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mwolf0epsilon · 1 year ago

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The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 18: Warm Soup

Summary: Obi-wan really has to stop ending up in these most compromising positions. It's becoming a terrible habit, and people might get the wrong impression. But, at least he does manage to get a few words out of their most gracious host... Although they're not exactly words of comfort...

Warning: Regurgitation grossness and force-feeding (as is to be expected since bugs don't exactly conform to table-side manners)

Here’s what Tup currently looks like (and Dogma's design should give a vague idea of what Cody looks like since they belong to the same cast)

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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This, Obi-wan mused, was not an ideal situation...

Not that he wasn't used to this kind of arrangement by now. If he had a credit for every time he ended up bound (and sometimes gagged, if his captors weren't overly fond of his charming personality) in some way shape or form, he'd have far too many credits for it to be sensible or even tasteful for someone of his prestigious position.

Perhaps it was just bad luck on his part that he somehow got himself into this sort of position. Or maybe the Force was just trying to tell him something, in all it's cryptic but somewhat wild and tricksy wisdom.

Whatever the case, he was currently suspended 5 feet in the air while tied up by some very viscous and impressively strong spider-like silk.

Trooper Tup, upon realizing what had been holding him back, had made quick work of all their efforts to restrain and impede the infected. Turning his full attention onto him, and lunging forward before he could change what direction he was pulling him in. The collision had sent Obi-wan flying, the air knocked out of his lungs, and then the monstrously mutated clone had descended upon him in a flurry of vile regurgitation, pulling and weaving.

On the plus side, he seemed to be in no mood for adding him to the roster of infected. On the downside, the few healthy troopers that remained were also trapped in the thick webbing, and the more recently infected were being cocooned while they watched helplessly.

While it certainly proved a good enough distraction to provide the 501st's medical team with some much needed time to escape, it was still not the most ideal of scenarios. Especially considering they were being forced to watch as Tup pulled each of the newly-infected 212th troopers close, considering them carefully, before opening up his jaws as wide as possible. A gesture which each of Obi-wan's men mirrored, accepting the following steaming hot torrent of pinkish liquid that spilled directly into their gullets, as if it were manna from heaven.

The display had not gone down well with the rest of the healthy, who gagged and retched in disgust as they watched their fellow clones be mouth-fed in such a disturbing manner. The horrid stench of the goo reaching their nostrils and eyes, making them sting and drip in irritation.

And the worst part was the wickedly smug grin the altered soldier sent their way, seeming pleased with their discomfort as he bundled up each of the men he'd finished "feeding". The pincer-like mandibles jutting out of his jaw clicking in a taunting manner.

The thing that had taken over the once-sweet young man had certainly twisted him into a rather cruel and sadistic individual. One that most definitely liked to toy with its prey.

"Not exactly weather for warm soup, don't you think?" No matter, Obi-wan was also very fond of toying with those who'd crossed him and the 212th. While Tup was not at fault for this, the thing controlling him was. And if it understood taunting and smugness, then it would certainly fall for the bait and lose even more time trying to argue back in some way.

Pausing for a second, Cody cradled in those terrifyingly sharp pincers of his, the mutated clone seemed to be caught slightly aback. Perhaps assuming no one would think him smart enough to engage in conversation. Or perhaps just curious to see where he was going with this. Regardless of what it might be, it stared at him with a distrustful glare.

"Truly, the men were in very good health before you decided to... Share this sickness of yours with them..." The Jedi carried on. Trying not to flinch in revulsion as Cody accepted the same disgusting liquid almost greedily. Lapping it up with this uncharacteristically doe-eyed look that did not belong on his face. "They were also full from mid-meal when we left our camp..."

"A̸s̴c̷e̸n̴s̷i̷o̵n̵ ̶t̷a̵k̷e̴s̴ ̶e̸n̴e̶r̶g̷y̶ ̸a̷n̵d̵ ̴n̶u̴t̸r̶i̶t̴i̸o̴n̴.̴" Tup hissed, his garbled voice having become much deeper than what it had once been. Rendered even more of a baritone than even the late Krell's naturally deep voice. "N̴o̴n̷e̵ ̶o̸f̸ ̴w̵h̸i̴c̵h̸ ̵t̴h̵e̴s̵e̵ ̸s̵t̵a̵r̴v̶i̷n̸g̷ ̸P̵u̵p̵a̸ ̶h̴a̸v̸e̴ ̶t̵o̴ ̶s̶p̸a̴r̴e̵.̴.̸.̸"

The anger and clear disgust aimed at Obi-wan were more than noted. He had a feeling Tup's opinion of him was less than stellar at the moment. Possibly from him stopping the trooper from attacking the medics but... Well, it seemed a little odd that this alone would make him sound so venomous towards him in particular...

He was missing something.

"I wouldn't call what is happening to these men a form of 'ascension', as you put it..." He argued, trying to keep Tup distracted for as long as he could. Frowning as the other finished wrapping up Cody in a cocoon so his second in command could undergo metamorphosis. "But I do agree our food stores for this mission have indeed been depleted to dangerous levels..."

"Y̷o̴u̴r̷ ̵f̴o̷o̷d̶ ̸i̸s̸ ̴w̷o̵r̵t̶h̶ ̶l̴i̶t̸t̸l̶e̶!̵" Tup snapped as he gently settled the cocooned Commander down next to the other resting bundles. Approaching Obi-wan and the rest of the trapped troopers, he jabbed him on the chest with a clawed pincer. "N̴e̴v̴e̸r̷ ̷f̵i̵l̸l̴i̶n̴g̶.̵ ̴N̸e̶v̴e̵r̴ ̸e̴n̵o̶u̵g̸h̵ ̷t̸o̴ ̴m̶a̶i̴n̴t̴a̷i̶n̴ ̵a̴n̶y̴ ̸p̶r̴e̷c̵i̸o̵u̶s̷ ̸f̴a̶t̴ ̶r̸e̸s̷e̷r̷v̸e̴s̷.̷ ̵U̸s̶e̴l̷e̷s̶s̸ ̶s̸t̷a̵l̵e̴ ̶s̵l̸o̶p̸!̴"

Tail lashing with irritation, the mutated trooper began to pace impatiently. Giving them all a proper and good view of his horrifically misshapen body. The grueling transformation he'd undergone.

In some ways, he almost resembled a Chironian now. His upper torso mostly that of a man (barring the extra eyes, blue and black scales, the jagged fang-like plates and pincers attached to his jaw, all the spikes and the two gigantic mantis-like pincers), while is back end had extended into a four legged almost equine-like insectoid body, with very long and incredibly powerful limbs and tail to match.

The black shield like plating on his back gave Obi-wan the impression that he was also in possession of a strong set of wings, that could fully carry him in flight. Although Tup had yet to reveal those. Opting to intimidate them all with just the sound of his heavy footfalls and brutish strength.

"W̸e̶ ̴w̷e̸r̷e̵ ̷t̷o̴l̴d̷ ̸t̴h̸e̶ ̴J̵e̵d̸i̵ ̸w̸o̴u̴l̶d̴ ̴c̸a̷r̴e̸ ̵f̸o̴r̵ ̵u̶s̴.̴ ̶T̷h̵a̷t̶ ̷w̶e̷ ̶w̴e̴r̷e̴ ̴f̸o̵r̴ ̵t̴h̵e̵m̴,̶ ̶s̵o̶ ̸t̷h̸e̴y̸ ̸w̸o̵u̶l̷d̶ ̸p̸r̷o̵t̸e̷c̶t̴ ̴a̷n̴d̸ ̴s̶t̷a̷n̶d̷ ̴b̴y̸ ̸u̴s̷.̶" The insectoid man growled, glaring at Obi-wan with all 7 of his eyes. "B̵u̶t̴ ̵t̸h̵a̵t̵ ̸w̶a̶s̶ ̶c̶l̴e̷a̶r̴l̴y̴ ̶a̸ ̷l̷i̷e̸.̴.̶.̵ ̵S̷k̵y̶w̴a̸l̵k̶e̶r̵ ̷l̸e̵f̷t̴ ̶u̵s̸ ̴h̶e̷r̵e̸.̸.̸.̷ ̵K̷r̴e̶l̵l̴ ̵s̵e̷n̸t̶ ̴u̸s̵ ̴t̸o̷ ̵o̸u̶r̴ ̸d̸e̶a̶t̸h̶s̷.̸.̸.̸ ̵S̵o̷ ̷m̴a̵n̸y̶ ̸v̴o̸d̴e̸ ̸l̶o̶s̷t̴.̸ ̵P̸o̸w̷e̸r̷l̶e̸s̶s̶.̷ ̵D̵i̵s̴r̴e̴g̷a̴r̸d̴e̵d̴!̶"

He frowned at that.

Yes, Anakin had left, but not of his own volition... If anything, his old Padawan had been reluctant to leave the 501st behind, upon being called away back to Coruscant. Only resting at ease when someone from the temple came to substitute him. He was, after all, protective of his men.

It seemed like things had not gone well with Krell. Come to think of it, the Besalisk Jedi Master had been rather distant as of late. Quieter. Less willing to engage anyone in conversation. Obi-wan wondered if that had anything to do with his death. If perhaps things had taken an unexpected turn due to Master Krell's recent bout of anti-social behavior.

If that were the case, then Tup's aggression towards him might be easier to explain.

"B̷u̷t̶ ̷t̸h̷e̵n̸.̶.̶.̷ ̶I̵ ̷b̷e̷c̵a̴m̵e̴ ̶t̶h̷i̷s̶.̷ ̵I̵ ̸b̸e̷c̷a̶m̸e̸ ̸g̷r̴e̴a̴t̶e̸r̴!̴" And at that, Tup smiled, seeming almost euphoric in how he motioned at himself. Proudly showing himself off to them. "S̸t̷r̸o̴n̴g̴e̷r̵,̴ ̵r̵e̴s̶i̸l̷i̸e̴n̷t̶,̷ ̸a̵t̵ ̸t̶h̸e̴ ̷v̵e̵r̵y̵ ̵t̸o̸p̶ ̶o̵f̸ ̶t̴h̶e̸ ̸f̴o̷o̷d̵ ̴c̷h̶a̸i̶n̴.̷ ̵A̷n̶d̷ ̷b̶e̷t̶t̶e̴r̴ ̵y̶e̷t̵,̸ ̷I̸ ̴c̷o̸u̵l̴d̵ ̸s̴h̴a̸r̵e̶ ̸t̴h̴i̸s̷ ̶g̸i̷f̵t̶ ̵w̴i̴t̴h̴ ̸e̶v̴e̴r̵y̸o̷n̸e̸ ̸e̴l̴s̵e̵!̷ ̷W̸i̸t̵h̶ ̴t̴h̸i̷s̶ ̶t̴r̴a̶n̶s̴f̵o̸r̸m̶a̸t̶i̸o̸n̶,̷ ̷t̷h̷i̴s̷ ̴e̸v̷o̴l̴u̷t̴i̵o̴n̷,̸ ̶w̶e̶ ̵c̶o̷u̶l̷d̸ ̴a̶l̵l̸ ̵l̴i̸v̵e̴!̸ ̵W̴e̷ ̶c̴o̴u̸l̵d̸ ̴a̷l̶l̸ ̷b̷e̵ ̷s̷a̶f̵e̴!̶"

"I see... You're doing this to protect your brothers." The Jedi would stroke his beard in thought if he could. He could see the logic, could see the lies this parasite had fed to a young man desperate to protect his kin, and it honestly repulsed him how something could so easily use such an emotional vulnerability against someone like Tup. No creature should be that naturally cruel.

"Y̶e̶s̴.̷.̴.̵ ̴I̷'̷m̵ ̶m̴a̸k̷i̴n̸g̵ ̵t̵h̶e̸m̴ ̵b̴e̴t̴t̷e̵r̶!̴ ̵I̵'̵m̵ ̴s̶a̶v̴i̴n̷g̸ ̴t̶h̴e̷m̶!̸" The mutated trooper eagerly nodded, twitching with excitement at the idea of being understood. Of his actions being justifiable. "U̷n̴d̵e̸r̴ ̸m̵y̶ ̴r̷u̵l̴e̶,̶ ̸o̸u̵r̴ ̷H̴i̸v̴e̶ ̵w̸i̸l̵l̶ ̴p̴r̶o̴s̸p̸e̶r̸!̵ ̴I̵'̶v̶e̴ ̵d̶o̴n̸e̸ ̴a̸ ̸w̸o̵n̵d̷e̴r̸f̸u̷l̵ ̵t̸h̷i̸n̵g̵!̷"

"No, I'm afraid you really haven't..."

And perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, as the excitement fell of Tup's face. Replaced by a sudden look of confusion and hurt, and then with one of absolute rage at being questioned.

Surging forward with a roar, the mutated insectoid got up close and personal, screaming directly in Obi-wan's face.

"Y̶O̶U̸ ̷D̶O̴N̶'̶T̷ ̶K̸N̶O̵W̴ ̴A̶N̶Y̷T̷H̵I̶N̶G̵!̶" The anger and despair smelled like rotting fruit with hints of decaying meat. Or maybe that was just Tup's rancid breath as he sprayed him with speckles of warm and sticky saliva. "I̵'̶M̷ ̴S̴A̵V̷I̵N̶G̷ ̴M̶Y̶ ̶F̴A̸M̷I̶L̴Y̸!̸ ̵Y̴O̸U̴ ̸J̶U̸S̶T̸ ̶D̸O̵N̶'̷T̴ ̷U̵N̷D̷E̶R̵S̸T̵A̶N̷D̴ ̸T̵H̷A̸T̵ ̵B̶E̴C̴A̵U̸S̴E̷ ̸Y̷O̷U̸'̴R̴E̶ ̶A̴ ̴J̷E̶D̵I̶ ̴A̴N̶D̶ ̶D̵O̶N̴'̶T̴ ̴H̸A̷V̴E̸ ̴O̷N̶E̷ ̵O̸F̴ ̷Y̵O̴U̷R̵ ̶O̸W̴N̸!̵!̴!̸"

Turning away quickly, Tup checked on the cocoons and gently nudged them. Calming down as he felt the troopers within respond to his touch. Antennae and tail twitching in delight as some of them began to break out of the tightly woven shells.

"Y̴o̸u̸'̷l̷l̷ ̴s̷e̵e̵.̵.̴.̸ ̷W̷e̷'̵l̷l̵ ̵a̶l̷l̶ ̴b̶e̸ ̸s̴a̸f̸e̶ ̴w̸i̶t̴h̵i̷n̶ ̴t̶h̷e̸ ̶H̴i̵v̷e̴.̷.̸.̷ ̷S̸a̸f̷e̶ ̷a̸n̴d̸ ̵l̸o̸v̴e̸d̴ ̵a̸n̸d̵ ̸a̸w̸a̵y̵ ̵f̴r̴o̴m̶ ̵y̴o̴u̸r̸ ̵w̴r̸e̷t̶c̷h̸e̷d̶ ̸w̵a̸r̵.̸.̸.̵" Tup purred, as he watched Cody emerge from his cocoon, a fully formed Drone at his beck and call just like Dogma. "B̴u̴t̵ ̷f̶i̴r̵s̶t̴.̶.̷.̵ ̷I̸ ̴n̵e̵e̴d̴ ̸t̵o̵ ̸d̸e̶a̴l̵ ̵w̸i̵t̶h̶ ̴s̷o̵m̴e̶ ̴l̶o̴o̶s̷e̴ ̴e̴n̵d̶s̵.̸"

He motioned for Cody to help the others break out of their own cocoons before moving towards the exit, looking back at the healthy troopers and Jedi with delight.

"I̸t̴'̶s̴ ̷a̴ ̷s̷h̴a̵m̸e̶ ̶t̴o̵ ̶k̴i̷l̶l̵ ̷t̴h̴e̷m̷,̵ ̶b̸u̶t̵ ̵t̷h̴e̵ ̸m̵e̸d̶i̷c̷s̸'̴s̴ ̷m̶e̶a̷t̶ ̴w̸o̸n̴'̷t̸ ̵g̷o̴ ̴t̵o̷ ̸w̴a̸s̶t̷e̴.̴" He smirked wickedly, back plates opening up to reveal two massive sets of glowing wings that were preparing to take off. "A̶n̷d̷ ̸h̵o̸n̶e̷s̵t̵l̷y̵,̵ ̷n̴o̴u̵r̴i̵s̵h̶i̶n̸g̸ ̵t̵h̸e̶ ̸v̸o̸d̷e̷ ̷i̶s̵ ̴w̶h̵a̸t̶ ̷t̴h̸e̵y̸ ̵w̴o̸u̵l̴d̴ ̶h̷a̴v̸e̸ ̴w̶a̴n̵t̸e̶d̴ ̸a̸n̴y̷w̷a̵y̴.̷.̸.̶ ̵W̴e̷r̷e̸ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̸ ̶n̵o̸t̷ ̶t̵o̴o̴ ̴b̵l̸i̵n̸d̶ ̵t̴o̶ ̵s̸e̴e̸ ̴h̸o̴w̷ ̶w̸o̶n̸d̶e̷r̴f̷u̴l̵ ̶a̴ ̸g̵i̶f̴t̴ ̶t̵h̷i̵s̷ ̵i̸s̵.̷.̵.̸"

With that said, the mutant took flight and left the medbay. Either to hunt down the medics, or perhaps to free Dogma so the other could help him on his personal hunt.

Obi-wan could only hope that he'd bought them all enough time...

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #obi wan kenobi #clone trooper tup #commander cody

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ahsoka-its-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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Bad Batch episode 9 thoughts!

You fucking idiots, you didn’t even lock your spaceship?!? Take the ignition keys with you or something? How naive are you?

Oh my god is The Bad Batch seriously throwing us a Lion King? Damn me for half expecting Crosshair to appear at the top and throwing the cable back with a ‘Long live the king’ or smth

I kinda love how the squad is on the verge of falling apart. Tech may say that the squad existed before Echo, and he’s correct, but that doesn’t mean it can exist without him anymore. They already lost Crosshair, and Omega may not truly understand the significance of that because she hadn’t been with them when they were still complete, but the others do.

Also lmao, a team of single dads attempting to deal with puberty when they’ve never gone through it themselves.

I think there’s a lot of untapped conflict potential with Tech and Echo. From the moment Echo joined I have wondered what has place in the squad would be, considering they were already pretty complete before he joined. I mean of course he brings something to the group because he’s Echo and he’s awesome, but his main thing, him being half-droid, overlaps with Tech’s abilities. I wonder if Echo joining and taking over tasks that used to be Tech’s could have been cause for conflict or quiet resentment. And in that case I could see Tech’s emotional confusion because in a way Echo’s departure returns things to the way they were and as such is almost a relief, but he would feel guilty about that thought and also he would miss Echo, because he’s a squad mate now.

I love the tiny detail of Tech shaking the water out of his goggles 🖤

More untapped angst potential for Tech and Crosshair; hc that Tech never got over Crosshair’s betrayal and departure. He’s too emotionally constipated to admit it, even to himself, but he misses Crosshair terribly. Hunter has been rather cold in the whole Crosshair situation, Wrecker is the only one of the team who can genuinely move on in a healthy way, Omega never really knew him as part of their squad and Echo also didn’t know him for as long as the others, so Tech feels alone in his hurt and buries it underneath a thick layer of apathy and reasoning, as he always does, but deep down he just wants his brother back. Echo’s departure only further agitates this wound, so in self-protection he becomes even more robotic. As long as he doesn’t have to feel the pain.

Is Cid’s reluctance to help going to tie in with what the dude in the racing episode said about her being not to be trusted?

Seriously though, do I now have to pine over not only Crosshair and Cody but also Echo and Rex?

Okay but I hope that they will actually get together. I mean, Echo is not going to return to the Bad Batch anytime soon, his choice to go with Rex has been too much prepared in the season to be a temporary thing that’ll just last a few missions. But the series, other than The Clone Wars, has one team of protagonists and as such can’t jump storylines that much. To have to divide the attention between the main Batch, Crosshair (and hopefully Cody) and Rex/Echo seems a difficult feat, especially considering the amount of episodes still left in the season. But if Rex and Echo somehow meet up or even team up with Crosshair (and hopefully Cody), the attention will only have to be divided between two groups. Here’s hoping 😬

#star wars #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch #the clone wars #echo #Hunter #tech #wrecker #omega #crosshair #captain rex #Cody #ciddarin scaleback

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hellowkatey · 3 years ago

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here's a summary post for my medically accurate sw fics as well as the reference post series (coming soon!)

med bay diaries

This series follows Kix of the 501st and Arty of the 212th (OC) through the perspective of medics during the Clone Wars. All fics within this series are based on published medical research and case studies (as referenced in the author's notes). This series is ongoing so I will continue to update this post as needed! (full fic snippets and descriptions beneath the cut)

welcome to war, shiny ~ 2.9k. It's Kix's first day out of medic training and things go wrong pretty quick.

varactyls, not krayt dragons ~ 5.3k. What happens after Obi-Wan boards the medical transport off Geonosis

arms of a brother ~ 1.4k. Umbara's most devastating moment through Kix's eyes.

somebody catch my breath ~ 12.3k. After being rescued from Kadavo, Obi-Wan's injuries are extensive.

it's hard to be the one that survives ~ 2.8k (to be continued). Kix works to save Cody's life after being crushed beneath the crashed gunship, and Rex fears losing another brother.

preventative care ~ in progress. While going in for a routine check-up, Obi-Wan finds out he isn't as healthy as he thought. Things go downhill quickly.

* * *

med bay diaries (full descriptions)

welcome to war, shiny ~ 2.9k. "What are you thinking, trooper?" "That I'd like to get a second chance to fix my attitude, sir," The sound of laughter feels out of place in the midst of a ship crash, but it makes Kix relax ever so slightly. "I trust you, kid." [or, it's Kix's first day out of medic training and things go wrong pretty quick] varactyls, not krayt dragons ~ 5.3k. Obi-Wan fought it at first. Until the pain hit him like he was crashing onto the Geonosian surface all over again. His cries of surprise and utter agony echoed through the ship, and Obi-Wan swore he felt the pilots speed up. "What have you done, Obi-Wan?" Ki-Adi-Mundi muttered while the Jedi was being rolled onto a backboard. [or, what happens after Obi-Wan boards the medical transport off Geonosis] arms of a brother ~ 1.4k. That twitch in his finger turns to a squeeze, and he feels the pressure of the trigger activate the proton release— —at the same time the haunting words "CEASE FIRE! THEY'RE CLONES" register in his mind. [or, Umbara's most devastating moment through Kix's eyes.] somebody catch my breath ~ 12.3k. "How is he? How is General Kenobi?" The timing of the scream from the adjacent procedure room is practically cinematic. It's accompanied by more yelling and footsteps pounding past Rex's curtained bed. The captain's blood runs cold. Before this past week, he wouldn't have been able to identify the owner, but now... he would know that curdle of suppressed agony anywhere. [or, after being rescued from Kadavo, Obi-Wan's injuries are extensive]it's hard to be the one that survives ~ 2.8k (to be continued). "Cody!" the voice of a brother forces the commander to stop his eyes from fluttering shut. He squints through the thick smoke billowing from somewhere beneath the LAAT— a place his lower half also happens to be trapped, which cannot be good. [or, Kix works to save Cody's life after being crushed beneath the crashed gunship, and Rex fears losing another brother]

preventative care ~ 5.5k. While going in for a routine check-up, Obi-Wan finds out he isn't as healthy as he thought. Things go downhill quickly. [or, Obi-Wan gets pneumonia and (of course) things get complicated.]

#medically accurate whump #med bay diaries #hellowkatey masterlist #masterlist #star wars #writing #kix #clone medic kix #clone medic arty #obi-wan kenobi #geonosis #umbara #kadavo #anaxes #captain rex #commander cody #writing reference #kate tries to maintain some semblance of organization on her blog #is it working?

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 4 years ago

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Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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solar-bean · 5 years ago

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For All You Enrapdak Shippers

So I don't much about Spop(will probably watch more episodes in order when I get the chance) but Entrapdak is one of my favorite ships. If you don't like it that's fine, just don't come after me to validate your hate for it. This post is just a random thought for fun on how I'd like the series to end on Entrapta and Hordaks relationship. As for the other characters, I want them to end up in happy/healthy relationships(ESPECIALLY SCORPIA).

Hordak realizes that his goal has been wrong all along(no clue how but hopefully reasonable). He now sees that Horde Prime isn't so great and will never see his value. He decides to use his forces to aid Shera and the Rebellion with Horde Primes invasion. Which was, of course, not easy to articulate to everyone.

He then goes to save Entrapta, who was actually fine and happy to see him and Imp. He rambles apologies about how he should have trusted her to which she glomps him and says that she missed him too.

Fast forward to him being reunited with his clone brothers(whom I'm hoping all have different personalities). Some of them actually missed him a lot and agree to help him fight Prime. One of them comments on how he's happy that their brother started a family, looking at Imp, Emily and Entrapta. Hordak is obviously embarrassed but doesn't correct him.

Another fast forward to the defeat of Prime. Somewhere in the battle, Hordak was severely injured(from protecting Entrapta, Imp or Adora, even if they don't get along he knows that she is needed to defeat Prime). After seeing Entrapta cry over his nearly dead body, Adora uses the sword to heal him completely, even healing his body back to it's normal state.

With Prime defeated, Adora and the others prepare to take a portal back to Etheria. Hordak chooses to stay behind with his brothers to rule as the new Prime and liberate all the conquered galaxies. It's really his only option since if he goes back he'll most likely be imprisoned till the end of his days for his crimes. He explains this to Entrapta while trying to sound not as sad as he feels. Portal tech to Etheria is still tricky and they'll most likely not be able to see each other again for a long time or at all.

Entrapta, also trying to hide her sorrow, says that she understands and that she hopes to see him and Imp again despite the odds. Her and Emily are the last to enter the portal with one final goodbye. Hordak waves back, managing a small smile. Once they're gone, his ears droop while Imp lets out a sad screech on his shoulder.

" Are you sure that you don't want to go with them, brother?" one of his brothers asked. They all attended the send off with him, having taken a liking to Entrapta and her quirkiness as well.

" Yes," he sighed. " This is for the-"

He was cut off by the sound of something crushing one of the metal pillars behind them. They looked up to see two thick strands of lavender hair attached to it. Before any of them could question it, Entrapta slingshotted through the closing portal on Emily's back. She ended up tackling Hordak, Imp and the clones barely avoiding them.

"Entrapta??!!!" Hordak exclaimed once he was able to get his bearings and sit up.

" Hordak!!!" She said back cheerfully on his chest.

" Wha-WHAT are you doing the portal's going to close??!!!"

" I know."

" Then why are you back here?! You need to go back or you won't be able to get back home!!"

" But I want this to be my home."

He was taken aback. If he needed to breath like she did, he wouldn't be right now.

" But....your kingdom. Your inventions. Your friends! They're are all in Etheria. Nothing here is apart of your home."

She looked at him for a moment, as if thinking about what he said, then a fond smile gleamed on her face.

" You're here."

He gaped.

Okay if he had a normal heart that would be malfunctioning too. Imp, having processed what she said faster than Hordak, flew over to hug her with Emily joining in. Meanwhile, the clones cheered and awed.

" Yay we have a sister now!"

Bonus:

Adora and the gang receive videos and pictures from Entrapta. Everyone either shows them her new research, projects, her hanging out with the clones,planets she's visited with Hordak on his liberation campaign or her with Hordak, Emily and Imp in general. It's mostly the later. Also Hordak still wears the runestone despite not needing armour anymore.

#entrapta x hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #hordak #horde prime #horde clones #imp #emily #etheria #adora #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power

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wisdomrays · 4 years ago

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TAFAKKUR: Part 121

Trypanosomes: Creatures with One Thousand and One Sheaths: Part 2

Trypanosome and the immune system

The case of trypanosome vs. the immune system is somewhat exceptional. The abovementioned almost universal immunity principle does not work against trypanosome. Even though parasites are constantly exposed to the mammalian immune system in the blood, they constantly change the antigen that forms the surface sheath. They thwart the host's defense, as if rapidly changing their password so that it can never be guessed. Until the immune system produces new antibodies to bind to new antigens, some of the trypanosomes discard their sheaths and drape themselves in another one. If this condition persists, the immune system of the host cannot cope with the infection and may succumb to it.

This extraordinary phenomenon astonishes the scientific community and many scientists are investigating the molecular structure of antigen diversity extensively in African, European, and US laboratories. These parasites are only 0.015–0.030 mm in size, and its two most notorious species are Trypanosoma rhodesiense and Trypanosoma gambiense, which inflict serious damage on the human body.

Like many other parasitic species, the life cycle of trypanosomes is very complex. In each phase of this life journey, the parasite takes different forms and exhibits different characteristics in such an unusual way that generates curiosity. The life cycle can be summarized as follows: when the tsetse fly bites a disease-bearing mammal, the trypanosomes in the mammal’s blood are sucked up and settle in the middle intestine of the fly. They undergo a series of complex processes including several structural and biochemical changes. After about three weeks, the trypanosomes appear in the fly's salivary glands in a disease-bearing form. Meanwhile, they are also draped in new surface sheaths.

When the secondary host fly bites a healthy person, the disease-causing trypanosomes enter the blood of the new host. In this new stopover, parasites are transformed into a form in which they can rapidly multiply. First, they wreak havoc in blood vessels and on lymph nodes, causing fever, marks and swelling in the body. At this stage, a constant struggle with the host's immune system ensues. A likely invasion the patient's central nervous system by the trypanosomes can cause intense drowsiness, coma, and eventually death.

In years of research on the trypanosomes, the thick surface sheath covering the cell membrane of the parasite was first described in 1965 by Keith Vickerman of the University of Glasgow. Shortly thereafter, different surface sheaths were discovered in different trypanosome clones. In 1968, Richard W. F. Page from the Molteno Parasitic Research Institute in Cambridge analyzed and decoded the isolated antigenic surface proteins from several clones, revealing that each clone had a biochemically different protein. The clarity of these differences suggests that each antigen is expressed by a different gene. In the 1970s, George Cross and his colleagues found evidence supporting Le Page's proposal. These antigens are now called Variable Surface Glycoproteins (VSG). As a result of subsequent research, the picture became even more clear.

Once the infection has begun, antibodies are formed in the host's immune system that bind to the variable surface glycoproteins that appear on the surface sheath of the invading parasites. These antibodies kill most of the initial trypanosomes. Yet interestingly, on a few remaining trypanosomes a new sheath to which antibodies cannot bind is built, and the trypanosomes evade the immune system’s grasp. The survivors induce a new population producing new variable surface glycoproteins. This time, the immune system produces new antibodies against these freshly constructed antigens. Meanwhile, the parasitic population grows. Newly produced antibodies are able to kill 99% of new parasites again. However, until that time, the parasitic group constituted by about 1% of the survivors has already changed its sheath. Hence, another population begins to multiply. This process of life being a struggle unfortunately continues until the host mammal dies.

The mechanisms of antigen diversity in trypanosomes are very complex and variable, and the total capacity to produce varieties is not clearly known. Recombinant DNA technology is used to investigate the structure of the genes for producing variable surface glycoproteins, the mechanism of cell membrane binding, and the selection and expression of one of the codes. In addition to the four licensed medicines produced for the treatment of parasitic diseases, new drugs are being developed.

It is astonishing that this tiny window of invisible dimensions has such a huge potential opening to different branches of science. Many such exceptional and precise situations exist in the universe that may showcase contradicting mechanisms with general principles and procedures. Sometimes we may wonder why God creates such harmful parasites. Since we do not know the performance at every point of an entire ecosystem with our insufficient scientific knowledge, limited sensory organs and temporary observation, we tend to see any seemingly harmful being as futile and devoid of wisdom and immediately raise our voices in protest. However, with new discoveries in science, thousands of wise meanings may be extracted from a creature we generally take for granted.

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thesummerstorms · 5 years ago

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I'm starting to write a fanfiction for repcomm, how would you describe Darman POV?

Okay, um... this is a very broad question, so this is a very BROAD and extremely lengthy answer (sorry but I couldn’t not include text evidence.)

But in general? Darman...

1. often looks externally calm, even to his brothers, and is very good at hiding resentment or anger. people mistake him as calm or level several times in the series when he’s actually having a hard time in his thoughts. Eventually he reaches the point in 501st where it can no longer be hidden, but I think he’s been feeling it for a lot longer than anyone realized.

“He’d been alive for eleven standard years, coming up on twelve. He was twenty-three or twenty-four the manual said. It wasn’t enough time to live.

Sergeant Kal said we’d been robbed.

Fierfek, I hope Etain can’t feel me getting angry.

“I wish I could just sit and relax like you, Dar,” Atin said. “How’d you get to be so calm? You didn’t learn it from Kal, that’s for sure.”

There’s just Sergeant Kal and Etain and my brothers. Oh, and Jusik. General Jusik’s one of us. No one else really cares.

“I’ve got a clean conscience,” Darman said. It had come as a surprise to him after years of cloistered training on Kamino that many cultures in the galaxy regarded him as a killer, something immoral. “That or I’m too tired to worry.”

(True Colors, Chapter 1, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

2. Isn’t always up front with his emotions when he feels they’d be burdensome on a loved one and wants to be outwardly positive. See the above conversation with Atin, or his hesitance to call Etain a few chapters after Fi’s injury.

Notably in the scene above he does make mention of talking over serious things with Etain, like what would happen to the clones after the war, but I feel like he hides some of his more in-the-moment feelings and people don’t expect it because on the surface he seems like the uncomplicated one,

Brain-dead people sometimes regained consciousness and then reported what they’d heard during the coma, and Darman could think of nothing more awful in that moment than Fi being in some terrible paralysis but feeling everything. Dead was better. He wanted a cleaner end than Fi.

“Call Etain,” Niner suggested, “She always cheers you up.”

But Darman didn’t want to call her just to rage about how unfair things were. He settled down with a holozine so no one would talk to him for a while, and the others played blades, throwing knives into a target board divided into rings and quardrants. When he’d come to terms with this, he’d have something more positive to say to her. They could talk about where they’d go when they got some leave together.

I can’t imagine a mission without Fi now.

True Colors, Chapter 16, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

3. it’s a case by case basis though. like any human being, Dar is complicated. It really depends on the in the moment situation. Notably above, his reluctance to call and be a burden was for a situation that had been happening for a while, while in the immediate aftermath he called Etain pretty immediately.

Fi didn’t react, but then Darman knew he wouldn’t . The point was he’d said it, and that meant he’d do it. Reluctantly, he followed Niner back to the mess deck, and found a quiet corner to pour his heart out in a message to Etain.

He could have unburdened himself on his brothers, but they all knew what he was thinking anyway.

(True Colors, Chapter 14, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

4. He notices a lot of little details. Even more specifically, he notices and is intensely focused on small changes or signals in the people he cares about. He also very much wants to provide emotional support and is watching for the cues that it’s needed, especially in Etain.

You can see it with Dar noticing Fi and his music, or when he goes after Etain in Triple Zero, or at the end of True Colors when he’s intensely aware of Etain’s body language radiating distress and mentally immediately tries to figure out why she’s upset and put her at ease.

Darman cut into Fi’s personal circut to speak but was instantly deafened by the volume of the music. That was how Fi dealt with things: a thick wall of noise and chatter to shut out the next moment. (True Colors, Chapter 1, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

He caught a note in her voice that said she was holding back; maybe there was someone with her. The holovids showed clandestine love affairs as exciting, but Darman just found the secrecy miserable. (True Colors, Chapter 10, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

Etain had that same expression he’d just seen on Skirata’s face. He knew he must have said something wrong, but wasn’t sure what. He unfolded her arms with a little gentle pressure and took her hand. (True Colors, Chapter 19, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

“The baby’s upset you somehow, hasn’t it? he said. Of course; being a Jedi, Etain would have never known her parents. Does it remind you of being taken from your family?” (True Colors, Chapter 19, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

There. He’d said it, and she would feel better now, let off the hook. There was no point dwelling on his shortened life span. Neither of them knew what was around the corner. He’d take the pressure off her, because it was the responsible thing to do.

(True Colors, Chapter 19, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

The Skydome gardens were just as beautiful and fascinating as Etain had promised. He could tell she was trying to be cheerful and enthusiastic about them, but there was something sad and wondered about her that he didn’t know how to make better.

Evacuating Qiilura must have been worse than she let on. But she tell him in her own good time.

(True Colors, Chapter 19, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

5. He’s pretty intensely protective, and not in an entirely healthy way? It never manifests as a doubt about his loved ones’ competency so much as a desire to jump someone else for disrespecting them. He is a worrier, but it’s not in a “no, they can’t do this” kind of way that too many shitty male romance leads get stuck in. He’s defensive of his relationships in a way that exceeds normal not-fooling-around.

Wherever it was they were sending her, she could tell him, couldn’t she? Maybe she didn’t want to worry him. Of course I’m worried. I’m always worried. (True Colors, Chapter 10, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

Darman swallowed a sudden an unexpected desire to tell Fi to lay off Etain, and in no uncertain terms. Fi knew nothing about her, nothing. Darman was ambushed by a split moment of protectiveness, and was immediately embarrassed by it. (Hard Contact, Pg. 222.) [ Idk why this one has page numbers and not the others.]

“Open up, or stand away from the door,” Etain yelled. She had no concept of cover, but she was a Jedi and had her own early-warning system. Darman was watching her back anyway. He’d smack Sev for the wisecracks later.” (Order 66, Pg. 167.) [ Also don’t know why this one has page numbers and not hard Contact.]

“Where’s the General?” Fi said.

Darman interrupted. “Saying goodbye to Gett.” He seemed to be taking an intense interest in Etain’s whereabouts. “Can you see Sergeant Kal? She said he was meeting us.”

“So… you’ve been ordered about by a geriatric and a child, have you?”

Darman’s voice frosted over. “Scorch, do you like medcenter food?” (Triple Zero, Pg. 119.) [Seriously, Kindle just fucking hates True Colors.]

“I think it’s kind of encouraging.” Scorch chuckled. “Atin gets a cute Twi’lek girlfriend, Dar gets his very own general-”

“-and Scorch gets a thick ear if he doesn’t shut it right now.”

The comlink was suddenly silent, except for the occasional sound of swallowing. Darman wasn’t in a joking mood when it came to Etain. He never had been, not even on Qiilura, when there hadn’t been anything between them. (Triple Zero, Pg. 245.)

“Why did he need Etain then?”

“Maybe to show her how it’s done.”

Fi watched Darman bristle. (Triple Zero, Pg. 176.)

Atin hadn’t seen Laseema since the start of the siege, and just chatted with her in snatched moments by comlink. Darman couldn’t even talk to Etain until she dropped out of hyperspace; Enacca was taking her time. He checked his comlink, saw no message, and reminded himself that Etain was fine. (Order 66, pg. 371)

6. Darman is captivated by very small things/small details/small moments of beauty.

It was definitely autumn .A mist had blanketed the countryside like a sea. A puddle had formed in the sheeting stretched over the shelter, and Darman went to scoop it out but stopped.

“What are those things?” he asked, “I saw them on the river, too.”

Ruby and sapphire colored insects were dancing above the surface of the puddle. “Daywings,” Etain said.

“I’ve never seen colors like it….”

…”They’re amazing,” he said, completely absorbed by the spectacle. (Hard Contact, Pg. 182.)

7. Like most of the clones, he starts more naive/optimistic and then becomes more and more disillusioned the further in the series you go.

It was still tough to stand back and let the convoy take it. Darman itched for an excuse to open fire. He’d gone charging to the rescue before on Qiilura, breaking cover to save civilians, but he’d been a kid then on his second deployment. The longer you spent fighting, the more cautious you became.(Order 66, Pg. 65.)

8. Arguably all of the above paints a little bit harsher a picture than it should. I also generally see Darman as very genuinely soft and caring with his loved ones. He’s also considerate and generous. One of his love languages is food/small gifts & gestures; I swear it.

“It’s getting light,” Darman said. He sat down cross-legged in the hide, armor plates clacking against something. “You look cold. Need any more pain-killers?”

Etain had achieved a consistent level of dampness and pain that she could live with.She was too tired to think of anything else. She’d even stopped noticing the persistent odor of wet merlie wool. “I’m okay.”

“If we light a fire, we’ll be a magnet for half the Separatist army.” He rummaged in his belt and held out a ration cube to her, still that incongruous amalgam of fresh naivete and utterly clinical killer. She shook her head. He pulled out a bag. “Dried kuvara?”

She realized from the way he had put the fruit carefully in his belt and not his pack that he prized it. He lived on rations with all the taste appeal of rancid mott hide. The sacrifice was rather touching.

(Hard Contact, pg. 175-178 ish)

Darman leaned against the wall, all concern. “Do you want something to eat? We’re going to risk Qibbu’s nerf in glockaw sauce. Scorch reckons it’s probably armored rat.”

“I’m not sure I can face crowds right now.”

“You might be overestimating the popularity of Qibbu’s cuisine.” He shrugged. “I could probably get the cook to stun the thing with my Deecee and send it up by room service.” …

“Only if you keep me company.”

“Yeah, eating armored rat alone is probably asking for it.” He grinned suddenly, and she felt illuminated by it. “You might need first aid.”

(Triple Zero, pg. 175-178 ish)

Darman thought it was time they got on making friends with the Marits. He stood up and wandered over to the lizards, wondering if there might be anything in Eyat that he could acquire for Etain. It was hard to think of anything a Jedi might want. They avoided possessions. (True Colors, Chapter 2, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

9. He does have a light-hearted side; it’s not all just ruminating.

She was suddenly aware of Darman looking up at her, grinning, and if it wasn’t for his surroundings, he could have been any young man showing off his prowess to a woman. (Triple Zero pg. 182 ish)

Even Darman had fallen happily into it. He was engrossed in the game, shoulder-charging Boss and knocking Jusik flat. (Triple Zero, pg. 158)

10. He’s just as much a romantic as Etain is.

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” Darman said, “Not for a moment.” (Triple Zero, pg. 186)

All he wanted at the end of it was some time with Etain. (True Colors, Chapter 1, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass.)

He couldn’t even recall putting on his plates. His mind was on Etain. (True Colors, Chapter 10, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass)

Darman was working up the nerve to say that he loved her, too, when the link closed from her end of the channel and the moment was gone. he took a deep breath before yanking the door open, broken-hearted he might never get the chance to tell her. (True Colors, Chapter 10, page number unknown because Kindle is an ass)

He was fed up finding things in common with insects. he was a man, and he missed his girl. He wanted to go home- and he realized he had no idea where home was.

Fi said it was Mandalore. Darman decided it would be wherever Etain wanted it to be. (Order 66, pg 53 ish)

Darman was twenty meters from Etain now.He looked through the sea of strangers, and could see just one being out of all of them- Et’ika. (Order 66, pg 400 ish)

There’s honestly also plenty to be said about Dar not wanting to upset the equilibrium in his squad- he doesn’t want special treatment, or to have more than his brothers. That’s...pretty standard for this series though?

Also Darman really doesn’t react well to secrets post Venku reveal, but lbr, I’m not crawling through 501st for quotes.

#Darman Skirata #Republic Commando #Meta #ish #My Meta

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ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years ago

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Day 22: Hallucination

(We have a message for you.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 22: Hallucination

Word Count: 1787

Relationships: Loceit (minor relationship? kinda)

Warnings: Mentions of mental illness, mild mention of trauma effects, cursing

A/N: okay,,,, ngl i have no idea where this came from. this idea is so dumb and not even really whumpy but i did it anyway lmfao. hey, at least it gave me an excuse to describe the characters in some of my timelines! anyway yeah i love these character designs, no matter how silly/unrealistic they are. they are my babies and i will take them to my grave

“Thomas, can we talk?” his best friend’s voice comes from beside him, speaking up in the silence after the two of them had finished watching a movie. It was comfortable, quiet, just a lazy day today, so they’d come over to hang out and forget about the stress of video-making. Thomas looks up with a cocked eyebrow, asking a question with his eyes as Joan sighs.

“You… maybe you should see someone,” Joan says, their voice low and concerned, and Thomas doesn’t get it. See who? Like, a doctor? He isn’t sick. So he tells them so, asks what they mean, and they duck their head contemplatively. “You need to see a psychiatrist, or psychologist, or something. I know the videos are fun, and we have these awesome characters. I get it. But you… you think it’s real. You think the sides are real. That’s-- That’s not healthy, Thomas.”

Thomas just laughs, doesn’t even look up as he scrolls through his feed. His phone case is beaten up where it rests in his hand, and Joan shakes their head worriedly. ”Thomas, I’m serious.”

This causes Thomas’ expression to drop immediately, and he turns to them awkwardly. “Wait, you’re serious?” Thomas asks, confusion welling up easily in his head. What are they talking about?

“Yes, I’m serious! You stand here and talk to nothing for hours on end! You think they’re real, and they’re not! You need help, Thomas, please,” Joan begs, rearing back to sit taller in an unconscious show of authority. They don’t want to be mean about this, they really don’t, but if Thomas is in denial about the sides’ existence (or lack thereof), they can’t be sugarcoating everything. They need to be straightforward, because they care about their friend, and to see him hurt would be awful.

“Joan, they are real. You just haven’t been here in person to see them yet,” Thomas says gently, acting as if Joan’s the one who’s being irrational here, and Joan doesn’t think it’s an overreaction when they groan loudly. If Thomas believes that the sides are real and are defending their existence this fervently, then there might be something really wrong with his head, and the worry in Joan’s demeanour is insurmountable.

“Thomas, stop! They aren’t real! They’re in your head. They are in your head. They’re just characters that we made up for a YouTube series, nothing more,” Joan stresses, tries to break through that glass wall of denial that Thomas’ mind has built around itself. From what they know through random Tumblr awareness posts and late-night research, this sounds like a defense mechanism, something Thomas himself isn’t even aware of. But… aren’t brains only supposed to do that after severe trauma? Did something happen to him that Joan doesn’t know about?

“Hey, there’s no need to get upset. I understand, you haven’t seen them yet, and don’t realize that they aren’t just characters. Do you want me to show you?” Thomas asks gently, places his hands up but low in a placating gesture in an attempt to calm them down. Joan isn’t angry, and they wouldn’t lash out or anything, but they are troubled with the thought that there may well be something going on in Thomas’ head that they won’t be able to fix.

“Thomas… please, just. Please stop… don’t do this to yourself, okay?” Joan pleads with him, desperation simmering just beneath the surface ready to boil and spill over at a moment’s notice. The slightest nudge of the heat could send the water hissing to the ground, send tears from their eyes and shouts from their lungs, and they don’t want to accidentally say something they’ll regret. They aren’t angry with Thomas, but they are frustrated, and seeing their friend in this state is taxing in itself.

“No, it’s okay! I’ll show you, ready? Please don’t scream, alright? It’s scary the first time, but once you understand, it’s fine!” Thomas exclaims, happy and careless and he isn’t even listening to them. Fuck, does he need to be, like… forcibly taken to a hospital? This isn’t okay, he’s not okay, and they don’t know what to do anymore.

“Hmm… Logan, Ethan? I need you!”

For a moment, nothing happens, just as Joan expects. Thomas stands there, smile never wavering a single bit, and Joan sighs as they reach up to lay a hand on his shoulder. But before they can, before their eyes, a mist seems to envelope the floor. It’s not a moisture, but more like a haze, where light is distorted and twirling in on itself as if caught in fractals and thrown away from itself. It hurts Joan’s eyes to look at, so he doesn’t, and two people jump up out of the disturbance despite all logic and reason.

“Wha-- What the fuck? Is this a joke? Please tell me this is a practical joke, Thomas, and you just suddenly got really good at doing magic tricks. What the fuck?!” Joan forces out helplessly, bewildered and urgent. They’re…. they’re here. This has to be a trick. It has to be, but it… they look exactly like Thomas. These aren’t some random actors who just happen to share a resemblance with their friend, they could be clones, identical copies without a single mistake in sight.

And.. well, to Thomas’ credit, they do look similar to the characters they have created together. The one that’s clearly Logic has straighter black hair with blue streaks rather than brown, and his irises are a striking silver leading into an electric blue closer to the pupil, but otherwise he looks mostly the same. The only other big physical difference is his body type, which while slim and long and appearing to be tall in an odd sort of optical illusion, he’s actually quite a bit shorter than Thomas is. He’s wearing a soft-looking dark blue sweater, black leggings, and some fuzzy socks as opposed to the character’s typical outfit, but there’s no mistaking him. This is Logan… the real Logan?

The other one (obviously Deceit) is also similar enough, with hair that is a rich, warm chestnut brown, but there also seem to be literal strands of gold braided and looping through the very lightly curled locks. It’s almost mesmerizing, although not as much so as his eyes, which are just as heterochromatic as their beloved character. The right one is the same shade of light grey as Logan’s are, and the left one is a reptilian eye. Not the fake snake eye contact that they’d managed to find online, but a realistic one, a deeper gold and a darker black with depth and texture. He’s short too, somehow even shorter than Logan is, but he’s still quite intimidating despite that. His half-serpentine smirk is soft but empowering, and somehow cancels out a lot of the cuteness of his unexpected outfit. Rather than his signature bowler hat and cape, he wears a black beanie and a huge, thick black hoodie. Sweatpants long enough to cover his feet are draped over his legs, just as comfortable an outfit as Logan’s and Joan realizes that it’s late and they might have been about to sleep. Wait, do sides sleep?

But more than anything, they both have one feature that really stands out, a feature that makes Joan really believe that they might actually be real, that this isn’t just some elaborate prank. For Deceit, it’s the scales. It’s not makeup, not flat colour; they’re real snake scales, a shimmering, pearlescent emerald colour that refracts the light like diamonds. They’re beautiful, they really are, and Joan is almost sad that they haven’t done Character Deceit the justice he deserves, now that they’re faced with Real Deceit.

For Logan, it’s his eyes. Yes, the colour really is pretty if abnormal, the clear silver like liquid metal seeping and blurring into bright sapphire in a ring around his pupils. But that’s not the only thing, because Logan has what looks to be technology in his eyes, power buttons surrounded by slowly spinning lines radiating from the center almost like a circuit-board. They seem like they’re being projected slightly past his actual eyes, like he has a bright blue hologram playing in his vision. It’s… certainly in the realm of science fiction, so it really is aptly fitting, despite how Joan’s brain refuses to accept that this is actually real.

“Wait, you said his name is Ethan? Deceit’s name is Ethan? That’s not what we decided on…” Joan says, and it’s honestly all they can say through their confusion. This is too difficult to process, too perplexing to understand right away, and Joan seriously needs to sit down before they pass out in the middle of the floor. Thomas huffs a laugh as they plop down on the couch, hand rubbing hard at their face to try and clear their head, and he just sits on the edge of the couch beside them.

“Joan, this is Logan and Ethan. Logic and Deceit. They’re real, and they obviously look… differently to how we designed them, but they… this is them. You can take all the time you need; I certainly had to,” Thomas chuckles, gaze distant for a moment as if in the midst of reliving a faraway memory, and Joan just groans and drops their head into cold, waiting palms.

“Thomas, you know to refrain from calling us here when it’s after one. We’re busy at night, you know that,” Logan speaks up from where the two of them are still standing in the middle of the room. Deceit-- Well, Ethan just shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide his knowing simpering. What the hell is going on? “Hello, Joan.”

“Yeah, sorry, guys. Just wanted to introduce you to Joan, finally. You can go now,” Thomas reassures them, waves goodbye and smiles when they return the sentiment (including Joan, too, which is simultaneously a thoughtful show of kinesics and mildly terrifying), and then they’re sinking back through the odd fog on the floor that has stayed there the whole time the sides have been standing here. It goes with them, leaving the normal appearance of the carpet to be on display, and this all feels like too much to deal with right now. Joan just wants to go to bed, if they’re being honest.

“Wait… are those two dating?” Joan asks incredulously, a previous comment stuck out in their mind just waiting for the loose thread to be pulled, and Thomas glances over at them. He just laughs silently with sly eyes, body shaking with unvocalized laughter, and Joan picks up the pillow next to them and yells into the fabric.

#whumptober2019 #no.22 #hallucination #ts sides #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #joan #thejoanglebook #ts logan #logan sanders #ts deceit #deceit sanders #loceit #tw mental illness mention #tw trauma mention #tw cursing #this is like... the least triggering fic out of every one i've done wow #jasper's writing

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rexxdjarin · 11 months ago

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Thick Healthy Clones Art Series Masterlist

Commander Fox

Captain Rex

Commander Wolffe

Arc Trooper Fives

Commander Cody

Clone Medic Kix

Arc Trooper Jesse

Captain Gregor

ARC Corporal Echo

Sergeant Hunter

TBB Wrecker

TBB Tech

TBB Crosshair

Ongoing :)

#rexxdjarin art #clone trooper fan art #clone trooper fanart #the clones #the clones fan art #the clones fanart #thick healthy clones series :)#thick healthy clones series #thick healthy clones series masterlist #the clone wars #the bad batch

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fandom-friday · 10 months ago

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PART 2 OF 2 (ART ONLY)

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! There was SO MUCH content, I have to split this week's summary into two parts! A comprehensive list of this week’s art submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

✨ = 18+ content 🪐 = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Art:

The Clone Wars: Thick Healthy Clone Series by @rexxdjarin Fox and Riyo Art by @spicyclones79s Smoke Break with Wolffe by @spicyclones79s Plo and His Sons by @goldnightshaade Commander Wolffe Art by @pinkiemme ✨ Tattooed Clone Art by @pinkiemme Captain Rex Art by @pinkiemme The Soldier by @ginalongillustrations How Good a Man by @frostycatblr-fandom-files Sparks, Daughter of Hardcase by @cloned-eyes OC Commander Ghoul Art by @cloned-eyes 347th Regiment Comic by @paperback-rascal

The Bad Batch: Tech and Phee Art by @nightskyfoxyy ✨ Tech and Phee Art by @butts-art ✨ Commander Mayday Art by @pinkiemme 🪐 (TBB S3) Hunter and Omega Art by @spicyclones79s Snuggling the Baby Batch by @ladykagewaki 🪐 (TBB S3) Ms. Fangirl in TBB S3E8: A Call to Echo by @ladykagewaki Wrecker is a Rat Person by @cloned-eyes Wrecker and Omega Art by @theartgremlin Omega Art by @lamiliani 🪐 (TBB S3) Omega Art by @angela-art13 🪐 (TBB S3) Asajj Ventress Art by @vimse

Rebels: People Died, Lives Were Changed by @bloodbroox Kanan and Hera Art by @strige-art The War Criminal by @ginalongillustrations

The Book of Boba Fett: Boba Fett Art by @baufraus

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy: Jango and Boba Fett Art by @manofbeskar The Queen by @ginalongillustrations

Critical Role: You Need Me More Than I Need You by @alartriss

#ff weekly summary #art recs

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mwolf0epsilon · 6 years ago

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DBH Superhero AU pt.2

Some more cast members for you guys! If you have any questions about their powers or how everyone found out about their abilities, just ask!

Enjoy

---

Deviants:

Kara Curry/Sneak: A troubled and often times unlucky young woman, Kara has had it rough. After a series of unfortunate events lead to her moving to Detroit to live with her abusive uncle Todd, Kara was forced to drop out of college after being forced to become a servent to her uncle. After a particularly bad night, she found her Deviant ability, invisibility, which helped her not only escape the abusive household she was stuck in, but also rescue her younger cousin, Alice, as well.

It was hope and trustworthy friends that lead her to Jericho, and it is determination that drives her to fight for a better world.

Note: Kara's role within Jericho is that of an informant since her abilities are highly useful for stealth missions. Much like Simon and Daniel, Kara also requires a highly specialized suit to use her powers on missions, otherwise her powers are virtually useless (Nudity is not an option and should not be suggested more than it already has, please don't bring it up again).

Alice Williams: Alice is the young daughter of Todd Williams and Kara's young cousin. While it's unknown if she is Deviant or not, Alice's mother was a confirmed Carrier.

As such, Alice is under Jericho's protection and is currently under watch in case of any signs of Deviancy appearing early on.

Note: She seems to have a strangely accurate intuition when it comes to Deviants, being able to point out if people are more than they seem.

Perhaps this points to a more aura based ability if Alice is in fact a Deviant.

Luther Parke/Goliath: Once one of Zlatko's test subjects, Luther's Deviancy was forced upon him by the deranged scientist, in an effort to get something controllable in between a true Deviant and a Red Ice Mutant. While Luther did momentarily lose himself thanks to the cruel tests he was subjected to, his will was restored by Kara and Alice who nearly fell victim to another one of Zlatko's twisted experiments. Sadly, while Luther did regain his senses, he's lost all of his memories except for his name.

Endowed with super strength and inhuman endurance, Luther is a challenging Deviant to go up against. Loyal to a fault and highly protective of those he cares about, it's unwise to cross this superhuman.

Note: Like North, Luther's muscle mass is beyond what is considered normal for his age. Unlike North, however, there isn't much he can do to hide it since his height has also been affected by Zlatko's experiments. At full height, Luther stands at a staggering 9 feet tall, and his skin is as thick as armour. His metabolism is slower than the twins's but Luther also requires a high calorie diet and regular exercise to stay healthy.

Ralph Vladimary/Bruteroot: A 2nd generation Deviant who showed signs of having plantomancy abilities early on in his youth. Once a bright and cheerful individual with a love for gardening, Ralph was a victim of misfortune after accidentally using his powers in public. Attacked and brutally beaten by a group of bigots, a traumatized and wounded Ralph only escaped with his life after retaliating violently, resulting in the deaths of his aggressors.

Found in an abandoned building by Kara and Alice right after they ran away, and eventually taken to Jericho to help him recover, Ralph is a caring individual, but also easily scared and mistrustful of others. He seems to be afraid of his powers and has a hard time controlling them.

Note: Ralph's wounds have never closed properly because his powers seem to have caused plantlife to highjack his body. As such, Ralph seems to be part plant himself, and seems to attract insects and other critters as a result of his bizarre hybrid biology.

Jericho has decreed that Ralph is not allowed to do field missions unsupervised. Should a mission require his contribution, it's advised that Lucy, Kara, Jerry or Rupert be paired up with him to keep him in check.

Jerry(s) Bosch/Legion: Jerry Bosch used to be the cheerful only child of an old Navy veteran who took him in, after he found the poor boy wondering the woods on a freezing cold winter night. Several years later after hitting puberty, Jerry woke up feeling different, while also finding he had an extra arm growing out of his torso.

While still cheerful and an overall ray of sunshine, Jerry is no longer one being, but many beings all linked by a hivemind. His Deviant ability is that of multiplication, which provides Jericho with an intricate communication web of clones that are eager to help anyone in need.

No one is quite sure how Cyberlife hasn't tracked down Jerry or his many clones, since his father has done a lot of reconstruction to accommodate every single one of his boys, and hasn't really hidden the fact he went from having one son, to over 10 of him.

One thing is certain: the world gets a little bit brighter for Deviants in need, one Jerry at a time!

Note: Jerry's biology is comparable to that of an amoeba, since his body seems to have somehow become unicellular without turning him into a blobby mass. Multiplication isn't painful, as the Jerrys cannot feel pain, but it seems to be very uncomfortable for them, with all clones sharing the feeling through their mental link.

Overall the Jerrys are a bit odd but everyone is quite fond of their helpful and kind nature. If you ever need help just ask for Jerry, there's bound to be one positioned near you.

Important: UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD ANYONE ASK THE JERRYS TO REUNITE AS A SINGLE BEING. IT'S POSSIBLE BUT THE RESULTS AREN'T PRETTY AND NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT.

Rupert Travis/Eagle-Eyes: A 2nd generation Deviant who's ability came in a little late, Rupert used to be a honor roll student with a veterinarian scholarship, until his ability manifested. A college dropout and pushed away by his own family for his oddities, Rupert is a survivor and a vigilante known as Eagle-Eyes, who will on occasion help Jericho.

It's not in his nature to stay put for long, and his closest friends are all of the winged variety.

Note: Rupert's flight powers while highly beneficial for scouting missions, have caused him to grow two massive feathered wings out of his back. This of course has made him an outcast in his family's eyes, despite his condition being a result of his parents being Carriers.

Rupert is known for having several eyes in the sky in the form of trained pigeons. He seems very fond of them, and in return they seem very fond of him as well.

Shaolin Being: There are many things about the Shaolin Being that people know, and that is that they do not know anything about him.

Not his real name, where he came from, nor if he even has any family.

A mysterious Deviant, the Shaolin Being came to Jericho to offer his assistance as a healer.

He is very good at his job, and seems to be in control of his powers. However there seems to be something troubling his mind.

Something quite terrible.

Note: Shaolin Being's powers are energy based and seem to follow the law of equivalent exchange. With this in mind, it's advised not to ask him to heal someone who is near death. A life for a life, is not worth the emotional damage.

Echo and Ripple: Like the Shaolin Being, no one knows much about Echo or Ripple. They are very reserved 2nd generation Deviants who seem to know North personally, although the latter refuses to disclose any information on both. It's assumed that they were two of the girls she has saved in the past, but the rumors are plentiful and stories change all the time.

The two seem to have discarded their past names and identities and have assumed their Deviant personas as their true selves, making them two of the hardest people in Jericho to track. This makes them ideal for covert missions, and they like Kara and the twins, are favoured for such missions.

Both of them have inhuman endurance and agility, although Echo seems to have mild shape shifting abilities, while Ripple has mild technokinetic abilities. They are the perfect duo of infiltrators and hackers.

Note: Hyperlife has been trying to link the two to a double child sex slavery case that has been archived for a while now due to lack of evidence. Whether or not Echo and Ripple are the missing Tracy and Stacy, is up for debate.

Lucy Wandera: A 1st generation Deviant, Lucy has known pain and loss and become something of a legend among her fellow Deviants. A guide and healer to those in desperate need, Lucy is a respected member of Jericho, and often acts as a voice of reason in the most difficult times.

Her primary abilities are healing and divination.

Note: Lucy does not participate in field missions, acting instead as an advisor and healer. She is in complete control of her powers and is an inspiration to the younger generation of Deviants. Her eyes seem to have turned completely black, due to her usage of her second sight.

Humans:

Hank Anderson: An old grizzled cop with a grudge against Hyperlife, due to their specialist doctors having failed to save his young son's life after he suffered a horrific car crash caused by harsh weather. Once the pride of the DPD's Red Ice Division, Hank has been trying to drown himself in the bottom of a licor bottle, but one chance encounter has slowly lead to a second chance at life. There's just something about Connor that feels strangely familiar...Like he needs to protect this odd kid who doesn't know how to behave his own age.

Carl Manfred: Markus's adoptive father and Elijah Kamski's most trusted friend, Carl is an esteemed and brilliant artist who's spent the last three years trying to do right by his son while also raising a dangerous bioweapon to be good.

Sharp minded and with an eye for detail, Carl can only hope for the better as he tries to lead his sons in the right direction.

Leo Manfred: Markus's adoptive brother and Carl's biological son, Leo is a bit of a mess but he's trying hard to get his life back together after his mother has died.

He seems to like Markus, but his jealousy towards the Deviant often makes him act hostile towards him, something which has only worsened after he began taking Red Ice.

Recently he's began showing signs of mutation, and has tried to go to rehab to stop his addiction before the chemical drug consumes him. Whether or not he'll be able to stop it in time, is to be seen...

Elijah Kamski: Hyperlife's original founder and the man who not only discovered Thirium, but created the T-Vaccine as well. Kamski is an enigmatic man who meant well when he introduced Thirium into the world. Whether or not he is the same person he was before the world began to crumble around him, is up for debate.

One thing is clear however: He has faith in Markus and hopes to still be around when the world finally embraces Deviency. Until then he'll remain in self-exile in the company of his most loveliest creations, the Chloes.

Chloe(s): Elijah Kamski's personal assistants and favoured creations, they are bioengineered beings that are the perfect blend of organic and machine. Very doll-like and passive, people are often unnerved by their unusually calm presence.

Amanda Stern: Elijah Kamski's old mentor and one of Hyperlife's ranking officers, Amanda is in charge of the Rook Division, working as the Hunters's handler.

Strict and ruthless, Amanda is both the calm before the storm, and the eye of the tempest. Everyone is a little intimidated by her.

Zlatko: An ex-Hyperlife employee obcessed with the effects of Red Ice and Deviency, Zlatko is a deranged scientist with a god complex, who wants to create the perfect spliced Deviant. Something which is neither man nor animal, but that can be controlled like a machine. He has yet to succeed, but he's got a basement full of tormented beasts to content himself with.

#eps talks about:#detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh superhero au #au stuff

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tamerlan--tsarnaev-blog1 · 7 years ago

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best led grow lights 2018 complete review

Their cannabis yields are healthy and larger than ever but their electric bill is reduced. Let's take a peek at the best LED grow lights on the marketplace to show you why.

We've selected lights for all kinds of mature spaces and growers. Below you will discover powerful lights for big grow spaces, lights for little home develops, innovative award winners, supplemental lights, affordable lights for those on a budget and some super-bright Chip On Board (COB) lamps.

In case that has a lot of lights to take in, we have added our Top 10 picks to the table below.

And also to help still farther, before we get to the reviews, there's plenty of advice on the best way to select an LED grow light along with the specs to watch out for.

Finally, we show you the fundamentals of how to begin growing some yummy, potent buds along with your fresh light. Enjoy!

LED (light emitting diode) bulbs use electricity very efficiently compared to HID (high intensity discharge) lamps. LEDs operate cooler, don't require ballast, and do not wear out for 50,000 hours of usage or more. That means that they cost less to run over time.

Complete spectrum LED light panels are a superior choice for growing cannabis because they mimic real sunlight at a fraction of the cost of conducting HID lamps.

They are the environmentally friendly choice too. Less energy consumed and made from no or fewer toxic materials.

How much light do you need for your own plants?

Here are three of the most important things to keep in mind when choosing the best LED grow light:

The dimensions of the area you want to cover: A closet, a space, a cellar? The intensity you need: Are you sprouting seeds, caring for plants in the plant stage, or attempting to optimize flowering? The strain you are growing: Different strains of cannabis have different light requirements. Before buying a grow lights, check what your chosen strain is going to want. Lumens are how to choose the right intensity and policy, or for humans

When you're choosing a grow light, dismiss the specs on lumens. Lumen ratings are to quantify brightness for individual eyes. Pay more attention to specs such as PAR and wattage in addition to the manufacturer's guidelines on policy.

It is the light's intensity as well as what colours it emits. Broad-spectrum bright light will create your cannabis flourish. PAR measures light emitted in the 400nm to 700nm spectrum. That's from the gloomy end up through crimson and into infrared.

The more complicated the PAR amount, the more useful the light is for increasing. Many LED grow light producers say their panels put out almost 100% usable light. None of it is wasted by moving to heat instead of light such as metal halide or high pressure sodium lamps.

Most manufacturers state something similar to their mild covers 2.5 feet by 3 feet in a height of 18 inches. When you're sprouting seeds, then you don't require intense light. Pay attention to those specs area covered because you do not wish to be 8 months to growing and realize your lighting isn't strong enough to promote blooming.

A panel that might be bright enough when suspended two feet above your soil for sprouting a great deal of seeds may not cover enough space when lowered down to 12 to 18 inches elevation for flowering. Buy your board based on how many plants you would like to bloom unless you are only buying just for sprouting.

Now let's review the best LED grow lights for the money.

Almost every one these lights are available from Amazon. However, for the select few who aren't, we recommend (and have connected to) LED Grow Lights Depot. They offer free shipping (orders over $100), discreet packaging, 100% low price guarantee and hassle-free returns around 90 days. In summary, they're the best dedicated internet grow light shop we have come across thus far.

However, there is absolutely no extra cost to you, the reader. ]

Advanced LED Lights are one of the best companies selling panels right now, with quality goods at affordable rates, all created in America. They also offer a lifetime limited warranty. The new Diamond Series XMLs are currently their flagship lighting.

The XML350's policy is 4.5 feet by 4.5 ft at an 18-inch elevation, or core blossom at 4 ft, ideal for semi-compact grow regions such as a closet-sized grow kayak with one to six plants. This mild panel may take the place of a 600w into 800w HPS/MH light, while just using 330 watts of electricity.

What's more, it has a 11+ spectrum which provides your marijuana plants maximum nutrient value all the way from UV to IR. There are two buttons on the panel that control the seriousness. Run it on "Veg" until you're ready for "Bloom." You won't need supplemental lamps that will help you flower with the XML 350, or some of the Advanced LED Series.

The light chips are 10W CREE LEDs combined with Bridgelux blue and white diodes, and the modules are replaceable, so if one fails you can replace it without losing your whole panel. And if you understand your LEDs, you will know these are top bin LED bulbs in the best producers. LEDs sometimes vary in features even though they are made at exactly the same batch. "Top bin" signifies that the LEDs are paired in color, voltage, as well as flux. So Advanced LED simply uses bulbs that pass strict quality controls.

Not only are the LEDs top quality, but they include precision 90 degree collimator lenses to give you optimum protection. Furthermore, a light like this eliminates the need for A/C in many grow spaces due to very low heat output and can use input voltage AC of 85-264V.

At just 18 pounds, the XML 350 is easy to hang in a grow tent or space. The panel itself measures 19.5 inches long by 19.5 inches wide by 3 inches thick. The LEDs should last up to 100,000 hours before burning, and that's over twenty years of 12-hour days!

American made, using top quality Bridgelux LED chips, the 100 is the smallest mild in Advanced LED's famous Diamond Series. But, though it's small, it still packs a mighty punch, easily replacing a 250W HPS/MH lighting whilst drawing just 90W in the wall. It would be ideal for those who need to pay for a core blossom area of 3 feet by 2.5 ft. That gives you a little more space to work up to four crops, depending upon the breed. Each of the lights in this series also offers a clone setting.

Purchase from Amazon

Here's another big and powerful lamp for growers with a great deal of area to cover. Winner of HIGH TIMES Magazine's "Best LED Innovation" award in 2017, this really is an epic mild with advanced features that will be best appreciated by experienced growers.

The sort K5 XL1000 panel replaces a 1000-watt or 750-watt HPS (high pressure sodium) installation, but it just absorbs 650W of electricity. It's powerful enough to pay a 5 by 5-foot place for the veg stage4 or 4 by 4-foot area for flowering. That is good enough for 12 to 16 plants.

The sort K5 offers precision control over the the full 12-band spectrum and the light cycles. It includes a remote control allows you to digitally tune the colour of the light for virtually any plant growth stage. For instance, you may add more reddish throughout the flowering stage for larger blooms. This is a good deal more complex than the easy Veg/Bloom switch on some other LED grow lights.

The K5 XL1000 panel also has an integrated timer that allows for eight separate stages of light intensity instead of just an easy on and off. You can program it to mimic a gentle growth of light in the morning, and then a slow decrease of light in the evening exactly like sunlight.

The K5 panel is 3 inches tall and measures 26 inches long by 20 inches wide. It contains 320 LED bulbs that are individual and weighs a hefty 36 lbs. It has both 3W and 5W LEDs with high intensity light which penetrates all the way throughout the canopy.

In the box you'll get a pair of Method Seven sunglasses. Use them to protect your eyes from harm while you check in your plants. They set the back in authentic color and dim the brightness down to acceptable levels.

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itsworn · 8 years ago

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Petty’s ’70 Superbird Is The Ultimate Mope & You Can Win It!

What people think they want and what they really want aren’t always one in the same. Everyone says they want the best, but history is chock full of class-of-the-field products that sank to the bottom of the barrel. After the passage of time bestows the gift of clarity upon the misguided masses, it’s then and only then that consumers finally appreciate what they missed out on. It happened with Betamax. It happened with Paul’s Boutique. And most outrageously of all, it happened with one of the most coveted muscle cars of all time, the Plymouth Superbird.

To this day, audio/video nerds praise the picture quality advantages of Betamax over its peers, lamenting the fact that a technically inferior product like VHS won the home video cassette war. Likewise, music executives considered the Beastie Boys’ second studio record, Paul’s Boutique, a commercial flop in 1989, but nearly three decades later it’s considered one of the most innovative hip-hop albums of all-time thanks to its multi-layered sampling and hypnotic beats. Most alarming of all, while Plymouth dealers in the ’70s had to deconstruct Superbirds back to their Road Runner roots to move them off the lot, today’s hot rodders dream of reconstructing Superbirds from ordinary B-Bodies. With online forums running amok with questions on how to build a Superbird clone, isn’t it about time someone showed everyone how it’s done?

We think so, but more importantly, so does Smithfield Foods. As luck would have it, there are some real-deal car guys calling the shots at Smithfield, and the company knows that having a NASCAR driver make a cameo in one of your commercials isn’t the most effective way to plug a product. That’s why Smithfield Foods teamed up with Petty’s Garage to build the ultimate giveaway car for one lucky race fan. “NASCAR fans eat a lot of pork, so the sport has always been a good fit for our brand. At the same time, we’re a pork company that’s in the same space as Goodyear and Sonoco, so we had to come up with a creative way to help fans enjoy the sport even more,” says Bob Weber of Smithfield Foods. “You can’t be a huckster. You have to engage with fans by giving them something they really want.”

Most race fans would unanimously agree that a Pro Touring rendition of a ’70 Plymouth Superbird tribute car is definitely something they really want. For practical purposes, Smithfield wanted to deviate from the script a bit instead of building a bone stock clone. “We can’t give away a real Superbird, because whoever won it wouldn’t be able to afford the tax on it. We decided to build a clone from a Road Runner instead,” Weber recounts. “Our goal was to build an all-around performance car that you can throw your wife the keys to, and have her drive it to Albertsons. For this build, we wanted to send the message of how to build a car the right way, not like on reality TV. It’s turned out so nice that I want to keep it for myself!”

While many of the cast of characters who built original Superbird race cars for Richard Petty have long since retired from NASCAR, many of them still work for The King at Petty’s Garage. Naturally, there’s no one better qualified to transform plain-Jane B-Bodies into Superbirds, and this is actually the second time Smithfield Foods has executed this brilliant strategy. “Last year, we had Petty’s Garage build a replica of The King’s Hemi Belvedere to commemorate the 50th anniversary of his unbelievable 1967 season. It was by far the most dominant performance of any driver in NASCAR history, with Richard Petty winning 27 races total, including 10-consecutive races during the summer,” says Weber.

Smithfield Foods and Petty’s Garage conspired to build the Superbird as a follow-up to the ’67 Hemi Belvedere giveaway car, but with a slight twist. While the Belvedere proved to be a bit rowdy by design—with a lumpity 650hp motor, lots of roll cage, and no carpet in sight—the Superbird’s intent is to encourage its new owner to rack up lots of miles on the street. “The Belvedere was a very successful car, but this time around we wanted to build something that looks like a race car, but can be driven comfortably on the street. You could kinda-sorta drive the Belvedere on the street, but the Superbird had to have a nostalgic look as well as modern drivability,” Russ Stellfox of Petty’s Garage explains.

Before giving the finished car away at the season-finale 2017 Monster Energy NASCAR Cup event of year at Homestead-Miami Speedway, plans call for showing it off on race weekends to whet people’s appetites.

That’s great news for fans, but it gave Smithfield Foods and Petty’s Garage an incredibly tight five-month window to finish the entire build. Undeterred by the immense challenge at hand, Petty’s Garage tracked down a solid 1970 Road Runner in December 2016. Although the ex-street racer appeared structurally sound by cruise night standards, a trip to the sandblaster revealed substantial sections of rotted-out sheetmetal. Over the next four weeks, the crew worked overtime replacing the floor plan, quarter-panels, rockers, trunk pan, and sections of the framerails with all-new AMD sheetmetal.

By the time late January 2017 rolled around, Petty’s Garage was elbow-deep transforming the ordinary B-Body into a modern winged warrior. Janak Repros provided all the fiberglass pieces necessary for the conversion, but building a Superbird is far more involved that slapping on a nosecone and wing, then calling it a day. “A Superbird conversion is not for the faint of heart. There is a lot of fabrication work involved with panel-bonding all the fiberglass pieces to the steel body, then getting everything to line up,” Doug Murph of Petty’s Garage recalls. “We spent 80-100 hours on the conversion process alone. It took three full days to modify the hood. If you expect to just bolt these parts on and go, you’re in for a big surprise.”

With the clock ticking down in late February, the “aero-fied” Road Runner made its way to the paint shop. While final prep work is incredibly important to the quality of any paint and body project, it’s particularly challenging when that body mixes in substantial chunks of fiberglass. Cutting, welding, and gentle nudges with a hammer aren’t an option. Instead, tweaking fiberglass panels for proper alignment involves many, many hours of cutting, filling, sanding, and waiting for resins to dry. After finishing up the prep work, the Superbird was sprayed with three coats of R-M Petty Blue paint. In total, final prep work and paint consumed another 200 to 250 hours.

As soon as the last coat of paint dried, it was off to final assembly. At this stage in the game, there was only one month to go until the mid-May deadline. Like the last four-tire pit stop before the white flag, the Petty’s Garage crew hunkered down in an impressive feat of masterfully orchestrated chaos. In went a 392ci Mopar Performance Gen III Hemi, a Silver Sport Transmissions A41 overdrive, and a rebuilt Chrysler 8.75-inch rearend. On the underside of the chassis, the front and rear suspension received a simple yet effective blend of stock and aftermarket components. Factory torsion bars and Super Stock leaf springs team up with QA1 double-adjustable shocks and sway bars for an excellent balance of ride quality, stance, and handling. Reigning in the propulsion potential of the 505hp Hemi are big Wilwood brakes with six-piston clamps up front and four-piston units out back. Sticking everything to the pavement are General Tire’s all-new G-Max AS-05 tires.

While one team tackled the major mechanical hardware, other crew members circumnavigated the melee, hopping in and out of the cabin to button up the interior. Like the suspension, it’s mostly stock but with some key aftermarket enhancements that provide a much more enjoyable user experience. Auto Meter gauges housed in a Classic Dash instrument panel report the vitals, while a Vintage Air A/C system, an Alpine stereo, and a thick layer of HushMat keep the cabin nice and comfy.

By the time you read this, the Smithfield Foods Superbird will be touring the NASCAR Monster Energy Series race calendar, filling fans with fantasies of flat-footing that big, bad Hemi down the backstraight at Daytona. Fortunately, that fantasy (minus Daytona) will come true for one lucky fan at the season-finale race at Homestead. Best of all, entering the contest is as easy as it is delicious. In an era when society advocates forcing flavorless goo down your throat in the name of healthiness, Smithfield is doing the exact opposite. Anyone who purchases three delicious Smithfield Foods pork products—you know, the good stuff red-blooded Americans eat anyway with their grits and fried okra—at any one of Albertsons family of 2,500 grocery stores and texts a pic of the receipt to Smithfield is automatically entered to win. As with last year’s Hemi Belvedere giveaway, there’s a good chance that The King himself will hand over the keys.

And that, friends, is how you build a Superbird. At best, dearly departed video recording gadgets and hip-hop albums from the ’80s may inspire geeky conversations between fellow nerds, silly talk that other normal people don’t care about. In contrast, thanks to its racing pedigree, scarcity, history, and far-reaching technological innovations, the Superbird fills peoples’ imaginations with dreams of building exact replicas of the original, perhaps more than any other car ever built. The misguided masses overlooked these magnificent machines the first time around, but the passage of time has given them the clarity to finally appreciate what they missed out on. Potentially righting this wrong is as easy as eating some thick-cut bacon!