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polgarawolf1 · 1 year ago

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Barriss Offee Day - Character Study

Sorry for the wonky format - it's because I'm too wordy for Tumblr's limits to have all my notes formatted like I want them to be!

This is rough and not really edited (the title is just a working title right now!), but I'm posting now because it's Barriss Day today!

I feel as if I can't say this enough: please be aware that this character study piece is meant to go along with a SW AU series of mine that I've been writing in, off and on, since the same summer that RotS came out in theatres! This is my headcanon Barriss for that specific AU series, which is my main SW AU series, so she's based mostly on the old SW EU (or Legends, as DISNEY calls it) with some of the newer DISNEY!SW canon adapted enough to be useful to me/make sense given that she's a Jedi Healer, but she's still an AU version of both versions of the official SW Barriss Offee character!

Title: “Barriss Chanah Offee: Jedi Healer and Jedi Commander”

Pairing: None as yet, though Kornell “Uli” Divini definitely has an enormous crush on Barriss during their shared time at Rimsoo (Republic Mobile Surgery Unit) 7, on Drongar, during the Clone Wars.

Rating: Uhm, probably a borderline PG-13, maybe (?)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Star Wars, more’s the pity! What I do have is an extremely contrary muse that refuses to shut up and leave me alone . . .

Summary: This is thirty-three random but chronological moments from the life of Barriss Chanah Offee, a strongly Force-sensitive Mirialan given to the Coruscanti Jedi Temple for training as an infant. Barriss is technically not quite an agemate of Anakin Skywalker’s, though she’s often grouped with those who are. She becomes close friends with Ahsoka Tano over the course of the Clone Wars and is generally known for her empathetic heart, her healing touch, her calm and grace, and her unshakeable loyalty to her friends and Jedi family. There is an actual story here – one small thread among the vast woven tapestry of life that is the living history of the galaxy, stretched out and twisted, knotted into the whole, curled down among the roots of time, connecting various moments together – but one must read between the lines to capture it. It is not precisely the truth, for the subtle story of these moments is sketched out here in words, and, in the sin of writing down a life, it inevitably changes the shape of things. But it is nevertheless a form of truth. (From a certain point of view . . . )

Warning: This story functions as a sort of compressed codex for Barriss Chanah Offee’s life, as she has been and is going to be written (or at least referred to) in my not even nearly complete AU Star Wars series You Became to Me. If anything doesn’t make sense, please, feel free to ask!

Author’s Notes: 1.) For anyone interested, this not-quite-a-story is compatible with my SW AU series You Became to Me, including the trilogy Thwarting the Revenge of the Sith, if you squint at a few things sideways and view a couple others solely through the lens of Barriss’ eyes. This is probably also technically compatible with a lot of other potential AU ’verses where the Clone Wars do not, ultimately, end up going like Sidious plans, but the majority of it should be at least mostly consistent with the old EU (barring what I’ve altered about Ferus Olin, etc.), at least up until roughly the Battle of Coruscant during RotS.

2.) My Barriss is and has always been based on the version of the character as she originally appeared in certain scenes/cut scenes for AotC and RotS and was initially written in the old EU, prior to the reboot for the Clone Wars period associated with the animated film and TV series. Thus, she’s closer in age to Anakin Skywalker than she is to Ahsoka Tano, a natural Jedi Healer, and does not end up falling prey to despair and the Dark Side and bombing the Coruscanti Jedi Temple, as is portrayed in Star Wars: The Clone Wars. I have made some concessions to the version of Barriss found in Star Wars: The Clone Wars and the current DISNEY!SW version of canon – she is about a year younger than in the old EU, for example, and does take part in some missions/battles that also involve Ahsoka and Anakin – and I am technically in the midst of revising/expanding Thwarting the Revenge of the Sith to include some more characters from the show, but please be aware that my main SW series is an AU and so certain characters and events and the timeline for the prequels/the war in general involve a slightly different/longer timeline as well as multiple changes from what’s depicted in the show (and even in the old EU, occasionally).I’m aware that Barriss is considered a Muslim-coded character, in large part due to the show, though it’s rather horrifying for me to consider that Filoni et al apparently made the choice to present her as being coded this way and yet still deliberately turned her into a terrorist bomber.

Please be aware that, since I first started writing what would become my Thwarting the Revenge of the Sith trio shortly after Revenge of the Sith first came out in theatres and I saw it and read (as fairly new hardbacks) both the novelization for RotS and James Luceno’s Labyrinth of Evil (which, for those who don’t know, acts essentially as an immediate predecessor for RotS) and I had it in my head from fairly early on that my AU ’verse would (eventually) involve the survival of a useful version of bota and, thus, Barriss Offee as a Jedi Healer (as I’d already read the MedStar duology by this point), a lot of my personal headcanon for Barriss (and also, by extension, for her Jedi Master, Luminara Unduli) and for Mirialan culture in general predates by at least three-four years both the start of the show and my awareness of the fact that she’s considered Muslim-coded. (It took me several years before I ever watched any of Star Wars: The Clone Wars and I am not a techy person, so it’s probably more like ten years plus before I had any actual personal knowledge from watching the parts of the show that include the ret-conned version of Barriss.) If anyone has any questions or is upset or bothered by anything, please let me know!

3.) Although this is technically modeled on part of a prompt set that I found ages ago and made a copy of from somewhere or another on the LJ, it’s not really meant to function as a response to whatever the challenge actually is or was that’s associated with said LJ prompt set. I just used the specific prompts to give me a reason to string together a backstory of sorts for Barriss and, since I’m working under a time constraint for the Barriss Day celebration, it’s entirely possible that I’ll come back to this and expand on it at some point in the future.

4.) Readers interested in knowing who the physical models are for EU characters (such as Uli Divini) or for original characters (like Jedi Shadow Knight Leyala Riani), for that matter, should please just probably ask me, rather than consult the latest versions of my posted lists of cast original and EU characters and for handmaid(en)s and other important Nabooian characters, which are available on my LJ, since I need to update all of them and what’s on the LJ (https://polgarawolf.livejournal.com/) is very old! Please note that characters who may be alluded to but not referenced by name (certain family members of original characters, for example) are considered too minor to be cast at this time, and that readers should feel free to imagine them howsoever they wish!

5.) Mirialans are considered near-human (they are cross-fertile with human norms in the EU and, likely, with many other types and/or species of near-humans, as well) and resemble human norms closely enough, physically, that I’ve always considered they may very well have originally evolved from human norms due to specific conditions found on their homeworld, Mirial (many of the “near-human” species in the GFFA seem to be humans with just enough genetic differences – from adapting to living on specific worlds/moons, mostly – and/or just enough cultural differences from more generic human norms to have been given a specific label, based on their homeworld). I mention this here because my headcanon is that Mirialans essentially age/mature like human norms do and also because I believe the tradition of Mirialan Jedi Knights/Masters taking on Mirialan Jedi apprentices is based on wanting to pass on direct knowledge of Mirialan culture and Force-based spirituality, not any form of xenophobia.

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“Barriss Chanah Offee: Jedi Healer and Jedi Commander”

01.) Incidence: Though one would hardly guess it, from the raw numbers alone (evident humans or human norms outnumbering so many other known sentient species in the galaxy by such a large margin), statistically speaking, as an entire species, Mirialans have an even higher overall incidence of sensitivity to the Force than human norms do (most likely due to the fact that survival on Mirial, their largely cold, dry homeworld, requires them to be more naturally in tune with their surroundings – and, thus, more open to the Force and its influence – than most of the worlds and moons where humans have proven both willing and able to settle); this greater percentage of Force-sensitives doesn’t always translate individually to higher levels of stronger Force-sensitivity, though, meaning that there are many Mirialans who make their homes both on Mirial and elsewhere who have midi-chlorian levels that are higher than average and yet still lower than is generally required for admittance to the Jedi Order for training, and so the number of Mirialan Force-sensitives in the Jedi Order is lower than that of human norms (and, indeed, several other types of near-humans, as well), enough so that the Mirialans in the Order thought it would be best to establish a tradition whereby Mirialan Jedi Knights/Masters would, whenever possible, take on Mirialan apprentices to train, so that Mirialan culture and customs could be taught directly from Master to Padawan, along with Jedi traditions and training.

02.) Process: Barriss Chanah Offee is found not on Mirial or any other inhabited planet, moon, or station, but rather on a starliner in deep space, by a Jedi not on a traditional Search but rather simply en route to Coruscant after a successful undercover mission in the Corporate Sector, who is still in the process of settling back into her own skin (after living under a false identity for the better part of four months rather than as Jedi Knight Leyala Riani) and is rather startled to find herself called to the ship’s infirmary, where a routine blood test given to a newborn has yielded a midi-chlorian count easily high enough to justify admittance to the Jedi Order for training (the infant is named by her tearful parents, given a slightly modified traditional blessing, and then promptly given over to the Jedi Shadow, who manages, after only a handful or so of incidences of usual unexpected interruptions, to safely get both herself and the by then several month old baby to the Coruscanti Temple).

03.) Routine: Barriss’ first real memories are of the Jedi Temple’s crèche – of having patient, kindhearted Jedi Carers helping her with her meals and with the layers of her youngling robes, modelled after the traditional Mirilian dress of a Force-sensitive spiritualist leader-in-training and a little more complicated than many of the robes worn by her crèchemates and friends; of accidentally running into a friendly Jedi Tender during a game of tag and being sent laughingly back to the proper Sept or age-group of her Initiate Clan; of going practically everywhere in a crowd of younglings, all in the same age-group or Phratry if not necessarily all belonging to the same Clan; of having a compassionate Twi’lek Docent gently drying her eyes after taking a hard tumble and spilling the contents of her lunch tray seemingly everywhere; of entering the Halls of Healing for a routine inoculation and being drawn to the Healing Crystals blazing with the Force in the hands of a gifted Jedi Healer, who, noticing her rapt attention, promptly made a notation in her permanent file indicating an interest in and likely proclivity towards Force healing – and of Master Yoda, watching her with a pleased, benevolent smile as she uses the Force to retrieve a favorite toy (a blue ball, just the right size for her small hands and exactly the same vivid color as her own eyes) gone astray, bouncing from the crèche out through an antechambers and into one of the main large open spaces of the Temple proper.

04.) Manage: Crèche Masters and other Jedi whose calling place them either exclusively in the crèche or else mainly in the Temple as trainers and teachers – the Jedi Carers and Tenders who specifically look after the younger Initiates; the Clan Leaders who are in charge of the various Initiate Clans and the Sept Heads who manage the specific Septs or age-groups of those Initiate Clans; and the Jedi Instructors and Pandits, as well as certain Jedi Artisans, who lead specific classes, training courses, and hands-on modules for both younglings in the crèche and Padawans who’re still in training – routinely go out of their way to offer both methods and means by which individual Initiates and Padawans can learn about and even (to an extent, at least) incorporate the cultures of the specific peoples and species from which they hail in their day-to-day activities and lives, though of course no one is ever forced to learn or to do anything in regards to such a culture if that individual finds a tradition or custom uncomfortable: Barriss thoroughly enjoys such cultural seminars (including almost all of the more generic modules that cover other near-human and humanoid cultures), though she takes it for granted that, if she eventually trains as a Jedi Knight (and eventual possible Master) instead of joining one of the branches of the Jedi Service Corps, she will eventually be taught more about Mirialan culture and spirituality when she’s taken on as an apprentice by a Mirialan Knight or Master.

05.) Path: Her personal path forward as a Jedi – whether as a Knight and possible future Master or as a member of a branch of the Jedi Service Corps – would be easier (or at least more assured) if she were only drawn towards healing or if she were only drawn to the path of Knighthood, since then she could either declare for the Medical Corps or else focus more on what would make her more likely to be chosen as a Padawan; however, she feels equally drawn towards both callings, which is somewhat problematic, given that all of the Mirialans currently in or associated with the Order are either younglings like her or else they’re members in good standing of one or another of the branches of the Jedi Service Corps or Knights or Masters of the Order, meaning that there are currently no Jedi Healers who are either Knights or Masters who are also Mirialan.

06.) Honor: When Luminara Unduli – a Mirialan Jedi Knight and a Master by courtesy (given that she is currently helping an orphaned Commenorian Padawan by the name of Suanne Tephee through what should, hopefully, be the last handful or so of years of training and preparation necessary to make her ready/able to pass the Trials of Knighthood) – approaches her, Barriss fears, at first, that she will be forced to make a decision between eventually training towards Knighthood and training as a Jedi Healer that, in her heart, she knows she cannot make and does not feel as if she should be forced into trying to make, either (she understands, logically, that, since the annihilation of the Sith and their Brotherhood of Darkness and the consequent end of the New Sith Wars, the so-called “restructuring” of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order by the Ruusan Reformations essentially dissolved the Jedi Army of Light and stripped the Jedi of much of their authority and power in the galaxy just when the Jedi would be most needed, out in the greater galaxy, in order to help heal the wounds of that disastrous and exhaustively extensive conflict, meaning that the pathway of Jedi Knights all but instantly became much more important than it had been even at the height of the war. That Barriss can understand it rationally, though, does not mean that she has to like the fact that, in almost thousand years since then, the prestige of being a Knight has grown so much that the pressure on Jedi Initiates to choose that particular pathway [whether it would suit them as individuals or not] has concomitantly increased, too, to the point where younglings consider themselves to be failures if they aren’t chosen as Padawans and instead end up in one of the branches of the Jedi Service Corps, such as the MedCorps, even though Jedi likely to be injured in combat logically would need trained Healers to tend to their injuries and Jedi Healers are, frankly, able to do things with the Force to help preserve life and speed healing that even the most gifted and experienced of non-Force-sensitive Healers simply cannot do); happily, though, Master Unduli indicates that, if Barriss continues to show excellent progress in her training as an Initiate and she is willing, Luminara will happily arrange for her to have further training in the healing arts with Jedi Healers if Barriss will do her the honor of one day becoming her apprentice.

07.) Attention: Although Barriss normally tends to listen to others more than she talks (except for in classes when she knows the answer to whatever the instructor happens to be asking and she’s not sensing anyone else particularly wanting to be the one to be called on to answer, of course), the Jedi Order is essentially one enormous extended family of choice made up of many, many generations of interlinking lineages of trained Force-sensitives and many more who might, one day, be given the choice to join and extend those lineages, so there actually are very, very few real (serious) secrets among its members (it’s not so much that Jedi are prone to idle chatter as it is misleading to claim that Jedi are too good – or too snobbish and self-important – to gossip when, at least most of the time, there’s simply no need for idle chatter or rumormongering when it comes to the vast majority of incidences that happen both in the Temple and during mandated missions since both any official reports and private, individual deductions and conjecture about such occurrences tend to all quickly become known by virtually everyone who’s paying even a modicum of attention to the Force – which, after all, is naturally constantly being influenced and shaped by the thoughts and actions of basically all living creatures, especially those strong in the Force, and also frequently quite deliberately being outright given strong emotions, both negative and positive, by Jedi who want to establish better control over themselves – and/or what’s going on around them in the Temple, including what individual Jedi are actually physically telling the High Council about their specific missions, when they return from them, and what those same individuals are also either gleefully spinning stories about or else quietly complaining about outside the Council Chamber) and, since scandals (or even just possible indignities or outrages) tend to spread at a speed easily comparable to that of light, especially when a Temple favorite or a favorite of Yoda and/or one of the other High Council Masters is involved, she’s well aware of (and has opinions about) Qui-Gon Jinn and his tendency to essentially blame everything on the will of the Force (often quite blatantly in order to win arguments or to get away with doing or not doing something he really shouldn’t be allowed to do or to shirk doing) long before he brings an almost ten-year-old boy by the name of Anakin Skywalker to the Temple and shocks everyone by telling the High Council that he ought to be allowed to take the youngling on as his apprentice (even though he already has a perfectly wonderful Padawan, one who, so far as Barriss can tell, most of the residents of the Temple all agree Qui-Gon Jinn does not deserve. She’s heard so many incredible stories about Obi-Wan Kenobi that, if she weren’t Mirilian, if Master Unduli hadn’t already spoken to her about becoming her Master, and if she weren’t aware of the fact that there’s at least one youngling, just enough older than her to be in the next age-group up from her, who’s made it extremely well known that he believes himself destined to one day become Obi-Wan’s Padawan, Barriss might actually be tempted to try to catch Obi-Wan’s eye, in hopes of eventually being asked to be his apprentice) because the boy’s midi-chlorian count is supposedly so high that (according to Jinn, who’s widely known, much like his former Master, Yannis Dooku, to be just a little bit too interested in Force prophecies, to the point where some claim that they’re both obsessed, to unhealthy degrees, with Jedi mystics and the records of their so-called “visions”) it must mean that he’s the Chosen One.

08.) Potential: Anakin Skywalker blazes in the Force like a star that’s somehow continually going nova – there’s no disputing this fact and Barriss honestly doesn’t see the point in even trying – but he’s simultaneously far too old for the crèche and both too untrained and too young to become the Padawan apprentice of anyone expecting to go on any active missions outside of the Temple for likely several years to come, and, from everything she’s heard, he also pretty clearly doesn’t have the right sort of temperament to become a Jedi (he’s afraid, but he not only won’t admit to it, he refuses to acknowledge his fear and even outright lies to the Council about what he’s afraid of/for and why; he’s unabashedly angry when the Council Masters try to point out that he’s not telling the truth about his fear and, worse, he behaves as though the Council Masters are the ones at fault for pointing out his lie, rather than him for his dishonesty; and he’s undeniably all too attached to the single parent he’s ever known, who has, for some reason, been left behind – in slavery, as it eventually comes out, months after the fact, when it also becomes widely known that Skywalker’s mother was left behind due to the fact that, even though Qui-Gon Jinn apparently thought nothing of gambling with the lives of others and even the potential wellbeing of an entire system’s worth of imperiled people, if it meant that he could legally take Anakin with him, even if it meant that he would have to take him as a slave, he evidently didn’t quite care enough to cheat on the bet that he made with Anakin’s owner sufficiently to include the boy’s mother in his potential winnings, along with the boy. There are many people in the Order, besides Barriss, who are quite upset, if perhaps not necessarily all that surprised, to learn about these facts, and many of them also feel sorry for the boy, though it’s difficult to maintain much empathy for someone who so clearly has a chip the size of a Hutt on his shoulder about his background – on Tatooine, a Hutt-controlled world in the Outer Rim Territories that Barriss is fairly certain she’s never even heard of, before, and which turns out to almost be far enough out to qualify as bordering on Wild Space), so she honestly doesn’t understand why it’s ever even a question whether or not Skywalker should be accepted for Jedi training (either with or without Qui-Gon Jinn), high midi-chlorian count or not and prophecies of the Chosen One or not, not when, if anything, Skywalker seems far more suited to something like the Exploration Corps.

09.) Secret: Barriss honestly can’t decide which piece of news from Naboo is more shocking and upsetting – that the Sith not only apparently survived Ruusan, somehow, but have continued to survive in secret for almost a thousand years and have not only revealed themselves now, in the process all but proving that they’ve been involved in some way with the Naboo Crisis, but have also killed a Jedi Master in the process, or that, following the death of his Master at the hands of one of those Sith, Obi-Wan Kenobi evidently not only swore that he would fulfill his Master’s dying wish and take on Anakin Skywalker as his Padawan, with or without the approval of the High Council (and, thus, the legitimacy and backing of the Jedi Order), but that he essentially told Master Yoda this (in effect essentially blackmailing the Grand Master of the entire Jedi Order into allowing him to apprentice Anakin, once he’d been acknowledged as a Jedi Knight, for having defeated and slain the Sith Lord who’d just murdered his Master) – but she knows that she’s not the only one who thinks that Knight Kenobi has gone from somehow having a Master who definitely didn’t deserve him to having a Padawan who almost certainly doesn’t deserve him, either, and she finds herself in the rather unexpected position of feeling sorry for Ferus Olin, currently one of the most popular and widely respected younglings near to her age in the crèche (even if, to be honest, she’s always felt somewhat ambivalent towards the slightly older boy. Ferus generally gives every indication of being a good sort, but everything always seems to come awfully easy for him, in a way that doesn’t feel quite right, somehow, and the way that some of the other younglings act around him – like they’d cheerfully do anything he might ever even think of asking them to do – makes her feel weirdly almost vulnerable, in a way that both bewilders her and makes her want to avoid him altogether, which makes it strange to feel sorry for him now), since a Jedi can only have one Padawan at a time and this means that (short of Anakin Skywalker somehow dying in the next two years or so, which she would never want to happen, no matter how messed up the whole situation with him and newly Knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi might be, and which seems extremely unlikely to happen, anyway, since he’s not likely to make it back out of the Temple again until he’s made a serious effort to catch up on all that he’s behind on, from having come to the Order so comparatively late in life and from almost certainly having a less than thorough education on Tatooine, even if that’s not exactly his fault) Ferus Olin can never become Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Padawan.

10.) Sense: One would think that a boy from a desert world would know better than to allow himself to be goaded into accepting a challenge involving swimming, of all absurdly unsuitable things for him to try to do, but then, Skywalker does seem to be rather more emotional than any Jedi with sense would ever allow themselves to be, so perhaps the overly emotional numpty will prove her wrong and actually manage to get his fool self killed at some point while essentially confined to the safety of the Temple and Obi-Wan Kenobi will once again be free to choose his apprentice by himself (rather than being stuck with his former Master’s choice, which is just so many different levels of wrong that it makes her want to grind her teeth down to dust for sheer frustration over the fact that Qui-Gon Jinn is dead and now she’ll never have a chance to get away with telling him to his face that he’s an arrogant, self-centered twat) and Ferus Olin will prove to have been right all along and will become Knight Kenobi’s new Padawan.

11.) Behind: Skywalker may very well be behind on essentially everything except for anything having to do with mechanics, droids, maintaining all sorts of different kinds of vessels (from basic skimmers to advanced starship fighters), and piloting in general – the stories about how he managed to accidentally destroy the Trade Federation’s Lucrehulk-class Droid Control Ship are entirely too crazy to be made up and actually makes Barriss want to like him, despite everything else (the Trade Federation did horrible things to her homeworld: as a Mirilian, she feels all but honor-bound to side with someone who’s had such an important role in thwarting their plans to do the same sort of awful things to another inhabited world and system, even if she’s starting to wonder if the High Council Masters only allowed Knight Kenobi to take Skywalker on as his Padawan learner just to keep him somewhere they could keep an eye on him and be sure that the Sith would have a hard time trying to get to him. Knight Kenobi might have killed the one Sith, but the general consensus is that there should have been two of them, meaning that the surviving Sith would have multiple reasons to be interested in a boy like Skywalker, who’s so strong in the Force, so emotional, and has the kind of traumatic background he has, especially since the Sith were so clearly involved in the Trade Federation’s plans for invading and conquering Naboo) – but it seems as though he’s a natural with a lightsaber and, much to her surprise, she finds herself enjoying the times when she’s practicing in the salles at the same time that he is, in part because it’s astonishingly fun to see how quickly he picks up many of the different formal katas meant to help students master some of the different forms of lightsaber combat and partially because he’s such a shockingly unpredictable fighter, when turned loose to spar instead of just practicing basic katas, that he seems determined to combine apparently random bits of various katas from entirely different combat forms (so it’s always interesting to see which combination of moves he attempts will or won’t actually work together, whether she’s the one who’s been tasked to spar with him or not, though some of his more disastrous efforts make her very, very glad that training ’sabers aren’t actually strong enough to do much worse than singe fabric. Sometimes, it’s even more fun – and even instructional, when some combination of moves that doesn’t seem as if it ought to work actually does – to watch than to be the one trying to match his unpredictability. They don’t really talk, much, but it doesn’t truly bother her, since she’s of the opinion that sparring partners are actually more useful when they aren’t also friends who might be tempted to hold back out of fear of hurting each other’s feelings), which tends to make sparring against him a nice challenge, even if he does tend to win a ridiculous number of bouts for someone so new to Jedi training.

12.) Fear: Her Healer training is going well – in addition to the more basic courses required of basically all Jedi Padawans, she studies under a handful of different Healers, based on who’s available when and who specializes in or knows more about what, all of them operating under the oversight of Master Healer Vokara Che, who’s already made it quite clear that she expects Barriss to one day join the Circle of Jedi Healers, which is simultaneously both a wonderful and a mildly terrifying thing to know, since the Circle is comprised of the most gifted and powerful and absolute best of all Jedi Healers – she’sfound her kyber crystal in the ice caves of Ilum and successfully built her own lightsaber, and Master Unduli is evidently so pleased with her overall progress that she’s already talking about how best to coordinate things so Barriss shouldn’t fall behind in her Healer training when they undertake her pilgrimage to Mirial (a time-honored sort of rite of passage generally undertaken around fifteen or so standard years of age), but Barriss is beginning to fear that her apparent inability to keep ahold of her new lightsaber long enough to truly master even the most basic of katas is going to end up rendering the entire issue moot and her apprenticeship with Master Unduli void when a Jedi Knight, noticing her struggles with her lightsaber in one of the smaller, less often frequented training salles, introduces himself as Tutso Mara (actually Tutsoded Bayardeth Mara, though few refer to the half Kiffar and half Chalactan Jedi by his full name, at least according to Knight Mara) and then kindly shows her the proper hand grip for her lightsaber (after which, with her permission, he physically adjusts and readjusts and keeps on readjusting her grip until Barriss finally has it down pat and her grip – evidently adequate enough for a training ’saber but not at all sufficient for the power of a real blade – is no longer throwing her off, no matter which training kata from which form of lightsaber combat she attempts), sparking a mentorship and eventual friendship that will push her to learn a Jar’Kai version of Djem So (a combat form using two lightsabers or a lightsaber – be it a single or a double blade – along with a shoto) as well as the Soresu and Shien that Master Unduli favors.

13.) Return: The traditional pilgrimage to Mirial (which is both colder and drier than the norm for most inhabitable planets/moons with Type I atmospheres and sentient populations, in ways that make the more customary sorts of Mirilian costumes, with their layers, long lengths, and head-coverings of one sort or another for essentially everyone, make all kinds of practical sense. Much of the land is either desert or tundra, with some taiga towards the far northern and the far southern tundra and some grasslands at the borders between the taiga and the deserts, much of it occasionally broken up by high plateaus and mostly extremely tall, jagged mountains. Though Mirial has technically been known to much of the greater galactic community and considered part of the Galactic Republic’s Outer Rim Territories for approximately four thousand years, when the Trade Federation “rediscovered” it some two hundred years ago, in one of the Great Reunification’s last pushes to supposedly “reconnect” with and discover more about the Outer Rim and Wild Space, its greedy representatives pillaged the entire system of much of its natural resources, often using crude, cheap strip mining techniques to get at precious ores and carelessly discarding slag and poisonous wastes without bothering to treat any of it, to the point where the planet is still recovering from all of the habitat destruction and environmental contamination. Truthfully, Barriss finds Mirial rather sad and, afterwards, is not entirely sure that she’s felt a real connection with either the planet or its people, even after all of her cultural studies and even though she truly does respect the traditional Mirial view of the Force and their widespread belief that each individual’s actions contribute not only to that specific person’s destiny, building on both past successes and failures to ultimately drive those beings towards their fates, but that such actions also ripple throughout the Force, affecting the destinies of not just the individuals directly involved but of whole peoples and, at least potentially, in some cases, even species all across the galaxy, which, to her, seems like a somewhat simplified version of the Jedi understanding of the Cosmic Force) goes well enough, but she’s both more tired and more glad than she’s expected to be, when they finally return to the Temple.

14.) Master: Luminara Unduli is, in many ways, a wonderful Jedi Master – she’s very grounded and steady, a formidable fighter who’s also a highly respected diplomat often called upon to act as an advisor to several high-profile system and planetary leaders and politicians, many of them in the Galactic Senate, meaning that she’s well-suited to understand the needs of an apprentice who’s drawn to what, to outsiders, might seem very opposing ways of being a Jedi – but she’s also downright tricky, sometimes (Barriss isn’t entirely sure she’s ever going to completely live down the fiasco of trying to force herself to master Floating Meditation in the space of a single afternoon, so she could rise high enough to accurately count the number of pastries in a bakery’s window across the way, when, at any time, she could’ve simply stood up on the balcony Master Unduli had brought her to in order to see them), often in ways that seem embarrassingly obvious after the fact and remind Barriss almost painfully of Master Yoda’s particular brand of teaching by trickery in order to fully and memorably drive a point home, and, though she’s increasingly sure that she wouldn’t ever want any other Master, sometimes Barriss can’t help but wish that her Master would spend just a little less time being cleverly oblique and a great deal more time just straight out telling her whatever lessons she’s trying to teach her, if only so she wouldn’t feel as if she’s wasting so much time failing to immediately grasp whatever moral or object lesson has been so cunningly hidden in or only hinted at sideways by whatever random task or strange, rambling story Master Unduli has decided to indulge in using to teach her by first tripping her up or otherwise tricking her.

15.) Hair: It takes multiple cups (and pots) of nice, calming teas and more than a few cups (and pots . . . and jugs) of tea bracing enough to (as Knight Suanne Tephee [“Suanne, please! Really, just Suanne is fine. You’ll make me feel old, otherwise, Barriss!”] would jokingly phrase it) put hair on one’s chest, but eventually, with some help from her not quite older sister in lineage (but not quite not, and so they all basically act as if she is, including Knight Suanne, on the rare times she’s in the Temple and not so exhausted or so injured, following a mission, that she’s stuck either in her rooms all the time or else in the Halls of Healing and so not up to visiting) and, shockingly enough, some really useful tips from Skywalker (who very nearly physically trips over her in the Room of a Thousand Fountains one day and ends up earnestly explaining that she’s focusing on the wrong bit of the exercise – the meditation part, not the floating, which, as Knight Kenobi has explained it to Skywalker, basically translates to a kind of very personalized field of antigravity – and that she should be thinking of it less as something mental or spiritual and more as something that can be physically done with the Force, closer to telekinesis than to actual meditation and strong enough, in an emergency, to help either save a Jedi who’s falling from a dangerous height or else to rescue someone else falling or about to fall from a potentially lethal height); much to her satisfaction, though, she does eventually manage to properly learn (if perhaps not to completely master, as she’s eventually capable of using it to keep herself from a bad end, after flinging herself – under Master Unduli’s watchful eyes, of course – multiple times out of various windows and off of several balconies in the Temple Council Towers, but isn’t entirely sure she’d be able to use it on someone else in a true emergency) Floating Meditation.

16.) Information: It’s next to impossible to truly keep secrets in the Jedi Temple – in terms of knowledge for training, information can be restricted to things like Jedi Holocrons, datachips, info crystals, and even old-fashioned books that are themselves regulated, so that only certain kinds of individuals can access them, but in terms of what happens in the Temple or what is spoken of in the Temple, well, it’s difficult to all but impossible to keep things a secret from individuals strong enough in the Force to not only regularly use it to help augment their senses and abilities but to be able to sense things (such as the thoughts and emotions of others) through their connection to the Force – which is why (even if impossible and improbable aren’t quite synonyms) it’s so weird that no one seems to really be talking much, afterwards, about the disastrous mission to Korriban, to apprehend dangerous criminals Jenna Zan Arbor and Granta Omega, even though four Masters and their Padawans were sent there but only the Masters and three of the Padawans returned alive . . . at least not until after Ferus Olin has been dismissed from the Order for intentionally manipulating the minds and wills of Jedi (from Masters all the way down to Initiates, apparently) and not only purposely causing a mechanical defect in the lightsaber of a fellow Padawan (Tru Veld, a fertile unfixed hermaphroditic metamorph Teevan – meaning that Tru can and often does phase from male to female and back again, basically at will – who’s apprenticed to Jedi Shadow Master Ouwain-Kli Ry-Gaul. Barriss isn’t much more than vaguely familiar with either one, since Jedi Shadows tend to keep to themselves and Veld’s nature has all but guaranteed that the Teevan would become a Shadow since the moment Veld first came to the Temple) that would directly lead to the death of another Padawan (the apprentice of Master Soara Antana, Darra Thel-Tanis, who apparently threw herself in the pathway of a deadly blaster shot, even though Tru almost certainly could have survived being struck by it, given the ridiculously rapid rate of regeneration Teevans are [in]famous for. Barriss is a little more familiar with Thel-Tanis, but can’t imagine why she’d ever do something so foolish, which makes her wonder, a little sickly, just how much influence Olin might have had over her, at the time), but attempting to conceal his actions by deliberately, maliciously shifting the blame for the lightsaber’s failure at the critical moment to yet another Padawan (Anakin Skywalker, whose Master evidently had to all but break down the doors of the Jedi High Council Chamber – and is rumored to have called on the Force in a way that somehow instantly shattered all of Ferus Olin’s manipulations – to save his apprentice from being wrongfully accused of negligence and being at cause for Darra Thel-Tanis’ death, which likely would’ve resulted in Skywalker being unjustly cast out of the Order), and then she’s left at least halfway wishing that the relative silence about the mission had never been broken, even though she knows, logically, that nothing good could have come of keeping Ferus Olin’s perfidy (which apparently even extended to his own Master, Siri Tachi, who’s such a wreck, afterwards, that the Council orders her on a five-month spiritual retreat, to recover) a secret.

17.) Help: It’s not exactly fair to feel wary of Skywalker, after the mess on Korriban and Ferus Olin’s banishment from the Order – Barriss knows that, even if it only serves to make her feel frustrated with herself for being overly cautious and even less inclined towards thinking all that kindly of (must less trusting) him – but she’s still not completely sure that having Skywalker on Ansion is going to be all that much help with the mission (even if it means that Obi-Wan Kenobi will also be with them) until after she’s been knocked off of her suubatar into Torosogt River, Skywalker’s immediately leapt into the water to try to save her, and they’ve both managed to survive their dunkings none the worse for wear (at which point she starts to think that it might actually be possible for them to become good friends, if only Skywalker will prove to be even halfway as willing to open up and speak honestly with her as he has been to fling himself – however wholly unnecessarily, if undeniably gallantly – headlong into danger on her behalf).

18.) Horror: Geonosis is . . . unspeakably terrible, so much needless death and suffering (and for what? For the pride and satisfaction of a former Jedi like Yannis Dooku, who deserted the Order after the murder of his former apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn, during the Naboo Crisis? The traitor is essentially endorsing those responsible for the situation that allowed his former Padawan to be cornered and slaughtered by the Sith! If not for the greed of the Trade Federation, Master Jinn would [probably] still be alive, for pity’s sake!) that she’s quite certain that she’s going to have nightmares about it for the rest of her life . . . though the news, shortly afterwards, that the battle is only going to be the beginning and that the Republic is now officially at war with the self-declared Separatists is so awful that it very nearly eclipses even the horror of Geonosis.

19.) Fire: It’s not very Jedi-like of her, but after the third time that she essentially almost dies because of Geonosis and the second time that she’s only survived because of Ahsoka Tano’s ingenuity (and sheer stubborn refusal to ever give up) and just the absolute horror of one of those times involve parasitical brain worms that burrow into a host and essentially turn said host into a mindless zombie at the control of either the worms or the Geonosian Queen, Barriss believes that she should be forgiven for feeling as though they should just gather every ship they can get their hands on and have them all open fire on that entire blasted world from high orbit until there’s not a single living thing left alive on the entire accursed planet and it’s all reduced down to slag!

20.) Fortune: She honestly doesn’t expect to like Ahsoka Tano as much as she does – the young Togruta is almost painfully brash; she has no concept whatsoever of subtly; she’s so blasted busy rushing headlong into everything that she wouldn’t recognize the concept of strategic thinking if it became embodied and bypassed her two side lekku to deliberately bite her on her rear head-tail; and she quite clearly feels no loyalty whatsoever to her original Master, Togruta Jedi Master Yrannia Tey, since she’s thrilled when the idiots in the galactic press start calling her the Golden Child of the Golden Team (though, to be fair, as Barriss eventually finds out, there’s a very good reason for that. Xenophobia to the point where one believes that only a potential apprentice of the same species as one own self is not a good reason for taking on a Padawan, no matter what Master Tey might believe. Meanwhile, Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker would literally give their lives for Ahsoka’s and she would do the same for either one of them in a heartbeat, so obviously she knows how to be faithful and she’s just as patently chosen the correct Jedi to give her devotion and allegiance to): on the other hand, she’s one of the most constant and reliable Jedi (if also easily one of the most stubborn, which is saying something, given she’s essentially been apprenticed by the Golden Team while her so-called “real” Master recovers from all of the damage she took at the First Battle of Geonosis. Master Unduli is right: those three Jedi truly do deserve one another, no matter what anyone else might seem to think on the subject, and they would all do anything and everything in their power to keep each other safe, just as they’d do all that they could to help a friend in need, as Barriss herself has had reason to learn, Ahsoka having saved her on more than one occasion that otherwise likely would’ve been hopeless) Barriss has ever had the good fortune to meet – but she trusts her to a degree that, rationally speaking, likely should be frightening, and faith, like friendship, is something that is not easily won, in these dark days of war, so Barriss fully intends to keep that trust and so remain worthy of their resultant friendship, however unexpected it might’ve initially been and however occasionally frustrating it might occasionally be.

21.) Fall: Umbara is such a complete horror show and Barriss is just so messed up from it (not only because of Jedi Master and General Pong Krell’s treachery and fall to the Dark Side, but because she can’t help but realize how much worse it could have so easily been, if Commander Rex had simply obeyed orders from Krell and hadn’t had the courage to contact Master Kenobi and, thus, discovered General Krell’s duplicity before he could deliberately pit unwitting clones from the 501st against clones of the 212th Attack Battalion. Krell still lost far too many men and slaughtered still more, when he was revealed as a traitor, but things came so appallingly close to being so much worse that Barriss feels sick whenever she thinks about it) that, afterwards, she barely even knows what she’s doing, much less what anyone else is saying or doing around her; that’s really no excuse for taking so long to realize that Letta Turmond (the wife of an Abyssin Temple worker and a self-professed pacifist who keeps trying to strike up a conversation with Barriss about why the Jedi aren’t doing more to end the war and how Barriss could be doing more to help stop the fighting) is a liar or just how conniving, hypocritical, and homicidal she actually is, though at least Barriss and Ahsoka manage to contain most of the explosions from the nano-droid bombs, even if they do kill both Turmond and her seemingly unwitting dupe of a husband and inflict enough damage on that specific Temple hangar both to injure a few dozen nearby Temple workers, clones, and even Jedi and to kill more than a handful of other innocent bystanders (though, thankfully, no Jedi die as a result of the only mostly thwarted bombing, or else Barriss honestly doesn’t know how she’d ever be able to live with herself, afterwards).

22.) Demand: It is not just and it is not right that the Jedi High Council should essentially punish Ahsoka for her efforts to help Barriss fix the mess that her distraction and failure to see what was directly in front of her nose so very nearly caused and, in some measure, did still cause, even with the both of them doing their utmost to try to either keep the explosions contained or else to channel them somewhere that they couldn’t cause any (measurable, irrevocable) harm – Yrannia Tey has no right to demand that Ahsoka be given back to her as if she were nothing more than a thing the Togruta felt she owned, as if she were a child throwing a tantrum because someone else has been playing with one of her toys while she’s been indisposed! Ahsoka may have said that she will go back to her old Master and Knight Skywalker and Master Kenobi may have allowed her to make that choice, but anyone who knows anything about any of the three Jedi involved in the decision must know that they have only done so because all of them are unwilling to be the cause for the High Council has a reason to issue the kind of formal censure and reprimand that would just end with all three of them being ordered apart from each other – and Barriss feels so betrayed by Yoda and the majority of the other High Council Masters (nine of whom have, like the Grand Master, backed Master Tey’s demand that her apprentice be returned to her) that, for a few moments, she almost wishes that she could just be selfish enough to simply turn her back and leave the Order that is so clearly failing three of the absolute best of its members behind.

23.) Bribe: Knighting Barriss so soon after Ahsoka has been ordered away from her true Masters and back to Yrannia Tey feels awfully like a bribe for not raising a fuss about such a perfidious act; Master Unduli insists that she deserves it (that what Barriss still has to learn of the Force can only be learned by taking on the duties and responsibilities of a Knight who might, one day, be both able and willing to take on an apprentice of her own), though, and, when Knight Skywalker and Master Kenobi (who know about it because Master Kenobi is a member of the High Council and apparently voted in favor of her being Knighted) take the time to comm and congratulate her on her Knighting, Anakin earnestly adds that, if she were able, Ahsoka would absolutely be the first in line to tell her that she deserves it, so, after most of a day and a night of quiet reflection, Barriss decides that she’ll allow herself to accept the honor, even though (in her heart of hearts) she’s still not entirely sure that she deserves it or that she even truly wants it, any longer.

24.) Chaos: Drongar somehow seems to evoke all the chaos and all the energy of the Living Force all concentrated into one bizarre planet of adaptogenic, mutagenic insanity and, if not for the bota fields (which both sides covet for its miraculous medical properties, though there are other forces at work – criminal cartels – who’d gladly steal the bota out from under them both if they could. No one has actually come out and said so, but she’s fairly certain that part of the reason why she’s been assigned here, to Republic Mobile Surgical Unit 7, is because someone in a position of power here is highly suspected to be working with one of those cartels and the High Council would prefer, if possible, to put an end to such nonsense without having to involve any military tribunals. Given what Tarkin almost managed to do to her and Ahsoka – which was only stopped because of the support that Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker and, by extension, Ahsoka have in the Senate, not because of anything that the Council Masters did or said – she finds it almost painfully ironic that the Council has chosen to send her, rather than someone else, more likely to still feel strong bonds of trust and loyalty to the High Council), Barriss honestly isn’t sure that anyone would find the myriad (and often changing, usually for the worse) risks involved with trying to establish a military presence there at all worth it, particularly given the fact that almost everything else on Drongar except the bota seems designed to make trying to live on Drongar in any kind of safety as dangerous and close to impossible as is at all possible.

25.) Wrong: It is an injustice so great and so unequivocally wrong that a vicious, sadistic thug like Phow Ji should be reported as a hero, when he’s been caught on cam outright murdering Salissian mercenaries employed by the CIS who’ve already surrendered and has essentially deliberately suicided by Separatist drop ship and thermal grenade in order to escape the so-called dishonor of having to live with the knowledge that he not only owes his life to a Jedi Healer like Barriss, but that he owes his life to her specifically because she’s used the Force – which he’s always loudly claimed does not exist – in order to heal him, that she’s not at all surprised that Den Dhur (the Sullustan reporter who’d written an exposé about the Bundukian mercenary and Teräs Käsi champions murderous ways) ultimately refused to have his name on the story at all, after his editor essentially changed everything in it, with the excuse that the Republic needs more stories about heroes during such turbulent times (and not, apparently, hard-hitting exposés about war crimes being perpetrated by mercenaries on the Republic’s payroll).

26.) Amateur: Healer and specialist surgeon Kornell Divini of Tatooine – Uli Divini, as he smilingly insists on being called – is both younger than Barriss has expected (she knows that Jos Vondar, the Chief Medical Officer and another Healer who’s specialized in surgeries of all sorts on multiple kinds of sentient beings, likes to complain that Healer Divini looks as if he’s about fourteen, but that’s clearly an exaggeration – or even a complaint – and not to be taken seriously. She’s been expecting someone in his early- or even mid-twenties, given the sort of education and training he must’ve had, to be stationed on a Rimsoo, but “Uli” looks like he’s very close to her own age, meaning he’s almost certainly not even twenty standard years of age yet. He reminds her of Anakin Skywalker, in a way, and not just because of his accent or his fair hair and blue eyes, though his skills as a surgeon, however phenomenal, can’t quite compare with Skywalker’s prodigious strength in the Force), and kinder than she quite knows what to do with, particularly when he somehow charms her into letting him see to an injury she’s accidentally inflicted on her right foot that she could have dealt with entirely by herself, with the Force, explains that he’s out in the swamps of Drongar in the first place (after she challenges him about being in the swamp) because his mother (renowned mudopterist Elana Divini, as Barriss eventually realizes) collects Alderaanian flare-wings and he’s interested in seeing what sort of comparable insects might call Drongar’s jungles home, smiles in a way that makes her realize that, once he’s old enough to have laugh lines, he’s going to be stunningly handsome (though why such a thing should ever even occur to her – why she should be looking at the young man closely enough to ever realize something like that – completely escapes her ability to understand), and leaves her so unbalanced that she feels even more like a rank amateur pretending to be something/someone she’s not than she had when, only moments before, she’d somehow managed to let herself be startled enough by an unexpected, brief but strong shift in temperature to lose control in the midst of a routine kata to the point of hurting herself with her own lightsaber (even though she hasn’t fumbled her lightsaber badly enough to injure herself since she’d been nine, and then it had only been a small nick to her left wrist, far less serious than the puncturing gash she’d inflicted on her poor foot).

27.) Precious: Bota is known to act as a potent broad-based antibiotic on humans and to have similar effects on several kinds of near-humans, as well, and the clones, being based on the genetic profile of Jango Fett (a registered genetic [if borderline] human norm Mandalorian originally from Concord Dawn, according to the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, which keeps track of such things), qualify as human norms (for the most part, anyway, though the few truly obvious aberrations tend to number among those the Kaminoan cloners categorize as genetic deviants only worth decommissioning, so they often end up – occasionally after being literally rescued by Master Shaak Ti or another Jedi stationed on Kamino if Master Ti cannot be there, even though Knight Kenobi demanded that all such decommissionings stop when he “accepted” the clones from the Kaminoans and every Jedi on Kamino since then who’s been there long enough to speak to any of the Kaminoans about the progress of the clones still in training has reiterated this order – in support positions in the Temple, rather than in the fighting forces of the GAR), which is almost certainly why Zabrak Healer and specialist surgeon Zan Yant had gone to the trouble (prior to his tragic death, during a Separatist attack on the Rimsoo) to seek out patches of bota growing wild and to (illegally) process it (bota being so prized that all of it is supposed to be shipped offworld, for sale, the harvested and stabilized/processed bota being considered too valuable to “waste” on mere soldiers) and put the results in muscle-poppers in the first place, which is why (after Jos Vondar admits what he’s found, when gathering up and clearing out his friend’s belongings from their shared quarters, and they take the risk of trying it – to miraculous effect – on a dying clone soldier) Barriss thinks of attempting to use one of the precious few bota poppers on a Rodian lieutenant with chronic smashbone fever, in hopes it will help (she’s already decided that, if Healer Yant could be brave enough to find and illegally process wild bota, so he would have some on hand to use on the worst cases in the medical wards, then she can and must do the same. Bota grows wild in many places in and around the swamps and jungles. There will be more poppers, if this one is ineffective. It won’t be a waste to try it, and it could very well help with a disease that, as yet, has no cure), and why, when caught by surprise by a particularly strong muscle spasm, she ends up accidentally injecting herself with some of the bota.

28.) Unique: Bota, like basically all known lifeforms native specifically to Drongar, is naturally both adaptogenic and mutagenic and always has been, at least to some extent – though it’s not (yet) been proven so, logically speaking, it’s adaptogenic properties likely have a great deal to do with the fact that bota has different kinds of effects on and medical uses for so many different species and no known negative side effects to any of those species, even though they use it for such wildly different reasons (from narcotic painkillers to powerful stimulants to broad-based antibiotics) – so it probably shouldn’t be so surprising that the plants (which technically aren’t exactly plants, being instead a unique type of lifeform somewhere between a mold and a fungus. Since no one has yet bothered to try to formally classify what bota exactly is, yet – it being more important to protect it and harvest it so that it can be dispensed or tested further on new/different species – most beings refer to bota as a plant, anyway, for simplicity’s sake) are mutating (and apparently have been for some time, though someone with deep pockets – most likely hoping to profit from the information somehow – has apparently been going to great lengths to try to keep this fact from getting out) towards the likelihood that bota might, one day all too soon, become, for all extents and purposes, inert and therefore useless (and worthless) as any sort of drug; given the reactions Barriss has had both to her unintended injection and the injection she’s deliberately given herself, to see if it would replicate the effects of her accidental dose, though, the fact that they could lose bota before ever discovering what it could mean, to Forceful individuals like the Jedi, it means that she has to contact the Council of Reassignment and, thus, the Circle of Jedi Healers and the MedCorps, as well as the High Council, at once, so that the Masters will know what bota can do to strengthen/deepen one’s connection with the Force in time to try to do something to save it.

29.) Communiqué: She is, in all honesty, shocked to see Master Kenobi (he isn’t a Healer, after all, though he is known for being an excellent emergency battlefield medic and it is, thanks to the war, increasingly becoming obvious that he’s among one of a handful of the most powerful Jedi currently in the entire Order. He explains, only a little sardonically, that he has contacts with the AgriCorps and, since the hope is that a fixed or stabilized version of the most potent remaining extant strain of bota [which, hopefully, will be unlikely to ever mutate to an ineffective form] can be successfully transplanted to at least a few suitable planets/moons known only to members of the High Council and a few high-ranking [and/or sworn to secrecy members] of the ExplorCorps and then raised and harvested by highly gifted and thoroughly vetted AgriCorps members for processing by the MedCorps and use by them and Jedi Healers, he’s here at the request of both the Council of Reassignment and the rest of the High Council), among the various Jedi Healers and Jedi Service Corps members who’ve stealthily responded to her communiqué (she’s even more astonished to see him without Knight Skywalker at his side, though the explanation that a majority of the High Council has decided that his friendship with Chancellor Palpatine – who, after all, is responsible for the policy that forbids the Healers on Drongar from using bota on their patients – makes him too much of a security risk to know about what they’re trying to do here); ultimately, though, Barriss ends up being extremely glad that he’s come, as she’s almost certain that they wouldn’t have succeeded in their aims without Master Kenobi’s raw strength in the Force and his startling ability to persuade the bota to grow in a way that should make it much hardier (and, thus, more likely to survive being transplanted) and perhaps even more potent, in the long run, since its nature should now be prone to adapt only to make it harder to kill and not to keep wildly mutating until it share so few similarities with what it is now that it will no longer be effective as a drug.

30.) Traitor: To keep their actions (which are illegal according to the Chancellor’s policies and Republic law, though she would argue that it is the laws that are immoral, not the actions of the Jedi, especially not once she learns that the hope is that the transplanted bota will thrive so much that the MedCorps will be able to experiment a little and perhaps come up with a bacta-bota mix that can surreptitiously be added to every Jedi’s standard field pack and be regularly provided in bulk to clone medics and other such doctors and healers in the field, with the explanation that it’s an experimental Force-enhanced strain of extremely effective bacta, for emergency use. Bacta technically is also legally restricted – Chancellor Palpatine has, over the course of the war, quite foolishly limited its production even further than it used to be, instead of expanding it so that the GAR will be guaranteed more than enough supply, supposedly to make it harder for Separatists to get their hands on any of it – but it’s always been something of an open secret [among Jedi, in any case. It’s not their fault if the politicians and the corporations have forgotten!] that, because of their Service Corps, the Jedi can and do produce their own bacta, and frankly Barriss regards the decision to secretly try to save and transplant an effective strain bota as an extension of the same policy that’s seen the AgriCorps and the MedCorps producing bacta for Jedi use for the past four thousand years or so), a secret, she must act as if she’s dismayed when the secret comes out, about the bota mutating to uselessness and the order comes that the Republic is abandoning Drongar; she doesn’t expect another traitor (Eqani Minder Klo Merit, of all beings! The loss of his homeworld has evidently driven him mad – after all, the Jedi have no records of a Republic weapons test, such as he claimed destroyed Eqanus, and they would surely know, if it were true – as well as driving him to betray the Republic to the CIS) to be exposed and shot by Jos Vondar in the chaos of the Separatist attack that very nearly derails the Republic retreat, though!

31.) Two: Barriss knows that the High Council have been assigning both orphaned Padawans and Padawans whose individual Masters have been injured to the point where they can no longer adequately do their duty by their apprentices and continue see to their training to other available Knights and Masters without waiting to see if anyone will volunteer for such a responsibility or even bothering to ask, first, if anyone has a particular preference – she’s friends with Ahsoka Tano, so she cannot help but know how Master Yoda persuaded (most) of the rest of the High Council to assign Ahsoka to Knight Skywalker and Master Kenobi – but she’s barely been a Jedi Knight for two standard months, so the absolute last thing she’s expecting, when she returns to the Temple after Drongar, is to be summoned to the High Council Chamber and informed that she’s doing such an excellent job that the Council Masters are assigning her Selonian Padawan Zonder – whose Master, Armann Asantuen, one of the two dozen Corellian or Green Jedi who decided to fight with the Republic, even after Senator Garm Bel Iblis invoked Contemplanys Hermi and the entire sector technically closed its borders, back when the war was just beginning, is currently missing in action – until either Zonder’s Master can be found or else definitive proof the man’s demise is discovered.

32.) Awkward: She and Zonder are doing their utmost to try to make the best they can out of a truly awkward situation (though neither one of them is really all that comfortable with the High Council assigning them to one another. Zonder insists that his bond with his Master is unbroken, meaning the man is alive [a fact that she likely finds entirely too reassuring, given the likelihood that the High Council will just assign someone else to her if Zonder’s Master turns up and is able to take Zonder back on again], and that he should be out there looking for him, which Barriss can understand, even if she doesn’t quite agree with him. There are Jedi Shadows who are looking for Master Asantuen, after all, and Shadows are far more suited for such work than any Padawan could hope to be) and she’s tentatively beginning to think that they might be starting to find a rhythm together that works when the Separatists suddenly invade Coruscant, General Grievous kidnaps Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, and things proceed to pretty much try to go to the lowest levels of Sith hells in a bloody handbasket.

33.) Attack: They were supposed to be dispatched to Felucia, but the unexpected invasion of Coruscant and all of the chaos surrounding that derailed those orders long enough for Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker both to discover that Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, is actually the mysterious second Sith Lord (Sidious, according to what little they’ve been able to uncover, since the Naboo Crisis) and has quite deliberately been playing both sides of the war all along and to then confront and defeat (and, in the process, dispatch) him, after which there was the attempted attack on the Temple to deal with (because, apparently, the clones all had biochip implants in their brains that could be triggered to force them to follow certain commands and the cowardly, traitorous Sith attempted to trigger Order 66 – labelling all Jedi traitors to the Republic and calling for their immediate execution – when confronted by Kenobi and Skywalker), and then, well . . . the war may essentially be over with, but Barriss is a Healer, so she’s going to be needed to help deal with both the problem of those Sith accursed biochips and the fact that the Kaminoans so cruelly designed the clones to age at twice the speed of average human norms, so no one can possibly ever highjack the free will of any of the clones ever again and the clones can hopefully still have long and productive lives as free citizens of whatever it is that the Republic is reorganizing itself to become, now that the Sith have been exposed and dealt with and their plans have also been exposed and ruined.

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sward-iak · 1 year ago

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Intro Post!

Hello! Some of you may know me from somewhere else, and to that (unless you're a super close friend of years now) I say nay! You do not!

I am a in my 20s concept art/writer hobbyist. I work a full 40 hours with week, sometimes with overtime (so if I'm MIA, that's why!). When I'm not at work though I thoroughly enjoy reading, writing, drawing, playing video games, and hanging out with my family/friends!

Writeblr/Main: @sqeedledob

Request Info

I've been getting some DMs about my requests so hopefully this will clear things up! Commissions are always more of a priority than requests, and people who Donate to my Ko-Fi are my second priority. Requests will be completed at my leisure.

Primary Requests: CLOSED

Primary requests are in my typical style and can range from concept art to simple illustrations. These requests are actually colored and finished to varying stages just depending on how I'm feeling. I try not to spend more than a week on a request but if I'm really vibing with it, I'll probably finish it

Examples of what you can expect for a primary request

Sketch/Ask Box Requests: OPEN

Sketch requests take me a max of 20 minutes and I usually use them as a means of warming up. So if you'd rather quick art of an OC or character instead of something that could take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, this is the way to go! These are only accepted through the Ask Box and MUST include a reference!

Examples of what you can expect for a Sketch/Ask Box

Below the cut are rules/expectations for requests, thank you guys for reading!

Also because a few people had asked for this, I am going to link my Ko-fi. There's no pressure to tip, I do all of this for fun, but if you want to I won't stop u! xD [Click here for da Ko-Fi]

PRIMARY REQUEST RULES

This is a request, not a commission. I will take the requester's input in mind when drawing, but I will not do revisions

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are allowed, however keep in mind:

- I WILL NOT draw beastiality/Zoophilia - I WILL NOT draw Loli/Lolita or anything related to CP - I WILL NOT draw Furry NSFW. I have nothing against furries, furry NSFW just personally makes me uncomfortable and I do not like looking at it much less drawing it (this includes Ponies) - I WILL NOT draw anything for a franchise that is directed toward younger audiences, ie: anything rated PG or TV Y7 (PG-13 is Acceptable, DEPENDING ON THE FRANCHISE. ie: Marvel) - I WILL NOT draw Non/Dub Con, or anything that would cause someone to use the Dead Dove tag - I WILL NOT draw irl people in NSFW situations, ie Youtubers, Streamers, etc. Fictional Characters only IF A REQUEST SHOULD MAKE ME UNCOMORTABLE I fully reserve the right to Deny it, even if it is not on this list

If you do make an NSFW request, I will make a SFW version to post and send you the NSFW privately. I try to limit how much NSFW I share on this account

I can draw anything from landscapes to robots, humans to creatures. (Just cause I won't draw NSFW of furries or Ponies doesn't mean I won't do SFW art of them!) I fully enjoy testing the bounds of my artistic abilities and I invite people to help me challenge them!

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

And to reiterate: Primary requests can take a while, especially since my queue is pretty long right now! I will make another post when my Queue opens up a bit!

In progress (Commissions): Tank (Color Picking) Simon (Line Art Clean Up) Wolfie (Sketch) Surplus (Sketch) Beth (Sketch) In Queue, not started (in order): @frlituj @jessica199616 @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono @lovablenatsume @princeasimdiya12 @airfriedfruitcake @hallwriteblr

Sketch/Ask Box Requests

This is a quick request to help me warm up and will usually take max 20 minutes. So it'll be fast/messy!

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are not allowed for this one, just so I can keep it simple and quick without having to put too much thought into it

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

#Artist #Artist on tumblr #Artist intro post #intro post #art request #art request info

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theartfulmegalodon · 1 year ago

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Well dang it, I've had a nibble of engagement, and I'm finally letting it tempt me. Wanna read my comic scripts? I'm really hoping you do!

It is planned as a 30-issue comic series. I have chosen to write the entire thing and make it as good as I can before I attempt to draw any of the actual pages. Partly this is perfectionism, and partly it is because I know how long it would take me to attempt to draw it, and how unlikely I'd be to ever complete it. I wanted to focus on completing something, and I've chosen the writing.

I have written 15 (half!) of the 30 issues, and they have already seen many, many revisions. (Much thanks to the three people who have read them and given me feedback!) I am quite confident that these first 15 issues are very close to their final forms, and they are definitely good enough for me to share with you all.

I have also done a few sketches and bits of standalone art for the characters*, so while I have no comic pages drawn yet, I will occasionally include some of these sketches in with the script, just to give your optic nerves more of a workout. It's the least I can do! I'm thinking I can post one issue script per week? That's 15 weeks of new content for ya, with more to eventually follow!

*All designs subject to small changes down the line.

I post these issues mainly to share them. My experience has been that people almost never want to read a comic script, but sadly, the writing is as much as I can do right now, and I am in fact proud of what I've done so far, and very much looking forward to tackling the second half. However, I am always looking for feedback, and I will be WIDE OPEN for questions, critique and suggestions. Not saying I'll necessarily change things based on your feedback, but I do welcome it! Also, of course, I'd love it if you shared these around, talked them up to your friends, if you like them!

Read on for more about the story itself!

River & Ash is a slow-burn supernatural gay romance, set in an alternate version of our real world. The material is treated maturely (I like to think) but with only about a PG-13 rating. (No smut, no super-strong language.) There is angst in parts of it, but there is also a lot of wholesome shmoop. And while the focus is mostly on the evolution of the relationship between the two main characters, there is also plot, and mini-arcs, with minor superheroics, alternate history pop culture, and an original mythology and history that is teased and then slowly revealed over the course of the story. It also happens to have a very proactive, driven individual for a main character (River). I say this just in case, like me, you don't love when magic/the supernatural just sort of happens to the protagonist to kick off a story.

Ripped from the introductory page that begins every issue…

"Once, the world was full of magic… because humanity once shared the world with demons. History tells that for thousands of years they coexisted, sometimes happily, sometimes not, but one truth never changed: any human who made a deal with a demon would be granted incredible power of their own… for a price.

But in the Middle Ages, during the rise of the Catholic church, a small pocket of humanity attempted to purge these magical beings from existence. The details were lost to time, but what is known is that the demons who survived collectively renounced mankind and disappeared, removing themselves and their influence. 1101 became known as the year magic vanished from the world.

Centuries later, on the same day he suffers a horrifying loss, River McAllister is given what appears to be a real demon book. These rare, indestructible relics have been mostly hoarded away, and there hasn't been a confirmed demon sighting in over a thousand years. It seems impossible. He knows it probably won't work. But if he can find a way to translate it, he might just be able to summon the demon that belongs to it… and maybe make a deal of his own."

The first will be posted forthwith. Thank you in advance so very much!

#River&Ash #comic writing #comic scripts #really hoping to find even a smidgen of an audience here #Godlings? never heard of it

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anddreadful · 1 year ago

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okay full thoughts, which no one wanted or asked for, on the HM movie. credentials: i am a big weird haunted mansion nerd. warning for mild spoilers

the scene-level writing was very, very bad. it felt like they had plot beats sketched out and the actors improvised around that and the CGI artists improvised around that

they not only included one million things from the ride as cute nods (expected), they did a pretty good job of organizing the scattered lore and random bits of the ride into the backbone of the plot (less expected), which i appreciated as the target audience for that effort (at least one lesson was learned from the eddie murphy version, i guess)

though the direct recreation of the attic scene means we have the same problem with the attic scene as I do in the ride, which is that it has nothing to do with anything else and i don't think Constance is that interesting!!! give me spooky nameless glowing heart bride or give me death!

i loved jamie lee curtis russian princess leota IRL but why was her makeup in crystal ball form a) cgi b) horrible

the CGI was noticeably bad overall. just really rough

the costumes were a bright spot in an otherwise pretty poor production. i mean, i clocked that a bunch of shots were straight up out of focus, and I'm not a cinephile who's looking for those things. but all the different ghosts looked great in their little outfits! and the contemporary costumes were unique and interesting!

i loved that the story didn't shy away from having many (attempted) beats of emotional sincerity! and the theme about grief! those were the right ideas! shame almost none of those scenes landed!

making fun of the dinner theater guy was the funniest thing in the movie. really everything that happened in mansion #2 rocked and I loved it

speaking of which: owen wilson in an overlarge fireplace in a haunted mansion with a secret compartment below it where the ghost baddie hid the bodies...... The Haunting (1999) reference????

SPEAKING OF WHICH: the kid getting spooked by a tarantula in that scene........ eddie murphy haunted mansion reference??????

okay that one's a stretch but it does bring to mind how the zombie/ spider scene in that movie was gnarlier than anything in this movie by far

bananas that they set up danny devito having a heart condition and having no friends outside of the main characters and being obsessed with the mansion but he doesn't die and become a ghost ??

look. i know it's a kids movie but someone needed to die and hang around as the Ghost Friend. i don't make the rules

this movie should have been pg-13 and substantially spookier. it tried hard to be funny and mostly failed, but it didn't make any attempt at all at the slow dread and not-explicitly-ghostly creepiness that embodies the first half of the ride.

speaking of which: this is disney adult insider baseball but the whole tizzy with adding the hatbox ghost to the ride before the seance scene, breaking the ride lore/ narrative, kind of, sort of, is even funnier in context of the movie and HBG being a nominal movie tie-in because it makes that choice make even LESS sense.

(that said fwiw i don't really care about it, there's not really a good place to insert him and i don't think the narrative element that's at risk here as such makes an impact on 99.99% of people's experiences)

(like. i love the haunted mansion ride so much but little leota doesn't make any sense either. it's all fine)

the movie DID do a pretty good job of representing the 'celebratory ghostly chaos' element of the ride which was nice to see captured, and 'being a ghost rocks and we want to hang here and party' is indeed the correct ending for almost any haunted mansion-derivative story I can think of. the eddie murphy version explicitly sending everyone to heaven was, uh, bad

GULAG for everyone involved in the product placement. jail 100 years. the ADRed-in line about baskin robbins in the midst of the monologue about how Ben's wife died? a war crime

in the end, the muppets haunted mansion movie is still the superior ride adaptation. see you in 2050 when they try again though

whoever is responsible for all the truly egregious brand placements in the new haunted mansion should be drawn and quartered. scariest thing in that movie was the capitalist synergy

#haunted mansion (2023)#hatbox ghost

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edith-hyde · 2 years ago

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Norman Osborn X Female Reader

I Forgot My Umbrella - Part 36

Word Count: 3237

Summary: You run into some new potential friends during lunch. On your way back to work, something unexpected happens.

Warnings: Age gap. PG/PG-13.

A/N: Ya know that moment in the K-Drama where something jarring happens to heighten the tension? We're there lol

Tagging: @druigswh0ree @digital-demise @maskmare931 @b1ueoff1ine @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @wtfhasmy-lifecometo

Archive

——

Lunch time rolled around and you planned to eat with Norman at the café across the street.

Unfortunately, Norman was held up by a meeting and told you to go on without him.

With a dejected heart, you headed across the street to get your meal. You had an hour lunch and spent the first few minutes sketching as you waited for your food. Thinking about the past weekend, you started drawing Norman and Harry side by side. You realized they had quite a few features in common now that you were thinking about it. The strong cheekbones, square jaw, fluffy hair… But you much preferred Norman’s features between the two. They were sharper, more confident.

And aged to perfection.

You giggled to yourself, totally entrenched in your work. So you nearly jumped out of your skin when a voice spoke from behind you.

“That’s really good!”

You twisted around to see Harry standing over your shoulder. You instantly slammed the sketchbook shut and started babbling.

“Ha-Harry?! What are you-? When did you-?”

Harry held up his hands in defense.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was actually just coming over here to say hi and ask if you wanted to come eat with us.”

“Us?”

You peeked around Harry and spotted Peter Parker sitting across from a red headed young woman. Peter saw you and gave a small awkward wave.

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Harry shrugged.

“No! I’d like to. Sorry. You just surprised me is all…”

You gathered your things and went to join Harry and his two friends.

“Pete, MJ, this is Y/N.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Peter. And it’s nice to meet you, MJ.”

MJ gave you a pleasant smile.

“Hi! You can sit here.”

MJ moved her purse so you could sit next to her. This put you across from Harry, who was currently glancing between you and Peter with confusion.

“You and Pete have met before?” Harry questioned.

“Yeah,” Peter said with a bob of his head, “I went to your dad’s office over a week ago to talk about the apartment. Ya know, that’s when he offered me the job.”

“Ah right…”

Harry suddenly grinned at you.

“Hey, Y/N. Show ‘em the drawing you were doing.”

“Oh I’d rather not,” you said as your face flushed red.

“But it’s really good! I can’t believe you drew it from memory. Come on.”

You arched an eyebrow at Harry. He didn’t seem to think there was anything weird about what you were sketching and that surprised you. Perhaps it was because he was a fellow artist?

Or perhaps drawing your boss and his son wasn’t as weird as you thought it was.

Yeah right.

With a deep breath, you opened the sketchbook. You were extra careful not to show the other incriminating pages as you tried to find the one you had been working on. With a great deal of apprehension, you turned the book around to show the table. You watched everyone’s reactions. Harry smiled with pride. Peter looked with contained awe. And MJ’s eyes widened to the size of baseballs.

“Wow Harry wasn’t joking, you are good!” she praised, “You really drew this from memory?”

“Yeah,” you answered sheepishly, “Harry came in yesterday and I couldn’t help but notice some similarities between him and Nor- Dr. Osborn. It’s my artist's brain. I can’t help it. I like to draw the people around me.”

It wasn’t a lie so much as a bent version of the truth. You really did like to draw the people around you. You just left out how, lately, the only person you had been around to draw was Norman.

“They do look alike,” Peter agreed, “But you’ve really captured their distinct looks.”

“I know right?” Harry laughed, “It’s like looking in a mirror!”

You closed the sketchbook and MJ tilted her head.

“Can we see some other sketches?”

“Oh no!” you answered immediately with a laugh, “This sketchbook is like my diary. So some of the drawings are personal… Ya know?”

MJ nodded her understanding.

“Better put a lock and key on it then. Harry might snoop.”

“Hey!” Harry said defensively, “I already said I was sorry for that. Let it go.”

MJ smirked and you had the feeling that they were referencing something that happened while they were dating. It was good that they were able to joke about it, you thought. That meant that they were on their way to being proper friends again.

“Say, Y/N, where are you going to college?”

Harry’s question made you give a scathing laugh.

“Nowhere! Thank God I am past all that mess.”

Harry’s eyebrows went up.

“You’ve already graduated college?”

“Yeah. Got my art degree last year… Wait… How old did you think I was?”

Harry turtled into himself, suddenly shy.

“I guess I just assumed you were the same age as us.”

You shook your head with an amused smile.

“Thanks for thinking I look so youthful, but I’ll be 24 this year. Not saying I’m old, but I’m very much older than you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at Harry’s pouting face. It took him a second to recover and you took the time to address the other two at the table.

“So what are the two of you majoring in?”

“I’m trying to be an actress,” MJ said shyly, “Trying and failing if I am being honest.”

“You’re not failing!” Peter quickly defended, “You’re doing great. That play you were in last week was amazing.”

“Pete, I was an extra for one scene,” MJ laughed with an eyeroll.

“Still. You were great.”

You smiled. Peter was clearly in love with MJ. He adored everything she did, no matter how small it was. Harry just rolled his eyes, clearly not finding their exchange as cute as you did.

“Pete here is gonna be some kind of scientist, ain’tcha Pete?”

Peter glanced at you and gave a half smile.

“I haven’t fully decided what field to go into yet.”

“Well, Dr. Osborn seems to think that you’ll be very helpful with some genetics research he’s doing. He’s already got a project in mind for you.”

Peter took a breath, his smile becoming apprehensive.

“Oh boy… Sounds… fun. I’ll probably go with you back to OSCORP to pick that up so I can start earning my paycheck.”

You turned your attention to Harry.

“And what about you, Harry? Are you an art major?”

You already knew the answer but you couldn’t risk letting Harry know how much you knew about him.

“HA!” Harry shook his head, “No, I’m going into business so I can run OSCORP when my dad retires.”

You nodded and wondered just how much Harry actually wanted to run his father’s business. There was a high chance that Harry didn’t want the burden. But you doubted that he would ever tell Norman that. Despite his bumpy past with his father, he still sought his approval and strove to be more like him. It was both sad and admirable.

“I don’t envy you, Y/N,” MJ blurted, “Having to work with Harry’s father every day. That has to be rough.”

Harry scowled at MJ, but she didn’t back down. She meant every word she said. You couldn’t fault her for her opinion either. The Norman Osborn she had the displeasure of meeting was quite nasty towards her. But you wanted to change her opinion; if it was even possible.

“It’s actually not bad at all,” you said with a smile, “Working with Norman Osborn has been quite nice. He’s the best employer I’ve ever had.”

MJ gave you a skeptical frown.

“Really?”

“Yes really,” you laughed, “I know he wasn’t always so pleasant in the past, but since I’ve started working there, he’s been very kind. It can be hard work, keeping up with all the moving pieces, planning everything, but I enjoy it.”

“That’s good,” Peter piped up, “Right guys?”

“It still freaks me out,” Harry admitted, “You didn’t know him before… But suddenly, right before Christmas, he just changed out of the blue. Wanted to apologize to everybody for everything. It was weird.”

“Glad you finally admit it,” MJ said sourly, “I still don’t trust him, Harry. I’m sorry. Even if he did apologize.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I think it’s great that he’s trying to be different,” Peter interjected, “You’ve gotta give people a chance, right?”

You nodded your agreement.

“People can change,” you added, “Whatever the reason was, I am glad Dr. Osborn has been trying. It makes working there very easy. And OSCORP can finally be known for doing more than selling weapons. That’s something to be proud of.”

“I’m still holding out,” MJ said pointedly, “If he can keep this up for the rest of the year, then I’ll believe it.”

“Honestly…Same.” Harry admitted, “I’m waiting to see if it sticks…”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, “I have the utmost faith in him though.”

Harry arched an eyebrow.

“You do? Why?”

You instantly started floundering.

“Well… because…. Because I like to see people succeed at their personal goals, ya know? I care about everyone around me. Even Dr. Osborn. He’s my boss after all. And he gave me a job when no one else would. I wanna help him in any way I can. I feel like I owe him.”

Luckily, Harry bought your reasoning. Again, it wasn’t so much of a lie as it was a different view of the truth. You really did care about Norman’s goals. And you did owe him for your job. Without it, you would’ve had to move back home.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Harry said in earnest, “And don’t let him push you around. He can be a big jerk sometimes, but he’s a good man.”

You saw MJ roll her eyes, making it clear that she did not share Harry’s opinion of his father. But you put on a smile and nodded.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

For the rest of lunch you swapped stories with the trio. You learned a great deal more about their personalities and interests. Peter also liked to draw, but hardly ever had the time. He was also into photography. MJ shocked you with her knowledge of movies and actors. And Harry spent a lot of his free time painting and listening to classical music.

You were glad that most of the conversations didn’t dig too much into your personal life. You had no idea how to respond if they had asked you if you had a boyfriend.

As you were getting ready to leave, Harry stopped you right outside the door.

“Say… Were you going to the Gala this Friday?”

You gave Harry a beaming smile as you nodded.

“Yup!”

“Did you… Do you have a…”

You cocked an eyebrow at the younger Osborn who was clearly struggling to ask you something. His ears were starting to turn red- instantly reminding you of Norman. You smiled fondly as you thought of your boyfriend, waiting for Harry to ask his question.

“I just wanted to know if… If you had a plus one for the Gala?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am taking my friend Tracy. Why do you ask?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he shrugged.

“Ah, no reason. I just didn’t want you to feel awkward if you were showing up without a date. I was thinking about going but I dunno…”

“Oh you should totally go!” You said with an encouraging smile, “I did all the planning for it. You should come just to support my hard work!”

You and Harry laughed.

“Alright. I’ll go. But just for you.”

You turned to Peter and MJ.

“You guys should come to the Gala too. Now that Pete will be working at OSCORP, he’ll be invited. It's a Fantasy Masquerade.”

MJ’s eyes lit up and you could tell that she was interested in going- Even if it meant that Norman would be there. MJ clearly liked fancy parties.

“I dunno,” Peter shrugged, “I may not have the time.”

“Please, Peter?” MJ pleaded, “Can we go? I don’t even care if we show up late.”

Peter looked MJ up and down before smiling.

“Alright. I’ll see if I can make it work.”

“Great!” you cheered.

MJ grinned.

“I think I have an idea for an outfit,” she turned to Peter, “I can get you an outfit too!”

“Great,” Peter said with forced enthusiasm.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you laughed, “I have to get back to work and make sure Norman ate something.”

The light turned green on the crosswalk and you started across. But you paused when Peter called out to you.

“I’ll come with you to get those- Y/N LOOK OUT!!!”

Time seemed to freeze in that moment.

You looked to your left to see a red sports car hurtling towards you. They clearly had no intention of slowing down even though they were approaching a red light. You briefly thought about how you needed to get out of the way.

But your legs wouldn’t move.

That car was going to hit you and there was nothing you could do.

You were going to die.

Just as you realized how bad this would end, time sped up.

Something hit your back and you were abruptly yanked backwards. The car blew past you at top speed. The force of it caused you to roll, slamming your head into the asphalt. You heard someone scream and you weren’t sure if it was you or MJ. For a moment everything went black and you were sure the car had hit you. But your eyes opened as you felt the sensation of someone pulling you up onto their lap. You saw a face in your blurry vision.

“Nor…man?”

Your vision cleared and you realized that it wasn’t Norman holding you, but rather his son. Concern and worry was written all over his face as he called out.

“Hey! You with the cellphone! Call 911!!”

“I’m… I’m fine.”

You tried to sit up fully but felt a surge of pain rip through you. With a gasp, you dropped back down. MJ and Peter appeared over you, both looking equally as worried. Peter knelt beside you and placed a hand to your head.

“The car didn’t hit you,” Peter assured, “You’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t feel so fine,” you chuckled.

Another burst of pain caused you to cry out. Harry took your hand and you immediately wished that it was his father here instead of him. You were scared- no that word wasn’t enough. You were terrified. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. And one thought stood out even though it wasn’t important- Norman was going to be worried that you were so late.

“The ambulance is on its way!” MJ declared.

“I… I need to tell Norman,” you muttered, “He’s waiting for me. He needs to know… what happened.”

Harry nodded.

“I’ll tell him. After we get you to the hospital.”

“No… I need… I need… Uhhhh… I feel woozy….”

Your hand came to your head and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could hear the distant sirens wailing as they approached. Every other sound blended together to make your ears scream. You tried to breathe but that was starting to become difficult.

“Y/N!? Harry!?”

Norman’s panicked voice made your eyes snap open.

“Dad!” Harry called out, “She was… There was a…”

You were suddenly taken from Harry and hefted into Norman’s arms. And you knew instantly- everything would be okay.

—

Norman felt like his entire world was ending.

He had left his office in hopes of meeting you at the cafe even though he was so late. But the moment he stepped out of the OSCORP building, he was greeted by a horrific sight. Several onlookers were gathered around while you were down on the street held in the arms of his son. Peter and MJ were standing guard over you, telling people to back up and talking to a man who had the paramedics on the phone.

The moment Harry’s head came up and saw his father, he called out for him. Norman ran to his side and immediately collected you into his arms. You looked up at him but he could tell by the dull look in your eyes- you were struggling to stay conscious. With determination, Norman lifted you into the air and started carrying you to the sidewalk.

“Dad, I don’t think we should move her-”

“I am getting her out of the street,” Norman snapped, “What happened??!”

Harry wiped at his watering eyes as he gestured back towards the road.

“She went to cross the street when the light turned red, but there was this sports car that just blew through the light. It almost hit her but she fell back just in time. But she still rolled and I think she hit her head.”

Norman looked at Peter and knew right away that he was the one who had saved your life. There was still a tendril of webbing stuck to your back hidden by your hair.

If it wasn’t for Peter, you would’ve died.

“Norman…?”

Norman looked down at you and forced a smile. As he knelt down on the sidewalk and placed you in his lap, he lovingly brushed your hair out of your face. In this moment, he didn’t care what others thought. He just wanted you to feel safe.

“I’m here,” he soothed, “Everything will be alright. Just try to stay awake.”

“I’m trying but… I’m kinda tired now…”

Norman grimaced as he inspected the gash on your forehead.

“Do I look awful?” you slurred.

“No,” Norman whispered quickly, “You look as lovely as ever.”

You choked out a laugh.

“I don’t believe you.”

Norman tried to smile and you gave a weak one of your own.

“Dad! The ambulance is here.”

Looking up, Norman saw the ambulance park as close as possible. A pair of paramedics clambered out of the vehicle and approached. Harry told them exactly what happened as they brought the gurney over for you. Norman was the one who lifted you into it, refusing to let you go. He walked alongside you as they wheeled you to the back of the ambulance. Harry went to get into the vehicle with you, but Norman stopped him.

“I’ll go with her.”

“But-”

“You make sure to get your friends home. Take the car.”

Norman handed Harry his keys and the boy nodded.

“Thanks Dad.”

Norman climbed into the back of the ambulance and took your hand as soon as the doors closed. You had your eyes closed, having finally lost the battle to keep conscious. The paramedic in the back began checking your vitals as the vehicle sped away down the street.

“She’s going to be fine, sir.” The young man insisted.

Norman didn’t care if the paramedic saw him. He brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your fingers. He held your hand the whole way to the hospital. He would’ve carried you in himself if they would’ve let him. But he ended up in a waiting room as the doctors took a better look at you. Despite the paramedic’s assurances, Norman paced around with worry.

He couldn’t lose you.

He needed you.

#norman osborn x reader #i forgot my umbrella #norman osborn #fanfiction #sam raimi spider man

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notzilon · 3 years ago

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hello tumblr (specifically fws tag) I come to you, hat in hand, to ask for advice

A couple months back I said that I wanted to continue posting shipping content/shitposts/etc, then I disappeared without coughing anything up because

I let my pursuit of perfection get in the way of "good enough" (X isn't finished enough to post)

Increasing uncertainty of how to handle mildly controversial content in a fandom for children's media

Seasonal depression, babey

Specifically, I want advice for point two. Listen. I don't have an ethical/moral issue with drawing fictional adults having a sexual relationship. Unfortunately, tumblr will not allow me to post N enthusiastically eating Hilda out. Making occasional PG-13 shitposts about two characters having an intimate relationship is A-OK, though.

My issue is that ultimately, Pokemon is a children's series. While personally I have no issue with allowing characters to age/exploring adult themes with adult versions of characters, I understand that it's not only adults on this website. I'd prefer to keep suggestive material away from those that don't want to/legally can't interact with it. However, I also like tagging my stuff with character names to increase reach/exposure and make it easier to find similar content on my blog. I used to just be able to use character+appropriate warning tags for stuff but that doesn't really work anymore.

So my question is for people who use tumblr more than me: how the fuck do I keep things organized/tagged and allow people to opt out in a reasonable fashion. Is there even a good way to do that anymore

anyway thanks for reading to the end. here's an old sketch 4 ur troubles:

#yakkety yak #ferriswheelshipping #help a zil out plz

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tricewithaz · 3 years ago

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august doodles! I've been kind of struggling to do anything other than messy sketches but at least some of them are cute so there yall go:

nikolai introducing himself! im positive this is from siege and storm but also i got the quote from a nikolai twitter bot so i cant be sure. enjoy the color theres not much more of that (yes he looks creepy as fuck in the last one I'm sorry I just cant draw people smiling)

Two grumpy cats! Zoya and Oncat who im positive constantly have the same expression.

Also a couple of sketches of Nikolai's dilf dad Magnus who i think we need more of in these books tbh

Nikolai expressions. Still gotta lock in his smile but im really happy with his front design.

"You hear that Punchline? He called you fancy!" My favourite trope is snarky man and snarkier horse are best friends

keep reading for a pg 13 extremely outdated bonus ✨

there was originally also going to be a version of zoya looking at *his* boobs but as you can see i just forgot about this 🥴 (like....where are her arms.....where are his clothes....n e ways....)

#sketch dump #artrice #grishaverse #zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #kos #king of scars #kos spoilers #nikolai lantsov #sketch #magnus opjer #row #rule of wolves #shadow and bone #row spoilers

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genaleah · 4 years ago

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ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible.

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that.

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually.

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done.

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess? 🤔 I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc. It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere. Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with.

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite.

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join:

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

#wildcard au #wildcard hcs

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

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Chapter Thirty-Four: The Revelation

Rated PG-13 For mentions of abuse, trigger topics such as suicidal thoughts, torture, language, and kidnaping.

Masterlist

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

There aren't very many things worse than watching one's little brother die. I think the only thing worse than that is enduring it twice. I had already had to watch Jasper be slaughtered like a pig in front of me. Wasn't that torture enough for a lifetime? Was having to salt and burn my own brother the universe's twisted idea of a joke? This wasn't funny!

What kind of cruel world was I living in? Why did my last words to my precious little brother have to be empty promises? How was that okay? Jasper would spend the rest of eternity waiting for me to show up, tell him my stories, and tuck him into bed, but I never would. Because if I lived, I would be stuck down here on this awful planet, reliving the same day over and over and over again. And if the Winchester's decided to kill me when they found out what I was, then I wouldn't be going to heaven. I already knew where I would go. It wasn't anywhere good.

Well, if my life was a joke then I hoped at least somebody was getting a kick out of it.

I knew I wasn't.

From the top of the stairs, I heard Sam, Dean, and Cas open the sliding glass door and shuffle outside. Jack firmly insisted on staying here. He probably thought he should stay in case I ' needed him ' for comfort or something.

'Well, joke's on you, puppy, cause I don't need anyone.' I thought, bitterly. I traveled down the dark hallway to my room, the one with the plain white door all the way down on the end. The door opened with a soft click and squeaky hinges and I kicked it shut behind me.

My room was exactly how I had left it. Not a single thing was out of place. Of course, it was about as far away from immaculate as anything can get. There were pieces of paper strewn all over the desk, plenty of wadded-up sketches in the trash can and even more outside the trash, pencils were left in strange places, and mix-matched fairy-lights draped over way too many things. Miscellaneous articles of clothing were draped over a chair, clustered around the laundry basket, crumpled on the bed, and a few were even hanging from the doorframe of the closet. The bed wasn't made, the blankets and sheets hopelessly tangled together and there was an atrocious number of glow-in-the-dark stars glued to the roof. Oh, and let us not forget the rainbow-colored streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, so really everything was just an absolute mess.

But it was a comforting mess and that's how that girl who used to be me had lived. She had been a scatterbrained, messy-haired, and bright-eyed sort of girl, she'd had so much potential. That girl could have great. Her mess comforted me too. Maybe she wasn't as dead as I'd thought.

"Well, I'm just about done with this whole damn popsicle-stand of existence. You?" Isaac asked, sounding more dead than he looked.

"Done," I agreed. "So, so done."

I flopped down on my already messy bed, staring up at the tacky stars on the ceiling while I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd never see my little brother again. I couldn't feel the prickling of tears forming in my eyes. I guess I'd run all out of tears to cry. Lucky me. I felt like throwing up.

"Should we go down fighting or give up and roll over? What say you?" Isaac collapsed at the foot of my bed.

"What's the point in fighting?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Dunno." He shrugged. "Frequent flyer miles?"

"So... Nothing?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Maybe I would just attack the Winchesters once I tore Felix to sheds. Maybe they wouldn't kill me fast. Maybe they'd make me suffer. Then maybe I could cry like I was supposed to.

I had hardly been debating those thoughts for a minute when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Oh, joy. Five minutes of peace was all I'd asked for and apparently I couldn't even get that. Screw my life.

The door flew open with an overly dramatic bang but I didn't flinch. Jack stood in the doorway, eyes alight like molten gold. I turned my head lazily to face him, aware of my void expression but ultimately indifferent to it. I couldn't even bring myself to act like the fake version of myself I had made to fool the Winchesters. I felt oddly numb like nothing mattered. Because honestly, what did? Not even getting my revenge on Felix would change anything. Things wouldn't get better, my life would still suck to an astronomical degree, and this whole stupid world would just keep turning like it always did. Getting revenge was just self-indulgence, really. So what if Jack saw the real me for a couple of hours?

With luck, I'd be dead by morning.

With luck, he'd be the one to kill me.

I deserved it.

"Welcome to the year Nineteen-Thirty, puppy. What do you want?" I addressed him. My tone was clipped, calloused, and cold, but I didn't care.

Jack's eyes were glowing and the air was charged with his power; it made my hair stand on end and my ears hurt like when a plane takes off. Yet, oddly enough, if there and been one in my hand, I would have been swirling chocolate milk in a wine glass for all I'd cared.

Jack didn't answer me. His mouth opened and closed and opened and closed. There was something in his eyes, something akin to desperation. He knew what he wanted to say but the words died in his throat.

"You deaf, honey-bug?" I lifted an eyebrow and took an actual glance at his expression. He didn't look angry. He looked...

Terrified.

And shocked.

And torn.

And betrayed.

I did this. It was me. I had hurt him.

His hands clutched an object tightly between them with enough force to turn his knuckles white. It was a picture frame. I caught a glimpse of the picture within; it had been taken two weeks to the day I'd died. I looked back up to his eyes.

Ah, yes. There it was. The recognition. What a clever, clever boy.

He'd finally put all the pieces together.

'Well, good for him.'

"Uh, oh spaghetti-oh's; looks like the Nephil knows," Isaac droned from the foot of my bed.

"What are you?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. He blinked back tears, biting down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling.

I blinked, feeling sick. I didn't want to lose him, I realized. As much as the bitterness inside me tempted me to bite into him and taste his sweet blood or tell him the truth and watch him squirm just for a distraction from the pain, I couldn't. Because then I'd lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I'd already lost Jazzy today for the second time, I couldn't lose Jack too.

Isaac turned to me, his expression as empty as mine. "Ya gonna tell him?"

"I am Miss. Nidsbit," I answered, flatly. It was supposed to sound friendly like I was teasing, but it only came off as evasive. Jack glared at me. It was already happening; I was already losing him. I guess I deserved that much.

"Don't joke," He said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Isaac chimed.

"In that case, I'm bottled-depression." I flashed my teeth in a way that held no joy whatsoever. "Pint-sized for your convenience," I added, trying for a familiar joke about my height. It sounded empty.

"That was better," My brother snickered, leaning back and closing his eyes. He was probably just going to keep making sarcastic jabs in an attempt to vent his anger, so I ignored him.

"I asked you a question," Jack growled in a way that somehow managed to be threatening despite the whole baby-face puppy-eyed thing he had going on. It was actually kinda hot... Wait, what? When had that happened?

"And I answered you." I sat up. Why did I sound so bitter? Why couldn't I change it? My eyes flicked down to Jack's throat without my permission. His skin looked so soft and I realized I was suddenly famished. My throat burned and desire reared its ugly head inside me. Isaac's voice snapped my attention back to reality.

"Oh dear, Marty. You made the Nephil sniffle."

Jack clenched his teeth and hissed, seemingly bothered by the fact that I wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't hurt me, right? No, he would. He would hurt me if he knew. If he knew what I wanted to do to him. I wanted him to hold me as he had a few days ago but I wanted to sink my teeth into him at the same time. I deserved to die.

"What are you?" He repeated, taking a step forward. He would hurt me. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, my voice inflectionless. Wandering towards my dresser I started fiddling with some meaningless piece of junk. Anything for a distraction from his soft throat and thrumming pulse. Jack's glowing eyes followed me.

"Y-you're lying," He said. He was trying to sound strong, but there was something broken in his tone.

"Ya think?" I deadpanned. Jack swallowed thickly; his hand shot out to grab my wrist, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

"This isn't funny, Marty. Stop." His eyes pleaded with me. I eyed his hand.

"Or what?" I challenged. What would he do to me? He looked me in the eyes, frowning and moving closer to me. He needed to step away. I caught my gaze drifting to his neck again but I couldn't stop.

"I really don't want to hurt you," He said.

'Then don't make me tell you.' I thought. His eyes searched my face for any glimpse of his friend, but that girl had never been real, not really anyway. I had made her up.

I wished I could go back in time. Back to the night we met. We could do it all over again and maybe, if I had another chance, he wouldn't figure it out. Maybe it would've been better if I'd never come with Jack in the first place. I wished we could go back to the night we met. Then I could have said no. If I hadn't come with him, I never would have hurt Jack like this. If he had never touched me then I would never have had to feel this pain. If I could just go back.

"And you won't," I said, taking a chance.

Jack huffed, his expression pained.

"This is freakin' five-star entertainment," Isaac mused, resting his chin on his fist, observing Jack and me.

"Please, Marty," Jack begged in a whisper. His sweet-smelling breath was warm as it washed over my face. His eyes flicked down to my lips but only for a split second. No, no. Anything but that. "Just tell me the truth."

'You already know it.'

"I have," I lied. Everything kept coming out wrong! I sounded emotionless like I didn't care but I did! Jack's soft expression melted into one of betrayal.

"So, you're just going to lie?" He asked. "Right to my face?"

I didn't have control over what slipped from my lips next.

"Says the Devil's kid."

"Ooh! One point to the Marty!" Isaac laughed.

Jack stared at me like he was heartbroken. Then his eyes narrowed into a glare, lighting with gold as he released my wrist and moved his hand to seize my throat. He whirled us around and slammed me into a wall with more force than I'm sure than he intended to use. Not that I couldn't take it. Without so much as a flinch, I tilted my head as much as I could with Jack cutting off my air supply.

"Tell me what you are!" He shouted. There was desperation there.

"That's quite the grip ya got there, puppy," I taunted, rasping. He loosened his grip but only slightly, holding the picture of my family up for me to see, the corner was dated January 8th, 2014.

"You said they died five years ago. This picture- it was taken five years ago! You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!" Jack's eyes were wide, almost crazed as he glanced from the girl in the picture and back to me. He knew the truth; he just didn't want to believe it. His voice softened. "You haven't aged a day. Five years and you haven't aged a day."

My voice was soft and it wasn't just from the lack of air. "I aged about a month, actually."

Jack let go of my throat like I was burning him, shaking his head as he backed away like a frightened animal. As well he should. He was the prey here and I did want to kill him. But I wanted him to hold me again even more. "Y-you're one of them..." He whispered.

'Don't leave me. I'm sorry, just don't leave me!' I thought desperately, but that wasn't what came out. I felt trapped in my own skin, the monster inside me taking over, fed by my own bitterness.

"I'd say something along the lines of 'say it out loud' but I'm pretty sure that would have copywrite issues," I said, shrugging and moving back to sit on my bed. Jack watched me carefully.

"Felix - h-he turned you. He made you just like him - a vampire... You're a monster!" He spat the word like it was snake-venom.

And it hurt. It hurt so freaking bad. It was like I had lodged a knife in my own chest years ago and now Jack was twisting it.

'I know I am.' I wanted to say.

"Well that's a harsh way of putting it. But I've been called worse." I brushed it off like I didn't care like it wasn't that deep like I wasn't bleeding to tell him how sorry I was. I lowered my head in shame.

"I-I have to tell Sam and Dean," Jack said, shifting onto the balls of his feet, edging towards the door. He was going to make a run for it. Suddenly, I was in control of my body again.

I couldn't let him. I needed more time. I needed to beat Felix first and then they could all find out. I had to fix this. I could still fix this.

I had made Jack forget once.

I could do it again.

I would take us back in time. Before he knew. Make everything right. Take us back to the night we met.

He had to forget.

"I can't let you do that," I spoke softly, my gaze still focused on my feet.

"Are you going to try to kill me?" He asked accusingly.

"No." I shook my head. No, I could never kill him. I was too selfish for that. He deserved someone so much better than me. But I loved him.

"Then what are you going to do?" Jack shifted closer to the exit.

"Isaac," I glanced at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Jack stiffened, his eyes snapping to where mine went. "Get the door."

"On it!" Isaac said, overly eager. Jack bolted but he was too slow. My brother flicked his wrist and the door swung closed with a click. Jack swallowed thickly and glanced back to me, fear filling his features. I knew what he was going to try next.

'This is necessary. One day I'll be sorry.'

"His wings," I said to Isaac, my voice breaking. Isaac grinned widely and reached out, making a pinching motion. Jack froze in a panic, then he clenched his eyes shut groaning as Isaac twisted his hands just a bit.

"Can I rip 'em off?" He asked, basking in the Nephilim's pain.

"Isaac, no!"

"Oh, come on," He twisted his hands even more and Jack cried out, his innocent face twisting in agony. "Just a little?"

"Stop! Just-" I sighed. "Please, don't hurt him, Isaac. Just keep him still, please."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine!" He let go and Jack fell to the ground, panting and shaking. He did his best to get to his feet but Isaac flung him into a wall, pinning him there. "Go ahead and Obliviate the simp."

I stood and stepped towards Jack, slowly and carefully, trying not to scare him any more than I had. I could tell he was trying desperately to move but Isaac was too strong.

"What are you going to do?" Jack demanded, trying to hide the fear in his voice. "Are you going to drink my blood?!"

I froze.

Because I could. Then, I could make him forget.

I glanced at his throat. My fangs ached to come out - to bite. I could imagine what it might feel like to bury my teeth in that soft, delicious-smelling skin. I could imagine what he might taste like. He'd be sweet like candy. I could be gentle! Maybe if he could somehow understand how badly I needed him then he'd let me. And he heals fast so he'd be okay.

But he wouldn't understand. And I wanted him to hold me again.

I just wanted Jack to hold me again.

"No," I said. I plucked the picture frame from his hands, gazing at the smiles of my family for a moment. I looked up, trying to smile despite the ache of grief and guilt in my chest. "I'm going to need you to forget this."

"I wish I could," Jack said, glaring at the floor. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look.

I nodded. "You will."

"W-what?"

I sighed and moved over to the window. The crisp breeze blew in from the sea as I threw it open, the curtains billowing like vicious barking dogs on a leash. It was a long way down to the black rocks where the land met the ocean. I dropped the picture and watched it tumble until it smashed into the rocks, shattering that perfect picture frame, shattering my picture-perfect family into a million pieces.

"I can make you forget," I told him, over my shoulder. "Take us back to the night we met." The power inside me trilled with excitement; it wanted Jack, it craved him. Or maybe that was just the monster I was, begging to be unleashed. I turned away from the window, closing it as I did.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously. He was scared. He was so scared.

"I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was." I would fix this. His arms would be around me as soon as I fixed this and everything would be okay. I hung my head and let the power inside me launch forward and wrap itself like chains around my Nephilim. I could feel his light, his grace, fighting back but it had nothing substantial to fight. My power wasn't physical, I just imagined it being so.

"No! W-wait!" Jack watched me with dread, beginning to feel the effects of what I was doing to him. I was locking his memories away, locking him up in his own head. But I had to. Because he wouldn't understand and I needed him.

"I have to do this," I whispered, digging my mental claws in deeper.

"Stop," He gasped, beginning to tremble with effort, "Whatever you're doing, just stop!"

"I can't stop, Jack. I'm sorry, but I just need a little more time," I said, gently. "Four moves and I win."

"Four moves..." He mumbled to himself, his brows furrowing, "Four moves? I-I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?" Then he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Please, just forget. I need you to forget."

'I need you to hold me again.'

"Get out of my head!" Jack's voice rose with panic. He flinched away from me as much as he could but Isaac kept him pinned and helpless.

"I'm gonna make everything okay again. I promise." I fought harder against him, willing my power to work faster. Jack moaned and I glanced up to see his face contorted with pain.

"Please!" He begged me, grimacing, "Please, stop! Marty, please. It hurts." I tried harder, and a choked sob escaped his throat. "Marty, please! It hurts! It hurts! You have to stop! Please!"

"I wish you hadn't found out, Jack, and one day I'll be sorry about this."

"Wait. Wait, no!"

I pushed my power harder than I ever had before.

A horrifying scream of pure agony ripped from Jack's throat. But the walls of this house were built to withstand hurricanes. I was the only one who could hear him. With one last burst of effort, I overpowered the walls of his grace and my power flooded his mind, wiping away any memories of what I was. His scream faltered into groans and those softened into whimpers and Jack's body went limp.

Isaac let go and the Nephilim collapsed but I caught him before his head hit the floor. Carding my fingers through his hair, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Picking him up, I carried him to my bed and laid him there. He weighed more than I did, obviously, but he didn't feel very heavy to me. I laid down beside him, hugging him around the middle and pressing my face into his chest.

Then I finally cried.

"I hope you can forgive me before I'm sorry. Because I'm a liar and don't think I'll ever really regret this."

***

"You hear something?" Sam asked, perking up. Castiel sat dutifully on a large black bolder, watching the house. The angel flicked his eyes to Sam and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head before focusing back on the house.

"Hm? Uh, no." Dean hardly spared a glance. He was too busy drawing inappropriate words in the sand with his foot. Sam frowned.

"Weird." He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he paced back and forth across the moonlit sand.

"Martina threw a picture frame from her window and it shattered against the rocks approximately sixty-two feet south-east of where you are standing," Castiel informed him, "Perhaps that's what you heard."

Sam shook his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no. It, uh, it wasn't that. I just- I-I coulda' sworn I heard someone..." He trailed off. 'Scream,' He wanted to say. The sound had been like a phantom pain; intense yet insubstantial.

'Just like the visions...' Sam thought. But no. That wasn't possible. He hadn't had a vision or any manifestation of psychic abilities for going on twelve years! He was probably just imagining things. Sam pushed the thought away as soon as it had come. It was impossible... Right?

Yet still, his eyes wandered to the window on the upstairs floor of the dark house; the only window with a slim shaft of light peaking through the curtains. Because what if...

No .

No. Everything was fine, Jack would have alerted them if there was any danger - or at least - the brothers and their angel would've been able to see if Jack thought there was any danger. Judging by the lack of explosions, Sam could assume that everything was fine.

There was no trap here after all. Although, if he thought about it, that may have been the trap in itself. That monster called Felix had lured Marty back here to relive the most painful day of her life. There had been no vamps waiting to do her any physical harm, but Felix didn't need them to. He just wanted that poor, sweet, little girl to hurt.

And, boy was she hurting.

Sam knew how it felt to lose a brother. He knew how it felt to watch his brother die twice. Hell! Sam had watched Dean die more than one hundred times on the one hundred worst Tuesdays of his life. It had made him feel empty inside - hollow. Like somebody had scraped out everything inside of him, the good and the bad, and had left an utter nothingness in its place. And in the face of all that nothing, fear had gripped Sam's heart like a vice. Fear of that emptiness - of all the unspeakable things it made him willing to do. Sam had been willing - eager even - to do whatever it took if it meant filling that awful hole inside of him.

That was what scared him. It was that ruthlessness. It was that titanium will he'd always shied away from. It was when he'd looked into a mirror and seen John Winchester staring back at him. Deep down, that was what both Sam and Dean had always feared the most. Becoming their father. Becoming the shell of a man that had raised them.

Sam could see the beginnings of a similar shell-forming in Martina. He had seen it when they'd rescued her from that shed the week before. Her shell wasn't made of hate like John's had been - not completely at least. Marty's shell had come from grief and fear. She was just trying to hide; both from Felix and from the shell of a person that she was becoming. Jack had told Sam about Marty's memory gaps - about how she couldn't remember what had happened in the shed after she had left. Sam knew that traumatized people tend to blot things out, it was common. But things like the shed and her return to her childhood home could only serve to send Marty further into her shell.

And the last thing the world needed was another John Winchester.

"These kids were livin' a dream, aye Sammy?"

Sam frowned as Dean's mumbled words knocked him from his train of thought. "H-how do you mean?"

"I mean, look! They had everything!" He said, gesturing from the white sand of the beach to the black rocks to the brine woods. His tone and expression grew sober. "Just like a little fairy-tale. And, I mean, three psychics? Those kids - they had a lotta' potential. So smart and talented and now..." Dean trailed off with a frown.

"Yeah..." Sam quietly agreed. Dean turned to his brother with a pensive expression.

"Got me thinkin', maybe-" He sighed. It was hard for him to say and he didn't want to say it. Even though Dean knew that Marty was capable of more than she seemed and that she could affect his emotions, he didn't really care.

Well, he did care . Dean hated people screwing with his head or his feelings, period. But somehow Marty was different. He didn't really care to admit it, but Dean had always wanted a daughter. A sweet soul he could love and care for but definitely, with a badass side, he could bestow his knowledge upon. Claire was a close as he had gotten but she had already grown up and she didn't want his help. To Claire, Dean was only a painful reminder of all she'd lost.

And, of course, there was Emma.

But Dean didn't like to think about her.

Thinking about Emma was too painful.

But Marty was still young, and she didn't see Dean the way Clair did. Marty looked at Dean with hope in her eyes and he desperately wanted to keep it that way.

Jack had used to look at him that way. Jack didn't look at him like that anymore.

Because Dean had messed up with Jack. He could admit that now. He'd messed up and he'd messed up bad. Things had gotten better between them; little by little over time. But Jack hadn't even been five days old when Dean had promised to take his life. After that, Jack had only watched Dean with fear. Not hope. Just sheer friggin' terror on his face whenever the elder Winchester walked into the room. And though things had gotten better, they'd always have that promise between them.

That promise from the night when if Dean had only been a better person he could have made things better and not worse like he always did. (Because he was always making things worse. Always too selfish. Always screwing things up. Always getting people hurt. It was always him, always his fault.) Dean could've snatched that knife from Jack's hands and told him it was going to be alright even if it didn't seem like it would be. And Dean could've given the kid the kind of hug he should've been given the day he was born; a father's hug, just like Castiel would have given him if he'd been alive to do it. Because that was Cas's son. That was Cas's kid! Oh, God... Cas... How could Dean have let his best friend down so horribly? Cas, who had given everything up for him and his brother. Cas had saved them time and time again at his own expense. Cas, who would bleed every drop of blood he had with a smile on his face, all in the name of the Winchesters. How could Dean have betrayed him like that? It wasn't enough for Dean to just let the angel die! (It was Dean's fault, of course. It always was. How couldn't it be? He could have prevented it. If he'd just been a little faster or a little smarter.) No, he had to go and tear that innocent kid to pieces just cause he was sad. (So, selfish. How could he be so selfish? Why was he always so selfish?) Cas had trusted Dean with his son and Dean had repaid him with the promise to take Jack's life. No wonder Jack still could hardly bear to look Dean in the eyes. How could he? Dean wasn't meant to be a father to anyone. He was too frickin' selfish for that.

But this time, things would be different. This time around, Dean would be different - he would be better. For once in his life, he would be selfless and he'd do the right thing even if it possibly meant giving up his only chance to raise a little girl. Because, despite being tainted by darkness and tears, there was still so much good inside Martina Linville. She had so much potential, with the right chances, she could grow up to be great. But she would need those right chances and she wouldn't get them if she stayed with the Winchester's broken little family. All they brought to people was tears and death.

Dean didn't want that for her. She deserved better. Just like Dean himself and his brother had deserved better. She deserved to live a life free from all this pain - a good life, a happy life. Dean wanted that for her. Dean just wanted to help. That was all he'd ever wanted. The last thing Marty needed was more darkness in her life. She didn't need them in her life.

She didn't need him in her life.

So, Dean would be selfless and he would let her go and he would give her the chance to shine like the stars she loved so much. It was probably the most fatherly thing he could do for her. 'Cause Dean just wasn't cut out to be a Dad.

But, oh, did he wish he could be one. Even though he knew that Marty's empathic abilities were probably what was making him feel so strongly about her, Dean couldn't help but go along with it. It wasn't like she was stuffing thoughts in his head; his feelings may have been bolstered but Dean's mind was his own. Dean had always wanted a daughter, Marty hadn't made that up that wish, she'd just reminded him of it. He felt awful about how he had treated Jack and craved a chance at redemption for his mistakes; Dean had made those choices, all Marty had done was exist to give him a chance. Sure, she was rioting his emotions. But what did that matter? Because Dean wanted this and damn it! This felt real!

But he couldn't have it.

Because Dean, and his brother, and their angel, and - yes - even Jack -- it was all some sick, screwed up, god damn beautiful tragedy -- But they were the last thing Martina Linville needed.

So, Dean would be selfless.

"Thinkin' about what?" Sam's question shook Dean from his reverie and back to what he'd been meaning to say.

"Maybe we should put her into the system after all this," He said, thoughtfully, though there was regret in his tone also. Sam blinked twice, shaking his head.

"W-what? The system? You mean the foster system?" He asked, incredulously.

"Yeah? Something wrong with that?" Dean responded. Sam gaped at him.

"Is something wrong with that? Dean, everything is wrong with that!" He exclaimed. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Sam didn't let him. "We made Marty a promise! Just this morning you said she was part of the family. Was all that just talk?"

"No, but-"

"Then what the Hell was it, Dean? Because you can't just go back on something like that! We said we'd take care of her," Sam huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at his older brother.

"And that's exactly what we'd be doing," Dean argued, "Giving her a place that's safe."

"Who would take her in? She's fourteen and she's got more trauma than some war veterans, I don't-"

"Exactly!" Dean cut him off. "The kid's got issues! She needs help, the professional kind."

"Since when do you promote therapy? Sam scoffed.

"When it doesn't involve me," Dean grumbled. Sam shook his head, getting back to the point.

"Throwing her on a bunch of strangers with no clue what she's been through, and who couldn't possibly understand her even if they knew, isn't going to help her! She'd get tossed around or thrown into some group therapy home till she's eighteen and then they'd dump her back on the streets where we found her! How is that taking care of her?"

"It's getting her out of this life, Sam," Dean said firmly. Sam glared.

"You mean getting her out of your life," The younger brother spat lowly.

"What did you just say?" Dean asked dangerously.

"You heard me."

"You have somethin' ya wanna say to my face, Sammy?" Dean growled.

"Dean," Castiel said his name like a warning, his hand gripping Dean's shoulder, holding him back.

"Yeah, I do." Sam's nostrils flared and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. "I'm not gonna stand by and watch you do this again."

"Do what again?" Dean questioned, Cas' hand on his shoulder reminding him to keep calm.

"This thing you do. Anytime a kid comes along, you do this. You act all annoyed, then right as you start liking having 'em around something happens and you realize the responsibility and it freaks you out so you back off and you push 'em away."

"I don't do that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? 'Cause you did it with Kevin, you did it with Claire, you did it with Jack, and now you're doing it again right now with Marty. The second things get real, you get scared and you run away." Sam kept eye contact with Dean, challenging him to look away. Dean clenched his teeth, his pride preventing him from losing the contest of wills.

"Quit fooling yourself, Sam. Look at me!" Dean's voice broke just a little. But he cleared his throat, quick to cover his mistake. "Er, at us, I mean. We can't raise a kid!" He protested.

"We raised Jack," Sam countered.

"Because there were literally no better alternatives!" Dean seethed. Sam opened his mouth but Dean wasn't done. Hyperaware of Castiel's presence just behind him, guilt ate at his heart. But Dean had never been very good at apologies. "And I even screwed that up! I'm not Dad material, Sam. I'm just not!"

His outburst of emotion made Sam blink, rendering him momentarily speechless. He could have spoken his next words gently but pride made them come out like acid.

"I don't think that's what Ben thought," He hissed. Sam knew it was a low-blow bringing up Ben. That wound was still sore.

"Yeah?" Dean laughed but there was no humor in it. "WELL LOOK HOW THAT TURNED OUT!" He yelled. Sam tensed but didn't back off.

"Something isn't real because it lasts, Dean," Sam said, speaking just a little bit gentler now. "For however short a time, Ben had a dad that loved and cared about him. For however short a time, you made him happy. You say you're not dad material, but that's not what I saw. If that's what you're so worried about, then don't be. 'Cause you made an pretty awesome dad, Dean, even if Ben doesn't remember."

Dean sighed in defeat. "We have nothing to give her, Sam."

"We have trust and understanding, a-and that's more than some random foster home could give her."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't have to be random."

"What do mean?"

"Jody," He suggested, "I mean, she's already got Claire and Alex. What's one more?"

Sam sighed through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's got Claire and Alex-" He paused giving his older brother a pointed look. "- And Patience and Kaia. What's one more? That's only five emotionally unstable teenage girls to take care of, on top of a full time job as a sheriff, and hunting to worry about too."

"I agree with Sam," Castiel spoke up, "We cannot simply dump yet another troubled youth onto the already burdened shoulders of Sheriff Mills." Sam gestured to the angel as if accentuate his point.

"But at least she'd be safe," Dean argued, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"From monsters, sure," Sam agreed, nodding. Dean could sense a ' but ' coming. "But not from herself."

"Jody could help Marty just as much as we could - probably more!" He said. Dean could hear Sam grind his teeth in frustration, but Cas held up a hand to speak.

"I don't think that's true, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean asked the angel.

"'Why not?' Haven't you been listening?" Sam exclaimed. Cas shot the younger Winchester a look and he fell silent.

"I am sure Sheriff Mills is a competent and kind woman; however, Martina does not know or trust her. Sending her to live there would only be marginally better than shipping her off to a stranger," The angel stated, evenly.

"What's that gotta do with what Sam said?" Dean asked. Cas gave him a long-suffering look but continued in perfect patience.

"As weary as I am of Martina's true motives and intentions, I think it is plenty clear the choice she faces after the termination of her family's killer. That is, if she has not made her decision already."

Dean's face scrunched with confusion. "What choice is that?"

"The choice of continuing to live free from the threat of Felix Monroe, or..." The angel trailed off, frowning. His tone made Dean feel like there was a knot in his chest.

"Or what?" He pressed, cautiously. Cas sighed.

"Or to end her life and return to her family," Cas finished, soberly.

Dean was stunned. He hadn't thought- He had never realized.

"Wait, whoa. Are you telling me Marty wants to commit suicide?" His eyes were wide with fear and alarm. She was too young for that. Too young to want to kill herself. No. She couldn't. Dean wouldn't let that happen. "Where's this coming from?" He demanded. Sam glared at him.

"She told her little brother she'd be with him soon. Combine that with the scars on her wrists, and it's really not that hard to figure out," He said, coolly.

Scars? Dean understood now. That was why she was always wearing long sleeves, even in the sweltering heat of Florida. Sam took advantage of his older brother's silence.

"Think about it, Dean," He pushed, "Sending her away from first people she's allowed herself to get attached to in five years? You think that will help?"

The thought made Dean reconsider but Sam had more to say.

"A-and think of Jack! You've seen how much he cares about her. I've seen him smile more in these last two and a half weeks than he did in the five months since we got him back from Apocalypse World. What do you think would happen if he found Marty laying in a pool of her own blood? What do you think that would do to him?"

"It would kill him." Dean sighed, nodding in agreement and Sam cracked a smile.

"I mean, we both know he loves her, Dean. And I-I don't mean like a sister," The younger brother said, fondly. Dean chuckled and the tension in the air cleared.

"Yeah, there's definitely a thing there." He shook his head, grinning. "I mean, it's totally weird but it's a thing." Sam nodded and shrugged.

"Well, I dated a demon. I don't think I can judge."

"You can say that again!" Dean laughed.

The sudden chime of a phone ringing cut through the cool nighttime air like a knife and Dean reached to answer. The smile dropped from his face as soon as he caught a glance at the screen.

"Who is it?" Castiel asked.

"Blocked," Dean answered, apprehension filling his voice, "Three guesses as to who." He mumbled, sliding a finger across the screen to pick up the call and putting it on speaker.

"This is Dean Winchester," He announced as the line connected.

There was no voice on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" He tried again.

Again nothing.

Dean could hear someone breathing but they didn't speak. The breaths sounded ragged and uneven like the person was out of breath. There was background noise as well, a deep rumbling that seemed to increase in volume as time wore on. Without warning, the sound of a deep bellowing horn blared from the phone's speaker. It was the sort of horn that typically accompanies a low rumbling noise. It was the sort of horn that accompanies a really, really big train. The sound of the horn grew louder but soon began to fade as the train passed by whoever had been holding the phone. Something told him this wasn't a simple case of a butt-dial. The situation unnerved for some reason he couldn't name. It was like a scene from a movie.

"Tell me who you are or I'm hanging up," Dean said, his voice demanding.

"I-I would'nt d-do that if I were y-you!" A desperate, ragged voice called from the phone. Dean had gotten it wrong. The person on the phone wasn't Felix. The person on the phone was a little girl and she wasn't out of breath. She was terrified.

"Why not?" He asked, cautiously.

"B-because little Pamala o-only get's this one c-call." The voice on the other end sounded oddly robotic despite the words being broken into syllables by the girl's sobs.

"What do you mean?" He wondered.

"She-she's lu-ucky you picked u-up. If you hadn't I'd have t-old my friends to e-eat swe-eet Pammy here! Sh-she's seven, just so you know!" The little girl choked out.

"Felix," Dean growled, "You're using the little girl to talk for you?"

"Pamala is a c-cute little pup-pet. But she's a-annoy-ing. If she d-doesn't stop s-stutter-ing, I'll tell one of my f-friends to t-ake a bite!" The little girl whimpered and took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice for the sake of her life. " So, what shall I make Panama say next?"

Dean gritted his teeth together. To his right, Sam looked like he was going to be sick. But this wasn't just sick, this was downright vile . On his left, Cas looked about ready to rip that monster apart with his bare hands.

"Why don't you talk to me with your own voice, Nessie? Ya scared?" Dean taunted.

"No. That would ruin the fun of the game." The girl spoke slowly, trying her best to stay calm.

"What game?" Castiel demanded, sounding a step away from livid.

"You hunters and your angel have thirty minutes to come and rescue poor, little Pamala. When time is up, I'll tell my friends to- to r-rip her in- into itty-bitty pieces!" The girl let out a panicked sob after finishing the monster's words.

"How are we supposed to do that?" Dean demanded, fuming. "She could be anywhere!"

"No, not anywhere, Dean. She's sitting all wrapped up in the attic of the Florida East Coast Railway Station at Fort Pierce. I might be there with her too, gives you a chance to catch me just to make things interesting. But you better hurry, I hear t-traffic can be a biatch."

"You're gonna pay for this, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"Watch the language, Dean Winchester. There are children present. You don't wanna spoil little Pamala's innocence, do you?"

Dean was so enraged, he couldn't even speak. Luckily, Sam was thinking the same as he was.

"We're gonna kill you," Sam promised.

"Perhaps. But not before I show y-you the truth."

The truth? What truth?

"This call will end in...

Five...

Four..."

"Stay strong, sweetheart!" Dean called to the little girl on the other side of the phone. "We're gonna come help you!"

"Three...

Two...

One...

...

Please save me...

...

I don't wanna die..."

Then the line clicked and the call was over.

Dean clenched his jaw and put the phone away.

"Let's go gank that sick bastard."

~I am not the only traveler

And then I can tell myself

I had all and then most of you

When the night was full of terrors

Lyrics from: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

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Morbid & Decadent

Author: Crowson75

Year: 2009

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Moss/Richmond

It was Monday morning and Moss' birthday. He'd bought cake. Chocolate cake; something guaranteed that everyone would like. He quite liked a coconut sponge with raspberry jam in the middle, but they were a lot harder to find in Tesco. The only problem was that Roy hadn't turned up for work, having called in sick. He had Venezuelan Bat Flu. Roy never normally took days off, no matter how sick he was. Moss wanted to kick something good and proper. Whilst he was waiting for Jen, he had cut the cake, folded napkins, reconsidered and raided from plates from the canteen, then put napkins on plates and cake on each, then wondered why you did that? It made a perfectly good napkin filthy and you needed to use another to save your tie from icing. It was a waste. By the time Moss had sketched out a solution for a non-stick plate napkin, which could then be reversed to reveal a handy, absorbent side, he realised that Jen was late. Very late. That was when HR rang. It was Sophie, the girl with a curvy bum that made Moss blush and Roy talk about keeping your rubbish in the boot of your car. Or drug-snorting elephants. Moss wasn't sure which. The one time he'd asked, he'd passed out as soon as Roy started talking about Lady Parts. Sophie said that Jen was ill too. It was allegedly a bad curry, but Sophie suggested that Roy had been showing off his Venezuelan Bats. Moss did try to explain that whilst Roy had an illness that suggested he came into contact with Venezuelan Bats, it was a complete misnomer. It was just where the illness originated and did not, in fact, require actual physical contact with mammals of the Chiroptera order. Sophie didn't sound convinced. So, as extra reassurance, Moss pointed out that whilst it might seem that contracting an illness on the same day suggested weekend contact between Jen and Roy, the flu virus typically had a 2-5 day incubation period. As a result, it was likely they had both contracted the illness from a Venezuelan business man who had visited the IT department the week before. He'd got lost on the way to the Mr Renham's office. He did appear to have flu-like systems, from what Moss had observed when he passed him in reception on the morning of his visit. That was why Moss had taken the precaution of wearing a face mask all day. "Moss," Sophie said slowly after he'd stopped talking. "What about if Roy and Jen just went out last night and, well, they have... Monday morning sickness?" "How do you get that?" Moss asked, already Googling that particular illness. "There's no entry on Wikipedia. Hang on..." he paused as he read Suite 101. "Neither of them are horses." "You're a very strange man," Sophie declared just before she hung up on him. Moss sat back in his chair. He was in a funk. ** Monday morning was a rather gloomy time. In fact, it was rather more gloomy than other days, even behind the Red Door. Richmond watched the lights on the machines flash on and off and on again. He hummed a Cradle of Filth in time and then had a bit of a strop when one of them blinked out of time and ruined his soulful version of 'The Foetus of a New Day Kicking'. In actual fact, he completely trashed his chair. Which left him feeling even gloomier with nowhere to sit. It was no good, he'd have to venture out into the office. He popped his head around the door and found... Moss on his own looking at three plates of cake. "Morning," Richmond said as cheerily as possible. "Alright?" "Hello Richmond," Moss said sulkily. "Do you want some cake?" "What flavour is it?" Richmond asked, resisting the urge to pounce on it. "I only eat Black Forest Gateau." "Chocolate." "That'll do nicely, can I have a seat?" Richmond motioned to Roy's chair. "Yeah, why not. No one else going to use it," Moss sighed. He handed Richmond a piece of cake. "Cheers," Richmond said taking the plate and picking at the cake. "It's not like Roy to be off work." "He's ill." "Oh." "So's Jen." "Really?" "S'not Monday Morning Sickness!" Moss's frown grew. "I thought only horses got that?" Richmond got up and wandered into the kitchen. It was time to break out the tea, clearly. "They've probably got that flu think that South American blokey had anyway," he called back into the office. "Thank you Richmond," Moss said, walking to the kitchen door. He leaned against the door jam and began to shovel chocolate cake into his mouth. Richmond gave him a little smile and made tea. When he looked up again, he noticed Moss had blob of chocolate butter cream on his tie. "You've got stuff..." Richmond pointed at the tie. "Sorry, I'm allergic to... them, now." Moss looked down and, lifting his tie to his mouth, licked the chocolate off. Richmond watched the action intently. "Your tongue's very pink," Richmond said before he stopped himself. He blushed, thanked the Gods of Goth for white make-up and passed Moss a cup of tea. "What's the occasion anyway?" "S'my birthday," Moss said. "Have more cake." Richmond paused. "Got to watch my figure. You know... don't want to be a blob of darkness." "What's it all about anyway?" Moss asked, shaking his head and waving his hand at Richmond's outfit. "Life and... stuff. Do you live in a coffin?" "Not really," Richmond replied. "I've got a flat." "Has it got dead people in it?" Moss looked concerned. "S'a bit morbid isn't it?" "But you're a goth." "I've got a black fish called Agatha," Richmond replied. "She's meant to be a goldfish really, but she's all inky instead." "Is Agatha dead?" "No, she lives in a tank with a bit of plastic wood." "Right." Moss looked a little disappointed. "Do I amaze you?" Richmond asked. "No Richmond, I wouldn't say it was amazement. Let me think," Moss said seriously. He thought. "No, definitely not amazement. You confuse me. Every time I think I've got you licked, you come at me with something new." "I'm a complicated man," Richmond said. He turned and swirled his hands, beckoning a handy flashback. He swallowed. Moss was so... innocent. What he was saying shouldn't be filthy. And yet, it was. Little Richmond had tuned in straight away. The flashback was a good time to recover... Ever since the night with Denholm, Richmond was having to accept a whole new element of his sexuality which had been previously hidden. He'd recently attended the Gay, Bi and Lesbian Goth Support Group and discovered that he was hidden in more than one closet. To celebrate, he'd been sucked off by Tarquin, the group president. It was quite nice. He might have considered dating him, had it not been for the fact that Tarquin didn't like Cradle of Filth. Since then, he'd realised that what he wanted most, was love... Moss coughed as the flashback ended. "My my," he murmured. He shuffled behind his desk and sat down. "Being a gay goth must be quite difficult really. I mean, you can't really go all Graham Norton and still stick with a dark gothic aesthetic, can you?" "Depends how much leather you wear," Richmond said nodding his head. He unzipped his trousers to reveal leather y-fronts. "It chafes a bit though." When Richmond looked back at Moss, he could tell he was blushing. "That was a bit too much information," Moss said. He seemed to be very nearly swooning. "I need to rearrange my paper clips for a while." Richmond nodded, as if he understood. He sort of did. He walked to the sofa, sat down and read Heat for a bit and drank his tea. After not so very long, Moss joined him. "It's a strange thing," Moss said, looking at his knees. "But I feel a bit reckless today. It's just one of those things that happens when you reach my age. Roy has his women, Jen her men, and I, I am an island, Richmond. But no more. It's time for me to open my eyes and look at the world outside of this office. You're a man of the world, and, well, I think you can help me." Richmond realised that he was adopting an expression somewhat similar to Agatha's. He open his mouth to speak, and neither his voice box or brain engaged in the operation. Moss slapped him on the back. He squeezed Richmond's shoulder. It was the first time Richmond had been touched since Tarquin. "Don't get stiff on me now Richmond!" Moss said. "Oh!" Richmond exclaimed. That was a bit below the belt. "You're getting all shifty," Moss said, pouting a little. "Would you like some hot Ribena?" Moss's hand had lifted to Richmond's shoulder and was squeezing it. It felt quite nice, actually. "Um..." "More cake?" "Well, um..." "I've got a rhubarb fool in the fridge?" "...Thing... well, can I ask you something?" Richmond stammered. He gave Moss a piercing glare. The bespectacled man met it, blushed a little but returned it, just as strong. "Shall I take you out for a drink at lunchtime? To celebrate. Would that cheer you up? I'd like to." Moss grinned. The smile had faltered at cheer, but rallied at like to. Richmond smiled back in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. Life was simpler when he was alone in his cupboard. Not to mention not quite so bright. Lonelier though. "Flip it!" Moss said with forcefulness that Richmond was shocked he possessed. "Let's go now. Neither Jen or Roy can be bothered to come to work today. Why should we?" "Because we're already here?" Richmond suggested, a little tentatively. Then Moss was closer beside him, his beautiful brown eyes making demands that Richmond was fairly sure Moss' body could not only not keep, but also probably not know the names of. "We can't throw a sicky when we're already here." Richmond's voice sounded thin, even to him. "We mother-flipping can!" Moss said with a smile. He stood and crossed his arms. He was a man with a plan. *** To say things hadn't gone well, was a bit of an understatement. It was true that Moss and Richmond had been sent home "sick", they had also made the cleaner faint, a girl from the fourth floor vomit and used up all the chocolate cake. Moss had apparently had the idea from a date Roy had. That thought made Richmond feel a bit queasy. And he was the weird one. "Which pub shall we go to?" Moss said. He wiped the remnants of the 'plan' off his glasses. "Can we go to the Moon Under Water?" Richmond asked, expecting Moss to decline. "Why not?" Moss said, before dragging Richmond down the street. He paused after a few steps. "Will I have to pretend I know about football?" "Who to?" "Er..." "I don't want to talk about football." Richmond was starting to panic. "Me either." "Let's not then." "Okay." The pub was quiet and a bit murky. The girl at the bar had greeted Richmond like an old friend and served up his pint of Lager and Black. When Moss found out it had Ribena in it, he decided to have one too. They shuffled off to a corner and, because they were virtually the only customers, the barmaid kept an eye on their drinks and wandered over with refills at regular intervals. The conversation began in a stilted manner. Once the men were out of the office, they realised they didn't have a lot in common. However, as the drinks flowed, so too did the conversation. "Are you still with that girl?" Moss asked. He'd caught the barmaid giving Richmond a bit of a wink and was clearly suspicious. "The one from Jen's party?" "Er, no, not any more," Richmond said with a bit of a blush. In truth, Richmond's sex life, such as it was, had been a magical mystery tour since. She'd been a welcome distraction from his bi-curiosity, until she joined in. "She's settled down with a girl from the Bi, Gay and Lesbian Goth group I go to. Did I say that out loud?" "Yes," Moss replied. "And y'know what, I'm pleased you've finally decided to come out of the closet." "But Jen came in.." "Not that closet, Richmond." "Oh, okay." "You're a fine piece of gothic ass, Richmond, if you don't mind me saying," Moss was grinning wildly as he said it. His glasses fell into his drink. He looked at it for a bit, then drained the glass, and, finally, fished them out of the bottom. He lay them on the table to dry. "What brand of Ribena do you think this is?" Moss asked, looking through his empty pint glass, one eye closed. "I don't know," Richmond admitted. "Did you just say you liked my arse?" Moss belched. " I need a wee," he announced loudly and stood up. Richmond watched his retreating form. Becky, the barmaid walked over. "I reckon he might have had a few too many love," she said softly. She picked up Moss' glasses, abandoned on the table, and wiped them with a towelling bar mat. Then she put two more full pint glasses onto the table and put her hand out for the money. "You've only been in 'ere an hour. An' you know what? If you think he's going to be any good in the sack after all that he's had to drink you'll..." . "Who are you talking about?" Moss said. He had walked up behind Becky without anyone noticing. "You're not going to pull and leave me here are you?" He looked at Richmond with blind, big eyes and felt around in front of him for Richmond's face. Richmond picked up Moss' glasses and hooked them gently back over his ears. "Hello gorgeous," Moss said with a smile. "There was someone in the loo talking about people being rubbish in the sack and then I asked if you were going to... Was I in the loo? Are we in the toilet Richmond?" "No, we're still in the bar," Richmond was feeling slightly light-headed himself. "I won't leave you here on your own." "Why, do you need to go to the toilet as well?" Moss asked, thoroughly confused. Richmond blinked. "Come to mention it, I do need to go actually." "I'll take you," Moss said, standing and holding his hand out. Richmond grasped it and they walked to the toilets hand in hand. There were a lot of cubicles. Richmond had never noticed that before. He walked toward one, and, when he turned and locked the door, realised Moss had walked in with him. "What are you doing here?" Richmond asked, trying to shut the door and undo his trousers and not really knowing quite where he was. "I think I work here..." Moss said, helping Richmond to close the cubicle door behind them. "No, we work with computers." Richmond was having a rare moment of clarity. "We've come out for an executive lunch, I bet." "A legendary lunch!" Moss cackled with laughter. Outside the stall, the toilet entrance door slammed. "Someone's got a bloke in 'ere," a woman's voice said. Moss looked at Richmond. Richmond stopped what he had been doing and tucked himself back into his trousers. Moss watched... a little bit too closely. "Is there a bloke in here?" Moss asked. Richmond shook his head. "It's that one, look, you can see his shoes," another, female voice said. The owner of the voice kicked Moss' ankles. He stumbled forward and ended up pirouetting drunkenly, before slamming Richmond against the cubicle wall. "Fuck," the first female voice said. "They're well at it. Is he a good snog, love?" Moss' face got closer to Richmond's. Dimly, Richmond wondered if that made him the girl. Moss' lips were against his, tasting sweet and warm. Richmond opened his mouth a little, just to see what might happen. He wasn't expecting Moss' tongue to slip inside, but he didn't mind once it did. It was rather nice. He grasped the back of his workmates head and deepened the kiss. He murmured with pleasure. "Sounds like it," the second female voice said. Richmond had to agree. Moss was sucking his tongue like his life depended on it. His hands were inside Richmond's clothes, against his skin and, wanting to do the same, he tugged Moss' anorak from his shoulders and let it fall to the cubicle floor. "I reckon they might be up to something a bit more than that," the first female voice said. "Bloody 'ell." It was about the time that Moss' fingers, his cold fingers, wormed their way into Richmond's tight trousers that it all started to go a bit wibbly. And this time, it wasn't a flashback. "Oh," Moss said, breaking the kiss. His fingers had just met little Richmond. He looked up, his eyes growing wider as his fingers considered the girth. "That's quite a fella you've got in there." The women outside the cubicle door squealed. Footsteps were heard. "I think we might be in a bit of trouble," Richmond said. If Moss didn't stop saying hello to little Richmond soon, there was likely to be a sticky end. "Don't you like having your thingy touched?" Moss was puzzled, though he didn't stop researching Richmond's nether dimensions. "I think we might be in the ladies loo," Richmond replied. Finally he grasped Moss' wrist to stop him from doing what he had just started to do. "That's a problem," Moss agreed. "We'll just have to continue this somewhere else." "We will?" Richmond asked. Moss withdrew his hand and flung open the cubicle door. It set one of the hand driers off and he stood there for a moment, his tight Afro blowing... well, just a little bit. "You will," Becky the barmaid said, walking into the lavvy. "Richmond." "It's alright," Moss said. He straightened his glasses, retrieved his anorak and threw it over his shoulder, showering the floor with lose change. "Richmond, have you ever been debauched by an IT engineer?" Richmond shook his head. None of this was quite going the way he'd planned. "It's time you were." Moss took Richmond's hand. "Cheerio Betty," he said to the barmaid as he began walking out. "Have fun lads," Becky said with a grin. She reconsidered. "Oh, and next time, use the bloody gents."

#the it crowd #it crowd #maurice moss #richmond avenal #maurice moss/richmond avenal #moss/richmond

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innerpostmentality · 5 years ago

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Arcana Unbound - Picnic prep, or The Truth About Strawberries

Four thousand years ago gods and magic shaped and ruled and were plentiful in the world. Man and the creatures were shaped and marked by it. Then things began to change. Gradually all magic diminished and the things of science took precedence until magic became a myth tucked away safely in children’s fairy tales and skilled entertainer’s parlor tricks. It’s been a thousand years of progress unmarked by true magic. Things are about to change. This fic is part of a collaborative AU created by my talented friend @tornbetween2loves, and myself. This part was written 50/50 by myself and @tornbetween2loves. It is set immediately following ‘All it took was A Moment’ Many thanks to our betas, @stopforamoment, @kennaxval, and @hopefulmoonobject who give us much needed encouragement and feedback!

Disclaimer: all original TRR characters and references belong to Pixelberry, however we are claiming their beautiful children as our own creations. Word count: 3400 + Warnings: still pretty PG-13 for this part. Some future parts will be erotic and deal with some serious problems and adult themes. Tags: @darley1101 @gardeningourmet @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @bobasheebaby @carabeth @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @riseandshinelittleblossom @kennaxval @stopforamoment @teamtomsato @furiousherringoperatortoad @indiacater @sirbeepsalot @alesana45 @strangerofbraidwood @museofbooks @furryperfectionlover @ao719 @blackcatkita

Calais sketched on her phone while she sat on Sarissa's bed. She had a little stylus and was concentrating, worrying her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue when Sarissa got back from checking on Xiphos.

Sarissa had a puzzled look on her face when she returned to her room. “Odd. He’s not there. It’s way too early for him to be up even on a normal day when he didn’t have a late night the night before.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent him a quick text.

Calais looked up her eyes going wide before she laughed weakly, "One night with wine face and he’s setting track records waking up early to escape." She dropped her eyes to her phone already knowing there was nothing there to find. She just sat there and looked at her phone as her heart constricted with pain. .

Sarissa glared at her friend. “That’s not funny Calais. I’m sure there’s an explanation. He’s got to be somewhere.” Just then Sarissa’s phone pinged. It was Xiphos.

Sarissa raised an eyebrow at Calais. “He’s on his way home now. From the palace.”

She flushed embarrassed as a tear escaped. "I'm sorry. I... Maybe..." She frowned and took deep breaths. "Xiphos deserves someone stronger. I don't know if I can do this Sarissa. I love him. I do. I'm just so broken. So damn broken. And angry."

Sarissa wrapped an arm around her friend. “Calais, you are strong. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Let the people who love you be your strength. Let Xiphos be your strength.” She wrapped her friend in a big hug. “One thing I can say about my brother is he is very determined. When he wants something, he goes after it relentlessly until he has it. If he wants you, he won’t allow you to give up on him that easily.”

She sighed then looked puzzled. "Wait... He was at the palace?"

Sarissa nodded and grinned slowly. “That’s what he said. Maybe he was there looking for you?” Sarissa suddenly snapped her head up and sat up straight. “No! I bet I know why he was there.” She gave Calais a mischievous look.

Calais looked at Sarissa. "You think he was talking with my dad? Like he and Aeneas were in some sort of alliance?" She laughed.

Sarissa smiled wide. “I’ll bet he was asking your father’s permission to court you. I mean, you can’t really be seen in public with a princess without the King’s permission. Xiphos seems dense but he knows the rules of the court.”

She grimaced. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't you know." She shook her head and looked out the window and laughed. "All those little girls out there who dream of being a princess. I'm certain it's a lot better in dreams." Then her expression changed and she blushed. "Your brother... I like the waking version best.." She giggled. "God, Sarissa I feel all over the place this morning. I’m sorry. It’s like I've been holding my breath... "

Sarissa smiled at her friend’s giddiness. She knew exactly how she felt because she felt the same way. “It thrills me to see you so happy.” She giggled like a school girl. “I know how you feel; I feel the same way about your brother.”

"I think we should plan a camping trip. Or maybe spend a day out on the yacht? Dad and Uncle Drake used to go camping when they were our age." She shook her head. "God …. How am I going to finish my pieces in time? I’ve only got a year before the exhibition at the Louvre. It already made me nauseated when I would think about it.” She shook her head grinning. “Now your brother is the only thing in my head. He gives me different feelings in my stomach... " She laughed. "He said I could sculpt him. And I want to. I'm not sure he's going to think the same when he's trapped posing."

Sarissa raised an eyebrow at Calais. “I think camping sounds like a blast. We could hatch plots to ditch the security details.” She broke into a fit of giggles and her cheeks flushed pink at her next thought. “Perhaps I can deflower your brother underneath the stars? How romantic!”

Calais eyes got wide and she giggled so hard she snorted. "I can't believe you just suggested we ditch our security details..." "Honestly I think security was always along... just not right in the camp with them..." "Hey you're the expert. What do they tell you about if the royal you are guarding is getting intimate? I want to see that class? Who even teaches that protocol?"

Sarissa giggled. “Actually, they teach us to blend in to the surroundings. Tune it out. And, of course always have the utmost discretion.” Her eyes went wide as she suddenly stopped giggling. “Oh my god, can you imagine the things my dad has seen? He should probably be the one teaching that class.” They both locked eyes for a moment, then burst out in laughter. After a few moments they were interrupted by a deep voice from the doorway. “What’s so funny? Glad to see you two are getting along.” The girls spun around to see Xiphos standing in the doorway, all dressed up, humor sparkling in his emerald eyes. “My, you look nice. Why are you so dressed up?” Sarissa moved toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Xiphos wrapped his arms around his sister, but his eyes glanced over her shoulder and locked with Calais’. “Well, typically people dress up when they are having breakfast with the King and Queen.”

Calais blushed scarlet and felt his voice go through her. "Oh." Was all that came out as a strange squeak. She cleared her throat. Took a couple of deep breaths to try to offset the dizziness she was feeling. "We were about going out talking... Talking about it. Hi." She was pretty sure she was about to fall off the bed. If she did she thought she might wake up. There should be laws about men being that good looking. It was dangerous.

Xiphos giggled as he released his sister and moved toward Calais. He leaned over her and gave her a soft peck on her pink cheek. “Good morning, Beautiful.” He cupped her cheek gently, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Sarissa rolled her eyes as they made googly eyes at each other. “God, get a room you two! A room that’s not mine!”

Lost in the emerald depths of his eyes Calais was just smiling besottedly at him not even really trying to focus. "Mumm," she murmured locked in his gaze. "Sarissa's not mad at me anymore. We rode over here. And your dad was grumpy. But said we could ride on the beach later but you have to come with us. But we only brought two horses so we might have to share…. If you want to?"

Xiphos smiled lovingly at her, entranced by her beauty as he gently stroked her cheek. “I would love to come with you. You and my sister should not go anywhere alone.” He took her hand in his, gently rubbing circles across her knuckles with his thumb, never breaking eye contact. Sarissa rolled her eyes again. “It’s like I’m not even here. Is this what it’s like when Aeneas and I are together?”

Sarissa's phone pinged with an incoming text.

Then there was short video of him with about 10 kids in hospital gowns holding stuffed toys as they waved and yelled, "Hi Lady Sarissa!" It cut out and then:

Sarissa couldn’t keep the grin from spreading across her face as she watched the video. How sweet! She texted back

She still had the goofy grin on her face when she looked up to see Xiphos and Calais looking at her. “What? Do I have something on my face or what?”

Calais and Xiphos looked at each other and giggled and chimed in unison. "Definitely." Then Calais' stomach growled loudly enough they all could hear it. She blushed. "Um, I might need something to eat. In our escape from the palace I didn't get any breakfast. Maybe we could grab something and have a picnic on the beach?"

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Xiphos turned to Sarissa. “What do you think sis? Sis?” Sarissa was smiling at her phone, completely engrossed. Xiphos snapped his fingers in front of Sarissa’s phone. “Hey! Have you heard a word we’ve said?” Sarissa blushed and swept her brother’s hands from in front of her face. “Yes a picnic sounds great. Why don’t you two see what you can find in the kitchen and I’ll be down in a minute?”

Sarissa typed a message to Aeneas:

The text came back almost immediately:

Sarissa responded:

When they stepped out of Sarissa's room Calais was smiling. "I feel like my fairy godmother showed up or something." She blushed. "Thank you for talking with my parents. I know that had to be hard. Especially so early in the morning." Xiphos laced his fingers through Calais’ and brought her hand to his lips, sweeping his lips across her knuckles softly. “Are you saying I’m your Prince Charming, Beautiful?” He smiled at her. “And your parents are remarkably easy to talk to. Which is surprising since they are the king and queen. They are both very normal.”

"Are you volunteering for the position?" She grinned at him. "I'm glad they like you. Daddy has a dungeon you know." She giggled. Her stomach growled and she blushed. "And I'm sorry you seem to have gotten stuck with Princess Growling Tummy." It took everything she had to keep from throwing herself in his arms and kissing him until she lost consciousness. She stopped before they went in the hall to the kitchen where she last saw Bastien. "Um... I might have told your dad when we got here that I was in love. He said I looked happier than the last time he saw me and I told him I was in love. I didn't tell him who. But...” She shrugs. "He's really observant and so I'm sorry if this is going to be awkward."

Xiphos grinned. “I am most definitely volunteering to be Prince Charming for Princess Growling Tummy.” He chuckled and tickled her belly lightly. “And don’t worry about dad. He already knows about us.” Calais lifted an eyebrow at him. Xiphos grinned slyly and winked. “How do you think I was able to get an early morning breakfast appointment with the King and Queen? I got connections.”

Sarissa's phone pinged.

Sarissa squealed with excitement as she quickly typed a response.

Then she headed toward the kitchen. He stopped outside the kitchen and pulled her into his arms as they pressed their bodies flush. He kissed her softly, then deepened the kiss to match his growing need.

She mewled her need for him softly, welcoming his tongue. And when their kiss finally broke her voice was soft as velvet. "I love you. I loved waking up and still feeling the warm ache of our lovemaking." She looked in his eyes vulnerable and wanting. “I love you too. I could barely sleep last night from thoughts of you. And when I did sleep you were in my dreams. You’re the girl of my dreams, Calais.” He softly stroked her cheek as he gazed into her dark eyes with need and longing. Calais stood there in his arms cocooned by his warmth and embrace oblivious to the world that moved outside the emerald beauty of his gaze. "I dreamt of you too." her voice was a low purr and stroked his desire. "You are better than my dream." She delicately traced his bottom lip with her callused fingertip. "I wish that you could just carry me off...."

"Ahh hem...." Sarissa stood there looking at the two of them.

Xiphos backed away a bit from Calais, his face flushed. He turned his back to his sister to hide his arousal. Calais smiled sweetly at Sarissa and mumbled “sorry.” Sarissa raised an eyebrow at them both. “Xiphos are you really gonna go horseback riding dressed like that?” He stammered as he stared at the floor. “Ummmm....” He realized he was still wearing his dress clothes from breakfast. He looked over his shoulder at Sarissa. “Why don’t you ladies pack lunch while I go change?” Calais grabbed Sarissa’s hand and pulled her into the kitchen while Xiphos made a bee line for his room. Flushed and happy Calais grinned at Sarissa. "Have you always had a knack for catching your brother or is this part of your guard training?" She chuckled amused by the number of times she and Xiphos had been walked in on in intimate moments in the last 24 hours. "And what are we fixing for the picnic? I find myself with two things on my mind at the moment. One of them is food." She smirked.

Sarissa giggled as she headed into the kitchen and peered in the fridge. “I am pretty stealthy, Xiphos is too, and no, I haven’t caught him before. He’s apparently way too distracted to notice his surroundings when he’s with you.” Sarissa winked at her friend. “So we could do a cheese and cracker tray with some fruit. Or chicken salad sandwiches. And we can raid the wine cellar too if you’d like.” She raised an eyebrow at Calais. Her cheeks flushed as her face broke into a wide smile. “Aeneas may join us as well. I told him we’d go to the private beach by the palace.”

Calais texted Aeneas:

Sarissa opened a cupboard and grabbed a to go coffee cup and handed it to Calais. She gestured to the coffeemaker with half a pot of coffee sitting on it. “Help yourself. There’s cream and sugar there next to it. Dad always makes a pot of coffee for mom around this time so it should be fresh.” She took some cheese and pepperoni out of the fridge along with a tray of sliced apples, grapes and strawberries. She opened a door leading into a pantry and returned with a large picnic basket.

Calais poured herself a cup and sipped it. Then put the top on the cup leaving it black. "What do you think, crackers or bread? This looks great. What are the rest of you going to be having?" She giggled and swiped a strawberry. She looked at the strawberry... and blushed as her mind fell into the gutter as she thought about Xiphos.

Sarissa laughed at her friend. “I’m gonna take both crackers and bread, and some of this chicken salad. I’m kind of hungry too.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you thinking about feeding strawberries to my brother?

She shook her head turning completely scarlet. "Hold a strawberry and look down at it...." She watched Sarissa for the moment when she saw the resemblance.

Sarissa’s cheeks burned hot as she realized what her friend meant. “Oh my god! It looks just like....” she started giggling uncontrollably. “What does it look like?” Xiphos was standing in the doorway, smiling at the sight of the two girls giggling and red-faced. Sarissa took a bite of the strawberry and shrugged, unable to control her laughter any longer.

Calais was still giggling as she lifted a brow and handed him a strawberry. She took a deep breath to calm herself then she took his hand holding the strawberry and slipped her mouth over the berry before she bit it. She looked in his eyes and grinned. She blinked and cleared her throat. "So, we have bread, crackers, cheese, chicken salad, pepperoni, and sliced apples, grapes, and strawberries." She smiled innocently. "Is there anything else you can think of we need for a beach feast?"

Xiphos’ mouth went dry as he watched her lips wrap around the tip of the strawberry. His eyes grew dark with lust. He shook his head to bring him out of the lusty haze then smiled. “How about a bottle of wine? Or maybe two if Aeneas joins us.” Sarissa grinned. “Why don’t you two go grab a couple bottles from the wine cellar while I finish packing this stuff up? But I’m warning you, I’ll be sending dad down after you if you take too long.”

Calais pouted at Sarissa, "You wouldn't" Then looked at Xiphos, "She would." "Oh we need blankets too." She giggled and grabbed his hand to drag him down to the wine cellar.

Xiphos followed Calais down to the wine cellar. They crashed their lips together as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs. A low guttural moan came from deep in Xiphos’ throat as he pressed his pelvis into hers. His voice was soft and hoarse and filled with need. “Calais, you are so beautiful. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Her voice was low. "I know what you do to me. I want you so much right now." She gasped as his hand slipped under her sweater caressing her. Then she shook her head. "Love... we can't." She moaned as she kissed him again arching into him then broke the kiss panting. "Sarissa will come and get us. She wants to get to Aeneas and the beach." She looked at him with smoky lust filled eyes. "If I were in her place and she was down here with Aeneas and you were going to meet us at the beach..."Calais giggled... "I would have known better than to send us down here in the first place!"

Xiphos chuckled. “You’re right. Of course.” He sighed deeply and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He looked around the wine cellar kind of clueless. “So, I’m not really a wine connoisseur. What pairs well with cheese and crackers at the beach?

She lifted a brow and looked at him. "Are you certain Olivia Nevrakis-Lykel is your mother?" She chuckled. "I promise I'll never tell." She browsed through the racks casting occasional flirty glances over her shoulder as she looked at the labels. "The correct answer depends on the season, the cheese, and what you are wanting to accomplish." She pulled a bottle of Chardonnay out. "Now this would be lovely. It's a little on the light, fruity, side. It will go well with everything we are taking. If our parents were joining us. I'd pick this." She walked farther along the racks, looking intently and finally pulled another bottle. "Now this on the other hand..." She looked intently at him. "This is more for after the food. It's a fortified wine. Which means that brandy was added to the rose' It'll loosen your inhibitions and warm you up. I suspect this is more in the order of what your sister would like to serve to Aeneas." She smirked. "So I think we take a couple of bottles of the Chardonnay and slip this bottle of Madeira in for after we eat and it gets dark."

Xiphos grinned. “Sounds good. Let’s go before Sarissa comes down here after us.” He leaned down and kissed her softly as he looked into her eyes with longing one last time before he followed her up the stairs.

#trr #trr au #arcana unbound #calais x xiphos #sarissa x aeneas

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wigwurq · 6 years ago

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WIG REVIEW: BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY

Yes, I saw the #1 movie in America the weekend it opened. YAYYYS I saw it for free using Moviepass (!) YES IT IS THE WORST BIOPIC I HAVE EVER SEEN. Yes, really. And I have seen Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story starring Anthony Michael Hall! This is worse! But what about the wigs? Buckle up - I HAVE A LOT TO DISCUSS.

Straight up: I love Queen and Freddie Mercury. And when this movie was announced, I feared that their/his story would be sullied AND I WAS RIGHT. As was Sacha Baron Cohen (THE ONLY PERSON WHO COULD HAVE PLAYED FREDDIE MERCURY) for walking away from this doomed project years ago. We were left with Rami Malek as Mercury instead. I do not watch I, Robot and as far as I can tell, Malek is a malnourished baby bird who is trying his hardest under bad script and directional circumstances.

We first see him in this lewk which I can only describe as offbrand Laurie Metcalf. This is not the worst wig but gurl it ain’t good.

Before you can say “what year did Laurie Metcalf get that perm on Roseanne?” Mercury suddenly goes from bullied college student/airport baggage attendant to lead singer of of Queen aka “HIS FAMILY!!!!!!” because why waste time on character or story development?! BRING ON THE SILVER CATSUIT AND HOPE EVERYONE JUST LIKES HIS LIPSYNCING! To be fair, Malek can lip sync for his LIFE - even with those prosthetic chompers - and enduring a new wig with bangs that screams “80s mallrat turned single mother”

Also right before officially joining Queen, Mercury meets this bish named Mary who he likes because from what I can tell, she has a nice fur coat and can get him a discount at BIBA. Hey, sounds like true love to me! This movie tells you (for 2+) hours that Mary was Mercury’s AIN’ TRUE LOVE despite him being bi and also giving no examples as to why they like each other except for love of fashion and cats (though this is how I determined most of my gay friendships in college but I didn’t make an overlong movie about it).

I will give this movie credit for showing Mercury to be the crazy cat lady that he was but honestly, I could have used more kitty content. This movie could have used at LEAST half an hour more on these cats. Seriously.

Instead, we got to see these bedraggled wigs screaming into microphones as they tried to finesse the finer points of the song Bohemian Rhapsody. All of these wigs are basically Halloween versions of Spinal Tap wigs as are the characterizations.

UGH AND THEN MIKE MYERS TURNED UP. Look, I love So I Married An Axe Murderer as much as the next guy but OYYY. Myers plays an EMI executive who refuses to release Bohemian Rhapsody as a single because it’s too long and operatic and says something like, “no one will ever sing along to the radio to this in their car” because THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HE DOES IN WAYNE’S WORLD, GET IT?!?!?!?!?! If that Easter Egg doesn’t make your eyes roll out into the Black Sea, his “Da Bears SNL Sketch” look certainly will.

Of course, Bohemian Rhapsody goes on to be a huge hit and the movie trolls you by putting a bunch of negative reviews of the song on the screen to prove JUST HOW WRONG EVERYONE WAS and just as you’re getting to the singalong part of the song, the movie inexplicably moves into tour montage territory because ????? There are zero consistencies stylistically or otherwise in this movie and it is definitely NOT for anyone who actually likes Queen’s music as their songs are interspersed like a frenetic wedding DJ and their best album, Sheer Heart Attack, doesn’t even get a mention.

The movie is far more content making you wonder whether Mercury will marry Mary despite his bisexuality (spoiler alert: HE DOESN’T) and telling you about ever 5 minutes that QUEEN IS A FAMILY SO STOP TRYING TO BREAK US UP, IRISH CHAUFFEUR FROM DOWNTON ABBEY!

The wigs get progressively scraggly throughout the late 70s until Mercury decides to cut off all his hair and get a stache which signals the end for the band for some reason (?) and leads to another Easter Egg in which the dude who plays Brian May (who really does look a lot like him) says that he’ll never get a haircut. GET IT, BECAUSE HE NEVER DID.

Throughout the film, May (who may have been the reason Sacha Baron Cohen rightly walked from this mess) is shown as an angelic guitar god who gave the world (and mainly Queen’s fans) WE WILL ROCK YOU AND THEREFORE CANNOT DO ANY WRONG. Mercury, on the other hand, is led to hell and back via a leather bar and a shitty solo career in Munich by Littlefinger from Game of Thrones and that Downton chauffeur with a mustache. Nothing gets too scandalous or seedy because this movie is rated PG-13 for some reason so you will definitely see Mercury get diagnosed with AIDS but you won’t see how. I choose to blame parttime director and fulltime asshole Bryan Singer for most of the movie’s flaws. OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY. May he be electrocuted in a hot tub for his many crimes, of which this is #1.

And then we come to the uncanny valley of an ending! This movie chooses to believe that the apex of Queen was their Live Aid performance which is recreated through ALL OF THE COMPUTERS. But first, Mercury goes and finds this random cater waiter who he met once and brings him directly to meet his Indian parents so that his dad can tell him he loves him all on the way to Wembley Stadium the course of about 2 minutes so that they could spend a full 20 minutes showing you THE ENTIRE LIVE AID SET. Because you’d definitely rather watch Malek be Mercury performing to a sea of computers than just, you know, watching the actual performance on YouTube. Meanwhile, some doofus playing Bob Geldof in a sad mullet wig sits in a silent room where no one is making ANY donations for Live Aid until Queen performs. “Based on a true story” has never been truer. IN CONCLUSION I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO MAD AT A MOVIE. Actual footage of Queen performing “Don’t Stop Me Now” plays over the credits and is the only watchable part of the film.

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#wigwurq #bohemianrhapsody #bohemianrhapsodymovie #freddiemercury #ramimalek #brianmay #crazycatlady #uncannyvalley #bryansinger

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black-wolf066 · 7 years ago

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Well, You Do Have My Chin

Update: OMG!!! MY TIRED 36 HOUR LACK OF SLEEP BRAIN ACCIDENTLY DELETED THE STORY I POSTED THIS MORNING!!! I meant to hit edit, and apparently I hit delete and when it gave me the prompt to hit yes or no, my tired brain that it said “would you like to edit: yes or no”.... so here goes round two... so sorry guys. I wanted to add that i have this on Fanfiction.net now too (under my account Wolf-shadow666) but I just curfunkled everything... ANYWAY underneath is pretty much the post that got deleted... thankfully i save everything on document...

First off, let me just say. I’M ALIVE!!! It is now 8am in the morning, I’ve been working on the better part of this little shit that wouldn’t leave me alone i mean piece since 9pm last night…. i have TO GO TO WORK IN AN HOUR!!! HELP ME!!!!! *flails all over the place* I swear i can adult right sometimes… just not today apparently…. keep this in mind as you’re reading cause even though I’ve proof read this thrice, I’m sure some (or many) things have escaped my brain’s notice.

anyway….

Here is the comment that inspired me to write this one-shot:

@timetravelingpotatoast said:

All I really want from this season is for Killian and Henry to become good friends and talk about Lucy’s “conspiracy” only for Killian to ask who she thinks he is. However, somewhere in the translation it’s lost that Killian is his step-dad, so Henry just says his dad, leading to a “well you do have my chin,” commentary from Killian.

When the curse breaks they just squint at each other for a really long time.

Now, for the sake of the prompt, this is gonna be very heavily AU from season 7. This is by no means a “fix-it fic” because I really am enjoying season 7; I’m only writing this because I really wanted to see something like this be a thing after reading the comment. I absolutely love father/son bonding fics between Killian and Henry and I need more of it in my life… (Seriously there aren’t enough Captain Cobra centered fics to satisfy my craving for it). And I know that I said “I wish I was creative enough to contribute to the fandom of Once Upon a Time”, but after posting my last little snippet; I figured “what the hell I’m gonna do it anyway” because that’s what fandom is (I still feel like I suck terribly but *shrug* if you’re having fun doing it than screw being good at it, right?). (((Also something that should have been maybe 2000 words or less, ended up running away from me toward 4000 (my brain projecting my need for more Captain Cobra moments I guess)… I realize a lot of it is probably considered filler and I could have done away with it, but I kinda wanted to build that relationship between cursed Killian and Henry much like the relationship between Snow White and Emma in season 1)))).

Anyway, here’s a bit of backstory that I came up with for the AU universe of this fic…. If you don’t care and simply just want to read the story, than you can simply scroll down to the Continue reading link:

So in this AU, I’ve pretty much figured that Rumple, Killian, Regina and Emma came to save the day for Henry (Henry may have asked for Killian, Regina and Emma, but the three probably went to Rumple for help or something and Belle urged him to go). I’m thinking the timeline in the realm Henry is in moves faster than the timeline that is Storybrooke, so Henry might be 25 and not 18, but to the rest of his family only 1 year has passed since Henry left in search of his own story((((wondering if this is actually canon considering how shocked they were at seeing him so grown and I don’t believe for a single second that it took Emma and Killian that long to have a baby)))). Emma wasn’t pregnant at the time but eventually as they all stay and help the resistance against Tremaine and Drizella (after finding a way to send word back home that everything and everyone is alright and that they’re staying to help… maybe Rumple being pushed by Belle to stay and help them too), she and Killian end up having twins, and barely a year later Henry has his own kid with Ella. When the curse comes and separates them all, the curse spans the whole state of Washington (Tremaine or Drizella wanting to separate as many of them as they could and not keep them all in the same place… especially the true love couples. But they didn’t bank on Lucy remembering or Rumple finding a loop hole so he didn’t get cursed along with everyone else), so HH is the main hive so to speak but the fairy-tale characters are scattered across other cities and towns. Emma is off in one city (maybe Walla Walla), their twin daughters are in a group home in another city, Henry lived somewhere in Olympia (which is close enough to Seattle and HH), Robin (because I need Regina to be happy damn it! And I figure maybe they found that his soul wasn’t destroyed but simply stuck in the crystal, even across all alternate versions of said crystal in any realm, so he ends up getting freed) is also scattered somewhere, and Rumple, Killian, Regina, Ella and Lucy remained in HH where Tremaine and/or Drizella could keep an eye on them and make their lives a living hell. When Lucy finds Henry, and Jacinda steals his car (much like in the show and what not), he decides to stay at a motel for a week, finding the place interesting (and spurring a bit of creativity that he hadn’t felt since his failed first book) and eventually that week turns into him finding an actual place to stay once he gets to know the people in the neighborhood (made hard by the outrageous prices being asked). When Detective Rogers hears about his search, he offers to turn his den/office into a spare room (the only reason Regina/Roni didn’t offer is because she lives in a small studio apartment above the bar with the only closed room being a bathroom)…. Eventually Rumple as Weaver manages to get everyone back into the neighborhood (((he was the one to give Lucy the book. He was the one to find and bring back the cursed versions of Robin—Kevin Adams, who is a struggling lawyer that ends up helping Jacinda, by Rumple/Weaver’s prompting, get custody of Lucy back—and Emma—Danielle “Dani” Stevens, who was a sketch artist for Walla Walla police department. He was also the one to find which group home the twins were staying in and try to adopt them, since he wasn’t sure how long it would take to break the curse, and he didn’t want them staying there… Rumple and Killian might be civil borderline grey area friends, but he likes the twins and it’ll get them back to their family that much quicker once the curse is broken if he does it like this…)))) and the curse gets broken the same as in season 1 with Henry and Lucy (cause I’m unoriginal and my brain can’t think of anything else right now) ((((That should be enough of a background right? I don’t know… I’m terrible at this… don’t question the plot holes too much okay? You might get sucked into its black hole…))))

(((I looked at apartment averages in Seattle as a guideline (got rid of link since it wasn’t working)… and even though almost 3000 is very high for a one-bedroom apartment that Henry was looking for; I figured that Tremaine and Drizella were trying to weed out the people in the neighborhood slowly so they could bulldoze and improve and bring forth a ‘richer’ environment and a “richer” culture of people to surround themselves with, therefore causing more suffering and separation for those cursed and gaining something else for themselves….))))

((also when it comes to ages, I’m probably way off from canon, but these are my head canon ages for them here so… Emma was 28 at the start of season 1; Killian was 29, Regina 32. Adding 9 years considering Henry left at 18 and only a year passed in Storybrooke whereas 7 years passed where Henry was, that would make them 37, 38, and 41. With another 11ish to 12ish years they are now 48, 49, and 52 with Henry being 37ish.

tagging @superchocovian since she kindly asked me to (hope you enjoy it!!!)

Anyway, without farther ado, i give you this Captain Cobra one-shot in all it’s (step)father/son bonding glory!

Well, You do have my chin

Word count: 4203

Rating: pg-13 for my potty mouth

The din of Roni’s bar was oddly relaxing to Henry as he searched on his laptop for available apartments to move into, but after another site herald the same results, he sighed, closed the screen, and dropped his head into the crook of his arm. Was it too much to ask for a place within his price range? Hell, he was sure he could find something cheaper in the heart of Seattle than he could here.

But no, he stubbornly wanted to stay in this part of the neighborhood. There was something about Hyperion Heights, something that spoke to him, and not just Lucy’s crazy theory that his book was real and they were all fairytale characters scattered across the state (never mind the even crazier theory that he was her father—there was no way he could ever forget meeting a beautiful girl like Jacinda or be stupid enough not to fight for more than a one night stand with said woman).

The scraping of a chair across from him brought Henry’s attention up to that of the arrival of Detective Logan Rogers. The cop’s eyebrow was raised at him in silent question and concern as he sat down and nabbed the untouched bear claw from his plate.

“Bad day?” he asked finally with a tilt of his head as Roni approached with his usual beer.

When Henry still didn’t move to answer, simply groaning and hiding his face back in the crook of his arm, Roni supplied. “He’s looking for places to stay… and failing by the looks of it.”

“The asking prices are outrageous! How do you guys survive here?” he griped into his arm.

Roni snorted and Henry peeked up at her with a perturbed eyebrow raised. “You’ve seen the state of the neighborhood and the state of my bar before I decided to fight back. Isn’t that answer enough for you?”

“What’s your budget?” Logan cut in with his query before Henry could snark back and start an argument with the ornery bartender.

“Well,” Henry’s eyes shifted to him just as the older man took a bite out of the pilfered pastry. “With Seattle, I kind of figured I’d be lucky to find something for twenty-two hundred, but there is no way I’m paying almost three thousand for a place that’s barely in the city’s limits.”

“Welcome to the land of Belfrey greed.” chimed Roni as she walked back to tend the bar and the new arrival of customers.

Henry scowled un-amusedly at her back as she went.

“I have space,”

Startled, Henry gazed, wide eyed, back at the Detective. “What?”

“Well, it’s not really a ‘room’, but the den can easily be turned into one.” Logan continued, his good hand going up to scratch nervously behind his ear.

“Wha—Why?” Tilting his head and narrowing his eyes, Henry pressed on. “I know the three of us are ‘kinda’ working together, but we barely know each other. Hell, for all you know I could be a serial killer.” at Logan’s snort and raised brow, Henry rolled his eyes and said defensively. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I trust you.” Logan relented simply with a shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, I have a gun I’m not afraid to use, and you look to be out of options, mate.”

Still eyeing the older man with suspicion, not used to blatantly kind gestures from others, he asked. “Can I swing by to look at your place before I decide?”

“Of course.” taking a swig of his beer, Logan gestured with his head to the closed laptop. “Now, what was it you wanted to show me?”

(***)

Walking into the apartment after Logan, Henry took in the sparsely decorated living space with a familiar pang beating against his chest. It was neat and orderly, everything he considered the detective to be, even after a week of working covertly with him and Roni. But seeing it so bare, devoid of… well, devoid of life and personality; it all just resonated with him. There wasn’t even a single picture or photo on the walls or table tops (Henry knows there are photos of Logan out there. He’s seen the pictures Roni hangs proudly on the walls of her establishment, knows that the picture of Logan and Roni—two best friends, he’s come to learn, that grew up together in the neighborhood—has a special place right behind the bar where she works). There was nothing, other than the books neatly tucked into a shelf, to give Henry a glimpse into what made this man Logan Rogers.

Walking through the 900 square foot space, he knew it wasn’t just the home of a bachelor; it was the home of someone who was just as lost as Henry himself felt. A space made entirely out of necessity rather than be made to feel like an actual home. It reminded him of his years after the foster system, before he had met his late wife, where he had had nothing of that old life worth keeping. Anything he had gained afterwards had been destroyed by the fire that took his wife and daughter three years ago, and after that he had just never bothered to start over (it wouldn’t bring them back and honestly they were all Henry wanted, not materialistic things).

As Logan led him through the kitchen toward the open den, Henry wondered what kind of past the man must have had, wondered if he too was an orphan looking for a place to belong.

“Here it is.” Logan stated with a flourish of his hand and ultimately cutting Henry out of his thoughts.

His eyes roved over the small space, at the neat and tidy desk underneath the window and the wall lined with more bookshelves and books and a single three-drawer filing cabinet.

“Sorry, I know it’s not much… doesn’t even have a door.”

Henry’s eyes cut to the older man just as he saw his good hand go to scratch behind his ear (a nervous tick he’d come to realize early on in the week). “No, it’s perfect,” He reassured as he walked around the opened room; envisioning where his stuff would fit. “I don’t really need that much space anyway.” he moved back to the opened archway and gave the man a small smile. “And privacy can be fixed with a curtain,”

“Does that mean you accept my offer?”

“If you don’t mind me for a roommate, than yeah, I’ll take it.”

(***)

A little over one month since his move into the neighborhood, and not once did Henry regret his decision (well, maybe a little; after all, Victoria Belfrey and her daughter are a force to be reckoned with… and good god did those two give him a headache sometimes). He genuinely liked it here; he liked most of the quirky people and he could clearly see why the neighborhood was worth trying to save. He also found rooming with Logan to be better than he originally expected. Sure they had their moments (like the kitchen incident that nearly gave the detective an aneurysm, or how scarily grumpy Logan could get when he’s had a bad day at the station), but their camaraderie was easy going between them, and for once after three years, Henry felt like he had a true friend again.

It was because of this easy camaraderie that Henry and Logan, one Saturday morning, found themselves planning a Star Wars marathon and arguing over the order in which to watch it (“They’re my movies, Rogers!” “And it’s my TV, Mills.”).

Somehow Henry won the argument, which found Logan sitting on the couch with the large popcorn bowl settled on the middle cushion and a beer in his hand, while Henry squatted down in front of their combined movie collection to find the first disk.

As he skimmed the neatly ordered DVDs for the one he wanted, his finger froze on a particular title and could barely contain the Cheshire cat grin as he pulled it out and pivoted to face the detective.

“The Princess Bride: Special Edition.”

Logan scowled and pointed his finger at him as he defended. “Shove off, mate, it’s a good book and a good movie; leave it alone.”

The grin on Henry’s face turned impish as he pivoted back and added as he went, “As you wish.”

The couch pillow thrown at his back did nothing to curb his mirth.

(***)

It was almost three months after his move to Hyperion Heights, that Henry managed to work the nerve enough (more like getting the quadrant that was Roni, Logan, Sabine and Lucy to shut up, and to stop hounding him to try and move on and be happy) to ask Jacinda on a date.

Glancing at himself in the hallway mirror, and trying to ignore the grinning idiot leaning against the wall a few paces behind him; he felt the bubbling of nerves roiling in his stomach as he finally turned to face his roommate.

“You’ll be fine,” Logan soothed with the utmost confidence. “You didn’t have any problems when you were flirting with her, one date isn’t going to kill you, mate. Just be yourself.”

“Yeah, be myself.” Henry snorted and rubbed his sweating palms against his jean clad thighs. “Cause any girl would swoon at a failed writer, a widowed husband, and a nerd for all things 80’s, Star Wars, Harry Potter, or Tolkien related.”

“Henry,” Logan stepped forward than, placing his hand and prosthetic firmly on his shoulders as he earnestly stated. “You’ve told Jacinda all of this already and yet she still accepted to go to this concert with you. So cut yourself a little slack, give her a little more credit than that, and go out tonight and have fun.”

(***)

It was almost six months after his move, and during one of their covert meet ups at the bar, when Henry felt a little friendly revenge against Roni and Logan was in order (because dear god, if they didn’t stop and take their own damn advice, he was going to go crazy… or take Roni’s bat and beat himself or them with it… really, he wasn’t picky).

It hadn’t been long after his and Jacinda’s first—or even their second— date that Jacinda decided enough was enough and it was time to try and win custody of her daughter back from her step mother. Detective Weaver had recommended a Lawyer from Spokane, and ever since Kevin Adams stepped foot into Roni’s bar, the two had done nothing but snark at each other.

Within the same month, a missing person’s case had popped up that apparently Weaver thought required the work of a sketch artist from Walla Walla… or so Logan kept griping to him to no freaking end. Honestly, Henry thought Danielle (or Dani as she asked to be called) a rather nice woman, maybe a little too bubbly and Chatty Cathy at times, but if Logan was to be believed than she was the worst woman he had ever had the displeasure to work with.

Yeah… right…

Denial, she is a river, and both of them are currently drowning at the bottom of it.

“So,” He began innocently around a mouthful of pizza. “When are you both going to stop pussy-footing around and ask Dani and Kevin out?”

The soda Logan was drinking and the pizza Roni was currently chewing, both ended up spat out on the table and floor, and the word vomit that followed as they tried to deny it had Henry rolling his eyes so hard he was surprised that they didn’t just roll right out of his head.

“Uh-huh,” putting his slice back down on his plate, he folded his arms across his chest and stared them both down, feeling for all the world like the no nonsense father he should have been to the daughter that would have been thirteen now. “Guys, I’m not stupid… and the last I checked my vision was perfect, so not blind either.” He cut them off before they could rush to deny it any farther. “If I have to sit here and watch you two continue with this charade a moment longer, I will either be checking myself in somewhere or Detective Weaver will have not one but three missing person’s cases to contend with.”

They didn’t try to feed him any more bullshit after that, which he was grateful for, because seriously there was only so much a person can take.

And if he caught his roommate dressed (rather nicely) in a blue button up shirt, black iron pressed slacks, and trying to rush past him and out the door before Henry could say a word with a bouquet of pink and yellow roses in hand.

Well… he could only thank whatever deity listening for small miracles.

(***)

It’s at elven months since his move, that Henry felt for all the world a content man. Jacinda had won her battle against her step-mother, and Lucy had become a constant presence in the apartment, especially since he had offered to watch her after school while Jacinda worked. He loved Lucy and her precocious nature, found her imagination beyond incredible for an elven year old and even began to look forward to hearing her crazy theories about them being cursed.

Sometimes they would be alone, with him helping her with her homework and other times Logan would be there, smiling and humoring her and her theories like they all had agreed to do.

It was during one of these nights, after Jacinda and Lucy had eaten dinner with them and left, that Logan’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. They were in the kitchen, Henry washing the dishes while his roommate dried them, that Logan broke the comfortable silence.

“Who does she think I am?”

“Huh?” Henry glanced over with a brow raised.

“Lucy,” he elaborated. “With her theories, who does she think I am? She never tells me when I ask.”

Henry snorted out a chuckle as he handed over the plate and proceeded washing the next one while answering. “Captain Hook.”

“You’re kidding.” The dry look Henry gave him caused him to roll his eyes. “It’s the hand isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Henry shrugged. “Or it could be the fact that she thinks you’re my dad.”

“What?” Logan froze mid swipe with the towel and Henry could practically feel the man’s eyes burning his profile.

“Yeah, crazy, I know.”

“Mate, if she is to be believed and you are my son; I would have had you when I was 11…”

They both chuckled at that.

“Again, crazy, I know.”

They went back to the comfortable silence as they worked, but the occasional contemplative side eye he would catch Logan giving him in his peripheral as they cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, eventually had Henry turning to stare blatantly at the man’s profile with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Do I have barbeque sauce on my face or something?”

Startled, Logan shifted his attention away from the stove top he was wiping down, and met his eyes with that contemplative expression still in place.

“No, you’re fine.” He distractedly answered.

“Than what’s on your mind? And don’t tell me nothing; you’ve been staring at me off and on for the past five minutes?”

“I was just thinking.”

The other brow rose to meet its twin as he deadpanned. “Clearly,”

Logan rolled his eyes and elaborated. “I was thinking about what you said, about who Lucy thinks I am.”

“Logan, none of that is real.”

“No, I know that… but—now that it’s been said, I can’t help but see it. Hell, Henry you can’t tell me that you can’t see it, not even a little bit.”

Henry tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him; his eyebrows practically at his hairline now.

“We do look a little alike, mate; long lost cousins or brothers or something. I mean you do kinda have my chin, our noses are almost similar and the brow structure too…” he trailed off.

With a snort, Henry joked. “You’ve been hanging out with Dani too much, you’re even starting to sound like a sketch artist.”

“Shut up,”

He dodged and caught the wet rag thrown at him, before tossing it back; both chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all as they finished up and moved to the couch to see what was on TV.

Expect, as the days and weeks progressed (and Weaver shockingly adopted two pre-teen girls from Aberdeen that looked eerily like Dani and Logan), Henry found that he couldn’t stop thinking about it too (no matter how hard he tried to shake the insane notion from his head each and every time it sprung back into the forefront of his thoughts).

He’d often catch himself staring at Logan when the older man was distracted and—illogically enough as it was—could practically see what the other man was talking about.

It was crazy.

It wasn’t conceivable.

But damn it all if Logan wasn’t right.

They did share the same freaking chin, and though his nose was a bit larger than Logan’s, it was the same freaking shape.

Maybe he needed to check himself in somewhere after all…

(***)

Sixteen months after moving to Hyperion Heights, the curse was broken.

It had been an emotionally exhausting week beforehand, with Lucy suddenly falling into a coma that the doctors couldn’t medically explain. Jacinda had rightfully been beside herself with worry, and all Henry could feel was the crushing feeling of losing another loved one… another child. It had been the very reason why he didn’t like opening up, didn’t like taking these leaps of faith when it came to his heart and feelings. Yet he had stupidly allowed himself to get close to all these people, and stupidly thought he could have a second chance at a family, but those dreams had gone up in flames the first time and now plummeted back down from the stars a second time with the flat lining of the heart monitor as Jacinda brokenly wailed her heartache.

He didn’t feel the hand of his roommate trying to console him as he numbly watched Jacinda break down in the waiting room they had been forcibly moved too when the doctors came swarming into the room. Didn’t hear the words being spoken as Jacinda fought and then bonelessly collapsed in Sabine and Roni’s arms; her wails gut wrenching and shredding his already scarred heart to pieces. The flood of his emotions and his own tears didn’t come until after the doctor told them that their precious, precocious little Lucy was truly and utterly gone, that the defibrillator failed to restart her heart.

It was Logan who caught him when his legs refused to hold his weight any longer, when the world suddenly came crushing down around him and nothing felt right anymore. And it was Logan who helped him into the chair; the warm presence of his roommates hand at the back of his neck guiding his head to lean on his broad shoulder. And he took the comfort and sobbed for all he was worth. Sobbed for the loss of the wife and daughter he had had to bare losing and moving on from all on his own, sobbed for Jacinda and how much she didn’t deserve to know the gut wrenching pain that losing a child brought, sobbed for Lucy who had been robbed of her own dreams, who had been robbed the chance to live and grow.

His heart hurt as he followed Jacinda into the room to say goodbye, the tears blurring his vision at seeing the white sheet lying over Lucy’s little body; so final in its position that it made him want to collapse all over again. But he couldn’t, he had to be strong for Jacinda as he was the one to hold her upright as they moved toward the bed.

Her sobs as she pulled back the sheet to view her daughters pale face tore at him even more, her words a broken, jumbled mess as she climbed onto the bed and wept onto her daughters unmoving chest.

Running on autopilot, Henry’s feet moved of their own accord; one hand going to Jacinda’s shaking back and the other to card the bangs off of Lucy’s forehead.

“I’m sorry Lucy, I’m so, so sorry.” He whispered as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her crown.

The whoosh of wind startled him and before he could right himself to wonder where it came from, the overwhelming flood of memories came next; slamming everything back into place and causing the air to deflate right out of his lungs. The watery, startled gasp from Ella (his wife, his true love) told him she remembered too, but it was the choked rush of life from his daughter, his daughter (his beautiful and very much alive little girl, his other true love), that was bloody music to his ears and heart.

“Papa? Mama?” she wheezed out as her eyes foggily and confusedly took them and her surroundings in.

“Baby!”

Everything was alright.

Everything in the world was right again.

(***)

The moment Lucy was cleared to leave; the overdue reunion of their family came afterwards. The battle was far from over; not with Tremaine and Drizella currently in hiding and no one knowing where they had run off too, but they were together again, and at the moment that was enough for them all as they celebrated at the bar that had been his adoptive mother’s home for the last eighteen months.

Henry had his wife and daughter back, his half-sisters, both his mothers, both his step-fathers and his grandfather. To say he was over the moon would have been an understatement as the din of fairytale characters and his family filled the industrial styled establishment.

It was all so overwhelming still that he had to take a seat at one of the tables; simply content to watch as he sipped at his beer. Killian soon joined him with his own glass, rum he was sure now that the man remembered who he was, and the thought of step-fathers in general had his mind venturing to their conversation once again.

It must have been on Killian’s mind as well because before either knew what they were truly doing, they were starting at one another, eyes narrowed and the rim of their drinks to their lips as they tried to see what apparently their cursed selves had been able to see.

“Man, I hope this is the last curse we ever have to face. I’ve lost count at how many cursed memories we’ve had forced into our heads at this point.” Emma groaned, yet her arrival didn’t completely break their staring contest as she dropped into the chair next to Killian; her eyes not yet looking at either of them but at her daughters who were laughing along with Lucy near the corner of the bar. She blindly but efficiently snatched her husband’s glass out of his hand and downed the last shot of the dark amber that was left as she continued. “Seriously though, can you imagine the identity crisis we’ll have in our old age if we get Alzheimer’s?” Finally glancing over at them, and realizing she had neither her son nor her husband’s attention, she raised an eyebrow and asked with trepidation. “What’s up with you two? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah love,” Killian briefly met Emma’s eyes, before he was squinting back at Henry as he continued. “Apparently while cursed, and thanks to our lovely granddaughter, the two of us got it into our heads that we were blood related; something about seeing similarities in our features and what have you.”

Blinking once than twice, Emma’s eyes bounced from one to the other, before she was tilting her head and squinting at them as well. Satisfied with what she saw, she nodded to herself, shrugged, and stated. “I can see it, especially when you wear your hair like this and stop shaving.” She grinned and chuckled and leaned forward to ruffle her son’s gel slicked hair, which Henry swatted away with a scowl as he tried to fix it back into place.

However her statement only proceeded to have them squint even harder at each other, and Emma could do nothing more than laugh at her first two goofy true loves.

As the celebrations began to die down and people started heading home, Henry and Killian simply shrugged and let it go as they hugged each other goodbye for the night (each having every intention of spending this night with their loved ones).

“Well,” Killian began softly. “Blood related or not, you’re still my son Henry; always have been, my boy.”

The smile that stretched Henry’s face, nearly threatened to split his skin from ear to ear as he replied just as softly but no less sincerely. “Thanks, dad.”

And if they hugged each other just a little tighter and their eyes shone just a little brighter with emotion, no one that witnessed the moment commented on it.

#captain cobra #captain swan #henry x cinderella #glass believer #hooked queen friendship #outlaw queen #once upon a time #ouat s7 AU #ouat ff #once upon a time fanfiction #my fanfiction

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dracox-serdriel · 8 years ago

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Last Men of Letters - 10x02 Bad Rain - Part 4: Streaming Life

Title: Bad Rain (Supernatural) Subtitle: Streaming Life Episode: Episode 2 of Untitled, or Season 10 Fan Fiction [LJ] Author: Dracox Serdriel Word count: 2,384 Spoilers: Through episode 08x20 “Pac-man Fever.” Rating: PG-13/Teen Warnings: language, violence, graphic descriptions, forensics, serial killings, monster mash

Summary: Castiel and Dean run into trouble while searching for Sam and Dodge, namely her partner, FBI Special Agent Marie Acevedo. The members of the EDA use Sam and Dodge in their tug-o-war over The Purge with disastrous results.

Part of the Last Men of Letters series. Season 10 Fan Fiction is a fan-fiction version of Season 10 and the sequel to Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [LJ], which is a fan-fiction version of Season 9 of Supernatural.

Read Bad Rain on AO3. See full series detail on Tumblr for Season 10 Fan Fiction.

Episode 10x02 Bad Rain Part 4: Streaming Life

Now. Castiel and Dean inspected the motel room. Dodge had left luggage behind, but Sam hadn't. And his truck wasn't in the lot.

"Something was in the bathroom," Castiel said. "Shifter, ghost, werewolf, vampire."

"So four monsters?" Dean asked.

"I am uncertain."

"What does that mean?"

Cas replied, "It means that I can sense all four, but only traces from one individual. Do you think this is because of The Serum?"

"I don't know, but we need to figure it out," Dean replied more loudly than he intended.

Cas raised his voice to match Dean's. "Didn't Sam tell you where he was going? How can we work a case with him and Dodge without the appropriate information?"

"He said they'd be here!"

That's when the door came crashing in. Castiel saw a woman, gun at the ready, moments before she spoke.

"FBI! Show me your hands!" she yelled.

The angel grabbed his hunter and teleported back to the Impala.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked from behind the wheel.

"I believe the FBI is looking for Dodge," Cas remarked.

Dean turned the key and drove off immediately. Whoever broke into the motel room didn't run back to her car to follow them, which the hunter took as a good sign.

"There was a strong smell of bleach in the bathroom," Cas added.

"Yeah, Cas, I noticed."

"I believe Sam tried to remove any evidence of the creature from the room," the angel said.

"Cleaning up?"

"Yes. Perhaps one of the monsters followed them back to the motel, and they were forced to kill it."

"We need to figure out where Sammy is," Dean said. "Gotta warn him that the FBI is busting down doors looking for his girlfriend."

Dodge waited with Sliver until he woke up.

"You got a poker face," Sliver said. "How am I doing?"

"The doctor's got something to try but no guarantees. I've got a question for you," she said. "Why did Crosby stick you with us?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wanted you to watch me die, so you could see that the EDA isn't killing people."

"We've got evidence that says otherwise," Sam said as he joined them. "Video footage of a group beating one of the victims before he was found dead."

"Not everybody keeps their word," Sliver replied sadly. "Can't blame them. It's hard to sit in the shadows, waiting to die. When one of us goes rogue, all the EDA can do is try to cover it up. Make the deaths look as human as possible."

"Crosby could've told us all this without kidnapping us or knocking us out," Dodge said.

"He doesn't trust outsiders," Sliver explained. "And he's not known for his kindness."

"We need to put the patient through an MRI," Natalie interrupted. "Sliver? Can you keep yourself still?"

"Not without a chemical restraint."

Marie received a call from one Stanley Cooper, the lab tech that handled the goopy sample from Dodge's bathroom.

"Stan?" she asked. "You found something?"

"This is some X-Files crap you sent me, Marie," Stan replied. "You got DNA that can't be categorized as human or animal. Preliminary tests, of course, but they're pretty damn confusing. Any idea what that sample is from?"

"No, it was bagged but not marked," Marie invented quickly. "Thanks for letting me know. If you find anything else, give me a call."

"Sure will, but don't hold your breath."

She hung up and stared at the composite sketches in front of her. She had asked a computer artist to put them together, and she wound up with eight facial images, all based on the two men she'd seen earlier that day.

She could run them through facial recognition, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. And this wasn't something she could keep on the down-low, either. People would ask questions, the kind she couldn't invent a good enough lie about.

Then she received a text message:

FROM: Dodge MESSAGE: Sorry for not picking up. Got a minor concussion and laid up in the hospital. Doc's insisted on bed rest. Will call as soon as possible.

A concussion that prevented her from answering the phone? Did Dodge really expect her to believe that?

Her mind made up, Marie called in a long-overdue favor with Mac Greer, one of the IT forensics guys. He could run facial recognition labeled as a random test or something, which was as good as it gets for keeping stuff like that off the books. Then she made an official request for the GPS coordinates of Dodge's phone.

Come hell or high water, she was going to figure out what her partner was wrapped up in.

Natalie, Dodge, and Sam stood in the veterinary MRI control room, waiting for the scan to complete.

"So, you do this a lot?" Dodge asked.

"Mostly treating hunters," Natalie replied. "I studied medicine before switching to veterinary work. I was raised as a witch. Guess you can say I was groomed for this."

There was a brief pause as she flipped through the images on the screen. Then she added, "From what I gathered, the others became incredibly violent, attacking people at random for hours or days before dying. You mentioned forensics from other bodies. Do you know what they died from? Clinically, I mean."

Sam replied, "Internal decapitation."

"That might explain this," Natalie said, highlighting a portion of one of the scans. "The top three cervical vertebra have an anomaly. Supernatural entities sometimes have hidden or transformative physiologies. It could be that the Purge's transition introduces a physical change like this that puts the individual at a high risk of internal decapitation."

"You lost me," Dodge said.

"Basically, this is not normal anatomy. Sometimes abnormal anatomy can put people at risk for certain kinds of injuries. For example, someone with weak ankles might sprain a knee or hip while performing tasks that the average person performs without injury. This particular variation of the cervical vertebra raises the likelihood of a fatal injury resulting from trauma that would otherwise only result in minor neck pain."

"You're saying that this stuff makes them simultaneously violent and vulnerable," Dodge said. "More vulnerable than they've ever been in their entire lives."

"That's why they all died the same way and why they all appeared to be human," Sam said. "After death, I mean. The serum made them human... it basically cured them to death."

"We need to paralyze Sliver," Dodge said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"A temporary paralysis from the neck-down could prevent him from dying during the last part of the transition," Natalie said, agreeing with Dodge. "Doctors use this technique for people with uncontrollable movements when they need to do an MRI or medical procedure. The patient is awake, aware, but can't move, voluntarily or otherwise. That would certainly prevent cervical injuries."

"So, let's do it," Dodge said.

"It's not something we can shoot him up with indefinitely," Natalie said. "We need to wait as long as possible, at least a few hours for me to get the right drugs. We wait until he becomes violent again, then we paralyze him."

"What about in the meantime?" Sam asked.

"You and your friend here will have to keep him still by holding him down or tranquilizing him."

Dodge nodded. "I'll be right back, I've got to make sure my partner doesn't come looking while we're here."

Sam and Dodge took turns holding Sliver down whenever he began to buck the restraints. For the most part, his outbursts were from pain and fear, though a few times the movements were involuntary.

After about eight hours, vampire teeth descended and wouldn't retract. Werewolf claws appeared soon after that, but he remained docile and confused. Then his skin started to slough again, which made holding him down damn near impossible.

They were struggling to tranquilize him when someone barged into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Sam turned and saw Agent Acevedo, dressed in a suit and absolutely furious.

Dodge asked, "Marie, what are you doing here?"

"You need to leave," Natalie added. "You have no right to be here."

"What are you doing to that man?" Marie demanded.

"We're trying to save his life," Sam replied.

Sliver snarled. His eyes turned from fearful to vindictive, and he began to rip at his restraints, howling and hissing.

"We have to do it now," Natalie said. "Put that away," she ordered when Marie drew her gun.

"Help us hold him still," Dodge said to Marie.

Marie obliged, but Sam could tell she wanted answers, especially when the skin started slipping off in her hands. Natalie administered the shot, and just a few seconds later, Sliver became still, though the vengeful look in his eyes remained.

"What the hell?" Marie said as she pulled away from Sliver, hands covered in skin slough. "Dodge, what is going on?"

"I, uh, need to make a call," Sam said abruptly, sensing the two partners needed to speak. "I'll be at the truck."

With that, he left and tried to call Dean again. When that failed, he prayed to Castiel.

"Uh, Cas, it's Sam. I'm just praying because I can't call. I'm okay. So is Dodge, but we've run into her partner, and she just saw some stuff... it's not good. Anyway, I'm okay, and sorry for not thinking of this sooner. You guys should keep away as long as Acevedo is here."

Marie couldn't believe what she was hearing or seeing.

"You said you had a head injury," Marie said.

"I do," Dodge replied. "His issues were more severe."

"You mean the fact that his skin is molting and he has claws and teeth like a carnival freak?" Marie asked.

"That's part of it. He's like the five victims in New Jersey."

"I've seen their bodies. They're nothing like this," Marie replied.

"Stay and watch. See for yourself. We think that paralyzing him will protect him from the injuries that killed the others."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to tell me what's going on," she said. "I mean it, Dodge, no double speak or half truths."

"Fine. But you won't believe me."

"Try me."

"This guy's called Sliver. He was born a shapeshifter. That means he can transform into other people. That stuff on your hands? It's his skin. He sloughs it off when he shifts into someone else."

"Right, and the teeth and claws are him pretending to be a jackal?" Marie said sarcastically.

"No, he's been trying to become human. The treatment he took is doing this to him. The muscle spasms, the rage, the teeth, the claws."

"That's the opposite of becoming human."

"No kidding."

Marie bit her lip, but she couldn't hold back. "Dodge, if this guy had the ability to become anyone he wanted, why would he give it up?"

"Once he gets through this, he can explain that to you," she replied.

"What's 'this'? What is happening to him?"

Dodge said, "All our victims died of internal decapitation. We think it happens during the last phase of the treatment, uncontrollable movements. So we've paralyzed him from the neck down to protect him."

"You've finally lost it," Marie said.

"Marie, I - "

"Don't, Dodge," Marie interrupted. "I just... just don't. Okay?"

"You sure he's okay?" Dean asked.

"He assured me of such," Cas replied.

Dean was pissed that his brother took his sweet time replying, but at least he was all right.

"What should we do now?" the angel asked.

"Nothing. At least until Sammy calls asking for backup."

"I was referring to the fact that we are being followed," Cas said.

"What?"

"That blue car has been parked at three of the last four lots," Cas explained. "And now I see it behind us."

"Maybe we should meet this guy," Dean said.

"What if it's the FBI?"

"Then you zap us outta there, got it?"

Dean pulled up to the next diner he saw. He took a seat near the window so he could watch the parking lot.

Sure enough, the blue car Cas pointed out circled the block a few times before parking nearby. The driver, a woman, got out and came into the diner.

She saw him looking right at her, and she smiled. Then she walked over to their table.

"Can I join you fellas?" she asked brightly.

"Werewolf," Cas whispered to Dean.

"Sure, just remember that I know what takes you out. Silver to the heart," Dean replied.

"No need for that," she said. "I'm Sharvari."

"Howdy, Sharvari. I'm Dean, and this is Cas. Why aren't we shooting you dead right now?"

"I was looking for the tall guy and the woman, but kept running into you two. You know them. I can smell it. So I figured I could give you two a message."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Six-one two-one Garden Square, Hemlock, New Jersey," she replied.

"What's there?"

"Proof that there were more than five," Sharvari replied.

"Five what?" Castiel asked.

"Victims. Of the Purge."

"Yeah, we heard all about that sob story. Monsters wanting to be human and dying for it. Why should we believe it?" Dean asked.

"Because it's true," she replied. "And because the EDA is for monsters who just want to live. We've got rules: no killing, no maiming, no turning people, and no media attention. The Purge has ruined us, after nearly four years of safety. Hunters don't listen, but I convinced some folks to let me at least try. You do know the tall hunter and the woman, don't you?"

"Yeah, we know them," Dean said. "We don't know you."

Sharvari smiled. She said, "Six-one, two-one Garden Square, Hemlock, New Jersey. Tell the tall hunter and the woman it's from Crosby."

"Who the hell is Crosby?" Dean asked.

"I'll be going now. Don't follow me."

She stood up and left. Dean wanted to follow, but Castiel held him back.

"You're just gonna let her go?" Dean demanded.

"She might've just given us the address where Sam and Dodge are. What's more important? Knowing your brother is safe or following a random werewolf?"

"Fine, but if I see that bitch again, she's not just gonna walk away from me."

Bad Rain, Episode 10x02 of Untitled, or Season 10 Fan Fiction Part One: New Moon Part Two: Veins Part Three: In the Madness Part Five: Lost to Wait

See Season 10 Fan Fiction series page for more details.

#spn #supernatural #spn ff #supernatural fanfic #10x02 bad rain #bad rain #season 10 fan fiction #s10ff #destiel #sam x original character #dsfic

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