#that there will always be that bizarre and extreme disconnect between eye and mind and hand

[skunkes]

I mean this vent completely neutrally and as an observation rather than Woe is Me negativity but going ham in my sketchbook has been Fun but along with not really Learning anything (tho historically no art knowledge ever sticks to my brain) I'm no closer to understanding how I WANT to draw! if that makes sense.

I dont really identify with or want to continue any of the patterns I try (nor do they get any more muscle memory-y, in the fundamentals area).

Its fine as long as its Fun but I really feel the aimlessness. Like I'll keep going but I've also. Been doing that. All I do is Keep Going, when does it all tetris together!

[0poole]

I LOVE No Straight Roads

Honestly it’s hard to keep me away from a game with great visuals and even greater character design. I knew from the INSTANT I saw these characters that I was going to love it. I just finished it because it’s (unfortunately) pretty short, and even though I cheesed the final boss through it’s very lenient death mechanics (Instant respawn at the cost of a good rank) I actually appreciated that it wasn’t a pure cake walk. I’ve yet to rematch all of the bosses, but since I had genuine trouble with the later ones I’ll hold off on that.

But who cares about gameplay, am I right? I sure as hell don’t. I would’ve bought the game no matter what the hell it was. I wanted the characters (and the music, although I realized that second) and that was it. 

First of all, I love any world that is super fantastical but cheesy in its concept, ala a city powered by music, and battles between artists using music. Ideas like this only spawn from a mind that wants to create a fun atmosphere, if nothing else, and it was sure as hell fun. I genuinely love when someone goes so far into a crazy idea and doesn’t waste your time explaining it with real world logic. Wanna know how a city can be powered by music? Shut up and look at the cute virtual mermaid. Lord knows I did. Every once in a while, it does you good to just let the player/reader/viewer just revel in the idea without having to go out of your way to make things seem realistic. It’s not about “turning your brain off” or whatever, it’s picking your battles.

Also, I can seriously love a world with great background characters to it. Any game with the right situation to insert the random nobodies you find onto the streets into the art in the credits really played into the greatness of the world’s less important characters, and that’s always a good thing. It’s technically world building. But, since I always love to pick favorites, I’d have to say my favorite background character is easily Mia, the NSR infodesk assistant. It’s funny, because you can literally search “nsr characters” into Google and she’s the third image result. I love how jumpy she is when you first interact with her, since NSR probably spread the word about B2J suggesting they’re rock thugs who’d beat up anyone, so for all she knows she could die right then and there with a guitar lodged in her skull. She’s probably just some intern trying to pay for college. She don’t want trouble.

Also, I just realized that 90% of the characters in this game have the same body structure that I always love, that being having arms/legs that sort of fan out in width into relatively large hands/feet. It’s a kind of limb structure I fall into so much because it just really hits me right for some reason. I really can’t explain why.

Anyways, I gotta talk about the big boys individually:

Mayday and Zuke are an amazing duo. I’m always a sucker for a cute and crazy girl, but honestly Zuke hit so many of the right notes too. I will say it’s weird to pair the martian Zuke with the humanly-skinned Mayday, but honestly it doesn’t even matter because he looks so cool on his own. I love his weird blocky blue dreadlocks, and his weirdly shaped shirt which bares his chest in the weirdest way... And, oh my god, Mayday’s weird Spongebob background flower eyes? It’s little tidbits like that that really make me jealous. How could I have ever thought of that? It looks so perfect, and I don’t know why. And her little booty jig she does in her idle animation? Adorable. I played as her as much as was reasonable not only because I’m a filthy button masher with little strategy but also because she’s so damn cute. I can also appreciate how she has a tough-as-nails persona while still keeping a semi-girly attitude, like with her falling for 1010 and Sayu. Characters are so much better when they’re a perfect blend of characteristics, instead of being all one-note, like how Zuke is the quiet one but gets heated against DK West, and all. 

Honestly the voice acting for every character is great, but I love when Mayday’s VA’s accent shows through. It’s a perfect twang to accent (consider this the only acknowledgement of a pun in this post) her snarkiness. 

DJ Subatomic Supernova was going to be an easy favorite since he’s all space-themed. Also, I don’t know why I always end up liking the egotistic characters. Not in the sense that I like their egotistic-ness, but in the sense that I like everything else about them and they just so happen to also be egotistic. The same applied with Empoleon (maybe like my 2nd favorite Pokemon) and Rarity from MLP, probably among others. Either way, I’ll never not love space themes. Not to mention he’s got a funky disco theme, and I’m slowly starting to realize that I am in extreme love with techno-funk styles of music. The instant I heard his music he cemented his place into my playlists. 

As for design, I still have no idea what the fuck he is. Clearly AI is at human levels in this world, but if he’s a robot why does he still have hairy legs? But, if he’s a human, is that weird orb his head? Is it just some sort of puppet which he controls from inside his giant jacket? I know I dissed explaining things realistically but I actually want to know with this guy. Even the wiki doesn’t say. Either way, he’s clearly the logical extreme of “being at the center of your own universe.” Even his jacket depicts a solar system, with his hood being the sun. Didn’t see that until I tried to draw him. I really wish this guy wasn’t so tied to his DJ stand so I could reasonably draw him without it. I don’t want to draw his hairy ass legs. It is a great touch for his design though (although I prefer his beta look with pants and long boots, another design trait I tend to gravitate to) since DJs could reasonably not wear pants, since they’re always behind a table.

Sayu is my favorite. It’s so plainly obvious. It’s weird to say that sometimes, because some characters like Sayu are so clearly engineered to be as adorable as possible, to the point where they’re basically a parody of whatever they’re supposed to be emulating, but then they do that so well that they are still likable for what they’re trying to parody. Also, even though I’ve never looked into any vocaloid superstars myself, the fact that they exist and are loved in real life is absolutely perfect to be used as a character design in a world like this. It’s so weird conceptually, but we all know it’s normal and realistic. But yeah, she’s a giga-cutie whom I’ve already drawn and I’ve listened to her theme on loop on many different occasions. Favorite character, favorite track, favorite weapon of choice (What did I say about Empoleon?), which, and I wouldn’t have noticed this myself, looks like the USB symbol you see above USB ports on computers. How crazy perfect is that?

Even apart from my unbridled love for cute monster robot(?) girls, her boss fight is probably the 2nd greatest of them all, at least conceptually. She’s just a hologram, so you can’t touch her, but you CAN disconnect the artists which control her in order to defeat her. It’s the kind of concept for a boss fight that could only work for this type of character. I’m a sucker for the cute girl that provides her voice, but I love how the animator (video editor? the yellow one) actually attacks you with a mouse and lowers the brightness of the setting once he appears. Also, the mocap guy being the deeply-voiced type but still providing the adorable movements of her body. It’s such a great combo of characters, and their little extra art in the credits makes me like them even more. I just wish we could interact with them individually.

DK West was probably one of the most interesting characters visually, especially since I knew of every other NSR member long before the game came out, but I only just heard of him closer to the release. I wasn’t sure where he was placed, but I definitely assumed his gig was the weird shadow demon we saw in the trailers. When I finally saw him in game, I was shocked to hear him speak an entirely different language most of the time, which was really cool. Also, finding out he was tied to Zuke and wasn’t strictly an NSR artist really made him more interesting. You know, if his fucking shadow clone magic didn’t make him crazy cool enough. Even though I suck at his game and am not especially fond of his raps, the visual of him rapping with this giant monster behind him and dozens of weird shadow wingmen by his side hyping him up was probably one of the coolest in the entire game. The dark way they were hyping him up too gave such a bizarre atmosphere, especially since it parallels his seemingly chill and smiley demeanor. 

I definitely hope they’ll introduce new bosses as DLC in the future, and make them sort of in the same vein as DK West, where they aren’t the biggest artists ever, but they want to pick a fight with B2J. I’d kill for any extra content this game can provide.

Yinu is obviously special since she was the subject of the demo they put out for the game. Even though I knew all her bells and whistles, she and her mom still beat me a few times in the full game. Considering she’s semi-tied to story-ish spoilers I kinda want to go more into her in a separate section. It is worth considering playing the game first since it’s not hard (with the easy going deaths) and it’s short length.

1010 seriously grew on me as I learned more about them and interacted with them. I got their shtick when I first looked at them, but after seeing that animation of them touring the city on Youtube I was kinda falling for them. Then, I learned that they’re apparently repurposed navy war robots? I mean, maybe not them specifically, but it seems to heavily point in that direction, with the warship cars and “attention!”s and all. It took me a bit to get into their music too, but once I actually fought them and put their actions to the music I fell in love with it. I swear, Neon J’s weird dancing can has some of the smoothest moves in all of gaming. I don’t know whether they mocapped out those movements or got one of the greatest animators ever, but it looks so impossibly clean his part of the song gets me like 30x more hype than it would normally. 

Also, their little art piece of them looking at fan mail in the credits is probably one of the most adorable things ever. Even if they’re just Neon J’s puppets, that piece of art really makes it seem like they love every one of their fans. I’m not gonna lie, I might swoon a bit too if they picked me out and gave me some special attention.

Oh yeah, and the fact that Mayday was super sad in her showstopper against them was adorable and hilarious at the same time. The little tweaks they made to the showstopper for each fight were great.

Eve just has to be Lady Gaga, right? Like, an even crazier Lady Gaga. DJSS is Daft Punk (or any artist with a helmet persona, you know what I’m talking about), Sayu is Hatsune Miku, DK West is Kanye West, Yinu is a generic child protege, 1010 is a KPop boyband (just pick one) and Eve is Lady Gaga. That’s just how things are. But, again, this is the kind of boss fight that only this type of character could provide. It’s not just surreal imagery, it’s ARTISTIC surreal imagery. The fight is so mesmerizing in every way, especially by how it starts off so slow and calm and progresses to insanity, as well as the increased emotional investment in the fight making you feel so much more into it than just “That’s the boy band. Let’s fight.” Not only does it get you more invested, but it makes her artistic persona go deeper than just “she looks weird.” She is genuinely conflicted about her relationship with Zuke, and naturally that leads her to literally split him and Mayday apart. That mechanic specifically was the coolest, although I do wish they made it more obvious when you needed to switch over to a different side. I was getting pulverized by her fight too, since there were so many things to pay attention to. Her fight was definitely the best one. 

Tatiana and Spoilers:

Let’s be real with ourselves, the twist was so obvious. I do also think, though, that obvious twists aren’t bad if they’re just good reveals. At some point, a person just has experienced so many stories that “only pretty good” twists are easy to spot. It doesn’t mean that the twists are bad, it just means you yourself experienced.

I feel like her transition from rock to EDM was pretty understandable, even as a non-musician. She was so caught up in what she assumed was popular that it basically consumed her. It’s easy as an artist to want to forgo what you truly want to make in favor of what makes you popular, and clearly since her transition to EDM made her the CEO of the biggest company in the city (world?) that probably made her think she truly needed to change her outlook. Then, when she saw B2J try to bring it back, she sort of coined them as being as misguided as she was and knocked them down a peg. Plus, they were kinda being jerks about it.

It’s kinda like the Trolls sequel, where everyone pegs rock music fanatics as being too stuck up in their own heads to appreciate other types of music, which honestly seems more like the case than the alternative. When I first heard of the story of the game, I was seriously hoping they did put an asterisk on B2J’s ambitions because they were a bit sketchy from the start. 

That’s kinda where I want to talk about Yinu, because she was the true turning point in what they were doing. She’s literally 9 and yet she’s getting dragged into all this BS. When she said “I hate you all” at the end of her fight, and played a somber tune on her broken piano after the fight destroyed it, you kinda got a kick in the face to realize you’re kinda being an asshole to some of them. Sure, they fight back, but they wouldn’t fight in the first place if they didn’t have to. They are just people who play music under a joint name that B2J just so happened to get in hot water with. 

Then, of course, there’s Kliff, who also reeked of surprise villain, and who’s basically the embodiment of the bad side of B2J, where he just wanted to destroy for his own sake and not for the actual greater good. Once B2J realized their mistake, they backed off, but Kliff was so hard pressed to do what he planned on in the first place he wouldn’t stop. I kinda wish he got a bigger fight to his own since he’s clearly a big enough tech genius to divert a whole satellite into one specific building. Maybe the Elliecopter chase bit was his thing, but I do kind of wish he was there to fight against them too.

Even though Tatiana did kind of reform a bit quick, It’s still not too crazy to assume she could see that B2J was just misguided and the fact that they worked to revert their wrongdoings for her sake would make a pretty strong impressions. They clearly can hold their own, so it’s not like she wouldn’t want them to join NSR too. 

Oh yeah, and her boss fight was clock/time themed. If there’s a theme under space that I love, it’s clocks/time. 

And If I am to be respected by the internet, I must provide a negative opinion to balance out my positive one. I will say that the character model physics (like Mayday’s braids, DK West’s vest thing, Neon J’s fluffy neck thing, etc) got kinda funky at times. Especially DK West’s vest, which was completely messed up for every scene he was in... Also, even though the voices are mostly great, some lines felt a bit off. Just a bit. That good enough? Good.

But yeah anyway that’s another favorite game to add to the pile. Eventually I’m gonna have to compile a true list of my all-time favorite games/movies because I do kind of want to have a solid idea of what my all-time favorites are.

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/23/2020: I WATCHED THE LAST DRIVE-IN WITH JOE BOB BRIGGS AND ALL YOU GET ARE THESE CRAPPY REVIEWS - pt 2: HACK-OLANTERN

This was a tough one. On paper, it's extremely promising:  An Indian production team who had never heard of Halloween decided to make a holiday-themed American horror movie loaded up with all the lucrative sex and violence they could buy, dreaming of a success that could never possibly arrive. While I have some moral qualms with the term "outsider art", I always welcome the work of filmmakers whose disconnection from mainstream production requires them to work from the ground up, inventing whatever they need to express themselves as they go along. The results can be weird, funny, and in any case, necessarily original. When things don't work out for the best, it might be because the filmmaker is thinking less about his own desires and more about manipulating the audience, usually with money in mind. Even though the satanic slash movie HACK-O-LANTERN maintains a certain amount of helpless bizarreness, it's also...just kind of hard to get through. Let's see if I can figure out why.

The plot, such as it is, is focused, inasmuch as it is focused on anything, on a devil-worshipping pervert whose son-slash-grandson Tommy (Gregory Scott Cummins aka Mac's Dad on It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia) is coming of age on Halloween night. "Tonight you will know what power is!" cackles the old creep (played by Hy Pyke, best-if-at-all known as Taffey Lewis in BLADERUNNER) as he and Tommy do their secret satanic handshake, revealing that they don't know the difference between devil horns and the ASL sign for "I love you". Tommy spends most of his time pumping iron in his mom's basement and trancing out to the tunes of hair metal band DC LaCroix; this is the movie's most memorable sequence, a hallucinatory music video in which a budget version of Kali shoots laser beams out of her eyes that turn drums into shrunken heads and guitars into pitchforks.

Meanwhile, Tommy's goody two-shoes brother Deputy Roger (Jeff Brown) and nice girl sister Vera (Carla Baron) are gearing up for their tiny town's Halloween party. Everyone is excited for the holiday, which they celebrate with an unlikely combo of burlesque-flavored full-frontal stripping, bellydancing, bands, and stand-up comedy. Rog even gets laid in the cemetery by Vera's slutty friend Beth (Particia Christie), who utters the suspiciously unflattering post-coital comment, "You enjoyed it. I could tell." Unfortunately, everybody's good time is tainted by a murder spree perpetrated by a crazed killer in a cape and devil mask who takes down the likes of Jeanna Fine, the most prominent but not the only porn veteran in this picture. Is the murderer Tommy, coming into his satanic power? Or is it Tommy's mom (Katina Garner), who is pissed off that her adult kids are living their own lives? Or is it... look, it doesn't matter who it is. The ending isn't going to make any sense anyway.

This movie is a lot more fun to describe than it is to watch. Somehow, all of this wanton zaniness doesn't accrue much charisma, and it's hard to feel excited by how little you can understand of what the hell's supposed to be going on. Possibly the best part of my own viewing experience was just the trivia download I got from this installment of The Last Drive-In With Joe Bob Briggs. Briggs' typically entertaining commentary included the claim by one of the filmmakers that he made his first fortune selling 50,000 tee shirts that said I LOVE MY AUNT on them, or the frightening fact that production was delayed when director Jag Mundhra fell into the open grave they used for a murder scene, and had to be hospitalized for months. I wish I had written more of these factoids down, but I was having a hard enough time just keeping track of what was happening in the movie itself. Oh well. It ought to become available on Shudder soon. Consume it with my personal caveat that HACK-O-LANTERN is better enjoyed as an anthropological oddity, than as a real movie.

[ask-them-bois]

Seadweller headcanons

okay shut up here we go

it’s my headcanon that seadwellers, no matter the bloodcolor, can be divided by biomes, which can also be broke down into two catagories: Freshwater and Saltwater. Regardless, they’re all call ‘seadwellers’, even if they are in freshwater, as it seems to be the umbrella term for trolls with fins and gills.

Saltwater seadwellers can be broken down into dwellers such as: Shallow, Coral/Reef, Deep, Abyssal, Kelp, and Frozen

While Freshwater seadwellers are categorized as: Lake, River, Pond, and Swamp.

Now, there can be overlap, such as seadwellers who hang out in brackish water- where saltwater and fresh water mix. The biggest difference in all of the minor categories are physical and mental attributes. But first, some overall headcanons:

All seadwellers must be hatched in special brooding caverns, either ones that are underwater (usually operated by deep and abyssal dwellers), or ones that house vats of water in which the eggs can nest. (jades usually operate these, but coral and shallows may lend a hand in tending to the more difficult hatchlings)

Once hatched, they must stay in the water until pupated from grubs to wrigglers (toddlers?) or else their gills won’t develop right. Some may choose to stay in the water a little longer, too, but over-shooting the time may make it difficult to adjust to breathing air. Underwater cavern-born dwellers have the most difficulty. They must get to the surface immediately, or the transition will be extremely difficult. (See: Abyssal dwellers)

Fresh dwellers are less likely to have bioluminescent marks, but can still develop natural patterns for camouflage.

Diets can vary for each individual, but most must rely on what they have in their immediate biomes. (e.g, swamp dwellers feast on ducks and frogs, while abyssals must rely on dead fall)

Most- if not all- seadwellers have a natural ability to use echo-location, though it is most found in saltwater dwellers. There are many sub-languages for seadwellers. (e.g, they can use bioluminescent marks to communicate, but there is a disconnect between salt’s and fresh’s uses. What flashes mean ‘apple’ for salts may mean ‘pinecone’ for freshies) There’s also instances of Deep and Abyssals learning languages all their own, similar to Morse code (see: Ashhur. He communicates in clicks and hums) Salts also have their own language that is mostly lost, which most call the Language of the Sea. (See: Ruthless used the LotS to speak with the leviathan)

While it is most common in fresh dwellers, some salt dwellers have been recorded to be cannibalistic. It’s more common among freshies, due to the lack of available territory and prey.

All seadwellers possess the ability to reproduce via eggs; a leftover trait from before the mother grub. (Some landdwellers are known to randomly have this ability, too.)

Now then, let’s break down the categories:

Saltdwellers:

Shallow: Rufuss is my shallow dweller. He’s built for the cold temperatures and strong currents, with his extra fat and stocky body. He cannot go into deep waters, as the pressure can leave physical bruises on his thick form. He’s built to withstand currents, not move with them, so that he can’t be sucked out to sea by the undertow. His stockiness and weight are a shared trait with all other shallow dwellers. Shallows are also the ones who find it easiest to move about on land, though the water is always a relief when it holds up their weight.

Coral/Reef: Makeno is a reef dweller. His slim but muscular form gives him the ability to weave through coral and plants with ease. Most reef dwellers would be built the same way. Part of Makeno’s physicality are his freckles. They’re near invisible to the naked eye, unless he’s in the water, where upon they will light up and begin to glow. Biologically, these can be used to communicate, attract prey, or attract mates, but they also can attract predators. Fortunately, these bioluminescent marks don’t show up until a troll is pupated, and the light gets stronger with age. Corals find it easy to transition to the land, too, but if they leave too early it can cause problems with theirs gills, like Makeno’s. (he cannot be around smokes from cigarettes or incense. Cooking smoke is fine purely from immunity build up)

Deep: Deep dwellers are lithe, thin trolls, who’s skin is often much darker than others. They’re more likely to have natural patterns (i.e noticeable stripes, spots or vitiligo) which will most likely also be luminescent marks. They’re also more prone to mutations such as extra fins, or even tails. These trolls find it hard to transition onto land. Not to say that they can’t, but they always feel just a little off, and will often times try to use their gills in moments of panic. 

Abyssal: Ashhur is an abyssal dweller. He’s categorized by soft, supple skin, extremely heightened senses, dark skin, mutations like extra fins and eyes, and an adaptation to extremely hot temperatures. Abyssals are rare- or at least, are assumed to be rare- because their overload of mutations means they must keep hidden. Even violets and fuchsia abyssals must keep a low profile. On top of Ashhur’s own mutations, there can be a mix-match of many other mutations like tails, markings, even extra limbs or- in extremely rare cases- mermaid-like tails. Abyssal’s soft skin, like the blobfish or deep jellies, looks and feels normal under their natural pressures. Out of water, it feels extremely smooth and silky, but can be bruised or cut very easily. Speaking of out of water, abyssals find it the hardest to breathe air, and often feel like their mildly choking when they’re on land.

The heightened senses can be extended to all five senses, but can also sometimes lack in areas. Ashhur is (un)fortunate enough that all his senses are maxed out, which leads to sensory overload more often than not. Abyssals are also prone to Deep Sea Gigantism- when a specimen’s body grows very large, due to the amount of free space they have. Survivor is an example of this, as he is over 24 feet tall. But he’s so heavy that he cannot leave the water, lest his own weight crush him. Ashhur, who is still very young, has yet to grow to such extremes, while his ancestor is over a thousand years old.

Kelp: Kelps are categorized by tough, leathery skin, poor vision, small statures, and tinted skin. Kelps are also the ones who are most likely to be lowbloods, like yellows and olives. Yellow/green colored skin helps blend them in to the kelp forests. However, if they’re found by higher bloods, they’re culled on sight. As such, kelps make up less than 3% of the seadweller population. Their tough skin keeps them safe from the serrated, rough fronds of the kelp and seaweed they bed in. Poor vision is a drawback, but it’s made up for by their extra hearing. Their small statures are a benefit when it comes to hiding, and are skilled in quick strikes when taking down prey.

Frozen: Frozens thrive in extremely cold temperatures, and could faint or grow ill in warm ones. They also have very pale skin- they’re even most likely to be albino. Frozens are often very heavy-set, with extra fat or muscle, and have very low metabolisms, as they have the most trouble finding food. They’re also surprisingly low on the list of most likely to have mutations, but highly likely to be bluebloods or have paler shades of violet and fuchsia.

Freshdwellers:

Lake: Lake dwellers are considered with near cryptid status. Not just due to rarity, but due to their bizarre appearances. Lakes commonly have skin that doesn’t match their bloodcolor, and often matches the colors of their lake. They’re also known to have stringy, seaweed-like hair that almost seems alive in the water, and slit-like nostrils. They’re also among the most territorial. Some allow boating, fishing, and swimming in their waters, but if one litters or disrespects their ecosystem by over-fishing, then that troll may come up missing, their drowned body found later. Or never at all, as Lakes are prone to cannibalize trespassers.

River: River dwellers are often considered the most beautiful. They often have pale, smooth skin, and patterns similar to that of a koi. Rivers are known to have a mild mutation of fish-like scales on their shoulders, brows, forearms, and thighs. Much of the riverdweller population are born mute. It is unclear why this, but it’s theorized it’s an unfortunate trait due to living in such shallow waters; as such, their vocal ability was given up in favor of the easy ability to breathe air, giving up their vocal cords in exchange for properly functioning lungs.

Pond: Pond dwellers are often just young lake dwellers, who later move to lakes when they require bigger territories. If they do choose to stay with their ponds, its unfortunately very easy for them to starve, be picked off by large predators like big cats or bears, or get diseases from mosquitoes and ticks. If they manage to survive all that and get old enough,they’ll most likely move to cities or other places. Ponds get pretty small, after all.

Swamp: Swamp dwellers are among the most savage dwellers. They have to deal with alligators, snakes, big cats, predator birds, and more. Their mutations can be quite unique, with some even recorded to posses venom or poisonous claws. Webbed fingers and toes are common, to help move quickly through the water. Their gills are not well developed, either, as swamps are known to have low oxygen levels in their water. Instead, much like a whale or alligator, swamp dwellers can hold their breath for greatly extended periods of time. Swamps are also very foresty, so swamp dwellers have adapted to moving through the roots by having quick reflexes and lithe movements.

Wow these are long and rambly, but I hope yall like ‘em! These are just my headcanons of course, and if you have any questions I’m happy to answer them! Feel free to use them for your own characters if you like them, I don’t mind.

[sarahw-world]

My first fanfic: “A Dark Heart”

Summary: Vegeta and Bulma land on Planet Z365...

Notes: Hi guys! Here's the new chapter!

I was actually working on the second chapter of my "Yellow Roses" story, but I had this one already half-written and I've chosen to finish it first and give you all a little update so you won't have to wait so long.

This was really, really hard to write, but I hope you like it...

You can also read it on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066958/chapters/28584436

And on fanfiction.net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12294658/26/A-Dark-Heart

Chapter 26: A Binding Promise      

Bulma stepped into the space ship’s main living area after having just gotten dressed hurriedly inside one of the small cabins. Within a matter of minutes, they’d finally approach Planet Z365 and make preparations for landing on its reddish, humid surface.

The initial idea had been for them to shower and get ready a lot sooner in order to face Krillin, Yamcha and Vegeta’s bizarre army of men but, as usual, things hadn’t gone according to plan. Her Prince getting a glimpse of her alluring naked body walking pass him towards their small bathroom was all it’d taken for him to grab her and have his way with her, once again, on their still unmade king-sized bed. By the time he’d had her laying completely spent beneath him, there was barely any time left for both lovers to prepare.

Vegeta was already standing by the central control console, adjusting the pair of white gloves of the new armor Bulma had built for him and offering her a subtle side-glance when she finally joined him and stood right beside him.

She instantly noticed a manifest change in his demeanor, as if he were mentally preparing himself to face the grotesque militia he himself had arranged. Even though by now Bulma had already gotten used to the Saiyan’s behavior, after having learnt, in the very early stages of their relationship, that Vegeta had a tendency to hide his weaknesses behind a carefully crafted mask of pride and indifference, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of melancholy whenever she witnessed her mate’s mesmerizing metamorphosis. It was as if he were an actor playing a carefully constructed part he’d been tenaciously rehearsing throughout an entire lifetime.

In all truth, Bulma had grown to feel lucky, almost privileged, that her relationship with her mate had grown and evolved so much that she now had the absolute certainty of being the only person in the entire Universe fortunate enough to be able to experience, and share, Vegeta’s softer, almost vulnerable side.      

Back on Earth, Bulma had already caught subtle glimpses, here and there, of Vegeta lowering his guard slightly in the presence of her friends and family. Sure, he was never the warmest of companions, but she could tell that the Saiyan warrior had grown to, at least partially, accept that he was, whether he liked it or not, amongst comrades; a motley crew of fighters who always fought together as a team, standing by each other’s side at all times, to the point of sacrificing their own safety and, under extreme circumstances, their own lives, to protect the people they loved the most.

If her Prince eventually chose to turn his back on her and fully embrace this existence of dominance and insatiable quest for power, Bulma knew he’d never find the peace she truly believed he deserved.

After all, this wouldn’t be a simple case of building a façade of aloofness in a friendly, welcoming place like her home planet. If her man adopted the life of a supreme ruler, it certainly wouldn’t be an easy one. He’d spend the rest of his days living in a dangerous, hostile environment, constantly watching his back and without a single trustworthy being by his side, until some form of betrayal would take his life in the end. The mere mental image of Vegeta having to live under such terrible, inhuman circumstances, made Bulma shiver in complete horror.

And the physical danger wasn’t even her only concern regarding his mate’s choices, but his psychological well-being too. The heiress knew all too well the enormous amount of pressure that holding a position of power entailed. She’d observed it in her own father through the years, ever since she was a little girl who loved sneaking inside of Dr. Briefs’ central offices, back in West City. Of course, lab work had always been fun for both her dad and herself, but as years went by and she grew up, developing a greater awareness of her surroundings, she’d come to understand that there was another side of her father’s company that relied heavily on its founder’s leadership abilities and, now that Bulma was finally starting the process of being groomed into someday inheriting that position of power, she’d gotten a first taste of the heavy responsibilities attached to it, understanding that it wasn’t quite as easy as it appeared to be.

The saddest part was that his father had been fortunate enough to have a wife and two little daughters awaiting him back at home every day, showering him with love and affection and helping him disconnect, at least momentarily, from the weighty pressures of his daily life. However, if Vegeta chose to play the role of some evil Intergalactic Overlord, without her and Trunks by his side, he’d be utterly alone and, the very thought of it, made her eyes sting with unshed tears of grief and compassion.

During that last, almost surreal night they’d spent together on Planet Virggo, Bulma had finally been able to experience, in her own flesh, what inhabiting Vegeta’s mind was genuinely like. His was a psyche filled with filthy, terrifying demons and dark ghosts, haunting and tormenting him relentlessly, over and over again, without respite.

She recalled her tête-à-tête with Dende, back on The Lookout, when the young God had alluded to some mysterious conversations he’d maintained with older, more experienced Gods, who’d disclosed certain aspects of Vegeta’s past to him. The Namekian boy hadn’t shared any specific details of such revelations, but he’d confirmed that this new knowledge had made him look at the Saiyan Prince in a new light, and Bulma found it impossible to forget his admission to being surprised that the warrior hadn’t committed even worse sins that the ones he’d carried out already, given his obscure, dreadful background.

After Vegeta’s revelation, when he’d reluctantly acknowledged that a powerful Saiyan bond had developed between them and that her spine-chilling, disturbing dream had been more than just a figment of her imagination, Bulma had been able to comprehend, at last, just how seriously damaged her lover really was, and her heart had broken for him, wanting more than ever to bring him back home with her and their child, in hopes that a life of peace would someday help him heal and recover from his torturous history. If he didn’t, she knew Vegeta’s broken mind would snap and succumb to madness sooner or later, and the Gods only knew what kind of mayhem could ensue if such a terrifying scenario ever took place. But the choice was his and his alone to make and, so far, the only thing her mate had given away was a series of confusing, contradictory signals.

Towards the end of their more than satisfactory stay on the pleasure planet, Bulma’s hopes for a future together had been higher than ever but, ever since they’d embarked on their return trip to Planet Z365, the earthling had sadly detected a more than palpable change in her mate’s attitude.

Indeed, Vegeta had grown sulkier, and much less talkative than he’d been during their prior week together, making Bulma feel as if they’d taken another step backwards in their still too fragile relationship. The topic of their bond had never been brought up again, and the woman was secretly grateful that their joint nightmare had turned out to be an isolated episode so far. During the few hours Vegeta had left her on her own after that incident, she’d managed to put all the pieces together, realizing that the highly sinister scenery she’d been privy to was not an illusion but a memory, an actual recollection of Vegeta’s childhood experiences no less. This discovery had turned out to be a cathartic experience, offering her, ultimately, a greater understanding of the reasons behind her lover’s secretive personality and his mysteriously unexpected departure from Earth.

Thus, Bulma had reached the conclusion that there was a good chance that Vegeta had abandoned her, not because he didn’t love or at least want her in some capacity, but in order to protect her from the raging Hell that was his mind and, very possibly, to shield himself from the humiliation of another being having free, unlimited access to the most intimate and shameful events from his past life.        

As a result, their journey had been filled with long, uncomfortable silences and, ironically, endless marathon sessions of mind-blowing, passionate sex. It was as if her Prince was trying to compensate for his worrisome lack of words by expressing through his actions what he lacked the courage or the emotional skills to convey in any other manner, leaving Bulma utterly confused and equally depressed.

There was nothing in the world she loved more than making love to her Saiyan Prince, and no other man had ever made her feel as wanted and desired as he had. But, it wasn’t the act of sex itself what baffled and gave her reason for concern; it was the way in which Vegeta would take her, with a frenzied, needy desperation she’d never experienced before. He was both domineering and powerful and, yet, there was an almost childlike vulnerability in him that disconcerted her entirely, going far beyond the usual manner in which he’d usually kiss or hold her. After their never-ending hours of ardent lovemaking, followed by countless moments of unnervingly peaceful silence, they’d both lay exhaustedly in each other’s arms, where Vegeta would hold her as zealously as a lost kid clinging to a life preserver and no words were exchanged, other than the intense moans and feverish expressions of love and encouragement pronounced in the heat of their fervent coupling.

Overall, there was an immense sensation of hopelessness and disappointment lingering heavily in Bulma’s mind, an oppressive feeling inside her chest which gave her the impression that her lover was just as indecisive, if not more, as he’d been when they’d first been reunited. The almost obsessive way in which he’d ravished and possessed her for the past few days, far from bringing her peace of mind, had placed her in a constant pessimistic state, having the disconsolate suspicion that Vegeta’s true intentions were to have his fill of her, taking as much as he could from her body before he’d make the inexorable choice of letting her go, pushing her far away from his life in the end.      

“Bulma?” A curious, masculine voice asked, bringing her back from the glum train of thought running furiously through her mind.

She blinked a few times distractedly, finally setting her questioning eyes on her mate.

“Yeah?”

“I said, it looks like there’s a storm taking place in the area surrounding our destination,” Vegeta explained in a low, strangely patient voice, as he examined her with a quizzical frown on his face.

“Oh… Right…” Bulma mumbled shyly, glancing at the large screen in front of her once more. “It looks like a minor storm, right?”

The Saiyan merely grunted, nodding in agreement without even bothering to look at the monitor, his inquisitive eyes still stubbornly fixated on her, as if that could actually offer him a glimpse of what was really going on inside of his beautiful woman’s mind in that moment.

“Well… It shouldn’t be a problem,” Bulma concluded with renewed confidence. “I’ve even managed to land this ship on an iced surface, so a bit of rain is no big deal.”

The couple shared another one of those awkward silences that had, sadly, become far too common lately and, after Bulma reluctantly admitted to herself that they wouldn’t really be discussing crucial matters until they reached their last stop, she chose to focus on the task at hand and try to land their ship as smoothly and safely as possible.

“All right,” she declared decisively, taking a seat on the pilot’s chair with self-assurance. “It’s better if I take care of it, then…”

Without questioning her resolute attitude, Vegeta sat by her side on the co-pilot’s seat, fastening his safety belt as he studied his little mate’s every gesture with avid interest.

The subtle but unmistakable frown present on her flawless features, and the way she was nervously chewing on one of her thumbnails, revealed an apprehension that went far beyond the slight tension that preceded their usually trouble-free landings. Indeed, Bulma kept anxiously tapping the long fingers of one hand on the hard surface of the vehicle’s controls while now timidly biting on her lower lip, typing in the required commands on the computer with the other.

By now, the warrior was painfully aware of how wrong his behavior had been on their return trip, knowing that his woman had most likely expected to finally be able to exchange views on their relationship status with him before having to face her friends again.

He was a coward.

An irresolute coward who’d much rather postpone indefinitely the most important decision he’d ever have to make rather than gathering the courage to even seriously consider Bulma’s offer of going back home with her and their infant son and discussing it in depth with her.

Now, mere minutes before reaching their destination and having to deal with the reality they’d so badly attempted to avoid during their brief but incredibly gratifying escapade, Vegeta knew the time had come for him to face their complex situation and make a choice, and the flagrant truth was that he still had no idea what that choice would be.

During that last lugubrious night on Virggo, as he’d made passionate love to his stunning woman, the temptation of choosing to listen to his heart over his brain, if only for once in his life, had been larger than ever. His heart, which had already been conquered slowly but implacably by Bulma’s kind spirit, was now desperate to believe that a life of peace and serenity could be a real possibility for him, especially now that his shockingly brave mate had learnt the truth about their Saiyan bond and, knowing the emotional danger and pain it entailed, she’d still begged him to come back to her.

Nonetheless, a dark corner of his mind, in truth more cowardly than rational, chose to rebel against the image of a life he felt he’d never been born to live and, every single time that Vegeta tried to picture what living on Earth would be like, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever turn out to be everything his woman expected of him. There was still an essential part of his being who craved loneliness above all things, even more than strength or power, not because he didn’t relish the incredibly fulfilling times he shared with Bulma, but because a lonely life was a simpler life, an existence with no moral or sentimental obligations where a warrior like him would only have to selfishly care about his needs and no one else’s.

Paradoxically, the closer he got to Bulma, the more he found himself willing to take the chance of giving up on the easiness of isolation if that meant not having to renounce to the only woman he’d ever truly cared about.

“Six minutes left,” Bulma announced, her pensive eyes never abandoning the screen. “What about the defensive shield?”

“I disconnected it already,” Vegeta simply replied.    

The woman turned around and looked at him in mild shock. “You can do that?”

“Of course,” he chuckled playfully, a knowing glint in his eye. “It’s my planet, after all,” the warrior explained, holding a small, square-shaped device in one of his gloved hands, which Bulma guessed was some kind of miniature remote control, that he straightaway hid inside his armor.

“Fair enough,” the earthling concluded, raising her head proudly and taking in a deep breath, placing both hands firmly on the controls.

“Here we go…”

                             The spot Vegeta had chosen to land on was situated quite close to the luxurious palace, but far enough from it so as not to cause any damage to the building in case of any unanticipated error in their calculations. The landing had gone quite smoothly, but the storm had turned out to be rainier than predicted, making the surface of the scarlet planet a muddy and unstable one.

Bulma unfastened her chair’s safety belt with unsteady hands, standing on slightly wobbly legs. A sudden sense of déjà vu engulfed her at the memory of the night they’d departed from the very same place they’d just arrived in, when Vegeta had run to her side the minute he’d noticed something was wrong with her. The only difference was that, back then, she’d suffered from the effects of a severely empty stomach, while now she only felt lightheaded from the rougher than expected landing. Either way, her mate was, once again, by her side, instantly placing his strong hands firmly on both sides of her waist, incapable of hiding his obvious concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a husky, intimate voice, feeling like a doting fool for caring so much about this small, much too frail woman.

“Yeah…” Bulma whispered bashfully, unable to stop a rush of crimson from reaching her flushed cheeks.

Vegeta smirked shrewdly, amused by how easily flustered his mate could get by his near presence. The potent aroma of their recent lovemaking still wafted heavily around both lovers and, even though he knew it wasn’t wise to face his men with her scent all over him, his most primitive, territorial side, enjoyed the idea of every single male on the planet indisputably knowing that she was his and his alone.

“Wow…” Bulma said softly, her voice laced with amazement. “It’s pouring out there…”

The warrior looked through the same window Bulma was staring at, instantly discerning the huge storm taking place outside.

“Storms such as this one are pretty common here,” he explained collectedly, gingerly releasing her body with one final, questioning look. She assented timidly, quietly letting him know that she was now able to stand on her own, and Vegeta nodded back, finally letting go of her and walking towards the main window, inspecting the scene transpiring outside. Three of his men were already awaiting them, standing expectantly in the dark of night while carrying electrical lanterns, apparently unbothered by the heavy downpour of water falling on them.

“You will wait inside the ship until I call for you,” the Prince instructed in a low but steady voice as he re-adjusted his white gloves and straightened up his posture, sensing Bulma approaching him from behind.

His firm command swiftly caught the earthling’s attention. She was already expecting this change in his demeanor, especially now that he was about to become Lord Vegeta for the sake of his outrageous army of renegades, but here, standing coyly by his side, one single glance told her something was seriously troubling him.

“Vegeta… What…?”

“Do not argue with me on this, Bulma,” he interjected authoritatively, never taking his watchful eyes off the three obscure figures standing somberly under the heavy waters.

Under different circumstances, Bulma’s fearless and intrepidly rebellious nature would try to complain and defy his inflexible orders but, now, she could tell Vegeta was dead serious. The fierce scowl creasing his stern features, and the almost electric aura surrounding his compact body, let her know something perturbing was about to take place. After all the time they’d spent together, the woman could easily recognize the physical tension in his body language whenever her Prince was scanning or analyzing his surroundings in search of some unknown, impending danger.

“All right…” She replied reservedly. “I’ll wait.”

With a sharp nod, Vegeta left her side, walking decidedly towards the large exit door while Bulma waited by the window, watching with great curiosity the scene happening outside. After typing in the numeric codes, the gate opened, and the warrior stood patiently in a proud, confident stance, looking every inch the Saiyan Prince that he truly was and making Bulma momentarily forget about her nervousness as she admired his perfection, feeling almost giddy with excitement. For all his faults, there was something about her man that still drove her absolutely mad with desire, attracting her to him like a feathery butterfly to a bright, torrid candle.

Vegeta descended the metallic ramp at a calm, self-assured pace, inwardly pleased to see his men bowing reverently already, patiently waiting for their Master to reach the spot they were standing at. By the time Vegeta joined his soldiers, he was half-covered in mud and completely soaked to the bone, but this did not diminish in any way the immense amount of respect and regard his warriors seemed to profess him.

“Soldiers,” he greeted in a neutral but commanding tone, standing cross-armed right in front of them.

The three men replied almost at once. “My Lord…”

“You may stand now,” Vegeta simply ordered, making the men equally obey in unison.

“It’s good to have you back, My Lord,” Dodonne replied respectfully. “You have been missed…”  

The Prince tilted his head to the side slightly, squinting imperceptibly with interest.

Something was wrong, he could feel it…

“Was I?” He asked sharply. “May I ask why?”

The three soldiers exchanged nervous, almost fearful furtive glances, as if they were trying to decide which one of them would break whatever news they had to announce to their terrifying Master. Dodonne, the pink alien, was distinctively the jumpiest out of the three, followed by one of those purplish fish-faced warriors whose names Vegeta could almost never recall. Only Kishoo, the tallest one, seemed to still be able to maintain his composure somehow, and proof of that was the fact that he was the one finally brave enough to break the tense, unnerving silence floating in the air.

“There… There was an incident, My Lord…” He explained, his voiced oddly confident but still sheathed in fear.

“What kind?”

“It…” Kishoo released a shaky breath, swallowing audibly before disclosing his confession to the Saiyan Prince. “It had to do with those… Those men you left to our care…”

“You mean the guests I left to your care?” Vegeta corrected harshly. “What about them?”  

Kishoo peeked at the other two soldiers once again before stuttering. “Th-They… Well…”

“Nevermind,” the Saiyan cut him off, dangerously close to losing his scarce patience already. “Whatever it is, I’m sure they will be more than capable of telling me themselves. Bring them to me,” he ordered gravely.

“M-My Lord… I-I think…” Dodonne retorted, now clearly frightened by his Master’s immediate request.

“I said, bring them to me,” Vegeta demanded once more, his low, chilling voice instantly throwing his men into a frenzied fright.    

After exchanging another round of terrified looks, Dodonne reluctantly chose to be the one to fulfill his Lord’s wishes and, after newly bowing nervously, he turned around, walking anxiously towards one of the sides of the cold, marbled palace. Vegeta raised an eyebrow undetectably at that, knowing far too well that it was the spot where the building’s dungeons were located, and he wondered in dread what had possibly gone wrong for the two weaklings to end up locked up in such a filthy, disgusting place.

The high-strung tension lingering heavily in the atmosphere reached a high-fevered peak as minutes went by, perilously intensified by Vegeta’s excruciating awareness of Bulma witnessing the entire scene from their ship, and his worst fears materialized when Dodonne came back accompanied by one prisoner instead of two.

Vegeta’s face remained immobile, but his inner fury kept growing as the realization of what had truly transpired on his planet while he’d been away finally hit him.

“Where is the other one?” He half-asked half-commanded to the now openly terrified trio of alien soldiers.

“M-My Lord… You see… H-He… Th-They…”

“He’s dead,” the earthling spoke in a soft, extremely fatigued voice.

The Prince snarled in pure disgust, both at the meaning behind the human’s words and the appalling state he was in; he was completely covered in dirt, not just the mud from the almost monsoonal rains, but actual filth, as if he hadn’t been allowed to shower or bathe for days. A quick scrutiny told him he was still quite healthy, despite the minor wounds and scrapes covering his body, highly visible through his tattered clothes. There’d been a fight, that much he knew, and the outcome had, unsurprisingly, not been favorable for Bulma’s comrades, after all. The man’s voice was muffled by his own enervation, and his entire form trembled, barely able to stand on his own. He looked crushed, his shoulders slightly hunched as he kept staring miserably at the ground while the abundant waters kept pouring over his defeated figure.

It truly was a deplorable spectacle…

“All of you! Step aside!” Vegeta bellowed furiously, his enraged tone immediately forcing the three men to anxiously take a few steps back as their Master approached their mysterious prisoner.

At once, the Saiyan grabbed the handcuffs restraining the earthling’s wrists which, unlike regular cuffs, were designed to subdue and minimize his ki. Of course, such an invention had its limitations, and it would prove itself to be useless with someone with a strength like Vegeta’s but, on someone with a minor ki level such as the human standing beside him, they’d turn him virtually defenseless.

“What happened?” The Prince heatedly asked the earthling, directly and without contemplations. “Who did this?”  

“Ve-Vegeta… I… I don’t know…” The weaker man stammered meekly, unafraid of the Saiyan’s rage but utterly confused and overwhelmed by the situation. “It… It was one man… Th-There was an argument… I… I just… They were drunk…” The human covered his face with his still chained hands in a pathetic attempt at hiding his face as he broke into loud, choked sobs. “He… He’s dead… He’s just… Dead…”

“No…” A feminine voice abruptly whispered in horror, stealing the attention of every single male present.

Unbeknownst to Vegeta, Bulma had run to join them the minute she’d seen one of those nasty aliens bringing only one of her friends back with him, and she stood in the rain, her slender arms wrapped protectively around herself, shivering and shaking her head hysterically, unwilling to admit that one of her best friends was now gone forevermore.

“N-No… No… No…” She kept mumbling under her mate’s aghast eye.

Vegeta could tell she was in a state of complete and absolute shock, and very, very few times had he ever seen his woman in such condition. She was now clutching the shorter human’s gi, begging, praying desperately that this was nothing more than another petrifying nightmare, like the one she’d suffered back in Virggo.

“K-Krillin… Where is he?” Bulma asked in a hushed, desperate tone. “Where’s Yamcha? Where is he? P-Please…”

As it turned out, the Prince wasn’t the only one totally dumbfounded by Bulma’s erratic behavior, and not quite knowing what to say, Krillin held her hands tightly in a poor attempt to ground her somehow.

“Bulma… I’m… I’m s-sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered unhappily in her ear. “He… He’s gone… I tried to help him but…”

“No! Nooooo!” Bulma yelled in agony, falling to her knees and bringing the drained, bald man down with her. He raised his arms, trying to hug and comfort her the best way he could even though he was still pathetically subdued.

“Bulma…” Krillin muttered, sadly knowing already how futile his words would be, given how much Yamcha still meant to her. “Please… You need to calm down… I… I just… Gods! I’m sorry, Bulma… I’m so s…”

A loud thunder of fury and frustration suddenly boomed in the air, and the Saiyan Prince exploded in pure rage standing fiercely, surrounded by a cloud of blazing, golden flames. He set his turbulent teal eyes on the three stupefied soldiers, who were now openly trembling in sheer panic.

“WHO DID THIS?!” He roared ferociously, barely able to stop himself from murdering the three bastards in cold blood right in front of his woman, whose inconsolable tears were, ironically, the main reason behind his beastly wrath.

“Vegeta…” Krillin spoke wearily under his breath, still holding his fragile friend and clumsily petting her damp hair in a vain effort to soothe her. “I don’t know… I… He was…”  

“The insurgent has already been terminated, My Lord,” Kishoo interjected, finally gathering the courage to inform his superior of the obscure event’s outcome.

“Is that so?” Vegeta asked the earthling for confirmation, not even bothering to look at the taller warrior speaking.

The monk nodded in agreement, but something in the fatigued man’s eyes and behavior told him there were hidden, unspoken details yet to be revealed. Finding it wiser to discuss matters privately with the earthling, Vegeta chose to pretend that Kishoo’s explanation was satisfactory enough, and he turned around, facing his men and crossing his arms authoritatively.

“Fair enough. Where are the rest of my men?” he enquired in a rough, ominous tone.

“Th-They’re all at the barracks, M-My Lord…” Dodonne informed, trusting that his Master was now pleased with the other soldier’s clarification, and ignoring just how mistaken he truly was.

“Any soldiers inside the palace?”

“N-No, Sir…”

“Good. I want all men inside their barracks until further notice. I will review the troops first thing in the morning. You are all dismissed.”

“My Lord,” the three warriors replied in unison, bowing one final time before proceeding to take flight, not before being interrupted once again by Vegeta.

“And, Dodonne?��� He spoke firmly, looking the pink alien in the eye with an almost neutral, disconcerting calmness, instantly sending shivers down the soldier’s spine.

“Y-Yes, My Lord?”

“If any of the men gets anywhere near my palace, or tries to abandon my planet during the night, I will find and personally murder every single one of them.” He pronounced his sinister threat slowly, very slowly, savoring every looming word and viciously enjoying the look of absolute panic on the man’s face.

Oh, yes…

The pink, fat bastard had had something to do with the weakling’s murder, and he couldn’t wait until morning arrived in order to find out exactly what his role in the assassination had been so he could rip his filthy heart out and offer it to his woman on a silver platter.

“O-Of course, My Lord…”

Dodonne remained completely immobile in panicked expectation, awaiting any further orders from his Master, but Vegeta dismissed him with a simple grunt and a sharp nod, allowing the alien to finally leave his presence so he could enjoy his last night alive in this world. The Prince sneered, almost pitying the poor fucker incapable of recognizing just how close he was to the Gates of Hell already.

The Saiyan stood still, waiting stoically until the three soldiers were out of view. Once he made sure that the men were gone and at a safe distance, he powered down significantly, wanting nothing more right now than to comfort his tearfully desolate mate.  

“Bulma…” he called, in a voice notably kinder than the one he employed when addressing his subordinates, but lacking the characteristic warmth reserved for their private times together, when it was just the two of them. After all, Krillin was still witnessing the unreal scene, and he had no intention of losing the weaker man’s respect by looking like some sentimental, devoted fool in front of him.

Bulma’s sobs never ceased, but she eventually relented, moving away from Krillin slowly, but clearly disoriented. Without the help of the artificial lights that Vegeta’s men had been carrying, she found herself helpless in the dark but, thankfully, her mate’s reassuring presence was at once by her side. His fingertips grazed her own, gently encouraging her to hold his hand, which she took without hesitation, and the Prince patiently coached her until she was finally able to stand unsteadily on her feet. Her petite, fragile body was still wrecked with tremors, looking as if her shaky legs were barely able to stand on their own.

Before she had the chance to open her mouth to speak, Vegeta held her with great care, carrying her in his arms as he immediately proceeded to walk on the way to the palace. Bulma hid her wet face in the curve of his neck, desperately clutching the collar of his shirt as she wept uncontrollably, painfully piercing the warrior’s blackened heart with every single shed tear.

“Follow me,” he instructed Krillin, who followed his orders straightaway, walking closely behind the couple. He was exhausted and malnourished, but relieved nonetheless, feeling safe at last, now that Vegeta had come back and, as the three of them strolled under the rain, he couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of affection Bulma and Vegeta were openly displaying right in front of him. Indeed, he knew some kind of a relationship had developed between his friend and the alien warrior, but he’d never seen them engage in a demonstration of physical intimacy such as the one taking place before his very eyes. The way the small woman kept hugging him, despite her obvious state of commotion, told him Bulma trusted her mate more than anyone, and such level of trust brought the human fighter some measure of confidence and hope that things would be alright in the end.

Once they reached their destination, the three of them entered the white palace, and Vegeta halted his steps right after crossing the luxurious building’s large gates.

“You see that large, red button over there?” The Prince asked, pointing towards it with a nod of his head and never letting go of his woman.

Krillin assented, quickly locating the object the Saiyan was referring to, situated right beside one of the massive doors.  

“Press it,” Vegeta commanded. “And hold it until the green light beside it switches on”.

The monk followed Vegeta’s instructions, pushing the red button with some difficulty due to his still handcuffed hands. Once the green light was on, he let go of it, turning around with a quizzical look in his eye. “Anything else?” He asked tiredly.

“Yes, the buttons to the left,” Vegeta signaled. “Press the orange one three times in a row, then the blue one just once, and then the orange one twice again”.

Krillin newly did as he was told, reassured when a look of satisfaction crossed the Prince’s stern face.

“Good, follow me,” the Saiyan concluded, resuming his pace and walking through the never-ending lavish corridors, now barely illuminated by a limitless number of long, white candles.

“This is my room,” he announced confidently, suddenly stopping in front of two tall, wooden doors. “Open the doors for me and wait outside.”

The man followed his final orders without protest, standing by the semi-open gates as Vegeta walked into the place with Bulma still firmly trapped in his strong embrace. The Prince stood in the middle of the room for a moment, briefly sharpening his senses and scanning the place for any foreign ki signal that could mean any danger for him and his mate; once he concluded that they were the only ones in the room, he approached his enormous, king-sized bed, attempting to lay his woman there but, predictably, Bulma’s agitated, panicky state wouldn’t allow it.

“Vegeta…” She whispered frantically, her nails digging deeper into the rock-solid muscles of his neck. “D-Don’t go… Don’t leave me here alone! Please…!”

The memory of their last night in Virggo came back to him in full force, and he cursed himself once again for ever letting things with Bulma get as far as they already had.

This life wasn’t for her…

He’d always known it, of course, but now, seeing her delicate, tiny figure kneeling on that cold bed as she shivered, covered in damp, muddy clothes, he understood just how out of place his Bulma really was. She deserved better than a life of danger surrounded by sordid criminals with no concept of right or wrong, and who were incapable of following an order as simple as not killing a couple of harmless, weaker creatures.

She deserved better than him…

“Bulma…” He whispered, the unexpected tenderness in his voice surprising even him as he held her face delicately with gloved hands. “I’m not going anywhere. I just wish to speak to your friend for a moment.”

Bulma gaped at him while tears kept rolling down her wet, pale cheeks and, in the back of her cloudy mind, all she could think of was what a mistake this trip had turned out to be, just as pointless, apparently, as her efforts to bring Vegeta back from the dead. Seeing him previously dealing with his army of treacherous soldiers, who’d slaughtered one of her best friends seemingly without a second thought, made her realize it was very possible that all the time and energy she’d devoted to trying to help and heal her mate had been in vain.

What Bulma didn’t know was that, in that precise instant, her lover felt so appalled and outraged by the sight of her heartbroken state that he was closer than ever to just throwing everything away and going back to Earth with his woman. But he couldn’t; not before he discovered exactly what had happened in his absence and he made the sick, defiant bastards responsible pay for their insubordination and, most of all, for all the damage they’d caused to his mate.        

“Okay…” She muttered in resignation, sighing blearily as she released him from her desperate, possessive touch and sited on the bed in acquiescence. “Do what you have to do…”

Vegeta gawked at her, astounded by how easily complacent she was all of a sudden, willing to let him leave her alone in spite of how clearly alarmed and upset she looked right now.

As if she’d finally given up on him…

He should be happy if that was the case, after all, he’d wanted her to leave since day one. He’d even recorded a message for her, trying to stop her from pursuing him, the moment he’d contacted her father and discovered her plans and, yet, the possibility that she’d actually surrender and abandon all hope regarding their relationship and the prospect of a future together, filled him with an astoundingly odd sense of despair.

But dwelling on his feelings was not something the warrior particularly enjoyed, especially not under their current circumstances, so he reached for a clean towel inside his private bathroom and wrapped it around his quivering mate, who’d remained sited on the bed, completely motionless. Her lifeless blue gaze evaded his when he explained, one final time, that he’d soon come back to her, her sad indifference feeling like the most brutal kick in the gut.

He exited the room and joined Krillin, who was now sitting dejectedly on one of the marbled benches situated in the extravagant, half-lit hallways.    

“Don’t,” Vegeta instructed, removing the crippled man's handcuffs and seeing his struggles as he pitifully attempted to get up. “That won’t be necessary,” the Saiyan carried on, his tone somewhat less grim than usual.

Krillin nodded in gratitude, quite stunned by the Prince’s change of attitude. Even though he was still standing gravely in front of him, in his usual imposing, cross-armed stance, there was a rare softness in him, probably brought up by Bulma’s nearby presence.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded directly.

“Well…” The monk started, running his hands drowsily across his worn-out, grimy face. “The first… The first night was okay, you know? We… We were allowed to sleep inside the palace, and we were mostly left alone… And then…”

“Then?”

He sighed jadedly, the memory of the second night’s events racing through his head at a million miles per hour. There hadn’t been a single moment, ever since Yamcha’s brutal murder, that Krillin hadn’t wondered whether there was something else he could have said or done in order to prevent the atrocious crime from happening. His delirious mind had obsessively replayed the incident over and over again, drowning in a tormenting guilt that consumed him like burning wildfire.

“Then… On… On the second night, that alien, the pink one who brought me to you today…”

“Dodonne?” Vegeta questioned knowingly, on one side satisfied that his first instincts regarding the pink bastard’s involvement in the carnage had been right, but enraged at his own inability to foresee what could occur if he left the two earthlings abandoned to their own luck.

“Yeah…” He muttered in a whisper, almost absent-mindedly. “Anyway… He came to us on the second night, and he said we didn’t have to be alone all the time and that we should join the other guys for dinner and… I… I actually told Yamcha it wasn’t a good idea, but he didn’t want to offend them and so… We said yes and we joined them outside.”

“In the barracks…”

“In the barracks, yeah… At first, it was alright. I mean… Those guys are tough, nothing like people from our planet, but they were nice enough… We ate and we… We had a few drinks and then…”

“Yes?” Vegeta prodded, finding it increasingly harder not to lose his patience with the bald man while his woman was probably crying her eyes out right now, totally alone in the other room.

“Well, the guys seemed to be a bit curious about us, and they asked us where we came from and stuff like that, like… What were we doing here, that sort of thing… We didn’t mention anything about our home planet, because Bulma warned us before we landed, you know… To protect the planet, and especially because of Trunks…”

The Prince’s fingers dug harder into his forearms at the mere mention of his son’s name, loathing to even envision what would happen if any of those schmucks ever learnt of his child’s existence.

“You did the right thing,” he finally replied.

Krillin assented pensively. “I know. Bulma is one of my oldest friends, none of us would ever want anything bad to happen to Trunks…” He exhaled again, squeezing his eyes shut for an instant as he tried to compose himself so as to keep narrating the story to the clearly impatient Saiyan.

“One of the guys asked about Bulma… He asked if it was true that a woman had travelled with us. We… We didn’t really want to reveal much about her, you know… But then that pink one, before… Before we could come up with something to say he replied and he said… H-He…”

“You may speak freely,” Vegeta urged, sensing the man’s nervousness about reciting Dodonne’s words and having a pretty good idea of where this story was going already. “I know his words were not your words.”

“Yeah, I know, I just…” Krillin faltered tensely, feeling extremely uncomfortable about having to repeat the disgusting alien’s words regarding the extraordinary woman who was almost like a sister to him. “He said… He said something like, ‘Oh, I’ve seen her. And she’s a hot piece of ass’…”  

At those words, Vegeta inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he employed every single ounce of self-control in his power to stop himself from flying to the soldiers’ barracks and killing the fat prig, slowly and very, very painfully, right fucking now.

‘That filthy son of a bitch…’

The image of that gang of idiots discussing his woman, much less his woman’s beauty, made him feel sick to his stomach, and Bulma’s words back in the ship, telling him how different those men were from him, and how little honor they possessed, kept running manically across his rabid mind, making more and more sense with every passing minute, much to his shame.

“And then? What else?”

“Th-Then… A few guys laughed, you know, the way men laugh when they’re talking about women… And then one of them said that… That you were selfish, because Frieza… He… He always…”

“Yes?”

Krillin swallowed noticeably, bracing himself for the Prince’s reaction since, by now, it was clear as water just how much Bulma actually meant to the ferocious warrior, way more than him or even Yamcha could have ever guessed or anticipated.

“He… He said Frieza always… He always shared his whores…” He pronounced the last word in a hushed, shameful whisper, sounding evidently repulsed himself by the extremely offensive words directed towards the Prince’s woman.

Vegeta stayed completely silent, fearing that opening his mouth would make him lose whatever minuscule amount of composure he had left in him, and wordlessly waiting for the earthling to conclude his recollection as soon as possible.

“Th-That’s when Yamcha jumped and he… You know how he is…” There was a short pause as Krillin noticed his piercing mistake. “How he was…” He released another shaky breath, holding back the tears brimming in his already swollen eyes. “He wasn’t the strongest but… But he cared so much about Bulma that he… He couldn’t take it. So he jumped at the guy, and after that, it’s just… Everything’s a blur… The guy threatened him to keep his mouth shut, but Yamcha kept demanding an apology, to take it back, but the other guy just laughed at him and then…”

The bald man shook his head to himself, too burnt-out and dazed to even make some sense of the madness that had immediately ensued.    

“He was fast… Very fast, Vegeta…”

“How did he die?”

“H-He… He was…” The words burnt in his sore throat, aching to be released but too painful to even see the light. “He was decapitated… I…” He sobbed, covering his face once more as he fought the disturbing, deeply traumatic memories. “I… I saw his h-head at my feet…”

The Prince gave Krillin a minute to recover, knowing by now just how deeply sentimental these earthlings truly were, especially regarding the people they loved and cared about. Back in the day, he’d committed atrocious, despicable deeds, many of which he wasn’t even proud of anymore, but his warlike nature had always allowed him to cope with bloodshed and unbearable violence in a way he knew many weaker races couldn’t handle.

“Was the assassin terminated just like my man reported?”

Krillin nodded silently in acquiescence, wiping off his moist eyes with the back of his shaky hand while he tried to regain his composure.

“It… It was the tall one, the one wh-who told you about it…”

“Kishoo?”

“Yeah… He didn’t hesitate, he j-just did it… He called the other man a traitor and just k-killed him in the spot…”

The Prince pondered this new information, newly satisfied that his instincts regarding the taller warrior had been right from the start. Out of all his men, Kishoo had always been his favorite by far, and he’d even pictured him as the one who’d eventually become his right-hand man. Terminating the betraying bastard without a second thought sounded like something a loyal soldier like him would do.

“How did you end up locked up in the dungeon, then?”

“Ah… That… That was his idea too…” Krillin explained, gradually getting a hold of himself. “He protected me immediately. H-He stood in front of me when the others were arguing about what… About what to do with me next…”

A cold, terrifying tremor run through the earthling’s spine at the mere thought of what those monsters could have done to him if the young soldier hadn’t stepped in to protect him, knowing too well that he would have ended up sharing Yamcha’s abhorrent fate.

“H-He suggested that they locked me up as a prisoner until you came back… And then… Then he spoke to me in private, right after they took me to that cell, and told me it was for my own protection, that… That it was easier for him to keep an eye on me this way and… A-And… That the men would calm down if they saw me locked up instead of running around the planet on my own…”

‘Clever…’ Vegeta thought to himself, impressed by the younger warrior’s perspicacity and quick-witted skills.

“I see…” The Prince concluded, wrapping up the conversation now that he had obtained all the information he required. “You see that door over there?” He asked pointing out with a nod of his head to the wooden door right beside the one from his own chambers.

“Y-Yeah?”

“That will be your room for tonight. Bathe, eat something and get some rest,” he simply ordered.

“I… I have no food…” The tired man answered, awfully famished after having spent almost an entire week living off of that revolting prison gruel he’d been fed as sole means of sustenance.

“Here,” Vegeta remarked, searching inside his armor for one of Bulma’s food capsules and handing it to the earthling. “Get some food in you, we’ll discuss matters in the morning.”

“Thank you, Vegeta,” Krillin responded with honest gratitude, grabbing the capsule and standing from the bench, not without difficulty, under the Saiyan’s watchful eye.

“Those buttons you pressed when we accessed the palace,” he informed intently. “You activated a protective shield around the building. It is high-tech and extremely sensitive, so rest assured that no one will be bothering us tonight. Not without us noticing anyway.”

The human made his way slowly to the door, standing precariously in front of it before giving Vegeta a final questioning glance and realizing that he looked deep in thought still, almost as if there were some final words struggling to fall from his harsh lips.

“Krillin…” He muttered at last, his voice firm but remarkably amiable.

“Yeah?”

“You defended my mate’s honor,” Vegeta stated solemnly, his proud, impenetrable eyes avoiding his as he spoke his startling words of appreciation. “I am indebted to you.”

Krillin gawked at the Prince in utter shock, not only had the arrogant warrior just pronounced his name, probably for the first time since he could recall, but he was now openly proclaiming that Bulma was his partner and, what was even more outrageous, his words surprisingly resembled a statement bursting with gratitude.

“There’s no debt, Vegeta,” the earthling interjected, his face softening into a small but warm smile. “Like I said, Bulma is one of my best friends. We all love and care about her.”

The Prince frowned slightly at Krillin’s frank expression of his feelings towards his woman. The absolute frankness that humans consistently demonstrated would never cease to amaze him, and somehow, a secret part of him sometimes envied their shameless displays of affection towards one another.

“Goodnight Vegeta,” the exhausted man whispered, noticing that the Saiyan had already crossed the line where his comfort zone ended when it came to showing his emotions, and there was nothing left for him to say.

With a curt nod and a grumble, Vegeta said his goodbyes, turning on his heels and heading towards his bedroom, not without pausing to make sure that Krillin had locked himself inside his chambers. Once he felt that that particular matter was taken care of, he got mentally prepared for dealing with the devastated woman awaiting him inside.

Only to find out that she wasn’t there…

A fleeting but excruciating flash of panic took hold of him when, after walking into his spacious rooms and verifying that the doors were locked too, he discovered that Bulma wasn’t siting on the bed, right where he’d left her, anymore. But the distant sounds of running water and the hot, thick steam floating heavily in the air instantly revealed that she was inside his private bathroom.

Vegeta ambled cautiously in the direction of his mate’s presence, following a messy trail of what he promptly recognized as Bulma’s damp, muddy clothes, laying carelessly across the soft burgundy carpet.

The heartbreaking scene taking place before his very eyes left him completely stupefied…

There, inside the opulent marble shower, a tiny, lonely figure sat on the white stoned floor, clad only in her skimpy underwear. She was pressing her long legs to her chest, her delicate chin leaning on her knees as she rocked gently like a lost, confused child. One of her arms encircled her bent legs protectively, while she anxiously bit on the thumbnail of the other hand, just as she’d done earlier, when they’d been about to land on the planet. She looked completely gone, like the traumatized, shell-shocked victim of the most brutal of all battles, her entire form trembling like a leaf, convulsing in pure stupor.

He stood by the door, stock-still as he contemplated his options. All he wanted to do right now was to reassure her, to bring her back from the state of sheer horror she was submerged in, making her understand that everything would be alright, that he’d pledge, even if it was the last undertaking he’d ever set out to achieve in his entire life, that things would go back to the way they were supposed to be.

So Vegeta made his move, quietly removing his dirty armor, undershirt, gloves and boots and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor, joining her underneath the sizzling stream of hot water.

“Bulma?” He called in the kindest, most soothing voice he could muster, kneeling on the ground so as not to appear intimidating, but not daring to taint her with his disquieting touch just yet.            

Those reddened blue eyes kept stubbornly avoiding his and, for the longest time, he was a bundle of nerves. Her demoralizing silence made him fear that she’d forever be lost to him but, once more, his courageous little woman managed to find the strength to speak to him, even though he knew he didn’t deserve her words anymore, not after the absolute disappointment he’d proven himself to be, yet again.

“It’s my fault…” She whispered sadly, her flawless face contorted in doleful anguish. “This is all my fault…”  

The Saiyan’s eyes widened both in shock and disbelief. He knew the death of the scarred faced human had brought Bulma inconsolable grief, but never had he imagined that it’d also awaken sentiments of guilt inside of her. The vision of his mate taking responsibility for the murder of the weaker man was, not only heartrending, but almost offensive, and the warrior would not, under any circumstances, allow the pure-hearted woman to carry such a heavy burden upon her shoulders.

“What foolishness is this?” He whispered harshly, so much so that he finally caught his staggered woman’s attention, who was now gaping at him, surprised to learn of her lover’s disagreement.

“It is, Vegeta… I…” She whimpered, fresh tears newly pooling in her unhappy eyes. “I should have stopped him… He… He wanted to come and I… I should have said no! I should have…”

The Prince grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her in his direction and bringing her body closer to his.

“Bulma, look at me,” he demanded, in a voice both gentle but inflexible. “You will take no responsibility for this, you hear me? These are my men!”

The grief-stricken woman shook her head nervously in denial, so consumed by guilt that she fully refused to accept her mate blaming himself. “N-No, Vegeta…. No! It was my…”

Vegeta’s large, strong hands cupped her face delicately, the tender touch of his rough thumbs gingerly caressing her wet, rosy cheeks calming her almost instantly. He pressed his brow against hers, uttering a soft whisper on her anxious lips.

“This wasn’t your fault, Bulma. None of this was your fault.”

His dark, uncompromising eyes and the obstinance lacing his voice left no room for argument, and Bulma merely assented timidly, losing herself in his burning gaze. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost dare to say that it was he the one thoroughly overcome by guilt this time, but as always, her Saiyan remained an indecipherable enigma to her.

“He’s gone…” She lamented miserably, her small nails digging meekly into his bare chest. “He’s gone, Vegeta…”

His unblinking eyes examined her closely, struggling to suppress that disturbing, troublesome pressure that crushed his chest without mercy whenever he was forced to witness his Bulma in tears, and all that was left for him to do was to ask the only question worth asking.  

“Do you trust me, Bulma?”

Bulma frowned and looked at him, promptly grasping the importance of her future answer. There was a rare tinge of distress thinly veiled behind the familiar intensity of his gestures and, without the shadow of a doubt, she vanished those unwelcomed fears forever with two simple words.

“I do,” she quickly replied, her voice soft but unwavering, deeply moved when a manifest sign of relief crossed his tense features, making her finally realize that the warrior was feeling just as remorseful about her friend’s terrible misfortune as she was.

“Then mark my words, woman,” Vegeta whispered, lifting her chin carefully as his warm breath ghosted her trembling lips. “I will fix things.”

The exquisite woman sobbed in a delightful mixture of sorrow and relief, and she crushed her lips against her lover’s, drinking in his secret promise and sealing it with a binding kiss. Even though some of Vegeta’s mysteries had slowly unraveled just for her, she’d never know just how elated her Prince was to know that, against all odds, he still possessed her unshakeable trust. A trust he knew he didn’t deserve, but which he’d grown to value and cherish more than he’d ever care to admit, and only because it emanated from his woman’s bright heart.

Both lovers kissed for countless minutes, kneeling precariously underneath the warm stream of water as they held onto each other for dear life. Through his callous hands, caressing her enticing, ivory skin and melding her softness against him, and her long fingers urgently clutching the nape of his neck, they reminded each other that they were still alive, as they desperately clung, together, to the heartening thread of hope of Vegeta’s promising vow.  

“I will make things right again,” he whispered ardently in her ear, feeling her pull him even closer as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, wanting nothing more than to hide from the cruel world they were living in, getting lost forever within his protectively fierce embrace.

“You have my promise, Bulma…”  

Please don't hate me...

*sigh*

In the next chapter, Vegeta will reveal his plan to Bulma and they'll both begin its execution...

Thanks a lot for reading!

In case someone is interested in my other works, you can find them here:

http://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW

https://www.fanfiction.net/u/8599955/SarahWDBZ

[crispychrissy]

Shrink - Chapter 11

Summary: When patients of a psychiatrist that caters exclusively to hunters start going crazy and dying, Sam and Dean Winchester investigate what might be causing these bizarre episodes. Pairing: None yet Word Count: 1864 Warnings: Non-graphic description of child abuse A/N: My first fanfic! This is going to be a series, probably over 30 chapters total. Any feedback is appreciated, I am a newbie! 

"Missing?" Sam said, scooting up in his chair. "Yes, I can't find them. I always keep my patient files in here." Dr. Barnes said, as she placed her hand on the metal filing cabinet and tapped it. "Well, ones that I'm not doing case notes on or being scanned for insurance or billing." "What about your receptionist? Could she have them?” Dean asked. "I don't think so...but let me ask." Dr. Barnes said as she walked over to her desk and pressed a red button on an old-style black office phone. The line beeped, and Natalie answered a few seconds later. "Yes, Dr. Barnes?" She answered. "Can you come in here for a moment, please?" Dr. Barnes asked as she rested her palms on her desk. "Sure thing." Natalie answered before disconnecting the line. About twenty seconds later, the door to Dr. Barnes' office opened and Natalie walked in, shutting the door behind her. "Natalie," Dr. Barnes said as she spun around and leaned back against her desk. "Do you remember seeing patient files for Adrian Booth or Alicia Branch in the last week or so? Were you doing any billing or scanning with them?" "Not that I remember, Dr. Barnes. I know Adrian didn't have insurance and Alicia paid in cash, so I wouldn't have needed to scan anything for billing or insurance records." Natalie answered, crossing her arms across her chest. "Are you absolutely sure?" Sam asked as both brothers stood up from their respective chairs. Natalie took a step back away from Sam and looked him up and down. "Yeah. I'm sure, surfboard." She said, sarcastically.

Dean looked down and smiled, laughing lightly. Dr. Barnes smiled as well before standing up straight again and smoothing down her skirt with her hands. "Thank you, Natalie. Keep an eye out and let me know if you come across them, OK?" Dr. Barnes said. "You got it." Natalie moved toward the door, extending her left arm to open the door. Sam glanced over at her as she was leaving and noticed a small scar on the inside of her wrist. Something looked familiar about the scar, like he had seen it before or recognized what caused it. Squinting and tilting his head to the side, Sam tried to study the shape and details of the scar before Natalie exited the door. After she left, Sam glanced at Dean before turning toward Dr. Barnes and motioning to his wrist. "What happened to Natalie's wrist?" Dr. Barnes let out a heavy sigh. "Her parents used her as an ashtray since she was barely out of diapers. She ran away, but not after years and years of abuse took its toll. I volunteered at a women's shelter a while ago while I was still in my private practice. Natalie was a resident there, that's how we met. I helped her work through the psychological damage her parents did. After my husband died and I got my revenge on the werewolf that killed him," Dr. Barnes looked down momentarily and continued. "Natalie found me. She was doing so much better and was so thankful...I offered to have her be my receptionist. I told her everything I knew, everything that I had learned from the hunters I had met. It was a rough couple months before we opened the office, but we helped each other through the new experience...and here we are now." Dr. Barnes said, opening her arms and looking around, smiling. Sam nodded and smiled, still thinking about the scar but putting it in the back of his mind. "You're doing great things here, Dr. Barnes." He said. “When we were researching you after we found your card in Adrian’s motel room, I found news stories about your husband. I’m sorry to hear what happened.” Seeing the large green eyes of the werewolf who killed her husband creeping up in her mind, Dr. Barnes closed her eyes and gently shook her head. “It’s in the past. I don’t dwell on things I can’t change. It’s not like I can go back in time and change what happened.” “Actually, we-“ Dean began to say, thinking about the several times both he and Sam have gone back in time. “WE…are very sorry for your loss, regardless, Dr. Barnes.” Sam interrupted and cut Dean off before glaring at him. “Thank you.” Dr. Barnes replied, trying and failing to muster a smile. “But, that’s enough about me and where I come from…what about you two?” “What about us?” Dean asked. “I mean, I’ve heard bits and pieces about where you came from. An obsessed and broken father raising two kids in the hunter lifestyle after his wife died. Dean sacrificing himself for Sam and going to hell, Dean being rescued by an angel, Sam drinking demon blood and setting Lucifer free before being possessed by him and ‘jumping into the pit’ himself, as I’ve heard it said by other hunters.” Dr. Barnes said as she moved toward her chair and sat down. “And of course, I did manage to find those.” Dr. Barnes motioned to the second to last shelf on a bookshelf behind Sam and Dean. Both brothers turned around in their chairs to see the entire series of Supernatural books that were written by Carver Edlund, in chronological order on the shelf. “The hunter that was with me when I found the werewolf that killed my husband told me about them. They taught me a lot about hunting. And other things.” Dr. Barnes looked over at Sam and winked. “Nice stamina.” She said softly, with one eyebrow raised. Sam raised his eyebrows and sheepishly smiled back at Dr. Barnes before chuckling nervously. “Heh. Thanks, doc.” Still smiling, he looked over at Dean, who was giving him a judgmental stare. Sam smiled even bigger and shrugged. “Anyways, I would love to hear the rest of your story, but I do have patients waiting.” Dr. Barnes said as she got up from her chair. Both Dean and Sam stood up moments after Dr. Barnes. Sam extended his hand to her and Dr. Barnes shook it, smiling. Dean fiddled around in his jacket and pulled out a small white card; the business card they use when they are posing as law enforcement. “If you find the files, or can think of anything else, please give us a call.” Dean said, handing the card to Dr. Barnes. “Even if you can’t think of anything else.” He said, nodding his head toward Sam. Dr. Barnes chuckled lightly and took the card from Dean. “I will. Thanks.” “Come on, Dean.” Sam said sternly as he turned and headed toward the door. He opened it and held it open for Dean, who followed a few seconds later. Once out in the waiting room, Sam and Dean started to make their way to the front door. There was one more person in the waiting room now, sitting next to Mike. A young woman who appeared in her late twenties with red hair and freckles was showing him something on her phone. Wearing a nice blouse and dress pants, she was by far the best dressed out of everyone in the waiting room.    Mike and the woman were talking quietly to each other and looked up when the brothers emerged from Dr. Barnes’ office. Sam nodded at Mike as both he and Dean walked through the waiting room. Mike nodded back before turning to the woman next to him and whispering something. The woman’s eyes snapped up and studied Sam and Dean for several seconds before she smiled. She immediately got up and quickly shuffled over towards Sam and Dean, standing between them and the front door. “Oh my goodness, it…it’s an honor to meet you both!” She exclaimed, practically yelling. Sam and Dean both took a half step backward in unison, trying to hide the looks of shock that had both appeared on their faces. “My name is Phoebe Melton. I’m such a big fan of yours! I’ve heard so many stories and read…so many stories…about you both.” Phoebe said, chuckling nervously. “I was a huge fan of the Supernatural books before I found out that all of this…and all of YOU…were real! I’ve been working with Mike recently and he’s been showing me a bunch of new things about hunting and I mean, I haven’t killed anything yet but I did see a werewolf a few weeks ago while I was on a hunt with Mike and I just really want to learn more about this lifestyle and about you-“ “Phoebe.” Mike said, his head down, rubbing his eyes with his right hand. “We talked about this. Reel it back.” “Oh. Right. Sorry.” Phoebe said before taking a deep breath. “I just really want to say how honored I am to meet you. Can I take a picture with you? Is that OK?” Phoebe raised her phone up and smiled extremely wide before looking over at Mike, who let out a defeated sigh while staring at her. Phoebe lowered her hand with the phone in it as her smile vanished. “Right. Never mind. It was nice to meet you both.” Phoebe said as she slowly turned and walked back over toward Mike. She let out a heavy sigh as she sat down and began to fiddle around on her phone. Sam and Dean looked over at Mike, who mouthed “Sorry” and shook his head. Both Dean and Sam flashed a quick smile and nod. “It was nice to meet you, Phoebe.” Dean said, smiling. Looking up, Phoebe smiled and nodded. “You too, Dean.” “Come on, Romeo.” Sam said as he walked over to the door to the office and opened it, stepping outside. Dean scoffed and followed Sam outside into the parking lot. “Looks like you have your own personal Becky now, Dean. Congrats.” Sam said as he walked across the parking lot to the car. “Whatever, man.” Dean said as he unlocked the driver’s side door of the Impala and opened the door. “At least she’s cute.” He said as he slid into the seat. “Until she slips you a love potion, knocks you out, and ties you to a bed.” Sam said, opening his door and also sliding into his seat. “You liked it.” Dean said as he started the engine. “And hey, you had something with the doc back there. If you do end up going for it, let me know how it goes. I never want to sleep with someone that can get inside my head like that.” “You don’t want anyone in your head. Ever. Period.” Sam said, as Dean put the Impala into reverse and backed out of the parking spot. Dean rolled his eyes, shifted into drive, and pulled up to the edge of the side street, waiting to turn left onto the main road. “Where to now?” Sam checked his watch. “It’s eleven forty-five. You hungry?” “Always.” Dean said, pulling onto the main road. “I saw a diner a few miles back, we can get some lunch.” “Sounds like a plan.” Sam said as he played on his cell phone, still thinking about his interaction with Dr. Barnes.

[emperorren]

some thoughts by a long term multifandom-dwelling, meta-enthusiast shipper who has been countless times baited, disappointed, lied to, and kicked in the face by writers and showrunners backpedaling and boycotting their own narrative, taking impossibly stupid decisions, and being overall dumb as fuck:

“canon” is a non-entity. or at the very least a fluctuating notion, especially in the case of huge franchises (think of m*rvel). canon is incessantly rewritten, challenged, distorted, contradicted by new material. think of the ha n-leia romance, how it was a happily ever after at the end of the original trilogy. think of it now. there are old fans who utterly rejected the new trilogy as something essentially extraneous to the star wars story; for them, han and leia are still living their HEA, han is still alive, ben solo was never born, and nothing bad happened. This remains true for them as long as they ignore the new material, whose canon validity is disputable, if you’re a “purist”. These characters aren’t real, they are the product of someone’s imagination, and literally the only thing that separates your canon from THE canon is that the latter is imagined by someone who happens to be in charge of the commercial version of story. When none of this is real, several things can be true at the same time.

i’ve come to terms with the fact that shipping as we intend it doesn’t operate on the same level of mainstream storytelling. Mainstream storytelling is usually black/white and pretty straightforward; shipping exists in the margins and between the lines. For most mainstream writers, “romance” has a very narrow meaning. Very specific stuff has to happen to create “romance” (kisses, sex, googly eyes. “I love you” “I know”). Shipping doesn’t need those things. The shipper gaze is inherently transformative. The real essence of shipping is taking things that aren’t intended to be romantic, and RUNNING WITH IT, changing them, developing them, making them romantic in a way that the wider audience wouldn’t understand, or wouldn’t have the patience to follow in depth.

this is why we saw things as the interrogation and the duel and our brain wheels were immediately set in motion to come up with a million exciting scenarios. If we had seen a romance unequivocally blossoming between these characters, most of us (me included) wouldn’t be so drawn to this pairing.

some of us don’t even like mainstream romance. When people are like “huh, why do you ship this crack pairing instead of the canon one?”, well, this is the reason. Some of us feel a sort of disconnection from standard romantic narratives (and that’s because they are usually written by straight, cis, male writers, and designed to appeal to a generic and primarily straight, cis, male fanbase with little imagination. star wars, I’m afraid, makes no exception.)

because of the above, and because the perception of what qualifies as romantic is deeply subjective, it makes even less sense to talk about “canon romance”. 

I can see two characters holding each other’s gaze for 10 seconds as more romantic than two characters having a long make out session. I can hear a “forgive me, rey” uttered in a mouthful of blood at the end of ix and read it as more romantic than a kiss. Get what I mean?

Lots of us, however, care for those kisses and for an explicit validation. It’s okay, of course. It’s completely okay and natural to want that to happen.

but, again, experience has taught me not to pin all my hopes on THAT. Thing is, the canon story isn’t under our control. It just isn’t. It’s in the hands of a bunch of professional writers we don’t know personally, who do this as a job, who might or might not be emotionally invested in the story they’re telling, who’ll move on new projects as soon as they wrap up this one, and who - i repeat - approach this stuff with a professional attitude (whether they’re good at it or not, it’s another issue), not an emotional one.

what is under our control is how we handle our fandom experience. The ship is ours, and we make what we want with it. Fanart, fanfiction, meta, headcanons. They gave us the basic bricks, we create the building. None of this is less valid than what happens in Rian Johnson’s or Colin Trevorrow’s head. They just happen to have a higher budget. At the end of the day, though, they’re creating a huge toy machine that we’re going to use as we like. 

the biggest ships EVER, the real fandom behemoths, are usually the ships that “never happened”. Why? because no male writer ruined them because their stories were not completed, and it’s a natural human instinct to want to complete a story. Which means fandom tends to gravitate, by default, towards those pairings that weren’t given closure, or were treated unfairly, or had a lot of sexual tension but no resolution in canon.  

I see a lot of (understandable) anxiety over what I’ll call “the j*hnlock fiasco* and LET ME TELL YOU ONE THING:

YES, the TJLC turned out to be a bunch of crap, but in the end, who ended up living in the same house, taking care of a child, and being FOREVER BROS? As someone who witnessed the whole thing from the sidelines, with no dog in this fight, I have zero doubt that Sh*rlock/Watson is, has always been, and was confirmed to be the central relationship of that show, and of that verse in general. The conspiracy theorists fooled themselves (and caused a lot of harm to both their followers, and those who disagreed), because they made it unnecessarily complicated, and pinned their whole understanding of “canon” on something very specific that they were repeatedly told wouldn’t happen. but regular shippers? I know a couple, and they were satisfied with what they got. (frankly, I loved the ending of Sh*rlock, because it left things open for EVERY shipper. I would LOVE for SW to pull a number like that. I wouldn’t feel cheated, at all.)

meta is great. as i said, I’m a meta enthusiast. But please remember that even the greatest meta is nothing but an attempt to make sense of things that remain largely outside of our purview, with limited information, no access to what is in the making, and no confirmation that the writers are actually as competent as said meta needs them to be. Enjoy the speculation. Don’t marry yourself to one. Be a speculation whore. No commitment, no regrets. Worst case scenario, it’ll be excellent fanfiction fodder. 

none of this is an admission that *re/ylo won’t happen in canon* or an encouragement to stop believing it will. This is simply my attitude towards shipping IN GENERAL, and—after countless disappointments—I though it might be helpful for others, too.

remember: 

in december, we’ll see these assholes battling AGAIN, and being intense again, and we’ll be obsessing over inane details and speculating and dissecting microexpressions and shit EXACTLY LIKE WE’VE BEEN DOING SO FAR.

sure, a lot of these things we obsess over might be completely accidental (it’s always good to keep it in mind)—but that’s part of the fun, in fact, it’s the WHOLE POINT OF SHIPPING.

TO CLARIFY:

(because I’ve seen some bizarre interpretations of this post)

while the shipping fanbase might be predominantly female and/or queer, this isn’t a rule. Contrary to what some media outlets and popular forums believe, SHIPPING ISN’T A GENDERED ACTIVITY, and I, for one, am ENDLESSLY PISSED AND FRUSTRATED at the constant, blatant misogyny and gatekeeping with which shipping and fanfiction are treated in mainstream fandom circles. The shipping fanbase is an extremely diverse group, composed by anyone with a more transformative approach to fandom (which isn’t in an either/or relationship with the curative approach, mind), anyone who, for whatever reason, might feel dissatisfied with or underrepresented by mainstream narratives, especially the very simplistic ones we normally see in blockbusters. At no point this post wants to reinforce sexist assumptions about shipping and fanfiction as inherently *female*. 

what I’m also NOT saying, is that we should just passively accept this divide between what we WANT to see and what mainstream fiction gives  us; that we should just suck it up and stay in our lane. No, fam, I’m just presenting the way things (I think) are in blockbuster fiction, and saying that SW is (probably) no different in that respect. But we should definitely fight to change this status quo, and make demands for more diverse, inclusive, non-standardized romantic narratives.