#do you think mark blames himself for not being able to stop the trickster the first time?

[enderspawn]

GOD I’m. Thinking abt Mark. He never hated Ashe, he loved Ashe to the point of suffocation. He wanted to keep him safe and alive so he locked him away. Even if he was miserable, he was here. After losing his wife, he couldn’t take another death and projected all that fear onto Ashe. It didn’t matter if he was a shit dad, he was keeping Ashe alive and safe and clothed and fed and everything else was the cost to pay to achieve it.

But god, after Ashe’s mom died, he didn’t blame Ashe— he blamed the book. He hated the book, hated what it could do. It would’ve been so easy to hate Ashe for it too, but he didn’t. Despite all that, he trusted Ashe to still be able to control it. He let Ashe help the PD initially with the spirit world bc he trusted Ashe to keep himself safe too, he told him that! It was after Ashe got shot that he realized it didn’t matter what Ashe did, he wasn’t going to safe at all bc of the situation they’re in and tried he to make Ashe stop and leave, but Ashe told him he wanted to be a hero.

Do you think anyone ever told him what happened to his son? That he was a hero? Or did he go to prison forever unsure. Do you think him trusting Ashe that first time and letting Ashe help haunts him?

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of The Wolf Part 9 (Derek Hale x Reader)

Catch up here! |

A/N: Sorry for the cold open... I swear it snuck up on me too! Hello Mexico, I see you. Is there gang going back? You betcha. And excuse the very SUDDEN appearance of a character I never even bothered to foreshadow because... let’s be real, did anyone like them as a villain? I didn’t.

Note: Reader’s last name is Markolf. *** means change in POV/time.

Words: 2026 (this is a shorter chapter)

Warnings: Violence, swearing and A COLD OPEN!

[Song: It's You by Rique | High by Zella Day]

(gif not mine)

Liam was tied down to a chair using wolfs-bane laced ropes in an abandoned warehouse. The sting of the ropes digging into his skin was painful but bearable. It was the rancid smell of death that bothered him. How many of his kind had been killed here? All he could do was hope he wouldn't be next. In front of him were two of Monroe's men armed with guns, they were his prison guards.

After a few minutes, Monroe emerged from behind a plastic sheet acting as a divider. She sauntered over in combat boots and a green camo ensemble.

"The Beta," she spoke at him rather than to him, dragging a metal chair from nearby. She made sure to generate as much noise as she possibly could from the cold steel of the chair and the bare concrete of the floor. It was torture to his wolf hearing. "What's your name again? Leon?"

"Liam," he spit back.

"Ah, Liam," she pulled out a knife from her boot holster. "Tell me, Liam. Where is your alpha? Where is Scott McCall? I know he's here with you. My men spotted him just before they took you."

Liam kept his eyes focused on the scrape marks left on the floor by the chairs legs.

"Silent type?" she said in annoyance. With quicker reflexes than he would have given her credit, Monroe grabbed his collar and forced him to meet her eyes. They were wired and fully unhinged, "You are lucky my men didn't kill you right there and then! The only reason you're alive is because you know where Scott is. Tell us and we let you go." She tried to normalise her octaves to resonate calm, but her heartbeat gave her away. She was lying.

"Screw you!" Liam said venomously. Making sure to give her a shit-eating grin to boot.

Monroe struck him and he coughed. She walked around him to whisper in his ear, "Your kind thinks they're so special. Don't be so inclined to underestimate me." She warned. Liam felt her arm ghost his shoulders.

"Trust me, I would never be so foolish as to underestimate you." Liam chuckled lowly.

"Should we kill him?" One of her drones asked.

She cocked her head to the side as though his words were utter gibberish. Then sighing with exhaustion she turned and said, "No, you idiot. We need him. Go check on his restraints, make sure they're tight." Monroe walked away and disappeared behind the plastic curtain.

After the guards checked his bonds, they left the room and went out for a smoke by the scent that clung to their clothes.

Liam generated some noise by shuffling his chair to see if anyone would come after him. Dead silence. Then, with surprising ease, he used his claws to snap the binds around his wrists and feet and made a run for it. Though, he wasn't very stealthy.

***

"Should we go after him?" someone asked Monroe. She rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone screen. A small red dot was moving, with great speed, away from the abandoned factory. She had placed a tracker on the young Beta.

"Not yet. He'll lead us to Scot McCall and the rest of his pack. Only then do we kill him." The rest of her men began gearing up. "Leave a few men to make sure our guest in the basement stays put," she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"The rest of you, with me."

***

The strobe lights within the makeshift rave inside an abandoned building complex were pulsating in vivid colours. The gyroscope swivelled round in epileptic fits, the intensity of the multi-coloured lights felt like they could burn through your retinas. The room was warm and sticky, the thick scent of sweat, perfumes and smoke bombarded your senses. Alcohol sloshed about from plastic cups leaving wet splotches on the floor. The DJ kept teasing a good bass drop only to disappoint each time, not that the rest of the club-goers cared. They came here to lose themselves. To forget. Metamorphosize into a separate entity from who they were during the day. An indulgent escape.

A part of you envied them. You envied the simplicity of getting buzzed on cheap booze and dancing to terrible music as a way to escape your problems. But you weren't in college anymore. And quite frankly, your problems weren't so easily escapable. Your nerves were on edge. Being in unfamiliar territory surrounded by oblivious civilians about to execute what could single-handedly be the dumbest plan you ever heard of wasn't exactly a confidence booster. But it's not like you weren't to blame for your participation. After all, you did volunteer to be the bait!

You glanced behind you as you made your way to the centre of the dancing crowd, Derek kept his eyes trained on you from the floor above. Scott was probably on the same level as you -obscured by the masses no doubt. You found a spot between two intoxicated women and began to sway your hips to the beat.

***

Derek watched you try your hardest to move to the beat, but he could tell you weren't in your element. No one should be sober in a night club. Watching you brought a cheeky smile to his face, he almost had the urge to laugh a little.

His phone chimed in his pocket. On the dance floor a few feet from you, he noticed Scott get the same message.

Peter's text message read: "We're in position." A few seconds later Liam sent a message of his own: "They took the bait. They're heading your way!"

Derek looked down at Scott and spoke just loud enough for his wolf hearing to pick up, "Guess it’s show time."

Scott nodded in acknowledgement and made his way to the door that led to the stairs leading up to the roof.

"We're all gonna die," Derek sighed to himself, bunching up his fists in anticipation for a fight.

-72 HOURS EARLIER-

Peter made his way to the Bunker expecting it to be vacant only to be greeted by a sleep-deprived Stiles and a ruffled Scott.

"Ah, if it isn’t Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum," Peter said with a smug smile, crossing his legs at the ankle as he leaned against the table where Stiles had stacked various books, files and his laptop. "How did you guys get here so quickly? I just left Derek at the animal clinic half an hour ago."

Stiles took a sip from his FBI branded travel mug, "Well, unlike some people, we don't spend hours grooming our hair before a meet."

Peter was about to quip back but Scott stepped in, "Why'd you call us anyway?"

"Derek found something. He seems to think your former boss may be able to shed some light on our new hunter problem," he said. "As if we didn't already have hunter problems," Peter whispered exasperatedly to himself -no doubt in reference to Tamora Monroe.

"I haven't spoken to Deaton in months. The last person to see him was probably Y/N," Scott revealed. Peter was surprised by this. "I'll give him a call."

Scott pulled out his phone and dialled. The number went to voicemail after a few rings. There was an air of uncertainty in the room. Stiles waved his hands about in an urging manner for Scott to try again. He did. Still, no answer.

"Oh," Stiles snapped his fingers to keep his train of thought from getting away from him, "What about our former guidance counsellor? She's his… sister right? Try her!"

"Bold of you to assume I have the number of everyone in Beacon Hills," Scott muttered.

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, "Must I think of everything myself?" He stood up and after tapping away at his phone, he dialled a number.

"That's my line," Peter scowled under his breath.

After a few minutes of conversation and arguing on Stiles end he finally ended his call and triumphantly threw his hand up in the air. "Yes!" He cheered, "Who is a badass FBI agent?" No one answered his rhetorical question, he simply shrugged the silence off and continued tooting his own horn, "This guy!"

Peter rotated his hand, "Get to the point Tweedle-Dum."

"I called Eichen House and after having to strong arm a very rude receptionist… I convinced them to give me the last number on file. Apparently, she doesn't work there anymore."

"Did you really think she'd still be working there? After everything that happened?" Scott asked.

"No, but we got the number didn't we?" Stiles dialled the new number and after a few rings a familiar voice picked up.

"Hello?" Marin Morrell spoke, unsure of who was on the other line.

"Ugh, Ms Morrell?" Silence, "It's me, Stiles. Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski the kid who had an evil Japanese trickster god living inside him."

"I know who you are Stiles," she said flatly, "How'd you get my number?"

"Unimportant. We're trying to get in contact with Deaton, he isn't picking up his phone. Know where he is?"

"I don't know. Last I heard he was called to help a werewolf out in Mexico." Marin paused, "If you hear from him… tell him to call me."

"Will do. Thanks." Stiles cut the call. "Apparently he's out in Mexico somewhere."

Peter's head snapped up, "Mexico?"

"Yes. Meh-Hi-Coh! Are you deaf?"

"What is it?" Scott asked Peter.

"Monroe is in Mexico."

They all glanced at each other before simultaneously saying, "Shit!"  

After a beat, Scott dialled Derek's number. When he picked up he simply said, "We have a problem." And with that all three fully exhausted men waited silently in the bunker for you, Derek and Liam to arrive.

***

"And you're sure it's not just a coincidence?" Derek asked.

"What, that Monroe just happens to be in the very city where Deaton was supposed to be before he… stopped answering his phone?" Stiles pointed out.

It was then that you recognised the name 'Monroe'. You'd heard it before. Whispered among certain circles, a hunter with quite the track record of growing acolytes and werewolf deaths. Things just went from complicated to bat shit crazy! You sighed and felt the inklings of a headache forming.

"And how do you know Monroe's in Mexico?" Derek interrogated Peter.

Feeling cornered, Peter folded his arms around his chest and put up an invisible barrier. "Am I the only person that has the head smarts to keep tabs on the people who try to kill us?"

"Stop deflecting," Derek warned -a sharp edge in his tone.

"But that wasn't deflecting, I'm serious. I'm keeping tabs. Through a proxy, of course."

"Who?" Liam asked.

Peter wiggled his index finger about, "Uh-uh, can't have me revealing all my secrets."

"Okay, baring all this for a moment," Stiles jumped in, "How are we gonna rescue Deaton from a group of hunters while we ourselves are being hunted by another group of hunters."

A terrible idea was beginning to form in your mind. "Hey, I know that look. That's the 'I have an idea look'!" Stiles pointed at you dawning everyone’s attention to you. You sighed. Damn your expressive eyebrows and squinting tendencies!

"An idea, yes. A good one, no." All the boys simply looked on waiting for you to elaborate. Somehow, having Derek stare at you while you stirred up the courage to get the words out made you feel like a teenager around her high-school crush; shrinking beneath his powerful gaze, the threat of stammering, a noticeable flush in your cheeks. You balled your fists and willed yourself to get a grip. No man, no matter how damned gorgeous and brooding, would ever make you regress to the shy girl you used to be.

"Well, first things first, we'll need an easily defensible position. Preferably a place with multiple exits. And secondly, we'll need two people to be the bait… We're gonna use fire to fight fire."

Peter's face lit up with what could only be defined as malicious intent, "I like her!" he applauded.

Chapter 10! (also let me know if you would prefer to get what the plan was from context clues or if I should write the planning bit -I’m torn.)

MASTERPOST | Mobile

As Always: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think so far! Don’t be afraid to ask to be added to the tag list. Listen... did I shoehorn a villain because I forgot they were still a threat to the pack? Yes, yes I did. But I never enjoyed Monroe’s storyline so... can’t be helped. Also, I’m basically shoehorning a conclusion to this storyline so as to introduce a character I’ve wanted to add to this series but couldn’t find the right... Storyline. I promise Lydia will soon make an appearance.

Broken tags crossed out.

Tags: @melissavercos @divisingstories @theflash-trash @mynamesalreadytaken @island-end @chipster-21 @helloscorpious  @marvelismyfantasy @anonymousfanfic @homra-the-red-clan @derangedangel @phonegalhelp @bowtiesandwhiskers @soldierwinterthe @alina-barnes @sumlariss @luckythepizzadog4444 @tlytxia @drunklili

Permanent tags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @electroma89

[speedybasementcollection]

Running with the trickster part 20

 You woke up the next morning, well rested and cuddled in Loki's arms. You twisted around so your hand fell onto his chest and your head rested on his shoulder.  

    "Did you sleep well?" He asked, bringing you in closer to his body. You were content and you did not want to get out of bed.  

    "Yes, I did, what about you?" You had a few restless areas over the course of the night, but for the most part, it had been pretty peaceful.  

    "Same, I enjoy sleeping next to you" Loki whispered, kissing your forehead. You could hear Bucky and Thor begin to get up and get ready, you wouldn't be able to stay in bed much longer. You looked up at Loki who had a mischievous smile on his face. He kissed you before you could ask what he was up to, moving his body on top of yours. As his lips left your mouth to trail kisses down your neck, his hand came up and clamped over your mouth. You realized why when he bit your neck and you tried to moan.  

    His hands traveled down your body, eagerly tracing over your hips, belly and then down to your pussy. As his hands reached where you wanted them, you arched your back and he tried to stifle a groan as he realized you were already wet. He let a finger slid in, then two; you wanted so badly to moan out his name but his hand stopped you.  

    He removed his fingers, making a show of licking them clean before he slowly pushed into you. He paused for a moment, you could tell he was trying not to make a sound, and it was proving difficult for him. He moved slowly, his mouth coming down to pepper kisses on your shoulder as his hand stayed in place, stopping you from making any sounds. He moved slow, not wanting the bed to make any noise as well.  

    Thor and Bucky were not conversing downstairs. You could easily hear their conversation as they were eating breakfast, discussing the mission and what they were likely going to find. You on the other hand, couldn't focus on that as Loki's length pushed in and out of you. Your hands gripped Loki's back tightly, sure to leave scratch marks when you were finished.  

    You were close, and he could tell. He picked up the pace slightly, making sure nothing made too much noise. You arched your back once more as you came undone, sending him over the edge as well. When you came down from your high, he stilled, catching his breath before rolling off of you. He grinned and turned his head to look at you.  

    "I love you", you smiled, there was no doubt in your mind that he did love you. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek.  

    "I love you too".  

***

    "So, is everyone clear on the plan?" You asked, pulling your hair up into a tight ponytail. Your armor was done, just as everyone else, and you gathered them in a circle.  

    "We will land inside of the base, hopefully where no one can see us, so we need to be quiet" Loki warned them. You all nodded your head and you took Loki's hand on yours, ready to go. You grabbed Bucky's hand with your free one and Thor grabbed Loki's shoulder. Loki took a deep breath before you felt a pulling sensation.  

    When you opened your eyes, you were in a small, cramped room, pressed against Bucky. It was supposed to have been a bigger room that you landed in, but at least you had gotten in undetected. Loki looked around to see your body pressed against Bucky's and he growled.  

    "Relax, this isn't on purpose, Loki" Bucky growled back. You laughed and searched behind you, finding a door knob. Slowly, you opened it and managed to lean back and peak into the next room. It was bigger but still, no one was there.  

    You shoved the door opened fell out, Bucky landing next to you on the ground. You were thankful he did not land on top of you, that would have hurt and Loki would not have been happy.  

    "Well, so far so good" you whispered as Loki helped you off the ground. You dusted yourself off and looked around, you seemed to have landed in an office of some sort.  

    "Hey (Y/N), isn't this you?" Bucky asked, holding up a picture. You walked up to him and took the picture. It was the same one that had been up in your apartment.  

    "Is this John's office?" Thor asked and you looked around, taking a closer look at all the material possessions. It stood out to you now and you cursed.  

    "Yes, it seems so" you answered, putting the picture back where Bucky had found it. "We should leave before he comes back, remember our first priority is rescuing the prisoners" you reminded everyone but mostly Loki. He looked like he wanted to stay and wait for John to return.  

    "Yes, you're right darling. We should go" Loki sighed, he didn’t want to make you angry but his desire to kill your husband for what he had done was sure to take over soon. You gripped Loki's hand, trying to ground him. "Do you think you can get us there Bucky?" Loki asked, trying to distract himself.  

    "I think so" Bucky replied, taking the lead. You followed Loki and Thor stayed behind you. You were trying to remain quiet, at least until you could get the prisoners out, then all hell could break loose, but not before. The base seemed quiet and dreary, there was no sunshine and no colors other than dark grey.  

    Just the sight of this place was driving you mad. When you had been at the cabin, with Loki, you could forget all about this. All about what your husband had done to you, and what he had done to other innocent people. Now, however, all that was being brought you light and you felt yourself wanting to be sick. You tried to keep it down, you would have time to do that later, now you needed to concentrate.  

    You felt Loki squeeze your hand, just as you had done for him earlier, he was grounding you back in reality and you appreciated it. You came to a halt as Bucky looked down into what seemed like a dark hole.  

    "Prisoners are usually kept in the basement, should be right down here" Bucky looked nervous, you didn't blame him for not wanting to go down there. Especially if it looked like where he would have been held.  

    "Stay up here and keep guard, call out if something happens" you told him. You could see the look of relief in his eyes, but you didn't bring it up. He nodded his head and moved aside so you, Loki and Thor could go down.  

    It was hard to see, everything was so dark. You took the steps carefully, not wanting to fall down a long flight of stairs. You could feel Loki grab onto your hand, probably sensing your hesitation in the dark. A small light was visible at the end and you walked towards it. Once off the steps, you could see clearer. Large cages lined the walls, but the ones you could see into were empty.  

    You walked down the hall, checking all the cages as you went. Some still had dried blood on them, but you didn't want to think about that. You were looking for survivors, but there didn't seem to be any. You got to the last few cages; you were met with two pairs of eyes staring at you. You smiled, putting your hand to the glass.  

    "We're here to save you".  

[flatsuke]

for you, the world

Title: for you, the world

Summary: Sometimes, he wished someone out there could grant the wishes of a god. Time Loop AU

Genre:  Angst, Romance

Pairing:  MC/Leon

Rating: T

a/n: Happy Belated Birthday @maidofstars!! I’m sorry this came really late, but I wanted this to be good lmao! This fic was heavily inspired by Madoka Magica’s 3rd Movie! I thought it would be fitting for Leon :’) 

Also a big thank you to @kiserusmoke for getting my ass into overdrive  also @angel34jolly-blog, i finally made a Leon fic :D

?.

The wishes always came to Leon in endless streams.

As a Wishes minister, he’d heard them all before. The annoying lottery wishes, the please-let-me-get-an-A wishes, the heal-my-dog wishes—he’d heard everything, and frankly, he was tired of doing so.

None of those could hold a candle to the sheer amount of love wishes that landed on his desk, however.

Humans never seemed to stop wishing about love, and that annoyed Leon to no end. There was always someone out there who wanted love to be shaped according to their terms, without any consideration for anything else. Leon thought there was nothing more disgustingly human than that.

It came to a point where he had to put his foot down and ban granting love-related wishes in the department. He was sure the other gods had their misgivings with this development, but no matter. His word was the next best thing to the law in the heavens.

“Leo, don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty with this decision?” Karno asked him. Typical of the Cancer god, Leon thought. Always the only one brave enough to question me.

“Of course not. There’s no merit in granting wishes that aren’t worth anything.”

It was true. Leon couldn’t think of any goldfish wishes that didn’t have some hint of human greed or selfishness in them. The mere thought of granting any of them left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Except, maybe, for one wish.

There was one goldfish whose wish didn’t disgust him immediately. The human—a little girl—always looked at the stars with her hands clasped and asked for the same thing—

“I wish something wonderful would happen.”

It was vague, childish even. But it held the hopes and dreams of a little goldfish with stars in her eyes.

Maybe just once, he’d grant this wish.

i.

That trickster of a king must’ve had a twisted sense of humor if he thought sending Leon on Earth to erase his mark of sin was funny.

But sending him on earth knowing full well that he’d fall for the ex-goddess? The king was an absolute bastard.

The goldfish, in her enthusiasm, had invited to him to attend the Star Festival with her. He willingly chose to indulge her—after all, this was the last thing he could do for her before he’d face the wrath of the heavens. He had to leave her with something, and all he was allowed to give was a memory worth keeping.

Unfortunately, their evening was ruined when Minister Ponytail decided to make himself known.

“Lay a hand on her and you’ll regret it.” Leon was smirking, but his words had no mirth in them whatsoever.

“…Because you don’t want any harm to come to her?”

For the first time in the long time they’ve known each other, though he’d never admit it, Leon agreed.

Leon knew, deep down, that Zyglavis did nothing out of malice. He only acted out of a sense of misplaced duty and honor, not to mention the fact that he was incapable of seeing things beyond black and white logic.

That, Leon thought, was his greatest mistake. He would never beat Leon as long as he lived by that outdated mentality.

Leon was already preparing to block Zyglavis’ attack, but he underestimated how foolish she was.

(And how selfless she was.)

Humans were not supposed to have holes in their chests, but here she was, charred skin surrounding the gaping wound right on her heart. She slumped onto the ground, and he was reminded of the little fish they won earlier, now flapping helplessly beside her.

“Why did she…?” Not even Zyglavis could’ve predicted that she’d try to shield Leon from the attack.

But none of that mattered right now.

Leon felt his suppressed power well up in him in waves, and despite all the chaos around him, he could only see red. How dare this insolent god hurt her, how dare this filthy world reject her—

How dare you for not protecting her, Leon.

“Leon! Don’t do this, there are humans here!” Zyglavis’ screams were already white noise to him.

He remembered a wish long ago that he promised himself he’d grant.

If there was anything Leon was completely sure of, it’s that he would do anything to make sure it would come true.

Even if I have to do it over and over.

ii.

This time, he was able to save her before Zyglavis’ attack reached her. Only, in her attempt to keep him from going berserk at Zyglavis, her body absorbed all the impact from his unleashed power.

This time, it was his fault.

But despite all that, she forgave him. Even when he was being dragged off to the heavens to stand trial, she didn’t blame him for causing her pain. Hell, she even begged him to take her with him.

(How could he compete against that?)

In the end, both of them stood before everyone in the Punishments court. She was beside him, obviously unnerved by the scrutinizing looks of all the gods. Still, she met all their gazes head-on with the hidden strength he came to love.

That’s my goddess.

He was, as the humans would say, in deep shit. But seeing her stand her ground against the likes of the ponytailed stick-up-the ass gave him a reason to smile through all this.

“The time of judgement has arrived,” Zyglavis’ stern voice rang across the hall. “You were exiled to Earth for committing the sin of defiling a goddess. However, instead of spending your time on Earth atoning for your sin, you broke a law of the heavens.”

She trembled beside Leon, holding his hand tighter—tighter than she did the first night they met.

“Do you admit to this sin, Leon, wild lion of the heavens?”

He smirked. Of course, he knew exactly what he did better than anyone. The old adage of the heavens, “a god must not love a human more than any other,” rang in his head, but he didn’t bother entertaining the thought further. In fact, he’d abandoned that thought long before he arrived in court.

You’re the only person here that matters.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Zyglavis,” Leon said, giving the other god his best sneer. “I never denied that I broke the law.”

“Tread carefully, lion—”

“But the fact remains that she helped me erase my sin. So make of that what you will.”

The furrow in Zyglavis’ brow only grew more pronounced. “Of all the gods here, your power is paramount to the balance heavens.”

Again with his “balance” foolishness—

“That’s no concern of mine," Leon said.

“Watch your mouth,” Zyglavis scolded, his voice reverberating. “Despite everything, you are still the head of the Department of Wishes—for the time being. I will have you decide now. God or human—which do you choose?”

Leon knew this was a trick question. Should he choose to be human, he would lose his powers, thereby rendering her unable to return to Earth. If he chose to remain a god, he would have to do the unthinkable.

“…Are you asking me to kill her?” His voice took a deadly edge.

“If you don’t, then the only path left for you is extinguishment.”

She panicked visibly at that, and Leon could already read her thoughts—all of which asked him to kill her and save his own life.

Like I would ever let that happen.

She’d told him before that she never wanted to be separated from him, even at the cost of her life. As a wish-granting god, Leon could only do what he did best.

The space around him shifted. The light around him grew to a blinding gold, and he knew the end was near. Yet, none of that mattered to him.

To hell with the King, the gods, and the heavens. If he was a sinner, then so be it. Let the world condemn him, so long as she could have another chance at happiness.

And I would do it again, just to see you smile.

iii.

He was back at the planetarium again, just like the first night they met.

True to her nature, she leapt off the planetarium’s balcony to save a little boy from falling. The force of the boy’s fall was too strong, and just like before, she was pulled over the side of the roof, falling to what could have been her untimely death.

But unlike before, he wasn’t the god who saved her this time.

Leon distinctly heard her heart call out for Huedhaut.

True enough, Hue responded at a moment’s notice, and Leon had never seen the god of Aquarius look so desperate before.

Not since he’d lost that person all those years ago.

Hue held her carefully, guiding her gently back to the planetarium. She, in turn, clung onto him as tightly as she could.

At the back of his mind, Leon always knew that she and Hue had a connection of some sort. He wasn’t a fool not to know that Hue’s missing stars and the reincarnated goddess’ existence were related. In fact, Leon never missed the way Hue looked at her longingly, as if she would disappear from his sight if he didn’t watch her.

Still, seeing them together still sent a stab of pain in Leon all the same.

He supposed this world wasn’t the one meant for him. If he was right, then she was meant to be with Hue in this world. It wasn’t Leon’s place to interfere. He would stay in the sidelines and support them. All that mattered was that she ended up happy.

However, Fate loved to play tricks on the good, and she was the greatest of the good.

Huedhaut returned to the heavens after his mark of sin faded, but her heart didn’t sit well with his absence. Day after day, the rain never stopped its barrage on Earth—a clear reflection of her feelings.

Feelings Leon knew all too well.

Zyglavis, ever the dutiful square, gave her the option of letting Huedhaut die to save Earth, or to let herself die to save both him and Earth.

And, just like always, she gave herself up so easily.

(He wondered if this unending agony was what Hue had to live with for eons.)

iv.

Leon remembered an interesting question Vega posed one day.

“If the gods grant the humans’ wishes, then who grants the gods’ wishes?”

For the life of him, he didn’t know. Supposedly, gods were existences of the highest order; they were at the pinnacle of the everything, able to manipulate the laws of creation at will.

Yet the only wish he’s ever had, the only person that made his world have any semblance of meaning in it—

“I’m sorry, Leo,” Karno had his eyes closed in sorrow. “She was trying to save a boy from a moving car, but…”

He didn’t need to hear Karno continue. He’d already seen her body sprawled on the crosswalk, blood and viscera splattered everywhere.

Humans prayed to the gods to grant their wishes, but Leon had no one to pray to.

v.

Gods didn’t fail.

They were perfect beings that naturally excelled at everything. That was how everything was and always will be.

But after holding her limp body against his chest for the nth time, Leon didn’t think so anymore.

vi.

If this world was the King’s doing, Fate’s doing, or some sick being’s doing, then they were truly despicable in the worst ways.

Leon looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find a single trace of her in this world. He went to the planetarium and asked her friend Hiyori about her, but she only told him that no one of that name ever worked there. Her ever-cozy apartment was vacant, with no sign of anyone ever living in it. Hell, he even checked her family registry only to find out her parents never had any children.

It was utter blasphemy for her not to exist. No one among the gods could fathom his grief, not Karno, not Zyglavis, not even Hue. To them, Leon holing himself up in his private flower field was just another show of his apathy toward everything and not a means of escape from his dreadful reality.

So be it.

He would leave this world and let it rot like the trash it was. A world without her in it wasn’t one worth living in.

vii.

Leon already stopped counting when he reached the thousands. Snapping his fingers was growing tiring at every failure he’s lived through, and the gods have noticed his growing disdain for the universe.

The King had told him once before that gods loved all beings equally.

However, all Leon could think of was how fast this world could end.

viii.

Supposedly, as a god, Leon had all the time in the world. In theory, it made sense. Gods were immortal by nature, and the long stretch of time was nothing to the lifespan of a god.

But if Leon was being honest, his greatest enemy wasn’t the Department of Punishments or even the King.

It was time.

There was never enough time to prepare himself for her inevitable death. There was never enough time for him to save her.

(How he wished to grab time by its throat and crush it with his hands, so that it would know at least a fraction of his pain.)

ix.

Maybe, Leon thought, he should just ask her to wish for his unconditional success.

(He stopped for a while and asked himself if it was possible for gods to go insane.)

x.

Why?

Why are you still so selfless even after everything?

xi.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

xii.

He still had one last option, one last trump card he’s kept to himself all this time. If he used it, he’d be breaking not only the laws of the heavens, but that of the universe as well—of reality itself.

But that didn’t matter to him. It never did.

He’d told her this before, and he’d say it forever:

If loving you is a sin, then let me be a sinner.

xiii.

None of the other gods could hold Leon down in his divine form. The King himself tried to step down and intervene, but Leon was stronger. No one in the world could ever hope to understand his grief.

It was for her alone.

He would become an existence far beyond the god of Leo; he would be her direct antithesis—selfishness itself.  The universe would be rewritten according to his terms, and his terms alone. She would never again be hurt by anything or anyone.

He would specifically make it a universal law to never have her be hurt.

“Please, think about what you’re doing!” Karno yelled at him. “You can’t just destroy everything like that!”

Leon only held her in his arms tighter, the light around them becoming blinding.

Even the scorpion couldn’t hide his panic. “You’re messing with shit beyond our realm!”

“Leon, this isn’t what I—” she tried to plead with him, but he only smiled at her.

Now I can finally—

“Leon! Stop!”

—grant your wish.

xiv.

He sat alone on his throne, marveling at his new creation. The threads of his new cosmos were beginning to form, and he was satisfied. Everything was just as it should be.

“Leon,” said a low voice from the end of the hall. It was Huedhaut, still in his divine form.

How impertinent.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Hue said. His eyes blazed a cool, blue fire.

“Oh, I do. But feel free to enlighten me.”

“You—you’ve tampered with something that shouldn’t be touched,” he said. “You may be a god, but you have no right to just change the order of the universe—even if it was for her!”

I would’ve expected you of all people to understand, Hue.

“Maybe not. But well, I’m not a god anymore, you see. I’ve become something far beyond that, so I doubt it’s in your best interest to defy me like this,” Leon said, a deadly grin on his face.

“I won’t just let you do this, Leon.” Hue channeled his energy into an orb, aiming it at Leon.

“Before that, let me ask you something,” said Leon. “Why are you missing stars in one eye?”

“You know exactly why—”

With a snap of Leon’s fingers, Huedhaut reverted back to his regular Wishes uniform, his godly form nothing but an afterthought. He stood there, dazed at the sudden shift of power in him.

“Let me ask you again. Why are you missing stars in one eye?”

Hue’s expression became clouded, like he was trying to decipher the world’s mysteries. He held up his hand to his right eye, but his face remained troubled.

“II’m not sure…was it always like that…?”

If Leon were still his old self, he would’ve felt guilt at meddling with his friend’s memories. All he could feel now, however, was impatience.

“Yes, it was. But don’t worry, I’ll give them back to you on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t interfere.”

If loving you is a sin, then let me be a sinner.

?.

Donning his human disguise, Leon visited the planetarium roof—the place where it all began—and he hoped to find her there.

Sure enough, she stood at the balcony, hands clasped in prayer at the stars. He felt his heart break at the sight of her smiling so openly.

How long has it been since he last saw her smile?

Too long.

“So, are you making a wish?”

She turned to him, startled, before giving a reply. “Well, um, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, sir. Are you hoping to ask more about the Star Tour package?”

She was still the same flustered goddess she’s always been. His eyes narrowed in affection.

“I’m talking about the stars,” he said, pointing up. “Do you actually believe wishes come true when you wish upon them?"

“Oh…well, I guess I do. It’s nice to think that there’s someone out there who can hear me.”

I will always hear you, so you can wish for anything you want.

“Is that so?”

“Yes…” she said, trailing off. “Honestly, this is going to sound weird, but I feel like my wishes always come true when I see a shooting star. I guess I’m kinda lucky in that sense.”

I’m glad I could make you happy here, then. Never stop smiling, my precious goddess.

“But you know,” she turned back to the stars, a faraway look in her eyes. “Sometimes, it all feels strange. Like I’m supposed to be somewhere else, and that this isn’t real at all...”

He felt a surge of divine power come from her, and he knew that this was her innate selflessness rejecting the very nature of this universe, which was borne from his own selfish wish. If he let her power run amok, she would surely choose to restore everything back to what it once was, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything they’d been through.

I’m sorry.

Leon immediately embraced her as tightly as he could, both to repress her power and to feel her softness against him. It had been far too long since he held her like this, far too long since he felt any semblance of peace. He couldn’t stop his tears from falling.

“You’re perfect,” he told her gently. “You should stay exactly as you are.”

“Um, s—sir?” She was obviously confused at his sudden boldness, and the power that once flowed from her halted to a complete stop at her shift in mood.

This is all for you. It always has, and it always will be.

He stepped away from her, taking in the apple-red blush on her cheeks. He’d missed this more than anything.

“Just as I thought,” he said. “The stars in your eyes really are the most beautiful.”

He knew she was probably confused—but that was okay. He didn’t want her to suffer with the burden of knowledge; she never should. Maybe the day will come when her memories come back, but for now, all she had to do was be happy.

He’d promised himself on that day so many, many years ago that he’d grant the wish of that little goldfish girl.

And that was all that mattered.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #47

UPDATE 47: Tinker

Last time Clockblocker and the rest were breaking down under the weight of the situation in Brockton Bay and under their own personal problems. It was all interrupted when news about three rather gruesome crime scenes appeared, and they found corpses I’ll refrain from describing out of a ‘Read More’. So let’s continue!

Clockblocker, Flechette and Weld had their chapters, now it’s Kid Win’s turn. He opens it with some self-deprecation.

I’m a tinker. I’m supposed to be smart.

I don’t think being a tinker automatically means you’re smart. What do people say in times like these...high stats in intelligence, low stats in wisdom? Besides, it’s not like what Kid Win realized is something most people would realize at once: Ballistic and Sundancer are holding back. Even though right now they’re pelting Vista with concrete and making everyone almost burn, they’re holding back. Kid Win knows those two have the potential to be even more dangerous.

I wonder, though, does this mean Trickster and Genesis are holding back too? Trickster...well, he can’t hold back, his power doesn’t get stronger or weaker. Genesis, though, maybe she is holding back.

The revelation didn’t make him feel any better.  In fact, it was just the opposite.  If these guys got desperate or panicked, they might stop being so polite about it.

Their goal here is to get away, which is something the Wards won’t allow. Villains are villains, after all. As I see it, either one side wins, or this escalates. Everyone is lucky the corpses haven’t been burned to cinders or crushed under rubble.

Trickster and Genesis are not doing great, they’re fighting against Clockblocker and Weld. Clockblocker is working hard to counter Genesis and maybe it’s working. Hm. You better defeat them quickly, Wards, you never know what’ll happen next.

Kid Win describes his gun with a lot of technobabble. I didn’t understand most of it, even though he compared it to Purity and Dauntless’ powers. When told in laymen’s terminology it was easier to understand, although now I’m wondering how exactly such gun works. It’s almost like something out of a sci-fi story. I suppose that’s to be expected of the stuff tinkers make.

I can make something like this, which is brilliant, then I go and dismantle my fricking hoverboard to get parts for a project I never even finish.  Idiot.

Ah, that’s what he was calling himself an idiot for. Maybe a hoverboard would have been of help right now, yeah!

Glory Girl is pummeling Ballistic as much as she can, and he tosses her upwards. Since, you know, his power involves launching stuff with a lot of strength, you can imagine how that went. Flechette is doing much better than Glory Girl, pinning Sundancer to a wall thanks to her darts, and that went unnoticed to Trickster, much to Kid Win’s surprise. Quick, buddy, deduce something!

So he can only teleport what he sees?

I suppose so? Because teleporting stuff he can’t see would involve some hyperawareness or omniscience about the place, and it doesn’t seem to me like that’s a skill he has. Maybe he’ll be able to teleport Sundancer soon, that way she won’t be pinned to the wall anymore. Still, this gives Kid Win an idea. He uses his own body to block the gun he’s shooting and where he’s shooting. It doesn’t work. Not only his gun is swapped, he’s also teleported onto Genesis, who continues being hit with everything Weld has. It’s a good thing this is a projection and not Genesis herself, getting his by a pickaxe would hurt a lot!

Kid Win’s lasers pierce through the projection, and he’s clueless as to why. I suppose that confirms that yeah, they’re not aware of the nature of Genesis’ power! They have a few things right, but others still catch them off-guard. Ballistic is injured and limps towards Sundancer, freeing her and throwing all the darts onto Weld’s face.

You know, I think this is turning into me narrating everything that’s going on. That’s not the most enticing read, is it? Talking about fights while liveblogging is seriously difficult!

Trickster’s teleportations had placed the enemy’s group in the interior of the building, with the Wards surrounding them.

Well, depending on how many things Trickster can teleport at once, this either is good, or is bad. Good because then he could teleport his team so they’re surrounding the Wards, and then take advantage of momentary confusion to run away. Although...that wouldn’t work very well, because Shadow Stalker is still a bit away, and Glory Girl may arrive anytime back from the stratosphere.

It starts drizzling, and Trickster comments that may wash away some of the evidence. He’s not wrong, it could, but that’s not a concern because what can the Wards do about that? Cover the building with Clockblocker’s time-frozen paper and replace it every time it unfreezes? Okay, that may work, but my point is, it’s not like they have many options about what to do to stop the bodies from getting wet.

Not that it matters. Trickster does almost what I said he could do, except that instead of teleporting his team with the Wards, he moved the corpses. Goodbye to the possibility of keeping crime scenes intact! Also...augh. It must be really gross to be placed in the manacles and wires where corpses used to be just a moment ago. And Kid Win shoots himself in the back when he is teleported. Amazing how the Wards’ slight advantage fell apart in matter of seconds.

Vista is actually in a lot of danger here. The wires could strangle her or cut her neck.

“Trickster!” Sundancer cried out, horrified.

This woman has standards! I still remember how horrified she was at Taylor’s methods, here she is horrified at Trickster’s action. It’s always nice to see someone’s standards aren’t just applied to some people. It doesn’t stop her from running away, and I can’t blame her. A lot of people would flee instead of staying to fix that, especially because staying would mean getting caught.

Shadow Stalker shoves Trickster face-first onto a puddle, and Vista is still falling. What to do, Kid Win? Help Shadow Stalker or help Vista? The choice seems kind of obvious to me, but to you—

Vista. Shadow Stalker would say she could handle herself.  Made a point of trying to.

Exactly! Good choice. Besides, Shadow Stalker isn’t the one in deadly danger right now. Now that he decided that, Kid Win manages to free Vista from the wires, while Sundancer throws her sun into water, getting steam to cover everything. Aaaaaand they’re gone. The Travelers got away. Well that sure was a fight, and there was no clear winner. Overall I’d say the Wards won, though? They manage to injure a couple of the Travelers, that has to count for something.

The bodies are placed on the floor, there’s nothing left to do than wait for the crime scene crew. Well, that and muse about his life. It’s backstory time.

He was dumb, easily distracted, prone to leaving his projects unfinished, and it was moments like this that this knowledge hit him particularly hard.  His dad had made him get tested, and the doctors had labeled him with ADD and dyscalculia.  He held to the opinion that the ADD diagnosis was way overused – he liked to think that he was just a daydreamer, prone to getting lost in his thoughts.

I had to google what the word ‘dyscalculia’ meant. Looks like it’s a difficulty in learning or comprehending arithmetic – I suppose it was that, the word itself said so. Kid Win has difficulty concentrating into one project and he needs computers to make the necessary calculations for him. True, he is a tinker and that has helped a bit, but disorders are going to hinder even a parahuman.

The PRT staff insisted he was exceptional with antigrav and guns, had it even marked in his file, but he knew it wasn’t so true.  He finished his guns because they were simple, in their own way.  It was easy enough to take three half-finished gun projects and mash them together.  Create something with multiple settings, even.  As far as he was aware, he was the only Tinker in the PRT’s records that didn’t have a defined specialty, gimmick or trick.  He was increasingly worried that his special talent as a tinker was being able to occasionally make something despite his learning disability.  Which would suck, if it were true.

Man, that makes me feel so bad for Kid Win...that must be really tough, especially if he compares himself to what other tinkers do. Armsmaster was a tinker, and since they’re both heroes, surely he was aware of what Armsmaster did. Having nearby someone who is, hm, “better” – in Kid Win’s opinion – can’t have helped his self-esteem. This all also explains why he was chastising himself so much about having dismantled his hoverboard. I understand now...

Actually, the hoverboard was one of the few projects he managed to finish despite not being a gun, but he ended dismantling it to get pieces for a harness with turrets that’d fire projectiles depending on what gun it has holstered. That sounds...kind of risky, with a lot of possibilities for friendly fire.

The idea and motivation driving the action had been good: he was graduating the Wards in a little while, he’d be expected to change his name and adjust his methods, because an adult calling himself Kid Win was lame.

Man Win is not much better, buddy, hah! Okay, no, in all seriousness, I think he was going to get a new name based on that invention. The problem is that he encountered an obstacle and gave up for the time being. The only thing he has made that’s real useful, in his opinion, is the cannon that was confiscated. That must have stung! Yep, it did. I almost want to tell him to stay positive, that there’ll be more chances of doing something as great as that or even better, despite his disorders. There’s something about his plight that’s rather sympathetic to me, yeah...

Since the PRT are coming to deal with this, the Wards can leave. End scene, to the next!

The Protectorate will deal with this matter. Yeah, they may be better qualified to deal with this...powers or not, a bunch of kids aren’t the best team to work with corpses and investigations, no matter what dozens of mystery novels and games tell you. That’s not how life works. That doesn’t stop them from talking about it, of course, theorizing what’s going on.

Vista leaned forward, “Maybe a serial killer?”

It’d have to be a rather prolific killer, and working very fast, to boot. I still say there are three.

Uh, looks like there’s something they know and I don’t? They think there are nine different killers, but isn’t that a bit...hm, well, if it was any story other than Worm, I’d think it’s unlikely, but in Worm I can’t ignore the possibility. Still...nine at once?

“The Slaughterhouse Nine,” Clockblocker leaned back in his seat, groaning, “Fuck, that’d be all we needed.”

Huh. Okay, let me see if I got this straight: there’s a group of nine killers who are known enough to even have a name and cause dread in the Wards. Apparently they also arrive soon after an Endbringer event.

...

Brockton Bay can’t catch a break.

Leaving that aside, that group name was mentioned before, right? I’m pretty sure I read it before in Worm. I’ll go check myself where the mention was, I remember where it is. Besides, I’m having a pretty good idea now what it’s all about.

They stop talking about it because there’s nothing for them to do about a group that may or may not be related to what happened – oh, they totally did it. Knowing Mr. Wildbow, it was them. Organize the patrols and stuff. Flechette goes with Vista, Clockblocker and Weld will go later, Shadow Stalker has the late night shift...and Kid Win has a special missing.

“Special duty, tonight,” Weld smiled, “You’re recruiting.”

“Recruiting?”

“There’s a kid calling himself Chariot.  Been racing around the city with a powered suit that lets him move a hundred miles an hour.  Assault finally caught up with him last night, brought him into custody.  Wound up calling the kid’s mom, got him to agree to talk to our recruiter.  You. You’ll be meeting the kid in his home.”

I see! So, if Skitter hadn’t, you know, done all she did, she may have been brought into the Wards this same way? By first being brought into custody, then Dad Hebert being informed of what happened and she maybe getting drafted into the Wards? I wonder how that would have gone...not that Taylor would have been happy to be in the same group than Sophia freaking Hess. Those developments would be a ticking time bomb.

“Why me?”

“Shared interests.  You’re both tinkers.  You have the best idea of how he thinks.”

Iiiiii don’t think that’s a good idea. Kid Win already feels useless, if another tinker is brought to the Wards and ends being much more, uh, “useful”, let’s say, then Kid Win will feel even worse. On the other hand, the team can’t just leave aside a potentially useful new teammate just because someone feels uncomfortable. This is a conundrum I can’t see ending well, if my thoughts about Kid Win’s self-esteem are correct.

Looks like they weren’t. He is feeling something, but he’s unsure what it is. Since it wasn’t immediate fear, he may take this all better than I expected!

Now that the duties have been assigned, there’s leadership stuff for Weld to do, like scold the teammates for the lack of communication they have. Flechette and Parian encountered a situation. So for that, he’s going to move some stuff around so there’s time for more meetings where they can talk.

...welp. Weld really has the best intentions but he simply can’t stop irritating Clockblocker. At least this time there was no snappy reply or frustrated chastisement so...progress?

The building where Chariot lives is kind of disgusting, it seems. The way Mr. Wildbow describes it and its inhabitants make it sound like part of the slums was piled up to form a tower, and it’s not like all that is caused by water damage. The apartment where Chariot lives has been cleaned, although not very well.

When Chariot enters and sits down to talk, he’s asked how much interest he has in joining the Wards.

“Just to give me an idea, on a scale of one to ten, how interested are you, in maybe joining the Wards?”

“Ten’s high?”

“Ten’s a lot of interest.”

“Four.”

That’s a rather low amount. Maybe he just isn’t interested in joining the Wards and wants to be a rogue? It doesn’t seem like he’s particularly interested in being a villain. His mom wants him to join the Wards, and you know how some teens can be, they can get quite rebellious. Salvage the situation, Kid Win!

“It’s good money, with room for better money.  Especially for a tinker like you or me.”

Appeal at his wishes to build stuff. That could work! If he’s really invested to be a tinker, I mean. Without tools, it’d be much more difficult to work on anything.

Kid Win paused. This is like looking into a mirror to a year and a half ago.

Is that a good sign? If this is how Kid Win behaved in the past, then he could do the same they did to recruit him – if they recruited him, I mean. I suppose there’s always a chance he approached the Wards willingly, but it’s unlikely. He wouldn’t be saying this is like a mirror if he had strolled into the Protectorate building to ask to be a Ward!

To show Chariot the fun of having money for materials, Kid Win takes out a compact disc and disarms it, showing some nifty components. All that was for a camera. The mother isn’t impressed, I kind of am, and Chariot is rather impressed. Hook, line and sinker?

Apparently not, but he’s slowly inching in the right direction! And it gets even closer than Kid Win mentions there’s money to be earned. Hah! If everything else fails, mention money. What a law of the world.

The mother has the decency of being worried for Chariot’s life, and yeah, it’s no secret he is going to be risking his life. The thing is that either he joins the Wards, or someone else will recruit him. Tinkers are useful, they’d be a great asset almost anywhere. I see! So that’s why the Protectorate wanted the Wards to recruit him! So a villain gang or something like that didn’t have the chance to add him to their team. Well that’s a good enough reason!

What a stubborn kid...not that it’s strange. An unusual situation doesn’t always bring up the best traits you have.

Something struck Kid Win as off about the reply.  What was it?   It was out of tune with the flow of the conversation, didn’t quite match up with Kid Win’s own experiences being recruited.  Maybe it sounded forced?  But why would Chariot fake reluctance?

Ooooor it could be that! Apparently this Chariot kid is pretending to be less interested than he actually is, and it’s not like he’s pretending to be humble or anything like that. There are shenanigans afoot? He also gets defensive, this is off enough for Kid Win to want to leave, so he just gives a business card and tells him to call if he changes his mind. Huh...

Something is off, so Kid Win uses the hovering camera to spy for a moment. Chariot goes straight to the computer, writes some notes about the components Kid Win showed him, and sends an email – a very suspicious email.

To: C1298475739@cryptmail.com

Guy from wards came.  I’m in.

Hahaha, oh man! Confirmed, he’s into something shady. Sending a message to an encrypted email and saying stuff like ‘I’m in’? You don’t say ‘I’m in’ when referring to another group unless you’re infiltrating them. Chariot is bad news. I wonder who contacted Chariot, though? Not Hookwolf’s gang, not Purity’s gang. Chariot is from Hispanic origins, after all. That leaves...pretty much everyone else. I think it’s unlikely the Merchants would care about infiltrating someone. Coil...maybe he would want to get a spy into the Wards, eh. The Travelers are a no, Faultline’s crew...unlikely. I can’t think of anyone else. I don’t know if I should blame Coil, I suppose I should wait until more information is revealed.

This is the kind of thing that needs to be told to everyone, so Kid Win arranges a meeting with Piggot to discuss what to do. Rescind the offer? Would that look suspicious? Well I suppose I’ll see next time.

Next update: next time

[manifestationsofawanderings-blog]

Remembering my Father, Things I Never Got to Say

Remembering My Father

It has been 12 years since the sudden passing of my father. To say it had a profound impact on my life would be an understatement. It changed me in ways I never even realized, changes in myself I could not see until I began my journey of self-development late last year. The following post is a tribute to my father, the man who moulded me into the individual you see before you today. Remembering the good times and the bad.  

Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to reach back and pluck out my earliest memories of my father. The ones that keep coming back to me are of us doing karate in the kitchen. Well, it was Dad trying to teach us karate and mostly us jumping off of counter tops thinking we were ninja turtles. This memory really got me thinking as to what kind of man my father was, and I can honestly say i now know where my weirdness hails from. Growing up in Balinora, Leaving school early to become a tradesman and winding up being one of the last French Polishers to obtain his papers in Ireland my father was a craftsman through and through. That is still evident to this day within our house. Cabinets all over the house in pristine condition 34 years after being installed, decking towards the back of the house that allows us to host BBQ’s on these wonderful summer evenings (which was completed during a long stretch off work off work thanks to Gout!), Garden furniture etc. His work is also evident throughout the country. Closest to home would be the Bar in Hayfield Manor. Dad constructed and installed the bar for the prestigious 5* hotel which will always hold a special place in my heart having plied my trade there as well. To say my father was a talented tradesman is an understatement. To say he had a wide range of interests would also not do him justice. If the position of Groundskeeper of an estate house, bow and arrow marksman and black belt karate sensei all tied in one were available, he would have been a shoe in. A memory that speaks to the trickster in him brings me back to Halloween circa 1994. We were next door at my uncle’s house and as we were leaving this looking white ghost like figure vaulted the wall with the grace of Shergar and glided towards us! My poor grandmother nearly had her 3rd heart attack on the spot and I dropped my KitKat and bowl of Pringles. Turned out to be dad in a bed sheet! I later evolved this costume to include roller blades to add a better gliding motion but that’s a different story. This is who he was. A prankster.  

Many of my fondest memories come from our family holidays. As youngsters we were taken on little trips to Galway and spent many a long weekend camping in Barleycove. These were special times and the arguments over how to put up the tent were always of biblical proportion. We also went on a number of trips across the Irish to Wales. Garth Brooks song “Ireland” was always the first song played on these trips. We stayed in caravan parks, went on trips to Oakwood Theme Park where the only ride Dad would go on would be the Toboggan Rides. We went to slate mines in the mountain and on a trip to see where King Arthur was buried. To us as kids these were days filled with wonderment and joy. For Dad it must have been boring as hell, but he did it all with a smile and joke and created happy memories for us. To some up the man he was and his sense of humour i have one story I love to tell. When holidaying in France we stopped in a small village to get some lunch on the trip south. Mam was driving and was reversing into a parking space. Dad was leaning out the window doing the “you’re alright, you’re alright back away” routine. Suddenly without warning he yelled “Jesus watch out for the child!!!!!” and he slapped the side of the car. Of course Mam thought she was after killing a young Frog and was going to create an international incident (not sure why she was worried about this, the French would surely have surrendered to us in a short space of time) and was freaking out. After realizing there was no dead child the rest of the trip south was frosty to say the least. The silence was only broken by Dad giving directions, another comical exchange as his pronunciation would not have been the best! But it is by far one of my fondest childhood memories. It also explains where I get my warped sense of humour from as it is exactly the kind of prank I would pull!   

A lot would change in the 3 years after this French Exchange. Within those 3 years Dad passed on and my life changed on a dime. 

The morning my father died will live with me forever. Having come home from work the day before complaining of being sick he spent the entire night in bed. The next morning instead of going to work with my uncle I opted to stay home at mam’s request in case Dad, who was still very sick needed anything. I walked down the lane to tell my uncle I would not be working that day. Little did I know within an hour I would be calling him to tell him Dad had passed. As I was walking back up the lane I had a sudden sense of dread and began to run. To this day I don’t know what prompted me to do so. As I got closer to the house I heard a scream. I ran faster. I got the house to find a scene no young boy should have to face. My mother was administering CPR to my father, also trying to communicate with the ambulance crew en route. Having taken over CPR duties for a few minutes I went outside and waited for the ambulance. They arrived and within seconds were working on Dad. A few minutes my world stopped as they confirmed what I already knew to be true. Dad was gone. 

The rest of that is somewhat of a blur but the mornings events will stay with me forever. Word began to filter out and neighbours and family began to flock to the house. We made the extremely tough phone call to my brother to inform him of the news, he was working in Cavan at the time. The respect and admiration I have for his co-workers at that time is unparalleled. Without hesitation and to the detriment of their business they piled Nigel into a truck and bootlegged it home. I am forever grateful to those men for doing such a thing. 

The next few days went by very quickly and the situation was overwhelming to say the least. The one comfort I got from the whole thing was seeing how loved the man I called my father was. People I had never even met came from far and wide to pay their respects. All offered anecdotes and shared stories, at the time they seemed insignificant but in the years after became a comfort. Stories like when he went to see the Boss (Bruce Springsteen) in Dublin with his friend Kizzie (RIP) and Kizzie’s father. Something went down and he and Kizzie’s father ended up in fistie cuffs with some young fellas. Through some miracle he managed to sweet talk the security, get the lads thrown out and managed to get into the vip section right up the front. Silver tongued devil. A trait myself and my brother have both inherited.    

At the time I was very angry. Angry because I felt I now had to step up. At the age of 17 I felt I had to grow up faster than most and it seemed that overnight I went from being a young care free lad to a man. Bear in mind I still had a leaving Cert to do. I was confused. What do I do now? How do I deal with this? Resentment for the fact he was going to miss so much. I looked around and continue to look around and see friends celebrating events with their fathers. Father’s Day pints, going to matches, celebrating weddings, celebrating graduations, becoming grandfathers. I know I will have any of these things and it hurts. All I have are memories. Memories of him coming from work late, leaving the peas boiling in the pot and falling asleep and coming into the kitchen nearly on fire and the worst smell I have ever encountered. Actually no, the worst smell I have ever encountered was when he gave our dog Paddy some left over curry. Sitting room was uninhabitable for around 3 weeks. Seriously it was Chernobyl.  

So I dealt with it the only way I knew how. I buried my feelings. I put on the brave front and became the jester of the group. In recent times we have heard many stories of how comedians mask their pain through comedy. I see a lot of that in myself. I tried to immerse myself in so many things I tried to limit my free time as much as possible. This was easy in the early years. Hurling, Football, Study, Work all helped. Before I knew it i was off to college. Before I knew I was after 2 stints and had completely changed direction on my professional career.     All the while I carried this deep resentment with me. Why did he have to go? At the time of my life when I needed him most? 

I have had many failures and let many people down in the last number of years. Some part of me has always blamed this on the fact I lost my father. It has only been in the last year or so I have realized that losing my father has made me a stronger person, and he gave me all the tools I needed to succeed in life and be the best version of myself. He instilled a work ethic that is unrivalled. To the day he died the man worked himself to the bone. 14 hour shifts are a regular occurrence for me now. I don’t think I would be able for these if he had not set such an example. He was an extremely generous man, many times to his own detriment, but he was always there to help a lending hand. Whether it be helping a neighbour restore a vintage tractor, taking my Grand Uncle to Whiddy Island to see where he grew up, buying a round of drinks in the bar he was always a very giving and generous person, A trait I hope to carry and utilize every day. He was a comedian, always had a joke. Mostly simple puns but he was so quick off the mark. I see this in myself. I know it annoys people when I always have something to say, but it was bred into me from a young age.

All in all my father was a good man. He tried every day to make the world a better place. Not on a mass scale but in everyday life. Whether it be cracking a joke about taking the horse to France, about a suspected terrorist we saw hanging around the boat club in Kinsale (he loved boats, ironically could not swim), helping a neighbour or leaving work early to drop us to a training or a match, in his own special way he was always there. 

In the last year I have made some pretty significant changes in my life. Part of that process of self-discovery has been to let go of my bitterness towards the man who gave me life. Passing on was not his choice, but the brief time he had on this earth he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and took it as it came. He had dreams that went unfulfilled. I plan on fulfilling as many of those dreams as possible. He loved dogs, and always wanted a Husky. This past week we added little Loki to our Family. Dad always wanted to buy a Jaguar, A Jag will be my next car. He always wanted the best for his boys, so i will do my best to live my best life and make you proud. Have a pint of Murphys in heaven and rest easy. 

I will play some Garth Brooks in your honour.