#neuralyzer i looked it up it's called a neuralyzer

[gtcopter]

Borrowers but they have the little Men in Black gadget and wipe your memory as soon as you see them

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Here Come the MIB 🕶️ | Loki | MIB x Marvel Headcanon

Marvel Masterlist | MIB Masterlist

note: One thing I wish the MCU would consider with all the characters they are adding is including the Men in Black! People forget MIB was a comic series and bought by Marvel. There are so many theories within the MIB x Marvel universe (like Agent Coulson being the son of Agent K) that it would be so cool to see 😭 also I might write a one-shot with this concept.

Y/I = Your first initial.

Being an Agent of MIB and dating Loki would look like:

The two of you becoming a thing was a one in a million chance--literally. You're not really supposed to have interpersonal relationships as part of the MIB but thanks to the exposure of aliens because Loki invaded New York in 2012, the MIB had to completely reconstruct their whole organization. Now instead of hiding humanity from life outside of Earth, you embrace it. And work closely with government agencies to stop intergalactic threats.

You still neuralyze of course as certain times come with certain measures, however, it's more for safety precautions--and if they really saw something they shouldn't have.

Obviously you and Loki were initially introduced during the mayhem of New York after he was apprehended by the Avengers. The MIB were called in to assist with damage control, and you being one of the top agents since joining ten years prior were ordered to lead the cleanup. That's when Loki caught sight of you, piqued with interest as he was first drawn to your crisp black suit & tie and the fact you were wearing sunglasses inside.

Many citizens were having a difficult time post-invasion, so--with their consent--you preformed the 'eye-exam' to wipe their memories. "Alright everyone, if you could please draw your attention to my little device here, you'll find all that you're looking for in this red light." Loki watched with absolute amazement as a bright flash filled the room and the people in front of you were overcome with a dazed expression. "Perfect, now you've been spared from remembering the worst of what took place this morning and I recommend you seek professional assistance as you navigate through this new reality of your life."

He was smitten to say the least and wanted to know more about you. Thankfully the Avengers and Asgard worked out a deal where he got to stay in New York under his brothers' supervision that Loki had the ability to pursue you.

He'll accompany you on patrols, decked in his own suit (all black) and will ask to be the one who nueralyzes. "Please, darling, you always get to do the flashy thingy." "Because it's my job, Loki. You don't have authorization." "Well then give me authorization."

Often your dates end with one of you being called by your respective superiors to deal with an issue. Whether it's in the middle of a romantic dinner or a night in cuddled on the couch duty eventually calls.

You guys steal each other's suits when you're in a rush to the point you can't tell whose blazer or tie you're wearing. One time you attended one of Tony's parties and realized you guys had mixed up some clothing. "Is that my belt?" "Is that my tie?"

When Loki first introduced you to his brother and teammates, they were confused by the fact you went by an initial rather than a name. "So wait, you don't go by anything other than Y/I? Why is that?" "Yup. Over at MIB we completely erase the identity of our agents--because we're supposed to be an anonymity." It took them awhile to get used to calling you Y/I but eventually it became second nature.

Loki is the only person who knows your full name--and your life before MIB. He doesn't call you by name in public for privacy reasons of course, and because you technically are breaking rules by telling him.

If you have long days at the office, Loki will come to MIB headquarters to bring you your favorite beverage and drop off dinner. It also gives him the excuse to see HQ as he was amazed by all that went into the once former secret agency. Well technically MIB is still a secret organization to the public, the government still kept them under the radar.

And at some point down the line after you two have celebrated a few years together and Loki no longer desires the hero/anti-hero life, he decides to join the MIB officially. Becoming your ultimate partner in life 🩶

[gogobluedynamite]

Another thing I plan to do with the Six Heart Project is to basically...let the Aizen/Arrancar threat simmer a bit longer.

Like, we jumped right into the Arrancar Arc after the Soul Society arc. There was very (if any) build up to it. Like, Yammy and Ulquiorra debuted seven chapters after Shinji's debut. I get that Aizen was already prepared and whatever (he did his plans years in advance for pete sake)

Then again...so did All for One in My Hero Academia. But, his presence and the threat of the LoV was spread and sprinkled throughout. Not only that, but AfO's plan with Shigaraki happened before the kid was even born...not unlike Aizen's experiment with White, which happened years before Ichigo was born! I call AfO MHA's Aizen for a reason cuz...well he is. He really is.

If I have the timeline right, Ichigo and friends have returned to the World of the Living in...mid-August? Early mid? And this doesn't take into account the group's second run in with the Kototsu in the Dangai on their way back (or was it anime only?). Doesn't this thing cause time distortions? Their first encounter with it helped gain them seven days to rescue Rukia.

So...did it happen again on their way back? How many days did the gang lose or gain?

It's never touched upon, as the second school semester happens immediately after in early September.

That's around 20 days (almost three weeks) of nothing happening up until the Arrancar Arc if the Dangai didn't cause any time anomalies.

I don't usually touch upon anything time related because...gosh it hurts the brain. Blame me learning about the concept of causal time loops (thanks, Gravity Falls and NieR) or how gravity can affect time. Have fun wrapping that around your head if you dare.

That's why I do plan to add the plots of the Bount Arc and the first Bleach movie, but with my own twists. I loved (most) of the Bount Arc -- especially since my boi was given more screen time -- and I adored Senna as a character (not to mention that the Valley of Screams is considered canon now as of the final arc).

I took a look at the wiki (cuz that's reliable) and from the way it seems, the Bount Arc lasted for about a week. While I get that most didn't like the arc (its filler, it's not necessarily necessary), it at least let the threat of Aizen loom longer.

Nutty how the Hueco Mundo arc (as in the flippin' war) lasted for two days! Also, why was it called the Winter War? It happened in early November. Winter doesn't happen until December.

I also wanted to implement something that really isn't taking account of much and that is seeing how the spiritual world affects the physical world. I'm rewatching Bleach from the very beginning and I'm reminded that the presence of the Hollows and other beings do have an effect on the living world (look at Yammy and the Bounts). So, it does make me think that there are other people involved in this. Like...is it possible that someone of authority (at least in Karakura) is connected to the Soul Society in some way who was tasked to help keep the Shinigami's work from being public knowledge.

Yes, I am aware of the Shinigami's version of the MiB's neuralyzer, but you can't erase the physical damages.

The principle of As Above, So Below comes to mind, on this.

Maybe it's because I'm spoiled by the likes of MHA with how its story was structured. MHA felt long while Bleach felt short...and Bleach lasted longer than MHA! 431 chaps vs 698 chaps!

Not to mention that MHA has a more emotional impact on me compared to Bleach. Not to say that Bleach doesn't have its emotional moments (it flippin' does), just...

Again, spoiled by MHA lol

[omennatural]

Just musing–

There's a moment here in the trailer that really caught my attention, this moment here where Aziraphale is looking around, it's clear that Muriel is an angel, something is up, and he's looking to see if (maybe) anyone's watching. They do have the looming inevitability of being left alone by Heaven/Hell won't last, and at this point, it's clear Gabriel is being hidden at the shop.

But what's interesting about this look is that it's unlike Aziraphale's supposed surface nature, it's keen, narrow-eyed in intent even though he's got those wide baby blues, it's mistrustful and it's sharp and a bit hardened. Hell tried to kill Crowley, Heaven tried to kill him. He's backed up the Antichrist as he confronted Lucifer, stood up to Gabriel, the third highest-ranking angel and his holy boss. He's been through some shit. But we see a side of Aziraphale sometimes that is a touch more on the serious side, sometimes he gives Crowley a look (Their car ride in s1 discussing the plan that Hell put forth to get the Dowling wife to the hospital, for example, or later when Aziraphale climbs out of Crowley's car and he looks almost shaken at the speed/the fact that Crowley hit Anethema (sidenote–I agree with Crowley, she hit him) and he when he spots the book, Crowley says it's not his, and Aziraphale says, "Well, it has to belong to the young lady you hit with you car.") and these looks are just a small facet of the multidimensional person that Aziraphale is.

Aziraphale grew exponentially in season one. There were a lot of beliefs and apparent truths he had to face, and in the hard way, learned that Crowley was right. The Almighty won't talk to them, and won't fix Armageddon. He goes through a journey, losing his side, and finally realizing fully that he and Crowley are on their own side. I feel a lot of times people can get lost in his surface-level layer of things he's comfortable doing day to day–being an adorkable food-loving, literature-loving, solitary bookshop owner. And yes, that is him, but in the depth Aziraphale has, sometimes he lets out those moments that make me go oh, moments that send me straight to Micheal Sheen's performance of Crowley as Aziraphale in the body swap. His looks, his mannerisms, they're cooler, there's a deeper performance where Aziraphale presents as this stoic, cold, and simmeringly quiet person. It's that part of Aziraphale that's just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

This reminds me a lot of a passage in the book, where we see a bit more of this side of Aziraphale in a different way than we can in the show:

AZIRAPHALE COLLECTED BOOKS. If he were totally honest with himself he would have to have admitted that his bookshop was simply somewhere to store them. He was not unusual in this. In order to maintain his cover as a typical second-hand bookseller, he used every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from making a purchase. Unpleasant damp smells, glowering looks, erratic opening hours—he was incredibly good at it.

and

And, occasionally, serious men in dark suits would come calling and suggest, very politely, that perhaps he’d like to sell the shop itself so that it could be turned into the kind of retail outlet more suited to the area. Sometimes they’d offer cash, in large rolls of grubby fifty-pound notes. Or, sometimes, while they were talking, other men in dark glasses would wander around the shop shaking their heads and saying how inflammable paper was, and what a firetrap he had here.  And Aziraphale would nod and smile and say that he’d think about it. And then they'd go away. And they'd never come back. Just because you're an angel doesn't mean you have to be a fool.

He used every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from buying things, even his bookshop. Glowering looks and Men In Black-style neuralyzing intimidating men who make veiled threats of arson. Not a fool indeed.

Anyway, he's still a fussy little baby bun to me and I love him so, but I sometimes I think about how subtly badass he can be. I mean, Neil has canonized that he's one step below Gabriel and other important angels (Michael, Sandalphon) in the Good Omens angel hierarchy, that's some cool shit.

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 5: Nostalgia

“God, I hate time travel,” Dean grumbles as Cas leads him behind a building to avoid younger versions of Sam and Dean driving in the Impala on their way to the Wallace’s house.

Cas rolls his eyes, zipping up his jacket to ward off the October chill.

“Between this and the skeezy cheerleader witch, this is the worst case.”

Cas resists the urge to roll his eyes again. All it seems to do is encourage Dean’s complaining further. “If you’d rather do research in the motel to confirm our findings-”

“No, no,” Dean waves his suggestion away, “We’ve done the research. You scoped her out with your mojo. We know where the other bitch is hiding. Plus, now I can buy some stocks in Facebook or something.”

“With what money or identity?” Cas says wryly as Dean leads them onto a side street where nobody will notice them disappear.

Cas flies them to the home of a time-travelling witch intent on taking over where Tracy Davis left off. They search the premises thoroughly but don’t find any sign of her. They must have missed her by minutes; Dean pops open her microwave and sniffs at her still-steaming Chinese leftovers. At one quelling look from Cas, Dean reluctantly leaves the carton on the carton on the counter and resumes their search, this time for clues as to her new whereabouts. Cas collects her grimoire and notes while Dean goes for her laptop, and they return the way they came.

“Hopefully Tracy killed the other witch for encroaching her turf,” Dean sighs as he throws the motel keys down on the table and sets her laptop down with a shade more care.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks, flipping through her grimoire.

“Dinner?” Dean proposes hopefully.

Cas frowns. “You ate half a bag of Halloween candy this morning.”

“Dude, that was candy. That doesn’t count.”

“It does count because highly processed sugars shut off your satiety hormones, causing your hypothalamus to-”

“Keep talking medical to me, Dr. Sexy,” Dean says, half-amused, half-exasperated. “Are you gonna come to dinner with me or not?”

The corners of Cas’s mouth twitch. “I certainly know more about modern medicine than Dr. Sexy.”

Dean holds up his hands. “Since I’m pretty sure their ‘content expert’ is someone who killed too many people and got kicked out of med school, yeah, probably. Food?”

Cas flies them to a strip mall restaurant a few minutes away from their motel. “Where did you eat last time?” Cas asks, glancing around the parking lot for the telltale gleam of the Impala.

“At the motel,” Dean says as they walk up to the hostess stand. “Sam was in major research mode.”

Cas relaxes as they get seated and picks up the menu.

“Where are you and Uriel, anyway? The now you, I mean,” Dean clarifies. “Since you probably weren’t waiting out Halloween at CVS.” Dean bites his lip, brow furrowing. “We’d be real screwed if we ran into fully juiced angels.”

“We usually flew back to Heaven,” Cas assures him. “I, as you know, also spent some time at a local playground across from the church.”

Dean grins. “Hey, what if-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear me out,” Dean protests.

“I didn’t need to,” Cas says primly as he flips his menu to inspect their vegetarian offerings with minimal interest. “You have a distinctive tone of voice when you’re going to ask me about new sex acts we haven’t tried.”

“C’mon, you can’t know-”

“That you were proposing a threesome, either with my past self or yours?” Cas asks, eyebrows raised.

Dean scowls.

Cas sets his menu down. “As I told you before, it’s too dangerous. You could cause a temporal paradox, and we’d have to send that distress call to Jack, who, as you know, is busy with being God.”

“But you could just neuralyze them after!”

Cas makes a face. “That seems wildly unethical.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Dean says, but his tone has lost its previous insistence and turned teasing instead, “No matter what state of mind I’m in, I know I’d be down to get down and dirty with you.”

Cas laughs lightly. “You have such a way with words.”

“It all comes from a place of love,” Dean says with a confidence Cas could have never predicted just a year ago.

Dean brings up the threesome again as he pays for their meal, and Cas shoots him down just as swiftly.

On their way out, Dean insists on stopping by the drug store for yet more candy. Luckily, the strip mall also contains a drug store, so Dean heads inside while a closing flower shop catches Cas’s eye. Dean hardly needs Cas’s help in picking out his preferred combination of chocolate, peanuts, and nougat, so Cas wanders over to the flower shop, inspecting the different plants for something to bide his time.

He runs into Dean coming from the other direction, carrying two to-go coffees in hand.

“Castiel?” he asks, the one word robbing Cas temporarily of speech.

He’d forgotten how Dean used to address him, back in the early days. Before they became friends, before they saved the world, before they loved each other.

But his soul - his soul is the same.

Beautiful because of all the wear and tear and not despite of it. Because the damage tells the story of Dean’s strength, his ability to take the hits and keep going, when lesser men have fallen. His Father’s greatest creation in all of time and space. The only soul in the universe to make an angel fall from grace and rise again, higher than before.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, valiantly resisting the urge to look behind him to check that his Dean is still out of sight.

“Are you here to drag us outta dodge or-” Dean’s eyes narrow. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“You ditched the flasher coat?”

Cas scrambles for a lie. “It was dirty.” Thank God, he zipped jacket three quarters of the way up his chest, and he left his flannel (stolen from his Dean’s closet) back at the motel.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Right…” he says, clearly not believing a word. “So what are you doing here, then?”

“Plants,” Cas blurts. “I’m buying plants.”

“Do you… have plants in… Heaven?”

“Yes.”

Dean nods slowly, unable to look away from Cas’s face. “So you figured you’d pick up Audrey II before you blast Pleasant Town off the map?”

Cas frowns. “Why would Heaven need a sentient man-eating plant?”

Dean adopts a matching frown. “You’ve seen Little Shop of Horrors?”

“N - yes,” Cas says, changing his mind mid-word because he can hardly explain Metatron’s pop culture transfer to Dean.

“You’re being weird,” Dean says, brow furrowing as he scans Cas from head to foot, taking in all the changes from the Castiel he saw a few hours ago, “like, extra weird. Even for you.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Cas says, pained and impressed. So young, and already so jaded. “We’ve met on four occasions by this point.”

“Memorable ones,” Dean says, glowering.

Cas holds back his wince. He didn’t see Dean as more than a tool for Heaven back when they first met. Dean was the Righteous Man first, a human being second. “My apologies.”

Whatever Dean was expecting him to say next, it wasn’t that. He straightens. “Dude, did you just apologize to - ?”

“Cas! Where the fuck did you - shit.” His Dean cuts himself off, his approaching footsteps slowing.

Cas grimaces.

Dean drops the coffee. He pulls his gun.

“Woah,” Cas’s Dean says, both hands up, one, of course, laden with a plastic bag full of discount Halloween candy. “This is… not good.”

“Accurate,” Cas grumbles without looking around.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean demands, his gaze flicking between the two of them but lingering on his older self. “Did I time travel again?”

“You you didn’t time travel, but me you did,” his Dean says, lowering his hands and fishing around in his bag. Silently, he tosses Cas a fun sized Almond Joy.

Cas deftly plucks it out of the air and tucks it into his pocket. “Put the gun down, Dean.”

“He’s me?” Dean asks, his expression completely confused. His gun lowers, but he doesn’t stow it away.

“Yes,” Cas says. “From a little more than a decade in the future.”

A beat. “You’re from the future too,” Dean accuses, his eyes narrowing.

“Took me ten goddamn years to get that trenchcoat off him,” his Dean says, helpful as ever. “Worse than Sammy and his blue blanket.”

Cas glares at him. “My coat wasn’t a security blanket.”

“You sure about that? You practically slept in it.”

“I do not sleep.”

“When you did sleep, genius.”

“This is seriously what I get to look forward to?” Dean demands as he slides his gun back into the waistband of his jeans.

His Dean laughs, clapping Cas on the shoulder. “Cas isn’t so bad once he gets the stick out of his ass.”

“And how long does that take?”

“Too long,” his Dean says cheerfully as Cas glares at him.

“Right,” Cas says, mildly irritated that Dean’s prediction of his past horniess failed to materialize. Instead, the younger Dean just seeks to mock him, which Cas really should have seen coming.

Cas steps forward, two fingers raised.

Dean takes a step back. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Wiping your memory,” Cas says. “You’ll forget you ever saw us.”

Dean takes another large step back, hands up. “Hold on.”

“I can’t let you alter the course of events,” Cas says, peeved.

“No - wait.”

Cas glances at his Dean over his shoulder. “I forgot how stubborn you used to be.”

“I didn’t,” his Dean says with a grin.

Cas huffs a loud sigh. “I thought you were more trusting.”

“I’m right here-”

His Dean points out, “I didn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“Hey!”

Cas says, exasperated, “I had just pulled you out of Hell.”

“And in the next second, you threatened to chuck me back in,” his Dean says casually. “Mixed signals like that can give a guy a complex.”

Dean, sporting a massive scowl, crosses his arms over his chest. He announces, “I’ll let you neuralyze me on one condition.”

Behind them, his Dean snorts.

“Where’s Sam?” He swallows. “Does he make it? Ten years in the future?”

“He’s with his girlfriend,” Dean says before Cas can answer, “so he couldn't hop on this case. She got wind of a vamp, and they’re checking it out.”

“Oh,” Dean says, his shoulders sagging with relief. “That’s good.”

“It gets better for you too,” Cas says in a low voice, and he doesn’t need to look behind him to sense his Dean freezing in place. “You have a home. You’re in control of your own life.”

“Even though I’m still palling around with an angel?” Dean shoots back.

His Dean laughs. “‘Palling’ isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Dean,” Cas warns, but his Dean just throws him a look.

“You’re gonna make me forget anyway, what’s the harm, babe?” his Dean says, placing a frankly absurd amount of emphasis on the term of endearment.

Dean’s eyes go wide, and Cas jabs him in the forehead.

“This is all your fault,” Cas says over Dean’s younger body.

Dean frowns down at his unconscious self. “How so?”

“If you didn’t interrupt me-”

“Lemme guess, you could have handled it?” Dean asks rhetorically as Cas maneuvers the younger Dean’s body onto a nearby bench.

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean says, eyebrows raising. “What were you talking about before I came on the scene?”

“… Little Shop of Horrors.”

Dean cracks up. “Only you, man. Only you.”

[trooperst-3v3]

Couldn't figure out how to build a Neuralyzer and budgeting department wouldn't approve the expense of having one shipped overnight.

Also didn't have to blow up the ship (though it was a close call there for a sec).

Decided instead to lean into the. . .uh. . ."accusations" and "admit" that I did, in fact, think he was cool.

Told him I stole his shampoo because I wanted rad hair like his. Told him I wore his cape that one time because I hoped it would make me look fashionable and imposing like him. Told him I was ready to be his BEST FRIEND so I could learn ALL ABOUT him and be JUST LIKE HIM.

He. . .did not care for that. Said I should be my own person. That it's weird to copy other people (especially dead ones).

While I appreciate that he stopped teasing me after that, I genuinely cannot tell if Ol' Darth Vader Jr. realized he was the "quacta calling the stifling slimy" in that particular situation. Either way, I decided to wait until after he'd gone away to laugh. Haven't decided yet if I'm gonna go back to normal or see how far I can take this. Depends on how bored I am tomorrow.

[moka-suwi]

3: Inconsistency

I'm still not over the assertion that kaiila have a range of over four hundred miles a day. I'm pretty sure he's thinking of motorcycles, in which case at least give your guys helmets just as a windshield, for fuck's sake. — The very cool and likeable author of this fic, upon learning what the murderhorses were capable of.

The agents got up at dawn, to the sound of Me blabbering on about the yet-unnamed first-person narrator’s misery, which they were starting to tune out. I reached a short description of the food he was served, and the pair looked at each other, suddenly realizing they hadn’t eaten anything since entering the fic. The faint smell of charred meat brought by the breeze wasn’t helping.

Mallory spoke, grabbing the Remote Activator: “So! How about we go find out what bosk tastes like?”

That took a precious couple seconds to register to Anis. “Uh, wait—”

But it was too late: Mal stepped through a portal, and promptly discovered that the smell had only technically been from grilling meat.

She felt several conflicting emotions at once – quite literally conflicting, as a matter of fact. She noted with some detachment – Oh. Dissociation. – that she felt like running away, or breaking down crying on the spot, or rushing in to fight the women dumping bodies on the pyres; but there was something else. An unfamiliar feeling that told her this was right, and they had deserved it for their crimes. Suefluence. But it was the only thing keeping her from freaking out at the moment. Well, she was freaking out, somewhat. But mostly she was just standing there. She thought she should be standing somewhere else.

Mal stepped back through the portal, handed Anis the RA, and fell to her knees muttering something unintelligible under her breath. Her partner figured they should avoid bringing back any meat.

As it turned out, bosks were just what these people called the cattle they were keeping. Anis grabbed some jerky for themself, and a wineskin of what smelled like kefir along with some dried berries for Mal. As they left the wagon, they found themself looking directly at the conversation from the Words: Systlin staring down from the back of a “kaiila” at the captive narrator, and ordering him taken away for judgement. Anis opened a portal to hand the food to Mal – “Stay right there, listen to that guy if you want, I’ll handle the charges” – and followed the Sue.

It was not very far to the tent, perhaps an artifact of the Word World trying to reconcile the events with the pacing of the narration. The man was attached to the adjacent wagon, along with “a hundred and a half, perhaps two” others. The canon struggled to make sense of that description for a second or two, but eventually settled on a reasonable number without any half-people, which Anis was thankful for. The agent agreed that this sounded like a very small number, given—

Three thousand dead?

Anis hid inside another storage wagon, hurriedly opening a portal to Mal’s location. “Did you—”

“Yeah yeah I caught that.” She spoke hurriedly, in between coughing fits. Evidently she had been drinking something when she heard that. “Either the author’s a dumbass or we’re— kinda screwed. Talk later, keep going.” Her partner nodded in response, and closed the portal. They turned to leave the wagon, and—

“Who are you?”

A woman was looking up at Anis from the ground. Instinctively, the agent reached for the neuralyzer they had stuffed into their— Oh fuck. Aside from the RA in a back pocket, they had brought none of their gear. Think fast. A quick look at their environment, searching for escape routes, then at the interloper. Her auburn hair was braided in the fashion of the agents’ target, and she was wearing hastily fashioned leather trousers. Anis had an idea.

“Oh, I was just searching for better clothes,” they said in the most feminine tone they could muster. It was technically not even a lie: wearing essentially nothing but leather was starting to get annoying.

The woman narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward. “I asked who you were. You’re not from around here, are you?.”

Anis cringed, in a manner they hoped looked sympathetic. “It’s��� Complicated. On both—”

Fuck. That came out in English, didn’t it.

Their interlocutor paused. Then, she took one long look at them. Finally, she spoke. In English.

“… Oooooh. Oh God I’m so sorry. I’m— it’s just— Fuck. My name’s Jane. I’m from Earth too.”

The agent breathed a sigh of relief. Unexpected success, but success nonetheless.

Yet, she continued. “I’m sorry, I thought you were a man and— Uh, well, if you’re a man it’s fine, but— Uh—”

Oh, that I know how to deal with. They smiled at her, a bit awkwardly. “I get what you’re going for. My name’s Anis, I use singular they.”

It was Jane’s turn to sigh in relief – before a horrified look crossed her face. “Oh God. It must have been horrifying.”

Ah. “I… Think I escaped the worst of it.” Either kind, really. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Jane took a sudden interest in the ground. “Sorry. Do… Do you want to come to the trial? If it’ll help.”

Anis had a moment of genuine hesitation. It was where they needed to be, but – Mal. “I’d… Love to, but I need to catch up with my… Partner.” Ah, she probably took it that way. “She’s left the camp, couldn’t stand all the…”

“Corpse burning?”

“Yeah, actually.” Wait, why even am I telling her all of this?

Jane beamed up at Anis. “Don’t worry! Your girlfriend can’t have gone too far on foot, and the Ubara promised any of us who’d want to leave a kaiila and some supplies. That’s, uh, the weird horse things.”

Anis suddenly realized they could probably live with that.

“Oh,” Anis muttered under their breath. “Systuhlin. Okay.” They’d pronounced it more like “sizzlin’”; it had felt appropriate. As the crowd chanted, they took in the scene: the Sue, Systlin, lecturing a chained man about the righteousness of her victory. Yet, there was something legitimately imposing in her voice.

A poke on their shoulder, then a whisper in their ear. “Here’s some clothes for Mallory,” Jane said as she handed them a tightly packed bundle. “I think that should be about her size, from what you told me.” Anis took the clothes, and the woman left for the ranks of the Ubara— the Sue’s honor guard.

What was about to unfold was a grotesque parody of justice. No jury, no standard of evidence, nothing but hearsay. The yelling man was right: they had, in fact, committed no crimes. Yet, Anis had to admit that looking ahead into the Words, they almost wanted these men to suffer – which they supposed was precisely the point. You couldn’t have your villains looking too sympathetic these days.

"Bring forth the first prisoner," she commanded after silencing that “Kamchak” and returning to the throne. Anis, of course, knew what was about to happen, but they still couldn’t bring themself to look away. Systlin asked for his name, and—

“Braltak,” said the girl who was standing right next to them. That was certainly an interesting situation: the closest they had ever been to the written action of a fic.

"Braltak. Have you, Braltak, in your life, held women or men as property?"

There was power in her voice. It almost felt like a kind of Power they had encountered way back then. Or Suefluence? Better be careful.

“He has,” answered the girl – Kala. Anis stepped aside to give her some space, as they knew she would soon come forward to confront Braltak – or was it Braltek? Both spellings were in the Words. Inconsistency. Technical charge. This fic is bad, I need to remember that.

Anis preferred to focus on the Words, reading ahead as to not get too disoriented by the redundant dialogue. The writing remained horrendous, noticeably more so than the third-person segments. Perhaps that was intended as a way to make the viewpoint character even less sympathetic to the reader, or perhaps they were being too generous.

They couldn’t help but glare at the narrator. He had to be too busy watching the execution, so, no harm done.

"She is a slave! That is her purpose!" Braltek roared.

Anis suddenly realized they had been subconsciously reaching for where their sword belt would have been, back in the day. The author was trying to get that reaction, they thought. And yet. And yet, in that moment, they wanted nothing more than to watch what was about to happen.

"You are mine, Kala." Braltek's voice went lower. "You are mine. I am your master, you know it."

Kala turned back to the Ubara.

“I do not,” Anis mouthed in sync with her. They suddenly realized they were grinning, and didn’t stop doing so as they watched Systlin pick up a “quiva”— Oh come on, that’s just a dagger. That snapped them out of it somewhat. Maybe that was chargeable, or maybe just a leftover from the original setting. They had to focus on the charges.

And yet.

Her eyes turned to Braltek, and in them burned something like hate. No. She was slave! A slave serves her master!

Anis’s head snapped towards the narrator. If glares could kill, the mission would have gone off the rails right that instant.

As the agent watched the girl repeatedly stab and slash the slaver, they hoped for an opportunity to do it to that man by the end of all of this.

I still lived.

Quite regrettably. But expected from a viewpoint character. Then again, Anis thought, it gives me the opportunity to finish the job.

The agent had gotten a bit… Carried away, so to speak. They didn’t participate in the violence, of course; they had no one to kill aside from their targets, and it was still too early in the fic to make any moves. Yet, they stayed for the entire length of the trial. It all was certainly… Cathartic, in a way. Not something they would wish upon real people, but—

What am I talking about? They are real. This Sue is defiling the canon and committing mass murder. Stay focused.

They had to admit, though, that the complete moral unambiguity of the situation made things a lot less bad. It wasn’t like the death penalty in, say, World One: those people outright bragged about rape and slavery, as if it were completely normal. The benefits of hyperbole, one could suppose. Anis doubted most of those dead characters existed to any meaningful extent in canon anyway.

So, they watched. And they cheered, a few times. They hadn’t been the only one.

They guessed they could cherish these memories once Systlin was dead.

By the end of the trial, the sun was low on the horizon, and the world had caught up to the Words; Anis had yet again to pay attention to that obnoxious man’s thoughts. They looked on at the wagon in which the Ubara was talking to the survivors of particular interest. Some of her new soldiers were chaining giant six-legged lizards – Oh! So that’s a sleen. – to the wagon as Systlin indicated that the men were very much still not free. The sleen were given their clothing to track their scent—

Oooooh. Bitch. They were calling her a bitch.

Anis grinned and turned back to Jane, who was holding the lead to a thoroughly muzzled kaiila. “I should get going before nightfall,” they said. “Mal’s got to be getting worried.”

The woman gave them a gentle smile as she handed them the leash. “I hope you’ll be okay. You could tell her it’s safe here now, I don’t know if she’d be willing to stay, but…”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll come back, but not for too long. We have… Many things to do out there.” They did, after all, need to get back into the camp for observation, but they couldn’t stay there for the actual canonical time span.

… Canonical?

“I think you know how awful this place can get,” Jane continued. “But I have a feeling that you two will end up just fine.”

Anis had finally managed to mount the kaiila; they were very much not used to those metal footrest things. They looked down at the woman, beaming with joy.

“Yeah. We’ll just have to be even worse.”

With that, the agent took off. Thank the gods for dubious fictional physics, that thing was astonishingly fast.

Mal hadn’t moved much. She’d assumed Anis was held up in one way or another, but figured she would give them until nightfall to come back. It wasn’t exactly hard to lose the camp, with the smoke billowing up right over the horizon; she’d probably be able to see the light of the fires after dusk, too.

I was still repeating the first-person narration. This at least had given her some entertainment, although the pause for most of the day led to quite a bit of boredom. She had tried meditating, but found the relative silence of the prairie disconcerting; contrary to what you’d think from her religion’s nickname, humming turned out not to really help. She occasionally looked around, sometimes seeing some small herds of concerningly large animals moving on the horizon; but mostly she just sat there.

I started the narration again; evidently the trials had concluded. Mal wasn’t particularly worried about Anis getting caught up in one, for obvious reasons, but doubt still lingered.

God was that guy annoying. It almost made her sympathize with the Sue. As the aforementioned started discussing her husband, Mal noticed a slight vibration in the ground, smaller than when those yet unidentified animals had passed her earlier. A plume of dust rose on the horizon, near the camp. Whatever this was, it was approaching fast.

Mal threw herself down to the ground; that thing wouldn’t give her any time to pack up, and so she hoped that the SEP field would be enough to avoid detection – and that she’d be lucky enough to not be trampled. As the animal approached, she recognized it as one of those carnivorous horse-like things, ridden by—

Several questions sprung to her mind, but a concluding remark from Me overruled them all. As Anis stopped next to her, decelerating from what felt like highway speeds, the first thing she asked was:

“His name is fucking Tarl?”

First chapter — Next chapter

(Now on AO3!)

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Where in the hell do you store all that motivation??

in my ass. i force art out of it. we call this technique “f-arting”

also i've been getting a lot of anons and answering them all would seriously clutter the blog so. here’s a big bunch of anons I’ve answered. 

FYI, the most reliable way of getting a response from me is asking off-anon, so I can send an answer privately and not have to worry about cluttering up the blog if it’s a question that’s been asked previously or just a simple remark

Don't know if you've answered this before but what program/brushes do you use?

What art software do you use? I want to use the brushes you've been using in your shit. They look fuckin' bangin'.

Clip Studio Paint, check here for an answer to a previous ask like this! But for my recent ink sketches, I’ve used this 

hey, i know what i may be saying is useless but i was listening to some music and To My Enemies - Saint Motel reminded me of your STH AU, that's all lol, love ur art bye

Honestly a neat connection, not one I’d expect but it’s welcome all the same

Beth and Spamton. Violence or joy?

Beth scams Spamton then feels really bad and gives him some tips. Then she goes on a dinner date with Queen

what font do you use for text in ur art

Answered! Lucida Console.

Will we see Tails interacting with tails bot? Or Knuckles with metal Knuckles?

Tails might interact with TD at some point. I dunno about Knuckles though. I barely have any notes on either of their characterizations.

wot ur opinion deltarune chapter too

it’s good

thank you so much for creating mothy, best moth i've ever seen

thank you for appreciating him

Does it give him (Mike) some solace knowing that he will likely outlive Sonic and be able to breakdance on his grave?

yes. that is the plan.

As a lesbian i think i owe you my life for Tikal and Rouge in Hanging Out 😂😂 truly.... perfect 💖💖💖

how does it feel to have perfect taste

I feel like Metal would at some point call sonic Flesh Sonic or Meat Sonic out of spite

That’s a really brilliant concept to be honest

Say, with Cream having a vampiric mom and potential vampiric powers despite her mortality, would her relationship with Cheese n' Chocola change? Actually, now that I think about it, what role might the Chao in general have in your AU (if they have any that goes beyond canon)?

Cheese is Cream’s body guard. Cream likewise has no powers, other than remarkable marksmanship. Chocola is just chillin.

Is Amy aware of Gamma’s death? Like, that the original Gamma from Adventure is dead, and was subsequently one of the birds from photo in the pendent (did she ever find/figure it out)? Or does she think Gamma’s still out there, somewhere? Does she ever think about him and whatever happened to him?

Follow-Up Question: Zero. Does Amy have, like, any nightmares or stress dreams about him showing up again in her life, somehow (like smashing through a wall into her house like the kool aid man)?

1. Amy learned of Gamma’s death through Tikal, who witnessed it. Amy wished things didn’t end that way, simply put.

2. Nah.

I know you got commissions but do you also do art/sketch trades?

Not at this time, sorry.

Sticks has enormous “Hey friend listen, I know the world is scary right now, but it’s gonna get way worse” energy.

That’s her character, yes.

Speaking of Badniks, any Scratch and Grounder hc's?

Their situation in the AU is dimensionally complicated, and I won’t get into it at this time. *flashes you with a neuralyzer*

What is Blaze like in your AU? Is she from the future or from the Sol Dimension? Both? Is she even real? Did Silver find a pointy pineapple and name it Blaze in his bad future?

blaze is literally just canon self but like, older by 7 years. she’s from the sol dimension, minding her own business

I know it’s been years but in Hangin’ Out - 23 why does Amy react so badly to being called pink?

she reacts badly to being pursued and implied to be an acceptable target for being pink. I feel there’s a difference here

Have you ever heard of the band Steam Powered Giraffe??? I think they'd be up your alley!

perhaps they would... i may give em a listen, hm

i really like mike the hedgehog (metal) and i'd love to hug him, but i feel if i did i would die on the spot so instead i'll give him a gun as a gift

you wouldn’t die he’d just be really uncomfortable and would probably swat you away, like he always does at things that annoy him. he’d appreciate the gun, though

[mercurytrinemoon]

On houses, house rulerships & how ya'll should stop associating them with signs + a rant on the meaning of the 8th house

This is one of those moments where I'm going to say (read: rant, so heads up, I may sound pretentious) that modern times keep distorting astrology. I’m talking about associating houses with signs/planets (aka the “12 letter alphabet”, briefly mentioned by William Lilly in the 17th century but ultimately it became a product of modern astrologers: first attempted by Alan Leo and decades later popularized and named by Zip Dobyns). Can we just... use a neuralyzer and make people forget that method? It's ingrained in people's minds because, seemingly, it's easier to learn that way - search astro basics in google and you'll see things like "9th house=Sagittarius=Jupiter". This compressed version of astrology seems more accessible and easily digestible for a casual reader and not many newbies try to even question that approach. But there's a reason reputable astrologers these days are trying to erase it from everyone's minds. Signs are traits, planets are vessels, houses are areas of life. Houses are a completely different thing + every person has their own chart with their own house rulers. You can't say Mars is the “natural” ruler of the 1st... well unless, of course, you're an Aries rising, then yeah, your 1st is ruled by Mars, 2nd by Venus and so on.

Sure, some houses share accidental similarities with planets that have been assigned to them by modern *cough*lazy*cought* approach. Example, the 3rd rules communication... oh and so does Mercury. But then again, Mercury has nothing to do with health, injuries, work - all things 6th house. 7th is relationships and 2nd is money & values... and it so happens that Venus shows our attitude towards these things. I would sometimes find myself loosely refer houses to planets, like “oh the 3rd mercurial house” just because SOME of them do fit with the characteristics... and because it's a language that is well-understood (I won't do that anymore). BUT even when I started learning astrology, I had a red light go on in my head when people would straight up go "Moon in Virgo or Moon in the 6th". It never made sense to me. These are completely different things. And I've seen some awesome astrologers who would state things like "oh Aquarius Sun is basically the same as Sun in the 11th", like nah, dude. Because why? Aquarius is the friendly type and the 11th rules friends? Because Aquarius is the big innovator and 11th stands for hopes and dreams? But Aquarius is also a rebel who's stiff in their beliefs. Aquarius is a weirdo, is the 11th house the house of weirdos? No. Aquarius likes to be independent and usually has issues with feeling of not belonging anywhere, while 11th rules communities. THAT'S CONTRADICTORY. Because they're not the same.

Want more examples? Having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???" 

I think it most shows in the 8th house, which... *deep breath* has gone through so much (ironically since it rules transformation), like, there's a lot to unpack here. "tHe sCorPioNic HoUse": tell me in what way does Scorpio have to do with inheritance, death, taxes, other people's stuff? These are the og topics associated with the 8th house. And by the way, it doesn't have to be a material inheritance, because I saw people being confused by that. You can have your 10th house ruler in the 8th so maybe you'll inherit that job as a chairman in your father's corporation, along with its renowned name. Or your 6th house ruler is in the 8th so you'll inherit a genetic health condition from your parent. 

Now, modern astrology, as per usual, tried to turn it into something positive (and psychological because apparently according to modern notion, astrology can’t predict anything so it’s only psychological *eye roll*) and put its rose-colored glasses on it so they'll say things like: transformation or taboo topics - like okay, makes sense, it's an intense house after all. Like a near-death experience or a metaphorical death will be transformative and maybe hard to talk about. And Scorpios do have the tendency to go through drastic situations in their lives and to dig deep & not being afraid to uncover secrets and all that's unknown and scary for others. There you have it, some convergence. But still, Scorpio and the 8th house are two different things.

Then there's the topic of the 8th house and sex. Actually, side note, a quick history bit, the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens saw sex in the 7th house - because that was the thing that happened after marriage - it represented two people coming together. In medieval times it then moved to 5th house of kids - because children-making requires intercourse, duh. Listen, I get that the 8th, as the follow-up to the 7th, is seen as joined resources; and joined everything, including bodies... or bodily fluids... (tmi?) after you get married or whatever. I don't think that makes sense in the modern times. I mean, go ahead if you want to associate the 8th with sex but after some time of studying astrology, I see it almost exclusively in the 5th as it's the house of pleasures. Simply. Besides, technically you can get yourself off and don’t need anyone else to assist you. My issue, again, comes from the root of the association with the 8th. Modern astrologers started linking 8th with Pluto and Scorpio in medical astrology rules reproductive system and so Scorpio is seen as the fReAky sEx dEMon blAh blaH (honestly, try asking Scorpios about their intimate life and they'll run for the hills abashed). So it turned out that 8th house is the "plutonian one" (I had a moment today wondering if it's plutonian or plutonic and idk anymore) so therefore it must rule sex. Well that logic doesn't make sense because everyone knows that the first and most important planet in the matters of sex is Mars but none of ya'll go and say "1st house is the house of sex because it's ruled by Aries". So no, houses are not the same as signs/planets.

12th house has a similar issue. This one has literally nothing to do with Pisces. Like, I feel bad for Pisces honestly, you guys don’t deserve being dumped into the 12th. It's a rather gloomy house and the most positive thing you could come up with it is being the house of imagination and intuition - because it rules the subconscious and partially your mind. And Pisces is usually characterized by those two. Or you could say that they're both kinda foggy in nature - 12th is the unattainable. But that is literally the closest you can get with them correlating. Other than that, 12th is hidden enemies, succlusion, illness (but mental or chronic, it's a bit different than 6th). There's nothing piscean about it really.

But I get it, open most of the astrology books and you'll see chapters called that way. Why? Because it's easier to publish something that's shorter aka simpler for the reader (actually that was one of Dobyns' reasoning behind spreading that approach). That’s why I said it’s lazy. And someone would argue that it’s easier to learn this way - because the information is compressed into 12 sections (signs) instead of 24 (signs+houses) or even more if you include delineations of every house ruled by each sign. Like, “well if I memorize the meaning of Cancer and Moon then automatically I’ll also memorize the 4th house”. But in fact, it’s so limiting in the long run and then forces you to unlearn what you have learnt, which is actually harder than taking the time and grasping the proper meaning right away. And again, with time it warps the meaning of everything.

Saying house=sign completely discredits the purpose of even having houses. And then on top of that it leads to people not understanding their own charts because they don't know the core meanings of the houses and instead look at them through the lens of signs. "I have planets in Gemini but I'm not that talkative and extroverted". Well okay, where are those planets? Are they in the 7th? Then maybe they're not talking about you but about people you come in contact with? Are they in the 4th? Well maybe it's your fam that has those qualities? The 11th? Are your friends like that? Houses are areas of your life, you can't say "Moon in the 3rd or Moon in Gemini" - Moon is "how", house is "where" - these are not the same things, even if they have a few traits in common. 

Ok, rant over, bye.

[five-rivers]

DP/HP twin fic chapter 1

This would be the first chapter of that DP/HP twin fic...  I need a name for it before I post it elsewhere...  I can’t think of a name... help...  @ladylynse I blame you for this entirely.  It’s 3k and they haven’t even met yet.  What am I doing.

.

Here’s the thing.  Danny had encountered wizards before.  And witches.  Multiple times.  

He was not a fan.  

Burning, or other forms of murder, hadn’t ever crossed his mind as a solution to them, even when Freakshow decided to derail his life yet again.  Still. There were only so many times you could stumble upon members of a certain group zapping people with bargain-bin neuralyzers and leaving hours’ worth of uncertain memories in their wake before you got sort of fed up.  

Memory erasure was great in fiction.  Not so much in real life.  

Danny got it.  He’d erased a couple of memories himself.  Well, a lot of memories, depending on how one took the Reality Gauntlet incident.  But as far as motivations went, ‘trying not to be dissected by the government’ was a lot different from ‘we can’t be bothered to be discreet about our sporting events and we think it’s funny that our venue managed to attract ghost hunters when these magicless fools have never seen a real ghost in their lives so we’re going to mess with them.’  

Yeah.  Danny was still annoyed about that.  Also, about their reactions to him when he crossed an invisible line that was apparently supposed to repulse ‘no-majs.’  

That was before getting into Desiree, one of the few witches to become a proper ghost.  According to her, witches and wizards had a different system, and it was rare for magic users to enter the Infinite Realms.  Dora’s dragon amulet had also been enchanted prior to her death, although that could have been a ghost’s work, and Dora had never shared where it had come from.  

Anyway, the point was that Danny knew about magic as an entity separate from ghost powers and at least a small subset of the living beings that relied upon it.  

So, when the woman who dressed like she was living a century ago and smelled of magic walked up to his house, he’d braced himself for a fight.  He wasn’t going to let his parents be ‘obliviated’ again.  They were oblivious enough as it was!

But.  No. She’d come in, no wand in sight (although Danny still wasn’t entirely sure those were necessary) and sat down on the couch, hands primly folded, ignoring all of the… rather questionable features of the Fenton living room.  

To add to the weirdness, his parents had been expecting her.  They knew her by name.  They wanted Danny to be in the room to meet her.  

“Edna,” Jack said, with a strained smile.  “How have you been?”

“Well enough,” said Edna, her eyes flicking to where Danny stood in the kitchen door, watching. “And this must be young Deneb Alased, correct?”

��Yeah,” said Danny, frowning.  There weren’t a whole lot of people who knew his legal name, let alone his middle name.  So, who was this?  “I am.” He looked at his parents, willing them to clear up whatever this was.  

Both of their faces were sour, but they were trying to hide it.  Maddie was doing better than Jack.  

“This is Edna,” said Maddie.  “Why don’t you come and sit down, Danny?”  She patted the back of Jack’s favorite recliner.

Danny noticed how Edna’s mouth twitched down at his nickname. His fingers curled, ghost energy buzzing under his skin just barely kept from his eyes.  He didn’t like this.  

“It’s alright,” said Edna, smiling kindly.  “This must be very confusing for you.  I would be concerned myself, under these circumstances. What I’m about to tell you may be difficult to process, however.”

“We’d like to start it off, actually,” said Maddie. “When you called this morning—” She broke off, making a face.  “We were told this wouldn’t happen.”

“Yes, well,” said Edna.  She shrugged.  “Purebloods. What can you do?  Evidently—Well.  You should have your say, first.”

Danny gave Edna another suspicious glance.  Maybe all wizards weren’t bad.  Maybe Freakshow was an outlier and sports fans just sucked in general.

Yeah, honestly, that tracked.  (Cough, Vlad, cough, Dash, cough.)

He sat down.  “Okay,” he said.  “Way to be ominous.  What’s going on?”

“Well, Danno,” said Jack.  He laughed nervously.

“You’re adopted,” said Maddie, bluntly.

Danny blinked.  “Wait, what?” he said.  “Adopted?  But I look just like you guys!”

Jack’s nervous chuckles continued.  “We are related to your birth parents…  not closely, but…  Yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, feeling several layers of personal identity float away from him.  He’d always blamed his weirdness on genetics and family history.  Especially the ghost stuff.  Then again, his name, which definitely did not match with his parents’ or sister’s, probably should have tipped him off.  “You’re serious?”

“I’m afraid so, Danny,” said Jack, kneeling by the chair and patting his knee.  “But don’t worry!  You’ll always be a Fenton, no matter what!”

Danny nodded, swallowing back emotion.  “And Jazz?  Is she…?”

“She’s adopted, too.  At about the same time as you, in fact,” said Maddie.  “So am I and Alicia.  It’s a long story.”

“Okay,” said Danny, determined to get that story at some point.  “Why is she here, then?”

“I was involved in your adoption,” she explained, “and certain members of your birth family want to get back in contact with you.”  

Ancients, that was sure a thing to hit a guy with right after the ‘you’re adopted’ revelation.  

Hold up.  He was forgetting something.  This was a witch.  How did that play into this?  Because it had to.  Witches and wizards, as far as Danny could tell, tended to isolate themselves from the rest of humanity.  

He decided he did not like the probable trajectory of this conversation.  

“Why?” he asked, because he wasn’t going to say he knew about magic until and unless someone else cracked first.  

“Yes,” said Maddie.  “Why?  Why now? We were under the impression that they would never contact us.”

“Evidently,” said Edna, “Deneb’s birth mother was not properly informed of the decision to put him up for adoption.”

Okay.  Yeah. That was a lead-in to his biological parents being magical because he couldn’t think of a single modern western country where that would fly.  

“So, what?  I was kidnapped at birth or something?” asked Danny.

“Not exactly,” said Edna, wincing.  “It was your birth father who filed the paperwork.”

“And she’s only now wondering where Danny is?” asked Maddie, a little shrilly.  Her stress from before was now spilling over into anger so sharp Danny could taste it like a knife on his tongue.  “Did she somehow manage to forget giving birth?”

“No,” said Edna.  “Which brings us to the other matter.  One of the other matters.  The one who first sent the request for your adoption information was actually your twin brother.”

A third monumental revelation.  Wonderful.  What next?

“We, of course, contacted his parents, and discovered the irregularity regarding your birth mother’s consent.  Hence my presence here today.”  She opened her bag and removed a small glass tube, about twice the length of Danny’s palm and the same diameter as a quarter.   “There was also the issue regarding how young you were when you were put up for adoption.  Generally, our agency deals with the placement of children aged from five to eleven.”  She held the tube out to Danny.  “Could you hold this, please?”

“Do you really need to do this?” asked Jack.  

“Due to all the irregularities involved, yes,” said Edna. “Our organization charter unfortunately requires it.  If the mother was not consulted, as is required, the reasoning is that other required things are not as certain.”

“Hold up,” said Danny, hands tightening around the ends of the armrests.  “These people—” Who were most probably wizards, and wasn’t that a thing to get his head around, “—they’re not trying to get custody of me again, are they? After giving me away?”

“No,” said Maddie.  “We won’t let that happen.”

“We’re not going to give him back to people who were going to abandon him just because—!”  Dad broke off.  “Uh. Because.”

Smooth.  

“You know,” said Danny, deciding to cut off… whatever this was. “Even if this ‘test’ is, like…” He trailed off.  “Whatever result you want it to be.  I don’t know.  I’m still going to find out whatever it is you’re dancing around anyway.  Because I’m not going to forget this conversation.”

Silence.  

The witch twitched slightly towards where Danny knew her wand was hidden.  

Screw it.  “And I’m not going to let you erase my memory.  You people do get how messed up that is, right?”

Danny was treated to the sound and sight of three jaws dropping open.  

“How do you-?” started Maddie.  

“You remember when we went to that camp because people thought it was haunted?  But you didn’t find anything?  Well, they managed to get both of you that time, but not me.  And I know you’re one of them, so I’m betting that whatever this is, it has to do with magic.”  He paused. “It was some weird magic sporting event, apparently.”

“The-?  You went to the Quidditch World Cup?” asked Edna.

“What?  No!” protested Maddie.  “That was in Britain, wasn’t it?  We were just in the next state.”  She scowled. “I’m going to write a letter of complaint.  Even if we’re living without magic, we’re not no-majs.  We’re squibs.  They had no right to obliviate us.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Yeah.  You’ve lost me.  Squibs?”

No one seemed willing to answer the question.  

“If you’d just take this,” said Edna, holding out the tube a little desperately.  “It will be much easier to explain all at once.”

Danny looked up at his parents.  Jack looked at Maddie.  Maddie drummed her fingers on the back of his chair.  

“It’ll be fine,” said Maddie, “probably.”

“Fine,” said Danny.  He took the tube.  Almost at once, it started glowing green.  

“Oh,” said Edna, frowning and leaning closer.  “It usually isn’t—”

The tube exploded, embedding several small glass shards in Danny’s hands.  

“Ow,” said Danny.  

“Oh,” said Edna again, evidently not registering the small splinter of glass in her cheek.  “Well. Whoever your birth father hired to test your magic as an infant obviously got it wrong.  Congratulations, Mr. Fenton.  You’re a wizard.”

“My hand is bleeding.”

“Yes,” agreed Edna.  “It isn’t supposed to explode, you see.”

.

Once Danny got cleaned up, which involved a lot of glaring at Edna from Maddie and Jack, they adjourned to the kitchen, which was free of random glass shards.  

“The adoption organization I work for,” said Edna, “places squibs—people born to magical parents who do not have magic themselves—with families of squibs.  Assuming the child’s birth parents do want to give up their child over something like not having magic.”  Her nose wrinkled.  “The common wisdom is that it is easier for such children to grow up in an environment that is not explicitly magical.  In any case, it is my personal belief that anyone who would give up a child over something like that isn’t going to be the best of parents.”

“Alright,” said Danny, “so… all of us are squibs.”

“Except you, apparently,” said Edna.  “It’s hard to tell whether or not someone as young as you were when you were given up will be magical or not.  Which is why we usually only deal with older children.  I don’t suppose you’ve noticed anything odd happening around yourself?  Or unusual abilities?”

Danny stared at her flatly for several long moments.  His entire life could be classified as ‘odd,’ and most of it he wasn’t about to share with Edna.  Or his parents, as much as he loved them.

But, on the other hand, he now had a great excuse for at least some of his weirdness.  His parents wouldn’t think ghost if they could think wizard first.

“Like, define ‘odd,’” said Danny.  Despite his earlier encounters with wizards, he had no idea what was normal for them.  Other than memory wiping.  Which he could not do and wouldn’t have demonstrated anyway.  

Okay.  If was actually a wizard, and Edna’s doohickey wasn’t just reacting to his ghostliness, he probably could learn how to do the memory thing, but he didn’t know now, so the distinction was meaningless.  

(Maybe being a wizard or a squib or whatever was why he wasn’t just.  Dead.)

(Yeah, he didn’t want to think about that.)

“Just…  Being in one place, and then a different place.  Surviving something you shouldn’t have been able to unscathed.  Things moving by themselves or changing color or size. Temperature changes.  Something you want very badly happening, even if it is impossible or extremely unlikely.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Yeah.”

“To which one?” asked Jack, concerned.  “I haven’t noticed anything like that except what the ghosts do.”

“Um,” said Danny.  “This?”  He put his hand down on the table, intending to leave an icy handprint.  That should be acceptable, right?  If temperature changes were normal…

His nerves got the best of him.  He knew he was nervous showing even one of his powers around his parents.  He overcompensated.  

The table was covered with frost.  

“Oops?” said Danny.  

All the blood had left Edna’s face.  Jack and Maddie didn’t look much better.  

“Dear lord,” said Edna.  “You can do that at will?”

“Yes,” said Danny, holding his hand close to his chest. “More or less.”

“Danny,” said Jack, “why didn’t you tell us?”

“I thought you’d think it was a ghost thing.  You kind of shoot first and ask questions later about ghost things.”

“Oh my god,” said Edna.  “Never mind that.  You can do wandless magic and you’re fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” said Danny, “but, yeah.  I guess.”

Evidently, this wasn’t normal.  

Also, his comment about shooting first hurt his parents’ feelings.  Go figure. Not like they weren’t keeping a massive secret.  

.

“So,” said Danny, once the other discussions had been shelved for the time being, “I have a brother?  I think a brother was, at some point, mentioned.”

“Yes,” said Edna.  “A twin brother.  He wants to meet you.  Along with your biological mother.”

“And if I don’t want to?” asked Danny.  “If I don’t want to have anything to do with them?”

“I don’t even know,” said Edna.  “I can’t believe you slipped under the national detection spell. There’s going to be so much paperwork involved in this.  International paperwork.”

“Huh?”

“You were born in Britain,” said Edna, as if this were a minor detail.  

Yeah.  Like his sense of self needed any further pummeling.  

“But it isn’t our fault everything is so messed up,” said Danny.  He maybe had some curiosity about his twin brother, but if there was any risk he’d be taken away…

“I understand,” said Edna, “but nothing like this has come up before, as far as we know.”  She sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I will use any influence I have in the matter to recommend that you retain custody of Deneb.  In the meantime…  Do you want to, uh, open communications with any members of your biological family?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  “Can I think about it?”

.

Relations in the Malfoy household had been strained ever since Draco’s investigation of his family tree (unrelated to the return of the Dark Lord and how blood purity was now much, much more important) had revealed that his twin brother had not, in fact, died at birth.  

And by strained, Draco meant that his parents had taken to living on opposite sides of the manor, interacting only when there were visitors.  Visitors such as his father’s Death Eater friends, members of society, and various government officials.  All of whom were more alike, and had greater overlap, than even Draco had initially suspected.  

This left Draco walking on eggshells between the two of them and wishing for Hogwarts to start again.  Anything he did to please one had to be entirely out of sight of the other, or else they began to fight again.  Truthfully, Draco was more on his mother’s side, all things considered, but his father was the one with the friends, and Draco couldn’t stay home under his mother’s wings for all his life.  Like his dragon namesake, he had to fly.  

Which he would most certainly do.  Soon.  No, he wasn’t hiding from his parents in his room.  That would be ridiculous.  They knew where his room was.  They could find him if they wanted to, and neither of them was anywhere near him.  He knew.  He’d checked.

This made the inarticulate shriek of rage he overheard from his mother all the more concerning.  

It was enough to make him emerge – cautiously! – from his self-imposed exile.  

He was curious.  And stupid.  It got him into enough trouble at school, why not at home?

Also, he really needed to know.  For his own safety.  Tiptoeing around whatever disaster just happened would be impossible if he didn’t know what it was.  

Instead, he tiptoed after his mother.  

His mother, who was angry enough that sparks were coming off the end of her tightly gripped wand.  Green sparks.  

Draco had never actually seen the killing curse in action, but his mother’s face screamed murder all on its own, no magic required, despite the fact that Draco was only catching glimpses of it as she strode towards his father’s half of the house.  

This was going to be bad.  Terrible.  Possibly the kind of event that saw one of his parents in Azkaban and the other in little, tiny pieces all around the smoking room.  

Lucius, for his part, looked paralyzed where he stood, and Draco briefly entertained the notion that Narcissa had managed to cast petrificus totalis on him without moving her wand or speaking the words.

Narcissa planted herself firmly in front of Lucius and glared up at him, seething, her breath making sucking noises as it passed through her teeth.  

She punched Lucius in the face.  The man toppled, clutching his nose.  Narcissa kicked him.

It was a good thing that the Malfoys had no neighbors, because what Narcissa screamed next likely could have been heard for at least a mile.

“He wasn’t even a squib, you lying bastard!”

[bssaz97]

Rowan’s Trip To Beacon (...Sorta) #2

-Beacon Academy (Volume 2 Time)-

Rowan: So do you all believe me when I say that I’m Ruby and Jaune’s future son?

Ren: Well given how you have been able to back up all of your claims, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t trust you.

Weiss: I’ll have to agree. Despite the complexity of it all...what you’ve said so far is true.

Rowan: Great! Now could we go see Headmistress Goodwitch?

Blake: Actually that’s something I want to ask you about. Why do you want to speak to Goodwitch of all people? Wouldn’t you want to speak to Headmaster Ozpin?

Rowan: Yeeeeeaaaah no. I don’t personally have anything against the headmaster but he may try to, well, interrogate me.

Yang: ....And you think Goodwitch won’t?

Rowan: Don’t worry it’ll be fine. I know Miss Goodwitch, she’s one of the nicest people out there. *innocently smiles*

RWBYJNPR: .....

Nora: Are you sure about that?

Rowan: Yep. In fact here she comes right now. *points behind them*

The two teams look behind them and to their horror they do in fact see Professor Goodwitch walking straight towards them. Her expression was anything but welcoming though.

Rowan: Welp. We should probably go see if we can talk to her- Whoa!

Yang grabs the young boy and throws him into a bush hedge to avoid detection from the absolute livid Headmistress. She wasn’t sure why she did that, perhaps it was her familial instinct kicking in. Also they would have an easier time explaining ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard’ instead of ‘how their leaders destroyed the courtyard AND transported their future son to the present.’ It felt weird to think how Ruby managed to get married and have children before her, was SHE even married in Rowan’s time? Questions for later, right now they had to face the “Wicked Witch of Beacon”.

Glynda: *stops in front of them* Mr. Arc and Miss Rose, why am I not surprised by the fact that both of your teams are present at the scene of disaster?Perhaps you could care to explain what transpired in the time between now and the sound of a Bomb exploding the main courtyard! *She exclaimed irritably*

Ruby: Um...w-well...you see...w-what happened was-*figets under Goodwitch’s gaze*

Jaune: It’s my fault Professor! I was showing Ruby an experiment that I made in Dust Studies but it got out of hand. I’m really sorry!

Ruby: Wha-? Jaune what are you doing?! *whispers*

Jaune: Do you really want Goodwitch to know you snuck a possible bomb to Beacon? *whispers*

Ruby: No but I don’t want you to take all the blame! *whispers*

Jaune: Just trying to be a good friend. *whispers*

Goodwitch: You students should know, whispering is more effective when the person you are whispering about can’t hear you. *leans in*

Ruby/Jaune: .....crud.

WBYNPR: *facepalm*

Glynda: Well then, since Mr. Arc admitted to both of your involvement in all of this, I believe it’s only fair that you share in the consequences as well Miss Rose. Your honesty is much appreciated Mr. Arc.

Ruby: Yeah. Thanks Jaune. *sarcastically*

Jaune: Sorry. *hangs head*

Glynda: Now about your punishment. I believe since this is all your doing, you two will spend the remainder of this semester in detention. Along with this, you will have to write ten thousand word essay on the dangers of Dust misusage and why students should not think of it as toys. The essay shall be hand written, work cited by the library, and then turned into me personally during my office hours before the end of the month. Also this will be apart of both of your grades in my class. Am I to be understood?

Ruby/Jaune: Yes mam...

Glynda: Good. Now then you both should get started soon, as there are only two weeks left in the-

Rowan: Hello! *popping from out of the bushes*

Glynda: Good Gods! I mean-‘cough’ Can I help you?

Rowan: Actually you can. You see I was taking a tour with my dad who works as a janitor here but I lost track of him. Could you help me call him for me please? *takes out his scroll with his best innocent face*

Glynda: ...I suppose I don’t see any harm in it. Although I should let you know that your father will have a stern talking with me about leaving children unattended at this school. Also that taking ‘tours’ without my or the Headmaster’s consent is highly frowned upon.

Goodwitch takes Rowan’s scroll, when she takes a look at the device she gains a confused face.

Glynda: Strange... I wasn’t made aware that they were making new models for Scrolls.

Rowan: Actually this a prototype I won in a contest. I’m supposed to be beta testing this one before they announce the new models later on.

Glynda: Oh I see. *nods* Although could you tell me how to select the Call function, this new design is very... foreign to me.

Rowan: Sure thing. *Gets it front of her and puts on some shades* Just hold down that red icon and let go after three seconds.

Glynda: Thank you. You’re quite a polite young man if I do say so-

*FLASH! (Neuralizer Sound FX)*

Both teams saw that a bright light flashed in Professor Goodwitch’s face, and now she had a blank expression on her face. Rowan then takes off his shades to pockets them and then gently takes the scroll from her grasp.

Rowan: Boy that was crazy Miss Goodwitch! We just got done doing a late class experiment outside in the courtyard but things sorta got out of control when a fault box of SDC Dust was sent to the school. Luckily nobody was hurt so that’s a plus... but not so much for the courtyard. Although you’re just happy nobody was hurt and remember I’m a visiting student that won a contest to tour the school for the weekend and teams RWBY and JNPR are assigned to look after me. Also there’s no homework or for the weekend.

Glynda: *blinks* ....oh. Yes of course the contest I do recall. I apologize you had to experience that Rowan, our dust shipments are usually more careful about this. Mr. Arc, Miss Rose could you please escort this young man back to the dormitories, I believe we’ve had enough excitement for today.

Ruby: .....Uh ok? *looks confusedly at Goodwitch*

Jaune: Yeah Rowan...let’s get back to the dorms. *starts walking back towards the campus*

Weiss: Wait a minute. What about their essay?

Glynda: Essay? Miss Schnee, I understand your desire for academic success but I have not assigned any homework for this weekend. You all should take time to make preparation for the Vtyal Festival coming up instead of focusing so much on your grades. *she chastised*

Yang: Yeah Weiss-cream let’s back to the dorm so we can get ready for the weekend! *places her hand on Weiss’ mouth and pushes her forward*

Weiss: Mmphf!

-Team RWBY’s Dorm-

Ruby: What the heck did you do to Miss Goodwitch?!

Yang: Yeah one second she’s turning Rubes and Vomit Boy’s into chop liver and the next she leaves them off scot-free?

Weiss: Now she believes your some tourist at the school.

Rowan: Yeah I kinda figured you all wanted an explanation for that. Well to put it simply, I erased a portion of her memory.

Blake: You erased her memory?!

Rowan: Not all of it... just the last 25 minutes to be exact. More than enough time to cover over the incident that Mom and Dad caused and give her a new one to fill in the gap. So now Goodwitch is not mad at you guys, Mom and Dad don’t have write an essay and I can roam around without a second thought.

Weiss: .....you know I’m actually starting to believe that you have spent time with my brother.

Rowan: Ok to be fair it was Mr. Whitley’s idea to add the neuralyzer to my scroll. I didn’t consent or anything, just said if I was ever in a fix to use it sparingly. Plus I only can use it three times to per day otherwise it has to recharge.

Pyrrha: And you’re completely ok with erasing a poor woman’s memory?

Rowan: Not really, I try to avoid using it if I can but I kinda wanted to help Mom and Dad out of a tough situation. But you don’t have worry about that, she’ll be fine. The neuralyzer doesn’t cause any lasting damage..... I think.

RWBYJNPR: .....

Rowan: But in any case, I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future, or at least until someone from my time tethers me back. So in the meantime we should probably spend some time to relax and hang out. *lays down on Weiss’ bed*

Yang: I’m starting to like this kid.

Jaune: But before we do anything, there’s something we should probably establish before we have you go walking around. First, you should keep the part about being our kid a secret.

Rowan: Ok. Sounds like a good idea Dad. *nods*

Jaune: Also, you should probably stop calling us ‘Mom’and ‘Dad’. It’s gonna lead to a lot of weird questions.

Rowan: Ohhhh yeah, you’re probably right. Ok, anything else.

Jaune: Yeah the less we know about our future, the better. So nobody, and I mean EVERYONE in this room, should ask you serious questions about the future.

Rowan: *nods* Yeah I don’t wanna pull a Back to the Future and blip out of existence.

Ruby: Wait you know what Back to the Future is?

Rowan: Yep. You and Auntie Yang made it a point to watch Classic Movies when me and Summer grew up.

Ruby: ...who?

Rowan: Oh right I didn’t say. My sister’s name is Summer P- Rose 2nd. You named her after grandma.

Ruby: I.....wow. That’s...I don’t know what to say.

Rowan: *raises his hands* It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything yet. You still have A LOT of time before you even think about stuff like that.

Jaune: Ok you see this? *points at both of them* This is what I’m talking about. None of this ok, we don’t want to make anything more weird than it needs to be.

Rowan: Ok so keep my mouth shut. Got it! *gives a thumbs up*

Blake: Do you mind if I do ask something real quick?

Jaune: Wha-? Blake, we just established no asking about our future!

Blake: This isn’t a personal question. I don’t need to have my future told to me.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. Ask away.

Blake: Rowan, do the White Fang ever succeed in their mission of invading Vale?

RWY: BLAKE!

Jaune: The hell?! That’s not any better!

Blake: You said to not ask personal questions. This is a situational question, therefore it won’t effect my personal life. So Rowan, what happens?

Rowan: ... I’m not gonna tell you that. *serious tone*

Blake: What? Why?!

Rowan: Oh I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to find out about future events that may transpire now or later. So I’m sorry but no I’m telling you anything more than what I need to.

Blake: Rowan, this could be life or death!

Rowan: And if I did tell you, you would want to stop it. But what you don’t realize is that if I were to tell you any information regarding that, not only would that jeopardize my future but everyone else’s future also. Time is NOT something you want to mess around with, because things could get a lot worse by just changing the smallest thing about the timeline.

Blake: *looks away* ...I-I’m sorry Rowan I didn’t think-

Rowan: It’s ok. I get where you’re coming from, but trust me it’s better off this way.

Blake: Ok...

Jaune: Ok so does everyone agree not to ask too many questions about the future?

RWBYNPR: *nods*

Jaune: Great. Now then, Rowan why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself. You don’t need to go into many details, just your likes, dislikes and hobbies.

Rowan: S-Sure thing Da-Sorry! I mean Jaune. Um.... let’s see. *holds his chin in contemplation* Well as far as my likes go: I like to read comics, spend time with my family and friends, and hear stories about-well, both of your teams adventures. Which I guess hasn’t really started yet hehe.

Yang: Well I guess hero worship just runs in the family then. *looks at both Jaune and Ruby*

Rowan: Well you did tell me most of those stories Auntie Yang, so you are partially to blame. *laughs*

Ren: You mentioned wanting to become a huntsman before, any particular reason?

Rowan: Well to put it simply, I always looked up to huntsmen as role models for me. Not because they’re flashy or cool, well not completely. I decided to train to become a huntsman because they serve as beacons of hope for humanity and keep the dark forces of the Grimm at bay. So if I can help in that, if I can make sure that I can protect even one person and keep them smiling then it would be worth it.

Ren: *nods*

Nora: *gets up close* I just have one question for you and it means life or death.....pancakes or waffles?

Rowan: Pancakes duh? You made sure of that Auntie Nora.

Nora: *ruffles his hair* Yep he’s good!

Rowan: Anything else on your minds?

Ruby: Oh I got one! What’s your best memory with ‘Dad’ here? *points at Jaune*

Jaune: Really Ruby, didn’t we just established no calling us his parents?

Ruby: What you said nothing about his personal life.

Jaune: ‘sigh’ Fine. You get a pass, Rowan what’s your best memory of us?

Rowan: ......... *blank stare*

Ruby: Uh Rowan?

Rowan: Oh I’m sorry! I was just thinking, Hahahaha! Wow, best memory with Dad? Um, wow I-I mean there’s...so many memories I have of him it’s kinda hard to tell! Um.......uh......best m-memory? Uh, you know what it was probably that one time that me and him went to an amusement park and he took me on a roller coaster for the first time! Yep that was a great memory! *scratches the underside of his jaw*

Ruby: Oh...well that’s cool.

Rowan: Yeah it was awesome! Say do any of you know if the mess hall is still open because I’m starving actually! Guess time travel can make a kid hungry! *laughs nervously*

Nora: Yeah they should still be open. Ren you’re and I can take you if you want? *gestures to Ren*

Ren: Yes we wouldn’t mind taking you there.

Rowan: Cool! Sounds like a plan! Well... I’ll see the rest of you in a bit!

Yang: Hey Rowan, mind if I tag along?

Rowan: Sure I don’t mind. Anyone’s happy to come along if they want.

RWBJP: We’re fine.

Rowan: That’s ok! We’ll see you later!

The group of four leave to go to the mess hall to find something for the young boy to eat, leaving behind a silence in the room among them.

Weiss: I’m going to assume that we all know that he was lying about that last question.

Jaune/Ruby: Yup. *they nod*

Pyrrha: But that just begs the question. Why would he lie about something concerning Jaune? From his demeanor before, he seemed to have a close relationship with his parents. So why lie?

Jaune: That’s something I hope we can find out?

-Fin of #2-

Hope you all enjoy this next piece! Getting back into the groove of things, so I’ll start getting back to writing regularly. Thanks for all the support and hope you all have a great day! Stay safe and stay smart out there!

Also here’s the sound FX if you guys were wondering:

https://youtu.be/czI4d8ziaPA

[maidenofmidguard]

MIB international is being unfairly thrashed

yes it is not a great movie.but it's a good movie.

it has 23 rating on rotten tomatoes and it got me curious as to why.

I checked the other movies j didn't like and lo and behold even doctor strange the worst MCU movie as per me was scored at 86.

then I saw the ratings of x men apocalypse and even it was rated better than this.. at 46 pc

there is a subtle misogyny at play here and I wont stand for it.

the first review on Rt by a "top reviewer" even had the following line

"One CGI-heavy reboot of a 20-year-old franchise flailing for relevance by wafting the #MeToo magic wand at the word “Men” in the title may be counted a misfortune. Two in a week begins to feel like persecution.

In X-Men, Jennifer Lawrence’s  Mystique sledgehammered the archaic absurdity home by reminding Charles Xavier that the women are always saving the men. In MiB International, the duty falls to Tessa Thompson’s Agent M (for Molly), who has just joined the alien-foiling organisation that wipes the memories of humans exposed to extraterrestrial menaces with handheld “neuralyzers”."

while this is not his main complaint it is his only tangible one.

it is clear that he didn't like that a woman was given equal footing, he thinks it is a persecution of men.

I have then taken the liberty to read the reviewers names and found that 80 PC of them are men and the remaining 20 PC are women who have all liked the movie haha

now I know why I liked it

it is a fun comfortable movie which gives everything in small doses. it is nice. it is well paced and everything is comfortable.

all cliches are there but in good measure.

there is zero trace of misogyny (absolutely zeros 😍) while there is also no feminism.

it's perfect pill to swallow

while the plot holey and the story predictable it still keeps you engaged and smiling

Chris Hemsworth plays the himbo with elan. he is called good boy and pretty boy with bangs several times. there is even a daddy joke in there for good measure.

he is the honey pot. dresses up in pink trousers (and looks better than any woman I know in pink trousers) and waltzes into an alient strong hold to seduce a powerful arms dealer with his manly guiles (no kidding)

listen bitches this movie was made for us.

Tessa Thompson is all of us. her subtle joy and rookie enthusiasm is perfectly portrayed. no lovers and boyfriend cause they distract you from truth -its true and many people believe this. I 😍 her. she is a POC and the director is a POC. they are measured with their cliches and measured and delicate with the feminism (non of the ham handed feminism of endgame here). the only feminist idea here being giving the female character equal room to grow and flourish. equal room to evolve.

this is a chick flick which puts both men and women on equal footing.

the men are hating it, it's up to us to love it so we get more such movies.

Chris Hemsworth is my male feminist icon. I have to protect him at all costs!

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @stupidnephilimlove!

Merry Christmas!! I hope you like it!!!!

*****

Find You There

One.

It’s dark outside. Snow falls gently from the sky, pelting the grass in a fluffy white blanket. Their home is abundant with joy and warmth, incomplete traditions of years past inviting comfort into the hearts of a now complete family.

Alec looks on fondly as his husband gathers their sleeping eleven year old daughter into his arms, carrying her to her bedroom. His mother is smiling, her hair resting on her shoulders. Her fingers curl elegantly around a wine glass stem, her right arm resting at Luke’s waist as they snuggle together on the couch. His father and his new wife stand in the corner, laughing softly. There had been years of turmoil when his parents had been married, and a deep sigh of relief had followed their divorce. He was glad to see them both smiling and happy; something he wasn’t entirely certain he’d ever seen when they had been together, not even when he was a child.

Isabelle, Jace, and Max sit on the other couch together, setting up the next game for the evening. Max is 16 now, and Alec feels a never ending burst of pride towards his youngest sibling. He’d been nothing short of a menace growing up, but the years have started to mellow him out significantly. Alec feels all 29 years of his life as he watches him grow into an adult, and it’s something that should maybe bring a feeling of dread, but all Alec feels is a deep and sated content.

Jace, his best friend and sort-of brother, is finally at a point in his life that he can say he’s genuinely happy. Years of abuse from his father, Stephen Herondale, had culminated into a reckless boy longing for love and affection. He’d found it in the Lightwood home, but it wasn’t until a couple years ago when he began regular therapy sessions that he really began to find his own purpose in life. He’s a successful entrepreneur in a happy relationship with his longtime girlfriend, Clary Fairchild. Alec thinks of the ring he knows he keeps in his jacket pocket and he smiles, looking at the bright and happy redhead standing in the corner with her childhood friend and Izzy’s boyfriend, Simon Lewis.

Izzy had made friends with Clary a few years ago, bringing her into their lives and subsequently tearing down all their walls, one by one, until she burrowed her way into their tight knit family. Simon had followed her, similarly settling into their lives as a permanent fixture. Alec had, admittedly, been rather averse to their presence at first but eventually warmed up to the both of them, knowing they had made his siblings happier than he had ever seen them.

Magnus interrupts his musings as he settles in next to him on the large armchair which, though wide enough to seat both of them comfortably, finds Magnus more in his lap than on the chair itself.

“Serenity is asleep,” he says, “She woke up for a bit when I put her in bed but all she wanted was Bun.”

Bun, as their daughter affectionately called her stuffed rabbit, had been around since they’d adopted her 4 years ago. It was the first gift they had given her when they brought her room, and she refused to sleep without it. Alec feels affection swell within him, knowing his little girl was just that, still- a little girl.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning over to give him a chaste kiss.

“What were you thinking about over here?” Magnus asks, and Alec shrugs.

“Just that I’m happy to be here with everyone.”

Magnus hums in agreement and sits up slightly as Isabelle smirks in triumph, announcing the start of the next game.

“Let’s kick their asses,” he grins, and Alec smirks. He loves his family, but there’s no way in hell him and Magnus are losing their winning streak this year.

Two.

Magnus can feel his magic bubbling to the surface, playful and curious as it always is in Alexander’s presence. He suppresses it, not wanting to scare off his new- well. It’s perhaps a bit early to call him his boyfriend- they’ve only been on a grand total of three dates- but the sentiment remains. He really likes Alec, and he’d like to keep him around, if only for a little while.

Everyone leaves him eventually.

They’re sitting in companionable silence, grading tests and sharing longing glances every so often. As he falls into a deep state of focus, he doesn’t notice the blue sparks that start to make their way towards Alec, running across his arm.

“Oh,” Alec says, and Magnus looks up.

Whatever it was he thought he would see, it’s certainly not tendrils of magic wrapping themselves around Alec in smoky blue wisps. Magnus pales and forcefully draws the magic back into him.

“I can explain,” he says, struggling to come up with something to tell Alec.

“Why’d you stop?” Alec asks, pouting, and Magnus freezes.

“What?”

“The magic, why’d you stop it? It felt nice.”

“It… felt nice,” he repeats, somewhat stupidly, taken aback by Alec’s reaction. No one had ever reacted to his magic like this; not even his own mother. In all his nearly 30 years of life, he never thought he’d find someone who would not only accept this side of him, but become confused when he hid it away.

“Yeah,” and Alec is blushing now and oh, this man will be the death of him, “It felt like you.”

“That’s because it was,” Magnus mutters, astounded by this man’s ease of adaptation, “Me, that is. It was me.”

“I figured.”

Magnus shakes his head, smiling brightly at the man sitting across from him. Slowly, he lets go, and his magic reaches out to him again, soft and curious. Alec smiles and Magnus thinks that maybe Alec might just be the one to stay.

Three.

He’s walking along the poorly lit Sunset Boulevard. It’s mid-January and damn near 4 in the morning, but the light leather jacket he has on has him sweating in the California weather. He’s never been able to adjust to the weather here, despite the fact he’d lived here since he was a child.

He doesn’t really know where he is or where he’s going, but he knows he’ll find his way to where he needs to be. It’s a gift that has been with him (with his people, really) for millennia now. He looks up at the night sky, seeing the stars that are there despite the intense light pollution, and he imagines he can see his home from here. He knows he can’t, and that he’ll likely never see it again, but he can certainly hope.

He hears the flash of a camera and he curses, preparing himself for the ambush. He keeps walking, minding his own business, knowing this is the best method for dealing with the unwanted attention he’d been at the behest of for nearly 5 years now.

“Alec! Hey, Lightwood, Alec Lightwood! What are you up to tonight?” the paparazzo calls, and Alec keeps walking. He scoffs as the man continues to follow him, taking pictures as they go. “Come on, man, give me something here! You got a new boyfriend? How’s your sister?”

Alec grits his teeth and spins around, his eyes flashing in anger. The man takes a step back, frightened by the sight. “Woah, hey, I don’t mean any harm,” the guy laughs nervously, “I mean, we’re just concerned ya know, after that brush with death the people wanna know how she’s doing in rehab-”

Alec feels his eyes flash brighter, and the man falls on his ass, breaking his camera in the process. He knows he needs to control himself, he needs to calm down, but the mention of his sister has him seething. He stalks forward and the guy backs up before scrambling to his feet and running, disregarding the shattered equipment he left behind. The tension leaves him almost immediately, and his eyes return to normal. He picks up the camera and stands, turning around to go home. He freezes.

“What the actual fuck?” the man breathes out, his eyes wide.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters, pulling out his phone. He dials the number he knows practically by heart, getting in contact with the organization so that they can get the mess he’d made taken care of. He explains the situation briefly before hanging up, knowing they’d be arriving soon.

“Are you Alec Lightwood?” the man asks when he pockets his phone, seemingly shaken out of his earlier shock.

“Yeah, I am,” he says, knowing the man wouldn’t be remembering this conversation tomorrow, “What’s your name?”

“Magnus Bane,” he says.

“Are you okay?”

“Your eyes were white,” the man says instead of answering the question. Alec curses himself internally; he’d known he was angry, but he hadn’t realized it was that bad. If the paparazzo had looked at him for any longer, the man would be dead.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” he says. He can hear the tires screeching not too far away, and he sighed a breath of relief.

“Are you an alien or something?”

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

“Why are you just,” Magnus hesitates, “answering my questions? Aren’t you concerned I’ll tell someone?”

“Not really,” Alec shrugs, greeting the two suited women who exited the car matter-of-factly, “You won’t be remembering this conversation anyway.”

“Wait, what-?”

“Alec,” Maia calls, exasperated, “How many times are we gonna have to do this?”

Alec just shrugs and she rolls her eyes. Gretel smirks at him, amused.

“Who is this guy?” Maia asks.

“His name is Magnus. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time; the guy that pissed me off already ran away, but I have his camera.”

“So what you’re telling me is we’re going to have to track this guy.”

He shrugs again and Maia sighs, taking out her sunglasses and neuralyzer.

“Again, what the fuck?” Magnus calls, “I’m standing right here! What are you people going to do to me?”

“Magnus, don’t worr-” Maia starts, her smile sweet and deadly.

“Wait,” Alec interrupts, chewing his lip, “Let me talk to him first.”

Maia huffs and puts her neuralyzer back in her jacket pocket, waving her hand. He walks up to Magnus and hesitates, “I’m sorry about this, I didn’t know you were here,” he says, “But if you don’t mind, I would like for you to at least remember meeting me tonight. If that’s alright with you.”

“Are you telling me they’re going to just… take my memory of this?” Magnus asks, baffled.

“Sort of. It’s more like they’re just gonna… convince you to forget certain things.”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“I know,” Alec says, sighing, “Let me make it up to you? When it’s all over?”

“What are you suggesting?” Magnus asks, somewhat suspiciously.

“Dinner?”

“Oh,” he says, “What, like… Like a date?”

Alec blushes slightly, “If that’s what you want, I don’t mind it being a date.”

A smile finds its way onto Magnus’ face, and Alec’s heart stutters, “Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you- on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If it goes well, and we… get to know each other, tell me the truth of what happened here tonight.”

Alec looks back at Maia and Gretel, then back at Magnus, “It’s a deal.”

He grins and walks back to Maia, explaining the deal to her. She rolls her eyes and grumbles under her breath about troublesome aliens and pretty boys. She walks up to Magnus, pulling the neuralyzer back out. In a matter of minutes, Magnus’ memories of Alec’s more extraterrestrial abilities were erased, and the girls were gone.

Magnus snaps out of it, looking at Alec.

“So,” he purrs, “you got a phone number?”

Four.

Magnus lets out a deep breath and plops into the grass, his sore feet throbbing. Church and Clefairy curled up next to him, sleepy from the long day of travel. Alec throws the bags on the other side and plops next to Magnus, groaning.

“I could sleep for an eternity,” Magnus mumbles, Alec grunting in agreement.

“We should probably let everyone out for a bit, get some fresh air,” Alec suggests. Magnus nods and reaches for his pokeballs, pressing the release button for each one. Church gets up, excited to see his friends (or, about as excited as any Gglameow can get) and Alec’s Clefairy does the same.

Alec’s Snorlax looks around for food before deciding it would rather sleep, settling in a soft patch of grass and snoring peacefully. Magnus’ eyes widen in curiosity as he realizes that this is the first time meeting all of Alec’s Pokemon, and he sits up a little straighter from his own spot in the grass.

Magikarp flops around in the grass next to Magnus’ own Magikarp, and he smiles in amusement. Magikarp were incredibly useless in battle until they evolved, but they were at least good for drawing a smile out. His eyes flit to the right, where Alec is standing, and his eyebrows raise in alwarm at the Bewear trying to elicit a hug out of Alec.

“Bewear, no,” Alec scowls, “We’ve talked about this. You can’t hug me, you don’t know your own strength. I’ll hug you, but you have to calm down first, okay?”

The Bewear slumps in defeat before sitting down. He wraps his arms around himself and pouts, and Magnus has to try really hard not to laugh. Alec sighs and wraps his arms around the Pokemon, muttering something that he can’t hear, and his heart just about melts in his chest.

This man will be the death of him, he’s certain.

He startles as he feels something brushing against his legs, and he looks down to see his own Espeon cuddling up by an Umbreon, presumably Alec’s. Wooper is running around with Clefairy somewhere in the distance, but he can’t drag his eyes away from the sight below him. Church and Clefairy’s bond was something that he sometimes still couldn’t believe himself, but to see his Espeon and Alec’s Umbreon interacting in this way…

Well. He can’t help but entertain that Alec may be his soulmate, if soulmates are a thing. To have Pokemon that are this compatible with one another is rare even amongst family. The rareness of the parabatai bond that Church and Clefairy share only further serves to confound and baffle him.

His thoughts settle themselves as Alec sits next to him, running his hand through Umbreon’s fur.

“I didn’t know you had an Espeon,” he whispers.

“I didn’t know you had an Umbreon,” he responds, “Or a Bewear, for that matter.”

Alec snorts, “He killed a few Team Rocket grunts not long before Izzy and I left. I was supposed to… take care of him,” he curls his lips in disgust, “I ended up training him instead. He’s a good Pokemon, he just doesn’t really know his own strength. We’re working on it, though.”

Magnus nods in understanding. Alec is a caring man with a heart much larger than he can sometimes bear, but he continues to care even when he’s suffocating.

“What’s in that one?” Alec asks, and Magnus remembers he had one last Pokemon to release. He hesitates.

“It’s a Dragonite,” he admits, “Rescued him from Team Rocket a few years ago. She was in a bad way, and the trauma from the experience still affects her now. I’ve never released her around strangers before, and I’m just worried she might attack you.”

Alec hums, considering. He stands and walks a few feet away before calling Church and Clefairy over, the rest of Magnus’ Pokemon and Alec’s Umbreon following moments later. He sits amongst them, placing his hands gently on Church and Espeon.

“Let her out,” he calls, “Maybe if she sees that the other Pokemon feel safe with me, she won’t attack.”

“And what if she attacks anyway?” Magnus asks, his heart pounding against his chest.

“I’ll protect the Pokemon,” Alec says, “Don’t worry about that.”

That’s not what I’m worried about, he wants to say, but he knows Alec already knows that. He just cares far more for the safety of their Pokemon than his own safety. He drags in a deep breath, looking down at the Pokeball before pressing the release button.

Once Dragonite has settled, he runs his hands down her flank and muzzle, whispering. She hums. He breathes, in and out, before stepping to the side and allowing her to see Alec. She perks up for a moment, considering the sight before her. She approaches slowly, suspiciously, and Magnus follows in nervous apprehension.

As they approach, Dragonite sniffs around, watching Alec with an intensity that would make any man fear for his life. Alec didn’t even react, continuing to pet the others. Eventually, Dragonite must decide that Alec is okay, because she lays down- still separated, not entirely trusting of her new companions- and watches.

Magnus lets out a deep breath and sits next to her. Alec Lightwood was definitely going to be the death of him.

Five.

Alec gazes down at the small box in his hands. He’s had it for a few weeks now; he’d honestly intended on proposing the day he got the damn thing- he was owed enough favors from his vendors, he could have gotten the flowers and the food in a matter of hours if he really needed to- but Magnus was acting… weird.

Well. Weirder than normal.

He’s the first to admit that his boyfriend is strange. The nature of a 400 year old man who’d been hiding his powers for nearly that long and then suddenly had them back only a few years ago, he supposes.

But this was weirder than his usual. He’s been distant, and though it’s difficult for him to describe, even the air around them feels different. More charged. Sometimes- and he knows this is crazy because Magnus has always had control over his magic, even when they were first together and he was still getting used to it- it feels like the magic is reaching out to him, trying to pull him in. He could talk to him about it if Magnus would just stop avoiding him.

He sighs and pulls out his phone. If Magnus won’t talk to him, then Alec’s just gonna have to figure this out on his own.

“Hey, Ragnor?” he says, “Are you free today?”

Alec briefly explains the situation and they make plans to meet that afternoon at Ragnor’s home. He got up and grabbed the keys to Magnus’ car, knowing it would take at least an hour to get to Ragnor’s. He could run some errands on the way there, stop by the office to check on the interns. He briefly considers leaving the ring at home before changing his mind, grabbing it and stuffing it in his jacket pocket.

He can’t stop thinking about Magnus the entire time, biting his lip raw as he makes his way upstate. What if Magnus has grown tired of him? They’ve had the immortality argument before, and though he’s mostly accepted it now, he can’t help but wonder how Magnus can even stand to be with someone like him.

Mortal. Boring. Predictable.

He pulls into Ragnor’s driveway, impressed as he always is by the house. It’s an 18th century cottage, European inspired and probably expensive as all hell. Being immortal certainly has its financial perks.

Ragnor greets him before he even walks up to the door, having felt him enter the wards the moment he passed the mailbox. He’s ushered inside, and he smiles in amusement at the man’s antics.

“Now, now,” Ragnor says, practically pushing him onto the couch and summoning a tray of tea and snacks, “From what you’ve told me about the way Magnus is acting, I’m fairly certain I know what the issue is on his side. You, on the other hand…”

“Me?” he asks in confusion, his brows furrowed. What did he do?

“You see,” Ragnor begins to explain, munching on a cookie (It’s a biscuit, says the voice in his head that sounds like Ragnor, and he wonders when that happened) “When warlocks allow their magic to be active and have been in a relationship for so long, our magic begins to reach out to that person. It’s totally normal, usually wouldn’t be a cause for concern, except that it can only happen when our partners possess magic of their own.”

“I-” Alec starts, and isn’t that something? To think he’s had magic this whole time, to know that he’s not so mundane after all, “I’ve never used magic.”

“I know that, you know that, Magnus knows that,” Ragnor says, “That’s probably why he’s been so distant. Old insecurities and frankly ancient trust issues have come back to bite him in the arse.”

Ah. “I guess that makes sense. Suddenly finding out I have magic after all these years…”

Except he hadn’t known, either. He really needs to talk to Magnus about this. But, first thing’s first.

“Can we find out what I am?” he asks, “Like… what kind of magic do I have?”

Is he immortal?

“Yes, of course,” Ragnor says, pulling out a small vial, “Just drink this.”

Alec eyes it suspiciously, raising it to his face to sniff. No smell. He shrugs and downs it, not feeling any different, though by the look on Ragnor’s face he was certainly seeing something. He looks down and gasps.

“Where did these tattoos come from?”

His arms are covered in them. Stark black, curving in confusing manners, almost like calligraphy. Except, when he looked at them, he knew what they meant. Courage. Strength. Stamina. Healing. Angelic power.

“You, my dear boy, are one of the last remaining nephilim,” he says in awe, “and judging by the wings you now have on your back, I’d say the blood of the angels runs quite strongly through your veins.”

Alec whipped his head around, and he caught a glimpse of white glowing wings before they vanished. He looked back at Ragnor, then down at his now bare arms.

“How the hell am I supposed to tell Magnus that I’m a Shadowhunter when they don’t even exist anymore?”

Ragnor winces, “Well, it won’t be easy, that’s for sure,” he softens, “But he’ll listen to you. He loves you to the point that, if you were even a fraction of a bad man, he’d be in severe danger of being hurt.”

Alec nods, instinctively pulling out the box and looking at it. Ragnor inhales sharply, not quite a gasp, and sits up straighter. Alec looks up at him, and the look Ragnor gives him is nothing short of pleading.

“Take care of him.”

“I will,” Alec says, more determined than ever. He has some favors to call in.

Plus one.

Magnus wakes up slowly to his boyfriend- husband, he corrects himself with glee- wrapped tightly around him. He grins and turns around, facing him. Alec is still asleep, though he seems to be waking up now. He leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead, and Alec’s nose crinkles slightly. He can’t resist pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose before Alec tips his chin up, and he kisses his lips.

It’s soft and gentle and slow. They don’t have to get up or go anywhere or do anything. They could lie here like this all day if they wanted, wrapped up in nothing but each other.

Magnus hums and pulls back, his eyes fluttering in contentment. Alec has a soft smile on his face, his fingers gently stroking under his eyes.

“I love your eyes,” he mutters, and Magnus smiles.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

Alec kisses him again, somehow softer but no less intense in emotion. He could do this for hours; days; he could do this for an eternity, if he had the chance to do so. He pulls back again.

“Simon told me something interesting at the wedding last night,” he says, laughing at Alec’s eyeroll.

“How interesting can it be? It’s Simon.”

“He told me that you asked him to turn you.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Magnus snorts, “Oh, yeah, he says. How do you forget to mention that?”

“I forgot it happened,” Alec mutters, “I was desperate to get to you, but then Clary came up with that rune, and well…”

Magnus sighs, wrapping his arms around Alec and pressing a kiss onto his temple. Alec leans over and kisses his neck, snuggling into him.

“I still can’t believe you came,” Magnus whispers, “I didn’t think I would ever see you again. I-”

He thought he would be alone. Forever.

“I told you,” Alec says, “We always find our way back to each other, and it was only Edom.”

“Clary had to invent a new rune just so you could bare to enter Edom,” Magnus says.

“Yeah, and I found you,” Alec insists, “I’d find you anywhere if I had to. If you somehow ended up in another dimension, I would find you there. When I die and you live on…” he swallows, tears pricking his eyes, “We’ll find each other again. You’ll never be alone, Magnus.”

Magnus rests his hand on Alec’s cheek, staring at him in wonder, “Where have you been all my life?” It’s cheesy but he means it all the same. Where was this man when he was alone, for all those centuries? Where was he as the Angels looked down on him in contempt, throwing tragedy at him from every angle?

“I was looking for you,” Alec says, and what is Magnus supposed to say to that?

He can’t think of anything, so he kisses him. And he kisses him. And Alec kisses him back.

[mischiefandspirits]

Iron Legion (22/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Web-Warriors, Part 1

Tony Stark was forty-one when his eleventh child was born.

“That was awesome! Is it always like that?”

“Nope. Usually they have normal guns,” Peter chuckled, creeping down the wall of his apartment complex to his window.

“Master Peter, might I remind you -”

“I know, I know, Jay. I’ll give Dad a call as soon as we’re inside.”

“You really need to figure out how not to lose your clothes in dark allies,” Harley snickered as Peter reached his window.

“Maybe I should make a backpack with retro-reflective panels,” Peter chuckled sarcastically as he pulled the glass up.

“Why not?”

“Wouldn’t that be really heavy, even just considering the panels?” Peter pointed out as he climbed inside and pulled off the mask. He waited until Droney was inside then closed the window with his foot.

“Not for you, and that would just make it harder for someone to steal it.”

“That’s true, I guess. Well, it couldn’t hurt to give it a look. Can you add it to the list for this weekend, Jay?” Peter asked as he released his grip on the ceiling and dropped to the ground. “Is Neb-”

“Holy shit!” Harley yelped as Jay said, “Master Peter, turn around.”

Something smashed to the ground behind him.

Peter spun around to see Ned sitting on his bed, the LEGO Death Star in pieces at his feet.

“Busted,” Harley muttered.

“Jay, end call,” Peter said, staring at his friend.

“Wai-”

The two watched each other for a moment.

“You’re the Spider-Man, from YouTube.”

“I’m not. I’m not.” It occurred to Peter he was still wearing the suit and he slapped the release, letting it fall down so he could kick it away.

“You were on the ceiling!” he said, pointing up.

“No, I wasn’t. Ned, what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me.”

Peter sucked in a breath as Droney turned to him.

“There is no record of a sp-”

“Droney, shut down.” The drone gave a chirp and landed on his desk as he whispered, “Oh, I am so dead.”

“Peter, you better be home,” Nebs called as the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the apartment.

His eyes widened and he grabbed Ned’s shoulders. “Don’t tell her you know!”

Ned put his hands on his head, grabbing at his hair. “Oh my God, dude,” he said, thankfully in a whisper. “You’re -”

“Peter? Peter, I swear you better be in there or else I’m setting that stupid suit on fire.” Nebs threw his door open, the anger fading to a blank look when she spotted him. She looked him up and down, glanced at Ned, then turned away. “I don’t want to know.”

Peter turned to Ned, who shrugged. He glanced down…

And blushed when he remembered he was only wearing his boxers.

“Wait, Nebs!”

“No. This is not what I signed up for. Put some clothes on. I’m ordering in. Is your boyfriend staying for dinner?”

“H-he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Does he want Thai? Ned, Thai?”

“Sure?” Ned said, voice faltering when Peter shook his head. “What? Doesn’t she know?”

Peter shushed him and scrambled to shut the door. “Yes,” he hissed quietly and grabbed his sweater. “But she cannot find out you know. She’d kill me! You can’t say anything to anyone! Come on, Ned, please!”

“Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. I’ll level with you… I don’t think I can keep this a secret. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, Peter!”

“Ned! You know how she is when she’s mad. And if she tells Mr. Stark, he’ll take the suit back and…” And oh man, Dad would never let him be Spider-Man again. Maybe he’d even pull him out of school! No more Ned or Michelle or Liz or -

“Mr. Stark? As in Tony Stark?” Ned gasped, his loudening voice snapping Peter out of his panic. He hushed his friend and Ned continued at a whisper. “Did Tony Stark make your suit? Are you an Avenger?”

Peter hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah, basically.”

“Whoa.”

“Ned, seriously -”

“PETER!”

The two boys jumped at Nebs’ yell.

“Don’t say anything,” Peter hissed before leaving the room. “Yeah, Nebs?”

She gave him a scowl. “Harley just texted me.”

See if I ever bring him on patrol again, Peter barely had a chance to think before she set into him.

“How could you let someone find out?”

“It’s just Ned! And I didn’t mean for it to happen! It was an accident! I forgot we were going to hang out tonight!”

“What is he even doing here? How did he get in?”

Peter fidgeted with the cuff of his sweater. “I gave him a spare key.”

“PETER!”

“You know I forget mine sometimes, so it’s just for when you’re out of town and that happens. It’s no big deal, it’s just Ned.”

Nebs rubbed her thumb against the side of her neck, a calming practice for her species. “You can’t just hand out spare keys, Peter. It’s a security risk. You know that.”

“It’s just Ned,” Peter repeated.

She glared at him, then lifted her gaze to something behind him. “Privacy.”

“Yep, yeah, cool, sorry!” Ned yelped then Peter heard his door close.

“Peter, I’m glad you have your friend, but you need to be more careful,” she said in a whisper so quiet he was sure Ned wouldn’t have heard even if he’d been standing next to Peter. “If someone were to learn about either of our connections to Father -”

“I know,” he said in a slightly louder whisper, knowing her enhanced hearing wasn’t as good as his own. “But it’s just Ned. He would never do anything to us.”

“But he could lose the key, or it could be stolen. We need to keep track of every copy that exists.”

“It’s just a key. It’s not like people couldn’t pick a lock if they wanted to get to us. It’s not like I gave him the codes to disable the security system.”

“And yet here he is,” Nebs said pointedly. “Inside when no one was home.”

“It’s Ned! Ned can have clearance. He’s not going to do anything!”

“That’s not the -” Nebs pressed her thumb firmly against her neck. “Ugh, we’ll come back to that. He knows you’re Spider-Man.”

“Yeah.” Peter glanced back at his door, shifting his weight from side to side. “How long until Dad knows?”

“Harley included Father in the group text. Uncle Happy is on his way to pick the three of us up.”

Harley better watch his back. “What’s going to happen? Is Dad going to take me out of school? Am I not going to be able to see Ned anymore? Oh man, what if he makes Ned forget I’m Spider-Man?” Peter gasped. “What if he neuralyzes Ned and makes him forget he even knows me!?”

Nebs slapped her hand over his mouth. “You watch way too many movies and overestimate Father’s abilities. He doesn’t have a Neuralyzer.”

Peter pushed her hand away. “Are you suggesting he couldn’t make a Neuralyzer?”

“Don’t challenge him to make one, please,” she groaned. “Father does not need a Neuralyzer.”

He chuckled for a second before the worry set back in. “So what’s he going to do? Will -”

She shoved her phone into his hand. “Stop panicking and just ask him yourself.”

Peter nodded and read through the group text.

Brat:

Sad: I’m surprised it took this long

👑Queen👑: What happened?

Man-Child: Who is that

👑Queen👑: Ned

Man-Child: Who

Sad: Ted

Man-Child: 😞Haps go pick up the kids

Sad: Already on my way

👑Queen👑: What happened?

Brat: Pete climbed in through the window and he was there

Sad: So how to get inside the dealership be home yet and she wouldn’t let him in Peter‘s room

Brat: If your asking how he got in the room, I have no idea

👑Queen👑: Just focus on driving, Happy

Man-Child: Reming me to look over the dictation for the phones later

Man-Child: How’d you know about this anyways

Me: I’m home now. I can’t promise Peter will be alive long enough for Uncle Happy to get here.

Brat: Pete took me on patrol with him

Sad: i’m almost there so don’t kill him yet

Brat: It was pretty boring until he nearly got blown up

👑Queen👑: What?

Man-Child: He WHAT!?!?!???!!??!?

Peter’s eyes widened and he quickly texted the group.

Me: I did NOT nearly get blown up!!!!!!!

Man-Child: Pete wth!?!?!!?

Brat: Did too

Me: That’s not what happened!!!!!

Me: Shut up you trailer!!!!!

Man-Child: What happened!?!!??!?

Brat: Trailer

Me: I went to stop an atm robbery and the guys had some high tech weapons

Me: Delmars got blown up not me

Me: I was gonna call you as soon as I got home

Me: But then Ned

Brat: He also ran into the burning building

Me: 😠

Me: I had to save mr delmar and Murph

Me: I’m perfectly fine

Brat: And what about when that guy threw you against the ceiling

Me: IM FINE!!!!!

Me: Get out!!!!!!

Brat: It’s my group text

Brat: You get out!!!!

👑Queen👑: Boys, be nice

Brat:

Man-Child: Were talking about this more when you get here

Me: 🙁I know

👑Queen👑: Peter, are you really okay?

Me: I’m fine. Promise mom

🤖: Are these weapons something we should look into?

Man-Child: I’ll check the footage, but we’ll probably just alert the fbi

Me: So whats going to happen with Ned

“Uncle Happy’s here,” Nebs said, coming over from the window.

Sad: i’m here hurry up

Man-Child: Well talk when you get here

Me: Ok on our way

“I’ll go grab Ned,” Peter sighed, giving her her phone back.

“Don’t forget pants.”

Blushing, he went back to his room and opened the door. “… Hey Ned.”

“… Hey.”

The two stared at each other.

“How’d it go with Nebula?”

“Why are you wearing my mask?”

It was weird to watch the mask’s eyes blink, Peter had to admit.

Ned shrugged.

“Peter!” Nebs called.

“We need to go,” Peter said, grabbing a pair of pants and putting them on.

“Where are we going?” Ned asked as he hopped up and came over.

“Stark Tower.” Peter grabbed a duffle bag and shoved his suit inside.

“No way, really?”

Peter nodded, then nearly dumped the suit back out as Ned slammed into his back.

“This is the best day of my life,” he said as he hugged his best friend with enough force that Peter was thankful for the enhanced durability.

The boys pulled apart and did their handshake.

“Come on, let’s go before Nebs comes in to yell at me more.”

Ned pulled off the mask to reveal his wide smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter and Nebula were being way too calm about this, Ned felt.

They were being driven by Tony Stark’s personal driver in Tony Stark’s car to Tony Stark’s tower to meet Tony Stark!

Now, Ned knew his family was well off, but they weren’t private driver well off and they definitely weren’t Tony Stark well off. And Peter… Well, Peter was a scholarship kid, and though Ned would never judge him for it, it did mean he thought Peter and Nebula should at least be freaking out as much as him.

“How many times have you done this?” Ned whispered.

“Had someone find out?” Peter answered, not whispering back. “Well, Mr. Stark found out, obviously, and he told Nebs, but that’s it.”

“No, I mean riding in one of Tony Stark’s cars.”

Peter’s nose scrunched up. “Dude, don’t say his name like that.”

“But he’s Tony Stark!”

Nebula snorted. “You didn’t say you’d made friends with a fan.”

“Who wouldn’t be a fan of Tony Stark?”

Nebula muttered something in Italian and Peter snickered, shoving her.

“Mr. Stark is cool, but he’s not…” Peter flailed as he searched for the words.

“Dr. Banner?” Nebula suggested with a smirk.

“I outgrew that years ago and you know it!” Peter hissed, blushing. Turning back to Ned, he said, “Just stay calm.”

“Calm? Dude, I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming! This is so cool!”

Peter whined and put his face in his hands, only coming up for air when his phone went off. Ned peaked over his shoulder to see his texts.

Casta-net: TFW your girl finds out about your side chick

Me: Who told you

Casta-net: Who do you think?

Me: I’m going to kill Harley

Casta-net: Wish I was in the country

Casta-net: I wanna see who’s more embarrassing, Re or Nedward

Casta-net: Before you finish, yes it is possible for Re to be embarrassing

Me: He’s literally iron man joe

Casta-net: He’s literally Iron Nerd

Casta-net: You and Plates are just too blinded by love to see how much of a dork he is

Casta-net: Then again you both are major dorks too so birds of a feather

“Who are you texting?” Ned asked.

Nebula grabbed his chin and turned his head. “Your friend is way too nosy. How did you manage to keep your secret this long?”

“Leave him alone, Nebs.” He pushed her hand away from Ned as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Only to pull it back out a second later when he got another text.

Chicken: Pete!!!!

Chicken: Haley says you got busted by your bf

Merida: Haley

Chicken: Shut up Lila

No, I’m Texas!: Haley

Brain: Haley.

Me: Haley

Me: Also, don’t call him my bf Cooper

Brain: He’s right. It makes it sound like they’re dating. And we all know he’s likes that Elizabeth girl.

Me: Who let this child in here?

Brain: I’m smarter than all of you combined, Peter.

Merida:

Me: You wanna go Cho!?!?!?

Me: I studied with Bruce Banner I ain’t afraid of an eight year old!!!!!!!

Brain: I’m ten, and I studied with my mom! I can take you!

Chicken: You two don’t even do the same type of science!!!!!

Chicken: Now shut up and give us details!!!

Chicken: What’s going on with Ned?

Me: Don’t do the same type of science… can you believe this guy?

Brain: 평민

Chicken: PETER!!!!

Merida: You’re both pretty now what happened?

Me: Nothing happened

Me: Ned just came in my room at the wrong time and found out about my connection to Mr. Stark

Chicken: What’s Stark going to do to him?

No, I’m Texas!: Nothi my?

No, I’m Texas!: Nothing! Shit!

Merida: Nothi my?

Me: Nothi my?

Chicken: Nothi my?

Brain: Nothi my?

Nubs: Don’t curse in front of the children, Harley.

No, I’m Texas!: How the heck!?

Merida: Wait, who are the children??????

Nubs: I’m hacked into your and Peter’s phones. Amadeus, Cooper, and Peter are the children.

Merida: Nice

Chicken: I’d say something, but I’m honestly kind of scared of you Peter’s sister

Nubs: As you should be. Off your phone, Peter. We’re here.

Ned and Peter both looked up just as they disappeared into the underground garage.

“Noooo! I missed seeing the tower!” Ned groaned.

“Maybe if you weren’t snooping you would have seen it,” Nebs pointed out, giving Peter a look.

“Who were you talking to?” Ned asked.

“Just some friends I made while working with Mr. Stark,” he said nervously with a shrug.

“Are they Avengers too!? Do you all hang out?”

“Peter’s not an Avenger,” Nebula said, opening the door and getting out.

“I’m sort of an Avenger,” Peter said, following her.

“No, you’re not. End of discussion.”

Peter pouted at her before returning to Ned. “No, they’re not Avengers. Joe, Jocasta, works for SI and so does Amadeus’s mom and Harley’s dad. Lila and Cooper’s dad used to work here too, but he left.”

“Do they know you’re Spider-Man?” Ned asked as the four of them climbed into the elevator.

“Only Harley and Joe. Harley’s dad is super high up and Joe works security sometimes. Lila, Cooper, and Amadeus just think I intern with Mr. Stark.”

Ned nodded, glancing around the elevator. His eyes widened as he realized something. “Wait, did you say you studied with Bruce Banner!?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter glanced at Nebula and the driver (who was still with them, kind of weird) nervously. “Um, Mr. Stark kind of introduced me to him.”

“Cool!” Ned said, but something nagged at him.

When did Dr. Banner leave again?

“Oh good, I’m not running late?”

Ned blinked and looked over at the woman getting into the elevator with them.

Pepper Potts smiled and held out her hand. “Ned, right? Peter’s told us so much about you.”

Ned stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. “Ms. Potts, it’s an honor to meet you, really, but I’m pretty sure our classmate Michelle would legitimately kill me if she knew I had shaken your hand before she’d even gotten a chance to meet you so I’m not going to do that.”

Peter groaned as Ms. Potts dropped her hand.

“Peter’s friends are fans,” Nebula said blankly.

“I see,” Ms. Potts said with amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you all the same Ned. Please call me Pepper.”

“Oh my God,” Ned whispered as Ms. Potts, Nebula, and the driver stepped out of the elevator.

“Cool it,” Peter whispered, elbowing him.

“Do that harder, I think I’m dreaming,” Ned joked, then groaned when Peter did just that. “Okay, ow, not dreaming. You didn’t have to do it that hard.”

Peter went pale. “Sorry, are you okay? Did I hurt something?”

Ned frowned, then remembered Peter had super strength and could probably really hurt him on accident. “It’s fine, just a bit harder than I was expecting,” he said, stepping out of the elevator. He barely noticed Peter’s sigh of relief as he spotted a familiar face sitting in the penthouse. “What’s your uncle doing here?”

“Uncle?” Peter asked then groaned. “Does everyone have to be here?”

“Yes,” Nebula said, sitting down on the couch.

“No,” the driver said, heading towards a hallway. “I’ve seen the kid make a fool of himself enough for one day.”

“Would you like me to leave?” Vittore asked, looking uncertain. “I didn’t realize my being here would be disagreeable.”

Peter immediately started shaking his head. “You’re fine, Vi, just… a lot going on today. How’ve you been?”

“Fine, I’ve just been doing… research on some things.”

“Oh, on what?”

Vittore frowned and looked around. “Where’s Mr. Stark?”

“Sir will be up shortly. He was waylaid by a group from R&D.”

Ned jumped and looked around. “Who was that?”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. An AI created by Tony. He runs the tower,” Ms. Potts explained, gesturing at the couches.

“He and Vi are the only pure ones in this place,” Peter muttered to him as they sat down.

“Excuse me!” Ned jumped as a young woman appeared right in front of them, her arms crossed as she glared down at Peter. “What about me?”

“Remember that month where you made it so that anyone who said the word Stark inside the tower got Rickrolled.”

“That was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you actually did it.”

“That was you two?” Ms. Potts said, glaring at them.

They immediately pointed at each other.

“Fri was the one that did it! I just said it would be funny!”

“Baby-Bro told me to do it!”

Ned frowned as everyone but he and the new woman flinched and Nebula hissed, “F.R.I.D.A.Y.!”

“Baby-Bro?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word of warning: I might not post next week or the week after. Something came up so I'm moving. I'll try to post, but no promises.

I decided to use Vittore Shade instead of Victor Shade for Vision since I already had Victoria for Tori.

[goldenraeofsun]

Rememer Me, Honeybee

Part II

Read Part I here!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Dean howls. “That’s  what broke the curse?”

Cas, to his credit, looks just as confused as Dean wishes he were. “A kiss?” he asks, touching his lips distractedly.

Dean throws his hands in the air. “I thought it was some stupid angel magic. But  no  - Gabriel has a sick sense of humor.”

“Why?” Cas asks, adding before Dean can answer, “I know he does, in general. But why with this time?”

“Because,” Dean sneers, poking Cas, hard, in the chest, “he tied your soap opera amnesia to the oldest story in the goddamned book.”

According to Cas’s face, that doesn’t clear up anything at all. He protests, “But I looked at nearly all the curse books in Heaven’s-”

“Not in the angel books, numbnuts,” Dean cuts him off, “the human ones. If I ever meet Gabriel, I’m going to punch him in the goddamn fa-”

“You’d break your whole arm.” 

“-saddling  you  with a human cure,” Dean continues heatedly, “You, the one angel who doesn’t know the difference between Tickle Me Elmo and St. Elmo’s Fire.”

Cas frowns. “I didn’t know humans had a history of solving magical curses.”

“Fairy tale humans only,” Dean says sourly as he strides away from Cas, towards the other end of the porch because he can’t stand in one place right now. “Wake up Sleeping Beauty with true love’s kiss.” He ticks up one finger. “Turn the frog into a prince with true love’s kiss. Bring Snow White back to life with true love’s kiss.” 

“True love?” Cas’s voice echoes behind him.

Dean whirls around. “Wait-”

“You love me?”

Dean scowls fiercely. “Hold on there, cowboy,” he says, marching back and right into Cas’s space. “I never said that.”

“But...” Cas peters off, his blue eyes narrowing as they rake over Dean’s face, “to break the curse, you said it requires true love.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “And all the signs tell me Gabriel’s a crafty son of a bitch. Did you kiss anyone else? Since you got whammied?”

Cas actually recoils in disgust. “Of course not.”

“There you go!” Dean says, gesturing emphatically. “It could’ve been any old kiss that did it for you.”

Cas frowns, and Dean knows what he’s about to say before he opens his mouth. Sure enough: “In these fairy tales, does it work if one party is love but the other isn’t?”

Dean grits his teeth. If he ever runs into this Gabriel, he’s a dead man - angel -  dead angelman. “No, but there’s a first time for everything.” He stomps past Cas. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

Cas is quick to follow on his heels, and Dean can practically feel the frown Cas is directing at the back of his head. But, since he  is  Dean’s best friend, he waits until Dean’s fetched a beer out of the fridge (Dean’s favorite brand because Cas doesn’t drink, so he only keeps one kind). Dean, as usual, offers one to Cas in a silent offer, and Cas shakes his head. Dean shuts the fridge door, waiting with bated breath and a stomach twisting in knots.

Finally, Cas says, “If that’s the case, I’m sorry for kissing you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean grunts as he twists off the cap and takes a long pull.

Cas bites his lip. “I didn’t know our history. If I had, I obviously wouldn’t have-”

“Forget it.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

Dean’s mouth goes dry. He tips more beer back, and it does nothing to help. 

Behind him, Cas’s wings flare ever so slightly, drawing Dean’s gaze. “I don’t want this to be a point of contention between us,” he says, a hint of steel in his words.

“That’s what the whole  forgetting it  is for.”

Cas leans against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms folding across his chest. “This can’t be something you bring up when you’re drinking,” his face darkens, “or joking.”

Dean mimes crossing his heart.

Cas’s scowl deepens. “Like that.”

“Hey!”

Feathers ruffling, Cas says stiffly, “That’s why I want to talk about it.”

Dean scowls down at the rim of his bottle. “What’s there to talk about?” He blanches. “It wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?” Dean demands, eyebrows rising. “It’s not like I popped your cherry.”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, whether it was my first kiss or not, it meant something to me. And having you… belittle it because it makes you uncomfortable is not something I’d like to witness.”

Dean carefully sets his half-empty bottle down on the counter. “It meant something to you?”

Cas’s face darkens. “I kissed you, Dean,” he says shortly, “Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, but you were all,” Dean mimes a bright flash of light, “neuralyzed.”

“You were kind to me,” Cas says, his voice incredulous. “You visited me, fed me, tried to help me.”

“’Cause you had goddamn  amnesia.”

“And how is any of that any different than how you treat me normally?” Cas asks, exasperated.

Dean goggles at him. “But-”

“I understand,” Cas says in a horribly patient voice, “that Gabriel might have bent the rules for this particular curse. We aren’t in love, so he picked the next best thing.”

“Best friends?” Dean tries weakly.

Cas’s wings shift, agitated, behind his back, his face turning stony. “The last time Gabriel was here, I suspect I mentioned you one too many times.” He walks over to the kitchen table and starts stacking the semi-organized chaos of beekeeping books. 

“So?” Dean shrugs, “I’m adorable.”

“He said I was getting unbearable and I needed a divine intervention to get a ‘fucking move on,’” Cas says flatly to the cover of  The How-To-Do-It Book of Beekeeping. He sets it on top of the pile. “I assume he thought a kiss would put an end to my feelings for you, but I don’t think he was right.”

Dean’s mouth falls open.

Cas hefts the largest stack of books in his arms and turns to go.

Dean hurries after him. “Hey!” he huffs, more out of breath from shock than anything else. First, Cas didn’t remember him. Then, Cas kissed him.  Then,  Cas got his memory back. And Cas apparently loves him?

“Not now, Dean,” Cas says as he marches out of the kitchen, Dean hot on his heels. “You said you didn’t want to talk about it. I said my piece, so now we can start not talking about it.”

Dean growls, “Put down the damn books, Cas.”

“No,” Cas says without looking at him. Standing before the giant bookshelf in the living room, he mutters, “this is such a mess. I don’t know what I was think-”

“Put down the damn books so I can kiss you for real,” Dean says loudly.

Cas’s head whips around to stare at him, his blue eyes wide and full of disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Dean takes the books from Cas, grunting as he sets them down on the floor. “Why did you tell a goddamn archangel before me?”

“I didn’t tell Gabriel anything,” Cas protests. “He inferred. Based on…” he gestures to himself hopelessly, “everything about me.” 

Dean presses his lips together. “I didn’t see it.”

Cas face turns wary. “Yes, that was the goal.”

“You can be such a dumbass,” Dean whispers, stepping closer.

“So it’s been said before,” Cas says, his breath coming a little quicker as Dean gets right up into his personal space. “So  you’ve  told me before.”

“You were trying to sell a three-hundred dollar, four-foot-tall bee sculpture to a bunch of stupid hicks who couldn’t see something beautiful when it was literally sitting in front of them,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“And yet, you bought it anyway,” Cas hums.

“I never said  I  wasn’t a dumbass.”

Cas laughs lightly, and Dean grins in return.

“This is like a whole new level of dumbass, though, even for you,” Dean says as he lays a tentative hand on Cas’s waist.

“I think you mean even for  us,” Cas corrects.

Dean makes a face. Cas is right, but there’s no fucking way in hell Dean’s going to give him the satisfaction. 

He kisses him instead.

As their mouths meet again, Cas makes the noise of a starving man at a banquet. Hungry, greedy fingers grip Dean with angel strength, bringing their bodies flush together. 

Dean reaches around, to  finally  tangle his fingers in the base of Cas’s wings. Cas startles, but he doesn’t break the kiss, so Dean keeps going. He buries his fingers deeper, revelling in the silken slip of feathers past his fingertips.

“Like that?” Dean murmurs as he dips his head to kiss at the smooth area of skin behind Cas’s ear. He scratches lightly, and Cas shudders, feathers rippling deliciously. “Whaddya say to gettin’ horizontal?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows and jerking his head in the direction of the couch in the far corner of the room.

“Dean, I won’t fit on the sofa,” Cas says frankly.

Dean pulls back slightly, grimacing. “Your dick can’t be that big.”

Cas unfolds his wings. Fully extended, his wingspan stretches nearly six feet on either side.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes, his mouth going dry. “I - I see what you mean.”

Cas snorts. As Dean doesn’t do anything but stare, Cas adds pointedly, “My nest is big enough, however.”

“Huh?” Dean blinks. “Right, right!” He claps his hands. “Bedroom.”

Chuckling, Cas follows him out the living room and up the stairs. Dean would never call himself a patient man, so he barely has one foot in the door before the top two buttons of his flannel get undone. He makes quick work of the rest, watching out of the corner of his eye as Cas does the same and reaches behind himself to flick open the clasps keeping the back flaps of his shirt closed.

“Now we’re talking,” Dean murmurs as he lays both hands on Cas’s gloriously bare torso. Cas has an Enochian tattoo on his left side, just below his ribs, which Dean is definitely going to ask about later, but right now he has to lick every square inch of Cas’s skin.

When he finally lifts his eyes, all his blood rushes south at the look on Cas’s face. Blue irises swallowed by black pupils. Lips spit-slick from Dean’s kisses. Hair fucked six ways to Sunday.

Dean tugs him closer so he can unzip Cas’s fly himself. “You good?” he asks hoarsely as Cas pushes him gently into the nest of blankets and oddly shaped pillows to pull off Dean’s jeans.

“I’m better than I’ve been in a vast number of years,” Cas says, his eyes dark. He crawls over Dean, his wings flaring up to bracket them in a canopy of feathers.

Dean stares up at them. Swallowing, he reaches up to trace one long flight feather.

“Do you like my wings?” Cas asks, amused.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean stumbles, and Cas seems to read all the rest of what Dean can’t bring himself to say because he captures Dean’s mouth in a fierce kiss. 

Dean’s hands gravitate like magnets to Cas’s back. He cards his fingers through the feathers, grinning against Cas’s mouth as Cas gives a full-body shiver. Cas goes lax on top of him, letting Dean take more of his weight.

“Like that?” Dean murmurs in his ear as he shimmies underneath Cas so his mouth is positioned right by his ear and his wandering hands can reach more of Cas’s wings.

“I do,” Cas rumbles above him, his breathing harsh as Dean tugs on a few feathers experimentally. He bucks his hips as Dean gives a particularly hard pull, pressing his hard cock against Dean’s pelvis.

“Christ,” Dean says in a strangled voice. “Okay, big guy, I get it.”

“Get wha -  Dean!”

Dean chuckles as he pulls his hand back from the small bump hidden just inside the crack of Cas’s ass. He’s not dripping yet, but he is wet, and Dean has watched too many wing kink videos to fuck this up. He rubs his index finger against his thumb, testing the slide. Slippery. Nice.

“Dean,” Cas growls, “What are you doing?”

“Uh,” Dean falters as he catches sight of Cas’s guarded face, “Oil? For lube?”

So maybe porn didn’t exactly prepare Dean for sex with a real live angel.

Cas pushes himself off Dean. “You know about that?” 

Luckily Dean’s too keyed up with panic to laugh. “Yeah,” he says, his words coming a little too quickly, “I know about the oil glands. Was I not supposed to? It’s not, like, a secret.”

Cas’ wings droop behind him. His expression serious, he asks, “Have you slept with another angel before?”

Dean does laugh. “Fuck no,” he says. Before Cas’s wings can sag any lower, he adds, “but I watch porn.”

Cas blinks. “Porn with angels?”

Reddening, Dean mutters, “Angel on angel, angel on human, I’m not picky.”

“Oh,” Cas says, and Dean has no idea what to make of that. But Cas isn’t done. “If you just wanted to sleep with an angel, I don’t know if I’m the best candidate. I’m not a virgin, but I don’t have a lot of-”

“Woah,” Dean says as his brain scrambles to make sense of the crap coming out of Cas’s mouth. “That’s not why I want to sleep with you.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “It’s not?”

“Come on,” Dean says impatiently, “I don’t hang out with any other angels but you.”

“Yes, because they’re ‘dicks,’” Cas says, trying and failing to mimic the way Dean says the word.

Dean’s eyebrows raise. “And you were such a standup, easygoing dude when we first met?”

“I complained that you weren’t complying with the rules of the Farmers Market,” Cas says cautiously, watching Dean’s reaction, “and got you banned for one weekend.”

“Yeah you did.” Dean chuckles. “But once I told you  why, you listened. You didn’t complain again - unlike Malachi.”

“You tried to bribe me with pie.”

Dean smirks. “You say that like it’s a crime.”

“Just because it works on you,” Cas deadpans, “doesn’t mean it’s a valuable negotiation strategy.”

Dean laughs. “Sure it does. You let me in today ‘cause I brought pie.”

Cas tilts his head. “I let you in because you seemed to know me, and you’re very attractive.” Over Dean’s very attractive, open-mouthed gaping, Cas continues placidly, “When we spoke, I found you were a loving, caring soul - like I have always known.”

Face heating uncomfortably, Dean starts, “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re different, Cas.” He reaches out to touch the back of Cas’s hand. “No other angel would’ve given me the time of day.”

Cas frowns. “You’re welcome?”

Dean sighs, and, he has to fucking say it because Cas is a dumbass who needs everything spelled out for him. “Look,” he starts, “When you said the love thing only applied to one of us,” he waits for Cas to nod his understanding because Dean’s sure as shit not saying this again , “I thought you were talking about me.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas says, and he’s such a fucking liar, based on the way his eyes widen and wings puff up, all pleased and shit. Dean would kick him if it wouldn’t break his foot. 

“Out of all the other angels out there,” Dean says through gritted teeth, “I’d rather have you. Cursed or not.”

“Oh.” A brilliant smile comes over Cas’s face.

“Yeah,  oh,”  Dean mocks as he reaches for Cas. “We good?”

“We’re good,” Cas says as he leans forward for a kiss.

“Hey,” Dean says, breaking apart, “What do you say to a little grooming foreplay?”

Cas swallows. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’d lie face down in the nest while I groom your wings - for real this time - and get myself all slicked up for you.”

In a flurry of limbs, Cas faceplants into the nest, nearly braining Dean with a stray wing.

Chuckling, Dean maneuvers over Cas so he’s straddling one thigh, giving him ample room to work with. At the first touch to Cas’s oil gland, his feathers rustle. “I’m going to start slow,” Dean says soothingly.

He bends down to press a kiss at the tender patch of skin between Cas’s wings. Cas’s wings fidget, and for the first time (and hopefully not the last) Dean gets to feel feathers brushing against his cheeks, smell Cas absolutely everywhere, and breathe him in deep. Dean’s so fucking gone on this angel, and they haven’t even gotten to the fucking yet. Jesus Christ.

Biting his lip, Dean rubs Cas’s oil gland, getting his fingers nice and slick. “Relax,” he murmurs as he repeats the process with his other hand. Gently, he cards his fingers through Cas’s feathers, starting at the base of his wings. 

Cas lets out a little sigh and wiggles in place, burrowing further into his nest.

“That’s it,” Dean says in a low voice as he keeps preening.

“You’re very good at this,” Cas rumbles as Dean rubs more oil between his feathers. 

“I’ve watched a lot of videos,” Dean says dismissively, working along the muscle where the feathers more or less lay flat, massaging a little as he goes.

Cas lets out a groan.

Dean shifts his weight so his cock doesn’t leak on Cas too much.

Evidently he doesn’t move fast enough, as Cas says knowingly, “So this really isn’t a boring chore for you.” Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

Dean snorts. “Not by a long shot.” With one hand stroking down Cas’s other wing, he gives himself a few quick tugs, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Christ, he’s hard enough to knock a man out cold (hopefully Cas).

Cas twists a little beneath him, rising on his elbows. “Is everything al-” he asks as he turns around. His face goes slack, his words dying off.

Dean smirks at him. “Like what you see?” To emphasize his point, he drags his fingers through Cas’s feathers in time with one more pull on his cock.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Cas snaps, twisting up and manhandling Dean, no longer smirking, onto his back. Wings flared wide above them, Cas looms over him, his face half shadowed. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, stunned, turned on, and a little terrified all at once.

Cas licks his lips. Silently, he reaches behind himself, and Dean’s overloaded brain doesn’t catch on to what Cas is doing until well-oiled fingers slide between his thighs.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he hastily spreads his legs. He stares up at Cas, his jaw going slack at the look of utter devotion and concentration on his face. “Uh,” he coughs, “Not to spoil the mood or anything, but do you want to get a condom or something?”

Cas circles Dean’s hole a few times, spreading his oil around every nook and cranny without actually dipping inside. He lets Dean squirm on his finger before saying, “I don’t think we need one. I’m clean. And you don’t have any sexually transmitted infections.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “How the hell do you know that?”

“You smell healthy.”

“Gross, man.”

Cas chuckles under his breath. “You made fun of me for weeks after I told that customer I smelled his untreated bladder infection. You said I should, I quote, ‘keep that shit to myself.’”

“Are you seriously telling me  I told you so,  now?” Dean demands.

Cas pushes the tip of his finger past Dean’s rim, and Dean’s surprised gasp cuts off his own retort.  “You petty fucker.”

“I try,” Cas says, his voice dry as stale toast. He pushes in deeper, up to the first knuckle. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” Dean says hoarsely. The stretch burns a little, but the good kind of burn, not the painful kind. “Keep going.”

Cas adds another finger as Dean eagerly bears down, meeting him thrust for thrust. With his other hand, Cas reaches behind himself for more oil.

“Hey,” Dean pants, grabbing at Cas’s wrist. “Can I?”

Cas lets his confusion show all over his face, but lets Dean guide his free hand towards Dean’s mouth rather than his ass. His eyes widen in understanding as Dean slips two fingers into his mouth. The taste of Cas explodes over his tongue: musky, earthy, and bright all at once. Dean sucks, and Cas’s face morphs into naked lust.

Hoarsely, Cas asks, “Are you sufficiently prepared?”

Dean nods, letting Cas’s fingers fall from his lips. “I always wondered what that’d taste like.”

Cas pauses in lining himself up with Dean’s hole. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Sure did,” Dean says, groaning as Cas’s cock enters him, “You taste great.”

“Thank you?” Cas grunts distractedly as he pushes himself in further. His feathers flutter like leaves in a light breeze as his hips meet Dean’s ass. He stays fully seated inside Dean for a moment, biting his lip.

“You okay?” Dean asks wryly as he looks up at Cas through lowered lashes. “Not going to come in two minutes, are you?” His eyes widen. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! But, y’know, I’d like it if this first time lasts a little longer.”

“So do I,” Cas says fervently as he starts to pull out.

Dean’s legs shake from the long, slow slide of Cas’s cock moving inside him. “Fuck,” he swears as Cas pushes back in. He wraps his arms around Cas, once again burying his hands in the feathers now slick with oil.

Cas leans down, touching his lips briefly to Dean’s, before drawing away to drive his cock deeper. Dean clutches at him harder, whining as Cas thrusts his hips forward, faster and faster. Toes curling, Dean can’t help arching his back so Cas reaches that good spot inside him.

He moans as Cas brushes against his prostate, zings of heat and anticipation leaping down his whole body. “Touch me,” he begs Cas in between ragged breaths. “I’m close.” His neglected cock has smeared precome all over his abdomen.

But Cas slows instead, and Dean barely holds back a whine as he stops altogether. Cas says, his voice rough, “I thought you wanted this to last.”

“I-” Dean can’t complete his thought. He bucks his hips, but Cas is like granite against him. No give at all. He clenches the muscles in his ass, gratified as Cas’s face spasms, but he doesn’t pick up again from where he left Dean high and not-all-that-dry.

“You wanted this to last,” Cas reminds him. “And I’m glad we have a moment now.” He lays a reverent hand on Dean’s chest. “You are beautiful, Dean Winchester. You, opening yourself up to me-”

Dean purses his lips. “Pretty sure you did the opening up, buddy.”

Cas breaks off, rolling his eyes. He pinches Dean’s nipple in punishment. Laughing, Dean tries to wiggle out of the way, but, of course, Cas has him good and pinned. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Sure, sure,” Dean says, his face heating uncomfortably under Cas’s continued scrutiny. 

“I never thought I’d get to have you like this,” Cas says quietly as he cups Dean’s cheek with one hand.

Dean coughs. But Cas just keeps staring, and Dean really should’ve known breaking the tension between him and Cas would take bigger guns than that. He licks his lips, one corner of his mouth ticking up as Cas’s gaze drops down to follow the movement of his tongue. Eventually, he mutters, “Me neither.”

Cas’s returning smile is nearly blinding. He braces himself with both hands next to Dean’s shoulders. “May I try something?” he asks.

“Sure?”

“Tell me if this too much,” and that’s all the warning Dean has before Cas beats his wings.

Cas doesn’t use their full power, but the small, controlled flaps still force Cas deeper than Dean had thought possible. Each thrust drives the breath from Dean’s lungs, leaving him gasping and holding on for dear life to the backs of Cas’s wings themselves as an anchor.

The powerful muscles flex and tense beneath his fingers, and it doesn’t even look like Cas can tell Dean is squeezing his wings in a death grip. Cas’s eyes are screwed shut, but his mouth is lax and open. Rapturous, is the only word that comes to Dean’s mind before Cas’s cock grinds against his prostate and all thoughts are wiped from his head other than,  more, more, holy fuck, give me more.

His orgasm rushes over him in a whole-body shudder. 

He opens his eyes to see Cas staring at him at point-blank range.

Cas raises his eyebrows, the pleased son of a bitch. “So it wasn’t too much, then?”

Dean gives him a weary thumbs up as he falls back onto the nest, his whole body completely relaxed. Cas’s hard cock shifts inside him, and Dean twitches like a livewire from the aftershocks.

“Do you mind if I keep going?” Cas asks in a strained voice.

Dean smiles up at him. “Knock yourself out, big guy.”

All it takes is a couple slow drags - Cas keeps the wings folded, or else Dean would shake apart from the oversensitivity - and Cas falls over the edge. He comes breathing Dean’s name.

* * *

Dean wakes up alone. From the dim light filtering in from the window, it’s early evening. Confused more than anything, Dean pulls on his jeans - helpfully folded at the side of Cas’s nest. He grabs his flannel but doesn’t bother buttoning it up as he takes the stairs two at a time. 

No Cas on the first floor either.

A quick peek out the window tells Dean Cas hasn’t left the property - his fugly, practical truck sits in its usual spot in the driveway.

Dean finds him with the bees, because of course he does. Cas is not wearing the full bee suit, only a long-sleeved denim jacket and worn linen pants with the hems tucked into his boots.

“Would’ve been nice to wake up with you!” Dean calls as he hastily does up the buttons of his flannel since getting a dozen stings would be the kicker after the best sex of his life.

Cas carefully slides the comb back into place. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay,” he says, and he does sound regretful. “I was worried about the bees. I’m almost done now, though.”

“I figured,” Dean says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Next time, though, I’ll drag your ass back to the nest. This is your first warning.”

Cas noticeably brightens at the mention of next time. “I’ll remember, Dean,” he says solemnly.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Will you?” he asks as he takes a few slow steps closer. As long as he doesn’t swat at any of the bees or make any sudden movements, he should be safe as far as bee stings go. “You didn’t remember how to clear a honeycomb a few hours ago.”

“I remember  now,”  Cas says, his eyes narrowing with suspicion at the gleeful expression on Dean’s face.

“You sure?” Dean asks innocently. “’Cause I could always give you a few pointers. Y’know. Since you’re so new at this.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Cas mutters as he walks away from the hives.

“I could show you how to use a bee escape. Extract a super. Requeen a colony,” Dean says as he falls into step with Cas.

“How am I simultaneously impressed that you remember what I’ve taught you and annoyed that you’re using it to mock me?”

Dean shrugs. “I’m just that awesome.”

Cas casts him a long, considering look as they approach the back porch. “Or you’re just that much of an ass.”

Dean clears his throat. “Looks like you’ll have to stick around to find out which.”

Dean scrambles in after him to kiss the undoubtedly smug look off Cas’s face.

“I think I already know,” Cas says with a sincere smile. “I've always known, since that first time you begged me to watch Star Wars with you.”

But, because Cas the true ass out of the pair of them, he ends that sappy sentiment by patting Dean condescending on the head with the tip of his wing as he strides into the main house.

[billyagogo]

Every Will Smith film performance, ranked

New Post has been published on https://newsprofixpro.com/moxie/2019/10/11/every-will-smith-film-performance-ranked/

Every Will Smith film performance, ranked

The Pursuit of Ranking Will Smith’s Performances

Everett Collection (2); Zade Rosenthal/Columbia Pictures

How do you rank the performances of a man who has done it all? Played the devil? Check. Played a rapping fish? Check. Played a superhero? Check. Played a cop/government agent? A lot of checks. But in honor of Will Smith’s 50th birthday, we took on the impossible task of going through all of his film roles (sorry, Fresh Prince) and coming up with the definitive ranking of his cameos, awards nominations, and franchises. Let the pursuit begin.

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31. After Earth (2013)

What else could be last? The actor himself has called the out-of-this-world flop the “most painful failure” of his career. In M. Night Shyamalan’s sci-fi film, Smith literally takes a backseat to his son Jaden, considering he’s basically just sitting immobilized throughout. The elder Smith doesn’t have to utlilize his patented charm in every film, but his performance here is next level flat, almost robot-like (He, Robot might be have been a better title).

30. Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (2013)

On paper, Will Smith playing an ESPN reporter in an Anchorman film sounds like something I dreamed up. In reality, be careful what you wish for. Not that Smith is bad, it’s just a wasted opportunity, just like the entire Anchorman 2 fight scene.

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29. Where the Day Takes You (1992)

Despite Smith already being a Grammy-winner and TV star, he’s barely in his film debut, which stars the likes of Dermot Mulroney, Sean Astin, and Ricki Lake. Smith is fine in his very brief screen time as a crippled homeless teen, but if it wasn’t him in the role, you wouldn’t look or think twice about the character.

28. The Legend of Bagger Vance (2000)

Smith’s impressive run to end the 20th century comes to a screeching halt in 2000 (don’t blame Willenium) thanks to his first big screen swing and miss. While Smith is the title character in Robert Redford’s golf drama, he plays second fiddle to Matt Damon, not even showing up until 33 minutes in. The film has been criticized for its use of Smith as the “magical negro” and, unfortunately, he isn’t able to help raise the material above the stereotype. 

27. Shark Tale (2004)

For his sole foray into animation, Smith voices a scheming, rapping fish named Oscar (too bad the film was only nominated for an Oscar). There’s really not much else to say as it’s exactly what you would think Will Smith voicing a rapping fish would be like.

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26. Made in America (1993)

Smith’s second go-around on the big screen finds him playing fifth banana to Whoopi Goldberg, Ted Danson, Ted Danson’s cowboy hat, and Nia Long. And maybe for the only time in his life, Mr. Suave is a nerd, which he really dives into during a very awkward sperm donor scene where he literally does a Scooby Doo, “Huh?” The best thing to come out of this movie is setting up Long’s Fresh Prince run as Will’s girlfriend. (The worst thing: Ted Danson in blackface.)

25. Hancock (2008)

Frank Masi/Columbia Pictures

Easily the biggest disappointment on this list. Even though it was released pre-superhero film boom (two months after Iron Man), it’s unlikely that Hancock would have succeeded at any time, because it just isn’t that good. Don’t get me wrong, the concept is great. Will Smith as an alcoholic superhero is a winning idea. The execution, however, leaves a lot to be desired. And for once, the biggest problem might be Smith, who doesn’t get to showcase any of the reasons that we love him, instead being saddled with a bland, blank slate. 

24. Suicide Squad (2016)

Smith’s second entry into the world of superheroes was about as successful as the first, as in it made a lot of money and wasn’t well-received by critics. A quick summary of Smith in Suicide Squad: He’s ripped, he continues to have good chemistry with Margot Robbie (their first pairing is still to come), and he’s tasked with delivering the often-mocked line, “So we’re some sort suicide squad?” Other than that, nothing Smith or the movie does has anyone anticipating the previously announced sequel.

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23. Men in Black II (2002)

Melinda Sue Gordon/Columbia Pictures

The weakest of the three Men in Black films suffers for many reasons, including becoming too cartoonish (did we really need Nick Cannon, Martha Stewart, and Michael Jackson cameos?) and, more importantly for our purposes, not giving Smith and his character, Agent J, anything interesting to do. A lot of the fun of the first film was Smith as the new guy and his shock and awe to the discovery of alien life, but with that gone, there’s no interesting trait to replace it. We wouldn’t mind if they neuralyzed our memories of MIIB.

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22. I, Robot (2004)

After fighting Miami drug dealers, aliens, more aliens, the government, cowboys, George Foreman, more aliens, and more Miami drug dealers, Smith took on the next logical opponent: robots. In the sci-fi film I, Robot, he plays Del Spooner (top five Smith character name), a sideways beanie-wearing cop who hates robots. That’s not ideal when his most crucial relationships are with a robot and a cat. Smith gets to be angry and frustrated, but it’s one of his most forgettable roles and films.

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21. Seven Pounds (2008)

When a film starts with the main character calling to report his own suicide, it’s unlikely that you’re in for an uplifiting ride. And that’s definitely the case in Seven Pounds, which finds Smith moping his way through it until he kills himself via jellyfish (yes, really). The No. 1 takeaway might actually be that for one of the few times in his career, Smith is outshined, with his Men in Black II costar Rosario Dawson doing the honors here.

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20. Collateral Beauty (2016)

Barry Wetcher/Warner Bros.

Don’t let this photo fool you — take away the first two minutes and Smith is almost entirely sad, depressed, and silent during this poorly-received drama. Until the film’s last 30 minutes or so, Smith is more of a plot device for the star-studded supporting cast. But, the appearances of “Love,” “Time,” and “Death” eventually bring him alive, leading to some strong emotional moments that come a little too late to help Collateral Beauty sneak into the top half of Smith’s peformances.

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19. Wild Wild West (1999)

Hot take: Smith isn’t bad in Wild Wild West. Let’s be clear, Wild Wild West is bad, like really bad, but its star isn’t. While Kevin Kline, Kenneth Branagh, and Salma Hayek all scored Razzie noms for their performances, Smith didn’t (I’m blaming Kline for Worst Screen Couple) and that’s because he was far from the problem, coasting on his charisma and ability to pull off a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a jacket with no shirt. And if I’m being honest, I’m definitely giving extra points for the “Wild Wild West” theme song and the memorable MTV Movie Awards performance. A horse! Sisqo! Stevie Wonder! On second thought, maybe those should have been Smith’s costars.

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18. Jersey Girl (2004)

It turns out that Will Smith is really good at playing Will Smith. In 2004, he took a break from blockbusters to cameo in Kevin Smith’s critical and commercial disappointment. Smith’s sole scene finds him navigating between comedy and drama, both saying he’s “ridiculously” hung and giving the sentimental parenting speech that inspires Ben Affleck’s character to give up the fast-paced corporate lifestyle in order to be a better father. Bonus points for Smith’s amazing 2004 movie star outfit!

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17. Winter’s Tale (2014)

Another cameo, another critical and commercial failure. But in Akiva Goldsman’s film, the actor plays the complete opposite of Will Smith: Lucifer. For the only time so far in his career, Smith takes on the role of a true evil person/being (a hitman with a heart of gold in Suicide Squad doesn’t count) and it was nice to see him briefly deviate from his movie star formula. The face-off with Russell Crowe’s demon is initially unremarkble, until Lucifer launches into a fierce and scary tirade that is unlike anything Smith has ever done.

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16. Men in Black 3 (2012)

Wilson Webb/Columbia Pictures

After being good for at least one movie every year during his peak, Smith’s four-year absence from the big screen for some reason comes to an end with Men in Black 3. It’s unclear who wanted or needed this film, but it’s still an improvement on its predecessor for a few reasons, all of which were related to Smith. There’s a fresh dynamic for Smith to play with as Josh Brolin stars as young Agent K (Tommy Lee Jones); Agent J’s amusing bewilderment is back; and the big final reveal gives Smith a nice emotional moment that neither of the first two films had.

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15. Bright (2017)

Another instance where the execution doesn’t live up to the promise. Smith playing a grizzled, mustached veteran cop in a film from the writer behind Training Day sounds like a home run. And yet, the only thing knocked out of the park is a fairy (“Fairy lives don’t matter,” apparently). While the script and Joel Edgerton’s makeup do Smith no favors, he comes out mostly unscathed, doing his best to ground a story about orcs, elves, and a magic wand.

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14. Gemini Man (2019)

A for effort? Smith pulls double duty in Ang Lee’s thriller, playing both Henry, an aging assassin, and his younger clone, Junior, who is sent to kill him. Unfortunately, the script doesn’t live up to the promise and mostly impressive CGI (the final scene is laughably distracting). But, Smith, like in many of his recent films, does what he can, bringing a real weariness and fatigue to Henry, while delivering an innocence to Junior that we’ve rarely seen from the actor. 

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13. Aladdin (2019)

“A little Fresh Prince, little Hitch, and a whole lot of attitude.” That is how Will Smith’s take on Genie was described more than a year before the film came out. And, honestly, the only thing that could have gotten me more excited was if you threw in “a little Bad Boys.” But, even without some Mike Lowrey, Smith put his own spin on Robin Williams’ iconic character and made Aladdin fun and entertaining for every second he was onscreen. And, more importantly, Will Smith is rapping again!!

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12. Concussion (2015)

Melinda Sue Gordon/Columbia Pictures

“Tell the truth!” Smith’s character Bennet Omalu memorably demands of an NFL employee who is denying football’s effects on the brain. Well, the truth is that Concussion is a bad movie full of reported inaccuracies that is only watchable because of Smith’s understated performance. For once, he isn’t sad, funny, or cool; he’s determined. And like his past portrayals of real-life figures, the actor earned a Golden Globe nomination for the role.

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11. Focus (2015)

The return of cool Will Smith! For some reason, after building a career on his charisma and charm, Smith went away from it for basically a decade, opting instead to be sad (Seven Pounds), dark (Winter’s Tale), or just straight boring (After Earth). But with Focus, at least very temporarily, Smith became cool again. (Following up with Concussion, Suicide Squad, Collateral Beauty, and Bright is why I say “very temporarily.”) Over the years, Smith has had hit-or-miss chemistry with his love interests, but the pairing with Margot Robbie is definitely a hit and initially gave one reason to be optimistic about Suicide Squad.

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10. Bad Boys II (2003)

Columbia/Everett Collection

Eight years after first riding and dying together, Smith reunited with Martin Lawrence for Michael Bay’s high-octane sequel. Once again, Lawrence gets to be the real comedic star, while Smith is the movie star. The nonstop action doesn’t leave much room for Smith to stretch his acting muscles, but the back-and-forth between the two actors is a high point and maybe the most rapport that Smith has ever had with a costar (sorry, Tommy Lee Jones and Jada Pinkett Smith). Now if only we could finally get Bad Boys III before they are too old for this s—.

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9. Six Degrees of Separation (1993)

Just before Smith catapulted to movie stardom in summer blockbusters, the rapper surprised audiences (and Hollywood!) in a truly dramatic turn, taking on the role of a young, gay con artist. Starring as the shady Paul, Smith plays a character playing a character and he more than holds his own against Ian McKellen, Donald Sutherland, and Stockard Channing, who he says he fell in love with after getting too into character. The one knock against Smith here is his reported refusal to kiss Anthony Michael Hall on the advice of Denzel Washington as to not damage his movie star appeal. (C’mon, 1993.)

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8. Men in Black (1997)

While Bad Boys and Independence Day had Smith trending up, Men in Black is when he officially became a movie star. After Chris O’Donnell and David Schwimmer passed on playing NYPD cop-turned-rookie Agent J, Smith was somehow the next logical choice, turning in a character and performance that neither of the first two choices could have. Whether he’s cracking jokes or shouting in both fear and amazement about the presence of aliens, Smith shines bright.

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7. Bad Boys (1995)

Moviestore/REX/Shutterstock

Arsenio Hall’s hilarious mistake is Will Smith’s gain as the Fresh Prince gets his first chance to be a big screen leading man. And he makes the most of the opportunity, oozing with swagger as ladies man Detective Mike Lowrey. But just like in the previously discussed sequel, Michael Bay’s buddy cop vehicle sets up Martin Lawrence, who was headlining his own sitcom, to be the real star. Don’t worry, though, because Smith got the last laugh with Bad Boys kicking off an epic four-year run and setting him up to soon become Hollywood’s most bankable star.

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6. Independence Day (1996)

No offense, Bill Pullman, Jeff Goldblum, and Randy Quaid, but we kept wishing to go back to Smith, who doesn’t show up until 25 minutes into Roland Emmerich’s sci-fi classic. While the role of pilot Steven Hiller is just part of an ensemble, Smith is no doubt the true star, dominating every scene he’s in and nailing one-liners. “Welcome to Earth,” he says after punching an alien. “Now that’s what I call a close encounter.” Now that’s what I call a movie star-making performance.

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5. Ali (2001)

Frank Connor/Columbia Pictures

Maybe the greatest compliment that can be paid to Smith’s performance as Muhammad Ali is that I can’t imagine anyone else playing the boxer. In many of his films, it’s hard to see past Will Smith. “Oh, that’s just Will Smith with a badge.” But here, you just see Ali. And the Academy agreed, giving Smith the first of his two Oscar nominations.

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4. Enemy of the State (1998)

It’s not often that Smith plays an everyman. His first three lead roles featured him as a badass cop, a badass pilot fighting aliens, and a badass secret agent investigating alien activity. Here, in the underrated gem from director Tony Scott, he’s a lawyer who just happened to be at the wrong lingerie store at the wrong time. Not able to just skate on his charisma, Smith excels as being overwhelmed and out of his element. It might seem strange that a performance like this is above Ali, but often times pulling off a smart, action-packed thriller is even tougher than a biopic.

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3. I Am Legend (2007)

Barry Wetcher/Warner Bros.

Smith has had great chemistry with costars over the years, whether it’s Martin Lawrence or Tommy Lee Jones or Margot Robbie, and that streak continues in I Am Legend, even if the chemistry is with a dog and a mannequin. The magnetic actor has given heartbreaking perfomances before, but none like Dr. Robert Neville, who very might be the last man on Earth. During one 10-minute stretch, Smith shows enormous range as he is forced to put his dog down, and then emotionally unleashing on a female mannequin. It’s quite possibly the best work of his entire career. Legendary, indeed.

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2. Hitch (2005)

Barry Wetcher/Sony Pictures

Disclaimer: I’ve been accused a time or two of talking too much about Hitch, a.k.a. the greatest rom-com ever made. But it’s for good reason! The only full-on rom-com of Smith’s career came a few years after the peak of his powers, but still in the midst of his prime, and he gets to perfectly play many versions of the date doctor: charming Hitch, allergic reaction Hitch, flustered Hitch, embarrassed Hitch, nerd Hitch. And it’s almost impossible to pick just one scene to highlight; it could be meeting Sara (Eva Mendes) for the first time, or teaching Albert (Kevin James) how to dance, or Hitch and Albert kissing, or the speed dating confrontation. You know what, just go watch the whole movie and fall in love all over again.

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1. The Pursuit of Happyness (2006)

It seems fitting that Smith’s best and worst performances featured him acting alongside his son Jaden. As you’ve noticed, I’m not a big fan of sad Will Smith, but this is the exception to the rule. Throughout the film, he wears his pain on his sleeve, constantly breaking your heart, whether he’s giving away his character’s last $5 or locked inside a subway bathroom, crying and holding on tight to his sleeping son. The emotional portrayal of homeless salesman/aspiring stockbroker Chris Gardner earned Smith the second of his two Oscar nominations, and hopefully not his last.

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