#jessica the mother dying when she drinks the water of life

[bbygirl-paul]

thinking about paul saying "we're harkonnens. so this is how we'll survive. by being harkonnens" and about jessica saying "your father didn't believe in revenge" and paul replying "yeah well i do" and how things can die even as they continue to draw breath and how the harkonnens really did kill off all three of the atreides that night not just leto

#dune really explores every possible way someone can die without actually dying #paul's childhood self dying the night his father did #his atreides heritage dying when he seeks revenge #paul himself dying when he drinks the water of life #jessica the wife dying the night leto did #jessica the mother dying when she drinks the water of life #the girl alia could have been dying in the womb #stilgar and the other fremen dying when they become followers #it's all connected y'all #dune #dune part 1 #dune part one #dune 1 #dune 2021 #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #dune movie #dune series #paul atreides #paul #jessica atreides #jessica #lady jessica #muad'dib

[lowtaperfeyd]

Jessica and atreides!reader angst? (Mother and daughter angst then yn slowly turns into evil which jessica slowly realise the pattern was repeating)

Metamorphosis

Lady Jessica x Daughter!reader

(Not beta read, we die like Feyd-Rautha)

author's note: If you guys can't tell I really like writing angst. This is also the longest thing I've written so far :). Also trying a new formatting type.

warnings: mentions of death, mommy issues, mentions of blood, mentions of Paul after drinking the water of life

wc: 1145

Lady Jessica did her job halfway right. To ensure she completed her Bene Gesserit mission, gave birth to twins. A boy named Paul and a girl named (Y/N). While the loophole was clever, the Bene Gesserit could not use the daughter she had given birth to. They said she had tainted her womb while bearing a son. 

Her father, the Duke Leto Atreides, was the only one who actually taught her important things. When she was little she would sit in a stool pulled up near her fathers desk and watch him go through paperwork and meeting notes. While he trained his son to become duke, he trained his daughter what to do in case something happened to Paul. He didn’t brush her off. 

Lady Jessica focused most of her time on Paul. His training, his skills, and his talent. While (Y/N) was taught how to use the Bene Gesserit ways by other members and not her mother. While those tutors did their job well, and she was learning quite a lot, (Y/N) found that her brother, a male, was progressing much faster than her. She was proud of her brother. It wasn’t her brother’s fault, it was her mother’s. 

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

A younger (Y/N) and Paul sat on the damp grass on Caladan on a breezy afternoon. They watched the sun lower into the sky and begin to graze where the horizon met the sea. (Y/N) took small daisies from the ground and started to make a flower crown out of them. 

“You know Paul, if you continue to improve at this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if you were better than our mother.” (Y/N) praised as she continued to pick and tie other flowers together. 

“No, no, no,” her brother replied modestly, “what she is teaching me is all of what she knows. Sooner or later I’ll plateau.” 

“You never know,” (Y/N) chuckled, cheekily, “Maybe one day she’ll go to you for advice.”

When (Y/N) finished the thin crown, she placed it onto Paul's head.

“There,” she said, “I now dubbed thy, Duke Paul Atreides of Caladan. Who will be an excellent and fair ruler.”

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

The only thing that (Y/N) had against Paul, was that her ability to use the voice was much better than his. Paul sounded like a dying horse and (Y/N) could command hundreds of people with her voice. (Y/N) found incredible joy from this. But this fact scared Lady Jessica. 

Lady Jessica was afraid of the power her daughter held. She knew of her hatred against her brother who took most of the time spent learning. Of course this all wouldn’t matter when the Duke died and they lived in the desert with the Fremen. Until Paul had a war forged in his name and (Y/N) had nothing but her brain. 

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

(Y/N) was standing in front of the giant pool of water, watching her reflection rippled and ebbed. As she stood there, she imagined a war that was fought in her name instead of Paul’s. Tons of water, from people who died while waiting for the ‘Lisan Al-Giab’ If this was my war, no one would die. She thought. After a couple of minutes a Fremen woman came by and poured the water of another warrior. If my mother and her witches hadn’t meddled, we wouldn’t have this mess. She stood there for hours, hours past when the sun went down, pondering her existence and her brother’s willingness to say he was the messiah. 

“Are you going to keep looking at your reflection or are you coming to bed?” She heard her mother say. 

“Does it matter if I stay up late? I’ve nothing to do on Arrakis.” (Y/N) responded, sounding completely uninterested in talking to her mother. 

“It does matter, you need sleep in order to thrive.” Lady Jessica declared. 

“Don’t try acting like you care now,” her daughter bit back, coldly, “don’t try acting like a caring mother. Go spread more rumors about Paul.” she sighed out. 

“They aren’t rumors, (Y/N),” She retorted, “It’s what he’s going to do. You and everyone else here realizes who he is and his potential. You need to help Paul.” 

(Y/N) bundled her hands into fists at her sides. Her knuckles popped at how hard she was squeezing them. Your son has changed far beyond what was expected. she thought, you barely recognize him anymore. 

“Would me dying for your cause be sufficient?” (Y/N) uttered under her breath as she continued to look at her reflection, “Should I stand out there and be a martyr? The loving sister of the Kwisatz Haderach…” 

Lady Jessica breathed in sharply and said nothing in return. She took her hands and put them over her stomach where her other child was. 

(Y/N) turned around to look at her mother, “You agree don’t you?’ she assumed.

Still, the Lady said nothing and just looked at her daughter. She met her daughter's eyes. The blue within blue encased her small pupils and her skin looking paler and deeper set than when they had left Arrakis. 

“Why aren’t you speaking?” Her daughter whispered, “Tell me what you think!”

“I think you as a martyr would do as much damage as if you were alive,” She voiced, “your death would be mourned. But, it would not change anything.” 

The sudden use of the voice surprised and startled Lady Jessica, “You imbecile, you using the Voice on your own mother.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind when Paul used it on your old reverend mother,” (Y/N) stated, “Paul and I did the same thing, use the Voice on a reverend mother.”

“You used it on your mother. Paul seized the moment so he could speak.”

“You were never a mother.” (Y/N) asserted, “you were a housemate, an incubator 

at best.” 

This stunned the reverend mother. She had never heard her daughter speak so unrighteously and sternly. It was almost like she had never really known her. The (Y/N) she knew, the sweet girl who collected wildflowers that had grown on the cliff sides, had died when they landed on Arrakis and was replaced by someone cold and quiet. 

“I’ll help my brother.” (Y/N) expressed as she moved closer to her mother, “I’ll do as he says. No matter how much you go against it. It doesn’t matter if he asks me to burn temples or castles, or even destroy planets. As long as I don’t have to follow you.” 

As she concluded her announcement, she turned to hastily walk out of the dark, humid cavern. 

Leaving Lady Jessica on her own; to see what had become of her daughter who would burn down the world if given the chance and her son who slipped unnecessary blood in the name of war. 

#dune #dune pt 2 #dune x reader #jessica atreides #lady jessica x reader #house atreides #lady jessica #daughter!reader

[heroofpenamstan]

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy​, @shellibisshe​, @belorage​, @honeysides​, @strafethesesinners​, @faithchel​, @blissfulalchemist​! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

#tag game #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #oc: get to know jo #oc: build a bicycle #my stuff #far cry 5 oc

[typinggently]

I have never watched that show. How much background info I should look up to enjoy your Sam x Dean fiction?

Dearest, that’s so sweet ahhh 🥺🥺 Honestly, I’m so honoured that you’re willing to dive into unknown waters for me 🌹🌹🌹 I wrote up a short introduction! ✨

The basics are as follows: Sam and Dean are the sons of John and Mary Winchester, with Dean being 4 years older. After Mary’s supernatural death when Dean is 5, John sweeps his children into his car and leaves the burning corpse of their normal life behind, with a sweltering pain inside of him. Driven by fear for his sons and the burning need for revenge, John raises his sons as hunters and in motel rooms. There is, and that is crucial, no resemblance of a normal life for any of them after Mary’s death.

If we’re speaking in very basic terms, Dean is the daredevil womanising Marlboro Man, complete with muscle car and leather jacket, and Sam is the more soft-spoken smart one who eats salad and has glossy-soft hair. (However, of course, Dean is fiercely family-oriented, protective, good with children. Sam started out with a rebellious streak and is still capable of great violence when he doesn’t keep himself in check. Also Dean’s the type to gaze dreamily into his girl’s eyes and hold her hand as she rides him and Sam’s one night stands are mostly of the ‘rip off your shirt and hit it from behind’ kind.)

~🖤~

Considering there are 15 seasons to choose from, people have (naturally) picked up certain elements that they find most enjoyable. There’s a good deal of people who watch it as a (romantic) comedy.

I personally enjoy the American gothic horror, the way those two are entangled beyond comprehension and, at times, indistinguishable from the monsters they hunt. Even if my fics have different topics or are lighthearted and honey-dripping, the base note is always this: their relationship, due to nature and nurture, is incredibly obsessive. Their world has been reduced to the two of them in the confines of the car or the ever-changing motel rooms, ever since they were little. Dean’s purpose in life was to protect and care for Sam, Sam’s purpose in life was to let that happen. There’s some resentment in that, sometimes you can feel them rebelling against this tangled, claustrophobic mess, but even if they fight and snarl and break up, they always return to one another and heal those cuts in their bond, which, in essence, only means that they settle back into their entangled, Janus-like double soul.

~🖤~

I’ll give you a brief summary of the first five seasons (the core of the show, at least to me), just to illustrate my point. Despite all else that happens, I think that is the foundation of the show, and thus, probably all you need to know to understand what I have in mind while I write.

🔥.1.🔥

The story begins with Sam at college, trying to establish a life away from the road and, in essence, Dean. That attempt of normality burns on the ceiling in the person of his girlfriend Jessica, repeat performance of when his mother’s body lit up his room 21 years ago. Dean picks him up and he goes back to the car, to the life he tried to leave behind, and, essentially, to Dean. They follow a trail of breadcrumbs and coordinates John leaves them to eventually get back to him. They find John, find the demon that killed Mary, and, as the turn of a new chapter is right at their fingertips, get bulldozed by a truck.

🪦.2.🪦

Season two has Dean dying. John can’t let that happen, so he finds the demon responsible for taking everything (his wife, his life, his son) from him to trade his own soul and the only thing that could kill said demon for Dean. John dies, Dean lives, and has to live with that guilt. Just like John, he turns to hunt down the demon responsible for taking everything (his mother, his life, his father). Sam starts having visions, a power grows inside of him that he can’t begin to understand and is incredibly frightened by. The demon sweeps in to steal him away, and Dean comes just in time to catch Sam, powerful and dying, in his arms. Just like John, Dean goes to trade his life. He’s promised one year on Earth, eternity in hell after. Reunited, revived, they find the demon responsible for taking everything and with the help of their father’s soul, kill him. John goes to heaven, Sam goes on living, Dean knows he’s going to hell.

⏳.3.⏳

In season three, Sam lives and has to live with what Dean did. He desperately tries to find a cure, a solution, anything. He finds Ruby, instead, a demon who promises him all three. It doesn’t work, the overly-powerful demon Lilith who was promised Dean after one year, comes and gets him. Sam watches helplessly as Dean is torn apart, then holds him, warm but cooling, in his arms.

🩸.4.🩸

Season four finds Dean finding himself breathing underground. He digs himself out of his own grave and finds Sam and has to find out that Ruby found him first. It’s now that we learn who found Dean and raised him out of hell: Castiel, unkillable, unfathomable, unbelievable. Dean, who never believed in God, now has to learn that there’s a biblical plan laid out for Sam and him. Meanwhile, Castiel, who always believed and is starting to doubt, tries to find God, who’s responsible for it all, but vanished. Meanwhile, Sam is drawn closer and closer to Ruby, by Ruby. While Castiel raised Dean out of hell, Ruby found Sam on Earth and wrapped herself around him, offering a shoulder to cry on and a wrist to drink from. Sam, who wasn’t strong enough to save Dean, quickly gets addicted to demon blood, which makes him stronger than humanely possible — and, in Dean’s eyes, less human. He falls for Ruby and falls for her scheme, which leads to him breaking the seal that kept Lucifer contained, starting what will lead to the end of everything. Ruby’s life ends with Sam’s arms wrapped around her, holding her still as Dean sinks her own knife into her.

⌛️.5.⌛️

Season five leads to the end of the world, with Heaven and Hell trying to convince Sam and Dean to follow the plan written for them: Sam is destined to be Lucifer’s vessel, give over his body to him, while Dean is meant to do the same for Michael. They are meant to fight and kill each other, and thus decide the fate of everything, heaven, hell and earth. They refuse. Dean refuses to let Michael enter and use him, forcing heaven to manipulate their half-brother Adam to step into his big brother’s shoes. Sam invites Lucifer in, but refuses to do as he’s told and breaks the Devil’s hold over him to sacrifice himself and Adam and save everything. It ends with Sam, Adam, Michael and Lucifer trapped for eternity in the cage Sam broke the seal of, and Dean, on Earth. Alone.

(Not quite, of course. Following Sam’s wish, he finds a life for himself, a woman and a child that isn’t his but close enough that Dean can pretend. Outside, in the dark, Sam watches.)

~🖤~

Voilà, that’s it. Sam and Dean kill and die for each other, sell their souls and humanity to save one another or repent for the fact that they couldn’t. There are many, many other stories interwoven there, for example the story of the amulet Sam was meant to gift their father when he was little, for protection. When John doesn’t show up to receive the gift, he gives it to Dean. For decades, the amulet is kept right against his heart, until it stops beating and Sam takes it off, to keep it warm and safe against his own chest. When Dean returns from hell, Sam, who was never able to believe that Dean was really gone, gives it back. Its journey ends where it began, in a motel room with Sam and Dean, when Dean, who finds his faith and hope to save them and the Earth crushed, takes it off and throws it away.

(And a quick look at s6: Dean has the orange juice for breakfast, scent of freshly cut grass life Sam wanted for him for one year, until Sam comes to collect him again. After spending an eternity in the cage with Lucifer (and Adam and Michael, who presumably sat in their corner and made out while Sam was being skinned like Marsyas), Sam was lifted out (by Castiel), but lost his soul and the memories of his torment in the process. What does it mean for one to lose one’s soul, what happens to that person? Sam stops sleeping, he stops caring what other people think, he stops caring for other people in general. He’s an incredibly efficient hunter and spends most of his (limitless, sleepless) time hunting, exercising, or having sex. Despite this empty, cold shell his brother has been reduced to, Dean drops his life of dinner at eight and slow morning sex to join Sam, and gets broken up with over the phone for being too attached to Sam.)

~🖤~

This got quite long after all, but I hope this got the idea across! Those two are very fascinating characters and I love them dearly. Twisted little clowns.

#this got long even though I tried to be brief u.u #clown boys #wincest

[ill-skillsgard]

Faith and Faust have been on my MIND lately. Thinking about him starting to get more protective over her like him waking up to her curling into his side and he has his arm sling around her. Or at a party when one of the rivaling band dudes tries getting her to sleep with him. He ends shit quick.

Previous Faust x Faith imagines here (x)

Note: This drabble got looooong. Over 3K. I think it might qualify as a one-shot, but oh well. We’re super close to the smut I’ve been teasing y’all Faust fans with. Enjoy!

Warning: 18+ drug use/drinking/violence/death threats etc.

Faust watched joy unfurl on Faith’s face. What was once her standard smile brightened into a beam so incandescent he had to look away. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms about his neck. If he took a step, surely she would have remained stuck on him like a cluster of chattering burrs.

“You really want me to come? Like, really? It’s not just a pity invite?” Faith asked.

“I’d never invite you if I didn’t actually want you there,” Faust told her.

“I know! I’m just so happy! I can’t wait!”

As fast as she exploded, a sudden and cold realization snuffed her enthusiasm. Faust saw her eyes, once wide and spirited, turn wistful. 

“What is it?” He asked, feeling her disappointment as she slid off him.

“My parents will never let me go. Not for an entire weekend.”

Faust clicked his tongue. “You’re an adult, Faith. You can do whatever you want.”

She shook her head, teeth pulling her bottom lip inside her mouth. “Not if I want to live there. As much as I’d love to be on my own like you, a minimum wage job at a bookstore barely covers rent. And I don’t know anyone around here who’d be my roommate.”

Faith assumed her disclosure would throw the same gloomy shroud over Faust’s expression, but he smirked and snorted. “Just tell them you’re going camping with Jessica and her family.”

“My dad will demand to meet her parents. There’s no way they’ll let me skip church for a camping trip without meeting them. Trust me, I know my parents. There’s no way to pull it off.”

“What about a phone call? What if Jessica’s dad talked to your dad on the phone? Would that work?”

Faith drew breath in through her teeth. When she looked up at Faust and saw his air hadn’t tainted with the sourness of defeat as hers had, it gave her a glimmer of hope. She’d do most anything to go away for a few days with Faust and his band. 

“I’m not sure. It’s risky. And if he doesn’t buy it, I’ll be screwed. He’ll never let me out of the house.”

“It’s stupid that your parents still control everything you do. Do they expect you to suck the teat your whole life? What about when you go off to university? Are they gonna monitor you every day?”

“No, but then I won’t be under their roof,” said Faith, her cheeks warming from his distaste. 

“Just tell him you’re going to Jessica’s for the night, then call the next day and say you’re staying another night.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. They’re already questioning me about her. Asking when they get to meet her, what’s wrong with having sleepovers at our house... My dad is catching on, I can feel it.”

Faust grunted his aggravation. “I feel like I’m dating a ten-year-old. You have to get permission to do anything. It’s fucking stupid.”

His frustration stirred up a whirlwind of emotions in her chest. On one end, Faith loved to hear him admit they were a couple, but on the other, Faust’s scorn reminded her of the infantile rules she had to follow and her father’s distrust. She was an adult, and there was no reason she shouldn’t be allowed to go away with her new boyfriend for a few days. Dejected and without hope, Faith’s eyes watered.

“Don’t you think I know how stupid it is without having you reminding me all the time? I don’t want to be me, but I am. If I don’t listen to my parents, they won’t let me choose my school or anything. They’ll put me in a private school. You don’t understand what it’s like to have parents like mine.”

“Thank fuck, I don’t.”

“So, I guess I’m not coming with you.”

Faust sneered and motioned at her purse. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m calling your dad.”

Faith clutched the strap of her suede bag, the thought of a staged conversation between her secret boyfriend and her father causing a lapse in any rational thought process. Though she stood rigid, Faust urged for her phone. She held her breath after relenting, a faint whisper of sweat dappling her nape. He held the phone to his ear and, noticing Faith’s paleness, turned from her to not crack a laugh.

Faith longed to hear her father’s voice, whether he spoke in a monotone or smelled the bullshit reeking off Faust’s words. Before she leaned in, Faust laughed through another bite of conversation, thanked the man and hung up. He tossed the phone to Faith and winked.

“That’s how it’s fucking done, babe. You’re coming.”

“What? Really? You did it?”

Faust wished not for her praise, so he stooped quickly to kiss her, but she pulled away, astonishment hanging off her jaw. 

“Wait, what did he say?” She asked.

“He said yes, obviously.”

“No, but, like, what did he say?”

“A whole bunch of shit. I don’t know, but you might want to start thinking up a new imaginary best friend because he’s keen on meeting Jessica and her bullshit parents soon,” Faust guffawed.

~*~

After Faith climbed into the back of the band van — a rust-bitten, grey clunker of a machine — Faust gave her a bare introduction to the rest of the passengers. The group wore clothes of all black, patched denim vests, leather boots or white high-top sneakers and sported varying lengths of shaggy headbanger hair. Faith felt vibrant as a rainbow with her floral summer dress on and a glinting gold chain suspending a cross pendant between her breasts. She hoped her fashion choices wouldn’t harrow Faust’s reputation as the broodiest member of the band, but when he held her hand in the back seat as they took off, all self-consciousness flew out the cracked windows. 

They pulled up to a squat apartment building where two girls stood waiting. Similar black clothes, dyed hair, illegible band patches, ripped fishnet tights and metal jewellery reminded Faith of how different she must have looked. She was the outcast in this group of like-minded individuals. The girls piled into the van, throwing their backpacks into the mess of camping gear while one lit a joint and passed it to Ola, the guitar player, who’d taken up a third of the space in the van by lying length-wise across the floor. The second of the pair noticed Faith and scrutinized her with two heavily lined blue eyes.

“Who’s that?” The girl made a general inquiry, avoiding eye contact with the newest presence in their group.

Faith hesitated a breath and then answered. “My name’s Faith.”

The duo exchanged smirks and giggled. “Okay. Did you find this one at Sunday school, Faust?” The blue-eyed girl asked.

A frosty mask of distaste tainted the drummer’s neutral expression. “Fuck off, Anika. Not everyone’s cunt doubles as a sewer. Nasty bitch.”

The girl named Anika scoffed, smacking Ola to prompt some defence, but received a chorus of snickering instead.

“Fuck you, Faust,” sneered Anika, imploring Ola’s intervention with a glare. “Are you just gonna let him talk to me like that?

Ola shrugged his shoulders, pulled his hood up over his mop of long blond hair and lowered his sunglasses. “He’s got a point.”

Anika turned her attention back to her friend, conveying some wordless message, and scoffed again. “We’re already off to a great start. Faust’s dating Mother Teresa and Ola’s being a little bitch.”

Mordy, the bass-player and driver, glanced into the rearview mirror, cynical eyes pinning on Faith before a curve in the road demanded his attention. She recognized him from the party. He was a quiet man with long, brown curls tied into a ponytail that nearly dusted his tailbone. Mordy shook his head and turned up the stereo to drown out the voices with walls of assaulting guitar riffs.

To Mordy’s right, the singer of the band — if he could be referred to as a singer — slouched into his seat, cracked leather boots perched up on the dash. Faith forgot his name, but didn’t worry over figuring it out until later. The passengers bobbed their heads in time with the music as they carved through the countryside and came to a dirt road that stretched for miles. She worried Faust’s friends would never accept her, but when he took up her hand again and held it in his lap, she leaned her head on his shoulder and decided it didn’t matter. Faust liked her, maybe even loved her, and that was enough.

The spot they chose was no more a campsite than the forest was a trailer park. Faith thought they’d never stop hiking until they came upon a small clearing, far enough away from civilization it was unlikely anyone might chance upon their tents. The group set up their gear while Ola and Mordy argued over who got to start the bonfire. 

By the time Faith unrolled her sleeping bag and changed into more comfortable clothes, the sun was minutes from disappearing. Mosquitoes caught their scent, ignoring the citronella torches doing nothing to keep them at bay. Faust insisted she douse herself in bug spray and did the same before rolling a felled log from the forest to use as a seat next to the crackling fire. Once the group gathered around the flame, out came the beers and weed. Several joints came around the circle, one of which Faith took a puff of before Faust plucked it from her fingers.

“You’re gonna give yourself the spins,” he warned.

Anika glared at the drummer. “Let her smoke if she wants to, Faust.”

Shocked by Anika’s change of heart, Faith gave her friendliest smile. Perhaps it was the alcohol smoothing over her prior judgments, or maybe she was always crass with newcomers, but soon, Anika and her friend Sam urged Faith over to their area, offering her sips of hard lemonade between pulls from a shared joint. Faust watched from the corner of his eye as he poked at the embers with a stick. 

“Um, where do we go to pee?” Faith asked an hour after sundown.

Faust spread his arms wide, gesturing all around the site. “The forest is your toilet.”

She blushed and turned to her new girlfriends.

“Don’t worry, Faith. I brought toilet paper. I’ll get you some,” said Sam.

Equipped to trudge through the forest to find a suitable spot to relieve herself, Faith heard the boys howling from afar and giggled. She found a log large enough to provide her some cover even though the night was black as pitch and the tops of the trees filtered out most of the moonlight. She could still see the fire flickering in the distance and headed toward it after she finished her business.

Twigs snapped underfoot as she ducked under low-hanging branches, intent on cutting straight through despite many obstacles. But before she reached even ground, a black figure stepped out from behind a thick walnut tree. It was the singer whose name she still couldn’t recall.

“Lost?” He asked.

“Nope,” Faith giggled, feeling the effects of both the weed and alcohol mixing in her bloodstream. “The campsite is right over there.”

“Right over where? I think you’re lost,” he said, taking a step forward.

Faith’s breath hitched in her throat. She tried to peer past him to spot Faust, but he cut off her line of sight. 

“Don’t worry about ol’ frosty Fausty. He’s busy talking to his ex-girlfriend. I’ll help you find your way out.”

She took a step back, and he matched it with a pace forward. Soon there was hardly a gap between their chests.

“I see the way you stare. You want me,” the singer claimed.

“Um, I think you’re mistaken. I’m with Faust.”

The man laughed, then took a drag of a cigarette Faith hadn’t noticed burning away between his fingers. He flicked the butt away and touched her shoulder. She snapped back, her heart plummeting from the unwanted contact.

“Can you not? I promise whatever you think you’ve read, it’s wrong. Faust is my boyfriend.”

“Man, for someone who dresses like a prissy smart-ass, you sure don’t know how things work. And you’re dumb to think Faust will settle any time soon. Trust me, I’ve known him since grade school. There’s no chick in this world good enough to hold him down. Least not for long. He’ll tire of you just like he did with Anika, and you’ll become another band-whore. Sticking around the guys to try your hand at being picked. I’ve seen it happen, and you don’t want that.”

Faith didn’t have much of a temper, but what underlying rage she harboured stoked beneath the scorching air of his words. It brought to light all the reasons she thought up to explain why Faust had yet to have sex with her. Perhaps what the singer claimed held truth. Maybe Faust was using her to gain shock points from his circle of friends. 

“Me, on the other hand... I’d treat you right. You’re too pretty for him, anyway. What’s a girl like you even doing sniffing at his heels? You’re not exactly his type.”

“I guess that means I’m not your type either,” Faith bit back.

“You’re most definitely my type. And I think you know it.”

“I’d like to go back now,” she whispered.

“Come on. Just think about what you’re doing. Faust will rip your precious heart out. You’ve no idea how many of his rejects I’ve had to comfort after be humps them and dumps them. What makes you think you’re any better in his eyes?”

“Faust loves me.”

“Oh, yeah? Has he told you that?”

“No, but... He doesn’t have to. I know he does. Otherwise he wouldn’t have—“

“Invited you here?” The figure chuckled. “Yeah. Right. This is where we bring all the band-sluts. Best not to think yourself wife material. You’ll only be disappointed.”

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you his friend?” Faith asked.

“Yeah, sure we’re friends. Best friends. Which is why you should take my advice before you end up hurt—“

Something knocked the words from his mouth in a flash. One second he was upright, and the next he was on the ground, groaning from impact. Faust stood in the darkness, arms hovering at his sides to prepare for what he’d do next. Faith hadn’t realized she let out a yelp until voices from back at the campsite started calling out their names. Faust stooped, grabbed hold of the singer’s ankles, and dragged him a few steps.

“Get the fuck off me! What are you doing? Get off!”

Faith looked on with utter panic as Faust hauled him through the brush toward the campsite. She followed. The others gathered at the edge of the treeline until they noticed Faust’s hulking form and took steps back to clear his path. The drummer raked his hand through the singer’s hair, lifted him by the belt and tossed the man toward the fire. Before he could scramble to his feet, Faust was at his throat, fingers tangled in his hair again to force his face close to the roaring fire. The rest of the group looked on in horror as the singer’s moustache and eyebrows singed. Inches away from the licking flames, he let out a howl that nobody but they reeled from.

“If I ever catch you talking to my woman that way again, I’ll find you. I’ll find you and nail you to a fucking crucifix, douse you in gas and set you on fire.”

“Faust!” Ola snapped from his shocked state and lunged for the drummer before he caused permanent damage.

It took both Ola and Mordy to wrestle Faust off the other member, and when they did, Faust spit on him as the girls huddled together. Anika curled a protective arm around Faith’s shoulder as Sam stepped in front of her. Both girls wailed for them to stop, but their cries went unanswered.

“You hear me, motherfucker? Go near her again and I’ll murder you with my bare hands. You know I will!” Faust screamed.

“Fuck! My face! You burned me, you sick fuck!”

“Next time, I’ll slaughter you!”

“Faust! Faust, stop! Stop with the death-threats, okay? Enough! We came out here to have a good time!”

Faust shrugged his friends off, but they kept proximity in case the drummer took a swing. When they were sure Faust made his point, they let him go to Faith, who rushed into his arms and buried her face under the flap of his leather jacket. 

“Are you okay, Sven?” Mordy asked the singer as he stumbled to his feet.

In the firelight, the group stared at Sven, shorn of all his facial hair, brows and eyelashes included. The wind swept the stench of burnt hair away as he swiped his hands over his face, coming away with oily smears of his singed moustache on his fingers.

“Does it fucking look like I’m okay, Mordy? This fucking psychopath almost killed me! That’s it... We’re kicking him out of the band. I’ve had enough of his shit!”

Ola and Mordy exchanged strained looks, then turned back to Sven, both laboured with regretful grimaces.

“It’s not your band, Sven,” Ola mumbled.

“So what? Didn’t you just see what he did to me?”

“What happened back there?” Asked Anika.

“We were just talking!” Sven yelled. “I was just talking to her before this crazy fuck sucker punched me!”

��I heard what you said. And I should have known you’d try to pull a fucking move on her because that’s what you do. You try to fuck everyone’s girlfriend because you can’t find your own. It’s gonna earn you a tombstone, asshole!”

“Faust, come on. I think he’s learned his lesson,” Ola tried again to diffuse the tension.

“If anyone’s out of the band, it’s you. You won’t play in this town ever again.”

Faith tightened her arms around Faust’s waist, and the move worked to ground him. He realized then how scared she was, wheeled her about and guided her away.

They left the group, not stopping until they descended a slope and came to a small river. Faust took out his cigarettes, lit one, and exhaled more than just smoke. Faith watched, stiff and unable to give voice to her racing thoughts. All she could do was cling to him until he was ready to address the situation.

“Sorry,” said Faust.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“For scaring the shit out of you.”

“It wasn’t you who scared me.”

“I know, but still. Fuck, maybe I should have handled that a bit better.”

Faith noticed her hands shaking as Faust kicked rocks into the water, hauling on his cigarette until he burned filter. If she was honest with herself, Faust’s reaction had frightened her, but showed her all she needed to see.

“I... I love you,” came her wavering reply.

Faust looked up as though she’d let out a scream, eyes wide and lips pressed together. She shook her head, immediately regretting what she said until he went to her and pressed her to his chest again. He kissed the top of her head.

“I know you do. And I feel the same way, I think. But you have to let me do this at my own pace. All right? I don’t want to fuck this one up.”

A tear rolled down from her eye, but Faith smiled. Oh, how she smiled, clinging to him in the blackness, the trill of the stream drowning out the arguing back at the campsite. His heart thumped against her cheek. The beat erased all Faith’s fears of him growing bored with her. She would wait for him as long as he needed. 

#faust x faith #faust stuff #valter skarsgard fanfiction

[beyondthecosmicvoid]

Parallels Between the Bene Gesserit & Medieval Monks & Friars:

The Bene Gesserit in David Lynch’s Dune mirror the monks and (especially) friars of medieval times. Unlike them though, they do not take vows of chastity or devote themselves to leave all material possessions behind. There are Bene Gesserit or lesser female acolytes who lead humble lives but aren’t required to leave all their material possessions behind. Like widows during medieval times, older and for the most part rich, women, decide to leave everything behind to live with the older Bene Gesserit sisters. This type of retirement offers a source of comfort to some and is a good way to show their devotion and gratitude to an order that is one of the most powerful and influential in the galaxy.

Lynch’s aesthetic choice could be owed due to the religious nature of this order. The Bene Gesserit use a hybrid form of religious text that combines all three monotheistic religious texts, in addition to other theological works, that is known as the “Orange Catholic Bible” (OCB). What better way to convey this than by showing them as nuns with tonsured styles once they become Reverend mothers?

The transition to becoming a Reverend mother is also depicted in Lynch’s film when Jessica and her son are still in hiding and Jessica -as in the book- is about to go through the “agony” that comes with drinking the “water of life.” Soon after, she shaves the crown of her head and in the next scene, we see her as a fully fledged Reverend mother with more solemn clothes that are similar to those of her superiors. The first developments of these tests is heavily described in Dune extended universe which consists of mostly a series of prequel books penned by Frank Herbert’s son, Brian and a co-author, renowned science fiction novelists, Kevin J. Anderson. These books are based on unfinished manuscripts left behind by his father. One of these is “Sisterhood of Dune”. In the first chapters, there is a brief overview of the aftermath of the Butlerian Jihad, the beginning of schools for men and women whose graduates will come to replace the thinking machines that their ancestors once depended on. Among these schools is Rossak School headed by Raquella Berto-Anirul. Reverend Mother Raquella is dressed in plain black robes. She describes the “agony” and how, after countless trials, there hasn’t been one that’s ended in success. She can’t quite explain why. She and her mentor had been experimenting with many poisons until they discovered the amazing properties of spice melange and other deadly combinations which awakened a part of her mind that led her to become the first true Bene Gesserit.

“More than eight decades ago, the dying and bitter Sorceress Ticia Cenva had given Raquella a lethal dose of the most potent poison available. Raquella should have died, but deep in her mind, in her cells, she had manipulated her biochemistry, shifting the molecular structure of the poison itself. Miraculously she survived, but the ordeal had changed something in her biochemistry, shifting the molecular structure of the poison itself. Miraculously she survived, but the ordeal had changed something fundamental inside her, initiating a crisis-induced transformation at the farthest boundaries of her mortality. She had emerged whole but different, with a library of past lives in her mind and a new ability to see herself on a genetic level, possessing an intimate understanding of every interconnected fiber of her own body.” -Sisterhood of Dune

This type of adaptation leads her to commit desperate acts. Desperate times require desperate measures after all. It is vital that she succeeds, if she doesn’t then all the knowledge she has acquired will die with her. The Dune encyclopedia also goes into detail about the Bene Gesserit early beginnings and practices. Many of these do mirrors the tonsured monks which David Lynch and de Laurentis seem to have based their Bene Gesserit on. Medieval monks shaved the crown of their heads as a sign of devotion and signal to an ascetic life. Depending on the religious order, each friar had a different focus -something that can also be found in the Bene Gesserit. The books mention how the Bene Gesserit send missionaries to distant planets, one of them being Dune, to plant seeds of superstition in the populace that will aid with their scheme to create the first male Bene Gesserit, a perfect specimen known as the Kwisatz Haderach. It is for this reason that Paul Atreides was able to gain many followers when he and his mother narrowly escaped the clutches of Baron Harkonnen and his cronies.

The parallels between the Bene Gesserit and the medieval monks are restricted solely to their ideological devotion and theological drive to convert others through knowledge or with the aid of their powerful patrons, and to reach a higher understanding of the world around them. The Bene Gesserit are eternally devoted to their order’s ideals and precepts in the same manner that the medieval monks are. BUT that is where the similarities end. The Bene Gesserit do not care for vows of chastity or poverty. Some women decide to join the sisters later in life as a form of penance or because it is a high honor, but that is it. Monks and friars on the other hand take vows of chastity, leading an ascetic way of life, helping their communities by giving aid to the poor and tending to the sick when needed. There were exceptions to the rule, but generally, once a man entered a monastery, he would leave the material world behind. This was especially true of friars. Founded in the twelfth century, friars led a stricter way of life than all other religious orders. Unlike monks and like the Bene Gesserit, they weren’t confined to a single community. Friars got to move around a lot and as a result knew more about what ailed the general populace. Going back to their physical appearance. Monks and Friars were not the first nor the last of religious orders to adopt this type of hairstyle. Celtic priests were known to shave part of their heads, so did some Eastern Christian religious orders also adopted this hairstyle. This tradition in Roman Catholic Church arises from the belief that the apostle Peter -hailed as the founder of the Roman Catholic Church- was the first to adopt this hairstyle to prove his devotion to his lord and savior, Jesus Christ.

Read more here: https://www.facebook.com/fictionhistorybyanothername/posts/1976523749082358?__xts__%5B0%5D=68.ARD4binHYZ-xVxu3rbS025Fbtr_47Vh8-ZOkL3OFTLeCYzQRNAHATime74RxLF0bh_GrhuwVbzlXEZq3GyMb_eGWLmsDndEFnhTmAYM2jXMKbnAmFQlfAn9oKOwWrxb7-ZeAzSC46m3Wu6e1FJ60qhH8j6gc6o_YeT5IbetupgH_zIOcZgb9fg3Njha2aGFddJEXPj-dr6nZELgbgUD7BIXQ0eEkgTAFWE4M6bfovqfj68DEZB9Rh5urNTAVU59dvMQNcU1uQ_UNwcRbkWnGxpMFUWF4WnHX9OTu4MMZdKl0yblhOfbO7UlCgkudxPbmy-3fnm-Avb8kK_JQtCQo50JhwA&__tn__=K-R

#bene gesserit #david lynch's dune 1984 #comparison to medieval monks #tonsured heads #history #science fiction

[jessicajonesrp]

Visit with Trish

It had been a few weeks since Jessica saw her adoptive sister. This was hardly unusual; Jessica had been known to simply drop out of any form of contact with Trish for various lengths of time, either because she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to bother with talking to or seeing her. She loved her sister, far more than she could or was comfortable putting words to, but the woman could be damn difficult to be around sometimes.

 It wasn’t because she was prissy or bougie, although she could be both of those; Jessica was used to her more irritating mannerisms, and could either mock them or shrug them off as being unavoidable when genetically related to Dorothy Walker. It wasn’t even because she was always not so subtly prodding at Jessica to make “better choices” in her life, meaning to drink less, eat and sleep more, and do something for mental health other than punching people and avoiding all efforts at expressing actual emotion. No, the reason Jessica usually chose to avoid Trish, when she went through her spells of doing so, was because the woman knew her well enough that she could usually figure out when something was going on in Jessica’s life that Jessica didn’t want to tell her about. And once she was on the trail, for someone who wasn’t actually a private eye herself, she was pretty damn good at getting to the truth.

 But Jessica found herself thinking of Trish after her latest “meet” with Luke- she wouldn’t call their interactions dates, not yet, not even in her own thoughts. Maybe because she had spent some time talking about Trish to Luke, or maybe simply because Trish was the only person Jessica had spent any degree of time with back in their teen years that Jessica still had active contact with or cared to know. And back then, during the period of time where most teenaged girls did spent the majority of their time gushing to their friends about boys and crushes and sexual exploits, Jessica had not had friends, let alone boyfriends or crushes. She had been too busy grieving her dead family, reeling from her new life as the adopted kid of a pop star’s stage mom, and trying to protect Trish from physical abuse from said mother and sexual abuse from far too many older men in the movie business to have any energy or inclination left to gossip about some acne-ridden adolescent at their school.

 She was 31 years old now, a ridiculous age to even think of words like crush or boyfriend. The most she ever talked about with Trish was whether or not she’d had sex with someone recently, and Trish was usually too skeeved out by that to want many details. But although Jessica told herself that she in no way wanted or intended to talk about Luke and whatever was going on between them with her sister, she nevertheless found herself feeling an urge to visit her.

 That didn’t mean anything, right? It had absolutely nothing to do with Luke. Jessica was allowed to have a spontaneous visit with her best friend/sister.

 She waited until she had wound down her research on her latest case for the day and had enough drinks to feel comfortable before heading to Trish’s apartment on the subway. It was beginning to be evening, but Trish had a daily routine most of the time that was fairly unvarying. Normally at this time of the day she was finished with work and would be home, working out in her private gym. Jessica was not one to give her warning about her approach with texts or calls. Instead, like usual, she simply jumped up onto Trish’s balcony and banged on the door until she came to let her in.

 As Jessica would have predicted, Trish was dressed in perfectly coordinated workout clothes, light blue leggings and a sports bra, her blonde hair back in a smooth ponytail. She looked Jessica up and down carefully, plucked eyebrow raised, and didn’t immediately move away from the sliding glass door.

 “I’ll bite, what’s wrong?”

 “What do you mean, what’s wrong?” Jessica threw the question back at her, shrugging. “Do I look like I’m bleeding or gasping for breath or something? ‘Cause if I am, your bedside manner sucks.”

 “Well, generally when you show up like this, after ignoring my texts for a while, something’s wrong,” Trish informed her, her tone calm, even pleasant, rather than rising to Jessica’s mild jab. “Like someone is stalking you, someone rose from the dead, someone is dead, you’re close to death after an attempted murder, something to do with death or attempted death. Or else you’re so drunk you can’t remember how to get to your own place.”

 “Well, maybe I’m shaking up the routine,” Jessica muttered. “Can’t be as predictable as you, Yoga Barbie.”

 She held her arms out as though to present herself to Trish for her inspection. “Not dead, not dying, not any more drunk than usual. You gonna let me in, or do I have to be in an actual crisis to decide to visit, “Patsy”?”

 Trish tried to scowl at her, but Jessica saw that she was fighting a smile. They both knew Jessica never called her by her very much hated former nickname unless she was mocking her or trying especially hard to piss her off. “I still say something’s up. But sure, come on in.”

 She stepped back to give Jessica room to come inside, shutting the door behind her and locking it back. Jessica made her way into Trish’s kitchen and helped herself to opening the fridge, making a face when she saw that all of Trish’s drinks were diet, had impossible to say ingredients, or water. She dug until she found a normal Coke miraculously pushed to the back and took it back with her to the couch, popping the tab. Feeling Trish staring at her, she looked back, raising her eyebrows.

 “What?”

 “There’s whiskey and bourbon in the cabinet, like usual,” Trish informed her. “You know I keep it for you, just in case.”

 “Yeah, I might get to that in a little bit,” Jessica shrugged. “I’m good for right now.”

 Trish’s eyes about bugged out of her head as Jessica took another swig of the soda. She rushed over to sit beside her, deliberately knocking her knee into Jessica’s.

 “Okay, now I know something is up. Jessica Campbell Jones just knowingly, deliberately chose a Coke, knowing alcoholic beverages were available. What the hell is going on, Jessica? What happened?!”

 “Chill out, stop being so dramatic,” Jessica rolled her eyes, but Trish noted that she wasn’t looking at her straight on. “Nothing’s going on, nothing’s happening, can’t a woman change things up once in a while without you pulling amateur PI moves to figure out why?”

 “Are you trying to quit drinking?” Trish pressed, not bothering to acknowledge her denial. “Because good for you if you are, you know I’d support that all the way, Jess, but something must have pushed you over into that decision.”

 “I said I’d ransack your supplies later, does that sound like I’m quitting drinking?” Jessica pointed out. “Jesus, stop already, you’re gonna make me regret deciding to see you when I could have visited a bar.”

 “Are you trying to lose weight?” Trish tried next. “Because if you are, switching from alcohol to full fat soda isn’t any difference in calories, actually it’s got far more fat and sugar, so that would be pretty inefficient-“

 Jessica set her can down and stared at Trish, narrowing her eyes.

 “Seriously, that’s your advice on me hypothetically trying to lose weight? What, no protests about whether or not I need to, or the psychological reasons behind my desire to, just straight to calories and fat grams? Tell Dorothy to get out of your mouth or I’m leaving.”

 “What? Oh, sorry, it’s- it’s kind of automatic,” Trish said apologetically, leaning back onto the couch with a sigh. “That’s not even my soda, it’s left from Simpson, so you know how long that’s been in there-“

 “I was wondering if you had a secret sugar stash you’ve been hiding, Patsy’s dirty little secret,” Jessica smirked.

 Trish ignored her, continuing as though she didn’t hear. “I don’t think you need to diet, Jess, of course I don’t. Look at you, you’re skinnier than I am, you know I’m always telling you that you need to eat your calories in food more than alcohol at least some days of the week.”

 She furrowed her brow, still clearly trying to figure the other woman out.

 “So if you’re not trying to quit drinking, and you’re not counting calories, what is it? You don’t look hungover, and that normally wouldn’t stop you. What, did you meet a guy or something?”

 She said this with a chuckle, dismissing it even as she said it, but when Jessica took another long gulp of her drink, studiously avoiding Trish’s eyes, Trish sat up straighter, her expression sharpening.

 “Wait, did you?”

 “How much vodka do you have for me, again?” Jessica deflected, starting to stand, but Trish gave an excited near squeal and seized Jessica’s hand, pulling her to sit back down.

 “You did, didn’t you! Jessica, why didn’t you say something?”

 “Probably because I knew you’d do this,” Jessica muttered, exhaling. “Can I have my hand back now?”

 “No,” Trish said decisively, giving it a squeeze. “I need details, now. Where did you meet this guy? How long ago? What’s he look like? Have you been on a date yet?”

 “We fucked, does that count?”

 “Oh Jessica, come on!” Trish groaned, giving her hand a little tug before letting it go. She shifted to face her more fully, her blue eyes alight with her interest and what Jessica thought of as far too excessive enthusiasm. “You’re not going to throw me off of this by being you. What really happened?”

 “We did,” Jessica insisted, deliberately keeping her tone casual and flicking the tab of her soda repeatedly, in effort to annoy Trish with the sound. “First night we met, too. You said you want details, you want to hear about positions, or just penis length?”

 “Jessica,” Trish sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not going to distract me. Or gross me out.”

 “Oh good, then I can tell you everything. First he took his shirt off, then I tore his zipper down with my teeth-“

 “It’s more than that to you,” Trish cut her off, speaking over top her continued efforts to disgust. “It wasn’t just sex. I can tell that just by looking at you. You actually like him. This actually means something to you, doesn’t it? You actually feel something for him, Jess.”

 “Well, yeah, I felt plenty with his dick in me-“

 “Jessica,” Trish said quietly, placing both hands on the other woman’s shoulders with a firm pressure and looking at her directly enough that Jessica stopped, uncomfortable against her intensity. “Stop. You do care about this guy. I can see it. I could see something different about you the second you walked in tonight.”

 Under the weight of Trish’s hands and the serious way she watched her, Jessica exhaled, squirming uncomfortably. Even if she continued to deflect, it wasn’t going to stop Trish, and to continue to deny was dishonest and felt wrong.

 “His name is Luke,” she muttered, looking towards Trish’s ear rather than into her eyes. “Luke Cage. He runs a nightclub in Harlem. But I barely know him, Trish. He barely knows me. So don’t hold your breath or anything.”

 “But you like what you do know,” Trish pressed, squeezing Jessica’s shoulder lightly. “And so does he.”

 “Trish, this is me we’re talking about here,” Jessica snorted, attempting to duck out from under her hands. “Don’t start designing wedding invites. I’m sure I’ll do the me thing and fuck everything up within the next week, so don’t be too excited for me.”

 Although her tone was light, Trish reacted with emphatic dismay at her words. Hanging onto Jessica, not letting her shrug out of her grasp so easily, she gave her a little shake, looking at her with far too much earnest, wide-eyed feeling for Jessica’s comfort.

 “Don’t do that, Jessica. Don’t write yourself off or put yourself down. You do deserve this. You deserve to be cared for, and desired by someone who sees you as special and unique and wonderful even in the ways you can’t see for yourself.”

 “Sounds like you’re giving yourself a pep talk, not me,” Jessica shot back at her, again shrugging off her hands. “Or else maybe you’re secretly into me yourself.”

 But for once, Trish didn’t rise to the verbal bait. Letting Jessica pull her shoulders back and instead resting a hand on her knee, she continued to look at her steadily and seriously.

 “Jess…just don’t tell yourself that you aren’t worth it. Give yourself a real chance here. Please.”

 Jessica shifted, even more uncomfortable, and let out a loud exhalation, rolling her eyes again. Even so, she gave Trish’s hand a quick, awkward pat before standing.

 “Whatever, if my love life is that important to you, you obviously need to get out more yourself. But just for you, maybe I’ll consider it. Now I definitely need some booze.”

 Making her way towards the cabinets Trish always kept her drinks in, she called over her shoulder, “What kind of ridiculous kung fu panda shit you call self-defense have you been learning lately? Or are you too busy learning to make those so called health drinks that look like dirty water mixed with seaweed?”

 She was glad when Trish finally let her change the subject, educating her on far more on either subject than Jessica wanted to hear about. As she settled down on the couch again with several bottles set before her, she tried not to think about what Trish had said to her, and how very similar her views were to Luke’s. It was far easier to try for low expectations and cynicism; after all, wasn’t that how she’s lived her life so far?

  **

 Trish Walker was usually pretty good at easing information out of people that she wanted to know.

 She was a talk show host, after all; it was part of her job to set people at ease, to get them on the topic she wanted them on and to keep them there, with as many juicy details put forth as possible. But Jessica Jones was not like most of her subjects, and even seventeen years after them becoming family of sorts, she didn’t have any better techniques of getting things out of her when Jessica wanted them kept in.

 And Trish’s curiosity, when it came to Jessica’s new love interest, was driving her mad. Jessica was not the sort of person who was ever really interested in anyone, at least not beyond a roll in bed for a night or two. Certainly not since the trauma of Kilgrave and everything he had put her through and the choices he had forced her to make. Even as teenagers, Jessica hadn’t been the romantically inclined type. The last Trish could remember her really being into someone had been back in their early twenties, when Stirling had still been alive- and that was nearly ten years ago. She had almost started to think Jessica truly wanted to go through her life more or less alone.

 But as much as Jessica tried to downplay it and shut down any details, Trish could see the difference in her with this guy. She was less reclusive, for one thing, and less sharp in her words and expressions. Hell, she was even drinking less, and that was something like a miracle.

 But Jessica didn’t want to talk about him much, or really at all, and when Trish suggested meeting him, she about took her head off. So that left Trish with only one option, the way she saw it. It could be fifteen years before Jessica decided it was time for her guy to meet her, and by then she might very well decide to cut him loose in some misguided effort of “saving him from herself”. If Trish wanted to meet this Luke Cage, she was just going to have to meet him for herself.

 It wasn’t very hard for her to find the name of his club with a simple Facebook and google search, given that she already knew his name and its location. The first night she had the time, she “casually” checked in with Jessica that she was working- it wouldn’t do to run into her and Luke together at the club- and then made her way with her personal driver to Harlem, putting off the confused and suspicious looks he gave her for wanting him to take her to a city and a club that was normally very far from one she would frequent. She quickly found that she was very much a stand out in its environment, given her pale skin, blonde hair, and the shimmery blue but not exactly club-hopping dress she was wearing. Somewhat disconcerted, but determined, she made her way to the bar and flashed a bright smile to the bartender, taking a seat.

 “Hi, I’m looking for the owner, Luke Cage? Is he here tonight?”

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

You cannot bait us with Samuels as a parent and then tell us you're never going to write it!

I said I wasn’t going to include it in Lucky Star, but I’d write a one-shot. I just don’t think with the technicalities of things that they’d pursue it long term. Between the “this laboratory smells like eugenics” aspect (I mean…it is technically a dystopia), and the fact that Samuels doesn’t age, and the fact that Amanda isn’t exactly the type I’d see as a parent in the way she’s presented in Lucky Star. And “very tiny fragile human child” tagging along with space pirates and alien hunting doesn’t sound safe–I can’t see them making the, frankly in their case, selfish choice to have their own kid. 

But yeah, Amanda as The Cool Parent™ and Christopher the human (kinda) embodiment of Paranoia? I love. I looooove it so much. At some point I’ll write a proper one shot for it, but in the meantime to apologize for the emotional duress I apparently caused you, here you go:

A vaguely Amy shaped lump on the bed groaned in pain again, and he flinches at the guilt that tugs his central power distributor chord in his chest. She has a high pain tolerance, the medical center’s synthetics told him as much, and the one human doctor that was present at the late hour had repeated it. But from the time they arrived home, and he was finally, finally able to kiss them both (they hadn’t ever experienced it with someone who wasn’t a friend, by the synthetics there recognized what he was immediately, and assumed he was merely an assistant), Amanda hadn’t been quite right.

Christopher wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe that he had only put his hands on the outside of hers as she held the impossibly small human, but took a subtle step back when she tried to let him hold her. 

Now that very tiny, very strange creature was crying in a voice so small and quiet that if it was emitting from a synthetic, he’d be urging it to seek audio repairs as soon as possible. Even Amanda’s human crying wasn’t so fragile sounding. 

“I’ll be up in a second…” a slightly slurred voice said from the bed. Amanda sat up slowly with a hiss of pain.

“Amy–what can I get for you? is the bottle still hot? There’s another two hours before you can take anything else for pain, but I could fetch a half–”

“You’re not–” she let out a small, stifled sound of pain as she wriggled over to get up, “–my medic, despite what the tin can assholes thought. You’re my husband. And I get it. You’re fucking scared. Fine. I’m in pain. A fucking ton of pain, and forgive me if I’m slightly pissed off that you’re the one who’s idea this was, and I’m letting you name her, and you’re….” 

“I–What if–she’s…” standing, statuesque and silent over the tiny sleeping thing, he had watched for hours to be sure that it was still breathing.  

Amanda appeared in his line of vision and picked her up, her voice soft as she tried to quiet her. 

“Chris. Please. We had a list…if you’re not going to hold her, or sleep with me, then–think of a name? I’ll pick a middle one. I loved all the ones on the list, it’s…” she set the infant back down in her little crib, small as a doll’s, and slowly retreated to bed again, tugging a hot (now merely warm) water bottle to her abdomen that she wished was the form of her lover standing coldly to the side.

Barely an hour passes before the baby’s fussing again, and as much as he’s medically aware of human behavior at all life stages, their emotional processes always catch him relatively off guard, and he’s not sure what’s got the poor thing upset this time. Small, uncomfortable mummers quickly turn again into that weak cry and she’s so pitiful and small.

Weeks spent, months spent, running numbers and genetic coding, structuring and restructuring broken down strands of his partner’s human DNA, I have brown eyes, her mother had brown eyes, theoretically I could have had two parents with eyes like hers but I know she wants even odds on that, a clone, nearly, entirely formed from her own DNA however altered.

Amanda said before they even started home, quietly to avoid the ears of the synthetics or the human doctor in the halls, “I really didn’t think you were going to even the odds on her eyes,” even new born, a hour old, the girl’s eyes were darker than her mother’s.

He hears Amanda make a motion to get up, and every ounce of his programming rebels in multiple directions yet again; help her, help the crying human, the human in bed should stay in bed and is best helped by silencing the crying human, don’t touch the crying human, it’s not dying and that’s the only time a non-fully medical programmed android should ever be handling humans under five years of age, you could kill her too easily, you could–

Amy sniffs a little, and even in the dark he catches the long slow blinks that she does when trying to hide the fact that she’s crying.

“Shh, no more of that,” he says, low as his audio can get, and carefully, slowly goes to lift the girl from the crib. “What’s so upsetting out here? You’re not wet, you just ate,” a half finished, comically small bottle sits on the nightstand. Amanda had been against nursing her from the start. My mom tried to. They sent her out on a job before I was weaned, at least that’s what my grandmother told me when she tried to convince me she was a shitty mother. Sounds more like a shitty job. I wouldn’t drink until I was too weak to cry. 

“She’s scared.” Amanda said lowly, half sitting, propped up on a few pillows, the room-temperature water bottle hugged to her lap and belly. 

“It’s too loud here isn’t it? Strange and silent, and cold, and everything’s too big…” he holds her a little closer, a little firmer, and she quiets. “Things will seem better once you’re well rested precious…”

He’s not sure how he didn’t notice, but Amanda had gotten up, and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“I love you.”

“You can go back to bed, I’ll be right there,”

“No, no I…”

“You need sleep, badly, probably more than Jess does,”

“Jess?”

“Jessica.”

“I honestly thought you’d go with Elena,”

“Do you want–if you’d–”

“Chris no, I like it. I told you.” 

At first he thought to hold Jessica with one hand, and usher Amanda back to their bed with the other, but at the fear of dropping the still-fussy girl he stopped. Amanda painfully, delicately, climbed back into bed.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“No, just…sleep at this point. You’re right–” she stopped as he eased back onto the mattress too, still holding Jess. “What–if one of us–”

“I’ll stay awake and hold her, you won’t crush her,” it was sweet, to see her worry, to see her fret in situations where it wasn’t causing her stress or panic and he almost realized why she liked to tease and toy with him so much. “And I think she’s asleep again,” he smiled, a very quiet breath and heartbeat–steady and healthy, despite their softness–emitted from her.

“Thank you,” Amanda settled at his side, kissing Jessica, rubbing softly at her few little hairs (fair, for now, but she thinks she’s awful light to ever look like his), and then kissing her husband’s cheek, and then his mouth when he turned to face her, and smile against her lips. “For everything. For not being scared, for being here at all. It’s–”

“Darling–”

“I’m supposed to be alone. That’s my story, that’s all I’ve ever been, and without you I’d either be dead, or still alone and asking and wandering…You and I, and–”

“It’s the meds, luv.”

“We’ve done pretty good I think,” she smiled a little, pain constant, but livable, it was all livable, even when she didn’t think it was, all her life had been like that. “She doesn’t seem too fucked up yet.”

“No, not at all,” Jessica clung to him faintly, and he adjusted his internal temperature to suit. “Amy?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,”

“I know,” it wasn’t a joke, not like their usual exchange, but honest in her exhaustion. Christopher smiled, listening close for his humans’ vitals.

#annie gets anons #Jessica McClaren AU

[thewhitehotroom]

Dark Phoenix Movie Summary, Spoilers Ahead!

I got to see Dark Phoenix today so I decided to give you all a summary of the movie! Overall it was a very grounded and focused film that follows the struggle that Jean goes through after coming into contact with a powerful force and the ensuing conflict between the members of the X-Men on how to handle the situation. Keep on reading for my in depth spoiler filled movie summary!

Summary:

Dark Phoenix opens with Jean as a young girl traveling with her parents as her powers begin to manifest, an accident occurs because of this and Jean’s mother is killed. We are led to believe that Jean’s father also died but we later find out that he is in fact alive and no longer wanted anything to do with Jean after the death of her mother so he gave her over to Charles Xavier who then raised her in the X-Mansion. After all the trauma caused by the accident and the fact that her father gave her away, Charles decides to put up walls in Jean’s mind to “protect” her from the truth and instead tells her that her father also died. 

We then flash forward into the 90′s where NASA sends a group of astronauts into space but their mission is quickly ended when they encounter what they believe to be a solar flare that damages their ship. The President himself contacts Charles Xavier, as the X-Men are now viewed as Heroes, and asks him personally if they can help. Jean at first is a bit apprehensive of this mission and notices that Mystique is as well, she asks Mystique if she is comfortable with this mission and Mystique promises that if anything goes wrong she will turn the ship around. The team boards the X-Jet and heads off to space. After saving the crew the “solar flare” begins to intensify and Mystique demands that they leave, but Charles tells them they have to stay as one more members of the NASA crew is on board. Jean and Kurt go back onto the ship to save him but when the “solar flare” hits the ship Kurt is only able to save himself and the crew member. The force enters Jean and causes the NASA ship to explode, but surprisingly Jean is saved by the force and is brought back on board via Kurt and they go home. 

Back on Earth the X-Men are praised for their heroism and Charles attends a ceremony to honor himself and the X-Men. Mystique questions Charles motives as she believes he is putting the X-Men’s lives at risk for his shot at fame and glory and isn’t considering anyone else. Hank checks up on Jean and notices that her powers are beginning to grow off the charts but Jean assures him and everyone else that she feels better then okay. Jean, Scott, Kurt, Quicksilver and Storm attend a mutant party with Dazzler as the entertainment as Mystique and Hank watch from the mansion. Mystique tells Hank she doesn’t believe Charles is leading the team for the right reasons and never actually puts himself on the line but is reckless with everyone else. She tells Hank she wants to leave the X-Men and live a normal life now that mutants aren’t hated as much as they were before. Hank convinces her to stay right before they notice Jean’s power levels rising. At the party Scott tells Jean that the kids are calling her Phoenix after the mythological bird that rises from the ashes after her near death experience. Jean continuously drinks more and more and begins to lose control of the entity within herself as she notices the raging fire at the party. The noises around her begin to intensify and she lets out a shock wave of energy that throws everyone to the ground and she passes out. Charles leaves the ceremony after sensing the trouble Jean is in and returns to the mansion to try and enter Jean’s mind to see what is happening with her. With the entity now inside of Jean her powers have grown far stronger and Charles is no longer able to read her mind so he, Hank and Mystique enter Cerebro to enhance his powers. They enter Jean’s mind where Raven notices that her mind appears damaged and closed off. Charles reveals that he put up walls in Jean’s mind to protect her but with the force inside of her and her growing power the walls are beginning to break. Jean awakens and realizes her father is still alive and forcefully throws Charles out of her head upon discovering he lied to her. Jean decides to leave the mansion and find her father. Scott runs into the room after her forcing Charles out of her head to see if she is ok and Jean realizes that she hurt him at the party which only makes her want to leave more. Scott tells her that he will always stay by her side and asks her to stay. Jean puts him to sleep and leaves the mansion. After awakening, Scott informs the others that she left to find her father whom he thought was dead. Everyone begins to realize what Charles did and they quickly board the jet to find Jean.

Several alien ships arrive on Earth and split off in different directions. A get together at the home of a woman named Margaret is interrupted as her dog barks outside due to the alien ships outside. She leaves the party briefly to go investigate the reason of her dog’s barking and encounters the aliens themselves who kill her and and one impersonates her before they murder the rest of the party to impersonate them as well. 

Jean arrives at her father and childhood home and knocks on the door, shocking him. He lets her inside and they awkwardly hold small talk with Jean being excited and emotional to see him after believing he was dead and her father being closed off and not very interested. He goes to get her a glass of water leaving Jean by herself to examine the pictures on the wall. As he returns the entity begins to awaken once more as Jean realizes there are no pictures of her on the wall. Her father tells her that after Jean killed her mother his life died with her and so did his love for Jean. This causes her to grow angry but the X-Men arrive catching her attention instead. Charles asks Jean to come back but she refuses now knowing that Charles lied to her. Scott attempts to convince her as well but she sticks to her decision. A squad of police cars arrive and Jean finally snaps using her power to stop the cars. The X-Men go into action but are all quickly thrown aside, with Quicksilver being badly hurt in the process. Hank attempts to take a shot at Jean with what can be presumed as a power dampening gun but Charles stops him so that Raven can attempt to calm her. Jean tells Raven to leave as the entity grows angry and she is losing control and doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Raven continues to try and calm her and tells her that she will always be by her side. Jean loses control of her rage and lets out another shock wave of energy impaling Raven into a splintered piece of wood, shocked by her own actions Jean quickly flees and Hank runs to Raven’s aid. Before dying she attempts to tell Hank that she loves him. The X-Men hold a funeral for Raven and their struggle on how to handle Jean begins. Scott and Charles want to save her, but Hank wants to stop her with any means necessary. Storm is apprehensive and believes that Jean is gone.

Jessica Chastain’s character named Vuk, impersonating Margaret, regroups with the other aliens and we discover they are what remains of the alien race D'Bari who have come to Earth in search of the cosmic entity to use it in hopes of saving their race and taking over residence on the Earth. Another member reveals to her that they have tracked the entity and that it is now located inside of a mutant girl. 

Jean arrives on Genosha in hopes that Magneto can help her control her urge to kill and cause destruction. He attempts to learn who’s blood is on her shirt but she avoids the question and continues to explain that her powers are growing and she can’t control them. Magneto attempts to make Jean angry to see what happens when she is filled with rage but his attempts are put on hold when a group of military soldiers arrive in search of Jean. Eric tries to get them to leave and hide Jean from them but she makes her presence known as the entity takes over again and she attempts to kill all the soldiers and destroy their helicopters. Eric is able to hold the chopper back long enough for the soldiers to board and escape. Eric then demands Jean leave and tells her while Genosha is a safe haven for mutants he doesn’t want someone like Jean there to bring harm to anyone. After Jean leaves Hank arrives and tells Eric about the death of Raven and they both agree that they have to kill Jean.

Vuk locates Jean and after convincing Jean to trust her she takes her back to the D’Bari safe house where she shows Jean the true nature of the cosmic entity within her telling her that it was the spark that created the universe and that it destroyed her home planet. The D’Bari followed the entity and witnessed it entering Jean and now want to help Jean control the power so that she can evolve beyond her human life and become something more, something that can create life itself. Jean agrees to help Vuk and to finally let go of trying to control the entity. Charles, Storm, Kurt and Scott arrive at the safe house at the same time as Magneto, Hank, Selene and Red Lotus. A fight ensues over how to handle Jean and they wreck havoc in the streets of New York. Eric raises a subway car in the street to wall himself off from the X-Men and enters the building to kill Jean. Jean holds his power off and uses his helmet to injure him before throwing him through the building. Charles and Kurt manage to get inside the building and try to calm Jean down, but she is unwilling to back down. Jean then forces Charles to walk upstairs so she can confront him face to face. A scene slightly reminiscent of the scene from The Last Stand occurs where Jean holds Charles in the air and begins to suck the life out of him. Jean enters Charles mind and slowly gains back control as she realizes that Charles truly does care about her and wants to help her. Now back in control Jean tells Vuk to take the entity out of her if she wants it so bad. They embrace and Vuk begins to suck the entity out of Jean and in the process she reveals her plans to Charles of wanting to destroy humanity and rebuild hero own race on Earth. Charles then attempts to get Jean to break contact with Vuk but she is unable until Scott blasts Vuk off of her. Before they are able to escape the military arrive and capture the X-Men and Magneto and his forces.

Now on a train heading to a mutant detainment camp Charles apologizes to Hank for how he treated Jean and the rest of the X-Men and says that he was the villain in all of this, but that he stands by his beliefs that Jean is being controlled and that they have to save her before Vuk consumes the entity within her. Magneto, Hank and the others agree to help save Jean and stop the D’Bari from gaining the entity. The train is then attack by the D’Bari and most of the soldiers are killed before one of them sets the mutants free to aid in the fight. An epic train battle ensues as Charles and Scott attempt to wake Jean. Inside Charles head he converses with Jean who forgives him for hurting and lying to her and she realizes that she has to protect her family. Vuk arrives now wielding a small portion of the entity and quickly stops the mutants in her way before reaching Jean. Jean awakens and throws Vuk out of the train derailing the train the process in an attempt to stop the D’Bari and save the X-Men and Magneto.

Now on the ground Jean and the entity work together to disintegrate the remaining members of the D’Bari, though one of them gains the upper hand and impales Jean with a weapon injuring and stopping her briefly before the entity heals her and kills the alien. Vuk makes her grand entrance and enters and showdown with Jean as the two are surrounded by the cosmic force as Jean makes an attempt to overwhelm her with the force. Jean begins to gain the upper hand but realizes that she can’t fully control the cosmic entity and is hurting Scott in the process with the power. Vuk tells Jean that her emotions make her weak, but Jean disagrees and believes they make her strong. Jean silently bids farewell and she takes herself and Vuk into space as her and the entity finally converge into one transforming Jean into a flaming cosmic presence and exploding into a force with the appearance of a bird and killing Vuk.

In the end Charles leaves the X-Men and gives over leadership to Hank. The school is renamed the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning and we learn that Jean is now one with the cosmic entity and is still alive out in space, having evolved beyond her former self.

#dark phoenix #jean grey #x men dark phoenix #x-men dark phoenix #phoenix #phoenix force #marvel #marvel comics #20th century fox #cyclops #mystique #beast #Nightcrawler #storm #quicksilver #d'bari #spoilers #summary #Sophie turner #x men #x-men #xmen #comic #comics #comic book #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #magneto #jennifer lawrence #jessica chastain

[bbygirl-paul]

dune really explores every possible way someone can die without actually dying. paul's childhood self dies the night his father does. his atreides heritage dies when he seeks revenge. paul himself dies when he drinks the water of life. jessica the wife dies the night leto does. jessica the mother dies when she drinks the water of life. the girl alia could have become dies in the womb. stilgar dies when he becomes a follower. the fremen die when they leave their home to fight paul's war for him. the narrative treats every one of these deaths as a tragedy, as a palpable loss; the ghosts of who these characters were or could have been remain to haunt the narrative long afterwards.

(expanding on my original tags from this post)

#dune #dune meta #meta #dune series #dune movie #dune 1 #dune part 1 #dune part one #dune 2021 #dune 2 #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune part two #paul atreides #paul #leto atreides #leto #jessica atreides #jessica #lady jessica #alia atreides #alia #stilgar #fremen #water of life

[presleepthoughts]

Pretty pls with a cherry on top, have a part 2 for the sweater fic? 🖤👀

😊 You wanted another one, I wrote another one. Sorry for being absent. 

Ps. Thank you so much for 900 followers. I can’t believe 900 of you follows me and reads my stuff. It’s insane. Thanks guys 😘 I appreciate it

The dining room feels cold and empty, just how she predicted it. Her salmonis bland and the rice is hard as she pushes it around on the flower decoratedplate. Her Father is eating vigorously across from her, unaware of theuncomfortable silence that fall over the table since the moment they sat down.The step-mother just keeps glancing at her and Beca can see she wants to saysomething but she’s too shy to start the conversation. 

This is why, ladies andgentlemen, Beca didn’t want to come. 

She knew this wouldhappen and she fears the next two weeks would look exactly like this. 

And this is her firstnight! Someone get her out of here.

“I bet the girls are having a clichepillow fight or something.” The thought makes her smile just thetiniest bit and despite her utter disgust at the thought of actually takingpart in the act, she would choose it over this any day. She bets Stacie had todo another batch of booze and it wouldn’t take long until thelatest chick-flick finds its way to the TV. If she’s honest with herself, shelongs to be there.

To see Fat Amy plantherself down on the love-seat, spreading herself out so nobody could sit nextto her. Throwing a blanket to Ashley and Jessica who would cuddle on the floorwhile Emily would sit on the very edge of the couch, ready to spring up whenthe popcorn is done. Beca would sit in the middle, with her legs pulled upclose to her chest and try to find a position where she could hide her phonefrom plane sight and play Angry Birds instead of watching. Hear Chloe humdisapprovingly before she would toss her sour gummy worms and sit down next toher in her sweater then - 

Wait. Fuck.

Chloe borrowed hersweater. Chloe Beale, her crush for the last three years, the girl she was in lovewith since the moment she met her, borrowed her sweater. Because she said itsmelled like her. And she’s probably wearing it, right now. 

Beca’s throat issuddenly dry and she downs half her cup of water.

The lights are dimmed and the music is turned down low as Chloe makes her way down the stairs. 

Beca has left for fours hours now and the redhead couldn’t find it in herself to join the girls and force a smile on her face when she doesn’t feel like it. Honestly, she is sad. Sad that Beca wouldn’t be with them - with her - for two weeks. Sad to know she wouldn’t find her up in her room, feverishly abusing the keyboard of her computer and trying to tear her away. 

It didn’t help matters that she is drunk - heavily tipsy at best - and she feels like the alcohol makes things worse. She just wants Beca back. To see her roll her eyes with pretended annoyance while a grin graces her lips. Her deep blue eyes meeting hers and being locked in her gaze. 

Chloe sighs. 

The soft material of Beca’s sweater offers minimal comfort as she pulls up the clothes to her nose and inhales deeply. Suddenly Beca’s familiar scent hits her senses and she can’t help the small smile appearing on her face, the image of the girl popping into her mind. She plans to wear it for as long as she can.

“Captain C!” 

Cynthia-Rose’s yell makes Chloe glance up, seeing the girls all sitting on the floor sipping their various drinks and smiling at her. 

Chloe returns the gesture but it falls a little flat and Emily instantly notice it. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks innocently and Chloe honestly just don’t want to talk about it. She fixes her smile until it looks perfect and walks to the girls, sitting down besides Flo and Fat Amy. 

“Nothing, Legacy. I’m fine.” She answers as truthfully as she can and leans her back against the couch. She notices Stacie’s head tilt to the side and her eyes narrows as she checks her out and Chloe tears her gaze away. 

Stacie is the only one who knows how she feels about Beca. After a very bad birthday party where Beca ended up leaving with somebody, Stacie accidentally walked in on Chloe crying in the bathroom and wouldn’t leave until she knew what happened. Since then, the brunette had been the best friend Chloe could’ve asked for. She was always there to listen to the redhead’s frustrated rants or a shoulder to cry on whenever Chloe needed her to be. 

And Chloe knows that Stacie sees through her act. She just hopes she wouldn’t call her out on it in front of everybody.

“Girls?” Stacie calls out and everybody’s attention snaps to the girl, including Chloe. And the redhead doesn’t like the glint that suddenly appeared in her eyes. She’s planning something.

“Why don’t we get this party started with some games, huh?” Stacie smirks, looking around the circle before settling on Chloe. “Truth or dare?” She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs when the rest of the girls agree urgently. Chloe swallows. 

“I don’t think I want to…” Chloe tries to come up with an excuse quickly before she gets sucked into something that could only end up in disaster. And she knows, with everything she has, that Stacie is up to something. 

“Oh nonsense.” Stacie waves her hand dismissively and leans on her hands, handing Chloe her cup. “Let loose. You deserve it.” She winks playfully and sits back down, but not before pulling out her phone from her back pocket.

Chloe glances around at the anticipating faces and sighs.

Fuck it. She downs the entire glass before nodding. 

Beca wakes up with the start. Her mind is heavy with sleep and she struggles to get it cleared. Loud buzzing coming from her bedside draw snaps her out of it and she reaches for the device. Squinting at the way too bright screen, Beca opens up the text Stacie had sent just a minute ago.

COME HOME NOW!

Beca instantly sits up in the bed, almost dropping her phone in the process. She’s wide awake now as her heart starts to beat faster. She couldn’t type out a reply faster.

What happened? What’s wrong? Is everybody okay? 

She springs out from the bed without waiting for an answer, eagerly searching for some clothes. Obviously something terrible happened, somebody is dying or…something. She has jeans pulled up on one leg when Stacie replies. Beca almost falls on her face at her speed to get to the phone.

Just watch this. Then come home as soon as you can!

Beca is officially confused. Watch what? She asks herself ridiculously as she stands in the middle of her childhood bedroom, with a t-shirt hanging from her shoulders and jeans covering one of her leg. 

In a millisecond, a video pops up in the text. Beca frowns deeply as she hits play. 

As the video plays out in front of her, Beca starts to slowly lower herself down on the bed. She can’t believe this. 

When it stops, Beca’s hands are shaking and her heart is beating out of her chest. She swallows carefully and types out a simple question.

is this real?

Stacie doesn’t make her wait for long.

Yes. 

Now come home and get your girl! 

It is nearing 4 pm when Beca pays the taxi driver and finally gets out from the car. She looks at the dark house that she has been calling home for the last two years and she has never been more terrified to enter it. 

Opening up the door, she hears soft voices coming from the living room and her hands shake as she walks inside. 

The TV is on low, playing an old musical that Beca hadn’t seen before and she sees the girls spreading out on the furniture, some of them asleep while the others sing along tiredly. Despite feeling extremely nervous, her lips tug up into a soft smile at the scene, remembering that she imagined just this mere hours ago. 

Stacie catches her eyes before an easy smile appears on her face. 

“You made it.” She says softly but loud enough for everybody to hear. The sense of calmness that wrapped itself around Beca for just ten seconds had completely disappeared when heads turn towards her direction. She’s not ready for this.

And Beca definitely isn’t ready when the bluest eyes she has ever seen lock onto hers before widening in surprise.

“Becs?” The nickname fills her with warmth and something she could only describe as love as Chloe pushes herself up from the couch and walks closer to the brunette.

Beca had prepared for this. All two hours of traveling has been filled with her mind turning over and over and over with words, with expression, anything to finally let Chloe know how she feels. But when the redhead stops in front of her, with her eyes all soft and caring, happy that she’s home, all the words got stuck inside her throat. 

Her eyes drop to the familiar sweater that she can’t help but think looks much better on Chloe than it would ever on her. She struggled to believe that video, refusing to get her hopes up even after hearing Chloe say her name and those magical three words after it. Even with proof, hard evidence, Beca still convinced herself it was just a mistake. Chloe’s drunk…she says stuff like that all the time.

But when she lifts her eyes up to meet Chloe’s, the alcohol is long gone and Beca can’t see anything but love. 

And she’s officially done. 

Done with this whole secret thing, done with the hiding and done with being afraid. She won’t let it control her life anymore.

So, she steps up closer to Chloe and looks deep into her eyes, saying the words she wanted to say forever.

“I’m in love with you, too.” 

She watches as Chloe’s mouth part slightly but she doesn’t let her react. She waited for this long enough. 

With a confident move, she captures Chloe’s lips with her own, kissing her with everything she has. It doesn’t take long until she feels Chloe kiss her back. 

The girls starts to hoot loudly and in the middle of this hazard, Beca hears Emily tiredly asking Stacie what’s going on. 

“She did it, Legacy. She finally did it.” 

Beca smiles into the kiss but she wouldn’t let go of Chloe for anything.

The End.

#bechloe #Beca x Chloe #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #beca mitchell #chloe beale #Anna Kendrick #brittany snow #romance #request #sweater #barden bellas #stacie conrad #emily junk #fanfiction

[thegreen1969pontiac]

L’appel Du Vide Chapter 1- I Don’t Speak French

                                        Eventual Dean x OC

Summary: When Hope’s sister is killed in a less than a normal house fire, and Sam, her sister's boyfriend, disappears with his brother after her death they’re her number one suspects. When the cops declare the case cold she begins her hunt for the Winchester boys. She follows them in hope for some evidence pointing to the death of her sister, but will she find more than just the cause and the killer? Will she find out more than she wanted to? 

Warning: minor mention of suicide, death, violence, lots of language

Word Count: 1392

L’appel du Vide. It was something I learned in my psychology class. It was, obviously French.

It means ‘The Call To The Void’.

Its when, for a split second, when for that little moment you want to jump into oncoming traffic, or when you are in a multiple-story hotel and you want to jump off the balcony and onto the car below. It happens quite often with the myriad of potentially dangerous things that the world has to offer. 

I was often moving from crappy hotel room to another which gave me plenty of moments to experience this unfathomable feeling. Sometimes I would look out off of the white chipping balcony and lean just far enough off of it that I was no longer on the balcony, my torso was being supported by nothing other than my own spine, and then I could see the dark smoky sky above me and quickly suck in a breath and pull myself back.

After I would do this seemingly ritual action, I take one last sip from the Jack Daniels and coke mix and leave my highball glass for the next person to pick up. I’d open the dirty sliding plastic door that was made to look like glass and get under the lukewarm water with light pressure which honestly just felt like a hose, and wash my long, blonde, hair with the too small shampoo and conditioner bottles. Then occasionally I would end up shaving my legs which would later result in my cursing and bleeding all over the hotels decaying carpet.

 I would get in bed, think about how often couples would sleep there, close my eyes and then suddenly wake up in horror from the assumption that the sheets of the bed most likely haven’t been clean since they were bought and end up sleeping in the armchair that always seemed to come with the hotel room and shiver until morning. And that's how my life has played out since I turned eighteen four years ago, the big, ol’ green 1969 Pontiac GTO hauling me from town to town.

My pride and joy is Theo, I bought him off my uncle when I was 21 with my own money, it was one of the only things that was ever truly mine. Theo was old and needed a little care when I  took the big ol’ boy, but after summers of working on him with my Uncle, I couldn't give him up. Theo was a sight to be seen when I first saw him, the carpet and the leather seats were scratched and stained into oblivion. After a couple drinks shared with the mechanic in New Orleans on a typical rainy day, I agreed to get most of the interior replaced. After the grueling hours that Judd, the mechanic of Orleans put into the car for my sake I also made it my life goal to keep the outside of the car as clean and spotless as the inside.

The car was almost always washed and dried by my hand, in the parking lot of a crap-hole hotel and after it was, it would be waxed with a couple of dirty rags I had in the trunk of the car. I would spend 30 minutes or more scraping unfortunate bugs off of Theo’s windshield.

That's what I was doing, sitting underneath the blazing Wyoming sun and the flickering neon lights that shined down on Theo and I. I was relentlessly trying to dispel a crushed bug off of the corner of the windshield that wouldn’t release its unrelenting hold on the car. My drink was sitting on the pavement next to me, a cheap glass I found in a cabinet was filled to the brim with rum and coke with ice cubes reaching to the surface for a glimpse of the sun's blistering heat.

I normally am not a fan of heat. Sticky sweat and humidity is not my favorite, but the dry Wyoming desert was almost comforting, the warm sun engulfed me in a warm embrace, almost as if the vitamin D was seeping into my pores. I picked up my drink, the ice cubes struggling to still keep afloat as they were melting faster than they could cool my drink.

I hear the familiar ringing from inside Theo. It was the cell that save for my sister and my mother, I never used. 

Seeing as I only ever expected calls near around 7-ish I grew quickly concerned, my father tended to have heart issues and with my sister at college, my mother and father were alone more often than not. I set down my drink on the blacktop and heard the clinking of the glass on asphalt. I went over to the car's rolled down window and pulled the cell phone from out of the glove box. Answering the beeping ringtone before it faded away.

“Hello?” I asked unsure if I wanted to hear the response seeing as I knew it would only be something important, otherwise, they wouldn't have called so early.

“Somethings happened to Jessica. Honey, we can’t make it back there soon enough. You have to go make sure it's her.” My mother said the tears I could hear were threatening to spill. For a second I didn't comprehend what exactly she was asking of me. Identify her for what? Why would I need to make sure it's her?

Then it hit me, like a slap to the face. It felt as if someone ripped out my organs and threw them in a blender only to shove them back in. It hit me harder than anything I've ever felt, more than when my cat was hit by a car, more than when I broke my leg falling off the roof trying to sneak out, more than the worst thing I could have ever imagined.

They want me to identify her body, to identify her non-living body so they knew it was my sister and not some other unlucky girl that was too mutilated to be recognized. Then suddenly I couldn't breathe, I couldn’t speak, nothing. I felt all of that pain in what felt like a condensed ball rising out of my throat and I screeched.

The scream wasn't even that, it was something that dying animals make, something so horror filled and pain riddled that it didn’t sound human. My mother was sobbing on the phone now, I couldn’t find it in myself to console her. I couldn’t even calm myself down enough.

 I don't even remember falling. The stinging in my knees wasn’t important, the blood seeping out of my skin where it had made such abrupt contact with the asphalt didn't matter either. I felt none of it, all I could feel was the mind-numbing pain that seemed to be everywhere. My hands were shaking and tears streaming down my cheeks in large fat tears of utter pain.

“What happened?” I choked out. Nothing more came for a few seconds as if my mother was trying to control the overwhelming disaster that she knew both I and her were facing at the time.

“There was a fire,” I couldn't imagine it, not my baby sister, little Jess, little miss perfect dying in such an aggressive and vicious way.

I couldn't talk about it anymore, I needed to see her, to see what was left of her, see if she still was the young blonde college student that I left her. The smartest in the family, the daughter who was successful and went to Stanford, she was pretty, intelligent, and kind. So why had her death been so morbid?

“I love you.” That's all I could choke out to her as I ran into the hotel and grabbed my things, I threw them into Theo, tears still running down my face in frequent tracks, sobs falling from my trembling lips

 I heard the wheels screech as I whirled Theo out of the parking lot, the highball glass that I set down was crushed as I flew out of what seemed like the last place I would ever feel at peace again.

#dean winchester #dean x oc #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #l'appel du vide #spn #spn fanfiction #series #long series #slow burn #jessica moore #jessica moore sister #suicide mention #character death #angst #original character

[preppypolkadot]

Sick (Timeless Lyatt Fic)

Summary: She returned back to the bunker with an infected wound expecting to find him. But she never for the life of her expected to find Her in the bunker as well.

Notes:

Okay, that summary is awful. But to be honest i don't even know where this story comes from. I was rewatching season 2 because it's finally on Netflix and right after episode 4 and was at the very beginning of episode 5 I was struck by an idea and it has haunted me ever since. What happened during the time they got back from Salem to the time where Lucy woke up and Jiya told her that the boys went on a mission without her. I also liked to believe that she was out of it for a couple of days, hence, this story.

I would like to apologize for the possible headache it might inflict while reading this story and in the future.

Would also like to point out that all the mistakes; timeline, facts, grammar, and typo are all mine. Also wish I own the rights for the show cause then will have 20 seasons not just 2.

So without further ado....

He got his wife back.

And of course he’d bring her back here in the silo, because… she’s his wife.

He got his wife back.

And it all happen just right after they got back, together, full of potential and love. Whoa where did that come from? Love? I don’t love wyatt…. At least not yet. She sigh. She’s a mess ever since that phone call, went back to colonial time salem, got stab on the arm, went back still a mess. She doesn’t expect to feel better anytime soon, but it most definitely helped that she went on a mission with Rufus and Flynn. Yes, you heard that right she is glad she went with Flynn. FLYNN! She’s not going to lie, working with both men gave her the sense that she will be fine without Wyatt, that she will be able to move on with life without Wyatt. That is until her mother showed up and have her accused of being a witch. But she persevered and now they’re back and she believes she’s a stronger person.

Standing here right now, a few feet away from both Wyatt and Jessica, seeing how beautiful she really is and remembering how broken Wyatt was for years, all her previous self encouragement just disappeared on thin air and with it the little voice in her head telling her that maybe all of this is just a bad dream and it’s bound to end soon. It was an instant decision, the right one she thought, she figured that all this feelings that she’s having right now, the confusion, anger, butterflies, everything, she will just bottle it all up. She did manage to hide her then tiny crush on wyatt everytime they go on a mission. Flynn’s huge hand tugging at her good arm pulled her back to reality. How long has she been staring at Jessica? Am i looking at her with dagger? My left arm is throbbing. Damn! I’ve been stabbed with an ancient knife. Is that fatal? Am I dying?! The awkwardness in the air is thick, maybe it is better if die.

She let Flynn drag her to the girl’s room with Agent Christopher and Jiya trailing behind, both asking questions about the mission and how her arms get stabbed, who stabbed you? Is it rittenhouse? Did you get the rittenhouse agent? What are they after at 1690’s Salem? Were you there during the witches revolt? That one is asked with so much enthusiasm it actually made her smile. Wait what? Witches revolt? Stay in your room i’m calling a doctor.  She wants to answer all of it, it’s the teacher in her she suppose, but she also just want to lie down and process the mission and more importantly the fact that Jessica is in the bunker.

Jiya helped her lie down, they both watch agent Christopher and Flynn walked out of their room, waited until they don’t hear their footsteps anymore until she looked back at her. “Wyatt brought her here.” Jiya answered before she could even process what she really want to know. “We were all surprise, Denise is still trying to get a hold of him when you guys left and when she stopped calling that’s when he showed up… that’s when they showed up.” She let go of the sigh she didn’t even know she’s holding and wince at her injured arm she’s pretty sure is getting worse. “Let me grab the first aid kit, we should at least try to clean the wound while we wait for the doctor.”

She closed her eyes willing herself to focus on Jiya’s fading footstep but as soon as it disappear there’s really nothing else to focus on except at her wounded arm and her wounded heart. She prefer focusing on the arm because as horrific as it sound that was easier to focus at.

Last she remembered before she declared that she’s just resting her eyes is that there are still some light from the outside streaming through the tiny bunker window and it couldn’t have been a long time ago, but she’s guessing a significant amount of time has passed because it’s now dark outside. She’s sweaty but she didn’t care. First thing she noticed is that the pain got worse, second is that Jiya is sound asleep on the cot opposite her. She’s now noticing what had changed around her. There is now a water basin, wet cloth, medicines, and extra clean bandages. I must be really out of it for doctor to come in and for me to not notice? She let out what she thought is a silent groan, back sticky from sweat, hair matted. Turns out she was loud cause it woke up Jiya. “Woah there professor take it easy. Do you need anything?” she was besides her in an instant.

“Water.” she croak, throat extremely dry.

“Here,” she poured her one and babbled on “Rufus brought a pitcher of water for this exact moment. Don’t tell him you actually needed it okay, he will not let me hear the end of it.” she giggled “I might have told him to leave you alone and let you rest but he insisted that he should bring you sustenance just in case.”

Jiya’s rambling, but she likes it. It takes her mind off her throbbing head and arm. She reached for the latter and for the first time she notice the professionally placed bandage on top of it. She winced when her fingers made contact.

“Agent Christopher also brought soup you should probably eat some before i give you pain meds.”

“Wow seems like everyone has seen me on my deathbed.” she let out what she think resemble something of a laugh but it sounded weird. Jiya looked at her sadly, she raised an eyebrow urging her to say whatever she’s been holding back. Is she actually dying? “Jiya it’s just a joke, unless i’m actually dying? Oh god…”

“No, you’re not dying!” She countered. “More like who came by to check on you and who didn’t…” she’s avoiding her eyes but continued nonetheless. “Connor and Agent Denise we’re both here when the doctor stopped by, making sure that you’re really getting the treatment you needed because you have 105 fever.”

“Wow I have 105 fever…” without any warning Jiya reached for her forehead.

“You might still have one, you’re still super warm. But the biggest surprise for everyone is Flynn stopping by to check if, his exact words are, ‘Is she still breathing?’” I let out a chuckle. “ And then rufus stopped by before I go to bed to bring water, I got tired of everyone knocking at the door so I kinda snapped at him telling him that what you actually need is to be left alone and rest, not water.” Jiya has a apologetic look on her eyes. “Maybe do tell him you drank some of the water he brought, that would actually be nice.”

It had taken her longer than usual for her brain to process all that information and to realize that there is still one more person in the group that Jiya hasn’t mentioned. Her foggy brain has finally put two and two together and she finally understood what the woman in front of her is trying to avoid.

Wyatt.

She hates that knowing that he didn’t even check on her hurts more than the pain she’s experiencing with both her head and arm combined. Well… he did just get his wife back, so why would he visit a co-worker? Because two missions ago we were more than coworkers that’s why! She’s not really sure why she’s answering her own questions right now but all of a sudden she is too tired and just want to lie back on the cot and rest her eyes again. Jiya noticing the sudden deflate of energy from her tried to coax her to at least taking a few sips from the soup “I’ll heat it up on the microwave real quick. It might also be time for you to take your antibiotics. You’re still pretty warm.”

“I’ll just quickly close my eyes, I’ll eat after a few minutes.”

Next thing she knows is it’s bright outside again and that all she could remember from that whole late night exchange with Jiya is ‘soup’. Did everyone brought her soup? Is that it? She let out another not so subtle groan but this time Jiya is not in the room but there on her behalf sitting on a possibly most uncomfortable chair is Agent Christopher… Knitting? She had closed her eyes again fully resigned that, yes, maybe her condition has gotten worse. But really? Agent Christopher knitting? That has got to be whole new level of hallucinations. Another groan and that had brought agent Christopher besides her in an instant.

“What do you need sweetie?” Spoken like a true mother she thought. She tries to remember with her foggy brain if her actual mother was that concern when she was sick. Maybe once? Most of the time she just gave her books to read telling her that reading will make her feel better. It did but she still crave the maternal affection.

“Water?” Then it hit her she’s now wearing an IV. Agent Christopher followed her gaze.

“Jiya told me you haven’t eaten anything so I called the doctor and she suggested IV, it’s the only way to actually have liquids and meds in you.” At this point every part of her is sore, agent Christopher helped her sit up when she notice her gave it all but fail miserably anyways.

“What happened to me?” even her own voice sounds so foreign in her own ears.

“Mostly infections, stab wound is shallow but it still requires stitches, high fever probably from the infections.” Agent Christopher held at the glass of water while she drinks obviously not trusting her with it.

“I think I might also have hallucinations.” I stare at the ball of yarn and what look like a scarf waiting for it to disappear but it didn’t.

“Maybe, Jiya did mention you murmuring all evening, you mentioned a few names ever since I had taken over looking after you. Doctor’s strict order that there should always be someone in the room just in case the high fever brought seizures.” Denise followed her eyes that are still staring at the ball of yarn. “Oh that’s not hallucination Lucy, I’m knitting.”

“You are?” She tried sounding surprise but she’s pretty sure she sounds more like a drunk right now. She want to lie down again, her eyes closing on its own. Agent Denise notice and had attempted to keep her upright.

“No lucy you need to eat something. Don’t go back to sleep--” Too late she was out.

Next she open her eyes it’s dark again, Jiya is back sleeping on her cot. Like the last time, she tried to remember what happened before she black out again. Soup. She paused and force herself to remember more, she’s an historian for crying out loud she knows even the tiniest details of history. But for the life of her all she could really think about right now is soup! Its frustrating but also tiring so she closed her eyes again.

Next time she open her eyes though she hears talking, There’s a pause and she waited for another person to talk but no response and then the person has started talking again. She close her eyes but this time to focus on the words, it’s all murmurs but she manage to catch a fews phrases. I should’ve have been there. I’m sorry. Flynn said you got stabbed trying to save someone, when did you become so heroic? I thought that part is my job. Chuckle or more murmuring she really couldn’t distinguish. But it now occur to her who the owner of voice is.

Wyatt.

What is he doing here? Is it actually all just a bad dream? Her hopes soared only for it to come crashing down. There is it the other voice she’s been waiting to hear. A woman’s voice that doesn’t sound like Jiya or Agent Christopher. A voice she’s not really familiar with but from the way she’s calling Wyatt she just knows. Jessica. It’s all still murmur on her ears but she got the jist of it. She’s calling Wyatt to help her on something. She heard wyatt sigh, surprisingly that part is clear.

She wanted to reach out, to ask him to stay. But she couldn’t even keep her eyes open for more than five minutes, so the idea of physically reaching out for him is completely exhausting on it’s own. She stayed still, eyes still close, and listen for their footsteps to fade away. It’s not until then that she realize she doesn’t feel any physical pains anymore. But the emotional strain she’s now currently have is too much and if it’s possible more painful than getting stabbed. She took a sharp intake of breath and had let the pain slowly ease her back to slumber, and for the first time since the mission back from Salem, sleep didn’t come as quickly as it normally does.

It has now become normal to not remember a thing whenever she open her eyes, but right now she sense that she should be grateful for it. Like not remembering is actually better than remembering how she must have embarrassed herself with her hallucinations or something more horrific. Except ‘soup’, that thought has stuck with her through this whole ordeal and it has now started to feel comforting. Soup. And for the first time in days, she doesn’t even know what day is it, she actually wants soup. She felt something removed from her forehead, something cold and wet. With more force that it normally takes she tried opening her eyes, blinked a few times until an image of Jiya sitting besides her on the bed is no longer blurry.

“Hey. You’re awake.” she’s closed her eyes again, but she could totally hear the mirth on her voice. “Fever dropped, that’s a good sign.”

That’s when it hit her. Last time she was temporary awake, he was here. Wyatt was here.

“Wyatt?” its was out of her lips before she even register it happening.

“He’s on a mission.” That did it, now she’s awake.

“He went without me?”

Jiya figuring out that this might really be it, she’s out of the woods and could finally processed everything. “You were stabbed with a knife full of 17th century germs and running a 105 fever, remember?” she reminded her while she tried to peel off the tape that has somehow made itself permanent on her skin.

“I don’t care. He shouldn’t have gone without me.” she let out in between wincing for pain., medical tape are painful to remove, why do we use it on people already in so much pain?

“Flynn’s pinch hitting. I’m sure he and Wyatt have everything under control.” Jiya is avoiding her eyes.

“Sure, what could go wrong?”

“Would’ve been weird anyway, right? You and Wyatt on a trip?” She finally looked at her “Rufus told me. About Hollywood. You. Wyatt.” She’s also finally looking at Jiya. “Sounded pretty romantic.”

Jessica.

She finally remember Jessica.

“I didn’t know that he was still married.” she says more to herself really. “I mean, I didn’t know that Jessica was--”

“Alive again?” Jiya cut her off. “I know. I wasn’t judging.”

Jiya went back to her task, she doesn’t even realize she was changing her bandage until she saw her grab the god awful medical tape again.

“I just…” Jiya continued. “I just mean it must be hard. Especially with her here.”

Oh yeah, that too. “I want him to be happy.” again she’s voicing it out loud more for herself than for the other woman tending at her wounds. “I mean, this is what he’s always wanted. So...”

“What about what you want?” Jiya cut her off again, and all of a sudden she miss being woozy, of being able to doze of just by closing her eyes.

“Were still friends. We’ll have the missions. I’ll be fine.” She’s also surprise with herself that this are all just coming out of her so naturally. She made an effort to sit up, surprising the other woman on the bed.

“Take it easy.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.” she waved her off.

“Don’t be a hero today.” Jiya warned.

“No heroics. I’m just gonna get some tea.”

Because to be honest she’s not really fine, her body is still sore, she’s worried for the boys on mission right now but she’s also glad to be strong enough to get out of bed and make herself a cup of tea. So that’s what she’ll do, make herself a warm cup of tea and try to sort out all that is happening right now with a less foggy point-of-view.

#Lucy Preston #Wyatt Logan #Timeless #Agent Denise Christopher #Jiya #Lyatt #Wucy

[kat-hawke]

Character Sheet: Kat Hawke

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name: Katanie Anne Kerridan-Hawke

Reason or Meaning of Name: Was just a randomly picked name. Her birth surname ties into another story arc while the one from her mothers remarriage is what she currently uses and goes by.

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Kat

Reason for Nickname/Alias: The name she prefers to go by, it’s just a shorter version of her full name.

Birth Date: June 30th

Physical appearance

Age:  22

How old does he/she appear: Late twenties, often mistaken for old because of the way she moves and speaks. Few people see her act her age.

Weight: 157lbs / 71.2kgs

Height: 5″5′ / 167.64cms

Body build: Athletic, muscular definition primarily in back, core, and legs.

Shape of face: Square

Eye color: Amber

Glasses or contacts: None

Skin tone: Tanned / Sun-kissed

Distinguishing marks: Circular scar on her left collarbone, large scar below left rib cage, stab wound scars on lower left abdomen and lower right back, slash wound scar running parallel to her spine. Several small scars littering her hands

Predominant features: Sharp jawline, strong gaze.

Hair color: Raven Black

Type of hair: Just below the shoulders

Hairstyle: Well maintained and straightened to curtain more to the left side.

Voice:  Usually use Eliza Taylor as a vocal reference when asked.

Overall Attractiveness: Based on other people’s judgements, High.

Physical Disabilities: None

Usual Fashion of Dress: Business casual

Favorite Outfit: 

Jewelry or Accessories: Two silver loop piercings in the upper cartilage of both ears. Silver ring with small runic engravings and embedded red gem on her right middle finger. A small blue stone hanging from thin silver chain around her neck.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: Honest (subjective), trustworthy (subjective),��caring, ambitious, confident, decisive, adaptive, charming.

Bad Personality Traits:  Moody, emotionally unstable, controlling, conceited, possessive, paranoid, bitter, spiteful, power-hungry.

Mood Character is Most Often In: Neutral, leaning to annoyed.

Sense of Humor: Witty, sarcastic, dark, and/or dirty.

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Watching the “untouchable” fall.

Character’s Greatest Fear: Losing control and succumbing to the dark magics within her.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?  The death of either Jessica Shaw ( @jesdena ) or Xylia Reid ( @library-of-the-forgotten )

Character Is Most at Ease When: At home, with a drink.

Most Ill at Ease When: Out of Stormwind, or forced into melee combat.

Enraged When: Her people or “family” is harmed or threatened.

Depressed or Sad When: She begins to dwell on the dark parts of her past.

Life Philosophy: “People don’t want to hear the truth because they don’t want their illusions destroyed.”

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: Freedom from the shackles of her magic.

Character’s Soft Spot: The young and misguided.

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others? Yes, those who get to know her.

Greatest Strength: Administrative prowess.

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: Magical exploitation.

Biggest Regret: Not getting out sooner...

Minor Regret: Letting someone get too close.

Biggest Accomplishment: Surviving

Minor Accomplishment: “Removing” small criminal rings.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Her extensive list of criminal charges against her.

Character’s Darkest Secret: Murdering her own people in cold blood.

Does Anyone Else Know? Not anymore. “Three can keep a secret if two are dead.”

Goals

Drives and Motivations: Knowledge and control of power.

Immediate Goals: Keeping criminal rings in check.

Long Term Goals: Retirement, a quieter life.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Manipulation and blackmail for the immediate. Not dying, or getting caught, for the long term.

How Other Characters Will Be Affected: Those caught in her web of manipulations will probably be resentful when they find out.

Past

Hometown: Gilneas

Type of Childhood: Well taken care of, only child.

Pets: None

First Memory: Stargazing over the water with her parents.

Most Important Childhood Memory: The day her father never came home. It was a harsh reality check for her.

Childhood Hero: Darius Crowley, due to her fathers influence.

Dream Job: Mercantile sailor.

Education: Preliminary schooling, cut short by her abduction.

Religion: Church of the Light

Finances: Middle / Working Class

Present

Current Location: Stormwind / Elwynn Forest

Currently Living With: Nobody

Pets: None

Religion: None

Occupation: SI:7 Administration, Director of Unit Eight

Finances: Upper Class

Family

Siblings: Arthur Hawke (step-brother), Nora Hawke (step-sister), Jasper Hawke.(step-brother)

Relationship With Them: Strained, conflicted. Arthur and Nora confirmed deceased. Jasper’s death confirmation is spotty at best, loosely speculation.

Spouse: None, previously engaged.

Relationship With Them: N/A

Children: None

Relationship With Them: N/A

Other Important Family Members:  None to list.

Favorites

Color: Violet

Least Favorite Color: Tan

Music: Big Band / Jazz / Swing

Food: Rack of lamb, herb and lemon

Literature: Any, preferably fiction.

Form of Entertainment: People watching or drinking.

Expressions: Slightly narrowed gaze and a smirk.

Mode of Transportation: Foot.

Most Prized Possession: Her mother’s necklace.

Habits

Hobbies: Excessive drinking, people watching, lingering at the club.

Plays a musical instrument? She can play a piano or violin, but prefers not to.

Plays a sport? She’ll engage in friendly competitions on agility courses.

How he would spend a rainy day? Indoors with a stiff drink, watching the water fall against the window.

Spending Habits: Moderate. Rarely splurge spends.

Smokes: Rarely, only in high stress situations.

Drinks: Excessively. Whiskey is the drink of choice.

Other Drugs: Magical gemstones, when needed.

What does he/she do too much of? Drinking...

What does he/she do too little of? Sleeping...

Extremely Skilled At: Bookkeeping / Record Keeping

Extremely Unskilled At: Heavy melee combat

Nervous Tics: Rubbing her nails against the side of her thumb.

Usual Body Posture: Straight, arms hanging at her sides, weight on one leg.

Mannerisms: Professional approaches, using more formal names until comfortable with the person.

Peculiarities: Low hums in thought, loosely using words such as: luv’, dear, sweetheart in her vocabulary.

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist? In between. More of a realist.

Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert.

Daredevil or Cautious?  Airs on the side of caution with unfamiliar people, otherwise she’s a bit of a daredevil. She has a hard time turning down a challenge.

Logical or Emotional? Both. Completely situation and setting dependent.

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat? Methodical and Neat.

Prefers Working or Relaxing? Complete Workaholic.

Confident or Unsure of Themselves?  Confident.

Animal lover?  Definite. She prefers animals over people.

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: She keeps the monster inside hidden away.

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves:  “Observant.”

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: “I keep an eye on many things. Be them people or places, doesn’ matter. Everyone has secrets, luv’. More times than no’ they lay in wot goes unsaid rather than wot is, read between the lines and find wot people don’ want ya’ to know. All just part of the job...and a bit of a hobby.”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Defensiveness for those close to her.

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Manipulative

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Her eyes.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? The leather bracers she always wears.

How does the character think others perceive him/her? Depending on the crowd; either notable and trustworthy or a manipulative peacock.

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself? The effects her magics have on her.

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: Headache

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? All the damn time.

Person Character Most Hates: Sky Captain Chambers

Best friend(s): Jessica Shaw ( @jesdena), Xylia Reid ( @library-of-the-forgotten), Weston Shaw ( @thewolfintruder), and Rinnessa Hayweather ( @tinybewitchedgilnean )

Love interest(s): Emotionally Unstable.

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Jessica Shaw

Person Character Feels Responsible For: Rinnessa Hayweather

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: Any other SI:7 leader, sometimes Alexa Imortis ( @preyontheweak )

Person Character Openly Admires: Tess Greymane

Person Character Secretly Admires: Jaina Proudmoore

Tagged by: @summysparklesprocket

Tagging (I suffered through it, now you can too...or don’t): @preyontheweak @xyveth-heartbane @library-of-the-forgotten @shaeli-dawson @a-warsaint @tinybewitchedgilnean @shewolf-jacqueline @jesdena @thewolfintruder 

#tagged #prompt #completed #this was long

[maggiemaybe160]

Hunting Without A Brother

What if Sam hadn’t gone with Dean that Halloween? 

Dean Winchester drove by Stanford University like he always did on Halloween. He went into the bar with a mask on and drank while eavesdropping on his estranged baby brother and the gaggle of friends he was with. He had come this night with the intention of asking for Sam to accompany him to find their father. Listening now, Dean could hear the plans for Law School. He could hear the happiness his brother had at finally having a real life.

Dean drove away that night, leaving Sam safely asleep next to his girlfriend, Jessica. Dean didn’t know that because of his decision to drive away that night, the yellow eyed demon would wait before taking dear Jessica away from her life and Sam.

Sam went to his interview that following Monday and got into the Law Program with a full scholarship. Dean solved the Woman in White case alone and found his father’s journal. Sam took Jessica out on a candle lit date to celebrate. Dean followed the coordinates in his dad’s journal and killed a Wendigo alone. Sam turned off the television when his brother’s face turned up for murder and again for being killed. Dean worked alone.

Dean had woken up in the hospital and had been told that he had saved two children from what they described as a monster. He remembered pulling the trigger on the taser while laying in a puddle and the pain that struck him as he did. The doctor told him to get his affairs in order because he would likely not recover from this.

Dean looked at his phone and debated calling anyone. He didn’t want the first time that he called Bobby in a year to be to tell him that he was dying. He knew that if he called his dad there wouldn’t be an answer. He stared at the last phone number he had for Sam. He picked up the hospital phone so that Sam wouldn’t block the number and he dialed.

“Hello?” Sam picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean smiled but on the other end Sam’s face fell.

“Dean.”

“Don’t sound too happy to hear from me.” Dean held the phone away from himself as he coughed and winced from the pain in his chest. He didn’t know why he even called. There was no point to telling his brother anything that was happening.

“Why are you calling me, Dean?”

“Well, I figured four years was long enough and one of us had to pick up the phone. Am I right?”

“Bye, Dean.” Sam hung up and put his phone on silent.

Dean put down the phone and looked back up at the tv, silently cursing daytime television. When Dean woke up again it was evening and his small tv was still on. He turned it off and called Sam’s phone with his cell phone. Straight to voicemail.

“I’m going to text you the address where the car is. She’s yours now so you better take care of her. If you don’t I’ll haunt your ass.” Dean smirked a little and sighed. “Bye, Sammy.”

Sam ignored the text from the unknown number that only read a single address. He didn’t call his voicemail. He unmuted his phone after class and sat in his apartment doing homework when his phone rang again and it was a hospital.

“Yes, this is Sam Winchester.”

“Your number was listed as next of kin for one Dean Winchester. Is this correct?”

“What happened to Dean?” Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“Dean passed away this morning.” Sam swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was different reading it on the news when he knew it wasn’t true. His brother couldn’t be dead. “I’m very sorry for your loss, sir.” The voice seemed to fade as it asked Sam to come to the hospital to collect Dean’s things and make arrangements. Eventually the call ended and Sam sat at the table staring at his phone.

“Sweetie?” Jessica closed the apartment door behind her and Sam got up from his seat. “Whoa. Are you okay?” She asked as she noticed the glossed over look and the lack of color to his face.

“I have to go to a hospital to make arrangements.” Sam said remotely as he walked to their room and took out a suitcase.

“What are you talking about?”

“My brother died. This morning.” Sam shoved a pile of clothes into the suitcase without looking at what he grabbed and zipped it shut. “I have to go-”

“Make arrangements. I heard. I think you need to sit down and drink some water. You don’t look too good.” Jessica said with creased brows. Sam didn’t listen. He leaned down and kissed her cheek with a soft “I love you.” and left.

Sam returned to Stanford a few days later with a black Chevy Impala and a duffle of his brother’s things. He walked into the apartment and sighed with the relief that comes with coming home after a stressful time away from home. He heard the shower running and closed his eyes, leaning back on the bed. Something dripped on his forehead and cheek. He opened his eyes to the horror of Jessica, dead, on the ceiling. Flames erupted around her.

A firefighter pulled Sam from his burning apartment and when Sam was deemed “okay.” It was Sam who began tracking down John Winchester in the hopes of finding the demon who had killed his mother and girlfriend.

#supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural family #SPN #spn fanfic #spnfandom #SPNFamily #spn imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 1x12 #spn 1x01 #what if scenario #jessica moore #sam x jessica

[ilovejared]

Sangre

For the Wincest Writing Challenge Round 7

Prompt: Hurt!Sam and this image

Partner: dreamsfromthebunker

Rating: Gen(there’s a kiss)

Summary: What might have happened after Dean rescued Sam from the ghouls in 4x19

Warnings: Blood, Suicidal thoughts

Note: The italicized phrase that repeats through the story is from “Bram Stoker’s Dracula”.

Blood.

It flowed like a river through his life. Sometimes the river was slow-moving, ponderous, crimson and dark as the blood that flowed from a gaping wound.

Other times it moved swiftly, swelling and cresting, painting his life rose-red and crimson like a spray of arterial blood.

The blood is the life.

The blood of his mother dripping from overhead, falling into his crib before she had burned.

The demon blood he had been fed as an infant. This act had led to his mother’s death and all the heartache that had followed.

The blood of all the things they had hunted and killed over the years.

And Jessica, sweet Jess, who had done nothing but love him and paid for it with her life. He would never forget the way her blood had felt as it dripped onto his forehead, before he had opened his eyes to a nightmare.

His father’s blood. When he was small, it had scared him, terrified him to see his father bruised and bloodied. He had become used to it, finding nothing out of the ordinary when his father came home with blood on his skin, his clothes. If he was mobile and coherent then he was okay.

And then there was Dean. It made him physically ill to see his brother’s blood. How many times had he had Dean’s blood on his hands?  And not just physically, but metaphorically, because, if we’re laying everything out there, he was responsible for Dean going to Hell. Responsible for him being torn to shreds by hellhounds, and then by Alistair.

And the blood Dean had shed in Hell? Well, that was on him too.

He would never be able to wash his soul clean from all of it. Never.

No matter how much good he did, no matter how many people he saved, the amount of pain and bloodshed that he was responsible for would always be there to haunt him.

The fact was, he was impure. The demon blood made him so. Even the ghouls that had been feeding on him until a few moments ago had known.

He was different.

The blood is the life.

And what that really meant was the very blood that ran through his veins made him profane, corrupt.

Unclean.

And what he was doing now, had been doing after Dean went to hell, with Ruby....what did that make him?

Dean would call him evil. A monster.

All this passed through Sam’s mind in an instant. Wasn’t that what happened when you were dying? Your life passed before your eyes.

What a pitiful, pathetic man he was.

He could feel the foul blood running from his veins and part of him wanted to help it along. Help the vile stuff flow from his body faster. Rid himself of that feeling, that shame, of being a freak.

He called out, “Dean!”, and didn’t know if he wanted his brother to let him die on this filthy table or save him and allow him to do the one thing that might allow him to atone for some of the bad he had done.

He needed to kill Lilith and stop the apocalypse.

And then Dean was there, freeing him from his bonds, assessing the damage and gently helping Sam to sit up.

He was light-headed from blood loss and he leaned heavily on his brother all the way to the car.

“We’ve got to get you to a hospital, Sammy.” He had wrapped towels around Sam’s forearms to try and stop the bleeding and Sam was attempting to keep pressure on the wounds without much success.

“No.”

Dean glanced at his brother. “What do you mean no? Those fucking ghouls sliced you up good, Sammy. You’ve lost too much bl-”

“No hospital”, Sam interrupted. “I’m not going to spend a week in some psych ward because some doctor thinks I tried to off myself.”

“I don’t know if I can patch you up this time”, Dean yelled. Sam knew it was because he was tired and worried and there was always the unspoken ‘I can’t live if you die’ mantra that Dean had convinced himself was truth.

“Please, Dean,” Sam whispered and then promptly passed out.

When Sam came to, Dean was manhandling him out of the Impala, all the while grumbling about pigheaded, stubborn little brothers who were going to die if they didn’t wise up, smell the coffee and realize that he had his limits and by god if Sam didn’t kick off from blood loss he just might kill him for being so hard-headed.

Sam offered a weak smile and then gasped as Dean hauled him upright.

Dean’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Sammy. You’ve got to try to help me a little bit.”

He tried but Dean ended up half carrying, half dragging Sam to one of the beds in their motel room.

Sam didn’t realize Dean was gone until he was lifting Sam’s arm and placing a clean towel underneath it. He did the same on the other side, then rummaged in their first aid kit.

“You got to take these, Sam.” Dean placed two pills against Sam’s mouth which he opened obediently. He washed them down with  the glass of whiskey Dean pressed to his lips.

“Those will help with the pain. I’ve got to clean and disinfect these before I can start to sew them up.” Dean grasped Sam’s arm tightly. “Try to stay as still as you can. I’m sorry, Sammy, but this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

He wasn’t sure how long Dean worked on him, patient and efficient while trying to be as gentle as possible.

Sam wandered in and out of consciousness due to the wonders of modern medicine. The pain was intense but it was no more than he deserved, right? He could sometimes feel Dean’s ministrations, sure and confident, sliding the needle through his skin with practiced strokes.

“Sammy, come on, you’ve got to drink some of this.” Dean held the bottle of water to Sam’s lips and he drank as much as he could, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

“I’m going cut your shirt off so I can get to the wounds on your sides.” Sam tried to protest, weakly, but words wouldn’t come. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he wanted to ask for more water but all that came out was a groan.

“I know, Sammy. I know it hurts. I’ll be done soon. I promise.”

Dean sounded exhausted but as usual he knew exactly what Sam wanted. A water bottle was put to his lips and Sam drank long and deep.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered and then he knew no more.

Sam must have slept for several hours because when he opened his eyes it was full dark outside. He had somehow been moved to the other bed and he was clad in nothing but his boxers. There were thick bandages around his forearms and on his side. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.

His vision swam and it was then that the pain began to seep through. His arms throbbed in time with his heart and his head was pounding along in the same chaotic rhythm.

Turning his head he saw Dean slumped in one of the overstuffed chairs that were part of the room’s decor. He was in a clean t-shirt and his hair looked damp as if he had just showered.

Sam didn’t want to wake him. He was glad he was getting some rest. Dean was always having to take care of him. While he was doing that, who was taking care of Dean?

He looked at Dean, brow smooth now in sleep, none of the worry or responsibility showing on his face. He looked young and carefree and Sam’s heart ached to think what his brother had been through.

Because of him. Because they were family. They were blood.

The blood is the life.

His mind strayed to those horrible months without Dean. The guilt, the horror he had felt every day knowing Dean was in hell and there was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

So he had decided on revenge and gone down a path that, he knew now, would lead to his own destruction.

He just hoped Dean would never know the things he had done.

The terrible things he was still doing.

There was nothing sexual between him and Ruby anymore. Not since Dean came back from hell. He couldn’t. Didn’t want to. He only wanted Dean and Dean used to feel the same way.

He only used Ruby for one thing. 

The blood is the life.

Oh god, Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. 

His breath hitched in his chest and that was all it took to wake Dean up. He was by Sam’s side immediately, concern for Sam masking the fatigue showing in his eyes.

“Sammy, take it easy. I want you to take some medicine with this orange juice, okay?” His voice was soft. It was the voice he had used when they were little and he was trying to coax his sick little brother into taking his medicine. How long had it been since he heard that voice from Dean?

He placed the pills in Sam’s mouth and helped him drink as much of the juice as he could.

“I gave you some more pain pills and some antibiotics. The last thing you need is for infection to set in. I’ll have no choice but to take you to a hospital then.” Dean sat on the side of the bed, his hand stroking Sam’s hair away from his face. “I’m going to have to wake you up every two hours so you can drink fluids. You’ve got to keep hydrated and-”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice was a little more than a whisper.”Dean,  I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Dean looked genuinely puzzled. “That you got jumped by two ghouls? Not your fault, man. They had us both fooled.”

Sam shook his head, carefully. “No, not that.” It was all Sam could do to get out the words.

“Then, what Sammy?” He continued to stroke Sam’s hair and it was such a loving gesture that Sam had to close his eyes, tried to stop the tears he felt gathering, from falling.

He meant to tell Dean that he was sorry for everything, for their lives, for Ruby and more, but instead he heard himself say, “I miss you. This.”

Dean sighed and brushed at the tears that made their way down his little brother’s face. “I do too, Sammy.”

Then he leaned down, touched Sam’s lips with his, soft and slow and sweet like it hadn’t been in years. If Sam had the ability to stop time, he would choose this moment to do so.

Dean drew back. “You’re going to be okay, Sammy. I promise.” He smiled ruefully. “I’d lay down with you but I’m afraid I might hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Sam begged him with his eyes. “Please.”

Dean set the alarm to wake them in two hours and lay down carefully beside Sam. He laid his hand lightly on Sam’s chest, a reassurance that Sam was still breathing. Still alive.

Sam lay listening to Dean’s breaths even out until he knew he was sleeping. He could feel the warmth of Dean’s hand on his chest, the warmth of Dean’s body next to his.

If he had the strength to cry, he would. He wanted to wail like he was a child and beat his fists against the wall. Tear Dean’s careful stitches until his blood flowed, until he could feel the filth leaving his body.

Then he might be fit to touch Dean again. To have what they had once had.

But he knew he wouldn’t because he had to save Dean, save the world, from Lilith.

Looking at his brother, Sam was filled with emotion, aching and bittersweet.

Please, Dean, don’t hate me when you find out what I’ve done.

What I’ve become.

The blood is the life.

He slept.

#wincestwritingchallenge #dreamsfromthebunker #wincest #spnwincest #I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE #blood #suicidal thoughts #mywriting