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anathewierdo · 4 years

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Call of the Ocean Chapter 20: Let the Games Begin

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 6799

Chapter summary: There’s no avoiding it anymore: the tournaments for Y/N’s hand and the kingdom’s crown have begun. Dean decides to add another mermaid to Bobby’s wall.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: ‘Elloooooo! Okay y’all, this is a big one. In every sense of the word. Brace yourselves ;D This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva . Text dividers were made by the awesome @talesmaniac89

Next chapter will be posted this Saturday, October 24th

Thasman held the box with the relic close to his chest. The light filtered through from the surface like it did every morning. With a slight hiss, Thasman looked down at the cut on his side. The creature protecting the box was not a joke. As he was trying to sneak in, he froze when a familiar merman swam in the distance.

“Roan,” Thasman breathed. The pain on his side made him hiss once again as he continued to swim towards the palace.

“Thasman?” Roan’s voice made Thasman’s heart skip a beat. “Thasman, are you alright? What happened?”

“Nothing, I– I’m going to see Liara. I’m ok, Roan, don’t worry.”

Roan reached for him, “Thasman, let me help you please. I know we are not together anymore, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you.”

“I said I’m fine, Roan. Please.” Thasman tried to swim away.

“You have always been too stubborn for your own good.”

Thasman hissed when Roan began putting a balm on his wound. “I need to get this to Liara. She needs to give this to Y/N. The tournament is tomorrow and--”

“And if you want to marry the princess, then you need to tend your wounds.” Roan glared. “Now, let me help you, or don’t. I’ll still do it anyways. Let’s get you to Liara.”

“You should hate me,” Thasman whispered as Roan helped him towards Liara’s quarters. “I broke your heart Roan. You should wish pain on me.”

“I did break up with you, in case you don’t remember…” the merman gulped as he spoke quietly. “But I don’t hate you. Now stop babbling before I change my mind. For Poseidon’s sake, you stingray, what did you do to hurt yourself like this?”

“It was a sea serpent,” Thaman mumbbled. “Roan. I --”

The merman had stopped swimming, looking at Thasman with a surprised expression. “If you weren’t wounded already, I would do it myself. Where did you even go that would have a sea serpent, Thas?”

“I can’t tell you,” Thasman whispered. “But it’s important and it’s something for Y/N. Roan, I only entered the tournament to help her. The other suitors would treat her with disrespect.”

“You’ve said that before.” Roan stated. “You are a very good friend to her, Thas, you really are. But you have a life of your own. You have to be selfish for once in your life.”

“Trust me Roan,” Thasman whispered as they got closer to Liara’s quarters. “I know what needs to be done.” he pushed away from Roan and knocked on the door. “Thank you for helping me. You should get back to the dolphins.”

Liara opened the door and let out a gasp, “Thasman! What happened?” She turned to the other merman. “Thank you, Roan.”

Roan had his eyes trained on Thasman, stoic. “No problem, Liara. I should go, make sure he’s good enough to fight in the duels.”

“Roan,” Liara said, offering him a small smile. “Would you like some tea? I’m sure--”

“No, thank you,” he cut her off. “I should go. The dolphins should be ready for the ceremony before the tournament tomorrow.”

Liara’s eyes bounced from one merman to the other, trying to get a feel of what had happened between them, before she opened her door. “Alright,” she conceded, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Roan.”

When Roan had left, Thasman lifted the box for Liara to see. “I found it. But not before the serpent took a swipe at me.”

“A swipe?! This is more than one swipe, Thasman!” she exclaimed as she let him in, guiding him towards the bed and helping him sit down.

“I’m fine, Liara,” Thasman dismissed as he tried to sit up and groaned. “The balm is in my satchel.”

“Where is it?”

Thasman lifted his hand and pointed to the bag on the floor. “How’s Y/N? Is she okay?”

“Heartbroken,” was Liara’s response as she roamed through Thasman’s bag. “I can’t find it, Thasman.”

“But it should be--” Thasman’s eyes widened. “Oh no… I left it on the surface!”

“Why would you leave one of the most important items a guard has to have on them at all times?!” Liara scolded.

“I used the balm to heal Dean,” Thasman whispered. “I fought him over his infatuation with Y/N but he wouldn’t yield and I used the balm to heal him.”

“Not only did you leave one of our most important medicines on the surface, but in the hands of the human Y/N is in love with?” She exclaimed. “Why didn’t you check if you had it with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Thasman whispered. “It was foolish of me I know. But Y/N was hurt and so was Dean and I wanted to help heal them. I didn’t want Y/N to be heart broken.”

At this point, Liara had put a hand on her face, shaking her head and muttering to herself. After a few seconds, she composed herself. “Alright, it’s not too bad. You’ll have to go back and retrieve it, maybe without them noticing, but you can retrieve it. We’ll use the balm I have, ok?”

“I will grab a spare from my room for tomorrow,” Thasma sighed. “Thank you Liara. But how will you give Y/N the relic? What will you tell her?”

“Thasman, would you please, for Poseidon’s sake, let me take care of you first? The princess will be in her quarters the rest of the day before the banquet and I know where to find her tomorrow before, during and after the duels. My priority right now is the child I was given to raise.”

“And my priority is Y/N!” Thasman argued. “I am not going to--” he closed his mouth when Liara glared at him. It reminded him of the motherly feeling he received from Ellen on the surface.

“If you can get up from the bed, then you may.” She dared, still glaring at him.

Thasman let out a sigh. “I yield.” He muttered.

Liara nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

“Liara,” Thasman whispered. “Sometimes I wish you were my mother,” he admitted.

This wasn’t the first time Thasman had let her know this, but like each and every time before, it broke Liara’s heart to pieces. The scrollkeeper had let him know from the start that his parents were gone, and that she would take care of him. To Thasman, sometimes she was more than his guardian, she was his family. But it was simpler to not let her know, just in case she didn’t feel the same way about him, and he was just the guppy that had been handed to her.

“You are always going to be, my little guppy, Thasman.” she said as she reached behind his head and undid the already messy bun that he had in place. When his hair was loose, she placed the balm on his wound. “But that does not mean that I will not hesitate to put you in your place if you do not take care of yourself.” she warned.

The merman chuckled. “Thank you, Liara.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean woke up that next morning before anyone else. Dealing with anyone right now was not an option. He made coffee and began walking into the living room when his foot hit something.

“Damn it!” he cursed. “What the fuck--” he stopped when he recognized the object he bumped into. “Thasman’s blade thing?”

He picked up the strange looking blade and opened the small compartment where the strange balm was.

“Still sucks.” He confirmed after a whiff of the balm.

Turning the blade in his hand, Dean couldn’t help but notice the intricate markings on the blade. Putting his coffee cup down, Dean grabbed his phone and opened up the camera app. Taking a few pictures, he made sure to zoom in on the patterns. He wondered if anyone would be able to tell him exactly where Sindarta was from the knife Thasman left behind.

“Morning, Jerk!” Sam’s voice came from behind him. “What is that?”

“It’s a dagger. Belongs to Y/N’s friend, Thasman.” Dean placed the knife back in its sheath and placed it on the table. “He brought it from Sindarta and I guess he left it here after he spent the night.”

“Oh,” Sam looked at Dean. “It looks expensive. Is that a ruby?”

“Huh,” Dean shrugged. “I guess. I’ll give this to Ellen and see if she can send it to him.”

Sam gave him a cocky smile. “You’ve already taken pictures of it, haven’t you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean grabbed his coffee and began to drink. “Garth has been working fast on the renovations.” Dean changed the subject. “Should be open any day now but we can do small repairs at least.”

“Sounds great.” Sam commented. “I talked to Bobby yesterday, went through some details in the contract, any doubts he might’ve had, all in all, everything is looking good when it comes to the legal side of your garage.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “That’s good. Might work on some cars, keep my hands busy. There’s a Clam Bake tomorrow.” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “I, um… I had asked Y/N to come with me but…” he cleared his throat. “Well, I might stay home tomorrow.”

“Maybe you should go,” he suggested, “maybe you meet someone, or you can get your head to not think about Y/N for a bit.”

“Sam…” Dean sighed.

“I’m serious, Dean, maybe that’s what you need.” Sam argued.

“I’ll think about it,” Dean conceded. “So, I let Bobby know he can tell people we can do some small fixes to cars. Until then I’ll work on his Chevelle.”

“Alright,” his brother nodded. “I was thinking about taking a walk on the beach today, explore a bit of the town and let Jess know if I think a beach wedding could work.” he commented as he took a sip of his coffee. “Any particular spot I should look for?”

Dean couldn’t help but think about the last night Y/N was there. He nodded his head and smiled. “I do have a spot I can show you.” he cleared his throat. “I got some time.”

“Awesome,” Sam smiled. “We can go after you give Ellen that dagger you showed me.”

“I just need to send it to a friend of mine in the anthropology department back at MIT. See if they can ID the markings for me. I mean it looks ancient.” Dean said as he typed on his phone.

“It probably is. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Wherever this place is Sam,” Dean shook his head. “I want to visit. I gotta know where she’s from.”

“You sure your guy at MIT will ID it?”

“You don’t know the department at MIT like I do. You should see all the tech they have.” Dean placed his cup in the sink and looked at Sam. “Ready? I can introduce you to Ellen when I drop off this thing.”

His brother smiled. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The brothers left the house and made their way to Ellen’s. Dean took a deep shaky breath. The last time he walked to Ellen’s he said see you later to Y/N. He ignored the tremor that had started to form in his hands, and knocked.

“Who is it?!” Ellen called through the door.

“It’s your favorite neighbour, Ellen.” He called back. “It’s me, Dean Campbell.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, “Campbell?” he whispered.

“I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing the name, I’m sorry.” he explained in a quick whisper.

“A warning would have been nice though,” Sam breathed just as the door opened to reveal a woman with dark brown hair looking at them.

“What do I owe this visit to Dean,” Ellen gave him a sad smile. “And who’s this?”

“This is my little brother, Sammy,” Dean said with a smirk.

“It’s Sam,” Sam elbowed Dean. “But it’s nice to meet you ma’am. Thank you for watching him and sorry if he’s been trouble. I blame the fact that he was probably dropped as a baby.”

The woman chuckled as she extended her hand for Sam to shake. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetie. Your brother’s been a good neighbor.”

“I came by to drop this off,” Dean said as he smacked the back of Sam’s head with his free hand. “It’s Thasman’s. I think he forgot it at my house when he slept over.”

Ellen’s smile faded a little bit at the sight of the dagger. “I can’t believe he forgot this.” She lamented as she took it from Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, with everything that happened, I should have double checked.” Dean let out a sigh.

“It’s alright, hun. I’ll try and find a way to send it back to him.” Ellen promised and gave Dean a smile. “Thank you for bringing it here.”

“No problem,” Dean smiled at her. “Just… If you hear from her tell her I miss her and love her?”

“I will, Dean. I promise.” Ellen smiled .

“Okay,” Dean said as he smiled. “We’ll see you at lunch Ellen.”

“You keep eating at my diner, you’re going to get fat, Dean.” Ellen joked. “She won’t recognize you if you do.”

Dean shook her head and waved at her before motioning for Sam to follow him. Dean walked towards the last place he was with Y/N. It was between Ellen’s house and his and had a perfect view of the ocean. Dean looked down at the sand, remembering the blanket he had laid out.

“This is beautiful,” Sam admitted.

Dean nodded, “Yeah.” The vision of Y/N in the moonlight filled his head.

“You brought her here, didn’t you,” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Dean admitted after letting out a shaky breath. “We were laid out under the stars and…”

“You don’t have to tell me, Dean,” Sam assured him as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. “I like it. I’m going to take some pictures and send them to Jess. See what she thinks.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The day went by in a blur, Y/N had been pulled every which way around the palace. People swimming in and out of her quarters. She felt as though she was being strangled by a kraken. Her chest felt tight and all she could think about was swimming far away. She looked at herself in the sea mirror. But she didn’t look like herself. The shells and jewels that adorned all felt heavier than before.

“Y/N? My little sea star, what’s wrong?” Her father’s voice brought her thoughts back to the present.

Shaking her head she put on her biggest smile, “I’m fine father, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” he asked concerned as he swam closer to her, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I am as happy as a clown fish father,” She assured him. “I will do my duty as princess of our kingdom.”

Something in the way Y/N had said that made Nereus’s heart drop. Where was his happy starfish? Where was the little mergirl who’s laughter filled the palace with joy? Y/N was smiling, but the king could tell that the smile was not in her eyes. He knew she was against these tournaments from the beginning. But there was nothing he could do.

“Alright,” he stated in a defeated tone, letting the subject go.

“I will see you at the banquet, father,” Y/N said as they finished her fitting. Taking everything off, she grabbed her basic tunic and swam towards her room.

“Well,” Michaels voice made Y/N want to vomit. “You have made your presence known.”

“I am off to my room,” she dismissed.

“Will you save me the honor of sitting by my side at the banquet?” he blocked her path.

“I am to sit next to my father, Michael.” she explained, swimming past Michael and groaning internally when he started to follow. “All the places have been assigned; me sitting next to you is not likely to happen.”

“Why must you resist what will be meant to be?” Michael let out a laugh. “You know that with us ruling, we will be unstoppable. What I can show you, is beyond your dreams.”

“And what do I dream of, Michael?”

“Freedom,” Michael said. “I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. You feel confined. And I can free you if… you give up this archaic ritual and choose me… I can eliminate the other--” he licked his lips as he backed her up to the wall. “Suitors. I can free you Y/N.”

She grew tense at having him so close to her, but her eyes burned bright with anger. “Give up the duels? Don’t you think I have tried that?” she could feel a slight trickle of power and glanced down at her fingers to see small sparks. “I don’t want to marry you, or anybody else. If it were up to me, this ritual would not even take place.” she growled. “And if you want to eliminate someone, it better not happen, or you will be trialed and thrown into the dungeons.”

“Are you threatening me, Princess?” He sneered. “I have more power than you or your father even know about. This little kingdom of yours…” he motioned around him. “I can eradicate it with a snap of my fingers.”

“I believe that the one making threats is you, Michael.” Y/N pushed the foreign prince back, “I thought you were so sure you’re going to win. Resorting to threats to make me– make me what, exactly? Afraid of you? Make you somehow win?” she smiled. “No, Michael. If you want a shot at the crown, then you take it like the other suitors will: fighting.”

“Princess Y/N–”

“I believe that we have talked enough, Michael. Go get ready for the banquet.” Y/N poked at his chest and watched as he winced. She felt a jolt of electricity rush through her finger and smiled when she did it again. “I know my power, Michael.” she hissed and moved back to do it again. “Now, out of my sight!”

For the first time since she met him, Michael was speechless. The shock on his face betrayed completely the cocky, insufferable facade that she had come to know.

Shaking his fear away, Michael sent her a soft, yet devilish, smirk. "I'll see you at the banquet… Princess." He swam away leaving Y/N to release the breath she was holding.

She swam towards the training grounds, wanting to take another look at the suitors, even if most of them were probably getting ready for the banquet. The fighting ground was being occupied by two of the suitors, each one had a fighting sword in hand and they were clashing with them and trying to get the other to surrender. A few others were practicing with their choice of weapon on their own, or were lifting heavy rocks in what would be their last attempt to get ready for the duels.

She kept enough distance that she could see them all without gaining their attention. But she noticed something off. Thasman was missing. He never missed training if he could help it, even for a banquet. Making sure that he wasn’t there she turned to bump into Roan.

"Roan," she breathed with a smile.

"Your highness," Roan bowed. "Shouldn't you be with Thasman?"

"Why would I--" Y/N offered him a small smile. "He still loves you, you know."

“I know he does. I never doubted it.” Roan whispered. “But he signed up for the tournament and here we are.”

“I never asked him for it,” she defended herself. “I didn’t even know about it until my father mentioned it and even then, it was too late for me to stop him.”

“That’s what pisses me off, Your Highness,” Roan confessed. “He takes action, he makes tough decisions, but he doesn’t let the ones involved even know about it until it’s too late.” He ranted, voice growing shaky with each word. “Naturally, with you two getting married, we wouldn’t have been able to stay together… I just hate that that choice was taken away from me.”

“Well then don’t tell me that,” Y/N pleaded softly, “talk to him, I’m sure that he will listen to you.”

Roan scoffed, a sarcastic smile on his face. “He didn’t do it before, and you know him, he’s just gonna go all serious guard mode and say ‘just trust me, I’ll handle this’ like the stingray that he is.”

It took some serious self control to not laugh at his impression of Thasman. Y/N composed herself quickly, not willing to give up on her friend’s chance at happiness. “Roan, you have to make him listen. Please, don’t give up.”

Roan sighed at the Princess’ words, “He won’t listen to anyone, Princess. That is the problem. If he wants to talk, he must be willing to actually listen to me.”

“For how long were you two together?”

The merman shrugged. “A while. We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Roan smiled sadly. “Thasman wanted to keep me to himself, I guess. I was okay with that.”

“It’s not too late to fix things, Roan,” Y/N insisted. “Thasman misses you.”

“And I miss him, Your Highness” The dolphin trainer confided. “But it’s too late. He has made his choice,” he gulped. “And I have made mine. Now, please excuse me, I have to make sure the dolphins will be ready for the show before the duels.”

Y/N had no choice but to watch him leave. She was devastated at the fact that Thasman had already given up the person he loved in order to marry her.

Her friend jumped when she bursted into his quarters.

“Are you ready for the banquet?” She swam up to him looking at him with an angry glare. “I spoke to Roan you big stingray.”

“Y/N/N,” Thasman whined. “I’m trying to get ready.�� he stopped fixing his bun and tried to dismiss her before she could see his healing bruises, but it was too late.

“What happened? I didn’t see you training so I know that,” --she pointed to the bruises -- “is not from training. Where did this happen? Was it Michael?”

“No, no,” he assured her, “it was nothing important. I– why did you speak with Roan?”

“You lied to me,” Y/N muttered. “You promised me that if you fell in love you were going to have your chance. You promised me Thasman!”

“I haven’t broken my promise!” Thasman argued.

“Silence!” Y/N used her royal voice. This was the second time now that she had to use it on her friend. “You love Roan and he still loves you. You threw that all away for what? To stop some snotty prince from marrying me when I probably would have runaway? How stubborn can you be?”

“Stubborn enough to make sure that you won’t end up with a monster as a husband.”

“Whatever happens now,” Y/N sighed. “You better hope that Roan forgives you. I am going to get ready for the banquet.” She turned to her friend. “You let me have my love and you are willing to sacrifice everything for it. What makes you think the people that love you wouldn’t do the same?”

Y/N left before Thasman could argue against it. The words his friend said echoing in his mind.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean kept working on the Chevelle as the rest of the renovations were going on. There was something that was nagging him a bit. He kept thinking back to his dreams. Aside from Y/N being in them and the ominous black cloud. Dean could remember a purple tail in the water whenever he was looking into the water.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed as he rolled out from under the car. He jogged up to Bobby and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Bobby. Can I talk to you for a sec?”

The old man was sitting near the car, having decided to keep Dean company and occasionally offering some conversation. “What’s wrong, boy?”

“Would you be upset if I added a second mermaid to be alongside yours?” Dean said as he kicked at the ground.

Bobby gave him a sympathetic smile that was quickly replaced by a doubtful expression. “Depends on how far along Bess has gone. I say it’s ok, but she’s the artist here.”

Dean nodded, giving Bobby a quick thank you before rushing inside the garage. Even though Garth had said that it would take a couple of weeks, renovations were moving along quickly. Soon enough, all that would be left to do would be to move in all the equipment so they could properly work. The ‘Mermaid Wall’ as the whole team had grown to call it, was going beautifully. Bobby’s original painting was getting more beautiful with each stroke and detail that Bess added. Bobby’s lost love was coming alive once more… he wanted to have a reminder of his too.

“Hey Bess,” Dean walked up to her. “Can I ask you a question?”

The woman smiled nervously, eyes flying from the wall to his eyes. “Sure Dean, uhmm, is there something wrong with her?” She motioned to the mermaid. “Do you not like something? Or is this about something else?”

“No, she looks great!” Dean assured her. “I have something else I want to ask.” Dean pulled out a picture of Y/N, one that he loved. It was taken at the zoo. Her eyes were bright and she smiled like an angel. “I was wondering if you could paint another mermaid. Same as that one but with a purple tail and lavender swirls.” Dean showed Bess the picture of Y/N.

Bess took the phone from his hands, looking at Y/N’s picture with a fond smile. Her eyes rose again to meet his, then back at the wall. She took a couple of steps back, admiring all that she had painted so far, trying to picture where she could put the second mermaid and if it would mean redoing her work, looking at the phone for a couple moments, then back at the wall.

Finally, she turned to Dean with a bright smile. “Yeah, sure I can. I’m gonna need you to send me this picture, and to get me more paint, but I don’t see why not.”

Dean smiled in relief. “Thank you so much, Bess. Seriously.”

“They’ll look amazing together, Dean. I promise you.”

“I’ll get all the paint you need. Send me a list, and I’ll send you the picture, ok?”

Bess nodded, grabbing her sketchbook and a pencil that she had stuck behind her ear. “I’ll start drafting her right now.”

Dean retrieved back his phone, excited at the prospect of being able to have Y/N looking over him as he worked. With a few quick clicks he sent Bess a copy of the photo and smiled.

“You’re the best!” Dean said as he walked out of the garage and back to the Chevelle.

Climbing into the drivers side, he turned the ignition on and smiled when the engine roared to life. Turning it off, he climbed out and smiled at Bobby.

“I believe I brought your princess back to life,” Dean said as he sent him a smirk.

“About time someone did,” he commented. “God knows I couldn’t do it now.”

“Thanks for letting me work on her,” he cleaned his hands with a rag. “I just need to touch up the paint on the body. I can have Bess send me the sketch of her mermaid and I can decal it on the hood.”

Bobby seemed to smile with a huff, “She better be.” He looked over at Dean. “just make sure you make my princess a nice royal blue.”

He nodded, giving Bobby a smile and a wink. “Copy that.”

After finishing up on the engine, Dean decided it was time to call it a day. Looking at the time, he grabbed his things and bid everyone goodbye. Cas and Benny climbed in, and his mood didn’t go unnoticed by them.

“So…” Cas started. “You’re feeling better today. That’s great.”

“I am. I’m sorry about yesterday, fellas.”

Benny shook his head and chuckled, “you were missing your girl, brotha.” Benny placed a hand on his shoulder. “You can miss her brotha, you like her. And she made you happy. Just don’t shut us out, again.”

“I know,” Dean sighed. “I… um… might head to the Clam Bake and show Sam around. I mean the town square is nice and I can introduce him.”

“That sounds good.” Cas commented. “Meg said that this year’s going to be very good. Would be a shame if you and your brother missed it.”

“Speaking of the little devil,” Dean teased. “How are things going with Meg?”

“Good, I think. I haven’t been an idiot, so there’s that.” Cas chuckled.

“I think Meg needs to see those pictures from back in the frat house days,” Dean said as he gave Benny a devilish smirk. “I mean a naked James Castiel Novak is always a deal breaker.”

Dean knew perfectly well that if looks could kill, he would have died a horrible, painful death at the hands of Castiel.

“Don’t you fucking dare, you assbutt.”

“I hear ya, brotha,” Benny smiled. “I think I can also dig up the video that Gabriel shot. Might have to email him.”

This time, Castiel had something to fight back as he gave Benny a cocky smile. “I’ll show Andy the video.”

“What video?” Benny scoffed.

“Oh, you know, just an old video from a party that we went to ages ago. The video.”

The fear that had started to show in Benny’s eyes was so satisfying for Castiel. “You said you deleted it.”

“I lied. I wonder what Andy would think of it. You know, with the whole–”

“Benny,” Dean let out a smirk. “What is he talking about? What video have I not seen?”

“You see, Dean, Benny here gave everybody a good old show once. There was some tequila involved, some drugs… but what surprised me most was–”

“We swore we would never talk about it ever again, Castiel!”

“Where the fuck was I when this was happening?” Dean wondered looking at his two friends.

“On some date, I think… or maybe you passed out? I don’t know, I was drunk too. But not as bad as good ol’ Benjamin. Oof! Can he move.”

Dean let out a laugh at Benny’s face as he shot Castiel a death glare. Both Cas and Benny looked over at Dean. It was the first time since Y/N had left that their friend had actually, truly laughed and meant it. The light in Dean’s eyes seemed to come back, even if it was just for a moment.

“Okay,” Dean took a deep breath to compose himself as they parked the car at the house. “We will lay off trying to embarrass ourselves. So, no talk about dirty secrets.”

“Deal.” Benny and Cas said as they shook hands.

Dean stayed back as he watched his friends walking inside. His eyes wandered towards the beach as he took a deep breath. He still missed Y/N and from what he remembered of their conversation her birthday would be tomorrow.

“I hope you have a good birthday, Y/N,” He whispered to the air. “Make sure Thasman wins.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Y/N placed her face on her palm as many of the suitors droned on. She ignored Thasman throughout the dinner, just wishing that it was over. She could feel Michael’s eyes on her and it was just annoying her. As the night continued, Y/N’s mind wandered to Dean. Was he okay? Was the garage almost done?

As soon as this banquet was over, everyone would go to their respective quarters and rest before the ‘big event’ at dawn. The day would be spent watching all the suitors fight after fight, and by the end of the day, there would be a winner and Y/N would meet her husband.

She had never hated her own birthday so much.

The food she had once loved so much wasn’t as good now when put in comparison to everything she had tasted on the surface. She missed helping Ellen cook dinner, she missed working at the diner, the little town, the people in it, Dean… Her thoughts went on and on. She found herself toasting along to her father’s words of luck to the suitors. She dined and kept to herself throughout the whole event, anxious to get a moment alone to reminisce about the surface.

Then there was the issue with Thasman. Where had he gotten such injuries? What had happened to him?

The evening continued, and after what felt like an eternity, she was finally able to go to her room to rest for the duels. The way they were arranged, Thasman wouldn’t start fighting until a little before midday, but she still had to be present for every single fight unless she had her father’s permission to take a break from ‘looking for a husband’. She wondered if her father had been comfortable with going through this exact same process. How much her mother would have had to fight in order to win the crown and her father’s hand.

‘Did they love each other?’ was the most pressing thought. With the way King Nereus spoke about her, there was no doubt that, at the very least, he had been deeply in love with her mother. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. She dreamt of Dean, of being back in his arms, in his bed. His fingers running through her hair as he left small kisses on her face. She could swear she was with him if it was not for the attendant who woke her abruptly.

Reluctantly she awoke, getting ready for the first of the duels. As she was looking at herself in her sea glass, she hadn’t noticed when Liara entered the room. The scrollkeeper frowned at the way the princess seemed sad on her birthday. It broke her heart to see the young mermaid so distraught. Clearing her throat, she walked up to Y/N and presented her with a silver cuff bracelet with an amethyst gem in the middle.

“What is this?” Y/N muttered.

“Something that will help you if you find yourself on the surface,” Liara whispered to her. “It belonged to your aunt and it comes with a letter. Please wait for the right time to read it, don’t let anyone else see it.”

“Liara…” Y/N sighed. “My fate is sealed. I doubt I will be--”

“Please, your highness,” Liara pleaded. “Trust me. I have a bad feeling about Michael and this can help you.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded as she picked up the bracelet and placed it on her wrist. As Y/N looked at it, she marveled at the design. It was etched with traditional mermish along with intricate platings and intertwining nots that helped to keep the gem in place. She gasped when the Amethyst gave a soft glow before settling down. Putting the thought to the back of her mind, she watched as the scrollkeeper continued to help her get ready.

Everything happened quickly, Y/N had been ushered through to the tournament grounds where Roan had led the dolphins in a beautiful display. She offered him a sad smile as he bowed before she took her seat next to her father. She had ignored most of the battles, until Michael entered the arena.

Michael had skill, there was no doubt about it, but he was more cutthroat than the other suitors. By the end of the first rounds, Michael was the victor, having eliminated all his competitors. Y/N was thankful for the short recess as she made her way to the tents.

“Thasman, I am begging you,” Roan’s voice pleaded. “Find another way to help Y/N. There is something off about Micheal. You know there is.”

“And I told you,” Thasman gave an exasperated cry. “I can’t. If I were to bow out, Y/N would be at his mercy and you know this Roan.” Y/N could see Thasman turning to face him. “Why do you care now? Why fight now when you gave up on me? On us?”

Roan looked as though Thasman had slapped him. “Thasman… I--” Roan’s voice wavered as he tried to find the words. “You are always going to be a stubborn stingray! I am here as a friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Roan tried to hide the hurt in his voice. “But if this is what you want--” he let out a breath. “Fine, just… don’t let your guard down.”

Y/N watched as Roan went to caress Thasman’s face only for the stubborn stingray to pull back. She could see Thasman was fighting with every fiber of his being from taking Roan into his arms. Roan retreated his hand, as if it had been burned by the heat burst from the underwater volcano.

“Excuse me,” Thasman swam past him and grabbed his helmet. “I must prepare.” he muttered before adjusting his bun and putting his helmet on.

Y/N hid, not letting either merman see that she had heard their conversation. The sound of the horn signified the second bout of suitors was ready to begin. Hurrying back to her seat, Y/N watched as the suitors paraded around before going to their respective corners to wait their turn. And just as he did in the training, Thasman was unstoppable. He won bout after bout, leaving each one to yield. In fact it made him miss his own fight with Dean. The determination in the human’s eyes to fight for Y/N made him wish that the human was a merman.

Before he knew it, he had been the victor for his round of suitors. It was just himself and Michael. This was it, this was his chance to make sure that Y/N was safe. Everything he sacrificed, to keep the kingdom safe. But at what cost? Looking at Y/N he could see his friend was not happy. He took a quick glance at Roan, who seemed even sadder still. Two of the people he cared about, heartbroken. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and prepared for his battle.

“Your victory will be short lived,” Michael boasted. “I will win. Y/N and the kingdom will be mine. You… I’ll make my personal servant.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Thasman defended. “I won’t let you get your hands on Y/N.”

“You’ll be out of the way soon enough, little guard.” Michael sneered as they circled one another.

The battle began with Thasman blocking Michaels blow. Every blow Michael gave Thasman was able to counter. He landed hit after hit. Bruises began to appear on the foreign prince. Up until Thasman was able to slice into Michael's skin. Blood dripped from the foreign prince’s arm as he growled at Thasman.

“You are going to pay for that,” he seethed.

Thasman only offered him a satisfied smile and continued his assault on the prince. Thasman overpowered him like nothing. He had the prince on the floor with his arm around the prince’s neck while holding a blade to his belly.

“Yield,” Michael whispered.

“I’m sorry, your highness,” Thasman said in his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“I yield.” He cried for everyone to hear.

Thasman grinned triumphantly, letting go of the prince and putting his blade away from his belly. He turned to the crowd, and raised his sword, roaring his victory.

The crowd roared back at him. His fellow subjects celebrated his victory. He smiled as he turned to the King and Princess, and bowed. But when he rose to smile at his friend, her face was contorted in terror.

“Thasman, watch out!”

He felt a hot searing pain on his back. He felt a breath on his ear.

"This kingdom and it's princess are mine."

Thasman could only groan in pain as a response. Everything happened slowly. He could see a barge of soldiers fighting, the echo of his name sounding far away. The last thing he saw was Roan, Y/N, and the King swimming towards him, before everything went black.

HOT DAMN! Love me a good cliffhanger :D

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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That's been my conclusion too. I think a much more fruitful method of attack is to just hammer home what your politics are. If you like professionals being competent, people being allowed to speak freely, civilization being a good thing, children and families being a good thing, humans themselves being a good thing, etc., then you shouldn't be ashamed about that. Should instead point to the media that has a message you disagree with and point out why, and point to media you like and point to why you like that instead. I think that if you did this well, then it would be very possible to argue that the currently defined as "no politics" camp could easily frame themselves as the "morally healthy politics" camp, to oppose the "morally decrepit politics" camp. Like, to take an obvious moral value in the "healthy" camp: Truth and honesty. The "decrepit" camp will openly brag about inappropriately adding modern values (and things like women and inappropriate ethnicities) to historical narratives where they know that they're inappropriate, in order to deliberately mislead their audience about the past. It is incredibly easy to give an argument for why the people doing this are evil, and why we should instead be doing the opposite. Of course, that's not to say you can't have fiction where anything happens, but how acceptable that is should be proportional to how obvious it is that it is fiction. And it doesn't have to be ham-fisted, right? Like, take... let's do a super hero narrative, since they're inherently very simple. Do Aquaman. During one of the fights, he gets knocked to the ground during a bunch of explosions, and a giant bell gets knocked loose and falls towards a woman. Seeing this, he immediately leaps to save her life. It's just a few seconds, but it established very well that character's moral framework. He's not here just to fight people, he's here to save people, it just so happens that saving people usually conveniently involves a lot of cool fighting - but we shouldn't forget that the fighting is a means to an end, not an end in and of itself. "This is how a hero is supposed to behave." Then take something like the Tom Holland Spider-Man movies, the one with the vulture. Spider-Man's spying on some criminals, they see him, a fight kicks off because of him, and one of the mooks ends up getting flung off the ferry and into the water. What is Spider-Man's response? It was obvious to me, the scene was set up almost perfectly to demonstrate his most conspicuous trait (which is not his quipping): His compulsive need to save everyone. He should've... well, he should've let himself get hit by the car, in order to block it from hitting the guy. But failing that, and then realizing his mistake of letting the guy get hit, he should've immediately jumped into the sea after the guy, to save him. Instead, he doesn't even notice, leaves the man to die, and he engages the villains in a stupid pointless fight that splits the ferry in half. So he indirectly ends up killing at least one man, and almost kills everyone else on the ferry. But nobody cares. I don't think I've even seen or heard anyone mention this massive flaw in the movie's characterization of the character before, even though it's such a core part of his personality and character. Again, it's just a few seconds, but this is not,/i> how a hero is supposed to behave. If anything, Spider-Man in the Tom Holland movies acts more like a thrillseeker than a hero, which is especially perverse given how Peter Parker's heroism is - ironically - his biggest character flaw (something the Sam Raimi movies, Spider-Man 2 in particular, got exactly right). How do people not notice it being absent from the narrative? I think the term "morally decrepit" perfectly describes this. Then we can look at something like Man of Steel, ubermensch Zack Snyder at the helm, with "Superman" carelessly murdering what must be thousands of people during his fighting. Yeah, no effort to take that fight outside of the city for the guy. He's not here to save people, he's here to do... something else. Never mind other flaws in Snyder's psychotic "hero", like how he breaks and destroys the world if Lois dies, or how he only performs the role as hero as a lie because (is it Lois who says it?) other people believe in the lie. Snyder's "Superman" doesn't like rescuing people. He is burdened by it, unwillingly. "Super hero" my ass. Another conspicuous example is Captain Marvel, who seems to be doing what she's doing driven mainly by bitterness and her own ego, who abuses civilians and other around her, and who gleefully and unnecessarily murders thousands of her own former comrades during the climax of the film, as if she has no moral code whatsoever. Which I suspect is the case. While Snyder at least seems to at least have some kind of bizarre, if albeit decrepit, moral compass guiding him, the authors of Captain Marvel seem to just be evil people, if this is how their image of a "super hero" behaves. The character's straight out of something written by Garth Ennis, except without the apparent realization that she is evil. Like... it's so easy to argue that stories about super heroes who enjoy rescuing people (and who do it for selfless reasons, not selfish ones) in need are "morally good" stories, while stories about "super heroes" who hate it, or do it for their own pleasure, are decidedly not "morally good", but instead people are arguing that what I here have labeled "morally good" is actually "no politics". Of course, super heroes are just easy examples, because they're so uncomplicated and unnuanced. But you see the same thing everywhere. Even when writing "evil" characters, a writer who themselves isn't evil is capable of writing them while making it clear to the audience that the author still knows what is and isn't evil behaviour. You know that the characters in Ennis' comics aren't supposed to be people to look up to, actually you're mostly supposed to be disgusted and repulsed by them. But then you look at something like Captain Marvel, and you wonder... do these writers know that their character is evil? Does Snyder know that his "Superman" is, well... definitely not Superman? I don't think he does. I don't think he understands Superman at all. Anyway. Snyder aside, I think this is happening because we take our politics or morality so for granted that we don't realize that is what they are, or - indeed - that they need defending. I guess this lost ability for realization is part of what was lost in the loss of our religion. With its explicit moral framework, it's easy to detect when it's under attack. But remove all the explicit parts and suddenly it becomes hard to tell. It's the same thing people do with things like e.g., "western culture". What does "western culture" mean? Almost nobody's able to give you an answer to it at all, even though it's actually incredibly important. So people end up saying inane things like that there actually is no such thing as western culture. And then you don't realize when it's going away. It's like somebody's filling the room we're in with carbon dioxide and we don't realize anything's wrong until... well, we'll never realize it, because we'll be dead. Small mercy, I suppose.

Iron-And-Rust

#quote #reddit #the motte #see link for context #long quote #links in quote

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

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Hey, sorry to be a bother but do you know any metas about Driftwood and the mythological significance of have Stranger called such? If not, could you please help me find any metas about the importance of Stranger (the horse and the god) to Sandor's future? Thank you!!

It’s no bother at all. I love talking about this stuff. I don’t recall any other metas specifically on that topic, but I do go into the meaning of Driftwood/Stranger in Part VI of my Winds prediction essay for Sandor. I’m staying narrowly focused on your question here, but mythological significance branches out much farther and features heavily throughout each section of that essay if you have any further interest.

And the seventh face … the Stranger was neither male nor female, yet both, ever the outcast, the wanderer from far places, less and more than human, unknown and unknowable. Here the face was a black oval, a shadow with stars for eyes. It made Catelyn uneasy. – Catelyn IV, ACOK.

Of the Seven, the Stranger is the one most regarded with fear for his/her association with death and the unknown. He/she’s either depicted as a shrouded half-human, half-animal, or with a blacked-out void for a face. Sandor has that thematic aesthetic going on with his hound’s head helm, which gives him the appearance of being both a man and a beast. That is a reflection of the duality of his identity between Sandor and the Hound. He frequently enters a scene by stepping out from the shadows, so he also fits with the shadowy figure version. Sandor also isn’t one to allow others to know his true self, at least until Sansa, Arya, and the Elder Brother. Rarely does any worshipper pray to the Stranger as few are eager to invite death itself in, of course. It’s no wonder that the outcasts of society might identify with that lonely aspect of being an unwelcome presence and having nowhere to belong.

For Sandor to give his horse such a blasphemous name, it’s because he views himself as someone who is feared and misunderstood, and as an outsider who stands on the outside looking in at the world. This is especially true as he is immersed in the culture of knighthood but emphatically rebels against it. There is much of ordinary life that is closed off to Sandor, and it’s not all due to his trauma response and poor coping skills alienating him from other people. A lot of it is just unfair. His perceived ugliness in a society that overwhelmingly favors physically beautiful people and despises disability or disfigurement has hindered his ability to create meaningful connections with others. That resentment has only built up throughout his life. He’s a second son who is forced to make his own way in the world since Gregor is the sole beneficiary of the Clegane lands and incomes. It’s Gregor that got the home and wife (three to be exact), which is the domestic life that would normally ground a man, giving him a sense of purpose and satisfying his emotional needs. Gregor doesn’t care for any of that, but there is a hint that Sandor feels this is something that has been denied him. Since many people fail to distinguish Sandor as different from his brother, Gregor’s infamy and the rumors surrounding the deaths of his wives and family members really don’t help either. After the BotBW, Sandor is really cut adrift from society by his desertion. He’s unfairly marked as a craven, and then in a tragic case of mistaken identity is wanted for the rape and massacre of the Saltpans. That’s about as hated and reviled as one can get.

Like other instances of named horses being a reflection of their riders, Stranger’s nature says a lot about Sandor’s. He’s proficient in battle, brave, disciplined, but extremely ill-tempered, and dangerous; however, with gentle handling from a master that has earned his trust, he’s able to respond in kind.

The horse was a heavy courser, almost as big as a destrier but much faster. Stranger, the Hound called him. Arya had tried to steal him once, when Clegane was taking a piss against a tree, thinking she could ride off before he could catch her. Stranger had almost bitten her face off. He was gentle as an old gelding with his master, but otherwise he had a temper as black as he was. She had never known a horse so quick to bite or kick.

There’s a bond there. The horse isn’t just a tool or weapon to be used. Sandor cares for this big, scary boy that no one else can get close to. After rescuing Sansa from the riot, his next thought is to go back to find his horse in the chaos and fire. Because Sandor gave him the name, it shows that he has the self-awareness of how his issues and anti-social behavior have only served to increase his sense of isolation and cement other people’s negative opinions. The only reason an animal would so readily bite or kick indiscriminately is that it’s in constant fear of being hurt by people (*sob*). It’s possible Sandor recognized a warhorse that was trained with brutal methods, not unlike his own childhood and adolescence. One can imagine how much patience, kindness, and courage it took to bring such an ornery beast to the point where he can trust and reciprocate.

People are more complicated than animals, of course; however, this is definitely meant to mirror his relationship with Sansa and her gentleness, compassion, and courage in the face of his anger issues. Though not many are not keen on giving attention to the Stranger in their prayers, Sansa does pray for Sandor’s safety and well-being. The Stranger is the last deity people turn to for comfort, and yet Sansa views Sandor as her protector and ally. She wishes for his presence at times, even after seeing him at his worst. And I love, love, love this line from Cersei about Sansa, who is deep into the unkiss rabbit hole at this point:

“… but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss.“ – Cersei IV, AFFC.

So that brings us to Stranger’s renaming to Driftwood, but first, we need to ask what exactly is the Quiet Isle? Quoting from Part IV of my essay:

“The Quiet Isle is also a place to cross over into the afterlife in more than one way. Sometimes the dead and dying wash up on the shores, as did the Elder Brother. Sometimes they are brought there like the Hound or the people of the Saltpans after the massacre to die or be healed. The metaphoric and most common way is for penitents to abandon their old lives to be reborn in a new monastic life. In a sense, the brothers on the isle are dead to the outside world. They don’t speak with few exceptions. Many cover their faces as well, obscuring their past identity. Their brown robes and cowls are like the dead driftwood that washes up there, but even driftwood gets reborn as beautiful polished furniture and cups. If you want to come on the Quiet Isle, you need Elder Brother’s or one of his proctor’s permission. There’s a ferry to the isle which is evocative of Charon. So that makes Elder Brother, like Garth Greenhand, a psychopomp. He’s a gatekeeper between life and death, literal and metaphoric, and can also return people to the world of the living. The imagery is evocative of the Elysian Fields and especially Avalon, where King Arthur was taken to recover from wounds sustained against Mordred at the Battle of Camlann and is destined to return from. ”

Driftwood was dead and washed up, but then it is collected, reshaped and polished into something beautiful with a new purpose in its second life. Driftwood in this context is a metaphor for healing and redemption.

“The furnishings were strange but simple; a long table, a settle, a chest, several tall cases full of books, and chairs. All were made from driftwood, oddly shaped pieces cunningly joined together and polished till they shone a deep gold in the candlelight.” – Brienne VI, AFFC.

Amazing Grace, How sweet the soundThat saved a wretch like meI once was lost, but now am foundT'was blind but now I see

I zero doubts that Sandor’s character is undergoing a radical and profound transformation on the Quiet Isle. He was broken down enough to be open to it when the Elder Brother picked him up from the shore of the Trident. Also kinda miraculous that Stranger must have allowed himself to be led by another person while Sandor was incapacitated; however, it’s obvious Stranger is never going to spend the rest of his days as a plowhorse.

Brother Narbert sighed. “The Seven send us blessings, and the Seven send us trials. Handsome he may be, but Driftwood was surely whelped in hell. When we sought to harness him to a plow he kicked Brother Rawney and broke his shinbone in two places. We had hoped gelding might improve the beast’s ill temper, but … Brother Gillam, will you show them?”

Brother Gillam lowered his cowl. Underneath he had a mop of blond hair, a tonsured scalp, and a bloodstained bandage where he should have had an ear. – Brienne VI, AFFC.

This makes me laugh because although I believe Sandor has learned to have a healthier mindset through humble service and meaningful penance, he probably has been a veritable pill through the process. As Stranger kicks and rebels, we should definitely conclude that Sandor’s time with the holy brothers is not permanent. Especially considering that the horse adamantly refuses to be gelded, Sandor will not be submitting to the celibate life of a monk. The new name likely won’t stick, because Sandor didn’t so much need a whole new identity, but to restore his original one. The Hound is dead, but Sandor Clegane lives, polished and remade with a new purpose to his life.

#valyrian scrolls #sandor clegane #sandor clegane meta #asoiaf meta #twow spec #twow theories #stranger #driftwood #the quiet isle #elder brother #mythological references #mythology in asoiaf #symbolism in asoiaf #sansan meta #asoiaf characterization #my meta

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abigailnussbaum · 5 years

Text

The Boys - Good & Bad

Being an itemized list of the strengths and weaknesses of the first season Amazon’s superhero show The Boys, based on the comic run of the same name by Garth Ennis, which I haven’t read.

GOOD:

The show looks good. It’s not tremendously visually inventive on the level of, say, Legion or Doom Patrol, but it’s got a definite style, and not just in the action scenes. The stagings pop, the street scenes look crisp and interesting, the boardroom scenes take advantage of the set designers’ inventiveness. There’s the requisite loss of saturation once our two main characters lose their respective love interests, but it’s not color-graded out of existence, the way a lot of other shows trying to evoke masculine despondency do. A “gritty”, laddish superhero show conjures up certain expectations where visuals are concerned, and The Boys exceeds them at almost every turn.

There are actual episodes! With beginnings and endings and common themes! I had no idea streaming shows could still do that, but The Boys is really good at finding mini-stories within its overarching plot and structuring its episodes around them (which should be a basic implement in a TV writer’s toolkit and instead has all-but disappeared). Episode 2 is about the Boys realizing how screwed they are by having captured a nearly-unkillable superhero who has seen their faces, and trying to figure out a way to kill him. Episode 5 is structured around Annie and Hughie’s visit to a superhero-themed Christian revivalist festival. It gives the entire season a more engaging structure, and pulls you along with the story in a way that most streaming shows don’t even attempt.

There are some genuinely clever worldbuilding choices that emerge from the “what if superheroes, but awful” premise. The fact that superheroes star in their own movies, for example, or that their power competitions become major sporting events, is hilarious, and perfectly conveys the sense of moral bankruptcy that I think the show is going for. And the crossover the show posits between superhero worship and white Evangelicalism is an obvious and perfect fit, tying into the latter’s barely-concealed love of power and authoritarianism. Also, there are some inventive demonstrations of how combining superpowers, limited intelligence, and corporate greed can lead to horrifying results, some funny - The Deep trying to rescue a dolphin from captivity - and some genuinely gutting - the plane crash scene in episode 4 is the queasy highlight of the season, as the viewer realizes just a few seconds before the characters do just how badly they’ve screwed up, and how horrible their future choices are going to have to be.

The cast is uniformly excellent, and pretty much everyone gets a lot of different layers to play. The highlights are Elisabeth Shue, Erin Moriarty, Jessie T. Usher, and Tomer Capon (bit of hometown pride here, but it’s easy to see why he’s such a well-regarded young actor in Israel), but pretty much everyone is good and interesting to watch. Even Karl Urban, who gets the show’s most thankless task - he has to carry most of the story while playing its least nuanced character - manages to infuse some humor and complexity into Billy.

There are a lot of interesting, complex relationships, the top one being Homelander and Madeline Stillwell. As a character says near the end of the season, it’s a relationship that is “hard to quantify” - does he want to fuck her, or kill her, or be her child? Does she want to control him or does she genuinely get off on his desire for her? Other relationships are less fraught - Frenchie and Kimiko are incredibly sweet together - but still a lot of fun to watch.

The show seems to understand that at the root of almost every villain, and certainly privileged ones, is childishness. You see this in the way The Deep sinks into self-pity after experiencing the consequences of his sexual assault on Annie, or the way A-Train becomes obsessed with blaming Hughie for his girlfriend’s death, even though he’s the one who killed her. You see it most of all in Homelander’s resentment of Madeline’s baby and the attention she lavishes on it. It’s simply stunning how openly envious this grown man is of a months-old infant, and it makes every scene the two share almost unbearably tense, because you’re just waiting for Homelander to snap and kill the baby. Which ends up much more effectively conveying the point the show is trying to make than the sudden shock of him actually doing it would have - the fact that this character would clearly feel themselves justified in killing an infant, and is only holding back because he knows there’ll be a fuss, is the sum total of the show’s criticism of absolute power.

(This emphasis also justifies the show’s insistence that Hughie is redeemable, because though he starts out quite immature, he does grow, unlike the superpowered villains. He starts the season killing a super who hasn’t really done anything to him, just for the rush of it, and ends it saving the life of the super whose selfishness destroyed his world, because he’s actually realized that his are not the only problems that matter.)

Someone seems to have realized that having a female (Asian) character whose name is simply The Female is an absolutely terrible idea, and the show gives her a name as soon as possible. There’s also hints that she may be regaining the power of speech.

BAD:

The use of violence - and particularly sexual violence - against women ends up privileging men, even when those men are the perpetrators. Both Hughie and Billy are motivated by the loss of the women they loved, and in both cases the show plumps for the classic approach of single scene featuring the love interest being angelic, and doesn’t bother to shade either of them in or give them a personality or a chance to speak on their own behalf. And even when the victim is a main character, as when The Deep assaults Annie, the focus is much more on him than on her. Annie processes her trauma in a scene and a half, and it ends up being folded into her overall dilemma over how to be a superhero. Whereas the Deep spends the rest of the season coping with the consequences of his actions and folding them into his general lack of self-esteem. While there’s the germ of an important point there - just because this guy has problems of his own doesn’t justify his assault on another person or make him particularly tragic or compelling - the show’s insistence on going back to that well, even as the season approaches its climax, is simply baffling.

This feels, in fact, like a smaller component of the show’s broader problem with sexual ethics, the fact that it seems to have no way of distinguishing between sexual behavior is depraved, and sexual behavior that is just weird or maybe a bit kinky. Like, the fact that the Deep has consensual sex with dolphins is not worse than, or even equivalent to, the fact that he assaulted Annie. The fact that Homelander prematurely ejaculates when he and Madeline have sex isn’t a worse reflection on his character than the fact that he may have raped Billy’s wife. And yet those cases are treated as equivalent by the narrative. It ends up feeling profoundly anti-sex, rather than anti-sexual-violence, an impression that is only intensified when Annie and Hughie - the show’s sole “good”, loving couple - have sex that is completely vanilla (and despite Hughie’s earlier assurances that he isn’t intimidated by Annie’s strength, he still ends up being the dominant one in bed, and she even lets him be on top). It also prevents the show from any serious discussion of the one aspect of sexuality that is unique to its setting, the possibility of supers inadvertently hurting their human partners. The scene in which Popclaw crushes a man’s head between her thighs is the nadir of the season precisely because it’s played for laughs, for that “aren’t we outrageous” vibe that everyone told me the comic was suffused with. When actually you could do something interesting and character-based with it, if the show actually cared to.

(Having said all this, I do think that the show is a lot better on the subject of sexual violence than it could have been, and a lot better than the source material might have dictated. It feels significant that - with the exception of the aforementioned Popclaw scene - we never see any act of sexual assault on screen. We see Homelander and the Deep scoping out their victims, Rebecca Butcher and Annie, and maneuvering them into a position of vulnerability. And we see the aftermath of the assault for both victims. But we don’t see the act itself, in a series that is otherwise perfectly happy to depict consensual sex, even if it judges anything resembling kink. I also thought the handling of Queen Maeve, as a woman who has lived for years under a sustained campaign of sexual harassment, was extremely powerful - again, the focus is on how the abuse twists the victim up and makes them feel powerless and alone, not on any overt act of violence.)

I really don’t get why I’m meant to care about Billy Butcher. It’s not even that I don’t like him - I just find him completely uninteresting. He works as an engine of plot and a way to inject chaos into the other characters’ lives (the repeated device in which he authoritatively promises to solve the team’s problems, only for the show to cut away to him alone, wearing an expression that makes it clear that he has no idea what to do and is about to make everything worse, is pretty funny and effective). But as a character in his own right and with his own story, he just feels too one-note and monomaniacal for me to care about. I care what happens to MM and Frenchie and Kimiku and Annie and Maeve. I even care a little what happens to Hughie. I simply can’t bring myself to give a fuck about Billy.

I don’t see why I should be rooting for Hughie and Annie to make it work. It’s great that he feels she helped him rediscover his moral compass, but in the meantime he lied to her, used her, and concealed the fact that he had murdered one of her teammates from her. Annie has the right of it when she hears his confession and replies “the thing is, I don’t care”. It would be one thing if their reconciliation at the end of the season was more of an ethical one, a case of Annie choosing to rescue Hughie and the Boys because she knows they don’t deserve to die, not because she forgives him. But I got the impression that we were meant to read it as a romantic reconciliation too, which Hughie hasn’t even come close to earning.

If you must have interchangeable Middle Eastern terrorists as your go-to, killable background villains, doesn’t it seem obvious that there should be at least a few positive, named Middle Eastern characters in the foreground? (I suppose Frenchie might count? But given Capon’s heritage, he could just as easily be a Sepharadic Jew, which doesn’t really avoid the problem of Islamophobia that the show cheerfully blunders into.)

The plot kind of loses the thread towards the end of the season, partly, I suspect, because of the need to set up characters and plot points for season 2. It’s a particular shame because the plotting had been so strong in the first half of the season.

The sound mix is terrible. It should tell you something that I even noticed this and worked out the right term to use for it, because I’m usually completely illiterate on these matters. But after the millionth time you’ve had to raise the volume during a dialogue scene, then immediately lower it during an action scene, you start to wonder if there isn’t something wrong.

Overall, this is a much smarter, more interesting, and more entertaining show than discussions of the comic had led me to expect, but I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t benefitting from the fact that we’re so saturated with superhero stories right now. There’s less pressure to be the one subversive superhero story, which leaves The Boys room to be more character-focused, and to use superheroes as more of a metaphor for the corrupting influence of power and the evil of corporate overreach. Its supers feel a lot more like generic celebrities - A-Train is an anxiety-ridden athlete; Annie is a pageant kid; Maeve is an aging movie star whose career and soul have been blighted by ubiquitous sexual harassment. Characters who are genuinely set apart by their superpowers, like Homelander, are in the minority (and even in Homelander’s case it turns out his psychopathy has more to do with having been raised in a lab).

Basically it feels like the people who adapted the comic saved it by telling a story that is much more generic than the original, which may be entirely to the good. But I do wonder whether the second season won’t veer further into exactly those parts of the show that I find least interesting. The final scene seems to suggest much more of an emphasis on Billy’s manpain and his conflict with Homelander, and the introduction of superpowered terrorists threatens to move the show away from the criticism of power that made the first season work.

#the boys #this was a lot better than i was expecting #while still having enough flaws #that i can easily see it falling apart in season 2 #still #if you were holding off because of the comic's reputation #the show is a lot smarter and more nuanced

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

Text

The Hand That Reaches for God - Chapter 11

Warnings: graphic parental abuse, normal zombie/apocalypse violence, blood, gore, language.

Chapter Eleven

“My only relief is to sleep. When I’m sleeping, I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m not lonely, I’m nothing.” – Jillian Medoff

-18 Days After-

What does it mean to be alive? Was it the sweaty feeling of Emerson Maklen’s fingers inside of Deans? Was it the ache in his leg from war, which still hurt after a long drive, or before the rain fell? Was it the sound of Pheli and Sam’s rapid fire guesses on twenty questions? Was it the fresh air and blood that pumped through Dean Winchester that kept him moving? What did it mean? The questions were the same that plagued him his whole life.

Why was his father so cruel? Why wasn’t Dean the smart one? Why couldn’t he ever be fucking good enough, no matter how hard he tried? He glanced at Emerson who was laughing at something that Ophelia had said. Emerson Maklen, the girl that he never thought he would deserve.

He remembered watching her, curled up on the porch swing working on her homework. She looked studious. She worked hard. She was beautiful with her study glasses sliding down her nose and her blonde hair falling into her face. She was effortless, unlike her sister who put in endless effort in her style and makeup. Emerson was unlike anyone he had ever met.

“Do I have something on my face? Dean I swear to god...”

“Nah, nothin like that.” He said with a shrug. If he hadn’t been staring at her mouth he may have missed her statement all together.

He didn’t want to introduce her to his war buddies. His memories of them were all dirt, dicks, and filthy jokes. “Got a girl back home, Winchester?” He would shake his head, no, because he didn’t. But more than anything he said no, because he saw the way the guys dug into Garth about his lady. Asked how fuckable she was. Asked to borrow a photo. He couldn’t imagine them getting their cum covered hands all over one of Emerson. No fucking way, he was keeping that to himself. Not that he had one to show, anyway.

“That’s reassuring.” She said, wiping at her face anyway.

Growing up, their father always said that life was war. There was always something to fight for and someone to fight against. Dean just didn’t think John got the message that he wasn’t supposed to fight against his children. That beating his own pain out of his fists wouldn’t solve any of his problems, just create new ones. It was easier to blame John for all of his issues. There was no way around the fact that John was ten shades of fucked up. His time in the marines had done him over. More so than just making him a yes sir, no sir kind of man. He was jumpy. He was cruel, and he was paranoid.

-15 Years Before-

One night Dean woke up to John shaking him. His strong hands were on Dean’s shoulders. “Wake up son, wake up!”

“What? What’s goin on? Dad?”

John’s eyes were bloodshot. “Get up.” He grabbed the comforter in his hands and threw it off the side of his bed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, rubbing his eyes.

John grabbed ahold of his sons arm and pulled him along with him. He pulled his son down the stairs and out into the back yard. There was madness in his eyes, and Dean noticed for the first time that John’s feet and hands were covered in dirt. He was holding a garden shovel. “What is this?”

They loomed over a large hole in the ground. It was the length of the shovel and only a few feet wide, not much wider than John’s shoulders. “Get in.” He said hurriedly.

“What?”

“Get in the fucking hole, son!”

“Dad I…”

“That’s an order!”

“Yes sir.” Dean squeaked. John gripped the shovel in his hands again. He was white knuckled against the wood, and as Dean talked back he watched the shovel rise higher in the air. John would kill him if he hit Dean with the shovel. Dean knew that, so he complied, and climbed into the hole. He sat at the edge of the hole and dropped himself into it. His bare feet hit wood at the bottom of the hole. There was a box. It was crudely put together, and when Dean turned his foot caught a loose nail causing him.

“Sit down boy.”

“Yes sir.” He followed instructions, lowering himself to a seated position.

“This is important soldier so listen… listen… do you hear me?” He was rambling, pacing back and forth. He held the shovel like a gun.

Dean felt blood trickle out of his foot and his palms started to sweat. He couldn’t call out for his mother without being reprimanded or injured. Plus, there was a huge risk that John would shove his wife into the hole right next to their son. Or Sammy. Dean couldn’t risk it. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from shaking. He had to be strong.

“They could come for you. They will come for you at some point. Who knows what kind of torture they’ll put you through. Bamboo under your nails, cuts, or they could bury you alive. I can’t have you tellin secrets to the enemy. Do you understand? I need you to be able to get yourself out. To not be afraid. Lay down.”

His back scraped against the wood, against the nails and he bit down on his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out in pain. He couldn’t make John angrier.

“Shut the lid.”

He couldn’t make his arms move, they were made of concrete, stones, they were heavy and stuck to his sides. He was shaking more now despite the sticky humidity of the Summer night air. “I won’t be able to get out.” He whispered.

“If you have the will to live you will. It is amazing what the human body can do. You’ll see. I made the boards loose. I won’t pack down the dirt. It will be easy the first time.” The first time.

Dean couldn’t do it. He started to cry. He knew that John always hit him for that. Men don’t cry. But he wasn’t a man, he was a twelve year old boy who needed to not die alone in a damp fucking hole.

“Shut the fucking lid!” John’s voice was enough to startle Dean out of his tears. He grabbed the lid and allowed it to fall shut above him. Everything was dark. All he could hear was his heavy breathing and the pitter patter of dirt falling on top of the make shift casket.

He was going to die before he ever made it to high school. He was going to suffocate before he ever kissed a girl. He couldn’t remember the last thing he said to his Mom or Sammy. Sammy. Who would protect his brother if he was dead? He started to scream, finding his voice again. He could take whatever John threw at him, but damn it, he had to be alive to take the punishment. He clawed at the lid, trying to break through, but his fingers were weak from fear and sleep. His nails broke and blood ran down his fingers. He kicked at the lid and screamed louder. It felt disjointed, like he was watching himself from above. Maybe he was dead already, just replaying the moments before his lung filled with dirt, and the worms buried deep into his skin. “Help!”

More dirt. More blackness. Pieces of dirt and rock fell between the cracks of the pieces of wood. He felt around for the nail that cut him down by his feet. It caught his already bloodied fingers and he pulled. He pulled and yanked. Maybe if he could get it out of its place and break through the lid. His fingers were wet from blood. The nail kept slipping out of his grip. He couldn’t get it. Tears soaked his face. Dirt fell into his open mouth as he screamed for help. He coughed at the dirt in his throat. He screamed and screamed, his arms finally giving up. He had no more in him. Nothing left. No more energy to claw at the lid of the box. He was a shell. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I am so sorry.”

It felt like an eternity before the lid opened again. His mother leaned over the box in her white nightgown, covered in dirt. “Oh Dean!” She screamed, pulling him out of the box and against her. She was sobbing and he could faintly hear his father murmuring in the background.

“I’m sorry, Mary. I didn’t… Dean is okay. He is okay. I’m sorry.” He was crying, as if the motherfucker deserved to cry. As if he deserved the sympathy. As if he was the one hurt.

It was the last straw. At least for a little while.

-18 Days After-

Dean never intended to be like his father. John had court mandated therapy after the incident, and they never spoke of it again. Dean didn’t sleep for a week until he started sneaking his father’s whiskey. It would knock him right out. Just a few sips and he was sleeping, dreamless. They never told Sam. Deans many wounds from being inside the box were blamed on a fight at school. It was easier than explaining the truth. Dean was always getting into trouble, after all.

He didn’t want Afghanistan to fuck him up, but he didn’t always get what he wanted. Frankly, he rarely did. It just wasn’t in the cards for a guy like him.

“Is it a giraffe?” Sam asked Ophelia, looking serious.

“No! Try again!”

“Damn it. You’re cheating, you have to be.”

“I’m not!”

“Dean are you okay?” Emerson whispered to him as his fingers tightened around hers. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”

“I’d like to be somewhere else.” He said quietly. He didn’t mean her. Of course he didn’t, but she looked away nonetheless. He didn’t tug her hand back, because his mind was still swimming. He was walking toward that past that he worked so hard to put behind him. The past that Lisa helped bury, and this time she wasn’t there to do the heavy lifting. He couldn’t expect Emerson to do that for him. it would be too much. It was too much the first time, and this time he knew better.

“I think,” Pheli said, hopping up on the median that separated the two highways. They were close to the city at that point, within a quick sprint of down town. “That you’re really bad at this. Maybe you don’t know me at all Sam… maybe.”

She slipped. At least that’s what it looked like at first. The others didn’t see the red blistering fingers reach up from the other side of the median. They wrapped around her ankle and yanked hard, sending her falling over the median to the other side of the highway. “Phel you klutz.” Sam laughed, shaking his head.

“Sam!” She screamed in response. It wasn’t out of anger, or pain. It was fear.

“Phel?” Sam called, hopping up on the median. “Shit, Dean!” He shouted before jumping down.

There was a creature. Once a man, but now he looked more like what he would expect a man that went through a garbage disposal to look like. Its skin was red and limp, falling off of its face as Pheli scratched at him, screaming at the top of her lungs. Its black teeth were biting lazily at her, its white eyes were hazy with no life left in them. Its legs were broken in an awful way that kept it from standing, like maybe it had been ran over by a car. That didn’t stop it from crawling and grabbing at Ophelia with its bony, fleshless fingers.

She kicked at it, her boots slushing in the wet skin. It peeled away with the lightest touch. Both of her hands were on its shoulders holding it at bay, just out of biting distance. They didn’t know if the bites would do anything worse than a normal bite, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

Sam’s feet landed on the asphalt. He grabbed the creature by the shirt and yanked it away from Pheli. He pulled out his gun as quickly as he could and pressed it to the back of the creatures head. He pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet echoed, cutting through the still air.

Ophelia didn’t stop screaming until Sam pulled her into his arms, the body of the creature was disposed in a crumple on the ground, its face blown away. Ophelia’s face and clothes were splattered with the dark blood of the creature.

“Hey, I’ve got you.” Sam promised.

It was all so fast. By the time Emerson got over the median it was over. She ran and crouched to her sisters side. Ophelia turned to Emerson and hugged her. “I thought I was going to die.” She cried into Emerson’s shoulder.

She held her sister tight. “I won’t let you die. Not like this. We die together, remember? It’ll just be you and me. We will die on the same day. Today isn’t that day.”

“Today isn’t that day.” Ophelia was slowing down on her tears, matching her twins breathing.

“That’s right. Today isn’t that day.” Emerson repeated, pulling back so she could wipe the blood away from her sisters mouth and eyes. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” She repeated. “We are okay.”

But they weren’t okay.

“Ladies, not to break this up but we need to go.” Dean said, his thumb gesturing toward the city.

The gun shot must have alerted them. “Shit, Phel get up.”

“What?” Her eyes were still full of tears.

“Get up now, we have to run!” Emerson said as her eyes caught a hoard of creatures making their way through the cars. She couldn’t count, there were so many they were pushing together and climbing over the cars.

Emerson pulled up her sister and Pheli cried out in pain when she pressed on the ankle that the creature had grabbed. “Shit, you good?” Dean asked.

“No... I...”

“Come on.” Sam said crouching so Pheli could climb into his back. Sam gripped her legs, while Dean and Em grabbed their bags. “We need to go.”

They ran. Thankfully Sam had long legs so he was able to keep up. Emerson knew that Dean was going slower on her account. He was always a good runner. She remembered him jogging around the neighborhood before he deployed. He would make effortless laps through the streets for a good hour or two.

The group ran on the emptier side of the highway, the creatures noticing the rapid slaps of their feet on the concrete. They drug themselves toward the median, up and over. Their groans and screams filled the empty air, the sound of flesh sloshing off of skin, and the sound of shoes gaining on them. Dozens of feet hitting the asphalt. The group didn’t have advantage this time. They weren’t on high ground. They were surrounded.

“Toward the city!” Dean instructed. “We need to get inside, out of view.”

They pushed forward, Emerson felt a pair of fingers brush her back and she pushed forward faster. The creatures climbed over to her right, falling over the median, some falling right at her feet. She jumped over them, and fuck she didn’t even know she could jump like that. They bit at her like the plants from the old Super Mario game. She jumped, and they reached for her. One slip up and she was down. The brothers couldn’t stop for her if she fucked up. They’d have to go on, and leave her to be dinner, or whatever the creatures wanted from her.

Entering the city felt like jumping over a line into another world. The tall buildings hovered over down town. It looked so much worse close up. The doors were boarded up. Spray paint covered the windows and walls. Cars were abandoned, trash everywhere, and bodies feasted upon in the streets.

Dean turned for a place to hide and in the pivot his knee twisted. “Fuck.” He said automatically as he fell to the ground. Pain burned and shot up through his leg. Sam didn’t notice his brother fall and he and Pheli were at doors, trying to bust them down.

“Shit, are you okay?” Emerson immediately crouched next to Dean.

“No I...”

More groans. The squish of hurried flesh. They were close.

“Come on, get up.” Emerson reached through his arm and tried to help him up. He got steady, but the moment he put any pressure on his bad knee he collapsed back into a ball at her feet. “Dean...”

“I can’t. Fuck.” He reached for his thigh and unholstered his gun. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily. “Go.”

“Yeah right.” She frowned, and stood over him, clicking the safety off the gun. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Yeah, back atcha.”

“I’m hurt. I’m a liability.” Dean insisted. He knew how bad his knee was. He would just slow them down. It wasn’t just that. The wall he built in his head was quickly crumbling around him. “Go, Em. Come on.” He hissed.

“Pheli is hurt too, and we aren’t leaving her.”

“Because Sam can carry her, and unless you’ve gotten stronger lately I don’t think you can piggy back me.”

“Well, then I guess we die together.”

Dean frowned, his eyebrows coming together. “You don’t mean that. You’re supposed to die with Phel. In a long time. Remember?”

“She has Sam. She will be okay.”

Sammy.

Dean tried to lift himself up, his body crying out in response. Black peppered his vision as he tried to keep from blacking out. He ran on the leg before. He had to. He thought back to the creature on the ground with its two broken legs. He couldn’t be that sad son of a bitch. He couldn’t lay there and die if Emerson refused to leave him. He couldn’t let her die, too. He couldn’t leave Sammy with the responsibility of taking care of things alone.

“Hey I’ve got you.” She said, quickly grabbing his arm. He was heavy, but her feet were apart and her legs were steady. She put her arm under his like a crutch. “Don’t put pressure. Let’s go.”

It was too late. They took too long. The mob came around the corner to their left. “Fuck, let’s go!” Emerson said, dragging him to their right. Sam had turned then, they were quite a bit forward, still pushing on doors. He finally must have found one that wasn’t locked, because he stood there with his mouth hanging open and his hand on the handle. Between them, another group came around a corner. Another dozen or more.

They were surrounded.

“Dean..” Emerson gasped, her grip tightening on his waist. “We can fight them all. There aren’t enough bullets.”

They shuffled closer. The moans white noise. They were a buzzing in the air like coming up on a bee hive. The air was palpable, moving. She could smell them, the burning, rotting out flesh. It stung her nose. Bile rose in the back of her throat, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the smell or that it may be the end. It was all about to be over. There was no way out. No last stitch effort that either Emerson nor Dean could see.

She pulled him against the building. They couldn’t run, but with Deans wounded leg they couldn’t run anyway. At least now they couldn’t be attacked from behind. She quickly pressed his back against the building. With her hands pressed to his chest she opened her mouth to let out the words she was swallowing all those years, but her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to. So she turned away, with her back pressed to his front. Her arms were extended, holding her weapon. Despite the terror growing inside of her, her arms didn’t shake one bit.

Dean wrapped his arms around her to help her aim. They were able to take out a hand full as they came closer. One head shot. Another missed. In the throat, then again in the head. They didn’t have enough ammo. How many monsters were out there? They’d never have enough. Dean glanced around for something long and blunt to hit them with. In the middle of a city they were falling short of sticks or rocks.

She pulled the trigger and it just clicked in quiet response. She kept pulling and it continued to click back at her, empty. Dean sucked in his breath and held her by her hips, flipping them as quickly as he could manage on his bum knee. He hovered over her, his hands on either side of her head, shielding her from the hoard. “Should’ve left a bullet for me.” He mumbled, his breath close to her lips. “You shouldn’t have stayed, Em. Really fuckin dumb move.”

“You would’ve stayed for me.”

“I’m dumb.” He shrugged, forcing a smile. He could feel the heat on his back from the creatures behind him. They radiated like he was standing too close to the oven.

“You’re not.” She promised, touching his cheek. “That night Dean, on the roof... I’m...”

“Hey.” He stopped her with a shake of his head. “We ain’t doin that, okay? No chick flick moments. No need to go out like that.”

She sucked in her breath, but nothing could stop the tears that were steaming down her cheeks. He held her cheeks and kissed her as softly as he could manage. They had enough things that hurt. Enough harshness. Things with Em always made him feel light, and fucking hell if he had to die he could go out kissing her like that.

There was a noise behind them, a rumble, crushing bones, and screams from the creatures. He braced around her only moments before a hand curled around his shoulder. He sucked his breath in, and turned slightly out of instinct to look.

“Em.” He whispered, his mouth open.

It was a Jeep. A dark green Jeep had plowed through the hoard, some still reaching out, broken, from under its tires. A person was inside, dressed in layers, a black canvas jacket, dark jeans, boots, a scarf, a rimmed hat, and a gas mask. The person reached out a gloved hand for them. So much for no last stitch efforts.

—————

Chapter Twelve

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dotthings · 6 years

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SPN 14.09

*does the called it dance*

There’s a dance party going on, I know a lot of people called it. I am un-shocked, but filled with evil glee. Er...I mean this is very painful and going to be painful and it’s going to be a lot of suffering but this is also a mood

All right who wants actual character thoughts now that I’m done flailing around screaming.

Is Cas...eating the cookie cereal? He’s eating the cookies. He’s making contented crunching noises. Cas doesn’t need to eat, but he’s eating. I feel like I said something recently about Cas becoming more human, slowly, oh right, it was about him actually being drunk in 14.07 on a few bottles when back in S5, even at low power, he needed an entire liquor store. Now he’s eating cookie crisps cereal. That scene was cute af, btw and ties back to what I’ve been saying about Jack’s increasing emotional IQ. He talked about worrying about his mom because of the threats to Heaven, and then brought up Castiel’s deal, because it worries him.

Oh, yes Sam and Dean can know about the deal but Cas doesn’t want them to so it won’t “burden them.” CASTIEL WINCHESTER YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN. Only no wait, but it is a burden and Cas realizes it and why it is a burden, because THEY CARE ABOUT HIM A LOT AND CAS KNOWS IT AND THAT IS WHY HE DOESN’T *WANT* THEM TO KNOW. As I said in my sneak peek commentary, it’s not anger or being caught out Cas fears. He simply doesn’t want to make them worry, make them sad, or scared, for him. He doesn’t want to be a burden but it’s too late, they all love him.

We’re inching more and more here towards Cas realizing just how much or he wouldn’t very specifically and deliberately be hiding this secret because he knows how much it will worry them and Sam and Dean will scramble to find a way out for him and fix it and it’s almost like Cas hates being the center of attention and worried over. He has to be the strong one, not the one who needs help. This is how Cas keeps going.

Dean and Cas in an actual junk-yard scene (ok technically a recycling facility), I am still not over this and never will be and all the things I already yelled about after the sneak peek was released. Dean and Cas starting far apart with the Impala as negative space between them, but not negative space because that’s one of the show’s biggest symbols of home, then moving closer and closer like magnets until their shoulders are brushing. Screw you Dean and Cas and your acting married body language.

Cas talking to Dean about how happy Dean seems, Cas looking super uncomfortable about not!telling Dean about the deal. I already posted about this but let me recap now that I’ve seen the whole ep--the “win” thing went right over Cas’s head because he doesn’t know, but the audience does. But Cas is mainly all about not!telling Dean about the deal and wow all my pre-game meta on this about Cas not wanting them to worry and that’s why he’s secretive got vocalized in the cereal eating scene in the kitchen. So. There you go.

Dean talking to Cas about what Sam and Cas went through when they were possessed in relation to his own experience, thank you Robert Berens for openly vocalizing, finally, Sam and Dean and Cas’s shared trauma, I have been waiting 84 years.

(Pausing to scream about the January promo which shows Sam and Cas going together into Dean’s mind. I LOVE SEASON 14).

Which btw now that I’ve brought that ep, Cas’s worry about Sam touchstoned several times in this ep gives me feelings. Dean and Cas were both worried about him...and then Sam and Cas are going to team to save Dean.

TFW and TFW 2.0 are both running concurrently strong in this season. There’s the interplay Sam, Dean, and Cas have, with its long seasons of history, and there’s the Sam-Dean-Cas-Jack, which is newer territory but slowly getting its hooks into my heart. They’re all valid, with their various relationships therein.

Garth, awww. Admittedly I was not warm on this character when he first showed up upteen seasons ago but he’s turned out to be a really great part of the SPN world and a good friend and thank goodness SPN didn’t kill him.

Sam and Garth friendship *draws hearts*.

Garth saying he’s doing this for his little girl is interesting, it’s him talking as part of his cover, but has a double meaning because it’s also 100% true he’s just lying about which side he’s really on. He is going dangerously undercover to help stop Michael, thinking of his child’s future, to protect the world. While we had Cas just last week sacrificing himself to save his son. Which echoed back to Jimmy Novak sacrificing himself for his daughter.

I like Sam and Jack working together, with Jack having taught himself lock-picking on the internet. For a moment I thought Jack was going to say Dean taught him and I was a little sorry it wasn’t that, but interesting Jack said “I like to keep myself useful”--that’s the Cas part of him talking. He is still trying to prove himself without his powers. Skipping ahead here as relevant--back to Jack’s slowly increasing emotional IQ and his character development. Because I was wondering if things would get to that, with Jack on strong enough footing to start looking after his dads, and it’s starting. He talks to Cas about the deal. Then when hyper-charged Garth knocks down Sam, Jack tackles him to save Sam. Which was stupid and brave, nobody hurts moose dad when Jack is around. Having been saved, and sacrificed for, Jack’s now moving more into a position of being part of the team, looking after others.

And not, note, taking on a parent role, but he is looking after his dads as they look after him. I am really curious in fact how Jack is going to talk about possessed Dean now. The arc about Jack’s knee jerk comment about Michael Dean early in the season has been addressed and resolved before this ep, and they’ve bonded a lot closer since...so I’d really like to see how Jack is going to deal with it.

I’m completely distracted by Dean and Cas inside the recycling facility looking for Dark Kaia and the spear, all of it, the way Dean and Cas move together, work together out in the field, which we don’t get to see enough of, I am transfixed. They have this silent rapport we’ve seen all the way back to late S7 at least and the BAMF power couple vibe going on, what with Dean’s strength as a hunter and Cas’s powers and warrior attitude and I’m just going to sit here and scream quietly to myself about that whole sequence for a minute.

And then they’re BICKERING oh my god so married shut up, until oops Kaia sticks the spear against Dean’s back and Cas just says “Dean” as a warning and he goes so incredibly still holy shit--with the point of that spear threatening Dean. Cas wants to surge forward and Dean waves him down. *yells a lot about Dean and Cas and their thing* Cas is so very protective of Dean here it’s doing things to me.

Dark Kaia’s little face is tugging at my heart. Who is it she’s protecting? Yes, why is she there, I need answers, I need to know what’s the link with her and Kaia. I need more of this please. S14 being what it is I think I’ll get it, just not right now.

The TFW 2.0 power walk set to Ode to Joy. I FEEL SO CALLED OUT RIGHT NOW.

Badass Dean having the moves with that spear, after being a goofball with it in the garage...I think there really isn’t a weapon Dean can’t use, pick up quickly how to use, plus he’s used similar weapons and adrenaline, he instinctively could use the spear. He’s not as good as Kaia, and guess what people, it is 150% okay he’s not as good as Kaia with that spear, he’s not supposed to be. Kaia has thousands of hours with that spear and Dean doesn’t, but look how good Dean is instinctually.

Ouch my Dean feelings. Well I’ve been saying and saying the Michael Dean story wasn’t over and here we are and like many people ran with the sleeper agent/back door hack theory and here we are. The snap. Good god damn Jensen is excellent. And TFW 2.0 looks as ragged and stunned as the last Avengers standing.

So Michael has access to all of Dean’s memories. And Dean just “wouldn’t stop squirming.” Because of his ties to his family.

To you...to all of you.

For me and Jack, and family.

You’re going to bring him back...you’re going to bring ‘em all back.

I love you...I love all of you.

And you really can’t dismiss Destiel here while saying w*ncest is valid, because then you’d have to say the Destiel is valid. But the fact of the matter is these are different kinds of relationships, in canon. It makes sense that Sam got a more singular shout-out but then Michael adds the “all of you.” Sam is the most constant figure in Dean’s life and he is closest to Sam on a lot of levels. There’s bound to be a lot of Sam in Dean’s brain. But it’s not just about Sam.

This is something SPN keeps underscoring in triple day-glo yellow highlighter. Nor does it fit to claim that because of this scene, therefor it proves Sam is the only most important one because in other storylines, Cas has also been demarcated out as different/unique in how Dean feels about him. BTW, seeing a romantic reading for Destiel doesn’t mean having to then say oh w*ncest is then therefore canon, because it’s just not, and those relationships are written completely differently. The canon undercurrents are completely different. Sam and Dean’s bond is what it is, and it’s strong, it is platonic and intended as platonic, while Destiel is...ambiguous in intent, in canon. For non-shippers, say the relationships are brothers, and like-brothers, and leave it there. It really is more complicated than that on the Destiel front, but I talk about that plenty in other posts, right now, I’m really thinking uppermost about Dean and his family. Sam isn’t the only one tethering Dean and keeping him fighting inside Michael. That was for all of them. So this was a bro bond shout-out that landed at TFW 2.0.

And look what’s in the promo...Sam and Cas going together into Dean’s mind to try to save him. Dean’s closest to Sam, Cas is close to Dean in other ways. They both have a bond with Dean that is unique and strong and I’m just going to have to go sob in the corner that SPN is really going to do that and have them go in together and poke around in Dean’s mind to pull him out of this. Using the same method Dean used to go into Mary’s mind. *small keening noise*

Also I refuse to accept Dean is really as down and out in there as Michael claims. But maybe he’s buried himself deep in some sort of happy mental spaces. Which is something I was thinking about before the season started, and then they didn’t show us and I let it go but maybe it’s going there after all.

#supernatural #team free will 2.0 #meta #supernatural spoilers #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #garth fitzgerald iv #dark kaia #Sam and Dean: a work in progress #sam and cas #destiel #michael

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cyclone-rachel · 5 years

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Hope Burns Bright, part 1

happy birthday, @fairyroses!

(also available on AO3 here)

Querl can’t stay.

He tells them there’s a possibility he’ll come back someday, that he’s going to figure out what to do with his life and get his tumultuous emotions under control, and when he does, he will return. Eventually.

In truth, there’s a small part of him that wants to stay, that tells him they’d accept him with open arms, help him with the changes he’d gone through. They’ve been his friends through everything, and he’s a Legionnaire in the first place because they were able to see past his name and his family (even though some of them didn’t know the half of his heritage)- shouldn’t they accept him now, too? Especially given that Superman never gave up on him, and likely expressed that sentiment to the rest of the Legion?

They won’t.

The rest of him tells him that they will never be able to look at him again without remembering what he did. Without seeing the coldness that lived behind his eyes for the majority of his life, or the way he smiled after removing Superman’s memories of his ancestor, or the way he digitized each of them in turn once Brainiac 1.0 fully assumed control of his body.

Without seeing Superman’s body, heading towards the sun, and remembering who’d set him on that path.

So he leaves Earth and its solar system behind, traveling as far away as he can, making sure to avoid any of the Legion members’ home planets, or any area where they could have been saving people. Any area with sentient life at all, really- he can’t take any risks yet.

He certainly makes it a priority to avoid Colu. That’s somewhere he knows he won’t be able to go ever again, even though it was the closest he had to a home before the Legion- so he does his best not to look at it, as he travels past the planet that holds his history, in search of a better future.

He tells himself he’s not trying to hide, even though in practice, he is. Rather, he wants to get what he deserves- to let the universe have its way with him, continue the transformation that he already underwent when he destroyed Brainiac inside his own mind.

(it feels foreign, to him, to not understand how exactly that happened, as well as that event’s aftermath- and yet, still he doesn’t. He doubts he will ever truly find an answer to this question, even though it inevitably exists)

(there are a lot of things he doesn’t understand recently. But he has to work through them on his own, for thinking on such things is the only thing he really can do, in the vast emptiness of space with nobody to talk to and nothing else to do besides travel. So he travels, and thinks, and hopes that he doesn’t run into trouble, and that trouble doesn’t find him.

He’s had enough of that for several lifetimes.)

While traveling, Querl’s thoughts inevitably drift to Superman.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with the twenty-first century hero, certainly- even before meeting him in person. Though, that had certainly done nothing to stop his admiration, and in fact strengthened it, causing his perspective of his hero to deepen, and- at a loss for words- him to see the humanity in someone who’d previously seemed so untouchable, so impossibly good and unworthy of his admiration.

Kal-El to his alien adversaries and some family members, Superman to his allies and enemies both, Clark to those he trusted the most… by any of his names, he was exceptional. But he was also human, a facet of him that Querl hadn’t completely conceptualized until he got to know him, and now that he had, it was the part of him that Querl most missed.

That he was striving towards in himself, even though it was something he’d wanted since he was young. He knew he had the capacity to learn humanity, read their books and study their media and select inhabitants. He could, given enough information, come to understand it, simulate it just like everything else. But he wanted something more, to be a part of it, even though when he first left Earth he considered that possibility impossible.

If he was good at anything, though, it was making the impossible possible, even if he didn’t see how at first, and even if it was an accident.

(Querl sometimes wondered if he, himself, was an accident- the one Coluan to break from his prescribed future as part of a collective, one of many- and one of a few in his family line specifically. The one Brainiac not to be evil, and to outright reject that in himself, albeit knowing that he’d always struggle with it.

He had no idea how real and physical that struggle would end up being, at the time- but he didn’t regret what he’d done to win, even if he had to give into his darkness to eventually defeat it. He could have been an accident, of course, but by this point he’d long since accepted it and even wore such designation as a badge of honor.)

He regretted, in retrospect, not asking Clark if he also struggled with his humanity. If he looked at those around him, at work and school and even at strangers, or his own parents, and thought: I am not like you. I will never be.

Clark was a paradox of a man, an alien who’d long since accepted that he was also human, that desperately wanted to fit in, and on the surface did. Yet there was a degree of separation that he’d always have to deal with, that Querl had seen in action when the two of them first met, and when he’d studied his adolescence.

It was a novel concept for Clark, then, to leave his hometown behind for somewhere he didn’t have to hide any part of himself. For somewhere that he could be truly alien, and not afraid of expressing that. He could wear his family’s symbol with pride, and others would celebrate him for what he’d done, instead of being afraid of what he could possibly do.

And he did.

When Querl thought about Clark adjusting to the thirty-first century, the first thing that came to his mind was teaching Clark to fly properly, once he got his Flight Ring and was officially initiated into the Legion. Clark had faltered, a little bit, even though he didn’t really need the Flight Ring to actually fly, but once he’d been shown the proper technique, he’d soared, even going to the front of the formation. In that moment, Clark probably believed the others would resent him- he had just gotten there, after all, he had no right to lead them- but they had been waiting for him. He was their hero, had been for many of them for many years, and though he hadn’t known them for long, they knew him. They knew how important he was, and of course they admitted he should lead them as he continued to learn about how they worked as a team.

Superman is stronger than any Legionnaire, Querl recalled telling Garth right before he, Chuck, and Imra went to the past to retrieve him. I have faith in him.

And that faith had prevailed, countless times. Even, perhaps, when Querl didn’t believe it would… but then again, that returned back to the impossibility of Clark himself, and how lucky Querl was to even be in his orbit.

But that was so long ago, or at least it felt that way for Querl- and he had no idea how long it had been for Clark, since Querl had left him in the twenty-first century. Perhaps it had been a few seconds, or a few days- months, years, decades, centuries, there was no way of knowing. It bothered Querl, the not-knowing… but at that time, he wanted to think he’d made peace with the fact that he wouldn’t know.

It was better now to cut Clark out of his life, leave him in the past where he belonged, then dwell on his memory and the dream of going back to him someday. But his mind wouldn’t let him forget about Clark, or everything they’d had- he was all Querl did have, right then. When he was traveling through space, alone, searching for some way to prove himself to the universe all over again, he remembered that- of all people- Superman thought he was a good person, and he had never given up on him.

They’d never given up on each other, really, all that time Querl was trapped in his mind-prison, fighting for his life against his ancestor. It was short-sighted for Querl to refer to Clark as “his everything”, perhaps, but in a way it was true- Clark was the reason why he did everything he’d done. When Clark hadn’t been there to see it, and when he had, nothing changed- except that Querl’s feelings for him grew even stronger when he saw his hero and inspiration growing into the man Querl so admired. And he came to admire the young man he was training, too, appreciating his foundation and convictions even at a young age.

(Convictions that, of course, had saved his life- and now, made it completely new and different, so here, surrounded only by the stars and his own thoughts, he felt like he’d been reborn)

As this new person, leaving behind his past, Querl still fought for Clark, and more than ever for himself. He didn’t quite know where he was going, but where he ended up, he would do whatever it took to make that world believe in him.

Even if…

Well, hopefully there will be better options. But until then, he has to concentrate on finding a place to start. Preferably, somewhere that- unlike in that moment- isn’t blinding him with bright green light, and that doesn’t know who he is.

Querl blinks, having to reassess that statement, and why he’d thought it, but it’s true. There’s something, in front of him- a ring, he sees as his eyes adjust- and it’s speaking to him somehow.

“Querl Dox of Colu, you have the ability to overcome great fear.” It says. “There is a great crisis in the universe. You are needed.”

He knows what the ring is, of course. In fact, he’d encountered many of its wearers- albeit, while they were mind-controlled and brainwashed by a gigantic alien starfish creature in an attempt to conquer the Earth- but in the end, the Legion and the Green Lanterns had had no ill will against one another. The worst thing he could say about them was that they tended to stay away from Earth and its surrounding territory, as they knew the Legion was protecting them, but aside from that, there was a friendship between the two groups. A mutual trust.

If he puts on this ring- and, really, he has no option but to do so- he can reinvent himself. Even shedding the Brainiac 5 name, and the “Brainy” nickname his teammates had somehow gotten the notion to saddle him with, returning to simply Querl Dox.

He hadn’t used that name in years, (since joining the Legion, in fact, when he’d gone to Earth and applied under that name, but when Chuck misheard it as “Squirrel” he instead decided on being known as “Brainiac 5”, and that and the subsequent nickname had stuck) but ever since removing Brainiac 1.0 from his head, it feels right. It’s odd to even suggest otherwise, as when he thinks of himself with his title nowadays he doesn’t feel as though he deserves to be considered as such.

You are still a brainiac, Clark would say if he was there, like he had when the two of them talked prior to Clark’s final goodbye. Just… with a lowercase B.

Excuse me?, Querl had answered at the time, confused for once with the person whose words had always been so clear to him.

In my time, we use that word when talking about anyone who’s smart. It’s not an insult- well, it is sometimes, when people intend it that way. But it isn’t associated with being a supervillain, it’s just a normal thing. So, what I’m trying to say is, you’re no less smart just because your great-great-grandfather isn’t in your head anymore. You’re still you- just without him now. And isn’t that a good thing? That he’s no longer corrupting you?

Yes, but…

And I know you’re leaving, Clark had continued, words spilling out of him with conviction in his voice. But if you ask me, I think you should still call yourself Brainiac 5. Because that name is still a part of you- and the mission you told me about, with you rebranding your family legacy for good… that’s more important than ever. You will prove to everyone that you had nothing to do with the virus that took over your mind, I believe that.

So do I.

Clark had smiled, and given him a hug.

You’re still a hero, Brainy. My hero. That hasn’t changed.

You’re my hero too, Querl said. Thank you for helping me remember that.

No problem, Clark said. Just don’t forget- you can be your own hero as well.

Clark had left then, only seeing Querl again when he said goodbye to the whole Legion before stepping into the Time Bubble alone, but those words, Clark’s last reminder, weighed on Querl’s heart as though it was the last time they’d seen each other at all.

He doubted this was what Clark had meant, when he’d told him that. But if this was the way the universe had decided to help him onto that path, then…

“So be it.” Querl says out loud, as he lets the ring onto his finger. “I accept.”

He knew he doesn’t really need to say those words, as the ring does probably know his desire to accept it anyway, but they feel right, and the ring responds in kind, as his clothes begin to change. His uniform, that up until Brainiac 1.0 had left his head he’d literally been attached to, becomes green where the purple had been. The silver epaulets remain, as do the black areas of his uniform, the gold circles on his gauntlets and the gold area that mimicked a belt, but the Brainiac symbol on his chest is now replaced with a Green Lantern emblem.

He touches it, in awe, still not quite convinced that this was real. It is too good to be true, his family’s sigil covered up by one symbolizing a cause far more noble that he can now align himself with. But this is his life, his cause, and whatever crisis the ring had spoken about will be his to combat.

Then, maybe, the Legion will accept him again, and he can once more wear their symbol, exchange this new green ring for the gold one he’d abandoned with the rest of them.

(Well… he had still kept it, purely for the sake of the abilities it granted. But he’d masked it, so it didn’t look like the others, and turned off its ability to communicate with the Legion for the time being. His belt was gone too, but he still kept the shield generator, attaching it remotely to his person- which was serving him well at this very moment. Though, as he assessed the new uniform granted to him, perhaps even that was no longer necessary)

However, the part of his uniform that he doesn’t realize he has until he thinks to look at his reflection in the ring, and accidentally generates a mirror construct, is a mask- more specifically, one covering the symbol marking his forehead. It is green, like much of the rest of his uniform, and bears a resemblance to those worn by some of the human Green Lanterns he’d met, but that suits him just as well.

Better that nobody knows who I am, he thinks. The more people who believe me to be only an ordinary Coluan, albeit one who left his home world while on a mission to use his intellect for good, the better.

But of course he is anything but ordinary, and once he will become comfortable with fighting criminals again, that truth will be revealed. The world- multiple worlds- will see him for who he really is, one day, but first he needs to win their trust back.

That, however, is certainly easier thought than put into practice, as he imagines he’ll have to fight for said trust many times over. But this is something to be achieved in the future, with the present devoted to simply relearning skills that had come naturally to him- only this time with new tools at his disposal.

Isn’t this what he is good at? Learning?

Naturally, it is, he has been devoted to doing so since before his birth, as did all of his kind. He never once questioned that, and he’s still never done so. It was the reason he’d stayed with the Legion, with the focus of said learning shifted to Earth and its inhabitants, humanity as a whole, and the only skill without his suit that he truly has. It’s one of the things he’s never resented about his planet, that he can use to his advantage now that he’s away from what he’d known for nearly the past decade of his life.

He only isn’t used to doing so without his connection to his people- but he supposes he’ll have to learn to live without that, too.

(At least, in addition to the removal of his ancestor, that’s something he’s more than glad to leave behind. The rest… will take time to truly let go, at least until he’s ready to return to them, and they can see him without imagining their fellows fallen at his hand)

(For a moment, he almost thinks of erasing his memories of them, just as he’d done to Clark when such memories violated the integrity of the timeline. But just as quickly, that’s gone from his mind, as he decides to let them be his strength, his tether to Earth even as he travels further and further away from it.)

But with such travel comes new obstacles, such as the being hovering before him now. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it- her, rather, upon further assessment- before, but he can’t look away from her, especially as she begins to speak to him.

“Who are you?” she asks, bright blue eyes probing him for an answer. “Where is Razer?”

“What?”

“Hal Jordan? Kilowog? Where are they?”

Querl blinks, shaking his head while he collects his thoughts.

“Who are you?” he insists. “How did you come to be here?”

“Processing…” she says. Her eyes focus back on him, after a few moments. “My program was meant to be deleted, after I destroyed the Manhunters. But I could not delete myself from the universe entirely-“

There’s a hitch in her voice, as she looks down, but she soon refocuses on Querl, and begins speaking again.

“So I scattered it throughout the universe in an attempt to eventually return to corporeal form. It seems as though, now, my program has gained enough energy to fulfill this task.”

Querl gulps, examining her. He worries, for a moment, that Brainiac may return the same way… but if it took her this long to gain a body again, he won’t get one in his own lifetime.

“I meant to ask, what is your name?”

“Oh. It is Aya.” She says. “And yours?”

“Querl Dox.” He answers. “I believe we have much to discuss. Perhaps somewhere with an actual atmosphere?”

“That is acceptable.” Aya says.

There’s an awkward silence, as he pauses- but he remembers too late that he can’t scan for planets nearby.

Stupid, he thinks briefly. You complete and utter idiot.

He clears his throat, looking at Aya.

“Could you… find someplace like that, for us?”

“Yes.” She says, without question. “I have found a planet that matches your description, Lantern Dox. Shall we go to it?”

Querl nods, and he follows her- still full of questions, and hoping he doesn’t regret this decision. But for the moment, warmth bubbles up in his chest, as he’s reminded of how nice it feels to not be alone.

It’s still not completely there for him, reminiscent of early mornings when the sun is still shaded by light pink clouds… but it makes him feel like the sun could shine again over his life, and it’s enough for now.

#legion of superheroes #gltas #fanfics #papa don't look #fairyroses #losh #green lantern the animated series #querl dox #brainiac 5 #aya #au: ready to go right now #technically #crossover #i have no idea why ao3 isn't displaying the wordcount for my fic but it's over 3k #and i've written over 6k in total but i wanted to maybe post this over the course of a month?#ending on the anniversary of the gltas finale?#so i have a few weeks to finish #yeah march 16th #that sounds right #hopefully i'll get it done before then #but there's a general timeline for you #anyway happy birthday and i hope you enjoy this!#(also if you're interested i made a playlist for the fic too)#(which also serves as kind of the ultimate razaya playlist because i went through that tag and picked out all the songs mentioned in it)#(it's called 'emotions detected (hope burns bright)' and it's on spotify)

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huntertales · 6 years

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Part One: Good Cop, Bad Cop. (Hunteri Heroici S08E08)

Episode Summary: Castiel tells the reader and the Winchesters that he’s decided to become a hunter like them. While the brothers are sold on the idea, they agree to investigate a case where a man’s heart literally burst through his chest. Meanwhile, the reader struggles to keep her pregnancy a secret as she tries to adapt to the symptoms and lifestyle changes she must make. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,788.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You looked over your shoulder every few seconds and away from your phone screen from what you were reading to see where Sam was and what he was doing at the moment. The younger Winchester was currently talking on the phone with Mrs. Tran and leaning against the trunk of the Impala as he filled up Baby with gas like he had been over the past few minutes. You turned your attention back to your phone and continued scrolling through an article you were reading, your suspicious behavior was making it seem like you were watching some incident video in public and you were afraid of being caught. Instead you had been secretly reading about the progress of the little fetus growing inside of you and its progress.

Today marked the sixth week and fourth day of your pregnancy, and even thinking of the word made you feel queasy all over again. You were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were carrying a baby, a new human life was growing in your stomach at this very second. In less than eight months your life was going to change forever. And you had yet to tell the father you were carrying his unborn child. Cas kept reminding you that it’d be a matter of time until the truth had to come out, or one of the boys would find out for themselves. The angel said Dean would surely begin to grow suspicious when your breasts started to grow bigger. You made the wrong choice of trying to take a sip of your drink when he mentioned that small factor.

You tried to focus your attention back to the article that you were previously reading that told you the baby was only about the size of a sweet pea, it was one one fourth of an inch long. And yet the baby was making you feel exhausted and throwing up every single morning. It was funny how one small thing could do so much damage. You looked up from the screen a few moments later when you heard footsteps approaching. Dean was back from paying for the tank of gas, along with a few beers before hitting the road. You let out a sigh of envy at something you weren't allowed to have anymore. Cas felt the need to remind you when you heard him mumble a no, as if he could tell you were eying the beer. You were a little clueless about pregnancies, but you weren’t stupid to know that you couldn’t drink anymore.

You smiled at your boyfriend and shook your head when he tried to offer you one. He didn't think much of it, you weren’t big of a drinker before. Dean offered the open bottle to Sam instead and took the other one for himself to enjoy, the other for whoever would want it down the road. Sam happily took the beer, in exchange he gave his brother the phone with Mrs. Tran on the line who was starting to ask a few too many questions. Dean happily greeted the woman before ending the call all of three seconds later. You shoved your pocket into your back pocket and gave the older man a look from his behavior, he shrugged his shoulders, blaming the “bad connection” on a fake tunnel he was going through.

“What’s going on in Tran-land?” Dean asked, wondering what the conversation was about.

“Well, Garth finally got them on his houseboat, but Kevin’s having a lot of trouble reading their half of the tablet. So far, bits and pieces. Nothing about boarding up hell.” Sam explained to you and his brother. None of it seemed helpful to any of you, Dean couldn’t help but linger on the fact that the hunter you met a few weeks back at a safe house boat. “Dude, I don’t even ask questions anymore.”

You had only met Garth once, but he was unlike anyone you had ever met before in this hunting lifestyle. Hell, even anyone you knew in your entire thirty-something heads of being alive. Garth was a rare breed and you had to admit, you enjoyed his company after your grief of losing Bobby Singer diminished enough to see the poor guy was just trying to help out carrying on the old man’s helping hand. He was more than happy to help out the Tran family when you called him and explained the situation. And then proceeded to talk to him for five minutes about how your life was going and if the boys were behaving.

You leaned yourself against the Impala as Sam worked on taking the gas pump out of the car and getting everything ready to head off. Cas had been right besides you, reading some newspaper to occupy his time and catch up on world events that unfolded while he was gone. Dean took a sip of his beer and headed over to the both of you.

“What’s the word, Cas?” Dean curiously asked the angel.

“It’s a shortened version of my name.” The angel replied to the question in a literal sense. You found yourself letting out the quietest chuckle, causing him to look up from the paper briefly to give you a slightly confused look, wondering what was funny.

“Yes, it is. I meant what's the word on the Word?” Dean asked the angel again, more specifically this time. “Any, uh, tablet chatter on angel radio?”

“Oh, I couldn't say.” Cas said. “I turned that off.”

You raised your brow slightly in curiosity, “You can do that?”

“Yeah, it's a simple matter of blocking out certain subsonic frequencies.” Cas explained to you. “I could draw you a diagram if you want—“

“No, that's—we're good.” Dean cut off the angel, not wanting any more of the conversation topic to drag on with useless information he didn’t need to hear. “Why'd you flip the switch?”

“Because it's a direct link to Heaven. And I don't want anything to do with that place—not anymore.” Cas admitted his true reasons to the three of you. Your expression shifted slightly, presuming the angel’s reasons were for the ones that meant he wasn’t belonged anymore. And not to mention, his kind weren’t exactly the nicest creatures to begin with. You understood why he would want to keep his distance.

“So what now?” Dean wondered, sarcastically pondering the future for Castiel now that he was ready to ditch home to stick around on earth. “Move to Vermont, open up a charming B&B?”

“No. I still want—I still need to help people. So, I'm gonna become a hunter.” Cas smiled as he told you and the boys his announcement of what he planned on doing. You crossed your arms over your chest and raised your brow slightly, you wondered if his desire to help people was the only reason why he wanted to stick around. “I could be your third wheel for when—”

You quickly cleared your throat before Cas could accidentally spill the news about something you swore him to secrecy. Cas’ expression shifted as his smile faded. The boys seemed unsure of what was going on. “You know that's not a good thing, right?” You asked the angel, continuing on the conversation before someone could ask what Cas meant.

“Of course it is. A third wheel adds extra grip, greater stability. And a fourth person is an equal balance.” Cas said. You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes, Sam couldn’t help himself but let out a chuckle from the angel’s example. “I even found a case. Oklahoma City—man's heart jumped ten feet out of his chest. It sounds like our kind of thing, right?”

“He's got a point.” Sam agreed with the angel.

“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” Cas tapped on the hood of the Impala twice and turned away to start walking and teleport himself to Oklahoma City.

“Wait, Cas, Cas!” Dean called out the angel’s name, stopping him from disappearing from your sight like always. Cas turned around once again to face the older Winchester, wondering what was of importance. “If you want to play cowboys and bloodsuckers, that's fine. But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap. Capiche?”

“Yeah, I capiche.” Cas agreed. He stared down at the ground for a moment, disappointed in the new terms he agreed to. One of the perks of being an angel back to his old self was being able to pop up from one place to another in a fraction of a second. The concept of spending several hours in a car felt tedious. However he wanted to hunt, and if he had to abide by the Winchesters’ ways. Dean seemed happy enough as the three of you headed to the respected spots. “Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat?”

“No.” Both of the brothers simultaneously shot down the angel’s polite request before they could even give it a thought. Sam shoved his shoulder against Cas’ as he made his way to the passenger side to take his rightful spot.

You couldn’t help yourself when you felt a smile growing on your face at the look of even more disappointment on Cas’ face. You walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, angel boy. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Cas didn’t seem pleased with the idea. You quietly chuckled to yourself as you circled around the car to open up the backseat door to sit behind Dean as Cas slid himself inside the car to see the sight of Sam’s head. A minute later the four of you were off on the road to the case that Cas picked out, wondering what caused a man’s heart to jump out of his chest.

+ + +

A day and a half later you and the boys arrived in Oklahoma City and found a motel decent enough to stay in during the remainder of your stay. You and the boys changed into your formal wear and headed off to the police station, Cas tagging along as well to learn a thing or two. The angel thought he knew what he was doing. He had been in your motel room watching some cop shows to pass the time while you settled in and got changed. You were interested to see how this was going to go. Much as you wanted the best for the angel, you had a feeling him trying to be a hunter was going to be more comical than helpful.

You had a case not too long back where someone was ripping hearts out of people, but you didn’t think you ever had a case where the organ jumped out of the body. Coroner said his heart was ejected from his body.” The detective working the case explained the details to the four of you, what there was for this unexplained and strange death. “Got some air, too. Found it in a sandbox.”

“Any idea what happened, Detective?” Sam asked.

“A lot of people are thinking drugs, Agent Nash,” The detective gave her suspicions on what could be blamed. “an assload of drugs.”

Most of the time when you spoke to police their theories on deaths and missing people were empty suspicions that sounded logical enough to help tie up loose ends. And while you knew the real reason what caused Gary Freling’s heart jumped out of his chest wasn’t anything natural, you kept your opinions to yourself. Castiel, however, still needed to be reminded about the right way of how to behave like a human being. “There are no narcotics in that man's system.” The angel leaned over slightly to whisper his findings to you. You refrained yourself from rolling your eyes and telling him to keep his mouth shut before could blow your entire cover. “His molecules are all wrong.” “But you don't think that, huh?” Sam managed to speak up before the detective could asked what the stranger in a trench coat and undone tie could mean by that.

"Never seen an eight ball do that." The detective said.

She reached over to the dead body lying on the metal slab to grab the white sheet covering Gary's naked body to reveal the wound that made headlines and lead you here. Your face scrunched up slightly to see an almost literal heart shape in the man's chest of the exit wound. While you wouldn’t consider yourself a squeamish person from the things you had seen alone, your stomach felt a little queasy at the sight of the open wound that looked not exactly surgical, but nobody ripped the heart out from what you’ve seen before. You swallowed slightly as you looked away from the gaping hole and back to the detective.

“And who called this in?” You asked her.

“Friend of his named Olivia Kopple. She saw the whole thing.” The detective said. As she pulled the sheet back up to cover the victim’s body her phone began to start ringing. Looking down at the name that popped on the screen, she let out a sigh and grabbed a case file for you to read over. “Ah, crap. I have to take this. Here's everything we got. Knock yourself out.“

You smiled and thanked the woman for her help. The detective returned the gesture and began to walk out of the morgue, but Dean stopped her for another moment, handing over a business card with his cell on it. “Listen, you see anything weird, anything out of the box, you give us a call.”

The detective examined the card for a moment and looked back up at the older man, “Whatever you say, Scully.” She chuckled to herself at his odd way of putting it and pocketed the card in her blazer jacket. You glanced up from the case file for a moment as the detective headed off. “Detective Glass...On my way.”

When the detective was out of sight and hearing distance, Cas got to work going through the short checklist of things you and the boys searched for in strange cases like this. “I can't sense any EMF or sulfur.” The angel said, which meant a demon and a spirit weren’t to be blamed for this death. “Mr. Freleng's arterial health is, uh, excellent.”

You hummed quietly as you half listened to what Cas was say exactly, most of your attention was kept on the file you were reading to see if you could try and find anything useful in here. However you found your attention lingering back up when you saw Cas do something rather...odd, if you could even call it that. You felt your face scrunch up she. The angel bent down so he was at level with the body and began sniffing Gary’s corpse like some kind of dog trying to get a scent. You slowly looked around the morgue, praying to God nobody was watching. You were more embarrassed than afraid if someone caught Cas in the act.

“He did recently suffer from a mild, uh…” Cas sniffed the corpse a few times to get a better sense of what he was trying to look for. You read somewhere that pregnant woman had a better sense of smell, and while you would agree with that statement, this was a whole other level of weird you were comfortable with. You read somewhere that pregnant women had a stronger sense of smell when they were carrying. And you noticed it not too long ago. But Cas was taking this to a whole other level. “What is that? ...Bladder infection.”

“Cas, stop smelling the dead guy.” Dean hissed at the angel. He cautiously looked around the morgue to see if anyone had the angel doing something very inhuman that would only lead to all sorts of questions. You and Sam found yourselves sharing a look of disturbance as you wrinkled your nose slightly from the smells alone he was able to pick up.

“Why? Now I know everything about this man.” Cas said. “So we can—”

“Hey, Lassie. Did you happen to smell any sort of women’s perfume on Gary’s body?” You asked the angel. Cas stared at you with a slightly perplexed expression from your question. He wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything. You felt your lips stretch into a smirk in victory at what you managed to find, and without looking like a creep to do it. "Did your impeccable nose tell you he was having an affair?"

Cas seemed taken back at your accusation you managed to come up with on your own, “What?”

"Strike one, Sherlock." Dean said. You chuckled quietly to yourself as you saw a look of disappointment cross the angel's face how hard he was trying to help you, but it wasn't getting him very far. "You wanna learn to be a hunter, take a note here from Nancy Drew."

“According to Olivia, they would meet at the park every Thursday at 12:45, walk to the Moonlight diner, where she always ordered a caesar salad, dressing on the side. They would chat about everything, and she’d be back on the road by 1:30.” You read off the statement Olivia gave to the police that was the first red flag to show that something was off here. Cas, however, didn’t see any sort of potential holes in her story. It seemed like a solid alibi.

“You don’t think she’s telling the truth.” Cas suspected.

“Too much detail.” Dean said. “Sounds rehearsed.”

“Plus, we drove past the Moonlight diner on the way into town.” You added on. “It’s attached to the Moonlight motel.”

"Okay, well, let's say that Gary's here on the prowl, but he's playing it safe because..." Dean reached out to sneak a hand underneath the sheet to grab the victim's left hand, proving his suspicions of what was making Gary sneak around. You noticed the gold band on his ring finger, you shook your head at his infidelity as Dean chuckled to himself. "Dude’s married. Doesn't want anyone to see his ride parked out in front of a by-the-hour fleabag."

“So he stashes his car at the park across the street, meets Olivia there.” Sam said.

“His wife probably found out about it and it broke her heart. So she breaks his.” You concluded what must have been going on here. You and the boys had been hunting together for almost a decade now. While the boys had an unnatural talent of speaking at the exact same time, all three of you worked in perfect sync in figuring out this hunt. Cas stood back and watched as the scene unfolded, feeling a little left out. You crossed your arms over your chest at what could be blamed for this. "Sounds witchy."

“Yes, it does. Guy was living a lie, and it came back to bite him in the ticker.” Dean said. He let out a chuckle from how the poor bastard went out. Most of the cases you worked involving dead bodies were people who were victims, and then there was people like Gary who cheated on his wife with some chick. Karma was a real thing, and he had this coming. “Nice job on the batter infection, by the way.”

Cas was smart enough to tell that the compliment the older Winchester had given him wasn't exactly that, but sarcasm at the lack of help he could provide for the hunt. You rolled your eyes and followed behind Dean, mumbling for him to play nice. Sam found himself staying behind for just a moment at the words that his brother had to say about living a lie. You only made it to the doorway leading out of the morgue before the words hit you. One hand rested on the swinging door and the other grazed slightly over your stomach. Sam spent an entire year living a lie with Amelia, you were keeping a secret from the brothers that their family was about to grow. The real question was, what kind of karma was going to bite you in the ass when the truth came out?

+ + +

You, the boys and Cas headed to the Freleng's household to speak to Gary's wife Debbie, to see if she had any possible information that might help figuring out who or what might have wanted to kill her husband. Along with if she was the type of person who knew some heavy duty witchcraft to get back at her cheating husband. She sat at the table with a box of tissues at the subject matter she was being forced to speak about again. You gave her a sympathetic smile as you casually stood in the living room with your arms crossed over your chest. You noticed there was a few cards sent to the grieving window to give their condolences.

“I don’t understand.” Debbie said. She looked at the four strangers occupying her house with confusion as to what reason why all of you were doing here. Her husband's case was already declared solved. "Gary had a heart attack. Why would the FBI—"

“The parks are government property.” Dean cut off the woman, giving her some excuse to help reason the fact that you were poking your noses into her husband's death. "We just got a few questions for you.”

"I'll, uh...I'll handle this. I've done research. I can crack her." Cas offered to take over this part of the hunt he thought he could handle.

You knew the angel was trying his hardest to be helpful here after his failed attempt with the dead body. But you found yourself staring at him with a slightly hesitant expression from what he was about to do. Interviewing people was a tricky situation that needed to be handled just right. Almost everyone had to be considered a suspect with these kind of things when you suspected a witch was what you were hunting. If you pissed off one of them—one who could make her husband’s heart jump out of his chest—the possibilities were endless for a couple of hunters poking their noses where they thought didn't belong.

“Uh, actually …” You spoke up as you pointed a finger at Cas, your lips stretching into a small smile as you tried to offer to take over. But you found yourself trailing off as the angel walked over to the grieving widow, giving his best impression of Columbo. You refrained yourself from rolling your eyes as you dropped your hand back down to your side. You were starting to regret letting him watch all those old cop shows to get himself prepared.

“Now, Ms. Freleng, I don’t want to bother you. I-I really don’t. But I-I do have just one question for you.” Cas was trying his hardest to be a good hunter. You had to admit he was coming from a good place for his excuse, but the execution was just all wrong. He suddenly slammed his palm straight down on the table, catching everyone off guard from his sudden shift in behavior. "Why did you kill your husband?!"

"Agent Stills." You quickly spoke up. "A word, please."

Debbie let out a quiet sob from the hostility being thrown at her, it was a justified response from the third degree Cas had given her. You walked across the room to give you and the angel some distance from the group. You crossed your arms over your chest once more and gave him a serious expression from his hostile behavior.

"What?" Cas asked you, unsure of why you were upset. "I was being bad cop."

"No, you were being bad everything." You whispered to him.

"Please, forgive my partner." Sam apologized for the angel's hostile behavior as he took a seat across from the widow across the table. "He's, uh—he's going through some stuff."

"Listen to Sam." You ordered at the angel.

"What he was trying to ask—is there any way Gary might have had secrets—something he was hiding?" Sam asked her, hoping she might spill a few details for you. The younger Winchester had a way with getting personal with people and making them feel comfortable. It was his caring demeanor and his sympathetic charm. But it seemed Debbie was unsure of what he was trying to get at. Or she was playing dumb to keep her own ass safe.

Before Sam could elaborate more on the question, there was a knock on the door to announce the arrival of an unexpected guest. You heard a female voice approaching as she called out the widow's name. Debbie pushed herself up to her feet when she saw the woman come in with what appeared to be casserole. You didn't know what it was about food and death. Whenever someone died there was always an abundance of food to be ate. Debbie broke down into tears again when she embraced the woman into a hug. Olivia seemed like a family friend from how she was crying herself as she embraced her friend. But you could only imagine it wasn't only for her friend's loss.

“As in mistress Olivia?” Dean wondered.

“This is awkward.” Cas said.

"I'm sorry." Debbie composed herself as she stood next to Olivia, focusing back to the question she was asked. "What did you think Gary was hiding?"

“That he was sleeping with her.” The angel had still yet to learn about being subtle. He pointed a finger at Olivia to make clear of who he was accusing his dead husband of being unfaithful to. You let out a frustrated sigh from how much trouble he had gotten you into. But it seemed that being blunt worked in your favor for this one. Just because the Freleng had an apple pie life, it didn’t mean their sex life was normal.

“I know.” Debbie said. She suddenly felt awkward as she explained the open marriage she had with her late husband. "Gary and I—We...had an arrangement. He was seeing Olivia, and I was spending some time with our neighbor P.J."

You raised your brow slightly at what you just learned, admitting in all honesty that you were feeling a little shocked from what you learned. Debbie and Olivia excused themselves off to the kitchen to put away the casserole, leaving the four of you alone. You weren't the type of person who judged others on what they did in the bedroom. Mostly because you didn't want to hear about the personal details of someone's sex life. Yet, for some odd reason you couldn't shake off the idea of them having an open relationship. On the outside they might have looked like any other vanilla couple, but behind closed doors the idea of being someone that wasn't their partner got them off. Whatever made them happy, you thought to yourself.

“Frigging suburbs, man.” Dean muttered.

“So she’s not a witch.” Cas said. He seemed to understand that Debbie would have no reason to murder her husband for sleeping with another woman, because he wasn’t being unfaithful.

“Just the best wife ever.” The older Winchester whispered.

You quickly looked over at the man when you caught what he just said. You narrowed your eyes on him as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You’d want something like that?”

"Yeah." Dean said. Your expression shifted slightly into an angered one from his honestly as you opened your mouth to tell him about how much of a pervert he was. But it went into a direction you should have seen coming. Either he was covering his tracks, or he was just a smooth talker. "If we were married to other people and I got to spend some time with you. Makes things more exciting."

You rolled your eyes and moved your direction from the man, refraining yourself from making a remark like you wanted. "If she didn't kill her husband, then what did?"

“Who gives a s—”

“Language.”

You managed to cut off Dean before he could slip an unnecessary word into the conversation that you didn't like to hear, even though you weren't a stranger to using colorful enhancements when the time called for it. He gave you a slightly annoyed look from your behavior, you ignored it and turned your attention over to Debbie. You gave the woman a sympathetic smile and gave her your condolences for the loss. All four of you excused yourselves out of the house to let the two women grieve over their loss and head back to the motel to figure out what killed Gary. If it wasn’t a scorned lover, then what was it?

[Next Part]

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syrupwit · 4 years

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Letter for Multifandom Horror Exchange

Hello there, and welcome to my letter for Multifandom Horror Exchange 2020! I appreciate that you’ve taken the time to read this letter. I hope that it will provide you with clarification, inspiration, or at the very least a bit of entertainment. Although I’ve written more for some sections and less for others, rest assured that I would be super excited to receive a gift for any of my requested fandoms, characters, pairings, or horror types.

Please see the table of contents below:

Likes

DNWs

Fandom: House (1977)

Fandom: Invader Zim

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Fandom: Too Many Cooks (2014 Short)

Likes

A long list of my general likes can be found here.

When it comes to horror, I tend to prefer psychological explorations, suspense, and disturbing implications to explicit gore and violence, although I’m definitely not opposed to more graphic content. I love ominous atmospheres; building, lingering senses of dread; and landscapes and environments that interact with and express the characters’ fears, anxieties, and griefs. I especially love horror with supernatural elements -- ghosts and hauntings, monsters and cryptids, eldritch deities and their cultists, magic and magic users. I’m also a big fan of cosmic horror, and the sense that characters are pitted against amoral, indifferent forces that might not even recognize them as significant enough to be hostile towards but that are nonetheless damaging to human life. Additionally, I really like dark comedy, gallows humor, and horror with a more comedic / parodic / satirical slant.

While I typically prefer hopeful or bittersweet endings for my requested characters and pairings, please go for it if you have a great idea with a darker ending.

Some horror media I have really enjoyed but am not requesting for this exchange include the short stories of M. R. James and JS Le Fanu; William Hope Hodgson’s Carnacki, the Ghost-Finder stories; Clark Ashton Smith’s Averoigne stories; “The Night Ocean” by R. H. Barlow and H. P. Lovecraft; the connected-ish novels The Red Tree and The Drowning Girl by Caitlin R. Kiernan; the parody / pastiche novels of A. Lee Martinez; My Best Friend’s Exorcism by Grady Hendrix; and the movies Suspiria (1977 version -- haven’t seen the new one yet), The Others (2001), and Kwaidan (1965). Also I really love Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. I don’t know if listing all that helps, but there it is.

Do Not Want (DNW)

Underage sex

Character or ship bashing

Hate speech or in-depth onscreen depictions / discussions of bigotry

Harm to pet animals, or any graphic animal harm (fighting a giant evil wolf or something is fine)

Characters having consensual sex when they are not attracted to each other

Noncon that goes against a character’s in-fic orientation

Bestiality

Scat

Necrophilia

Sexual activity involving worms / spiders / insects

FANDOM: HOUSE (1977)

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Dark Fantasy, Folk Horror, Gothic Horror, Psychological Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Auntie & Gorgeous, Auntie/Fantasy, Kung Fu/Sweet

If you are not yet familiar with House or are looking for a refresher, this fanvid by AbsoluteDestiny hits most of the high points: Rock Lobster [YouTube link]. The basic plot is that seven girls visit their classmate’s aunt in the countryside for summer vacation. While initially charmed by the aunt’s quaint manners and old-fashioned home, they soon discover that something is very wrong. Things get weirder and weirder as more of the girls disappear and the aunt’s past is revealed. Innovative art design, a bangin soundtrack, and a kaleidoscopic array of surreal, absurd events and images make this film a memorable, exuberantly strange experience. Also, the aunt is hot, and you can quote me on that.

*** PLEASE NOTE THAT THE FOLLOWING RELATIONSHIP SECTIONS INCLUDE MINOR SPOILERS ***

Relationship: Auntie & Gorgeous

I’d love to learn more about the dynamic between Gorgeous and her aunt. How long had Auntie planned to prey on / possess her? Did they truly have any interactions while Auntie was alive? After the film’s ending, is there anything next for them? I’m a big fan of Subtle Menace and Vague Yet Troubling Implications, so scenes of Gorgeous going about her daily life while receiving odd letters from her aunt absolutely would not go amiss. And what’s up with the cat?

Relationship: Auntie/Fantasy

The postwar generation gap and feelings of alienation between younger/older people are major themes in House. I think this finds a lot of expression in the relationship between Auntie and Fantasy, Gorgeous’s best friend who is prone to daydreaming and ill-equipped to grasp the full tragedy of Auntie’s life. One of the concluding scenes of the film involves a possessed-by-Auntie Gorgeous holding Fantasy’s head to her breast and petting her hair while she cries; I guess that’s just very interesting to me. I love UST and ominousness and weirdness, so please go for it if you have an idea that involves any of those things for this pairing.

Relationship: Kung Fu/Sweet

These two are just cute, and a little sad. Kung Fu is the action girl of the friend group, and Sweet is a gentle, polite girl who Kung Fu feels she has to protect. Unfortunately Sweet gets attacked by futons and trapped in a clock, and then Kung Fu is eaten by a lamp. What might happen in an AU where they survive, or where the house consumes the courses of its meal in a different order? Is there a “wandering through dreamland” element to the nightmare dimension where they’re trapped at the end? Perhaps the body horror from the movie is played straight, and Kung Fu’s head and legs continue to move independently of each other though they share the same mind (agh). Who knows?

FANDOM: INVADER ZIM

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content, Fic -- Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Institutional Horror, Paranormal Horror, Science-Fiction Horror, Survival Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Dib/Zim

Like a good chunk of people in the fandom right now, I had my teenage love for this show revived by last summer’s movie. There’s something irresistible to me about the blend of snappy comedy, unapologetic pessimism, and hints of a more complicated universe that we just barely get to see. For this exchange, I’d be thrilled with a story that retains the lighter elements of canon, as well as something that explores a darker take on things. I haven’t read any of the comics yet, but feel free to include stuff from them if you like.

Relationship: Dib/Zim

Apparently this is my OTP. Yeah, I don’t know either. The enemies to frenemies or lovers dynamic is one of my favorites. I particularly enjoy these two as outcasts who fruitlessly seek validation from indifferent or hostile societies via their rivalry when they’re the ones who really understand each other best. I prefer their relationship to end up a positive thing for both of them, if with some rough territory along the way. Like a good chunk of ZADR fandom, I prefer this ship aged up to late teens or young adults, but feel free to write them canon age as well -- just no underage sex, please.

For each type of horror I’ve requested, here are some ideas I have:

Institutional Horror: The world of Invader Zim is full of unpleasant and draconian institutions -- for example, the Crazy House for Boys, or Dib’s school with its underground classrooms. Irken society itself is one big dystopian horror-fest on pretty much all levels.

Paranormal Horror: The supernatural is another canonical feature of this universe. <3 Does Dib get in over his head investigating strange phenomena? Does he raise the walking dead again, get grounded for it, and have no choice but to stand by helplessly while his zombies overtake the city? Does Zim acquire an unwanted tenant in the form of a ghost, or a mysterious artifact that promises to grant all his wishes? There are so many options.

Science-Fiction Horror: Haunted ships and abandoned research stations, the yawning emptiness of deep space, eldritch monsters beyond the stars... Dib and Zim can encounter all of these and pretend not to be scared out of their wits by them. Also! Killer robots, sentient computer viruses, experiments gone wrong? Anything you like.

Survival Horror: These two would make great survival horror protagonists on their own, but I also really like the idea of them being thrown in a situation where they have to work together to make it out. I really like the idea of Zim and Dib being pitted against a more serious antagonist or challenge than those they encounter in canon, and of them realizing that, despite the many canonical instances of mutual attempted murder, neither actually wants the other to die. (And then getting out with a new understanding of their importance to each other! Or ending miserably. Either way.)

FANDOM: THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content, Fic -- Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Cosmic/Lovecraftian Horror, Folk Horror, Institutional Horror, Paranormal Horror, Religious Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Gerard Keay, Mary Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Mary Keay/Gertrude Robinson, Trevor Herbert & Julia Montauk, Sasha James/Michael, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas

As a rule, I’m not into podcasts. I sat down with the first episode of this series about a month ago and became obsessed within two days. (I am now caught up through Season 5.) I love the unique worldbuilding, and the way the horror feels really genuinely horrifying and modern and immediate even when it’s one of those rad historical episodes, and all the characters, and the plot, and aaaahhhhhhh I love it. I’d just really like to hear more about this universe (and characters), and all the terrible things that can happen in it (and to them).

Character: Gerard Keay

Poor, doomed Gerry Keay. I want to know more about his adventures! Canon divergence, pre-canon, something set nebulously present or post-canon -- I’m here for all of it. I ship him romantically with pretty much every character except his parents, and platonically with every character including his parents; in particular, I like him with Gertrude and Jon. If you’d like some slightly more specific prompts, here are a few:

Trevor and Julia using Gerard as a monster manual, pre-Season 3. Did they ever run into something he couldn’t identify?

AU where Jon keeps his page instead of destroying it.

Working or traveling with Gertrude, trying to relax after a taxing case but getting pulled into another one.

Teenage Gerard chasing Leitners and getting in over his head.

Relationship: Mary Keay & Gertrude Robinson | Mary Keay/Gertrude Robinson

Grouping the platonic and romantic ships together because I like both and am mostly just interested in seeing these two interact more. “Dubiously (a)moral older women on orthogonal sides of a conflict, also one of them semi-kills the other” is, like, a dynamic that could have been tailor-made for me.

Mary Keay is so deeply creepy -- her statement in “First Edition” gave me legitimate shivers. Her quest for power and attempts to control the Entities are really interesting to me, and I enjoy how they contrast with Gertrude’s more utilitarian, less openly self-serving approach. Gertrude, on the other hand… I just fuckin love Gertrude. The frail old lady exterior hiding a ruthless will and a spine of magically reinforced steel -- I swoon. (I should note that I really like stuff that explores the more vulnerable and messy sides of badass / competent characters, especially female characters. If Gertrude locks up her heart and throws away the key, etc., what could make it strain its chains...? Or, uh, something like that.)

Relationship: Trevor Herbert & Julia Montauk

Yes! Obnoxious monster hunters!! I’m intrigued by their intuitive understanding of each other and strong bond despite the age gap and different life experiences. Do the demands of the Hunt ever interfere with their partnership? What sorts of gnarly, gross, twisted, chilling, or darkly funny situations have they gotten into over the course of their travels? I love them as happy monsters in comic, if gruesome, circumstances, but I’d also be down for something exploring the darker or softer sides of their work and relationship.

Relationship: Sasha James/Michael

I was mad interested by Michael’s introduction in “A Distortion,” and Sasha was so brave with him. I’m a huge sucker for the trope where a supernatural creature protects or helps a weak ordinary human, even if it’s for a price, and for any monster romance along those lines. Perhaps these two have other encounters between their first meeting and Sasha’s murder, or an alternate first meeting? Perhaps Michael rescues her from the Not!Them? Or perhaps, in an AU, Archivist!Sasha has a very different sort of relationship with the Distortion? Or something else...?!

Relationship: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas

A later addition, but I couldn’t help myself. I love how amiable and sensible Peter acts even as he’s carrying out dread errands, and I felt for poor Martin dealing with Peter’s weird corporate speak and technology issues. There’s so much potential for comedy, angst, and multi-layered horror with this pairing -- the Lonely is such a strangely seductive concept even as it’s terrifying, and Peter’s relationship to it is very interesting. Peter, himself, is very interesting. Martin, I’m just very fond of, all his courage and scheming and petulance (and codependent tendencies). I’m down for pretty much anything about this pairing.

FANDOM: TOO MANY COOKS (2014 SHORT)

Requested Fanwork Types: Fic -- Not Emphasizing Sexual Content

Requested Horror Types: Cosmic/Lovecraftian Horror, Killer Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror

Requested Characters/Pairings: Character of Author’s Choice

The “Too Many Cooks” short can be watched for free on YouTube.

I remember watching this when it came out. I watched it again when I saw it in the nominations for this exchange, and yep, STILL CREEPY AS FUCK. ❤︎❤︎❤︎ I love the genre parodies in this short almost as much as the gradually eroding realities / intensifying horror and strangeness. I would love to hear more about this nightmare world and how an individual character might experience it. Really, I’m up for almost anything here. :D

#optional detailed letters for exchanges tag

0 notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

Garth Marenghi's Dark Place: the Novel by Garth Marenghi

Author: Concupiscence66

Year: 2012

Rating: PG-13

Pairing/Characters: Rick Dagless/Liz Asher, Thornton Reed, Lucien Sanchez

Summary:

Darkplace is back and better (or worse) than ever! In his latest novel (actually, two more novels are scheduled to come out before this summary is posted), Garth Marenghi returns to Darkplace with an exciting and original novel. More than just a way to squeeze a few more dollars out of the franchise and promote sales of the E-Oeuvre, this novel is a spine-tingling morality tale about life in a literal rat race. Giant, diabetic rats have taken over Darkplace. Can Dr. Rick Dagless save humanity once again whilst continuing to grieve for the family he tragically lost? Of course he can, but he'll need help from his friends: Sanchez, Liz, Reed and the Padre (mainly to provide humor, joke set-ups, exposition and sexual tension). If you read only one book this year, you'll have read three fewer books than Garth has written in the time span. How does that make you feel about yourself? Not good? You've no one but yourself to blame. It isn't as though Garth isn't producing enough for you to read, you are simply managing your time poorly. Think on that as you get lost in the world of Darkplace: The Novel.

Introduction to the E-Oeuvre What you are holding in your hands is history in the making. Well, technically, history has already been made and it has been made by this product that you are holding in your hands. This is the Garth Marenghi Electronic Omnibus Reader. The E-Oeuvre. This is the only Electronic Reader or "E-reader" available with enough memory to hold all of my books. I know what you're thinking, "But Mr. Marenghi," please, you can call me Garth! "But, Garth, you've written two novels since the E-Oeuvre was created. Where can I store those electronic or 'E-books' if my E-Oeuvre is already full?" That's a good question and I am happy to answer it. We'll be rolling out the E-Oeuvre II this spring. That will be a completely empty version of the E-Oeuvre onto which you will be able to download all my future books. And don't worry! The E-Oeuvre III is already in the works! To celebrate this new technology, I have written an original novel based on my television show, "Darkplace" which was murdered and buried by the studio for nearly two decades. Follow the hypertext in the story to discover exciting features such as the original outline, me whistling the score, scans of the original design and so much more. These features will only be available in this story as it would be bloody hard to go through and do all that for old stories. I do have a life ya know! Just kidding. With love and respect, Garth Marenghi

xxx

Garth Marenghi's Introduction Hello and welcome to Garth Marenghi's Darkplace . Don't get too comfortable, it's going to be a bumpy ride. Some of you may have seen my television show, "Garth Marenghi's Darkplace." If you haven't, you can feel free to put this book down and run to your nearest reputable shop and purchase the show on DVD or Blu-ray. If you're older or crippled in some manner, perhaps you can have your grandson order it for you on-line. I suggest Amazon.com. They have a wonderful selection and shipping is free on qualifying orders over $25. You'll have to wait a few days for delivery but if you're homebound, you'll just have to make due. For those of you who are far too keen to read this book to put it down and run to the shop, don't worry. I have taken care to write this book so that it appeals to the avid fan or the newcomer about to become an avid fan. I've tried to write this story so even a simpleton can be terrified and entertained.* It would be wonderful if we could go back in time and make another series of Darkplace. No doubt if the BBC had shown Darkplace in the 1980's there would have been series after series. The viewing public would have demanded more and more and more. Sadly the BBC lacked the vision and foresight to actually show Darkplace when it was created but rather waited a full two decades until they had run out of wacky sitcoms about old people having sex and were forced to bring Darkplace out of the vaults. In the eighties, the BBC opted to go with re-runs of "Who's the Boss?" rather than Darkplace. Who's the Boss, now, BBC? You might argue that, you (the BBC) are the boss because you sign my paychecks. That is a legitimate argument. We'll have to agree to disagree. Regardless, now all the actors are either too old, too fat or too missing and presumed dead to revive their roles. Fortunately for you and everyone like you, I have the gift of words and through my words I shall resurrect Darkplace and all of its beloved characters from the dead. Understand, this is only a metaphor. I cannot actually resurrect people from the dead, especially not ones who have been missing for years. I wish I could resurrect the dead. You know who I would bring back first? Sir William Shakespeare. I would love to bring the Bard back to life and show him my work so that he would know his legacy lived on. Of course, I'm not comparing myself to Shakespeare! I don't write girly love poems. Things are different now. Back then, men wore powdered wigs and hosiery. It's only natural that the Bard would be a bit of a poof.** To be clear, I cannot bring the dead back to life in the real world but I can do so in the world of literature. Through my words, I will once again be 35, Todd Rivers will be handsome again and we'll know the whereabouts of Madeline Wool. She'll be right there in the text. Dean Learner will look just the same as he does now because as the saying goes, 'Black don't crack'. You might say that I am like a god when I write. Does it make me God that I can create life and worlds and crush them into dirt on a whim? I wouldn't say that I'm a god, but I could see why you might think that way. Put some plastic on your couch, your mind is about to be blown and your house (or flat, there are different ways to live) will be splattered with your blood. Everywhere you look, you will see blood. Blood. Blood. Or at least, you would do if your head hadn't just exploded. From the heart with love, Garth Marenghi xxx Publisher's notes from Dean Learner *This is in no way an endorsement of terrifying the mentally infirm. This is simply a statement implying that if a simpleton should grab this book (perhaps it is left behind on a bus or checked out to a simpleton by an inattentive librarian), said simpleton will be able to grasp the text and intention of the following novel. **This in no way implies that William Shakespeare or any of his contemporaries were gay only that their style of clothing would appear to be 'gay'*** by today's standards. ***This is in no way intended as a slur against homosexuals. Homosexuals are vibrant and important members of our society. I, myself, am a big fan of "Little Britain" and have always enjoyed Stephen Fry even more than Hugh Laurie. I still listen to "Wham!" I'm not caught up in sexual politics. For me it's all about the quality of the art, not the bedroom (or public washroom) antics**** of the artist. ****This in no way implies that gay sex is full of antics. It can be just as dull and mundane at heterosexual sex.

Todd Rivers' Introduction

Hello, there! I'm Todd Rivers. No doubt, you know me best for my work on Darkplace, a 1980's horror filled hospital drama that has only recently been released. As I'm sure you can imagine, working on Darkplace was a wild and exciting period of time in my life. My after hours activities with Dean Learner are legendary! They are also a matter of police record and I prefer not to dwell on the past.

How do I get my kicks these day? Live theater, that's how. As a matter of fact, I'm doing a wonderfully wacky interpretation of "Noises Off!" We all wear cockamamie hats! It's madness. Sure, there are some snobs out there who say dinner theater isn't real theater but I say those people are bonkers. Why can't a man feed his belly and his soul at the same time? He fills his tum-tum with roast beef and his mind with Shakespeare. Not that I'm doing Shakespeare. I don't do poofy***** period pieces.

I'm positively thrilled that Garth has written a Darkplace novel. It's a wonderful treat to be able to revisit the magic, as it were. I don't remember a lot about that time in my life but, based on the photos I've seen, I had a hell of a time. People ask me all the time if I read Garth's novels. The sad truth is, he writes his novels faster than I, or any of his fans, can read them. I did read this book though and it is an absolute corker. He really takes time to explore the characters. We learn so much in the novel. I, for one, had no idea that Lucian Sanchez was Hispanic. I almost wish someone had told me at the time. Perhaps I could have put on an accent.

With Love and Sincerity,

Todd Rivers

Publisher's notes from Dean Learner

***** See ** through ****

xxx

Dean Learner's Introduction

As a man who appreciates the finer things in life like a good bottle of wine, caviar sandwiches and pornography that has been shot in black and white, I - Dean Learner- know quality. The first time I read the words of Garth Marenghi, and this really happened, I thought to myself, "This man is going to be able to crank out a thousand more novels just like this with almost no effort". I always knew that Garth had a gift for writing. He writes very, very fast. He also types quite fast which is a boon in his industry.

Most people can't handle the demands of writing, directing and staring in a television show but, Garth was more than up to the task. He would have the script written in the morning and half the episode filmed by lunchtime. We had a six week shooting schedule for six episodes and we came in two weeks early and that was after we all took a long weekend on the studio's dime. Those six weeks also include the week Todd Rivers and I spent in mandatory drinks rehab. That reminds me of a story about just how well Garth adapts to a what others might see as a bad situation. While Todd and I were in the drink clink, Garth met one of our counselors, a young padre who wanted to be able to help his flock stay away from the evils of drink. Garth, whilst doing some additional dialogue recording with Todd and I in the rehab center, met the Padre and declared he was looking at a star. Needless to say, that night, Garth had written in the role of the Padre and the next day, the Padre had filmed all of his scenes for the series. Like me, the Padre had never acted outside the occasional manger scene but he was clearly a natural. I think we can all agree that Garth did the comedy world a favor in that the Padre is now a famous comedian who has had a lot of success with his androgynous partner (whose name and gender eludes me at the moment). I imagine the church feels the loss of a priest but, given his activities since becoming famous, I'm not sure he was really cut out for the church. In fact, not three months ago I was back in rehab after a minor misunderstanding - forgive the pun as she apparently was a minor! - I found myself roommates with non other than the Padre himself! How we enjoyed revisiting the memories we were able to cobble together betwixt our wine saturated brains.

Of course, it hasn't all been wine and roses. The missing and presumed dead, Madeline Wool, will always be in our hearts. She was a delicate flower and fame can be a steel toed boot, crushing all in it's path with soulless efficiency. We'll never know if Madeline would have ever had to suffer the rigors of fame as she disappeared years before this, her only television appearance, ever aired. I only wish my last conversation with her hadn't ended up on such a down note. I gently reminded her that getting involved in gambling was going to lead her down a bad path and eventually she would encounter a ruthlessly ambitious man and find herself 'disappeared'. Ironically, that appears to be exactly what happened. Sometimes I like to imagine that she is still alive somewhere, perhaps in a foreign country and she'll be able to return just as soon as she gets the money she owes the man holding her identification papers. Until that day, she's just going to have to try and blend in and speak Arabic.

I have said it before but Garth assures me I can never say it too much, working on Darkplace was a revelation for me. Having never acted before, I assumed I would be working very hard and for long hours. I was pleasantly surprised to learn this was not the case. I didn't even have to memorize the script. I just learned one or two lines at a time; sometimes my second line was still being written as I delivered my first. It was an exciting and visceral experience. The creativity was something I doubt I'll ever experience again in this lifetime or in the next, for that matter.

Welcome back to Darkplace. You've been missed.

With Warmest Regards,

Dean Learner

xxx

Chapter One

"Rattus Horrificus" [Take 1]

It was just a normal day at Darkplace Hospital which means it wasn't normal at all. Abnormal is the norm at Darkplace. Confused? Get used to it.

Dr. Rick Dagless, a strikingly handsome (but not in a girly or pretty boy way) young man strutted down the halls of Darkplace. He thought to himself Darkplace is a suitable name for this hospital, given the strange and dark things that so often occur here. What can you expect when you build a hospital upon the opening of the portal to hell? Nothing good, that's for certain.

Darkplace suited Dagless and not just because it was well-lit. Dagless had a darkness inside of him. Everyone he had ever loved had died. Some people say everyone they ever loved has died but actually, they just mean their grandparents and maybe their mum and dad. Guess what? Everyone's grandparents die. Now when a child dies, that is very sad. And when that child was part grasshopper? All the more tragic. The story of how Dagless came to have and lose his grasshopper son is a sorry tale for another time. Perhaps someday that story will be told, but not here. Seriously, don't expect to learn any more about that story than you already have.

xxx

Snuggles licked his little hand and rubbed it over his ears because, that's how rats clean their faces.

But Snuggles was no ordinary rat.

Or was he?

Fluffy, Jingle-Bells and Blinky were happily eating their bits of lettuce, not a thought in their furry little heads. Not one of them was over a year old. What did they know of death?

Snuggles was nearly five. He'd seen the world from his metal cage. He'd lost more friends than Blinky'd had hot meals.

But then, rats generally don't eat hot meals.

Snuggles didn't know why he alone had survived of his litter of seven. He could not comprehend why he still lived when so many of his companions had died. Was he special? Was he indeed meant for greatness?

"Probably," he thought to himself.

Snuggles watched the humans in their lab coats as they scuttled about the room. The humans were always about: giving them food and water, cleaning their cages, injecting them with long needles, shaving their fur and covering them with cologne. Snuggles had never minded the humans. There had been one or two who had sprayed him in the eye with perfume but for the most part, they seemed decent folk. One human had forced them all to watch really violent television but the program turned out to be quite entertaining and had a moral that justified the violence so, in fact, the rats not only didn't become violent as a result of watching the violent program, they actually became better rats in the moral sense.

No, Snuggles didn't mind the humans but he didn't care for them either. He was a rat, first and foremost and his loyalty was to his people.

And his people were rats.

xxx

Dr. Liz Asher nibbled a humble salad, casting an envious eye towards Dagless' double cheeseburger. The handsome young doctor could eat anything he liked and still be very attractive in a manly way.

Liz often found it difficult to balance the twin responsibilities of watching her figure and being a doctor at Darkplace Hospital but she persevered. She couldn't bear to let Dagless down, not when he gave his whole life to the hospital. It was almost as though he loved helping people too much.

"That was some case we had last night, Liz," astutely observed Dagless, "It's not often we get a case of a person with multiple personalities and some of them are suffering from amnesia."

"I think that case had all our heads spinning," Liz laughed luxuriously.

"Metaphorically, yes," Dagless clarified, "If any of our heads had actually been spinning, it would have been an even more complicated situation than it already was and it was already pretty damned complicated".

What Liz didn't know was that two of the woman's personalities were in love with Dagless but he only loved one of them in return.

It was just another day at Dark Place.

Just then, Lucian Sanchez came swaggering into the hospital dining room. He could be a bit of a hotshot with his fiery Latin blood and sometime he and Dagless butted heads but mostly they were buddies.

"Hey there, Buddy," Sanchez called as he approached their table, "Hey there, Liz. You're looking thin today. Are you losing weight?"

Sanchez was quite the ladies' man, he knew just what to say to make a woman lose her wits, even one who was smart enough to be a doctor.

Liz blushed and played with her salad, "Oh, Dr. Sanchez. You know just what to say to a girl. Sit down with us and eat. I'm sure you've been on your feet more than enough already today. We doctors certainly do need to work hard."

"You speak the truth, Liz," Sanchez agreed before turning to Dagless and saying, "Out of the mouths of babes, eh, Dag?"

Sanchez often called Dr. Rick Dagless, Dag. It was part of his devil-may-care personality.

"Let's hope we can have one quiet day in this hospital with no major disasters," Dagless mused, his dark eyes flashing with intelligence, "We could all use a break for once."

"You're not kidding," Liz eagerly agreed, "I'm up to a pot of coffee a day."

"You'd better watch it, Liz," warned Sanchez, "Your teeth will turn yellow and you won't be able to get a boyfriend."

Liz gasped and covered her mouth, worried about the caffeine stains on her teeth when she realized Dagless was laughing. The boys were having a laugh again. They were brilliant doctors but the were still laddish in their free time.

"It isn't nice to tease, Dr. Sanchez," scolded Liz. Dagless watched his colleagues bicker with a fond smile. He was far more complicated than his peers, despite his relative youth, because of all the pain he'd suffered in his life. His eyes held the pain of the years but his face remained youthful and generally unlined.

"Oh, Liz, you know I only tease you because I love you," Sanchez responded in a voice so creamy you could put it in your coffee, "In a purely professional manner, of course."

"Of course," Liz agreed though her expression indicated she would have preferred Sanchez weren't joking. Although she was an educated doctor and nearly a woman, Dr. Liz Asher could be a huge girl. She had crushes on Dagless and Sanchez. Mainly, she loved Dagless but sometimes, when Dagless had more interesting female prospects, Liz would turn her full attention to Sanchez. Peoples' feelings often fluctuate over time and it does not make her character 'inconsistent' if she fancies different men from time to time.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen much of you these past six months, Sanchez," Dagless adroitly observed, "Where have you been, buddy?"

"Excellent question," Sanchez acknowledged.

"I wish I'd thought to ask that question," Liz whispered to herself.

"Like I said, excellent question, Dag," observed Sanchez, "I've been working in the lab with the rats. I'm studying a new drug I've created to cure diabetes and I need to use rat subjects."

"Do the rats in the lab have diabetes?" asked Liz as she patted her golden curls.

"They do now," explained Sanchez.

"I assume you have yet to cure diabetes, Sanchez," observed Dagless, always ready to tease the handsome Latino, "If you had done something that impressive, you would surely have told us about it already, if only to impress any nearby women."

"Oh, Dag, you know me too well! No. I have not yet cured diabetes but I believe the day will come when diabetes will be a thing of the past. We'll all be able to live entirely on Mars bars and wine gums with no ill effect," spoke Sanchez with a passion that made his words all the more compelling. Words that reflected not just the thoughts and dreams of Sanchez but, in fact, of many other people as well.

"So, I guess there'll be no Mars bars for your rats, then," quipped Liz.

"Don't be silly, Liz," corrected Dagless, "No one feeds Mars bars to rats. It would be

terrible for their digestion."

Liz tried and failed to hold back her tears. Dagless and Sanchez shared a warm smile over the head of their silly girl of a colleague.

xxx

Chapter Two

"Life is a Maze" [Take 3]

Sanchez tossed his shiny hair like an especially virile pony. By all his calculations, his diabetes medicine should work! Diabetegone should work!

"Damn your furry heads," cried Sanchez, "Why won't your diabetes go away?"

He worried that he would be spending the rest of his life in the shadow of Dagless. No matter how good a doctor he was, he could never compare to Dagless who was not only a brilliant doctor, he was also completely devoted to the hospital. Dagless treated the hospital like his wife; he wasn't always faithful but he always came back. He had a legal obligation, sure, but he also liked to be buried deep inside her on a regular basis.

Sanchez squatted down to look one especially intelligent looking rat in the eye.

"Tell me what's going on?" Sanchez cried in frustration, "Why aren't you rats co-operating? Are you intentionally rebelling against humans as part of a rat movement to take over the world? Of course not, what a silly idea. As if rats could rule the world. How would they use our desks and telephones? They're far too small and they don't speak."

One of the rats squeaked in a manner that nearly sounded like, "Oh, really?"

If Sanchez had been a paranoid man, he might have thought the rat was actually offering a verbal response to his inquiry. But Sanchez was not a paranoid man. In fact, as a doctor, he rarely ever asked questions. He just gave answers.

xxx

Thorton Reed looked out his window and shook his head in frustration. It wasn't easy to run Darkplace. Reed was often put into a position where he had to make decisions between what made sense for the hospital budget versus keeping the portal to hell beneath Darkplace from opening further and swallowing the country whole. It was not an enviable position in which to be in. Having to choose between fiscal concerns and protecting the entirety of human kind from un-mitigated evil could be a burden.

Considering the stress and difficulty of his job, you would expect Thorton Reed to look older than his fifty-four years and, yet, Reed actually appeared to be in his thirties. It was strange but some people just have good genes.

Reed picked up his phone and yelled for, "Dagless and Sanchez, ASAP and that doesn't stand for As soon as Dagless and Sanchez feel like showing up. That would be ASADASFLSU."

Dagless and Sanchez didn't come running like a couple of lapdogs, they were busy men, but they came within a reasonable time period. They came as quickly as one could expect from busy doctors who liked and respected their boss even if he could be a hardass sometimes.

Reed stood at his desk and watched Dagless and Sanchez arrive. As usual, Dagless wore a cloak of mystery and sadness about him. While Sanchez may have been the more traditionally handsome man, most peoples' eyes were actually drawn to Dagless.

"Gentlemen, I'm glad you could join me. Finally. Took you long enough. I should say," Reed said sarcastically but without too much of an edge. He already knew Dagless and Sanchez had probably been doing something very important.

"Sorry, Chief," said Sanchez with a toss of his silken locks, "We had rather a ... tough customer on three, wouldn't you say so, Dagless?"

"If you call a woman who stabbed up the cashier at Tesco's over an expired coupon a tough customer then, yeah, that is exactly what we had," Dagless said, dryly because the woman was in fact a very tough customer, "She took out three orderlies before Sanchez and I were able to sedate her."

"That does sound like a tough customer but never mind that. I've got bigger fish to fry. The board is on me to cut my budget by 25% and I don't know where I'm supposed to find this money. I should pull it out of my hat, I suppose that's what the board thinks I can do. Never mind that, I'm sure we'll revisit this topic later but we've got an emergency on four in the nursery."

"Why would you call us?" asked Sanchez in a borderline cheeky tone, "We're not OBGYNs!"

"Or pediatricians," Dagless couldn't help but add, "I may know a lot about children - I was a father, after all - but we are not specialists dealing in babies."

"No, but you are the two best damn doctors in this damn hospital. We've got a baby aging at a tremendous speed down in the nursery. He was just born at 3pm and by dinner time, he was using a urinal. He'll be shaving come midnight and trying to collect a pension by the weekend. I need the two of you to nip this in the bud and quick!" Reed yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

Sanchez and Dagless exchanged a knowing look.

"Here we go again, Dag," Sanchez observed, accurately.

"Looks like," agreed Dagless, "But we wouldn't have it any other way."

xxx

Snuggles sipped at the sugar water. His "Die-a-beat-hes" left him thirsty and craving sweets. The handsome Latino man kept giving them shots but the "Die-a-beat-hes" continued.

Or perhaps it continued because of the shots given them by the handsome, fiery doctor.

Snuggles had always believed the giant, nearly hairless monsters that shaved him and his brethren before pumping them full of drugs that sometimes lead to their deaths were kind-hearted and mostly harmless. Lately, he'd been having his doubts. Maybe the humans were not to be trusted.

Maybe it was time to stop letting the humans inject them with "Dizz-ease-ez".

Maybe it was time to fight back.

Snuggles watched Jingle-Bell as she sucked desperately at the sugar water. Snuggles instinctively sensed that the sugar water was compounding their problems. It all had something to do with the "Die-a-beat-hes". Jingle-Bells was a shadow of her former self. She was skeletal and going blind in one eye. She'd always been such a beauty. Not any more. No, she wasn't beautiful any more.

xxx

Liz spent the afternoon in the lab with Dagless and Sanchez, working on a cure for rapid aging in babies. Liz was not as brilliant as her colleagues but she was a quick typist and made the best coffee in the hospital. She was happy to be there, typing away and pouring coffee into the wee hours, only stopping once an hour to reapply her make-up. She was a doctor but she was also a woman.

A single and fertile woman. She had decided to spend her prime years in medical school so now she had to worry about landing a husband before she became a spinster. It was lucky for her that she was spending so much time in the company of single and handsome men but it was unlucky that both men were so focused on being doctors that they had little time left for dating. They went out with girls, of course, they were men with needs - but they weren't looking to settle down. Dagless had already settled down and, as has been discussed, it all ended in tragedy. He had had his heart broken and it wasn't easy to fix a broken heart.

Even if you were a heart surgeon.

Sanchez had only experienced true love once and that was a woman who was slowly turning into broccoli. He had more than his heart broken by that affair, he'd had his willy taken off as well. Luckily, not two days after the tragic incident, a young and male organ donor had come into their hospital on the brink of death. He had been well smashed up in a car accident because he was drinking and driving. He died and his penis was cut off and attached to Sanchez but, in a way, it was lucky for the man. He was dead and his body was mutilated but it was all because he was drinking and driving and it could have ended much worse like if he'd swerved and hit a bus full of kiddies and nuns. He was lucky that only his life was destroyed by his selfish act and he was lucky that part of him, his John Thomas, lived on without him. He had found a touch of immortality in the pants of Lucien Sanchez.

It made Liz flush to contemplate the contents of any man's pants, being that she was a virgin, but she was also a medical doctor and had an intellectual curiosity. She was intrigued by the idea of a donor penis. She wondered if it worked properly and could still create babies.

She also wondered if it could fill her with the pleasure and excitement that could only be experienced through sexual intercourse with a man. Liz didn't have to be 'experienced' to know there was one true pleasure for a young woman (other than having babies) and that was being brought to orgasm by the thrusting hips of the man she loved.

"Liz, do you need a glass of cold water?" Sanchez asked as he surveyed her pink cheeks, "You've gone all red. You aren't having naughty thoughts, are you?"

Dagless and Sanchez laughed uproariously, slapping one another on the back at the joke while Liz turned a deeper shade of red.

"Really, this is a place of work and I don't expect to hear such topics discussed. Especially not by my co-workers who are supposed to be medical professionals and doctors to boot! It's not like you're a psychiatrist who is supposed to be fiddling around with peoples' thoughts...."

Dagless and Sanchez exchanged glances.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, buddy?" Sanchez asked Dagless.

"Yes, my friend, only I thought of it slightly before you. What can stop a boy from ever growing into a man?"

"Their mothers?" Liz offered, helpfully.

"That isn't funny," Sanchez snapped, his Latin blood boiling, "My mother is a saint!"

"The answer is simple. Cartoons."

It was Dagless that said that.

***

Chapter Three

"Dag's Triumph" [Take 2]

With the use of cartoons and several anti-growth injections, Dagless and Sanchez were once again able to save the day for everyone. The day old infant was nearly five foot and his formula had to be supplemented with some ground up shepard's pie but he was no longer growing.

The mother had been so full of gratitude, she'd gazed up at Dagless promising her eternal gratitude and offering to 'repay' him in anyway possible. Dagless did not take her up on her offer, he felt too sorry for her poor, inadequate husband who had only been able to stand and watch his wife throw himself at another guy. Dagless had never been treated so disrespectfully by a woman but he instinctively knew the crushing agony that would come from such emasculating behavior. A wife (or girlfriend) throwing herself at another man while her husband (or long term boyfriend) watched was reprehensible and Dagless wanted nothing to do with a woman with so little virtue and tact. Clearly, she was a bit of a bitch*.

It was just another day (and night) at Darkplace Hospital. Insanity with a side of unexpectedness and terror for afters.

Author's notes

* The author would like to make it clear that this story is a piece of fiction and not based on any particular person and if someone thinks the story is about her, well, she probably has a guilty conscience and is projecting her well-earned self-loathing on a fictional character.

xxx

The Padre's dreams were rarely troubled. He was a man of the cloth, and he lived a nearly blameless life. He used bad language on occasion and had gotten involved in some unholy deal with a missing link that nearly ended humanity but - overall - he was a Padre and slept the sleep of the pure at heart.

This was not a night like all the others. It never was at Darkplace.

The Padre tossed and turned as he dreamt of rats.

At first, he thought they were mice but as the dream continued, he noticed the 'mice' had creepy pink tails and - when they were stood next to something - the scale ratio made it clear that they were, in fact, big and horrible rats rather than cute little mice.

He saw a rat wearing his vestments and giving communion to a congregation of rats. He saw rats, piled one on top of another, driving his jeep around the Darkplace grounds.

He saw a rat taking confession.

Confused in his dream state, the Padre crept up on the rats. He crawled on his hands and knees and pressed his ear to the door of the confessional but he could not hear what the rats were saying. The Padre rat looked as concerned as a rat could look. The rat on the other side of the screen looked at once charismatic and dangerous.

What danger could come of an overgrown mouse? Sure, rats could chew through wires and lower the property values of a neighborhood but otherwise, they were too small and fuzzy to be of any real threat.

A man of God had no reason to be afraid of a little vermin. What harm could come from a rat that looked downright... snuggly?

The Padre woke from his dream, more like a nightmare, with a start. His bedclothes were soaked with sweat.

The Padre took a relaxing shower and contemplated his dream before deciding it was silly. How could anything be frightening when you had God and Dagless on your side?

xxx

Dagless had patients to see and diseases to cure but he had someone he needed to speak to first.

Little Johnny's daddy was never going to leave the hospital. When he did leave, it would probably be either in a body bag or a coffin. Dagless wasn't sure of the procedure for getting rid of the corpses at Darkplace. Dagless had been the cause of many deaths at Darkplace (as he fought evil, not because he was a bad doctor) but he took no interest in the mortuary. The people down there were either dead or dead creepy.

Little Johnny's daddy had an incurable disease and was surely going to die soon. That was why it was so important that Dagless always makes time to spend with Johnny. Soon enough, Johnny would have no father figure and he was going to need Dagless more than ever.

Dagless couldn't be the father figure for every fatherless child in the world, or even just the kiddies in England. He could only be a father figure to twenty, maybe thirty kids at a time. Tops. Right now, he only had eighteen on his roster. He had a little extra time for Little Johnny this week.

Soon enough, it would be flu season and the hospital would be full of children needing someone to look up to. Mostly boys because you don't really want to hang around little girls. People might think you're some kind of weirdo and girls always want to play stupid, overly socially complicated games with dollies.

"Dr. Dagless, how do you find time to take care of all the patients at Darkplace and to come cheer me up all while maintaining an active social life? Have you the ability to bi-locate?" Johnny asked with wisdom beyond his years.

"No, Johnny, I don't have the ability to bi-locate, i.e., be in two places at once. I am just one man, an ordinary man. Well, not completely ordinary. I am rather extraordinary in many ways," Dagless explained, humbly.

"Oh, Dr. Dagless, you are so much more than one doctor. The standards you set and the example you offer touch the hearts of every doctor here. In a way, you are every doctor."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, Johnny. Sometimes it takes a small and ignorant child to point out the truth. From the mouths of babes. That's from the Bible."

"Dr. Dagless, you're so wise. So very wise and strong. You're the perfect father figure and anyone who tells you otherwise is jealous of your skill and possibly fostering a secret attraction to you that they continue to deny but why else would she spend so much time thinking about you?"

"Hey there, Sport! I don't need you worrying about my problems," Dagless teased, "You just worry about you and I'll worry about everyone else, including myself because, if I don't take care of myself - I can't take care of everyone else."

"That does make a lot of sense, Dr. Dagless," agreed Little Johnny.

"Being a good communicator of words is just one of the many skills that make me a damn good doctor," explained Dagless. He felt comfortable using the occasional swear word around the little nippers because he was a young soul and remembered what it was like to be young. He was also very authentic and did not care for pretense.

xxx

"Rats!"

Sanchez jumped at the word. He turned to see Liz had dropped her lunch tray.

Rats were very much on Sanchez's mind. Diabetic rats. Damned diabetic rats.

Sanchez was growing more frustrated by the day. He wasn't used to not getting his way. He was a typical, hot-blooded Latin and quick to anger. He was also a very intelligent man who had done very well at school. He wasn't at the top of his class like Dagless, but he did well.

Sanchez picked at his Salisbury steak and wondered why his brilliant medication wasn't working. By the time Liz joined him, with a new tray, Sanchez was in a proper snit.

"Look at the face on you, Sanchez," observed Liz, "If I hadn't just seen Dagless in the hallway, I would think your best friend had died."

"Don't even joke about Dagless being dead. Where would we be without him?"

They both shuddered at the idea. What would they do without Dagless?

They hoped to never find out.

"You're right, Dr. Sanchez," Liz apologized, "I was very thoughtless to say that. What I meant to say was, you look terribly unhappy. It seems you haven't shaved in a week."

It had only been a day since Sanchez shaved but ever since having devolved into a great ape and evolving back again, his hair grew faster than ever. He needed to shave twice a day. Sanchez didn't know it but Liz was having a similar problem.

"I shaved this morning. My hair just grows incredibly fast since the time I devolved into a great ape," Lucien explained, "I'm upset because my drug Diabetegone doesn't work! Damn those rats and their inability to regulate their blood sugar levels. I'm going to have to start from scratch, by gum, and I'm bloody angry about it."

Liz trembled at Sanchez's outburst. She still wasn't used to her colleague's Latin temper.

"You must calm yourself, Dr. Sanchez! I know your work to be impeccable so it seems unlikely you made an error. Nonetheless, I could take a look at your research. I'm very good at proof-reading. I used to proof read my boyfriend's medical school papers when I was in school. I read so many papers, I finally decided I might as well get my degree. Lucky thing I did or I would have never ended up at Darkplace and I wouldn't be able to help you now."

"Whatever happened to that boyfriend of yours?" asked Sanchez.

"He left me because I turned out to be smarter than him and he couldn't bear it. He was a terrible egotist. I'll never date another egomaniac again, that's for sure," explained Liz, "Now let me have a look at your work."

XXX

Chapter four

"The Pain of Unrequited Love (and Lust)" [Take 37]

Dagless stood on the roof and looked out over Darkplace estate. It was a familiar landscape of desolation and terror. It felt like home. There was an ominous mist creeping over the horizon but by Dagless' estimation, it probably wouldn't arrive for a few weeks so he wasn't worried for the moment. The mist wouldn't be the next Darkplace affliction.

If it wouldn't be the mist, what would it be? There was always something brewing at Darkplace.

Something dark indeed, in this Darkplace.

It was brewing.

Something terrifying was brewing and soon they'd all be drinking terror tea.

Dagless decided to go to the cafeteria and get a cup of tea. He was suddenly thirsty.

xxx

Dagless happened to walk into the cafeteria as Sanchez and Liz were walking out, their heads together in conversation. From a distance, they could almost appear to be lovers.

"Hey, Sanch. Liz. Where are the two of you off to in such a hurry?"

"Hey, buddy! Good to see you."

Dagless and Sanchez embraced, not having seen one another in several hours.

"We're going to look over Sanchez's data and see if we can't solve the mystery of why Sanchez's Diabetegone doesn't work," Liz explained.

xxx

"Let's start by taking a good look at one of their pancreases," suggested Dagless as soon as they arrived at Sanchez's rat laboratory.

"Why's that?" asked Sanchez, a man not too proud to learn from his superiors.

"Because insulin is released into the body via the blood cells we find in the Islets of Langerhans in the pancreas," Dagless explained**.

"Of course, I'd nearly forget!" giggled Liz.

"One problem, Dag," warned Sanchez, tossing his mane of hair.

"What's that?" asked Dagless, knowing it was unlikely that Sanchez had thought of something he hadn't already considered but always willing to listen to an inferior.

"A rat's pancreas is teeny-tiny," Sanchez explained, "Even with a microscope, it's hard to get a good look. Besides, I get very confused because it's all switched around so if you want to push the slide up, you actually have to push it down. It's ridiculous! In this day and age of modern technology, I mean, am I wrong?"

Liz nodded in agreement but Dagless chuckled.

"What's so funny, Dag? Do know something the rest of us don't?" asked Sanchez, knowing that Dagless probably did know something that he and Liz did not. That was how things tended to go around Darkplace.

Rick Dagless pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his doctor's jacket.

"This," Dagless explained, holding up the bottle, "is a chemical compound formula that makes small things larger. We'll put this on the mouse pancreas and make it larger and easier for us to study."

Liz grabbed the bottle in excitement.

"This is amazing!" Liz exclaimed, "I can't believe no one has thought to create a chemical compound formula of this nature before. It seems like such a natural and necessary item to have. I can think of a million uses for this bottle."

"I can think of something I would like to make larger!" exclaimed Sanchez with a cheeky wink.

"And what's that?" Liz asked.

"This coffee!" Sanchez answered, "Because it's going to be a long night, examining mouse pancreas."

Dagless chuckled. That was just like Sanchez. Always thinking about the size of his cup.

Author's notes

** For a more thorough explanation about diabetes or just about any other topic in the world, I recommend a website called. www.wikipedia.org. I use it for all my research. The page about me is full of lies and errors but the medical stuff all sounds about right to me. I'll let you be the judge.

And I left my wife, she didn't leave me.

Snuggles watched as the humans took Jingle-Bell. The once proud beauty went meekly into the hand of the sweet-smelling, female human. There was a time when Snuggles would have grieved the loss of a friend and former lover but for Snuggles, the time for sadness was over.

It was time to get angry.

"One problem," piped up the small female human, "Won't it kill this rat if we make her pancreas enormous in comparison to the rest of her tiny body?"

The fiery one laughed, "Oh, Liz! You're such a girl. We're going to kill the rat, then take her pancreas and then enlargen the organ."

The female turned away in horror, holding the frail Jingle-Bell towards the fiery one, "Take her, I can't watch!"

Then from the shadows appeared a new human. He was roughly the same size as the fiery one and equally as attractive in appearance. Even from a distance, Snuggles could see the wisdom in this man's eyes.

"Sanchez is right, Liz," said the wise one as he put his hand on the female's shoulder, "This rat needs to die so that others may live. And eat Bounty Bars. Her life will not be in vain for she will have helped humanity."

"It's just a stupid rat! What's everyone getting so maudlin about?" Sanchez cried, his Latin blood boiling, "It's just some sad old rat that you'd beat to death with a shovel if you saw it in a barn. Sure, she was probably beautiful in her time, you can see the remnants of a good looking rat in her sorry current form but now she's old! She's... it says here she's four months old. Good God, she looks wretched. What God forsaken force turned this once vibrant rat into a sorry shell of her former self? For the love of medical science, let's just off this rat and get to work!"

With that, the fiery man plunged a syringe into Jingle-Bell and she was no more. Snuggles said a prayer to a rat God and began plotting his vengeance. He didn't have to think too hard or too long because his rat god apparently heard his rat prayers.

XXX

Chapter Five

"Rattus Attackus!" [Take 6]

Sanchez used one more drop on the pancreas, "Is this good?"

Dagless nodded, "Yes, I think we have finally found the perfect size for the pancreas so that we can properly investigate the organ. Go ahead and put that bottle down."

Sanchez reached back and dropped the bottle on top of the rat cage, never taking his dark eyes off of the pancreas.

He didn't notice when the bottle fell over. Landing on it's side, the bottle was open and slowly began dripping fluid into the rats cage.

Drip.

The powerful fluid dripped into the rat cage. Desperate for something to drink and fearful of the sugared water in his bowl, Snuggles held out his tongue and caught a drop. It tasted good.

Then he caught another drop. And another.

And another.

Drip.

Soon the others, Blinky and Fluffy, were at his side. They held out their tiny pink tongues.

Drip.

Each mouse drank his or her fill.

Drip.

At first, Snuggles thought he was shrinking because Fluffy and Blinky seemed to be growing. Then he realized, he was growing, too. They doubled in size.

And then they doubled in size again.

And again.

The metal bars screeched as though screaming in pain as they bent and finally broke.

The three humans turned and screamed in horror.

"Oh, dear God!" Liz screamed, clinging to Dagless and Sanchez in horror.

The horror.

The screaming.

"By gum, those rats are as tall we are and getting bigger by the moment. I must have failed to notice the bottle tipping over and dripping the enlargening formula compound on the rats!" Sanchez cried.

"And based on the rate they're growing, I'd say they've probably ingested the fluid as well as having it applied topically," added Dagless.

"That would explain the rapidity with which they're growing," Liz exclaimed as she cowered in terror.

"We've got to get out of here!" Sanchez yelled, turning towards the door. Liz and Dagless followed suit. The three of them ran as fast as they could. Dagless' legs were like iron pistons moving powerfully down the hall. Sanchez followed behind, his shining locks flying behind him as he raced. Liz fell behind, tottering on her high heels and weighted down by her ample bosom. She just barely made it into the elevator before the doors closed.

Sanchez hit the button for the top floor.

"What on earth are we going to do?" wailed Sanchez, "Those rats were enormous! We don't have traps that large. I don't even know where we could order a rat trap that big. Who would carry that sort of item? I suppose we could call Tesco's..."

"We might have to find a way to kill them, other than using enormous rat traps," Dagless quickly pointed out, "Having grown so large, the rats brains have also become huge which means that they will be smarter than humans."

"That does make sense," concurred Liz, "With all that extra brain space, they'll be able to learn things very quickly."

"By that reasoning, these rats could take over this hospital," Sanchez said with enough fear in his voice to seem not terribly manly, "In fact, they could run the hospital better. We'll be lucky to get jobs as janitors when the super-genius rats take over!"

"That's not going to happen," Dagless said with a sure and steady voice, "Because I won't let it. Darkplace is more than my workplace, it's my mission. I have been called to this ungodly place for a reason: to fight evil. These rats may have the size advantage but they haven't experienced life like I have. I've known pain."

"Actually, Snuggles has seen a lot of pain in his five years. In fact, we just murdered his girlfriend, "said Sanchez. He had never noticed it before but, upon reflection, he could clearly see the resemblance in character and bearing between Dagless and Snuggles. They had both experienced pain and grown wiser for it.

"Rat pain, Sanch, he's experienced rat pain, but he's never experienced human pain. Rats are soulless, eating machines with disgusting tails that look like worms," Dagless explained, "Whereas I am a man. A man of learning and a man of action."

Sanchez caught Liz as she fainted. She tried to play it off like she was worked up about the rats but Dagless and Sanchez knew better. She had swooned at Dagless' speech. She had gone to medical school but she was still a big girl at heart.*

Publisher's Notes from Dean Learner

*I want to make it perfectly clear that this statement is in no way sexist or misogynist. I would never endorse something that I thought was degrading to women. In my long and varied career in pornography, I have always advocated for the respectful treatment of women. Every woman has the right to express herself as she chooses and some women choose to express themselves by having sex in front of a camera. They have no reason to be ashamed, they are provided a very needed service.

As for Liz swooning and being a "big girl", it is important that Garth created a character that real women can relate to; a woman who is intelligent and capable of great passion. She is very nearly as intelligent as her male co-workers and a looker to boot.

xxx

Snuggles looked around the laboratory. He had lived in the same room for all of his five years and yet it all seemed new.

Blinky moved to the microscope.

"Look, Snuggles," Blinky called out in her cheerful tone, "There are tiny living organisms on the piece of glass. They are invisible to the naked eye and yet I can see them through this magic seeing pole."

"That's not a seeing pole, it's a telescope and it isn't magic. It's science," Snuggles corrected.

"Oh, I see. I've been so foolish to think that everything around me is the result of some kind of magic or divine intervention. Now I understand the world is run my scientific principles. How very interesting," Blinky observed.

Fluffy joined Blinky, "Oh, Blinky, you should leave the science to the men. You need to worry about making babies."

"No, Fluffy," Snuggles spoke with conviction, "Blinky is just as capable of learning science as we. Though her brain is smaller, she can still be very smart in addition to having babies. Of course, she won't be able to help long with taking over the world but, between litters, she'll still be able to help lead."

"Thank you, Snuggles," Blinky said with emotion, "Thank you for believing in me."

"You know what?" Fluffy asked, "I understand what you're saying. My previous beliefs suddenly seem outdated and foolish. I'm sorry, Blinky. Perhaps I can make it up to you by taking you out for a meal?"

"Why on earth would we go out for a meal?" Blinky asked, "We can eat inside, where it's warm and we're sheltered from the elements."

"Oh, Blinky," laughed Snuggles, "You have so much to learn. Now let's find some more rats and use this formula compound to make them as large as us."

"One thing," Blinky said, wringing her hands, "I don't want to sound paranoid but maybe we shouldn't make them quite as big as us. They might try to overthrow our regime. Their vision of an rat utopia might not be the same as ours. It might not be as pure as the one we envision."

"I'm with Blinky on this," agreed Fluffy.

Snuggles shook his head sadly. Their society had yet to be formed and it was already falling apart because of a lack of trust.

On the other hand, some rats were jerks. Blinky and Fluffy had a point.

xxx

Chapter Six

"Diabetes Tango" [Take 1]

Dagless, Liz and Sanchez stood on the roof and tried to agree on a plan of action. None of them were surprised when Thornton Reed arrived on the scene. He was a very hands on administrator and whenever there was evil lurking at Darkplace, he was there with his trusty shot gun. He loved his hospital and he would never let it fall into the pit of hell. It made for a paperwork nightmare but as long as good prevailed, Reed knew he had done his job well.

"Hey, there. You may not have noticed but our hospital is being taken over by a small army of giant, super intelligent rats," Reed snapped, "And where are my best doctors? Having a little chat on the roof. Just what I wanted to see, I think not."

"Whoa, there, chief," intervened Sanchez, "We three are trying to come up with a plan to defeat these rats. Come join us."

"I apologize. I should never have doubted the three of you," Thornton said, his eyes becoming misty, "You are the three best damned doctors on my team and probably in most of England as well. I hope you have some good ideas because things are looking bleak. Mankind is about to be taken over by hyper-intelligent rats and I need to take 5,000 pounds out of the budget by Friday! I'll tell you, there is no rest for the wicked."

Shakespeare, thought Dagless.

"I think I might have the answer," Liz said, so excited she forgot that no one likes a girl who is too pleased with herself, "These rats are all diabetic, right?"

"For God's sake, Liz," wailed Sanchez, "We've been over that already They have diabetes!"

"Hey, now," warned Reed, "Cool your jets. You are speaking to a lady."

Sanchez looked into Liz's tearful eyes and apologized, "I'm sorry, Liz. It's my damnable Latin temper. I'm just feeling very frustrated that my diabetes medicine doesn't work and that I left the cap off the growing serum and the hospital and possibly the world is about to be taken over my giant rats. I'm feeling very irritable and a bit embarrassed at the moment."

"That's understandable," Dagless said, resting a manful hand on Sanchez's shoulder, "It's okay for a man to have and express feelings these days. We aren't Neanderthals."

"Hey," cried Sanchez, "I was a Neanderthal for a while and I was still a damned good doctor, if you remember, thank you very much."

Dagless, Sanchez and Reed shared a hearty laugh at the memory of when half the staff at Darkplace had devolved into ape-like creatures. The reminded Liz of how she had climbed on Reed's desk and hurled poo at them all and she cried from embarrassment. Liz could be such a big girl.

"Hey," said Dagless, "I think Liz was on to something a while ago. Of course, she is now a weeping mess and completely useless but I imagine we can piece together what she was thinking."

"Indeed," agreed Sanchez as Liz whimpered, "She mentioned the rats are all diabetic. How can that possibly be used that to our advantage?"

"I have an auntie who is diabetic. She's always sweating and fainting," offered Dagless, "These rats can't be skilled at managing their diabetes yet, they haven't had long enough to evolve and use insulin to regulate their blood sugar."

"That's true," Sanchez agreed, "I've had a lot of patients who are just ridiculous when it comes to their diabetes. I asked a lady yesterday, I asked her, 'Do you want to lose a toe?' I did, I asked her. I used those words because she was eating a cupcake in my office..."

"Yes, Sanchez," Dagless interrupted, "I know your work in diabetes is inspired by your personal experiences with diabetic idiots but you have to let that hatred go.*"

"But if you're going to eat a tub of ice cream, why not at least up your insulin for the night?" Sanchez continued, becoming more hysterical than Liz until Dagless had to slap him across his handsome face.**

"Sorry, Dag. My rage towards diabetics can be strange and disproportionate. While I was working at the diabetes clinic, I was also in an emasculating relationship with a very large and angry woman. She was beautiful but, god, was she angry. Perhaps those feelings of humiliation fueled my anger to poorly controlled diabetics."

"I'll have to write that in needlepoint on a decorative throw pillow," sneered Dagless, wanting nothing to do with all these namby-pamby feelings. Dagless only cared about one feeling. Pain. His pain.

"Hey you guys, quit your bickering," Thorton Reed yelled, "At this moment we have giant rats trying to take over the hospital and possibly the world and the two of you are engaging in a pissing contest. I won't have it. After you've saved the hospital, and the world I might add, we can get out the tape measure and find out whose the big man. I don't think either of you want to get into a dick measuring contest with me. You know what they say***."

"Reed is right," agreed a now calmer Liz, "I don't care for his metaphor, but you are bickering when you should be thinking of ways to stop these horrible rats from taking over the hospital."

Sanchez hung his head in shame, "I'm sorry, Dagless, let's work together. Buddy."

Dagless gave his friend a firm handshake, "We both know there is no point in the two of us competing. I always win."

"That you do, Buddy," Sanchez agreed, "That you do."

xxx

Publisher's notes from Dean Learner

*I asked Garth, several times, to change this line so this it doesn't imply all diabetics are idiots. Garth told me that, as a writer, he couldn't go back and change a word. Not even if it was spelled wrong.

**Garth wants it to be perfectly clear that Dagless can appreciate Sanchez as a handsome man without having homosexual feelings towards the man. Why wouldn't Dagless notice Sanchez is handsome? Todd River's has shiny hair like a pony and his eyes sear your soul. The most important thing to know is that Dagless is heterosexual but if he were to engage in a homosexual relationship with Sanchez, Dagless would always be "the man". That's not to say Sanchez would have to be "the woman" but Dagless would certainly, always be "the man" in the relationship. Anyone inspired to write fan fiction for this show should be sure to get this fact right or you will just be a sloppy writer, thank you.

*** It is a stereotype that black men have larger penises than white men, one that is not entirely based on fact. I understand there are some black men out there who are not well endowed. I have never met one of these gentlemen but I would not be adverse to making the acquaintance of one and learning about his life experience.

xxx

Eventually the doctors realized that the rats would need to be put into diabetic comas. In order to do this, they found novelty over-sized syringes and filled them with sugar water. Through a series of events they were able to locate the rats. After a lengthy struggle, Sanchez and Liz are overpowered by the rats and taken hostage while only Dagless remained free to save them. Worried about his friends being killed by rats and the world being taken over by rats, Dagless went to visit the Padre.

xxx

Snuggles was beginning to have second thoughts about taking over the world and killing mankind. "Surely, they can't all be evil. Perhaps we can live in peace," Snuggles suggested. "What?" Blinky cried, "Humans are disgusting! They do their business in beautiful porcelain swimming pools that they call toilets. They are disgusting!" "I guarantee that even the best humankind has to offer would beat us unconcious and put a bullet through our eyes as soon as speak to us," agreed Fluffy. Snuggles shook his head sadly. His cohorts were so cynical. Or were they wise?

xxx

Dagless and the Padre had been friends for years and yet, the Padre remained a riddle, wrapped in a mystery in an enigma.*

"I suppose you've heard?" Dagless asked.

The Padre's face was peaceful and his body language was relaxed as he lay on the ground, doing leg lifts along with Jane Fonda.

The Padre counted, "3, 2, and 1," before pausing the video and standing up.

"About the rats?" the Padre asked, "Yes, I've heard. I've been hearing confession for hours. A lot of people are afraid of dying with their souls un-cleansed and burning in hell for eternity. It was really bringing me down and I had to slip away. Get a little natural high from a good work-out."

"No need to explain yourself, Padre. I know you aren't just some pervy creep watching Jane jumping about and jiggling for cheap thrills," Dagless assured the man of the cross.

The Padre shifted and pulled at his white color, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm not interested in... jiggling? I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"We were talking about the rats taking over the hospital and, one assumes, the world afterwards. I think I need the Big Man on my side for this one," Dagless explained, "For once, I don't think I can do this on my own."

The Padre nodded, "The Lord has probably had a time of it, till now, just having to sit back and watch you fighting evil on your own. He does like to help, you know. Have you read this poem about footprints?"

"Usually, the Big Man can save his help for other, less resourceful men but this time - I think I need a little extra help."

The Padre nodded thoughtfully.

"I think I have something that will help. A religious relic we store here at Darkplace. The Pope himself asked me to take it into my keeping to protect Darkplace. He said I would know when the time would arrive."

"How do you know it's time?" Dagless asked, hoping this religious relic was some kind of weapon, preferably a gun.

"He told me," The Padre's dark eyes were wide with amazement, "that Darkplace would be overrun with huge rats. I thought it was going to be a flood bringing river rats or maybe it would be some kind of metaphorical rat as in a business person of poor character.

"You would think that because those answers are far more likely than life sized rats engaging in a hostile takeover," Dagless said in a reassuring tone, "But you forgot one thing."

"What is that, Dagless?"

"This is Darkplace. Anything can happen here."

*Churchill, Winston

xxx

It turned out what the Padre had to give Dagless was, in fact, a gun. xxx

Chapter Seven

"My Heart Will Go On and On and On (Not the Celine Dion Song)" [Take 0.5]

"Just hold still and try not to cry," Sanchez whispered in his deep and creamy voice.

Liz felt her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with being the hostage of giant, genius rats. The sound of Sanchez's rich, manly timbre sent waves of excitement through her virginal body.

Liz did her best to hold still as Lucien used his skillful hands to set her alabaster body free. Liz moaned as the ropes brushed against her excited nipples. Right now, she was tied to a chair but once Sanchez had her free, she would be naked without the ropes covering her nubile body.

She dared not look at Lucien as he fought with the ties that bound her. He had been allowed to keep his small, black briefs. Briefs that he filled to capacity.

With his manhood, that is.

"Oh, how I wish Dagless was here," Liz whispered, huskily.

"Me to," Sanchez eagerly agreed.

xxx

Dagless took the first rat out with a roundhouse kick to the whiskers. A karate chop felled (knocked over) the second. Then Dagless found himself eye to eye with the most intelligent eyes he had ever seen - other than his own eyes looking back at him from a mirror or other reflective surface. He was a handsome rat, but a rat with a face that had seen pain.

"I presume you are the 'Dagless' of whom everybody speaks with such awe and adulation. You are the worthy opponent for whom I have waited. Once I have defeated you," announced the articulate rat (in whom Dagless saw a bit of himself), "I will be truly ready to take over the human race for you, Dagless, are the finest specimen that humankind has to offer. Once you are defeated, the world will fall. Let the battle begin."

The rat, that Dagless would later learn was called Snuggles, dropped into a fighting stance.

Dagless pulled out his holy gun and shot the rat between his sensitive eyes. His considerable amount of brains splashed on the wall behind him.

"Sorry, my never-to-be friend. I've got lives to save and yours isn't on of them. However, mine is and so are my friends'."

Dagless threw open the stockroom door and found Sanchez and Liz in a state of undress. Liz was wearing nothing but some carefully placed ropes.

"Sorry, guys, I was just here to rescue you. I didn't mean to catch you en flagrante (having sex). I'll be out here whenever you're done," Dagless apologized, reaching to close the door.

"No!" Sanchez and Liz yelled in unison.

"You got here just in time, Liz was about to throw a very girlie hissy fit because I was seeing all of her lady bits," Sanchez explained, "I told her, I'm a doctor. The nude female form no longer holds any appeal to me. I'm totally immune. Sometimes I have to make a lady put some clothes back on just so I can get in the mood, if you know what I mean."

Dagless was not indifferent to the female form and Liz seemed to know it. She was flushing but making very little effort to cover her enticing nude body. Her perky breasts called to him like pale, firm sirens.

"I've disposed of the rats with a little help from the big guy," Dagless explained.

"Well done, Dag. You've saved us all again. I guess I'll go have a chat with the Padre, have him thank God for me. I'll do it myself as well but I think he probably listens closer to the Padre," Sanchez said as he threw a lab coat over his nearly nude and chiseled body, "Take care of Liz, will you?"

"I think I can manage that," Dagless responded, his voice deep and highly sexual.

"Well, that's me off," said Sanchez, "See you guys next adventure."

xxx

Liz dropped the ropes that had tied her but she also, metaphorically, dropped the bonds that had (metaphorically) bound her body and she gave herself over to love.

Knowing the young and beautiful doctor was a virgin, Dagless took his time. He kissed her alabaster skin until her delicately scented mossy valley was full of dew (indicating sexual arousal).

Her tiny pink nipples puckered under his sensitive lips and she moaned, "Make me a woman, Dr. Dagless."

"I'll make you my woman and you can call me Rick," Dagless explained as he continued to fondle her supple breasts.

"I want you inside of me, Dr. Rick," Liz pleaded, seemingly in pain from her desire to be filled by a real man.

Wanting to make her first time special, Dagless guided Liz to a small leather couch. As she moaned and cried his name, Dagless penetrated her unopened rose with his aching thorn. They did it lying down on the couch. Then he had her bend over the side of the couch so they could do it doggy style. Then they went back to doing it regular style until they both orgasmed.

"Oh, Dr. Rick. Is there nothing you can't do?" Liz asked, panting from their athletic and satisfying love making.

"I'm sure there is something I can't do," Dagless explained, "and if I look long and hard enough, I'll find what it is that I can't do."

"Speaking of long and hard..." Liz giggled.

"Oh, you," Dagless laughed before beginning to make love to Liz for a second time.

xxx

Outro by Garth Marenghi

You're Welcome

It's Garth Marenghi again. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much I enjoyed writing it. I was so excited to return to the world of Darkplace that I wrote well over a thousand more words than I was contractually obligated to write. I think that says something about how much I enjoyed writing this story and about how much you, the reader, should have enjoyed reading it.

Now go enjoy another one of my stories.

Well, I say, "enjoy".

With humility, the one and the only,

Garth Marenghi

xxx

#garth marenghi's darkplace #darkplace #garth marenghi #dean learner #todd rivers #rick dagless #lucien sanchez #thornton reed #liz asher #madeleine wool #padre (darkplace)#rick dagless/liz asher

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