regina yet, have you lass? No phones allowed; thus, I am forced to burn every naughty detail of you into my brain so that I may use it later...” He leaned closer to her ear; his breath hot against her skin. “for personal reasons.”

The guard at the desk cleared his throat. “Jones, I know it’s your first day, but rule #3 makes this entire exchange completely pointless.”

“Aye, but I still have one hand left to take care of matters myself.” He held up his hand, gesturing with his middle finger toward the guard. Only then did Emma notice the missing appendage on his left side, forcing her eyes to return to man who was drawing her ire.

“What’s rule #3?”

The man smirked and walked away from her. “Good luck, Miss Swan.”

The guard stood, “Ignore him, he’s still adjusting to his first day.” He walked out from behind the desk, Emma was quick to notice that this man obviously worked out. Wonderland certainly didn’t seem to be short on attractive men, no matter how aggravating they were, at least it had great scenery. “Let me take you to Regina, this way.”

“Regina?”

“She’s the manager of WRC. She’ll go over the rules with you.”

“Like rule #3?”

“Ah yes, the no sex rule.”

Emma’s eyes widened, before she was ushered into the large office.

“Regina, I have a new patient. Emma Nolan.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.” She corrected. At least the annoying jerk with the amazing blue eyes and sexy swagger got her name right, even if he was mocking her while using it correctly.

“Please sit.” The woman spoke, gesturing her to the seat across from her. “Thank you, Graham.” The guard left the room and closed the door behind him.

“Miss Nolan, welcome to Wonderland.”

“Look, I prefer Swan, but just call me Emma, since no one seems to listen to my requests around here.”

“I don’t care what you want to be called. Honestly, my job is to ensure your recovery, Emma. That’s all.” She opened her file and began reading. “Born Emma Nolan.” She looked up at her and smiled. “Daughter of David and Mary Margaret Nolan of the Nolan Empire.” She sat down the binder. “Your father owns all those hotels across the world, is that correct?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, boring.”

“Ah, not impressed with daddy’s money but more than happy to spend it, I’m sure.”

“Don’t pretend you know me.”

“Oh Emma, I don’t have to know you, I know your type. Born with more luxury than most people could ever dream to afford yet so deeply afflicted that you are afraid you’ll never get the one thing you desire the most.”

“And what would that be?”

“Being worthy of the family name.”

“I already told you, I don’t even want that name. I don’t give a fuck about being a Nolan.” The woman smiled and Emma looked away angrily. “Aren’t you supposed to give me the rules or some bullshit, or are we done now?”

“Of course, lets talk rules. You will have individual sessions with Dr. Hopper three times a week as well as group therapy once a week.”

“Can’t wait.” She mumbled and the woman grunted angrily before continuing.

“You’re to be in you room with lights out at 10pm each night.”

“I’m 20, not 12”

“You’re also not in a hotel and you will obey my rules or there will be consequences. There will also be no sex on these grounds.”

“So, I’ve heard. This place is a real downer.”

“Dr. Whale will provide you all of your mediation.” She picked up her file again and glanced through it until she found the information she needed. “Anxiety medication, as needed, as well as Birth Control medication, it appears.”

“Not sure why I need that here.” She scoffed.

“We allow our female patients to continue with their usual regimen since most have plans to leave and return to their lives. If you have plans to stay longer, I can let your Dr. know you won’t be needing it.”

“I never said that.”

“In that case, let me continue, there is a gym on site, as well as a registered dietician to use as needed. So now that we got that out of the way, we just need to sign the paperwork and I’ll need your cell phone.”

Emma yanked her phone out of her pocket and tossed it on the table. “Just give me the papers.”

She passed them toward her, “Please sign, Emma Nolan, that is your legal name.”

Emma grumbled as she took pen to paper, signing her name.

“You can make a phone call to mom and dad after you complete the first 14 days of your treatment.”

“Yeah right.”

“In any case, it will be available if you have changed your mind by then. Now let’s go meet your roommate before your first session with Dr. Hopper.”

“So much excitement, I can hardly contain myself.”

The woman did not hide her contempt toward her as they walked out of the office. Emma knew Regina’s type. She had seen it plenty of times before from the women who looked down their noses at Emma even as they attended her parent’s fancy parties. Those were the women who thought Emma was undeserving of her life. She hated women like Regina Mills. Eventually she would have to find a way to convince this lady to let her go home. She studied her cautiously as they walked. She would do what she always did, find a crack, and expose it.

“Ruby, I have your new roommate, Emma.”

Emma eyed the girl lying on her bed, engrossed in a magazine. “Bed’s over there.” The girl pointed to the other side of the room and the empty bed.

“Dr. Hopper should be ready to see you as soon as you unpack.” Regina nodded to the women and exited quickly.

“She’s a real piece of work.” Emma whispered under her breath.

“The word you’re looking for is bitch.” The tall dark-haired girl added.

“Glad it wasn’t just me thinking that.”

“You won’t have to deal with her much unless you break the rules, so obviously I see her at least once or twice a week.” She grinned.

Maybe she might actually like her roommate.

“I don’t know how you could even walk around here without breaking rule #3 at least once or twice a day.”

“You mean the eye candy?” Ruby mused. “It’s like they’re asking us to break that rule.”

Emma laughed heartily. “That security guard sure is nice to look at.”

“Graham, yeah he’s a bit of a straight arrow. He’ll flirt but I’ve never so much as even been able to convince him of a blow job. And he reports everything back to Regina, so I would tread lightly there.”

“Shame, he’s easy on the eyes.”

“Trust me, wait til you meet the men in our group session. They’ll have you wet and ready before you even leave your seat, I spend most of the session squirming in my chair, but then I’m also a sex addict so maybe it’s just me.”

“You can actually be addicted to sex?”

Ruby shrugged, “Yeah it’s a thing. Hop says I spend too much time worrying about my other vices and not enough looking at the reasons behind why I feel like I need sex all the time.”

Emma had never really enjoyed sex. But then she’d only ever been with Neal, so she didn’t have a lot of experience to compare it to. “So, what’s this Dr. Hopper like? Anything I should know?”

“He’s a nice guy, but not much gets by him. He asks more questions than you’ll be ready for. Best just to answer and move on.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Twenty minutes later, seated across from the curly haired doc and Emma understood what Ruby meant about his number of intrusive questions.

“So why do you think you are here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? My dad is pissed at me and sent me here for punishment.”

“Why do you think your dad is mad at you?”

“Embarrassment, not obeying him, and three thousand other stupid reasons he gets mad at me every day.”

“Why do you think he would be embarrassed?

“Why would you do this Emma?” “Why do you care?” “Emma, I’m your father, I just want to understand why you would get involved in any of this? You knew how bad this would look if you got caught.” “Ah yes, what you actually mean is how bad it would look for you.” “Drugs, breaking and entering, stealing…Emma? Why? Why didn’t you talk to us?” “Don’t start acting like you give a damn now. This is the first time I’ve seen you in three months.”

“He’s David fucking Nolan. Do you know how much money he paid just to keep my arrest out of the news?”

“Do you think he might have been protecting you?”

She laughed loudly, thinking about how absurd it sounded to her. “His business is his number one priority. Trust me, he doesn’t want anyone to find out about my…” She stiffened. “My uh, arrest.”

“You were arrested for breaking and entering, as well as possession of a schedule 2 substance, is that correct?”

She laughed. “It was a joke. We broke into a hotel of one of my dad’s competitors. Stole some cash.”

“We?”

“Um, a friend.”

“Were you also doing drugs with this friend?”

“Well, he wouldn’t be a friend if he didn’t share his drugs.” The joke fell flat as the man stared at her, making a note in his book. “Look it wasn’t a big deal.”

He flipped through the pages of her file. “You were high on cocaine the night you were arrested, is that correct?”

“I know, what a cliché, rich kid arrested doing coke.”

“It says in the report that you were the only one arrested. Where was your friend?”

“Took off. Gotta look out for yourself, right?” Emma chewed on her nails uncomfortably.

He paused and she braced for more questions about her friend but was surprised when he moved on. “How long had you been doing cocaine?”

“I dunno, a few years. Everyone was doing it at parties, its not a big deal.”

“You spent 11 months in jail, isn’t that correct?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Did something bad happen in jail?”

Emma flinched.

“Emma you can do it. One more push.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She yelled, crossing her arms, and staring out the window. “Actually, I’m done talking at all today.”

When he became resigned to the fact that she had no intention of answering any more of his questions, he released her from the session. She stormed back to her room, unsure how she was going to survive this place. She hated being drilled and questioned by someone she didn’t even know.

God, she needed a drink.

She threw herself on her bed and groaned loudly.

“Told you the questions were brutal.”

Emma looked over at her new roommate. “What do you do around here for fun?”

The girl grinned. “Wanna get your heart rate up?”

She leaned onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her head cradling into her hand. “Somehow I don’t think you mean that in a way that is actually interesting or fun.”

“Come on. Trust me.”

She begrudgingly followed the girl through the hallways until she yanked open the double doors and paraded into the large gym.

“Ok you definitely lost me at physical exertion.”

“I said to trust me.”

She grumbled as they both walked over to the treadmills. “I don’t understand how exercise equates to…”

She gestured toward the opposite corner of the gym. “Nothing beats a good work out when you have something like that to look at.”

Emma watched the man remove his shirt and she grinned in the direction of her roommate. “Ok I’ve learned to trust you. You do know where all the fun is around here.”

“That’s Jefferson. Hot as hell, great in bed.” Emma stared at her, mouth standing open.

“You’ve had sex with him? Here?”

“Oh yeah, got a week of solitary for it but it was worth it.”

Emma increased the speed on her treadmill when two other men entered the room. The one Graham had called Jones with the blue eyes and smug attitude and a shorter man striding beside him.

“Oh, he’s new.” The girl sang beside her.

“Apparently it’s his first day. Graham called him Jones. Real asshole though.”

“Oh, even better, those are the best ones in bed.” She pointed to the guy next to him. “That’s Will. He’s hilarious, only got him to kiss me once, he has a fiancé waiting for him at home. Boring. Just don’t listen to a thing he says.” She laughs. “Compulsive liar.”

Emma watched as Jefferson greeted the two men. He lifted his shirt above his head and Emma felt her mouth go dry staring at his chest, a patch of dark hair trailing down into the waistband of his sweats.

“One hand, never done anyone in that situation before.” Ruby whispered.

The man stood in the corner, lifting one of the weights with his right arm, glancing in their direction. Emma increased the speed on her bike again, feeling the sweat starting to roll down her back. She swore she saw him smirk in her direction and she felt the fire between her legs start to burn. She broke eye contact with him, focusing on the numbers moving in front of her.

“Hello ladies.” She turned to see the one Ruby called Will approaching them.

“William. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ruby Red, baby, glad to see you are back in general. Who’s your friend?”

“Will, Emma. Emma, Will.” Ruby introduced them, her voice coming out in strained breathes as she ran next to her.

“Lovely to meet you, I’m Will. Though you may have seen me on television.”

“Sorry, don’t watch a lot of television.”

He frowned and Jones approached them. “We meet again, Swan.”

“How unlucky for me.” She punched the stop button on her treadmill and slowed her pace as the machine came to a crawl.

“Was it something I said?” He laughed as she grabbed a towel and slung it over her neck.

“You breathed.” She groaned.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Her roommate stepped off her treadmill and held out her hand to Jones. “Ruby.”

“Pleasure is all mine, lass. Killian Jones.” He greeted.

“Aren’t you that pirate?”

“Aye, busted.”

“I knew it! Did you know that was him, Emma?” She squealed.

Emma stared at the two of them. Pirate? She squinted her eyes, staring at the man. She had no idea who he was. “Sorry, no idea, don’t care, honestly.”

He sauntered up beside her, dropping an arm around her shoulder. “Perhaps you know me by my more colorful moniker, Hook. Captain Hook?”

She grabbed his hand and plucked it off her shoulder. “Delightful and also ridiculous, but Sorry haven’t a clue who you are, don’t care for fairytales.”

“Never wanted to be a princess then, love?” His arm now sliding down around her waist.

She grabbed him by the hand, twisted in his grasp and pushed him to the ground, whipping his wrist behind his back. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

He laughed. “You sure about that, love.”

She leaned closer to his ear. “You couldn’t handle it.” With one sweep he wrapped his leg around her and flipped them over, his body pressing into hers.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.” His tongue clicking in her ear. In an instant her body caught fire at the tone of his voice, and the feel of his body on hers.

Asshole.

Her knee met his groin in a fury, and she felt him tense above her, rolling to his side with a loud groan. “Bloody minx.”

She stood up and peered down at him. “You deserved that.” She looked back at Ruby who was in the midst of a giggling fit. “Let’s get out of here.”

The girl wrapped her arm around Emma’s waist. “You are going to be so fun to hang around.” She laughed. “I bet you are amazing in bed.” Emma glanced sideways at her, not sure if she was hitting on her or just making a remark. “Would be worth a week in solitary to find out.”

Yep, definitely flirting with her. This place was going to be interesting.

#wonderland #my fics #stacy's fics #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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bellamyblake · 4 years

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Hi Iva! First of all I would like to say - thank you for loving Bellamy so much, it means so much to me to read your posts and feel the same love I have for him. The way I wholheartedly with your every word... about his tragic life, his immense love, everything. On the other hand, you must hurt a lot judging by myself - I honestly cannot stop crying multiple times a day. I do not know how to make the pain stop. I dont know how much more I can handle, its not getting better but actually worse p1

P2 when I think about in details about his life like you did – his life had no happy beginning, or middle, and certainly not the end. Maybe only as a baby boy before O was born. I don’t know how to deal with the fact the character that I genuinely believe had it the worst ended up with the worst possible ending as a reward for honestly trying to do better. Like if he at least experienced love and understanding from O or SOMETHING… but she never got to tell him sorry for beating him up,

P3 that now she understands what he did for her… I am gonna go crazy over this, honestly. I wanna stop crying and enjoy fanfiction with much better ending for him. Where should I find solace? Was his death at least quick, maybe he did not have time to think about what happened? Is there an afterlife where Aurora waited for him? Was that what I can hope for when Aurora was NEVER explained, she was not an alien so what was she? But he also sow Cadogan in the same scene and he was alive then?

P4 Should I watch 5x13 on loop to get in my head this was the ending? Should I teach myself to edit and do some manip for the ending? My only way of coping is seeing other people, blogs like yours that love him just as much. But I keep crying and feeling utterly miserable ☹I am 27 I never spend so much time loving any character (fun fact, It must be around 3 500 hours for me reading ff, watching the show and fan edits and tumblr posts). I know Bellamy will always and forever be the one beloved

P5 one beloved character of mine and no one will ever come close. Bellarke, the same – they were my OTP. The only one. I need to do something about this cause I am loosing my damn mind… I could handle almost anything, I would cry, yes, but I was absolutely sure of one thing - no matter their ending, sad or happy, in some sense they would do it together… and we got THAT. Does anything help you? I am so sorry for dumping this on you but reading your posts - its like hearing my soul.

Hello!

First of all thank you for the kind words and for enjoying my blog so much.

I really do love Bellamy Blake a whole damn LOT. Like a damn LOT hah. I think that’s pretty obvious by the posts I make even if they’re not as many lately because I’m mentally not doing well right now. But that same love you feel, I feel it too and I’m glad I’m not alone in this.

I also get angry too and I cry a lot still about the way things ended. I also have not spent that much time in my life invested in a fictional character before so this is a lot for me as well and I get how you feel.

You asked me if something helps and for me it helps a lot to write you know? Be it meta or fanfiction, I indulge myself a lot in writing.

It’s funny that even when I write fics I don’t write happy fics, you’d think that I’d make him absolutely happy in what I write but I don’t. But indulging yourself in a world of your creation with this character helps a lot. And it’s fun too, to do this, to build a world for him, a different one-be it with Clarke or with a family of his own or Idk just with anyone. Giving him love that he never had and joy he never felt. I think that helps me a lot and it helps me forget how he died and how much it hurts (I wanna say that even typing this makes me cry hah, so...).

I also like to rewatch some episodes that were more about him as a character and then meta in my head. That usually gets me sad too but it’s also exciting to think about some of the stuff that happened and dive in the psychologity of his character (which I do a lot) LOL. But that’s mostly painful. I don’t get many asks about him and meta stuff so I mostly do it in my head on my own and dive into the world of direction and how things were done and love making sense of them.

Headcanons are something I love doing too though I haven’t written (or posted) much lately. In fact I haven’t posted anything lately because Idk...I’m not sure that sharing everything you create is good these days. people got so judgemental over time, the way actors and cast are threated is horrible but it extends to the entire fandom and its participants so it’s ugly and dark and horrible and I think stops a lot of people from posting gifs or fics or anything at all. But that’s another subject.

So yes writing helps me a lot. Reading fics helps me a lot. I’m not sure what the recipe is here because honestly I am in the same boat as you. I love this character more than anything and any other that I’ve loved and been in a fandom before so...this is hard for me too. And it’s fucked up.

I also love making gifs for him though I don’t make anything good or special. Gifs I think can be lots of fun but also pain too-fun cause when you go to gif a moment you can rewatch half the episode (at least I do) and sad cause it can bring you some pain but at the end giffing is really Idk..rewarding. Except when people don’t reblog shit so that’s discouraging too hah.

I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a debbie downer.

To tell you the truth after years of being on here and in fandoms I realized this-I can create to soothe my soul from the pain, like from losing Bellamy but I don’t have to seek validation from people and post it. I can do it just to heal myself and not share it. When you share it what? You just get disappointed. That’s why I have 230 drafts. Half of them are unpublished headcanons. some of them are published fics with few readers or readers who yelled at me for writing sad stuff. the other half is stories i’ll never post. So I guess my advice is-

find something to get your hands on, to create, be it editing, giffing, writing, something to let the grief out, to soothe the wound inside you. and then you can decide if you want to share it or not. and even if you don’t it was inspired by the best character ever.

He was loved, he deserved more, he did. But you can create worlds where he has more.

He can be held by his mom as a baby, he can be tucked in, he can be climbing up her leg and reaching for her arms, he can be cranky when he had his first tooth, or sad when he had to go to day care, he can be scared before his first exam and anxious as he grew up. He can be having nightmares and not sleeping when O was born, he can be terrified and feeling alone. He can have friends and be hugged and loved and have a first kiss, he can live in a house by the ocean with clarke with two beautiful kids and a dog and a cat for her cause she loves cats. Or he can be alone curled up in his bed just crying his grief away.

He can be anything that you wished for him, anywhere you wished for.

Hope I helped some!

#answered #bellamy blake #the 100 #im sorry if i wasn't as helpful #i tried #hah #i think about him every day #and cry too #alwaysdreamingofmiracles

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lockdownuk · 4 years

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Lockdown Diary Part 2

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 31: I went to Tesco’s at Hampton at @8pm. It was weird. But I made it less weird by buying (amongst all the legit stuff I needed and some stuff for Karen’s mum) more booze. I have, atm about 30 assorted cans and 60 assorted bottles. I’m gonna stop buying booze now until I’m down to the last dozen. I don’t want owt to happen and I leave many behind!

Day 32: More than a calender month! I was rung up by a recruitment agent today about a contract with DHL as a remote support engineer to their aviation section. €400 a day! I’ve applied. Few beers tonight, watching a new Netflix release (Extraction) and catching up with Fog, Ham, Andy and Rog later at 10:30pm - yikes, might be pissed.

Day 33: Typing this on day 34. Dossed around during the day, few beers and another video call with fog, Ham and Rig plus I invited John Monk along. He was his usual self and signed off from the call with a moonie! Later on I had the pleasure of Scottish Louise video calling me! She was pissed, in her shed drinking den at her home with some neighbour called Ronnie and her daughter Ellie. She was her usual outrageous self who imaprted such gems as “Tim, you look old” and “Roger on coke is the only time I’ve taken it up the arse”. Nice.

Day 34: Today I skyped Laurie and ‘met’ Matthew and Nicholas for the first time. It was bloody fantatsic. Janine was there as well.I cannot believe it takes lockdown (plus an idea to get Laurie to add me to his regular Monday skype chat with Dad) that managed to get us doing something that should have happened years ago! It was so great to talk to them all face-to-face. Janine hasn’t changed a bit, Matthew is very quiet with Nicholas being the more gregorious twin. And Laurie is still Laurie. I’m reminded of how much I sort of miss him! It was all so comfortable. I loved it! Tomorrow is Dad’s 85th hence the 3-way chat idea. I hope it comes off!

Day 35: So dad and Laurie and I skyped. It was OK but my video feed was very dark, (still dunno why) and Lauire’s kept freezing. I dropped out so as to leave them to it, my thinking being the extra person takes up bandwidth, with the promise I’d call dad later. Before I could, Rita called me and suggested Dad and I skype, which we did. So, all in all, a good day of comms! And Dad seems his happy usual self - 85 years old! Amazing.

Day 36: I am really struggling to motivate myself this week. Today, I’ve done fuck all of note. That is all.

Day 37: A similar day to yesterday. All I have really managed to do is lay down audio from Pink Floyd (Absolutely Curtains) to a video I shot of a cow on yesterday’s walk. I am having a downer of a week without any good reason why, ld aside. I have worn my new walking boots today (’cos my old ones are leaking, I found out yesterday) and they fucking hurt, despite having tried to wear them in for months, albeit pathetically. Also, a few days ago (Friday 24th April), I got notification from HM Revenue & Customs that I’m getting tax rebate (from 2018-19) of £392. Yay!

Day 38: I received notification today that I’ve got a speeding ticket…last Thursday back from Tesco’s - 87mph somewhere between the A1 and Elton. I am hoping it’s a fixed penalty. I dunno whether it is yet, I just have to send the form off confirming it’s my car and I was driving. I spoke with Lynda from Woodfords asking her to ask for a rent reduction before I sign for another year. Plus, I let her know that I will be Howard and Sue’s eyes as the look at rental properties in Oundle - I do hope they return although it would be a shame for them that their plans have been scuppered (she’s lost her job in Oz due to Covid-19)

Day 39: Today I started another piece of exercise - up and down the stairs 26 times. Not sure why 26 - it was some thing online to do with the London Marathon, I think. It fucking killed. I used 13 clothes pegs for a counting system. I asked Karen to pick up some stuff when she was shopping (burgers, radishes) - Dan dropped them off, He was with Shaggy (driving his van) and going to see Jonah. That pisses me off - they should be social distancing, ffs.

Discoevered, today, that Cornershop, post-Brinful are fucking excellent. listening to the album ‘England is a Garden’ as I type.

Day 40: That 26 times up and down the stairs is fucking hard. I did videos about it today. My legs are aching like fuck right now.

Day 41: Just done Young Sam’s (Sam Clews) quiz. 3rd week running and it’s now become a habit and something I look forward to. Out of all the internet driven socialising I’m undertaking in ld, this is the weirdest - I feel totally detatched from all others taking part but, now, would feel pissed off if I didn’t or couldn’t join in. I got 47/70 this week. My best score and only about 8 off the winning score - most others aren’t doing it on their own!

Today’s walk was a cloudy one - I captured some fine, dramatic pics of the clouds. I am getting into this photography lark, albeit very amateurish. But, when I post any pics online (mostly FB), they seem to be widely appreciated, which is nice.

Day 42: Applied for a remote service delivery job with a firm called TTEC. £60k. Finished watching The Outsider. The creepiest TV show I have seen in years. Really great use of background music.

Day 43: Finished Mindhunter S2 last night. It’s so good but I cannot quite put my finger on why. Today has been a nothing day apart from day 2 of me not typing the letter ‘e’ in any post or comments on FB for a week. It’s hard.

Day 44: Watch Anna last night. A Luc Besson film that starts a kick-ass suprermodel. It’s right down my street. Today I have been lazy af. I need to pick up my online learning again…tomorrow, maybe! I watched Andy Murray Resurfacing. A documentary on Amazon. Fantastic. What a top man he is. Completely human and completely inhuman!

Day 45: Much talk in the news of possible lockdown relaxation. I am off the opinion we should stay the course until we are completely assured of beathing this thing i.e. a working, widely available vaccine. Dad and I Skyped - he is doing well, as usual. So is Rita. They both seem very happy in lockdown! Today has been a glorious day, weather wise. I had my walkk at 10ish this morming and it was very warm. Hottest day of the year so far I reckon.

Day 46: Bank holiday Friday (75th anniversary of VE day). Nice walk. Chat with Karen letting her know about being caught speeding just in case I am banned and need some out of town shopping. Watched second episode of DEVS by Alex Garland. It’s good and intriguing. Now, @7pm, gonna eat and hit the beers and smokes.

Day 47: Typing this at 15:45 on day 48. I had lots of beers and a good old chat with Rog…

Day 48: Today’s daily press conference was eagerly anticipated today with rumours of a relaxation in lockdown. It seems it was a fuss about nothing with no clear instructions - I didn’t watch it but, skimming the BBC news site, I shan’t be doing anything different over the next few weeks, not that I would anyway - furlough and self isolation are the order of the day and I won’t change that until I am sure it’s safe. Meanwhile people, including Danny flaunt the rules, it’s been pointed out to me plus I know he spends time with Jonah and Marc. It really fucks me off. So, the actions of the few mean I will lock myself down for as long, if not longer, as it takes. Attended Sam Clews quiz again. It passes the time. Also, I had half a scotch bonnet chilli with tea tonight (roasted veg, cous cous and sausages). Ridiculously hot!

Day 49: Received the speaker I ordered a few days ago (from eBay). It’s an AudioPro Addon T10. I got it for a very reasonable price from a German shop. As a result, the power lead isn;t three pin and that has seriously fucked me right off!

Meanwhile, I did my 26 stair climb before my daily walk today. It was easier than usual (surprise surprise) and I did 7km - but that was tough! ‘Cos I am on (yet another) free trial of Amazon Prime, I am ramping up watching stuff available. Last night I watched Booksmart - really nice little film with a great soundtrack. I am listening to Dan the Automater as I type. Today I watched half (3 eps) of The Night Manager and the film ‘The Founder’. The former is a superb series, the latter an OK film about Ray Kroc - the supposed founder of McDonald’s. Except he wasn’t; he was the wrong side of ambitious and a cunt.

Day 50: Stripped the 2 pin cable from the speaker I received yesterday and wired up a 3 pin plug and it worked. Win. And it sounds great. Win-win. Went to go shopping in Hampton but the car wouldn’t start. Loss. But it was the battery so I managed to borrow Karen’s jump starter which worked. Win.

Spent £107. Loss. But just under £40 was booze plus £10 for two big pizzas, two sides (dirty fries) and some dips. Win. Didn’t do any online learning - seriously fucking letting myself down. Loss.

Did my usual walking and 26 stair climb. The latter is hard but defo getting easier. Win. Day 51: Sam’s 51st birthday on day 51 - coincidence! Today I received my face mask from Lou - House of Stewart tartan. I’m pleased with it and that I have got a mask now. I managed to get up at a reasonable hour, just left 09:00, and revisit my web design course. Module 1, lesson 5 and I am fucking stuck. Trying to code an online CV with a side nav bar and I cannot get it to fucking work. Grrrrrr. Later, i got into a FB dispute (easily distracted due to the above) with someone over his statement of fact (Tim Martin’s treatment of Whetherspoons’ employees) when he doesn’t know it’s fact. It probably is, but that is not the fucking point. I wish I could leave these sort of spats alone. I am drinking, at 20:45, peppermint tea as I type. Jeez, what’s happened to me?

Day 52: Well, last night took a swift chnage. Rog message me and, to cut a long story short, I hit the beers, also called Foggy later, got trashed. I got up today at gone 1pm. Sam posted on fb that Paul had forgort her birthday yesterday. Oh dear! The 26 stair climb and walking each day is noticeable for how knackered my legs feel all the time, I noticed today!

Day 53: My birthday! Nice comments and banter of FB. Rachael brought round a bottle of whisky; gobsmacked. Karen popped round some beers and sausage rolls. Sam sent a card, as did dad with a £50 cheque. Dan’s ordering me a pizza later.

Chuffed! Day 54: I went to bed late after a lot of beers, huge pizza and chips, a few smokes and a long call with WWJ and video chats with Fog then Rog. Got up around 1pm and dossed with my usual exercises and I made fish pie with a scotch bonnet. Day 55: Late one last night but up early today (11ish). Really fretting about hospital tomorrow. Nervous anyway but the safety aspect, in terms of Covid-19, isn’t helping.

Day 56: Hospital appointment was just for an eye scan so the consultant can review it. I was very surprised to see how few people were wearing face masks! I did two lots of washing today. (After the hospital) I went to Morrsions, Asda (queue too long though), B&M (queue too long though) then Tesco’s. All to buy a baseball cap ‘cos I’m fucked if I’m going to wet my hair each time I go out and want it to look presentable! In Morrsions (no mens’ clothing apart from underwear!) I stocked up of 10 cans of sugarfree apple Caraboa….I was only thinking of this drink just the other day. Yesterday I finished The Night Manager on Amazon. I liked it a lot but, also, expected much, much more from it consdiering the hype. Hugh Laurie has come a long way from comedy sketches with Stephen Fry!

Day 57:Received an email from Sueanne yesterday asking ( as designated spokesperson for everyone) how I am. The most interestring piece of news in a rather uninformative email was that the US has started to open resorts!

Day 58: I am writing this on Day 59. I started a two walk a day regime. The first walk I do is shorter, around 4km. my aim is to be ready for 1,000,000 steps Diabetic UK challenge (throughout July, August and September). I need to do just under 11,000 steps a day. The relaxation in ld rules makes this achievable. On that score, I am allowed to visit a friend’s house, as long as it’s just the two of us, outside, 2m apart. I went round Karen’s last night. I was desperate to have a Happy Hour (I allow myself a midweek beer - today (well, yesterday) is/was Wednesday!) of sorts with another human (rather than a video chat). I was there for about 2 hours, very enjoyable, and then came home. Then I had usual roasted veg with rice and sausages but I couldn’t eat it. I used half a scotch bonnet rather than the usual birdeye chillis. It was too hot, had to sling it! Had a few more beers and, hence, neglected my diary duties!

Day 59: It’s 01:20am. I don’t know why I am still awake and up, but I am. But, also, I am now going to bed. Nothing else to report, really.

Day 60: Half way through 12 weeks furlough. I was discussing this with Dad and Rita earlier - I am expecting that, at the end of 12 weeks, I’ll be laid off. I hope I’m wrong but I reckon it’s well on the cards. Off to have a beer round Karen’s in a sec which will be pleasant. Just a hour or so. It’s fucking windy today so I shall wrap up!

#diary #Tumblr diary #lockdown #COVID19 #lockdownuk

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cinnaminsvga · 7 years

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Taking a moment from my day to appreciate your ass for saving hundreds of asses by recommending ffs that they want when they ask, linking stuff they ask for, replying to every single ask and being goofy. Ah, overall, I love you. Not only do you write some amazing stuff but you're just the best person on tumblr. I'm glad I sTUMBLRed (sorry not sorry) upon your tumblr.

UMMM I DID NOT EXPECT TO RECEIVE THIS MESSAGE RIGHT AS I WAS ABOUT TO GO TO SLEEP AND HONESTLY NOW I’M SUPER EMO AND I’M CRYING REAL HAPPY TEARS ( ༎ຶŎ༎ຶ )

you have no idea how much this message means to me, especially today!! i don’t really talk about the negative stuff in my life on here because i want this blog to be a source of happiness and positivity so i try not to come off as a downer, so it’s really messages like these that really boost my morale and make life significantly less crappy than it actually is. i really needed to hear this today 🤧 thank you!! i love you dude 💞

#and its the least i could do to link fanfics and videos to help!!#i was once a new fan myself and i understand the struggle of trying to keep up with bangtan lol #ty again ily 🤧🤧🤧#answered #i-wasborn-in-busanfirst

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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“Let’s Wing It!” Fic Exchange (third wave)

This is my third entry for the “Let’s Wing It!” Fic Exchange. @titconao3 prompted “Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush (lyrics here).

It was hard! Haha! You said no downer ending by your standards so I did my best! There is no downer in this ending. I hope you like this and that I didn’t fail too much at writing God ;)

[ff] or [ao3]

A Good Old Case Of Deus Ex Machina

He hadn’t stopped drinking since the funerals.

Not that it did him any good, downing bottle after bottle only gave him a small buzz at best. His powers seemed to be stronger than ever and getting drunk wasn’t an option. Another cruelty to add to the list.

Without warning, he threw the glass at the mirror on the other side of the bar with a helpless cry of rage nobody was there to witness. There it was again. Every time he closed his eyes. The memory he was desperate to forget, the one he could never ignore.

Chloe dying in his arms. Blood everywhere, all over his hands. The roaring pain in his shoulder that hadn’t made sense at the time not until a tearful Dan had pried him away from her body and had forced him to sit down, repeating again and again ‘Lucifer, you’ve been shot’ as if it had made any sense. As if anything had made any sense.

Lux was deadly silent, as it had been for a week now, and, once he reached for another glass behind the bar, there was only the familiar noise of alcohol being poured to keep him company. At another time, it might have been enough to be comforting. Now…

Now, it was simply a noise that grated on his nerves. The same way he could barely bear the sound of his lighter flicking on. The same way he had raged and upturned tables until everyone had run out that night after the funerals because nobody should be partying right now, the whole world should be mourning, the whole universe should have stopped breathing with the strength of his grief.

He wanted it to stop.

He wanted to stop it.

And in the darkest moments of despair he wondered if that was it, the apocalypse prophesized since the dawn of time, brought into being by the death of one human.

He had almost followed on that thought.

He downed the glass of whatever it was. Whiskey or scotch, something expensive that tasted like ash. Everything tasted like ash since that day.

It had been so stupid. So stupid.

A call had come through her radio when they were driving back to the precinct at the end of a most satisfying day of catching murderers. A man who had mugged a grocer’s shop and was running away. They were in the neighborhood, they had given chase, eventually leaving the car behind to follow on foot when the suspect had rushed into a building. It had been thrilling at the time and, of course, Lucifer hadn’t listened to her demand that he stayed in the car. He had followed her and she had rolled her eyes but hadn’t protested much more.

They had cornered him eventually, their suspect. Barely more than a kid, not quite seventeen, threatening them with a weapon he could barely hold the right way. The Detective hadn’t even pulled out her own gun. She had tried to reason with him.

Neither of them had seen the second man hiding in the shadow.

One shot and the Detective had gone down, Lucifer catching her out of reflex. He hadn’t understood the second shot had found its mark, not until Dan had later told him. ‘Lucifer, you’ve been shot. Let them take care of you. Let her go. You can’t do anything for her anymore. You’ve been shot. Let her go. You’re hurt.’ Nothing had made sense. Nothing.

Just the terror.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to the two murderers. He had lost it at that point, everything had flashed red, his eyes, his face, his sight… The kid had been huddling in one corner begging for his mother by the time the LAPD had stormed in. The other one, the one who had shot his detective… Nobody had asked him how that one had died. He probably had Dan to thank for that.

He had tried to keep her there with him. He had tried so hard. He had done it before, on their first case together, and he had told her that, he had joked about how this felt like a throwback to a first date and she had laughed. She had laughed and then she had… His powers had always been tenuous around her. Lately, they had been downward inexistent.

Her soul wouldn’t stay.

It had slipped through his fingers, right through his fingers…

He rubbed his shoulder where the scar remained, a thick patch of angry red skin. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t fading. It should have. Without the Detective, he had healed in a few minutes – to the paramedics puzzlement. The scar had remained behind, like a reminder. Maybe it was his unconscious. Maybe he wanted to keep it. To make sure he never forgot. As if he could.

He felt her loss as keenly as he had the wings on his back.

Another glass.

The same noises of alcohol being poured, a bottle being placed down. The cigarette was slowly consuming itself between his fingers.

He had tried to pray.

He hadn’t told anyone that. Well… He had yelled it at Linda in a rage when she hadn’t stopped poking, trying to make him talk about feelings that made him want to howl.

He had begged his father when he had realized his powers weren’t working, that Chloe would die there, in a shady squat full of graffiti and abandoned syringes. He had begged his father for help, had promised anything in return. His mother, hell, anything. There had been no answer. None at all. Even once she had been gone, even once he had stopped begging Him to save her and had started requesting to swap their places, his soul off the human plane for her soul back in her body, even then, all that had answered him was a great silence.

Typical.

The creaking of the doors alerted him but he refused to look behind his shoulder. It might be the bouncers checking everything was alright inside, it might be someone coming to check on him. He really didn’t care.

He took a drag of his cigarette just because he was tired of watching it burn on itself like a pathetic metaphor for his life.

He missed the rage. He had been so full of wrath in the immediate aftermath he had almost burn with it. For days he had let it consume him. He had hated his Father, first and foremost, for giving him the Detective only to take her away.

He had stormed into his mother’s office and had declared he was all about finding that last piece now, that he would be her Lightbringer – and he had had no problem igniting the sword, not anymore – that he would make the Silver City crumble down.

He had dreamed about it. For days he had dreamed about it. Running up the golden hill that led to the huge doors, tearing them open and destroying everything on his path until he found Chloe. Sometimes that dream took the form of a rescue mission. Sometimes all he cared about was burning Heaven to the ground until they all understood the amount of pain he was in.

Sometimes he hated the Detective too. For dying. For being so fragile. For making him into the devil he now was – which wasn’t much of a devil at all.

That was the thing with humans. One second they were complaining about their demon roommate who couldn’t follow simple instructions, the next they were gone from the surface of the Earth, never to be seen again because their soul was too pure and he had been banned from Heaven.

He had pretended it didn’t hurt him at first. It hadn’t lasted a day for denial to disappear. It hurt him. Her death. It hurt him so much he could taste blood.

The thought of never seeing her again, he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t.

“This is a nice place.”

The voice wasn’t familiar and Lucifer only gave a glance over his shoulder before looking away just as fast. The man who was walking down the stairs was young, wearing jeans with holes in them that didn’t seem to be there for fashion purposes and an awful woolen sweater in a rusty color. He was unremarkable, unassuming and absolutely not worth noticing.

“We’re closed.” Lucifer growled, his fingers tightening around his glass.

“I heard.” the man shrugged.

It didn’t stop him from strutting to the bar, apparently unconcerned with the slight clicking of the bottles and glasses as they shook with Lucifer’s wrath.

He didn’t want to be disturbed.

He had made that clear. His control was all relative and just because he had been talked out of going on a murdering spree by an eight year old girl didn’t mean he wouldn’t accidentally do something he would regret if he was provoked. The man was blissfully oblivious to it all though. He hopped on the stool next to his, reached behind the bar for a glass and stole the bottle right from under Lucifer’s nose.

“I said we’re closed.” he repeated, putting just enough of his real voice in his tone to send any human weeping in fear.

The man barely blinked. “You have looked better.”

Maybe not so human. He so wasn’t in the mood for celestial meddling.

The wrath deflated though. Like it had done every time it had bloated again since his talk with Trixie. Being furious was easier on a lot of accounts, it helped mask the pain underneath but… He had felt it now, that pain, and he could never shake it.

His shoulder throbbed as if in agreement and he rubbed it again, almost without thought.

“Have we met before?” he snorted, giving the man a second glance over. He wasn’t one of his siblings but who knew what his father had been up to since he had left Heaven. Maybe he was a new prophet or – God forbids – a new Jesus. It would explain the slightly hippy look. That would also go hand in hand with his decision to ransack Heaven, maybe he was there to spread the news or to prevent him from doing just that. If it was about that, the guy was a little late to the party but Lucifer supposed he should get kudos for having tried.

“Has it been so long you don’t recognize me, Samael?” the man asked casually before taking a sip of whiskey.

Lucifer’s head shot up so fast something in his neck snapped.

He stared at the man, stared hard, and he could almost see it, see the bright ball of light peeking out through the cracks.

“Father.” he whispered.

His first instinct was to find a weapon.

His second was to think sod that and punch Him hard in the unremarkable face He had chosen for Himself.

His third one was to grab Him and refuse to let go until He had given back what wasn’t His to take. Maybe threaten to call Charlotte if that would speed up the process, maybe gloat a little about walking unarmed into the devil’s den.

In the end he did none of that.

He just sat there and stared.

At another time, he would have done it all and then some.

Right then, nothing seemed important but the fact that his father was the key to getting to Chloe. Perhaps He would agree to let him talk to her. Perhaps he could tell her that he…

He would make a deal for that chance. Talk to her one last time. Tell her how he felt. Tell her how grateful… If he only could…

“I heard you were thinking of popping up to give me back your sister’s sword.” his father commented when Lucifer remained silent, there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

“If by giving it back you mean stabbing you straight through the heart with it.” he snarled before he could help himself.

“But you didn’t.” God hummed as if they were simply discussing the weather instead of His – admittedly uncertain – murder. “In fact, I believe you told your mother you weren’t interested in taking the Silver City back anymore.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. It always came right back to this, didn’t it? What his parents wanted, their agendas against each other… They didn’t care about anything else, about anyone else.

He felt the familiar anger rise up but it was snuffed by the grief he felt. What did he care about his father’s vendetta against him or about the rocky relationship his parents shared? The whole thing paled in comparison to the Detective’s death.

He had been set on following his mother’s plans. He had been set on taking back what was his… And how he had shouted and screamed when Linda had asked if it was really what Chloe would have wanted… ‘Once I control Heaven, I will bring her back to life! Of course, it’s what she would want’, he had snarled.

And then the Detective’s spawn had happened, asking him in that small tearful voice how Heaven was and if her mother was happy there. And right as he had described the splendors of paradise for the girl and how content Chloe must have been, he had realized that no, no, his storming of the Silver City wasn’t at all what she would have wanted. She was at peace, he had promised the child and he had meant it. The Detective didn’t need a dashing rescue, not this time.

“The sword is in the safe upstairs.” he answered, waving a dismissive hand that left a trail of smoke in its wake.

“You won’t try to bargain for it?” his father asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Before, he would have taken pleasure in having taken Him aback. Right then, pleasure tasted just as much like ash as his liquor did.

“I would try to strike a deal for it but we both know you will only give what you consent to give so what’s the point?” he scoffed, tossing the cigarette in the ashtray before it could burn him. Not that it would burn him. He was invulnerable again now. “You could have sent one of your errant boys. Granted, it didn’t end up that well for Uriel but…” He shrugged, trying to sound more casual than he truly felt. His brother’s death still weighted heavily on his mind. What he had done, he had done to protect Chloe but it didn’t make it easier to bear. “You still have enough children left to sacrifice a few, don’t you?”

God was watching him thoughtfully, tracing the rim of his glass with a distracted finger.

Lucifer didn’t look at him.

He didn’t want to look at him.

He had been eager to find himself face to face with his father for millenniums, to tell Him straight everything he thought of Him, and now he couldn’t care less. He just wished He would hurry up and leave so he could go back to feeling miserable in peace.

“I did not send your brother, son. He came of his own free will.” God offered eventually.

“Free will.” he spat. “The greatest joke in the universe.”

Did it even exist? Or were they all dancing to His tune? Even him who had thought he had escaped the strings only to fall back in the trap when he had met the Detective…

“I grieve for Uriel.” his father said softly. “But what happened wasn’t entirely your fault, Samael. He bears responsibility for his fate.”

“Don’t call me that.” he growled. “I am not Samael anymore, Dad. I am…”

“You still call me Dad.” God cut him off. “And I still call you son. You are still my son. Samael, the Light Bringer, the Morning Star. It is the name your mother and I gave you.”

“And I changed it when you kicked me out.” he retorted. “So excuse me if I’m not…”

“You called for me.” his father interrupted again with that strength that could have sent the world to its knees and made Lucifer fall silent to his great annoyance. His father was more powerful than he was. It didn’t come as a surprise but it was an unwelcome reminder of his failures.

“Yes, and you didn’t come.” he snapped. “You didn’t help.”

“I am here now.” God offered. “Don’t you think it’s time to mend bridges, son?”

His hand was shaking when he stole the bottle back to pour himself another drink. The bottle was almost empty now and he was feeling the urge to bash the man’s head in with it. It wouldn’t do Him much harm but it would be a relief.

He downed his glass, not trusting himself to speak right then. There was a lump in his throat, a headache throbbing behind his eyes and, tried as he might, he couldn’t summon the rightful anger he ought to feel. A shame for a wrathful devil.

“You gave her to me and then you took her away.” he accused finally, almost flatly. “There are no more bridges. They’re all ash in the wind now.”

“I disagree.” God countered. “You could have besieged the Gates of Heaven, you know there are some who would still follow you over me up there and it could have turned into a civil war. You could have brought down the apocalypse if you had so chosen. And instead you are sitting in your bar, crying in your whiskey.”

“I wasn’t crying.” he hissed through his teeth. Not a lie. Not really. The tears never fell but inside… Oh inside it was a waterfall.

His father ignored him. “And all because you promised a little girl your siblings are watching over her mother.” Lucifer frowned and God shrugged. “Omniscient being, here.”

He rolled his eyes. “You should be grateful for that child.”

“Oh, I am grateful.” his father smiled and it was a kind benevolent smile. The kind that made Lucifer scoff at their deceit. “I do love Beatrice. Just as much as I love Chloe Decker. The Detective is an exceptional soul, isn’t she? As far as humans go, she counts amongst my greatest creations.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not a puppet, she’s not… She’s not a toy.”

“Of course, she’s not.” God frowned. “Her purpose…”

“What was her purpose, Father?” he cut Him off, his eyes flashing red. “Why did you put her on my path? To hurt me by taking her away? Congratulations. Objective achieved. Now, please let me hurt in peace.”

“Her purpose was to show you the way back home, Samael.” God explained, in that soft tone Lucifer hated so much. As if He cared. He didn’t. Lucifer knew that better than anyone. “You were never meant to come back to the Silver City armed with a flaming sword. I had hoped she would be enough for you to remember who you are, powerless as she made you feel. You had a choice to make and you made the right one. The Gates of Heaven are opened to you should you choose to come back.”

He gripped the glass so tight that it broke but he didn’t notice. He didn’t notice the shards digging in his palm or the blood. In a second it had all vanished anyway.

“So it was all a test?” he chuckled bitterly. “You put Chloe on my path so you could… Test me?”

“She showed you the way to redemption.” his father insisted. “And now you can come home and…”

“I hate you.” he spat.

“That’s the first lie you’ve ever uttered.” God dismissed, amused. When Lucifer glared, He simply shrugged. “Again. Omniscient being.”

Lucifer briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure at which point he had lost his human face for his devil one. He wasn’t sure at which point his eyes had started burning red. But he was very sure he was about to lose it in a spectacular way.

The bottles and glasses were rattling again.

“Get out.” he ordered. “Take your sword. Take your piece. Take your ex if you must but get out.” He was shouting now, his voice a low growl that bounced back on the walls. “I am never coming back to your Silver City, Father. Never. I will go back to Hell before I come back to you. I won’t be your prodigal son. I won’t follow your schemes. And if it means I never see the Detective again…” He stopped breathing for a second, closed his eyes. “Do not presume to understand what I feel for her. You cast your own wife down to Hell on a whim. You manipulate everyone around you. You are a sick bastard who understands nothing about love and I won’t give you the pleasure of patting me on the back as if it was all a tantrum on my part. I am done with you, Father, I am utterly done with you. I will not hate you anymore. I will not curse you. I will not even think about you. I am done.”

He was out of breath by the time he finished and he felt strangely empty. A good sort of empty. He would have to ask Linda about that. He felt… Free.

“As you wish.” God sighed, a little sad, as if He was humoring him, as if He was certain that Lucifer would come home at one point or another. “What I said still stands, you are welcome back.” His father stood up slowly, probably hoping he would stop Him or hold Him back. Lucifer did neither. He stared at the shards of broken glass on the bar but he did flinch when he felt his father’s hands resting lightly on his back, right where the scars laid. “I forgive you, son.”

The hands were gone before he could shrug them off.

Lux was silent once more.

He was alone.

Lucifer buried his face in his hands, feeling the leather-like burned skin under his palms and wondering how his father could offer an unwanted forgiveness when it was his to grant. There hadn’t even been an apology in that whole conversation. Not one.

What his father thought of as forgiveness, Lucifer called punishment.

Maybe that was why he wasn’t that surprised when the scars on his back started to burn. He laughed. He laughed when he felt it. He laughed until he screamed, head thrown back to the ceiling, with the pain of it all.

And once he was done screaming, he felt them spanning wide on either side of him, blinding with light, each feather painfully familiar. His.

He didn’t have time to marvel though, because the Lux had disappeared.

He was back in that shady building, the Detective and the teenager were both gaping at him and his heart was beating so fast…

He jumped on her and she shrieked, not that he cared or noticed because he heard the gunshots. Six of them this time around. And six bullets crashed on the impenetrable shield of his wings.

The Detective was all wide eyes, staring at him as if she had never seen him before and he wondered what face he was sporting because he couldn’t tell anymore. She was there. Breathing. Alive. And that was all he cared about.

He heard the teenager and his accomplice running away, the slamming doors and the shouts in the distance indicating backup was on its way… He made a conscious effort to fold the wings, to make them disappear, not sure they would obey…

But they did, just as they always had before.

The Detective blinked and then bolted behind him to touch his back, her hands poking his flesh hard, looking for… He turned around and hugged her, resting his head against hers, eyes closed, breathing her in… He couldn’t even smell the dampness and the rot of the building anymore. She smelled too good.

“I love you.” he heard himself say because that was what he had been desperate to say ever since he had hold her lifeless body in his arms. The moment he had felt her soul slip between his fingers, it had become so clear… But she hadn’t been there to hear it anymore. She hadn’t… “Chloe, I love you.”

She went rigid in his arms until she completely relaxed and hugged back. “Lucifer, what the hell just happened?”

“Poor choice of words, Detective…” he chuckled. It sounded a bit hysterical to his own ears but he decided he was allowed to be a little hysterical. She had been dead for more than a week and now she was there once more. “Let’s just say it is a good old case of deus ex machina.”

“Lucifer…” she insisted.

“I will explain everything.” he promised. He would tell her. The whole truth. He would show her, even. He would tell her he had almost ransacked Heaven for her. He would tell her he loved her again too. He would… “As soon as we’re alone.”

As if on cue, Detective Douche charged in, a worried look on his face that morphed into relief when he found them there. “Thank god! We heard gunshots.”

“Thank God, yes…” Lucifer laughed. They both stared at him as if he was crazy – well, crazier than usual – and there was something strangely protective to the way the Detective was holding on to him.

“Are you alright?” she frowned at him, cupping his cheek.

He covered her hand with his. “Oh, I assure you… I am more than alright. Actually, I even feel a little forgiving today. Only a little, mind you.”

He hugged her again.

Just because he could.

She hesitated a second and then hugged back, leaving Dan to shake his head and watch them both as if they had lost their minds.

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