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laundrybiscuits · 2 years

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(wait for the season to come back to me tag | 1 | 2 | 3)

“Okay, so when you say you were a monster, what do you mean?” asks Robin.

“Ah-ah-ah, pay attention, Buckley. This is important.” Eddie kicks up his feet, arms stretched across the back of the couch. “I am a monster. Present tense.”

“What kind of monster?” Robin’s voice is very even, but Steve can see the way she’s gone still.

“It’s funny,” says Eddie. “Harrington hasn’t asked a single question about that.”

Robin gives Steve a look. It’s not hard to guess what she’s thinking. She’s not wrong, but—it’s just seemed so much more important to show Eddie the photos, in case it might make Eddie smile. He'd just wanted to get Eddie to stick around a little longer. It had seemed important.

“So, here’s the rundown,” says Eddie. He’s still leaning back, eyes half-lidded, but his voice has sharpened to something firmer and more authoritative. “I’m basically a vampire. The labcoats gave me some kind of fancy official scientific name, but I drink blood and fly, so they can suck my undead balls. Animal blood’s okay to keep me going, but I need a hit of human every so often or things get funky. I’ve got a hookup at St. Joseph’s, which is why I’m in this damn city at all. Um, what else…oh, sunlight’s not great for me. I’m a bona fide card-carrying creature of the shadows now.”

“Shit,” says Steve. “Wait, where are you staying during the daytime? Is it safe?”

Eddie stares at him. “That’s your next question? What the fuck, Harrington.”

“Hey, hi, I have questions,” says Robin. “This St. Joe’s hookup, what exactly is he giving you? How did you find this guy? Have you ever killed anyone? How worried should we be?”

“Well, the answer to that last question is complicated.” Eddie winks at her, grinning. “But don’t worry, Buckley, I’m not gonna eat you.”

“Uh, good,” Robin snaps. “You’re not exactly my type, Eddie.”

“Oh!” Eddie clutches at his chest, draping himself over the side of the couch. “The heartbreak, the agony, how will I ever recover. ‘Tis a mortal wound, Lady Robin.”

“So where are you staying during the daytime?” Steve asks again.

Eddie sits up. There’s some fluff in his hair, because they don’t clean their couch basically ever. “There’s an empty building around Logan Square, think it used to be a hairdresser's or something. I just need somewhere with cover during the day, so I’ve been camping out in the back room. I’ve got—they’re giving me, like, an allowance as long as I come back in for testing every month, but it turns out it’s kinda complicated to rent a place when you legally don’t exist.”

“Stay here,” Steve says instantly. “You should stay here.” He glances at Robin to double-check it’s okay, but she’s already nodding.

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t squat in abandoned buildings. But first tell us some more about your secret blood dealer at St. Joe’s, because I think we need to have a house discussion before we start storing bodily fluids in the fridge.”

———

Despite his best intentions, it’s been a long day, and Steve starts nodding off around midnight while Robin peppers Eddie with endless questions.

He swims halfway back to consciousness at the low rumble of Eddie’s voice. It’s coming from above him, and he muzzily realizes that his head is on Eddie’s lap. Good. At least Eddie can’t leave without Steve noticing.

“So…don’t take this the wrong way.”

“Eddie, nothing good has ever followed that phrase in the history of the world.”

“I just wanna know. It seems like Steve’s…like you’re doing a little better than Steve, with like, me coming back and all.”

Robin makes a considering noise. Steve can picture the exact face she’s making. He stays very still and keeps his breathing slow and deep.

“It’s not that I didn’t…I think by the time everything went down, back then, I already hated Hawkins. I already knew I wanted to get out and see how much more I could learn about the world. Steve was still hanging onto this whole idea of being normal, you know? He still wanted to stay in Hawkins, raise a family, do all the shit his parents did.”

“Sure,” says Eddie. “Not exactly a surprise.”

“Right, but, the thing is…he would’ve been so, so miserable. I thought exactly the same thing as you when I met him: that he was just another dumbass who peaked in high school and didn’t have the freaking imagination to want anything more than pep rallies and a nice house. But Steve’s not like that at all.”

“I’m starting to see that,” says Eddie softly. His hand ghosts over Steve’s head.

“Yeah.” Robin sounds like she’s smiling. “He’s kind of a weirdo. Anyway, with everything that went down over that Spring Break, I think he finally realized that Hawkins was just a shitty small town in the middle of nowhere, and that if things had gone a little differently for him, he might’ve been Jason Carver himself.”

“Who? Oh right, the basketball guy.”

Robin laughs, still kind of quietly. “Hot tip: don’t say his name around Steve. I think he, like, embodies everything that Steve hates about Hawkins now. Steve totally blames him for your…you know. What happened to you.”

“Shit.” There’s a rustle as Eddie leans back. “That week really made an impact, huh.”

“Honestly, if it weren’t for you—like, if Vecna had picked some other random victims, I think Steve would still be in Hawkins, married to some former prom queen and hating his life. I mean, obviously what happened fucked me up too, but it didn’t completely reroute my life the way it did with him. For me, you coming back is like, a big deal and amazing and great and also completely crazy. But it's like, an event, you know? It's something new that's happening. For Steve, it’s like one of the most defining moments of his life is suddenly getting a sequel.”

“Glad I could contribute to his character development,” says Eddie.

“I mean, yeah? So did I? And he contributed to mine, too. That’s just…meeting people. That’s just letting people matter to you.”

“I’m not mad about it, Buckley, christ. It’s just weird to think about, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been platonic roommates with Steve Harrington for like eight years now, and you’re a vampire. I don’t think any of us really know how life’s going to go.”

Eddie hums in agreement, petting Steve’s head a little more. Steve lets himself sink back down into sleep, safe and warm and known.

#steddie #fic: wait for the season to come back to me #vampire eddie munson #might have to get this up on ao3 soon #I probably should not be writing as much as I've been lately tbh #my irl responsibilities are slightly in shambles #but I'm so weak for the concept of confronting images that other people have of you #what I'm trying to get at here isn't EXACTLY a parasocial relationship but it bears some notable similarities #and I just love leaning into the inherent messiness of that dynamic

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obsidiancreates · 2 months

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One Undead To Another (Chapter 14)

(Trigger warning for... I guess mental breakdown? Death, grief, complicated feelings surrounding grief)

“Thanks.” Juliet smiles at the officer, and then turns and walks up to her partner.

“So?”

“Checks out.” Juliet doesn’t even try to hide the relief in her voice. “The mom tried to kidnap her daughter and Shawn caught them, the mom confessed to everything and the little girl is already home safe.”

“And no bite marks on the perp?”

“Not a scratch.” The relief she feels is enough to make her melt. “She described Shawn as quote, ‘rude and offputtingly cavalier with a strangely calm approach to everything’.”

Lassiter scoffs, not without slight fondness, and with much mocking. “Sounds like Spencer.”

“Yeah.” Juliet can hear the dreamy relief in her own voice. “Yeah, it does. Even through all that. … Maybe we’ve been a little too hard on him, Carlton.”

“Too hard on him? O’Hara, he’s a vampire.”

“But he’s still Shawn.”

“The last time we used the ‘It’s still Spencer’ excuse to relax about him, someone ended up dead.”

The tension returns to her in a crashing tidal wave with that sobering reminder. “Right.”

“Right. Yes, it’s Spencer’s personality, his behavior, even his soul. Doesn’t matter. We need to keep an eye on him and keep him in check. Even if that means being a little unfriendly.”

“Easier for you to do than for me.”

“I know. So I’ll be doubly cautious for both of us.”

“Thank you, Carlton. … What now?”

“We’ll have to go back and get Guster, then decide on how we handle the rest of tonight.”

“... Or… call Gus to check in, then go get coffee and late-night pancakes before switching off?”

“... I would kill for a good cup of joe right about now.”

Juliet smiles and pulls out her phone, finding the contact. “Gus?”

“Juliet?”

“Just checking in. How is everything so far?”

“Good, actually. We’re making a list of uh… changes to Shawn’s psychic abilities. Like Mary said, they’re all out of whack now.”

“And he hasn’t…”

“I’m fine. I put the cross on a paperclip necklace, he can’t get near my arteries.”

“Smart. Okay, well, Lassiter and I are going to take care of a few things and we’ll be back to relieve you soon.”

“Cool.”

She hangs up. “Are we splitting the bill tonight?”

“I was thinking I’ll watch Spencer tonight.”

“... So?”

“So, you should pay.”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?! It’s fair, O’Hara.”

“You’re seriously trying to use this to get me to pay for pancakes.”

“It’s a perfectly valid reasoning.”

“You just want to annoy me into not fighting you on watching Shawn.”

“Right. I want to make absolutely sure I’m the one stuck with him for hours.”

“You don’t want me in danger.”

“You owe me.”

“I do. Alright, I’ll buy. But that means we’re both getting the kind with the strawberries and bananas.”

“Fine. Doctor says I need to eat more fruit anyway.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright.” Gus has the list of psychic attributes laid out in front of him, and beside it a new list of vampire attributes. The psychic list is much longer, including lots of little moments they now both realize were actual psychic instances in past cases. “So we both agree that the Nigel St Nigel cigarette case thing was psychic.”

“The first stop was. After that I just actually noticed the danger.”

“Still counts.” Gus writes it down. “Okay, vampire thing next. Can you fly?”

“Pretty sure that’s a no.” Shawn isn’t even sure how he’d go about trying that except for jumping off a cliff– which he considered, before getting a vision of his body floating in the water and Lassie and Jules watching it be hauled up. He’s not sure if he was dead-dead in the vision, or just unconscious, but it doesn’t matter because Lassie and Jules looked pale and stricken and they’ve already had to see his corpse once.

“Psychic sure or regular sure?”

Shawn considers it for a moment, taking the time to eat a cheese puff. “Regular sure,” he decides.

“Fine. Then… how do those cheese puffs taste? Like ash?”

“Like artificial cheese.” Shawn eats another. “I think food tastes the same.”

“Does it feel the same?”

Shawn shakes his head and has another puff. “I had a smoothie earlier and it didn’t quench anything. That might be the biggest loss in all this.”

“You mean besides your eternal soul?”

“Pretty sure I still have my soul. … That one was definitely psychic.”

Gus notes that and the food thing down on their respective pages. “I think we’re making good progress here.”

“Me too, man. I knew we’d be able to figure this all out together.” He hadn’t intended on that at all. He still catches himself looking at Gus’s neck, as does Gus. It’s why Gus made the makeshift rosary in the first place. It’s risky, and difficult, and it makes him hungry.

Hence the cheese puffs. Which aren’t taking the edge off at all, but maybe if he pretends they do he can trick himself into it actually working.

“How about shapeshifting?”

“Gus, I’ve been a vampire for like, a day. Even if I could do that, it probably won’t happen before speed.”

“You said you super-sped at that lady’s car.”

“Yeah, on accident.”

“Fine. What about hypnosis?”

Shawn crunches a puff.

Yes. Yes, he has hypnosis. Strong, potent hypnosis. Some kind of power over someone’s very soul, compelling them to do what he says without even knowing he’s done anything. He can feel the phantom sensation of doing it to Gus, twice now, the way it tied them together for a moment in an otherworldly snare where Shawn was the trap and Gus the prey. And he hadn’t even meant to do it at all.

“I haven’t tried yet.” Not a lie. He hasn’t. But it’s not an answer. But how can he answer? ‘Sorry buddy, I’ve already hypnotized you, Lassie, Jules, and some random other person. You, Lassie, and Jules more than once, by the way.’ He’s still on thin ice, and he’s still figuring this out, and he’s sca–

“You haven’t tried?” “To be honest, man, I’m not super hyped about the powers stuff. They kind of suck so far.” He motions to Gus’s chest.

Gus rubs the bruise. Shawn tilts his head and tries to parse if there’s any tip-offs for ‘bruise’. He’s pretty sure there isn’t– but it’s also just a normal, logical conclusion. He files that away as a ‘Maybe Psychic’ moment and crunches another puff. “So uh… how’re you planning on tricking out the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well, I talked with Father Wesley earlier–”

Shawn grits his teeth. A resentment he knows isn’t his bubbles up inside of him. He bites the next puff harder than he has to. Gus doesn’t seem to notice, now opening his laptop and looking something up.

“– and got some advice. I found Bible passage wallpaper in an online specialty shop, I’ll put whatever I have leftover from my apartment in here.”

Crunch. Is he scowling?

“I also ordered some actual crosses to hang around my desk. Just, you know, in case.”

Crunch. Shawn hopes his nod doesn’t look too stiff.

“I’m probably going to keep a spray bottle of holy water around too.”

Crunch.

Gus jumps in chair. Shawn looks down at his hand. He’s crushed the entire bag of puffs.

“Whoops.” It’s all he can muster up. It’s nothing. It’s chips. It’s so much more.

“... Maybe I shouldn’t tell you all the stuff I have planned.”

“Yeah. … I’ll probably figure it out anyway.”

“Probably.”

“It was kind of impossible to hide anything from me even before all this.”

“Not that impossible. You didn’t know about Ruby.”

“Oh yeah.” He probably would now. It feels a little like his brain is a poster, folded up so that whatever the focal point of the design is was on full display. He could pick apart the details, admire the intricacies, hang it up and be satisfied with just that. But now he’s unfolded it for the first time, and it’s so much bigger than he ever imagined it’d be, and it’s almost difficult to take in the whole complicated piece. He can hone in on little aspects, specific sections, he can separate it by the leftover impressions of the folding, but trying to see it all as one leaves him unable to see any of it. He could probably know everything, if he could just back up far enough to take it all in…

‘Don’t.’ His grandma’s voice drifts through his head softly. ‘You won’t be able to get back.’

“Shawn? Shawn!” He blinks and Gus is standing in front of him, pencil-cross tucked into his shirt so it’s not waving in Shawn’s face as Gus leans over and lightly slaps his cheek. The warmth of Gus’s hand enriches the smell-taste hovering around him. Shawn jerks away and tries to cover the seize of panic with an exaggerated flop and shout of surprise. He falls off the chair in his fervor.

Gus just tsks and watches Shawn flop around for a second through half-lidded, done-with-you eyes. Shawn sits up, now covered in the dusty remains of the puff bag.

“What was that?” Gus puts his hands on his hips. “You completely blanked out.”

“Gus, please. I don’t blank out.”

“Your eyes glazed over, Shawn.”

“Now I want doughnuts.” He doesn’t. He wishes he does. He should.

“I’m serious, Shawn! That was–” Shawn zeros in on Gus’s hands, highlighted as they tremble slightly. His eyes go up to Gus’s lip, also trembling, and the way Gus keeps looking at his neck before quickly looking away.

“Oh, buddy.” Shawn stands, putting a hand on Gus’s shoulder. Warm, pulsing with Life, easy to take. He crumbles up the chip bag in his other hand, keeping the one on Gus’s shoulder loose and casual. “Look, man, if you need to…”

“No, it’s– I’m fine.”

“You were having flashbacks, weren’t you?”

“... Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, man. I-I can’t imagine… I mean if I found you like…”

“Shawn, seriously. I’m fine.”

The turmoil in Shawn’s guts is different right now. It’s not hunger, not searing pain, not uncertainty and confusion twisting his stomach into knots. It’s a deep pit of dread, a rolling cycle of regret and grief, a tight line of If Only that…

… Isn’t… his.

…

“Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you need to go back home.”

“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you until Lassie gets back, remember?”

“Dude, looking at me is just hurting you right now.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. No wonder you keep throwing up, man. This feels awful.”

“Feels aw- you can feel my feelings right now?”

“Kind of, I– it’s complicated.”

“... I don’t want to leave right now, Shawn.”

The grief sharpens. The almost gentle roll of the grief cycle becomes a tear. Shawn sucks in a breath at the same time Gus pulls in a shaky sob.

“Gus, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You already did.”

“But I’m back! I’m right here, man!”

“You know it’s not the same, Shawn.”

“But it can be! After we figure all this weird new stuff out! Nothing has to change, man. I won’t let it, we’ve got a good thing going and nothing is taking that away from us.”

“You died.”

“Only for a little while.”

“No, Shawn.” Gus brushes the hand off his shoulder, putting both of his hands on Shawn. “You died. You– we saw–”

“But it’s okay now! We can move on from it, buddy, just like we always do.”

“Not just like we always do! Don’t you–”

“... Don’t I what?”

“... Don’t you feel off?”

“Don’t I feel off?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you died!” Gus shakes him. “Because we didn’t believe you! You died surrounded by freaky monsters, alone, in a basement! It’s not normal to just move on from that, Shawn!”

“What are you– are you mad that I’m not upset enough or something?!”

“YES!” Gus pushes Shawn away– or tries to. Shawn isn’t even wobbled by all the force Gus puts into it, and instead Gus is the one who ends up pushed back and stumbling away. “YOU’RE DEAD, SHAWN! YOU’RE DEAD AND YOU’RE STILL WALKING AROUND MAKING JOKES AND ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME EVERY DAY THING!”

“What do you want me to do, Gus?! Sit on my bathroom floor and mope?! Hang around my apartment thinking about what it felt like to die?! I don’t work like that!”

“No, you just run away when it’s something you can’t brush off!”

“Run– that was years ago! I haven’t run away from something huge since I was eighteen, Gus! I’m here, I’m here to stay, I’m not going anywhere!”

“YOU DID!”

“And I’m back!”

“You’re NOT! Not the same Shawn who left, and we both know it, so stop trying to pretend otherwise!” Tears are streaming down Gus’s face. There’s a frantic look in his eye and Shawn can feel the confusing tangle of emotions taking up his best friend’s chest, the grief and the anger and the disbelief and the fear all twisting into each other to make something just ugly and painful.

“What do you want from me, Gus?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! JUST– JUST STOP PRETENDING IT’S NOT DIFFERENT!”

“I CAN’T!”

“WHY NOT?!”

“I JUST CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“I WON’T!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M SCARED!”

Silence.

Gus stands, crying and huffing and panting. Shawn is frozen, not daring to breath, blink, even move to run. He misses his heart hammering in his chest in moments like these. He misses feeling it jump into his throat, hearing blood roaring in his ears, feeling his pulse speed up and not Gus’s, he misses–

Oh.

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and Gus is moving towards him with a tissue. He offers it to Shawn. Shawn still can’t move. This doesn’t feel real. None of it has felt real, except for when it has, and then it felt too real to be real. He feels like the admission popped his Shamu pool floatie and now he’s sinking, sinking into shark-infested waters with weights strapped around his ankles and no don’t think about Mary choking on blood in his arms right now on top of all of it–

Gus wipes Shawn’s cheek for him. He’s still crying too. “I’m scared,” Gus says, voice wobbling.

“Yeah.” Shawn’s voice comes out a watery croak. He motions weakly at Gus’s fake rosary.

“Not like that.” Gus swallows. “I’m not scared of you, Shawn.”

“Yeah you are.”

“A little bit. But I’m scared for you.��

“... Why?”

“I didn’t just see my best friend die. My best friend died, and now he’s trying to ignore that.”

“Gus–”

“We need to talk about it, Shawn.”

“... I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“... It might not even help.”

“We still have to.”

“It’s never helped anything before.”

“Have we ever tried?”

“... I don’t… want… to have died, Gus.” His voice catches. He’s trembling now. “That can’t have actually happened.”

“It doesn’t seem possible.”

“It doesn’t, right? I don’t– things work out for me.”

“They always have.”

“They always have. They always do. It can’t have just… not, this time.”

“But it did. Not, did not.”

“... What if I did die? … For real? And I’m not…”

“You?”

“... Yeah.” Shawn wipes his own eyes this time. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. He’s never heard it like this. Clogged up, shaky, weak. “Gus, I’m… I’m scared. I’m sc–”

The last word doesn’t make it out. He sobs.

Gus pulls him into a hug, also sobbing. Shawn feels Gus’s heartbeat in his entire body, in his bones and deeper, but for the moment the hunger and temptation don’t come with it. As Shawn hugs back, taking in the warmth and feelings and Life, he doesn’t feel any of the painful tension of before. He feels Gus’s whole self, body and soul and all, and feels comfort.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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radiators-and-handcuffs · 6 months

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Well I spent my whole life saying I'd never need no one,

But I think I might need you.

#aaron west and the roaring twenties #music #Spotify

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all-chickens-are-trans · 2 years

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It has come to my attention that some people in the Ted Lasso fandom are not aware of the importance of rainbow captain’s armbands in football, and I have too many emotions about those to not make a post. Keep in mind that I’m mostly familiar with the German Bundesliga and don’t know much about the Premier League, so if any people want to share more on that, feel free to add on to this post!

Where it started

around two months ago, some of the cast and crew of Ted Lasso played a charity match (see here); actor Joe Street, who plays Paul Reynolds on the show, wore a rainbow captain’s armband. this, among other things, has led to some speculation that there will be a queer storyline in s3 (see here and here).

Why it matters

If you’ve followed the women’s Euro 2022 tournament recently (see here) or seen some pictures at least, and if you take the general culture of representation in media as an indicator, you might be led to believe that the rainbow armband doesn’t mean much - that it’s just a nice, but ultimately meaningless gesture of virtue signalling. And I wouldn’t even completely disagree with that. Most of the time, when players or teams give statements on the meaning of that rainbow armband, they describe it as a symbol against homo-/queerphobia in their sport - but most of them are pretty quick to add that it also symbolizes the fight against racism, sexism, discrimination based on religion, nationality, etc. The message gets watered down into a nice little message of ‘diversity’ and ‘equality’, often paired with the slogan “football is for everyone.” The rainbow in its original meaning for queer struggles and queer life is made into a non-threatening thing that’s supposed to be palpable for most people.

BUT --

But I’m begging everyone to look deeper, because there’s a reason for that. And the reason is - you could have guessed it - queerphobia in football. (I will now especially talk about men’s football because that’s what the show is about and it’s also my area of expertise. if you add women’s football into the conversation, you gain important insights, but this post is already going to be long enough, so maybe someone else will have to do that, either on this or another post.)

The reason the rainbow gets so watered down as a symbol in football is BECAUSE there’s still an unlimited amount of fear to be perceived or outed as gay/queer if you’re a professional male football player. Do you know how many active professional male footballers there are currently in the top leagues, worldwide? Two. Josh Cavallo came out in October 2021 in Australia (see here). Jake Daniels came out in May 2022 (see here) - he plays for Blackpool F.C. in the Championship League. Before Daniels, the only football player who came out during his career in the UK (and as far as I’m aware, in any major league anywhere) was Justin Fashanu in 1990. I will not link to articles or go into details, but please be aware if you google this, most articles will discuss racism, homophobia, sexual assault allegations and suicide. With a precedent like that, it took more than 30 years before any other active player dared to take that step. No matter how open-minded you think society has become over the last decades, you have to keep in mind that, despite all its claims towards the opposite, football is still one of the last safe spaces for both subtle and rampant homophobes.

Back to the rainbow armband

As far as I can tell, it was merely six years ago when the first rainbow armband appeared on a football pitch (see here) - in 2016, in the aftermath of the Pulse shooting, US-American team captain Michael Bradley wore one in a match against Ecuador. In Germany, it was especially the 2017/2018 and the 2018/19 seasons that popularized this as a regular practice for certain teams in the Bundesliga, starting with St. Pauli in 2017 (I couldn’t find an english source for this) and VfL Wolfsburg in 2018 (and initiated by their women’s team captain the previous season, see here). From there, it spread over to various other clubs like SC Freiburg, who announced in early 2021 that all team captains would wear the rainbow armband for all matches from now on (see here).

But just because this is becoming more common, doesn’t mean it’s losing it’s meaning. Just last year it became clear how very politically charged that symbol still is when German team captain Manuel Neuer wore a rainbow armband for several games in the men’s Euro 2020 (see here). The UEFA started a formal investigation against him because they prohibit ‘political symbols’ on the armband. Even though the investigation was dropped, the UEFA prohibited a request to light up Allianz Arena in rainbow colors just a few days later in the match against Hungary because it was seen as too politically charged in the current climate of queerphobic laws passed in Hungary at the time (see here). It remains an open question how the rainbow armband will be handled in the upcoming 2022 World Cup in Qatar where homosexuality is illegal. If rainbows are ruled as ‘too political’ against Hungary, who knows what the rules will be in Qatar.

And what does any of this have to do with Ted Lasso?

Frankly, I don’t know. I just made this post because the rainbow armband in the charity match got me very excited for the possibility of seeing Isaac McAdoo in one for s3. Could you imagine Isaac choosing that kind of gesture to show his support for Colin? (If that’s what’s going to happen - at this point, it’s all still speculation.) With that history, with that storyline, and with the way this show usually approaches such topics?? That feels immensely meaningful to me.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

#ted lasso #queer football #oof i couldn't stop myself it had to be said #my posts #long post #ted lasso s3 #ted lasso season 3

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 1 year

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i dont even like stranger things that much, but eddie has a grip on me like noooo other lmaooooo

he reminders me of a lot of rotties ive met who look like scary dogs, like they dont know their own weight/play rough, but are also the single goofiest dogs you'll ever meet, super dramatic if theyre not getting attention from their favourite people, only rough with people who can handle it but very gentle with those who cant, super protective, eager to please and so so sweet (so yea thats basically eddie)

he reminds me so much of that, like he just wants to be loved for who he is, and openly love someone else without being seen as just a casual one night stand, or an interesting couple dates, or too scary and different to even be approached yknow. i bet he daydreams about commitment ahkshdkjflfj

i think thats why i like your eddie so much cause he's protective of others and knows how to use his image to protect himself, but is also the silliest, sappiest, sweetest person ever and you write that side of him so well!!

i dont know where im going with this qukdhdkgd i just really like how you write eddie!

Thank you!!! Show opinions and rambling about my sweetest goofy feral boy Eddie under the cut 💖💖💖

Stranger Things is a questionable show, that's the truth of it. I think the first season was brilliant and part of the reason I liked season 4 so much was because it got back that sort of scooby doo vibe that was so fun about the first one, that the Hawkins gang were trying to work everything out and getting into hijinks ahaha. But the whole Russia storyline? Simply could have done without it. There was a post going round a while ago that was like st 1 was good because it was about things but now stranger things is just about stranger things and I think that hit the nail on the head.

I think it benefits from interesting characters and very good casting all round. The young people in the show are (or were now?) uniquely good child actors (Gaten, Caleb and Sadie in particular imo). Also think Joe Keery was an inspired choice for Steve. He brought such brilliant vulnerability to Steve, so great to watch the scene of him seeing Nancy and Jonathan through the window and just before Nancy slaps him how sad he looks when he's trying to put on a tough front; 'I was worried about you.' My god. I DIGRESS.

Eddie <333 EDDIE <3333333 I think I've established I could talk about him for a million years. He haunts me. First just the thought of somebody being treated poorly by God knows how many people, and ending up as someone who collects bullied kids and gives them a safe place 'we showed you that high school didn't have to be the worst years of your lives' JESUS FUCK IF ONLY. Would have been nice. Idk if I've mentioned but I'm PRETTY SHY irl so...yeah. Would have been nice.

And THEN I think about the fact he used his last words to make Dustin promise to look after the group...to tell him that he loves him!!! Can't think about it too much but my God. That's so important. That's his priority in that moment. His little group having somebody to look after them fuck I'm crying.

AND that he tells Dustin to never change!!!! This little bullied boy!!! Like Eddie himself was when he was young!!!! AaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhHhhhhhHHhhhhHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

And also he's so sweet to Chrissy. Just like the sweetest. Sees this girl silently screaming for help and puts the effort into making her feel SAFE!!! Giving her a little GIGGLE at HIS EXPENSE. FUCK.

So yes I think you are exactly right. I think he plays up to what people think of him when he knows he's not going to be able to change their mind and he thinks well fuck it hate me more then. I think he could swing a punch if he had to and if he was being hit he'd keep being provocative but I feel it in my BONES that he flirts with straight boys who are bullying him to make them wildly fucking uncomfortable I JUST KNOW IT cause I think he loves pushing buttons.

But yes, the sweetest around people who need it. And desperate to be loved and accepted. I think you're right I think he might have a go at one night stands cause he's a horndog it can't be denied but he thinks about somebody just adoring him and wanting him all the time and doing things for eachother and them not being ashamed of him or wanting him to change him and man...I must stop.

In summary, anon. Agreed. And thank you very much. Thinking about how kind and wonderful a relationship with him would be makes my chest pang. Sweetest goofiest boy, owner of my heart.

#i once again am psychoanalysing eddie munson #i wrote you a fucking essay anon sorry about that ahahahs #ask #anon

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m00sebaby · 8 months

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the absolute loves of my life @thelatenightvibes and @likesummerrainn tagged me to name four albums I've been listening to!

i wanted to let people get more interested in the albums so i included my favorite songs from them as well!

1. if we’re being honest by lovelytheband - i always really enjoyed their stuff from earlier in their time together so when this album came out i actually took the time and listened to it

favorite songs: sad goodbyes, make me wanna die, i’m sorry

2. sonder by dermot kennedy - this is my favorite artist in the world and this album is just filled with beautiful lyrics and so much heart. i’ve seen him in concert twice now and cried both times.

favorite songs: dreamer, don’t forget me, innocence and sadness, blossom, better days

3. first two pages of frankenstein by the national - this album came out at the hardest time in my life and is filled with songs about loss and heartbreak and grief and by GOD is it worth the emotional turmoil.

favorite songs: eucalyptus, new order t-shirt, the alcott (ft. taylor swift)

4. we don’t have each other by aaron west and the roaring twenties - this is my cheat addition because it’s not really an album i have had on recently but it is one of the few albums that i can and will listen to start to finish repeatedly. it’s a beautiful side project from the guy who formed the wonder years and it tells an incredible story and it’s so important to me.

favorite songs: our apartment, st. joe keeps us safe, divorce and the american south, you ain’t no saint

tagging: @werewolves @red-dipshit @saltydornishman @debbiechanclub and @macallisters and anyone else who’d like to do it!!!

#liza speaks

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stereopticons · 1 year

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Top tracks ask: 15

Short term:

Medium term:

Long term:

Send me a number between 1-50 and I’ll tell you what my long medium and short term tracks are for that number!

#thanks for asking!

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ramblingwreck · 1 year

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Cast Page

THE RAMBLING WRECK

Ysbrand “Izzy” Brinson (he/him). “I’ve always taken the safe option. I mean, I’m a priest of the goddess of war and I’ve never been in battle.”

Born July 8, 1461 (25). Rivara, SRR.

Human-Orc Hybrid (Rivaran/High Orc).

Height 6’1” (185 cm). Weight 223 lb (101 kg).

Skin pale green. Hair black, dyed blue, short mohawk. Eyes black.

Izzy grew up in a relatively typical middle-class household. His father, Brent, is Rivaran and his mother, Roxana, is an orc Brent met while guarding a caravan. He had always dreamed of joining the priesthood, because of the stories the temple priest, a retired adventurer, told in his sermons. Izzy was a bright and studious acolyte, and was one of the best junior priests at the temple of Baduhes he grew up attending, but he left because he was bored being a temple priest and wanted to practice in the field.

Kristy Brushtop (she/her). “I’m Kristy. Most people call me Poison Ivy, but you can call me whatever you want.”

Born March 22, 1459 (27). Belcorno, SRR.

Halfling (Underhill).

Height 2’11” (89 cm). Weight 31 lb (14 kg).

Skin deep tan. Hair blonde, dyed hot pink, unkempt mohawk. Eyes hazel brown, colored contacts vary daily. Teeth filed to points.

Kristy is Tellus’ equivalent of a rock star. She was the lead singer and bass lutist for a band out of Freeport called the Goblins, until she was arrested for obscenity due to her stage outfit, during a police raid on the Toothed Hen. The Hen’s owner, Whitey Cabot, advocated for her and got her sentence reduced from 15 years in prison to 5 years’ exile. She is adventuring until she makes enough to buy her way back into the Council’s good graces and get her performer’s license back.

Puck de Kers (they/them). “I miss the beer we used to brew at St. Lucentus’. It was clear and strong. I don’t miss the schnapps. It was strong, but we were never clear.”

Found September 3, 1458 (28). Südenstadt, Suden.

Human-Elf Hybrid (Unknown/High Elf).

Height 5’7” (170 cm). Weight 142 lb (64 kg).

Skin pale silver blue. Hair purple with green highlights, short and messy. Eyes violet, slotted pupils.

Puck was left as a foundling at the House of the Order of St. Lucentus and spent their entire life cloistered there. High elves were notorious for discriminating against hybrid children, so their parents most likely assumed they would find better acceptance at the monastery. The abbess recognized that Puck was a master of the physical and disciplinary arts of the Order, but had no sense of the outside world, and ordered them to spend at least six months adventuring to learn the ways of the world.

Metapeset “Uncia” Kleftis (she/her). “Unlike some of us, I actually took notes when Greasy hired us.”

Born December 6, 1469 (17). Freeport, SRR.

Cambion (Valefor).

Height 5’7” (169 cm). Weight 131 lb (59 kg).

Skin lilac. Hair white, short and slicked back. Eyes bright blue, cross pupils. Horns gray black, run along her temples.

Uncia’s family are wealthy merchants, and she grew up in the Hillside Park neighborhood of Freeport. While her parents are very loving, they spent her life preoccupied with business and social pursuits, and she grew up feeling neglected. As a result, she spent as much of her childhood at the home of her neighbor Niccolo “Smokey Joe” Scalfire, a high-ranking figure in the Cambion Syndicate, as in her own home. When she was 16, she taught herself how to use lockpicks, and started breaking into houses around the area. At first she just did it for fun, but eventually she started stealing small valuables. To protect her from her own recklessness, her “Uncle Nick” hired her to keep an eye on one of his investments. Her parents think she is on a camping trip with friends.

Drusilia Meliscient (she/her). “Racist stereotypes aside, do I look like I’ve had to pick up a bow since childhood?”

Born December 22, 1371 (114). Ville des Bois, Galòn.

Elf (Wood Elf).

Height 5’6” (167 cm). Weight 108 lb (49 kg).

Skin burnished copper-green. Hair black, lined fade. Eyes green, slotted pupils.

Dru’s family moved from Galòn to Port au Sel, Blackwater when she was very young. They were refugees fleeing the anti-Wood Elf pogroms that swept across Galòn after they were blamed for the kingdom’s loss of its premier colony. She is part of a generation of Galonic wood elves that not only produced more sorcerers, but ones of unique abilities born of the stresses of their circumstances, known as the Riot Born. She is a member of the anti-monarchist terrorist group called the Hand of Three, using adventuring as cover to allow her to move around Cadma freely.

Betha Trauthammer (she/her). “Before you ask, it means ‘from a place of loving kindness.’ The maul is a coincidence. I just like to hit things.”

Born June 3, 1466 (20). Freeport, SRR.

Human (Alemmian).

Height 4’8” (142 cm). Weight 170 lb (77 kg).

Skin pale. Hair red, Viking undercut. Eyes green.

Betha was born in Freeport to Alemmian immigrant parents. Her parents died in a cholera outbreak when she was 3 and she spent the next ten years in a Baduhian orphanage. When she aged out, she joined the Red Street Panthers and over the next six years became an underboss and respected leader of the gang. She has been to prison twice, for violence and loan sharking activities. Six months before the beginning of the story, an incident occurred that convinced her to go straight and begin adventuring.

#fantasy #writing #my characters #tellus #ramblingwreck

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indianapolis-in-living · 1 year

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Link to maps

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buggie-hagen · 2 years

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Sermon for Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (9/18/22)

Primary Text | 1 Timothy 2:1-7

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Dear People of God,

Here we learn how necessary it is to pray for everyone. Especially for those in positions of authority. As St. Paul puts it: “That we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity” (1 Tim. 2:2). First of all we pray for everyone. We all live on the same flying rock we call Earth. (pause) On this rock there are many and diverse kinds of people. Most of whom do not think like us, look like us, pray like us, speak like us, or interact with the world like us. As different as we are we are also very much the same. We are each of us human. What affects one of us will affect another. A drought one place means a more expensive bread in another place. We all need to eat, sleep, wear shoes and clothes. We have emotional needs! We need physical connection. In all this we must turn to God who provides “all the necessities and nourishment for this body and life” (SC 2:2). We ask God to provide not only for our own needs, but also for the needs of others. Note that we are urged to pray for everyone. This means it doesn’t matter if they are our enemy. Nor does it matter if they are our ideological nemesis. No matter who it is, we pray that God provides what is necessary for every person to live in dignity.

Now, what is interesting here is that Paul adds that our prayers include “kings and all who are in high positions” (1 Tim. 2:2). In our day, that translates to presidents, governors, legislators and any person who holds authority—especially as it affects the welfare of ordinary people. That means Joe Biden. And that will mean whoever comes after him. Whatever the faults of our president, of any of our elected leaders, we pray for them. Whether we like them or not, it is through them that God provides many things for ordinary people. Healthy food, clean water, fresh air, good and upright teachers, good and upright school buildings, hospitals, roads, and safe communities to live and work in. We thank God joyfully when we have all these good things and we petition God earnestly when we lack them. We pray for political leaders “so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.” Where there’s war, where there’s violence, where there’s scarcity of the necessities for this body and life—the proclamation of the gospel can be silenced. And where there is no gospel proclaimed, there is no Holy Spirit, and where there is no Holy Spirit, there is no forgiveness of sins. Father, keep war and violence far away. And so we fervently pray that God preserves peace and dignity for us and for all people, and thus also preserve the gospel among us.

We make supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings for everyone because “This is right and acceptable in the sight of God our Savior” (1 Tim. 2:3). We don’t pray because Paul told us to. We don’t pray because our mom told us to. We pray, and we pray for everyone, knowing this is what is pleasing to God. Notice that it says, “God our Savior.” There’s a lot in three little words here: God our Savior. He is already our Savior. He is Savior for us in the present time. It is not a question on whether or not we are saved; we are already saved. We are actually saved. God is the one who sent his Son into the world to save sinners. To give sinners eternal life. Don’t be afraid to think of yourself as a sinner, for it is precisely for you as a sinner that Christ died and rose again. It was the man Jesus Christ “who gave himself a ransom for all” (1 Tim. 2:6). Whatever sin you have is his sin. And that sin was buried when he was buried. In this way, your sins are forgiven beyond a shadow of a doubt. In its place, in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, there is life, new life. It is now given to you through faith. Faith is not dependent on how we feel on any given day. It is not dependent on our own feelings which regularly go up and down like a roller coaster. Faith depends on God’s promise in Jesus Christ—which is stable, completely dependable, and does not leave us questioning whether or not it is true. That God is our Savior is a promise—God cannot lie or deceive. And so his life is now your life. Life that really is life. Life in which there is joy and gladness for you. Let us therefore pray that God keep us and all people from evil. Let us always pray God preserves his holy gospel among us, giving peace and dignity, our whole life long.

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thruheavenandhighwater · 2 years

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The way you answered the eddie smut anon made me think omg. I'm in my 20s and I did write some smut for the older teens in ST and now I feel creeped out? :D Like when I was writing it and used the good old 'you' I was obviously thinking about like a character of the same age hitting it off with them, not my over 20 years old ass. And now I'm kind of on the fence whether I am good to keep writing smut or if it's predatory oh god

This is so long! I'm sorry! But y'all know I physically cannot shut the fuck up 😅

First of all, I'm genuinely sorry if I made you feel some type of way about it. That wasn't my intention at all. I wasn't trying to say that it's bad for anyone older than 20 to write smut. I don't think that at all. Like I said in that answer, I wrote smut for actual real life people who were a few years younger than me.

When someone reads a reader insert fic it's understandable that the "reader" is meant to be the same age, or at least close in age, to the subject of the fic. In Everything, the Robin fic I'm working on, the reader is meant to be in high school. Honey, I haven't been in high school for 12 years. Most of the books I read are YA stories about people in their teens to early 20s written by people in their 30s. There is nothing wrong with writing what you want to to express yourself.

All of the actors who play the older teens on the show are well into their 20s anyway. The Joe's are 29 and 30. You are not doing anything wrong by writing smut about them. To be honest, I'm pretty sure all of them are currently older than the men I wrote smut about in 2018.

I think writing smut is extremely important for writers, really. Writing smut helped me to work through and process my own sexual assault. Obviously, that isn't the only reason it's important. Writing smut can help you to learn things about yourself, it can help you become a better writer by pushing you to write about things you might not have ever done (which is difficult, let me tell ya) but if you can convincingly write those scenes, baby, you're doing great! It is, in its most simplified form, sexual exploration in a safe, contained way. And that is incredibly important.

I have to admit that I was being hyperbolic by saying I felt like a pedo if I were to write smut. It's just that that particular anon had already sent me 3 messages saying that I was a bad writer and trying to force me to write smut. The ages of the characters has less to do with me not wanting to write smut than the fact that I just don't want to. Like I told them, there's plenty of it on this app. I'd rather leave it to the people who want to write it and have a fun time with it than force myself to do it because someone told me to. I'm kind of a brat, that way.

If you want to keep writing, please do. Fluff, smut, angst, friends to lovers, all of it. I'm so sorry for inadvertently pushing my own shit onto you. I promise that wasn't the point of the answer. I was just asking that anon to understand why I personally don't write it. I wasn't trying to say that nobody ever should.

I hope you keep writing! And I'd love to read whatever it is you do write!

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epoxycongo2 · 2 years

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wrestlersownmyheart · 2 years

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Second Chances Ch. 37 (Book 1 In the "Chances" Series) *Samoa Joe X OC*

Pairing: Samoa Joe X Female OC

Summary:

Ella Roberts has led a traumatic life.

She witnessed her parents' murders at the age of eighteen, and narrowly escaped death herself, due to the intervention of Joe Seanoa, a close family friend. After she discovers she was the true target the night her parents were killed, she assumes a new identity and runs away with intentions of protecting her family and loved ones. Years later, she is pursued by a mysterious Ukrainian, and soon finds herself right back in the biggest nightmare of her life. Fate brings her back to Joe, and knowing Ella's still in danger, Joe vows to keep her safe. But can he succeed? Or will the danger that still threatens her freeze any second chance they have at a happily-ever-after?

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: none this chapter

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Three Months Later…

Joe entered the bedroom after a long day of trying to discover Ella's whereabouts, and set his keys, cellphone and the current photo of Ella he'd been using to aid in her search, on the table next to the bed. He fell onto the mattress and rubbed his eyes. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he realized he drastically needed a shave.

I can't believe, in all this time, no one's seen her at all, he thought dejectedly.

His phone rang then and he recognized the number on his Caller ID.

It's the private investigator I called, he thought with relief. Finally, he's getting back to me!

Hurriedly, he took the call. "Hello?"

"Joe Seanoa?"

"Yes, this is he," Joe replied.

"Mr. Seanoa, this is Matthew Wilson. I'm a private investigator. You left a message for me, correct? You wish to hire me to locate your wife?"

"Yes, I do," Joe answered immediately. "She was kidnapped a few months ago, and I can't seem to get any leads on where she's located. The authorities have been unable to come up with any leads either."

"You're sure she was kidnapped?"

"Yes," Joe answered curtly. "We're very much in love—so she didn't leave me if that's what you're implying." At least not due to falling out of love with me, he thought, telling a half-truth. "A man by the name of Jacques Fournier kidnapped her. He's had her in his sights since she was eighteen years old."

"I'm sorry," Matthew Wilson replied. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that many times a missing spouse turns out to not be missing, in my experience."

"Well, this one is."

"Okay, I can see there's a huge back story here. Would you like to meet somewhere and discuss everything in more detail?"

"Would you be okay with meeting at my house," Joe asked. Okay, technically not my house, he thought. But close enough. "I've just gotten in from a third consecutive day of searching for my wife, and I'm exhausted."

"That'll be fine," Matthew answered. "Where are you?"

Joe gave him the address.

"I know about where you're located. I can be there in less than a half hour, will that work?"

"That's great," Joe told him. "I'm eager to get started."

"Okay, see you soon."

With that, the line clicked, and Joe rushed into the bathroom to grab a quick shower and shave before the private investigator arrived.

About twenty minutes later he emerged, feeling somewhat rejuvenated. He sat down on the bed again and picked up his cell phone, searching through his restaurant guide app to find somewhere that delivered. He quickly decided pizza would be the easiest thing to deal with, so he put in an order for three pizzas since there were three grown men staying at the home and Miracle as well. No sooner than he laid his phone aside, the doorbell rang. He rose from the bed, grabbing Ella's handgun off the night table and headed downstairs. He found Jeff about to check the peephole. Joe motioned that he'd take care of it and whispered to him, "The P.I. I called."

Nodding, Jeff backed off and returned to the living room.

"Your name, please," Joe stated, cautiously eyeing the man standing on the porch.

"It's Matthew Wilson," the blond man replied. "Would you like to see my ID?"

"Yes, I would," Joe answered as he opened the door with the chain lock in place. "I was nearly killed a few months back and I don't wish to repeat that particular experience."

"I understand," came the reply, as a leather wallet was passed through the door. "The ID is in the clear pocket."

Joe took the wallet and compared the photo to the man's face and looked at the name on the ID. Satisfied, he handed the wallet back and undid the chain lock. "Thanks." He pulled the door open and moved aside so the private investigator could enter.

"No problem."

Joe led him into the living room, where Jeff was sitting in an armchair watching the news, and Miracle and Finn were playing Monopoly at the coffee table. Joe offered Matthew a seat on the sofa and the two men sat down to talk.

"I ordered some pizza that should get here soon if you're hungry," Joe said.

"Sounds great," Matthew Wilson replied, "I am pretty hungry. It's been a long day."

"Yes," Joe agreed.

"So, why don't we start at the very beginning," Matthew suggested, taking out a notepad and pen. "You say a man was after your wife ever since she was eighteen years old?"

Joe nodded, "Yeah. Her name's Ella. It's a long complicated story, so bear with me. Ella's dad was a surgeon who had failed to save a woman and her unborn child. They were in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. Jacques Fournier was the woman's husband and he decided to get revenge on Ella's dad by killing him and his wife. Then he planned to take Ella and get her pregnant in recompense for his child's death."

"Okay," Matthew said softly, taking notes down in shorthand. "This happened when she was only eighteen?"

"Well, some of it. But Fournier's obsession actually began even earlier on. Fournier's wife and child died when Ella was only fifteen. He began planning from there, and he didn't make his first attempt to kidnap her till she was eighteen. And that's when he killed Ella's parents."

"This Fournier guy…I assume he's now wanted by the authorities, but did he have any kind of criminal record before his wife died and he tried to kidnap Ella?"

"Not that I know of," Joe answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "He was wanted for questioning after the drunk driver mysteriously died a week after his wife and child. He didn't cooperate very well with the cops however, and that made him a suspect."

"Did he get convicted of murder," Matthew asked, scribbling furiously on his notepad.

"No," Joe replied. "There wasn't any evidence to prove he did it."

"What did the drunk driver die of? And how was Fournier linked to his death?"

"He died of food poisoning. And that was how Fournier was linked to his death—he's a botanist. There was just no way to prove he was behind the poisoning."

Matthew nodded and made another note when the doorbell rang again.

"That'll probably be the pizza," Joe said, rising to his feet. A few moments later, he along with Matthew, Jeff, Finn, and Miracle were seated at the dining table eating and giving as much information as they could, hoping to aid Matthew in discovering Ella's whereabouts.

"Okay, so let's move forward," Matthew said as he started a new page for his notes. "When exactly did Ella go missing, and how do you know for sure Fournier was behind her disappearance?"

Joe swallowed a bite of his pizza before answering. "She was kidnapped about four months ago. And I know Fournier is behind it because I saw him face to face. He shot me in the chest, knocked my wife out cold and then took her away."

"I'm so sorry," Matthew apologized as he took the information down. "That's just…horrible."

Joe nodded and then spoke softly. "Do you think you can find her?"

"I'm certainly going to try," Matthew replied, picking up another slice of pizza. He looked at Joe, then at Jeff. "Do you have any idea why it took Fournier so long to get to Ella?"

Joe shrugged slightly, "I can only speculate. I assume maybe he had trouble finding her or something. See…" Joe hesitated, "Ella and I married a few weeks after her parents died. Jeff, here, wanted us to marry because he thought it would protect her. However, on our wedding night, Fournier made another attempt to take her. Before he could get to her though, she faked her death and ran off. I didn't see her again till twelve years later—the night Fournier finally succeeded in kidnapping her." His face darkened then. "Oh my, God... What if I led him to her?"

"Now, Joe," Jeff started. "This is not your-"

"Don't say it," Joe growled, angry at himself. "If I led him to her, then yes, it is my fault."

"No, Daddy," Miracle exclaimed loudly in order to get his attention. "You didn't lead him to her."

Joe's expression softened when he looked at his daughter. "How do you know, baby?"

"Because...Fournier was pretending to be someone else—supposedly a detective named Viktor Dankevych. That was why he had all the plastic surgery. But the night he had me kidnapped for him, he left his brown contacts out. I recognized his blue eyes."

"Okay, honey," Joe said softly, "But I don't see where you're going with this."

"Mom, met Viktor Dankevych about two years before you found us. So you couldn't have led Fournier to her."

Finally, Joe realized what she was explaining and he nodded. "Thank God. I'd never forgive myself if I'd caused this."

"But," Jeff cut in, "If he knew where she was the past couple of years, why did he wait so long to grab her?"

"He was toying with her," Joe guessed. "That's what he has always done. It's not enough for him to get what he wants. He wants to try to drive someone crazy in the process." He slammed away from the table then, horrible images of what Ella was going through racing through his head. "God, and he has her. He's-"

Matthew took some more notes and spoke up. "Hang in there, Joe. Focus. What else can you tell me about Fournier?"

Joe took a deep breath and sat back down at the table, visibly trying to calm himself. "He's had at least one alias I know of—which is Viktor Dankevych. And he's had a ton of plastic surgery as Miracle stated. He doesn't look at all the same as he did twelve years ago." He picked up a few photos from his end table. "These are copied photos you can keep if you need to." He handed the first photo over, "This is the most current photo of Ella I could find." He motioned to the remaining two photos then. "And these are both of Fournier. This first photo is his mug shot from when he was questioned about the drunk driver's death. This second is a sketch of what he looks like now after all his surgeries."

"This will help a lot, thank you," Matthew said, taking the photos. "I'm going to work my hardest to find her, Joe. I promise."

"Thank you," Joe replied, reaching out to shake the private investigator's hand. "I appreciate this very much. Ella is my life. It's killing me to think about what he's done to her."

"Try not to think about that," Matthew told him. "It'll just drive you crazy. Let's focus on finding her, then you can help her heal."

Joe nodded his agreement, and thanked the man again.

"I have your cell number, so if I think of any other questions I'll give you a call. And I'll be sure to keep you up to date on any findings."

"Do you know where to start with all this," Joe asked. "I know I gave you quite a bit of info to sort through."

The investigator nodded. "I already have a plan forming. I'm also a hacker, so that may come in handy with this case. Give me a few days and I'll let you know what I've found and we'll go from there."

"Okay," Joe replied, feeling better that there was now a plan underway.

"Thanks for dinner. I appreciate it," Matthew said, gathering his things and get ready to leave. "No problem. Thank you for your help," Joe returned. "You don't know what this means to me." "Glad to help." Joe and Jeff walked Matthew to the front door, and with a smile of encouragement, Matthew left, setting out to begin his investigation.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

Fournier watched as Ella's eyes slowly fluttered open. He saw the horror slowly register on her face as she realized she was both still alive, and unable to move on the bed she was lying on.

"It isn't permanent," he told her. "It's a toxin I developed over the past few months. I have to keep you from hurting yourself."

Ella whimpered softly. "M-Months…?"

"Yes," Fournier answered. "I medically induced a coma on you till I could develop the toxin that's paralyzed you."

"H-hate you…" she cried weakly, closing her eyes.

God… she prayed silently. Please, please let me die. I'm begging you! I can't…can't do this… Please, let me be with Joe…

"You know I have to punish you for what you've done, don't you?"

Fournier's voice cut into her prayer and she sobbed. "Please… Please, leave me alone…"

"I'm afraid your daughter will have to pay for your mistake."

"N-no!"

Ella tried to will her limbs to work with all her might, but the toxin was simply too strong in her system.

"She has to die."

"Oh, God…please, no…"

Ignoring her, Fournier continued to deliver blow after blow. "I also took the liberty of drawing blood while you were unconscious. I wanted to see if you have become pregnant yet. And you are—about four months along, to be exact."

Ella had no words. Nausea rolled in her stomach at the thought of carrying his child.

"Going to…b-be s-sick…" she managed to whisper.

Ignoring the fact that his news was the cause of her sickness, he quickly lifted her limp frame to a sitting position and placed a small waste basket under her face. He didn't act a moment too soon as a series of harsh dry heaves racked through her body.

Her breath came in snatches as the nausea slowly lessened. Then she glared up at Fournier. "I swear I WILL get away from you. I don't know how yet, but I will."

"Even if you do," he smiled evilly at her, "I'll simply get you again. I can get to you wherever you are, Ella. I knew where you were long before I entered into your life as Viktor Dankevych." He paused, a smirk on his face. "I saw footage of you getting on the plane to Seattle. Now, I'll admit it did take me a while to find you in Seattle, since you chose such a common name to go by, but I found you nonetheless. And remember the night I saved you from the drunk idiots at the strip bar? I set that up. The situation got a little more out of hand than I intended, but it was all my doing. Oh, and the picture of my daughter? It was just a photoshopped picture of you. It was all the perfect way to get my foot in the door and become your friend—get you to trust me. Mark my words, Ella Roberts, I'd find you again."

"My name is Ella Seanoa," Ella shot back, trying to hide her surprise at discovering he'd known where she was almost the entire time she'd run away from Joe—not to mention the tactics he'd used to get into her life.

Her retort earned her a sharp slap that left her more than a little dizzy.

"And if you do run again, the remainder of your family will die a very painful death. I suggest you stay put." And with that, he turned around on his heel and left her.

"Nothing matters anymore," she thought out loud, curling herself into a ball. "I don't care about anything now."

Her eyes went blank and vacant as she retreated into herself—letting her mind take her away from the hell she was being put through.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Gotcha," Matthew Wilson muttered as his gaze scanned over his laptop's screen.

He'd been working for a couple weeks to hack into Tennessee's state court database to see what information he could find about Fournier, Ella and her parents.

And I've finally hit the jackpot, he told himself. Or I'm really close to it.

He'd found a sealed file in the system pertaining to Fournier's wife's death.

"Now, all I've got to do is hack into the federal court system to find out what's in the file," he thought out loud. "And unfortunately, that could take a while longer."

Beginning to mentally plan out his next line of action, he picked up his cell phone and gave Joe a call.

"Yeah," he heard Joe's voice answer.

"Joe, it's Matthew. I have something."

"What is it," Joe demanded instantly. "Have you got any idea of where she is yet?"

"I've not gotten quite that close yet, sorry," Matthew replied. "I have, however, hacked into Tennessee's state court database and found a sealed file regarding the death of Fournier's wife. I can't get into it yet, because I need to hack into Tennessee's federal court databases before I can get access to the contents of the file, but I'm working on it as we speak."

"So, you think there'll be some clues there?"

"That's what my gut instinct is telling me," Matthew replied. "I mean, the woman died from a drunk-driving accident, the drunk driver died of natural causes—or so the M.E. reported… so why would there need to be a sealed file on Fournier's wife?"

"Good question," Joe replied. "Okay, great. I'm glad you've found something to go on. How long will it take to hack the databases?"

Matthew swallowed hard and hated to douse Joe's hope. "Well, it's taken me a couple weeks just to get into the state court databases… I'm afraid hacking the federal court's will take a considerable amount of time more."

"How much more, Matthew," Joe prodded.

He sighed and replied softly, "Maybe months, Joe." He heard Joe curse softly on the other end of the line and he scrubbed his hand down his face. "I know, I know. But this is the best plan I've got, so far. This Fournier guy is really good, Joe. But I think I'm better. You just have to stay patient. We'll find her, okay? I promise."

"Yeah," Joe replied softly. "I know we will."

"Good. Keep that positive thinking. I'm gonna go now and keep working, okay? I'll work around the clock as much as I can till I find something. Your case is the only one I'm working at the moment, and I won't accept any more cases till Ella is found, Joe. That's how strongly your case has affected me. I won't stop till you have your wife back."

He heard Joe puff out a sigh. "Thank you so much, Matthew. I can't even express to you what this means to me."

"You don't have to thank me. Anyone would do the same if they could. I'll talk to you soon and keep you updated. Bye."

With that, he snapped his phone shut and got back to work.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Jeff, it's Joe. I have a little news," Joe informed Jeff over the phone. He'd taken a small break from questioning people about Ella's whereabouts, and wanted to tell Jeff about Matthew's findings.

"Yeah? What kind of news," Jeff asked eagerly.

"Well, it's too early to know if it's good news, but it's definitely not bad news," Joe answered. "The private investigator I've hired, Matthew Wilson…he's been working on hacking Tennessee's court database for the past couple weeks. He finally got in today. He found a sealed file on Fournier's deceased wife."

"Really?"

Jeff sounded completely shocked.

"Why would there need to be a sealed file on her?"

"That's exactly what Matthew was thinking. He says he needs to break into Tennessee's federal court databases now to be able to open the file and find out what's in it. There are no guarantees of course, but he is good at his job, and his instincts are telling him to check into that file."

"It makes sense."

Joe could detect some skepticism in Jeff's voice.

"We're gonna find her, Jeff. I know it," he reassured him. "Okay? Don't give up hope or faith."

"I'm not," Jeff said softly. "It's just beginning to get to me, wondering what he's done-"

"Jeff, we can't think about that. It's only borrowing trouble. We have to concentrate on finding her first. Then we can help her heal, just like Matthew told me when I first met him."

"I know."

"Okay, good," Joe smiled softly. "Keep thinking that way. It'll keep us motivated." He shifted the conversation to his daughter then. "Is my baby in from school yet?"

Jeff chuckled. "Yes, she and Finn came in just a little while ago. She's just now come to stand beside me. She obviously wants to talk to you."

Joe chuckled in return. "Okay, just don't tell her anything about this just yet, okay? I want to be sure it's a real lead before we tell her anything."

"Got it. I'll talk to you later. Here's Miracle."

"Okay, later," Joe said his goodbye and waited to hear his daughter's voice.

"Daddy!"

"Hi, baby," Joe greeted. "How'd your day go?"

"It was good. I missed you today."

"Oh, I missed you too, angel," Joe replied.

"When are you coming home," Miracle asked. "And have you heard anything about Mama yet?"

Joe scrubbed his hand down his face, unsure of how to answer her second question. Taking a deep breath, he decided a slight lie was his best option. "Well, I'm not sure what time I'll get home tonight, because the truth is…" He rolled his eyes at the irony of his words, "This private investigator is still working on some things to help give him an idea of where Ella is. And I'm doing what I can to find out any leads too. Right now, I'm sadly coming up empty handed."

"But you guys will find her, right, Daddy?"

"Of course, lo'u alofa. This private investigator is really good at his job. I think he'll be able to locate her, and then we'll go and get her. Just be patient, okay, honey?"

She was quiet for a moment and then Joe finally heard her quiet answer: "Okay."

"That's my girl. Now, how's school going?"

"Pretty good. All my friends are really supportive. The school work kind of helps keep my mind off...stuff."

"I'm glad, baby," Joe said. He knew he needed to get off the phone and start working toward finding Ella again, but he couldn't resist talking to his little girl a while longer.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"You're taking care of yourself, right? I mean, I don't get to see you much, so I don't know. You're sleeping and eating, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm taking care of myself, I promise. I wouldn't be much of a help to your mom when we find her, if I wasn't taking care of myself, would I?"

"No."

"Okay, so stop worrying about me. I'm fine." He decided to try and joke to lighten her mood and anxiety. "Besides, when I do get your mom back, can you imagine the tongue-lashing I'd take if I wasn't taking care of myself?"

He smiled when he heard her laugh slightly.

"True," she said. "You'd be a whipped puppy when she got through with you."

Joe laughed, "Yes, you're mother has a definite way of making her feelings known."

The two laughed again, and it was like music to Joe's ears. He hadn't heard his daughter laugh till then.

Please, God…Help me and Matthew to find Ella so we can be a family, Joe prayed. Help me to do whatever I can to help Ella heal. Please, help me get my wife back…

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