#to actually be searching around and getting frustrated and desperate enough for literally ANY leads that when they come across

[meatriarch]

me when i say Fuck It to gun's timeline because two weeks is just Not Enough Time in my eyes to properly hold a missing person search throughout several counties and give them time to actually yknow. search ( which we know is already debatable but at least long enough to make it seem like they "tried" yknow? ) before calling it all off.

( which also this does not have to be adopted by anyone else - im just rambling and all but i do believe two weeks is just. not enough time at all- )

maria left for that last trip just before the uni of texas' spring break started. which typically seems to land somewhere between early-mid march (8th-16th). meaning she disappeared in that week.

( im inclined to say maybe within the first 3-4 days of her leaving is when she was taken, probably after she'd been driving most of the first and stopping at random to take photos. also inclined to say she left earlier than break actually started due to how any places she probably wanted to get to ).

her car was discovered abandoned - which could have easily been moved to a different location than where she actually went missing. and that could have taken any number of days to have been reported to local sheriffs after being called in by someone passing by, and which wouldve taken longer to look into before making that house call to her family and announcing her being missing ( esp considering its the 70s so...things were much slower to be processed, searches to be formed took longer to find enough bodies to look, etc ).

so im thinking im pondering im perceiving this roughly :

beginning of march: - maria leaves 2-3 days before spring break actually started. - by the time break is underway, she's made it to her initial few planned stops but is taken, her car hidden briefly, to be gone through. mid-march: - by the time spring break ends and classes resumes, maria never returned to her apartment or campus. - friends probably assumed she'd gotten sick maybe or something went on back home. - her car is discovered that week being back from break, found someplace else, and family is notified. - police start the investigation and search for her once confirmed she hasnt been in contact with anyone back home since those first couple days being gone. - that first-72-hours of easily finding a missing person window now out the door which makes them less concerned of finding her alive. that coupled with the sawyer/hewitt influence around the different departments? they seem less eager to do their jobs, they appear to be avoiding sending search parties at all to look around a certain region. end of march thru april: - when ana catches winds of talks of them suspending the search by the start of april when no leads have been found i think is when she actually leaves their hometown to go find the friends, see if they know anything, come up with a plan to go searching for themselves. - danny told everything and he speed-demons back from his trade schools' training by the coast. - the friends start scouring every place they can think of that maria could have gone to - both that she'd been to before, and where she'd mentioned to them she had planned to stop at or drive past during this trip ( which i imagine must've taken them yknow. a while to do. cause i'd assume they wanted to be thorough since the police weren't. ) - they keep meeting dead ends with every place they go to til they reach newt, and ultimately come across drayton, luda, etc etc. ( insert teehee forbidden knowledge )

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ like give it at least a little over a month to give shit time to unfold and grow more frustrating and confusing yknow? give it time for hopelessness to settle in to make that excitement of hearing from the scattered hewitt-sawyer family members of some possible leads refill them with the hope that maybe they've finally caught onto something!! that she was seen, that shes nearby maybe!!!

[singtotheskiies]

to the rescue // teen! ben hargreeves x reader

summary: when it’s your turn to be parenting experiment of the week, ben decides to take matters into his own hands—or, rather, tentacles.

request (by a lovely lovely anon💕): Hi I adore your writing❤️. Can you do a Ben Hargreeves x reader where the reader is restrained in a cell by Reginald and Ben comes and saves the day. Thx

words: 1893

warnings: emotional manipulation (it’s prick of the year reginald hargreeves, what do we expect), imprisonment

a/n: i feel like this one is right shit bc i wasn’t in a really good groove while writing it but ANYWAY please enjoy our bb boy:))))) (also!! empath!reader)

✖️✖️✖️

Dad stands in your doorway, intimidating as always, light glinting off his ever-present monocle. “Number Eight,” he says—crisp, harsh, and clear. “Come with me. Today we have a different form of training for you.”

“Where are we going?” you ask him. He’s not leading you towards the usual training room, and you’re without a partner—something you’ve never trained without due to your empathic abilities.

“Never you mind,” he says bluntly. You sigh, looking down at your feet. Trying to get information out of Dad is unnecessarily difficult sometimes—and you can’t read him as easily as you can your siblings. He’s scarily good at hiding his emotions.

He leads you down a few corridors before pausing and taking a blindfold out of his coat pocket. “Turn around.”

“Why? Where are we going?” You’re a bit worried now. “Turn around, Number Eight,” he repeats, harsher this time. “I do not have time for your questions.” You’ve got no choice, so you do as he says. The blindfold is tight—a bit too much so, but you know it’s pointless to bring it up. The two of you walk in silence for several minutes—you don’t think you’ve left the house, but your steps haven’t followed a route you’re familiar with. The Academy is big, though—maybe you’ve misjudged and you’re really just being led in circles to confuse you. Dad’s voice cuts through your thoughts, telling you to watch your step. You carefully move into some sort of space, confused as to why you’ve stopped. His hands come up to the nape of your neck, untying the blindfold from around your eyes. The fabric drops away to reveal a dark, metallic room with no furnishings. You’ve never seen it before or heard Dad talk about it—it almost looks like some sort of prison, and anxiety begins to push up into your chest. “Uh, Dad? Where are we?” you ask, fear making its way into your voice. You silently curse yourself for it—Dad hates any display of weakness. He doesn’t answer, instead busying himself with a huge hydraulic lock on the outside of the door. This does nothing to help your growing panic. “Dad?” you ask a few more times, voice rising with each repetition. “Dad!” “You will stay here until I let you out.” He finally answers, still not looking at you. “Goodbye, Number Eight.” He steps out of the chamber, locks hissing as the door seals itself behind him. Your brain enters full-blown panic, and you bang on the door, screaming for him to come back. You no longer care about showing weakness—tears spill over your cheeks as Dad’s back fades away and your banging grows weaker and weaker. When your voice gets too hoarse to yell and you’re convinced no one can hear you, you sink to the ground in a miserable heap. After a few minutes of crying, you sit up weakly and attempt to clear your head. You’ve never seen this chamber or the hallway it’s situated in before, but it logically has to be within the Academy somewhere. Maybe it’s underground or in a wing you’ve never been allowed access to? You instinctively close your eyes, reaching out to see if you can pick up on anyone’s emotions. Usually, you can sense your siblings from across the house, but the impenetrable walls of your cell and your admittedly less-than-functional mental state don’t help your case. You give up after a few minutes of mental searching and rest your forehead against the cold metal of one of the walls. And, since you have literally nothing else to do, you think. Clearly, this is one of Dad’s experiments—probably not too far off from when he’d lock Klaus in the mausoleum or when he’d throw dangerous weapons at Diego to see if he could save himself. They historically haven’t gone so well, as both siblings have ended up scarred—Klaus emotionally and Diego physically. You’re a bit worried as to what he has in store for you, but you’re not about to let yourself get hurt if you can help it. It’s likely that Dad’s locked you up to see how your abilities react to not being around people and their constantly-changing emotions. Maybe he thinks you’ll wither away. Perhaps it’s the opposite, and he’s examining the possibility of you tapping into your own feelings. Whatever the case may be, you resolve to try and remain as positive as you can about the situation, so you push down your fear and focus on happier things. Inevitably, almost embarrassingly, your thoughts roam to Ben. He’s the quietest of your siblings, always nose-deep in a book or sitting in silent contemplation. Despite his antisocial nature, the two of you have formed a close bond over the years. You find the contrast of his visceral power with his shy nature interesting, and he’s been perfectly content to sit and listen to you babble away about everything and nothing.

There’s also the fact that the two of you usually get paired together for training, since you can’t read him as easily as you can your other siblings. Dad says it’s likely because of the alien presence underneath his skin—the tendrils block his human presence somehow. And so, to create the biggest challenge for you, Dad’s made you spend hours on end with Ben, studying what feelings you can discern in order to strengthen your abilities. While some would become frustrated by the lack of ease you’ve experienced, it only eggs you on. You find Ben absolutely fascinating—a feeling that’s deepened over the years until you’ve come to accept the fact that you’re crushing on him, hard. Despite wearing your heart on your sleeve at all times, you’ve desperately tried to keep your feelings hidden—you can’t have any way of knowing if he returns those feelings, and your embarrassment would be supreme if he found out and didn’t feel the same.

Your cheeks heat up as your mind drifts to his jet-black hair, fine features, and adorably shy nature. There’s nothing better to do, so you let your mind spin scenarios of the two of you together—holding hands, going on small dates, cuddling on the couch. The thoughts stir a fluttering warmth in your chest that makes your present circumstances slightly more bearable. You hardly notice your breaths evening out and your eyelids blinking slower and slower as you daydream away.

You start awake an indeterminate amount of time later. You can’t remember falling asleep, and you have absolutely no way of knowing how much time has passed since Dad locked you up. Your crooked perception of time pales, however, to your all-consuming thirst. There’s no compartments or nooks anywhere that could be hiding a water supply—just smooth metal walls. Sinking back against the door, you try your hardest not to think about the dryness in your throat crying out to be lessened.

You judge it to be a few hours later when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. Instantly, you sit up, hoping it’s Dad come to let you free—but what you see instead is a million times better.

Ben’s sprinting down the hallway leading to your cell, face overtaken with concern. When he gets close enough to see you, he visibly softens. He tries to say something, but the thick hydraulic door blurs his words together. You shrug, pointing to your ears and shaking your head. He tries again, pointing to you with questioning eyes. You okay?

You nod, secretly thinking yes, now that you’re here. His brows are still knit together with worry, so you smile to reassure him that you really are okay. His eyes roam over your face for a few moments before he blinks and takes a step back, motioning for you to do the same. You’re not sure what he’s going to do, but you trust him completely.

He doubles down on himself before flailing his limbs out and arching his back. His tentacles erupt out of his stomach, lashing out and latching onto the huge handle of your cell door. The metal and glass shriek at the new pressure before slowly but surely bending from the force of Ben’s attack. When they’re broken enough to satisfy him, his tentacles retract and he scrambles forward to open the door separating the two of you.

As soon as you can slip through the door, you rush into his arms, wrapping him in a fierce hug. He hesitates for the briefest moment before returning the embrace. After being by yourself for so long, his arms feel so good around you, and your heart leaps in your chest as you catch a whiff of his smell—comforting and exciting all at once. Even though you could stay right here in his arms forever, you pull away slightly after several moments.

“How’d you know I was here?” you ask, grinning at the look of relief on Ben’s face.

“I thought it was weird when Dad didn’t schedule me to train with you like we usually would. No one knew where you went, so after a few hours, I decided to try and find you. Earlier I saw Dad coming out of a doorway I’d never seen anyone use before, so I used that as my starting place and, well—he’s got a bunch of charts monitoring how you’re doing. I knew I was in the right place. I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, voice getting quieter. “I was really worried.”

“We’ve been through worse,” you laugh, but his eyes don’t brighten at your joke.

“This is different, though,” he answers, voice rising again in anger. “He literally locked you up, I mean—that’s actually insane. No father should ever do that to their child.”

“I’m sure he means well,” you say weakly, but you both know it’s not true. Dad really only cares about himself. There’s a beat, then Ben speaks again.

“You sure you’re all right?” His eyes are sad and searching as they look into yours.

Summoning your courage, you say, “I am now that you’re here.” Ben’s eyes widen immediately, scanning your face almost hopefully. The corners of his mouth tilt up slowly, almost hesitantly—as if he’s afraid to let himself go completely.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t,” he breathes, and you notice that the distance between the two of you is narrowing. Just a few more inches and your foreheads would be touching—and so you take it upon yourself to both reassure and thank Ben in one motion. You tilt your head forward and gently press your lips to his.

His breath hitches at the contact, body freezing for the briefest of moments before his hands come up to cup your jaw. You smile and whisper a thank you against his lips before drawing back a fraction. Ben’s eyes are slow to open, and his cheeks are flushed when they finally do, gazing at you with so much half-lidded admiration your heart swells. You press a soft kiss to his cheek, and you don’t need your powers to tell you that somehow, Ben is just as smitten with you as you are with him.

And when the two of you are given an inevitable harsh scolding in Dad’s office, you can’t bring yourself to care much—you’re too focused on how Ben’s fingers are laced gently around yours.

[pink-peony-princess]

Deliverance| S.M Werewolf AU

Part One🐺

The woods had always been a place of comfort for me. A place to escape the madness of my life- of serenity. of course I'd heard the stories of vicious wolves who roamed the darkness waiting to prey on the innocent,but I always put it down to stories, gossip, folklore designed to stop kids from venturing too far. That was until the day I was taken.

A rogue pack had taken me as their personal toy, all the anger and frustration they felt was taken out on me. It was a good day if I got a bit of stale bread, and only one beating. On bad days there would be no food and constant, torturous abuse.

I had endured it for 13 year, my small body the reflection of years of malnutrition and hurt, but I'd finally escaped.

I had bid my time, waiting till they made an inevitable error, and it had finally happend. One of the younger wolves had forgotten to check the padlock when they'd had their fun with me and I'd seized the opportunity and run as fast as I could. but I wasn't fast enough. The alarm had been sounded and there were now several wolves hot on my heels and I could run no further I had to accept my fate. He was less than a metre away from me when our of nowhere another wolf - russet in colour intercepted him in mid air, knocking him over with the force of an elephant. I could hear the snarling and snapping of jaws as I finally collapsed and

surrendered, the last thing I remember was a tall young man walking towards me .

When I woke it was to a mass of activity.

I drifted in and out of sleep, hearing people talking.feeling hands on me, there was even something about the alpha wanting to see 'her', and a 'mate' and something else about ' killing the pack that did this'. What that meant I couldn't know in my delirium.

When I managed to finally open my eyes and get past the blindly bright light above me, I was met with the image of a man-pacing back land forth, muttering to himself. And the more immediate threat of someone fiddling with the sheet that lay over me.

Surely with a man this good looking, this close to me it had to be a dream, I tried to convince myself, but someone shattered the dream almost as soon as is materialised.

"Well hello sweetheart, I'm glad to see you're finally awake," the voice came from that of and older woman with long greying hair braided out of her face "My name's Judy, I'm your nurse," she smiled down at me. "Are you in any pain?" She asked.

I took a moment to take everything in, but I was still unable to make sense of it all.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to sit up, but everything protested as soon as I moved, even muscles I didn't know I had.

"Just stay still for now dear, you don't want to hurt yourself further," the nurse-Judy spoke kindly, helping me to resettle myself.

Something, maybe me speaking seemed to wake the man from his trance like state and he turned to meet my confused gaze.

He was tall, he had to be at least 6 foot, with sliflghtly tanned skin, the most rich brown eyes I'd ever seen, and hair that was neatly cut, except for a few unruly curls at the front of his head which didn't want to co-operate with the hair gel he'd obviously used to style it.

"Oh,oh thank God." the man rushed over to the side of the bed stopping mere inches from my face.

I could feel my heart rate picking up as panic set in, not used to people (let alone males) being this close without hurting me.

I turned to Judy asking desperately with my eyes for help

She must have got the memo because she cleared her throat and spoke.

She seemed somewhat hesitant though "Alpha, I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, I know you must be worried sick as we all are, however would it not be prudent to give the girl some space?"

The man searched my face for a moment, before straightening and stepping backwards.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he muttered guiltily.

"You didn't," I lied before I could think about it.

"My name's Shawn what's yours?" he asked holding his hand out for me to take.

I kept my mouth shut, years of torture telling me to keep quiet. He dropped his extended up so it was back at his side.

"Alrighty then, when you're ready. I won't push you." He spoke, it seemed as though he was trying deliberately to keep his tone, soft, conversational and I appreciated it.

At that moment the doctor walked in. "It's good to see you awake Miss," he spoke echoing Judy's words.

"I'm sorry to say you're quite banged up." Shawn started pacing again at his words.

"

I would have sworn I heard a growl.

"Shawn you have to stay calm," Judy spoke, it sounded almost as if she was trying to comfort him, confusing me further.

Once the doctor left Shawn calmed down, having dragging a chair from outside my room to sit beside my bed.

"I heard something about killing another pack?" I asked weighing my words cafefully. "So are you all wolves too?"

"Yes, honey, but I promise you're safe here," he replied softly, looking over at me. I looked down again, not able to take the human interaction.

"Everytime I look at you, you look down. Why is that?"he asked, sounding sad.

" I didn't mean to upset you," I panicked.Starting to pick at the I.V in my arm, it was something I always did when I was nervous, picking things, my skin, nails whatever seemed to help.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I'm not mad," he cut me off. "I just mean I've noticed it is all," he lay a hand carefully on my arm and surprisingly the contact helped.

"I don't know," I pondered, distracted by his touch. There was a weird, warm feeling flowing from the point of contact straight up to my chest, not dissimilar to when your hands or feet go numb and then start to respond again. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. "I guess, I'm not used to positive human contact," I admitted, looking up to see him shaking his head.

"Are you the Alpha?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me, surprise washing over his face at the boldness of my question.

"Yes, I am," he spoke proudly. "Of the Shadowmoon Pack, greatest pack in all of Canada if you ask me," he smiled.

I liked the way he was so confident. It made me feel safe and secure. A few more hours past with us sitting in a comfortable silence, I couldn't help but feel safe around him, and as foreign as the feeling was, I also craved it.

"Are you ready to go home now Poppet?" Judy ssekd, making her way into my room again sometime later and starting to mess around with the I.V tubing.

I looked at her panicked.

"Home?" I squeeked. Surely they weren't really going to send me home. It wasn't a home where I'd come from it was a hell, my own personal hell and I'd be damned if I was going back.

Shawn seemed to noticed my emotions and stepped forward, slowly holding his arms out, and instead of backing away as I had done earlier,I surprised us both and stepped into his hold.

He was warm and comfortable, our bodies seemed to fit perfectly,denim of his jacket just scratchy enough and the now semi familiar tingling from our contact pleasant enough to ground me somewhat. I stayed like that for a minute or so before I became a little more aware of what I was doing. I was hugging a near stranger,worse he was a male, worse again Ii was actually lettung myself like it.

Sorry, I blushed, stepoing away quicky and looking down.

"You don't need to apologise," he smiled.

"What was the tingling I felt" I asked wanting to change the subject.

"That is what you get when two mates make contact" He smiled wider than I had ever seen a person smile, his fangs being exposed in the process.

I stood, silently, shocked.

"Are you okay" He asked moving to step towards me, I held a hand up and he halted midstride.

"I promise you. We'll take things slowly, right now I just want to get you home- to our home," he amended when he saw the look of panic in my face. "So you can rest."

I nodded. Still not entirely comfortable, but what other choice did I have? Go back to the pack that had tortured me all these years, or even end up homeless on the street? And from everything I'd seen Shawn seemed like a genuinely nice person, who everyone respected. Plus,if he was telling the truth, which from heat I could tell, he was, he was my mate and from all the stories I'd heard as a child, your mate was meant to be the one person in the world who would do anything for you, be anywhere for you. They would literally protect you with their lives.

"Shawn I don't have anything to wear," I whispered embarrassed again, looking down at the gown which barely covered anything as Judy finally finished what she was doing in the corner of he room having taken out my I.V. and left.

"I brought you some clothes, don't worry," he smiled.Pullnig out the most comfortable pale pink sweater I'd ever seen, he handed it to me and I was hit with his scent.

"This is yours?"

",Is that okay?" he worried. " I could go home and get something from one of the girls if you're uncomfortable," he offered.

I just smiled,letting out a little giggle at the extreme level of concern he was showing, which caused him to immediately relax l, shoulders dropping, a slight smile gracing his lips as he shook his head softly.

"Can you turn around please?" I requested. He did as asked giving the privacy I so desperately craved.

When I was finished he took my hand, holding his other under my elbow to support my weight.

He was so patient, never rushing me as he lead me through the hospital and out the doors into the world. I couldn't help but savour the fresh air,the cold winter air burning my lungs but in a good way.

"I bet it feels nice to be outside again,"

I nodded, "How did you find me" I asked, as we continued to walk. It was as if now that I was free my mind could finally ask questions and process all the stuff I had never done previously.

"That's a story for when you've had some more rest," he answered, coming to a stop in front of a Jeep, opening the door and lifting me in. The tingling was still a shock,l everytime he touched my skin.

"Feel free to sleep we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us" he smiled reassuringly, before turning the ignition,the car coming to life.

I woke to someone shaking me,it was dark now and I immediately jumped back in my seat, unsure, before my groggy eyes made contact with Shawn's and I realised where I was and relaxed.

"I won't hurt you, you're safe now Pup," he murmured, moving to brush some hair out of my face with a feather-light touch. I blushed at the nickname."I was just waking you because we're here, this is home" I took in the house illuminated by lights in complete awe.

"So you're an Alpha and you don't hurt humans?" I asked as he helped me cafefully from he car.

"You're not human, you're an omega, but no I have nothing against humans," he added, holding me steady as I swayed on my feet slightly, not used to standing anymore.

I stood stunned again," I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll get to all of that, for now though, you need rest.

We made our way through the house in silence, I could hear other voices, yet we never came across anyone.

"This is my room," he spoke, shifting his grip on me slightly to open the door.

The room was large with huge french doors leading out to a balcony overlooking a big yard and a lake, soft- what looked like silk curtains framing the windows, a guitar sat in one corner a futon in the other. There was a record player in the corner, playing a soft melody which filled the space, creating a warm inviting feeling. In the centre of the room was the biggest bed I had ever seen.

It had several large cushions on it and a duvet cover that looked like it would feel like laying on clouds. Just this bed was bigger than he cell I'd been forced to spend so many years in,I thought with a shudder.

"This is your room?I stumbled over my words.

"Well I'm hoping it will be our room actually." Shawn spoke, scratching at his neck.

I turned panicked. "But only when you're comfortable I'm not about to force you into anything I promise."

He held his pinkie finger out, and I just looked at it unsure of what he wanted.

"Here," he smiled, taking my hand and locking my own little finger with his. "This is called a pinkie promise. It's like a pact that you don't break," he explained with a smile.

"Oh,I guess, I must have forgotten." I felt extremely stupid and shit up quickly, the only sound that of the record player still in the corner. I found it so comforting, my own father had had one when I was little and I could remember watching the record and needle spin for hours.

"There's a room adjacent to mine which I've had the maids freshen up, there's a comfortable bed and an ensuite with fresh towels and a toothbrush." he continued as if there wasn't just a massive awkward silence emitting solely from my lack of understanding.

He turned leading me back out and across the hallway to another door. When he opened it, I saw a room, smaller than his, but still warm and cosy, with a big bed, a window, lots of pretty lights and yet more records, this time hung in the wall.

"You didn't need to do this for me," I told him, as I took it all in.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," he shrugged.

He lead me back to his room where he sat down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and patting the spot next to him.

"How long was I out" I asked after a minute. He got what I meant immediately.

"Three days," he answered somberly.

"How are you feeling? he asked.

"Still very sore," I admitted.

"Here let me see your injuries." he reached over picking up a box of what I soon realised was full of first aid stuff.

He was extremely gentle as he tended to he cuts and scrapes that covered my shoulders, arms,and legs. He even managed to convince me to let him check my ribs. This I found uncomfortsbly and awkward once again, but he was careful not to make it any worse than it had to be and he had rewrapped them quicky and easily.

"How do you know how to do all this?" I asked quietly as he gently dabbed at a cut on my hand. "We'll I'm actually a trained doctor. When I'm not working as the Alpha, I work at the pack hospital. There all done," he announced,packing up the box and disposing of he rubbish in a small medical waste tin.

Half an hour later and I'd gotten changed, again into one of Shawn's oversized hoodies and made myself comfortable in his bed after he insisted I stay in his room incase I needed him.

"Sleep well, Pup, I'll be here if you need me."

He went to lounge on the futon, and I was left to drift to sleep, exhausted by the day's events. My sleep was fitful to satly the least, dreams bad nightmares melding to form weird and wonderful scenarios which would never make sense.

When I woke, it was to a soft knock on the door. Opening my eyes, I could see that it was still slightly light out, though dinner than it had been, probably somewhere around dusk. A girl with dark hair, dark eyes and a kind smile stepped tenntively into the room.

"My name's Karla. Im in the pack. It's nice to meet you," she added warmly. "Shawn's had to go deal with some pack matters so he asked me to come keep you company. I brought you some food. He said you might be hungry." She held out what looked like a croisant, the smell of butter instantly filling the room."I also brought a hair brush," she added. "I thought you might like to brush your hair, I know that always makes me feel better. Or I could do it?" she added again, shyly.

"Thank you."I whispered, my voice still hoarse.

The girl, Karla, came to sit on the bed. She had to be the same age as me. Maybe a year or two older.

"I hope the pack meeting doesn't go too long," she said as I started picking at my croisant. "Shawn won't want to be away from you, it's hard to be away from our mates." She looked dreamy as she spoke, leaving no question that she too had a mate.

"I'm nervous to meet everyone," I admitted with a frown, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"Aww, don't worry everyone will love you," she smiled. "We've all been waiting for ages for him to meet his mate and you're finally here." she clapped in excitement, breaking E and forcing me to smile just as Shawn came through the door with another soft knock.

"Ahhh, I see you've meet Karla," he smiled, raising his eyebrow a little bit. " I hope she's been telling you good things."

"Yep, what were you doing" I asked watching as he took his deniem jacket off- the same one from earlier and chucked it onto the futon, coming to sit next to me on the bed, careful not to invade my personal space.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked watching as I pulled the crosiant to pieces no longer interested by the food, now that I had him here.

"I'm alright," I shrugged.

He nodded, and we lapsed into yet another comfortable quiet.

It was only then that I realised Karla had left the room, she must have excused herself, seeing that she was no longer needed and didn't feel the need to encroach.The hairbrush however was still laying on the bed.

"I just want you to know," he spoke, breaking the silence after a while, "that no matter what happeneds you'll be safe here. I'll protect you with my life, it's my job both as your Alpha and as your mate," he spoke earnestly.

He was looking at me with such an intensity as he spoke that something broke inside of me, and I cracked. "Lucy," I whispered looking down and away from his gaze.

"What?" I could here the confusion in his voice.

"Lucy, my name, my name is Lucy." I spoke more clearly this time, though I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Lucy, that's a pretty name," he murmured. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was reaching for me, and as much as I wanted to move, my body was frozen whether in fear or anticipation I couldn't know, but the next thing I knew both his hands were cupping my face. He was so gentle, almost as if he thought I would break. I looked up at him, once again taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You're so pretty when you blush," he smiled, caressing my cheek.

"Please don't compliment me, I don't deserve it, I'm ugly," I repeated the words my captors had drilled into me for so many years.

"You, Lucy," he put emphasis on my name. "are anything but ugly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out."

"How can you say that?" I replied.

"Because, I can feel it Lucy, right here," he took my hand in his and placed it over his chest where I could feel his heart beat strong and sure. "I've been waiting for you my entire life. And now that I have you, it's my job, my honour to protect you with my life," he explained fiercly.

"Thank you," I chocked out, tears welling in my eyes.Leaning into his frame just slightly despite myself and my fears.

"No pup, thank you."

[natusvincere]

Nightmare Square || Marley and Vic

Who: @detectivedreameater and @natusvincere Where: The Bend When: A few weeks ago What: Marley and Vic find out what dreams are made of... literally. Warnings: Allusions to child abuse, Head Injury Mention

Reports of strange activity down in the Bend had been pouring in, and Marley could no longer stand by and let it be written off. Well, sit by, as it were, as she scratched away at files from her desk. Soon, she had to remind herself, she was going to get back into the field soon. She just needed a bit more time to heal, to get better, to control herself. But soon. Still, soon didn’t ever feel like soon enough when she felt like the only cop in the precinct who understood the supernatural nature of the town. Ally was...getting there, but she had almost drawn a gun on Marley at just the mention of the supernatural, so there was still a way to go in regards to that. The only other officer she knew of who knew was Langley, and there was no way in hell she was ever asking him for help, after what had happened at the escape room. 

And so, she’d gone it alone. Probably not the best idea-- definitely not the best idea-- and Anita and Erin would probably kick her ass if they ever found out, but the solution to that was easy: make sure they never found out. She grabbed the pistol from her car and headed out, following the path that had been laid out by the many reports of suspicious activity. It led her behind a building and towards some of the abandoned buildings in the Bend, but so far, she hadn’t spotted anything. Even with her perfect vision, everything seemed pretty normal. She was about ready to give up when she heard a noise and saw a shadow. Marley stiffened and stood stock still for a moment, before allowing her body to turn invisible, creeping along towards the shadow. Turned the corner and-- “Vic?” Marley groaned, rolling her eyes as she became visible again. “What’re you doing out here?”

 Tips these days were far and few between.  There were phases of time when Vic would be gushing with information on vampire clans, pouring them out to hunters just as quick as she’d pour them a drink.  But lately was not one of those times.  Instead, there was a lull, making her desperate to scope out any lead she even had an inkling about, just to get some action in her life.  Things had been so mundane lately that she was actually considering attempting one of those video games she had been arguing with the internet about.  No, she couldn’t have that. 

The bend was a common location for these types of tips, and it was an area of town she was quite familiar with after doing this sort of work for so long.

She had been wandering around a few alleyways, traipsing in and out to find any sense of the vampires she’d heard the miniscule lead about.  She jumped, just slightly, when she heard her name, whipping around to face the culprit and ready to strike, if necessary.  Instead, she was met with a familiar face, and she let her guard down.  “Marley”, she said, leaning on her hip and pursing her lips.  “I could ask you the same thing.” It was a ridiculous thing to say, of course- it was Marley’s job to be in a place like this- to investigate the very filth that Vic wished to eradicate.  She suddenly realized she could hear music in the background- harp, that sounded strikingly similar to what Lyra used to play her.  It made her stomach turn.  “Since when are they piping music into the bend?”, she wondered, swallowing.

 “I’m a cop, Vic,” Marley answered sarcastically, “thought you knew that already?” She’d known Vic for a while now-- both as an acquaintance and, well, in other more intimate ways-- but she hadn’t seen her recently. It was strange running into her here and now, but this town had thrown stranger things at her. She paused when Vic said she heard music and tried to listen, but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. She scrunched her nose. “I don’t think the bend has that budget quite yet.” An idea struck her, and her face lit up. “What do you say we go check it out together? Whatever’s there, I’m betting it’ll be a fun time for both of us.” A grin. “Like old times! Not that we ever did anything like this before, but it’s been a minute since I’ve seen you, and we both like dishing out what people have coming to them, right?”

 Vic rolled her eyes at Marley, though the suppression of a smile was harder in the company of someone she was comfortable with than she would like to admit.  She leaned back against the brick wall in an effort to stave off the feeling, crossing her arms in front of her.  Marley clearly  needed to get her hearing checked, and Vic furrowed her eyebrows at her.  “Your ears are failing in your old age”, she accused, leaning her neck around to locate the hidden speaker.  The music was haunting her, distracting and ever present.  Marley’s idea, and excitement, by extension, as amusing as it was surprising, and it was a welcome distraction. Vic stood up straighter at the prospect of someone to scope out the area with. It might be fun to catch up, and scoping out the area  with someone as skilled and experienced as Marley would be a piece of cake.  “Fine”, she said, pushing off the wall at the same time as she pushed another smile away.  “So, where to first, cop?” she asked, emphasizing the last word playfully.

 “Whatever, grandma,” Marley said, though she was aware that Vic had never actually told her her real age. “My ears are fine.” Even though they were ringing right now, she wasn’t about to admit that outloud. Her face lit up, though, when Vic agreed to her terms, and she practically bounced on her toes in excitement. It’d been so long since she’d investigated something with someone, considering she was benched at work. “I knew you’d agree!” she grinned, pulling out her glock and giving a sweeping ‘follow me’ gesture. “Show me where this sound you’re hearing is coming from, miss super hearing, and we’ll go from there, yeah?” She waved her gun slightly, letting her know that she was prepared for whatever was coming. “I came here for an investigation into strange activity, so, you know--” she nodded, “--just in case.”

 Pushing her hands into her back pockets, Vic let out a scoff, but followed along with Marley all the same. “What strange activity?”, she wondered, her eyes trained on the ground in front of them as they walked.  She shook her head, trying to concentrate on the sound to better locate where it was coming from, and grabbed Marley’s wrist to lead her to where she was sure it was coming from.  It didn’t seem to be getting any louder though, so she let out another frustrated scoff and pulled her in another direction, only to find the same problem. “I… I can’t figure this shit out”, she said, the distant harp sounding more hauntingly familiar with each passing moment.  “It’s like… it feels like it’s everywhere, ...I can’t locate a source”.  Behind Marley, a man slowly walking by caught her attention, and the sight of him shocked her.  If she didn’t know any better, she’d be sure it was her father. She looked at Marley, and then back at the man, but he was gone, replaced instead by a simple housecat. “There’s something fucked up going on”, she said, locking eyes with Marley again.  “I think I’m going batshit”.

 Marley let Vic drag her around, searching for her mysterious noise. She watched her closely as they headed around corners and through the back alleys. “Reports of people seeing things, stranger than usual things. Things that shouldn’t be possible, according to laws of physics,” she explained, “hey, you okay?” But before she could get the full sentence out Vic was turning and locking eyes with her-- something Marley hated when it wasn’t on her terms, her eyes were dangerous, even to a vampire-- and cursing about going crazy. “Hey, woah, slow down, what‘re you talking about? No source? It’s gotta have a source, Vic, that’s how sound works. Are you sure your super special vamp hearing isn’t going bad or something?” She watched Vic glance behind her and turned her head to see what she’d been looking at, but only found a cat. However, when she turned back around to face Vic, a familiar, bloody face greeted her and Marley jumped. “I think I’m going batshit,” Roland said and Marley scrambled away, shaking her head and-- it was just Vic again. “What the--” Was she seeing things? No, that wasn’t possible. She was the mara, she was immune to magically induced hallucinations. “Okay, something really weird is going on here and I’m not happy about it.”

 “Sounds like a regular day in the bend to me”, Vic breathed out, now on alert and worried her father might pop up out of the shadows again.  “Don’t people come here looking for trouble?” She shook her head at Marley, annoyed.  She wasn’t listening.  “No!  My fucking cursed hearing isn’t going bad.  It doesn’t work like that. It’s everywhere, Marley.  It’s not getting any louder or quieter, it just is”.  She stared at Marley, tilting her head in confusion at her reaction.  Was she seeing things too, then?  Her eyes glanced up toward the sky above them, and she could hear a faint, familiar giggle on top of the harp.  “This is freaking me out.  I’m getting out of here.  Are you coming, or are you stupid?”  Without waiting for an answer, Vic grabbed Marley by the wrist again pulling her down the alley they were standing in. The alley, which was before no longer than about 10 feet, now seemed to stretch out forever, and no matter how much they walked, it never seemed to end.  She stopped, turning around, only to see the alley endless stretching the other way too.  Dropping Marley’s wrist, she ran toward the end of the alley, pumping her legs with as much force as she could, but to no avail.  “What the fuck”, she said, turning around to Marley with wide eyes.  Somehow, they were still right next to one another.

 Too much was happening again and Marley was having a hard time following Vic’s train of thought. Her head was spinning, as Vic grabbed her wrist and started yanking her down the alley. But it stretched out, forever and ever and Marley felt panic swell inside her chest, her heart plummeting into the pit of her stomach. For a moment, the alley looked like that house. Peeling paint, sludge on the ground, claw marks dragged across the walls. Vic was running, and she’d left Marley alone. “Wait!” she shouted, reaching out for her, but then Vic was gone, and Marley was alone. Shadows danced in and out of her vision and she backed away, holding her gun up. “Show yourself!” she shouted, twisting in circles. “I know what you are! I-I’m not afraid of you anymore!” A noise to her left. Marley twisted, ready to pull the trigger, barrel pointed directly at her assailants face, but-- it was Vic again. Marley jumped. “You left!” she snapped, “you just-- where did you come from? What’s going on?” It was like a bad nightmare, but the only nightmare here was supposed to be Marley. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

 As soon as they appeared next to each other again, Marley was holding a gun out to Vic’s face.  On instinct she flinched back, but just barely.  Her eyes met the barrel of the gun, and starred it down, daring it to go off.  “You’re tweaking out on me, Stryder.”  She took her hand and rested it atop the gun, lowering it down so it was no longer settled between them.  “No shit.  But doing that the conventional way doesn’t seem very likely right now”, she said, indicting to either side of the alley.  The harp music began to ring louder and louder in her ears, as did the taunting giggles. She didn’t want to think about this, about her, about any of that nonsense.  “Jösses, shut up!”,  she screamed at the sky, covering her ears.  The sound from her shout, strangely, took on a visual form, and it shot up toward the sky above them.  Suddenly, and without warning, clouds from up above came toppling down toward them, and something in Vic’s gut just knew they weren’t soft and fluffy.  “Run!” she said, not bothering to look behind her and see if Marley was following.  “What the fuck is going on, Marley?  What kind of backwards ass shit were you investigating out here?”

 Marley didn’t resist as Vic lifted a hand and pushed the gun from her face, but she did keep a firm grip on her firearm. Something was happening here and she wasn’t taking any chances. “I’m not tweaking,” she snapped, but something in the back of her mind made her wonder if maybe she was, maybe it was her mind finally breaking. But that wasn’t possible, because Vic was experiencing it, too, and Marley knew it wasn’t her doing it. For once. “Hey, calm down. Vic--” Marley started, but then Vic was shouting at her to run and taking off. Her shout was tangible and Marley looked, just barely managing to leap out of the way when a chunk of something fell right where they’d been standing. “Vic!” Marley called again, scrambling to stand up. “Wait!” If they just ran wildly, they were going to get lost. Whatever was happening, it was creating a maze for them. She could feel it, as the alleyway turned into the hallway she’d nearly forgotten about. She’d thought she was over that. She wanted to be over that. Her hands shook and she began to sweat. “Vic?” she called out, as darkness enveloped the alleyway, pulling her away from the solace of her companion. She was alone in that house again and the skittering sound that had haunted her for months after echoed around her. “No,” she grunted. “No! I’m not afraid of you anymore!” And without thinking, she lifted her gun and fired.

 It took her longer than Vic would have liked to realize, but Marley was apparently not down with the idea of running away from their problems.  She stopped suddenly and whipped around, ready to scold her for not listening, but she was met with a wall that she was sure hadn’t been there before.  She whipped around again, facing where she had just come from, only to be met with another suddenly appearing wall.  “Fuck!”, she yelled, kicking one of the walls that now surrounded her. Suddenly, the harp like music that she’d been hearing sounded louder than ever, and when she turned around again, she was met with a sight that made her heart rise to her throat.  It was Lyra, sitting there and playing the nyckleharpa, as if it were 1570s Sweden and not present day White Crest.  Tears rose to her eyes, but she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breath, like the 4 walls around them were closing in and there was no way out.  The more Vic looked at Lyra’s face, the less she looked like her- her face morphed from a calm, gentle smile to a sickeningly sinister one, one that threatened to overtake her whole face if it grew any wider.  “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real”, she repeated, turning away from fake Lyra and covering her ears, desperate not to hear anymore.  A loud crash shook her out of her thoughts and she looked behind her, only to find one of the four walls shattering in front of her, Marley’s bullet whipping by her face mere seconds later.  She took a moment to catch her breath, but quickly ran close to Marley again, happy to be rid of dream Lyra. “We need to stick together”, she said, the only hint of an apology that would be leaving her lips.  “To...to find a way out of whatever this is”.

 The sound of glass shattering signaled that Marley had hit something, but it certainly wasn’t a something that she’d expected or been aiming at. Vic was running back towards her, and the fear on her own face made Marley realize that what they were seeing were two different things. Which meant-- “Magic,” she exhaled. “Whatever’s doing this is magic. And, well, by the looks of it, fucking powerful.” She blinked, trying to reset herself. She scrubbed her hand across her eyes, removing her sunglasses all together. If they were going to get through this, then they needed all their concentration. She even holstered her gun, because what good was a gun against magic? “What did it show you?” she asked, then, looking Vic square in the eyes. It might’ve been nighttime, the element both of them thrived in-- but they were left vulnerable here. Even Marley was sure magic could do her in at night. She’d always been warned against magic, especially those powerful enough to manipulate the mind.

 “Fucking bullshit town”, Vic muttered under her breath, disgusted that Marley’s explanation of what was going on seemed just about as viable as any, at this point.  She shook her head at Marley’s question, not willing to divulge what she saw to anyone, ever.  Marley knew she didn’t do feelings, she would do well now to know not to press.  “Something from my past”, was all she offered, shuttering as the image of Lyra with that sickening, wide grin flashed into her mind again.  “What about you?”, she asked.  She looked around them, their surroundings still morphing and warping as time passed, though they seemed to be more obvious about it now that they were aware that something was up.  “None of this makes sense, it’s all so...random and irrational.   Are we at the hands of some fucked up, magic child?”

 Vic was about as forthcoming as Marley assumed she would be. Sighing, she rubbed a hand across her face. “A nightmare,” she mumbled, “and also a...recent thing that happened.” Some people would describe it as a “traumatic experience” but Marley certainly wasn’t going to use those words. At least not with Vic. She gave a hollow chuckle. “Funny,” she said, eyeing their surroundings. “But no. I think it’s...drawing its inspiration from us. Whatever it is. I don’t think it’s a person, though. Probably some sort of...magic pocket or something. They occur around the town quite a bit, but never this, well-- big. Or often.” Or powerful. This pocket felt as if it might swallow Marley whole. She tried to steady her breath. “I think we need to...stop feeding it. If it has nothing to draw from, the illusions might just, go away. Only problem is, I’m not sure how to cease brain function. At least, you know,” she gave a snigger, “for myself.” 

 Vic eyed Marley suspiciously, though she couldn’t expect her to elaborate, not when Vic was so anti-sharing during their time together.  It was frustrating that she had a sense of concern about whatever might be going on with Marley, and she buried it, for the sake of solving their current problem.  She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all, even though she knew Marley was probably right.  “Are these magic pockets sentient?  Because it seems to know what the fuck it’s doing, and it’s got a sick sense of humor.”  As if on cue, flower petals began to flutter around both of them, dancing in rhythm with each other as they fell from the sky.  She let out a frustrated breath as one landed on the bridge of her nose, and she flicked it away with specific determination and annoyance.  “But if you stir up nightmares, wouldn’t logic say that you can defeat them as well?”, she wondered aloud, doing a bad job at hiding her approving smirk at Marley’s bad joke.  “Okay, so like… a trance?”  That, she could do.  She had an easy enough time clearing her mind when she went into trances during the day, but would Marley be able to do the same?  “I can clear my mind in a fucking snap, but what are we gonna do about you?”

 “I don’t think sentient is the right word, but--” Marley ground her teeth, shrugged, “something like that. It’s at least intelligent or, maybe just playing off our minds. Mental magic is a thing, I’m pretty sure.” She really needed to learn more about magic, didn’t she? The thought dissipated quickly, because they had more important things to focus on. Like getting out of this nightmare. It felt a little like cosmic karma when she thought of it like that. She looked up as the petals began to rain down, catching one in her palm. It felt so real. That was the problem, wasn’t it? This shit was real. It wasn’t just their imagination. It was like the pizza downtown, or the fish raining down. The sticky road in the Bend. Marley crushed the petal in her palm. A smirk grew on her face, wide and joyful. “Scratch that,” she said, turning to look at Vic. She pulled her gun back out and loaded it, then held it out to Vic as she pulled another from her boot. “Think as hard as you can about one thing. I don’t just stir up nightmares, Vic, I manifest them. I make them real because I draw from someone’s memory for them. That’s what this place is doing.” She opened her palm to show her the crushed petal. “It’s making them real, the more we think about them. And if something’s real, well,” she gestured to their weapons, “something can be destroyed.”

 Vic studied Marley’s face, watching a myriad of emotions pass through, each stronger than the last.  Whatever she was thinking about, it seemed to be working out a way to get them out of this mess, and she found herself taking solace in the triumphant smirk presented to her.  But then, there was the gun, which might as well have been shoved into her hands.  She held it like it was some sort of germ, one that she wished to be rid of.  Of course she knew how to fire one, thanks to countless self-defense courses she’d put herself through over the years- but for some reason, she could never bring herself to buy one of her own.  There was something that felt wrong about holding it- it felt too real.  She didn’t do horrible things, she just set it up so that other people could. Deep in her mind, where memories of her past mixed and swelled and begged to come pouring out, she worried that if she allowed herself to own one, maybe she’d be the one doing the horrible things after all.  

She shook her head.  It was a waste of time to dwell on maybes and worries and what-ifs.  Especially now and here.   She licked her lips as she listened to Marley’s advice, and closed her eyes. Think, think think.  Her fiance, Lyra, a tutor, a flash of her mother’s face, Winnie, Morgan, angry with her after they tried to garden, her tiny, paint stained fingers, blurred away by tears as a booming voice bellowed from behind her… nothing was sticking.  Whatever she had to think of, Marley was going to see, and know, and ask bullshit questions about things that didn’t matter anymore.  She shook her head again, lowering her gun and looking at Marley.  “It’ll be enough if you do it, I think.  You destroy your nightmares, and we’ll both be out of here.  I’m not that afraid of anything that it gives me nightmares, so…” Her words were shaky and uneven, and even the dullest stranger could have sensed the insincerity in them.  

 Marley watched Vic’s face closely and understood the feeling she was going through. Debating whether or not to expose the truth about the nightmares that had once plagued her. The truth was that neither of them could dream anymore, let alone have nightmares. But for Vic, that didn’t mean that she didn’t used to have them, however long ago. Marley had experienced nightmares once in her life, she didn’t have much to draw on. Not anymore. She didn’t understand the feelings dreams and nightmares brought with them like other people did. She never could. It was another thing her species had taken from her. How strange, to feed from something you could never truly understand. She furrowed her brow at Vic. “You can’t lie to me,” she said simply, frowning. “Thought you knew that by now.” She looked around them as the world cycled through different iterations of itself. Hallways, closed doors, large rooms. They needed to work fast if they wanted to get out of here. She looked back at Vic with narrower eyes. 

“I’ve never had a nightmare before,” she stated, a simple fact, “whatever this is, is drawing on my subconscious. I can’t control that. But it’s drawing on your nightmares. From when you were human. I know that was like, what, at least a few decades? Maybe a century?” She shifted, facing Vic fully. “But you had them. You can still remember them. So, fucking feed the entity or I’m gonna go invisible and leave you behind.” She couldn’t actually do that, but she figured she got the point across.

 “I’m not ly-”, Vic started, but the look on Marley’s face told her to not even try.  As many times as she had successfully avoided discussing feelings and their past and all that bullshit with Marley, it was becoming abundantly clear that after today, she would no longer be afforded that privacy.  Time to find another fuck buddy.  She let out a low sigh, pressing her lips together and staring Marley down.  This was ridiculous.  She was not about to relive her childhood in front of Marley- not when she had spent years perfecting the art of ignoring them all together.  But then Marley’s threat made her heart skip a bit- there’s no way she could bear being here any longer- especially not alone.  With a frustrated grunt, she closed her eyes, focusing on whatever decided to come up first.

She looked down at her hands, but they weren’t her worn, grown up ones.  No, the ones she saw now were tiny and undamaged...and covered in paint.  So was her pretty dress, but it didn’t look ruined to her.  It stood out, now, bright and blue and splotched all over, in a way that might make people pay attention and tell her how beautiful she looked.  Next to her no longer stood Marley, but her tutor- looking cross and annoyed, like she did most mornings.  But then the door slammed open, causing her to jump back with a start.  And there her father stood- tall and loud and boiling over with disappointment and shame.  Shame that she wasn’t good enough, that she wasn’t a boy, that she was too loud, too messy, too clumsy.  Too Victoria. He bound toward her, his stride and pace matching the monsters she read about in her books late at night.  Though she stared him down, forcing her face to look as dark and angry as his, her breath was quickening and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.  No, no, no.  This was not real.  He died- a long time ago.  She had watched the service for him from afar- covering her face and ignoring the conflicting feelings that fought each other in her chest.  Looking down at her hand, she noticed it was no longer that of a child, but her normal, adult hand again.  She lifted the gun up, studying it, and after a quick glance at Marley (who was suddenly back where she belonged), she held it toward him.  It was the first time she’d seen him stop in his tracks.  Without dwelling on it any longer, she felt her finger pull the trigger, and the man in front of her disappeared into a simple tuft of smoke, dissolving into the atmosphere as if he was never there to begin with. 

Vic shoved the gun back into Marley’s hands, hoping the other woman wouldn’t notice her sweaty palms, or the way her breathing still hadn’t quite settled down.  “Happy now?” she asked angrily, as if Marley had been the one to put them here in the first place.

 Marley watched with fascination as Vic’s nightmare began to unfold in front of her. It was a spectacle, for sure, to see a vampire’s nightmare. Fear gazing never gave the same satisfaction, but this was-- strangely more fulfilling, despite her not even choosing to feed off the fear. The alleyway melted and gave way to a room, with a desk, and some supplies, a chalkboard. Marley didn’t recognize it at first, but it seemed to be some sort of educational room. There was a woman standing beside Vic, who was staring down at her hands in awe. A tutor? A nanny, perhaps? Some sort of caretaker. Stood nearby, a frown on their face. She was angry at Vic. But not as angry as the man who burst into the room. He seemed to appear out of nowhere and Marley watched him with wide eyes. He was...her father, she supposed. She stepped aside as Vic finally worked up the courage to confront the nightmare. She felt the world changing around them. It was already melting away. The scittering in the back of Marley’s mind was dissipating. She turned her gaze back to VIc.

The gunshot echoed in the empty alleyway.

They were back in the real world, the nightmare they’d been stuck in just a tiny shimmer falling to the ground around them like confetti. She took the gun when it was handed to her, staring at Vic. She didn’t quite comprehend what she’d just witnessed. She’d seen many a nightmare, but Marley fed from adults only. Something like this only lived inside her own memories. She blinked them away and holstered the gun after flipping on the safety. “I don't particularly enjoy watching you suffer, no,” was all she said, before grabbing her arm and walking them out of the alleyway. She wasn’t sure there was much else to say. What she’d seen was a part of Vic she was sure she’d never wanted anyone to know. Did Marley care to ask her about it? A year ago, the answer was no. Maybe even a few months ago. But now? “I’m sorry,” she muttered, not looking at her. “That you suffered like that.”

 The fake world flitted away, but Vic still felt it hard to maintain the rapid breathing that was overtaking her lungs.  None of that had been real- not the fake Lyra, the fake music, or her fake Father.  It was weakness, then, that made the sight of them stir so many emotions.  She let herself be pulled out of the alleyway, still staring at the spot they left as if it would all appear again, as if the nightmare weren’t over.  But the longer they were in the real world again, the more secure she felt in it- the sickening dizzy feeling had disappeared with the nightmares. People walked by them as if they had been there the whole time, and noise could be heard from the shops and bars around them.  It was over with. Still, tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.  And with Marley’s apology, a few did.  She wiped them away harshly with the heel of her palm.  “Stop”, she commanded quietly, shaking her head.  “I don’t want your pity. I don’t want-...”  She ducked her head, letting out a breath, “Everybody suffers.  There’s no use in harping on it”.  She rang her fingers together, picking and pulling at them as she looked back to Marley.  Marley, who didn’t have nightmares herself, but seemed to be faced with anxieties of her own in their shared nightmare land.  “It was clear I wasn’t the only one seeing things back there.”  She shouldn’t care about Marley, but still, her questions blurted out.  “Is something going on with you? Are you going to be okay?”

 “It’s not pity,” Marley muttered back, but she knew why Vic said it that way. Recognized the same defensive mechanisms in her that she built in herself and pretended were normal and natural. She hadn’t suffered the way Vic had. The way so many others did. Her suffering was because she’d been born a monster-- Vic had been made one. At least they could relate there. She sighed, furrowing her brow. “Suffering is universal,” Marley recited, as if from a textbook, “our experience of it is not.” She let go of Vic’s arm and shoved her hands in her pockets. “With me? No. That was just--” she gave a half shrug, “some old shit.” And it was, wasn’t it? It had to be. She removed her sunglasses from her pocket and put them back on. There were other people around now. “I’m always fine, anyway.” 

 Vic blinked away the last of the tears and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest.  Marley didn’t want to talk about whatever she had experienced, and she wouldn’t push her on it, despite the dull ache to wonder aloud and learn more about what had scared the unscareable. There was a long moment where neither of them said anything, but then Vic let herself turn back to Marley, her face much harsher than when they first met up.  “Do you want to get out of here?  Go back to my place and… forget, about whatever that was.”  She blinked, always hyper aware of the likelihood of rejection; always determined to stop it before it happened.  “Of course, you could always stay here and play good cop like you do. I’m sure you’re just dying to stop something like that from happening to anyone else”.

Marley couldn’t help but laugh. “If you think I’m the ‘good cop’ in any scenario, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you might.” She holstered her gun and looked around, then let her gaze fall back on Vic. Maybe she should have stayed here, figured out what was going on, but she really didn’t want to. And maybe she should have pressed Vic more about what they’d both just witnessed, but she also didn’t want to do that. No, she wanted to go back to Vic’s place, and get drunk and probably fuck around and hopefully forget about everything that had happened here. Her usual Saturday night. She reached out to brush a bit of dust from Vic’s shoulder, then tapped her chest, leaving her hand there a moment. “Your place it is,” was all she said.

[ecccentrick]

Jaskier Should Really Listen To Geralt pt. 2

Pt.1 || Pt. 3 || Ao3

This is my last writing post here, since I now have a writing blog @eccentrick-ramblings. Prompts and requests are open.  

--

Jaskier had many talents. He could sing, write, dance, play multiple instruments, and was something of a scholar, if did say so himself. But one talent that was known but was hardly spoken of in polite company was the one that was going to get him out of this situation alive. 

He was going to slut it up.

Making himself relax back into the bed, he slid one of his hands through the monster’s thick hair, humming as though content with the current state of things. The creature’s hand of steel relaxed minutely against Jaskier’s stomach and he forced himself not to take a shuddering breath, instead breathing from his diaphragm. 

“So you’re one of those, huh?” Jaskier asked, letting his voice go slightly rough. 

The monster stiffened. 

“Of what?”

Jaskier widened his legs. The beast nestled deeper between them, his whole upper body splaying across Jaskier’s. He tried not to take that as the threat it surely was. 

Turning his head so that his lips brushed against the monster’s ear at every syllable, he said, “Hm, one of those men who enjoys roleplay of the, uh, should I say, unconventional sort? Can’t say I’ve come across too many, but I’m always willing to give things a try.”

The beast pulled back from Jaskier’s neck to stare into his eyes, like he was going to ask if Jaskier was truly that dumb and horny. And Jaskier could hear Geralt’s reply in his mind, yes. 

Wait. Geralt.

Shit.

Okay, so Jaskier had a new idea. He wouldn’t just deescalate the situation like previously planned, stall until Geralt came back empty handed and frustrated. Jaskier would actually have to save himself this time. And, now that he thought about it, the rest of the residents of the inn. 

He was beginning to realize why Geralt was so crotchety all the damn time.

Something in the monster’s eyes changed, a dawning understanding and anticipation. It was feral and raw and Jaskier met it with one of his own, shifting his hips up. He almost had it. 

With one hand still in its hair, he trailed the other up its torso, gently touching its sides, before getting to its shoulder blades, fingertips clenching the muscle and bone there, digging his fingernails in hard enough that if it were a human, there would surely be marks left behind. 

“What is it you have in mind?” The beast slurred his words, despite having only one watered down ale that evening. 

The hand holding Jaskier down raised up, higher and higher, until it came around his neck, a soft shackle. His heart beat double time, and he sucked in a breath that he could still blessedly take, for now. 

His mind blanked for a few seconds, because, to be completely honest, this beast was hitting all of Jaskier’s buttons. If this man were a human, they would surely get up to some great fun. Jaskier couldn’t stop himself from thinking about Geralt. Geralt leaning over him, Geralt holding him down, Geralt’s calloused and scarred hand around his neck, holding him in place, stealing his breath. 

Without having the feign a moan, Jaskier said, “Well, why don’t you chase me?” he dug his nails in deeper. “Capture me. Hunt me down.”

The beast sucked in a harsh breath and Jaskier knew he had him, once and for all. Better or for worse. 

“Perhaps I should give you a head start?” the monster asked. “But you’d have to be quiet, not wake anyone up. Wouldn’t want anyone to be in the crosshairs of a hunt, now would you?”

--

The creaking of the stairs almost did him in. 

The innkeeper had muted the lights in the dining area, leaving them only bright enough to cast shadows and create a sense of unease. Or perhaps that was because he had a beast after him, coming for his blood. Literally. 

He tried to move quietly. The steps creaked. That small sound, so inconsequential, made him realize all that was at stake. The innkeeper, who now most likely slept in the kitchen so her guests could have the rooms, the father and child that were staying in the room next to his, and the orange cat that liked to slink around guests' ankles...their lives were all in jeopardy, and only Jaskier being a good little lamb to slaughter might save them.

What the beast didn’t know was that the lamb intended to lead it to its end. 

He opened the door slowly, silently. Fresh air filled his lungs, crisp and cool. The moon was high in the sky, lighting the way for Jaskier, his socked feet kicking up dust as he went from a slow creep to a desperate sprint in a span of seconds. 

The village was close to a forest, and knowing it was the best place for cover, Jaskier ran for it. Once treetops came overhead, he stopped for a quick breather and to orient himself. 

Geralt always told Jaskier what direction he’d be going in on any hunt. It wasn’t always that way; the bard searching and finding an overdosed witcher next to a dead leshen after he failed to arrive back at the tavern set that to rights. Luckily Jaskier had memorized Geralt’s potions long ago, or he’d be dead and buried. 

Geralt had told him he was heading southwest, which was. . .which way was it? He was fucked, wasn’t he? And not even by a deathless death like all scandalous bards want to go out. 

“Okay, let’s see. Eeny, meene, miny. . .moe! This way then.” 

He dashed in that direction, heading deeper into the woods. He ran until his legs burned, until the wagon roads gave way to deer tracks, until there was nothing but trees, brush and silence. Not even an owl dared to hoot. The monster was here coming for him. 

Jaskier took a deep breath, filling his lungs to their capacity. And then, in that creepy quiet, he screamed. 

“GERALT! GERALT! GERALLLT IT’S AFTER MEEEE!” 

Waiting only a beat, Jaskier continued his flight. There was no sign of the grumpy witcher, and he just gave away his ruse. Perhaps the fear had addled his mind. He should’ve been sneakier, hid in a hollow tree stump, or something. Taken his perfume bottle with him and doused a trail of potent fragrance behind each step. But, then, the monster could follow that too. Hell, even a particularly observant human would’ve been able to trace him; he always bought the strong stuff. 

“DAMMIT!”

He was soon lost, hopelessly and completely. The lights from the village had long since dimmed and he didn’t know which way was the way back. At least if the monster got to him, the others might be spared until Geralt could find it and kill it. His death wouldn’t be in vain. Perhaps he’d even become a local hero. 

A branch to his left cracked. A rustling, then a growl. Footsteps, and then the monster revealed himself, moving from shadows and into the moonlight. It was a great entrance, the bard had to give him that. Points for the dramatics. At the very least, Jaskier wouldn’t die a boring death. 

“It’s as I thought. You were running to your witcher. I’d be angry, but that’ll make this more interesting.”

Jaskier grit his teeth. “You’re awfully arrogant for a monster in the sights of a witcher. The White Wolf. You’ll be dead by morning and Geralt and I will be walking the Path again.”

The beast came closer, his steps measured and sure. Suddenly, he was at Jaskier’s side, a hand at his delicate neck and another on his right shoulder. Back, back, back the monster pushed him, until he hit the nearest tree, bark digging into his exposed neck. He squeezed Jaskier’s neck, bringing a wheeze from the bard’s lips.

“Why. . .” the hand tightened and the longing to cough almost made him gag, “Why me?” 

“Because of your blood, it smells so rare, so fine. None of these backwater hicks taste of anything but the dirt under my boots. But you. . .such fresh nectar.”

“Th-That’s a little insulting,” he took a harsh gulp of air, and it whistled in his throat. “That you- only - wanted me - my blood - not my - da-dashing good-”

“Enough, Jaskier. Save your breath.”

 “G-Ger-”

His back, once against rough bark, was now against a hard chest. And there was that band of steel around his neck. Air fought to get into his lungs, and his voice demanded to be heard but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t make the words form on his lips. Eyes bulged and the skin of his face heated. He was being strangled, and instead of a thoughtless tumor it was at the will of someone who chose to steal his breath until he had none left. 

Soft hands tore against steel. Feet dug into earth, kicked and scrambled, never meeting anything solid besides the ground. Reason fled his mind, and he was just a vessel. A vessel that wanted free. 

“Jaskier, stay calm!” Geralt’s voice reached his ears, echoing. Oh, there was still some hope. He might survive. 

“So I see that you’re a coward,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier was about to be offended until the beast spoke. 

“You’re trying to appeal to my ego. You do care for this bard, then?” 

Geralt was all wobbly and misty, like he was made of liquid bones. His eyes were black, veins a dark gray. Jaskier tried to squint, rapidly blink, but he wouldn’t stay put, wouldn’t go back to normal. 

His throat ached. 

“Let the bard go. He played his part of the bait, now let him go and we can end this. You...you hunt and kill the weak and expect not to be confronted? Take a hostage, a meat shield. Pathetic and cowardly.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. I’m probably all of those things, now that I think about it, and I don’t rightly care. Now, can’t you see I’m celebrating a holiday? The moon is full.”

“Higher vampire. Shit.”

The vampire laughed and that’s when things got fuzzy for Jaskier. He wanted to come out of his skin, wanted to be able to see clearly. His heart felt like it wanted to gallop out of his chest and race Roach. 

“You know what? I’ll just save this for later.”

A prickling sensation started at his side and spread, tendrils of numbness. It quickly became a burning feeling and with it came air, blessed air. The ground met his body. The steel band was gone.

He took a few moments to catch his breath. Each gulp of air felt like swallowing hot coals, his lungs screaming. Once clarity disrupted the fog over Jaskier’s mind he trailed a shaking hand to his side. It came back sticky with blood. He glanced up and saw the vampire lick long, protruding claw-like nails.

In the wise words of Geralt of Rivia, fuck. 

[dazais-guardian-angel]

☕️+ what things do you wish they did with descole (because I am weak and he’s my fave)

Apologies for the late reply to this; tbh I almost didn’t want to answer it, cause I feel like nothing I’ll say will be something others haven’t already discussed (especially since I just saw you asked someone else this same question), and also I’ve only ever played the prequels once back when they first came out and I haven’t reached them again in my replay yet, so I’m not fresh on everything done with his character and all the Azran/Targent stuff. But nonetheless:

In general, obviously, I wish Desmole’s character “arc” if you can even call it that as it is now + plot twists/identity had been much more fleshed out from the get-go and consistent with who they ultimately made him be, that is, Hershel’s brother and someone who never should have legitimately wanted to hurt him or people close to him. While I think the worst of this really only comes out in Eternal Diva, where he literally tries to swordfight Hershel to death and kill Luke on one occasion cause he goes insane once Hershel out-puzzles him, there really just should have been more nuance to him in the first two entries especially (and in Miracle Mask too of course, but he’s barely in that game so) where he shows some level of frustration and hesitance to go up against Hershel and his crew, even if he still does so because he absolutely has to carry out his revenge plan. Just SIGNS that there’s more to this guy than just a walking one-dimensional mysterious deadly flamboyant badass, beyond just Hershel going “hm he feels familiar”, like no of course that’s not near enough. Even if Desmole’s true identity still wasn’t going to be revealed until Azran Legacy, there still needed to be hints, breaks in his facade/character, hesitation, signs of remorse, even if some of these hints are not outright foreshadowing to a familial relationship/desire for revenge. He could still lose it in Eternal Diva, but just make it seem more desperate and broken, and less kill-crazy. Give him moments of humanization, show that Descole can be kind, such as around Melina or Nina; what I honestly wanted to see was him having interactions around girls other than Aurora where his fatherly nature might show (not that him and Aurora aren’t great, I just wanted more); he had to have spent a lot of time around Melina while making the Detragan, and the potential for their relationship while she was dying is so much. Hershel should have had more moments of familiarity, and thinking about him when he’s not around, trying to figure him out, demanding to know who he is because he feels like he needs to know for some reason he can’t describe, and Descole’s answers/non-answers are extremely telling/bitter/curious/thought-provoking. And Descole should imo have had a scene to himself at the end of every entry pre-Azran Legacy where it’s increasingly obvious this guy has Angst(tm) and some beef with Hershel that seems personal and not just to do with getting in the way of his plots, along with all the earlier hints obviously (iirc he had a final scene at the end of Last Spector but it was nothing more than showing “hey we’re not done with this guy!!”, so that definitely should have had more to it; at the end of Eternal Diva I REALLY wanted to see how he survived his fall, probably with Raymond saving him, cue more ~mysterious reactions to Hershel~ as he thinks on how Hershel cried out his name as he was falling despite the fact that they were enemies, etc; and then the one at the end of Miracle Mask is okay I guess, but I still wanted more to it, more, idk signs of regret or remorse or sadness from him before he goes after Bronev, and not just “grrrrrr finally my revenge is close I’mma take you down all I have is angerrRRRRR” also for him to not look so damn stupid when all Bronev has to do is knee him to take him down, like this is DESCOLE, THE KING OF BADASS, THAT ENDING IS SO PITIFUL; WE DIDN’T NEED THAT FOR A FAKEOUT UNMASKING SCENE THAT LEADS NOWHERE).

tl;dr, Desmole’s story being planned from the very beginning would have made it possible for the writers to foreshadow and develop him properly before you finally see him as Desmond, and make you attached to and interested in him much more than just as a cool badass you kinda wonder the identity of but mostly just enjoy watching be badass and evil. The PL series had never had an overarching villain in the main trilogy aside from Don Paolo, who was more of a comic relief villain who they could afford to not make up his beef with/connection to Hershel until the final game because it was a very insignificant reason in the grand scheme of things, and Don Paolo just..... wasn’t that integral to the plots of that trilogy, he was more of a bonus background villain not meant to be taken seriously or have any true emotional impact. But then you have Descole introduced as the key threat over the majority of the prequel series (you think it’s the Masked Gentleman this time, but no lol, it’s still Descole!!), and needless to say, “actually the protagonist’s long-lost brother trying to get revenge on their corrupt father, both of which are involved in an ancient civilization that ruined all their lives in multiple ways” is a biiiiiiit more important than... “jealous dead girlfriend rival” lol. And so there’s a jarring disconnect between pre-Miracle Mask Descole and post-Miracle Mask Descole, because the Azran aren’t even a thing until Miracle Mask at ALL, and so in Last Spector and Eternal Diva Descole just seems like this mad scientist with a dramatic flair and nothing more, who mayyyyyyyy be searching for eternal life? Since that seems to be the running theme with the golden garden and ambrosia? But even then literally nothing is revealed about him in that game and movie so who knows (and unrelated but it seems like those two places have literally no connection to the Azran aside from an offhanded mention of them in Miracle Mask? idk man); the point I’m taking way too long to make here is that it’s very clear the writers had no endgame plan for him until Miracle Mask at the earliest, and even then I wonder how much of it was completely hashed out (considering the... sort of mess that Azran Legacy is, I almost wonder if most of it was literally not decided on until then). My guess is that Descole was super popular after Last Spector so they decided to bring him back (his final scene in that game could have just been to show that he survived and was still “out there somewhere”, whether or not he came back next entry), but then realized they didn’t have a backstory or identity for him so they had to think up something way too late; I can’t confirm this though of course.

Then you get to Azran Legacy, and honestly, despite how bizarre and weirdly unimportant and filler-ish 90% of this game’s plot feels, I love the inherent idea of Descole finally coming to Hershel as himself. Hershel always shows up and gets in his way? Fine, he’ll come to him. He always sees through his disguises? Fine, he’ll come to him in the best disguise he has: himself. Ask him for his help in a mission his curiosity won’t let him refuse. Because then, of course, even though Desmond is doing this to further and finish his plot, and use them as tools, essentially, there’s the wonderfully painful obvious second reason for why he chooses to do things this way, and that is he wants to spend time with his brother, whether or not he consciously realizes this. This way, Desmond can be himself, he doesn’t have to hide his appearance or (most) intentions and can freely express a lot of his regular personality while still working towards his ultimate goal, but at the exact same time there’s so much he can’t show, that he can’t reveal or let himself do, and this has to be a hundred times harder than when he’s posing as Descole because now he’s friends with Hershel and the others, and a part of him must want so desperately to just stay with them forever as he spends more and more time with them and grows more attached to them, (again, no matter how much he may realize this). But this is where his “arc” continues to fall flat in that aside from one or two hints towards his daughter and having a brother, there is literally no depth in Desmond’s behavior in Azran Legacy pre-Descole/brother reveal, just like in all the entries before it. He should have shown small signs here and there of something being “off” with him, of sadness, of hesitation, of trauma and mental instability; strange things said to Hershel alone that makes him and the player start wondering things, just like with Descole. Everyone immediately goes, upon seeing Desmond for more than five minutes, “oh that’s Descole obviously” (plus Raymond is just... there lol), but it’s not for the right reasons; there’s nothing wrong with a predictable plot twist, but there needs to be some kind of hints towards it to make you emotionally invested in what you realize is coming, because you’re waiting for it and you know it will hurt but you just don’t know when and how it will happen; not that you guess it for no other reason than “well there’s this new character who isn’t an existing friend of Layton’s and everything is suspiciously calm and we’re 90% of the way through this and Descole has yet to show himself; it’s probably him”. For the record, I actually think Miracle Mask does its predictable plot twist a lot better, even if that game still has issues; I see a lot of people complain about how predictable Randall being the masked gentleman is, and it is, but honestly? The flashback plot mechanic in that game is EXTREMELY effective in 1) making it VERY clear who the masked gentleman is very early on, like they’re not trying to hide it in any way, but also 2) punching you in the gut to maximum effect when you get to the end of the flashbacks and pair it with the present-day plot. Like, they could have just told the player in dialogue/infodumps throughout the game who Randall was and what his connection to Hershel, Angela and Henry was, like Desmond does to Hershel near the end of Azran Legacy, but that would have been tedious and boring and the player wouldn’t care near as much, and the game wouldn’t have been long enough. Instead, you see it firsthand, you experience it with Hershel, and although I’m frustrated at how little is done with masked gentleman!Randall and showing connections/hints to who he used to be (look, my exact problems with Descole) and making Hershel more involved with him at the end, which would have been the icing on the angst cake, the entire flashback half of that game honestly left a huge impact on me and I think that’s why I spend so much time talking about/getting emotional about Miracle Mask despite always saying that Diabolical Box is my favorite, because getting to know Randall and see that friendship and see how it ended just makes it all hit so much harder, as flashbacks should do. The writers knew it would be obvious who the masked gentleman is and they leaned into that, it was a very deliberate choice, what the entire game revolved around, because the point wasn’t that it was unpredictable, but that you would feel for that character and it would hurt so much more. And while I don’t necessarily think Azran Legacy needed full-on flashback gameplay segments for Desmond like Miracle Mask had, I think having vague flashbacks every once in a while throughout that game, vague enough to not directly tell you it’s him or naming/showing Hershel/Theodore much but clear enough that you can reasonably guess it is Desmond, would have done a world of difference, along with all the little behavioral/dialogue hints I mentioned. Similar to the diary entries in Diabolical Box, or if anyone’s ever played Super Paper Mario, the flashbacks in that game after every chapter about an unknown person that it becomes increasingly obvious as you play through the game is the main villain. I just.... really, really wish, out of all the prequel entries, Azran Legacy gave Desmond so much more emotional depth and resonance once we finally see him as Desmond instead of Descole, so many more scenes with Hershel, and to a lesser extent the others, so much more development of his character, so much more of an emphasis put on his prior family and how much he’s hurting and caring and yet at the same time refuses to give up his revenge; all of this, no matter how obvious it made his identity as both Descole and as Hershel’s brother. The brother plot twist, too, feels slightly lame and overdone and out of nowhere, but honest to god I wouldn’t fucking care at all if they just foreshadowed it properly and made it so painfully obvious how much Descole/Desmond wants to be with Hershel and this family and how much it kills him to turn on them all again at the end of Azran Legacy even if he still goes through with it, and how much he regrets everything as he lays dying in Hershel’s arms, but we get none of that goddammitLevel5whydoyoudeprivemeofsomuch-

*ahem* apparently I still had a lot to say. i just wanted so much more for him; he’s SUCH a tragic character... the stupid wannabe phantom of the opera bread man still makes me cry, despite everything, because i am trash. Oh yeah and he should have held Aurora in his arms as she died. And Azran Legacy should have ended post-credits with Hershel opening his door with his hat off (to show that this is after Unwound Future), his eyes widening, then it shows the bottom half of the person’s face, just enough to see the bread hair tips, and the slight sad smile, and then cut to black. level-5 just hire the PL fandom to make the Desmond spinoff game pls

[hecohansen31]

55/57 with Ivar

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I might be having a slight... just slight... infatuation for sub! Ivar... ahem... sorry... I hope you won’t it annoying (plus this is set up in ‘The Tinder Date That Changed Everything’ Universe)

WARNINGS: Anal Sex (Male Receiving), Handjob, Sex, Dirty Talk, Pegging, Mention of Toxic Masculinity.

The Perks Of Being Convincing:

You bet that Ivar hadn’t thought it would end up like this, when he had suggested to you to try out anal.

He didn’t definitely expect it to be tried out on himself.

But eventually a good amount of pouting and a good amount of scientific researches about prostate and its advantages had convinced your boy to ‘let you hit it’ from behind, although this would have to never ever get out of your shared bedroom, much to Ivar’s privacy and remaining toxic masculinity.

‘And if I say the safe word, you immediately stop and we never ever talk about this, anymore, understood’ he had ordered, when he had finally relented, and you had eagerly nodded, already giddy on the thought of tapping that ass.

You had actually gone with Ivar to select the chosen strap-on.

Ivar had blushed for the entire trip at the sexy shop, hiding behind sunglasses and oversized clothes.

You had tried to reassure him that the clerk wasn’t noisy and minded his own business, since you had bought a great deal of strangely-looking toys, without the man raising a single eyebrow at your purchases, and when you had gone to get the strap-on, settling for a medium-sized black one, Roland, the clerk, had simply asked if you wanted lube to go with that.

Ivar had wanted to bury himself in that moment, but you had simply shaken your head telling him that you had already some back home.

And afterward you had thought to give him a ‘special gift’ for having been ‘so courageous’, something that had literally ‘raised up’ his mood for the next week and that Saturday, meanwhile you settled up for your usual ‘Netflix and chill’ night, Ivar had started nosing up your neck, in a clear attempt to initiate something, which wasn’t unusual.

But you were surprised when he suggested that ‘you tried the new thing’.

You had been surprised about the fact that he wanted to initiate it, but you had taken it as a good sign, leading him to the bedroom, as you took in his nervous body, tense enough that you were sure he’d snap in two if you even tried to come closer to him in that moment, and you thought that you’d have to start soft, unsure if Ivar would be up for it by the end of the night.

But you’d certainly enjoy getting him ready.

Starting with a massage to relax his tight body.

‘Aren’t we…?’ he wasn’t even able to finish the phrase, but you simply smirked at him, shaking your head.

‘We’ll start slow and see’ you commented softly, meanwhile you gently made him turn around, as you guided his hands above his face, to make his body assume a more natural pose, then you went to retrieve the massage oil you used when you were nothing more than a single and lonely girl, having kept it, because it could have an internal use and its smell was quite comforting to you.

And to Ivar too, who breathed deeply the smell as you lathed your hands with the oil.

Ivar got his shirt out of the way, but kept his pants, signaling to you that he wasn’t completely comfortable yet, but you were more than happy to help him get there, gently starting from the top of his back and moving to his lower back, feeling the tension of weeks of working on the computer and forcing himself through the new calibers.

By the time you had done his back, he was relaxed.

You proceeded to slowly lower his pants at first and then his boxers, making you smirk as you gave him a few sot kisses down his back, before Ivar turned softly around to share a soft kiss with you, his body reacting naturally underneath you and when you reached his front, he was hard and ready for you.

But this didn’t mean that he was still comfortable.

Although his moans ached desperately for you.

So, you moved down his front, your nails making light red trails, in their wake, something that never failed to excite Ivar.

He may act all tough, but intimacy was somewhere where he left all the control to you, although he wouldn’t say it out loud.

But he certainly enjoyed every inch of it.

Your hands were still all oiled up and they glided easily on his member, when they ended up on it, teasing him in a delicious way that had Ivar shaking and trembling on the mattress, as you guided him with a soft pace through a climax, almost a torture.

Your lover blacked out for quite a bit, something that got you almost worried that your fun for tonight might end quickly.

Although the intimacy with Ivar was one of the best you had ever had, he still had to gain his own stamina, because it wasn’t difficult for him to lose his hardness in the middle of having sex, something that you didn’t hold against him, since he wasn’t one to leave you unsatisfied, but sometimes you had to stop for a bit and maybe start later.

Something that you knew frustrated Ivar, although you had told him many and many times all over again that you wouldn’t have ever wanted to have sex with anybody else, no matter their stamina or their ‘properly-functioning dick’.

But you knew that if you felt like he was going too far, he’d prefer it if you stop and slow the rhythm.

But as Ivar came to his senses, searching you beside him, you moved to reach his side quickly.

He had something tender in his eyes, relaxed, as he chased your lips almost desperately, meanwhile you felt him grow hard again under the hand that was near his cock.

Your man then muttered something like ‘let’s pass to the true show’, even making a show of pushing himself onto his knees for you, wiggling his ass, as you softly giggled, lightly slapping its plumpness.

‘Are you sure?�� you asked him softly, as you got him to face you again, something that was always needed when having this kind of conversations ‘… because you don’t have to do it, if you don’t feel like it… we could watch the Taylor Swift’s documentary…’.

‘I do prefer getting pegged than having to watch that movie’ he got a pillow in his face for that ‘… but I am sure, although… as I have said, I say ‘Lover’ and you stop whatever you are doing, understood?’.

‘Of course’ you muttered, swearing it onto your heart as Ivar sent you a little amused look.

‘… and I say that because I know that you love my ass and are secretly obsessed with it’.

You blushed at the truth of that affirmation, since you had the time of your life groping Ivar’s juicy ass whenever he was near you, something that made him quite annoyed, although he secretly loved the physical contact.

‘… I won’t get obsessed with your ass’ you mumbled ‘… although I won’t promise anything about not biting it, it is so juicy!’.

‘You can. Just if I get to do the same on yours, tomorrow morning’.

‘Deal’.

And then you carefully started to get him ready, having done some of your researches on the act and you didn’t start immediately but tried to instead gently calm Ivar’s body, although the post-glow of the climax made your boyfriend completely tame under your touch.

But again, your hands were careful and soft teasing him, as you started touching the most erogenous zone that weren’t his hardness.

And then you reached him where you wanted him, softly staring at Ivar as you swiftly moved up to get the small lube bottle, quickly darting for the bathroom to clean your hands and clean Ivar’s thigh from the massage oil that was starting to become solely sticky.

And then you spread a bit of lube on the tip of your fingers, being gentle in your exploration and voicing properly each thing you’d do to him, as your hands at first tugged his member, then lightly moving down his sack, reached the small hole which you circled softly with your thumb, getting the muscles there to loosen and used to the sensation.

And when you felt him relaxed, you gently dipped a finger in.

"Does it hurt? Tell me to stop if it hurts” you told him, as you raised your eyes to meet his face in search of any trace of discomfort, seeing that Ivar was biting onto his lips almost desperately, enough that you were sure he’d hurt himself, but he shook his head, and you let your finger dip further “… is it uncomfortable?”.

“… a bit” he commented, breathing hazily, as you gently tried to calm him with a few tugs on his cock “… but it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought”.

“… always thinking the worst, babe” you laughed lightly, as he smirked at you, pushing himself up for a kiss, and you allowed him, meanwhile your finger prodded further and after another round of lube, another one was inserted beside the first finger.

Ivar moaned loudly and you almost thought he was in pain, but his hips pushed down onto you as his own hole tightened around your fingers, making you smirk.

You tried to scissor him open, prepping him carefully for what would be coming next, in an agonizing foreplay that got Ivar feverish and when you were halfway through a third finger, he had almost spent another load of his seed onto the bed sheets, desperately begging you to simply ‘fuck him’.

Gosh, hadn’t Ivar been against it after this, you would have loved to see him doing the same thing all over again.

Him begging you with those icy eyes was something that made you fell damnably powerful.

“Ok ok, sweetheart” you relented, as he whined loudly when you retreated your fingers form inside of himself, meanwhile the man bucked right against your thighs, searching for any kind of friction, but you pushed him back on the bed “… won’t you wait like a good boy for me?”.

That seemed to calm him down as you saw again that submissive streak in his eyes.

As you put on your strap-on, it almost seemed a show, the way you tightened almost awkwardly the straps around your legs, trying to adjust them carefully, almost making Ivar laugh as you tripped on the harness.

Ivar sent you a playful look as you lowered yourself on bed, letting him feel the toy, against him, as you moved down his body, to get him adjusted to the feeling, to see if it made him feel uncomfortable, but Ivar looked like he just itched to feel it in himself.

“… are you ready?” you asked, as you gently teased his opening with the tip of the dildo, having dipped it in lube, making a show of spreading it around your own plastic cock, something that had gotten a an hungry look from your boyfriend.

“Yes” he muttered “… if I have to wait longer, I’ll fucking burst”.

You smirked at his impatience, and dropped down for another soft kiss, before you pushed in attentively watching Ivar’s face and although it scrunched down in pain, Ivar didn’t tell you anything, even as you checked in, reassuring you that it was fine.

And you started gently to push more inside, till half of the length was inside, and then bottoming out, as Ivar instead gripped you from inside, his left hand going to your own, as they joined above his head getting you to push yourself down, enough for Ivar to have your breasts in front of him, quickly sucking one nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

And soon you lost the rhythm of your hips, as you pushed yourself in and out of Ivar, the man underneath of you, thrusting his cock up in the air, brushing sometimes against the leather of the harness, eventually getting him to spill on it, as he clenched on your toy.

He gripped you tightly, when the fateful moment happened, screwing his eyes shut, as he bit down on your nipple and hadn’t you been feeling quite the hot haze of the whole situation, you were sure that you’d have undoubtedly felt pain, since his grip was tight.

But so was your clenched center, wet enough that you were sure you had drenched the sheets underneath you.

Ivar certainly had dirtied them, but as you exited him, he brought you to fall on him, wanting desperately your nearness, although there was quite so much to do, since you were both drenched in massage oil, sweat and lube a mixture that could be quite smelly, alongside needing to change your sheets.

But Ivar needed you.

And after such a tough session, you couldn’t deny him anything, till he slowly came back to you a light embarrassed laugh on his mouth, as he noticed his situation, suggesting a quick bath for you both, almost raising himself to start it.

But you pushed him back, telling him to let you do something for him, after what he had done for you tonight.

And he looked at you almost like a lost puppy, unused to somebody caring for him in such an intimate way, so he didn’t say anything and half an hour later of him slowly coming down from his head-state, you were immersed in your bathtub, as Ivar gently held your waist and leaned on your back.

"Did you like it?" you couldn’t stop yourself from asking him, since, although he had seemed to enjoy it in the moment, he was now blushy and soft, definitely a bit ashamed of himself, and you wanted to know what and how to reassure him.

"Would you judge me if I said I did?" he replied, glad not to have to face you and you allowed that, although you reached out for his hand, to let him know that the words that exited your mind were the truth.

“… not in the slightest” you commented, softly kissing one of his strong arms “… I couldn’t in the slightest, when you looked so fucking exciting”.

Your core still throbbed at that, and Ivar noticed it with the way you shifted in his lap.

“Oh, did I?” and his fingers moved underneath you “… because maybe I also found you hot as hell”.

---

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Deliverance| A Werewolf Shawn AU

Part One

The woods had always been a place of comfort for me... A place to escape the madness of my life of serenity. of course I'd heard the stories of vicious wolves who roamed the darkness waiting to prey on the innocent,but I always put it down to stories, gossip, folklore designed to stop kids from venturing too far. That was until the day I was taken.

A rogue pack had taken me as their personal toy, all the anger and frustration they felt was taken out on me. It was a good day if I got a bit of stale bread, and only one beating. On bad days there would be no food and constant, torturous abuse.

I had endured it for 13 year, my small body the reflection of years of malnutrition and hurt,.but I'd finally escaped.

I had bid my time, waiting till they made an inevitable error, and it had finally happend. One of the younger wolves had forgotten to check the padlock when they'd had their fun with me and I'd seized the opportunity and run as fast as I could. but I wasn't fast enough. The alarm had been sounded and there were now several wolves hot on my heels and I could run no further I had to accept my fate. He was less than a metre away from me when our of nowhere another wolf - russet in colour intercepted him in mid air, knocking him over with the force of an elephant. I could hear the snarling and snapping of jaws as I finally collapsed and

surrendered, the last thing I remember was a tall young man walking towards me .

When I woke it was to a mass of activity.

I drifted in and out of sleep, hearing people talking.feeling hands on me, there was even something about the alpha wanting to see 'her', and a.'mate' and something else about ' killing the pack that did this'.. What that meant I couldn't know in my delirium.

When I managed to finally open my eyes and get past the blindly bright light above me, I was met with the image of a man-pacing back land forth, muttering to himself. And the more immediate threat of someone fiddling with the sheet that lay over me.

Surely with a man this good looking, this close to me it had to be a dream, I tried to convince .myself, but someone shattered the dream almost as soon as is materialised.

"Well hello sweetheart, I'm glad to see you're finally awake," the voice came from that of and older woman with long greying hair braided out of her face "My name's Judy, I'm your nurse," she smiled down at me. "Are you in any pain?" She asked.

I took a moment to take everything in, but I was still unable to make sense of it all.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to sit up, but everything protested as soon as I moved, even muscles I didn't know I had.

"Just stay still for now dear, you don't want to hurt yourself further," the nurse-Judy spoke kindly, helping me to resettle myself.

Something, maybe me speaking seemed to wake the man from his trance like state and he turned to meet my confused gaze.

He was tall, he had to be at least 6 foot, with sliflghtly tanned skin, the most rich brown eyes I'd ever seen, and hair that was neatly cut, except for a few unruly curls at the front of his head which didn't want to co-operate with the hair gel he'd obviously used to style it.

"Oh,oh thank God." the man rushed over to the side of the bed stopping mere inches from my face.

I could feel my heart rate picking up as panic set in, not used to people (let alone males) being this close without hurting me.

I turned to Judy asking desperately with my eyes for help

She must have got the memo because she cleared her throat and spoke.

She seemed somewhat hesitant though "Alpha, I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, I know you must be worried sick as we all are, however would it not be prudent to give the girl some space?"

The man searched my face for a moment, before straightening and stepping backwards.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he muttered guiltily.

"You didn't," I lied before I could think about it.

"My name's Shawn what's yours?" he asked holding his hand out for me to take.

I kept my mouth shut, years of torture telling me to keep quiet. He dropped his extended up so it was back at his side.

"Alrighty then, when you're ready. I won't push you." He spoke, it seemed as though he was trying deliberately to keep his tone, soft, conversational and I appreciated it.

At that moment the doctor walked in. "It's good to see you awake Miss," he spoke echoing Judy's words.

"I'm sorry to say you're quite banged up." Shawn started pacing again at his words.

"

I would have sworn I heard a growl.

"Shawn you have to stay calm," Judy spoke, it sounded almost as if she was trying to comfort him, confusing me further.

Once the doctor left Shawn calmed down, having dragging a chair from outside my room to sit beside my bed.

"I heard something about killing another pack?" I asked weighing my words cafefully. "So are you all wolves too?"

"Yes, honey, but I promise you're safe here," he replied softly, looking over at me. I looked down again, not able to take the human interaction.

"Everytime I look at you, you look down. Why is that?"he asked, sounding sad.

" I didn't mean to upset you," I panicked.Starting to pick at the I.V in my arm, it was something I always did when I was nervous, picking things, my skin, nails whatever seemed to help.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I'm not mad," he cut me off. "I just mean I've noticed it is all," he lay a hand carefully on my arm and surprisingly the contact helped.

"I don't know," I pondered, distracted by his touch. There was a weird, warm feeling flowing from the point of contact straight up to my chest, not dissimilar to when your hands or feet go numb and then start to respond again. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. "I guess, I'm not used to positive human contact," I admitted, looking up to see him shaking his head.

"Are you the Alpha?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me, surprise washing over his face at the boldness of my question.

"Yes, I am," he spoke proudly. "Of the Shadowmoon Pack, greatest pack in all of Canada if you ask me," he smiled.

I liked the way he was so confident. It made me feel safe and secure. A few more hours past with us sitting in a comfortable silence, I couldn't help but feel safe around him, and as foreign as the feeling was, I also craved it.

"Are you ready to go home now Poppet?" Judy ssekd, making her way into my room again sometime later and starting to mess around with the I.V tubing.

I looked at her panicked.

"Home?" I squeeked. Surely they weren't really going to send me home. It wasn't a home where I'd come from it was a hell, my own personal hell and I'd be damned if I was going back.

Shawn seemed to noticed my emotions and stepped forward, slowly holding his arms out, and instead of backing away as I had done earlier,I surprised us both and stepped into his hold.

He was warm and comfortable, our bodies seemed to fit perfectly,denim of his jacket just scratchy enough and the now semi familiar tingling from our contact pleasant enough to ground me somewhat. I stayed like that for a minute or so before I became a little more aware of what I was doing. I was hugging a near stranger,worse he was a male, worse again Ii was actually lettung myself like it.

Sorry, I blushed, stepoing away quicky and looking down.

"You don't need to apologise," he smiled.

"What was the tingling I felt" I asked wanting to change the subject.

"That is what you get when two mates make contact" He smiled wider than I had ever seen a person smile, his fangs being exposed in the process.

I stood, silently, shocked.

"Are you okay" He asked moving to step towards me, I held a hand up and he halted midstride.

"I promise you. We'll take things slowly, right now I just want to get you home- to our home," he amended when he saw the look of panic in my face. "So you can rest."

I nodded. Still not entirely comfortable, but what other choice did I have? Go back to the pack that had tortured me all these years, or even end up homeless on the street? And from everything I'd seen Shawn seemed like a genuinely nice person, who everyone respected. Plus,if he was telling the truth, which from heat I could tell, he was, he was my mate and from all the stories I'd heard as a child, your mate was meant to be the one person in the world who would do anything for you, be anywhere for you. They would literally protect you with their lives.

"Shawn I don't have anything to wear," I whispered embarrassed again, looking down at the gown which barely covered anything as Judy finally finished what she was doing in the corner of he room having taken out my I.V. and left.

"I brought you some clothes, don't worry," he smiled.Pullnig out the most comfortable pale pink sweater I'd ever seen, he handed it to me and I was hit with his scent.

"This is yours?"

",Is that okay?" he worried. " I could go home and get something from one of the girls if you're uncomfortable," he offered.

I just smiled,letting out a little giggle at the extreme level of concern he was showing, which caused him to immediately relax l, shoulders dropping, a slight smile gracing his lips as he shook his head softly.

"Can you turn around please?" I requested. He did as asked giving the privacy I so desperately craved.

When I was finished he took my hand, holding his other under my elbow to support my weight.

He was so patient, never rushing me as he lead me through the hospital and out the doors into the world. I couldn't help but savour the fresh air,the cold winter air burning my lungs but in a good way.

"I bet it feels nice to be outside again,"

I nodded, "How did you find me" I asked, as we continued to walk. It was as if now that I was free my mind could finally ask questions and process all the stuff I had never done previously.

"That's a story for when you've had some more rest," he answered, coming to a stop in front of a Jeep, opening the door and lifting me in. The tingling was still a shock,l everytime he touched my skin.

"Feel free to sleep we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us" he smiled reassuringly, before turning the ignition,the car coming to life.

I woke to someone shaking me,it was dark now and I immediately jumped back in my seat, unsure, before my groggy eyes made contact with Shawn's and I realised where I was and relaxed.

"I won't hurt you, you're safe now Pup," he murmured, moving to brush some hair out of my face with a feather-light touch. I blushed at the nickname."I was just waking you because we're here, this is home" I took in the house illuminated by lights in complete awe.

"So you're an Alpha and you don't hurt humans?" I asked as he helped me cafefully from he car.

"You're not human, you're an omega, but no I have nothing against humans," he added, holding me steady as I swayed on my feet slightly, not used to standing anymore.

I stood stunned again," I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll get to all of that, for now though, you need rest.

We made our way through the house in silence, I could hear other voices, yet we never came across anyone.

"This is my room," he spoke, shifting his grip on me slightly to open the door.

The room was large with huge french doors leading out to a balcony overlooking a big yard and a lake, soft- what looked like silk curtains framing the windows, a guitar sat in one corner a futon in the other. There was a record player in the corner, playing a soft melody which filled the space, creating a warm inviting feeling. In the centre of the room was the biggest bed I had ever seen.

It had several large cushions on it and a duvet cover that looked like it would feel like laying on clouds. Just this bed was bigger than he cell I'd been forced to spend so many years in,I thought with a shudder.

"This is your room?I stumbled over my words.

"Well I'm hoping it will be our room actually." Shawn spoke, scratching at his neck.

I turned panicked. "But only when you're comfortable I'm not about to force you into anything I promise."

He held his pinkie finger out, and I just looked at it unsure of what he wanted.

"Here," he smiled, taking my hand and locking my own little finger with his. "This is called a pinkie promise. It's like a pact that you don't break," he explained with a smile.

"Oh,I guess, I must have forgotten." I felt extremely stupid and shit up quickly, the only sound that of the record player still in the corner. I found it so comforting, my own father had had one when I was little and I could remember watching the record and needle spin for hours.

"There's a room adjacent to mine which I've had the maids freshen up, there's a comfortable bed and an ensuite with fresh towels and a toothbrush." he continued as if there wasn't just a massive awkward silence emitting solely from my lack of understanding.

He turned leading me back out and across the hallway to another door. When he opened it, I saw a room, smaller than his, but still warm and cosy, with a big bed, a window, lots of pretty lights and yet more records, this time hung in the wall.

"You didn't need to do this for me," I told him, as I took it all in.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," he shrugged.

He lead me back to his room where he sat down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and patting the spot next to him.

"How long was I out" I asked after a minute. He got what I meant immediately.

"Three days," he answered somberly.

"How are you feeling? he asked.

"Still very sore," I admitted.

"Here let me see your injuries." he reached over picking up a box of what I soon realised was full of first aid stuff.

He was extremely gentle as he tended to he cuts and scrapes that covered my shoulders, arms,and legs. He even managed to convince me to let him check my ribs. This I found uncomfortsbly and awkward once again, but he was careful not to make it any worse than it had to be and he had rewrapped them quicky and easily.

"How do you know how to do all this?" I asked quietly as he gently dabbed at a cut on my hand. "We'll I'm actually a trained doctor. When I'm not working as the Alpha, I work at the pack hospital. There all done," he announced,packing up the box and disposing of he rubbish in a small medical waste tin.

Half an hour later and I'd gotten changed, again into one of Shawn's oversized hoodies and made myself comfortable in his bed after he insisted I stay in his room incase I needed him.

"Sleep well, Pup, I'll be here if you need me."

He went to lounge on the futon, and I was left to drift to sleep, exhausted by the day's events. My sleep was fitful to satly the least, dreams bad nightmares melding to form weird and wonderful scenarios which would never make sense.

When I woke, it was to a soft knock on the door. Opening my eyes, I could see that it was still slightly light out, though dinner than it had been, probably somewhere around dusk. A girl with dark hair, dark eyes and a kind smile stepped tenntively into the room.

"My name's Karla. Im in the pack. It's nice to meet you," she added warmly. "Shawn's had to go deal with some pack matters so he asked me to come keep you company. I brought you some food. He said you might be hungry." She held out what looked like a croisant, the smell of butter instantly filling the room."I also brought a hair brush," she added. "I thought you might like to brush your hair, I know that always makes me feel better. Or I could do it?" she added again, shyly.

"Thank you."I whispered, my voice still hoarse.

The girl, Karla, came to sit on the bed. She had to be the same age as me. Maybe a year or two older.

"I hope the pack meeting doesn't go too long," she said as I started picking at my croisant. "Shawn won't want to be away from you, it's hard to be away from our mates." She looked dreamy as she spoke, leaving no question that she too had a mate.

"I'm nervous to meet everyone," I admitted with a frown, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"Aww, don't worry everyone will love you," she smiled. "We've all been waiting for ages for him to meet his mate and you're finally here." she clapped in excitement, breaking E and forcing me to smile just as Shawn came through the door with another soft knock.

"Ahhh, I see you've meet Karla," he smiled, raising his eyebrow a little bit. " I hope she's been telling you good things."

"Yep, what were you doing" I asked watching as he took his deniem jacket off- the same one from earlier and chucked it onto the futon, coming to sit next to me on the bed, careful not to invade my personal space.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked watching as I pulled the crosiant to pieces no longer interested by the food, now that I had him here.

"I'm alright," I shrugged.

He nodded, and we lapsed into yet another comfortable quiet.

It was only then that I realised Karla had left the room, she must have excused herself, seeing that she was no longer needed and didn't feel the need to encroach.The hairbrush however was still laying on the bed.

"I just want you to know," he spoke, breaking the silence after a while, "that no matter what happeneds you'll be safe here. I'll protect you with my life, it's my job both as your Alpha and as your mate," he spoke earnestly.

He was looking at me with such an intensity as he spoke that something broke inside of me, and I cracked. "Lucy," I whispered looking down and away from his gaze.

"What?" I could here the confusion in his voice.

"Lucy, my name, my name is Lucy." I spoke more clearly this time, though I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Lucy, that's a pretty name," he murmured. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was reaching for me, and as much as I wanted to move, my body was frozen whether in fear or anticipation I couldn't know, but the next thing I knew both his hands were cupping my face. He was so gentle, almost as if he thought I would break. I looked up at him, once again taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You're so pretty when you blush," he smiled, caressing my cheek.

"Please don't compliment me, I don't deserve it, I'm ugly," I repeated the words my captors had drilled into me for so many years.

"You, Lucy," he put emphasis on my name. "are anything but ugly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out."

"How can you say that?" I replied.

"Because, I can feel it Lucy, right here," he took my hand in his and placed it over his chest where I could feel his heart beat strong and sure. "I've been waiting for you my entire life. And now that I have you, it's my job, my honour to protect you with my life," he explained fiercly.

"Thank you," I chocked out, tears welling in my eyes.Leaning into his frame just slightly despite myself and my fears.

"No pup, thank you."

[bandsanitizer]

After 3x05, specifically The Market Scene™️, I’m pretty convinced that Buddie is going to happen and I don’t just mean it from a “Eddie misses Buck” perspective.

(Under the cut because it’s a long post.)

With the first valid reason toxic masculinity just ain’t it for Eddie’s anger towards Buck being “Christopher misses you”, it is established that Eddie sees Buck as responsible for Christopher to some degree. Whether this is conscious or not, the statement implies that Buck’s important to Christopher’s well-being AND Buck should be/is aware of that.

This isn’t a statement of, “Hey can you visit Christopher?” It’s one that implicitly questions why Buck would do something that causes Christopher to feel that way. The whole argument, in fact, is over why Buck would follow through with the lawsuit, given the consequences. It says that Buck should known better. It says that Buck should’ve thought more— Thought more about Christopher.

There is canon evidence of Eddie holding resentment towards 2 people when it comes to the treatment, and lack of communication and involvement with Christopher, prior to the episode.

Who? Shannon and himself, aka Christopher’s two parents.

Eddie expresses, maybe more implies, regrets towards being deployed after Christopher’s birth, in the Christmas episode. He also showcases resentment towards the fact that Shannon left, mainly in terms of her leaving and not contacting Christopher.

And look what we have here: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley leaving Christopher behind and cutting off contact with him and Eddie.

“Oh, but Buck’s not his parent.”

Here’s the thing, though. For all that canon dynamics and dialogue implies, Buck is a parental figure in Christopher’s life and Eddie sees that.

I lack specifics of canon moments, but Buck is with Eddie to pick-up Christopher in several accounts. Eddie seems initially pretty trusting of Buck’s recommendation of Carla because it’s Buck. Buck coming along for Santa pictures. Eddie has Buck watch Christopher, despite Buck being in a not-so-good mental state, which implicates a trust that Buck will put Christopher first, enough to get out of his head.

Y’know the whole debate of whether or not Buck has stuff to do when Eddie gets him out of bed at the beginning of the season? That is followed up with Christopher hanging out with Buck and Eddie needing someone to watch Christopher. While never explicitly stated, watching Christopher is the thing that Buck is getting up to do. Eddie couldn’t have possibly been sure that Buck would be ready/up for it. Thus, it showcases Eddie’s trust that Buck will be able to put the stuff behind him for the sake of being a good caretaker of Christopher while Eddie cannot.

This trust is, then, explicitly stated at the end of 3x03. The whole “there’s no one in this world i trust more with my son than you”.

That’s not shit you just tell your friend and parents are, often, not people to use their kids flippantly. This isn’t something that Eddie would just say for the sake of cheering up Buck. That’s not the kind of parent Eddie is. It’s something that Eddie truly feels. There’s a trust with Christopher that Eddie has with Buck that’s unlike the trust he places in anyone else.

It’s the trust that Buck is going to protect Christopher, that Buck is going to put Christopher first, and that Buck would do whatever it takes to ensure Christopher’s safety. It’s implied by the conversation happening when it does, after Buck, hurt and injured, out there searching for Christopher the moment he lost him in the tsunami. Eddie expressing his trust then, having Buck, again watch Christopher partially for Buck’s own mental health, and Eddie thanking Buck for not giving up, showcases that Eddie truly believes that Buck will put Christopher first.

Which is an extremely parental trait, emphasized by the way that Eddie puts Christopher first. It’s also a trait that is usually one of, if not the, most important traits in a single parent’s potential S/O. They have to be able to understand that their child and their child’s well-being comes first. So Buck, displaying that, makes him the front-runner for potential romantic interest for Eddie, at least from a writing perspective.

And this trust Eddie has in Buck, is what leads to Eddie’s anger and frustration.

We’ve basically only seen Eddie angry once prior to the market fight, and that’s when he beats up a guy for insulting Christopher. Yes, it’s initially about the parking space, but for the most part, it’s not extremely heated and more of “I’m sick of people like this”, until Christopher is involved. It establishes pretty solid grounds of what truly makes Eddie snap.

Now fastforward to the market scene and guess what most of Eddie’s anger at Buck centers around? The inability for Eddie to depend on Buck for Christopher’s best-interest. Not in the sense that Buck has other responsibilities, but the implication the conscious choice of the lawsuit has in terms of Buck not caring or not prioritizing Christopher enough. Eddie is angry because all that trust he put in Buck to put Christopher first, to be good for Christopher? It’s been betrayed

If Buck cannot think about how his actions affect Christopher, then Eddie cannot trust Buck with Christopher. Which, again, as friends it’s not the end of the world. It’s not the kind of responsibility you expect from a friend.

However, it’s one you’d expect from an S/O or parental figure, or at least someone trying to be. While it’s Eddie being protective of Christopher, it also speaks volumes of how Eddie views Buck. Eddie pushes for Buck to see how self-centered he’s being. Eddie is arguing for the fact that Buck needs to see the repercussions this has on people other than himself, mainly Christopher. It’s pushing for responsibility and, in regards to Christopher, a more parental view.

Eddie likely wouldn’t push it if he hadn’t initially expected more from Buck—expected Buck to not be so self-centric as to forego thinking how it would impact Christopher. Eddie brings up Christopher, not just because Eddie is Christopher’s dad, but because Eddie knows that Buck gives a shit. Eddie knows that despite Buck’s choices, saying that is going to hurt Buck and make him rethink what he’s done.

It’s grounds for Buck reassessing his choices and ability to put Christopher first, or at least have concern towards his best-interests. It’s also an insight into Eddie’s dependence upon Buck in a way that showcases that Eddie sees Buck as a parental figure in Christopher’s life.

Which, again, romance isn’t necessary, but the effort to achieve said dynamic would be wasted if there wasn’t a relationship pursued here. Additionally, Buck’s guilt and the bringing up of Christopher lays grounds for a resolutory scene between Christopher and Buck, and Buck and Eddie.

In the same way that Eddie wouldn’t have brought up Christopher if he didn’t have expectations for Buck, there’s no reason for Buck to have responded as he did, if the show wasn’t at least going to give a resolving scene.

Buck’s immediate guilt and suggestion to see Christopher, lawsuit be damned, is grounds to show that Buck hurting/foregoing to think about how it would affect Christopher was not intentional. It actually, is something closer to Buck not having realised that this would affect Christopher this way. It’s a way of establishing that, no Eddie is wrong, Buck does care about Christopher. It’s a very desperate call to save what trust Eddie has left with Buck and for Buck to reestablish any sort of presence in Christopher’s life.

It’s very much akin to the major conflicts in romantic plots with single parents in any media. There’s the initial lack of trust, the establishment of trust, an unintentional but damning breaking of said trust, the talk about what the trust implies, and the slow rebuilding of said trust.

Buck, if written true to his character, will fight for a moment to apologize and fix his relationship with Christopher. This will reestablish trust there. As for with Eddie, given Buck asks about him at the end of the episode, there’s some basis for Buck having a major role in helping Eddie’s whole rage arc. Especially, given that Eddie was the one to help Buck at the beginning of the season with his own mental struggles. This will, then, allow for talking and for the reestablishment of trust between Eddie and Buck.

That last part is mostly hypothetical, but this show, I’d say, is pretty good with foreshadowing and manipulation of trailers, and following through with plots. As such, given the effort they’ve put into building the dynamics between Eddie, Buck, and Christopher, along with the subsequent but quick change in said relationship in the past episode, the ground for the development of Buddie into a canon romantic relationship is there.

While neither Buck nor Eddie are necessarily in the place to have the introduction of a new romantic interest, this entire conflict would need to end with a tattered relationship in order for any character to be established as a love interest for Eddie that surpasses Buck, literally the person Eddie trusts with Christopher the most. This would take a while, or some miracle, to establish, but would be necessary because that’s an incredibly necessary trait for single-parent potential partners. They have to be the best for the kid. Whoever Eddie does end up with needs to be the best person to and for Christopher.

And despite everything, it’s still Buck. It’s still Buck because, as said previously, Buck’s initial reaction to Eddie’s reasoning is guilt, and to see Christopher and make things right. This is the only immediate action to resolve things that Buck’s has in regards to anyone hurt by his lawsuit. Granted, Christopher is a kid and not the 118, but the fact stands.

There’s too much preestablished, too much implied, and too much effort put into Eddie, Buck, and Christopher’s relationship for the writers to pursue anything different. Like it would be poor follow-through/planning to randomly establish a love interest for either character at this point.

Eddie’s view of Buck as a parental figure to Christopher, along with the Buck’s responsibility in concerns to Christopher that Buck’s guilt implies (along with the tsunami plot), makes for a basis of potential Buddie. One that might not happen by mid-season 3, but definitely possible, and very very likely.

There’s so much established dynamic and complexity there, that I believe Buddie has a good basis after the episode, and honestly the show would be terrible writers, writers with inability to cohesively develop plots, if Buddie didn’t become canon.

[jarofrebuke-transcripts]

Jar of Rebuke Episode 10 Unofficial Transcript

Season 1 Episode 10: Observations A

INTRO

The following audio recording is classified documentation for Case [audio distortion] with the Enclosure. Unauthorized access to this information will lead to immediate intervention. Progress further if proper clearance has been given.

DARIUS

Hey Jared! Uh… guess I called in at a bad time, huh? I just wanted to give a quick call to chat? Nothing serious, everything’s okay, don’t worry, I just want to check in. We’ve both been really busy the last few days, but I thought I’d see if you wanted to… I don’t know, grab lunch here soon? I know work’s got your schedule pretty full so we can meet up during your lunch break? I know the Waytooth has $1 pie slices around lunchtime, and their strawberry rhubarb pie is to die for. I think you’ll like it. Also, there’s a part of your birthday present I never actually got to give you? I kinda wanted to give it to you when it was just you and me, but we didn’t actually have any time to ourselves on your birthday? It’s nothing big, I could even just, uh, send it to you if you prefer. Anyways, just give me a call when you got the chance. Or text, that’s cool too. We could meet up whenever, as long as my dads know and give them a heads up, it’s fine. Well, besides Saturday. We have some maintenance that’s gotta be done and I already promised to help. So, any day besides Saturday. Um, hope you’re having a good day? Talk to you later.

JARED

I am such an idiot! Does Darius really? Uh, I mean, how long has he? I’m, I’m so dense! I got this voicemail this morning when I was in the shower. I thought about just calling him back but it felt… weird. I was a little concerned and Very confused so, well, I called Jamie for advice. She’s quickly becoming my go-to for, well, things like this. Literally all she did was call me a dense bitch and broke down for me what apparently was obvious and I… well, now I don’t really know what to do. So, Darius likes me. I mean, I guess it kind of makes sense. He did put together a party for my birthday. It was small, cozy really, but he really put a lot of thought into it, which he really didn’t have to. But that’s not necessarily romantic, right? It was on the Chapman farm, and there were all sorts of decorations and things to eat. Everyone that came bought something and it was really nice! Some were homemade dishes, others were things that people brought in from places in town. And it was all delicious. It wasn’t too big, which I was really grateful for. But there were quite a few people that I’ve learned to call friends. Including Holly and some of the folks that I haven’t really seen since the snipe hunt! And Jamie said that he wouldn't have put all of that time into making me a cake if he didn't really… well, it was actually kind of cute. He got all flushed when he presented it because the icing was sort of falling apart and, oh, shit, he likes me.

[Grove walks to Jared] Hey buddy. I don’t really know how I am supposed to feel or how to respond. I haven't really been in this sort of situation, at least not that I can remember. Ugh, gods, what if I'm a bad partner? No one’s bothered to come looking or reach out, or… I have to really think about it. But I don't know what to say to him until I figure it out. I have to get back to him eventually.

Hmm. Anyway, in other news, I brought up the moving shadows I have been seeing to Dr. Daman. Apparently it’s rather common to have stress-induced hallucinations like those, especially with my trouble sleeping recently. She recommended that I try sleep aids, but I’m not really sure on how I feel about that either. There’s nothing wrong with people that need them to sleep, that’s all well and good. But something about chemically forcing me to sleep? I don't know, it just kind of rubs me the wrong way, I don’t... [sounds of Grove pawing at something] Hey, what are you getting into over there? (sighs) Grove has been sniffing around the house a lot lately. He did that when I first took him in, which is to be expected, but he’s just kept sniffing around. It’s like he’s searching for something, I don’t, whatever. Dogs do strange things, that doesn’t exclude hellhounds, I’m sure.

(sighs) Speaking of the whole Darius thing, we actually got to go sledding a few days before my birthday too. It was really nice. It was a lot colder than I expected. I know, I know, that yeah it’s snow, it’s cold, but it’s different when the cold is outside of your clothes than when it gets literally everywhere. But I don't know, it was exhilarating. But in a really good way, not a “running desperately for your life” kind of way. Holly ended up Beaming Darius with a snowball, their aim is brutal. He flew right off the sled and into a snowbank and he came up covered in snow, looking like a snowman. I don’t think I've ever heard him laugh like that before. It was just so refreshing to be able to just live, to just exist with my friends for a little while in a way that distracted me from my own thoughts. Because when I get to thinking too much, I don't like what comes to my head. I think too much, for one thing, about work, about my nightmares, about this upcoming career day that I agreed to. If I do a bad job, which I’m sure I will, I’m going to let Anika down. The thought of that basically gives me hives. All of this stress led to Dr. Daman suggesting that I try medication again. I was hesitant, of course, but she said that if I don’t wanna try sleep aids I could at least try mood stabilizers or something. Last time I tried meds for my mood it did jack diddly squat for me. She suggested that we try a different type of medication and at this point I am willing to try pretty much anything to help with these thoughts and the mood swings. I hate being so unstable, I hate having no real reason to feel sad or anxious and yet that is all I can feel.

So I've started up another medication. They say it will likely take a few weeks to kick in, so we’ll just have to wait and see. And I can’t tell if this is just general anxiety or if I am anxious about the medication itself, too. Not like it can make things much worse right? [knocks] Knock on wood at least. I really gotta stop saying things like that, I know it will just invite things to get worse. Like I still keep catching glimpses of that shadow around my house. Dr. Daman is sure that it’s just stress. Mr. Zimmer doesn’t even think that it’s there. I know it is, I’ve seen it in my peripheral. Sometimes I see it behind me, over my shoulder in the mirror. I never see it for long though, just glimpses. I know it’s there, it’s gotta be, right? Mr. Zimmer says that it’s all in my head, that I’m imagining things. At least Dr. Daman gives a reason as to Why I would be seeing it, but Mr. Zimmer is sure that there’s other things I should be focusing on. Like remembering. We’ve started something called accelerated resolution therapy, or ART. He said it’s typically usually used in treating things like trauma, which he’s pretty sure isn’t my issue, especially since I don't even remember anything, but it is rooted in memory, so we’re trying it out. He basically makes me move my eyes back and forth, walks me through a scene, and I sort of relive it in my head. It’s used to rewire emotional responses, I think? But we’re trying to see if it helps me remember anything. And so far… nothing. Mr. Zimmer is fairly certain that I’m just not trying hard enough, but I’m trying as hard as I can, I just can’t remember anything. I think he got a little huffy with me after our last session didn’t bring up anything too terribly substantial to the surface, which I hated. Both his frustration and the lack of progress. So I did tell him about that sweet smell back at the school that flew me into a panic after smelling it? Smell is the sense most closely linked to memory right, so it’s gotta be something. He seemed curious about it and had me describe the smell. The faintest sweetness, a mild smell. It smells good, almost too good. The word that he used was an ethereal smell, which, sure, I guess. But how ethereal can it be if it causes me to break into a sweat and feel the need to run? He dismissed that question, took some notes, and then carried on to the next topic as if I hadn’t even mentioned anything. Nothing.

I don't even want to bring it up with Dr. Daman at this point. Recently it seemed like she steeled her resolve to help me and has been more active in figuring out what’s going on. But we've been at this for years now. I'm not sure what we could do that we haven't tried before. Unless I'm just not trying hard enough… No. I am trying my hardest to remember, but it just feels like I’m slamming my head against a brick wall more than I’m actually remembering anything. I touched on my nightmares again, but they both just chalked it up to stress with work and fitting in with the community. Which, you know, Dr. Daman used to be so supportive of me going out and mingling with those in town? But now, just so flippant about it. Like she couldn’t care less either way about it anymore. Whatever.

(sighs) I guess I should give Darius a call back here soon. I just have no idea what to say. I don't wanna change what we have, i don't want to lose what we have, but… i don't know. I’m not opposed to the idea of dating I guess? I just… we’re good friends, I really like being around him and everything, but just because I’m a good friend doesn’t mean I will be a good partner. I’m always so busy with work, and I have no clue what it means to be in a romantic relationship. And if we Were to date, what kind of relationship is built on so many lies? Yeah, sure, I try to usually tell at least a half truth or whatever when I can, but it’s still kind of lying. He doesn't even know the real me! Would he like me if he did? All this baggage and whatever else that I’d bring into the relationship? What would he say when he realizes I only have two years of real life experience. That I rebound from death with nothing to show for it other than more scars and some bodily discomfort. He’s asked about my scars before, the little ones on my hands and arms, mostly. But I think I've caught him looking at the ones on my face. I don’t… I don’t like it when people stare at them. And he doesn’t stare, but still. He’s taken notice. He’s asked what happened and I told him, oh, you know, general hazards of life! He chuckled at it, but I don’t think he fully bought it. He still seems concerned from time to time, but I think he just tries to help me keep my mind busy and keep me trying new things when I’m not weighed down by work. He’s… a great guy. A good cook, a great teacher, a great friend. When I’m low energy, he’s always down to just sit with me and not do much. When I want someone to talk to he’s always there to listen, and to chat, as long as he’s not busy with his work or his own classes, which did wrap up last month, so we’ve been spending a bit more time together. I introduced him to Jamie, it was a bit in passing, but they seemed to get along well. I was just showing Jamie more around town after getting lunch, we’d actually been heading back to my car when we bumped into him outside Mrs. Weddington’s Bakery. They were like two peas in a pod pretty quickly. I’m going to try to have us all hang out here soon.

(sighs) But I… I gotta talk with Darius one on one first. Gods, it’s so much easier to interact with the creatures that I study, to be honest. People are just [Grove starts growling] more complicated? At least for me. I don’t- [Grove knocks over something] Hey, hey, woah, what- what’re you getting into? What did you- [Grove snarls] Is that… a camera? When, when did that get there? Shit, are there more? [audio distortion] Uh, no, you know what? No. Screw that. This is my house, I am not gonna have this shit in my own house! [static rises then cuts off]

OUTRO

Jar of Rebuke is created and produced by Casper Oliver, who is also the voice of Dr. Jared Hel. Darius Chapman is voiced by VynVox. The intro is read by Vanessa Rosengrant, and credits are read by Ashley Craft, who has created the podcast official graphics. Episode was edited by Chelsea Finley. Episode was written by Casper Oliver and Jenny O’ Sullivan. Music was created by Luke Menniss, spelled m-e-n-n-i-s-s, who you can find and support on Bandcamp, Spotify and Twitch. If you’ve been enjoying us, please consider leaving a rating, review or comment, wherever you tune in. You can also support us on Patreon or Podhero by following the links in our episode description. And special thanks to our patreon supporters, Tristan, Perry, Devin, Becky, Nico, Danny and Joyce.

[deamstellarus]

In Viata Asta (1)

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Summary: It was possible you’d been on your own for too long. Maybe all you needed were two boys from Brooklyn to help you find yourself again.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Uhm...some violence, language I guess?

Series Masterlist

A/N: So I started this fic last summer and I just got around to editing it, but I hope you guys like it. It starts in 2018, and we’re gonna ignore the main MCU plots after Age of Ultron (also Clint does have a secret fam but they’re his sister and nieces/nephews because it literally makes so much more sense). Definitely some canon-divergence. And I’m trying for a slow burn. Anyways... enjoy.

__________

You struggled in the dark, kicking your legs as hard as you could, trying to get close to the light you saw at the surface of the water. Your legs were useless, your body felt like lead, dragging you deeper into the abyss. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach the top. Just a little more…

Then you saw his face, his eyes wild. And his hand reached out toward you. You stretched for it, your fingers grazing his. He tightens his grip around yours, sending you that nervous smile he reserved for when you were in desperate situations and he wanted to reassure you. Even when it was all going to hell. You felt a tug upward, your body being pulled toward the surface.

Then there was a bullet hole in his forehead.

His hold on you was gone. His eyes frozen wide open.

You opened your mouth to scream…

You gasped awake, jolting up in bed. Panting, your hand flew to your chest. Your eyes darted around the cabin, confirming it was another nightmare. You squeezed your eyes closed. Ten, nine, eight, seven... an attempt to slow your heart rate. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point. You had the dreams often enough, your subconscious morphing the memory, each time more disturbing than before. 

When you could take full breaths again, you flopped back onto your pillows, staring up at the stars that peaked between the leaves through the skylight. You wished they could stop making such a common appearance in your nightly routine. Your sleep schedule was shit, and if you were being honest, it had long since taken a  toll on you. 

Maybe your friends were right, a change of scenery might be just what you need.

__________

A creak sounded from the front porch. Your head snapped to the door. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for the local wildlife to make an appearance on your front steps, curious about the structure in the middle of their forest and sniffing for food. It was, however, unusual for creatures to come around in the middle of the night, they were more likely to come wandering through just before sunrise. 

Your eyes slid to the digital clock on the small nightstand beside your bed. The time confirmed your theory, still a few hours until daybreak - far too early for anything other than trouble. Another groan from the wood boards of the porch and some shuffling had you leaping out of bed and reaching for the knife next to the clock -- one of several knives you kept around the cabin. Through the windows, you could vaguely make out a few shadowy figures in the obstructed moonlight.

With the smooth blade in your hand, you slowly crept down the stairs leading from the loft and toward the kitchen drawer that held a couple hand guns; your blade hand poised and ready to strike when the time called for it. Your eyes never left the door. Your fingertips had just brushed against the handle of the drawer when you heard the quiet snitch of the latch and the door creaked open. 

You threw out of instinct. 

A hand shot out, catching the knife by the handle. With the door wide open now, the silhouettes became more distinct. You counted three bodies, but you couldn’t be sure there weren’t more surrounding your cabin. You took a step forward with your gun now in hand, fully intending to strike, until a sliver of color caught your attention. You squinted. The dim light made it hard to see but you’d recognize that copper hair anywhere. In fuller light, you suspected you’d see her signature smirk. 

“Is that any way to treat your friend, zvezdochka?” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Flicking on a light, you made your way to your old friend.

“Fuck Tash, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” You pulled her into your arms for a much needed hug. She jerked beneath you upon contact. That wasn’t normal. You released her, searching her for injuries. She had a large gash in her abdomen, and while the bleeding had stopped for now, it would have to be fixed immediately.

“Yeah, it’s a long story, Blue. Sorry we didn’t give you a heads up.” 

“I hate to be rude, but can we get out of the cold?” A voice said.

Just that quickly, you’d forgotten about the other two people in your company. A man with warm brown skin and a metal pack of some kind strapped to his back stood behind Natasha. Next to him was a man you’d seen on the news several times. The TV stations didn’t do the man justice. Captain America was in your cabin in the woods, and you were suddenly very aware just how little you were actually wearing at the moment. You tugged at the hem of the over-sized shirt you’d stolen from Clint months ago.

“Sorry! Please, come in.” You ushered them passed you and locked the door behind them. 

“Guys, this is Blue. Blue, meet Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson,” Natasha said, setting your knife on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Sorry about intruding, ma'am.” Captain America was apologizing to you. That's sweet. 

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about it.” That earned you a blush from the blonde. “And I'm far younger than you. 'Ma'am' is not necessary, Captain.” 

“Steve. You can call me Steve.” The pink on his cheeks spread down his neck, and if he were to take his suit off, you were sure his chest would be sporting the same rosy hue. 

“Fair enough. It’s nice to meet you both, and I would say it’s great to see you again, Tash, but it seems like it’s under… difficult circumstances.” Natasha waved you off.

“Minor shootout on a mountain. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“Minor shootout, she says,” you scoffed. “You need to be more careful. Come on.” You grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her to the kitchen. “There’s a bathroom through the door on the right, if you guys want to clean up,” you pointed behind you.

You could hear the shuffling of their feet as they dispersed through your home for the past year. You made Natasha sit on a stool by the overhang counter, while you rummaged around in a cabinet for your first aid kit. You peeled the top of her suit down and pulled up the tank top she wore underneath. The large gash looked uglier exposed in the light but nothing you couldn't work with for now. You soaked a cotton ball with alcohol and wiped the area clean as gently as you could. She hissed upon contact but didn’t say anything. You slid a bottle of whiskey to her before you pushed the tip of some surgical thread through a needle. She took a swig and you started to sew up the wound. You could feel her eyes on you. When you were done, you smoothed on antiseptic ointment and covered it with a bandage. It would have to do for now. You turned to put the kit away and washed your hands. She still hadn’t said anything to you. You sighed.

“I can practically hear you thinking, you know.”

“I see your aim hasn’t changed, zvezdochka.” Here it comes. It was only a matter of time. “You could be putting your skills to good use.”

“Natasha, khvatit. We’ve been over this. I’m not going back.” 

You slid a cutting board from its place along the wall before gathering ingredients at random. You quickly diced an onion and minced a couple cloves of garlic, sautéing them in a saucepan on the stove, before pouring in a couple cans of crushed tomatoes. A bit of tomato paste, along with oregano, salt, pepper, and a couple of bay leaves, and you had your go-to sauce mostly done.  You gave it a stir and covered it, bringing down the heat to a simmer when it showed signs of boiling. You glanced behind you when you hadn’t heard anything from Natasha. She looked frustrated, her brows furrowed, but held her tongue. You pulled the cork on a bottle of sweet moscato and poured her a glass, replacing the whiskey bottle in front of her. 

“Look, it has nothing to do with you. You know I love you and I miss you and Clint. I actually just texted him yesterday but he hasn’t responded yet.”

“Yeah, he’s on an op in East Asia right now.” She paused. “You should see his hair, he uses more product now than ever.” Her tone was light, the previous topic dropped for now. You chuckled, Clint had always used heavy amounts of hair gel. You’d teased him endlessly about it once upon a time. 

“Hey, can you go tell your friends there are some of Clint’s old shirts and maybe a few pairs of sweats that might fit in my dresser, if they want to change. This’ll be ready soon.”

“Sure.” You flinched at her closeness, not expecting her to be so close to you. She pecked your cheek and threw her arms around you, squeezing you as she would have before, had she not been freshly injured. She released you and sauntered out of your kitchen, leaving you to your thoughts. In another pot, you filled it with water, then set it on the stove to start heating it up. 

Your mind wandered as you waited for the water to boil. You didn’t miss that Natasha hadn’t told you where the three of them had been on their mission. Nor why they’d been on a mountain in the first place. In all fairness, she didn’t have to, couldn’t if she were following S.H.I.E.L.D. rules. 

But it did make you nervous. You doubt anyone would have followed them to your location in the middle of the thick wilderness in northern Washington. But then again, they had been near enough your location that Natasha thought your safe haven of a cabin was the best option. That unsettled you, but she wouldn’t have given up this location if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were going to have to keep a look out if there were unsavory people in the area.

The water started to boil, so you threw in a few dashes of olive oil and some salt. You felt the presence of someone behind you as you dumped the linguine into the bubbling water. 

“You know, it’s not polite to stare, Captain.” 

You peeked over your shoulder. You’d only just met him but making America’s Golden Boy blush was becoming your new favorite hobby. His face had been cleaned of dirt and the few cuts on his face were already healing. Must be that super soldier serum you’d read about. He was wearing an old white t-shirt that was definitely a size or two too small, and a pair of sweatpants that you were certain would show off his ass nicely if he turned around. And yet, he looked far more relaxed than he’d been when he first stumbled through your door.

“I, uh... thank you, for letting us crash here,” he stuttered. You gestured to the bar stool Natasha previously occupied and he sat down. 

“It’s not a problem, Steve. Anything for the friends of Natasha and Clint.” You took the lid off the sauce. Steam billowed into your face as your stirred. 

“How do you know them anyway?”

“Ah ah, that’s a story for another time, Mr. Rogers. Now, do you want cheese on your pasta?” He smiled and nodded. You handed him a slicer and a block of parmesan after you showed him how to make cheese curls.

By the time Natasha and Sam stepped into the kitchen, the two of you had just finished filling the bowls around the table.

“Mmm, something smells amazing,” Sam said. He, too, looked more comfortable out of his combat mission-wear. He landed heavily into the chair next to Steve at the table, a strong contrast to Natasha's elegant descent next to you.

“It should be. It’s one of my go-to recipes. I hope you like it.” You pushed a bowl in front of him. He all but inhaled the first few forkfuls, switching between moaning and taking in sharp breaths from the heat of the food. 

“Girl, this is amazing.” You nodded your appreciation. To Natasha and Steve, he said, “Can we keep her?” Your cheeks warmed. Natasha smirked. 

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” 

Her eyes were playful. She seemed much better from the last time you’d seen her around Christmas. Natasha and Clint had been brief in their visit, having stopped over long enough to bring you a few gifts-- a fuzzy blanket, thick socks, and a beautiful new knife-- before leaving abruptly for another mission they couldn’t miss. She had been tense then, frown lines gracing her face. Observing her now, there was a certain slack visible in her shoulders, and the creases in her forehead had given way to smile lines around her mouth instead, faint as they were. She was still beautiful as always though, still your pseudo big sister. 

“Maybe I’ll come visit New York soon, Bird Man.” You bit back a laugh at his outrage at the nickname. 

“Has she been talking to Barnes? Geeze, can’t catch a break,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, I don’t have a great filter sometimes. But you are the Falcon, right? It’s fitting.” You shrugged. “Suppose I can think of something else if I’m not being original enough for you.” Sam just rolled his eyes.

“This really is great, ma’- ah… Blue?” Steve’s comment came out like a question.

“Yeah, Clint’s nickname for me. Blue Moon, like the ice cream? I had blue hair when we met. I kept it up for a while and the nickname stuck. Everyone used to call me that.” You shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

Steve nodded. You finished your pasta and rinsed the bowl in the sink. “Anyway, I’m sure you guys are exhausted. There’s not a ton of room here, but a couple of you can take the back room, the bed should be big enough for two. And my loft is available, if you don’t mind a little climb, just watch your head. There are extra blankets and a couple pillows in the linen closet. Please make yourselves at home.”

“What about you?” Steve asked. 

“Don’t you worry about me, Captain.” You knew you weren’t getting sleep any time soon, the small couch in front of the fireplace calling your name. “I’ll be just fine.”

__________

They didn’t fight you on it. Two hours later, Natasha and Sam were cuddled together in the bed in the back room. You found that interesting and made a mental note to bring it up with her later. Steve on the other hand was curled into your bed in the loft. The low ceiling made him look like even more of a giant within the small space, especially with your favorite plush blanket draped over him. From your place on the couch, you could see half his face behind the slotted railing of the loft. Even asleep, it seemed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. At least you could allow him this reprieve. 

You tiptoed to the side door a few minutes later, a fresh mug of tea in your hand. You were careful not to wake Steve up as you slowly slid the door open, softly latching it behind you. You sat on one of the chairs on the deck, settling in for your morning routine. Clint had told you the reason he chose to build the cabin in its current location was for the view. He couldn’t have been more perfect in his choice. The cabin sat on the edge of a small lake in the middle of a thick forest that butted up against a range of mountains. You’d learned the best part of your nightly predicament was being awake to watch the sunrise over the water, the beams of light breaking through the gaps in the leaves of trees and the crevices of the mountains. The reflection of the morning sky colors in the ripples of the water were beautiful. It seemed this view was the only version of a body of water you appreciated, from a distance at least. You weren’t jumping in anytime soon. 

You sipped your tea as the warm hues spilled over the horizon. The forest started to wake up, birds doing their morning calls and squirrels and rabbits scurrying over the forest floor. The breeze picked up a bit. It rustled the leaves and caused shallow waves in the water in front of you. Mornings were definitely your favorite, if only because they were always slow and peaceful here. 

“That’s a gorgeous view.”

You whipped your head to the intruder. Steve leaned against the door frame. Orange and red tones lit up his face like a painting. He wore a small smile. He was beautiful in this light. You looked back to the lake.

“Yeah, it really is. Best part about this place. Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet.”

“Nah, it wasn’t you. Honestly, didn’t even hear a thing. It’s just my internal alarm clock. I’m used to getting up and running first thing with the sun, and believe it or not, I never get used to the different time zones.” You hummed and nodded.

“So when do you guys have to leave?”

“Tired of us already?” Steve teased.

“No.” Truthfully you weren’t. You were bracing yourself for when you’d be alone again. “Just trying to plan ahead. Maybe I’ll make something for you guys for the trip back.”

“Oh...” He was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. “You could come back with us, you know. If Clint’s half as happy to see you as Nat was, it seems like it’d be a great reunion. Plus, you could meet the team.” 

He had a point. You did miss Clint, and you had wanted to go back and visit New York again. You supposed meeting the famous Avengers would be interesting. If not daunting. But that would mean putting yourself in range of Fury and you weren't ready for that yet. “I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough.”

"Would you like a cup?" You raised your mug in his direction.

"I'm alright." His smile sparked made you feel the warmth you wished the sun would give off.

"Well have a seat at least. You're making me anxious." 

He plopped into the chair beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His elbows propped on the arms of the wood lounger, his interlocked hands resting on his stomach. He flash you another small smile and looked out toward the water. You took a moment to really study him. 

You weren't stupid- you were well-aware how much the media wanted Steve- no, Captain America- to be portrayed as flawless and perfect. And in every instance in which you'd seen him on a screen, he was. In person, the reality of what he must go through, not only as an Avenger, but as a national icon, is ever apparent. There’s a line in his forehead, as if it’s constantly creased, which is plausible. The fine lines around his eyes revealed his weariness, and at the rate you guessed he’s constantly in missions, it made sense. 

"You know, it's rude to stare." Blue eyes flicked to yours. 

"Yeah well, I don't have a lot of company." You took another sip of your tea, now definitely too cool for your liking. "But can you blame me? I'm in the presence of a celebrity." 

A corner of his mouth tucked up. 

"Yeah yeah."

"Still watching sunrises with blondes, I see?" Natasha's head poked out on the sliding door, Clint's old sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. 

"Still too nosy for your own good, I see?" You quipped back. She grinned at you, looking younger than you've seen her in a while.

"Of course, zvezdochka." She winked. You sighed, standing up.

"I better get some coffee started and then I'll head into town if you all will be staying for a while. Not exactly equipped to feed superheroes."

"I can go with you." Steve got his feet, stretching his arms over head, the action lifted his shirt just enough to give you a glimpse of his well-toned abs. He practically towered over you.

"Erm, are you sure? It's over a half hour drive into town." 

"Well, it wouldn't be right to let a dame like you do all the work while we're crashing with you unannounced " He sounded so genuine. It must be some of that 40′s charm and etiquette Natasha had told you about. 

"If you're sure then."

__________

That's how you ended up driving down the winding roads together with trees and steep drop-offs on either side. Steve flipped through station after station of static on the radio before you took pity on him and switched on an indie rock CD. 

"There aren't many radio stations out this far so it's hit or miss when we're close enough to catch anything."

He hummed, nodding along to the music, and watching the trees rush by. He had a far off look in eye. You let him be, content with the silent company for now. Who knew how long it's been since he's had time to just think without being needed.

You pulled up to the general store in the closest town almost forty minutes later. There weren't many cars in the lot, but there hardly ever were. You bit your tongue when you saw Steve had donned a discarded cap from the back seat. If he thought that would disguise him, he would be sorely mistaken. Or maybe not. To be fair, there weren't a lot of people in this town, and even less were likely to recognize him at first glance.

A couple teenagers stood behind the registers near the entrance, popping gum and flirting most likely, from the blush on the girl's face at least. You grabbed a cart, Steve following closely behind you. You passed an older woman in the produce section, tossing items in as you went by. 

"Is pick up soon or should I get stuff for dinner too?" When there wasn't a response, you turned around. Steve was helping the woman grab the parsley off the top shelf. He was so genuinely nice, it was so easy to see him as the national icon you assumed most people learned about in school. You shook your head and continued down the aisles. He could catch up; it's not like there was too much area to cover if you got separated. You nodded at a man in a black jacket nearby when you made accidental eye contact, and made a beeline to the cereal aisle. The decision to treat yourself to sugary cereal was too great, especially since you had no self-control and it was always the first to run out at home. You reached for your favorite brand, going up on your toes to grab it off the top shelf. Before you could though, a hand settled on your lower back and Steve pulled the box from the shelf effortlessly. 

He smirked, dangling the box in front of you.

"Thanks." You rolled your eyes, snatching the box from his grip. He chuckled behind you as you shuffled down the aisle. 

"You looked like you were going to climb the shelves." 

"I would have. I usually have to-" You stopped abruptly. Steve stumbled into you. The man at the end of the aisle was watching you. No, blatantly staring at you.

"Blue?"

You ignored him in favor of the man. The staring wouldn't have bothered you on a normal day; you don't come to town often so people tend to be nosy and keep an eye on the outsider. But the hair on the back of your neck was standing on end and you had a sinking feeling in your stomach that your casual day with new friends had come to an abrupt end.

"Blue?" 

"How many people are near the exit?" You said in a quiet voice. Steve tensed beside you. He finally looked to where your attention was drawn to at the end of the aisle. "None at the moment."

"The old lady?" You murmured, backing up slowly when a second man, the one in the black jacket you had just passed, rounded the corner to stand next to the first man.

"Two lanes over by the soup." You were thankful his height gave him the advantage to see over the shelves. 

"We're going to have to make a run for it if we want to keep the civilians safe. Creep and Creepier are definitely packing." You let go of the cart, reaching into your hoodie pocket for your car keys. 

"On three, we make a break for it," Steve said. "One-"

"Three!" You turned on your heel and took off toward the entrance, Steve serving as a human shield behind you when a gunshot sounded. How you wish he'd brought his official one with him. The glass of the door shattered in front of you but you barreled through, holding your arms over your head for cover. Dodging bullets, your raced to your Jeep. You jumped in and shoved the key in the ignition, taking off before Steve even had the door closed. 

"How did they recognize me so quickly?" Steve gasped. He turned around in his seat, eyes on the road behind us. You rolled your eyes.

"Right, because a baseball cap is going to disguise your six-foot-plus frame in a town of less than a hundred people. Sure." You glanced in the side mirrors. A grey SUV followed you. Raindrops crashed against the windshield. "Fucking great," you muttered to yourself. You needed a plan. Well you had a plan, but it was going to be more difficult than necessary if the clouds were any indication of the water they held. "Steve, the glove box."

He gave you a quizzical look but did as you asked and pulled out the gun you kept stashed there. He rolled down the window, rain pelted his face as he leaned out the window. He took aim and shot at the SUV. They swerved on the road, attempting to avoid the bullets but Steve was able to hit a tire and the SUV made a hard turn into a large tree. 

You let out the breath you’d been holding. That much fuckery without substantial food in your system was definitely bringing your mood down. But you couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins.

"Romanoff," Steve spoke into his watch. "I've been made. We're on our way back now."

"Fuck," you breathed. "Can’t catch a break, huh Cap? That was obnox-"

You didn’t even see it coming. The hit to the passenger's side caused the car to flip and roll several times, eventually rolling you over the edge of the road and down a steep incline. You closed your eyes and braced against the handle grips on the door and the steering wheel. Every impact of metal to pavement and forest floor jarred your body. 

Then the airbag deployed and the world shut off.

[Part 2]

A/N: Gonna try to post every Thursday or Friday, so fingers crossed I can actually stick to that schedule. Let me know what you think so far!

[ice-the-creator-destroyer]

Minecraft story: Days 4-7

Days 1-3

Day 4:

At the suggestion of a friend, I turned off the auto-save feature and moved Chocolate Milk and Tess back into my house and closed off their access to the porch and Arnold’s Enclosure; this will restrict their movement to under 20 blocks in any direction so that they will not despawn. It has worked perfectly, but I still will not save my game when they are not both in my direct line of sight.

While I held what I think was a stack of two eggs, one from Tess and one from a chicken I had in my ranch outside, I tried and failed to eat a slice of cake, throwing the egg into the wall, hatching a small baby chicken. I had not intended on hatching these eggs; I had not really set in stone any plans for them, but they probably would have been made into a cake. I had full intentions of hatching Tess’s eggs, but only once I could assure they were all her eggs. I immediately fell in love with this baby chicken, and named him Lelo (it’s pronounced exactly like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch, but when I thought of the name, I visualized it with an e, so- yeah. It’s not like some thing to make him unique, it’s just how I visualized it.). I do not know whether or not Lelo is Tess’s biological child or if they were another chicken’s egg, but it does not matter now, because Tess has adopted him as her own, Lelo is Tess’s child and nobody can say otherwise. Of course, there was a bit of panic, as once Lelo grew up I would not be able to differentiate between him and Tess. I built a boat and placed Tess inside, and Chocolate Milk placed herself in the boat because that’s what Chocolate Milk does. Of course because my house was so small that the boat ended up blocking the front door, so now I have to leave my house through the back.

I added a storage room to my house after much frustration on what to keep and throw out due to inventory space.

I found an underwater ravine in the ocean beside the desert out behind my home. I have mined a lot here and it wielded lots of materials.

I HAVE ACQUIRED DIAMONDS! After literal hours of mining and searching, I finally found a pocket of 5 diamonds. I mined all around each diamond to ensure there was no lava around it that would burn it. I used three of the diamonds to make a diamond pickaxe, and then mined a sufficient amount of obsidian to assemble a Nether portal. I hope to go to the Nether and find a Nether fortress to find name tags inside the fortress. I have exited the game for the night, and will venture into the Nether tomorrow.

Day 5:

As YOGSCAST Lewis & Simon once said, Screw the Nether.

After a few minutes of prep, I began my journey into the Nether and was immediately attacked by a Ghast, who damaged me and put out my nether portal. I was able to re-light the portal and flee through it as I saw another shot coming towards me. Something interesting to note was that when I went back into the Nether, it was as if no time had passed, and the charge was still coming towards me.

Ghasts have been the bane of my existence. From the moment I stepped into the Nether they have harassed me at every turn. I tracked my progress and marked my way by the stone walls and hides I had scrambled together across the hellscape. I actually grew quite talented in fighting them, having stacks of cobblestone, able to craft a protective wall out of them in seconds, darting out from behind the wall and firing arrows, and surveying the area before dashing to the next protective wall of cobblestone I had built.

Fighting Ghasts requires a significant amount of arrows however, and there is only one way I know of acquiring feathers...

The chickens in the ranch outside my home are brought into the world and are often showered with seeds to help them grow big and strong quickly and then are paired off with a loving companion with whom they have lovely little children. What happens after that I try not to think about too much...

In order to feed the chickens and grow enough wheat to sustain the rapid consumption of bread in the Nether, I expanded my farm. It is not as neat and orderly as it was before, but it is more efficient.

I discovered that in the Nether, a short distance from the portal, was the end of the Nether, a large bedrock wall as rough and uneven as the bedrock at the bottom of the world. It is truly a sight to behold.

It is a well-known rule in Minecraft that a person should never dig straight down, but today, digging straight down saved my life. As I was fighting two ghasts behind a cobblestone wall, a third appeared behind me where I had no wall to protect myself, and fired at me. As someone who had been hiding behind stone walls for the past few hours, I guess I was in no position to judge the third Ghast’s tactics, like my own, it’s tactics sure as Nether were a lethal pain in the ass. I ran out into the open in my panic, and was now being fired upon by three Ghasts. Low on health, my body set ablaze and charing by the second, with terrifying beasts attacking me from both sides, I had no time to build an efficient cobblestone shelter, so in an attempt to save myself, I pulled one last desperate move: I dug a hole. Switching to my Iron Pickaxe, I looked straight below myself and dug. My body falling each block I removed, I quickly was out of the line of sight of the Ghasts. When I dug into a pocket of magma blocks and was damaged, I kept digging, knowing I would break through the pocket soon enough, and I did, emerging safely onto netherrack flooring. Safe away from the Ghasts, the fire charing my body fizzled out while I was at half a heart, leaving me severely injured, but alive. I placed a block of cobblestone above my head, and laughed at the absurdity of the situation and my luck.

When I returned home low on cobblestone, I built a cobblestone generator, with both water and lava flowing to meet and make cobblestone. I am ashamed to admit that I died to this contraption. Placing myself at the edge of the waterflow to more efficiently get the cobblestone before it was swallowed up by the lava, the water pushed me into the molten rock, setting my body ablaze. In a moment of sheer stupidity, I forgot that there was water right behind me as part of the contraption, and dashed to the ocean not far from the generator. Unfortunately, I had taken too much damage already, and the fire killed me while I was one block away from the water, scattering my inventory into the water, which I had to swim out for. I regained 7 of the 23-25 levels I had, a significant drop. After this I gave up on the cobblestone generator, and went out to the pathetic excuse for a cave not far from my home to mine cobblestone. During my mining, I found a large cave very similar to a small ravine. The only thing that differentiated it from a ravine was that the high ceiling did not open up to the sky. The single waterfall that led down all the way from the ceiling might have led to an ocean, making it an underwater ravine, but I did not check. I found 19 pieces of iron ore in this pseudo-ravine, and sufficient cobblestone from it and the cave I had come in from.

After many trips back and forth from the Overworld and the Nether for arrows, bread, and once cobblestone, I finally found a Nether Fortress. After one more trip back to the Overworld for sufficient preparations, I entered the fortress. I got all the way to the blaze spawners, but as I tried to destroy one of the spawners, I was killed by a blaze. After staring at the death screen for a moment, I turned off the PS3 and promptly gave up. The most valuable item I found in the chests leading up to that point was iron horse armor, and I don’t even have a horse.

I chose to raid the Nether Fortress for Name Tags instead of choosing the much easier fishing method is to reduce the kill count; I didn’t want to end so many fish’s lives just for Name Tags when I could go and get them in some chests in a fortress, but look at what has happened: I’ve had to kill so many chickens for feathers to make weapons used to kill other creatures. I cannot bring back the creatures I have killed, but I can choose to stop killing them. Screw the Nether, I’m goin’ fishin’.

Day 6:

At the suggestion of a friend I have rethought my decision to ditch the Nether. They reminded me that placing torches around a spawner will deactivate them, and suggested a more humane way of getting arrows: skeletons. Thank you friend, this world would be much bleaker without your advice.

I still took up fishing, knowing I could get name tags from there. I took nine fish, and after that, threw the rest back. I’ve gone fishing in real life before, there was no way that the fish could have died that soon after being caught. They’re not dead; shush.

I fished by day and hunted monsters by night. While fighting monsters at night, I encountered a Husk giving a Baby Zombie a piggy-back ride on it’s shoulders, though there is significant evidence to suggest that the Baby Zombie was controlling the Husk. I acquired sufficient arrows from the skeletons to venture into the Nether again, and acquired a saddle from fishing, but no Name Tags. Seeking to enchant my fishing rod with the Luck of the Sea enchantment to increase my chances of getting Name Tags, I went out to mine and found diamonds rather quickly, enough to craft an enchanting table, as I had used the previous 2 diamonds to craft a diamond sword in a moment of forgetfulness. I added another room to my house: a crafting room. Inside the room I placed a crafting table, an anvil, and an enchanting table. I remembered that I needed Bookshelves to increase the power of the enchanting table, but I was hesitant to acquire the leather required to craft books by killing cows. A quick internet search left me with another option: Fishing. Of course. I continued doing what I was doing: fishing by day and hunting Skeletons by night. As tools and armor naturally broke, I realized I was running low on iron, and that it would be smart to mine more iron now before my iron tools ran out rather than screwing myself over by not having any backups when they eventually broke. I went to a cave and began to mine, and found more caves and lots of iron.

One of the Zombie’s I was forced to kill in the cave dropped a potato?? I thought I would have to find a village to acquire potatoes but I guess not. I am growing potatoes now in my farm.

After being satisfied by the amount of iron I acquired, I tried to exit the cave, but discovered that I couldn’t find the way I had come in, running around in circles. I dug through the wall and my own exit, and emerged in a swamp. I spent the next chunk of my time lost in those swamps. I’m glad I got lost there of all places though, as I ended up finding slimes that I killed in self defense and got slimeballs that I later made leads out of. I made a 64 block tower of dirt with a torch atop it when I first got out of the cave to mark such a good mine; I used that tower to help find my way. I found a witch’s hut, but did not enter, knowing it was very dangerous. Night approached as I first saw the house, and I had my first encounter with Phantoms, as I had not slept in several days.

I eventually found my way back home, and might have kissed the ground if I had a button to do so. I am so happy to finally be home.

Day 7:

I returned to the Nether and entered the Fortress. I ran up the blaze spawners and blocked them all off with a wall of cobble, and placed torches around one which didn’t work. I soon realized that the spawners had no chests around them. I looked through what as far as I could tell was the rest of the Fortress, and none of the chests had Name Tags in them. I promptly left the Nether. Until I choose to go to the End, I will not be returning. Screw the Nether, everything I’ve done in the Nether has been an egregious waste of time, resources, effort, and life.

I went back to fishing. I crafted a boat and swam out a bit so no monsters could get me and set up shop. While fishing I caught a rod with Luck of the Sea II, Lure II, and Unbreaking III. No, I’m not kidding. It was on low durability so I went home, and merged it with my current fishing rod using my anvil.

I HAVE ACQUIRED NAME TAGS!!! I acquired them all through fishing. The first one I got I saw it as I reeled it in, and then it flew over my head. I scrambled around and out of the boat, swimming around until I found it. I named Tess first, as I needed to differentiate her from Lelo first and I wanted to let her out of the boat. She had been flapping her wings ever since she was put in the boat, and I know she was happy to finally be out. I accidentally hit Chocolate Milk while trying to break the boat; I’m sorry Chocolate Milk. They have now all been named, minus the dogs as they don’t despawn, and I opened up the way to Arnold’s Enclosure, before I remembered that wolves had spawned in there. I quickly blocked the enclosure back up. There was only one wolf in the enclosure, though before there had been four in there; I didn’t think wolves could despawn but apparently they can (Or they were killed by monsters.) I went to get bones, and then back into the enclosure and tamed the wolf inside. Welcome to the family Bernard.

I kinda don’t know what to do now. For the past few days the entirety of my time was dedicated to getting Name Tags for my companions. Almost everything I’ve done has been for them. I think I will just enjoy them for a while. I wasn’t there much while Lelo was growing up, and I’ve been on a mission since day 3; it’s day 7 now; I’ve been going in and out of the house without paying them as much attention as they deserve for longer than I have been paying them the attention they deserve. I gave them treats when I happened to have wheat or seeds in my inventory, but other than that they have sadly been neglected. I was so focused on keeping them safe and from despawning, I neglected their happiness. Well no more. From now on I’ll be showering them with the attention they deserve. Everything I’ve done so far has been for them, and it will continue to be. Chocolate Milk, Tess, Lelo, Norman, Betwood, Bernard, I love you all. Happy New Year.

[hollenka99]

The Creator

Summary: When Sean discovers he has the ability to bring his characters to life, he wasn’t expecting to be shunned by them or for it to lead to tragedy time and time again.

Warnings: Blood mention, implied death (including children), kidnapping mention

Sean wishes he never went to Max's house that night. It wasn't any fun. They were just really mean to him and he didn't like it. It's not like he didn't try to stay awake. It was a dumb anyway. His mother asks him if he'd like her to speak with Max's mother. He tells her no. In response she encourages him to stop moping about if it wasn't that bad. Well, fine then. Max sucks and Sean can make a way better friend than him any day. Right, what kind of qualities should a good friend have? He should be kind always, never teases him in a mean way, be willing to be there for him and want to join in with his games. For the hell of it, Sean adds 'never sleeps' to the criteria. This imaginary friend is named Jack, after the family nickname. Having been moulded into the 6 year old's interpretation of a perfect friend, Jack becomes a concrete part of Sean's life. Jack is always there when he gets home from school. They mess around in the woods near the house, complain about homework together and share a great deal of laughter between themselves. For years, his parents and siblings brush it off as him being a little boy. However, Sean is undeniably getting older. With each birthday, having an imaginary friend is increasingly becoming something he should outgrow. And he is, somewhat. It's just that Jack feels so real to him. But his friend understands. Sean is no longer 6 and it is time for him to gradually mature. He gets crushes, makes his way through secondary school and decides he may have made a mistake with his original degree choice. Through it all, he's maintained an interest in video games. So screw it, there is a place for gaming content on YouTube. What does he have to lose? This damn cabin doesn't exactly allow him many opportunities to socialise with those outside his family otherwise. He goes by Jacksepticeye on the website, harkening back to a nickname he gained following an injury years before. Months pass and it is soon July. To his surprise, his channel's subscriber count reaches 1000. He's delighted. That was 1000 more than he'd ever really expected. He films a vlog to mark the occasion and thank his audience. Something he'd expected even less than his sub count was his doppelganger, complete with an identical outfit, collapsing in front of his television. Regaining composure after getting to his feet, the clone speaks. "Um, hi Sean." "What the fuck? Who are you and why do look like me?" "I'm Jack." "Okay. Hello Jack. What the hell are you doing in my living room?" "No, Jack as in... Jack. From when you were a kid." Sean stands there, no words coming from his mouth. He seems to remember himself after a minute. "But you're imaginary. You were an imaginary friend, it's kind of in the name." "I guess that's changed." Jack shrugs, obviously as lost as he was by this unique situation. Sean falls back onto the sofa. With his hands in his hair, he lets out a deep breath. Jack gently sits himself on the other side of the sofa. Not bothering to lift his head, Sean opens his mouth. "I'm going to be honest. This was not how I imagined my day going." "I didn't think I'd suddenly come to life either." Sean leans back and their eyes meet. A beat passes before they both descend into laughter at the absurdity of it. That summer is phenomenal compared to his previous expectations for it. He introduces Jack to so many things that he usually took for granted. They eat more tubs of ice cream together than was healthy, don't allow a week to pass without a competitive gaming session and occasionally wander about in the woods surrounding the cabin. There was apparently a whole other world with people Jack haphazardly described as 'the NPCs to my main character'. Their faces were probably based on people Sean had walked past in the street. There was this completely separate world and the entry point was simply lingering outside his cabin. It was inconceivable. When he gets the courage to venture through the gateway, he discovers it's actually a bit remote. Isolated, like his cabin is. Jack helps him laugh it off. Besides, he couldn't be expected to be creative with his literal worldbuilding if he didn't know how he was doing it in the first place. Jack introduces him to a friend who was like him. This Australian guy called Angus Irwin tags along to a hang out session. Here was this person, standing right before him, whom he was entirely responsible for creating. By messing around in Far Cry 3 and putting on a dumb accent, he'd created life. What the hell was he capable of? The three of them are firm friends by the time the local trees have suffered a significant loss of leaves. He and Jack gradually become the joint face of the Jacksepticeye channel. For some reason (Jack cited Sean's 6 year old self for this) his doppelganger didn't sleep. This was actually very beneficial for him because he could edit while Sean slept. God knows Jack complained enough about his sleep schedule. When he gets announced as a winner of Pewdiepie's shout out competition in September, Jack swings by to congratulate him. Along with Angus, the trio spent the evening celebrating this bizarre occasion. There was a lot of work he'd have to put in to keep the momentum going but Sean knew it would be worth it in the end. The colder months fly by after that. Jack had never been particularly affected by the cold before. However, now that he could feel it, he suffered the consequences of not wearing enough layers. Jack detesting the cold is funny to Sean, especially after how much his friend thrived in summer. Angus wasn't used to the lower Irish temperatures either. He helped them stay warm as best he could. That goddamn cabin with its internally forming frost didn't help but still, he tried. He jokes he should conjure up more radiators for Jack and Angus' home despite not having the faintest clue how to actually do so. As the new year approaches, Sean realises he never gave Jack a birthday. They could have celebrated in November because he is maybe 90% sure Max was born during that month. Therefore, Jack would have been initially thought up during November 1996. But Sean had no idea what the specific date of creation was. Not to mention November had already passed anyway. There was that date in July but he wasn't sure he should pick the anniversary of Jack becoming corporeal as his birthday. At a loss, he goes for the day he associates with birthdays the most. Who says Jack couldn't share his birthday? He blanks on what to get his friend. He's not sure where he gets the dumb idea to let Jack experience hot chocolate for the first time as a birthday treat. Jack gets understandably frustrated by this ban on the drink. It pays off when Sean gets to witness the wonderful sight of his friend enjoying hot chocolate. Lost on what to give Angus for his birthday in early April, he approaches Jack for ideas. His friend suggests getting a toy leopard and jewellery that can fit on the animal. Sean can't help but question the odd combination. When Jack explains leopards love jewellery, especially the gold digging females, it's as if these were widely known facts. Sean had been bullshitting when he'd spouted that nonsense. Jack reminds him it was factual to Angus. Oh alright, fuck it. Let's present Angus with a jewellery loving leopard on his birthday. As predicted, the Australian wildlife man greatly appreciates the gift. It's late summer once more when Sean's problems begin. Jack mentions being concerned about their friend's changing sleeping habits. Then Angus' memory gradually starts suffering. Throughout 2015, Angus gets worse. Jack's always had a big mouth. He tends to speak before he truly thinks things through. Sean's technically to blame for that. However, it hasn't been much of an issue until now. The first time Jack brings up potentially finding a way to reverse whatever was affecting Angus, he hates to reject him. The painfully dejected look in his best friend's eyes breaks his heart. He wants to help, he really does. He just can't. Not long after, he spends an hour or two looking for a game with an open world. Perhaps he could put on an Australian accent for the anniversary of the character's first appearance. Nothing comes up. Life gets in the way. Sean abandons the search for a while. Jack never allows him to forget for too long. What starts as "I'm worried about Angus" soon morphs into "Angus only called me Jake once today". The longer it goes on, the more desperate Jack gets. And angrier. Sean has never seen such frustrated fury in his friend. He wishes he never had to. He's not even sure if he can call himself a true friend anymore, given how much he's already failed them. The cycle of attempting to find a solution and putting it on the back burner due to no leads continues. As do the arguments with Jack. Contrary to popular belief, he is putting in the effort. The main problem was he never seemed to have anything to show for it. He still cares for Angus too. The reason he wasn't visiting their home as often was because he didn't always feel welcome. As was in Jack's nature, he kept forgiving him. He'd say it was fine and Sean would agree for the sake of it. But it wasn't fine. He is beginning to forget when the last time things were 'fine'. Following some filming with Ninja Sex Party, Sean is excited to dress up as a superhero for a bit during a Welcome To The Game video. Jack is just as pleased to make a new friend. Jackie is a surprise, his young age even more so. He was 16 and, as far Jack had told him, brimming with excess energy. The new arrival had been a shock for Jack too, apparently. The most he could offer the kid last night was a can of Dr Pepper and some custard creams. Shit, this was new territory. He hasn't had to deal with a new ego in years. Jackie's age causes conversations about school and whether the boy would need an education in the first place. Sean doesn't necessarily see the point. Was Jackie currently the only minor in their world? Because in that case, has a high school suddenly popped up to accommodate a single student? Even if Sean created a character with children at a later date, the kids would probably be the wrong age group to attend school with Jackie. If it was that important to Jack to see the young superhero have an education, he would have to do it himself. Being home-schooled would also allow Jackie to do his job. Attempts at being responsible aside, he ensures Jackie knows he can come to him if needs anything specific. Naturally, he gravitates to Jack as his adult role model. Sean doesn't mind. They live together and Jackie therefore has easier access to him. But Sean is still there if the need arises. A month later, he buys a cheap cat mask that covers half of his face. It was something to use once and forget about until you throw it away in a big spring clean. The magic set was the same, only with extra smaller parts. The video is nothing spectacular. All it entailed was him messing around with the box's contents before switching to decorating the mask. The last thing he was anticipating was the creation of life. Although, by this point, perhaps he should have. Besides, he hadn't even given himself a name. It was just 'Jack the Magnificent'. Jack comes to rectify this oversight a couple days later. He explains he'd made the suggestion the night of Marvin's arrival. The box had the name on it so why not let the new ego make it his own? The main issue Jack had with all this was that Marvin had not been planned in the slightest. With Jackie, there'd been some preparation. Neither of them may have foreseen his creation but at least there had been a name and outfit. All Marvin had was a mask, plus a name that was already taken. "This better not happen again." Jack privately demands. "I don't want another Angus. God knows you're not going to help." Jack swings by at the end of August to inform him Jackie's in hospital. He'd gotten stabbed while confronting a thief. He was fine, recovering well and all that but he thought Sean might want to know. On the subject of requiring medical care, Jack brings up the idea to have a doctor ego. Just someone who understood their unique situation and could also take care of their health. Oh, oh yeah. He can totally do that. He'll need some things for the video so give him a chance to prepare but definitely, one doctor coming right up. He feels somewhat dumb playing Operation as if it were a serious procedure in this cheap surgeon's outfit he bought over the weekend. And yes, even he can admit the 'German' accent was atrocious. Half of what comes out of his mouth is bullshit. If this works as intended and he creates an ego from it, this guy is sure going to be interesting. He pretends to be distressed over Peter's death. Then it hits him that Dr Schneeplestein probably won't appreciate him killing his friend and personal accountant. He could try refilm it but he doubts he has the time. Fix it through editing? Sure, but then it might be obvious that there was another part. Alright fine, maybe he'll just have to deal with the consequences. Dr Henrik von Schneeplestein is indeed an interesting guy. A married father too, which surprises him. Not only has he made the doctor, there is a new family of 5 in the egos' neighbourhood. One of these days he'll know what he's doing with this creation thing. For now though, he thinks it's very cool that he managed a 5 for the price of 1 deal. Henrik himself is intelligent and if Sean was more knowledgeable on certain topics, he's sure they'd be able to share thoughtful conversations. Either way, Henrik was incredibly busy with his professional duties and personal commitments. It was understandable that neither had much time in the day to sit down and truly get to know one another. For the hell of it, he throws in a little extra into the egos' characterisation. They can't die. Or, to be more specific, they can't die for long. Jackie gets stabbed and bleeds out? Easy, just deal with the wound and he should wake up after a while. What this means for Peter, who knows? Sean is secretly thankful when the accountant isn't granted life. That's one less person to keep happy. Like seemingly everything ego-related he does, it backfires. Within a year, this failsafe will have caused more suffering than hope. Sean isn't to know. However, he convinces himself he's done the right thing for once. He sure as hell knows how much trouble it's going to cause him if they don't believe that too. Sean makes an irreversible mistake in the October of 2016. The entire month, he has glitches sprinkled throughout his horror game videos. He gets so caught up in the teasing and build up that he doesn't contemplate how this will affect the egos. Worse yet, he recklessly allows Jack to film the Halloween video. Sure, he would have used a bit of red paint if it had been him filming. But since it was Jack? He doesn't want to imagine the scene Jackie discovers. God, he can't believe he's been so thoughtless. Signe has to encourage him to bed before he manages to rack up over 24 hours of being awake in one go. Resurrecting the dead is exhausting, he finds. He postpones visiting Jack for a day before realising his avoidance is likely making matters worse. The dread cumulates to the point he swears he will be sick if he doesn't actively focus on his breathing. The loophole he made in September might have ensured nobody died permanently but it never mentioned scars. It's not visible behind the bandages but he knows it's there. Jack is pissed off. Rightfully so. Matters worsen even more after Jackie vanishes while attempting to get away from their fighting. It's just another thing that's ruined the egos' perception of him. If he thought the hill Jack was ready to die on was Angus, he's got another thing coming. There's only so much he can take before he has to force apathy for the sake of his sanity. He understands he can't control Antisepticeye. Once this situation is dealt with, he vows, the demon will never be used on his channel again. The subscribers' love for the character will have to ignored. It's too risky to play Anti again. He puts the red suit on again. In the short video, only a minute or so in length, Jackie sprints through poorly lit corridors to the exit. Sean acts scared and looks behind him frequently as he runs. It is uploaded privately. His community didn't need to know anything about this. He hopes with everything he's got that it works. Nothing. For days, for weeks, for months. Sean doesn't bother letting the egos know what he'd tried to do. It's guaranteed Jack and Marvin would tell him to try harder. He has no idea what that means in this context. Christmas passes without incident. As does January. In February, he celebrates his 27th birthday alongside Jack. It's a day devoid of resentment. Sean had almost forgotten that was allowed in their friendship. He exaggerates his dissatisfaction about getting older. In response to this, Jack smears the frosting of his slice across Sean's face. 'Accidentally', of course. Just as accidentally as Sean reciprocated the action. Signe humours them by taking photographs of their new cake-based look. The next time they are hanging out in Jack's room, he notices a picture from that day is in a frame on his friend's dresser. "What's this about?" "Oh uh, this is going to sound dumb but... I like being reminded it isn't always so rough between us." "No. No, I get it. I um, I feel the same way. That day was great." He glances at the image once more. He lets out a humoured scoff. "Maybe I should save your dumb face to my phone." "Aww, wow, I knew you loved me really." Jack puts his arm around his shoulder. A playful shove. "Fuck off." In an emotional slump during April, he buys a bunch of Lyons boxes and mini chocolate eggs. It's just a parody of Dude Perfect from someone with zero accuracy. Then he does the stupid thing and creates life again. Fuck it, his wife hates him and he may never see his kids again. Chase Brody's depression causes him to pretend to shoot himself before the end card plays. When Jack calls him and demands to know what the hell he was thinking, Sean has no answer. It turns out that when the ending translated into Chase's reality, he'd actually shot himself in the head. Fuck. Afterwards, Jack doesn't provide his creator with any updates. Insisting he has the right to talk to Chase only makes him more hated. Despite having never met before, Chase already resents him. The next time an ego is intentionally created, Sean's going to be there to intercept them. They're not going to enter that home and have their opinion of him influenced by people who wished he wasn't in their lives. The next new guy would be given a fair chance to see Sean for what he was. A massive screw up when it came to the ability he's unsure how to master. But in no way was he some villain. August is around the corner when Jack asks to visit. The two of them seem to be on the same page that day. Sean is more than happy to hang out and cheer him up. Believing Jack would be empathetic, he begins a conversation about how the YouTube algorithm was bothering him. Over three years of working as a duo on the Jacksepticeye channel meant Jack should understand where he was coming from. But, of course, his friend makes it all about himself and his own problems. Why wouldn't he? It's what he usually does. They argue because apparently that's the only way they communicate with each other nowadays. Jack sure knows how to pack a punch. Being friends with him shouldn't be such a struggle. Sean snaps. The emotional fatigue of trying to keep up with the algorithm and all this fighting causes him to make one of the worst decisions he'd ever go through with. If Jack wants him to be the bad guy, fine. Sean would be the bad guy. Just this once, he'd actually be the asshole. "You want to sleep, I'll let you sleep." He threatens when Jack begins walking off mid-argument. "Bring back Jackie. He's been missing for months. Do something!" Jack flings viciously back seconds before he marches out the door. He can tell Signe regrets asking him how the gaming session went. He dresses as Schneeplestein as soon as he finalises his plan, pretending he aims to save a version of himself in Bio Inc Redemption. He loses. Oops. He acts as he feels the real Schneeplestein would, desperate not to watch another patient die. He sends the video to Robin for editing. The final uploaded product is nowhere near what he'd recorded. His audience are all talking about Anti. They were praising him for his acting and Robin for his editing. But... he never included Anti. Any recollection of filming the final scene was non-existent. And the parts with Henrik getting possessed weren't him either. The more he thinks about it, the further the terror sets in. Over the course of years, Jack had chipped at Sean's mind until he cracked. It had only meant to end with Jack slipping into a coma. Just a chance for Sean to focus on his own problems for once. He would have gotten Henrik to wake his patient up when Sean was ready. God, he just wanted peace for a change. It was never meant to happen like this. Marvin ever so pleasantly greets him with a "Fuck off" when he tries to visit Jack. He supposes he deserves it. But he didn't come here just to back down at the first sight of opposition. He may have caused Jack to be in that coma but, as his friend, he was still entitled to a visit. He has to push past Marvin just to get in. "Leave right now before I make you regret it." Marvin tails him through the corridor. "Hey, listen, I'll be the first to admit I fucked up big time-" He says over his shoulder. "You don't say." "But he was my friend too. I am seeing him whether you like it or not." "Well, I don't like it. And this is my home. So get out." Fed up to the back teeth of Marvin, he halts to whip around before lashing out. "We both know a bad mood on my part can spell disaster for you. That is how we got into this situation is the first place. So I would watch your mouth." "Oh, look at me, I'm Sean McLoughlin. I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it." Marvin uses a mocking tone before reverting to venom once more. "Guess that's what you told your 'best friend' before you put him in a fucking coma, isn't it?" "Don't you dare suggest I don't care." "You made him feel like he had no choice but to keep being nice to your sorry ass. He barely survived Halloween and now look where he's en-" "God, cut it out!" Chase marches towards them, looking as if he was 30 seconds from grabbing a weapon to silence them. "Both of you. Sean, you have 10 minutes then we want you gone. Marv, leave him alone because we honestly have enough shit going on without you stirring more of it." Marvin bluntly says "Five." "Okay, fine, you have 5 minutes then you leave." The magician clearly isn't satisfied with this compromise but decides it's not worth the effort of fighting further. "Thank you." "It wasn't for you. I did it so I can avoid a headache." Chase promptly leaves him to it. He's not even sure he wants to enter once he reaches the infirmary's doors. Still, he's gone through too much trouble to get this far. He can't undo all that effort now. He walks into the room and- Nope, he can't do this. He means, look at Jack! He makes for an awful sight. If his friend had looked terrible while recovering from Say Goodbye, this was a whole other level. He decides against making it past the doors. He's simply there in the corridor, sobbing. "Sean, I think you should go before Marvin tries to commit arson or something." It's the most patience Chase can muster after all that's happened this week. Sean can't appreciate the effort enough. He answers with a mix of 'Uh-huh, yeah, sure.' Jackie looks like he hasn't eaten a thing in the past 11 months when Sean answers the door to him in early October. He doesn't know what to say. If Jack were currently conscious, he would have probably informed Sean of the kid's arrival by now. Yet, as it stood, Marvin seemed to be the new 'leader' and pigs would fly before he bothered to do anything that benefited Sean. He notices Jackie never lets his feet touch the ground the entire time he's there. There is a long silence in the living room before Jackie comes out with "Why didn't you do anything?" "I tried but it didn't work." "Somehow I struggle to believe that." "Jackie-" "You could have prevented a lot of shit. But why fucking bother when we're not even real, right?" "If you give me a couple minutes, I could find that video where I tried to trigger your escape." Jackie doesn't reply. He locates the footage for him regardless. The teenager remains silent the whole time. Sean decides to break it. "It must have backfired but I did try." He notices Jackie glaring at his own legs. "Great, now I know you're to blame. Not to mention you moved country while I was gone. Thanks for making me walk from Athlone, by the way." The boy superhero abruptly makes his exit, making no attempt to elaborate. Well then, great chat. Except, wait. Walk from Athlone? How the hell do you walk from Athlone to Brighton?! Sean makes good on the promise he made to himself months before. He risks uploading the pictures to Instagram. On the 29th, there is a fair amount of hype at the potential new character. He lingers inconspicuously near the egos' home for a couple hours, keeping himself occupied with his phone in case the ego didn't appear. Which he doesn't. He repeats the activity after posting the 2nd photo on the 30th. Still nothing. It's the video on Halloween that triggers creation. It was a simple thing. The same as the previous two years, he had carved a pumpkin. The main difference was that he had dressed up like a dapper gentleman, waistcoat and bowler hat inclusive. There was some glitching at the end, nothing Sean or Robin had a hand in. He supposes he should be glad there was such a small interruption. Outside the house, he spots the lost time traveller. His first surprise, for both of them it would seem, was that Jameson had lost the ability to speak. He seems reluctant to use the speech slides. No worries. Sean can buy a notepad or two for him tomorrow. Learning to sign, or in the very least understand it. will take a considerable amount of time. Written responses would have to be a sufficient compromise for now. Either way, the most important thing was that Jameson was willing to come with him before he met the others. He is in awe of Jameson. He knows he'd intended to create an ego with a proper backstory but this was far more than he'd been expecting. He had drafted a brief life story beforehand. Jameson would be the middle child of three in an upper class British family. He'd be too young to join WW1 but his brother would lose his hearing to it, allowing Jameson to know sign by the time he went missing. Maybe throw in some time in the army for good measure. However his power worked, it filled in the gaps nicely. Jameson is fully fleshed out, as are his memories. "Thanks for humouring me." He tells Signe that night. She hums in acknowledgement of what he'd said. "You can't keep him here forever, you realise that, right? I'll let you have tomorrow. But you really should let him make his own choices after that." On the 1st, Chase comes knocking. Sean relents, allowing him in to be introduced to Jameson. As expected, Chase calls him out. He assures Jameson that it was fine to go with the unfamiliar ego. As hostile as Chase was, he was still trustworthy and believed he had Jameson's best interests at heart. He lets his latest creation go. Now he will be taught the egos' version of the 'truth'. He doubted Jameson would be rushing back. But oh, there he is days later. It's completely reasonable for the dapper man to want answers. Sean provides them to the best of his ability. Jameson surprises him once more when he says he'll let the deception slide if he cuts it out from now on. Of course he will. As Jameson heads off back to his world, Sean is thankful he made him open minded. While having a casual conversation, Jameson mentions befriending someone named Shawn. At first, Sean is simply perplexed at the written name. Jameson knows how to spell his name, even includes the fada. So surely Shawn couldn't be him. When he has his friend explain, he can't believe it. Shawn Flynn. In other words, his Bendy voice cameo. Okay, egos like Henrik, Chase or Marvin, he could understand. Those guys had gotten specific videos that centred around them. He also got the whole 'springing from him putting on a voice for a series' thing with Angus and Jacques etc. Robbie... well, who the fuck knows what happened there. The point was they all came from his channel and his channel alone. Shawn Flynn was not his to claim. He was only a voice, a few sentences' worth of speech. He will always be amazed by his community's power to create from scraps. As soon as he lost Jack's contribution to the channel, he had been forced to pick up the slack. Even with Robin editing most videos, recording twice as many as he was used to was taking its toll. Something had to be done. He needed a new recording partner. And who better to help him than someone who already had experience with maintaining a channel? Obviously, Chase is opposed to the idea at first. He tries to get him to listen to his reasoning. Without Jack, he was struggling to have time for himself anymore. If he has no time outside of work, then how is he supposed to figure out how to reverse the coma? Not to mention, the community members were the ones responsible for keeping the egos from fading. Chase agrees to, in the very least, consider the offer. Sean is glad to have him as part of the team when he reluctantly accepts it. He is very grateful too. He knows this requires a sacrifice on Chase's part, perhaps more than he is aware of. In the run up to Christmas, he'd simply wanted to raise money for Save The Children with the help of his friends and community. There had occasionally been odd noises throughout the first day but nothing super suspicious. He has no clue where the hell the security footage came from. He had intended for the stream to stay up, sure, but it was meant to display a screensaver. Some people begin to notice the glitches and unusual goings on were triggered by donations of at least $1000. Well, how nice to learn that Anti liked encouraging charitable donations. The day after the event is over, Jameson attempts to speak to him about it. Listen, he's really sorry to hear about what happened over at the house. It's awful that Jackie suffered a huge panic attack from the music. But what do they expect him to do about an event that's already passed and he had no control over in the first place? The less he has to think about 'Overnightwatch' over the holidays, or Anti in general during the new year, the better. He's so fucking done with 2017. The following cold months blur. The Dr Jacksepticeye character becomes a community-made ego in January. That was great. He was aware the egos had been struggling to provide Jack professional medical care. March sees Chase getting custody of his kids on the weekend. Although he doesn't risk ruining the party with the scene his attendance would cause, he congratulates Chase on the good news in person. To top things off, he began the first leg of his tour. That had been a hell of an experience. Maybe 2018 would indeed be a better year. This hope is kept alight at the start of May. He had spent months attempting to work out how to save Jackie. Following that, they lost Henrik only to welcome the hero back. Then the doctor had been out of reach since August. It is for this reason that he receives the news of Henrik's return with great relief. Chase is ecstatic when he recounts what had happened at the end of his recording session. Sean is happy for him. He and the rest of egos need more positive events in their lives. Jackie certainly surprises him when he randomly shows up at his door days later. Signe gives him a heads up about the visitor as he leaves a recording session. The teenager comes across as distracted while they talk. Something feels really off. Then again, they haven't been able to talk since his kidnapping. Months' worth of trauma were bound to change how Jackie acted in certain situations. When he eventually leaves, Sean feels like he's missing some sort of sign. The community goes insane after Dark Silence is uploaded. He cautiously makes himself watch the infamous ending. Once more, Anti has added content to a video. The whole time Chase stands in that hallway, Sean is begging his screen for his friend to start sprinting in the other direction, as far from Anti as he could manage. But, of course, you can't prevent an abduction through a screen, especially when it had happened hours beforehand. Chase seemed so distressed. The thought of his reaction to Anti won't leave Sean be. Nor will those two questions. Jameson swings by in an attempt to comfort him. For what it's worth, his heart is in the right place. Sean just doesn't feel he's in a position to appreciate the efforts properly. He supposes this is his opportunity to finally get a rescue attempt right. Yet, with the tour and having to revert back to multiple recordings a day, time slips away. No doubt he'll get accused of not caring. Thankfully, Chase returns in June. Mostly unscathed physically too which is good. He wishes the same could be said for mental repercussions. Chase relapsing hard with his alcoholism wasn't great to hear either. Suffice to say, Chase needed help. Some good news about the whereabouts of his ex and two young children would be fantastic too. The Akinator video is fun. He enjoys making that website's algorithm figure out the characters. Admittedly, he doesn't know whether picking Jameson for a round was a smart idea. Even worse are some of the questions he gets offered. There are two specifically he doesn't feel comfortable answering on camera. He plays it off as teasing eventual ego content to his audience. In reality, he's not sure it's his place to say. And it's hardly like he can put the recording on hold to contact Jameson about his personal life. The video goes up and the community naturally laps it up. Sean wonders if he should be concerned about the fact Jameson was yet to speak to him about it. In October, he asks Jameson to deliver a card on his behalf. Henrik would be amputating Jackie's legs in an attempt to reverse one of the most prominent aftereffects of his time with Anti. Therefore, a get well card was in order. It's not much but he hopes Jackie will appreciate the gesture nonetheless. Jameson simply shrugs as he hands him a note a couple weeks later. He ends up finding the message humourous. On it is written: Thanks for the card but you don't need to bother next time. He's just about had enough of Anti when Quit The Game To Win gets recorded. He's not sure at which point in the video he becomes lightheaded. There's a brief moment of zoning out then he's sitting at his desk, having sent the video off for editing a minute prior. Unlike the other times, there is no extra content even Robin was oblivious to. The footage of Sean staring into the camera had undoubtedly been there the whole time. They debate whether to upload it. The decision gets taken out of their hands when it is uploaded regardless. That goddamn bastard. He probably realises Sean can't take down a video like that with no explanation. And what explanation is there to give? The community has no idea the egos were real or that it was actually Anti speaking to them. Oh but sure, the compliments to his 'amazing acting' pour in without fail. Also, next phase? What the hell was Anti planning to do? He and the egos would have to remain proceeding with caution. On his 29th birthday, he is surprised to find numerous egos on his doorstep. A little dumbfounded, he invites them in for cake. It wasn't like he was doing much today other than typical work stuff and checking out the community's birthday art. Chase spots his notebook, the one containing his story plans. This topic of conversation leads to them encouraging him to rectify his mistakes by waking Jack up. He's all for it. Even after all these years, he's not sure how exactly his power worked. He gets it into his head that staying up indefinitely will cause Jack to remain conscious. Somehow, this becomes the actual criteria. As the day goes on, he thinks about how things must be like over at the egos' home. It must be wonderful to have Jack up and about. He can imagine him sharing jokes, laughing and smiling, just generally enjoying the company of friends. He's always been a bit of a night owl. He can manage to stay up the whole night, for Jack's sake. Jack deserves as much time as he can give him. He increases his caffeine intake. It didn't matter whether it was coffee or a fizzy drink. If it had caffeine and could help him stay up longer, he'd drink it. His plan seemingly backfires when he plays Shadow of the Colossus while exhausted. He wakes up with a crick in his neck, the sight of Wander stationary upon Agro's back and looming guilty disappointment. When he checks in, Henrik confirms Jack was indeed back in the medical bay, unresponsive as ever. The doctor tells him that, not for nothing, they'd all enjoyed the day. It had been after 2am when Jack had begun exhibiting signs of diminishing consciousness. Even if the others may not admit it, he was sure he wasn't the only one who appreciated what Sean had given them. Perhaps one of the stupidest things he ever voluntarily subjects himself to occurs that May. He leaves peculiar edits in the Observation series. Then he posts an unlisted video of him facing off against his clone with a bloodied throat and exclusively black attire. It works. For the first time in Sean's life, he stands in Anti's presence. As it turns out, Anti is grateful. If it hadn't been for Sean spending weeks playing around with a community fuelled concept, complete with a grande finale, the glitch would still be lurking in the shadows as a nobody. Sean had solidified him. Antisepticeye had long since stopped being a fun idea that lived purely in fan creations or Tumblr headcanon posts. Even better, he'd been armed with a knife and violent tendencies. Bit of a bad combination, wouldn't you say? In fact, he's been revelling in watching the whole Sean vs Egos fiasco. Because sure, he could blame a lot of things on Anti if he wanted. But the mistrust that began with Jack then seeped into the others via the original ego? Sean's doing. The one who used his powers of creation when, even to this day, he doesn't quite understand how on earth they worked? Sean. Best yet, letting his emotions cause him to put a loved one in a coma he had no clue how to reverse? Once again, courtesy of Sean McLoughlin. Sean brushes these comments off. He's been called out too many times to be that easily affected by it. Besides, he had some things on his own mind that needed saying. Where were Stacy and the kids? Oh, in a ditch. They served no use without Chase's conscience there to haunt. Actually, where had Anti himself been during all these years? Here, there, everywhere. Why stay in one spot when he thrived on being near impossible to pin down. Any question Sean has, Anti's answers are delivered nonchalantly. Right. That's how Anti wants to play it, huh? He creates another piece of footage. This time, he dresses as Chase and speaks on the phone. 'Chase' begs Stacy to take the kids, stay hidden and only contact him when she really needs to. Once Sean posts it (privately of course), the real Chase updates him on the recent developments in his life. He'd gotten a text from Stacy saying they were safe for now. He had only managed to compose himself before leaving the house but ah look, there go the waterworks again. Sean apologises as he makes it abundantly clear that Chase would not be able to see his family for a while. It was for their safety. Chase understood, right? Yes, yes of course. For good measure, he also talks to Henrik. His wife and children weren't in as imminent danger of becoming Anti's targets right now. However, there was no harm in staying vigilant. It was up to the doctor but Sean thought it would be for the best if they maintained a low profile for now. Sean discusses another video with Chase in October. The father is reluctant to have more of his story explored, especially if things are going to play out the way Sean had planned. That's fine, he assures. That was exactly why he wanted Chase to be part of the process. Besides, it may seem a little bleak right now but his fortunes would improve as soon as the ball started rolling. When it comes to filming the short video, Chase kills it. The community may be praising Sean but he makes sure Chase is aware of the love he had earned. He decides to allow Jameson another solo video for his birthday. They brainstorm together, coming up with the premise of a puppet show. Jameson is the one who comes up with the 'I can't be questioned, I'm rich!' joke. As soon as he does, he goes off on a tangent about how he used to know people like that. Hell, his own parents had been like that. Sean laughs along with him. The first sight of trouble is the random bit of string around his arm. Jameson naively removes it without becoming suspicious. Sean's been in this position before. If the video's up, it's already way too late for the targeted ego. He forces himself to watch to the end. Jameson's wrapping up the story when the strings reappear. His arms go limp before he begins swaying on the spot. It is clearly Anti who is controlling his movements now. Sean really wishes he didn't know the sign for 'help'. He bets Jameson believes he has the power to save him. If only he did. The worst part of it is having to witness Jameson clearly attempting to fight against it. If Sean thought Henrik's distress during Kill Jacksepticeye had been a challenge to watch, he had another thing coming. Goddamn it. Can he please go one year without losing more of those he cared about? He'd once been friends with Angus before the fading fiasco caused them to drift apart. Jack kept giving second chance after second chance until Sean had let his frustration screw that up. Chase had gradually begun to see him as potentially trustworthy, only for Anti to kidnap him and set them back to square one. Is it too much to ask for them to feel happy and safe as well as remaining so? His 30th birthday is quiet. There are no egos hassling him or attempts to initiate a bout of insomnia. It's a nice day chilling out with Evelein and BB. He would have enjoyed it even more if he knew he'd achieved his goal of waking Jack up by now. Or even getting Jameson back. The last person he expects to see coming round to his house is Marvin. He doesn't think the magician is entirely sure why he chose to do this either. He states that he gave his word when he said he'd never forgive Sean. With his fae heritage, that meant something and he couldn't go back on that. Marvin seemed offended when Sean shows surprise upon learning he had connection to fae. Well, how exactly was Sean supposed to know this detail if Marvin's been keeping him far away for 2.5 years, especially since they hadn't been best buddies pre-coma either? The magician scowls before returning to a calmer neutral demeanour. He carries on his point. Marvin may not be able to forgive Sean for what he's done, not that he really has a reason to given what was still happening to the egos. That said, he wasn't going to judge his friends as harshly anymore if they decided to give their creator a chance. That uh... shit, that was huge coming from Marvin. All he can reply with is a thank you. August rears it's terrible head. It's been three years now. 36 whole months, god knows how many weeks or individual days. He's had all this time to fix this yet is still working on it. And oh, sure, he can rationalise it. He can remind himself that during 2018, if he wasn't on tour then he was preparing for a leg or decompressing after one. Not to mention that had also been the year he'd finally started addressing his mental health. Now, the biggest thing preventing him from progressing the story to the point where Jack woke up was the virus. For half the year, he couldn't film anything that required a crew, let alone do so on location in America or wherever like he had with CHASE. Instead, he sits at the end of the bed as usual. Legs to his chest, he simply lets himself be here. Henrik is going to kill him for the way he is seated. He rambles at Jack, updating him on recent goings on. When he's said his bit, he becomes contemplative for a moment. "I'm still trying, I swear. You're going to wake up one day. I'm just- I'm doing my best to get everything sorted. I promise you can call my ass out eventually. I will get there. Anyway, I'm sure you have better things to be doing than listening to me mope about like I have been for the past three years. See you around, buddy."

[altik-0]

Personal Revelation

I've spent the last two weeks trying to figure out how to write this post, but my mind has felt like it's tumbling around a washing machine and trying to figure out how to straighten my thoughts into a coherent message has felt impossible. But I'm driving myself crazy continuing to hold off on saying something, so I'm going to just rip off the bandage now, and we can talk in more depth after the cut.

Hi! 👋 I'm Asexual and Aromantic! Let's talk about it.

Where to even start

This month has been a fucking trip.

On the one hand, this has been the fourth month of nearly continuous quarantine for the COVID-19 pandemic. On the other, the end of May was the spark that began a wildfire of protests against police brutality that have swept across the country, including the seemingly milquetoast land of Salt Lake City. I found myself simultaneously figuring out the umpteenth way to keep myself entertained while being in home nearly uninterrupted for over 90 days, while also desperately searching for the courage to exit my home and join the marches against injustice.

And in the background of all of this, it was Pride Month.

On the 12th, a Youtube creator I follow released a video about their experience discovering themselves as non-binary. You should watch it, but what is important for the sake of this post is that the bulk of the video is an asynchronous telling of various moments throughout their life that, in reflection, show them that "[they] were who [they] are now, back then". These moments form a tapestry that tell a story of self discovery, and the result is incredibly powerful.

They released a rough cut about a week earlier for Patreon supporters, and I was immediately transfixed. I watched it three times in a row on the first day it was uploaded. I watched it twice more after the release. Hell, when I pulled this video up now to get the share link I couldn't help but sit and watch through it all over again.

At first I didn't really know why I felt so attached to this piece in particular. Yet still, I spent multiple nights laying awake for hours in what felt like a dreamlike haze at the time. It took three nights like this for me to realize I had spent all this time reflecting on my own past moments, and revisiting them through the lens this video had shared with me.

How I got here

It is September 2005. I am currently at a school dance. I know I am supposed to be finding someone to dance with and enjoy that for some reason, but all I want to do is go home. I might consider mustering up some courage and just asking someone, anyone, to dance, if it weren't for the fact that I still didn't have any friends. Instead, I feel trapped, wandering up and down the side wall, waiting for it to be over so I can finally leave. I stumble across a small group also sitting on the sides; a girl reading manga, and another playing Yu-Gi-Oh! with a boy across from her. I approach: "I didn't realize anyone still played this" They invite me to join, and soon I find myself with genuine friends at school for the first time in years. I never think about asking someone to dance again.

It is the summer of 2017. I am at a bar with some coworkers at the end of the week. I don't drink, but I've opened myself up to joining people for happy hour because it feels like a good way to socialize, and I've genuinely enjoyed getting to know folks. My team lead makes a comment that he feels it's impossible for a man and a woman to ever have a friendly relationship without having some element of sexual tension between them. I rebuff this comment -- initially I feel a sense of feminist frustration at the concept, as if it is implicitly saying that men and women should not work together. As the conversation continues, I realize the real reason I feel so sure this is wrong is because I have never felt this way toward anyone I've worked with.

It is the summer of 2008. I am in church, listening to the new instructor for my Sunday school class shift the discussion towards politics. Since he began, every lesson without fail will eventually derail into right-wing screeds. For him, any issue that is even vaguely left-leaning is a potential avenue for Satan to take hold of you: feminism, activism, even environmentalism. But lately he has had a particular fixation on the topic of gay marriage, and it is beginning to take a toll on my mental health. Being in these classes, hearing a man in a position of authority repeatedly say "it is not that we shouldn't love these people, but we need to still understand that they are committing a sin" has become physically painful to listen to. Of course, I am not queer, just an ally -- I can only imagine how painful this must be for those who are directly affected. I will nearly pass out from exhaustion and anxiety during sacrament meeting a few hours later.

It is February 2020. I am out to lunch with a friend and coworker. I have just recently changed jobs after less than a year, because I was hopelessly miserable at my last one. It should have been a dream job, marrying two of my closest passions, but instead I felt suffocated by being in a world where everyone seemed indifferent towards me at best, or actively hated me at worst. My friend invited me to join this job, and although it is a miserable job, I find solace in being able to go to lunch and have genuine conversations with someone I get along with. He mentions his wife is pregnant, and the stress of tending for his current child while she is resting. I acknowledge the frustration, though somewhat awkwardly since I am still single. "Oh, yeah, I sometimes forget you aren't married yet, haha. Well, don't worry, you'll get to join in on the fun soon enough!" I want to say "I very much doubt that"; instead I say "Well, I guess we'll see." The conversation does not feel so genuine anymore.

It is January 2009. I am watching House M.D. with my dad. We bond a lot while watching tv. We're both avid fans of MST3K, and we are invariably the obnoxious people in a movie theater a few rows down cracking jokes throughout the film. It feels fun and rebellious, even if we're doing it at home where nobody will be annoyed. This episode starts with Foreman and Thirteen waking up together in bed after clearly spending the night together. My dad cracks a joke about how "they're going to get in trouble, since they aren't married!" I quip back "nah, it's not a big deal, they just slept together, haha." My dad pauses the show and turns to me, deadly serious: "Who told you that was okay?!" I am a deer in headlights. I suddenly realize that I meant "slept together" literally, but nobody else uses it that way. I don't understand how I missed that.

It is October 2010. I am at home, speaking with my mother after coming home from school. She has always been a political firebrand, and especially after I left the church and started college the two of us have connected on this a lot. She has just read an article that mentioned the expanded acronym "LGBTQIA", and says she doesn’t know what all the "I" and "A" refer to. I don't yet know what the "I" refers to, but I suggest the "A" is probably for "asexual". She says she hadn't heard of asexuality, though that does make sense. I realize I don't recall hearing about asexuality before either. I don't actually know if anyone identifies like that. It just somehow feels like something that must exist.

It is the spring of 2007. I am at a local game store playing at a Friday Night Magic event for the first time. I suffer from very extreme social anxiety, and I spent the entire week a ball of nervous energy. Despite myself, I have managed to drive myself to the event and register. I have promised myself dozens of times over that I already knew Magic players were people similar to me, so there was no reason to worry. My first match is against someone wearing a frilly dress, cat ears, and tail. She mews at me several times while playing. On the surface I have frozen and only robotically go through motions of playing the game because my anxiety has boiled over to the point that I cannot quite function properly. Inside, I am filled with pure delight at realizing that someone could feel comfortable expressing themselves that openly in a space like this. I eventually become friends with this person who I will later learn is trans -- I had never met a trans person before. I will become close friends with three more trans people, at least two enbies, and countless other queer people over the next decade of playing this wonderful game.

It is November 2019. I am at work, sitting at my desk, feeling completely numb despite starting the day energetic to the point of mania. I've just had an argument with a close friend -- perhaps the closest friend I've ever had -- and it ended... poorly, to put it mildly. So poorly, in fact, that it is safe to say we are just not friends anymore. The reality was that there were always problems between us, and this was a culmination of conflict that never really got effectively resolved. It might not have even been possible to resolve. In the moment, though, I cannot escape the suffocating feeling that I am a failure as a human being; someone who simply does not know how to maintain a relationship. My mind goes through loops of how I could have said something differently to have it end better. The emotional pain will not fully make sense to me until several months later, when I realize this was the closest thing to a break-up that I've ever experienced.

It is January 2012. I am watching House M.D. with my dad again. Since leaving the church, watching shows like this has been a desperate lifeline for our relationship. We don't joke as much anymore. This episode features a side plot with an asexual couple, who House determines is simply impossible, and uses his power of supreme logic to prove the asexuality wasn't real all along. I have heard of asexuality, though I don't know where or when, so I am angry at this. Of course, as an ally. I want to joke with my dad to release some frustration, but he is still in the church, and I don’t think he will empathize. I stay silent, and do not enjoy this episode.

It is December 2019. I am scrolling through a Discord channel I was invited to from one of the leftist creators I follow. This community has been a breath of fresh air in many ways, and one I found surprisingly helpful was an NSFW adult content chat channel where people are open about sex, fetishes, and more. I've considered myself fairly open-minded and sex-positive, but I'm still a virgin at 28 so I've found there is a lot I just don't know about. Today, someone has started a conversation about what qualifies as "taboo" and relating it to kink-shaming. Another member replies, mentioning they are asexual and find the whole notion of taboos being kind of bizarre. My mind reels at seeing someone who identifies as asexual in this chat. Over time I find out there are several other people who identify at least gray-ace in this chat, some who even draw risque artwork for commission. I realize how little I actually understood about what asexuality really was, and begin scouring the internet for articles and wikis on asexuality.

It is April 2010. I am at an Apollo Burger across the street from the local game store where I am playing in a Magic prerelease. My friends I followed over are talking about weekend plans, and one of them makes a joke about doing some chores to butter up his partner to have sex. The joke does not go over my head -- I am straight, and understand sex, even if I am still a virgin -- but I still can't help but think out loud: "You know, I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of sex." The awkwardness and confused looks are suffocating. I drop the topic immediately.

It is June 2020. I have just watched a video from an enby Youtube creator about their experience discovering their own gender identity. Over the next three days I will see every one of these past experiences, along with hundreds of others, flash before my eyes in rapid succession, over and over, until I begin to realize that I haven't allowed myself to truly identify how I do. Every time I asked "am I asexual?" in the past, I would dismiss it because I understood sex and have a sex drive. Once I actually researched asexuality, though, I almost immediately found stories of people who identify as ace and still experience a sex drive. I also discover a lot of stories from aromantic people that sound painfully similar to feelings I hadn't even realized were not the norm. For the first time I begin to realize I may not just be an ally.

So what does this mean

I came to a sense of satisfaction with living alone and single a long time ago. At first this came with a certain level of shame, because I felt like it was only because I was too cowardly to enter the dating scene and try to find a relationship for myself. Over time the impact of the shame diminished, but it never went away; it just became a quiet background noise that I got accustomed to pushing back.

But now that I feel comfortable calling myself "Aromantic", I don't feel any shame. A romantic relationship is simply something I don't need. Instead, I can focus on fostering the kinds of deep relationships that do feed my soul. That will likely be a difficult thing to do -- awkwardly traversing intimacy was something most people worked through as a teenager or young adult, and I'm nearly 30, haha. But it at least feels possible now.

But really the biggest change for me is that I feel like I can be honest and public about who I am in a way I never was before. Simply being open about this piece of my identity somehow feels important if for no other reason than to let other people who felt like I did growing up that they aren't alone.

So... yeah. I'm aroace. And I always have been.

[cjrae]

How Do You Know It’s Finished? Or: Does God actually have a plan?

A Priest Walks Into A Bar is one of my favorite episodes of Lucifer. Full stop. Season 1 gets a decent amount of flack for some tonal issues as they were finding their feet, but if you’re looking for episodes that deal with the Big Questions, Season 1 really sinks it’s teeth into them. 1x09 deals with a larger question within the context of a more intimate one. Does God have a plan? More specifically, does he have a plan for Lucifer?

What we’re essentially asking is the question of pre-destination versus free will. Given that free will is one of the standard responses to the problem of evil, let’s take a (brief!) look at the Problem of Evil.

The Problem of Evil

The Problem of Evil is the logical contradiction that arises from the following axioms. If God is all of the following:

1.) omniscient - all-knowing

2.) omnipotent - all-powerful

3.) omni-benevolent - good

Then why does evil exist? If God is any of the two, but not the third, then the state of the world is perfectly explainable. An omniscient and omni-benevolent God knows everything and is good, but lacks the power to resolve the problem of evil. An omnipotent and omni-benevolent God is all powerful and good, but lacks the knowledge of all evil in the world - evil is capable of hiding. And an omniscient and omnipotent God that is NOT omni-benevolent means that God has deliberately created evil for Reasons.

(It is worth noting that the idea of God embodying all three of these axioms is a very Christian concept of God, but given that the character of Lucifer originated from John Milton’s famous Bible fanfic, Paradise Lost, it may be fair. Of course, Gaiman himself is Jewish and some Jewish thought tends to drop omniscience from the equation. We’ll come back to this, because if you have a God that can change, then God becomes much more interesting in a narrative structure.)

This is, as you can imagine, a logical contradiction that has fascinated theologians and philosophers for centuries, but the most popular resolution within popular culture is the concept of free will. In other words, evil is our fault, not God’s. The ability to choose gives the very concepts of good and evil relevance, in fact.

Free will has plenty of problems, but its issues are irrelevant in terms of this discussion because we are dealing with a fictional universe, where free will and the axiom of choice work very well within drama. And within the universe of Lucifer, free will exists. Choice is a central theme because everyone in the universe self-actualizes to an extent.

Humanity chooses their final destination based on their own subconscious judgment (God is completely uninvolved). Angels literally control their own appearances and abilities subconsciously. Lucifer’s devil face (and later his entire transformation) are manifestations of his own self-hatred while Amenadiel’s fall and the restoration of his wings (but not his ability to slow time) are based on his judgment of his own virtue and his connection to humanity.

So, let’s wrap this back around to the big question - is the universe predestined or not? Do our choices actually matter or does God have a plan and your choices are an illusion?

Predestination

One of the things that makes 1x09 work so well as an episode is watching patterns come together. 

A parent without a child tries to reconnect with and guide the child of his lost friends, who has gotten himself into trouble. That leads him into Lucifer’s bar - where Lucifer just happens to have recently gotten involved with investigating homicides. Once Lucifer’s involved, Chloe gets involved when they find the head of the program murdered, leading them to Conor and the Spider’s operation. Which leads to Conor being literally put in the middle of two men fighting over him and being forced to choose between their very different visions of his life. Father Frank then chooses to put himself between Conor and the Spider, getting himself shot, which leads to him dying in Lucifer’s arms.

We know that at one point God had a plan - Lucifer confirms that. In fact, it’s the central tenant of Father Frank’s faith. The idea that all of his pain and loss had a purpose behind it is how he deals with grief and finds meaning in a loss that can and has broken people before him.

It’s Lucifer who points out the obvious - that killing a young girl and two loving parents in service of the Plan is cruel. It leaves two people behind who are broken in the exact same way, but who deal with it very differently. Frank finds faith and turns to helping others where Conor becomes extremely vulnerable and prey to the predators of the world like the Spider in his own search for a place to belong.

Perhaps that does a good job of illustrating the different choices available to people, but how much of a choice did Conor actually have? He was a child without the coping processes of an adult, grew up in foster care, clearly bounced around the system and so desperate for love and affection while also mistrusting healthier expressions of those emotions due to being (unwillingly) abandoned by his dead parents that he was drawn into a criminal drug operation in an attempt to find his place.

if we believe that this was all a plan, then both Frank and Conor’s choices were illusions. Yes, they made choices, but their circumstances and environments shaped those choices.

In a system like this, think of the choices people make in terms of a physics problem. If you’re looking at a single atom, it is chaotic - able to go in any direction. But, put that atom in a sea of other atoms, in various environments and you can start to predict with reasonable accuracy how the group is going to behave - which other atoms it might bond to, how it’ll react under pressure or with the introduction of other elements. Patterns begin to emerge. 

Lucifer had just put out a fragile tendril of friendship before watching it be cut away with Frank’s tragic fate, his friend’s last words suggesting that all of this was to simply put Frank in Lucifer’s path for…what reason? To remind Lucifer that his Father has a plan? That his Father isn’t done with him, to imply that all of Lucifer’s suffering up to this point has a Purpose? A role he is being shaped for?

Lucifer already knows this. Lucifer has already rebelled against this. Frank’s fate is just more evidence to Lucifer that his Father’s plans are needlessly cruel and manipulative.

And, honestly, Lucifer has a point.

Can God Change?

Earlier, we talked about the Problem of Evil. However, the role of God changes dramatically if we drop one of the axioms - and I would argue that Gaiman, as well as the Lucifer show runners have done just that.

God is, frankly, far more interesting if He is capable of change, just like our main characters. The biggest issue with the traditional Christian interpretation of God is His very perfection, which makes Him utterly static. A perfect deity is, well...boring. Especially within the context of a narrative.

At it’s heart, Lucifer is a show about family - the families we come from that shape us and the families that we create around us - and how the two can and do merge.

Imagine the frustration of a God who loves His son, has all the power in the world to effect change - but doesn’t know how best to employ it? Who didn’t see Lucifer’s rebellion coming and reacted out of anger or frustration or even sorrow, possibly understanding how things went so wrong in retrospect, but unsure how to reach out to a child who was holding that much anger and self hatred? How would that parent try to help their child? Do you give them space? Do you actively punish them so that they understand the consequences of their actions? Do you passively stand back and let the consequences of their actions play out so that they learn and grow?

Given how subtle divine intervention is within the show, it’s reasonable to assume that God is mostly trying to stay out of things - after all, why bother with free will if you don’t let people exercise it?

Free Will

We know that choice is important within the universe of Lucifer. So, if God is looking at humanity like a social physics problem, then He probably has a pretty decent idea of how general patterns will pan out and the divine intervention, as such, is much more subtle. Father Frank, after all, has a number of different ways he can attempt to help Conor, but he chooses to go to Lucifer Morningstar, a club owner known to grant favors.

Father Frank is a priest - presumably he believes in the Devil. He may not believe, when he first steps foot in LUX, that the man in front of him is the actual, literal Devil, but the absurdity is enough to rope Lucifer in. So, where did Father Frank get the idea to go to the Devil for help?

Well, we’ve got the luxury of having an episode told with God narrating it, so let’s briefly poke the bear that is 3x26 - Once Upon A Time.

Aside from arranging for Chloe to be born, God is very specific that He is NOT controlling the situation. In fact, in order to run this little experiment, He only makes one, tiny change. He moves a bullet a few inches to the left and John Decker survives the assassination disguised as a robbery.

The central question of 3x26 is, “Did God’s plan of putting Chloe in Lucifer’s path actually change anything?” And the answer at the end of the episode is a fairly clear ‘no.’

“And some, no matter how you shake things up, are drawn to the same people, the same passions. So all seems to have ended well, does that mean I never should have manipulated things to begin with? I have a better question: wouldn’t you, in my shoes? After all - a parent just wants what’s best for their child.”

Who knows whether God planted the idea or not, but a priest walks into a bar to ask the Devil for help.

Once that happens, the patterns continue to play out, but there is room for each individual choice to matter. Conor could have chosen to shoot Father Frank and prove his loyalty. Father Frank could have chosen to try to pull Conor out of the way of the bullet instead of stepping in front of it.

But they make the choices they make and in the end, Father Frank again lies dying in Lucifer’s arms, insisting that his choice was worth it because Lucifer’s Father has a plan - but the subtext has changed. Father Frank dies believing his death will serve the Purpose of showing two lost sons that they are loved.

The Messenger

The parallels here are not subtle. Conor and Father Frank are very much a reflection of Lucifer and his Father. Except that, in Lucifer’s eyes, Father Frank is fighting for Conor whereas he was abandoned. This episode is the first time that Lucifer is asked to question that basic assumption about his life.

Father Frank: “God has faith in him. In all of us. Even in our darkest moments.”

Lucifer: “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Father Frank: “I do. Why don’t you?”

Lucifer: (looking visibly uncomfortable) “Because he didn’t have faith in me.”

Father Frank: “I felt that way once too. But now I know, deep in my heart. God has a plan for me.”

Lucifer: (scoffing) “Oh his plan for me was quite clear.”

Father Frank. “How do you know it’s finished?”

From Lucifer’s perspective, that question should be terrifying. His Father’s plan has already gotten him sent to Hell to rule over the damned for all eternity. What more could God want from Lucifer?

I would argue that what God wants is quite simply what’s best for his son - his child who believes so throughly that he is damned that he’s manifested a completely different, horrific face to punish himself with. Lucifer doesn’t believe in second chances. So He shows him one.

Conor chooses not to kill Father Frank, twice. He chooses to stand against the Spider. Those choices cost him, but the cost of his actions doesn’t negate their importance. In the wake of losing Father Frank, Conor again chooses to help the police, taking down a drug operation that was preying on vulnerable children inside that foster center, which will presumably make L.A. a slightly safer place for those kids.

Chloe sees the potential for good in the consequences of this night, and she speculates about that to Lucifer. But Lucifer’s in no state of mind to hear it. What he does do, however, is significant. He allows himself to feel pain and, rather than numbing it, as we see him fail to light the cigarette, he yells at his Father.

The dialogue is one sided and angry, but it’s implied that this may be the first time Lucifer has spoken to his Father since he became the Lord of Hell. This is a relationship that had been depicted as broken beyond all hope of repair, both sides having shut down communication with the other.

Father Frank’s sacrifice changes all of that. Yes, the priest gets to fulfill his desire of helping Conor make a different choice, a better choice. But he’s also a messenger. The subtext becomes less, “you are being shaped for a role” and more “your Father still loves you and has never given up on you.”

What if what God’s initial goal was to simply get his son to talk to him?  

Redemption

The next episode, Pops, is very revealing when it comes to Lucifer’s internalized guilt that he won’t be able to begin voicing until the end of season three. The things he says about Junior’s relationship to his father again parallel his own estrangement from his Father.

Anne: “That ungrateful kid was given everything and he threw it all away. But it didn’t matter. He was still the favorite.” (emphasis mine)

Lucifer: “Because he was worthy of his father’s love! And he had a chance at redemption until you ruined it!”

This exchange indicates that God’s desire for reconciliation is mutual. That doesn’t mean that either party wants to go back to the way things were - Lucifer doesn’t want to change who he is or what he’s done, whether he regrets it or not. That’s impossible and he knows it. But there is a desire to move forward, and for Lucifer putting the past behind him is very much about leaving Hell and it’s throne firmly behind.

But getting to that point of reconciliation is already going to be hard enough without Lucifer trapped in the same spiral of anger, guilt and pride.

So God reaches out, using a priest who has a shocking amount in common with Lucifer, to try to begin mending the breach. The consequences play out far beyond the end of 1x09. In the climax of Season 1, as Lucifer lies on the hangar floor, bleeding out, we see him open a dialogue again with his Father. Yes, he’s desperate, but would he have believed that asking his Father might do anything if it hadn’t been for Father Frank?

And this time, we see God answer. When Lucifer is desperate for help, his Father doesn’t abandon him. Instead, he gives him an opportunity. Moreover, he gives him an opportunity on Lucifer’s terms. The only way his son knows to ask for help is to offer a deal - sacrificing Lucifer’s own agency in exchange for Chloe’s life.

Yes, it’s a sign of Lucifer’s growth over the season, but it’s made clear that Lucifer going back to Hell was always a much more likely possibility than Lucifer himself ever wanted to accept. Lucifer came to earth with multiple backup options to get back to Hell - first Amenadiel, who will happily drag Lucifer back. Then the wings, which he burns and finally the Pentecostal coin that we see Lucifer playing with over and over again. Lucifer has planted the seeds of his own escape from Hell.

God’s intervention is subtle. Again, all He does is make a slight change - He moves the Pentecostal coin from Malcom’s possession back to Lucifer’s. The biggest difference is that He lets Lucifer know that he’s involved at all.

[the-faultofdaedalus]

Consider: tony and rhodey have been together for more than three decades.

More, of you count those collage years where Tony was pining like the textbook definition of “lovesick puppy,” and sure, although they were most definitely more than friends, Rhodey had refused to so much as kiss him until he was an actual adult.

It had frustrated Tony as much as it had made him solidify the decision that James Rhodes was one of the good ones.

So, three decades.

(Not consecutively, when Tony was dying, he pulled away, and when rhodey made an ultimatum, “you don’t have to do this alone, you know,” and tony had replied “yes, actually, I do,” and it broke both their hearts, but rhodey has promised himself a long time ago, that he wasn’t going to be like anyone else Tony had been with during his mis-spent youth. So he went, and was more than a little angry, and watched Tony drop deeper and deeper into destructiveness, and they’d fought, and then Rhodey had been forced to try to kill him and then they were making out on the top of some random building while Pepper tried to find a roof access or fire escape or SOMETHING because she did not sign up for this, no-fucking-thank-you, seals fighting over a grape, good lord-)

And, well, they’re not exactly young anymore, Tony’s over 40 and Rhodey’s more than that, and they’re both intimately aware that with the kind of lives they live, there’s a good possibility that they won’t make it much further.

So they decide to tie the knot. Officially. Tony knows it’s sappy and romantic and far, far too soft, but-

Rhodey’s never so much as teased him for that. And that’s why he loves him so much. Tony makes the ring out of the catalyst ring from the old arc reactor, the first one he made.

It’s not some grand declaration, it’s not planned to the t or a particularly romantic moment, because Tony’s been keeping the ring in his back pocket since he forged it, and, well, Rhodey likes to appreciate his ‘assets’.

Rhodey says yes, and then teases Tony mercilessly in between kisses because Tony’s genuinely a little upset that he didn’t get to do it how he wanted. He had plans, damnit, detailed and perfect and-

Well, they can still do that if they want to, Rhodey suggests, cupping Tony’s face, and they’ve done this approximately a million times before but there’s something special about how Tony can feel the now body-warm metal of the ring against his cheek.

After all, Rhodey says, he hasn’t had his turn yet.

And then Rhodey leaves for a week and won’t tell Tony where, which only really makes Tony mope because he’s missing a week with his brand-new fiancé.

Turns out, Rhodey had been scouring military warehouses and hangers and the like, until he found the exact helicopter that he found Tony in all those years ago. It had been decommissioned about 13 years ago, but the military still kept it to run drills with, and because it still worked, it was just old and outdated, had kept it mostly in one piece.

Rhodey had cut a piece out of the side, and painstakingly, filled it down until it was smooth and ready to wear.

(Tony doesn’t cry when Rhodey comes back, launching himself right at Tony’s arms as soon as he lands, and sliding the ring onto Tony’s finger.)

((That’s a lie. He totally does cry, while attempting to climb Rhodey like a tree. Rhodey kisses the salt off his face with a smile.))

(((Rhodey absolutly cries too, by the way.)))

They decide on three actual weddings. One, to go to the courthouse, and get it legally done, quick and unfussy. Two’s gonna be the real wedding, small and private and just for them. Three’s the bait wedding, which will be a week after the actual wedding, announced in advance, so that hopefully any villains who want to inturupt will do it then.

When the others hear about it, Clint immiedietly calls dibs on planning the bachelor party, to which Tony and Rhodey ask simultaneously, “which one?”

Pepper claims Tony’s, because she knows him best out of all of them except Rhodey. Clint, then, gets Rhodey’s.

The night before Tony and Rhodey have planned their court date, Clint, along with Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Carol, take Rhodey to a bar that’s pretty much exclusively known for it’s massive air hockey table.

This immiedietly devolves to the most intense game of air hockey anyone has ever seen. They somehow make it into a drinking game.

Pepper drags Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Thor, Happy, and somehow, Nicolas-goddamn-Fury and Maria-fucking-Hill, down to a karaoke bar.

Tony spends about half the time dragging anyone he can up to the stage to sing the most ridiculous songs he can find on the machine (and a few that weren’t on it at all, thanks to JARVIS’s assistance.)

((He gets Fury to back him up as baritone singing “can you feel the love tonight” while Pepper, Natasha, and Maria giggle in their chair. Yes, a single chair. They are the most terrifying power couple anyone has ever seen. Even when they’re giggling over their bosses sing ridiculous love songs over sangrias))

About half a mimosa over too much, Tony starts mooning over Rhodey to anyone within a five foot radius and nothing will get him to shut up. The girls drag Thor and Bruce onstage to do a frankly amazing cover of wrecking ball, and while since Fury has started ignoring Tony about 26 minuites ago, Tony slips out the back door of the bar because he has decided that he needs to see Rhodey Right Now Immiedietly.

Rhodey, meanwhile, thanks to two too many beers, exactly the level it takes for him to get unstoppably and loudly supportive of Tony, and a distraction courtesy of Steve and Carol, who are arguing loudly over exactly what constitutes as cheating in air hockey, has walked right out the front door because clearly no one here is apriciatint his speech about how great Tony is, so he needs to go tell Tony himself.

Tony takes a cab to the bar he knows Rhodey’s at, and walks in on Clint, Sam, and Bucky loudly cheering on Carol, who is absolutely demolishing Steve in an arm wrestling contest to decide who is actually the winner of the air hockey tournament, and exactly no Rhodey

He just wants to kiss his fiancé, preferably, everywhere. That is apparently too much to ask. 

The others notice Tony about two minutes later, where he is mostly just standing there, looking forlorn. About thirty seconds after that, they realize that oh shit, where the hell is Rhodey, and also oh god we have to call the others because they won’t know where Tony is. 

They realize pretty quickly after that that Rhodey most likely had the same idea Tony did, and call up the other group to tell them what’s up.

Unfortunately, Rhodey is not at the karaoke bar. When asked, the bartender tells them that he saw him walk right out the front door, and start walking west. 

Pepper, Maria, Natasha, Fury, Bruce, and Thor all pile into the limo and start doing expanding laps around the surrounding blocks trying to find Rhodey. Pepper and Fury, who is now wearing a party hat along with the rest of his usual black and leather ensemble, start arguing about the most efficient search pattern to use in this situation. Bruce has fallen asleep on top of Thor. Natasha is hanging half out the sunroof as Maria holds her legs so she doesn’t fall out, yelling for Rhodey like one might a lost dog

Meanwhile, Carol is leading her own search party while piggybacking a drunk and morose Tony, who alternates between gently playing with her hair, staring at his ring, and asking if they’ve found Rhodey yet. 

Carol is leading because she is the only one who has not been drinking, and is therefor the most mental sound to conduct a search for one lovesick idiot in the middle of Manhattan in the middle of the night. 

The other team is not so lucky. Happy is sober, because he’s the driver, and has never been one for drinking, but he’s really just doing what the others are telling him. 

Somehow, though, they’re the ones who do find Rhodey, who has gotten only slightly lost going into literally every karaoke bar he comes across. 

They only manage to get him into the limo when they promise that they’re going right to Tony, because he can see that they do not have Tony with them, and they should have Tony with them, and why don’t they have Tony with them, and even then, it takes some coaxing.

When Tony sees the limo, with Rhodey leaning out the side window yelling “I LOVE TONY STARK” at anyone he sees, Happy nearly runs Tony over because he jumps off of Carol, runs into the street, and pretty much dives through the door Rhodey shoves open just in time. 

They decide that that has been a mostly successful bachelor party, and drive back to the tower, everyone desperately trying to ignore Tony and Rhodey making out like teenagers on one of the seats. 

When they get back, they immediately head up to their room, aiming to do a whole lot more than make out. 

The next afternoon, after a very soft, sleepy morning, made slightly less sleepy by the fact that Rhodey nearly tears the bed apart looking for his ring, terrified that he lost it, before realizing he just had it on the wrong hand for... reasons, the highlight of which was the breakfast in bed put together by the bots as congratulations, they head down to the courthouse to make it official.

They hold hands the whole way there.

Well, except for when they swap sides because they both cannot get enough of feeling the rings on each other’s hands. It’s not busy at the courthouse, and nearly bouncing with excitement, they step up the counter, get the form, and fill it out, which is made slightly difficult because they still will not stop holding hands.

They go up to submit the form, and the fee, and cannot stop smiling as the clerk reads it over. 

“I’m sorry, sirs,” The clerk says, frowning at their forms, “But I can’t marry the two of you.”

They’re both very afraid, and very upset, before landing on anger, and they’re about half a second from telling the clerk what’s what before she looks up, confusion on her face, “Because you’re already married.” 

Tony and Rhodey blink at her. 

“Yes,” she says, points to a different form, “It says you two got married... 17 years ago, so, i’m not sure why you’re here.” She continues, shuffles the forms and files them away, and then calls “NEXT!”

“When-”

“I don’t know, how-”

“Was it-”

“No, couldn’t be, that wasn’t-

“How about-”

“No, but where-”

They both look at each other, eyes wide, and burst out laughing.

“Amsterdam!” 

“God- Amsterdam. I can’t believe-”

“I had no idea that was legally binding, did you-?”

“No, of course not, otherwise I would’ve said something.”

They go back to the tower, where everyone else is waiting, still laughing. 

Turns out, their wedding won’t be next week. No, that’s their 17th anniversary. Who would’ve thought.