#kinda just want to evaporate from existence and make it easier for everyone

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

-

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of “This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.                                

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

--

So

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

no

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

uh

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

no

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii  @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream​

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

#sam x reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x reader series #sam x reader fluff #sam x reader angst #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester x reader series #sam winchestr fluff #sam fluff #spn #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #seen 2 #seen

[lucarioisinthevoid]

a Series of stupid ideas and misfortune (not sure how to ask the characters from this yet.) how is everything plus dave doing? also something for you, there is no henry in that universe right? or he just is dead and doesn't exist there

For asking the other characters, uh- I don’t know either. I considered making it a whole point of the blog, like that you can actively ask them like normal and these specific people answer (Davetrap for Dave, etc.), but then the epilogue thing happened and yeah. This blog is a mess, you guys get what you’re paying for! Anyways, onto the questions at hand:

Oh, there is a Henry! I mean- was. It takes place after dsaf 2, or at least the lore I could get from there (RIP everything to do with BlackJack, never found anything about that until it was far too late). Henry was nulled and voided and didn’t find a vessel in time to make his way back. At a certain point resisting the void is not even about willpower anymore… it erodes you from where you pay the least attention… Okay but because I’m cripplingly afraid of the concept of death being permanent and souls being destroyed, making you unable to think, to exist, joining the great dark a very soft person who hates when people disappear, even if they’re objectively better off doing so: Henry is basically gone, but the blood pact he (unwillingly) and Dave made prevented him from actually disappearing and having his soul evaporating in the void. Instead the void consumed everything it could- basically memory, personality, capabilities. So in theory, it would be possible to remove Henry’s soul from Dave’s and send him to the afterlife ending in potential reincarnation (which IS a thing in my works even if I leave it up for interpretation) OR have him be revived. Thing is- why would anyone want to do that? Not only is he an untrustworthy psychopath by nature, he would also lack all the skills and knowledge he had before, being forced to relearn it from the very beginning. It might be easier a second time around, but it’ll still take a shitton of time!

>I would consider it super funny, because it would mean I get to have feral Henry (there’s a reason he could possess Old Sport) run around, but no in-universe excuse, so all I get to do is make stupid AUs and DREAM. - - -

The restaurant was SHINING. GLITTERING. GLOWING. Someone spilled radioactive waste all over it. And it was to the only three non-people in the world to clean it up! THAT’S RIGHT! “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOOOOOOOOOOOOR OOOOOOOOOOOOOLD SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORT!” Under cheering and applauding, Old Sport stepped into the restaurant waving to cheers from all sides, then he jogged towards the closet with the cleaning supplies. “NEEEEEXT UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVETRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!” Being objectively way cooler than the Orange Guy, the giant bunny jumped through the door, allowing the momentum to carry him forward as he slid through the suspect liquid, splashing it everywhere, before giving an extremely badass s p i n, ending in a pose, before he bowed and moved towards the cleaning closet as wall. “LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST, BUT NOT LEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAST- SECURITY PUPPET!” Floating from their box gracefully, the machine bowed directly, before moving instantly towards the closet. “THAT IS IT DEAR AUDIENCE, THAT IS THE LINE UP IN THE ULTIMATE CLEANING CONTEST AND-“ Old Sport who was starting to put the radioactive liquid into plastic bags, fully intending to throw them down some of Henry’s stupid workshops, shortly gave the Rockstar Freddy a judging look. “Hey! Why aren’t you helping?!” Upset the four-armed bear instantly shut up, glaring down. “Excuse?! I’m doing a WAAAAAY more important job and-“ Funtime Chica piped up. “We slip too much! We would break ourselves!” As though on cue, Dave slipped, landing on the neon green floor, groaning. “… well it ain’t stopping me, so-“ “We’re a bit pricier than you, old man.” Freddy instantly clapped back, before high-fiving Chica. “I can crush both of ya like bugs!” Old Sport was already looking at the floating puppet again though. “… wait, why can it float again? I’m sure you told me, but all the radiation is making me dizzy.” “Magic.” Chica answered. “Invisible strings!” Freddy guessed. “Magnets.” The Security Puppet answered calmly, continuing his work. Dave shrugged. “Don’t worry too much.” “Invisible strings would have been fun.” Disappointed Freddy mumbled. “Stupid magnets, magnets can’t do that stuff, we’re not in some cheap scifi from the sixties-“ As Dave was getting out the flamethrower to make the radioactive vapor everyone else’s problem, he laughed, harshly. “CHRIST! Can ya imagine?! If it were attached to strings that were bein’ moved by a computer system, then the Marionette would be in the computer system of the whole location! People would drop like flies!” It took another moment, before they noticed the Anon that had materialized out of nowhere, making all of them jump, as well as the two colorful people slip, dropping painfully. Now both of them were green! “Look, Sportsy, partner-look-! Ain’t that cute-” You wouldn’t get your answer here. Right outside the restaurant, with a security barrier, a small Phone Guy and a big bear stood, staring onto the streets, smoke coming out of the black bear. As the Anon approached, both of them looked up at them. “A-ah. Apologies, potential customer, but uhm- so uh, a few events happened and uh- we’re KINDA closed, so yeah I- I would r-recommend-“ “Fuck off.” “LEFTY! DON’T!” The bear chuckled to himself, glancing at the Anon out of one eye. “… why are you even here?” The Anon repeated their ask. Breathing out, the hidden Marionette shifted. “How we are doing… okay I guess. Considering everything.” “Like the tornado.” “After the earthquake.” “With the thunderstorm.” Both of them slowly sighed and the Phone Guy glanced at the asker, the dial shifting. “Uhm- I’m really, really sorry we don’t have better news! We’re- going to be open soon. Once new year starts, I’m sure w-we can have a grand-reopening!” “I wish we wouldn’t.” Marion growled. “E-EVERYONE IS EXCITED. RIGHT. YES. EVERYONE. THIS- Th-THIS IS A GREAT RESTAURANT THAT EVERYONE LOVES!” “Nobody got hurt in the events, so there’s that.” The bear mumbled, slightly muffled. “That’s- that’s true!” Relieved over having good news, Phone Guy nodded frantically. “The kids were fine. They come over sometimes to see if the place is okay to enter again, but uh- well. You just missed them, I, uh-“ “We’re not letting them anywhere NEAR this place. Especially with the toxic waste. And you should probably leave too.” “I-if you want to talk to them, maybe come back some other time? But uh- don’t breath in anything dangerous until then.” They watched as the Anon walked off.

#Dave Miller #old sport #I don't know who else I should really tag and dear god I'm tired #the thing freaked out on me for some reason I hope it's fixed now

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @aussiebee!

******

Dear Journal, I’m not calling you a diary, as this is in no way a diary. This is a scientific journal. Or something. Yeah, I’m not very good at this either way. BUT! Considering this is for my own use only, I don’t have to be! Take THAT, Harris! Of course I am getting rambly and miss the point of the exercise!

Right. What is the exercise you might ask? I will tell you! You see, dear journal, there is this guy. Pretty hot guy, if I do say so myself. The hottest. Like water is evaporating with his hotness before he can actually drink it. I’m surprised he isn’t dead from dehydration... Wonder how long you could last if you were just drinking steam...

I’m back! Yeah, I get carried away sometimes. Get used to it. Right. So. Hot guy. His name is Derek. Derek has chest and arms carved by gods, eyebrows that can make you question the stupidity of your existence just by turning your way, and the cutest bunny teeth you’ve ever seen. I’m also pretty sure Derek is a werewolf.

Your first question might be, what kind of werewolf. Well, if you think about movies, there’s a lot of possibilities. But the only real ones (as far as american magical scientific society knows) are the ones who can turn at will into wolfy-looking two legged monsters with claws and teeth from hell and can flash their eyes either gold, blue or red, according to their power status. Which is more complicated and I actually took a course on that, so... That would be for longer. How do I know Derek in particular is a werewolf, you ask? For several reasons. Derek himself is not that subtle, if you know what to look for. Especially when he is with his pack, which... is another group of ridiculously hot people.

Anyway, he sniffs everyone he meets sooner or later, he touches everyone he considers friend a lot and he growls at people he doesn’t like. Also, I actually saw his eyes flash three months ago on a full moon. Yeah, werewolves don’t have to change on a full moon. They are just much more likely to wolf out then. I even think I can anticipate your third question, that’s how awesome I am. How the hell do you know so much about Derek? Are you a stalker? Ok, that’s technically two questions.

The answer would be... kinda? If you didn’t notice from my description of his cute teeth when he laughs, I am kinda crushing hard. I’ve been for the last half a year since Derek transferred to our uni. And I admit I can get a bit... obsessive. Just ask Lydia Martin from my high school. She has forgiven me since then, but there was a reason why I was able to tell them the exact shade of her hair, when she went temporarily missing... I am trying to hold back with Derek. While I do have his schedule memorised (I can’t help it, it just sticks in my head...), I haven’t (yet) followed him around campus to see where he eats and I haven’t (yet) grilled all of his friends about his likes and dislikes. If you didn’t notice, I’m kinda proud of myself.

I am kinda tired of just obsessing from a distance, though... And that is where this experiment comes in. I got a book about werewolves from the school library. Every university has at least one magical course, and a section of the library open only to the students of it. Which I am. If you were wondering. Probably not. Anyway. The book on werewolves. I used it for a final essay on werewolf packs and their most common dynamics for the werewolf power status course, but there was this section... On how to date a werewolf. As a human. Which is kinda cool? And I really wanna try it? On Derek, specifically?

So! We are going to be treating this as an experiment and I will try to note my successes and unavoidable failures here. Wish me luck, dear journal! You piece of recycled paper.

Stiles

.............................

1. Making an eye-contact

One of the very important things you need to do before wooing a werewolf is getting their attention. Now the best and easiest way by far is to make an eye-contact and wait for them to invite you closer. A bit creepy by human standards, I grant you dear journal, but... well, the author and the A on my werewolf essay says to trust this book so. Here I go.

Ok, journal, this was a biiiit of a mistake. Well, not completely, I guess. I looked at Derek really intently during lunch. For the whole half an hour. As I said, it’s a bit creepy by human standards. So of course, Derek looks up, looks around, looks at me again, and... Starts glaring. And I must be completely doomed, dear journal, far more than I even realized. Because I have never thought you could be this combination of terrified and aroused. His big friend (Boyle?) was even getting up and coming my way... I bolted. I like my life too much and am unfortunately a grade A coward. Oh well. Attempt number two.

.............................

2. Leaving your scent behind

Werewolves naturally rely on sense of smell for orientation. Especially when it comes to their pack-mates and potential mates. I don’t necessarily have a concrete plan in mind... The book offered/suggested leaving behind articles of often worn clothing, spending a lot of time in places they frequent, like their favourite armchair and stuff, and so on... None of which is of course doable and still remains in the sweet sweet area of deniability.

So, I had to become creative. Remember when I said I had Derek’s schedule memorized? Well, it really was just finding out where he sits. I left my favourite hoodie there. Sacrificed it for the greater good. When people will talk about my inevitable failure, I hope they will mention the Great Loss of the Red Hoodie. It disappeared of course. I do not believe Derek took it. Somebody else must have gotten to the classroom first and decided they don’t have enough clothing. Or something. I liked that hoodie. This sucks.

.............................

3. Making yourself known

I do know I had said that the last one will be hard to try out and look innocent if it comes out, but this is basically impossible. I actually have to go and talk to the guy! Damn. This book is killing me. That’s what I get for only skimming through the chapter titles before deciding to go through with the plan. Oh well. Dear journal, it is far too late to back out now. Be the hero your best friend thinks you are. He might be wrong in this, but you have to at least try. Scott is counting on you. Well, the poor sod thinks I’m just getting my courage together to try and talk to Derek like a normal person, but... Eh. No. This way is more interesting. Here I go! No turning back now!

Abort abort abort! This wasn’t even moderately a good idea! I just came up to him, waited looking at him until he turned in my direction and then squeaked. In my defence, he was with

the rest of his pack, all of them looking Tall, Gorgeous and like they wanted to eat me alive. Especially the hot blond. She actually licked her teeth. It was scary. So there I stand, having just came up with the sound of a dying rat, Derek judging me with his eyebrows and the rest of the pack laughing at me and intimidating me even further. I said something about him having a nice shirt and once again (you guessed it) bolted. I am sitting in the bathroom now. Locked in the last cabin and writing in this excuse of a journal. God, I really thought I had left the times of hiding in the bathroom behind after gratuating high school...

.............................

4. Being a good provider

Nothing tells a werewolf you like them as much as you bringing them food and showing them you can take care of not only yourself, but of them as well. This of course doesn’t necessarily extend just to the food. Why do you think I’ve done laundry so often in the last few weeks? I actually have more than three pairs of underwear at any time. A bit weird. Anyway. You might know my family is originally from Poland. I don’t speak polish or anything, which... Shame. It’s a pretty cool language. But my grandmother did leave me one (1) recipe for a polish speciality. Pierogi. I can make them. Mostly. I made them quite a few times at home at least. And they have always turned out good. The thing is, there I have a real kitchen to use. Here in the dorms? Not so much. But what am I if not persistent? Even if I do end up chickening out and not bringing Derek anything, I damn want some pierogi for myself now.

That went... Surprisingly well. Like. Freakishly well. Granted, I went to use the kitchen at one in the morning specifically to have it all to myself, but... there was even a spare pan. Who would have thought? I also ended eating like half of them... But at least I know they taste good, right? Now I just have to find Derek and share some with him. He tends to go to the library on Fridays... That could work well, right?

So... Has anyone told you you shouldn’t eat in the library? That you are going to get thrown out on your ass if you do? Apparently, there is a new librarian/bouncer at the uni... And she takes her job very seriously. She also looks like she does karate or something, because despite being small and cute, she actually bodily lifted me up and carried me out of the door. Bright side? I did manage to talk to Derek for about two minutes before offering him the pierogi and subsequently getting thrown out on my ass. But that also meant Derek actually saw the whole thing from the front row seat, including (but not limited to) the aforementioned polish treat scattering all over the pavement. And laughing quite a bit about it. He didn’t come out of the library to help me. Just stared at me through the window and laughing. Ow. Ow, my dear journal. My feelings. But damn it, I have already come this far!

.............................

5. Making a good impression on the Pack

Once again, something easier said than done. The whole pack is intimidatingly gorgeous. There’s Boyd (that’s his name!) who’s big and smooth and has a chocolate skin straight from the factory. There’s Erica, who’s tall, blond and has a rack from heaven. And speaking of heaven there’s Isaac, who actually looks like one of those cherubs from some kind of a painting. It’s all really unfair. And don’t even get me started on Derek’s younger sister Cora. I think Derek might have another older one, buut... What do I know, I’m just a mild stalker. The book calls for me to make friends with all of them, so that they can put in a good word for me

but also to let Derek know I would work well with his pack. But at this point an argument could be made that I am pretty much suicidal. Let’s do this!

That went... Surprisingly well. I tried to start with Boyd, but he’s not really... talkative. Erica, his girlfriend as it turns out is, though. And she knows a lot about comics. We shared at least a half an hour of discussion on DC comics. She’s my new catwoman. It’s awesome. And Isaac is not that bad either. He’s a little sarcastic shit, but so am I. I think we hit it off. Even Boyd seemed to start to warm up to me by the end. He even said bye and hit my shoulder so hard I almost fell down! It was awesome! Now, I tried to ask around about Cora... Turns out she’s studying at the other uni in the city. Also, yes, Derek has another sister. Who, it turns out, is Laura Hale the California state attorney. That is... So awesome. Really intimidating. But awesome. I wasn’t able to meet them though. And I decided I should probably stop asking so much as the people were actually starting to look suspicious... But! This was really encouraging! Dear journal, I might be onto something here. Let’s go for the final step!

.............................

Interlude: Derek

Derek was starting to get mildly paranoid. Is it a bad sign, that the kid you’ve been mildly crushing on, is suddenly behaving really strangely? Derek first noticed him about three months back. He was tall, had surprisingly broad shoulders and eyes like molten gold. And there were cute moles all over his face, that Derek desperately wanted to count with his lips. And this is the part where Cora got up, sent him her best disgusted look and went to tattle on him to mum. Who of course immediately called him and gushed about his first real crush... It was really embarrassing. The point is... He never really thought it would go anywhere. The kid didn’t smell like a werewolf, just something spicy and warm. There was something familiar about that smell, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t any kind of supernatural creature. He just probably liked using the same spices his mum did. So Derek has decided to watch from afar, marvel at the cute smile the kid had every time he found something interesting in the library and maaaybe overshare a bit with his friends.

And then one day the kid stared at him for ten whole solid minutes. And he suddenly looked like a little psychopath. Derek found himself panicking. Does he know about the werewolf thing? Or worse, does he know that Derek has a crush of the size of Cali? Will the boy try to murder him in his sleep? Or maybe kidnap him and use him as an experiment in one of his classes? Who knows, really... Even through his quiet protests, Boyd started to get up to find out, what was his problem, when the kid bolted. Actually ran away. Derek was left baffled. Things really started getting weirder from there.

There was a hoodie left on his seat in introductory econ. Derek was fairly sure it was The Kid’s, just by the scent. He valiantly avoided burying his nose in it and stuffed it inside his backpack. He put it in the Lost and Found later that day. His backpack still faintly smells like the warm spice. If Derek sometimes sticks his face inside it and then claims to any passerby, that he can’t find something, that’s nobody’s business.

And then the kid actually came over. Derek felt a wave of nervousness course through him, but also... Hope? Maybe the kid feels the same way? And then he just... squeaked and ran away again. His friends of course saw his nervousness and made fun of him for the rest of the week. Great.

The incident with the food actually looked really promising. The kid’s name is Stiles, it turns out. Not really a common name, but who is Derek to judge. It strangely seems to suit him.

The weird little dumplings didn’t look that appetizing, but they did smell heavenly, with ground meat and cheese. So of course it was only a matter of time Stiles was thrown out from the library. Derek didn’t necessarily think it was called for to actually throw Stiles out but... the face he made was adorable. Maybe Derek shouldn’t have laughed at him like that, but it was just... so funny. He actually looked for a minute like Laura’s toddler when somebody denied him a toy. Shame about the food. Derek at that point firmly decided to finally do something about his stupid crush. The werewolf thing wasn’t ideal, but... Maybe his mum would give Stiles the talk over the summer? He will ask, when he calls her on Friday.

Which he did. After that his mother cooed about him bringing a boyfriend home the whole call, with Laura joining her at the end. Those two were really far too similar. But yes, he had the official go ahead from his alpha to try and court this human. With a newfound determination, he went to search the campus for his hopefully future boyfriend. And he wasn’t able to find him anywhere. His friends apparently talked to him for a whole half an hour, and Erica actually gushed about her new Batman-loving friend for the next few days... And then Cora called him. Stiles has tried to ask around for her at her own uni on the other side of town. Is he trying to... what? Derek didn’t understand this at all. But it still seems strangely sweet. Derek smiles to himself. Ok, he really needs to find him now.

.............................

6. Actual asking out

My dear journal! This is the day! I’m actually waiting outside of Derek’s last class of the day. Either way our shared suffering is over. The experiment shall be concluded after today. I will either spent the evening in the arms of a sexy werewolf or drunkenly crying into Scott’s shoulder. Fingers crossed for the first one, but let’s be honest, with how the steps went, the second one is far more likely. I am a realist, my dear journal. I’ve already bought the alcohol. It’s sitting innocently in my cupboard for now, but one word and Scott--- “Hi.”

Stiles raised his head and squeaked. Again. Derek was standing above him in the rapidly emptying corridor and... smiling? Oh god, he’s even cuter than Stiles previously thought!

“Eeer... Hi! Hi. Sorry about that, I kinda spaced out there for a bit. I do that sometimes, just, you know, sit around and think about... stuff... and... Yeah.”

Derek has been looking at him with this weird expression, almost a... affectionate one, dare he say it? He finally shuts up, and just stands there and stares back. Maybe, if he waits for a bit longer, the perfectly scripted speech he had memorized yesterday, will come back to him.

“So... “ Derek looks down and then back up at him shyly. “I actually wanted to talk to you, about something...” He nervously bites his lip and Stiles almost melts inside. How can a person be so unbearably hot yet so cute and adorable at the same time? How is that even humanly possible?

Stiles finally clears his throat. “Yeah, me too, actually. But you go first!” Because if Derek is planning to ask him to stop stalking him, the love confession will be... Awkward, to say the least.

Derek laughs a little and nods. “Okay... Right. Well. I just really like you. And I would really invite you for coffee.”

Stiles feels his jaw fall somewhere towards the ground. What? “What?”

Derek starts to look a little crestfallen, but pulls back his shoulders and says it again, louder. “I really like you and I would like to invite you for coffee sometimes. If you drink coffee. If not then for tea. Or something.”

Stiles blinks at him a few times, his brain still scrambling wildly to catch up to what his ears are actually hearing. “I like coffee.” He finally manages to get out. Derek smiles in relief and it’s like the sun has come up after a rainy day.

“Is five o’clock tomorrow good with you? We could meet at the Full Moon Café around the corner from the campus...”

“Oh, the one that serves the werewolf version of coffee? Sure.” Brain to mouth filter, Stiles! Now Derek looks really really startled. And not in the good way. “Right... Sorry, I know about the whole...” Stiles wildly gesticulates towards Derek “werewolf thing.”

“Oh... that’s a relief actually.” Derek blinks a few times. “So... see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah... See you.” Stiles waves after a hurriedly retreating Derek in a fake cool and collected manner, before getting down to the floor, curling into a ball and proceeding to quietly freak out over the whole thing. He’s going to a date with Derek effing Hale!

“So... did my plan work?”

“What plan?”

“My plan to woo you the werewolf way. I stared at you, I made you food, I sacrificed my favourite hoodie for you... Tell me it wasn’t for nothing! Please...”

“Stiles, your hoodie is still at the Lost and Found at the Information center.”

“Oh... Cool. So. Did it work.”

“You are far too lucky you are so cute.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“That wasn’t a no though.”

#aussiebee #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

[meliecho]

Hearts and Heroes: One Shot - Chpt. 1 - Weekend Warriors

Summary:  Setting up for a new mission, but something doesn't sit right with Mark...

----------------

The dream world. Recreation room of the Markihub...

 “Hah! Connect 4! I win. You loose. Time to pay the piper, old man,” Mark waggled his fingers in the direction of the pink-mustached gentleman frowning at him across the small game table. “And by 'piper,' I mean me, and by 'old man,' I mean you.”

Wilford Warfstache speared a metallic disk that resembled a poker chip with a dagger and pointed it at his competitor. “You win this round, Markiboy.”

“What do you mean ‘this round? You lost to me 5 times in a row,” Mark’s lack of intimidation shown through in a victorious smirk. “I am the King of Connect 4. You knew this when you challenged me.”

“It’s not very sporting of you to mock the loser, Mark. There could be…pointy repercussions.”

Mark adopted a perfectly mirrored mannerism with a red game token between two fingers. “And it’s not very sporting to back out of a bet in a gentleman’s game, Warfy. You’ve racked up quit a tab, my good man. Are you going to pony up, or do you…not have the brass?”

Wilford huffed air across his bushy mustache. “Your blatant misuse of a euphemism for the dangly bits of the vulnerable nether region only shows your lack of proper upbringing.”

He dropped the impression. “Oh yeah? Well, what would you say?”

Wilford leaned back, idly playing with the disk on the end of the blade. “I’d simply take it outside and battle it out in fisty-cuffs mano-a-mano and end with a shooty to the face.”

Mark blinked behind his slim black-framed wire glasses. “You call that better?”

“I call it effective.”

He shrugged. “Eh. Can’t argue there.”

“Much as I’d like to stay and chew the fat, I have business to attend to.” Wilford stretched his arms over his head, dagger and all, and stood. “This has been a bully of a time. ‘GG,’ as the kids say.”

“Hold it, Speedy McDodgerson,” Mark held out his hand. “The Dream Points. You owe me 500.”

Wilford wordlessly flicked the dagger with the disk speared through into the table in front of him, gently rattling the remaining game tokens.

Mark removed the disk and peered through the hole. “Hey, this is only 300!”

“Compensation for the dagger,” Wilford waved it off as he walked away.

“Compen—What kind of dagger costs 200 DrP?! Who's your supplier, anyway?!”

“It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mark. Come around again soon.” And with that, the weaponsmonger escaped back to his shop of damage-dealing goodies.

“Mother f—“ Mark ground his teeth. Wilford had this planned the whole time. “Grifted by a stab-happy madman in pink suspenders. Story of my life.”

Even though he was dreaming, and knew he was dreaming, Markiplier didn't have control over what anyone else did in this hub. This constant, safe haven in the dream world was one of who-knew-how-many in existence. It was home to those bearing a glowing pink heart on their left sleeve: the mark of the hero. Even if they arrived in a tank top, the heart remained, proving that it was imprinted on the soul of the person, and would shine through no matter what they wore.

This hub --ingeniously deemed 'The Markihub' --technically belonged to him, though he hadn't heard anyone else refer to it as that besides himself. But who cares! This was his hub, so he could call it whatever he damn well pleased. He could call it the 'Hub-booski' and no one could object. ...Actually, that one wasn't that bad. He'd put it in his mental 'save' file for later...just in case. He and the permanent residents had a little more power than the others who came and went, but other than that, everyone moved around with the same level of free will.

He turned the silver dagger over in the light, then shrugged and lazily swiped his middle finger—for emphasis on this particular situation—down the air at chest height in time to a half-second thought-command of 'menu.' As predicted, the commonly used and familiar, semi-transparent menu screen popped up. He tapped on the 'Items' option listed at the top –right above 'Go Home,' the teleporter back to the hub. As a Hero Class, he was the only one here with this option. It could be extracted and given to anyone, but not replicated. This was listed above 'Wake Up' (akin to Log Out), 'Current Mission' (basic mission briefing info), and 'Party' (self explanatory with sub categories like ‘add,’ ‘leave,’ and ‘member details’).

He added this new item to his inventory under ‘weapons.’ The dagger evaporated in his hand. At that exact moment, its icon and name appeared on the short list.

“'Fate Sealer.' Ballsy name. Hopefully damage-causing enough for the price.” It might come in handy later during a rescue mission. It was a crying shame this mechanic didn't exist in the waking world. That would make carrying things much easier. He'd hack into it and add in a 'Skip Rush Hour Bullshit' option.

The second bell sent its low tone through the recreation room. A few people hanging out with their teammates got up to attend to the second shift. He left with them to pick up a few more supplies before the third bell rang signaling the third shift – his shift.

He heard the 'fwoosh!' of the portal opening to someone's dream as he passed through the center of the hub on his way to Octodad's store. The midshift teams waited patiently to go through when their assigned mission came up. A few fidgeted from nervousness.

“Good luck guys!” He called out to them. “And remember: I'm handsome. And don't you forget it.”

Some of them chuckled. Others rolled their eyes. Either way, he got them to relax a little before setting off on a mission. Objective: cleared.

He used the newly obtained DrP to stock up on mostly Ultra balls—per usual—a couple of full hearts, chicken and dumplings (those long missions can get rough, man), some hot sauce in case anyone passed out, and a piece of toast. Just one. He hated using that item with a clear and absolute passion, but something nagged at him to walk away with at least one today.

Being the dream world, everyone here was instructed to pay closer attention to said 'naggy feels,' due to one not-so-simple but obvious reason: They weren't physically here. They were spirits, souls, consciousness. Whatever label people wanted to put to it, that was them. So stuff with the physical body didn't matter here –except eating. Whatever you ate upped energy or gave you boosts in battle with their enemy, the Terrorlings. When someone gets the urge to say 'I have a bad feeling about this,' it's a good idea not to ignore it, because it's coming from their subconscious that's being a douche and not letting their spirit in on the whole plan.

Mark added the goods to his inventory, bid the 8 armed bad-human-cosplaying octopus adieu, and left.

“Hey, Mark!” A high pitched voice called out from across the hall.

“Hey, Tim. What's up, little buddy?” He looked down at his feet as the small sentient brown wooden box bobbled over.

“Good, I caught you. It's about your mission.”

“What about it?”

“You're not going alone, are you?”

“No. I've got my team.”

Tim smiled. “So you decided to quit playing solo after all?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I don't play 'solo.' I join newbies and whatever team needs help, you know that.”

“But you never called any of them 'my team' before.”

“Eh, well, they were the ones to dive into my nightmare and pull my ass out of the fire. I owe 'em. Besides, they're good people. It's not so bad being on a team. Kinda takes me back to my roots.”

Although he had his original team that always aided him in the waking world, they, too, had obligations to their own hubs in the dream world. He loved it when they could get together for those rare group missions, though.

His new team here adopted him. He wasn’t an elitist outsider tagging along. He was one of them, subjected to the same rules as they were (almost—well, he is the only Hero Class after all), but shockingly enough, he wasn’t the team leader. He had to abide by the leader’s ultimate decision like everyone else. “Anyway, is there something you need help with?

Tim held up a piece of paper. “I checked the file just in case I'd need to prep for higher damage injuries. Nothing really dangerous popped out at me, but I noticed something weird. I pulled the hard copy to make sure. Look at the initiation date.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Hm? One year ago? This is a typo. The month and day are the same.”

“That's what I thought, too. I checked it with Google. He said he doesn't make typos.”

Mark pursed his lips. “Mmhmm. Sure. Right. Uh huh. Ok. Yeah. Ask him about Google Feud next time.”

“But—”

“Relax. It'll be fine.” It was then that the upward look of concern from Tiny Box Tim surpassed the surface of 'this could be a dangerous mission,' into more poignant territory with years of personal history behind it. Mark crouched down and patted him lightly on top of his head...er...body, and his voice took on a sincere, disarming tone. “I'll be fine. Don't worry, little buddy. This looks rough on the outside, but it’s gooey in the middle. My team and I can handle it. We've been through worse.”

Tim took the paper back when Mark handed it over and looked up as the other stood, towering over him. “Mmm…Ok. But I still have a bad feeling about this. You’re not completely back to normal yet. You went through something not a lot of people can come back from. It’s only been a few weeks, and PAX stretched you thin.”

“Hey, give me a little credit here. I’m a lot better off than I was.”

“That’s true,” Tim had to agree. “And I’m proud of you for that.” He knew Mark had an excellent support system in the waking world. He was recovering, and thankfully, those who knew him and even those who didn’t, flooded his notifications with positive messages.

The ‘Mark’ that returned to an empty hub the next night after he’d defeated Dark just sat on the stage staring at all the vacant seats once filled with the souls of those who believed in their missions, and in him. Tiny Box Tim, as his first Somni and closest to him, was the only resident of the hub to remain. He could sense Mark’s raw, eviscerated state. He was a mess. Because of the negativity flooding the hub, Mark wondered if anyone would even want to come back at all. Tim assured him that they would. They’d sat alone in silence until five people suddenly appeared at the back of the room. Both of them hadn’t expected anyone to show up for a while yet, but he could tell his friend was happy that it was the five who’d saved him. Mark saw them off on their mission, but didn’t leave on his own until a few days later when Blue extended the offer to join her team for the third time. He’d accepted. He had a duty to the hub, to the people who’d found their way back, and most importantly to himself to move forward. A little bit of ‘fuck you’ energy was all he needed to give him that essential push.

“Just do me a favor and be extra careful, ok, Mark?”

“You got it. We'll be in and out with time to spare. It'll be easy-peazy-lemon-squeeze-me.”

The tiny box boy didn't look any less placated by that answer.

A slim pillar of sky-blue luminescence swirled up from the floor in the main room lasting the length of a second. The figure of a teenage girl in a knee-length blue dress and knee socks materialized within its apex.

“Hey, Blue.” Mark cast Tiny Box Tim a reassuring nod before joining his teammate.

“Oh, hey, Mark.” She smiled. Seeing her other team member, and the leader of the hub they called a second home, warmed her heart every time. She still wasn't sure why he acquiesced to her being this particular team's leader—she was ready to give up the title after extending the offer to join her team--, but she respected and appreciated his faith in her. “Where's everyone else?”

“Not here yet. You are numero uno.”

“I hope they get here soon. I was afraid I'd be late. We all decided this would be the weekend we'd go full throttle and do as much as we can.”

“You're all sleeping in?” Mark folded his arms.

Blue nodded. “That's the plan. Also fixing our sleep schedules, too. Those last few missions really threw off Peach. She blew up the group chat at 3am last night binge watching an anime Jade suggested. Went through a whole box of Cinnamon Squares.”

“Yikes.”

The areas to their left and right lit up from three more identical shifting columns of light.

Red stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Tufts of black hair stuck out from beneath his favorite, worn, red cotton beanie.

Purple waved softly to everyone with a small smile and a light, “I'm not late. Yay!”

Peach danced lightly on her tip toes. “This is gonna be the best weekend ever! I cleared all my plans to make sure I could get to bed early each night.”

“What about that show you were watching?” Blue asked.

“I finished it this morning,” she sound proudly.

Red eyed her like she'd grown a second head. “This morning? As in...'before-the-butt-crack-of-dawn' this morning?”

She nodded, still smiling. “It was so good. The feels alone!”

Purple furrowed her brow in concern. “How many boxes of cereal did you eat in the past few days?”

“I don't know, but we're out, now.” She shrugged.

The group exchanged glances, and an unspoken agreement that their weather mage's sleep schedule needed to be fixed first.

The quick 'woosh' of a pillar of light formed just outside the group. Their last team member's form appeared. “You guys are already here?” Jade stepped into the nearest open space.

“We were just waiting on you,” Mark said casually.

“I watched the whole show,” Peach's smile never disappeared. “It's so good!”

Jade's face lit up. “I know, right?”

“Please tell me there's a season 2.”

“Hell yeah! Who's your favorite?”

“I like them all! But mostly the guy with the—“

“I know you're excited, but we have a mission to go on. We gotta focus,” Blue interrupted.

“Right, right,” Peach settled down, “Sorry.”

“Ok. Everybody take five to get what you need, then meet back here. Sound good?” Blue said.

Everyone nodded and scattered to refill their supplies. A few minutes later, they returned to the main room of the hub and gathered at the wide-open area in front of the portal's spawn point. Peach and Jade took their places last, having talked about their new favorite in-common show as much as they could before embarking.

The bell for the third shift echoed its low tone through the hall, alerting everyone in the hub. People appeared within columns of light, and some filtered in from the surrounding rooms.

“That's our cue,” Red cracked his neck. “Let's do this.”

The air crackled ahead of them. A dark vortex formed from a point no larger than a thumbnail and quickly blossomed out to form a dark blue, violet, and black event horizon wide enough to easily encompass two people standing shoulder to shoulder. Its center was thick and black as ink, swirling as if time itself gave way to the will of the universe.

The first time they saw this, everyone—including Mark—felt trepidation. They were both excited and afraid to step through into the unknown. This portal created a wormhole connection into one person's dream, like an Einstein-Rosen bridge in space, but within the ethereal and mailable dream world that seemed to punt physics out the window.

Sometimes the sight of this incredible phenomenon struck him with awe at what it could do, and what it allowed him and many others to accomplish: saving the spirits of those crying out for help.

The waking world knew nothing of this.

Mark turned his back on the portal to address the team. “Normally I'd say this is one where we can go in for the snipes and be back by lunch. It seems pretty cut and dry, but...” he glanced in the distance to the hall leading to the infirmary. Regardless of his own machismo, hearing Tim say 'I have a bad feeling about this' was rare, and didn't sit well in his gut –like that ghost pepper. What the hell was he thinking? “...just remember not to let your guard down, ok? It may look tame, but very often it's a rouse; A cleaver, dubious rouse. As dubious as rouses get.”

“I don't care what it 'do,' it 'be us' who take it down,” Jade thumbed toward themselves. “We're pros. We got this. Now let's go kick some Terrorling ass!” They jumped through the portal with a loud battle cry, 'Lerooy Jenkins!'

Peach followed with a light 'woohoo!' and leaped in.

Red simply face palmed at his companions and stepped through.

“Whoever you are, don't worry,” Purple set her jaw in determination, “We'll find you.” And with that resolve steeling her bravery, she leaped through after her friends.

Blue and Mark stepped up last. “You seem a little out of it, Mark. Everything all right?”

“What, me? Nah, it's good. It's all gravy. We can take whatever this nightmare throws at us. Let's start off the weekend with a bang!”

Blue grinned at the animated finger guns and quickly knelt down at a small hole off to the side in the wall. A few tiny mouse sounds emitted from it. She smiled. “Squeaks for luck,” then gave him a thumbs up and jumped through the portal. She trusted her friends—all of them. They'll save this person and be on to the next mission before they knew it.

Mark followed through. The portal closed, locking them into the connection to the other person's nightmare. It quickly reset for the next team.

Though he had confidence in his team, he still couldn't shake Tim's warning. Something about this mission might go tits up if they weren't prepared. Mark, as a veteran of rescuing people in the dream world, knew that all too well. This one, however...felt different.

And that worried him most of all.

------------

TBC

Prologue: A Light in the Darkness

Chapter 1: Weekend Warriors

Chapter 2: Something’s Suspishy

Chapter 3: Chasing the Sun

Chapter 4: The Nightmare’s Truth

Chapter 5: Light and Shadow

Chapter 6: Lifeline - part 1

Chapter 7: Lifeline - part 2

Chapter 8: Phantom Power

Chapter 9: Mark’s Past

Chapter 10: A Second Chance

Chapter 11: Learning to Breathe

Epilogue: Ad Infinitum

#Hearts and heroes #markiplier fan game #markiplier fanfiction #still going on this. It feels odd #but I keep reminding myself that these are characters and not real people. Still not breaking my rule. #Peach is an anime fan #I love all these cinnamon rolls #Warfstache is just that crafty #fanfiction #fanfic

[hadeheria]

fred homard -- 22, production assistant

it's raining through the window but I like it that way

you’d guess from his goofy exterior, his neverending smile and his energy that could rival any kid on a pack of sour patch kids that freddie had ever had a bad time in his life. he didn’t know the meaning of despair, nor had he ever faced a moment of difficulty from the day he was born. ‘fuckboi fred’ as he’s affectionately known seems blessed- beyond any sort of notion of having a bad thought in his head or any knock to his self-esteem.

such preconceptions would be wrong.

tw: child and spousal abuse, suicide & self-harm

frederick wilbur donald hayworth homard was born on a rainy summer’s day, where the tarmac sizzled with evaporating water which was warm when it hit your skin. hair frizzed within minutes of leaving the comfort of your home, and a slick of sweat would embrace any person’s skin no matter their tolerance to humidity. it was uncharacteristically hot for maine, and an uncharacteristically happy day in the life of fred’s mother.

wilbur homard and julia hayworth married in a dizzying whirlwind- julia was pregnant, with catholic parents, and wilbur’s well-to-do mother and father couldn’t bear the thought of those around him thinking he’d gone off the rails with someone deeply religious. they could feign the appearance of happiness (although they had been happy in the beginning, blissful and just two seventeen year olds in love), but a baby took its toll. neither were prepared nor mature enough to have a screaming infant keeping them up at all hours. wilbur’s family still maintained the expectation that he would go to an ivy league school, and the studying no doubt had a negative effect on their relationship. but they were stubborn, unable to want to give up on something their parents needed so badly to maintain their sanity and dedicated on making it work just as a middle finger.

the arguing started around wilbur’s second year into harvard, when fred was 3. one of his earliest memories was sitting on a hardwood floor behind a pair of curtains, trying to drown out the enraged screams of his parents while he played with a thomas train set. the first slap wasn’t until a year later; freddie remembered his mother’s tears as she tried to do his homework with a reddened cheek.

they maintained the perfect illusion of a married-young but completely in love family for most. but behind closed doors, the anger escalated. wilbur didn’t lay his hands on his son- not at first. but after a particularly drunken night, a rough day at med school, and a stressful day packing to see the family for christmas, fred’s overenthusiastic shrieks made the man snap. the bruise was only on his ribs; easy to hide. he only cried for an hour, thinking it was an accident as any 6 year old who loved his father might. his mother held him in shaking arms, a skinny young thing whose own bruises were forming from large welts. they were hopeless and only finding themselves more trapped.

the marks only appeared about once a week, and were always somewhere easy to hide. never on the face, his dad would announce. only somewhere they wouldn’t be found, could be covered up with clothes. julia would be peppered with abuse on the backs of her legs; she shied away from skirts, and only wore long sleeves as she began to cut her own arms. despite needing to protect her son she was drowning in her own depression, an isolated and dying shell wilting into the background of a painting. she prayed to god obsessively, kept her son home so she could ‘apologise’, took the abuse and refused to talk for days after.

fred was eleven when she finally took her own life, leaving a note that she was with god now. it was then that social services took him in, found the abrasions on his skin; gave him the opportunity to finally tell everyone about what his dad had done. he was sent to live with his paternal grandparents, whose tears shook their whole bodies when they learned of the atrocities of their only son. freddie was taken in, given the earth and more to try and quell whatever trauma had arisen from his horrific first years.

luckily, it worked for the most part. freddie grafted, fell in love with film and news, catching the bad guys and putting them on show for the world. he found some happiness, living in the joy his mother would have wanted for him. he was intelligent but not confident enough to truly let it show; instead playing the fool, the happy clown with comic relief. but he was a shoulder to cry on, and someone with true insight.

fred worked hard- interned non-stop for newspapers, media agencies, photographers, any minor company that was shooting anything to do with tv. he went to college for tv production and broadcast journalism. he gained an ego, some charisma, a loud voice. by some small miracle he graduated with a solid gpa, a good group of friends and the offer of a full time production internship on a well known morning show. he found happiness with it, cutting through the majority of his awful past (which he rarely told people of, though it wasn’t a secret). the nights of crying himself to sleep, of nightmares and cold sweats at 4am became fewer and fewer, so much so that if he tried hard enough fred could forget his life had existed before he lived with his grandparents.

fuckboi freddie is kinda how his name suggests. he’s complete trash, got a lot of personality, says what’s on his mind, can be a lil bit rude but loves having a laugh. he’s positive and full of joy, enthusiastic and just a general goofball. most would live under the impression that he’s a bit of a dumbass- not entirely true, but he doesn’t take a lot seriously, and as a result just doesn’t ‘do smart things’. he does a lot of pot, doesn’t give any fucks, constantly compliments himself, dances like a drunk dad at all spare moments, eats a lot of junk food and is religious about not working out or taking care of his lungs. but he’s a fearlessly hard worker, who’s full of big ideas and provides genuine ideas that are well developed and consisted of significant levels of thought. he sees things as they are, has a great deal or wisdom and insight, and isn’t afraid to speak his mind. if anyone has problems, it’s reasonable to talk to him and expect a comforting hug and some agony aunt-style words. but that life comes in flashes and scraps; just like the nights where he still wakes up screaming, or cries for hours over losing his mother. being happy is easier and healthier. it’s the bridge between life and death. and it’s the only way he survives. 

#reasonrp #ch: male #ch: fred homard

[toomanyskeletons]

magic in spectraverse - infodump

so iv e been meaning to make a post abt this for a while so why not now, when im not even sure how my words are right and if i can think of the right things to say

in spectraverse - well, kind of, there are several spectraverse timelines and none have particular names so i cant really specify which one, we’ll just call it 2 - there are several different kinda of magic, along with subtypes

There are three different casters a being - typically a human, it is unusual for any nonhuman to call themselves a caster - can be, ‘caster’ being the name for the way someone casts a spell. Its a shit name, i’ll pick a better one some other time. Anyway. So, you can cast spells. Some make their own spells, others use books or loose paper or they remember it or whatever. Think of it like baking. You can stick it all in together, and it will always make something. Whether that thing is edible, that varies. Casting is like that, you can put in four whatever the fucks and three bees and you might get a puff of smoke or you might blow up your house. You might have been trying to dye your hair magically. Anyway.

A witch is a caster who draw the power of their spells from the environment - heat, light, feelings. A caster can do basically any spell depending on whatever the fuck they are but often, they are spells that give back. So. If you draw power from say, the sun’s heat, it might be a spell to replenish some part of the environment. I really havent thought this through but i just want to talk soo Witches can cast any spell, but drawing power from the environment can be time consuming and troublesome, so their spells tend to be weaker and- i dont know how to say this properly. I have this nice image all ready but i dont know what its words are. I’d say witches spells tend to be longer lasting? Yeah. Like. You cant draw energy from the environment quickly, but a long term spell being very constantly, slowly replenshed is the sort of things witches excel at. Like, making a plant grow faster, or a love spell, or a happiness spell, or maybe something to increase income - i dont know. Witches arent particularly important at the moment in my story so i havent given them much thought.

At this stage i should probably point out that these are all considered gender neutral. U dont have to be a lady to be a witch, and u dont have to be a dude to be a wizard, and you dont have to be nonbinary to be a mage.

So next up is wizards, who use their own energy. This is the thing that is good for fast acting spells, or things that work in bursts. Setting fires, i cant think of anything else, teleportation, yeah i really have not thought much about this either. Wizards replenish their energy just as any human generally does, sleeping, eating, spending an absurdly long amount of time gambling away your money in Pokemon - okay maybe thats just me but you get the idea.

Wizards are more useful in battle than witches, though armor, cloaks, staffs, etc. Can all have a boost in power by a witch.

Mages are people either born with the natural ability for elemental manipulation, OR people who perform a combination of both witchery and wizardry. Maybe just the latter. I’ll have to think of a name for the former.

There are eight major elements, and beyond those are several subtypes/skills that can only be learnt with particular elements. I havent thought of many of these but i’ll work them out.

So- Water Air Earth Fire Lightning Steel/Metal (i wanted to call it metal but my pokemon loving ass kept calling it steel) Light Dark/ness

Everyone has an element 'assigned’ to them in their genetics, but most people dont have the natural ability to manipulate it. Instead, they may have a few personality traits associated with the element, they might excel in a field of study related to that element, they could just really like that element OR nothing in particular. Like. It affects them in no way whatsoever, which is probably the most common. Also people can kinda teach themselves manipulation but it is Hard.

When you’re a 'natural’ (pretty sure i stole that term from somewhere else but w/e) you will have had the ability to control the element from birth. Natural elemental manipulators tend to have good visualisation skills and decent motor skills, though sometimes they have neither of these things and it ends really fucking badly, because if you cant picture something right you cant control it, and if you cant point your hand where u need to point it, thats bad. Elemental manipulation is largely controlled with visualisation, picturing what you want to do in your mind, but it also has to do with how good you are at controlling your energy. Most people wont be able to say, evaporate all the water from a pool in an instant, actually thats a terrible example for reasons i have not yet explained, give me a moment- Most people wont be able to cause an earthquake the moment they start using magic consciously, and that is because they havent learnt how to control their energy. Some people MIGHT be able to do it, but its more of an “accidental spontaneous energy release’ thing than a 'five year old good at controlli their energy’ thing.

So then you have subtypes. I havent thought of many of these yet, actually im P sure i only have one but lets talk about it anyway.

Temperature manipulation is a subskill of the metal and water elements, largely linked to the control of emotions. Actually, any of the elements that have the states of matter which i am forgetting, will be able to learn this subtype. It means, you guessed it, you cn control temperature. So a water user would then get a sort of sub element of ice, and they can also boil water. Metal users would be able to melt and solidify the metal. It takes time to learn, and oh shit mind blank. Uh.oh right. Speed. So like you might be able to boil water with the ability but u wont be able to do it really fast unless youve practised a lot. Poor emotional regulation + temperature manipulatio can mean Bad because it would lead to the accidental alteration of environemtnt. That was too fancy. Basically u might get road rage and then ur whole fucken car would melt.

Uh also healing? Pretty self explanatory, i havent though abt it much yet, much like everything else in this post.

Humans can also learn magic through objects. Some help to channel energy, some boost it, you can get orbs to give you an extra element, etc.

So then NONHUMANS are so much luckier because magic is like. Their first language. Most nonhumans, or even half humans with ANY nonhuman in them, will find it MUCH easier to learn a second element. Nonhumans have a body built for magic, so like their body can channel energy into multiple elements simulaneously, which is a thing humans find difficult, as they are not particularly made for magic. They still do it though. Nonhumans tend to be manipulators rather than casters, and like i said before, if they are they dont typically use the term caster.

Also, here are some things i forgot to mention/magic which i couldnt work out where to fit in:

- TELEKINESIS: good ole telekinesis. magical story woukdnt be complete without it. Pretty easy for most magical (nonhuman) beings to learn, at a basic level (closing doors, picking up the tv remote bc youre too lazy). You can go further into it and learn how to fuckin slam a dude against a wall like in supernatural. Harder for humans to learn (look i know humans get all this shit but theyre the majority).

-SUMMONING: SUMMON SATAN OR SOME SHIT. first of all, if you summon satan, you will get one of five people who will all tell you that satan is the incorrect term.also, summoning satan isnt particularly powerful summoning magic, it doesnt rely on the user’ s power much, but you gotta give a little blood. Anyway. Summoning is usually assisted by tokens of some sort that depict what you are summonging. Sometimes. To be a summoner u have to make friendship with thingd that CAN be summoned, like angels demons nine tailed fox etc. if it cant talk and make friends then u can generally find their tokens in shops, particualrly when there are a lot of the species existing and they dont exist lhysically outside of the void or something. But sentient beings like demons u goota find, befirend, and then they giv e you their token like some sorta business card. They also can turn down a summon, because they are sentient and if youre sentient it is possible you may be busy.

-TIME POWERS: HAVENT thogubt about this at all but worth a mention. Involves freezing time, travelling time and I FORGOT ABOUT DIMENSIONAL TRAVEL

-dimensional travel: you can travel dimensions, kinda. Ther e is one character who can do this currrently, she uses an unnamed object to help her draw her own power and she can juml timelines and travel different world s without the use of gates, which are often used otherwise.

Anyway thats all i can think of but i am definitely forgetting something

Questions? Comments? Have i made a spelling error? (If thats the case suck it ul u pansy) (there are five hundrrdd spelings here fcukc you) suggestions for another infodump? Want me to stop infodumping? Want to send me hate? I have an ask box and an anonymous button, they are there so you can use them

#also u can tell me improvemtnts if you want but i will b going to bed soon #lmao this was fun to write i hope someone likes it #my writing tag #my writing #i'll add some more tags to this if i remember #ask to tag #hply shit this was way longer than i intended #lmao #gnite #ok to rb #long post