#and after a lot of back and forth a ghost child is captured and killed

[justwannabecat]

“That’s it! I give up!” Phantom yelled. As though he had said something blasphemous, all fighting stopped as the participants stared in confusion. “You humans think you’re the paragon of all existence, proclaiming that anything different is lesser. Well we aren’t! We’re just as sentient as you are, and we have thoughts and feelings! You just choose to ignore it so you can justify your xenophobic actions!”

Phantom turned to Technus, who had frozen in shock as Phantom went on his tirade. “And you! Tell the other ghosts I’m done saving them, too, because none of you care! You don’t care if property is destroyed, or if humans get hurt, or if other ghosts get hurt! All you care about is your stupid Obsessions! You’re too caught up in your own mind to see what you’re doing to everyone around you!”

“But your Obsession is Protection, is it not? You’ve never stepped down from a fight-“ Technus began. Phantom didn’t let him finish.

“My Obsession is Space! If I had my way, I’d spend my nights stargazing, or maybe even on the moon! Instead I’m stuck cleaning up your messes because you can’t control yourselves!” Phantom growled. He glared at the crowd of people who had gathered, curious as to why all fighting had stopped.

“Humans are cruel and hateful. Ghosts are ignorant and careless. I’m tired of wasting my time protecting both sides from the other and being blamed for it. I quit. If anyone dies, or is captured, it’s no longer my problem.“

Like that, Phantom vanished.

The Fentons celebrated, not even noticing Technus make his own escape. The crowd murmured, worry just as prevalent as confidence. The few phones that were recording the event were put away, and later the footage would be checked. Unfortunately, most recordings were corrupted beyond recognition.

Most, but not all.

——————————————————

Amity Park. Ground Zero for the start of the war between the Living and the Dead. Humanity and Ghosts.

Why it had only recently escalated to this, Batman couldn’t tell. His research found that there had been a portal opened to the Realms years ago, and the laws passed just a year after that. Most of the town was stuck behind an information blackout that the government refused to give access to. Whatever happened, Constantine assured him that it was almost certainly the government’s fault.

After almost three weeks of trying to get beyond the firewalls, he finally figured it out. “Research” that claimed ghosts were nothing but evil. News articles calling “Phantom” a troublemaker. Forums that spoke about how “Phantom” ruined the town while fighting other ghosts.

A video, old and grainy but still clear enough to be used as evidence. A glowing, white-haired boy that told everyone he was done. That he was tired of fixing everything. Of saving everyone. That nobody was good, everyone was bad, and they were on their own.

They used to have a hero, but Phantom left. Without him, both sides tore at each other until there was nothing but an all-out assault. They needed to stop this, but without a mediator they would not make it through to the ghosts.

If they could find Phantom, perhaps they could fix everything before it was too late.

#Quasar AU #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #justice league #batman #basic summary: Danny gives up and leaves #after he leaves the ghosts grow bolder with nobody to stop them #and the hunters grow meaner #and after a lot of back and forth a ghost child is captured and killed #that makes the entire Realms rally for war #the JL are trying to figure out what made it this bad #the portal’s been open for a long time why now??? #finally they see this one video #and all these news articles #and oh no #the one who was preventing the war was run off ages ago #they need to find him #and fast #part 1

[glassartpeasants]

Like Father Like Son .2

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of not eating, depression, mentions of needles, unhealthy/toxic relationships, child abuse, 

A/N: Ya’ll wanted a part two well here you go :) again thank you @yandereacademia for letting me use they’re headcanon to make this story! Also the original plot is changed for the stories sake.

~~~

 2 months after you talked to your son

You still didn’t have the motivation to move. Only to go to the bathroom and maybe, MAYBE eat. What was the point in it all? Everything that kept you going in life was ripped away from you by the man known as Overhaul. He took away Eri and he took away your son. Well he took away your used to be son. 

Once you found out that he was apart of Eri’s experiments you were distraught. The little boy you once knew was nothing but a monster walking in his father's shoes. And to think that this thing was from your own flesh and blood and doing such horrific things to a sweet innocent girl.  

Both men came in once and awhile to see if you had any side effects from the test drug that they had given you. Long term or short term they just made sure to check. They soon noticed that your condition was slowly decreasing by the lack of sleep, water, and food you had.

You were a shell of your former self. If you looked in the mirror you were sure you wouldn’t be able to recognize yourself. You looked like a ghost. It was disturbing to see your once happy exterior turn into husk of a human. 

The worst part of this nightmare was not knowing what they we’re doing to Eri. Where they still making the bullets? Did they finally stop hurting her? You unfortunately got your answer once you heard Mimic talking about how they we’re so close to making a million bullets.

They had started the horrific experiments when she was six. She was 15 now so knowing that for 9 year they continued hurting her made your stomach turn. All you wanted to do was escape out of this prison and run to her, tell her that your here and that everything will be okay. That you’ll protect her from the monsters that surround her. 

The thought of Eri made you tremble in guilt. If only you were strong enough to protect her. Strong enough to run, run and never look back. You would never have to see the monsters that plague your dreams everyday. Never have to see your own flesh and blood turn even more into a monster than he already was.

All of a sudden your bedroom door slammed open and out popped Overhaul standing in the doorway with hives all over his skin and anger in his eyes. His gloved hands curled into fists as he stomped his way over to your spot in the corner.

“Where the fuck is Eri?!” He had grabbed you by the arm and yanked you up to your feet where he looked at you with his gold orbs. His grip on your arm hurt and you could feel his fingers digging into your flesh.

“I don’t know what your talking about-” A painful hit to the cheek is what you were met with when you let those few words out.

“Don’t fucking lie! Where is she damnit!” His fingers dig deeper only causing you to writhe in pain and whimper.

“I-I really don’t know! I haven’t left this room in 2 weeks!” You try to calm him down by telling him the truth but it seems like that wasn’t enough for him.

“If you don’t tell me the truth right now you end up being a bloody puddle on the floor.” You were about to retort back but soon realized something. If he killed you, you wouldn’t have to live this lifestyle anymore. Eri escaped and seems like she hasn’t been caught. That means the only thing you wished for has come true. So what's the point in staying here longer when your surrounded by people who hate you.

“I. Don’t. Know.” With a growl, Overhaul ripped off his glove and right when he was about to kill you, Nemoto came running in to tell the boss ‘good news’.

“We’ve found Eri! Last saw her down 2nd street!” Your face contorted in horror before you were thrown to the ground as Kai ran towards Nemoto and out the door. 

Your body collapsed onto the carpeted floor before the sound of the door slamming shut made you whimper in fear. Your lifeless eyes scan around the room before a chuckle left your throat as tears of joy begin to roll down your cheeks.

“She escaped, I’m so happy...thank you...” Even in the dark room that you called your home, a little ray of happiness shined through the covered windows knowing Eri had escaped from this horrible place.

~~~

“They caught her again. She back at the compound. Overhaul told me to tell you.” You felt your soul break at the horrible news you were told. You knew something bad was gonna happen when you saw that your ‘son’ opened the door in the corner of your eye. 

Seeing him makes you wanna throw up. Your once sweet boy had turned into a monster just like his father. He even made him tell you the horrible news that Eri was captured again. You knew there was gonna be a punishment waiting for her. You just hoped it wasn’t to bad but knowing Overhaul you didn’t know what to expect. Tears escaped down your face, your face still blank. Empty.

The silence was suffocating for the both of you. You could feel your sons presence still at the door. He was watching you. Watching as your unmoving body had tears spilling from your eyes. Watching as your hope was crushed once again. You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t take the pain and suffering that was this life. You just wanted to end it all. Maybe death would be your only escape. The only thing stopping you was Eri. You just wanted to make sure that before you even do something like that, you wanted her to be in a safe haven. But it seems like even she can’t have that.

He had no words to say. What could he say to you? You had fully disowned him and looked at him with disgust. Looked at him like he was someone unworthy of love. You would always give Overhaul that look. The look of pure hatred. And now he was also on the receiving end of that look. 

He hated it. Who were you to tell him what he couldn’t do? You weren’t there for him when-...oh..yeah...He remembered. He remembered the day where he ‘disowned’ you. He can still remember the look of pure heartbreak that shown through your eyes when he said those words. 

He also remembered the cries of heartbreak that he heard on the other side of the wall. It kept him up a lot. Nightmares had plagued his dreams ever since the day you had disowned him. Your words repeated inside of his mind. Over and over again. 

His nightmares were always the same. He’d be walking on some sort of street while it was raining. His feet making the puddles splash. His raincoat making pattering noises as the rain slipped off it. 

He’d walk past a house and turn his head to look at it. It was a beautiful house, the grass lush and green with flowers planted right next to the house. No paint was chipped. The roof tiles were in perfect condition, not a single one missing. 

Inside the window there was you. Holding a baby while singing to it. Rocking it gently back and forth. Singing the same song you use to sing to him when he was young. He remembered the tune so vividly but could not remember the words. Only the tune. 

He walked up to the window to look inside of it, there sat a man. He didn’t recognize him at all. At least not where he was standing. The rain blurred his vision as it pounded against the glass window. He watched as the man got up from his seat on the couch to walk over to you and press a kiss to your cheek. He could hear your entire conversation.

“She’s so cute. What do you think she’ll turn out to be like?”

“Whatever she wants to be. I’ll support her all the way through. Give her all the love she deserves.” You gave the baby girl a kiss on the head, causing the baby to make grabby hands at you.

“I’m sorry about your son. He was gone too early.” What? No he didn’t! He was right here! He begin banging on the windows, begging for your attention.

“I’m not dead! Mom! I’m right here! Please! I’m sorry!” Tears would show through his eyes he felt a burning pain in his hands. His hands were gone. They chipped away, only leaving him with stumps.

“He doesn’t matter. He was a monster. A monster undeserving of my love. I’d never love someone like him.”

Then he would wake up.

He snapped outta it before looking at you once again. Still in the same spot as always. Letting out a sigh he begin to talk.

“I’ll...I’ll get you your food-”

“I want nothing from you. Nothing from you is worth eating. I’d rather starve than take anything you give me. Now get the fuck out of my room you monster.” Letting out a shaky exhale, he slowly closed the door. Watching as you didn’t make a move to look at him. Just as he closed the door Overhaul had appeared before him.

“What was her reaction?”

“She cried.”

“Of course she would have. Know this (S/N), never let anyone get close to you. It only leads to heartbreak and pain. Plus it’s annoying. Do you understand me child?”

“Yes Overhaul.”

“Good. Now come along, Eri’s about to get tested.” Nodding his head, he followed his father, following exactly in his footsteps.

~~~

1 week later

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sounds of pounding on the walls woke you up from your slumber as you carefully maneuver yourself to take a peek out into the hallway. Your eyes widened when you see Overhaul subordinates running fast as they can down the hall and away from what seems like the front door.

Worry fills your being as you begin to move your head all around seeing if Overhaul was anywhere before making a mad dash to Eri’s room. Your footsteps echoing off the walls as tears brim at your eyes at the thought of seeing Eri again. 

You went as fast as your week body could carry you. Feeling light headed from exercise since it’s been to long. But you would push through it. Push through it just to see Eri one more time.

“Eri?! Eri! Eri are where are you?!” You make it to her room before noticing that her door was already unlocked and opened. You wipe open the door before your met with an empty room. Your heart prayed for the best. Hoping that she had somehow escaped.

“Ma’am put your hands up!” You turn your head to see hero’s...

HERO’S!

You cried as you collapsed to your knees as you gave the best smile you could. Tears of joy spilled down your cheeks. You were saved. Saved from this nightmare that stole your life away.

“I don’t think she’s apart of this. Look at her, she looks so malnourished. Not to mention she seems happy to see us. Do you think that she was also a prisoner of Overhaul?”

“By the looks of her most likely. Get her to safety.”

“Wait! Please let me see Eri! Is she okay?! Please tell me she’s okay!”

“We’re going to get her ma’am don’t worry! We promise she’ll be okay!” A man came near you and gently took your hand while you slowly used your strength to get up.

“Let’s take her to safety.’

“Not yet! I wanna help!”

“Ma’am please-”

‘You said you're looking for Overhaul right?”

“Yes?”

“Well he has a son. His quirk is the same as him so you need to be careful. Overhaul has trained him to be just like him.”

“How do you know this?”

“He was my son before I disowned him. I don’t count him as a son. He was also part of the experiments that took place on Eri! Please arrest them all!” The hero’s looked shocked at your information but nodded their heads.

You were taken out of the compound where hero’s stood surrounding it. Most likely making sure that no one escaped through the front or back door. You could hear the sounds of the warfare inside the compound while you were outside.  You crossed your fingers, begging for the hero’s to win and for Eri to be safe. And for those two men to be under arrest.

~~~

You were driven to the hospital before you got to see the ending of the fight ( a few days later)

You sat in the hospital bed with an IV in your arm. Trying to get you a bit more hydrated. You let out a sigh before a knock came at your door.

“Come in.” You move your eyes to see the door slowly opening before A familiar face showed behind it.

“Eri!” You sat up quickly and outstretched your arms and she came running into them. Tears of joys started falling down both of your cheeks. You hug her with all the strength you have and begin petting her head before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I miss you so much (Y/N)...Overhaul...he told....he told me you died...”

“Well there’s no need to worry Eri. I’m here with you right now and that’s all the matters. Those monsters won’t hurt you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Y-your son...he got arrested too...”

“That monster is not my son. If I would have anyone as a child I would rather it be someone I’m proud to call my own. Someone who’s stronger than all the heros combined. Someone like you Eri.” Eri started to cry in your hold. Hugging you tightly. The smile on your face never leaving as you weave your fingers through her hair gently. 

“I missed you so much Eri. I’m so sorry that those monsters put you through that hell.”

“I missed you too. Promise you’ll never leave me?”

“I would never dream of it.”

“Miss (Y/N), I have some news about Overhaul and your son.” You felt Eri tense in your hold. Hugging you like the world would end if she let go of you.

“They were attacked on the bridge to Tartarus by the league of villains. They seemed to have some sort of feud before getting arrested because they’re attack was only towards them.”

“Well, what happened then?”

“Shigaraki Tomura, the Leader of the LoV, has taken both your sons, and Overhauls hands. They were lucky we got there i time or else they would have died of blood loss.” Your eyes widened at the nurses words before she spoke to you once more.

“Would you like to see them before they get put in solitary confinement? You only get this chance once for now.” Your breath hitched before you turn your attention towards Eri. You both look at one another before she spoke softly.

“You should go. Ask them if they’re finally happy. Ask them if it was worth it.” You sigh before turning your head to the nurse.

“Okay what time do I leave?”

“Right now.”

~~~

At Tartarus

You took a deep breath as you looked around the room. You were walked in with two guards as they brought you to the visiting area of the prison. Your heart felt like it was beating at 100 miles per hour. 

You sat at the table looking around while you waited for them to bring out your son. Your nails tapping against the surface of the table. Your mind drifted on what were the words to say. You didn’t know what to say. You were hyping yourself up the whole way here but now that you arrived all of your idea’s left your mind.

You heard the door opening and you turned your head to see your son walking towards you. They were right. The better look you got at him the more you realize that they’re was no longer a difference between Overhaul and your son. Right down to the golden eyes and the lack of limbs.

“You get 20 minutes.” He sat down across from you on the table. His eyes refusing to look into yours. 

“Look at me. I said look at me (S/N). I’m not going to ask again.” Your voice strict as your voice rings in his ears. He slowly lifted his head to look into yours. He saw someone he used to know. Your skin had started to glow again like it once did when he was young. Your eyes held emotion inside them instead of emptiness. You looked like his mother.

“Mom-”

“(Y/N)”

“...(Y/N), why...why are you here? I thought you would never want to see me or Overhaul again.”

“Was it worth it (S/N)? Was all the torture you put Eri through worth all this? Worth the 3 life sentences you have against you?” Your voice was harsh. Your words felt like fire against his heart. He knows he deserves everything your here to bring him. Every single thing.

“No...” You were taken aback by his honesty. He said it so quick with no hesitation. But you still had more questions that you had to ask.

“Why wasn’t it worth it? Is it because you got caught?” You put up a front of spikes that made his lip quiver. He knew crying would only lead to you thinking he was faking it. So he tried to hide it, but you could tell he was trying not to.

“Why wasn’t it worth it?”

“I lost everything that day. I lost my limbs, I lost my freedom, I lost any idea of ever living a normal life. And....”

“ANd what?” Tears started spilling down his face, landing on the table and forming a little puddle.

“And I lost you...I’m so sorry...please forgive me mother. I promise I’ll be better...please...” He finally broke down in tears in front of you. His whole body shaking as this was probably the first time he cried in years. 

“You’ve lost your chances. You lost them the day I found out you were apart of Eri’s experiments. You are undeserving of forgiveness. What can you even do that would make me even think about forgiving a monster like you?”

“I don’t know....”

“That’s what I thought. You aren’t my son, your nothing but a monster.” You stand up before waving an officer, signalling you were done.

“Please don’t go yet...”

“Goodbye (S/N), maybe someday, or in another life, I’ll be you mother again. Someday I would be proud to call you my son. But until then, your his son. Not mine.” You turn your back to him before walking out the visiting rooms doors never looking back.

Taglist

@zuffer-weird-girl @hello-lucky-luka @thotsforvillainrights @uwuhuffelpuff @animexholic @freelyhappycycle @fan-girling-over-everything @gabbster22 @unknownarts @iwenttoshiratorizawa @nim-rose @ladyriri2006 @bakuhoes-bxtch @chrisrue15

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #mha #bnha #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki overhaul #bnha overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #shie hassaikai #kai #mha angst #overhaul angst #kai chisaki angst #bnha angst

[shedobewritingalittle]

I’ll Never Smile Again

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Post CA:TWS. Bucky visits the Smithsonian in order to learn a little bit more about his past.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: Just a short little drabble. Listen to “I’ll Never Smile Again” by Tommy Dorsey if you really want to be in your feels.

The soldier didn't know who he was fully-no that's wrong. The man on the bridge had called him something-Bucky. That's all he had to go off of. His name was Bucky and he knew that man somehow.

And somehow, he found himself at the Smithsonian.

His feet carried him towards a massive mural of the blonde man from the bridge surrounded by other men. To the right of the man, the soldier could see an extremely familiar face.

His own.

The soldier swallowed, lowering his hat covered head a little more as he shoved his hands further into his pockets. He knew that he probably shouldn't have come to such a populated place, especially since he knew he was most likely a wanted man. The soldier walked further into the exhibit, videos and pictures of the man from the bridge-who the soldier quickly learned was Steve Rogers-covered the room he was in. Yet, his eyes were drawn a large piece of glass in the middle exhibit that had his own face etched into it.

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes

That's what the man-Steve-had called him. Well it was mainly  the "Bucky" part he kept saying. Was that his name? James Barnes? I mean, that was definitely his face so it had to be his name, right? The soldier's head was spinning, his eyes quickly scanning the small paragraph beside the picture of his face as a man talked over a speaker informing those around the display about James' life.

"...Bucky Barnes was survived by his childhood best friend and wife Y/N Barnes and their daughter Elizabeth." Did the man just say that the soldier had a wife? A child? That can't be right-that can't be possible. He's remember that-why can't he remember that? He should be able to remember if he had a wife and a child, shouldn't he? James felt like he was going to be sick as he took another step closer to the display, looking down at the screen.

There, almost perfectly displayed is a black and white picture of him and a woman-a wedding picture, he realizes. She-James guesses that this must be Y/N-is gorgeous, standing beside him proudly. A smile is stretched across her face, a bouquet flowers clutched in her hand. She looks familiar and he knows-he knows that she's apart of his life somehow. James looks happy in the picture as well, dressed in some type of uniform. His arm wrapped around her waist as he smiles at the camera. Bucky doesn't get to fully take it in before it's replaced by a picture of the same woman holding an infant-Elizabeth. His daughter. Y/N doesn't look as happy in this one, her smile a lot smaller as she cradles a child in her arms.

And then, just like that-something fuzzy appears in the soldier's mind, hitting him in that moment.

"Bucky, what are we going to do? What am I going to do? I-My parents are going to kill me." Y/N's voice is thick with emotion. She looks at him wide eyed and as pale as a ghost. He walks over to her, his hands grabbing hers. There's tears in her eyes and Bucky feels bad-horrible, in fact. He wants to make this better. He has to make this better.

"I'll marry you. They can't be mad at you if we're married." Bucky tells her, his left hand moving to cup her cheek. His thumb wipes away one of her tears just as it falls, "We're gonna be okay, doll."

It's the first thing-it's the only thing the soldier can remember. His voice is echoing in his own head, the narrator for the exhibit now muted. His left arm feels even heavier, his fist clenching and unclenching in his jacket as he tries to remember what it felt like to hold Y/N, to be so close to her.

But he can't.

Before all of this, before he was turned into this-he had a family. He had a family.

Bile rises in Bucky's throat as he forces himself to take in more information, to look at more pictures and videos. It's almost gluttonous the way he is consuming every single bit of it-trying to learn more about himself, about the man on the bridge, about Y/N.

And as he moves throughout the exhibit, bits and pieces come to him. The three of them laughing after a movie, making fun of Steve. Y/N's smile, her constant teasing. The feeling then shifts-he doesn't how it does or when it happened, but it shifts. Her arm in his, kissing when Steve wasn't around. Y/N crying when she told Bucky that she was pregnant, him proposing right then and there. A wedding-their wedding. Then boot camp, his deployment-his capture, and then Steve appearing again. And then James remembered falling and after that-well he rather not think about it.

There was parts missing, none of the memories were completely concrete. Bucky wishes he could remember every little detail. He could remember every single time he killed, every life he took, but he couldn't remember these people who obviously meant a lot to him. Maybe that would come in time or maybe some of those memories were gone forever. Hydra had fried his brain and the soldier didn't know if that damage could be undone.

Bucky wants to ask Steve. He wants to know everything, wants the blanks to be filled in. He wants to know everything about his wife, wants to know what happened to her and his daughter. He just wants to know.

But the soldier can't do that. He can't afford to risk his newfound freedom, not even for something as important as his memories.

Suddenly, he can't breathe. Bucky feels like he's drowning in it all, in a past that he can't remember. Everything is blurring together and his head is throbbing. He has to get out, has to leave this place.

So he does.

Bucky walks out of the exhibit, walks out of the museum. The fresh open air welcomes him with open arms as he greedily takes in. His chest rises and falls quickly as he attempts to calm himself down, managing to find a slightly hidden bench to collapse onto. A song suddenly fills his head, the present day seemingly fading away around him.

"I'll never smile again

Until I smile at you

I'll never laugh again

What good would it do"

"Bucky, you're going to come back to me right?" Y/N asks as they dance, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. It was the night before he was supposed to ship out and

her worry was written all over her face. Bucky pulls his wife tighter against him, one of his hands resting on the small of her back as they sway back and forth.

"Oh doll, you couldn't get rid of me that easily if you tried. You're stuck with me." Bucky replies, smiling at her in an attempt to ease her nerves. Y/N nodded in response, laying her head on his uniform covered chest. He kisses her forehead as the band continues to play.

"For tears would fill my eyes

My heart would realize

That our romance is through

I'll never love again

I'm so in love with you

I'll never thrill again"

#bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes x reader #the winter solider imagine #the winter soldier #ca:tws #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 14

Oof!au, part 14. I got cute with the prompt for this one. They are a found family but it’s also, you know, found: family. I know I said there weren’t any more split POVs but that was before Ahsoka and Rex decided they had a lot more to say than I planned, and so.... split POVs return for a few segments. Also this part is very long.

General Information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending (soon). Past/eventual Codywan. Past one-sided Vaderwan.

WARNINGS: Discussion of trauma, torture, non-con, mind control, and death. Allusions to suicide. So much mental and emotional trauma.

Alt 7. Found Family

Messages from Ahsoka’s contacts in the Core worlds were few and far between. Usually, they didn’t add up to much. The one that had plunged them across Wild Space had been flagged urgent. “It’s probably nothing,” Ahsoka said, even as they cut across the black of space, and Rex believed her.

It was usually nothing.

When it wasn’t, it was a problem.

They came out of hyperspace alongside one the new Imperial cruisers, a hulking beast of a ship, all sharp lines and jagged edges. They’d been monitoring it, on their approach, and it showed no signs of arming weapons, or raising shields, but…

Rex whistled anyway, looking at the ship. “You seeing this?” he asked, looking over when Ahsoka didn’t answer, her gaze gone distant. “Ahsoka?”

She shook her head and said, “There’s something… strange.”

Strange meant trouble, as far as Rex was concerned. He checked his blaster as they docked, watched her draw both her sabers, and nudged her in the side. “Sure we shouldn’t just bolt?” he asked, waiting for the port to open.

“No,” she said, staring forward, “there’s--I think we need to be here. I…” She trailed off, shaking her head, lekku curling up on the ends as the only display of her nerves as the airlock opened and--

Rex didn’t waste breath cursing, jerking his blaster up, because there were troopers on the other side of the hatch, and they might not kill him on sight, but Ahsoka--

And a ghost, a dead man walking, stepped between Rex and - and kriffing hell, that was Cody - and said, “Don’t shoot!” Rex stared across into General Kenobi’s impossible face, and felt the entire galaxy lurch into a brand new alignment, dragging Rex along with it, the next moments all confusing madness.

“There still a chip in your head?” Cody asked Rex, as Ahsoka grabbed General Kenobi. He hadn’t holstered his blaster, Rex noticed, just lowered it a little at Kenobi’s request. He was tense across his shoulders, unblinking.

“Not for three years,” Rex said, carefully, because he’d never come upon any of his brothers already unchipped; he should have known if anyone would start doing it en masse, it would be Kenobi and the 212th.

“Good,” Cody said, with a brief nod, “but you understand that we’re going to need to confirm that. Crys. Take him to the infirmary. Have Bones look him over.”

And Rex almost protested. He didn’t - technically - take orders from Cody anymore. The GAR was nothing but smashed pieces. But he looked past Cody’s shoulder, to General Kenobi - what was left of General Kenobi - he didn’t look like himself, not at all, his hair shaved close to his scalp and his beard barely a scruff across his jaw, swimming in trooper blacks, the left sleeve tied off and--

Most of the Jedi had died within moments of Order 66 being issued. A few had survived longer. They’d found some of them. What was left of them.

Rex swallowed, hard, gaze drawn back to Ahsoka’s back, because it was easy - too easy - to imagine what could have happened to her, to imagine her eyes gone all faded and distant like Kenobi’s. He cut his eyes towards Cody and wondered what the kriff, exactly, had happened. He said, “Sure. Ahsoka, I’ll catch up.”

She looked over at him, her expression a mix of yearning and hope, and nodded.

It felt wrong, leaving her there surrounded by troopers, but General Kenobi was at her side. Even with one arm, even looking like death warmed over, Rex couldn’t quite believe that he’d ever let anything happen to Ahsoka.

“So,” he said, falling into step beside Crys, “what the kriff happened to you?”

#

A part of Ahsoka had always hoped Master Obi-Wan was still alive, out there somewhere. She’d heard his message, transmitting out across the stars, warning any survivors away from the Temple.

She’d known he survived the initial kill order, and she’d thought… well. If anyone could survive with the entire galaxy trying to kill them, it would have been Master Obi-Wan. She’d imagined, sometimes, coming upon him in some dive bar or on a battlefield, meeting each other’s eyes and falling into step, back to back--

She found him on an Imperial ship. When she’d thought about finding him, he’d looked the same way she last saw him, tired and worn down, but alright. She’d always imagined that he’d crook a smile at her.

Obi-Wan smiled there in the halls of the Recompense. But it didn’t touch his eyes. He looked different, wrong, with his hair trimmed so short and his beard just growing in. He was, for some reason, wearing trooper blacks. He swam in them. And the left sleeve was tied off, empty….

“We can put you in touch with the rest of the rebellion,” she said, trying to stay focused, shooting him another look as they walked towards the bridge.

Obi-Wan nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Cody, who, she noticed, was following a step back. His hand was still resting on his blaster. He looked different, too, the lines around his mouth graven deeper, his eyes harder.

He’d always seemed warm to her, before. Even through the Force.

He felt cold, walking down the hall of the ship, as Obi-Wan said, “I’ll have to talk to the men. See what they want to do.”

Ahsoka made a soft sound of acknowledgement. She hadn’t been around so many troopers since everything fell apart. It made her lekku itch, knowing they were all around. She wished Rex hadn’t gone off to the infirmary. She said, setting that thought aside, “We can find places for them, if they...don’t want to join. They don’t have to stay with--”

“We’re staying with the General,” Cody said, and even his voice sounded different, full of sharper edges that threatened to draw blood.

“Well, that’s fine, too,” Ahsoka said, glancing back and forth between them, cautiously tracing their emotions with the Force and recoiling after the briefest brush because it was all -- hurt. Terrible hurt, open wounds in need of immediate tending. 

The agony lingered there, right below the surface as they reached the bridge and punched in coordinates to, at least, get further away from their current position, just in case they were discovered. Ahsoka looked around the bridge - it reminded her, achingly, or both the Resolute and the Peacemaker, but it felt...wrong.

Everything felt wrong. 

“You’ve been well?” Obi-Wan asked, something shadowed in his eyes, and Ahsoka considered the past three years, the fear and the desperation and the slow slog towards some kind of healing, some kind of life.

It seemed strange to realize, that, compared to him, she had most definitely been doing well. She nodded, and said, “Yes, Master.” And she flushed as she spoke, because she hadn’t called anyone by that title for so long, and it felt both presumptuous and embarrassing, mader her feel like the child she wasn’t anymore, and--

And it made Obi-Wan go still, his emotions blossoming huge for just a moment before he controlled them all down and away, where she couldn’t feel them. He cleared his throat, and said, “Why don’t you tell me more about what I’ve missed?”

#

Rex had seen plenty of his brothers over the past three years. Most of them had been on the other side of a blaster. It never hurt less, killing them, but he’d gotten… better at it. They’d saved a few of them, freed them, brought them back to themselves. But that had been scattered souls, here and there.

And so many of them had…. Not handled freedom well.

Rex had come out of it with something to live for, someone to keep fighting for.

Too many of his brothers had only come out with crushing guilt and despair. Too many of them recalled killing their generals, their friends. Too many of them remembered the atrocities they’d been used to carry out.

They found ways to get away from it.

Rex looked into the faces of the survivors of the 212th on his way to the infirmary and felt a shiver down his spine. They looked, to a man, exhausted and worn down, with shadows in their eyes, tension in every move they made.

He listened to Crys’ brief run down of what had happened, freezing for a step when Crys said, “Skywalker rounded us up. As many of the 212th as he could find.” By the time he started moving again, Crys was explaining that they’d been kept on Mustafar. Waiting.

“It’s good to see you again,” Crys said, outside the door to the infirmary, gripping Rex’s forearm and flashing him a thin smile.

“Not going to stay and chat?” Rex asked, raising an eyebrow, getting the feeling he was only digging at the surface of whatever was going on, and Crys shook his head.

“I need to go check on the General,” he said, like it was obvious.

Rex blinked. “He’s still a General, huh?” he asked, trying to inject some levity into the situation. 

The look Crys gave him curdled any hope of that. “Yes,” Crys said, and nothing else, turning on his heel and walking down the hall. 

Rex shook off the feeling of tension in the middle of his shoulder blades, ducking into the infirmary and it was so strange to see one of his brothers in there, working, instead of a droid or the medics that had joined the rebellion. It threw him into a strange headspace, made him feel almost like the last three years hadn’t happened.

He’d ended up in the Negotiator’s medical bay more than once, getting treatment for all his hurts. He said, “Hey, Bones,” as the medic turned to face him, and got a long whistle for his trouble.

“Look at you,” Bones said, shaking his head, before his mouth hardened. “Unchipped?”

“You’re supposed to double-check,” he said, and Bones nodded, waving him forward. Rex submitted to the examination, thankfully brief, and said, as he sat back up, “How’d you all…” he waved a hand. “Get past them, anyway?” Bones froze, looking to one side, quickly. Rex watched him, going still in response. “Bones?”

“We…” Bones blinked rapidly a few times and cleared his throat. “I assume the same way you did. And any others of us, who got away.”

Rex swallowed, aching inside. “Not many of us have,” he said, focusing on a spot on the far wall. He didn’t want to admit, yet, that he hadn’t seen so many of his brothers free before. Ever. Even during the war, it had been lurking inside them. He shuddered. “Kenobi freed you, then?”

Bones sucked in a breath. When he spoke, the words seemed to come from far away. “Yes. I suppose he did. Indirectly. A few of us managed to...break them.”

Rex stared at him. He had no reason to believe such a thing was even possible. “Are you serious?”

Bones jerked out a nod, turning away to look at a scan that was reporting, as far as Rex could tell, nothing. “Yeah. You push hard enough against them, you give yourself an aneurysm. On the plus side, it also breaks them.” Bones scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You didn’t know about this?”

“Kriffing hell,” Rex said, shuddering down his back. “No, I’ve never heard of anyone breaking them.” 

“Not surprised,” Bones said, gaze going distant and unfocused. “Half of us that managed it died. If the Commander hadn’t dragged us to the medbay…” He trailed off, and then shook his head, hard. “You’re clean. Free to go.”

“Go where?” Rex asked, still trying to process the idea that they’d - they’d broken the thing in their heads, somehow. All on their own. He swallowed bile, thinking about his finger on the trigger, Ahsoka’s eyes on the other end of the barrel, thinking--

Well.

He hadn’t given himself an aneurysm.

“Wherever you want,” Bones said. “Tell the Commander he missed a check-in, if you see him.”

#

It took time to describe everything Obi-Wan had missed. They talked on the bridge, for a long time, about what the Rebellion had gotten up to, slowly trying to build some way to resist the Imperial forces sent against them.

Ahsoka watched Obi-Wan’s expression get still with each word she spoke. She wished she had more good news to share, but there was...so little to bring a spark of brightness into the world. 

“I should show you around,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, as she ran out of things to tell him. “Have you seen one of these models?”

“Not yet,” Ahsoka said. “This is a bigger target than we usually try to take.” They’d been scrambling, for years, trying to make a dent against an enemy that had beaten them before they even knew what was happening.

Holding onto even the barest scraps of hope had felt impossible. Ahsoka knew, most days, that they were doing little more than throwing pebbles at a krayt dragon. Most likely they weren’t even an irritation, but…

But it was better than giving up. At least she thought so, most days.

She listened to Obi-Wan talk about the ship as they moved through the halls, watched by troopers wherever they went. “And we have plenty of quarters,” Obi-Wan said, eventually, waving a door open along the hall and gesturing inside. “If you’d like to stay aboard during the trip. Your shuttle can stay docked.”

Ahsoka stepped into the room with a lurch in her chest, abruptly thrown back in time, to her quarters on the Resolute and the Peacemaker. If she looked at it just right, she could imagine her room, she could imagine turning and seeing Anakin standing in the doorway, come to check on her after a mission and--

And when she turned it was Obi-Wan still in the hall, talking with Cody, quietly. She cleared her throat, and said, “Could I talk to you, for a moment? Just… you?” Cody was making her feel more and more uneasy. The longer she was around him, the more off-balance she felt. 

She felt the whip-snap fast shift of his emotions at the suggestion, watched him stiffen his shoulders, but Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll catch up with you shortly, Commander,” he said, and it seemed so odd to Ahsoka that they were using ranks, still.

She and Rex had stopped using them almost immediately.

She shook that thought aside as they resumed walking, before she drew a breath and asked, “Have you--have you seen Anakin?”

Obi-Wan’s emotions withdrew completely. She’d barely been aware of the soft touch of his mind against hers, soothing and familiar. It had been so long since she’d been around another Force user, much less someone she knew. It was startling to have it jerked away again, abruptly.

When he spoke, his voice was even, “Yes. He… found me. A few months ago.”

Ahsoka’s heart jerked in her chest. She’d seen Anakin a few times, from a distance. He’d looked so different, covered in his awful dark suit. Ahsoka swallowed. There’d been rumors, recently, that something had happened to him. She asked, quietly, “Where is he now?”

Obi-Wan stopped walking, just for a moment. He took a breath and said, “He’s one with the Force, now.”

“What?” That matched the reports they’d heard, but Ahsoka hadn’t believed those reports, not really. So many people had thought Anakin was dead, over the years, and they’d all of them been wrong. “Are you sure?”

Obi-Wan stared forward, expression some strange and still thing. “Yes,” he said, “I’m very sure.”

“But…” Ahsoka shifted her weight back and forth. Some part of her had always held out the hope that she’d find Anakin, find a way to get through to him. She’d left him, once, and -- and she’d thought, so many nights, that maybe if she’d been there, she could have protected him, kept him from Falling, if she hadn’t run away when he needed her-- “How?”

“He Fell,” Obi-Wan said, tone odd and blank. “Long ago. The Anakin you knew was gone, and--”

“I don’t believe that,” Ahsoka said, shaking her head. The Anakin she knew had been many things, including full of such sharp bright anger, sometimes. But she knew he’d been good, at the core. “He -- you were around him, are you telling me that you don’t think he could have come back?”

Something moved through the Force, an undercurrent that threatened to drag her under for a moment. Nothing showed on Obi-Wan’s expression. “He was gone,” he said, voice a rasp.

Ahsoka frowned, emotions twisting around in her gut. She’d always held onto the hope of bringing him back, of making things right, of making up for leaving, for not being there when he needed her, for-- “So - so you didn’t even try?” she asked, aware her voice was getting louder. “You were his Master, and you didn’t help him?”

#

Rex ended up in the mess. There were clusters of his brother there, talking to one another, and they pulled him over eagerly. They wanted to know everything, all about what had happened in the last three years, outside of their little bubble. 

He pulled up a chair and looked at the intent expressions on their faces, and told him what he knew. Mav looked shocked when he asked how long Rex had been under. “A few minutes,” he echoed, sounding numb and far away, his expression mirrored by the others gathered around.

“Yeah.” Rex had known he was lucky, known it even when he felt like the rest of the world was coming down. He’d escaped whatever had left his brothers all looking like hollowed out shells. He twirled the cup in his fingers and asked, “What about...all of you? How long…?”

“Until a few days ago,” Crys said, gaze cutting over to the side, tone getting flatter by the word, and Rex flinched, thinking about spending three years under, about what they must have gone through--

“What the kriff happened?”

Crys stared at nothing for a moment, and then looked his way, blinking. “What?”

Rex gestured around the room. “To all of you. I, kriffing hell, we got word, a few days back, that the Emperor was in a royal snit because - because Vader and his entire base got blown all to hell and--”

“Skywalker,” Mav cut in, sharp, tensing across his shoulders.

Rex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Call him his name,” Mav said, flat, taking another long swallow of caff. “That’s who he always was.”

Rex processed that, slowly, leaning back in his chair. “So he is dead, then?” He got nods from all around, his brothers’ mouths curling up in the corners, brief flashes of fierce satisfaction passing across their expressions. “You’re sure?”

The look in Crys’ eyes made Rex want to reach for his blaster. He resisted. “The Commander killed him. Personally. Got confirmation himself,” Crys said, sure and calm and terrible. “He’s dead. Body is gone completely. Nothing to bring back, this time.”

“Kriff.” Rex scrubbed a hand over his face. “I--how?” Because he’d heard nothing but horror stories about Vader - Anakin - after the war. He’d turned into a monster. Some machine that just murdered everything in its path. Rex had done his best to keep Ahsoka away from him, succeeded, but…

“He left the Commander in charge,” Mav said, finger tapping on the side of his mug, that code the 212th had used, back in the day. Rex had never learned it, they’d been greedy with the secret. “While we were all chipped. When he got free…” He shrugged, eloquently.

Rex could imagine. Cody had been Marshal Commander for a reason. He’d always been good at finding the solutions to problems. “I still don’t… the Commander killed him?” He knew - though she didn’t talk about it much - that Ahsoka had still hoped to find Anakin one day. Bring him back. That happened, Rex supposed, sometimes.

“Put him down,” Mav said, grim and satisfied, taking a deep drink of his caff and twisting his mouth. “A better death than that motherkriffer deserved.”

Rex shivered. The chill around his brothers, the shadows in their eyes, reminded him too much of Umbara. He knew, very well, what his brothers looked like when they were pushed too far. “Because he’d turned to the Dark?” he asked, half because he’d gotten into the habit of digging for intel automatically, half because he knew his family, and he thought if they didn’t keep talking they might all implode.

Crys snorted, Mav shook his head, it was Ults - a medic Rex hadn’t ever seen much - who answered, “Because of what he did to the General.” And that got nods and murmurs of agreement from all the rest clustered around.

Rex turned his cup, kept his tone even when he asked, “What’d he do?”

“You’ve seen him,” Crys snapped, looking to the side, hands in fists again, knuckles standing against skin. Rex watched them all wind tighter, all at once, and wondered if digging at the subject actually was the right call. 

“It’s been three years since I saw General Kenobi,” he said, quietly, and it felt strange to call anyone General, these days, but he could read a room. Kenobi was still the General to all of his brothers. They didn’t need another shove closer to whatever cliff they were teetering on in their heads. “I didn’t know--”

“Skywalker did it,” Mav snarled, pushing to his feet and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, taking a few agitated steps and pacing back. “All of it. For three months. Skywalker hurt him. Tried to tear him apart.” He paused, breathing heavily, and then admitted, tone cracking, “Made us help.”

“We tried not to,” Crys said, voice trembling, “Fought it, but he--he made us. We tried, but we couldn’t help him. Skywalker burned him and - and raped him and took his arm and we--”

“We should have tried harder,” Ults said, into the silence, when Crys cut off, covering his face with his hands, Rex staring at them with a pit opening in his chest, nothing at the bottom of it but darkness. 

He had a lurching, awful moment where his mind raced forward, dragging him into possibilities he didn’t want to consider. It was terribly easy to imagine Anakin finding Ahsoka, instead of Obi-Wan, terribly easy to consider her blue eyes shadowed and--

“Yes,” Cody said, startling Rex out of the spiralling horror of his thoughts. Rex twisted in his seat, watching Cody stalk over, a cup of caff in his hand. “We should have.” Cody kept going, apparently finished, and Rex rose to follow him, because none of his brothers looked well, but Cody...

Rex said, falling into step beside Cody as he made his way to a far table, empty of anyone else, “Bones is looking for you.” 

“He can keep looking.” Cody hissed a little at the burn of the caff, sitting with a scowl, one leg immediately bouncing up and down.

Rex stood for a moment, feeling the urge to wait for permission to sit, and then remembered he didn’t have to do that, any longer. He sat, watching Cody frown at nothing, and then said, carefully, “Doing alright?”

“Fine,” Cody said, not looking at him. 

Rex felt like he was balancing on a wire. When they’d come out to check out the intel, he hadn’t expected to walk into a situation like this. The entire ship felt like a bomb about to go off, like an explosion waiting to happen.

He didn’t like to think what would happen to his brothers, if that happened.

And so he cleared his throat and said, quietly, “It really wasn’t your fault.”

Cody’s mouth twisted, terribly. Everyone else had avoided Rex’s eyes, but Cody looked at him, and Rex wished, immediately, that he hadn’t. “The fuck would you know about whose fault it is?” Cody snarled. “You weren’t there. You got free, you looked after Ahsoka--”

“I got lucky,” Rex said, feeling it more than ever. “She figured out how to--”

“I beat him. Obi-Wan,” Cody cut in. Rex wasn’t sure he’d heard the interjection. Rex froze, bracing a hand on the table. “Skywalker ordered me to, and I did. He pleaded with me to stop and I didn’t listen. And I…” Cody’s jaw worked, soundlessly, for a moment, before he hissed, “and I raped him, so, you don’t get to come here, and tell me it wasn’t my fault, I--”

“Sithspit,” Rex whispered, as Cody’s words cut off again, both his hands balled to fists. “That’s -- Cody. You didn’t want to, that’s--the chip--”

“I broke the chip,” Cody spat, flat and hard, “So that’s no excuse. I broke it. Just not fast enough. I wasn’t strong enough. Didn’t want to do it badly enough, when I was--” 

“I’ve never heard of anyone else breaking the kriffing things,” Rex said, reaching out cautiously, gently putting a hand on Cody’s shoulder. He jumped, beneath Rex’s touch, muscles knotted and hard. “The things they made us do--”

“Made us do? What’d they make you do?” Cody demanded, looking over, and meeting his gaze was like taking a punch. 

“They would have made me kill her. Ahsoka,” Rex said, calm and honest, feeling Cody flinch under his hand. “I would have done it. Pulled the trigger and put a blaster bolt between her eyes and--and I couldn’t have stopped it. Wolffe killed General Koon. Bly killed Secura. Are you calling them murderers, because you know they’d have never--”

Cody pushed up and out of his chair, and for a moment Rex thought that he’d gone too far, pushed too much, but Cody wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was across the room, towards the door, where other troopers were pushing out, the atmosphere of the room changing, all at once.

“What’s going on?” Rex demanded, standing himself, following Cody as he crossed the room.

#

Ahsoka thought she’d seen Obi-Wan’s expression break, before. She’d seen him hurt, many times, certainly. Seen him walk off battlefields, seen him bent over the dead, seen him grieving so openly it hurt.

His expression had never done what it did in the corridor, her last words still echoing around them. She watched him curl in, somehow, without ever seeming to move, eyes shuttered for all that they remained open. He asked, quietly, as someone pushed through the door at his back, “What?”

Ahsoka blinked the stinging blur from her eyes. Nothing seemed quite real yet, it hadn’t all settled. She’d thought, told herself, that she’d be able to help Anakin, for so long, and-- “You were his Master,” she said, choking, “he trusted you, you should have tried to save him--”

And there were troopers there, then, in the hall with them. She watched two of them just - just catch Obi-Wan and only realized then that he’d swayed, staring forward, sightlessly. 

“What the kriff did you just say?” Stripes demanded, stepping in front of Obi-Wan, blocking him from her view, bristling, and they were all, every single one of them, radiating anger, fierce and jagged edged.

She took a step back, bracing, hands itching to reach for her lightsabers as Rex came through the door, a single piece of relief, even as he demanded to know what was happening. Stripes didn’t look away from Ahsoka to answer. “She said the General didn’t do enough to save Skywalker.”

It was odd, how the hall went quiet, then, just for an instant, before Cody said, tone harder than durasteel, “Rex. Take Commander Tano out of here.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was a surprise, small and rasping, “It’s al--”

“Now,” Cody cut in, and Ahsoka could see him gripping the doorframe, see a muscle jumping in his jaw, over and over again.

Rex only jerked out a nod, even though he didn’t have to take Cody’s orders anymore, stepping forward and taking her arm. She said, “I don’t--”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Rex said, quiet, close to her ear, and something about his emotions, pulled taunt with worry and concern, made her shut her jaw, her teeth closing with a little click. He said, without turning back, “We’ll just… be in our shuttle. For a while.”

Ahsoka waited until they were down the hall, around a corner, to hiss, “Rex, what the kriff--”

“Not here,” he gritted back, gaze moving to the side as they passed a trooper, who watched them with a curious expression. Rex refused to say anything else until they were through the airlock, into their little ship, and then he only said, sounding agonized, “Tell me you didn’t.”

Ahsoka blinked at him, feeling unnerved and on-edge. The sheer tension radiating out of everyone on the Recompense made it hard to think clearly. They were filling the Force up with their hurt and she had to work to keep it out. “Didn’t what?” she asked, stepping back from him and frowning. 

“Say that about--”

“Rex,” she cut in, shaking her head and spinning around the pilot’s chair so she could drop down into it, wishing she’d sent someone else to check this all out. “He - he was Anakin’s Master, he - if anyone should have been able--”

“Skywalker did this to them,” Rex said, quiet, leaning his shoulder against the wall, looking down and the to the side.

Ahsoka took a breath to recover and then said, “What?”

He jerked out a nod. “He - he took the 212th, from what I can tell. Kept them on Mustafar. And then he, well. Captured General Kenobi. And... “ He swallowed, loudly enough that she heard it, his hands in fists. “And…” 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Anakin wouldn’t--”

“They weren’t lying to me.” There was a jagged edge in Rex’s voice, something she’d never heard much. “He spent months--”

“No,” Ahsoka repeated, because she’d kept a flame of hope burning inside her chest for three years. Knowledge that if she just - just got close enough, she could find a way. Bring Anakin back. Rescue him from the darkness he’d fallen into. 

Rex sighed, scrubbing a hand back over his head and moving forward, sinking down into the chair across from her. He reached out, after a moment, snagging her hand and threading their fingers together. When he looked up, his eyes were dark and shining.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” he said, quietly, “but you need to. You’ve got to feel how they’re hurting.” She nodded, throat getting tight. She could feel the agony, had to work to keep it away, losing her grip on it as he sat there and spoke, quietly, trailing off sometimes, the words beating their way into her head.

And she tried to say “no” again, when he was finished. He’d leaned forward, back bowing as though he couldn’t bear the weight of what he’d learned, and she leaned forward to meet him, resting her forehead against his. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she’d known Anakin well, after all. Once upon a time. She’d seen him get angry, seen what that anger could drive him to, and she’d thought….

She said, “Sithspit,” into the space between them, and Rex nodded. She scrubbed at her face; it had been a long time since she rubbed at her cheeks and had her fingers come away wet. “What are we supposed to do for them?”

Rex sighed, staring down at their hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never...dealt with anything like this.”

She thought about her last words to Obi-Wan, the way he’d looked at her, blank and distant and kriffing hell, if he was sitting in the Recompense, thinking he should have saved the man who beat and raped and--and she swallowed, heavily. “Me either.”

He stroked his thumb across the side of her hand and said, “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

#whumptober2020 #alt.7 #found family #references to past torture and non con #fall out of mind control #references to suicide #mental anguish #clone wars #fic #oof!au #codywan #glad rex and ahsoka are here but damn gonna hurt for a bit

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Red Well (Part 5) Ending the Nightmares

What happens next... Heheheheheheheheheeheheh Tagging @rurifangirl for Ruri action

You were frozen in place like a statue, covered in colorful kabuki clothing in a basement. You understood the scene. Chime Gen had told you about it in the Takamagahara. He had gone crazy and killed women after luring them. He only killed the most beautiful girls because he loved their expressions and imitated them. But he wanted to preserve them, so he took them back to a basement and preserved them like dolls.

Chisei sat on the floor in front of the cast-iron tub full of preservation chemicals. You stood at his left, frozen.

Chisei must be waiting for Ruri Kazama to come down so he can kill him. But this part of the scene is wrong. Chime very clearly said that his brother followed him into the basement. He was preparing the fourteenth girl when Chisei came and called his name. Chime awoke from the trance he was in and Chisei stabbed him through the heart.

So why is Chisei waiting first? Why are you here? This is some sort of an illusion.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. On the way to the Red Well, you’d had a strange dream like this. You were in Black Swan Bay but you knew it was going to be destroyed. It was all so real that you just went through the motions of everything that happened that day until Z had sat up from the sled and pointed behind you. Ruri Kazama was standing behind you. When you asked him ‘what are you doing here’? You woke up and Ruri was asking you how you broke it.

This had to be an illusion caused by Ruri. It’s not that these men were not fighting. They were still fighting, just on a different plane.

You try to figure out how to move. You had to be breathing outside the dream but frozen in place. Was this like sleep paralysis? You persist in trying to move your body but the paralysis seems firm. Could he hear your mind? “Chisei! Chisei!” You call to him mentally. “What are you doing here? Chisei!”

He didn’t move or hear you. His face was tranquil and quiet, devoid of happiness and sadness. His eyes were dark and clear, his hair brushing over them. His skin was light and fresh and his body was fit. For the first time, you thought Chisei was beautiful, just as beautiful as his brother. 

As soon as that thought passed your mind, you felt a moment of release. Your hand which had held a fan up to your face, relaxed and lowered. You blink. So that’s the secret? Chime still admired Chisei no matter what he did. And somewhere deep and locked away in Ruri Kazama, Chime Gen still breathed quietly, asleep. You chuckle internally. Chime was so taken with his brother, wasn’t he? When talking to Sakura Yabuki, you once said that you were just like him. You seemed better, but you were not better. Is that why Chime felt attracted to you? The greatest person was his brother. And who better to fall in love with than a woman who was like Chisei Gen?

You feel life coming back to your limbs, like warm blood was warmly flowing through skin that had been left in the cold too long. But instead of blood, it was Chime’s love for Chisei. How did he say it? Yes, what mattered most was not Chisei’s bloodline, Emperor or Devil, but his heart. No matter what the obstacle, if he wanted to be a friend of Justice… he would be.

The last chain unwrapped around your ankles and you slid your foot forward, but a sound came from above your head.  Light footsteps sounded like someone was running briskly to the bottom of the basement. Chisei got up onto his feet holding the hilt of his sword and turned to look at the rusty door.

“No…” you said quietly.

Chisei gently pressed the hilt of his blade with his thumb and the Spider Fang sword lifted an inch out of its sheath.

Something warm dripped on your head. You look up and it splats on your face. Chisei was looking up too. The roof was red like blood, and large red drops seeped out of the cement and dripped down like rain. Your heart beats hard. You’re still dressed in ceremonial clothes and you were never good at walking in geta sandals. You take a step forward to him but your other foot is rooted to the spot! You pulled at your foot but it was not moving.

"Have you been living in such a hell for so many years?" Chisei Gen gently stroked the hilt of his sword.

You turn back to Chisei and recall his smile in the elevator before he threw himself back to sacrifice himself for everyone. Your foot finally moves and you take a small step forward.

Chisei doesn’t seem to notice. He lowered his head and listened to the sound of water gurgling. A bright red liquid slowly spread over the soles of his shoes, as if he was standing in a pool of blood.

You could see, but Chisei did not see that in the bathtub behind him, a blood-red figure slowly rose up. The corpse concocted in the plasticizing chemicals opened its eyes. It was the naked Ruri Kazama, carrying a long, sharp cherry-red sword in his hand.

It wasn’t enough to just think one happy thought about Chisei. For every movement, you had to think positively about him. For example, how he cut his wrist at great risk to himself and threw his blood stained shirt out into the fire.

Step.

He let you go in that park after the Kabuki performance even though he could have killed you.

Step.

He wanted to save you on the Tokyo Tower. He protected Chance! He was going to let Chance go! He wasn’t going to kill him! You stagger forward and that final desperate thought, in those moments of fervent forgiveness, you crossed between Ruri Kazama and Chisei Gen’s back.

You freeze again. Your eyes rolled down to the blade of the cherry red sword and the glowing blue sword that were sticking out your chest.

The moment Ruri Kazama attacked was never captured by your eyes. His speed far exceeded the limits of what a human could achieve, and his high speed swept up the water in the entire space, creating a putrid rain behind him. The blade pierced your back the moment you thought of Chance. Chisei Gen had reacted immediately and turned around to counter an attack he thought was coming from behind and ran you through with Spider Fang from the front. You trembled, transfixed on the blades like a pinned insect, mouth open but unable to speak or breathe.

Chisei froze, bewildered. “Chi...me…?” He said slowly. You had dark hair like Chime. You had dark eyes like Chime. You looked like a woman and dressed like a woman like Chime. The way you smiled lovingly at him was like Chime. But something about you said that you were not Chime. His mind was expecting Chime however. So it was hard to accept that this was you and not some weird dream distortion.

A soft whimper came from behind you. Ruri Kazama had released his sword and was embracing you. But you couldn’t embrace him back. Your vision dimmed and swirled and your hands fell limp at your side.

At that moment Chisei realizes something is wrong. There is Ruri Kazama but that crazed laughter has left him. He looks nothing like a mad hybrid. He wasn’t wearing the fearsome grin but a mask of sorrow.

He’s whispering. “MC… MC… I’m sorry…” Over and over again. But no one can answer him. The swords are still in your body as he picks you up and hurries out, fervently whispering. “I have to end it. I have to end the dream!”

He rushes towards the basement door, frantic to get out. He bursts through it! Only to be met again with Chisei staring at him in confusion in front of the bathtub. Ruri turns back to the exit door. He goes out again. But he’s back in the basement. His face fills with pain and he falls to his knees. He is laughing, but he’s crying at the same time

A few moments ago he was a vengeful demon ghost. Now he was a scared child. The sight of you dying in his arms was a new nightmare -- a self-created one.

He rocks with you back and forth. “It’s not my dream.. It’s not my dream…” He brushes your hair from your face, leaving a long red bloody mark. “It’s not my dream…”

Outside the door of the gym were nothing but staircases going up and down, left and right, in all directions, each one concrete-colored, each one zigzagging back and forth.

The world had suddenly become a giant maze, and he was standing in the deepest part of it. In Ruri’s dream, he dreamed of the outside world, the whole village. This wasn’t his dream however. It was Chisei’s. They were both stuck in that moment where Chisei killed Chime in the basement of the school gymnasium. But in Chisei’s dream there was never any escaping that moment. There was no path outside. This was Chisei’s dream, not Ruri Kazama’s, so Ruri didn’t know that the moment he stepped into Chisei’s dream there was no leaving that basement.

You hear Chisei’s voice softly call. “Chime!”

You let out a single breath in an attempt to speak. But that was all you could manage.

When you open your eyes again, you’re sitting on the cliff outside Black Swan Bay, on the rock that you used to watch the whales with Renata. The breeze tugs at your hair and the waves wiggle the ice floes and push them against the beach. A dark pair of boots step into your peripheral vision and Z sits down.

“I’m dead for real aren’t I?” You ask.

Z sighs. “I’m sorry, MC.”

You turn to him. “You gonna tell me what this is about?”

Z seems uncharacteristically hesitant. “You’ll be mad.”

“That never stopped you before. Spill.”

“The truth is… The truth is… all this has happened before. Only you weren’t there. You weren’t… there-there. It’s not that you died and I saved you. It’s that… you didn’t exist at all before… you weren’t alive to even die.”

You tilt your head. “So you created me? How?”

“I don’t know. I just … Herzog took something from me.” His lips pressed together and his golden eyes glowed. “I couldn’t let that go. I just couldn’t stand that he took something from me! So I thought a lot.”

He looked into your eyes. “I can’t change the past. I can only change the future. I had to find a way to change the past without… directly causing anything to happen. It took a long time, and then… you showed up. MC, nothing that changed about the past was really any of my doing. You were the one who impressed Herzog with your… toothy lock trick and that kinda set all this in motion when he decided not to operate on you. All of these changes? It’s all you. I just kept you alive. Everything else proceeded as it did before.”

You stare, absorbing all this. “So… what I am is… the results of you being a sore loser?”

He let out a breath. Then looked down and he covered his eyes with his hand. 

“Are you… crying?”

“No!” He pounded his fist on the ground. “I’m laughing because it worked! I got Erii back! Erii died before and now she’s alive but… now I’m just losing someone else!”

“Why do you care? I mean, I never was a person before right?” You shake your head. “You fell in love with your own puppet?” You chuckle. “Dragons are silly.”

He lifted his head and stared at you. “What… Did you say?”

“I didn’t tell you but, I remember a dragon coming down from the sky to pick me up. That was you… right?” You wink.

Z shuts his mouth, but he's smiling.

You give him a punch in the arm. “Hey… when I said thank you for everything. I half meant it. Thanks. It was quite a ride. You got what you wanted.”

Z’s smile fades. He doesn’t agree with you.

Those were all the words you got to say to him before a sudden silence and darkness falls over you and the world descends into an oblivion.

You weren’t there long however.  Pain like fire and like surf pounding you against a rocky shore and crushing your bones rockets through your mind.

Z’s voice calls you. He sounds panicked, but you can’t answer him.

Your eyes open, but you are not the one opening them. You see Chime, crying inconsolably. You’re back in the Red Well. Rain and Chime’s tears are falling on your face but you still can’t move to wipe them away. A voice in your head is filling you with violent and hateful thoughts. You hate everything about this world. Everything in this world wants you to die! But you will not die. No. Never!

Chisei’s voice sounds as panicked as Z’s. Your body reacts even though your mind is scrambling to keep up. Chisei Gen is back to being a dragon, covered in crystal scales with magnificent wings. You land in a crouch after soaring twenty feet into the air. The pain of moving like this despite your injuries overwhelms you and sweeps away every thought. But you’re not the one moving your body. 

You feel trapped behind your own eyes.

“No! No! Nooooo!” Chime is wailing but he’s too weak to stand.

Erii is there now. When did she get here? She’s holding a small suitcase and dressed in a white taffeta skirt with a white bow in her hair. You remember that Erii is your sister.

Sister? What is a sister? The internal invader rummages through your memories, tossing them out like toys from a toy box. Renata and you were rivals and friends, close yet somehow distant. Erii was like you in many ways and you felt drawn to her. You made a vow on a train in mutual defense. Sakura Yabuki had a kind and understanding smile. Also sister?

Who was this? What were they doing? And then you remember.

The memory of the Light King parasite pops up as an answer to your question. A feeling of smug superiority -- but not from your own mind -- wells up. You didn’t know how, but the Light King parasite had escaped its confines and had gotten ahold of you!

Chisei had gathered the frantic Chime into his arms. “I’m sorry, Erii. I didn’t want to get you involved in this.” He said.

Erii just nods and writes something on a piece of paper. 

Chisei’s draconized body pops and crackles and seems to shrink a foot in height. Half his bones are migrating from his body to his wings, stretching them and extending them to full height! A great down beat from those bat-like wings sends him soaring away from the well with Chime in his arms. 

The Light King Parasite tilts your head to watch him go. It decided it didn’t like sisters but Erii’s body and blood were very, very tasty and you were very hungry. The smell of the thousands of sleeping deadpool comes to your nose. You open your mouth and let out a great roar! Thousands of pairs of eyes peer down into the well and then they fall, scraping their claws in a stampede down this hole in the ground. Some were flying on bony wings, like demons descending to hell. They were going to swarm this place!

Your body is healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The Light King Parasite stretches out your hand and the Gathering Clouds sword comes flying to meet you. Your body glares threateningly at the small Japanese girl who stood in the middle of the Red Well. 

Erii is holding up a sign. “Anyone who comes between me and my sister must die!”

#Dragon Raja

[nancydrew428]

Nancy Drew Game Ideas

Plot Ideas:

Anarchanoid -

I've always wanted a nancy drew game similar to episode 3 of Sherlock, where she has to solve a mystery quick as every hour or so someone else gets killed. It would add a lot of tension and having people killed in different areas would be a good way to add more areas to investigate as the game goes on.

Anonymous -

A storyline involving a Serial Killer would be pretty dark. Particularly if they killed somebody close to Nancy.

Celiaeqqus -

I came up with an idea for a fan fic (and I really need to get around to writing it), where Nancy is kidnapped by some baddies who've heard about how good she is at solving mysteries. Who told them this? Dwayne Powers, who still has the map from RAN and is using a gang to get Nancy to help him find the treasure. Other prisoners alongside Nancy would be Henrik, since he's doing glyph translations, maybe Prudence Rutherford or Charlena Purcell, since they both have encyclopaedic knowledge about certain parts of history. If they did this as a game, maybe the player could get a chance to play as the other captives, so the majority of it isn't set in Nancy's cell. Of course, in the fan fic we'd see other characters from all over... maybe Nancy could have a TV in the room and sees reports of her family and friends - and people she's helped on past cases - doing their damnedest to find her?

@detectivecatsuitdrew (post) -

Nancy Drew: Music of the Unknown

Nancy and Ned travel to Austria for a long overdue vacation. They have a romantic evening planned at a historic music hall to watch a famous conductor direct an enchanting, almost hypnotizing concerto she wrote herself. Half way through the concerto, the harmony turns to cacophony, the conductor passes out, and the lights go out. Rumors about the conductor fly around the theatre as the show pauses at an early intermission. Some people think the conductor is losing it. Maybe the conductor has pushed themselves too far. Maybe the conductor has a secret no one knows about. Nancy can’t help but feel there’s something more sinister afoot.

Although she promised Ned that there’d be no mysteries on their vacation, she can’t help but be pulled in by the music’s call. Can Nancy help the conductor before she’s pushed too far? Will this mystery break Nancy and Ned’s relationship? Go to Austria to find out. The music of the unknown is calling.

Detectivecatsuitdrew -

Nancy Drew: Mystery of the Vampire’s Curse

Nancy’s investigated werewolves, monsters, mummies, and all sorts of ghosts, so it’s time to head to Romania to investigate a vampire.

Nancy accompanies Carson on a trip to a small town in Transylvania, Romania to pick up a few documents and look into a few things for one of Carson’s clients. It’s the perfect chance to explore a quaint little town and  catch up on some father-daughter bonding time. All of that flies out the window when Nancy herself gets kidnapped! Some of the locals say there’s an actual vampire plaguing the town. Could that possibly be true?

Switch back and forth between Nancy and Carson to figure out who took Nancy and why, and more importantly, find out where she is before it’s too late. The stakes have never been higher, and the consequences of failing never more deadly.

Detectivecatsuitdrew -

Nancy Drew: The Secret in the Vineyard

When a vineyard’s owner dies, there’s no suspicion of foul play. The youngest child of the late owner, however, isn’t convinced. He calls on Nancy Drew to investigate. Her presence ruffles the feathers of the two older siblings. As the tension rises in the house, Nancy concludes that the coroner was right; the vineyard’s owner died by natural causes.

However, there’s a bigger mystery at hand. After learning the vineyard was used as a set in a film made in the 1950s, a film plagued with mishaps and even a crime that ended the film’s production, Nancy learns that the late owner may have taken a secret to the grave. Can Nancy solve a decade’s old crime? Are there other secrets hiding in this vineyard? Travel to Northern California to find out!

Detectivecatsuitdrew -

Nancy Drew: The Asylum Ghost

Nancy isn’t surprised to hear from her friend, Savannah Woodham. She is surprised, however, when she asks her to be her assistant for a new venture. Nancy travels to an old abandoned asylum alongside Savannah as Savannah serves as an expert in a new documentary, directed by John Grey from TRN of all people.

Nancy learns about one of the most infamous patients at the asylum, a woman labeled “Crazy Mary.” As John Grey’s crew works to capture footage and hauntings, Nancy conducts her own investigation alongside Savannah. Both women just know there’s something more to Mary’s story than history’s telling. Can Nancy set the past right?

Detectivecatsuitdrew -

Nancy Drew: The Note in the Sanctuary

Nancy decides to take some time to volunteer at an animal sanctuary with Bess and George. Everything is going smoothly until, one night, there’s a break-in! Someone tries to steal one of the animals, but why? To sell the animal on the black market? To keep it as a pet? Or is the sanctuary not as reputable as it seems?

With the help of her friends, Nancy has to figure out who’s behind the attempted crime before they strike again. More importantly, she needs to know the truth to make sure she’s doing what she originally volunteered to do: take care of the animals and make sure they’re safe.

Fashion77 -

Nancy could be flying to or from River Heights (whichever) and the plane could crash! The mystery could be to find out what caused the crash, find her missing friends (they were in the plane crash too), and/or find her way out of they jungle they crashed in (with no food or water she would only have so much time to survive)!

The Key Clue :) -

[They explained how the first game would end, so I put that under “Ending Ideas.”]

OK, so for the second game, it picks up where we left off and we learn a little more about what happened. The plane's been hijacked and unless Nancy is able to retrieve a device from a representative of the Australian branch of Krolmeister that's being sent to the US for testing, "her fellow passengers will pay the price." Nancy is told that they've brought enough fuel on the plane to allow them to stay up in the air for days and also have a secret island they'll be hovering around where they can refuel. They also disabled the device on the plane that allows them to be tracked before the plane took off. So the second game is basically Nancy being the only one who knows what's going on, has to tell the other passengers a reason made up by the hijackers for the odd event, and find and essentially steal this hidden device for them. If she succeeds, everyone will be OK and the plane will go back on course home. She has to hurry up, or else everyone (including air traffic control) will get suspicious. If any passengers find out what's going on, the hijackers cover will be blown. This whole event is supposed to be a secret from Krolmeister. If she contacts the police in any way, she'll suffer the consequences. I figure though that she can somehow reason with the hijackers to let her phone her friends for help, as long as they don't contact the police. They do tell Nancy, however, that if the police show up anywhere near them, "everyone will suffer the consequences." So Nancy is in a situation where she has to comply.

Likealonewolf -

I'm partial to Sweden because it's the only place I've been outside of the U.S. There's a lot of fun cultural things they could put in there. Lots of yummy pastries and deserts too. Maybe Nancy could have to pose as a volunteer at an open air museum similar to Skansen? That way they could have cute animals and incorporate the different parts of the country into one game without excessive travel. And there is train travel that Nancy could utilize. Also, it would actually make sense for the local characters to speak English because most Swedes can speak English.

Mardropkick -

I want another game similar to Phantom of Venice where you get to do a lot of undercover work, but make it be into some sort of organization. Ooh! maybe you have to go undercover as part of an organization to learn its secrets and spy on them for someone else.

Mardropkick -

The other thing that would be cool is a National Treasure type game where you had to travel to different locations, but make the background and story line darker. Maybe something about an unsolved case?

MississippiJoel -

A human trafficking theme.

Nancy is called to investigate the disappearance of a cute teenaged girl, snatched from the streets in a third world country.

As she digs deeper, she meets escaped former slaves from a shadow organization that kidnaps people and forces them into hard labor. Eventually, she sneaks into a labor camp, frees the girl, finds the diamonds the slaves were searching for (think Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom), they have a daring escape, and Nancy presents convincing evidence to the authorities of the existence of the kidnappers, leading to the liberation of the camp and the prosecution of the criminals.

I think that would be the perfect way to raise awareness of modern slavery, and would lend itself to the perfect amount of danger while telling the story in a compelling way.

Nanfanhan -

[Playing as the culprit] Let's say this is ICE you're playing. You have a checklist, but nothing else. You are out in the mountains, with a bomb. When you check your checklist, it says {} Let loose bomb on Avalanche Hill. {} Make sure no one gets suspicious. You can't see any part of yourself, or hear your voice, and you don't have money, inventory, other suspects around, or a cell phone, so you can't tell who you are. [What, you thought you'd know who you were?] You put down the bomb in the designated spot, then it goes... ..........EXPLOSION NOISE.......... [You switch to Nancy] "What was that noise?" And so on.

Pandaplusbunny -

If I had to write a darker-than-usual story, I'd probably make it something that affects more than just the characters in the story. A threat of bioterrorism (similar to the plot of Inferno maybe?) or a huge corporate or government scandal that could rock the nation/economy. I guess just make it more of a realistic threat instead of "Oo a spooky ghost!"

The problem is that tension is immediately dissolved when Nancy is sent on errands. They need to keep the thread going, with Nancy commenting, "I better get this task done or else xyz!"

Rrieger -

It's gonna sound horrible when I word it this way, but I'd love to see the target be an old fan favorite character instead of someone close to Nancy. Like, if they offed one of the cowboys from Secret of Shadow Ranch. I think this type of plot would serve a few points -- more emotional investment = more motivation to solve the game, a familiar place for old fans would bring that touch of nostalgia that sells so well, and new fans would want to play the old game to understand the whole deal. Win win win

Sedimentally -

I agree with bioterrorism. Like maybe someone breaks into the CDC and steals a new strain of deadly virus. They catch the guy but he won't give up where he hid it. While in custody, he tries to get a message out to his friend (he had to change the dropoff location at the last second when the police were on his tail.) The police intercept it but the message is coded. Now nancy is racing to find the stolen viles before the other guy can.

Tyrianpurple -

I think it would be cool if Nancy had to go undercover and infiltrate a cult based on an anonymous tip from someone on the inside asking to be saved, but because it was anonymous Nancy doesn't know who among the characters is the one asking to be rescued so she needs to maintain her cover. Snooping and investigating would have to take place at night and she would have to avoid getting busted. All the suspects would seem shady so it would be up to Nancy's investigating to figure out who is the one that asked to be rescued.

Ultimate game objective would be to not just save the victim but also implicate the cult leader.

Veryveryinteresting -

Maybe a plot based in a hospital, Nancy has to visit the morgue, patients, blood bank, something like that. Maybe one of the staff has disappeared or bodies gone missing, or the hospital is on lock down due to an outbreak of some kind. She could visit each floor of the hospital, including roof and creepy basement!

@yiikesyikes (post) -

I’d love for the next Nancy mystery to be set on a cruise ship like they’d planned on doing for the dossier games. The spooks! The waves! The mortal danger of being trapped on the ocean with a ruthless criminal!!!

They could even steal the entire plot from the 70s TV show. They had an immaculate episode where Nancy had to protect a mystery novelist who was being forced to live one of his murder mysteries. “The Mystery of the Ghostwriters Cruise” would be a Nancy game to remember!!

Storyline Ideas:

Archaeology - milk-eyedmender

Countess Bathory - skmdk64

Municipal parks department - mermaid_k

Poachers - mermaid_k

Radio broadcast - kai_okama

The Romanovs - alyssarcastic

Sasquatch - allieadmade

Sci-fi - livelaughtacos

UFO Pacific Northwest - allieadmade

Vampires  - skmdk64

Vandalism - mermaid_k

Vlad Tepes - skmdk64

Working with animals - skmdk64

Young Frankenstein vibes with vampires + folklore - tuf00234

Clues/Findings:

Finding tracks in the dark - mermaid_k 

Secret passageway in the Taj Mahal - nandydrew

Puzzle/Side Game Ideas:

Collecting plastic/trash from beach - mermaid_k

Find clues

Cooking cultural foods - mermaid_k

Garbage run - mermaid_k

Drive, change garbages, find clues

Flower painting - mermaid_k

Lawn-mowing game - mermaid_k

like ice-clearing in ICE but instead of falling through the ice, you get lawnmower (industrial 3 deck mowers) stuck in wet ground because you sunk

mow without hitting trees/damaging things (adjust how wide you are from lifting and putting down your mower decks)

Pick up littered cans - mermaid_k

exchange for money to buy things

Weedwhacking - mermaid_k

Work at cemetery (spooky) - mermaid_k

Grass care

Learning Ideas:

Learn about endangered species - skmdk64

Learn about species of sea turtles - mermaid_k

Learn about the Civil War/plantations - itoldyousoanysayo

Learn about the Incas - empresslanfan

Learn Cyrillic code - withoutreservation

Learn more about Maori culture - anonamouselle

Learn more Spanish - empresslanfan

Learn some Swahili - empresslanfan

Research Cold War history (in Russia) - tuf00234

I would love to see Nancy go to Amsterdam, Holland for an awesome downtown experience or perhaps Beijing, China for some Great Wall/Forbidden City action!

Location Ideas:

Amsterdam downtown - haeniym

Angkor Wat - milk-eyedmender

Australia - kai_okama

Central America - mermaid_k

China - kai_okama

Conservation area (in Africa)  - skmdk64

Costa Rica - mermaid_k

Forbidden City - haeniym

Great Wall - haeniym

Hong Kong - mothprincess

Hungary - skmdk64

India - nandydrew

Istanbul - mothprincess

Kenya - tatertoski

Los Angeles - mardropkick

Ocean liner - hayleyhairball

National park - allieadmade

New York - mardropkick

Peru - empresslanfan

Romania - countrygirl2487

Romania castle - tuf00234

Russia - alyssarcastic

Russian playgrounds (creepy) - tuf00234

Safari - tatertoski

South America - empresslanfan

South Korea - kai_okama

Space - writhingroots

Sub-sahara Africa - alyssarcastic

Sweden - likealonewolf

Switzerland - mothprincess

Tanzania - tatertoski

Zoo (in Africa) - skmdk64

Ending Ideas:

Anonymous -

I want a Nancy Drew game that features Hotchkiss as one of the characters and at the end, it looks like the culprit is going to get away with their crime, but Hotchkiss comes over at the last second and hits them over the head with a guitar, saying, "Rock and roll, dear."

The Key Clue :) -

So, in the first game it would be Nancy in Australia - something we all want! I have absolutely no idea what the plot would be, but my idea involves more of the ending of this game. The game ends in a cliff-hanger. Just after Nancy explains the solution of the mystery and before the credits come up, Nancy is boarding her plane home. The plane takes off and an announcement comes over from the pilot. Something along the lines of "Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached our cruising altitude of 30,000 feet and the weather looks..." The pilot stops speaking abruptly and you here a crash over the PA system. The plane takes a nose dive and quickly comes up again back onto its regular course. A strange voice comes over the system and says "Would Nancy Drew please come to the cockpit immediately. If she refuses to comply with our wishes, her fellow passengers will pay the price." Something threatening along those lines. And that's it. The game ends.

Mayaw1010

Along the lines of SPY though, one aspect I really liked about that game and Ghost of Thornton Hall that I want to see more of is when we get to make choices that affect the game. I loved how GTH had multiple endings and SPY gave you the choice to work with the opposing group or not. For me, making choices that actually matter really creates tension.

Sugarplumninja -

Catch animal poachers

#here it is! #if anyone has any more ideas message me and i can add them :) #nancy drew #her interactive #clue crew #video game #video games #game #games #plot #plots

[riversoaked]

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME : jules ( julia ) rowland. 

MEANING:

name: jules, meaning youthful, downy.

surname: rowland, meaning renown land.

MONIKERS / NICKNAMES : the veteran. 

GENDER & PRONOUNS : cis-female, she / her. ( very complicated relationship with gender. please do not ask her about it. ) ETHNICITY : white english. DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: january 10, 1805. ( 40 years old ) ZODIAC SIGN : capricorn — the sign that is brave enough to never run away, but constantly afraid of their inner monsters. ORIENTATION : bi, bi, bi ! ( must be: someone who can beat her in a fight. ) ( or: a beautiful and dainty woman / twink who she would protect in a fight. ) ( strong leaning toward women tho. )  MARITAL STATUS : single and has absolutely never considered herself wife material.  OCCUPATION : quartermaster.  CURRENT LOCATION : the hms promethean.

BACKGROUND:

PLACE OF BIRTH : london, england. port city, baby !  RESIDENCES : whatever ship she’s on. she hasn’t ever really had a stable “residence.”  RELIGIOUS VIEWS : she’ll pray to literally any god she thinks might be listening. she’s tried it all! ultimately, some form of christianity. spiritualism. sailor superstitions. it’s a mix.  EDUCATION : very little formal education. she learned to read / write when she was a teenager. she learned a lot on the job! she’s a little proud of this and also a little salty when she talks to people far more educated than herself.  LANGUAGES SPOKEN : english and a handful of other languages where she’s picked up very selected and colorful phrases.  FAMILY :

child: eleanor clarke ( ~7 years old, being pregnant literally saved jules’ life after the rest of her crew was killed / captured in her final days as a river pirate. she pleaded the belly to avoid getting hanged herself, used the child to garner sympathy, was released from jail, and dumped the child on her sister. honestly, it was the best for everyone. father is known, but unaware of eleanor’s existence or what happened to jules for that matter. ) 

parents: mother ( anna rowland, deceased ) + father ( albert rowland, as good as deceased ). the short story: anna and albert marry young, have jules, end up in a poorhouse, and albert runs off. jules and her mother think dear old dad is dead, but he’s just gone off and married some new and younger woman who actually has a little bit of money. anna dies due to the horrible conditions of the poorhouse, and some of the other people try to take care of jules but she’s ~12 years old and absolutely unruly and runs off. 

siblings: ida clarke ( half-sister, 8 years younger --- a result of dad’s new marriage, which jules found out about after running off. jules absolutely hated her at first, since her family was living in conditions that were a lot better than what jules ever had, but ida’s sheer stubborn goodwill eventually won jules over. ida taught jules to read / write when jules was ~16. yes, it was embarrassing for jules to learn from an 8 year old; no, no one knows about this. the two keep in touch. ida is married with two kids now, one of which is jules’ birth daughter. ) 

OTHER FAMILIAL RELATIONS : none that still talk to jules. jules LOVED burning bridges. 

APPEARANCE:

FACECLAIM : katheryn winnick. HAIR COLOUR / STYLE : blonde, typically messy, always pinned back or braided. since her mother died, she wore her hair short so that she could blend in / be mistaken for a man. since she joined with malachy, this is the first time in her adult life where she’s been able to wear her hair long. she has no idea what to do with it, but it makes her feel pretty, okay!!! she’s never felt pretty before, and maybe that’s shallow, but she deserves this, okay!!  EYE COLOUR / SHAPE : hazel, round eyes. HEIGHT : 5 ft. 8 in. BUILD : athletic / toned. can and will beat you in an arm wrestling match.  SPEECH STYLE : low voice, tries not to speak too often, communicates far more with looks. she always sounds like she’s mocking you even when she’s not. kind of just grumpy.   RECOGNIZABLE MARKINGS : too many scars to name. the most prominent: a shocking amount of scars on her back, small scar on her cheek, a scar across her stomach. some tattoos: pig on the left foot, chicken on the right foot, heart on her forearm with a name that has since been done over with a dagger. ( also let jules give you a tattoo. ) BEAUTY HABITS : she’s gross. someone give her tips and teach her how to properly wash her hair. :-/ 

PERSONALITY:

TROPES : bruiser with a soft center,  ineffectual loner, old soldier, for the greater good  INSPIRATIONS : jude perry (the magnus archives), anne bonny (black sails), azula (avatar: the last airbender), bucky barnes (captain america) (i know, i know)  MBTI : istj --- introverted, observant, thinking, judging, turbulent.  ENNEAGRAM : type eight --- the challenger, sees themselves as strong and powerful and seeks to stand up for what they believe in.  ALIGNMENT : chaotic neutral --- an individualist first and last. HOGWARTS HOUSE : gryffindor. POSITIVE TRAITS : bone-deep loyal to the captain, observant to the strengths and faults of those around her, trying to do better  NEGATIVE TRAITS : certain in her superstitions, haunted by who she was in the past and who she might be again, willing to do whatever it takes for her cause  HABITS : tugging on her hair, just straight up not answering questions if she doesn’t want to, slipping into her Commanding Voice even when it’s not the place for it  HOBBIES : cleaning her weapons, drinking with the crew, playing cards, just listening and watching the water, training  USUAL DEMEANOR : she does not really give off the vibe of approachable. she comes across as brash and rude and a bit barbaric. she’ll pace back and forth and can snap at people, but if she knows you... she is a lil nicer... she’ll slap you on the back and thrust a drink in your hand. 

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS : she’s broken some bones that haven’t healed right, and her back hurts sometimes. just some aches and pains that feed into her “oh it’s time to retire” jokes.  NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION : trauma, baby........  ptsd and lots of resulting anger issues from it.  PHOBIAS : fear of ghosts, fear of the past, fear of what she is capable of.  ALLERGIES : none that she knows of. SLEEPING HABITS : insomnia due to.... everything going on with her lmao  SOCIABILITY : bad at it, negative charisma. she’s like a cat that pretends it doesn’t want to be petted and will slowly come up to you and you’ll start petting it and then it’ll bite your hand for no reason. desperately wants affection, does not know how to give affection / receive affection.  ADDICTIONS : she was very alcohol dependent for a few months before malachy found her. now it’s a bit more casual, but it’s a little too easy for her to cross that line. 

#reference. #in short: jules is BAD at being a family member #and GREAT at being a crew member

[mzargentum]

The Stormsender’s Daughter | Chapter XVI | Bird Watching

Chapter XV | Chapter XVI | Chapter XVII

Word Count: 1,290

Warnings: None.

A/N: Italics are previous events. 

“Uh oh…”.

Muerlin smirked lightly at her potential victim.

“What happened to your angel act?”

The girl, although understanding why the young wizard would’ve been pissed, she was fully aware this could easily be the end.

“Yeah, well, as much as I hate being in one piece”, the girl’s sarcasm very evident, “…it probably would be super detrimental to my health if I wasn’t so I figured I should probably lose it”.

“Hm”, Muerlin chuckled, “good call”.

Her hand still poised and ready to strike, patiently waiting for the girl to start.

“So, is there a particular order you want this to go?”, the girl asked. Making it excruciatingly obvious how much she wasn’t enjoying this current hostage interrogation.

“Why don’t you start with why you tried to trick me to get me captured by the Empire?”

With a light sigh, the girl finally spoke seriously.

“Look, I know how this looks, but this isn’t what you’re thinking…”, she confessed. “None of this was meant to hurt you”.

“Then what was it?”, Muerlin asked in a light tone.

This actually unnerved the girl. In usual situations like these, there was a sense of urgency, but the young wizard seemed to see this as a simple game of 20 questions…while also threatening to kill her with lightning.

For someone who was really good at pretending to be nervous…she had a hard time pretending to not be here.

“Revenge…”.

Muerlin’s raised a curious brow at the girl’s darkened tone.

“For what…?”

The girl merely sighed in slight frustration. Clearly this was a sensitive subject for her…Muerlin could see her shaking. Feel the tension in her bones.

“…why were you in that mansion…?”, Muerlin asked. Her tone demanding a full answer this time.

After a brief pause…knowing she couldn’t get away with the vague answer she gave the young wizard last time…

“…because...”, the girl nearly whispered, “I didn’t have a choice”.

“Not good enough”, Muerlin quickly retorted. 

The girl winced in irritation at Muerlin’s response.

“Look”, Muerlin took a seat on the opposite side of their fire, “I don’t necessarily want to hurt you. I’m not a killer”.

“That’s not what the Nifs are saying”, the girl smirked before being started by a sudden piercing screech past her head.

A large blast echoing through the caverns.

The girl panting heavily. Her eyes peering open to see a radiating heat coming from the wizard’s core.

Her hand slightly ajar from its original position and the heat radiating from her fingers overpowering the rest of her.

Quickly turning around, she noticed a heat signature imbedded into the cavern walls in the shape of a massive crater.

Barely out of the way of her head.

The girl gritted her teeth in light fear and agitation...lightning doesn’t miss.It was a warning shot.

“That probably cut your time in half”.

The girl jolted back to view the impatient wizard.

“So let’s try this again...”, Muerlin’s light voice making the hairs on the back of the girl’s neck stand at attention, “...why were you doing...in the mansion?

”The girl sighed softly accepting there was no way out of this. Her milky stare firmly fixated on the wizard. Arms folded in light sass.

That lighthearted smirk returned much to the wizard’s surprise.

“Bird watching”.

                                           ___________________

The smell of bleach burned inside the girl’s nostrils as she finished cleaning yet another room.

If only her impaired vision could actually make it difficult to differ blood from semen, it would probably make her job a lot easier.

This time, specifically, it was blood. Galahd didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.

Yet another dissatisfied customer...and another body for her to dispose of...

But no time for a bath, there were other matters to attend to...other floors that needed scrubbing by morning unless she wanted a nice thrashing from Birdie...

That degenerate whore...

Just thinking of her name made Galahd’s bloodstained hand curl into a fist around the scrub brush.

She’d get what she deserved.

Both her and Dion.

That bastard...

Galahd clutched the throbbing bruise left over her eye by the man’s pistol as she turned her attention to the thin glimmer of light at dead end of the hallway.

He was in there...as he was most nights.

She was never allowed in. She was much too unsightly. They preferred she roamed in the dark, but that was where she most familiar.

For they could never tell what truly lurked beyond those milky eyes.

As she silently approached the door, like a ghost floating through the abyss, she overheard a sharp cheerful voice echo through the halls.

“You and me have hit the jackpot now, Big Daddy. The Emperor will surely be pleased”.

Birdie.

“Yes...he would be...wouldn’t he?”

Galahd stopped just far enough to where her silhouette remained invisible against the light.

“The Chancellor’s prized possession walks in our humble establishment and is now counting sheep in one of our rooms”.

She had a clear view of Dion pacing back and forth about the room.

In the silence, she listened closely.

“One phone call...and we finally get the reward and position we so rightfully deserve in the emperor’s circle”.

As disgusting as the plan generally was, the girl was not surprised...Dion was a loyal dog to the Empire after all. Besides, the Pythoness would put this place on the world map.

“We’ll be the talk of Niflheim, baby”.

“Yes, yes, but...is this really the answer?”

“What’re ya talking about?”

Galahd’s eye narrowed. For once, she actually concurred with Birdie’s dimwitted confusion.

“We’ve got this in the bag. Give the Pythoness to that creep Izunia and we’ll live like royalty until death do us part”.

“Yes, but...is this all my great legacy will be? Will I only be the man that captured the Pythoness?”

“What you tryin’ to say?”

“Returning the Pythoness to the Chancellor would get us in with the gold, but...keepin’ her for myself, makin’ her one of my girls...my girl...with her at my side...why, I’d have Aldercapt at my balls”.

Galahd’s eyes sharpened. Her ears ringing. The loyal dog was considering betrayal?

“Now, hold on there, Dion”.

Galahd’s gaze darted to Birdie as she stood.

“We already got a plan. Gettin’ under Aldercapt’s skin would be nice and all, but gettin’ in his circle, we’d be swimming in dough”.

The girl’s brow raised in sudden curiosity. Why was Birdie so bothered by this idea? As deceptive and dangerous as it could be, with careful planning this could be pulled off brilliantly. What was her issue?

“True...but makin’ that ol’ shriveled motherfucker sweat, I become the circle”.

Galahd’s eyes widened suddenly. The realization setting in curved her blank expression to a light smirk.

Just as he said...HE becomes the circle.

HE takes over with the Pythoness at his side doing whatever he saw fit.

And Birdie?

Left to shrivel up and die like the semen she forces Galahd to clean.

“Now, Dion, what in heaven’s name gave you such a ridiculous idea like that?”

Yes, it was there. In her voice. That fear of her abandonment.

“Really. Makin’ that child one of your girls just to piss off the Empire. Now, what we need to be doin’ is-”.

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to recall asking you for your input, sweetheart. Please...enlighten me if I am mistaken”.

“Not at all, baby”.

“That’s what I thought”.

A deeper smirk stretched across her face as an idea formed in her head.

Slowly backing away from the doorway, Galahd’s excitement overtook her just slightly as she whispered “gotcha” before turning her heel and hastily heading toward the kitchen.

Not noticing a confused Birdie peering into through the cracked door.

Blindly into the abyss. 

The hunter just down the hall.

                                                ________________

Tagging: @digitalkanvas​ @completelyinappropriate​ @aquathemermaidstripper​ @glacian-apocalypse​ @a-new-recipehhh​

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #final fantasy oc #final fantasy fanfiction #muerlinian zephyr #sibyl ramses #the stormsender's daughter #dionysus mammon #birdie #bird of paradise #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn izunia #iedolas aldercapt #niflheim #chapter 16

[queenrhenpendragon]

Back and Forth (In Pieces 23)

For reference, the party has returned Eithera to Aveyond, gotten Pirate John and Mad Marge, and is on the way to get a dragon. Also, I have Dameon trying to learn a spell from a spellbook, because even though one for him is never mentioned in the game, in Ahriman's Prophecy there is a book in the Collegium of War and Magick that says spells must be studied to be learned. So. Yeah, I’m a nerd.

Warning that this one is a bit more emotional than the previous ones; Dameon has a lot to work through.

_

They had stopped for lunch on the beach, at Pirate John's request. Galahad said it was hot and Te'ijal said it was romantic, or amusing, she couldn't seem to decide which. Lars thought it was sandy, and Elini's hair kept getting in her mouth. Mad Marge sneered at her and told her to cut it, and Rhen told her Dameon could braid it, and swung her own braid around to show the demon summoner, which Dameon thought was very cute and also very— 

There was a kind of twisting in his stomach that reminded him how frail things like this were. He had been so— happy, recently, and the last time he had been this happy—

It could all end, it could all end quickly, and he would be powerless to stop it, just like before.

He had to do something, he had to be prepared this time.

So he had excused himself, and walked farther down the desert beach to look for a quiet place to study. He’d found a cove, which shielded him from view, and he’d taken out his spellbook and sat down to try to learn the one offensive spell a Sun Priest could learn, Sun Fury. 

It was an ancient spell, older, perhaps, than even Vata. He had seen his father use it only very, very rarely, when he was in danger, or when his... when his mother was in danger. And one horrible time, against his mother, on that night. 

He didn't want to remember, not now. He had to concentrate if he was going to figure this spell out. He glared down at the book in his hands— it had been his father's. 

Father. Mother. The words did not mean what they once did. They did not mean the same from one moment to the next. Father, someone he had loved, who had protected him, and taught him— someone who had died, who had left him when he was most in need. Mother, someone he had trusted, someone who had betrayed him carelessly—

Someone who wanted his forgiveness.

The gentle back and forth of the waves on the beach should have soothed him, but instead it flustered him, back, and forth, and back— like his thoughts, and he couldn't escape either.

He used to think his mother was evil, for what she had done, for how she had broken their family. But today, the party was going to capture a Tehyor dragon. Tehyor dragons could not abide evil. And he couldn't help thinking, as he sat alone in the sand, with the waves crashing in front of him— what if— if he could forgive his mother, if he had forgiveness anywhere in his soul, then maybe— maybe, his family could be un-broken. And maybe the emptiness in him, the lack of anything light— maybe that was the real evil. Maybe the dragon would kill him.

He was afraid to die— and back, and forth, and back, and forth—

The waves were like him. Inconstant. Unsteady. Advancing only to retreat again. Forming only to break against the beach, against sand—

He had fainted during a battle that morning. He was always fainting, he couldn't fight back when attacked, like the others could. He hated it— the cold sweat, the foggy spinning feeling in his head, the sour taste in his mouth and the knotted feeling in his gut, like he'd been punched, and most of all how helpless and pathetic and useless he was, and how vulnerable he left everyone else, and especially—

Especially, he hated how vulnerable he left Rhen, and maybe it was selfish of him, and maybe he didn't care.

That's why he had to learn Sun Fury. He couldn't leave her without shields, or healing, not anymore—

Eithera had made him realize it. Eithera was invincible, and terrifying, she could probably break him in two if she felt like it, and he had no evidence she didn’t feel like it— but she had taken an immediate liking to Rhen, and before they had arrived in Aveyond she had told Dameon, in a low voice, "If I had any intention of retiring in the next century, I would make the sword swinger my successor."

And then, almost indifferently, "It is too bad she will die before then."

He'd turned to stare at her, and she'd scoffed. "Foolish child! Being the Chosen One does not give her immortality. Do you forget?"

He had not forgotten, only... he had not remembered, and—

It was not fair, that Rhen would die, after all she had done for the world, and all she still intended to do—

He could do almost nothing about it. All those useless defensive spells he had— he could protect her from injury, from nearly every kind of magical attack, from curses and poisons and broken bones— but against time, every spell he had was powerless.

Vata could protect her, if he chose to, if it were necessary to his all-important grand scheme of things.  And the Oracle could protect her, if she thought it would help keep the world in balance. If, it all came down to that, to the uncompromising decision of some ancient being who had long forgotten what it was to be human— to be small, and— to be vulnerable.

The sound of the waves pulled him back to reality. Back, and forth, and back—

It was like the way Rhen's braid swayed behind her when she walked— and back, and forth. He remembered how she blushed when he talked to her— and back, and forth— and he remembered how frighteningly pale she was after a battle when she'd lost too much blood—

It always made Dameon think of his father, on that night, when he lay dying on the stone floor and there had been nothing Dameon could do, just stare and scream—

His father's life had not been important to Vata's grand scheme. It had not been necessary to the balance of Aia. His father, who had been the Druid of Light for centuries, who had protected the Oracle's precious harmony for millennia— he was left to die. Would Rhen's life be valued any higher?

He could not risk it. He had not forgotten what it was to measure life on a different scale than the unbending masters of Aia. He remembered loss. His heart still ached with it. His soul was still numb.

And the waves still advanced and retreated, they never rested, back, and forth, and back—

Ahriman could protect her. Ahriman could give her immortality, and he wouldn't have any arbitrary conditions, any unmeetable demands. He would grant her life because she was steadfast and strong, and deadly and—

She was also beautiful, in a way that had nothing to do with her smile or her long eyelashes or all her gently curling hair gathered up in a braid behind her, swaying back and forth—

And back, and forth—

She had asked him to braid her hair again that morning. He had been thinking of what Eithera had said, and of what his mother had done, and a smile had been the farthest thing from his mind. But when she gave him her brush and that familiar rosy blush spread over her face, he had smiled without thinking about it, and he forgot about all those dark things and he thought instead of lavender and of how funny it was that he unknotted her hair just to knot it up again— except more neatly, of course. She had laughed when he told her so. Her laugh was beautiful, and loud, and genuine, and if a sound could be made by a candle flickering in a far-away window when everything else was dark, that would be it. 

A world without that laugh would be— empty. 

He had to learn this spell. He stared down at the book. He couldn't comprehend the words, he was reading them but they were passing through him like ghosts—

And back, and forth, and back, and forth—

He read the words slowly, tested them on his tongue. They felt foreign. It was foolish, to think he could learn a spell like this. He was not powerful, like his father. He did not even know if he was good or evil.

But not learning the spell was not an option. He read it again. 

Maybe all he could do would never be enough. He could not even bring his mother to justice— he didn't even always know if he wanted to, or if he should want to— 

He could not undo what he had already done. He could not fix what was already broken— he was broken, and if he kept fighting the world and his mother and— himself— maybe he would only ever make it worse. 

There was not enough light in Aia to combat the darkness that was inside him.

The words were still unfamiliar. How many times had he read them now? It didn't matter, he had to fight, he had to learn this spell. For Rhen. 

He said the words until he remembered them. He remembered them, but he didn't feel them like he should. He put the book down and picked up his staff. He said the words again. 

Nothing. 

He tried to reach for some kind of offensive power inside, something like—

Anger. He was angry at his mother.

He said the words. Nothing.

He was angry at— the Oracle, for dropping the weight of the world on Rhen, for giving her nothing to help her carry it, for not even caring if she lived or died—

Nothing, nothing, nothing!

He was angry at— at— at—

Himself, for not being able to do this, for being so weak and powerless and— broken—

Something happened, something in his stomach that rose up his throat with the words— and it rebounded back against him, painfully—

He tried again. The spell backfired— again. He grunted in frustration. Why couldn't he be like Rhen, dangerous and capable and— good—

Again— it backfired. It wasn't working, he was only destroying himself—

Again—

"Dameon! What are you doing?"

He whirled around and suddenly he was facing Rhen. She was standing at the mouth of the cove, her eyes wide, her lips a quivering pink o.

"I— I— I was just trying to learn this— spell."

"What— what spell?" Her voice squeaked— he had frightened her. She was walking to him now and he took a step back. 

"I— I was practicing Sun Fury. It's for— offense."

She had reached him. She put her hand on his staff and he knew she was trembling by how it shook. "Well— stop practicing. You're tired. You need— a break."

"Rhen..." he didn't know how to explain it to her, she didn't understand. He had to practice, he needed to know this spell— he didn’t want to scare her. "I— I should be able to do this by now! Sun Priests have been learning this spell for— millennia."

"Please, Dameon?" She was looking up at him with her vividly violet eyes— what was beautiful about Rhen was the bottomless look of those eyes, like they could swallow up all the darkness in the world and still sparkle in the sun. Her beauty was kindness and gentleness and all those things which sounded so soft but which were so heavy to carry— which she carried anyway, because she was brave. "Let— let me take care of the offense, okay?" she continued. "I need you to defend me, and to take care of my injuries, and to— to—"

He swallowed down the anger that still shook in his chest, the rage that was mostly shame and fear, and he finished for her, "— To— braid your hair?"

She smiled softly, and then flung her arms around his neck and rested her head on his robes and held him until he forgot to be afraid. 

And when they got to the dragon later that day, and it glanced sideways at him and his heart stopped, Rhen just took his hand and pulled him up to sit behind her on its back, and he clung tightly to her waist, and he still didn't know if he was good or bad—

But he could hold on to her while the world raced by beneath them, and— she would help them find the answers, whatever they were.

#aveyond #rhen pendragon #rhen darzon #dameon maurva #rhenxdameon #in pieces 23 #fanfiction #another ocean one #also some important plot details for later #fluffyaveyond #do not reblog if you support character bashing or have anything remotely resembling it on your blog

[ghouliday-music]

Good Night

So I was thinking about all the nice, comfy beds you can find in the underground, and how Frisk’s sleep is disturbed in nearly all of them. Poor kid needs their rest. Therefore, the idea for this sprang forth. I hope you enjoy.

Good Night

Summary: Frisk is ready to trade the entire kingdom of monsters for even just an hour of uninterrupted sleep. But will they find it?

Rating: T

Characters: Frisk

Warnings: Food mention, death mention, self harm mention

Disclaimer: I am not Toby Fox. I don’t own Undertale, its characters, or anything besides a copy of the Collector’s Edition. 

The first time that Frisk slept in the underground was in Toriel’s house.

They’d been exhausted from their long day; falling down a hole and then running away from all the monsters trying to kill them really took a lot out of a person. Frisk was now hating the fantasy books they’d read that showed the main characters acting like it was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

So when Toriel gave them a room, and they saw it had a bed, they swallowed any pride that might’ve insisted they say they weren’t tired and crawled in, pulled the duvet over their head, curled into the smallest ball they could manage, and closed their eyes.

The moment they fell asleep, they had a dream.

They were lying on a bed, their body feeling heavy like stone, the blankets crushing rather than comforting. Something wet and cool draped itself over its forehead, and something large and furry was patting their hand.

Someone spoke. It sounded like a name, and it sounded really important. Frisk focused on the words.

“Please, wake up!” The voice continued. It was deep and slow, but urgent nevertheless. “You are the future of humans and monsters!”

Frisk twitched awake, their eyes still gummy from exhaustion. The room was now dark. Toriel must’ve come in and turned off the light after realizing they’d gone to bed.

What was that dream about? It seemed important, important enough to jolt out of bed.

Well, I can think about it later, Frisk thought. Right now, they just wanted to get some proper rest.

They laid back in bed and closed their eyes.

They were woken again by a deep, rumbling voice was at once comforting and heartbreaking.

“Stay determined!” they said.

Frisk jolted awake. They felt like they hadn’t even gotten proper rest at all.

Well, that was that. They obviously weren’t getting any sleep at all with that voice insisting they woke up and “stayed determined” or whatever that meant. They had a question to ask Toriel.

The second time Frisk got a chance to sleep in the underground they nearly cried with relief.

The fight with Toriel had woken them up–it was hard to stay sleepy when someone was throwing fire at you, or creeping up behind you, or declaring that they’d capture you–but the adrenaline had only lasted so long. By the time Frisk had reached the puzzle with the flashing tiles, the only thing from stopping them from going to sleep outside was the fact that there was snow everywhere. They’d seen enough movies to know going to sleep in the cold was a bad idea.

Subsequently, they were finding a lot of things funnier than they should. Papyrus spinning off into the distance after his puzzle failed nearly made Frisk fall over into the snow from laughter, and they were laughing at all their own jokes about the “snow poffs” and snow decahedrons they were seeing along the way.

It was a miracle they didn’t laugh through monsters killing them, and they knew if Papyrus confronted them again they’d be done for and have to trudge through waist-deep snow again, so when the shopkeeper rabbit mentioned a nearby inn they saw their chance and jumped at it.

“Hello, there,” the innkeeper said, smiling down at the child as they approached the front desk. Her ears stood straight up, like antennae, and she was blushing, or maybe was wearing blush on her fur. A small, white-furred child peeked up over the counter next to her, button nose twitching. “Welcome to Snowed Inn, little one!”

Frisk nodded, feeling kind of worried. Would the innkeeper refuse to let them stay because they were a child?

The innkeeper’s face softened. “Are you wanting a room to stay in?”

Frisk could practically hear the angels singing, “Hallelujah” in the distance.

They nodded so hard they nearly banged their chin on the counter.

The innkeeper tried to hide her soft laugh behind a hand. “Okay, then. One night is eighty gold.”

Frisk frowned and dug through their pockets. They’d managed to get some gold on the way, but they hadn’t been keeping count of how much, and they’d bought some nice cream on the way over.

The woman waited patiently as Frisk piled the coins on the counter and began sliding them into another pile, remaining patient as they counted the numbers in their head. Or maybe she was only pretending to be, and thinking mean thoughts about them in her head. Frisk tried to keep their fingers steady, but what if they messed up and gave her only seventy-nine gold coins? Would she kick them out and never let them in again?

Finally, they pushed the last coin into the pile. Fifty eight. They frowned and felt their eyes prickle with tears. They looked up at the woman and shook their head.

The rabbit’s eyes went wide and she placed her hand over her mouth.

They’re going to yell at me, they thought, flinching.

“Oh, you poor thing!” The voice made Frisk pause. She didn’t sound angry. “You don’t even have eighty gold? I can only imagine what you’ve been through.” Her nose twitched, and she reached under the counter. “I have an empty room upstairs,” she said, and handed them a key. It was kind of rusty and dull, and a well-worn yarn rabbit had been attached to the keyring. There was a “1” stitched onto the rabbit’s back. “You stay here as long as you like, okay?”

Frisk took the key. It had the faint smell of cinnamon that made them think of Toriel.

Eyes watering, they nodded and walked up the stairs.

They walked up the stairs and walked down the hallway before they found the door with a “1” painted onto it. They unlocked it and stepped inside.

The room was a bit chilly, but not as frigid as it was outside, so they were sure as long as they stayed under the blankets they’d be fine. There was hardly anything in the room, just a chipped wooden table with no chair, a dented lamp, and a small end table with a book on it.

But most importantly, it had a bed.

Without even pausing to turn off the lamp, Frisk flopped down on the bed. Just like the key, the sheets smelled like cinnamon, like someone had made Toriel’s pie on the blankets, or maybe put some in the washer. Did monsters use cinnamon-scented detergent? Frisk didn’t know.

Maybe I’ll ask when I wake up, they thought.

When they woke up turned out to be one minute later, according to the phone Toriel had given them.

The sound was all too familiar to Frisk. They’d heard enough snoring to last them a few lifetimes. But this, this was particularly obnoxious. It sounded like Farmer Brown’s pig had gotten hold of a megaphone and was blaring its snorting right into their ear canal. It was the kind of snoring that made Frisk want to gouge out their eardrums just so they’d never hear anything like it again.

Frisk stuck their head underneath the pillow, but it didn’t do anything to muffle the sound. They sat up, folded up the blanket, and piled that on top of it before shoving their head underneath it again, but even when they hid their hands underneath them too to plug their ears, the volume didn’t go down. In fact, Frisk was sure they were snoring louder.

Frisk sighed, grabbed the key from the table, and went back downstairs. At least if Papyrus captured them they might be able to get some sleep.

The third time Frisk got a chance to sleep, it wasn’t even sleep at all. They’d just passed out after Undyne cut the bridge underneath them. One moment, they’d realized they weren’t flying after all, but falling, and the next they’d slipped into unconsciousness.

They were lying in the dark, on cold and hard stone. They got the feeling that someone was standing in front of them, but they couldn’t see anything, except maybe something pale, and about their size?

They realized the person in front of them was speaking.

“Oh, you’ve fallen down, haven’t you?” the voice asked. Their voice was high-pitched, but in the way children like Frisk spoke. “Are you okay?”

Frisk wanted to sign, to hold up a thumb to say yes, but they couldn’t. They didn’t feel in control of their own body.

“Here, get up.” Something came closer to Frisk’s face. It was white, and soft, and furry, and had one too few fingers.

Frisk took it without meaning to, and the figure pulled them onto their feet.

“What’s your name?” the person in front of them asked.

Frisk wanted to jump in surprise when their mouth opened and gave them one. They didn’t mean to speak. They didn’t mean to give the person a name that wasn’t theirs.

“That’s a nice name.” The voice sounded like it was coming from further away. The sensation of stone beneath their sneakers was fading, too. It was like they were falling, or maybe rising. “My name is–”

Frisk blinked their eyes open.

They saw a golden flower.

They jumped backward, landing on their backside in water, expecting little specks of magic to come flying at them.

Nothing happened.

They took a deep breath and forced themself to look, really look, at what they’d seen.

It was a bed of golden flowers.

I must be jumpy because I haven’t gotten any sleep, they thought, and continued on their way, veering a long way around the golden flowers.

Frisk had liked Napstablook before–not liking the ghost, in their opinion, was worse than kicking a puppy–but when Napstablook scared away the dummy that’d attacked them for no reason they almost declared them their best then and there.

And then Napstablook had invited them to their house, and let them listen to their music, and gave them food. Well, tried to give them food, but it was the thought that counted.

But after that came Frisk’s favorite part:

“After a great meal I like to lie on the floor and feel like garbage.”

Frisk nearly cheered–not at the thought of Napstablook feeling like garbage, that ghost should not feel sorry a day in their life–but the thought of lying on the ground and getting some sleep was so appealing. They’d work on Napstablook’s self-esteem after a good nap.

“It’s a family tradition,” Napstablook trailed off, clearly thinking of something. Then, hesitantly, they asked, “Did you want to join me?”

Frisk nodded a bit too eagerly for one about to feel like garbage.

“Okay.” Napstablook sounded shocked. “Follow my lead.”

Frisk followed them away from the fridge and into the center of the room, where the ghost floated down until their back was on the floor. Frisk laid down nearby, so that if Napstablook had had feet Frisk might be able to touch them with theirs.

“Here we go.” Napstablook sounded slightly anxious. “You’ll remain laying down so long as you don’t move. So, only move around when you want to get up, I guess.”

Frisk blinked. What was Napstablook talking about?

Who cares? they thought, and felt guilty for thinking it. I’ll worry about it once I get some rest.

They were just about to close their eyes when the room started to darken.

At first, they thought it was the lack of sleep, but then lights began to appear in the darkness, swirling, flickering, and Frisk realized they and Napstablook were at the center of a galaxy. It was frightening, but also kind of hypnotizing?

Certainly not restful, though.

They watched two galaxies merge in a dance before getting to their feet. The darkness pulled back to the corners of the room, bringing the universe with it. Napstablook floated up.

“Well, that was nice,” they said.

Not as nice as a proper sleep, Frisk decided, and left.

The next chance Frisk had to sleep wasn’t until the very end of Hotland. They ignored Sans–unless he had a bed somewhere in his pockets, they weren’t interested in anything he was selling–and marched into the building behind him, and grinned when the person greeting them mentioned it was a hotel.

They were so tired they barely registered that the monster running the front desk had a hand for a head. They handed over the gold they asked for without thinking, too; they just wanted to sleep. The monster handed them a key card and waved them away.

Finally, I get to go to bed, Frisk thought, trudging down the hallway and past the janitor made of mud. If they’d had the energy, they would’ve skipped to the room.

The key card slid into the mechanism smoothly, and with a solid chunk! the door unlocked. They stepped in and jumped.

The music that was playing with the sounds they made pulsed louder, and then stopped.

Frisk gently went to take a step forward.

The music played for a second, and then stopped again.

Frisk slowly walked to the bed.

The music throbbed out a bass beat all the way there.

Why did Mettaton take a hotel room and make it so every time you moved, music plays? Frisk shook their head. Every time they thought the robot couldn’t get any weirder, they came across more evidence to prove that he, in fact, could.

Whatever. They’d just have to lie still and hope they didn’t set the music off in their sleep.

That hope lasted all of thirty seconds after they crawled under the oversized bed’s covers, when they caught a whiff of perfume from the other side of the bed, and started sneezing uncontrollably. The party music followed them out the door.

As Frisk meandered out into the lobby, they caught a whiff of burgers coming from the nearby store. Their stomach clenched; the last time they’d eaten was at Sans’s hot dog stand.

They checked their pockets and groaned. All they had left were three coins, some pocket lint, and dog residue.

Well, maybe Sans is still here, they thought. Maybe he’ll still have some free head dogs for me.

He was, in fact, still there, but by the time he left them, Frisk swore they’d never take him up on the offer for food again.

By the time Frisk came across the room with two twin-sized beds, they didn’t care if it was the king’s house. They just wanted to sleep.

They threw themself onto its mattress and buried their face into the pillow. Despite the thin layer of dust, it was the most comfortable thing they’d ever felt.

This bed is so comfortable, I might not ever get up, they thought.

And then they remembered this was the king’s house. If Asgore came back and found a human asleep in his house, he’d kill them. Even though they might come back, it still wasn’t any fun being killed.

They slid themself off the mattress, gave it a longing look, and left the room and its temptation behind.

Frisk was running on empty. Only the occasional melted creature popping out of sinks or bathtubs was keeping Frisk awake. If they hadn’t, they were sure they’d have fallen asleep while walking.

What sort of sick place is this? They asked themself this question for the hundredth time as they progressed deeper into the labyrinth beneath Alphys’s lab. And why’s it in Alphys’s bathroom?

Finally, they stumbled around another corner and groaned. It wasn’t cruel enough to be deprived of sleep their entire time down there, but now they’d have to walk through a giant room filled wall-to-wall with beds?

If I lay down on one, it’s going to turn all goopy and swallow me up, they told themself.

But they laid down on the nearest one anyway, and burrowed their face into the pillow. They didn’t even bother with the blanket; even down in the depths of the earth, it was warm enough to not need one.

So far, so good, they thought.

No sooner had they thought this then they got the feeling they were being watched.

Frisk wanted to move, to run, but they felt anchored to the bed through fear and exhaustion.

Something out of the corner of their eye moved. It was a long, pale arm, almost transparent.

The arm came closer and closer…

There was a shuffling of sheets, and with a swift tug, the figure pulled the blanket over Frisk. Then they patted their head, leaving a sticky handprint in their hair, and vanished without even a single footstep.

Frisk waited, and then left the bed. They weren’t that desperate for sleep.

“Frisk!” The soft voice woke Frisk up from what they thought wasn’t a dream, the feeling of soft fur thick with the scent of flowers heavy in their mind. “This is all just a bad dream!”

It hadn’t been that bad, they thought. Just sad.

“Please, wake up!”

They blinked open their eyes and realized they were lying on the stone floor, where the barrier used to be. Their friends were standing over them, looming over them.

Everyone clamored around them, asking if they were okay. Sans joked about Papyrus crying while they were asleep, Alphys removed her glasses to rub at her eyes with her labcoat, Undyne snarled out a threat she clearly didn’t mean, and Asgore balanced a cup of cold tea in his hand.

“How about we give them space, first?” Toriel said to Asgore’s offer of the tea. “They must be exhausted.”

Frisk yawned. They were, in fact, exhausted. How had they managed to keep going so long? The only thing that had stopped them was the fact that they’d been chased by angry monsters, and every safe place had been too loud or otherwise frightening to sleep in.

They blinked. They were safe now, right? Flowey wasn’t going to hurt anyone anymore, right?

With a smile, Frisk laid back down. They ignored the startled questions of their friends, and within seconds they were drifting off to sleep.

I hope I have good dreams, they thought, feeling themself fall into the darkness of sleep. After everything, I deserve that, at least.

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #frisk #pacifist route #food mention cw #death mention cw #self harm mention cw #let frisk sleep

[ibelongtonegan]

Deal with the Devil - Chapter 1: The Hunt

I was super excited to write a John Winchester fic and intended this to be a one-shot initially. However, demons are apparently very talkative creatures and mine is a particularly chatty bastard who took over my mind and word count completely. By the time it released me, the fic was already 10,000+ words long (see, I told you he was a chatty bastard!), so I divided this little monster of a fic into 3 chapters. I will post one chapter every week to keep you on your toes (evil laugh in the background), so get your bags of salt and bottles of holy water ready…

Summary: you go on a hunt with John, searching for a powerful demon, but things don’t go as planned when John gets captured. You offer the demon a deal, but your decision has serious consequences for both you and John…  

Characters: John Winchester x Reader

Word count: 3,564

Warnings (for this chapter angst, demonic fun, dirty talk and swearing mostly, smut will ensue later): angst, demonic possession, dirty talk, mind control, semi-incest (step-father/step-daughter), smut (mild coercion/slight dub-con, rough sex, vaginal sex), swearing

Tags: if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters, please let me know!

You can read this fic on AO3 as well.

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy, please feel free to comment, message or ask me anything!

Chapter 1: The Hunt

You had been waiting in the car for hours and your limbs felt numb. The rain pounded heavily against the roof of the Impala and the windcreen wipers swished back and forth furiously in an attempt to keep the multitude of raindrops at bay. Bolts of lightning pierced the night sky, revealing an old farmhouse in the distance. You stretched your arms and legs trying to get rid of the stiffness in them. An ominous feeling crept up your spine making you shiver. You zipped up your leather jacket and rubbed your arms to warm up a little. Deep down, however, you knew that your uneasiness had nothing to do with the inclement weather or your torpid limbs. The idle waiting made you restless. You wanted the hunt to begin finally.

John was sitting next to you, his right hand resting on the top of the steering wheel. His fingers were drumming against the leather cover impatiently. The two of you waited in absolute silence, your eyes glued to the house in the distance, looking for any sign of movement inside.

When John got a call from Bobby at dawn about the location of the demon, he was sceptical initially. But after Bobby sent over the evidence - hundreds of newspaper articles, police reports and eyewitness accounts on unusual events, suspicious accidents and disturbing vanishings in the area, results of weeks of meticulous research - John sat down and went through everything. By the time you arrived back from the nearby gas station after filling up on gas and groceries, the walls of your motel room were plastered with maps, photos, newspaper clippings and various notes. You placed the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob immediately.

By early evening John made up his mind and decided to track down the demon right away. If the evidence was correct - and everything pointed in that direction - then you have found the hiding place of one of the most powerful and dangerous demons out there, the one John has been hunting for for years. The traces of demonic activity were clear from the documents, not too obvious for the authorities to pick up on, but more than enough for an experienced hunter to connect the dots. It had to be the demon you were looking for. The idea thrilled and frightened you at the same time.

By dusk you arrived at the specified location and decided to wait and explore the surrounding area before launching the attack. The next farm was several miles away so you didn’t have to worry about uninvited guests or eyewitnesses. Still, John tried to arrange for back-up from Dean and Sam, but they were chasing a ghost in another state and he didn’t want to wait until morning and risk the demon slipping away. The boys agreed to join you as soon as they could.

John broke the silence in the car. He sounded raspy from not talking for a while.

“All right, I’m going in. Stay here and wait for my signal,” he ordered without removing his eyes from the house.

“John, I can come with you and help,” you offered, searching for his eyes.

“We’ve been through this already, Y/N. I’m going in and you wait in the car until I give you a signal that it’s safe in there. If you don’t hear back from me after 15 minutes, you call Dean and Sam but do not come after me alone.”

“They are at least an hour-drive away from here! You could be dead by then!” you argued.

“The demon will not kill me. If it captures me, it will use me as bait to lure the boys here. You need to wait for them in the car.” John’s voice was calm but there was an edge to it now.

“I want to hunt with you! I’m ready for this!” you pressed further, getting more desperate.

“It’s too dangerous, Y/N. I need you to stand guard here in case the demon tries to escape or has spies lurking out here,” he said simply, unmoved by your argument.

“At least take the Colt with you. You cannot go in there unarmed!” you pleaded in a softer tone.

“If the demon gets its hands on the Colt, we won’t stand a chance. The boys can use it as a last resort in case anything happens to me. We will proceed according to my plan and that’s the end of it!” John snapped brushing off your concerns.

“But John…,” you started but he cut you off, losing his temper now.

“No! This is a direct order, Y/N! I’m not arguing on this!” John commanded. His tone left no doubt that he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“This is not fair!” you burst out petulantly, frustrated that he wouldn’t listen. You removed your eyes from your step-father and folded your arms in front of your chest in protest. You were tired of him handling you like a child.

It had been five years since John Winchester adopted you after your parents died in a car accident when you were 16 years old. John was a close friend of your parents and while he often moved around the country, they kept in touch over the years. Your parents named John as your guardian in their will, and he fulfilled their last wish without question, welcoming you to his family with open arms.

When you found out your step-father was a hunter, you wanted to follow in his footsteps. At first John didn’t want to hear any of it, he had other plans for you: live a normal life, go to university, get a proper job. But when he saw how adamant you were, willing to find another hunter if he wasn’t going to teach you, he gave in. And you were eager to learn and John taught you everything he could about ghosts, demons and other creatures of the dark. Soon enough you became a decent hunter and while you still had a lot to learn, John could see that you were a natural at it. You may not have been born a Winchester, but you turned out to be as fearless a hunter as your step-father and step-brothers.

You looked up to John and were grateful to him for taking you in and raising you as his own child. He always treated you with love and respect and was surprisingly affectionate and caring with you, a side of him he rarely showed his own sons. No wonder Dean and Sam were jealous of the bond the two of you shared and therefore it was more convenient for all of you to hunt separately. Still, your relationship with John had been ambiguous lately. You found it more and more difficult to submit to his controlling nature and tried to challenge him, leading to heated arguments between the two of you every now and then.

“Wait for me in the car and stick to the plan,” John instructed. “Are we clear?” his voice cut through the sound of the rain.

“Yes, sir!” you responded in a sullen tone, keeping your gaze forward at the house in the distance.

“Y/N, listen to me,” John said with a loud sigh. His voice sounded gentler now. “I’m doing this to protect you. You may not be my daughter by birth, but I love you as if you were my own child. If anything happened to you…I don’t know what I would do.”

You looked up at him and saw the unconditional love in his eyes. You knew he was right, but his overprotectiveness annoyed you still. He gave you a reassuring smile and you felt your anger starting to dissipate. You nodded silently returning the smile.

“I know. I love you too, John.” It has always been hard for you to call him “Dad”, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I will be back before you know it. Keep your head up…,” he started his usual pep talk line to cheer you up.

“…and your powder dry,” you finished the sentence with a wry chuckle.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured proudly.

John reached out and caressed your cheek with his thumb. The warmth in his eyes made you feel safe and you have already regretted raising your voice at him earlier. You loved John and were ready to do whatever he asked of you.

He gave you a conspiratorial wink and removed his hand from your face. You missed the comfort of his touch already. He got out of the car and pulled his leather jacket closer around his body to protect him from the rain. He ran up to the house and glanced back at the car one last time before disappearing inside the building.

You started the timer on your phone. The wait felt impossibly long as if time had slowed down. There seemed to be no movement inside or around the building. After a couple of minutes you started to worry. It wasn’t a big house, two floors and about five or six rooms, John must have searched it from top the bottom by now. But there was still no sign of him. You kept your eyes firmly on the house ready to act as soon as the time was up. The timer went off, the familiar ringtone startling you. There was still no sign of John and this could mean only one thing: something was wrong.

You turned off the timer and opened your phone book to dial Dean, as John had instructed. But before tapping on his name, your finger stopped mid-air. You looked up at the house once more and saw the shadow of a man standing in one of the windows. It was a tall, dark figure, who was clearly looking in your direction. You felt a sudden pull towards him, as if his presence had drawn you to the house. You couldn’t make out his face from this distance. A loud crack of thunder broke your reverie and the shadow vanished from the window.

You were weighing your options for a minute. If it was John, it was the signal for you to join him. If it was the demon, it meant John was in trouble and the demon was trying to lure you into a trap. Either way, you didn’t have time to wait for your step-brothers. You had no choice but to go in and find out what was going on.

You opened the glove compartment and took out the Colt. John would have been against the idea, but you felt completely vulnerable going in without a weapon. You opened the door of the car and stepped out into the rain. You put the car keys in your front pocket and tucked the Colt in the waistband of your jeans behind your back, pulling your leather jacket over it. Your boots sank into the mud as you made your way to the house through the front yard. You were soaked from the rain already and brushed a strand of wet hair out of your face.

The house must have seen better days, but now it looked completely abandoned and in dire need of an urgent renovation. There were several tiles missing from the roof, the paint was peeling off the walls in large chunks and most of the windows were broken in. The old wooden floor creaked under your feet through the sound of the storm as you stepped on the porch. You went up to the front door and pushed it open cautiously. It was dark inside but you could make out a door on the opposite end of the corridor. It was slightly ajar and a flickering light filtered through the opening.

You sneaked along the hallway and upon reaching the door, took a deep breath, pushed it open and stepped inside. There were at least two dozens of candles scattered around the room, casting an eerie light on everything. The space was sparsely furnished, a thick layer of dust covering everything. In the middle of the room, there was a man sitting on a chair, limp and unconscious, his head hanging down to his chest. Your heart sank to your stomach when you recognized him.

“John!” you shouted and ran to him.

You knelt down next to your step-father and shook his shoulder to wake him up. His mouth was covered by duct tape and his hands were tied behind his back with a rope. You peeled off the tape from his mouth eliciting a groan from him as the sticky film tore at his skin.

“Y/N…,” John whispered in a faint voice, opening his eyes slowly.

“Are you all right?” you asked him with concern and looked for signs of injury on his body. There was blood and dirt smeared on his face and he had a cut on his upper lip, but otherwise seemed to be unharmed. You glanced around the room searching for his captor but saw nobody there.

You tried to remove the rope from around his wrists but it was tied too firmly. You were about to retrieve your knife from the sheath on your belt when you heard the creaking noise of the door being shut and a deep, rich voice coming from behind you.

“Good evening, Y/N! We were expecting you and are delighted that you could join us.”

You stood up abruptly and turned around to face the man standing at the other side of the room. He was medium height and average build, probably in his mid- to late 50s. His short, dark hair was combed back from his face and he was wearing grey trousers and a light shirt. His most striking feature was his eyes: they had yellow irises and glowed dangerously in the dim light of the room.

“The youngest Winchester, John’s only daughter. You are even more stunning than I remembered,” the man growled and looked you up and down appraisingly. His voice made all the hairs stand up on your back.

You recognized him instantly. Bobby’s intel was right: he was the demon you had been searching for and he was standing only a couple of steps away from you, eyeing you with a devilish grin on his smug face. You had never fought a demon on your own before and your chances were pretty slim even if you had. You knew your only option was to outsmart him somehow, but a demon of his caliber was highly intelligent and perceptive and could not be fooled easily. Still, with John being tied up, you had to try, or both of you were as good as dead.

“Oh, forgive me, you must be freezing,” the man motioned towards the fireplace and the logs were engulfed in flames within seconds, filling the room with an orange glow. You felt the warmth of the fire immediately.

“I have kept an eye on you for some time now. I’m a great admirer of yours, you know,” he said with a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

Pieces of the endless lessons John taught you on fighting demons started coming back to you and your hunter instincts kicked in. You had to make him talk to find out his intentions and get him to reveal any kind of information you could use to your advantage. You stood up straight and gathered the courage to speak up.  

“Why do you have my father tied to a chair?”

“It’s all John’s fault,” the man shrugged sardonically. “He got a little too excited to see me again so I had no choice but to restrain him.”

“Let him go,” you commanded. You felt the blood drumming in your ears.

“And why should I do that? The great demon hunter, John Winchester. He has a reserved seat in the deepest circle of hell. All the perished demons cannot wait to get their hands on him. Oh, no, sorry, they have claws actually,” he replied casually.

“I’m sure we can make a deal.” Your voice sounded more confident this time.  

“Y/N, no!” John protested, struggling against the rope.

“Look at that, a little hunter in the making, willing to bargain for his step-daddy’s life. How touching,” the man mused in an overly sugary tone. He stepped one step closer to you but you instinctively stepped one step back away from him. He acknowledged your move with a chuckle.

“You know nothing about me,” you answered coldly. You felt bile rise in your throat.

“Oh, please, don’t insult my intelligence, Y/N. I know everything about you. Every wild hope, dark wish and dirty little secret you try to keep hidden in your soul.” His voice was smooth and calculating, sending goosebumps down your spine. “But I can see other things too. I see how you look at John. And how he looks at you,” he added with a suggestive smirk.

“Who are you?” you probed ignoring his comment.

“I have many names. But I think you know the answer to your question already,” he answered darkly.

“Azazel,” you stated rather than asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Smart girl! Pleased to make your acquaintance, Y/N.” His eyes were twinkling with mirth and he bowed ceremoniously in front of you. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting to finally meet you.”

“I don’t have time to chit-chat. What do you want?” you urged him.

“My, my, are we getting impatient? If I hadn’t known that you weren’t her biological father, I would think she takes after you, John,” Azazel grinned cruelly, gesturing towards your step-father.

“Leave her alone you miserable piece of shit, or I will…” John barked at him but the demon held up his index finger, effectively silencing him.

“Or you will what, John? You aren’t in the position to make threats. Your step-daughter is about to bargain for your life so if I were you, I would keep my big mouth shut,” he reprimanded with a stern expression. “Besides, we have a score, you and I, which needs to be settled. Did you really think I would let you hide her? That you could keep her away from me?” His eyes were now burning with rage.

“Don’t mind John. Your business is with me,” you coaxed the demon. You had no idea what he was referring to but didn’t have time to dwell on it. You needed his complete attention on you. You were trying to find a solution to disarm him but couldn’t think of anything. If you took out the Colt now, he would snatch it from you right away. You had to set him a trap, but had no clue how.

“That’s right, little hunter,” Azazel praised, clearly pleased with your reply. “So, are you willing to make a trade for your step-daddy’s life?”

“Yes. What do you want?” you demanded.

“You,” he growled without thinking.

“What?” you asked bewildered, furrowing your brow at him.

“I want you…to join me.” The words were rolling off his tongue slowly.

“Seriously? You want me to cross over to the dark side?” you challenged with a snort.

“Why not? Does it sound that bad?” Azazel seemed offended by your lack of enthusiasm. “Just imagine the power you would have. You could get whatever you want. Or whoever you want. Make them submit to your will.” His voice was dangerously alluring. “John doesn’t take you seriously, he never has. He will not let you reach your full potential. But I can help you with that. I can make all your desires come true.”

The demon’s remark hit a nerve and you found yourself considering his offer. You couldn’t deny that there was some truth in his words. A small truth, but it was there, ringing in your ears. Azazel knew exactly how to push your buttons. The blood froze in your veins when realization hit you. He could indeed see inside you, like he had said before.

“Y/N, I’m not letting you sell your soul to him. Not for me!” John shouted frantically.

“John’s just trying to protect you, isn’t this what he’s telling you all the time?” Azazel pushed further, sensing your hesitation. “That it’s too dangerous for you to take risks or hunt alone. Well, the truth is, he is afraid of you and of what you are capable of. Because he knows about your ancestry. Has he told you the truth about your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“The truth? What truth?” you asked sceptically.

“I can’t believe John never said anything about this to you,” Azazel replied smoothly, shaking his head. He let his words hang in the air for a while. “It’s time for you to know the truth, little hunter. You’re not going to like what you hear, but you deserve to know it.” 

“Deserve to know what?” you echoed impatiently. Your palms were sweaty and you felt your heart clench in your chest.

Azazel stared at you dramatically, prolonging the moment on purpose to increase the tension. When he spoke again, his voice was cold as ice.

“That your parents didn’t die in that car crash accidentally.”

Your eyes widened in shock.

“What do you mean it wasn’t an accident? Their car slipped on an icy road!” you insisted.

“Oh, no, littler hunter, it didn’t. Your parents were murdered.” [CHAPTER 2]

#supernatural #supernatural fan fiction #john winchester #jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #spn #spn fan fiction #john winchester fan fiction #supernatural fic #spn fic #john winchester fic #azazel #john winchester x reader #john winchester x you #my shit #deal with the devil

[orionsangel86]

12x10 - “Pterodactyl Screeching into the void” - Part 1

My title is borrowed from @postmodernmulticoloredcloak comment on my crazy blogging after first watching this episode earlier. I feel like it is a fitting title for how this episode made me feel. To clarify, these are very very happy pterodactyls.

Steve Yokey wrote this episode and he appears to have well and truly taken up the gap left when Robbie Thompson sadly left the show. In fact this episode to me channels the ghost of Robbie in many different ways. From the fanfiction-esque moments of poor suffering third wheel Sam, to the meta nod to Charlie Bradbury, there is much of Robbie to be found here. Basically, it was bloody perfect.

I feel like there is so much to talk about in this episode that fandom will be chewing on it for months if not years to come. Yokey has picked up the characterisations brilliantly, and seems to have an understanding of what the fandom desperately craves in terms of Castiel, his character, his personality and his development. I adored his sass in this episode. Some other writers *cough*bucklemming*cough* struggle to really capture Castiel’s sass and humour. Showing their lack of understanding of Castiel’s persona and his intelligence and instead writing him in a way that is jarring and sometimes basically stupid. Castiel is far from stupid. In this episode he was written perfectly, in a way I haven’t seen since Edlund’s time. Is that a sweeping statement? Maybe. But I’m still riding my high so let me have it this time.

This episode gave us three of my favourite things. Badass and Sassy Castiel, Overprotective grumpy husband Dean, and poor long suffering brother Sam. (baring in mind this is how they are usually written in fanfiction nowadays this is exactly my jam and I am so so happy to see it play out on screen. Seriously who sold their soul to Crowley for this episode?)

This review will also be in two parts. Because I have so freaking much to say about it.

The first part will focus on destiel, the second on everything else including Castiel’s emotional arc (as separate from destiel), his relationships with angels, angels and gender and Lily Sunder’s character.

PART 1 - ALL THE DESTIEL

I’m still struggling to contain my excitement over this. The episode begins with Dean feeling very pissy about what happened at the end of the last episode. Castiel killed Billy to save the Winchesters regardless of the “cosmic consequences”. Castiel stands his ground that he doesn’t regret his decision. Dean is acting like a sulking child over the whole thing. Sam is cool with it. Because Sam is cool. He is also extremely fed up with being caught in the middle of a lovers spat.

And that’s just it isn’t it? How else can you possibly read it? This is a lovers spat. I have read this in fan fiction enough times to know exactly how this story goes. Funnily enough, the episode also goes the exact way of fanfiction (except for the explicit bits of course) and that makes me love it even more..

We start with Dean grumbling about Cas’s inability to track down Kelly Kline. It’s left to Sam to bring up Cas and whether or not they have spoken yet:

(gif source courtesy of @subcas)

We are 5 minutes into the episode, Sam is already so done, and I am having flashbacks to a fanfic I read recently… In fact I am pretty sure it was this one. 

No seriously read this extract pulled from this fanfic:

“Sam is witness to a lot of arguing, followed by one or both of them storming off in a huff. Long periods of excruciating silence stretch out between each altercation.  Sam never makes any move to intervene or get them to patch things up – Dean’s trying to figure out how to feel about that – but he always watches with careful concern and a raised eyebrow. Dean makes absolutely no effort to engage his brother on the topic, so he can only guess at what Sam makes of all this.

He tries to imagine what it must look like from Sam’s point of view – Dean getting irritated over nothing, sniping at Cas, fleeing without apologizing. Maybe Sam just thinks it’s all those perfectly reasonable aggravations, Cas being all up in his space and not backing off, Cas forgetting to refill the ice cube tray for the fifth time.

Then again, it’s Sam. It’s not like Dean doesn’t like Cas, or would get on his case so much even if he did, after all Cas has done for his sorry ass – even Dean’s not that much of a jerk. Sam must know that. He must know there’s something else going on. He probably understands exactly what Dean’s doing, maybe even better than Dean does himself.”

I mean COME ON. (also that is a awesome fic if you haven’t read it already… it gets pretty steamy further in the series. Cas is such a dom. Lmao.)

If we consider this entire conversation between Sam and Dean we immediately see a massive difference between their reactions to the Billy situation. Sam sees things objectively. He sees what Cas did, he knows that there could be bad consequences, but he understands that Cas did it for them, because he cared. He also respects Cas’s choice here and sticks up for him. Because Sam is not being unreasonable about his friends decision. Sam acts like a supportive friend. He gets it, it is his brother he is more fed up with.

Dean on the other hand is acting totally unreasonable. I haven’t even gotten to the conversation in the car when things start to get interesting because so far Dean is just being a jerk. Sam’s expressions tell us this straight away, before Cas even enters the scene. Why on earth would Dean act this way over a friend? He wouldn’t. It makes no sense. Just like in the fanfic I have quoted above. Something else is going on here, Dean is acting out for a completely other reason than what is apparent on first glance.

Once Cas does show up and things only get more awkward we get a brilliant moment which you can see giffed in its entirety here by @constiellation in which Sam is his poor awkward self stuck in the middle of a lovers spat that has been going on for the past week apparently. The way this moment calls back to 8x22 is completely thanks to the director Thomas J Wright knowing exactly what he is trying to show us in both episodes that poor Sam has been stuck in the middle of this domestic for years. (I should say a big thanks to @godshipsit for sending me the links to these posts since up until this point I have not been on my dash at all and therefore haven’t been gif hunting myself.)

The car scene drives home Sam’s terrible situation even further as he can’t even escape the immense *sexual* tension by moving to a different room.

LOOK AT THIS POOR BASTARD!!

Whilst I am sure that the intense tension and poor Sammy’s discomfort has been a major focal point here, the bit that I found most interesting was this exchange about Benjamin:

“Benjamin wouldn’t call for help lightly, he wouldn’t put himself in harm’s way if he could help it.”

“Wow this Benjamin seems like he is pretty cool, like he wouldn’t make any half-cocked knee jerked choices.”

What sets Dean off here is that Castiel’s description of Benjamin talks about Benjamin not putting himself in danger. That is why Dean thinks Benjamin is a cool guy. This is what Dean is digging at. This is our first clue into Dean’s real feelings about the Billy situation. He is pissed that Cas has potentially put himself in danger.

Cas’s response only pisses Dean off more:

“Yeah you know what I like about him, he’s sarcastic but he’s thoughtful and appreciative too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Enough that Dean almost crashes the Impala. This is practically unheard of. Cas and Dean are not on the same page at the moment. Cas thinks Dean is just being a jerk and unappreciative of his efforts, and Dean thinks that Cas is being too careless with his own life (which you can damn well talk Dean, making death deals last episode)

Then this scene gets even juicer as we get this story about Benjamin and his vessel. This is our first of three Angel/Human love stories in this episode (not including the forth and most important love story between Dean and Castiel of course).

Everything about the way Castiel describes Benjamin’s relationship with his vessel implies a romantic connection (“gave him everything, her trust, her body… its more than that, she’s not just his vessel she’s his…” “friend”.) It of course, is never explicitly said (and that is important) but I bet that the general audience picked up on THAT bit of subtext just from the way Sam said the word “friend” and isn’t that so interesting? How often has the word “friend” been used throughout the series to describe Dean and Castiel? Yet here it is being used specifically in a subtextual way to describe something completely non platonic.

Moving on to our next bit of destiel deliciousness is another moment of brotherly teasing.

The boys arrive at the diner to meet Ishim and Mirabel. Castiel’s sass is on point today with his “If I plan to do anything else stupid, I’ll let you know.”

Can I please take a moment to appreciate Sam’s face here: 

(Gif source thanks to @godshipsit - you are a blessing Alex)

On top of that expression of absolute GOLD is this moment:

“and you’re gonna storm in riiiiiighht…. Now.” And omg Sam totally has no more fucks to give with his brothers bullshit. He can see right through Dean’s drama to how he truly feels. Dean may act pissy with Cas but the moment Cas may be in danger Dean is all like “oh HELL NO.” Five minutes. He lasted five minutes. I love overprotective embarrassing husband Dean it is MY JAM.

 “These are my friends, my friends who don’t listen well”

*cue Dean practically sitting in Cas’s lap*

This is the best moment in the history of the show. Three grown ass huge men squeezing into a tiny diner seat. I LOVE IT. 

Ishim is such a tool, the way he speaks to Cas is awful but what is so so great is how Dean and also Sam stick up for him here. We so often seem to get Sam and Dean digging on Cas, talking him down and treating him like shit. The Winchesters are world weary and grumpy men and Cas often gets caught up in this. What we are shown here is just how defensive they get when other people try to do it. Because where the Winchester’s digging comes from a place of love, these angels nasty comments come from a place of hate. The Winchester’s won’t have it. 

Also SO MANY jokes to be had over the subtext of “no one talks to my husband like that BUT ME bitch” Oh DEAN.

Moving on to this beautiful flashback moment and our even more beautiful fem!castiel who wow what a good casting. But more on that in part 2. What I wanna talk about here is this moment:

(gif source once again thanks to @godshipsit)

We have our second angel/human love story of the episode between Lily and Akabel, or at least what we are led to believe is an angel/human love story that resulted in the birth of a Nephilim. The truth being that Akabel has pledged himself to protect Lily from Ishim at all costs. By the end of the episode, we are actually given the impression that their love was platonic rather than romantic or sexual. Akabel’s confusion when Castiel reads out the accusations is evident of that, as is Lily’s reaction to Dean and Sam’s attempts at reasoning with her later on.

However going back to the above gifset, Akabel argues to Ishim and the angel group that “How could anyone know [humans] and not love them?” at which point the camera cuts to Castiel. This my friends, is a nifty piece of editing which Supernatural has used on many occasions to add to the growing mountain of destiel subtext. Why cut to Castiel at this point? Because Castiel is going to experience this himself later in his lifetime. (by knowing and subsequently falling in love with Dean Winchester of course).

The third angel/human love story is next and it is a worst case scenario, dark and twisted tragedy and a massive subversion of the Dean/Cas story. It explores how an angel fell ‘in love’ with a human, but that human didn’t return his affections and therefore the angel became cold and murderous and obsessed. Ishim is a horribly twisted and dark Cas mirror highlighting what Castiel’s actual weakness is. Because Castiel nowadays cares more for the Winchesters than the world itself. “cosmic consequences” mean nothing when the Winchesters (and more specifically Dean) are in danger. The difference between Castiel and Ishim is that Ishim takes his anger out directly on the woman he loves, whereas Cas would never harm Dean. He instead makes decisions which have put the world in danger. 

I mentioned this previously, but the dark foreshadowing here is rather horrible. We have a terrified Lily left powerless whilst Ishim makes her watch as he kills her child. Claiming that she “broke his heart” so he will “break hers”. This is extreme. Where Lily is our Dean mirror and Ishim is Cas, who is Lily’s daughter? Sam. We have already seen this situation play out with our boys previously. Castiel, hurt and betrayed that Dean wouldn’t stand by his side to open purgatory and stop Raphael, breaks Sam’s wall and leaves him comatose. Its not the first time that Sam has been the one to get hurt in a fight between Dean and Cas. In an episode where he has constantly been trying to play peacemaker between them, could it be that Sam gets caught in a much bigger situation that started between Dean and Castiel? That perhaps the “cosmic consequences” Billy spoke of somehow end up hurting Sam? How could such a situation harm Dean and Cas’s relationship? Leaving Cas cold and hating human’s and Dean on a revenge mission to rival Gerard Butler’s in Law Abiding Citizen? Hopefully not. But with the emphasis at the start of this episode on the lovers spat and Cas not thinking before he acts, rather acting on his emotional need to keep Dean safe, and Dean’s anger possibly also being about Cas’s supposed obsession with him putting Dean first before the world… well, its not looking good for our boys basically. But then again I did say this was worst case scenario. 

The next moment that made my heart leap thanks to the destiel of it all:

(gif source thanks to @some-people-call-it-tragic )

This was preceded by a phone call that Dean made to Cas that only rang twice before his over protective nature kicked in and he ran back to the ‘safe house’ to go save his husband from Ishim. Leaving Sam to talk to Lily (its always Dean who goes back for Cas. Remember that.) After all the bitterness from the start of the episode, it is clear by this point that none of that matters if either of them are in danger.

“Who are you gonna believe? Your brother? Or some filthy ape?”  Ishim tries to make Cas choose him over Dean. Which is of course hilarious to anyone that has watched even just one Cas episode of the show.

“Always talking down at you, always mocking you”.

Whats great about this is how this is being said in front of Dean because Dean is getting called out here. Ishim has been nasty and rude to Cas all episode, IN FRONT OF DEAN. Through Ishim, Dean is able to see just what a jerk he has actually been. Its giving Dean the chance to think about his actions, because there is no way Dean will want to be put in the same boat as this asshole.

“Ya know Cas and I might not agree all the time, but at least he knows who his real friends are”

Look at these two badass hunting husbands forming a united front against the bad guy. Also “Friends” just like the “friends” of Benjamin and his vessel right?

Of course everything goes super bad after this and poor Cas gets beaten to shit by this absolute dick of an angel IN FRONT OF DEAN. All this crap that Ishim is coming out with is being said IN FRONT OF DEAN. Do you know why I love this so much? Because we have had crappy villains like Ishim saying this kind of shit to Cas since SEASON 9 and sometimes even earlier. Castiel has always just taken it, never said “no. You are wrong about me” and in the later seasons he has started to believe their words, adding to his depression and PTSD. He has been called weak and pathetic and expendable and a tool and every time he has been alone. We have never had Dean be there by his side to hear these words to argue against them. But that is EXACTLY what we get this episode. And it is ABOUT BLOODY TIME.

And then we get probably the most obvious moment for Destiel from the whole episode. To the point that if the general audience don’t see it now they are a bloody lost cause:

(gif source @godshipsit AGAIN because I am Alex’s biggest fan)

SERIOUSLY THOUGH. Let;s do a nice simple logic puzzle with what we know is canon:

Metatron says Castiel’s “true weakness is revealed”

Metatron says that that his weakness is “He is in love… with humanity”.

Metatron says “You draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but it was all about saving one man”

Ishim draped himself in the flag of heaven, but it was actually all about getting revenge on one woman.

Ishim said that he was “in love” with that woman.

Ishim called that woman his “human weakness”.

Ishim says that Cas also has a “human weakness”

Ishim threatens to cut out Castiel’s “human weakness”

Ishim goes to stab Dean.

Therefore can we please, finally accept that it is CANON that Dean=humanity. That Castiel is IN LOVE WITH humanity and that therefore

Castiel is in love with Dean Winchester.

Now that we have accepted that this is canon. Lets move on to the very next scene. This:

(gif source thanks to @codestielckles)

Now its Dean’s turn to get a choice. Blast away both angels, and Castiel will potentially die, or die himself. Of course Dean won’t do it. Dean would rather die fighting for Cas than risk Cas’s life. Ishim of course knows this to be true. “yeah, that’s what I thought” he says.

Also such an interesting shot of Cas looking at Dean in that moment because HOW MUCH does it remind you of that horrible moment from 10x22? What’s the betting that was also done intentionally? 10x22 was also directed by Thomas J Wright. This guy knows his stuff.

Thankfully Lily and Sam come in to save Dean from Ishim who really was just on a mission to kill Dean at this point probably because of his massive jealousy that Cas gets a human lover and he doesn’t.

Finally, probably the end scene we have been waiting for the past YEAR. The Winchesters actually TALKING to Cas and telling him what he NEEDS TO HEAR! I am all over this scene man I’m telling you I have been waiting for this I have been hoping and praying to Chuck for this! Dammit I am so happy about this!

“You’re not weak Cas you know that right?”

“Obviously you’ve changed, but its all been for the better.”

“And you’ve been with us every step of this long crazy thrill ride… and no matter how crazy it got, you never backed down”

“That takes real strength”

THANK YOU SAM AND DEAN AND THANK YOU STEVE YOKEY

*sips Cas hater tears*

And THEN we get this beauty which sums up Dean’s attitude all episode. It kinda actually sums up Dean’s attitude throughout the whole fucking show:

(Gif source thanks to @godshipsit again)

“I’m not mad, I’m worried.”

Exactly. Like how right at the beginning he picked on Cas after Cas mentioned Benjamin wouldn’t put himself in danger. Dean is worried about Cas. Dean is worried about his idiotic husband who cares more about saving him than he does himself and the world. Cas is blinded by his love for Dean. It is a problem and Dean ain’t happy about it. But it is all rooted in love.

And that’s it and I am exhausted!

I haven’t written so much meta on Destiel for one episode like EVER in my time in fandom. I doubt we have had an episode with THIS MUCH destiel in it since Goodbye Stranger. I can’t actually contain myself. Anyway, in summary. Destiel is canon. Destiel Exists. (Poor Jensen he must be so confused that season 12 skipped straight from episode 9 to episode 11) We have textual confirmation now (via a little bit of well applied but completely solid logic) that Castiel is in love with Dean and that Dean is an overprotective emotional mess when it comes to Cas being in danger (not that we didn’t know that already thanks to 11x18 among every other Cas-in-danger episode so far) This is undeniable.

Like I said in this episodes title. I am still pterodactyl screeching into the void about it. I don’t think I’ll stop going on about it for a long time yet.

I have more to say about this episode that is not specifically related to destiel coming up in part 2. Watch this space!

#supernatural #destiel #castiel #spn meta #12x10 #spn spoilers #season 12 #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel dreaming #castiels emotional arc #hunting husbands - destiel edition #poor sammy #my meta #episode review #12x10 episode review #my review #my thoughts

[litlelotte]

Adventure Time

It is almost exactly a year ago, something really extraordinary happened. I had been working in a bar for nearly two years, after I graduated from University. At this point I’d been living in London for over 5 years, and I had always been incredibly in love with this city. However, last year, I hit the cold and familiar brick wall; the honeymoon period was over. So I quit my job, lived on my savings and was thinking long and hard of what to do next. I needed an adventure. Fast-forwarding 5 months, I left my keys with a cute guy I’d found on the Internet. I was to sublet my room, because I was sure I was going to come back. I just didn’t know when. My plan? Vague and barely a plan at all. First step was to go to Norway. This is where I was born and grew up, and I wanted to connect with old friends. I picked up my old Toyota at my parents’ house, put the camera in the bag, and drove around for a month. There were uncontrollable laughter, the birth of my niece and good old Viking-drunkenness. It also consisted of sunrise-jams, hiking in the mountains, and bathing in far too cold fjord-water. After nearly three weeks of constant rain, I was glad to leave for England again. Second step: Avoid London. One thing I find about London, is that once you live here, you rarely leave this place. Everything is so conveniently happening here. I decided that I would travel to places I hadn’t been before, and that involved going to places like Kent and Oxford. I ventured into some fields in the middle of nowhere, to a family festival, even if I don’t like children. But it was okay, at least it wasn’t raining. And people were happy. I like photographing people who are happy. On the opposite side of London, I ended up walking the streets of Oxford, with a personal guide. She speaks impeccable English, by the way. We had picnic by the “river”, cheered with wine glasses to passer-byers in boats, and watched guided tours led by deprived students. We also had a pint of ale in the historic ‘Turf Tavern’, although I didn’t down mine very quick, and neither did I see a ghost. I took inspiration from Lewis Carroll’s ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and decided to fall into a whole new world too. Although mine involved a long plane journey across the pond, to the big and scary America. Third step: California and Burning Man. I spent the next three months, travelling on my own around California. I didn’t know anyone and I had as little as £1,200 in my bank account. The part of me that wanted an adventure, wanted it unambiguously to be a challenging one. In fact, I wanted it to be such a difficult and nearly impossible journey, that I would set myself up for failure. I wanted to cry, to feel hopeless, frustrated and push myself to the brink of giving up. Typically, none of it happened. For three months I never slept in a hotel or a hostel – I didn’t even couch surf. I also never went hungry, I never felt scared and I never called desperately home to my parents, asking to be saved. To sum up these three months in one paragraph, is nearly impossible. It wouldn’t give it justice. So I will try to make this short, and maybe cheat a little. 3.1: Burning Man I slept 8 nights in a tent, in the middle of the desert in Nevada. I shared this experience with about 70.000 other people, but specifically I also shared it with a camp consisting of around 60 people. I’d only met one person there twice before. I was the only Norwegian, in fact, the only European person in the San Francisco/Los Angeles crew, called the “Janky Barge”. For over a week, I photographed complete strangers, and captured a sense of happiness I never before thought existed. Burning Man does something to you. It does something to people. Being a photographer at this place, is like some sort of heaven. Best described: Christmas Day + birth of a child + winning at life = Burning Man. It’s an ocean of creativity, freedom, beauty and pure joy.  And the dust makes everyone look incredibly sexy too. I left this place with new discoveries about myself and the world, inspiration, new set of friends and a half-shaved head. And fortunately, a bunch of incredibly, awesome pictures.

3.2: Los Angeles One of my neighbours at Burning Man was a lovely woman, that went by the name of Cinthia. She invited me to come to stay with her in Los Angeles for a bit. Little did I know that I ended up staying there for a month. I always thought I would be more of a San Francisco gal than a LA-chick, but I guess I was terribly wrong. Cinthia owns a hair salon up in the Valley, and has this cute little 1-bedroom apartment 10 minutes away. It was here I ended up falling in love again. Not with a guy, or with Los Angeles, but with people, music, art and life itself. All of a sudden, I was photographing actors and models surrounded by hair-stylists, make-up artists and assistants. Professionally I gained invaluable experience, and personally I learned to really appreciate, listen and love more. 3.3: Californian “Rednecks” James was another neighbour from my camp at Burning Man. He has this little cabin up in the woods by a creek, a 45-minute drive from everything, north of Los Angeles. I got to spend 2 weeks in this cabin, together with his dog, Roxy. He was travelling back and forth to Europe at this point, so it was a sweet deal. He got a dog-sitter, I got free food and lots of time to myself. This place consists of maybe 30 cabins, and mostly the people there are above the age of fifty, with the exception of a few unfortunate teenagers. Not surprisingly though, they had a little bar up there, open 4 days a week. I found myself sitting there a fair amount, not because of my thirst for beer, but because mostly I was just talking to the people there. The dogs were running around freely, and Roxy was enjoying herself. I was too. The people here were of a peculiar kind, with so many different backgrounds, and truthfully, I never thought I would sit in a place where everyone agrees with Trump. It was an experience. One of the guys, was an old, quiet man, with red cheeks and a caps on. His name was Walle, and he would drink his 6 beers, none less and no more than that, and go home. One day, a woman’s voice came on, singing this beautiful song from the jukebox. “Oh!” Walle muffled. “I haven’t seen that girl since she was 10 years old!” Curiously, I asked him who the girl was. “Oh, it’s Rosanne Cash, naturally! Johnny Cash’s daughter.” I replied with a big question mark on my face. “Hum-hum. I used to live next door to them many, many years ago. It was during all that bad shit. Some days we would just sit on the porch and play guitar together. We were neighbours for three years, before he moved. I thought it was for the best though, because that new girl he’d met, she was pretty good for him. Tried helping him with all that drug-abuse and stuff. He was a good guy though, in spite of everything.” I recently discovered that Cash was nearly killed in a fire in 1965, that he later was sued for by the government. He claimed it was his camper that caught fire, although it is more likely he started a fire to stay warm and in his drugged condition failed to notice the fire getting out of control. It destroyed 508 acres.” Guess which forest it was? The very same I spent two weeks in – Los Padres National Forest. I do wonder, if Walle knows. 3.4: The mountains and the end If I haven’t lost you yet, I promise you, I am nearly finished with my story. Burning Man seems to have been the best thing I could have done, in more ways than one. The best reason, was that I got a whole bunch of phone numbers and email-addresses. I met Luke one day out on my first day of exploration alone in the desert, and we exchanged exactly that. When I was still in Los Angeles, I received an email from him. He said that he and a bunch of friends were going up north in the mountains. He followed with a simple “Want to join?” So it was there I found myself, on a bus, leaving LA for three weeks out in the free. With the exception of Luke, that I’d talked to for about an hour, I was to meet 16 people that I’d never met before, and spend almost 24/7 with them out in the wilderness, camping in tents. In all honesty, this it was the most perfect ending to my trip, and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. I heard some unbelievable, extraordinary stories from these wonderful human-beings. One of the guys, had come up from Peru, where he normally works as a tour-guide in Machu Picchu. Hearing his stories, about nearly dying in the jungle, about being drugged by a tribe-leader and freaking out, and about the interesting journey from how he got there in the first place, was some of the highlights. They were all outdoorsy people, and some of them are now doing these incredible and dangerous trips, climbing mountains in the states. I learned a lot of things on this journey. But I also realised a great deal, including this: that I really love nature. And that I in fact love sleeping in a sleeping-bag, surrounded by simple things in a tent. Things that I only need for survival. That I love waking up early to the sounds of rain trickling above my head, the wind howling, and a grasshopper as a roommate. And that it’s something incredibly rewarding of spending that amount of time away from civilisation. Away from the sounds of cars, noise and busyness. Away from schedules, sweaty armpits that comes with overfilled underground trains and the stench of chicken take-away shops. Away from mirrors, make-up and Tinder dates. Nevertheless, it had to end. And it was good timing. Trump had just won the presidential election, and in all honesty – I was not surprised. With the Brexit happening earlier the Summer, I was almost expecting something like this. I spent the following month in London, trying to adjust back to normal. I got the keys back to my room, and filled my shelves again with all the stuff I owned. Only this time, with less things. I have been trying to write down everything I have experienced, everything I have learned, and everything I feel. I still haven’t been able to adjust back to “normal”. But maybe that’s the whole point. It’s now like London is an ex-boyfriend I am not entirely sure how to get rid of, but still love. I’ve had a Summer-fling with adventures, that left me with inspiration, motivation and the feeling of being alive.

And I think that is exactly what I needed.

So here I am.

#burning man #america #north armerica #california #redwoods #mountains #adventure #norway #kent #oxford #festivals #love #free #wanderlust #travel #solotravel #sologirl #lospadres #national forest #losangeles #newfriends #experience #nummed #amazing #roadtrip #trip #different #culture #usa #explorer

[everydaybrautigan]

The Ghost Children of Tacoma

The children of Tacoma, Washington, went to war in De­cember 1941. It seemed like the thing to do, following in the footsteps of their parents and other grown-ups who acted as if they knew what was happening.

“Remember Pearl Harbor!” they said.

“You bet!” we said.

I was a child, then, though now I look like somebody else. We were at war in Tacoma. Children can kill imaginary enemies just as well as adults can kill real enemies. It went on for years.

During World War II, I personally killed 352,892 enemy soldiers without wounding one. Children need a lot less hos­pitals in war than grown-ups do. Children pretty much look at it from the alldeath side.

I sank 987 battleships, 532 aircraft carriers, 799 cruisers, 2,007 destroyers and 161 transport ships. Transports were not too interesting a target: very little sport.

I also sank 5,465 enemy PT boats. I have no idea why I sank so many of them. It was just one of those things. Every time I turned around for four years, I was sinking a PT boat. I still wonder about that. 5,465 are a lot of PT boats.

I only sank three submarines. Submarines were just not up my alley. I sank my first submarine in the spring of 1942. A lot of kids rushed out and sank submarines right and left dur­ing December and January. I waited.

I waited until April, and then one morning on my way to school: BANG! my first sub., right in front of a grocery store. I sank my second submarine in 1944. I could afford to wait two years before sinking another one.

I sank my last submarine in February 1945, a few days after my tenth birthday. I was not totally satisfied with the presents I got that year.

And then there was the sky! I ventured forth into the sky, seeking the enemy there, while Mount Rainier towered up like a cold white general in the background.

I was an ace pilot with my P-38 and my Grumman Wildcat, my P-51 Mustang and my Messerschmitt. That’s right: Mes-serschmitt. I captured one and had it painted a special color, so my own men wouldn’t try to shoot me down by mistake. Everybody recognized my Messerschmitt and the enemy had hell to pay for it.

I shot down 8,942 fighter planes, 6,420 bombers and 51 blimps. I shot down most of the blimps when the war was first in season. Later, sometime in 1943, I stopped shooting down blimps altogether. Too slow.

I also destroyed 1,281 tanks, 777 bridges and 109 oil re­fineries because I knew we were in the right.

“Remember Pearl Harbor!” they said.

“You bet!” we said.

I shot the enemy planes down by holding out my arms straight from my body and running like hell, shouting at the top of my lungs: RAT-tattattattattattattattattattattattat!

Children don’t do that kind of stuff any more. Children do other things now and because children do other things now, I have whole days when I feel like the ghost of a child, ex­amining the memory of toys played back into the earth again.

There was a thing I used to do that was also a lot of fun when I was a young airplane. I used to hunt up a couple of flashlights and hold them lit in my hands at night, with my arms straight out from my body and be a night pilot zooming down the streets of Tacoma.

I also used to play airplane in the house, too, by taking four chairs from the kitchen and putting them together: two chairs facing the same way for the fuselage and a chair for each wing.

In the house I played mostly at dive-bombing. The chairs seemed to do that best. My sister used to sit in the seat right behind me and radio urgent messages back to base.

“We only have one bomb left, but we can’t let the aircraft carrier escape. We’ll have to drop the bomb down the smoke­stack. Over. Thank you, Captain, we’ll need all the luck we can get. Over and out.”

Then my sister would say to me, “Do you think you can do it?” and I’d reply, “Of course, hang onto your hat.”

Your Hat

Gone Now These

Twenty Years

January 1,

1965

-Richard Brautigan

#richard brautigan #brautigan #beat #poet #poem #tacoma #childhood #ww2 #1941 #pt boats

[dessarin]

The City of Red Large

Upon arriving in Red Larch (or, if you asked Bjorn, Red Large), the adventurers asked one of the caravan’s few remaining guards for a place to quench their various thirsts. They were directed to the Helm at High Sun, a tavern which an optimistic marketing person might have dubbed “charmingly rustic.” On the way to the tavern, a portly, mustachioed man with a sheriff’s star on his plain cloak stumbled against the tiefling warlock.

“Excuse me,” rumbled the constable, raising a monocle to his bleary eye.

“You’re in my way,” said the tiefling.

The constable huffed; his considerable chest swelled. Before he could speak, the skinny crook conjured the sound of a woman screaming around the corner of the nearest building. The constable held his hat to his head and trundled to the rescue.

The tavern was nearly empty, with a few patrons talking quietly and an aproned man wiping mugs behind the counter. Malacath ordered an ale, while Agatha asked for tea. The bartender took a liking to her immediately. He stomped on a trapdoor behind the counter and shouted for tea.

Bjorn entered the tavern late, followed by the constable. There was no sign of the skinny crook. The constable lumbered to the counter.

“Did you forget something, Harburk?” asked the tavernkeeper.

“I need to see your back room,” said the constable. “I’m investigating a crime.”

Everyone looked at him funny. The gnome ranger, sensing something amiss, bolted out the door.

“Uh,” said the tavernkeeper. “I don’t have a back room.”

The constable peered around. “Oh, well, hmm. Where do you keep your valuables?”

The tavernkeeper didn’t respond.

“Personally, I think it’s the real constable,” said the tiefling.

Then the gnome ranger reappeared, leading a second constable by his pudgy hand.

“What is the meaning of this?” cried the second constable.  

“Imposter!” shouted the first constable. “Seize him!”

Agatha dropped her tea. Bjorn seized the second constable and held him fast. With his free arm, the captured constable produced and blew a silver whistle. The first constable also produced and blew a silver whistle. The two constables stood about four feet apart and blew their whistles at each other.

Summoned by the clamor, four huge men in bloody aprons came running through the door. Upon seeing the two constables, they froze.

The first constable dropped his whistle. “Thank the Gods you’re here! This man is impersonating me! Take him to jail at once.”

The men looked back and forth. The smallest one got a look in his eye that suggested he was having a big and smart thought, which he was very proud of. 

“If you’re the real constable,” he asked the ungrasped one, “then what’s my name?”

The first constable blew air through his mustache. “Don’t humiliate yourself with such pointless inquiries. There’s no time to waste.”  

“Jamie! It’s Jamie!” cried the other constable.

Everyone stood very still for a moment. Then the huge, bloody men took a step forward and a lot of things happened at once.

The imposter constable motioned with his hand and the room filled with impenetrable fog. The sound of footsteps clattered up the stairs. The four thugs followed. After a few seconds had passed, the fog dissipated, leaving only a single constable, with Bjorn standing against the wall with the other adventurers.  

The men came back downstairs just as the skinny crook walked into the tavern.

“Hey everybody,” said the skinny crook. “What did I miss?”  

The constable and his men approached Bjorn.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Constable,” said Bjorn. “I let go of the other constable and he got away.”

The constable’s eyes crossed as he tried to figure this one out. Eventually he decided to give the hirsute galoot the benefit of the doubt.

“That’s alright, son,” he said. “You were just doing what you thought was right.”

Now even more exhausted than they’d been before, the adventurers went across the street to the Swinging Sword for a much-needed evening of rest. Along the way, they finally got around to introducing themselves. The skinny crook’s name was Squidward Jerusalem; he’d been working with Bjorn for ten years. The tall, battleaxe-wielding elf was named Baguelle.

“Bagel?” said Squidward.

“Baguelle. It’s French.”

“What’s French?” asked the matronly paladin. “I’m Agatha. I’m trying to help lost ones find themselves in the name of my god, Lathander.” She began to tell a story about the old days.

“I’m Malacath,” interrupted the tiefling.

“Bogota Bodega,” said the gnome ranger.

Squidward, Bjorn, Agatha, and Baguelle split an “economy” room, which was a smelly attic with no furniture whatsoever. Malacath shelled out five silver pieces for a nice room all to himself. Bogota fell asleep at a table in the common room. 

In the morning, the adventurers awoke refreshed and ready to actually accomplish something. They found the constable nailing up a flyer on an official-looking bulletin board.

Squidward approached. “Anything we can help with?”

It was a ludicrously hot day, and sweat poured down the constable’s pudgy face. His mustache was a sad, sodden thing. He pulled the flyer off the board and showed it to Squidward.

Banditz R Heer, said the flyer, with a map crudely drawn in crayon.

“You’re in luck,” said Squidward. “We happen to be extremely skilled bandit-slayers. We have, in fact, a 100% bandit kill rate.”  

He gestured at his compatriots, who flexed and tried to look tough, except for Agatha, who smiled sweetly, and Malacath, who wasn’t paying attention, and Bogota, who was grunting at a mouse. So, in other words, only Baguelle and Bjorn tried to look tough. Luckily they were the only remotely imposing members of the group anyway.  

“Wonderful,” said the constable.

“But there is the matter of payment,” said Squidward. “We don’t work for free, you see.”

Soon the adventurers were on their way out of town, buoyed by the promise of 30 gold pieces from the Red Larch city coffers upon the completion of their task.

They found four bandits sitting around a campfire in front of a cave. Beside them, in an iron cage on a burnt-out wagon, was a black bear. Agatha’s heart went out to the poor, trapped creature, and she beseeched the group to slay the bandits with all possible haste. Everyone was more or less fine with that plan. What they couldn’t decide was how. A fierce debate ensued.

Growing tired with the bickering, Bogota conjured an illusion of a shiny chest some thirty feet to the southwest. The bandits didn’t notice. To help them along, Squidward made the chest produce a chorus of angelic voices. The bandits grabbed their weapons and charged toward the source of the sound. Baguelle, Agatha, and Bjorn ran to intercept them.

A lopsided battle ensued. Two bandits died almost instantly. A third bandit sprinted to the cage and, just before succumbing to a hail of magic and arrows, opened it. The bear went and took a big swipe out of Baguelle’s arm.

“Help me,” gasped Baguelle.

Agatha ran up, and for a moment it looked like she was going to heal Baguelle, but instead she hit the bear with her warhammer. The bear died. (Agatha had mixed feelings about this—on one hand, it was the first badass thing she’d done in ten years, but on the other hand, she felt bad for the bear.)

Malacath charmed the final bandit, who confirmed that there was nobody else to kill. After declining Squidward’s generous offer to join the party in a probationary capacity, the bandit made a run for it, and was slaughtered for his experience points.

The adventurers rolled back into town with a wagon full of stolen wine, the carcass of the bear (which Bogota was merrily skinning), and four dead bandits (since a consensus had not been reached on which body part to cut off for “proof of murder” purposes).

“Where’s our gold?” asked Squidward, showing off the bandit corpses.

“Gold? Oh, that’s right, I promised you—”  

“Fifty,” said Malacath. “Fifty gold pieces.”  

The constable furrowed his brow.

“Oh, well, hmm. Alright then.”

He led them toward a butcher shop. Behind his back, Malacath and Squidward bumped chests like they’d just scored a touchdown.

At the butcher shop, the adventurers met a bunch of butchers with possible future story importance. The mayor forked over 50 gold, and just like that, the adventurers were off in search of another quest.

They found one when a small child in a tavern told them about a ghost. (It speaks to the weirdness of the stuff that was happening in the Dessarin Valley that literally no one in the party doubted for a moment the veracity of the child’s tale.) They followed the child to a hill outside of town with a door cracked open. Inside, the adventurers found a table with some rust spots where something had clearly been removed, and also another door, which a ghost poked its head through.

“Go away,” said the ghost, essentially.

Instead Bjorn knocked the door down and everyone ran into the crypt and stabbed and shot the ghost until it died. Or, since it was already dead, “double-died,” or whatever. Note, however, that before it was dispatched, the ghost sucked on Bjorn until he passed out. This was the first time one of the adventurers was brought to the brink of death—but was certainly, given the cruelty of the world and those who oversaw it, plus the party’s general recklessness, not to be the last.

There was also a giant floating sword, which flew away. The adventurers didn’t concern themselves much with that, though. They were too busy trying to get into the chest at the foot of the crypt’s casket.

(End of Session 1)