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earth-ambassador-jim · 5 years ago

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A Bad Reaction: Chapter 2

Summary:

“Changelings call it "Gravesand”. Derived from the pulverized bones of fallen Gumm-Gumms, gravesand aids us changelings in shedding our human form and embracing our more trollish nature…“

Strickler is a little off in his calculations and the gravesand draws out an unexpected response from Jim. Hopefully he can figure out what is wrong and how to fix it before it is too late.

AO3 - Fanfiction

~~~~

Barbara wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when the pink rock monster had kidnapped her and brought her to an underground bunker but meeting her ex-boyfriend had not been it.

The moment she set eyes on him anger had eclipsed fear as the ever growing feeling of betrayal she’d been brooding on for the past few weeks reared its head in full force.

“What. The. Hell.” Barbara said slowly -but with great feeling- as her hands clenched at her sides.

The sharp pain in her skull that had just started up was not helping. For some reason the painting she had been working on surfaced in her memory.

“Sorry to interrupt,” The pink monster said in what sounded like an amused tone. Barbara jumped. She’d forgotten about it for a second. “As much as I want to see you beat up Strickler, there are more important things to deal with right now.”

It was then that Barbara saw who was in the table in the middle of the room. A sharp gasp escaped her and she rushed to her son’s side.

Her fingers immediately went to his throat, feeling for his pulse, and then to his forehead before she turned around to stare at Walt. She had been angry before, but it was nothing compared to what she was feeling now.

“What have you done to my son?” Barbara practically growled.

Walt… Strickler swallowed audibly and held his hands out, open and palms facing her, in from of him.

“It was an accident…” He started to say slowly.

“An accident?!” She yelled. “Is that why you have him tucked away in this secret base? You lured me out here with his phone! And what’s that?!” She added pointing at the monster.

And why did she feel like she should know the answer? Barbara drew in a sharp breath as pain lanced through her skull again.

“Please let me explain. You may yell at me all you wish later,” Strickler said.

Barbara grit her teeth and drew in a breath to start yelling again.

She never got a word out.

At that moment Jim jerked upright on the table. Barbara turned toward him and felt her heart skip a beat. His eyes, now open, were glowing a sickly red and gold. He made a low guttural sound in his throat and his lips pulled back in a snarl. She stumbled back a step.

He drew in a shallow gasping breath. His still glowing eyes widened and he clawed as his chest for a moment before collapsing back on the table.

For a sickening moment Barbara couldn’t move, then the symptoms she had just seen registered and she lunged forward with a string of curses. She pressed two fingers to his neck and felt a calm fall over her as her years working in the ER asserted themselves.

“Is there an AED here?” She asked Strickler sharply as she pulled Jim’s shirt up.

Some part of her mind vaguely registered a series of branching scars that she hadn’t seen before but, as they were currently unimportant, she mentally filed them away for later. Strickler ripped something off the wall and hurried over to her. She received the machine, noting that it was an older model than the hospital’s, and then with quick efficient movements placed the pads on her son’s skin.

“Get clear,” She said sharply.

Jim’s body jerked as the electricity coursed through him. Barbara checked his pulse. It was weak but the rhythm was now regular again.

She let out a sigh of relief before turning back to Strickler. The underlying protective rage layered over with her professional calm made her feel like she was floating outside her body.

“Explain what is going on now,” She said coldly.

~~~~

And so her ex-boyfriend explained how humans weren’t really the only intelligent species on earth, that magic was real, and that her son had been drafted to fight giant rock creatures.

It turned out there was a bit more to those images and dreams that had been flickering through her mind since the accident than she thought.

“Let me get this straight,” Barbara said as she kneaded the skin of her forehead. “You decided that it was a good idea to give my son, a minor, some sort of troll heroin to ‘hone his feral instincts’… you didn’t see any way that could go wrong.”

She was also rather disappointed in Jim for going along with this. They’d had the drug talk. Just because it was magic did not make it any less of a drug.

“How do you still have your teaching degree?” She wondered out loud.

Off to the side the pink changeling snickered.

“That’s not important right now,” Walt… Strickler said. “Right now I need your help to keep Jim stable while I figure out what exactly is causing this.”

Barbara really wanted to argue that Jim should go to a hospital to receive proper treatment, but she doubted they would know what to do with gravesand poisoning, or whatever was going on. She was also not foolish enough to expect that they would just let her leave. Not without a fight that she couldn’t hope to win. She drew in a slow breath and counted to ten before blowing it out through her nose.

“So you haven’t found anything in your files about why this might be happening yet?” She asked.

“No,” Strickler responded. “But I still have a few more to go through.”

“And these other trolls that Jim is helping can’t help?” Barbara would really like to have someone else here. Wal… Strickler had dropped completely off the bottom of her trust list. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the other changeling. “There isn’t any kind of troll-doctor?”

“Unfortunately Trollmarket’s healer was one of the first casualties according to Young… Jim. There might be other healers but it’s unlikely they will know how to take care of a human and even if they did they would not be familiar with gravesand.”

Barbara sighed.

“Okay, you keep searching your files.” She turned to the pink changeling. “I’ll need you to…”

She paused eying the changeling’s sharp claws with trepidation. It seemed to catch on and in a flash of pink transformed into the museum curator Ms. Nomura. Barbara jumped but otherwise didn’t react.

“Okay,” She said with a sharp, shaky breath. This was fine. She was fine. She could do this. “I’m going to need you to assist me. Follow my instructions exactly.”

Ms. Nomura moved to stand beside her and they got to work.

~~~~

“Any progress?” Barbara’s voice was something that could have loosely been described as professional.

Strickler looked up from the file he was currently reading.

“Nothing yet I’m afraid,” He said shoving down a pang of longing.

Barbara made a quiet frustrated sound and turned away. She and Nomura started talking in low voices. Strickler rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room. How long had they been here now?

Jim was now hooked up to a heart monitor and oxygen. He looked bad. Rashes had appeared on his skin and he was sweating profusely. Something in Strickler’s chest twisted involuntarily.

He had done this. He should have known better. Humans reacted differently to even regular medications. Why did he think having a child inhale magic sand was going to be okay?

What if they couldn’t save him? What then?

The more analytical side of his mind was already trying to come up with contingencies for dealing with a new Trollhunter this late in the game. The more pessimistic side suggested that between Barbara and Nomura he wouldn’t live long enough to have to worry about that. He’d deserve it too, he supposed.

He grimaced and pulled out his pen to fiddle with.

Focus.

He needed to save Jim. Failure was not an option.

He opened the next set of files, a series of experiments that had been ran by a changeling scientist back during the Cold War.

He started reading and froze for a moment before reading faster.

It wasn’t possible…

~~~~

“A question Barbara,” Strickler said. There was something stiff and deliberately level about his tone that made Barbara wary.

“Yes?” She asked without turning around.

“Do you have any pictures of your… of Jim’s father?”

That did make her turn around.

“Why would you need that?” She asked suspiciously.

“I will explain if my hunch proves correct.”

Oh she didn’t like that at all…

She studied his face. The lines around his mouth and eyes were tense.

“Please… it’s important.”

She made an irritated noise and glanced at his computer.

“Can that connect to the internet?”

“Yes…”

She wasn’t really in the habit of carrying pictures of James around. In fact, she’d gotten rid of most of the ones in the house as well. Both she and Jim generally preferred to pretend he didn’t exist when they could.

She brushed past Strickler and started tapping away. In a few minutes she’d pulled up an old finished projects page from a company website.

“That’s him,” She said pointing at one of the men in the picture. She pushed down the old ache in her chest as well as the strange feeling that rose when she realized how much Jim as starting to resemble him.

Barbara moved out of the way and Strickler settled down into the chair. In a few quick moves he’d downloaded the image and cropped it down to just James Senor’s face. Then he opened the image in another program. Immediately the computer pinged. The word “match” appeared on the screen.

A few more clicks and a new window was opened up on the screen.

“Barbara? Is this him?”

Barbara leaned over his shoulder. He twisted slightly in his seat to watch her expression. Her eyes tracked across the page and her lips moved slightly as she read through the words before she froze.

“Why…”

“It would appear that your ex is a changeling,”

“What?!”

Strickler moved back as she pushed forward to read the file more thoroughly.

“This explains Jim’s unusual reaction to the gravesand,” He continued. She could just barely hear him through the roaring in her ears. “Normally, in humans gravesand would only serves to draw out their feral instincts. It makes them angrier and their eyes glow. Long term use may have other side effects, but one use should not result in something like this.”

“So why is it causing this?”

“Because the gravesand is trying to activate Jim’s dormant changeling traits.”

“His changeling traits?” She echoed.

Strickler nodded and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Yes, but since Jim was… I assume he was conceived while James was in human form?” Barbara didn’t appreciate the question there but nodded anyway. “The only genes he has from his father are the ones that would allow him to shift not the biological template he needs to have a trollish form to shift into.”

“Which means..?”

Strickler grimaced.

“To put it simply the gravesand’s magic is causing Jim’s latent shifter magic activate, but as there is nothing to shift into his cells are basically tearing themselves apart.”

That wasn’t good. Understanding, mixed with new fear, settled in Barbara’s chest.

She turned away from him back toward her son frowning as she took off her glasses and polished them on her scrubs. This seemed to be one of the situations were knowing what was happening was not going to make thing easier…

She wasn’t even sure if she could use conventional medicines on Jim with the gravesand in his system.

Strickler was frowning as he continued to leaf through the file.

“It looks like all recorded cases have been fatal…”

Barbara whipped around, her heart lurching sickeningly in her chest. Across the room Nomura stiffened.

“But!” Strickler said before either of them could say or do anything. “The scientist in charge of the trails theorized that if a sample of changeling blood and stone was enchanted and then injected into the hybrid it would give the sifting magic something to latch onto and pattern a trollish form off of.”

“Did they test this?”

“No,” Strickler said. “It seems that the changeling in charge of the tests met an untimely death before he could find anymore test subjects.” There was an odd tone to his voice that Barbara could not quite pin down. It vanished quickly as he moved on. “I do however have the groundwork and necessary ingredients listed for the spell here.”

“What are the chances of success?”

Strickler sighed.

“I can’t really say. I doubt they are high… but what choice do we have?”

“You said that none of the… half-changelings… survived the gravesand?”

“None recorded.”

“Did they try removing the sand from the lungs? Or any similar measures to stop the reaction?”

“Yes and they all failed.”

Barbara stood quiet for a moment, acutely aware of the two changelings waiting for her response. She hated everything about this situation. She had a short moment of time to make a decision for her son that would at best be life altering and at worst fatal and the only information she had was from shady people that she didn’t trust.

But if she didn’t do anything…

Barbara glanced at Jim. She clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Then I think we should take the route that still has a chance even if it is slim,” She said finally. “What do we need to do?”

Strickler took in her straightened posture and determined expression with a wistful expression. A jolt of bitterness passed through her.

“I am going to start running over the runes and layout for the spell to make sure there are no errors. Nomura…” The magenta changeling straightened up. “I will need you to retrieve some things from my office.” He pulled his pen out of his pocket and hesitated a moment before tossing it to her. “The lock is behind Landmark Thucydides.”

He paused for a moment and then pulled out his notepad and quickly scribbled out a list of what he would need and where she could find it.

“I’m also going to take a quick run to my apartment and retrieve the rest of my magic supplies.” He turned to Barbara. “I should be about a half hour. Can you handle that?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let us go.”

Barbara watched as they left.

Gradually their footsteps faded from hearing.

It was just her and Jim now.

She walked over to him and gently smoothed his fair out of his sweaty face. Even without touching his skin, she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

His eyes remained closed.

Barbara blinked furiously as a lump began to form in her throat.

How had it come to this? She’d known something was wrong.

Her vision blurred and she sucked in a harsh breath.

Why didn’t he tell her? Why hadn’t she…

Barbara’s hands clenched around the edges of the metal table as the first sob broke free.

~~~~

Author Notes:

I am going to go into a little more into the specifics about what is going on with Jim's reaction to the Gravesand in the notes next chapter, so be sure to read those!

We’ll get a little more on Barbara’s thoughts on the situation next chapter, but right now she really just needs a good cry.

I was a little rushed on editing this chapter (Just started a new job this week!) so let me know if anything needs clarification.

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters Fanfiction #A Bad Reaction #walter strickler #Nomura #Barbara Lake #jim lake jr #james lake jr #james lake sr #(mentioned)#gravesand #grave sand #my posts #my writing

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

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The Timbre Of Cruelty & Kindness

James thinks about the Galra and their hand in the war. Celebrating a birthday with his mute girlfriend helps put things into perspective.

I haven't seen many works for Acxa/James and wanted to make a little something. Didn't know what to write though so I ended up using a random word generator and got, 'mute'. Thus this fic was born.

James has seen it firsthand, the cruelty of the Galra military. Seen it in the demolished planets left desolate and smoldering. He has felt it when their shots rocked his craft and when their blades sliced at his back. He smelled it in the acidic plumes left in the wake of their warships and battlegrounds. In the rotting carnage they left behind. He has even tasted it. Tasted the toxins on his tongue, the blood in his mouth at a rough punch form a bulking, hulk of a soldier.

But he hadn’t truly heard the cruelty of the Glara military until he heard the silence.

Her silence.

He has always thought that he’d first hear the cruelty of the Empire in the screams of a battle, in the anguished cries of fallen Balmaras, humans, Krellians, and whatever other species they had gone after. Or maybe he would hear it in the lonely hiss of the wind as it passes through a now desolate and dead Olkari.

He hadn’t considered that he would hear the cruelty on such a personal level.

Acxa is a quiet woman, she has been since Veronica first introduced them.

He remembers holding out his hand and the Galra simply staring at it until Veronica tells her that shaking hands is one type of greeting. He recalls her silent and reluctant return of the gesture.

And that had been that.

At first he had tried to coax conversation out of her. But she never returned it save for a few nods. Over time, James has grown used to her silence. At one point he had come to accept that she is simply a woman of few to no words at all.

Over time he learns that he doesn’t have it entirely right.

.oOo.

She sleeps, propped up against him.

He thinks that it might just be the soundest sleep she has gotten in a while.

He watches the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional twitch of her lips, as she mumbles something in her sleep without making any tangible sound at all.

James hopes that her dream conversation is pleasant.

Acxa shifts positions a few times before before her eyes flutter open and she peers up at him. She musters a sleepy but kind smile.

He doesn’t understand how they could have hurt someone like her and felt nothing for it.

She pulls herself up right, turns to face him, and gives his head an affectionate pat with a brighter smile. The same sort she had offered him after he had handed her the plush toy he’d won on clear day.

She had hugged it to her chest with a joyful sort of half-coo, half-pur.

She still sleeps with the thing in her arms, he’d be lying if he tried to say it hadn’t made him at least a little jealous at one point. He didn’t know how she could snuggle that ugly thing and not him. He’d come to find that it was simply easier for her to show affection to things that had no sentiance. Eventually, though, she had set the stuffed critter aside and started cuddling him like that.

Today, she has taken to waving the hideous stuffed animal in his face until he takes it from her and sets it aside. With it out of the way, he gives her nose a small kiss and waits for the flush to appear on her cheeks as it so often does when she receives any kind of affection.

She smiles and returns the gesture before signing a thank you.

That has been an obstacle.

James barely passed his high school Spanish class. But then, he hadn’t been exactly motivated to learn a second language. Learning sign language had been somehow different, Galra sign language at that. He found that there were some similarities between human signing and Galra signing, but they were still vastly different. There are some signs that he physically cannot produce with human anatomy. But that is fine, he just needs to know what she is signing to him.

Acxa is cheerful, her eyes are so bright, accented by a smile that lights her entire face. It is a stark contrast to the mournful Galra who’d first come to them. She tugs out of his hold and pulls him into standing. The only warning he gets, before being tugged along, is a gesture to follow. She doesn’t exactly give him time to register the motion nor to recall the meaning of that sign, but he puts two and two together as she leads him down the hall.

It is her birthday, he recalls, and she seems to be as enthusiastic as he was for Christmas morning when he was eight. He thinks that this might be the first time she has even a chance at a kind and warm birthday. It will be the first, he realizes, in three years that she isn’t spending alone.

Much of the Atlas’ inhabitants are gathered in the cafeteria for her birthday breakfast. She looks adorably perplexed at the display. He wonders if the Glara has ever seen balloons and streamers before. He guesses that she hasn’t because she hits one of the balloons back and forth, with her head slightly tilted.

He knows that she has never interacted with a balloon before when one of her little claws punctures the balloon and she jolts back.

For a moment, she looks as though she has committed some horrible sin. With a chuckle, Keith speaks up first, “Yeah, that happens a lot, they are easy to pop. Balloons and Galra claws don’t mix very well.”

Acxa nods but she still looks terribly baffled. ‘Why are they wearing cones?’ She signs.

“They’re called party hats.” James replies.

“You get one too.” Veronica proclaimed as she slips one over Acxa’s right horn.

‘But, why?’ She asks.

James doesn’t have an answer for her so he shrugs and says, “it’s just an Earth tradition.” He leads her to her seat.

“I made some confetti pancakes for you.” Hunk states. “My mom always made them for me on my birthday. She even let me have strawberries and whip cream.” He sets the whip cream before her and a platter of fruits for her to choose from.

“Try it with bananas.” James suggests. “I think that bananas and pancakes go well together.”

She takes his word for it, and seems delighted by his suggestion. She offers him a bite and, after adding an absurd amount of whip cream for just a small piece, he eats it. He rubs her shoulders as she finishes her meal.

He considers for a moment, how eating had been something he used to take for granted. When they had first found her, Acxa struggled to do even that. For a time she could only eat liquid foods and things that melted in her mouth.

He gives a slight shudder, she had been in poor condition when they’d found her. Metnally and physically. He had begun to fear that her psyche had been damaged beyond repair. Looking at her now, he wouldn’t have been able to guess that she’d suffered any sort of trauma.

After she finishes her breakfast, Lance showers her with a glimmering cloud of glitter and confetti. She picks up one of the metallic flakes and inspects it for a moment before looking to James for an explanation.

She has so many questions and he doesn’t know how to answer the why’s. He just knows that confetti is a party must, and so he tosses it every now and again. He pulls out his phone. “Let’s just say people like throwing things at other people.” He replies after skimming through a lengthy wiki article about medieval Italian parade rituals.

Again Acxa cocks her head, but she accepts the answer with a shrug. He is certain that she will research it herself later on. He watches her push the confetti around with her finger. He isn’t sure who, but someone turns the radio on.

By the time the party reaches its height, Acxa seems to have settled into things. It almost seemed as though she has had a human style birthday celebration before. He has his arm around her waist as she socalizes, doing her best to uphold a few conversations at once. He struggles to pick up on the conversation with Veronica and Keith--who have developed such talents for Galra sign language that it is hard to keep up with the speed. He can tell that it brings his girlfriend a sense of reassurance.

She has normalcy back in her life.

A sort of normalcy anyways.

The kind that she expressed that she didn’t think she would ever have again after they had cut her tongue.

Dressed in what must be custom-fit pajamas--ones that she has just uncovered from a box wrapped with shiny, balloon-print wrapping paper-she crawls onto her bed. He knows that, though she seemed to have enjoyed herself, she is tired and has reached her threshold of social interaction for the week.

Even still, she pats a spot on the bed next to her and James comes to join her.

He hugs the woman and kisses her ear. She picks up one of the other presents she has received, an ornate picture frame. She holds up her hands and begins her soundless speech. This time he doesn’t know what she is trying to say.

“You had a good time?” He asks.

She shakes her head and repeats her motions.

“You hated it and never want to have another birthday party again.”

This time after shaking her head, she points at the picture frame.

“You want to exchange it for a better gift, but you don’t want to hurt Kinkade’s feelings?” He guesses.

Acxa sighs and gently puts her palm to her forehead. She tries once more.

“That is your favorite gift and you want me to tell Kinkade that he is your new best friend?”

She is growing frustrated, but he can detect a hint of amusement at his horrid translations. She sighs again, this time with words. She is still rather hard to understand, especially her ‘S’ words.

“You want me to send you a picture of us?” He asks.

She nods, ‘so I can frame it’, she adds in sign.

“I will.” He replies.

She nods again and lays herself down, rubbing her cheek into the pillow. He pulls the blanket over her.

It has been a long time since he has heard her speak, he had been beginning to forget how she sounds. Through rather extensive surgery and therapy has recovered her vocal ability, to some extent anyhow. But her speech is often garbled and hard to make out. Her ability to properly shape the words is lost to her. It sounds as though she still has her tongue, but she is trying to speak with it pressed to the bottom of her mouth.

He remembers her stating that she doesn’t like the sound of her voice anymore, that the quality of her speech makes her seem illiterate. So she sticks to her signing unless someone really struggles to interpret it. Even then, he has seen her fetch something to write or type on.

Acxa only every vocally communicates with he, Keith, and Veronica these days.

He wishes that she would speak more, he still finds her voice to be soothing. But he doesn’t push her.

He lays down in front of her and cups a hand to her cheek. She mimics the motion, her feeling of her claws sending a pleasant tingle down his spine. She gives him a sleepy smile. Looking into those eyes, he wonders, again, how they can be so cruel.

How they could go out of their way to try to take the lively glimmer out of her eyes.

Acxa is a kind woman and, despite her rough exterior, one of the gentlest souls he has come upon.

It is hard to fathom that anyone would want to abuse her in such a way.

He has seen, felt smelled, and tasted the cruelty of the Galra Empire. Most of all, James has heard the cruelty of the Galra Empire. And it comes in the form of silence.

But he has also seen the kindness of the Galra in those kind smiles, in the shelters she and the blade had helped construct for those who’d lost theirs to the war. He has felt it in those small gestures; the way she nuzzles closer, the way she holds him--it is as tender and loving as any human he has known. He has smelled the kindness of the Galra in the strange flowers she gives him and has tasted in when she offered him a traditional dish or two. He had been able to tell that she had worked hard on them.

Most of all, he has heard it.

Heard a unique Galra brand of affection and care.

He has heard it in her, sheepish and broken speech.

#Voltron #Acxa #James Griffin #Acxa/James #Fanfiction #One Shot

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daggerzine · 7 years ago

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Five Bands That I Simply Do Not Do Enough Drugs To Appreciate Anymore And How They Relate To Literary Figures That I Do Not Do Enough Drugs To Appreciate Anymore And How I Present That As Further Evidence That You Should See Things My Way or Bands And Authors That Suck More And More As You Age: A Cautionary Tale….by Kip Kelgard Unhappy Mondays

“We have no teeth.”

Happy Mondays-Seriously, how did this ever happen in the first place. This joke surely isn't funny any more and the music has aged as well as Eric Clapton's solo career. MDMA may help, but at this point in my life I'd rather binge-watch Netflix like a good American. I would compare them to Tom Robbins. Did they ever matter in the first place? Were they ever really "good" in the first place? Finally, how does one nearly decent document validate all of the other bullshit?

Look who it is- the “weirdest band in the world.”

Primus-I truly had a lot of fun seeing Primus when I was young and intoxicated(or as my friends would probably say, when I was "palatable" and "Not a fucking drag"). In '97 or '98 a band called "Limp Bizkit" that I hadn't heard of opened for them at The Roseland in Portland and actually tore it up. That went sour fast. That was the only show that I ever snuck into the back of while wearing a neck full of someone else's old backstage passes. Primus is talented, but boring, especially on record. Three times I saw them and enjoyed every show. The last time I saw anything Primus related was the first Les Claypool's Flying Frog Brigade tour and it was embarrassingly horrible. Unfortunately I must compare them to William Burroughs, someone that I have an odd admiration for. Like Burroughs, some of the early stuff is still brilliant, if only to a certain crowd. I can still listen to "Suck On This" as I am still happy to read "Queer". On the other hand, examples such as "Sailing The Seas Of Cheese" and "Tales From The Punchbowl" feel as meth-driven as "Naked Lunch" or "The Nova Trilogy". Both the band and the author had moments of brilliance mixed with what felt to me like severe amphetamine hallucinations. Also, they played with a guy that wears a fucking KFC bucket on his head and another guy named "Skerik". Seriously. Stay away from anything that includes either of them. Or Bernie Worrell. Or Brion Gysin.

Don’t fly off the roof.

Pink Floyd-Drugs or not, you really need to be over this shit by the age of 21. Like Bukowski for the music fan, it is timeless and truly classic, but should be found and ingested early, leading to bigger and better things. Virtually every music fan has had a Pink Floyd phase, the measure of taste is evident in where upon your path that particular stepping stone lies. For me, "Meddle" and "Animals" are the only albums worth listening to as an adult, though not very often. Should you find yourself mesmerized by "The Wall" at age 30, you've probably seen Dream Theater more times than you can count and are in awe of the "depth" and "darkness" of Tool. Maybe you're wearing a Rush T-shirt. P.S. As I type this I am wearing my Rush 2004 "Feedback" tour shirt. I am not only wearing it, but it is NOT ironic in any way. I offer this up as evidence that I am now officially old and no longer any fun at all.

”We’re Mr. Bungle and we have at least 50 fans worldwide.”

Faith No More/Mr. Bungle/Tomahawk/Anything Mike Patton-I never really was into any Patton projects, though Tomahawk was interesting due to Denison and Rutmanis, while Fantomas featured The Melvins (Buzz, anyway), one of my favorite bands and experiences ever. Patton is in my opinion a better "collaborator" than "musician", as Vladimir Nabokov was somehow an even better editor than he was a writer and in my opinion he was one of the five greatest writers of the 20th century. This is a hard comparison for me, as I worship at the altar of Nabokov, though I do not read it nearly as much as I did in my party days. A much more comfortable relation would be Mike Patton/Stephen King. While both are heaped with(undue in my opinion) praise, the plots can feel contrived and full of unnecessary bullshit. Stephen King employ's many writers and uses what he considers to be their best combined work to create his stories(that is a VERY condensed and arguable point of view, but it does describe how King works) which is not unlike Patton, who surrounds himself with general brilliance and, for lack of a better term, "Put's it all together". King's "The Stand", "The Dark Tower" and others truly are classics. Patton had real gems in Tomahawk's "God Hates A Coward" and probably some other songs, but that's the only one that I can think of. Just as King's "It" should not have been 1,138 pages, Peeping Tom(and Mr. Bungle) never should have existed. Please, do not forget to add that John Zorn sucks.

”I don’t know why I’m here.”

Matisyahu- For three weeks in 2005 I was so coked out that I actually believed that a Hasidic Jew rapper was really on to something. I truly believed that. If you don't think drugs can fuck you up BAD, take heed. To this day, Lance Williams("We all know you're soft 'cuz we've all seen you dancing/We all know you're hard 'cuz we've all seen you drinking from noon until noon again") does not let me live this down, nor should he. He was there and it was painful for all of us. This is a very difficult comparison to attempt because it is simply so bad, but that may be precisely why this is the most important example of the topic. Maybe I'm being lazy, but E.L. James gets the nod here, in the sense that "Fifty Shades Of Grey" and every other word put to paper by her hand is unreadable and should never have been published in the first place. It's so bad that you must either be high out of your mind or as vapid as the college-aged strange backstage at a Mac DeMarco show. At the same time, someone saw Matthew Paul Miller(Matisyahu) and said "That guy needs a record contract!". While "King Without A Crown"(YouTube it. I dare you.) and "Fifty Shades Of Grey" had much different levels of what I guess you'd call "success", that they were ever presented to and accepted by the masses is one of the many reasons that I don't understand this world, but there I was, showing my friends this new thing that I had found and expressing shock when they looked at me like they were waiting for a punchline that never came. Holy shit, kids. Stay away from drugs.

We care a lot....

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lilacmoon83 · 7 years ago

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The Enchanted Island

Chapter 4: Face to Face

George Spencer put on his best face and shook Johanna's hand, as they arrived at his facility. Mary Margaret Blanchard held the small blonde child, as she was helped into a wheelchair. She was already too weak to walk and she looked to be at death's door. They had mere hours, before it would be too late for any transplant to work. If Lance didn't come through and return his property very soon, he knew there would be hell to pay.

"Miss Blanchard, it is lovely to see you. I just wish the circumstances were better," George greeted. She nodded with a thin smile.

"As do I, Mr. Spencer," she replied.

"And this must be little Emma," he said, as he looked at the tiny girl, who hid her face in her mother's chest.

"It is...my pride and joy," Mary agreed.

"Come. There are preparations to make and our facility has accommodations prepared for your daughter and her nanny as well," he said, as she was led inside the top level of the facility.

The boat gently lapped along the waves. The Captain of the ship had allowed them to use the ship's cabin to take a nap. They hadn't slept since the night before and that had been in the forest so it wasn't at all a restful sleep. But this wasn't proving to be much better, as they were both plagued with dreams, which they were convinced were memories

Snow giggled, as she felt his hand slide down her back, while their lips moved passionately together in a rhythm that was quickly becoming their favorite dance. They had sneaked away from their posts again and made love several times, tucked away in her quarters. Red and Hook were covering for them though, so they hoped no one was any the wiser. Not that either of them could be bothered to care if they were. They were in love and didn't understand how that could ever be bad. The apocalyptic event that had made this way of life necessary had a very strict set of rules. Their King insisted they operate under this martial law for their own protection. What they were doing was expressly forbidden, but love never followed any set of rules and they weren't about to give up something this amazing because of some rule.

"Charming..." Snow cooed, as he kissed her neck.

"Mmm..." he responded, as their eyes met.

"Do you think we'll ever be free someday? Will we ever be able to leave this place?" she wondered.

"I hope so...the way I figure, the world can't be contaminated forever. If I was sure going out there didn't mean certain death for us, I'd take your hand and we'd leave right now," he replied. She smiled.

"It would be wonderful not to live underground...to be free to be together whenever we want," she mused. He smiled and pecked her on the lips.

"Someday, my love...someday we will have that. I'll take you somewhere far from here. We'll find a little town, like in the books you read. It will be by the ocean and we will...have a family," he said. She smiled at that.

"Do you really think we could ever have something so wonderful?" she asked. Oh how she wanted to believe it.

"I do...I have faith and so should you," he replied, as he kissed her again. Oh, it was a wonderful dream, but then like all her dreams, it quickly changed to something terrible.

This time, Charming was gone and she was confined to her quarters. Her belly was quite distended and she glared at King George, as he entered her room with a smug smirk on his face.

"Well...how is our lovely surrogate today?" he goaded.

"Where is Charming? You can't keep me from him...he deserves to know about our child!" she cried.

"Charming doesn't even remember you," George said coldly. Her face fell and she felt empty inside, his words had dealt her a blow she almost could not bare.

"You're lying!" she cried, as the tears came.

"No my dear...his memory of you has been completely wiped away. And as soon as you deliver this child, so shall yours. It's best this way...you can't keep her, after all," he stated.

"She's mine...Emma is ours! You can't do this!" she sobbed.

"Sedate her immediately. The stress isn't good for the baby," he ordered, as two orderlies restrained her. She cried and fought, but then she felt nothing, as her vision went black...

Snow awoke with a start and she saw Charming was already awake.

"Hey...another nightmare?" he asked. She nodded wordlessly and rested her head on his chest.

"They're not dreams, Charming...they're memories. I'm sure of it," she cried.

"Tell me," he requested.

"It's very happy at first. We're together...making love and then it changes. I'm alone...in a room and George is there. I'm...I'm pregnant and he tells me that you no longer remember me. And then he tells me that I can't keep her...I can't keep Emma," she cried. He kissed her forehead.

"Emma..." he said reverently.

"Our baby...I named her," she sniffed. He smiled.

"Emma," he repeated with more certainty.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it," he replied.

"Charming...what if we never find her? What if we never find our baby?" Snow lamented.

"We will...we will find her. I have faith," he assured her and she smiled at that.

"I love you," she gushed.

"And I love you too, my darling," he replied.

"We should probably go above deck. I think I can feel us slowing," he mentioned.

"Charming..." she said, as she grabbed his hand, before he could go above deck and he turned to her.

"What happens if your...if James doesn't want to help us?" she asked. He sighed and laced his fingers with hers.

"Then we keep going. If keeping you safe means running for the rest of our lives, then that's what I will do. If he tries to hurt you...then I'll have no choice," he said. She nodded.

"I don't want to make that choice, but if I'm honest, it's already made. And it's you, Snow. I'll always choose to fight for you...for us," he confessed. She closed the distance between them and he folded her into his arms, as he kissed her passionately. As their lips parted, she gazed into his eyes.

"I've been having dreams too," he blurted out.

"What kind of dreams?" she asked. He caressed her face.

"Dreams of being with you. We're in bed..." he said, with a fondly, enjoying her coy smile.

"I've had those dreams too," she said, as she looked up at him.

"But like yours, mine also turned bad," he said, as she frowned.

"What happened?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

"We were together and then George ripped us apart. Then I was in a room and they had me strapped down. I was calling for you...but he said in a few moments, I'd forget I ever knew you," he confessed, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"These aren't dreams. We met before...we were in love and then they took our baby away," she cried.

"They're memories and they erased them...or tried to," he realized, as she looked at him.

"I think so..." she said, swallowing thickly.

"We'll find her, Snow. We'll find Emma and then I'm going to make good on that promise. We'll be free and live in a little town by the ocean. We'll raise our baby and maybe even have more," he said. She smiled and their lips met again, as he picked her up and spun her around.

"We're getting ready to dock!" Killian called. He placed her on her feet and they joined hands, emerging from below to face what was to come.

"And I told you that if you can't handle the deal, then I'll find someone else who can," James Nolan snapped, as he discussed a business deal on the phone. He made his way to the liquor tray in his living room and poured himself a drink.

"Just get it done. If we lose this deal, because of your incompetence, then you're fired," he growled, as he hung up the phone and then let the stinging liquid slide down his throat. He wasn't supposed to be drinking at all and most of his foul mood had little to do with this deal. It was Mary Margaret. No woman had ever gotten under his skin like her. He had a well known reputation as a womanizer and the last woman he had gotten pregnant had easily been made to disappear with a very large check.

But Mary Margaret had been different from the beginning. James Nolan didn't love anyone...he didn't let himself. After his parents untimely deaths due to alcoholism and cancer, he promised he'd never let himself feel love for anyone else again. Then he met Mary Margaret Blanchard and a whirlwind romance had ensued. She was well aware of all this character flaws and loved him anyway. He had actually considered finally settling down and marrying her. Then she was diagnosed with cancer. He had visited her, but his selfishness to protect his own heart had led him to mostly closing her off. When he found out about Emma, he had promised his support and did love his daughter. But it was too painful for him...especially now that Mary was dying. He was hoping that she could be saved, just as he hoped he could when his own liver gave out. If Mary died, there would be this tiny human dependent only on him and he wasn't the kind of man for that job.

He cursed when he heard the doorbell ring, having given the butler the day off. He didn't like witnesses when he was in one of his drunken, self pity streaks.

He stalked to the door with the bottle of scotch in hand and when he opened it, he was stunned to find a man that was identical to him standing there with a woman that looked exactly like Mary Margaret. If he didn't know that she was at the Misthaven research facility, he would have thought it was her.

"What the fuck..." he uttered, as the bottle of liquor crashed to the floor.

"I...I know this has to be a shock," Charming said, as he held his hand up, just as the other clutched Snow's hand.

"Shock? Why the hell do you look like me? And herâ€¦" he said, gazing at the raven haired beauty.

"I'm...well I guess you could say I'm the organs you paid for," Charming said.

"By the look on your face...I'd say you didn't know," Snow added. James turned away to hide the fury on his face. If Spencer had lost control, then that meant Mary wouldn't be getting the organs she needed to survive.

"I suppose you should come in. Help yourself to a drink," he said, as he poured himself another. But the two sat down uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa. He took notice of how they had not let go of each other's hands even for a second. If his heart wasn't so hardened, he might have found it romantic, albeit ironic that his and Mary's clones were in love.

"So I guess that whole spiel George fed me about my organs being in an amniotic sac was just a bunch of lies," he stated.

"I'm sorry...but it's true. There are many more like us. They were going to take Snow's and I couldn't let them do that. So we escaped," Charming explained.

"Snow?" he asked.

"My name is Snow White," she said. This made James chuckle in amusement.

"Why does everyone laugh when I tell them my name?" she whispered to Charming.

"Because Snow White is a fairy tale," James interjected. Snow cocked her head to the side, her face a mask of confusion.

"Snow White is a fictional story. About a Princess trying to escape the Evil Queen. She eats a poison apple and then is awakened with true love's kiss by her prince," James explained.

"Let me guess...you're Prince Charming," he mused.

"Umm...I'm not a Prince. Just Charming," the other replied. James chuckled again.

"George has a sense of humor," he stated.

"So you and...Snow escaped and came here," James continued.

"We were told that finding our...sponsors and alerting them to the truth might be the only way to stay alive," Charming said.

"You were told right then," James replied, as he turned back to them. Snow and Charming exchanged a glance.

"You'll help us?" she asked.

"I just need to make a few calls. Then we'll get you two out of the country," he replied. They smiled at each other.

"Thank you," Charming said, as James took out his phone and walked into the other room.

"Don't think me yet," he muttered, as the receptionist at the Misthaven Research facility answered.

"Yes...this is James Nolan. I need to speak to Mr. Spencer immediately. It's urgent," James stated.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spencer has asked not to be disturbed. Can I take a message?" she asked.

"Yes...you can ask him why two of his clones are sitting in my fucking living room," James growled. There was silence on the other.

"I'll...I'll patch you through to Mr. Spencer right away," she stammered.

Mr. Gold got out of his car and limped toward the building with the aide of his cane.

"Mr. Gold...I'm Jacqueline, Mr. Spencer's assistant. I'm afraid he is busy dealing with a situation," she greeted him.

"That's just as well. I know my way around," he replied.

"Mr. Spencer doesn't usually let visitors have free run of the facility," she reminded.

"And yet I am no ordinary visitor, as I'm sure he has told you. That will be all, Ms...Jack," he said, leaving her behind. The Black Knights parted for him as well, giving him a wide berth, as he entered the facility. Gold stepped into the elevator and took it down into the bowels of the facility, all while observing the day to day workings of the facility. Once the elevator touched down, the doors slid open and he hobbled into the stark white hallways of the laboratory until he reached the end of the corridor. The door before him opened and he observed the hundreds of pods, filled with amniotic fluid and human clones in various stages of development. He came to stand next to the other figure also observing and they stood in companionable silence for several moments.

"Do you have it?" Gold asked. His counterpart let out a shrill giggle.

"I've done my part, dearie. Have you done yours?" Rumple asked.

"Oh yes...they are on the path we have laid out for them," Gold replied.

"And the product?" Gold asked.

"She's here...with the Blanchard woman. They're worried...the clock is ticking and soon, not even Snow White's organs can save her," Rumple replied.

"It is unfortunate. She is a nice woman, but her purpose has been served," Gold stated. Rumple reached in his jacket pocket and produced a vial with a blonde colored hair inside.

"I assume you managed to do your part?" Rumple asked.

"One hair from Snow White," Gold said, as he dropped the hair in the vial.

"To be joined with one from her Prince Charming," Rumple said, as they watched the hairs entwine and glow with a pink light.

"True love in a bottle," Rumple mused.

"The most powerful magic of all," Gold added.

"Then it's time..." Rumple said, as he extracted a wavy dagger from his jacket pocket, along with another bluish potion. Gold took the dagger and the bluish potion.

"And you're sure this is the opposite of the separating potion?" Gold asked. Rumple giggled.

"Guaranteed to rejoin your Jekyll side with my Hyde," he joked. With that, Gold poured the bluish potion over the dagger and held it before Rumple. The potion coated dagger glowed and Rumple became nothing more than tiny particles, as Gold absorbed his "clone" back into his own being. He slipped the dagger and the pinkish potion back into his suit jacket and turned back toward the elevator. Everything was falling into place.

George slammed the phone down, an evil smirk marring his face. Those two idiots had just walked into their own demise. They had gone to James Nolan of all people for help and he had turned right around and called him.

He had already called Lance and ordered him to kill Charming, promising Mr. Nolan he would grow him a new clone, free of charge. Then Lance would be bringing Snow White back and there would still be time to save Miss Blanchard. He chuckled.

"I hope you enjoyed your little adventure, Snow and Charming," he hissed.

James had led them to a guest bedroom and bath, so they could freshen up. He offered some of Mary's clothes to Snow and his own to Charming for a change.

"Um...I'm going to take a shower," Snow said, as she bit her bottom lip.

"Okay...I'll take my turn after you," he replied. But she took his hand and he looked up at her, finding desire lidded emerald eyes searing into him.

"I'd much rather you join me," she leered, as she led him into the large bathroom with her. He pressed her up against the closed door and kissed her passionately. She broke the kiss, just long enough to lift her arms and let him divest her of her blouse. His lips crashed against hers again and her nimble fingers undid the buttons on his flannel shirt. It fell to a puddle at his feet and her hands slid down his shredded torso to his belt. Charming's lips traveled down her neck, nipping feverishly and slowly making his way to her breasts. She pushed his jeans down and he kicked them away, as he resumed his conquest on her body. His hands gripped her hips and slid sensually up her taut abdomen, until his hands became filled with her breasts, still hidden from him by her bra. She gasped and writhed against him, her back arching against the door.

_Snowing_

"Charming..." she cried, as she felt the growing arousal between her legs. She yelped, as he turned her over and she panted rapidly, as he snapped the clasp on her bra and then slid his hand down to her underwear. She moaned and grinded her ass against the bulge in his boxers. He growled and slid her underwear down her shapely legs.

"Oh Gods..." she cried, as he dipped two fingers into the wet folds of her sex.

"Shower..." she uttered, as he tossed her bra away and kissed at her breasts, while slowly backing her toward the shower. She fumbled with the door and then the knobs, turning on the water.

"Ahh..." she cried, as he pressed his fingers against her clit.

"So beautiful..." he rasped, as he worshiped her breasts with his mouth. She stepped into the shower and he ripped his boxers away, before following her in. Steam rose around the entwined bodies and she cried out in excitement, as he lifted her against the shower wall and plunged inside her. She hooked her ankles around his waist, as he began moving inside her, thrusting hot and deeply.

"Oh Charming..." she cried, as he made love to her intensely for several long moments. He watched, mesmerized, as she came and fell apart around him. He continued to search for his own climax, while Snow planted repeated, loving kisses on his face, his lips, and his neck. A few more sharp thrusts and he came too, sending them collapsing together against the shower wall.

_Snowing_

She smiled at him and they exchanged several more tender kisses, before they started to sensually soap each other and get clean. As they dried off in the bedroom, he held her close and love shined in their eyes. There was no doubt any longer. This was true love.

Snow finished putting on a clean pair of black leggings and a long stylish white tunic with a thin black belt around her waist. As he was putting on his boxers and clean jeans that James had offered, he managed to notice two black vehicles pull up on the street and several men get out.

"Snow...we have trouble," he warned, as she came beside him and saw what he was seeing.

"He lied to us..." he growled.

"What are we going to do?" she asked fearfully. He looked at the blue button down shirt he had laying out on the bed, but then went to the closet and picked a black one instead. It was the same shirt James happened to be wearing and he quickly put it on. He took her hand and they sneaked out to the foyer, as Lance walked into the house. He had ordered his men to stay outside, probably to prevent them from running.

"Good...it's about time you got here," James grumbled, as he downed another glass of scotch. As Snow and Charming crept toward the living room, they passed another liquor tray and he carefully poured a glass of scotch.

"Stay here," he whispered.

"Charming...be careful," she whispered back, as he waltzed into the room.

"There he is," James hissed, as he pointed at his counterpart. Charming held his breath and gulped the glass of liquor down. It was awful, but he managed to drink it convincingly.

"He's lying. That's Charming..." he accused. James looked at him in disbelief and then chuckled in amusement.

"That's cute...you really think you can convince him that you're me?" he challenged. Charming was eternally grateful that Snow had insisted they read up on James Nolan.

"I am James Nolan, CEO of Nolan Technologies. I was born on a farm, poor as dirt, to Ruth and Robert Nolan," Charming said. James scoffed.

"He's just reciting my life! You can get this crap from Google!" James shouted.

"I believe you're here for this, Mr. Knight, is it?" Charming asked, as he pulled Snow into the room.

"What the hell...he's not me!" James cried.

"If you don't get her back to that research facility, the mother of my child is going to die," Charming spat. James looked panicked now.

"Damn you..." James cursed, as Lance's gun wavered between the two.

"Shoot him...I'm the real James!" James cried.

"He's just saying that so you'll shoot me and he can save his precious Snow White!" Charming shouted back. Lance's gun wavered back and forth a few more times and Snow screamed, as he took his shot. James fell dead to the floor and then the gun was leveled at them.

"You're not very convincing, Charming," Lance stated.

"You knew?" he asked. Lance smirked.

"You may look alike, but your eyes are much too kind to pass as James Nolan. In my days as a mercenary, I have found the eyes are a dead giveaway to the soul," Lance replied.

"Then why did you shoot him?" Charming asked.

"I'm afraid the moral dilemma that George Spencer has presented me with is one I cannot ignore," Lance stated.

"And as noble as I would like to seem, I have also been paid twice as much by another source to make sure you two survive," he added.

"By who?" Snow asked.

"Mr. Gold of course. And you may not believe me, but I wouldn't have been able to go through with letting George enact the plan he has in store for you both, even without the money Mr. Gold paid me, " Lance replied.

"Then that's why we have to go back there," Snow stated.

"Snow?" Charming asked in disbelief.

"Charming...we can't leave our friends to that kind of fate. We have to take George down," she replied. He smirked.

"You want to take back the compound?" he asked. She smirked back.

"There is a corrupt King that needs to be dethroned. Let's take back his Kingdom and free our people," she replied. He smiled and kissed her tenderly.

"Is Miss Blanchard at the facility?" Snow asked. Lance nodded.

"She is...and I'm afraid that even if I really were to offer you up, it is likely even a transplant at this point wouldn't work," he replied. Snow felt bad. If Leroy was right, Mary Margaret Blanchard was a nice woman. But it also meant their daughter...their baby girl that was stolen from them was there too.

"Charming...she's there too. Emma...our baby," Snow said.

"We'll find her," he assured. Lance looked between them.

"Wait...the child is yours?" he asked. Snow nodded.

"George tried to wipe our memories of our time together, but we've been having dreams. Emma is ours. I think Mary Margaret wanted a child, but she was too sick to conceive. That's where we came in," Snow explained.

"Then I think we had better be on our way. I think I have a plan. Do you think you can pull off pretending to be James Nolan?" Lance asked. Charming nodded.

"Enough to get us in," he assured. Lance nodded and led the pair out to his vehicle. He didn't need to alert his men to the plan. They would follow whatever order he gave without question. Snow and Charming gripped each other's hands tightly, as they drove off. It was time to stop running and stand against the tyrant that threatened their lives...

#Snowing #snowing fanfiction #feat baby emma #feat rumplestiltskin #AU #feat lancelot #feat appearances by most Once characters

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