#my dad has only served on civil cases

[zealousfandoms]

Shape shifter Ben by @sweetpeaches666

(these are Random stuff and ideas that popped in my head for the funsies.)

•Ben as a pisccs Volan would be called a guppy when he was a small kid. Still is probably by standards.

•Prisoner 775 would probably be sleeping in the barn or in the sorrounding area in the barn since sweetpeaches666 said that he lives with them technically so it makes sense where he can watch over Ben still in close distance (and I doubt he would wanna leave Ben at all knowing he's the last he has of a family 😔)

•Sandra would absolutely scold the other DNA Alien Father's and she and only she of all things can make a grown man fear her.

•Vulpimancer, Loboan and Aploplaxian Ben would probably eat and drink like an animal yet still try to keep it civilized.

•Ben would sometimes show his emotion openly if he's a Loboan or anything with a tail, ears and anything like fur since he himself would show his emotions more without him telling for example as a Keneceleran he would hiss and move his tail in irritation if ever, a Loboan simple forms of how dogs are wagging, whining the usual this plays with some of the more animalistic like transformations tho.

•Ben might or might not be related to his other father's who are in higher status or royalty's other than Sed, Zs'Skayr and Vilgax he might just be more rich and more noble In royalty than he realized this (like if he met his other father's that are spread out in the universe some might be commoners, nobles or work in royal families/ royals themselves) and would probably faint again when he learned of Sed technically being royalty or when he has you know many cousins and siblings

•Ben would sometimes ask to hold Bandages with Sed when he's nervous or would use his bandages as extra hold be it like hug but with his bandages. Probably the same if he was in a Ectonurite form his tail would sometimes curl on things or his dad's out of habit or anyone with tendrils or extra sets of arms or whatever with one of his other alien father's

•Bens Celestialscapien dad might be the Galactic Gladiator.

•Im sure Ben has turned to Celestialscapien DNA more early on which is why he has better relationship with Bellicus and Serena than most Ben's and also since they probably are more fond of Ben because they met him as this sweet young child (and he's half celestialscapiens like them.) They would probably teach him about there ways and how they do things and teach Ben more but I doubt that's the case as Serena and Bellicus mostly bicker about old business so Ben has to keep it clear I picture he would mostly freak out.

•We still haven't seen some of Ben's other fathers (like Chronoscapiens, Pyronite, Keneceleran, Aploplaxian ect) yet but I mostly picture some of them being royalty, higher status in there Respective species or just some regular ol alien who serves as a guard or something else it really depends on it with sweetpeaches666

•Sandra would probably show baby pictures of Ben with his other dad's on other occasions or either they stumble on it/either found it either way they would be happy seeing Ben as a small child the only regret probably seeing them as a baby when he transforms into there respective species but it's probably in there somewhere but I guess they would have that chance as in Omniverse I saw one of Ben's enemy turn him into a 10 year old child again or probably a child again so technically his dad's will see there son as there respective species but babies (I can almost tell they would fight eachother on who gets to keep him first because it's like there son was a baby now and vulnerable you know)

•Ben as a small baby Splixson would have been a white and grey colored fuzzy blind bundle of fur and would be just this very small thing that fits in Sandra's palms as some baby animals don't retain true colors yet when they are young (this plays with his Aploplaxian, Loboan and some animal forms sue me! I shall defend this 😤)

(I'm obsessed and loved this Shapeshifter Ben au by @sweetpeaches666 and mostly because I picture Ben as a small kid still adorable and having more related things to Aliens we know and love as his fathers like Tetrax shard, Sugilite, Andromeda 5 and Anur Transyl aliens it's a very sweet and funny twist really)

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Interlude Chapter 3

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Master Post

“I have to say, Blood, You’ve stirred up quite the commotion over in Shadowland” Barna said before taking a drink from his mug.

“We have? Already?” Blood-Wraith asked. “Were we gone for that long?”

Aureolus swallowed his food and nodded. “Yeah. I’d say you were gone for about a week.”

“It took Radovan that long to get to you,” Barna continued. “He can only go so fast. Now I got a contact over in Shadowland. He’s a doctor who goes by the name Claudius Alfieri. He’s probably an outsider given the odd name. Either way, he’s been keeping Dunja and Milosh on their toes by spreading disease amongst their ranks…”

Blood-Wraith was shocked. “Goodness!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Blood,” Corentin added.

“Ha, I’d argue that’s fairly civil compared to what Sten’s doing” Barna replied. “He’s been going to town with his greatsword. I crafted the bloody thing and had no idea he planned to use it for battle. I thought it was just going to be a badge of honor or some kind of ornament, but no. He’s definitely been putting it through its paces.”

“Can you tell us more about his majesty, Barna?” Vexation inquired.

Barna cleared some food from his throat. “Well first things first: He gives me and Claudius the chills. King Sten Haugen is a 9 foot tall giant, built like a mountain, and looks like he just emerged from a crypt. He and my brother are friends, but I can tell that Sten can easily spot his flaws.”

Blood-Wraith was trying to wrap his mind around someone being taller than his dad and Englehart. Both were already 7-8 feet tall. “So what kind of king is he?”

“From what Claudius tells me, he’s incredibly stern, yet fair. You have to work to earn your keep in Shadowland, but Sten will make sure that you can serve the kingdom in some way. Also people who start yellin’ at him tend stop and lose their nerve. Sten has this deadpan stare when he gets annoyed. My brother has stated numerous times that he admires that level of fortitude… but it’s debatable whether or not that’s fortitude if you ask me.”

“Hmm, that makes me wonder if he isn’t related to The General of Old…” Vexation wondered. “...he also had a very stoic approach to adversity.”

“Well whatever the case, King Sten sounds like a fine enough king” Aureolus stated.

“Aside from the sternness…” Blood-Wraith interjected. “So, Barna, while we’re here: can I ask about Corentin? Specifically, why does he look the way he does? No offense, Corentin. It’s just that I always wondered why he doesn’t look like the others.”

Before Barna could answer, Corentin spoke up. “You know? I’ve always wondered about that myself. My torso is some kind of rubber, my bones are metal, and the rest of my body makes use of heavy duty stitching. Ha, did something happen to mom during my birth? Father?”

“Son… oh boy. Son, You don’t have a mother…” Barna looked a little uncomfortable, but remained firm.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ahem, you don’t have one because I created you.”

Corentin took a second to process this. Once it hit him, he was beside himself in disbelief. “You created me… just… why then?”

“Well, it all started back when that rat Milosh caused your grandfather to go off on his own so he could come back and humiliate him. Gunnar went missing, brother took the throne, and I inherited my dad’s mission. I thought about it for a while until I had an idea: Since I hadn’t found the woman for me yet, why not create a son? It was perfect…”

Corentin cut him off. “Hold up. Why didn’t you get married afterwards?”

“Like I said, I haven’t found the woman for me yet.” Blood-Wraith made a note of this for some reason. Barna resumed. “Making a second Philosopher’s Stone for a Corentin was a pain and there were a few SNAFUs while making his body, but hearing my boy cry for the first time brought a tear of joy to my eye…” Aureolus and Blood-Wraith were enthralled at this point. “... and the pathetic look on Milosh’s face when he saw my boy blowing him the raspberry was a nice bonus.”

Corentin was slightly shaking his head, trying to take it all in. “Well, that definitely answers a lot of questions I’ve had over the years… but dad… am I just one of your projects to you?”

“Yes… and no,” He answered sheepishly. “... you are one of my projects, but you are also so much more than that. You are hands down my greatest achievement and nothing will ever top you. I’m not even going to try. Are there things I would do differently if I created you today? Absolutely, but that’s purely hindsight…”

“Jeez…” Corentin got up, picked up a pack of cigars, and began heading downstairs. “I need a smoke. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

After they were sure he was outside, Vexation spoke. “How did that not come up sooner?”

“I told myself I’d tell him eventually, but I guess it got shifted to the back. Plus he never asked about it…” Barna answered.

“Impressive amount of trust I must say. He seems to be retaining it given his amicable reaction.”

“Yeah, I suppose…”

“What’s the matter, dad?” Aureolus asked, concerned. He could see Barna’s unease as clear as day.

Barna began picking up the plates since everyone was done. “Oh, it’s just that he had a similar reaction when he and Kresimira split all those years ago.”

“Well I doubt he’s angry with you; just overwhelmed” Blood-Wraith pointed out.

“I know he’s not angry. Sometimes he just needs to be alone.”

While Barna cleaned up and got dessert ready, Corentin gazed at the stars. Finding out he was a construct was something else. There were definitely some positive aspects to this. He was a lot more durable, a cigar or two did not bother him, and he could eat whatever he wanted since his body would process it no matter what. The thing that was bothering him was the fact that his father had not told him up until then. He was disappointed, but also in himself for not asking sooner. Blaming Barna was not going to solve anything. If anyone was to blame, it was his grandfather, whoever that was. Ultimately all of this was just something he would have to accept and move on with.

“I don’t have a mother…” Corentin sighed and doused his cigar. “Oh well, we’ll figure it out eventually.” Going inside, he was greeted by the smell of chocolate cake as he went upstairs. “Well it looks like I came back in just in time.”

“Hey, brother. Feeling better?” Aureolus asked.

Corentin smiled and sat down. “Yeah. Not perfect, but better.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, son” Barna apologized as he began serving slices of cake.

“Don’t worry about it, dad. Ha, I made sure to tell Maximus I created him right out the gate, no doubt about it.”

Barna laughed. “Haha! Excellent. Don’t make the same mistake I made.”

Over at the Raynot mansion, Radovan and his daughters were also eating dinner. Desislav did not join them as he had gone to bed early. “It feels odd without your mother here, girls,” Radovan commented.

Kresimira sighed. “Yes, it does feel a bit empty… speaking of which, Drago? What has gotten into Blood’s head? That wasn’t your doing, was it?”

“Nope. I am DONE exploring for a while. That last adventure was too much to handle. Honestly I have no idea where Blood got all that zeal. He came face to face with the Lich more than I did…”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s that energy we all have as children” Radovan deduced. “Since Blood is incredibly mature for his age, it’s being focused into something truly productive.”

Kresimira nodded. “That’s most likely the case… Also, Drago, are you implying you’re not going with him?”

Dragoslava slouched in her chair. “Sis, I had my life flash before my eyes. I’m going to bug Brenna to go with him. She’s actually been inside the labyrinth.”

“Fair enough I suppose.”

“Brenna is a capable soldier,” Radovan stated. “She and her brother get that from Ivar. Still, I wish I could’ve gone and found Rose myself. Now that I’m back here, I have mountains of work to do. I’m glad to be back, but a part of me will miss the great hunt.”

After a moment of no talking, Dragoslava shifted in her chair. “Hey, dad? I’m giving my action figures to Blood.”

Radovan smiled. “Well now, I was wondering what you were going to do with them now that you’re all grown. That’s quite nice of you.”

“Yeah, well they’re doing nothing but collecting dust in my room and I need the space. Why not give them to him?”

Once everyone was finished, Kresimira began cleaning up. “I assume you’ll be busy tomorrow, papa?”

“Unfortunately,” Radovan answered. “We need to plan out a program for repairs to the city and a sub-program to address all the repairs Blood and Aureolus made. Bless their hearts, but boys… that’s more paperwork for the king and I.” His daughters chuckled.

Since it was getting late, the three retired for the night. Not feeling truly sleepy yet, Dragoslava sat at her desk with a pen and papers. She thought about doing a write up for the Dark Grand Desert, but decided against it. Instead she figured she would write up some plans for her room. Firstly she needed to get all of her old toys over to Blood-Wraith. Next she had to get a queen-sized bed for her and Desislav… or did she? What if they needed space one night? The mansion did have extra rooms after all.

Feeling a sudden bout of nostalgia, Dragoslava got out a golden action figure and fiddled around with it. It was still in great condition. The quest to stop the Lich made her miss her childhood. Rummaging through the rest of her toys, she found a large, dragon action figure. It was quite fearsome and reminded her of Leif. She could feel her emotions starting to pile up. This toy would not be going to Blood-Wraith, as it now held sentimental value for her. Dragoslava even felt obligated to clean the toy up and put it on display, but this would have to wait until the next day. She was finally starting to fall asleep.

The following morning, Blood-Wraith woke up feeling great. He went downstairs to the dining room and was greeted by Aureolus and Vexation, who were waiting patiently. “Morning, guys. What’s going on?”

“Good morning, Blood,” Vexation replied. “Ms. Thompson stopped in to serve breakfast and meet with you.”

“Oh? Well good thing given that…”

Brenna walked into the dining room with the rest of the food. “Morning, Blood! I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I didn’t get a chance to chat with you back in the Deep Unlight” she said as she began serving food.

Blood-Wraith yawned, still waking up a bit. “Thanks for the breakfast. Mind if I ask a question?”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Would you be willing to go with me to the Magician’s Labyrinth?”

Brenna sat down. “That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss. You’re taking a lot after Drago, you know?”

He chuckled. “She is the first person I met after all.”

“To answer your question: Absolutely. Now Blood, I have to warn you that that place is dangerous. It’s huge and I’m pretty sure Deimos is the only one who can properly navigate it. Fortunately I do have a rough idea on how it works.”

Vexation thought for a second. “If only Deimos wasn’t so busy…”

“Yeah, but it’s like what dad says: The harder the challenge, the greater the reward” Aureolus pointed out.

“Well sure, but this isn’t training or a treasure hunt: I just want to find my mom and Tusk’s mom,” Blood-Wraith responded.

Brenna ate some of her toast. “True, but you’ll need to be in top shape regardless. Blood, I got a proposal for you: I want to take over as your teacher.”

“Wait, really? Why?”

“Tusk seems out of his depth from what I’ve been hearing. Plus I’m dying to see your abilities in action. I talked to Sigmund and he agreed. Tusk wasn’t ready for ULTRAMagic and he wasn’t ready to be a teacher.”

Blood-Wraith sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Brenna. I just hope this doesn’t bother him.”

Next: Chapter 4

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[deviantartdramahub]

All about DeviantART drama! (tumblr.com) <- Wow, if it is actually Eve, I'm touched she didn't call me "Lupiss" like she always does. Could this be the start of her finally seeing the only way to end this shit, is to talk to me one on one, no childish crap, no fake accusations, just a simple one on one, chat. And then maybe, MAYBE, I will consider stopping the attacks on her. However, if this is just a trick, and fact, I do believe it is... I will continue to attack the bitch. I will continue to attack the pissant fake ass piece of shit blog known as DevienatArtDramaNow, better known as the only blog that specializes in terrorism, and let's not forget, they also have a hard-on for me, considering they're favourte topic is talking about me, and making up some of the most laughable claims about me, yet to see any prove of the shit they've claimed, mind you. But, they are also known for posting propaganda as well! This sounds like a trick, so bitch please, if the police know you then that's great, because when I send in my completed report about you, they will see they made a mistake in letting your skanky ass walk out of that station, and run your worthless ass back in, and right into a padded cell where you belong! You say "Watch the pot calling the kettle black. Take a leaf outta your own book, dude." I say, shut the fuck up skank you've seen nothing yet! And next time, if you want to play mind games with me, try to make sure you don't leave yourself open to counter-attacks. Speaking of which, Eve... Did you bitch at me, still waiting for the proof I uploaded a picture of your ugly mug to a sex website, no proof? Damm, that sucks... but I don't think anybody would want a picture of your mug anyway. I know, Tri, this isn't the kinda of place to be talking shit about people like her, but hey, what you gonna do if I'm gone? Let's face it, Try.... without the "BigDog" watching your back, will you still be able to put up with her shit? I trust you, just not when you claim that cow wants to make up with me after she posted shit about my Dad, who is, and has been for a few years now.. dead, from cancer.

I don't think anyone should be attacking anyone. The whole idea I had with this Tumblr group was to serve as a place for peacemaking, like any court should. We can and should, however, express condemnation of things like DeviantArtDramaNow which is the offshoot or onshoot of this group that does condone attacks. I can attest that, as of this moment, they're not honest, possibly not even for the most part.

As a place of peacemaking, I should add, when both sides have proceeded to consult the authorities of their land, this place, upon hearing that, cannot help but simply watch, though we seem to not be there yet. I encourage both of you to coexist here long enough that, as you present your cases, peace between the two of you can be attempted, because it's getting rough.

I think some of the posts here in DeviantArtDramaHub could be more civil, albeit this being something I'm not afraid to say the mod of DeviantArtDramaNow would never respond, but I do applaud you for coming here to make your case and for some of the things you stand up for. It is her turn next.

Sorry about your dad.

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Do you think you’ll continue with the lawyer Nessian fic. It was so amazingly written I’d love to read more! I love all your writing anyways I’ll be happy with anything❤️

Ok not *technically* a Drabble request BUT I’m not ready to commit to a full lawyer AU that happens in order however I did just drum up a part 2 that we’ll say is several years before the previous lawyer AU. Nessian teasing in a bar and Rhys being a dumbass.

FYI the lawyer Drabble I’m talking about can be found HERE.

“I’m in love,” Rhys slurred. Cassian, a decent bit bigger than his brother and two drinks behind him, had a gentle buzz so he could only surmise that his brother was well passed sober.

“Congratulations,” Cassian grinned, clapping his hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “May I lay eyes upon the future Mrs. Dumbass.”

Rhys stared at him flatly. Blew a laugh out of his nose. “She’s not marrying you, brother.”

Cassian snorted, casting his eyes around the elegantly decorated little lounge they’d stepped into for the night. Lounge, not bar. Because they were mature adults now looking to take the edge off after a long day of work, not college students looking to get fucked up.

It was different.

It was different because the cocktails cost $20 and were served in actual stemware instead of red solo cups. They were evolving. Growing. Cassian was a lawyer now and Rhys was supposed to be doing actual work for his dad’s company so… no more dive bars.

Now they frequented little lounges where accountants and lawyers and bankers sat in tailored suits and discussed… adult things.

It was all very civilized.

And yet here was his brother. Every bit the horny college student they were trying not to be. Oh well, old dogs and all that.

“End of the bar.” Rhys jerked his head to the left and Cassian grinned.

“Might be a little old for you, champ.”

Rhys wrinkled his brow and turned to look at the grandmother doing a crossword puzzle on the far left side of the bar. A martini glass in front of her. Good for grandma.

“Other end of the bar!”

Cassian smirked. He didn’t need to turn his head, since he’s noticed her the second she walked in, but he still did. Just so he could look some more.

“Ah, you mean the deliciously dishevelled leggy brunette with her suit jacket on the chair beside her who just ripped the pins out of her hair like they personally offended her and then laid them in a neat little pile beside her Kobo?

“Mmm,” Rhys grinned, “I’d like her to rip those fingers through my hair.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Go for it, brother.”

Rhys grinned wider. “I think I will.” He straightened up, ran a hair through his artfully mussed hair, and pulled on the lapels of his Gucci suit jacket until they were even again.

Cassian snickered into his Old Fashioned. Rhys could straighten his jacket all he wanted. He could pretend he wasn’t drunk all he wanted. It wouldn’t matter one bit.

Not with Nesta Archeron.

Nesta Archeron who hated men that stunk of trust funds and privilege more than anything else in this world.

This would be fun to watch.

Watch her try to ignore him at first. Eyes glued to the page of her book, hand reaching up to wave through the air like Rhys was an annoying fly she could swat away.

Rhys, to his credit, was a clever little bastard. He asked the bartender for a refill of her drink and set it down in front of her then sat himself one stool down from her.

He didn’t move her jacket to sit next to her, which would have had her going feral. He just sat there, waiting.

After a few moments Nesta let out an exacerbated sigh that Cassian could hear from across the room. There was his girl.

Well, not his girl. Not even a little bit his girl, but… someday.

Cassian decided that he was going to Marry Nesta Archeron the first time she kicked his ass up and down a negotiation meeting. It was a couple years ago now. He’d been young and new at his firm. She was young and new too, but the words learning curve were not in Nesta’s vocabulary. Everything she did, she did with perfection.

Including getting rid of men she didn’t want hitting on her.

She said something to his brother that made Rhys’ half drunk, cocky, smile fall halfway down his face.

Cassian would’ve given his left eye to know what she said in that moment. She had a knack for jumping at the jugular and Rhys… oh Rhys. So obvious.

After a few moments and the continual fall of Rhys’ face, Cassian decided it was time to intervene. He knocked his drink back and straightened out his own suit jacket. Armani, still overpriced and designer but not so obvious or try hard as Mr. Up On The Trends with his Gucci. Nesta appreciated classics.

Simple. Clean lines, solid colours, classic. Which was why it was so fun just how attracted she was to his half wild self.

Unlike Rhys, Cassian plucked Nesta’s light grey suit jacket up off the stool beside her and reached over her head to hang it on a coat hook at the end of the bar. Settling himself into the chair beside her like it was exactly where he belonged. Which it was.

She turned around with an indignant shriek and a fire-breathing snarl that narrowed into just a hard glare when she realized it was him. Touching.

“This guy giving you trouble, Nes?”

Rhys choked on his whiskey and Cassian fought his hardest to keep a straight face.

“I so don’t need your saviour complex right now, Cassian.” Nesta scoffed.

“No,” Rhys rolled his eyes. “She was doing perfectly well scaring off everyone in a 10 mile radius all on her own.”

Nesta smiled sweetly, “I was just playing your game.”

Rhys sputtered again. Looked up at his brother. “This devil woman that you apparently already know,” he glared, “is all yours. I’m going home.”

“Be sure to drink plenty of water!” Nesta sing songed after him. Rhys flipped them both off on his way out.

“What’d you say to him?”

Nesta smiled. A pretty, feline little thing. “He said he wanted to chat. Suggested 20 question, which is the lamest, oldest, crustiest line in the book. So I went first. Asked just how small his dick was that he felt the need to overcompensate with the swagger and the gratuitous displays of wealth. He thought he was quite clever to use his question to ask if I wanted to check for myself how not small his dick was and then I asked if his daddy never loved him and that’s where all of that machismo masking painfully obvious and deep seeded feelings of inadequacy and insecurity came from. I was going to offer him my friend’s number before you showed up. She’s an excellent therapist.”

Cassian laughed. Hard. For a very long time. He loved Rhys, but sometimes the kid could use a nice set down. It was always sweeter when delivered by a beautiful woman. Not to mention, Cassian himself had gotten the same ice cold rejection the first time he met Nesta. When he asked if she wanted to get a coffee and she looked at him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. That Rhys was chased off so easily just proved he couldn’t take the heat.

“You know the walking trust fund, I presume?” Nesta boredly sipped the drink Rhys had bought her. And even that was somehow amusing.

“Only for the last couple decades or so,” Cassian grinned. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“Explains a lot.”

“Your insults are more impactful when you clarify which person is being insulted.”

“I was going for the two birds one stone method.”

“In that case, consider me wounded, sweetheart.”

Nesta scoffed, “Unfortunately not mortally.”

“Oh Nesta, if I weren’t here you’d die of boredom and you know it. No one else can run you up and down the courtroom like I can.” Now. Cassian grinned as he watched the word flash across her eyes. He’d never live that first blunder down.

Nesta rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you present any challenge whatsoever.”

Cassian signalled for another drink and leaned forward. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who in this entire city can give you more of a run for your money?”

“Vanserra.” Nesta looked him dead in the eye. And managed to keep a straight face. As if that wasn’t the funniest fucking thing he’d heard all day.

“Oh yes, Nepotism and Nepotism LLP certainly has us all shaking in our boots,” Cassian blew out a breath. “What are you working on now?”

“I’m working on upholding attorney-client privilege.”

“So, the Suncurser merger.”

Nesta looked up. “How did you-”

“Helion and I are old friends. I checked the zoning on the lots he was buying before the merger went ahead to make sure the expansion was even feasible. But, as you know, M&A isn’t my thing. So I may have… given him a referral.”

“Are there any rich playboys in this city that you aren’t friends with?” Nesta finished off her drink and pointedly didn’t signal for another. “And if you think I’m going to be grateful to you for sending this my way you’ve got another thing-“

“Helion is my friend.” Cassian repeated, cutting her off. “He believes in this merger and he wants it done right. You’re the best, Nesta. Why wouldn’t I send him to you?”

“It’s not just to get in my pants?” She narrowed her eyes.

Cassian laughed again. “Oh no, sweetheart. When you invite me into your bed it will have nothing to do with work. It’ll be because you’re tired of denying how much you want me.” Cassian leaned in closer, one hand resting on the back of her chair. “Tired of denying the thrill that shoots through your whole body when we lay into each other. In the court room or out.” His nose brushed against hers, just a little, and Cassian felt Nesta tense up. He smirked, mouth just inches away from hers. “Tired of denying how right this is.”

Nesta’s voice was rough, husky. “So your plan is to wear me down?”

Cassian smirked. “My plan,” his hand came up to stroke the silk covered expanse of her upper arm, “is to marry you, Nesta Archeron. But sure, we can start with wearing you down.”

***Feyre and Nesta look physically similar so you can’t tell me drunk Rhys wouldn’t hit on Nesta in a bar before realizing he’d made a terrible mistake and running away thank you***

Also tags yourself, I’m the grandma doing the crossword puzzle with a martini. She’s an icon and she is the moment.

[catelyngrant]

it’s been *checks calendar* five weeks since my last damages crossover breakdown but I am back/still on my bullshit, same song, same verse, different fandom but a whole lot worse, etc!!! (absolutely no idea how I made it a month in the succession rabbit hole before this occurred to me honestly)

ANYWAY, Succession/Damages crossover, Patty Hewes vs. Waystar.

Post s2, Patty tracks down a handful of victims from the cruises and convinces them to file a civil suit against Waystar. She ropes Kendall into it. He is terrified but also in awe of her, she loathes him with every fiber of her being but plays him like a fiddle.

Let’s say this is set during s2-ish of Damages? Ellen still works with Patty but it’s post assassination attempt, so basically it’s them at their messiest. Anyway, Ellen is trying to play both Patty and Kendall and is trying to bring down both Patty and Waystar and it’s all very sexy.

So Logan despises Patty with the misogyny of a thousand white male billionaires and Brian Cox and Glenn Close get imaginary Emmys delivered to their doorsteps just from me imagining them in a scene together where Logan is basically foaming at the mouth but at least starts off pretending to be cooperative until Patty makes some charmingly condescending comment and then he storms out/breaks things/loses his goddamn mind at her while she just gives him a crocodile smile.

Gerri and Patty know each other - the club of super high powered female attorneys based in NYC is not a very large one - and don’t particularly like each other. Patty’s probably been sniffing around Waystar for years, and when Gerri finds out about the civil suit she goes home and drinks like five martinis in 30 minutes and considers moving to Bermuda.

Seriously though, Gerri “I don’t like mess” Kellman who at least pretends to play by the rules vs. Patty “I tried to kill my protégé to cover up my mess that involved at least one dead person and a dead dog but she survived and now she’s working for me again even though she knows I tried to have her murdered” Hewes??? In a situation where Patty is determined to not just win but to personally destroy Logan Roy, his empire, his legacy, and wipe him and his entire family clean of their fortune? Yeah, Gerri’s gonna have to get dirty or get out, and honestly I could see it going either way bc I think she values saving her own skin > winning, unlike Patty, but if Patty could take her down too, she might not have a choice but to get on her level.

Shiv is a disaster. She’s loyal to her dad but she also has always admired Patty, and they actually have a lot in common in that they sort of pretend to care about other people and in Shiv’s case she actually does think she has the moral high ground most of the time, I think? But they’re also self-serving and desperate to win. So Patty would be working the hell out of Shiv, and would probably enlist Ellen in that, too. Shiv would try to play both Logan and Patty and it would end very, very badly.

Patty would consider trying to turn Tom, but would decide against it because she wants to humiliate him and take him down, too. She does sic Ellen on Greg, who doesn’t exactly mean to end up on Team Patty but by the time he realizes how thoroughly he’s been played and how much essential info he’s given her he doesn’t really have a choice but to stick with her bc the Roys would kill him.

Kendall, of course, would start out all self-righteous and Patty would let him think that he’s the crusader here, etc., but that would only play out for so long. At some point he’d probably turn to Gerri or Frank (not Logan) when she casts him aside and he realizes how contemptible she really finds him and give them insight into how underhanded her methods are.

Roman - idk man, he’d be loyal to Logan and Gerri but he’d also probably have to excuse himself from a deposition or three to jerk off after watching Patty and Gerri in action against each other.

Ellen and Willa went to school together, bc why not? So Connor tries to make nice by inviting Ellen over for dinner and they have a very fucking awkward evening together in which it becomes clear to Connor that a) his family’s fucked, and b) Willa might be rooting for Ellen.

At some point Waystar tries to settle (Gerri, Frank, Karl, and pretty much everyone threatens to quit if Logan doesn’t make the offer) but a la Frobisher in season one, Patty is like LOL NO, so idk how it plays out past that...I kind of feel like Ellen and Shiv definitely will sleep together at one point only for Shiv to try - and fail - to stab Ellen in the back; Patty gets blackmail material of some sort over Roman and Gerri’s dynamic (she bugs their phones or sets people on their apartments or something) and that’s, uh, Not Good, and she probably also digs up the details on the waiter in England; in response, Gerri starts poking around Ray Fisk’s death and also begins trying to work Ellen, because she can tell that Ellen has an agenda of her own and might not be entirely opposed to bringing Patty down herself (reader’s choice if that works); Logan probably has a heart attack or another stroke at some point and Patty sends him a giant bouquet of flowers and he might actually die at that point; in the end it probably comes down to Gerri and Roman as the functional defense against Patty, with Ellen as a wild card (she’s telling Patty that she’s playing Team Waystar and Patty doesn’t believe it but thinks she can manipulate Ellen to her advantage anyway; Gerri and Roman don’t totally believe that Ellen only cares about bringing Patty down, not Waystar, but they also think they can use her against Patty; basically no one trusts anyone); Logan, Kendall, and Shiv are all furious but are making everything worse; Tom kidnaps Greg and they flee to Thailand and tbh they’re probably the only ones who get a happy ending.

Did I develop this entire concept because I actually short-circuited at the idea of Patty vs. Gerri? YOU BET I DID, honestly that’s the only part of this entire thing that matters the rest is just lagniappe!!!

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

[hannya-writes]

Hihihi! I know it's kinda crazy and I just found your acc but I was LITERALLY thinking about a Marvel-SVU crossover and found yoooooou. I mean... The algorithm lead me to you. It's ✨ Destiny ✨ haha So I was wondering if you could write something Marvel-SVU kinda with Carisi x reader (i don't know if you watch agents of shield) where reader has to go UC for Shield and falls in love with him and he finds out she's Shield etc. I don't know if I'm making any sense rn I'm just really happy I found you. And now I sound creepy but it's already too late and I'm sending this.

Dear @lapaquerette : I do not watch Agents of shield, but I did my best! I swear I did! 😭 you totally made sense! But I feel like there's part of this story that are not so good, anyways~ let's get to the story!!

Title: Don't Tell anyone

Fandom: MCU and Law and order SVU

Pairing: Sonny Caruso x Reader

Other characters: no, I think no

Category: romance

Warnings: this doesn't have a happy ending bc I'm bad writing those! This is long I think.

Author's note: for a moment I thought of making this a serie, but my head couldn't stand it! I don't feel like I can picture Carisi in the right way so probably he's going to be very OOC. Also I'm not supper proud of this because I literally did what I wanted with the time line, Captain America: Winter Soldier happens in 2016 however Caruso es ADA in 2020 if I'm not wrong but in this case the events of winter soldier happen in 2020. Also there's like 2 years of difference btw WS and Civil War, and I tried my best! To make everything fit, but you know, you can kick my ass in comments.

• • •

The mission was supposed to last just a couple of days. Y/n had to pose as an assistant to the Junior ADA's why did they need assistance she didn't know, but when Nick fury assigned her there she just didn't dared to ask.

"Find out what's going on there" he had said as if it was a life or dead situation.

Pepto. That's what happened. High expectations was the other thing happening. The Junior ADA's where being pressed, running towards death case by case.

It was boring, the first two days Y/n had played "who's the jerk of the room?" She had found more than one, stress made that to people. Who cares about cordiality when they had to put people in jail? The answer was Dominic "Sonny" Carisi.

Sonny never yelled or snapped at people, he always asked nicely about papers, he said "Good Morning" and "thank you". He was a gentleman, a knight in a shiny armor. He made funny jokes even when he was struggling with a case.

Y/n had felt a weird desire to help him after just one encounter. The puppy eyes, she reasoned. After that day when he was in court she appeared there, sat and suddenly the people being cross-examined poured the truth without control or bursted in fit of rage confessing everything. She wasn't making something bad, she was helping, which she was supposed to do. No one was going to link her to those incidents. No one knew what she could do.

— copies, now — one of ADA's order her and she almost pushed the asshole and told him to do it himself, it was only a copy machine, he only had to push a button! However, Y/n was a trained spy, she had control over every muscle in her face to not make a disgusted expression at the tall and skinny man. 63 ways to kill him appeared in her head in a second.

— Sure thing — she said in a gently tone, entertaining her mind in the more horrible ways to deal with Tommy.

Tommy Parish, a bully in and out of court, linked to the Irish Mafia. He thought he was a big fish, prepotent but surprisingly brilliant. He was like a weasel. He wasn't that important. Shield wasn't interested by his night activities. They thought there was something else, something more important. Y/n didn't think so. The more interesting thing there was...

— Oh, Sorry didn't meant to...— Sonny said as he almost hit Y/n with the door.

— my fault, I was standing here like a creep — she took the guilt with a sheepish smile.

— A penny for your thoughts — he said as he walked outside and Y/n instinctively followed, as she usually followed after director Nick Fury,

— I think I'm being punished — she said while walking aimlessly, if Sonny had walked in the male restroom she would have probably followed him blindly.

— punish? For what? Did Tommy said something mean to you again? — the blond man sounded concerned and for Y/n it was refreshing, people around her tended to be more defensive around her than being worried about her well being.

— no! I think Tommy is warming up to me — Y/n said proudly — it's my umm... Dad, he send me to live here and I think is because he is mad at me —

There was a small silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

— why would he be mad? You are amazing! — Sonny sounded so positive and brilliant, he always seemed to have that aura around him, even in the worst cases. Y/n noticed it, and worried her when he started to lose his shine.

— in my last job, I made a mistake and people got hurt — the confession was sincere. She wasn't lying, she was omitting that those people didn't just "got hurt", they died. She had killed them.

— You are human, humans make mistakes — he said stopping in front of an embellished door. — talk later? — he asked and Y/n nodded with a smile.

•••

After a month everything still was normal. No conspicuous action, no weird people. Y/n wondered why was she there? Was she really being punished by Fury? She had made a mistake, she had chose to save a person, she couldn't know that the objective was going to detonate the whole place. She couldn't read every single thought, her brain would melt if she even tried.

— Sorry, I need to... — said Sonny pointing at the copy machine, y/n blushed for being caught spacing out, again for the 4 time in a week

— I'm so sorry, allow me — y/n extended a hand offering to make the copy for Carisi.

— don't worry, I can push a button — he said making her smile and feel weird.

— please Mr. Carisi, let me be of help — she offered tilting her head a little bit, Sonny found that little action distracting and cute enough to give her the papers he needed to copy.

He saw her move, she was so elegant even just making copies.

— thank you — he told her sighing exhausted.

— don't worry Mr. Carisi, I'll do this, get it in a folder and get it back to you, why don't you go rest your eyes a bit? — she asked with a smile, noticing his tired demeanor

— I'll do it, if you start calling me Sonny — he negotiated and she laughed whole heartedly — come on, everytime you call me Mr. Carisi I feel like you are talking to my father —

— fine, you got yourself a deal — she offered her hand and he took her in his bigger one. Sonny felt asleep with the sound of the copy machine working.

— Sonny, Sonny — Y/n soft voice took him out of dreamland, he found out in that moment that his Nickname sounded awesome from Y/n lips.

•••

From Sonny's eyes y/n was an amazing woman who was able to help everyone with their tasks, she made copies, keep archives ordered, got everything for everyone. She made time to know all of the junior's ADA's of "her room", she served coffee when needed, got them food, kept clean clothes for them just in case. She was like a mother. Sometimes she even helped them found the info they needed. She made all of that and made it with a polite smile. She had been there for like a year and their interactions where short, but he was head over heels for her.

Why? Because she got a great sense of humor, she was nice, smart, sassy when needed, had an excellent memory, she made the best black coffee he had ever tasted. She never got nervous no matter the circumstances. He didn't understand how or why was she assigned to be the "mother hen" of 7 ADA's, but he was thankful. Some days became better the moment she gave him a smile and he imagined that smile was just for him.

Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose in pain. It was past midnight and he was still in his office, working on papers. Practicing his opening statement.

— the truth... The truth....— he repeated trying to remember the next point of the speach. He grunted frustrated.

— Sonny? — the sudden voice made the attorney jump and Y/n laughed.

— Geez, doll! — he exclaimed surprised — You should use a bell — added more awake than before.

— doll? — Y/n questioned rising an eyebrow, Sonny turned red.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect you — he quickly apologized.

— you didn't, I actually like it — she admitted — I'll allow it — added in a solemn voice — with a condition councilor, only in private I don't need more gossips going around—

After saying those words, Y/n knew that she was digging her own grave. She liked Sonny.

•••

Y/n looked at her phone horrified. Nick had send her and encrypted message. Which was resumed to: You are free of SHIELD, live the life of Y/n Veith. The life he had created for her, an identity that couldn't be connected to the Spy agency. Y/n Y/l/n had died in what they called something like the purge of Hydra. He didn't needed her. He had died. Captain america had basically destroyed the corrupted SHIELD. This was her life now. She was what? a secretary? An assistant?

She should had fail with SHIELD, she should had been there with Fury, protecting him. But she didn't. She pretended nothing happened and followed his last order to her: live like Y/n Veith.

She went with the flow. Acted like everything was just fine, made a routine, followed it to the last point. Untill one day out of the blue she broke down crying in Sonny's office. He was her friend.

— what happened? — he asked on the other side of the desk, surprised that in the middle of his speech, y/n started crying. The case was difficult, a father died to protect his daughter. The teenager girl had been raped and her father was killed by the rapist. It was way more complicated but, that were the facts.

— sorry, sorry — she said cleaning her face with her hands, Sonny approached and offered her a handkerchief that she took hesitantly. — I lost, I lost him — she stuttered.

Sonny kneeled by her side, took the handkerchief and cleaned her beautiful face.

— I'm so sorry, doll — he said even if he didn't understand, Y/n felt his consternation.

— my father died — she said with a soft voice — my house burned down — she added and Sonny understood, her father adopted her, he had saved her and then lost it all. The case had hit too close to her.

— Come on, we had enough of this case — he decided getting up, taking her hands to get her to stand — I'll take you home — he said and she smiled with sadness.

— I don't want to go to my department — she confessed getting up and Sonny gave her a soothing smile.

— We can go to my place — he offered without a second intention, she nodded and they walked away from the office, Sonny ordered an Uber.

Outside of One Hogan place with a heavy heart, y/n leaned against Sonny and he hugged her while waiting for their ride, and during the ride.

Y/n fell asleep without nightmares for the first time in the 6 months after the dead of Nick. Sonny by her side, over the covers and behind a "wall" of pillows fell asleep with the image of a peaceful Y/n.

•••

Three months later, Y/n entered Sonny's little office, she said a "sorry to interrupt", the blond man stopped writing and turned to her eagerly, he tried to suppress his desire to look into her eyes but he wasn't that good at that.

He hadn't seen her in more than 14 days thanks to his overflow of cases and her being stole by homicides DA, who had discovered she was very good in investing.

She muttered a "what?" In mockery, as if the distance and time hadn't even happened and added a "I got you a donut!". A donut that he had craved since morning but wasn't able to get. He sighed a laugh, sometimes it was as if she could read his mind.

— you are life saver, doll— he sighed in relief taking the donut from her hand.

— Should I get you some coffee? — she asked with that caring tone that made him feel special.

— I would love that — he accepted as she merrily went to the coffee machine and poured him a cup and then a glass of water.

Sonny wondered about where did those pretty and elegant glasses came from, have they always been there? She left a bag in the table and walked back to him. He pretended to be working but it was hard to act when she was walking towards him with that dark red pencil skirt that hug perfectly the curb of her hips, the black blouse making contrast, hanging a bit loose over her torso.

— thanks doll — he said when she put the coffee and water in a corner of the desk, he looked at her with a smile — water? — he asked with a joking tone, y/n nodded

— yes, sir — she said in the same joking mood — I took an account of the caffeine you ingest by day, this could be dangerous for your health, so for every cup of caffeine, one of water — she explained with as much confidence as a lawyer making an opening statement.

— are you worried about me? — he was almost flirting, she blushed even if they sometimes flirted a bit.

— I worry about all of you — she pointed out and gave a mischievous smile that made Sonny blush.

— thank you, doll — he quipped with a smile, she smiled back and walked away to Parish desk, the man sat there looked down to his papers as Y/n put a bagel by his hand.

Sonny noticed how Tommy's ears got as read as a tomato and turned to look at her with adoration, the same look the other ADA's got everytime she was near. He had seen how things slowly changed with Y/n presence, at first they were rude, condescending, then they realized that she was excellent in her work. She had saved all of them more than once with little actions.

Y/n had a charming aura and some men in the office had asked her out, Tommy included, but she always turned them down, with an excellent excuse. "I'm seeing someone".

Carisi wondered who. Who was she dating?

•••

— Coffee — she announced as she took a folder and put it carefully away.

Sonny smiled and suddenly thought of Y/n lie about she seeing someone. She had never tell him about her boyfriend, he thought of all of those slice of life moments they had, the banters they have, the many times she had helped him. The times she would stay in his apartment so she wouldn't be alone.

Was he the person she was seeing?

— do you have plans for tonight? — he asked abruptly and Y/n looked at him surprised.

— I got a date with my bed, but I can reschedule — she offered with a smile, she could rest later, she had to enjoy every moment with Sonny.

— do it, I'll take you to a wonderful place — He said with all of his confidence, she giggled — after work? — she nodded contently.

— It's a deal — she said before walking away with a big smile in her face.

Sonny felt stupidly happy. It was him. She was dating him unofficially.

•••

That night Y/n tried to look as perfect as was possible in work clothes, she had refreshed herself, use a little more of make up. She was excited, she really liked Sonny and had wanted to go on a date with him, no work talk, no solving ways to state a question. She wanted to know him in a more personal way.

They sat in a table of a nice looking bar, a decent one. It wasn't pretentious, they actually served food and not just greasy fast food. She had told him distorted versions of stories with her "family and friends", (since she couldn't talk about her real life and training) like that time her father had taught her how to use a gun for her homework and she discovered she had weak fingers.

She heard about his time as a Police officer, a detective nonetheless! Sargent Benson seemed to be a very empathic person, Detective Tutuola was definitely a funny man, Amanda was for him like one more of his sisters. And Sonny discovered that she was adopted by a man called Nick, Nick Veith he guessed, since he thought that was her real last name.

She had two "adopted" sister and a brother: Maria, Natalie and Clinton. Maria was righteous, Nat was smart and sassy, Clint was funny and sometimes really annoying. Sonny thought he would get along easily with them.

They laughed between stories, they were getting fun untill Y/n felt there was something wrong. Something was about to happen. Something bad.

— Something wrong? — Y/n barely registered Sonny's voice before jumping over him yelling a "get down". A telekinetic wake made the other around people fall to the ground just in time as a rain of bullets came from the broken windows.

Sonny heard the glass breaking, people screaming in panic. Saw the bullets fly over him and the bottles in the bar breaking in slow motion. He had never experienced anything like that. The light weight of Y/n over him. And his monkey mind thought about how right that felt.

There was a "clank" from a gas' bomb, then a flash and a cloud of white smoke. People stood up and started running.

— Y/n — Sonny pulled her to see her face, he thought she would be scared, paralyzed from fear. However, when he saw her face there was no fear, she seemed confused, puzzled. — come on, we have to move —

Y/n was thinking the same, but she didn't know what was the right move: defend everyone there using her not-so-human powers? Run away and pretend to be a delicate woman, scared of the situation?

— doll? — Sonny sounded worried and in almost panic, a switch turned as boots hit the floor of the bar.

— Stay behind me — Y/n said with confidence getting up, feeling the presence of 8 people surrounding them, circling them. — and... — she looked at Sonny worried — don't get scared — she pleaded softly.

— Y/n Y/l/n surrender yourself — someone yelled and the woman felt her skin crawl, she hadn't hear her name in more than a year. It sounded good.

— is this about the accords? — She thought, aware of the Sokovia accords and what they proposed. She hadn't signed them. No one was supposed to know about her, her powers, she hadn't expected the government to notice her.

Nat? Clint? Maybe Maria had told them.

— That's right, put your hands in the air — the man ordered in a shout. Y/n closed her eyes and closed her hand in a thigh fist, making the fog disappear.

— Sorry, I can't do that— she confessed pushing the man with telekinesis. — I'm not a weapon you can use —

A new row of bullets flew towards Y/n and Sonny. A bright green light appeared in her eyes and all of the bullets stopped in the air, traces of the same light that made Y/n shine seemed to contain the little bullets like tendrills, the bullets turned in the air pointing at the squadron that was attacking her

— Y/n, no! — Sonny made her react, the tendrills disappeared and the bullets fell useless to the ground as the woman turned to see the Attorney.

— Sonny, sonny — she stuttered worried— no, no, no, no, I would never hurt them, I'm not a monster, I'm not! — she said almost in panic,not because of the attack but for the ideas Sonny could get.

Sonny saw the green and now red light form an eyes over Y/n, then monsters from nightmares formed from the light, monsters like dogs, with skulls covering the hideous animals with blood dripping from their snouts, bodies wet with a black substance. The animals roared and jumped to defend them.

Y/n saw fear in Sonny's eyes. She recognized it, a bright tendril started to form in the exact point of her heart, the fear taking form in her presence. Her hand squished the light over her chest, stopping something else to form.

He didn't know what to say. Carisi knew about the avengers, the new york incident had affected his work, he had saw everything about "ultron", he was informed about Tony Stark and the avengers every move. But he didn't know what was he supposed to say? "Sign the accords" was what he wanted to say. It was selfish for him to ask that, he couldn't do it.

— doll, you're not a monster— he finally found his own voice to say that. — but you have to go —

— Sonny, I... — the ADA put a strand of hair behind Y/n ear taking her by surprise.

— If you don't mind, I'll like to kiss you — he said making her blink in disbelief.

— yes please...— she said and Carisi smiled brightly, his large hand caressed her cheek and softly leave a tender kiss in her soft lips. It barely lasted more than a second. When Carisi opened up his eyes, everything was back to normal. Like a couple of minutes ago, right before the shooting.

In the table was a note: "Don't tell anyone" he recognized Y/n writing. He wondered if everything had been a dream, a hallucination. A part of him told him that no, that couldn't be his imagination. Y/n had left.

[soundwavefucker69]

It’s actually really painful to have your teeth whitened. It hurts a lot, and they look like chalk until they heal. Sometimes, whitening doesn’t even lift all of the stains, and fake enamel has to be put over teeth, and it doesn’t always match.

My two front teeth are a different color from the rest of them. My family never really had soda in the house as a kid. My mother used to leave out mint tea, which she’d steep in the sun, lightly sweetened, served chilled. It was my favorite drink. She’d leave it on the back patio, and I have never been able to make that same tea or recreate the taste of my childhood. We had a next door neighbor at that house who had wild mint growing in her garden she let us harvest, because she viewed it as a weed, but we sure loved that mint tea. She had a miniature pony, I think his name was Philip, that ran around in the backyard, and I loved that horse. He was so unique as opposed to the big dogs and little chihuahuas all over our town. Another neighbor down the way, Miss Rosie, that lived in a house hidden from the road just after the asphalt turned to dirt, let me and my brother and our foreign exchange sister, Fah, pick pomegranates from her overgrown tree.

Miss Rosie died of cancer just a little after we moved out of that house.

Nowadays, my dad tells my younger siblings to stop leaving water bottles half finished all over the house, and threatens them with teeth like mine if they keep wasting water, because he’ll stop buying water bottles if they won’t use them.

Of course, the memory of thousand dollar dental bills right before senior pictures stays his hand, and he’ll never get rid of the water bottles.

I grew up in a small Arizona town called Globe. It’s a few miles away from the San Carlos Apache Reservation, and if I bring up my fucked up teeth to anyone from town, they’ll laugh and say one of two things.

“That’s mining water for ya.”

“Man, that Agent Orange knows how to stick around.”

In 1969, the US Forest Service sprayed multiple Arizona families with Silvex, also known as Agent Orange, on repeated occasions, as part of a test of the new chemical agent. Civilians were specifically targeted by the toxic fumes. Within days, they started experiencing symptoms. Loss of mobility, up to 36 seizures a day, lifelong problems that soon developed into cancer. They sued, and settled out of court for an undisclosed sum. It was only years later that stories started surfacing again of Hodgkin’s Disease and cancer, with reports detailing in the hundreds.

About a decade before, a less harsh concoction similar to that same chemical was sprayed over San Carlos Reservation, one of the poorest Native American reservations in the country, in an effort to wipe out the vegetation along the Gila River to provide more water to the Phoenix metropolitan area. Effects did not start within days, as was the case when it was sprayed on the residents of Globe, Arizona and bombed the water for years to come. For over a decade, the area along Gila River was doused in this herbicide, killing the ecosystem and poisoning the residents of the reservation in an effort to sustain the growth of the Phoenix metropolitan area. In 1969, once again, following the disaster of the bombing of Globe, the flights came to an end.

Growing up in Globe in the late 90′s and early 2000′s was strange. I knew about the Agent Orange. We joked about, laughed about, even as our elders continued to die from cancer, and the reservation struggled under a destroyed ecological system and the resulting food system. My fucked up teeth were commonly blamed on the mining and the Agent Orange in equal measure, because we didn’t truly know how long it could possibly be until the water was safe, but you couldn’t tell a kid in the early 2000′s to not drink from the hose.

The US government did not discontinue the use of Agent Orange until the late 70′s, and it was only decided to discontinue the use after birth defects continued to emerge in lab animals.

I need to stress this.

Animals.

A decade after they had melted real human being’s hair off.

It’s still not fully known why the tribal government agreed to the use of herbicides on the soil, and I still have not found evidence of them uncovering what was in the chemical concoction that was sprayed, and only a small fraction of the residents of Globe have received reparations. The San Carlos residents have received none.

I used to get called a conspiracy theorist for bringing this up. People didn’t believe this happened. The US government engaging chemical warfare on its own citizens, not for civil disobedience, or unionizing, or telling corporations no, but just because we were poor, and we were there, and they could, is not something people want to address. But it happened, and you should know about it.

[ginger-bread-official]

A ‘Girl Dad’

Cygnus Black was powerful, influential and a softy when it came to his girls. 

Words: 6845

Ted made sure to keep his wand pointed at his father in law as he reached into his brief case and pulled out what he came all this way to show the old man. He slid the manila folder across the desk.

“Whats this?”

“Open it.” Ted ordered. The wizard did as he was told, finding several pictures in the folder. “Her name is Nymphadora Druella Tonks. Your granddaughter.” 

Cygnus Black never found his passion at the ministry. He was a conservative member of the Wizengamot and served his constituents faithfully; upholding the rights of Purebloods. He hated the bureaucracy and the squabbling politicians, but he had purpose. A purpose that maintained the influence, power and safety of his family. Yes he hated his work, but who else was going to do it.

He was returning from a particularly productive committee meeting, feeling his mood improve, when he spotted a wizard waiting outside his offices. The man had sandy blonde hair that was styled up in a messy quiff, light skin that was adorned with a smattering of freckles, and a tall lean frame. He wore green professional robes and carried a small brief case that sat at his feet. Cygnus entered his offices and addressed his assistant,

“Any messages?” He asked.

“The Malfoy estate sent an owl, I assume about personal matters.” She handed him the unopened letter, “Your campaign manager sent a list of guests for your fundraiser to approve and the bloke out side is here for a meeting on behalf of the Potioneer’s Union.” Cygnus raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“The Potioneer’s Union?”

“I think it has to do with a campaign donation.” She replied.

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask?” She shrugged in response. She really was useless, and if the councilman didn’t owe her father a favor she would be out on her ass last week. “Fine, well what’s his name?”

“Edward something.” He sighed in defeat, he was going to have to go into this meeting blind. Determined not to let her incompetence ruin his good mood he instructed for her to send him in. He entered one room deeper to his office. Settling just as the young man entered.

“Hello, I’m Cygnus Black.” The councilman gestured to the seat in front of his desk, “My assistant tells me you’re with the potioneer’s union.” The young man sat opposite and nodded in affirmation as the office door closed behind him. “Whats your name?”

“Edward Sir.” He responded.

“Any last name?”

“Thats a little more difficult Sir.” Edward said evasively

“Whats your business with me Edward?” Cygnus asked feeling his patience start to wear. There was a beat of silence where the young wizard took a deep breath.

“Well I’m actually here on more of a personal matter sir.” Cygnus narrowed his eyes at this statement. “I am with the Potioneer’s union, but they don’t have any business with you.” Cygnus felt a cold feeling crawl up his spine at Edward’s confession. Was the councilman in danger? “I used my position in the union to get a meeting with you.” There was another beat of silence. The older wizard looked to where his wand was sitting out of arms reach. He needed the wizard to keep talking so he could reach for it.

“So you used the union to get me alone.”

“Yes. I just needed a few minutes to show you—” Edward reached down to his briefcase allowing Cygnus to lunge for his wand and aim it at the boy, but his old age was no match for the agile young man’s reflexes.

“Sectum—” Cygnus didn’t finish the spell before the young man cried out

“Expelliarmus!” The councilman wand flew out of his hand. “I was hoping we could be civil about this.” Edward now held both their wands.

“Civil about you assassinating me?!” Cygnus roared.

“Assassin—NO! I just came here to talk.”

“Why would you lie to get a meeting with me only to talk?”

“Because it was the only way you would see me!” The both paused, looking at one another. Cygnus saw the desperation in the young man’s eyes.

“Whats your name boy?” He asked again, his question penetrating the heavy silence around them. Edward took a deep breath, gathering his courage,

“My name is Edward Tonks. My friends call me Ted. I’m a Muggle-born and married to your daughter Andro—”

“Don’t you say her name.” He spat out. As soon as he heard the boys full name he knew who he was. That name had been the one that tore his favorite daughter from him. It was the name she declared love for. Love over her own family. There was a silence a silence that seemed to bare the weight of all of Cygnus’ rage. This filth had taken away his baby girl, his beautiful, brilliant Andromeda. “Get out!” He snapped. But Ted remained. “Are you deaf?! I said GET OUT!!” He stepped towards the boy, but Ted raised his wand.

“No! I wanted to talk as adults, but I guess we’ll have to do it the hard way.” Cygnus was enraged that he raise a wand against him, but what could he do? “I only need a few minutes. I don’t need you to respect me, I don’t even need you to speak, but you’re damn well going to listen to what I have to say.”

“You think you can hold a member of he Wizengamot at wand point and not suffer consequences?!”

“I don’t care about the consequences, and I don’t give a shit how important you think you are. You’re going to sit and listen. You’ll have to excuse my rudeness, but you’ve put my wife through hell and I have no patience left for your bullshit!” There was a tense moment where Ted  thought the older man might charge at him, but he sat; sending daggers with his stare. Ted made sure to keep his wand pointed at his father in law as he reached into his brief case and pulled out what he came all this way to show the old man. He slid the manila folder across the desk.

“Whats this?”

“Open it.” Ted ordered. The wizard did as he was told, finding several pictures in the folder. “Her name is Nymphadora Druella Tonks. Your granddaughter.” Cygnus’ eyes fell on the baby in the pictures. A feeling welled up in him, one that drove away every ounce of pain and rage he was feeling a moment ago. He was a grandfather. His Andromeda was a mother to a beautiful baby girl. His eyes were glued to a picture of the mother holding her new born. He remembered the day each of his girls was born and how elated he was at the sight of them. His focus moved to a picture of the infant sleeping peacefully, then to one of her first bath, then one of her smiling and wiggling in her onesie. In as his eyes traced over her pudgy baby features a strange thing happened. Her hair in the picture changed color. What was a replica of her mothers chestnut hair was now a light peach color.

“Her hair.” He commented not knowing how to put what he just saw into a question.

“She’s a metamorphmagus.” Ted explained.  Cygnus looked up to make sure he heard right. “We took her to St. Mungo’s to be sure.” Ted confirmed. Merlin’s pants that was a rare ability. His granddaughter was a metamorphmagus! He could hardly contain his pride. Ted lowered his wand and continued, “I know you don’t approve of me, but she is your granddaughter, and if you’d like to meet her I can arrange it so I’m not there. It can just be you and Andie.” Cygnus was only half listening  as he was too enchanted by a photo where every time she blinked her eyes changed color. “She doesn’t know I’m here, but I know it kills her that you haven’t met Dora.” She looked like Andromeda, he thought happily remembering how his daughter had the same pert nose. “If you wish to tell Durella too I’m sure Andie would—” He came to the final picture in the file. It was a group of people. He recognized His daughter, her husband and of course his granddaughter, but there were two older people. The man was clapping Ted on the shoulder with a sparkle of pride in his eye and the woman had her full attention on the baby in Andromeda’s arms.

“Who are they?” Cygnus Black asked holding the picture of the group.

“Those are my parents.” Ted explained. I all came crashing back down on the old wizard. These people were muggles. The filth in front of him was a mudblood and his daughter was defiling the Black bloodline with vile unpure blood. This baby was not a ‘Black’, but a halfblooded freak that would tarnish the family name. He closed the folder with the pictures and slid it back across the desk.

“She is no granddaughter of mine.” He said cooly. Ted’s hopeful expression faded and his shoulders fell.

“I know its not what you wanted for Andie, but she is your granddaughter. She’s half Black.” Ted pleaded.

“No.” Cygnus rose from his chair. “My daughter forfeited her heritage and the right to that family name when she chose to slum it with a mudblood.” He could feel the pain of losing Andromeda all over again, “She is not my daughter and this is not my granddaughter.” He waved the file in Teds face.

“Please. I know you burned her from the family tree, but she’s still your daughter, she still loves you and if you would just—”

“No! I’m through listening to a filthy mudblood. That blood traitor is not my daughter and this freak—this mutt is not my granddaughter.” He shoved the file back at Ted. The new father let the folder fall to the floor as he whipped his wand back out. With a fire that he’d never possessed before, he hurtled the desk between the men and pushed his father in law back into the chair. Ted’s wand was pressed into the old mans throat and could feel the tremor of fear and see the shock in Cygnus’ eyes.

“You want to call me a mudblood, fine. Call your daughter a blood traitor, she’s heard worse. But don’t you ever insult my baby girl.” Cygnus felt the end of the wand dig painfully into his skin, “She’s a blessing, a gift. And you’re not worthy to utter her name.” There was a moment, a dark moment, where Ted thought he might actually kill Cygnus. End the pain he’s caused his wife and all the bigoted bullshit he spreads. But he couldn’t be a good father from Azkaban. He settled for stunning him and leaving him to drool on his collar.

Tonks picked up the folder with the pictures of his daughter having to search on the floor for one or two that fell out. He found the last one under his chair and gazed onto the image of his Nymphadora. It was the picture of her smiling and changing her hair. Ted could have sworn he saw the old man soften when looking at this. He looked up to the unconscious wizard, and wished he could feel angry at him. But all he felt was pity. This bigoted old man was going to let his pride stop him from meeting his granddaughter. What kind of broken person lives like that? He placed the picture of his daughter in front of Cygnus and took his leave.

Cygnus Black woke hours later to find baby Nymphadora smiling back up at him. He saw her innocent smile and her beautiful brown eyes, and broke. Tears ran freely down his wrinkled cheeks at the sight of his first grandchild. He should have burned the picture, tore it up and arrested her father for attacking him, but he didn’t. He instead placed the picture carefully in the false bottom of a desk drawer and excused his absence that afternoon as old man’s poor memory. 

In moments where he was alone he would steal glances at the picture. Sometimes finding the baby smiling back up at him, and others she would be sleeping soundly in the confines of the image. He never told Durella of Ted coming to see him about their granddaughter, but soon the news of Nymphadora reached her ears and Cygnus had to feign indifference to the child.

Years later Cygnus was still fighting for restrictive muggle born bills and ruffling liberal feathers on the Wizengamot. He was taking his lunch in his office and reading the Prophet when his heart nearly stopped.

‘The Transfiguration department at Hogwarts is expected to adjust courses and curriculum in the coming years due to the first Metamorphmagus to attend Hogwarts in over a century. Nymphadora Tonks has been stumping the previously unshakable Minerva McGonagall with her rare ability.’

The article went on to explain the special training Nymphadora would be receiving to refine her abilities and even had a quote from McGonagall herself sharing what a talented witch she was becoming. He read the article through, and then again, and then a third time soaking in every word of what a prodigy she was. How the mischievous Hufflepuff was an example to her classmates. He had become a grandfather again by this point to Draco Malfoy. The boy was a proper pureblood and made his grandfather proud, but Cygnus had always been a ‘girl dad’ and yearned for that again. The mention of her name brought all the mixed emotions back to the surface. He knew that he should have been disgusted and ashamed, but all he could feel was pride. He wasn’t even bothered by the information that she was a Hufflepuff, just to hear that she was excelling made him smile. He carefully cut out the article; searching through the paper for a picture, but not finding one. He placed a preservation charm on it and clipped it to the one picture he had of her as a baby. He traced the edge of the picture wondering what she looked like now. A melancholy smile crossed his face as he tried to imagine a smiling 11 year old Nymphadora. He then placed it carefully in the false bottom of his desk drawer and went back to work.

He survived the following years on snippets from the prophet and rumors. He saved anything he came across with her name in it. He found out she made her quidditch team her third year; over hearing some red headed fellow talking about his son’s game against Hufflepuff.

“The Tonks’ Girl sure gave my Charlie a hard time, during the match. But my boy pulled out a great catch at the end.” Cygnus couldn’t tell what position she was from that, but he locked the little information away loving any news he could get. She was mentioned multiple times in the prophet, usually at the end of the year for some academic achievement, but sometimes for less desirable reasons. In her third year  she got caught up in the Cursed vault nonsense alongside that Carter Turner girl. While he gathered from the paper that she wasn’t harmed he was furious with her for being so reckless. All was forgive however in her forth year, when he got his first glimpse at her since Ted had left him that picture fourteen years ago. The article was really about the famous Curse Breaker Rakepick. She was hired to find and break the rest of the cursed vaults, and assembled a team of students to help. Front and center was Carter Turner, but two heads down was a young woman with spiky hair, a mischievous smile and freckles across her pert nose. He didn’t need to read the footer to know that was his Nymphadora. The article focused on Rakepick and Carter mostly, but mentioned Nymphadora as ‘a talented and capable friend.’ He stared at he picture for a few more moments trying with all his might to change the black and white photo into color. He wondered what shade her hair was.

Her fifth year she was mentioned as being one of only five students in her year to achieve all Outstanding in her O.W.Ls, and in her sixth year she was awarded the Falco Aesalon medal for transfiguration; an international award for of age students. In her seventh year she was noted as pursuing a career as an auror. By this time he had collected a dozen articles on his granddaughter and only three pictures. He was ashamed to admit it, but he loved her. Even with her mother’s betrayal and her father’s blood, he loved her, and wanted to see her happy. Word around the ministry was that she was arising star in the auror program and was under the tutelage of Alastor Moody himself. He only heard whispers and read mentions in the news letters. He was afraid to confront her, she was only two floors away, but he couldn’t convince himself to make the trip. He was too scared to find out what she actually thought of him. He’s sure her mother would have told her everything, and possibly her father would have told her how he called her ‘mutt’. It was the greatest regret of his life; not taking Ted’s offer.

In the last year of his life Cygnus Black became ill. He dutifully served on the Wizengamot until the end to many’s annoyance, but it was his last vote that perplexed nearly the entire wizarding world. Delores Umbridge was attempting to pass a strict ‘Mutant Bill’ essentially forbidding any ‘mutant’ from being hired without the Ministry’s approval. It was a shoe in to pass and would have been enacted by the fall of 1993. However, someone in their argument pointed out that this law would apply to more than werewolves and vampires. It could include animagi, merpeople, and even a Metamorphmagus. This brought Cygnus’ attention forward. He listened to the argument and agreed the law was flawed. He cared not for the werewolves or the merpoeple, but if Nymphadora’s dream job was decided by committee, well Delores would bar her from working purely because of her ripped jeans. They were given three days before the vote and Cygnus went to work. In one last ditch effort he ran a counter campaign to the bill, calling in favors and resorting to threats in some cases. Dumbledores caucus was a safe vote against the bill, but he needed fifteen additional votes to stop the bill. He couldn’t vote against it himself, knowing his constituents would tear him apart if he did. He had a partner in Ackley Dolohov, who needed to stop the bill for his animagus nephew.

“With Edgecombe that’s fourteen.”

“Damnit.” Cygnus cursed, “What about McLaggen?” He asked.

“Laughed at me for about a quarter hour before throwing me out her office. I don’t think I can pull any more strings.” He said defeated. Cygnus sighed heavily, which turned into a fit of coughs.

“Cyg—” Dolohov stood to help

“I’m fi—” another fit of coughing over took him. “fine.” He finished. The pair sat in silence for a moment allowing Cygnus to catch his breath.

“What if you vote for it?” Cygnus asked after a moment. “We’d be at fifteen and—”

“You know I can’t do that.” He threw down the paper. “I’ve got constituents just like you and I’m up for re-election next year.” Silence settled again. Dolohov was never told why stopping this bill meant so much to his mentor, but he had an idea. Anyone whose been around long enough remembers Andromeda running of with the Tonks boy. Those who really paid attention know that Andromeda had always been his favorite. And her halfblood daughter was a metamorphmagus. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Ackley stood and made his leave. Saying as he did, “Votes in two hours. See you then.” He closed the door behind him and left the old wizard to his thoughts. Cygnus opened his top drawer and removed the false bottom. He pulled out the articles and memos, the pictures and newsletters, and laid them out on his desk. He re-read through her life, trying to picture the transition from baby to teenager to adult. Imagining what color her hair is in the two pictures from the prophet. He liked to think it was brown like Andie’s. He found the newsletter that announced the first student admitted into auror training in almost a decade. He chuckled at the memo from Alastor Moody warning everyone that his mentee sabotaged the fairy cakes in the cafeteria (they were actually frosted with cottage cheese). His laughter turned to violent coughs, unstoppable and painful. He finally settled to see that he had coughed blood all over his clippings.

“Shit!” He exclaimed. He attempted to clear the blood away with his wand, but his hands were shaking and his magic failed him. “Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” He roared in frustration. He flung his wand across the room and stood abruptly from his desk, toppling over the chair.

“Sir?” A soft woman’s voice rang through the door. “Are you okay?” He grabbed his walking cane and hobbled over to the door to open it.

“I’m fine Claudia.” She had been a loyal and hard worker for nearly ten years now. “I’m going to grab some fresh air.” He stated grabbing his traveling cloak.

“Would you like someone with you?” She asked kindly, “No no, I’ll be fine.” He wrapped his cloak around him ad made for the door, but was stopped by something on her desk. “Are these files going to the auror office?” There was a stack of files in the outbox labeled for the second floor.

“Yes. A couple signatures were missing from the arrest report.” He picked up the file and opened to the first page. The secondary was Kingsley Shackelbolt, but the Primary was Alastor Moody. He closed the file and tucked it under his arm.

“I’ll take these up on my way out.” His assistant looked perplexed, he had never offered to do anything of the sort before, but she knew by now not to question certain things he did. Cygnus held on tight to the files as he rode the lift to the second floor. He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander to what he planned to do or what people might think. He only focused on getting himself to the auror office.

“Can I help you sir?” The receptionist at the office asked pleasantly. His mind went blank. Maybe he should have thought about what he was going to say.

“Uh yes. Well umm—you see I have these— I’m looking for.” The young man looked up confused at the stuttering old wizard.

“Are you lost Sir?” He asked

“No I —uh— I just need to find—”

“NYMPHADORAAAAA!!!!!!” A gravely voice roared through the office. Cygnus turned to look. A young pink haired witch was running from a raging one eyed wizard.

“They’re good for your eyesight!” she hollered over her shoulder as the peg legged man threw carrots at her.

“You’re good for testing my patience girl!” A carrot got Nymphadora in the temple as she hopped over and behind a desk to safety. “If one more of my quills turns into a carrot I’m sending you packing back you your mothers house.” He turned on his heel and march off to his office. Tonks peaked up from behind the desk with a wide smile on her face.

“Sorry about that Sir.” The receptionist drew back his attention after the interruption, “Who were you looking for?” Cygnus realized he had been watching the entire exchange with a smile on his face. He looked back to the young man,

“I’m actually looking for her.” He gestured to the pink haired witch.

“Tonks!” The receptionist called, “This gentleman needs to see you.” She looked up at the sound of her surname and strode over to the front desk. He was waiting for a sign of recognition from her, but it didn’t come. Her bright smile remained on her pale heart shaped face, matching her bright bubblegum pink hair. She had multiple piercings in her ears and one diamond stud on her nose. Her auror robes were buttoned from her collarbone to her hips, but flared out showing ripped jeans and black leather combat boots. Her foot caught on something and she stumbled the last few feet to meet him at the front desk. At first glance she wasn’t any thing like his refined daughters.

“Wotcher,” she greeted, “Names Tonks. How can I help you?” He was perplexed why she didn’t recognize him. They had never met, but she should make the connection in his Wizengamot robes. A quick mental check reminded him that he was actually wearing a traveling cloak. He didn’t look like a councilman, he looked like a page. There was a moment of silence where Nymphadora looked confused. “Sir?” She asked.

“Right, Sorry. I need help with these files.” He gestured to the stack in his arms, “There are some signatures missing.” He handed over the folder. She skimmed through the file and nodded in a few places.

“I was on this case, but I’m too junior to sign these.” She flipped through a few more pages, “I can go get King to finish these up for you.” She closed the file and met his eyes again. He noticed that they had changed from brown to blue.

“That would be great.” He responded.

“You can wait here, or at my desk.” She offered gesturing to a cubicle one row down. He nodded and sat in a chair set next to her desk. She smiled at him and rushed off to find Kingsley. He peered around her cubicle and felt the smile tug back at his lips. It wasn’t messy per say, but she had multiple toys and knick knacks on her desk accompanied by pinned photos and old concert tickets on her wall. Everything was brightly colored and clashed with the somber atmosphere of the office as a whole. The calendar on her wall was of the holyhead harpies and was filled out with appointments, shifts and training schedules. He noticed this Friday it said ‘Tea with mum!’ And he felt his heart ache. There was a post it note on a file that read in the same round handwriting as the calendar ‘Check brother’s alibi!’ He was taking it all in and painting a picture of her personality. He already learned more in 30 seconds than he had in 20 years. He knew she liked a band called ‘The Weird Sisters’, she had friend named Penny, her club quidditch team had a match next Tuesday, and she new a red headed man who worked on a dragon reserve. He wondered if that was her boyfriend. She returned with the file minutes later stumbling into the cubical with the same bright smile.

“All Signed.” She announced, “King just wants me to look it over once more before we send it back with you.” She sat down and began flipping through the pages, making an occasional check or note with a bright pink quill. Cygnus tried not to stare, it was rude and she didn’t know who he was. But it was surreal seeing her. He had only snippets and pieces of information to create this image of her and finally she was in front of him, and she was nothing like he had imagined. He thought she would be a copy of Andromeda; ambitious, graceful and witty. But she wasn’t that at all. She was playful, clumsy and vibrant. He loved her all the more for it.

“Been working here long?” He asked wanting to share some interaction with her to hold in his brain.

“I’m technically still in training. Spend half my time here on cases and half the time in Scotland doing boot camp type stuff.” Her eyes remained on the pages as she spoke, “But yeah It's been just over two years.”

“Do you like it?”

“Love it! It's what I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid.” He added that information to his mental log. “How about you? Been here long?” He chuckled, barely holding back a fit of coughs,

“Longer than you’ve been alive.” The coughing over took him and he pulled out his handkerchief to cover his mouth. She drew her focus from the report and conjured up a glass of water.

“Are you ok?” She asked laying a comforting hand on his arm while offering the glass of water with the other.

“Fine,” he lied, “Just getting over something.” He scrunched up the handkerchief  with a shaking hand to hide the blood and took the glass gratefully. As he drank another auror peaked his head over into Tonks’ cubicle,

“Oi! Tonks.” She turned to the man addressing her, “What flavor do you want your cake for the bon voyage party? Remus told King your favorite was Chocolate.” Tonks rolled her eyes.

“His favorite is chocolate. Mine is carrot.” The man smirked at her response.

“Why do I feel like you're saying that to get one more over on ol’ Mad-eye.” He asked with an amused tone.

“‘Cuz you’re a smart bloke.” She winked and the man departed. She turned back to her grandfather refilling his water glass and smiling reassuringly at him.

“Why are they throwing you a bon voyage party?” He asked. Her smile faltered.

“Well they’re voting on this new bill today and it's going to make it really hard to keep me on for full time hire next year.

“How so?” He asked feigning ignorance.

“Well it’ll require wizengamot approval to hire any ‘mutant’, and I’m a metamorphmagus.” She paused and scrunched up her face like she was concentrating on something. The next moment her hair changed to baby blue.

“Thats amazing!” He exclaimed at seeing her use her gift. “Why wouldn’t they hire you back?”

“Well if it was up to Mad-eye I would be. But the way the bill is written I’d have to be vetted by the Wizengamot, and well.” She paused for a moment; possibly choosing her words, “My parents sort of pissed off a bunch of councilmen and they’ll take any excuse to keep me out of the ministry.” He let the truth in her words sink in. His fellow purebloods would see it as protecting his honor to bar her from employment.

“You never know. They could vote the bill down.” He offered, and she smiled.

“Doubtful, but I like your positive thinking.” She turned back to the report, and finished revising any incomplete information. “There.” She closed the folder with a flourish and rebound it for the old man. He began to stand from the chair, but found he was sitting too low for his old legs to handle. He reached for her desk and his walking stick to add leverage, but still struggled. Nymphadora stood and aided him, with her youth and strength.

“Thank you.” He muttered, “never get old.” He warned.

“Don’t know if I have a say on that one.” She quipped, handing him the report. “Oh also,” she pulled open her desk drawer and pulled out a small tin. “This is me mum’s special tea. It's really great for sore throats.” She placed it on top of the report, “Might help with that cough of yours.” He felt the threatening sting of tears forming behind his eyes.

“Thank you Nymphadora.” She cringed at the sound of her given name, but let it slide for the sick old man. She walked him to the receptionist giving him one last smile in farewell. Just before they parted ways,

“Tonks!” A sharp demanding tone rang through the office. Alastor Moody once again entered the bullpen from his office, “I need you and—” but he stopped short. His magical eye which had been wizzing around checking something through the back of his head came forward and focused on the man standing next to his protege. Cygnus of course knew Mad-eye on several levels. He was a frequent witness at trials, a colleague of sorts, and the man who arrested his daughter Bellatrix. A cold moment passed between them. He could see, even a room away, the same protective fire on his eyes that had been in Ted’s twenty years ago in his office. Cygnus stepped back and made to depart from the auror office. Nymphadora gave a little wave good bye and walked to her mentor unaware of what had passed between the two men. Cygnus returned to his office with just enough time to ready for the vote. He removed his traveling cloak and donned his official Wizengamot robes and tucked the baby picture of Nymphadora in his breast pocket for resolve.

-

Remus Lupin was struggling to keep the sweat out of his eyes as he labored in his back garden. Ted Tonks had been kind enough to send some work his way earlier this week in the form of editing some academic papers for the Potioneer’s magazine. But it really had only given him a day of work, and so he was back to working in the back yard. With income being irregular his entire adult life he had learned to eat what he could grown to save money. Especially now with the ‘Mutant Bill’ likely to pass he needed creative ways to stay afloat. He remembered hearing Nymphadora saying the vote was today; so to keep his mind off of it he began his gardening early in the morning. When it got voted in it would be frustrating  for him, but not much more than what he had dealt with since he was a child. What really set his temper on edge was that it dragged down innocent people like Nymphadora. She had been working her whole life to be an auror and to have it stripped away when she was so close was cruel.

He was mending a hole in his wired garden fence when a small pop interrupted his focus. Programmed from years of war he turned immediately; wand at the ready.

“If you were to kill me now you’d be doing yourself a disservice.” The calm voice of Albus Dumbledore responded to the jumpy werewolf.

“Sorry Albus.” He lowered his wand and exited his garden. “Old habits.”

“They’re warranted.” He reassured.

“Can I offer you Ice tea?” He offered his old headmaster who nodded. Lupin entered the back of his small cottage, washing his hands and face before pouring two glasses, adding a lemon wedge to each. He returned out side to find Dumbledore admiring his tomatoes.

“Pamona always said you had a green thumb.” He commented accepting a glass from Remus and following him to a small table near the garden.

“Its relaxing and makes food shopping less of a burden.” He explained. The pair sat in silence letting the summers sun soak into their skin. He knew there was news coming; Dumbledore didn’t often make house calls. The question was if it was good or bad.

“Sir,” Dumbledore tilted his head to indicate he was listening, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but why are you here?” A small smile rose to Dumbledores lips.

“I’m here to seize and opportunity.” He said airily, “Very slytherin of me, I know. But it's too good to let slip.” Remus raised an eye brow in questioning. “You see the Mutant Bill has just been voted down.”

“It has?!” Remus nearly spit cup his drink at the news.

“Yes, an unexpected ally was the deciding vote, and it's made me realize something.” Again Remus asked a silent question, “I’ve been struggling to find a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for years and if I had only broadened my view I could have seen that there was a perfect candidate right here all along.” His blue eyes found Remus’ hazel.

“Me?” He asked receiving a small nod from the old wizard, “But I’m—I can’t be around kids.”

“You were burdened with lycanthropy while at school, why is this any different?”

“Well I was smaller then, not full grown. And I missed a lot of school because of it. I can’t skip classes as a professor.”

“The answer to both is Severus Snape.” Dumbledore continued. “He’s agreed to brew Wolfsbane potion for you while you're employed at Hogwarts.” Remus couldn’t believe it. He had heard of wolfsbane and from what Ted told him it was like a miracle. It wouldn’t stop the transformation, but it eased your mind, and cut your recovery time in half. He had never been able to afford it before. “And should there be a class or two you had to miss he has free periods to cover for you.” He was speechless. He always wanted to be a teacher, even got a case from his friends with ‘Professor R.J. Lupin’ engraved on it.

“Sir—I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “It seems too good to be true.” Dumbledore smiled at the old wolf.

“The safety of my students is the most important thing; second is their instruction.” His kind eyes bore into Lupin, “Your the best man for the job, and I wouldn’t offer this to you if I didn’t trust you 100%.” Warmth spread through his body, “With the Mutant Bill out of the way I can hire you without committee and prove to the wizarding world that our fears about ‘mutants’ are baseless.” He sat back needing a moment to take this all in. To go back to Hogwarts, to teach, it was everything he wanted. He let his mind turnout over a few times. He let the silence settle and the headmaster let him process cheerfully watching the bees hover around his garden and tend to his flowers. After sometime Remus did come up with one question.

“Who was the deciding vote on the bill?” Dumbledore looked back to him, “You said we had an ‘unexpected ally’. Who was it?” He asked

“Cygnus Black.” He stated simply.

“Andie’s father?” He asked bewildered, “But he—he’s the worst of them all. He leads the pureblood caucus.”

“I was as surprised as you are, but in the end his vote stoped the bill.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

“I have a theory, but If I ever asked him he’d deny it with a passion.” Dumbledore left the statement hanging forcing Lupin to question,

“Whats your theory?” Albus smirked

“The bill was worded in such a way that the category of ‘mutant’ could apply to more than one group. Merpeople, Centaurs, Animagi and—”

“Metamorphmagi.” Remus finished. Dumbledore tapped his nose. “But he’s never even met her. Ted told me went to his office and tried to extend an olive branch, but he refused. Called her a ‘mutt’.”

“Yes well, we’re weaker men when we’re younger. We allow our pride to cloud our better judgement. I have reason to believe he’s had a change of heart.” He continued, “After the vote, I received an owl form Alastor Moody saying that Cygnus had visited the auror office not an hour before.” Remus raised an eyebrow skeptically, “Additionally, I am on good terms with Cygnus’ assistant, and she shared that she had to clean his desk of article clippings and photos of a young girl named Tonks. Poor thing thought he was having an affair. She wasn’t around when Andromeda left for Ted.”

“So, he voted ‘no’ to protect his estranged granddaughter?”

“Makes the the more sense than him voting because he was concerned with your employment opportunities.” They chuckled.

“So what do you think did it then? What made him decide to do right by her after all this time?” Dumbledore shrugged,

“I don’t think even he could tell you. But as an old man myself I can say that my life regrets fuel my decisions today.” They let the quandary of Cygnus’ vote fall away and allowed the amicable silence settle back in. Finishing their iced teas as the sky began to dance with hues of orange and pink. When their glasses were emptied Albus took his leave, “I suppose I’ll be seeing you at the start of term; Professor Lupin.” Remus couldn’t stop the stupid smile from stretching across his face.

“Thank you, Headmaster.” And with that the old wizard disappeared with a low pop. Remus stood from the table and cleared the glasses. He hadn’t finished rinsing them out when an owl came swooping in through the open window. He recognized it as Tonks’ owl Artemis and detached the letter, filling a dish with water for the animal before opening it.

‘Moony, Boy do I have some fantastic news for you! Dinner tonight at my Parents, 7pm. Bring your party pants! x Tonks’

The smile on his face widened knowing how excited she must be over keeping her job. He checked his watch, confirming that he had half an hour to clean up for dinner. He wondered how she would react to his news in return. The newly appointed professor donned himself with his least shabbiest clothes and readied for a happy evening with friends.

[miss-choco-chips]

From the ground up.

The road to recovery is a bumpy one, but Tim’s (reluctantly) ready for the drive. He just hopes they won’t crash and burn.

-.-.-

Tim recovers after an injury. Mending his bonds with the bats its a plus. 

Or, Tim can’t exactly run away from a conversation, and they all take advantage of it.

( @animemangasoul asked for Tim actually needing his crutches. Of course my dumb ass  brain needed to take that idea and make a whole, emotional thing of it. Threw in some family bonding cause why not. 

Babe I did my best, and if it’s bad I’m blaming exams and life stress of me being unable to properly deliver what you hoped for)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It had been a stupid decision. Self sacrificing, reckless, idiotic. He doesn’t know Bruce’s disappointed eyes, Dick’s worried ones or Damian’s disdainful sneer to know it.

Still, it had been his choice, and he’s going to stand by it. Even if it means having Steph pose as Red Robin for some time. Even if he has to deal with M’gann’s guilty looks at failing to convince him to change places, to allow her to get shot while he took the criminal out, instead of what they actually did. Even if it means getting annoyed, nearly hysterical texts from basically everyone he knows, condemning him for his stupidity. 

The only ones he had explained himself to were Tam -who honestly deserves it after all the shit he was going to put her through, dealing with her recent trauma (courtesy of assassins) and the press going haywire at Tim’s broken engagement and then almost fatal injury-, Steph (who was going to be changing between Batgirl and Red Robin for some time to keep the whole charade up and Vale off their track) and M’gann herself, who had needed some serious explanation before she conceded to Tim getting shot in front of her for appearances sake.

The rest of the world? They could rot in curiosity, for all he cared. Bruce had probably extrapolated enough from his succinct explanation about Vicky to understand the whole plan. Dick was probably dying to know, but with their relationship strained as it was wouldn't dare to ask. Damian… who know how the devil’s mind works. Alfred was already used to the Bat’s collective shit, and would probably just sigh and make chicken soup for him.

What he wasn’t cool about was being forced to have his recovery period in the Manor. He had a perfectly funcional place for himself, thank you very much, and could wobble around in his crutches from bedroom to kitchen to his small, personal cave, no problem. But Bruce had been unmoving in his decision, going as far to physically carry Tim in his arms, like a toddler, from the hospital steps to the car. It had been humiliating, but he couldn't exactly wiggle free in front of all the reporters, could he? How to explain a nerve strike to his dad, and his own ability to withstand the pain of falling back to his feet?

(Because he totally could stand the pain. He had done it in the dessert with a ruptured spleen, he could deal with a slightly damaged spine)

He was going to have his revenge though. As soon as he was able to move freely without clenching his teeth from the pain.

He’s being deposited on the bed, when he notices Damian lingering around the door. He was looking at Bruce, a little unsure, more than a bit of envy at the care which his father bestowed on Tim. Before, those jealous eyes would have made him weary of an attack. Now, with Bruce and Dick having forced a promise of civility from the kid, he was still on guard but not ready to flee at any given second. Perpetually tensing would only dampen his recovery, after all.

It was still something to think of. The lack of fire in his eyes. He… looked like a kid. Not as much a demon as he had been when Tim went away.

Well. Only time would tell if he had truly changed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bruce had ordered bed rest. No work, detective or CEO. Nothing more straining (for the mind or body) than watching a movie. Eating and sleeping were his only allowed activities. Even reading was to be moderated, because Tim was known to lose himself in any topic that caught his fancy and forget everything else. 

Tim had listened to his reasoning, nodding along and adding his own helpful insight, smiling when his head was patted in response to his obedience. Waved cheerfully as Bruce left, made smalltalk with Dick when he visited hi room before heading out for patrol (theirs was a talk that he wasn’t really looking forward but knew he wouldn't be escaping for long), thanked Alfred for the food and ate half of it under his watchful eye. Even took the medicine with just mild complains.

The perfect picture of innocence and submission. Right until the butler went to the Cave to man the comms.

Then all bets were off.

Moving his bed out of the way to get the laptop hidden below the loose tile under it was impossible in his current condition, but thankfully he had been able to talk Bruce into letting him keep his phone, and his briefcase wasn’t too far to not be able to make the walk without crutches (painful as it was).

Before an hour had passed, he had the wall by his bed covered with post it notes, connected by red sting and pins here and there. A pretty evidence board, even with the lacking resources. Perrrfect for a little Tim-Time, a small bit of detective work.

Bruce would certainly bitch about him moving around so much, taping pieces of information or moving the string around, but, well. What Bruce didn’t knew…

-I thought Father ordered bed rest.

The voice, completely unexpected (he had either been in too deep thought, or the brat was getting better at stealth), made him jump so high and sudden he almost pulled his stitches. The medication, fading with each hour, had weaned enough he felt every bit of tissue, still torn from the shot, straining under the move.

It resulted in the longest, filthiest string of curses his sharp mind could come up with, partnered with gasps and a lot of hair pulling in a instinctual attempt to redirect the pain from his torso to somewhere less dire.

-No one taught you to knock and not to startle convalescent people, brat? -he spats between clenched teeth, squinting through barely-opened eyes to glare at him- And why aren’t you patrolling? 

The kid was on pijamas. Tim can’t remember the last time he saw him unarmed. Though he probably still had at least a dagger on himself that he couldn't see.

Bruce and Dick’s promise echoed in his mind, but just in case, he let one of his arms go around his middle, acting as if trying to soothe his hurt (okay, maybe it wasn’t all an act) while he palmed the three Red Robin pallets he had secured between his bandages earlier.

Damian scoffed and approached him, careful to keep a healthy distance but enough so he could properly appreciate Tim’s wall.

-Apparently, Father knows better than to trust you to behave, and he came up with a schedule to keep an eye on you. For what reason, it escapes me. Your death could only serve as a stress relief for everyone, specially if it was caused by your own stupidity. And you didn’t answer my question.

A large part of him wanted to tell him to fuck off. An even larger reminded him he was barely armed, heavily incapacitated, and that Damian had actually answered him first, so, technically, it was fair to do the same.

He sighs and leans back into the pillows, shoulder on the wall crumpling the photo of his number three suspect.

-Whatever. Bruce clearly bought when I said I’d act the part, otherwise he would have cleaned my room of anything useful. You’re probably here because paranoia is too deeply ingrained in the man, or he thinks you could use a rest too. Or both. 

Probably both, Tim thinks. He’s ready for Damian’s sneer and a declaration that he ‘didn’t need a rest’, most likely paired with an insult. 

Instead, Damian surprises him by tilting his head and looking at him with something akin to curiosity.

-You lied to Father? And he… believed you?

Feeling his petty bitch inside stirring, he smirked- What, like it’s hard?

It actually was, it required a hell of a mental preparation and careful planning. But once you learned how to pull it off and took care to polish it, it was a often used weapon.

Damian wouldn't let any positive emotion towards Tim willingly show on his face, so the amaze was most likely honest. It was… a little humbling, truth be told. 

-Tell you what -he decides, pulling his best negotiator voice, to cut the kid some slack-, you keep this little naughtiness -a nod towards the wall- between us and help me hide all proof before B comes back, and I give you some  pointers in how to lie to Batman. 

Damian seems truly torn. On one hand, Tim can guess, it's the mission his father entrusted him, and his deeply ingrained disdain to anything Tim proposed. On the other, the temptation of such a useful tactic, and the fact that he didn’t really care for Tim’s wellbeing enough to stop him from doing his thing.

-What are you working on?- he asked, likely gaining time while he mulled his options.

-Cold cases -a shrug-. It’s just a pastime of mine. I dig into Bruce’s old files, search for anything he couldn't solve, and work on it until I do. It’s really good for self esteem, and it helps a lot of people who never got closure for whatever it happened to them. 

-Father will know you disobeyed if you solve it.

-I’ll wait until he gives me permission for some light work, and then dump all my worked out cases on him at the same time.

There’s something akin to wonder fighting to make itself known above Damian’s facade of indifference.

-Can you actually solve something Father himself couldn't?

-Done it before, will do it again. What will it be, Damian? Cause if you decide to snitch on me after all, then kindly leave me to this until then. I’m about to crack this, and if its going to be the last one I’m able to work on, I’d hate to leave it halfway.

A few seconds go by, before Damian takes the last step and carefully perches at the end of the bed, eyes solely on the wall.

-I’d prefer to aid in solving this. If it’s true this is something not even the Batman could do… it’d be highly rewarding to work on it. You can teach me the arts of lying another day.

Shocked it actually worked, Tim did his best to swiftly recover. Not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, he kept his doubts in check to dwell on them later and went back to his wall. 

Having Damian around was surprisingly useful. He could just lay there, in his pillows, and direct the brat through moving the string and adding post it notes here and there, until the whole thing mapped out in front of them, the answer staring at them as clear as the quickly approaching day. 

Satisfaction strong enough to smile despite the ever growing pain in his side, he gave into the urge to give a small pat to Damian’s shoulder before telling him to help take it all down, least Bruce came from patrol and found them on the act. High on the success and more than a little stunned about it, the younger vigilante actually complied, even going as far as to put all their mess back in Tim’s briefcase and bringing him a glass of water to wash down his meds with.

When Batman came to check on his middle son after patro, Nightwing on his shadow, they were regaled with the shocking, unbelievable sight of Damian sleeping, sitting on the ground with the back of his head resting on Tim’s bed, while the bedridden boy himself snored, a hand on top of the smaller kid’s head.

The picture Dick took of them was gonna be his most treasured possession forever.

-.-.-.-.-

-And this will make me a better detective? -questioned Damian, frown  scrunching his nose in a way that Tim couldn't help but think of as adorable. Or as adorable as it could be, in a hell spawn. Fuck, Dick was rubbing off on him.

-It helped me -he shrugs, eyes on his own screen as he makes the proper adjustments-. Long live the queen is a good place to start. You need to consider both the character’s mood when selecting the week’s classes, and the goal you aspire towards. All the while dodging assassinations attempts, commoners uprisings or noble plots depending on the choices you make, and… other stuff. And ruling a country. And getting engaged. It’s a lot of juggling, keeping in mind which skills you need for which event, and it forces you to consider how the character is doing emotionally, something you could seriously use to learn. Want me to give you a run through?

-No need -he scoffed, clicking in the start game option, dubiously reading the introduction-. It seems easy enough.

Tim just smiled, eerie, from his place behind him. 

Damian was sitting in the floor by his bed, back resting against it. The position, if slightly uncomfortable (Drake wasn’t an enemy any longer, if Grayson was to be believed, and after the other night’s joint work he agreed to help train Damian in mind schemes, but he wasn’t a complete ally either… and having such a grey person with such a clear shot at his neck made the assassin in him nervous), was the best way for Drake to watch his progress in this… game, while keeping his wound unbothered. It also kept Damian from ‘sneaking a peek’ at his own screen and ‘cheating at the game’, as he had said. Not that he planned on it, but-- well, all resources, no matter how dirty, were still fair game in the arts of war, as far as he was concerned.

Not that Damian needed the help. This was a silly game. He would probably beat this first try, high score even. Really, the main screen image had a teenager dressed in a frilly, pink, magical girl outfit. How hard could this be?

---

-My cousin just got bitten by a snake. Will she die?

-Wouldn’t you like to know, demon child. You’ll figure it out later in the game. Just keep going.

---

-Why do I keep failing this skill-checks? What am I missing? Is it even relevant? I just passed one that was completely useless about world history, but somehow missed the one that would have helped me keep this stupid girl from getting betrothed. 

-If it was relevant, you’ll know it when, not if, when it kills you.

-...I should save my game here.

-With these shitty skills you’ve built? Sure, if you want to, but at this point you’ll die no matter what.

---

-Is this woman trustworthy? Our father said it was her fault mother died, but she said…

-Hmm. I’m not giving you spoilers. Tell me when you figure it out, one way or the other.

-Well, at least we have our aunt, uncle and cousins. Surely they are on our side, as our family.

-...

-Drake, why are you laughing? 

-...

-Stop it! You are not scaring me!

---

-Look, I said I was not going to help you… but you can’t keep pissing everyone off, baby bat. You’ll never survive until coronation if you do.

-Those people deserved to get executed.

-...some of them, maybe, but you failed a lot of skill checks there, so you don’t have all the facts. Also, if you are gonna fuck with people, at least choose if you are doing it with nobles or peasants. Both of them is taking it a bit too far.

-I am the Queen. Neither would dare oppose me. I will have their heads if they do!

-..okay then. Let the record say I tried.

---

-Is this birthday party important?

-Uhm… Kinda. Your friend just turned of age, which means she gets to inherit control of her lands. There’s also a whole new route if you do go to the party, if you have the necessary abilities for it.

Tim saw the back of Damian’s head bob as he nodded. He gave it a few minutes. Then-

-YOU DIDN’T TELL ME I WOULD DIE ON MY WAY THERE!

-I did say you needed specific skills. Both for the party itself, and to get there.

He was ready for the unholy sound that escaped from Damian’s mouth, finger quickly taping at his phone to record it. That treasure was going to be his new ringtone. It would help with the pain, too. Happiness therapy or something like that, to distract the mind from the hurt. 

---

-Hey, Dami? I’m gonna go get ready for patrol. Are you com/?

-NO -he snapped, neck almost breaking from how quickly he raised his head to look at Dick at the door. Eyes red from staring at the screen for so long, hair a mess after messing it up in incalculable desperation- I’m about to win!  This time, my strategy won’t fail!

Tim, game already finished and now watching a movie (at least until Bruce and Dick left and he could go back to coding a new security system that even Babs wouldn't be able to crack)  tilted his head, examining his brother’s open game.  Week 30, no medicine knowledge, no intrigue, little to no dog training, no composure and not enough divination...yeah, Damian was gonna die again. It was the first time he had lived long enough to reach the tournament, and subsequently, the poisoned chocolates. 

Should he tell Damian? On one hand, the frustration, clear in his face, would tear him apart after yet another failure. But… this was the most fun he had in a long time, and the longest they had gone without either insulting the other. 

-Okay then -mumbled Dick under his breath, smartly retreating out of the room.

Tim waited a few beats- Let me know if you need help. 

-Leave me alone Drake! As if I’d lower myself to such tricks! The victory won’t be truly mine unless I win by my own merits!

Still at the door, feeling both a little ignored and elated at his brothers getting along so nicely, Dick decided to slowly exit the place, least Damian truly snapped and threw a dagger or something at his head.

---

The downside of the pain meds was how drowsy they made him. He didn’t know quite what to do with himself, now that the bags under his eyes were so close to disappearing. He had come so used to them… maybe he’d need to start investing in eyeliner and fake them.

Blinking himself awake, he moved a bit to look at the clock on his bedside table and immediately flinched. He kept forgetting the wound, and then moved and was painfully reminded.

A hand appeared out of nowhere, holding a familiar pill. He took it without prompting, accepting then the glass of water.

-Don’t think too much of this, Drake. I’m merely assisting Pennyworth. Since I’m already here working on my progress, I offered to make sure you don’t forgo your medicine. Again.

The disdainful voice, probably masking the smallest shadow of care, had come familiar enough in the last couple of days that he knew even without opening his eyes who it was. The question of what the hell was he still doing here, after spending the entire day at Tim’s side, remained.

-Damian? Are you still playing?

The kid seemed uncomfortable.

-The idiotic Queen wouldn't stop dying. It’s against my every principle to give up before achieving my goal, so I had to stay here until I passed this… training of yours.

Tim had to bit his check to keep from smiling. Damian was kinda decent at it, but the boy who lied to Batman wasn’t so easily fooled by a half assed attempt. The brat had actually stayed so he could make sure Tim didn’t forget his pain meds and woke the whole manor up with his groans later. 

-Well, as your teacher for this particular test, I’m telling you to call it a day. Go to sleep and come back tomorrow with fresh mind and eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rehab… sucked. There was no way around it. Sure, he could go the nice, easy way, give himself enough time to heal before starting on the recovery path. But vigilantes didn’t have the luxury of nice, and he needed to be functional again asap. Steph was running herself ragged, working on keeping Tim’s identity on the streets alive and her own territory safe, and there was a limit on how much Tam could take over in WE before collapsing.

Bruce hadn’t been happy about his decision of starting physical therapy while his stitches were still there, but when was he, ever? And the doctors had said he could do it as long as he was careful about it, now that the swelling in his back had disappeared, so he couldn't use them as counterpoints. There was also the nice plus of being emancipated, which made his medical decisions his own, and not even Bruce could just breeze by and ignore them.

Sweet, sweet independence.

Too bad he forgot a tiny detail: how fucking painful it was.

He could move around now, using the crutches, and he had a series of exercises his doc gave him to help regain movement, which he followed like religious doctrine. Two reps before lunch, one before bed. Okay, the physical therapist had said only do one per day, but he couldn't take into account Tim’s vigilante resistance and strength, so he felt safe in his small expansion of the activities.

That was, until the sharp pain on his side made him lose balance during his last rep and trip over his crutches.

A strong arm around his upper chest stopped his fall to the ground, and took the air off his lungs. It didn’t touch his wound, though, which… nice.

-If you're falling jus’ from walking, maybe you're not as ‘recovered’ as I heard.

-Ja...son -he coughs, hand (with the crutch secured to him by nice straps, courtesy of WE’s medical division) raising up to hold Jason’s arm for support. The other man shifted, coming closer, shouldering his weight without a word, his other hand going around his waist, under the wound, to help him along- This… but a scratch.

-Quoting “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” at me won’t keep you out of trouble, little shit. C’mon, I’ll take you back to your room. Which way?

Pointing him in the right direction, Tim took advantage of their closeness to examine the other man.

They weren’t on ‘kill on sight’ terms any longer, but Tim wouldn’t exactly call the man when in a pinch. What was he even doing here? He was fairly sure he and Brucer were still at that ‘mindless anger/deeply rooted guilt’ stage of their relationship, and his book club meetings with Alfred were wednesday afternoons, not friday evenings…

-Stop thinking so much, you’ll strain som’ing.

-I’m not Dick -he fires back almost in instinct, earning a deep chuckle in turn. He shifts a little, looking for a position where his trembling arms wouldn't make the crutches shake quiet so much. If Jason saw his struggle, he respected him enough to say shit about it.

-Speaking of, how’s it going with him?

-I have no idea what you’re talking about. We are fine.

-Yeah, right. And he’s sitting out of helping you with rehab because he suddenly lost one of his hundred hearts and it’s just your luck it was the one he had for you?

-Fuck… -a misstep, and his arms automatically shift to compensate, keeping him standing but paying it in pain when the movement tugs at his side. Jason tightens his grip, an unvoiced promise to keep it from happening again- you.

-Really threatening, with all the gasping and whining. 

-Shut up. Why would we be at odds?

There’s a minute of silence as one of Jason’s hands leave him long enough to open the door to his bedroom.

-I’m jus’ saying -he shrugs as he helps Tim inside and towards his bed-, I know a discarded Robin when I see one.

He’s not sure if the pained sound comes from the jostling as he’s carefully lowered into his pillows, or the strike to his most exposed nerve.

-It was… a tough situation. Dick didn’t have much choice. I -it hurts to say- I get it. 

It had also been right, by Damian. Tim can see it, in the remarkably diminished killer intent he could feel from the kid, and his actual willingness at keeping Tim company and even helping him around when needed.

Even if it was the worst for him, at least one of the two fucked up kids under Dick’s watch had benefited from it. It was… it was good enough. It had to be. Tim was fine, after all.

Jason looks at him for a moment, waiting until the pain yields a bit and he can breath again. Then, taking a seat by his feet, he lets his eyes stray to the photographs mounted on the walls, avoiding Tim’s scrutinizing gaze.

-Even if it makes logical sense, it still hurts. I know how it is.

There’s… not really something he can counter. He moves a bit to find position easier on his side, hiding the nervous twitch with the action.

-I never blamed you for it -he feels compelled to add. Jason winces, as if struck. He’s still not looking at him.

-And the brat’ll probably be the same with you, someday. Means shit now, but… small comforts.

-I guess so… I mean, we’re kinda getting along, now that he can’t try to kill me since I’m convalescente and I’m bored enough to contribute to his training.

Jason seems pained again. Tim is annoyed by how confusing this entire situation is.

-Y’er a good predecessor. He’ll/

-What is this all about? -he cuts, unable to stop himself. This attempt at deep conversation is well and good, but it’s coming out of nowhere and Tim never pictured Jason as one to go around randomly offering wisdom- Why are you here, and with me of all people?

There was a shadow of something passing through his face, before it transformed into the physical intonation of the ‘Fair enough’ feeling. 

-I heard what happened from blondie while she was takin’ care of soom goons on y’er part of town. And… well, I have some experience on getting back on your feet after a bad injury, just in the wake of loosing Robin. Figured you’d be over doing it and getting yourself hurt worse.

It… was a fair assessment of what he was doing, actually. And if there was anyone he could speak about this… it’d be Jason.

-There’s so much I have to do -he sighs, sagging into his bed, relaxing for the first time when in a room with his childhood idol-, and Steph can’t keep running all my cases for me. I keep solving them, but I need groundwork done and she has already so much on her plate by patrolling my side of town, I just… I can’t let people die because I couldn't spy on an arms deal and tore it apart before the guns made their way to the streets. 

Jason looked at him again, his emotions in check, and he seemed to think about it for a minute, before humming.

-What about this? You take it slow and easy with the physical therapy, and I help with that stuff. My territory is somewhat in order, or as much as you can have it in this hellhole of a city, so I have plenty of free time, and… I could use the atonement. After, you know, trying to kill you so many times.

It…was unexpected. Jason, helping him? In exchange of Tim’s wellbeing? It seemed absurd beyond belief, but there was no mistaking the earnestness on his face.

And, well, fuck it. Tim was somehow on speaking terms with one of his formers almost-assassins, what was one more?

...it would also be so worth it, once Dick knew. Tim could already picture his jealousy, seeing the two brothers he was at odds or uncomfortable with, speaking at each other and working together.

And having Jason at his side would keep Bruce from checking on him so often. Two birds, one crowbar. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

This was shaping up to be the strangest week of his life. Had he entered the twilight zone?

He had gotten kinda used to Damian popping into his room before patrol, or during the nights B forced him to stay at home. He’d work Damian through one of the easiest cold cases, or aid him in his never ending game of Long Live the Queen (he was getting really close to a happy ending, though). In exchange, the kid would keep his work a secret, and help him move around if the pain was too strong, or if he wanted a glass of water and didn’t feel like getting his crutches out for the small trip to the bathroom.

Also, it was somewhat normal to have Jason swing by (morning or mid afternoon, while the vigilantes of the manor slept off their patrol), some case files in hand, informing him about a new development in whatever Tim had asked him to research. Alfred, highly approving of their newfound camaraderie, would insist Jason stayed for tea, and the three of them would dwell into a very satisfying bitch fest, with Bruce as their source material.

What he wasn’t ready for, was having both of them around at the same time.

-Drake, you need to stop lazing around and do your exercises! Father and the doctors said…!

-Chill out, Demon, he did ‘em already. Shouldn't be doin more reps than the doc said, y’know?

Acting like his nurses.

-And how do I know you’re not lying to me, Todd? Hurting Timothy could only benefit you!

-...In literally which way? He’s the ONE brother I like! And like you are any better, Mr slashed zip line.

-Who told you about/? No matter. That was before we became allies. You, on the other hand!

Had he stumbled into a different universe? It wouldn't be the first time. Just in case, he sent Bart, his time/multiverse travel expert, a quick text.

-Hey guys, what’s all this noise abou/ Damian! Drop the knife!

Oh yeah. Just what Tim needed; the awkwardness that seemed to appear whenever he and Dick were in a room together. Maybe it was time to book it back to his room.

-Grayson! Give it back, I need to/!

-Disembowel Jay? I don’t think so.

-Fuck off Dickiebird, I don’t need your protection. 

Decision made, Tim slowly moved his crutches, walking backwards without taking his eyes from the three vigilantes. If he was really, really quiet...

-I know, just/ Wait. Is that a gun?

-Well, it’s not like I’m happy to see yar ugly face.

-Excuse you?!... Here, Dami. You can have it back.

-FUCK!

-DIE!

-TIM!

The last scream came from Dick, who looked in his direction just in time to catch the moment Tim’s crutch slipped in the carpet. As it was, he was the only one who could react fast enough to prevent a painful, possibly very bad for his injury fall.

It also meant Tim was being cradled like a baby. Which- no.

The other two fell silent for  long minute, while their minds caught up to Tim’s almost accident. Then, apparently seeing him safe in Dick’s arms, they turned to fight again. Apparently, blaming the other for Tim’s misfortune. Which… okay maybe he’d been distracted watching them go at it when he tripped, but still!

-I’ll just… take him upstairs -informed them Dick, though it sounded almost like a question. Probably wondering their ability to keep the discussion verbal.

Used to the nagging, both of them raised their hands, showing them empty (which, truly, meant little in the face of two of the most weapon-inclined people he knew), without pausing their rapidly escalating exchange. 

Halfway up the stairs, he stopped wallowing in self pity about his still recovering body to remember that, for the first time in a helluva long time, he’d be alone with Dick. Which translated in Talk Time. Fuck.

By the time they reached his door, he had ready no less than six deflections and twenty conversation topics which avoided mention of all their baggage and could potentially satisfy Dick’s need for socializing with a brother.

-Wipe that look off your face, Baby Bird. You won’t be orchestrating this chat -the older hero informed him, casually as one can be, kicking the door closed behind him and softly lowering Tim on his bed. He was having serious Deja Vu’s from his first encounter with Jason-. We are going to sit in your room. We are going to hear each other out. I’m going to apologize for hurting you and give you insight on the why I acted the way I did. You’ll decide whether or not you’re ready for forgiving me. We’ll bond. Maybe cry. There’ll definetly be hugs involved -that shouldn’t sound like a threat, why did it sound like a threat, Tim felt threatened-, that’s non negotiable, don’t even try to put the ‘tender wounds’ card on me ‘cause I won’t buy it. And…

Dick’s stern voice wavered, arms still around Tim shoulders even when it was clear he didn’t need his support to sit in the bed.

-And we’ll be brothers again.

The tiny, broken sound mid-sentence was what got Tim. 

Hand a little shaky, scared for his own heart but unwilling to let the older boy (his hero and family for so long) keep hurting, he touched Dick’s cheek and smiled. Tentatively, because they were on unstable ground here, but hopeful, because god did he miss his brother.

-We never stopped being that, idiot.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was after dinner, when Bruce approached him in silence. Tim had been making his slow  but steady way to the den, where Dick had roped them all into watching a movie together. He could hear the sounds of Jason and Damian roughosing (okay, Jason was; the brat probably believed the whole affair to be a fight to the death for honor or something like that) and Dick’s chirpy voice as he ranted about The Greatest Showman from the hall.

Bruce had been making the trip by his side, hand hovering close to Tim’s elbow, in case the crutches failed him or he tripped. Tim wanted to tell him it wouldn't happen, but… he’d missed his dad’s attention a little too much to complain about independency now.

-How’s the recovery going, son?

He stopped in the door leading to where his brothers waited, turning to face  Bruce with an arched eyebrow.

-You know that better than me, Mr I’ve broken every bone in my body at some point. Also I’m dead sure you hacked my medical files and know every little detail my physical therapist wrote by heart. You can probably recite them to me verbatim.

-I didn’t mean the physical recovery. The shot in your side is not the only wound you’re carrying right now

Silence, the only noise coming from inside the room and Tim’s heavy breathing. Unable to refrain himself, he risks a glance at the tangle of limbs rolling around in the carpet (Dick’s tactic to stop the fight was to hug them into submission) and lets the tentative, frail smile tug at his lips.

-Honestly, B… That one is healing nicely. There’ll be scars but… That’ proof of what we overcame. Right?

Bruce’s smile looked kinda uncomfortable in that stony face of his, but warm all the same. His hand left Tim’s arm to tussle his hair a bit, careful to not unbalance him.

-When did you became the wisest of my children?

A crash came from inside the room, startling them both.

-TODD YOU…!

-DAMIAN NO! JASON PUT DOWN THE CHAIR! DON’T MAKE ME CALL ALFRED!

-C’ME AT ME, MIDGET!

-ALFIEEEE!!!

-Bruce…

-Yes?

-I’m the only wise child you have.

[beybladefanboy]

My biggest problems with each season of Beyblade

I like to keep my posts more positive but all series have faults, and I want to give my constructive criticism of each season. Of course, it's alright if you disagree, just be civil about it.

Metal Fusion-Ryo Hagane

Literally everything about him in this season bothers me. Even as a kid, I hated the twist that he survived. It felt like a cheap cop out and kind of implausible as well. However, what bothers me the most now is his characterization. As Phoenix, he neglects/kind of abandons his teenage son, allows him to think he's dead, causing him immeasurable grief and stress, and actively hurts him. Breaking Gingka's  point counter like that was downright abusive, making his so-called righteous reason sound kind of disgusting. Even if Gingka didn't know that was his dad at that point, what Ryo did was still an act of theft and property damage, two things that are absolutely illegal. Yet the story glorifies him for some reason. Literally the only purpose he served was to give Gingka exposition about the creation of beys and why only he could defeat L-Drago, which could have been done differently. Ryo isn't much better in the following seasons but at least he's featured less. Plus, his friendship with Hikaru is kind of cute. To give Ryo some credit, I love that moment in Masters where he shields Hikaru during her panic attack. That’s both sweet and badass.

Metal Masters-Masamune

I will admit, he developed well over the course of the season, but I still think he's annoying. A lot of characters in this show are arrogant but Masamune is arrogant and talkative. He won't shut up about how he's the number one blader when in reality, he's probably the least competent blader on their team. He was also a complete dick to abandon Toby and Zeo like that but at least in this case, the narrative does condemn him for that, unlike Ryo in Fusion. I also think Masamune was more likeable in Fury, as he and King have a very dynamic friendship and Masamune coming to terms with not being a legendary blader is a great scene. However in Masters alone, Masamune is extremely annoying to me.

Metal Fury-Kyoya’s arc

Everyone says the lack of episodes and while I agree that's an issue, it's not my biggest issue. The pacing of the parts we got is fine, but it feels like parts are missing and should have been filled in to strengthen the story and characters. My biggest issue with Fury is and always has been the handling of Kyoya, specifically the arc where he leaves the group. His reasons for leaving the group are somewhat relatable to me: he feels like he needs to be a loner to prove his strength. However, these reasons are forgotten about and Kyoya returns to the group because he feels like destiny is forcing him to. I hate that. Whether it's in character or not isn't the main problem. Kyoya's inner conflict was set up then forgotten about and never addressed again because the story needed him to return to the group. The characters should be driving the story, not the other way around. That is terrible writing. It also makes Kyoya look pretty bad. Throughout the show, he has been shown multiple times to help his friends of his own volition when they need him, even earlier in Fury. So it seems weird that he would feel like destiny is "forcing him" to help his friends when he actively helped them in the past. I am in the process of rewriting that arc actually since I think it had good potential so I’ll post that once it’s complete.

Overall, I still love all three seasons these are just the things in each of them I take the most issue with. This will probably spark some discussion, which I encourage as long as it remains civil.

[what-a-messsss]

2x3 rewatch

I keep forgetting that Brach is still in S2.  Oops.  Also, I apparently went to check something in S6 last time I watched something, so it started at 6x2 instead of 2x3 and I yelled.  But anyway, on with this mess.  “Death Came in Like Thunder” apparently.  It sure did.

Ah yes, let us not forget that Branch is MANLEH.  This shall be proven to us by him murdering his cousin, Trunk, with big ax.  Chop chop, Branch, kill Trunk.  But oh no, must also show that he is People Smart, so must also lose because this makes him likable.  And many white people clap.  Yaaaay.  But be sure to say, “I let him win, Ferg,” while your competitor is right next to you, so he almost surely heard you.  Good good.

Oh Ferg.  Could you look more gormless if you tried?  (I mean, probably not, since presumably that was the goal of the actor, so he would have been trying.  But still.)  Bb.

Heh, nice thematic cut to Walt also chopping wood.  And YAY, Henry’s gorgeous truck (and gorgeous self).  I’m just going to take a moment to appreciate the fact that Henry rolls up and just helps himself to some of Walt’s thermos of coffee.  Because of course he does.  But I do so love these touches that they put in that do underline the fact that they are married have been besties for going on 40 years.  Also, I love this jacket of Henry’s.  The woven top, jean jacket sort of one?  Yeah, top 5 costume pieces of his for me.  (Also on that list, all basically tied with each other, basically any pants he wears.  I am reminded, when they cut back out to a full body shot.  Because I am very shallow, and he is very pretty.)

Haaaaaa.  And of course Cady talked to Henry before she talked to Walt.  Walt is a butthead.  And, yeah yeah, she just found out that he’d been lying to her for over a year, but that just proves my point that Walt is a butthead.  And we’re back to this whole idea that she left her phone, which just... ugh.  No.  But Henry’s face when he says that she said that she is safe, and he’s so worried, but still willing to respect her boundaries.

“She is an adult, Walt.”  “She’s my daughter.”  For fuck’s sake, you jackass, your ADULT daughter; that’s the whole flipping point!  Also, that little emphasis on my daughter, pfft.  If you didn’t want to feel like she preferred her cool dad to you, maybe try being less of an AAAAAAASSHOLE.  And, like, respecting her.  Even a weensy little bit.

“Etta Place”  I don’t remember if we find out why that’s the ‘assumed name’ that Cady chose, but I’m intrigued.  Wait, I just googled.  Looooool.  She spent years with Butch and Sundance.  Nice.

Walt is such a soft touch with teens.  *snack crackle pop* that kneecap back into place.  Vic starts this scene saying, “The 911 operator,” though, which is interesting, because I was kind of under the impression that Ruby was the main dispatcher, so it would be kind of heartening if she actually had back up with that.  ...Or maybe they’re just far enough out that a cell call made would be picked up by a tower farther out and have to be routed back in to the station/them.  I have no idea how that actually works.  Another rabbit hole for me to totally not go down.  Hopefully.  Shit.  They’ve apparently upped the fine for trespass since the show, though, because it’s $750 (or 6 months in jail) now and Walt says it’s $500.

And once again, we see Vic actually wearing gloves while investigating a suspicious death, and Walt just squinting into the distance helpfully.  I suppose “things got bad” in Basque country around WWII, but there has been friction there that dates back before the Spanish Civil War, or even the Carlist Wars the previous century.  It did get gnarly with the dictatorship of Franco, and the formation of the ETA in retaliation, though, so yeah.  (Francisco Franco is also on the list of people who anybody with a time machine should go back and beat the shit out of.)

Shit, I forgot about the animal death.

Knock knock, no answer.  Better just wander in without a warrant.  I know that the guy who they know lives there is dead, but still, no fricking warrant; I suppose the worry of a poisoning could count as probably cause?  

Gods, but there are moments when I do absolutely adore Vic, and they are usually when she’s taking the piss out of Walt.  “Reclusive bachelor chic; you and Marco have the same decorator.”  Looool.  But also, sad, because Martha has only been gone for a little over a year, and Walt is not the kind of person who would, like, change stuff and get rid of her things, so that’s kind of odd.  Maybe Henry and/or Cady went though and put away some of her things to try to help Walt move on?  But damn, the ‘excuse you’ look on Walt’s face when she does say it, pffft.

AND AGAIN, Vic wearing gloves, Walt with his bare ass hands picking up the picture of Picasso’s Guernica; can you at least *pretend* you’re a cop, *some* of the time, buddy?

Lol at the barrabilak; they are pretty well by the Rocky Mountains, so it’s probably not all that surprising that Walt’s had some “Rocky Mountain oysters” before.

I had forgotten that Vic had four brothers.  But her comment about Sal going off to look after the sheep and how if someone had told her that one of her brothers were dead she “wouldn’t care about any damn sheep,” I don’t know.  It kind of annoys me.  It’s totally in character for her, which is good, but I think it’s part of what can annoy me about her character.  Different people grieve differently, but also, I know she’s only been in Wyoming for a year or two, tops, but how is it so hard to fathom that someone one would be concerned about their livelihood, even in the face of personal tragedy?  Just, seeing beyond her own very narrow experience doesn’t seem like something she’s very good at.  It would be one thing if she’d framed it as “this is suspicious, and here’s why I think so as a cop,” but it was, “I wouldn’t react that way personally, so it’s sus.”  

Sure, be suspicious because there’s a suspicious death and family members are always suspects until ruled out, but approach it like a cop.  Or at least think about it from more angles than just your own, not terribly similar experience.  You’re a white city cop who can’t (or won’t) adjust to being in BF rural-ville, but these are immigrant shepherds whose family come from a homeland where the cops were just as likely to kill you as answer questions, and you’re side-eying a guy for going to make sure that their meal ticket doesn’t get obliterated?

I need to keep reminding myself that I really did want to like Vic.  I really did.  She just... they don’t make it easy for me.  Maybe she’s serving as an avatar for audience who don’t know about some of the culture stuff, and the audience get answers from her ignorance?  But honestly, I wish they’d picked a different way to handle that, if that’s what they were trying to do.  Her response to Henry being salty about Thanksgiving still really pisses me off.  Because it was shitty and racist, and... do we really need a character basically rolling their eyes and saying, “It was so long ago, why don’t you just get over it,” about something that is intrinsically tied to the genocide of so many people?  Why are Indigenous people just supposed to “get over it” but “Remember the Alamo” and “Southern Pride,” and shit?  Fuck’s sake.  Honestly, that might have been the moment when they lost me on her character.  She has moments where she’s awesome, but they never really address her being fucking racist or give her a chance to grow into a better person.  Which sucks a lot.  Fuck.  Ok, that was a lot.  Sorry.  Back to the actual ep.

AH, nice of you to beam in from the campaign trail, Brancheroo!

Uh, so I paused it to look at pic in the newspaper, and then being me, started to look at the articles surrounding the pic.  And the one with the headline “Fans Injured At Local Game” is actually about the Stewart case?  From 1x3?  I’m guessing that somebody went to the trouble of writing up an article for that for some S1 ep after it and they just plugged it in because when not paused, you might catch “Sheriff Longmire” there and that’s all they need.  Especially since the text starts to repeat after the first paragraph.  (I am the worst pedantic little shit.)  Ooooor, maybe even though it’s S2, it’s hardly been any time since 1x3?  The date on the newspaper is March 31, 2012, so there’s a timeline hint. 

Awwwwww, once Walt points out the bird, Ferg knows exactly what it is.  Occasional twitcher, are we, my lad?  “A red-tip meadowlark,” indeed.  Oh bb; Ferg’s face when he sees Walt looking at the pic of him with Branch in the paper.

“You go too fast, you miss the little things.”  Every once in a while, he actually sort of mentors Ferg.  I wish he did more of that, especially since we see later how capable Ferg can be.

Go suck an egg, Branch.  Why does she get all the “good” assignments?  Maybe because she was actually on the job when they found the body, not campaigning.

OPE.  Lizzie’s gift.  Yeah, I’d probably choke on that coffee if I were you, too, girl.  Better hope that there wasn’t perishable food stuffs in that gift, because that has been in there for a whiiiiiile, hasn’t it.  Wait, was Ferg in the office when Lizzie dropped off the gift?  Because his face said more than just “Did somebody give Vic a present?”  Suuuuper subtle with that whole pushing the drawer closed with your foot there, Vic.  Pfffft.

“Cyrano Caballero”  How daaaare that skeeve take Cyrano’s name in vain?!?!  (I have a thing about Cyrano de Bergerac.  It’s quite possibly my favourite play, and I adore the character, and have exactly 0 chill about it at all.  I find Brian Hooker’s translation of “The Ballade of the duel at the Hotel Bourgogne Between de Bergerac and a Boeotian” with “Then, as I end the refrian, thrust home,” vastly superior to any other translation that I’ve heard or read, though for the rest of it, I will grant that there are others to be preferred.  But that version of his Ballade is exquisite, and I will not be swayed.  Holy shit, FOCUS.  That is so very much not the point.)  It’s not even a throw away line in this ep, it’s just a random, very well chosen, if utterly appallingly insulting, company name.  It’s actually incredibly clever for what the business is, and if it didn’t make me so stomping mad, I would applaud whoever came up with it heartily.

Vic’s face listening to this jackass’ spiel is a thing of beauty.  “A good woman goes a long way of easing the obvious stresses of your daily life,” the jackass says, cutting his eyes at Vic when he says “obvious stresses,” and I caaaackle.

What is it about this guys’ horrible glasses that just makes him so much more hate-able?  I’m not entirely sure, but kudos to whatever costumer put those on him, because they are perfect.  In the ‘I want to punch him’ way of perfection.

And after all of that about Walt’s “lady friend,” Vic brings Lizzie’s present.  Womp womp.  That went super well.  Yuuuup, run while you can.

Poor Ferg.  Branch manipulates him, Vic ignores him, Walt shuts him down...  Poor guy just can’t get a break.

I actually kind of like this motel manager--the one who “doesn’t judge people” and is a stickler for warrants?  At least somebody in this county cares about warrants.  Also, those doors are actually really pretty.  Nice colour, and the carved scrollwork designs are nice.

What an odd shot: the one when they’re coming out of Walt’s office after talking to Skeevy McGrossFace and Rosa.  It’s a weird sort of shaky-cam stepping back, just preceding Branch walking, and then turns to follow him when he sit’s on his desk.  But it’s a really different style of shot than I can remember, so much so that it’s a bit jarring, especially after the series of nearly stationary close ups that we just had.  Weird. [18:42-18-50]

Cady!  I haven’t made much note of her costuming before this, but it seems notable that’s she’s only in monocromatics.  Especially next to Fales in muted tones, but still some colour, and surrounded by the colourful grafitti of the alley where her mother was stabbed.  Nice way of setting her apart from everything.

SHEEPIES!  Ooooo, that wagon is so cool.  Ah dang, the way that Sal corrects Walt’s pronunciation of his brother’s name is so gloriously passive aggressive.  Good for you, my dude.  Names are important, and people should have the respect to make the effort to get them right.

Aaaaaand Walt, the definition of Do, Don’t Tell, just shoves the guy to keep him from drinking the possibly dangerous water, rather than, like, using his words.  Walt’s gonna Walt.

Iiiiiiiii am a mess, truly.  It cuts to an architectural model and I start giggling like a 6th grader, because I know it’s going to be a Jacob scene.  He’s not even on screen yet, ffs.  HANDS.  I’m fine.  Totally fine.  (That’s totally a lie.  I just rewound to the beginning of the scene because I kept giggling too much to pay attention.  What the hell.)  First time we’ve seen one of the chips, which at this point must be a marketing mock-up, since nothing is built yet.  And he actually types, not just doing the hunt-and-peck thing that is sometimes easier on a tablet.

Looking at the weaving that is up on his wall (maybe a rug?) I’m hoping that the prop people actually did buy from Northern Cheyenne artisans.  They apparently did most of their filming in New Mexico, so I hope they made the effort to get the patterns right, and buy from the actual tribe they’re supposed to be portraying, I guess?  And now I’m distracted by the fact that the random hanging light behind Jacob is at a weird angle?  

Look, ever since I realized that the “Hey,” that Jacob does is apparently just A (thanks to it also happening in That Damned Xmas Movie) I am endlessly amused (and charmed) whenever Jacob does it.  I don’t know why it makes me so happy, but it does.  (This is legitimately embarrassing.  How much trouble I am having focusing.  Beyond my normal focus issues, which, as shown above, are already impressive.  Because thiiiiirst.)

“My boys at the lumber yard did just throw you a campaign rally.”  I love how Jacob is basically apparently not just his secret angel-investor, but also a sneaky campaign manager.  Did Branch just think shit like the rally just happened?  He’s not fricking Ferris Bueller; somebody organizes those.  And apparently it’s either Jacob himself, or someone who Jacob appointed to do so.

“I thought you were just a casino developer.”  You have noooo clue, Brancheroo.  “I prefer to remain a silent partner.  White people get nervous when Indians start taking back their land.”  Oooooope.  Especially interesting because there are previsions for the Tribal Council to purchase land to be Tribal land (Section 6 of Article IX of the Tribal Constitution), but this seems more along the lines of personal acquisition.  Though maybe not, because “on the board” doesn’t necessarily equate to being the owner.

The set up of Jacob’s office is so interesting.  Functionally for the show, it’s probably for better shooting angles, so that we can see more of Jacob behind the desk while Branch is sitting in front of it, but from an in-the-verse decorating standpoint, bit’s fascinating.  He has this focal wall with the gorgeous wall hanging, flanked by floor to ceiling window, but instead of having his desk centered on that wall and directly facing the bulk of the room, it’s at an almost 45 degree angle on a huge rug, and it’s so unexpected.  I kind of love it, and want to analyze it for days.  Also worth noting is that pride of place is given to the  Hotamétaneo’o headdress which is on a stand centered in front of the wall hanging.

How fucking tired must Jacob be.  He’s used to Walt... Walting, but then Branch comes in, who he is literally spending his own money to support in his bid for sheriff, and he pulls the same shit of assuming that he’s behind Bad Shit.  And then Branch frames it as “bad P.R,” so he’s there to “discuss it with [him] privately.”  And then basically threatens him with Walt.  I swear.  ...there is something a little amusing about Walt being used as the stick in the carrot and a stick method of negotiating.  He certainly is enough of a blunt object most of the time.

Oh fuck you so much, Branch.  Playing the “can’t give you details about an ongoing investigation” card as though you have some professional or moral leg to stand on after basically blackmailing Jacob with Walt’s vendetta is just such shit.  You don’t get to look down your nose at Jacob’s quid pro quo pragmatism when you were the one who came to him for financial backing.  You sanctimonious little shitheel.  If you didn’t want to deal with Jacob, you shouldn’t have taken his $100k.  He’s a business man, and you’re an investment, and not a quixotic one.

“He’s probably the only person to have died from [hemlock] since Socrates.”  And then Walt’s incredulous look and her, “Alright, I googled it,” were subtle comedic gold.

Ooooooo, that was a nice little shot.  Not quite foreshadowing, but showing Branch’s suspicions and sort of inviting the audience to share them.  Walt says his bit about the Army poisoning “Indian wells” to kill them off and get their land, and then we see Branch fiddling with the Four Arrows chip and narrow his eyes considering and slip the chip into his pocket, looking suspicious.  It’s a really neat little moment of visual storytelling, no lines, literally three seconds long, just sort of snuck in there, but super effective.  Really nicely done.

And again, Cady is in monochromatics.  And, shit, just gave Fales Henry’s name.  Aaaaaand right after, she realizes that the junkie was killed and realizes that it had to have been one of her dads (or so she thinks).

Sal’s monologue in the cell is a good emotional payoff that plays off of Vic’s comments towards the beginning of the episode.  I see the narrative worth of her making them, and how the structure of the episode benefits from it; but seeing those writing elements from the outside of the show doesn’t make me able to like her as a character who said them in-universe.  And then the threat Sal makes of vengeance on someone who killed one he loves also underscores the stuff with Cady’s investigation into her mother’s death very well.  As much as I gripe about the writing *cough S6 cough finale cough* there really is some damn good writing in this show, and I don’t show enough appreciation for it.

Huh, and now there’s a sort of inverse of that weird shot preceding Branch from earlier, but this one is much more effective and less off-putting.  This one [33:00] precedes Walt as he walks back into his office, still a medium close up, but it’s much steadier, and the way it is framed, it does quite a bit to convey his mindset, and he walks out of the shot and we see the three deputies following him in like baffled ducklings, making the shot serve another purpose, too.  Which honestly makes that earlier shaky follow shot of Branch even weirder, because this one was so much better.

And then Walt has his creepy little speech about how someone would want to watch the light go out of their eyes and not caring if you get caught.  I do appreciate that when he’s talking about the psychology of killing with poison he doesn’t just call it a “woman’s method” which media so often does.  It might have been the writers keeping who the killer was abstruse, but it was still more gender neutral.  Especially since according to The U. S. Department of Justice's report on Homicide Trends in the United States (1980 to 2008) of all poison killers in that time period, 60.5 percent were male and 39.5 percent female.  (Table 5 on page 10.)  So that long held idea that even Sherlock Holmes was written to have that poison is “of course” a woman’s weapon is pretty crap.

Awwww, the good old days when Walt paid attention to animals.  ...I am still bizarrely salty about the fact that he never named his horse.  What a good pupper!  

And then we have a classic example of Sneaky!Walt, which always takes people quite by surprise, because he’s usually as subtle as Miley Cyrus.

Also because when he does this, it tends to be pretty fucked up, in a Make Someone Think They’re About To Die way.  And then he does His Thing, where he just lays out all of his suppositions, with no proof, only the terror of her thinking that she’s been poisoned and you’re withholding medical intervention to get her to confess.  And is, irritatingly, correct about his theories.  But I’m pretty sure this qualifies as coercing a confession?  She thinks she’s fucking dying.  Even Vic looks at him like it’s fucked up, and her moral compass where he’s concerned is... skewed.

They way this reveal was played out, (”How’d they find her so fast?”  “Hard to say...”) is somewhat ambiguous as to whether it’s supposed to be that Branch went there to tell Jacob or not, but I kind of doubt it?  I kind of figure that the meeting that Jacob was having when Branch rambled in was already with Rosa signing the paperwork.  Jacob is smart.  So, HAH.  Little good your “can’t comment on an ongoing investigation” schtick did.

And then the news that someone in law enforcement has been asking after Henry.

“Lizzie was waiting for you here tonight.  You should talk to her, Walt.  She seems to think she is in a relationship with you.”  ....omgs.  The tone.  I mean, yes, the blisteringly glorious SASS, but how does one not read that as incredibly shippy?  Howwwww?

“You are an honest man, Walt.  I would like you to stay that way.”  Oh Henry.  When did you decide that you weren’t?  Was it when you hired Hector?  Or was there something before?  ...I feel like there were things before that.  Hello darkness my old friend.

“It is not your job to protect me.”  “It is my job...”  THOSE WERE THE DAYS.  Those were the fucking daaaaaays.  And the emotions on Henry’s face after Walt says, “That was my right,” as though Henry cheated him of something.  I am so deep in OT3 feels I cannot even see daylight here.  The feels of them having been an OT3 and then Walt pulling this shit, and Henry having to defend his own “right” to avenge Martha?  It wrecks me.  “A good woman was murdered.  A bad man is dead.  End of story.”  

[airjordan4lightning]

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[vaguely-problematic]

the whole 12 minutes is gold but especially this part:

for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power.

It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.

Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do.  contents Under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in?

that answer requires moral leadership.

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country You want to live in.

that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

(Full speech-to-text transcription under cut)

i’m Stephen Colbert, well, we’re back after 10 days off and I never imagined that after 10 days a global pandemic would not be the lead story.

Remember when we were all afraid of our groceries. I miss those days.

No the story that has pushed 100,000 covid deaths below the fold is America’s pre-existing condition- racism.  protests against police targeting black people have broken out in dozens of cities.

So April was global pandemic May is massive Nationwide protests over systemic racism. I assume June is a plague of locusts then in July pleated pants are coming back.

That’s not just US citizens protesting racism in the United States. protesters gathered in London Toronto. Even Berlin, you know, it’s bad when Germany thinks your country is racist that’s like Jamaica telling you to put down the bong.

These protests were sparked last Monday by the extrajudicial execution of a man named George Floyd face down in a Street in Minneapolis Floyd died after a police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes now in civilized countries that’s called Murder.  Minneapolis police officer and cop who so dirty even his badge is crooked Derek Chauvin even adding to the outrage is that it took four days to arrest the officer even though there’s  video of him doing it.

It would be the shortest episode of Law & Order ever in the criminal justice system. The people are represented by two separate but equally important groups the police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders who in this case are the police because come on we all saw the video. What are you waiting for? That’s it. I’m going to the protest. do the "dun dun”.

Even after Chauvin was arrested. He was charged with third-degree murder. That’s a pretty light charge. That’s like Prosecuting Jeffrey Dahmer for a bad case of the munchies. We find the defendant, hangry.

Plus the other three officers involved have not been charged with the crime. So if you’re wondering why people are so upset. It’s because this is so upsetting. Also, it’s not an isolated incident on the very same day that Floyd was killed. There was another viral video of a white woman named Amy Cooper who is confronted by a black bird watcher who asked her to put her dog on a leash in Central Park, and he responded by doing this and I’ve hidden please. Please call the cops. Please call the cops. African American man threatening my life. She knows exactly what she’s doing and why that man should be afraid of the police a brilliant performance. She should win the white lady Oscar.  also known as the Oscar.

now Floyd’s death comes on the heels of Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arberyurry and also has Eerie similarities to Eric Garner in 2014. And in that same year, there was the case of Michael Brown in Ferguson Tamir rice and Cleveland all of those Echo Emmett Till and the Scottsboro boys, which happened in the context of Jim Crow, which itself was a soft relaunch of slavery. See really got to go back to the Triangle Trade which ultimately stems from man. Man’s inhumanity to man and are essential Fallen nature. So maybe start with the Garden of Eden actually, you know what in the beginning there was a single point of all matter and energy under tremendous pressure. But you know, there’s always a few bad atoms and the whole thing exploded

now in times like these we need empathetic and moral leadership. Unfortunately. We have Donald Trump. normally during National unrest president step up and address the nation’s pain.

Following the death of Michael Brown President Obama met with activists in the White House President Clinton comfort of the nation with a moving address after the Oklahoma City bombing. Even Richard Nixon in 1970 made a surprise trip, or he spoke to students protesting the Vietnam War who can forget his stirring words. We’ve got to come together and defeat are common. Enemy. The Jews I wrote down on this rushed

Trump can’t even match the compassion of a Nixon because as the Protests raged on Pfizer’s discuss the prospect of an oval office address in an attempt to ease tensions, but the idea was quickly scrapped for lack of policy proposals and the president’s own seeming disinterest in delivering a message of unity. Okay? Mr. President. We’re thinking a short powerful speech from the Resolute desk where you call for racial healing. I’m sorry. What’s that sir? You want to act it out with a box of Aunt Jemima. You know what? Let’s just scrap the whole thing. Today Trump had a call with the nation’s Governors to discuss the ongoing protests and he read straight from the authoritarian Playbook. Why isn’t comforting words. It reminds me of what? Mr. Rogers said about times of tragedy. Look for the dominators. Oh won’t you be? Oh you will be my neighbor you jerk.

That was mr. Rogers dominating someone.

Then Trump said something really scary, you know and you’ll never see this stuff again. So people are upset about systemic racism and a society that over polices and imprisons black people and Trump solution is to do more of that. You know, what they say those who refuse to learn from history are Donald Trump. So Donald Trump is the big tough guy going to dominate the opposition pew pew pew so naturally on Friday as

Range nearby Trump took shelter in the White House bunker. Well if history has taught us anything is that things always work out well for strong men who Retreat to underground bunkers. Mr. President. Come on. This is your moment. You’re always calling to beat up protesters at your rallies. You could shut this whole thing down just pop a couple of hydroxy xand come out of the White House swinging a 5-iron with a Confederate flag tape do it. But instead he tweeted great job last night at the White House by the US Secret Service. Service, they were not only totally professional but a very cool. I was inside watched every move and couldn’t have felt more safe adding a nobody came close to breaching the fence. If they had they would dad dad. Dad. Dad dot-dot-dot have been greeted with the most officious dogs and most ominous weapons I’ve ever seen that’s when people would have been really badly hurt at least many Secret.

Agents just waiting for Action. We put the young ones on the front line sir. They love it. I don’t know why they’re not letting him give that reassuring speech from the Oval Office my fellow Americans. Let me send a clear message to the people protesting police brutality law enforcement is just a bunch of cool guys who cannot wait for things to get crazy. They see you as target practice now a truly enjoy watching you get eaten by vicious. Dogs now, let’s all come together in peace. Come buy guns my Lord come buy guns.

The protest of the White House were specifically in response to this tweet. These thugs are dishonoring the memory of George Floyd and I won’t let that happen. Just spoke to Governor. Tim was and told him the military is with him all the way any difficulty and we will assume control, but when the Looting starts the shooting starts, thank you. Kind of an unnerving way to end a threat. It’s like that scene in Taken. I will look for you. I will find you and I will kill you. Thank you. Stay safe. Everyone top also had some more succinct thoughts tweeting. So terrible where the arrests and long-term jail sentences. We tried to sir, but Susan Collins voted to acquit you.

Now while Trump is in hiding it’s really good to see average citizen stepping up and filling in the void yesterday in Queens police knelt with protesters while in Flint Michigan the sheriff joined the march in Brooklyn protesters protected to Target from looters and Kentucky this group of white women formed a line to protect black protesters from police in Louisville protesters formed a human barrier to protect a cop who got separated from his unit and in Minneapolis.

Group of Mennonites showed up to support the protest Tonight’s Mennonites think America’s too racist! and they live in 1840.

Now I make a lot of jokes about Donald Trump because he is a dull and dark corrupting force that is undermining America’s moral leadership around the world and sewing hatred and fear among his own citizens. So that’s fun. and during this covid crisis the president is totally abdicated his responsibility of leading the people to understand the need to do the right thing for themselves and each other and yet the large majority of Americans have done the right thing anyway,

My Hope Is that the American people will do the same thing now Because ultimately they have to for too long those of us with opportunity and privilege have failed and our responsibility to look at the truth squarely and name the system of racial oppression that artificially divides Americans and benefits those already in positions of relative power. It’s perfectly understandable to not want to do this. It’s human. No one wants to lose privileges or position. Especially when fear of that loss is magnified and stoked by political leaders for their own supposed Advantage. I say supposed Advantage because if you deny the human rights and dignity of any people you will ultimately destroy the society and civilization that you claim to protect.

58 years ago John Kennedy said those who make peaceful Revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable. Not only is addressing systemic racial and economic Injustice. The right thing to do. It is the safest most conservative most self-protecting most self-serving thing to do. contents under Pressure will eventually explode and that’s not a threat that’s a law of nature. So it’s time to ask ourselves as it is always time to ask ourselves. What kind of nation do we want to live in that answer requires moral leadership?

Take it upon yourself to be a leader and set an example of the kind of country you want to live in.  that might mean going down to a protest or making a donation or having a tense conversation about race,

but you’re not going to get that from the White House. So we need to step up and provide it ourselves. America is now officially byop:  be your own president.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ♥

Hiya, hon! ♥ I love your match-ups and honestly, I’ve been meaning to request one for a loooong time, but I haven’t had the chance to do so till now cause I’ve been drowning in lots and lots of homework TwT

I’m female, 25 years old, dark chocolate, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes. I’m a small potato 157 cm (5'1 ft) and I’m curvy.

I’m a Gemini, INFP-A. I love and need my alone time, though I enjoy spending time with my friends and loved ones. I use my free time to write fics, read books (Though I haven’t read a book out of sheer pleasure in a long while thanks to college lol,) draw my stickemen and play League of Legends.

Being surrounded by too many people is draining af and it can quickly become overwhelming tbh. I prefer to be surrounded by a couple of calm people and be my yahoo self with them. Even though I’m a mature person, I can be very childish and stubborn at times. I’m the Mom Friend™, a worrywart cause I care, I have a strong personality.  I’m caring, kind, friendly, funny, assertive, strong-willed. I’m usually the one people goes to when they need a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. I will stand for my friends without giving it a second thought. I definitely won’t tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear. And due to the way I express myself, people who don’t know me at all tend to find me intimidating which is kinda funny! 😂

When I’m with my friends, I try to come up with jokes or puns to make them laugh. I don’t take myself too seriously…I laugh at my own dumb-ass 😂😂 cause it’s okay to make mistakes, nobody’s perfect after all. And this is probably why it pisses me off when people make fun of my friends. Binch, fite me! So I just go and stand for them as politely and civilized as I possibly can. I’m usually talkative but every once in a while I just feel like isolating for a bit and be there exclusively for myself.

Hmm… I’m corny af and a hopeless romantic, I’m weak for smooth flirts and I like being teased cause I LOVE teasing back. I have a sweet tooth, I love tea. I love eating…in general.

I’m afraid I’m rambling at this point so Imma stop it here 😂

Thank you so much for doing these awesome match ups! ♥ ♥ ♥

Hi, there love! Thanx so much for the kind words, and can I just say I absolutely love your writing!  ♥ ♥ ♥ Hehehe also I feel you with the school work! I hope you enjoy it love, and I hope you have a good day! @venulus

So I match you with………………………. Hideyoshi

So for me honestly it was between Hideyoshi and Mitsunari lol

Classic Hideyoshi did not trust you one bit. The moment you arrived, he saw you as a threat to his lord and was watching you like a hawk. You were quiet, stubborn and assertive and to him, that meant just one thing…. SPY. 

You worked super hard and quickly started adapted to the castle life. Everyone that has worked with you absolutely adored you. Although Hideyoshi was still not buying it. He legit thought that sweet kind friendliness was all an act, to get the people around you to trust you. You kept mostly to yourself in any case, as you found loud people to be overbearing and exhausting, and unfortunately for you that would be most of the castle residents. Although in saying that you had started to form some good friendships among the Oda forces.

One day Nobunaga announced that they were going to war and that you and Mitsunari were to stay behind and guard the castle. You were super happy about that- well not happy that your new friends could die, but happy to get some alone time and not have Hideyoshi continually looking over your shoulder. Plus Mitsunari was one of your close friends so you were super happy he was staying behind with you! 

You honestly never realized just how bad Mitsunari’s habits were until he passed out in front of you one day, while informing you of the state of the war. You knew the warlords cared for him, but you never realized to what extent. Your mama bear instincts instantly kicked in. You semi moved into Hideyoshi manor while he was away, so that it would be easier for you to take care of the resident angel. You made sure he was well-fed, room was clean and he got a decent amount of sleep. Hell, you even helped him work out an eating, training and sleeping schedule which you stuck on his wall to remind him to eat and sleep. After a while Mitsunari fell into a good routine with the schedule and was now almost capable of caring for himself

Mitsunari had one day informed you that the Oda forces had won the war and were now on their way back. The two of you cuties excitingly waited at the gate for your friends to return only for your faces to go from joyful to concerned in 0,2 seconds flat. Hideyoshi was passed out and heavily bandaged. Seem like the idiot went a bit over the top with protecting Nobunaga.

That night as you and Mitsunari gave your reports regarding the castle affairs in his absence, Nobunaga couldn’t help but noticed how healthy and good Mitsunari looked. You told him that you helped him organize his time and made sure that he all the basics were taken care of, i.e. sleeping, training and eating. Nobunaga thought for a moment and then broke out into the biggest grin “I commend you for your work with the castle and Mitusnari fireball, and I now assign you to care for my right-hand man”. You had no complaints, even though Hideyoshi hated you, the inner mom friend in you could never refuse someone in need of assistance.

You moved into Hideyoshi’s manor full time now. While you were there, you cared for both men. You changed Hide’s dressing, cleaned his wounds and made sure that he got plenty of food. Most nights, you would actually sleep in Hideyoshi’s room, caring for his high fevers and low key doing some of the easy paperwork just so that the man wouldn’t be overloaded with work when he was healed. Hideyoshi would shift in and out of consciousness, and boy was he confused to see you sleeping at his writing desk one night. Sometimes when he opened his eyes, he would see you place a cool soothing cloth on his head, other times he would listen to you talk about anything and everything. He would smile a little thinking that your presence in his room was a fever-induced dream.

After a week, his fever finally broke, and the wounds were now slowly, starting to close up and heal. He woke up that morning to you passed out at his writing desk. He had to do a double-take. He thought you caring for him had all been a big dream. He watched your beautiful sleeping face for a moment or two, draped his blankie over your shoulders and went to Nobunaga to receive work. His mind couldn’t help but wander back to you sleeping in his room, how many nights had he woken up to see you there by his side, and then the thoughts got dark, how many time had he accused you of being a spy of calling your kindness an act. HE felt his stomach drop, he honestly needed to make it up to you. But first he needed to check in with Nobunaga.

Nobunaga basically chased him away, saying he would only receive work once you reported that he was completely healthy and ready to come back to work. He walked back to his manor deflated, only to be met with you at the front door “where have you been young man, last time I check you just barely escaped death and are in no state to be walking about”. Hideyshi’s eyes widened he had never been scolded before. You stood there hands on your hips with the biggest frown, eyes filled with worry and concern. It made Hideyoshi’s heart melt that even though he had treated you like an enemy you still cared for him and spent countless days and nights by his side. You led him back to his futon and tucked him in. You brought him lunch and filled him in on everything that had happened since his been unconscious. 

TBH as the days went by Hideyoshi was falling more and more in love with you, he could kick himself for treating you so horribly. And spending countless days with you, gently and sweetly caring for him, makes him realizes more and more what a gigantic fool he was. Yes, you were stubborn and assertive, but you were also the kindest, sweetest, gentlest, friendliest girl in the whole world. 

He made a vow to himself, to make it up to you once he was all better. It took two months, but finally, this boy was back to his full health and absolutely smitten with you and you with him. 

You had come to realize during your time with him what a naturally flirty charmer he truly was, and the mountain of letters he received from women no longer surprised you. Honestly his smooth flirting even had your knees going weak. You had come to enjoy the light teasing and banter the two of you engaged in as you cared for him. He loved that you weren’t afraid to give him the hard solid facts and be a friendly shoulder for him to cry on, especially during times when he felt so weak and worthless for being injured and unable to serve his lord. You would tell him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted to hear. 

The time had finally come that you had to move out of his manor and back into the palace, and TBH Hideyoshi was actually a little sad. He was definitely going to miss your vibrant energy, and hours and hours spent together, talking each other’s ears off. 

Now that he was healed it was time to make up for the ill way he treated you in the past, and low key thank you for taking such good care of him. He would take you out for tea every moment he could get. He knew you had a sweet tooth like Nobunaga, so he would ensure that there was always something delicious to eat at the little tea date the two of you went on. You of course never complained cause the three things you loved most in the world would be right infornt of you, tea, sweet and Hideyoshi. 

You discovered that Hideyoshi actually had a hilarious sense of humour. The two of you would laugh and tease each other all throughout the dates. Ooh boy, did he love your puns and honestly you couldn’t help but laugh at his hilariously unfunny dad jokes.

Hideyoshi is very much like you, a hopeless romantic, so during his free time, he is always planning some or other fun activity for the two of you to do. Whether it’s holding your hand as the two of you, stroll on the beach or taking you up a mountain to watch the sunset together. He has always got something cute up his sleeve 

Your favourite moment was one day when the two of you were out for tea, the sky started getting dark. The two of you were having such a good time you didn’t even notice it was about to rain. As the two of you were walking back to the castle the cloud burst and the light drizzle turned into a full-blown downpour. Even though you were super mature, you did have your childish moments. You looked up at Hideyoshi with the biggest grin on your face and started dancing in the rain, while he took cover at a nearby shop. With outstretched arms, you started twirling in the rain and splashing in the puddle “Hey you’re going to catch a cold”, at that you simply took Hideyoshi’s hand in yours and dragged him into the rain to dance with you. He shook his head at you, but couldn’t help but dance along with you. 

You stared up into his amber eyes, and this was when Hideyoshi decided to make his feeling for you known. He cupped your wet cheeks in his warm hands and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. 

After he pulled away and saw your sunshine smile, he picked you up and twired you around in the rain. He was so happy. The two of you played in the rain together without a care in the world until sunset.

Hideyoshi staying true to his doting self, of course, ran the two of you a warm bubble bath to fight off the chill from spending the afternoon in the rain. He pampered you from the moment you walked into his manor door. After your relaxing bath, he dried your hair and gave you a foot massage followed by a cheesy candlelit dinner for the two of you. He had been waiting so long to confess his feeling for you that he couldn’t help but want to pamper the shit out of his love

This man definitely respected your alone time and knew that everyone needed some time to themselves every now and then. 

He loved it when you worked in his room and kept him company as he worked. Hideyoshi is definitely the type to drop a few kisses on your forehead, cheek and lips whenever the two of you bump into each other in the hallway. 

He loves to spoil you any chance he can get. The two of you honestly turn into the castle mom and dad caring for everyone in the castle. Often the two of you cuties can be found nestled in each other’s arms or sharing sweets at your favourite tea house.

Other potential matches……… Mitsunari 

 I hope you liked it, dear! <3<3