#and like they made sals lines out to be him blaming 'those people' who made fake salieri rumors like 'theyre the evil one;

[cielospeaks]

me, reading the bad translations of sals voicelines: i want to kiss you on the mouth

also me at myself:

[alternateafterthought]

Blood Moon

> Pairing: Werewolf Min Yoongi x Reader

> Summary: There were things Y/N loved and hated. Like any normal person, she loved and hated things. After adding something she once loved to her hate list, it's time for her to have a little fun. And Y/N's blood would allow her to have a lot of fun, as would anyone with powerful magic as she has. But is having fun with a werewolf worth it to a witch?

> Genre: Werewolf!au, romance, smut, angst, fluff, violence

> Warnings: Swearing,

> Word Count: 1511

> A/N: Hey guys... here is the first part of my Min Yoongi Werewolf fic!! This will be a series that will end up having all the BTS members!! But we are going to start with our SUGA!! I would really appreciate your feedback on this fic!! ALSO those who wish to be added to an eventual tag list, please leave a comment or an ask or message me!! Thank you so much for your support!!

Everyone has different love and hate things in their lives. Y/N personally loves Sal's over easy egg and sausage sandwich at Mama Mae's on the East side of town. Sal was Mama Mae's second husband and had the best recipe for sausage, also Y/N had a suspicion he might be a witch. Putting something only magic could bring out in his food, even if he swore up and down it was love.

Oh, right... Y/N had something she hated too. Hate is a strong word, and not to be used lightly in any situation. But fuck that. And fuck that man. He didn't even deserve to be remembered by name. Hate was a simple word to describe him.

And Y/N hated him.

Hated that he put her through this. Hated that everyone knew. Hated that they all know.

They were supposed to be her family. All they did was lie about the fact he was fucking some other chick and then talk about it like they were sorry for her.

Well fuck them.

Y/N was done trying to be the perfect girl. She was going to show them exactly who she really was, and show him exactly what he always missed out on. Y/N wasn't as stupid as they all thought she was, even if some of her decisions weren't always the best. They always turned out right in the end.

Violet and Sana, the only two women in the entire world who cared for Y/N, had both agreed to Y/N's plan. They didn't hesitate to bring out THE dress, pre-drinks now just 8 shots and counting. She looks well put together, a lot more nicer to look at then the mess she felt inside.

"Are you ready?" Violet ask as they stepped out of the uber, everyone lined on the streets looking at them.

It was obvious they didn't belong here. From the way their eyes almost glowed in the dark, from the tattoos that littered their skin. Anyone, even the humans in this town, knew what those markings meant.

What would witches be doing on this side of town?

"I'm so ready to forget my own name."

By 2am, Y/N was in full party mode. A thin layer of sweat covers every inch of expose skin, the last drink really had a buzz to it. Though Y/N had been adding a little something extra to her own drink, something only magic could add. And in the hopes of forgetting his name completely, getting that final break, a little magic was perfect.

The one thing that could completely ruin Y/N's night, just showed up.

He was tall, dark, handsome and so wrong. It was why she fell in love with him. He was so wrong and dangerous and everything her parents warned her against. And anything to rebel against her parents was always what she chose.

She should have listened to them.

"Y/N..." Sana now stood in front of Y/N, Violet holding onto her arm as they stood in the middle of the dance floor. "It's okay, right?"

"He can flaunt her and fuck her all he wants." Y/N looked between her two concerned best friends. "Tonight is about letting go."

"You want another drink?" Sana asked with a knowing smile.

"Or do you want that wolf who hasn't stopped staring at you since we walked in?" Violet gestured behind Y/N.

Y/N followed Violet's line of sight over her shoulder and caught the eyes of someone very powerful. Everyone in this town knows the 7. The unmistakable intensity that could only be Min Yoongi stared at her.

Y/N wouldn't say it was unfortunate, but there was a history there that not even Y/N wanted to touch tonight. She knew why he seeked her, why he seemed to be calling her with his eyes, but what's a girl to do?

With the look of the biggest mistake of her life, walking her way with a cocky smile. It was safer for her to move towards Yoongi who sat in a VIP section with the rest of the 7. Each of them seeming to enjoy the night, dancing, drinks being passed around, women throwing themselves at them.

A few knowing steps away from her friends, Y/N smirked at them, their code kicking in. They didn't have to look for her anymore, they just had to enjoy their night. She would handle herself. Y/N was a big girl.

Before Y/N could fully make her way towards the 7, someone reached out and gripped her arm. Y/N knew who it was, she could smell him. It used to be the most calming smell in the world to her. Now it was just bitter and made her sick.

"Y/N..."

Y/N ripped her arm out of his grasp, turning face to face with the man in question. He at least had the decency to look sad. It just didn't reach his eyes.

"What?" Y/N eyed him, not caring that the closest people to them had stopped, trying to listen in on the obvious tension.

"What are you doing here?" He ask. "You know your not allowed here."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her right leg, hands on her hips. The skin tight dress a second skin, helping to keep her body together, keeping her heart from bursting out of her chest. The heels she wore making her the same height as the man in front of her.

"Oh baby..." Y/N smiled mischievously. "You really don't know... do you?"

"Know what?" He asked confused.

"3 years. 3 years together and your still so stupid." Y/N shook her head, her hair moving, slightly stuck to her sweaty body.

"Is there a problem here?" The deep, familiar voice asked from behind her.

Everything around seemed to become quiet. Y/N just realised the music had stopped playing, the drinks had stopped flowing. Y/N saw that Sana and Violet stood closer to her, eyeing the fact that this idiot in front of her actual bought friends. He really bought witches to a wolf bar.

"Who are you?" He asked the man behind behind Y/N.

Y/N just sighed before the man moved closer to her, placing a hand around her waist. He pulled Y/N towards him, and Y/N let him. She knew the game. She helped invent the game. It was the only thing to save her now.

"He a friend of yours?" Yoongi's deep voice ask in Y/N's ear, loud enough for him to hear.

"No," Y/N finally turned to look at Yoongi, so close to her. "Just a mistake."

"You have one chance to ask him to leave. Or I ask him." Yoongi warned, Y/N saw the rest of his pack moving to back him up.

"He's not my business." Y/N shrugged, looking back at the obviously angry man in front of them. "I'll be sitting over there."

Yoongi saw Y/N point towards where he had been sitting. He was just glad she didn't blame him. He would do anything to give his life up for Y/N to have her sister back.

Y/N saw it, she saw it before every wolf in the club did. He thought he was quick, thought he was sly enough to get away with it. Yet everyone seemed to forget... Y/N was the one everyone should fear.

His power flared, his eyes, his markings, his hands glowed a violent green. He surged forward and attacked Yoongi as Y/N stepped out of the way. But Y/N is quicker, she was always quicker. Spinning and holding up her hands, a vibrant purple blocking him.

Yoongi, Violet, Sana, the 7, the entire club of wolves were in shock. A witch princess just protected a wolf against another witch.

He knew, Y/N knew, he would never be able to beat her in any fight. She could easily kick his ass as a joke. So how would he be in a fight against the woman he cheated on, made a joke out of. He'd never survive.

"You have a no magic rule on the premise, right?" Y/N asked, her hands still glowing purple, letting everyone know her status.

"We have a no attack rule." Yoongi's hands were now on Y/N's waist, moving her to the side, but not out of her shield to block him. "He has to be disposed of."

"Dude, I told you not to use your magic here." One of his friends whispered, panicking.

"It's okay. We'll leave." Another of his friends spoke as they backed away, pulling him along.

He realised only then, that Y/N was completely welcomed and protected here. Witch princess or not, she was friends with these wolves, with the 7. He was just a simple, lower witch, lucky to be accepted and nurtured in her coven.

He knew he messed up, and he couldn't turn back time to erase what he did. All he could do was walk out of the club, looking back at the woman he stupidly let go. The woman who was in the arms and protection of the 7.

The woman protected by the feared Min Yoongi.

[chxoticmuses]

SHIP QUESTIONS THINGY

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets​ / @themercifulmother​ said: our ships?? 🥺 ( Travis & Delores )

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?: Delores came stumbling into his cab one night drunk and rambling the whole ride.

What was their first impression of each other?: “Wow, she’s kinda odd and seems kinda weird, but she’s very pretty!” I feel like Delores didn’t have much of a first impression since she was drunk. Once she sobered up and met him again, she probably thought he was a total weirdo and creep!

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?: Travis talked about her to his coworkers a lot and they all encourage him to shoot his shots and pursue a relationship with her. As for Didi…..at least Esme told her it was a good idea to be with him.

Who felt romantic feelings first?: Travis and he felt them the very first night that they met! She trusted him to drive her home in the state that she was in? It was a sign in his head.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?: At one point, Travis did try to resist the feelings he had for her because he didn’t think he was good enough for her 😔

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?: That it was absolutely true, especially if you told them in their older years. “The universe worked hard at making sure the two of us ended up back with each other!” Is a line you’ll hear Travis say a million times. Even if you told younger them they’ll believe you as well. They’ve never found someone else who understands them and their feelings so well.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?: I feel like Delores was the one who started initiating and labeling the romantic aspects of their relationship. Travis always did things that made it seem like they were a couple, but she was always the one who was more verbal and labeled things.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?: Travis took her to a carnival that was in town. At first he was going to take her out to some fancy restaurant and really show out because that’s what people kept telling him to do, but he decided to go with his gut and it went well! They had the time of their lives laughing and riding all the rides, he even won her a humongous stuffed dog at one of those balloon shooting games.

What was their first kiss like?: It was kinda awkward to be honest. He just went in for the kiss while she was next to him on the couch changing his bandages and then there was silence. Then like two minutes later, she kissed him again. Sweet because he was finally able to show her how he felt, but when they reminisce on it they definitely find it awkward compared to their other kisses.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?: Delores was Travis’ first actual stable girlfriend. He had some experience prior to her; but nothing that was stable and tested like an actual relationship.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?: Neither of them are really considered to be tall and are just shy of average BUT there’s still a significant height difference between them. At least 8in to be exact, so I’d say she barely reaches his chest. Also, funny of you to assume that I’m going to do math. Nice try Xia, but whatever that gap may be I feel like Travis is older by 2-3yrs.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?: Errrrrm, SKIP!

Who takes the lead in social situations?: It really depends! Delores tends to take the lead or take over in situations that are awkward because Travis usually tenses up and goes stiff in moments like that. While, on the other hand, Travis takes over in tense or aggressive situations. He’s quick to come to her defense and deal with whoever’s Messi big with her.

Who gets jealous easier?: Travis! You can blame Sal for that.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?: Delores, I think? If I remember correctly?

What are their primary love languages?: Touch! They’re big on things like cuddling, hugging, holding hands, kissing, and all that lovey dovey stuff.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Not very often. I think they way they move alone, Travis usually very close to her and hovering over her like a protective figure, is enough to let people know that they’re a couple. He might do subtle things like hold her hand, pull her in to his side, or give her kisses but that’s as far as they really go in public.

What are their favorite things to do together?: Sleep! Cuddle! Anything that involves them and a bed (😏). Very therapeutic bonding time for the both of them. Some of their best memories come from being in the bed. You know how people say couch potatoes? Well, they’re bed beets.

Who’s better at comforting the other?: Delores is 100% better at comforting Travis and I think that motel thread we did is a perfect example of why. He tries his best, doing what he can to make her even feel slightly better, but she’s just way better at it then him. She always know what to say or do to get him in his prior mood.

Who’s more protective?: Travis 100%. I feel like he definitely cussed out at least one person at the motel they were staying at for messing with Delores and feeling up on her belly all the time.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: physical!! Touch is Travis’ main love language. He lets his actions express him words for him.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: Like every song from the 60s that’s about love.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: I think they stick to each other’s names, abbreviations, and common pet names like honey, baby, etc.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?: Travis proposed with a $16 ring he got from a vendor off the street while they were in their motel phase. Of course, he upgraded to a better ring once they were financially stable. I feel like the $16 ring proposal was more sentimental for them because he gave a very heartfelt speech about their relationship and how he felt about her.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?;

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?: Please, the ever so iconic Melissa and Cecilia! Cecilia is obviously the firecracker out of the two with her explosive personalities but even then they’ve never had a problem that was too serious with the girls. They’re pretty tame in Travis’ opinion.

Do they have any pets?: A dog to complete their white picket fence look and plenty of pats to account for over the years from the girls. Like Melissa’s cat that had to be returned after a day because Travis was allergic and Cecilia’s ferrets that ran loose in the middle of the night all the time and almost got killed by Travis on three (3) separate occasions.

Who’s the stricter parent?: Delores. She knows how to get the girls in line much better than Travis does.

Who kills the bugs in the house?: Travis does. I feel like everyone leaves him hanging and runs to their rooms screaming.

How do they celebrate holidays?: They don’t even invite friends or family over like that to be honest. They prefer to be in their livingroom with each other enjoying the time they’re spending together.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?: Travis convinces Delores all the time, heh. She likes to get up early and actually be a productive human, but he’s not going for that! At least twice a week he pulls her back into the bed and forces her to lay with him for another hour or two.

Who’s the better cook?: Delores all the way. Travis can cook, but he cooks dad foods like meatloaf, ribs, etc. but cooking stresses him out so he doesn’t do it too often. Only on holidays or when he’s craving something.

[shirtlesssammy]

5x22: Swan Song

In light of recent news, we thought we’d finally tackle what might have been the end (until someone went and made a demon deal, giving us 10 more years of our beloved show!) It’s weird watching this and seeing what a bummer this all would have been if it had ended like this. Sure, it was epic, but I guess I’m a sucker for a happy ending when it’s about characters I’ve come to love more than my own family. I’m also going to point to this Twitter thread about good and bad show endings. Swan Song wouldn’t have been bad had we only had TFW for five years, but we’ve watched them grow over 15 years now, and I want to see them get some peace. (Thanks to all the meta writers for throwing out the much needed hope!)

The Road So Far:

Carry on my wayward son...

Now:

We open with Chuck Shurley narrating the origin story of the most important object in pretty much the entire universe. And I’m literally two minutes into rewatching this episode and already crying. He’s tells us about it’s original owner, Sal Moriarty. (Oh, Eric Kripke, of course it was.)

And how, after he died, it ended up in the hands of John Winchester, after some persuasion by his time traveling son.

Fade to Sam and Dean in Bobby’s salvage yard, drinking beer from the little green cooler. Dean tells Sam that he’s “in” on having Sam say yes to the devil.

Dean acknowledges that Sam can make his own choices. “Watching out for you? That’s kinda been my job, you know? More than that, it’s kinda who I am.” Seeing this image Dean has of himself shift to NOT be this is really great. Dean asks if this is really what Sam wants. Sam is more resigned than enthusiastic to the plan, obv.

Cut to Team Free Will collecting demon blood like they’re stocking up for the apocalypse (err..). Dean confers with Bobby about Lucifer’s location and they determine it is Detroit.

Once on the road, Dean can’t help but notice what a cute, slumbering angel he has in the backseat. Sam logically points out that angels don’t sleep. They talk about their plan, the odds of it working, and the reality that Sam won’t be coming back from the cage. Sam makes Dean promise that he won’t try and get him back. Dean balks at the idea. Sam makes him promise that he’ll find Lisa and live “some normal, apple pie life.”

Once in Detroit, the group finds many demons out and about. Sam and Bobby have a moment. Then Sam asks Cas to “take care of these guys” for him. Cas tells Sam that it isn’t possible. Sam asks him to humor him. Cas catches on just a little too late that he’s supposed to lie. Oh Cas, you beautiful, literal goob.

Sam then gets to the business of downing four gallons of demon blood. With that done, Sam and Dean turn themselves in to the demons, who bring them to Lucifer.

Chuck continues his monologue on the Impala. He mentions the unimportant features, and then mentions the important features: Sam’s green army man, Dean’s legos, Sam and Dean’s initials. The devil doesn’t know or care about their car.

The devil wants to know what Sam and Dean are up to.

Sam says he’s ready to say “yes.” The devil reveals that he knows they have the rings that will reopen the Cage. Fuuuuuck. Sam tries bluffing, but the jig is up. Dean’s look of anguish is devastating. Lucifer likes his odds on the battle that will happen in Sam’s head. He agrees. Before Dean can do anything more than say “No”, Sam says “Yes.”

A bright light flashes and Dean finds Sam knocked out on the floor. He throws the rings on the wall and gets to opening the door to Hell. Sammy awakens and Dean helps him towards the portal. Only, PSYCH! It’s actually Lucifer. Sam didn’t stand a chance against him. He closes the portal and takes the rings.  

Once away from Dean, Lucifer has a moment with Sam, where Sam makes it very clear that he’s not done fighting.

Lucifer appeals to Sam’s worst feelings about himself, but says he wants Sam to be happy. Sam doesn’t want anything from Lucifer. Lucifer then points out the group of demons behind him. They’re all people Sam knew in his life --they were all watching Sam for Azazel.

Dean, Bobby, and Cas are watching the fallout to Sam saying yes.

Shallow Sidenote:

(Those curls!)

Cas suggests they “imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.” GRIM, DUDE --but he ain’t wrong. Cas doesn’t think there’s any way they can stop Lucifer and Michael meeting. Dean is not giving up (and he’s desperate guys -his insult at Cas was way harsh). Bobby’s even resigned to the reality of the situation.

We cut back to the room full of demons, but they’re all dead this time. Lucifer smugly looks at Sam in the mirror. “We having fun yet?” Ugh, Lucifer, you’re the worst.

Chuck’s narration cuts in like a road narrative, all misty colored and gentle. “They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove one thousand miles for an Ozzy show, two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars for hours without saying a word.” This beautiful interlude dissipates with a phone call and Chuck picks up, expecting Mistress Magda. (Eyebrow waggle.) LOL, nope! It’s Dean.

“You got a real virgin / hooker thing going on, don’t you?” Dean observes. Excuse me while I laugh forever over this line, with the confirmed Chuck-is-God context. Dean wants to know where the fight will happen. It’ll be at Stull Cemetery at high noon, just outside of Lawrence. Chuck doesn’t have any more useful information than that…but it’s a place to start.

Bobby and Cas try to prevent Dean from heading to Lawrence to intervene in the upcoming archangel showdown but their arguments are weak sauce compared to Dean’s need to save Sam. He heads off alone to Stull.

The cemetery is wispy with mist and bedraggled with age. Michael (wearing Adam) flaps in to greet Lucifer. (Side note: Saying that Michael is “wearing Adam” sounds like Adam is a fashion designer. In this epic showdown, Michael has been dressed by the FABULOUS Adam!) 

Both brothers seem regretful, but ultimately resolved. Lucifer questions why they’re fighting if neither of them wants to do it. Michael trots out the old “duty” argument. Lucifer offers an alternative: “We’re going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard.” Hey, guys. It’s a really good point. It’s also an intentional mirror of Dean, Sam, and John that I refuse to stop getting emotional about.

Michael’s tempted for a moment. Damn serpent!! “I’m a good son,” Michael decides. “You haven't changed a bit, little brother. Always blaming everybody but yourself.” This is also an excellent fucking point, man. The rumble’s still on.

Speaking of rumbling, Dean approaches in Baby with Def Leppard cranked up loud. FUCK YEAH. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” To quote Tess McGreer’s Twitter feed: MY SON!

Michael’s not into the whole threesome battle, and heads threateningly towards Dean when the camera cuts suddenly to Castiel and Bobby who have just flapped in. “Hey, assbutt!” Castiel shouts before lobbing a holy oil molotov cocktail at Michael. Bless.

Michael poofs away. “You got your five minutes,” Cas says to Dean just before Lucifer explodes him. NOOOOOOO

Lucifer’s pretty crabby by this point, so when Dean tries to verbally reach Sam again, he hurls Dean into Baby. Bobby shoots futilely at Lucifer before Lucifer snaps his neck. NOOOOOOO

“Sammy, are you in there?” Dean asks desperately. PROTECT.

“He’s gonna feel the snap of your bones,” Lucifer promises Dean. He’s gonna kill Dean slow. I’d chortle over the classic villain “kill you slow” trope except that Lucifer is beating Dean bloody and it’s really, really not funny.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” a very battered Dean tells Sam, leaving me to stare into space thinking about how he must have said this on quiet nights, comforting young Sam over nightmares or monster-under-the-bed scares.

Lucifer draws his fist back to deliver a killing blow as Dean slumps in his hold. His eye catches on a little army man stuck in the ashtray and we get a montage of Dean and Sam moments set to the soundtrack of howling wind. Sam’s fist uncurls.

And that’s it. Sam takes control. “I’ve got him,” Sam tells Dean. He hauls the rings out of his pocket and tosses them to the ground, chanting the incantation to open the cage. Dean sprawls on the ground, leaning against the car, bloodied and broken. Sam panics at the threshold to the cage when Michael!Adam appears. 

Sam takes one more look at Dean before he opens his arms wide, ready to plunge into the cage. As Michael tries to haul him back, Sam pulls him in as well.

With a blast, the cage closes and Dean is left alone in the quiet, wind-swept cemetery.

He looks up a while later to find Castiel standing behind him, whole and unblemished. “You’re alive?” Dean asks.

“I’m better than that,” Cas says and…okay. He heals Dean with a touch, then brings Bobby back to life. Good job, Cas bby!

“Endings are hard,” Chuck says, and the scene switches to his office once again. “Endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.”

We switch back to Dean and Cas in the Impala. Cas is headed back to Heaven to try to bring order upstairs. He’s ready to continue his heavenly mission, but Dean’s pissed off. “Where’s my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole.”

“You got what you asked for, Dean. No paradise. No hell. Just more of the same. I mean it, Dean. What would you rather have? Peace or freedom?”

Cas flaps out. “You really suck at goodbyes, you know that?” Always, Dean. Always.

Dean says a temporary farewell to Bobby, then shows up at Lisa’s house, CLEARLY TRAUMATIZED. What a non-booty booty call. Lisa reads the room and pulls him in for a comforting hug. (Stay tuned for my 8,000 word essay on why Lisa is the best.) 

“Up against good, evil, angels, devils, destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt endings are hard. But then again nothing ever really ends, does it?” Chuck vanishes, which is apparently his equivalent of dropping the mic.

Then, the show proceeds to not end, in the best way. Dean is still lost at Lisa’s, putting on a “normal��� front. And outside, Sam appears under a flickering street light. To be continued…for ten more seasons. <3

Quoting is Hard:

This 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.

As far as foreboding goes, it's a little light in the loafers.

Ain’t he a little angel?

I told you. This would always happen in Detroit.

MFEO. Literally.

I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave.

Cas, are you God?

Every fiber he's got, wants to die, or find a way to bring Sam back. But he isn't gonna do either. Because he made a promise.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

Gotham s5ep4 “Ruin” Personal Review

“There goes the element of surprise..”    Warning spoilers below (ahaha not this week, boy am I late, not that anyone would have missed this though, also little meta content this week)  

What I loved about the episode is that it´s the “apocalypse” and then it comes down to a crime scene investigation! I would take much more of that! Much more!  Just less of a bloodthirsty MOB. Like would they really want Zsasz hanged? The evidence was pretty clear, Jim Gordon really got no reason to lie to them, actually it would greatly benefit him if he did. Do they really not want to see the real culprit punished? I´m not a fan of lynch/mob law in general but does it make sense for the mob to want the wrong guy hanged, that way the police probably will think / claim everything is settled and call it a day, which means the real culprit is free to do that again, but then again I wonder how many people know about Zsasz and him having been a hitman, did some of them have had relatives that got into Carmine / Sal Maroni crossfire, was this partly a he´s a guilty filthy criminal *anyway* thing?  * “You don't need to smuggle in explosives when you can detonate 250 gallons of highly pressurized heating oil that's coursing through all the floors.”  Ah damn, they really had Edward Nygma do it, I kind of didn´t want them to follow that route. Also why put that running guy with bomb in there then, huh .. damn exploding herrings.  HOPE goes on and off this week:  “But whoever destroyed that building can't destroy the hope we've built. Not unless we let them.” “I told the people it was safe. I made them into a target.” “Jim, you gave 'em” “Don't tell me I gave 'em hope. They're dead.”  * It´s GOOD vs. EVIL “This city will never be what you want it to be, Jim. It's always gonna belong to the bad guys, like me.”  “People like you are always trying to own this city. But you never will.” * It´s GOOD ft. EVIL Oswald Cobblepot poses as if he was the synthesis of both those opposites: A bad guy that cares. “I lost people, too, Jim. People you lured with promises of safety and security, only to have them incinerated.”  Oswald arms the GCPD talking about working together just to take over and get his own trials and justice going. He´s claiming to provide what Jim can´t. While both Barbara Kean & Oswald Cobblepot claimed their help came no strings attached Oswald´s help does not include staying aside and letting them do their work. Although to be fair he said “Save for the one that we will cinch around the neck of the Haven bomber.” What is it with people that it always needs a couple hundred dead people that they can focus on nice things. Anyway everyone is appropriately appalled with this atrocity. They also gave all the villains some selfish reasons. OSWALD COBBLEPOT wants people and their cheers. EDWARD NYGMA wants the file of the inmate.  “I've been putting out feelers.” BARBARA KEAN is worried Sirens might be next, making her probably the least “selfish” one because she seems to care about the people that she protects and might not demand the same level of praise that Oswald does. (I know probably other things but unless canon proves me wrong I headcanon slightly differently) She feels hurt but understands Jim would suspect, even for a moment that she could be responsible for the destruction Haven. They slowly get her back on suitable for Jim Gordon to kiss track, which phu idk. I liked her and their relationship in S1,  but there´s just so much happened in between. And plenty in Barbara´s characterization I didn´t like so it´s nice to see her on a more reasonable track now but how about they just gave her an awesome relationship with Tabitha ........  Characterization questions aside I really loved that she did not and could not kill Oswald in the light of the explosion! That was a touching moment!  Also her outfit is nice, although they toned down the make up. And Jim gripping her arm during the kiss almost gives old timey movie vibes. I´m sure I don´t need to write on Babs / Oswald paralells, I assume I just can reblog better words on it from someone ..  * Also something tells me if JIM GORDON  had gotten that shoot out with VICTOR ZSASZ, that kiss would not have happened …… “Inmate number 1215 knows! Knows what???!!??!” Ha, distressed, puzzled, annoyed EDWARD NYGMA is a joy to watch. I don’t really have to say more on that. Edward snatching the blanket from the woman when walking into the GCPD makes me wonder, what would he have done if that woman hadn´t been there? Just walked in? Did he have a stupid disguise and was like, oh no wait that´s better.  He and LUCIUS FOX were a delight. Edward trying to snatch the file from him and run was wonderful! Him preening in pride when his expertise is wanted was delightful! Lucius claiming, he´ll deny having said the praise he gave Edward in the end, precious! Lucius playing him like a fiddle, and moving him with barely more than his fingertips, damn! Just that the whole thing was shot like when Ed pursued Kristen Kringle!  Their dynamic is just wonderful: “Impressive. Calculated the angle of incident to follow the trajectory through the window, into the fuel oil tanks.” “Yep. That, and the RPG case is right over there.”  * One thing that stressed me was Ed sending the Files flying around him on the rooftop. Like at that moment he didn´t yet know that the woman he saw in the window was connect to the note he put down on his hands. Even when the inmate was dead there could have been some hints in the file or who knows in hid grave. Like, no Edward! No! Go run and pick them up.  * Someone needs to do a Parallel Meta for 5x04 & 4x12  when Ed found out he hired the hit on Leslie Thompkins. * “I did not make that building go boom, Jim.”   Yeah, that´s a VICTOR ZSASZ line. Love him. * ““Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's.” Food and cut off limbs, that´s another one. Love him. * And that one: “Do the math.  If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars.  You guys want to do a strip search?” “I'd let Alvarez do it. He's handsome” * Him shooting Oswald´s head on the major poster after he said something was a great detail! * Him drinking while waiting for the bullet hail to stop as well. * I´m gonna make a post about the Gunman magazine that fell on the floor, after Jim tackled him so majestically ...  * Zsasz usurping the applause afterwards, and later was adorable. * “Is this about Sofia Falcone? Because you should really move past that. It's not healthy.” DOES HE KNOW SHE KILLED CARMINE, DOES HE OR DOES HE NOT ???? They had him express sympathy towards Carmine in Season 1, they showed that he cared when Carmine got killed. I get that he might abandon issues like that in the current environment but they can´t open up such a plotline and then just drop it. Does he know that Oswald didn´t kill Carmine? Like honestly .. I know it´s the Jim Gordon show but I would have loved it if Victor Zsasz just had saved himself!! I would have loved it even more if along the way they somehow figured out the whole misconception, Zsasz would recognize that Sofia and not Oswald is to blame and maybe even apologize. * But hey Oswald´s “Well said” about the mumbled last words was mean but awesome. * Soooo who went in the trashy local torture museum to get the guillotine? * How does Zsasz work? There where zero people shown around him. What is it like to live on Zsasz turf? * Zsasz mumbling must have been bewildered that they aren´t honouring the tradition of the last meal before an execution, like he got his order ready, that was the last silver lining, if he´s really going to face his end at the hands of penguin in those halls at least he´s going to get his teeth into something juicy and tasty before it happens ..  SELINA KYLE, (Bruce Wayne), JEREMIAH VALESKA, ECCO * Sykes and the Soothsayers digging a tunnel for Jeremiah Valeska. Is that poetic justice? Also is this a new tunnel, when the Soothsayers had the children dig it they went out of their way to state that their cruelty is even more infuriating because the whole endeavour is very likely futile.  Like they made it damn clear that the TUNNEL is not going to go anywhere. Also would Jeremiah, who made the bridges go boom want a tunnel that remedies that  issue partly? Only for himself? His cult? Is he doing something else altogether? Is it about what he can get into the city through it? Is he better at static issues and remedied the tunnel digging plan? Was he involved before?  * “Yes you certainly have set a very high bar - for devotion.” Fucker gave me an earworm, Ordo Rosarius Equilibrio & Spiritual Front - A Song 4 Hate and Devotion (live) I mean quite a fitting mood considering all the other portrayals of the Harley and Mr. Jay relationship, but maybe they give ECCO and JEREMIAH VALESKA a different path. Aside from that the little dance was slightly nice. * “Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls Or is he the sidekick?” Yes! Ecco got the right spirit. I wonder if Ecco sees herself as sidekick?  “You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence.So what do we do when we feel like giving up?” “Dig a little deeper.” “And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer?” “Dig a little deeper.” “And what do we ..” “Deep enough?”  I´m afraid it was not deep enough, I´m afraid it was quite shallow because the show is not as clever as Ecco, I bet that he isn´t dead, if he was it if could have actually been just about her. Honestly, I would love that. All the BatJokes built up and then it´s about Selina. And she has plenty right for it to be about her, Jeremiah almost killed her. What else does it need.  * SELINA KYLE keeping in the shadows investigating, disguising herself as one of the people there, then getting close to Jeremiah dressed as Ecco: She´s good! She´s awesome! * That GCPD woman that was doing PAPERWORK when Ed sneaked into the building. Do they do regular paperwork? Cause damn, considering the governmental neglect if Jim got them to bother to do the regular paperwork he must have given one hell of a speech. Or is it paperwork related to organize a place like Haven? How do they do things? * Oswald destroying all strategy with a megaphone: “There goes the element of surprise.” * “Elevated position, back to the sun.” * “Never ever ask me to do anything like that again. Pull yourself together.” Harvey does not approve of Wild West Jim  * “ I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide - a modicum of grease.” / “I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did.”  / “By the power vested in me by well, me, I sentence you, Victor Zsasz, to die.”   * “One of the areas in which I excel is the loosening of tongues.” “No. He's mine”  Oh damn I thought Jim said “it´s mine” as in he´s better with interrogations. Well there goes my whole comparison with the Edward Nygma & Lucius Fox expertise quip:  “So, the second smartest man in Gotham needs my help.” “Explosives are not my expertise.”  “Didn't realize you had one.”  *“Jim Gordon cares more about protecting a murderer than he does about protecting you!” Okay look who is projecting .... 

[greenroverman]

Needs A Title...

The sound of chewing snapped me out of this incredible dream I was having about a redhead in a convertible, a glossy red Ferrari with camel leather interior and custom chrome wheels with the high performance, low-profile tires. I just wanted to drive it around the block four or five times and see what it could do, maybe hit the open road and really open it up. In my dream, I was just about to ask the redhead to scooch on over and then sit in the driver’s seat when I heard the loud gnashing sound. I could feel tingling and moisture on my arm, sharp teeth were tearing into my hand. Surprisingly, I couldn’t feel pain – I guess that’s the first stage of shock. I believe shock is appropriate when being chewed on by a very upset chipmunk. It serves me right for falling dead asleep in that old sagging oak tree in the middle of nowhere. The most important question I had at that time was not: what was a pissed off rodent doing snacking on my arm, but where were my pants?

     Pants are strangely important when lost in the middle of nowhere. My keys, wallet, and a fancy pistol that I took from an exotic dancer named Mercedes were also missing. I’m hoping they were together, waiting for me, maybe huddled together. After kindly removing my bloody appendage from the chipmunk’s mouth, and scolding the little rat for taking advantage of a passed out traveler, I sat up and looked around. The tree was the same, but last time I checked Earth had a blue sky, not green, and we only had one moon not five. I think this situation might bump the pants down to priority two. The air smelled like rotten garbage mixed with old motor oil. The green sky was surprisingly clear and the five moons shone bright, lighting up the vast emptiness surrounding me. I’ve got an oak tree, a chipmunk, and no pants – what was in that last cocktail? This is either an incredibly vivid trip or the most elaborate hoax I’ve ever seen. I guess a distant third choice was that I wound up on some alien planet after having the most insane night ever. I think I’m going to have a flashback here…

     Things had started normal enough: dinner at Jimmy’s Fine Italian dining with my buddy Sal, then out to Bubble’s club on the west side – where there was this amazing act involving a…chipmunk! I knew I had seen that little guy before – he does good work! From there I was just a passenger in Ms. Cheeky LaPoosh’s limo. Cheeky kept plying me with social lubricant to get me to talk about what I do for a living, but why would Cheeky be interested in a trauma monkey like me. I told her I worked the late shift at the Emergency Center on the south side, the one in the neighborhood where gunshot wounds were passed out like popsicles on a summer day at kid’s camp. My job as a surgeon was a lot like an Asian kid in a Nike sweatshop – keep on sewing and keep the stitching tight. I suppose I was getting good at it – made employee of the month in June. But that was all she was getting out of me, at least at that moment.

     The limo stopped at a place called Flush and we all stumbled out. The bouncer recognized Cheeky and hurried us to a private booth in the back. And that’s when thing got interesting: a bottle of some unrecognizable liquid and 3-4 bags filled with an assorted rainbow of pills. I wasn’t the type to participate – I usually just watched and waited for someone to pass out, knowing first aid would be needed. I’m not sure if something fell into my drink or if it was deliberate, but I think I swallowed a green and a red, and maybe a blue. I do know that the room was spinning and I was either on the floor or the ceiling. I finally woke up in the back of the limo with Cheeky and Sal and 4-5 other people I didn’t recognize. A deep conversation about some pop psychology drivel was forming, something about hand washing and moral purity. The theory presented by the pleather couch brigade was that people who wash their hands frequently were more likely to be upstanding humans. Based on the amount of pills and alcohol consumed, this brood had certainly never washed their hands in their lives. But honestly, I couldn’t hear details over the roar of the freight train running through my head. Someone handed me a bottle of something and I drained it – thankfully it was only water. I leaned my head back against the window and closed my eyes.

     I was startled awake by a gunshot and a scream, the smell of gunpowder was close so “we” must’ve done the shooting. Of course, the sound of the scream was also close, so “we” must’ve been shot! One of the girls with us, a delightful stripper stereotypically named after a luxury automobile, Mercedes had shot Sal in the leg for having inappropriate body boundaries, which is normally appropriate, but there may or may not have been a transaction or barter. Can’t say I blame her either way. But eight years as a trauma surgery in the nastiest hospital in the metro-area had prepared me for this moment. I doused the wound with a half-bottle of Vodka then used the ice cube grabber to dig into the wound to remove the bullet. My tie made a decent tourniquet and then my Armani shirt became a compress. Did you know that Armani uses a specific type of wool found only in one particular area of Italy known for its high-absorbance properties – in fact after a rain, the sheep usually can’t move because of the amount of rain they soaked up. Crisis averted, I took away the gun from Mercedes and stuffed it in my suit coat pocket – why did she need a .40 S&W pistol with custom grips, easy-pull trigger, and 16-round high-capacity magazine? I suppose there are those out there that would question why I wouldn’t need one. Although, the thought occurred to me that we do live in a rather violent time in a violent city with creepy guys like Sal around.

     Sal was a little worn out at this point, wanting to go home. We dropped Sal off at his place, it was a dump – walking in you would think that the place was tossed by thieves looking for something, but no, Sal was just a slob. I made sure he was tucked in bed with some pain killers and the roaches. I figure I would check up on him tomorrow on the way to work. I glanced at the clock on the microwave while walking out the door, it screamed 3 A.M., plenty of night left.

I decided to hitch a ride back to my car with Cheeky. I had parked in a dimly light space on the second floor of the hospital parking garage. Cheeky invited me back to her place for a night cap. I figured it would be prudent to turn it down at this point and head home – plus after witnessing the shooting of my best friend, and the strange mixture of whatever I had taken earlier, I figured that would be the safest place for me.

Unlocking the door of my midnight black Mercedes-Benz AMG coupe, I sat in the plush leather sport seat for a moment to catch my breath. I had expected a simple dinner and maybe a few drinks, instead I wound up hanging out with a stripper queen named Cheeky, a gun wielding psycho, and had one hell of a headache. Time to go home, take some Tylenol, (yes, Doctors really recommend it) and go to bed!

I backed out of my space carefully. Despite my foibles, I was a fairly cautious driver, mostly. I cruised down the spiral to the garage exit. The road was empty, so I gave it a blast with my right foot. The twin turbo V-8 engine with excessive horses roared to life and left a decent strip of tire and smoke in my wake. The ridiculous zero-to-sixty time passed smoothly and the speedometer told me I hit 100 mph in around 6 seconds.

Yellow lines blurred into a paste smeared behind me as I cruised on the highway. I decided to take the long winding road, the path I rarely travelled. I had the speedo pegged at about 110 mph when a deer bound out into the middle of the road. Hitting anything at that speed is like running full speed into a brick wall – it’s going to hurt and something will break.

Blood splattered the windshield. I went off the road straight into a tree. I heard the bang, slam, and smelled the acrid smoke pouring out of the engine compartment. Hollywood would lead us to believe that the car would burst into flames at this point and then explode into a three-story fireball. Fortunately, fireballs don’t happen most of the time. The Mercedes was a crumpled mess. I survived, thank God for air bags, and opened the door – good engineering required that the door still be able to open in a catastrophic accident. The deer was in the middle of the road, writhing in pain.

     I never shot anything before, but the poor bastard didn’t deserve to go out like this – suffering from grievous wounds. The .40 S&W was a powerful, highly accurate round – the bullet caught the deer just below the eye socket, leaving a small entry wound but the back of its skull was blown out onto the asphalt. I figure that was the most decent thing I’ve ever done in my life.

     This is the point where I get a little fuzzy. I was standing there shaking from the crash and from putting the deer down and I remember a bright light. I heard a ringing in my ears and a loud sound like a bomb exploding – and no, it wasn’t the Mercedes exploding into a Bay-esque fireball, I checked.

And that’s when I woke up to being a chipmunk snack.

The green sky and the smell of the air had a disconcerting effect on my fragile mind. I had one weird night, but this was over the top. Where were my pants? I don’t swear much, but I feel that this circumstance warrants it. So I looked at the beautiful five moon sky and let out a stream of obscenities that would make a trucker blush.

Bearings. I needed to get my bearings. I was standing in a field next to an oak tree. The chipmunk was a sleep – maybe he was dead – I could only hope! I stretched my legs, after a nasty car crash you would think that I would start to feel sore or cramp up. I surprisingly felt…alive, like I could run, jump, or wrestle an angry chipmunk.

Scanning the horizon, I saw a glimmering object about 30 feet away, hoping it was my pants, I walked towards it. It wasn’t my pants, but the gun. I worked the action and checked the magazine like I’ve seen in the movies; I knew I had at least 2 bullets. I would imagine that having a loaded weapon in a strange world would have a calming effect, but I felt scared. Where was I? What would I face? How do I get home?

I decided to keep walking in the direction I found the gun, maybe my pants were close as well. In front of me was a dense forest of blue pine trees – not blue spruce, but actual blue pines. Was I in a Dr. Suess book? The important thing to note is that they smelled like pine trees, that sweet sappy smell that I love. I closed my eyes and breathed and it was as if I was at home in my backyard. I lived on 20 acres in the woods – I might be a highly-skilled medical doctor, but I was a country boy at heart. Pine has a calming effect on my spirit.

Venturing into the woods further, I crossed a creek that ran with green water. Flowing over rocks and around sand bars, I figured it was safe to drink, even if it seemed to have a high algae content, at least that’s what I figured it was. The banks of the creek were lined with broad leafed plants that formed natural cups. I plucked off the nearest leaf and dipped it into the cool, flowing water. I had to test it, so I dipped my pinky into the water – it didn’t burn or melt my finger off. Test one, successful. I dipped my finger in again and put a drop in my mouth. It was the best tasting water I have ever had in my life. Although it was cold, I felt warmth in my stomach. I took a long pull from the leaf and immediately felt refreshed. I drank until I was satisfied – about half of a leaf full of the amazing water.

I decided to keep moving, those pants weren’t going to find themselves.  After walking for what seemed like an hour, the forest started to thin out. I stopped at the edge of a clearing and there ahead of me was the most amazing sight I had ever seen in my life. A wall. This was a special wall, it was 100 feet tall – I guess. And it looked like it was made out of solid gold! But in my mind, all that mattered was that a wall meant civilization, that meant people, and that meant…pants.

The wall was a journey in itself. It took three hours of hiking around the circumference to find an entrance. The break in the wall was a wooden door, about 20 feet tall. There were cobwebs on the door and rust on the hinges – this obviously wasn’t the main gate. I tried the knob on the door, figuring it was locked. Surprisingly it was not and it opened rather easily. The door opened into the pitch black, but better there than in the woods – I was one step closer to pants.

I figured the room I stepped into was filled with books. There was that musty smell of old paper and leather, aged with time into a crisp mildewed odor mixing with the sweet mahogany of the bookshelves. I felt along the wall of the room for a switch, and was shocked to actually find one. I flipped the switch and a single light bulb flickered and began to give off a faint hum and then warmed into a steady dim glow. Sure enough, I was in a library or archive of some sorts, but from all the dust and spider webs I figure it hadn’t seen visitors in years.

The room wasn’t particularly large, about as big as a bedroom in a suburban house – one of those planned community things – little boxes as the song says. Shelves covered every wall floor to ceiling – and dust covered that. There were a few tables in the room, covered in books as well – stacks 10-12 books high in places, others were open and laying on top of the piles. The floor was just as dusty as the rest of the room and I didn’t see any footprints or signs of life – other than mine.

I had found civilization, but it sure seemed abandoned. I decided to look at the books that were open on the table to see if I could recognize anything about them. Imagine my surprise when I was able to read the writing! I picked up the book and sat in the only place in the room, a huge high backed wooden chair covered with intricate carvings in a foreign script. The seat was padded and covered in a rich red leather – and dust. I began reading the tome and found that it was a treatise on patience and I immediately wanted to skip that book to the next, but I decided to read a few paragraphs and found myself becoming calmer. As I read it seemed as though time stopped and I forgot I was in an alien environment. I finished the book and was amazed at the clarity and reasoning, I felt a measure of new confidence and security – was that book magic?

I picked another book from the pile; it had a wooden cover with the same intricate carvings as the chair, totally unrecognizable symbols. The book was heavy, much heavier than its size would let on, and after reading the first paragraph I figured out why it had so much weight – the subject matter was very deep.

A ship from a safe port had set out to sea, unsure of its destination. It began moving through the ocean in one direction and ran into a terrible storm. The waves pounded the ship and damaged the rudder. The poor ship was throw like a baseball from one wave to another, the sails were torn, and the crew was terrified.

When the storm had passed, the crew made a few repairs to the sails and started moving again, further into the ocean rather than back to the safety of the harbor. Another storm struck the vessel and tore at the mast and ripped at the crew, many lives were lost and the ship took on much water. But then calm came again and the remaining crew set about repairing what damage they could – a tattered sail with patches was the best they could muster. They continued on towards the open waters, hoping to find a new port for repairs. Eventually they came to a port, but it was filled with pirates and thieves, the crew barely escaped in their damaged ship.

Again they sailed out into the open ocean and finally, they ran into a hurricane. The waves ran higher than they had ever seen. The fierce wind hit like a sledgehammer. The ship, already damaged, was destroyed and the crew drowned in the horrible blackness.

The end of the book had a single note:

Think of your life as the ship and the storms as the trials you face. Do you continue aimlessly or do you return to your port of safety?

I sat for a moment after reading and wept. I realize that I had always lived my life going from crisis to crisis, my crazy night was a prime example. What did I need to learn from this?

That’s when I saw something that caught my eye on the table. A tall yellowed piece of parchment with bold lettering across the top: WANTED. The image was a familiar face – button nose, cruel eyes, buck teeth, and whiskers. Apparently his name was Charmine the Chipmunk. He was wanted for horrible, horrible crimes that I won’t mention here. Dead or Alive – I immediately felt for the gun tucked into my tattered underwear. How I wish I had pants!

>

[butascoundrel-blog]

rp with @farmboymchanic . it’s not formatted or anything but since i had to change blogs, just wanted to leave the old replies available to read

Ellis had to check on Keith one last time before he headed out. His mom had warned him to just get out and go. Promise me El, Promise me you’ll get out. The words rung too loud in his ears. He wasn’t even sure if his mother had left with Dave like she told Ellis she was. Somehow Ellis doesn’t really buy it, didn’t buy the story of her leaving. A ping of guilt pushes it’s way through his chest but he ignores it. Ellis knows that his mother would go because she said she would– and Ellis would leave after he checked on Keith.

It wouldn’t take long, only a moment– only 20 minutes from the shop. It wouldn’t be long and Ellis just needed to. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t. Keith would be fine until this all blew over. Ellis would come back and either would be fine. But, seeing was believing and that was the only mission the redneck was on when hoards of people were pushing the other way.

Keith was fine, left right were he should have been not a soul in sight. Everything would be fine. That’s all Ellis could think of two hours later when he was finally trying to get the hell outta there.  Ellis has started off in his pick up truck, down the road but quickly realized that might not be the best plan. A quarter of a tank would get him nowhere and the gas station wasn’t an option. He was on foot soon after that. He locked up his car and hoped for the best.

The town on the other hand, wasn’t as friendly as it should have been. Littered with looters, people scrambling to make their way out– the infected. The first one Ellis came across, nearly got him. Scared him shitless and he didn’t see the fucker coming. It had taken three smacks from the baseball bat he was carrying to finally get the monster from hissing. Ellis won’t admit to emptying his stomach, but he had. Twice on the side walk.

This crazy shit, really wasn’t a lie. But, it would be fine. Everything was always fine if he pushed through it. Keith had taught him to not give up even when shit hit the fan. He just had to think straight. He wished the older man was here now, Keith always knew the right thing to do. Ellis looked up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A Diner.  

Supplies.

Grab supplies and run the hell to an evac center. There was one at the hotel a few miles up, he heard the radio. He just needed a few more weapons, something preferably metal. Maybe a first aid kit– to take care of the scratches the infected left. Ellis winced, yea a first aid kit would do him good.

He took off, setting a light jog for himself. Ellis pushed his way through the door of the diner. It was quiet, lights out and not a soul insight. He frowned. Only a few hours really made a difference, maybe he shouldn’t of waited so long to get moving. He pushed that thought aside. He pushed his way towards the back of the building to the kitchen. Ellis nearly jumped when he heard a noise, he slowed raising his bat. He turned the corner into the back quickly ready to hit the son of the bitch before they could rip out his throat.

Only to be greeted by a man who looked just as surprised as Ellis was. “Holy shit! Ya scared the shit, outta me” He said almost too loudly for the small diner. “Damn near thought ya were one of ‘em chompers runnin’ around. “

3:30 PM.  That’s what the grimey clock in the even grimier bar said the last time he glanced at it expecting nothing less than humankind’s approximation of time.  That’s the last time such an exact hour mattered for anything.  How direly important it had seemed at that time to rush out of that bar and hail a taxi, or at the very least search for a payphone.  His cell had been acting up the past few hours, but at the time he’d just blamed it on the reception.  Easy to do, as it was easy to blame each and every one of his annoyances that day to the town he very unfortunately found himself stuck in.  He was only there to meet someone and pick something up.  Pretty standard.  The choice of location was not his, but he’d known better than to argue.  Besides, he had a plane ticket in his pocket and Big Sal’s number scrawled on a matchbook in case things went sideways.  Nasty, greedy fucker.  Nick would laugh at his funeral if he only had the decency to finally die.  

At first Nick didn't notice how empty the place was, too concerned about the fact that the seat in front of him was still empty.  He couldn't believe this...didn’t that guy know his life rode on him showing up?  Hell, both their lives depended on this pick up.  Nick was wondering if this was a set up when he felt the presence of a body approaching his arm.  Surly and snarling he turned, ready to cuss someone out, but the nastiness drained out of him at the sight.  It was the waitress, the one who kept creeping over here, very obviously suspicious of Nick and the bulge in his pocket but too chicken shit to say anything.  Nick didn’t blame her, never feeling or looking so rough in weeks, but it still irritated the shit out of him.  But as he looked at her now he was filled with a deep, primal-level revulsion that his subconscious understood far better than his conscious mind.  The woman was sick.  With what, he couldn't even begin to guess, but as he shrank away from her, feeling wall behind his back, the germs she was probably spraying were the least of his concern.  She was covered in fresh blood but didn’t seem to have any injuries herself; her eyes started straight through Nick and her hands reached out like claws, swiping and scratching at his hair and clothes and face.  The sounds she made was what really chilled Nick to the bone, and what made it easy for him to raise both knees up and kick her away with all his force.

He watched with sick horror as she backed into a hat hook and enmeshed the thick metal curve into her shoulder, only to continue her determined growling, her arms seeking him out all the same.  “Jesus…” he whispered, too dumbfounded to move for a moment.  The sound of thumping from across the room rang out like a gunshot; the poor old waitress was out of his mind in a second.  Whatever the hell was happening, he was damned if he’d stick around here to find out.  

He slid out of that booth quicker than even he knew he could move, somehow managing not to fall on his face, and ran for the door.  Grabbing his gun from his pocket, he checked it briefly, not sure if he was about to emerge into something much worse outside.  Shoving the door open with hs shoulder, the sunshine blinded him for a frustrating moment.  Outside it was deathly silent...until it wasn’t.  He was just getting his sight back when more of those hideous, inhuman sounds seemed to rise and swell all around him, getting closer even as he made himself run on shaking legs.  

The next thirty minutes or so went like a blur.  He couldn't pretend to know what was happening, but either way the novelty wore off fast.  Before too long his mind automatically registered every vaguely human shape as a threat.  He’d wasted a few shots in desperation at first, but was saving his few remaining rounds now, as he ran across a parking lot filled with haphazardly parked cars and the sounds of moaning.  Covered in blood and some kind of slime, Nick made it into the department store where he caught his breath.  He couldn’t relax too hard though--he saw among the smashed displays some more sick ones, but they did not seem to notice him--not yet.  He carefully sank to his knees and panted raggedly as he tried to figure out what to do next.  Big Sal was sure going to be pissed, but it looked like he’d have to wait in line behind the entire population of Savannah if he wanted a piece of the con man.  Wildly he thought for a moment the town had just been hit by biological weapons, and somehow he had escaped the effects.

It was all he could do to keep from vomiting from the smell of his clothes alone; he was pretty sure those others would notice it, too.  So during the lull he set his gun down silently and stripped the ruined outfit off and lifted some things from the racks he hid behind.  It was literally the end of the world but he still found time to balk at the first set of clothing he’d grabbed, and he took the precious time to snatch something else.  Something expensive.  Silk, imported.  And amazingly, in his size, though the suit jacket seemed a bit roomy.  He might have taken more if he’d felt safe enough to stay in there.  By pure dumb luck he managed to slip back out into the streets just as the growling became louder and closer, spotting an open door in the alley.  It was a hell of a risk, but he stepped through the door and into an abandoned kitchen with his .45 raised.  He just needed a place to stop and rest and think.  All those knives lying around definitely did not escape his notice, either.  He shut the door behind him, trying to be quiet but it made a sickening, dull thud that made him wince.  

Nick’s heart was in his throat as he crept on towards the door leading to the diner, ready for anything--except to look into a pair of living, human eyes.  Dumb luck struck once again; Nick was too startled to squeeze the trigger, though at first glance the other man registered as one of them.  The young man wouldn’t know it but it was his voice that saved his life, the one thing that made it obvious to Nick’s rattled brain that this was not a threat.  He lowered his gun, but the wild look in his eyes remained.  “You didn’t lead any of them in here, did you?” he demanded, looking past him.  “Don’t tell me that godamn door’s open…”  He threw the other man a look as if he personally blamed him for letting the world go to hell.

The door. Shit.

Had it shut behind Ellis? Even the country boy was starting to question himself. “Naw. “ He supplied but didn’t sound so sure. Ellis’ hand tightened on his bat handle before he peaked outta the kitchen where they were back towards the front of the diner. The door had sure enough shut once Ellis had pushed through. He made sure to eye the area carefully, no monsters seemed to be running a muck.

He relaxed visibly at that. “ Naw, dun look like it “ He turned back to Nick frowning a bit. “Have ya seen ‘em runnin’ ‘round? I dun didn’t believe none of this shit, not really ya know. Listenin’ to it on the radio and seein’ it for real… ‘S not the same. I had to take one out, a ways back. I-” Ellis shook his head as he continued to ramble on. “Shit, ain’t right. “ Ellis confirmed loudly.

 Ellis was really at a loss here, but he felt better that he had run into someone– who wasn’t dripping blood. It was comforting in a sense. Ellis had wished Keith was here, he was older– he’d know just what to do. He figured the older man besides him could be the next best thing. Ellis wouldn’t voice it, but he was scared. Scared of those fucking nasty looking things that were running around. Zombies. It was an insane thought in and of it’s self. But here he was. If only Keith could see this shit. They would have been fighting the fuckers with some crazy as shit, Ellis was sure of it.

 Ellis pushed forward into the kitchen more, hell bent on finding something better than his horrible bat. As expected, there wasn’t much more than knifes– a frying pan here and there maybe.  He pushed and pulled open a few draws before looking in one of the cabinets. He shook his head. “ Mr.Fancy man, “ Ellis said as he raised his head from where he was searching under the counter. “Ya headin’ to that Evac Center? “ Maybe the man would have a car, less of a walk by foot. Ellis figured it was worth a shot.

 He dug around a bit more until he found a small box of band aids in the back. He let out a whoop. Thank god. Get those cuts clean on his shoulder. Make him feel better even just for a second. “That’s the last thing I heard before I left my truck. “ Ellis wet a towel, dabbing it at the cut on his shoulder. “The radio kept blastin’ ‘bout the helicopter evacs. My ma was suppose to be headin’ there. “ Ellis turned his attention back to the man curiously.  

 Nick calmed down when Ellis confirmed the door was indeed shut, but his relief was mixed with a quick inrush of irritation, like raw nerves being ground against asphalt, with every extra word uttered by the young man.  He was listening to him through a very strict filter: anything that didn’t directly affect him, he ignored.  He’d probably even miss something important, actually, his attention was divided so harshly, trying to hear through the very walls themselves, trying to figure out in his mind what his extended plan could be.  

 He gripped his pistol tighter and edged back as Ellis came in deeper and watched him with narrowed eyes as he searched the kitchen for weapons.  Force of habit, little else.  Though with every second his suspicion of this other person dropped to pretty much nothing.  Nick formed a judgement about the younger man pretty quickly--and it wasn’t too flattering, mostly due to his place of residence.  He didn’t think much of this place, this state, the people here.  He didn’t exactly expect this young and talkative guy to be much different.  Though he did find it strange that the other guy would be so friendly with him, a perfect stranger.  Because that’s not how Nick would have reacted if he’d been on the other side of that bat.

He thought of what he could ask him that might help him, his thoughts interrupted at the question thrown at him, and was the slightest bit confused a minute at being called Fancy.  He almost wanted to laugh.  The threads sure did feel good against his skin, the parts that weren’t already caked in dirt and dust and blood practically shone.  But he felt filthy, mussed up, rough.  “Evac Center?” he blurted without thinking, foolishly displaying his ignorance at the situation.  He chalked it up to stress and recovered, “uh...yeah...I didn’t catch where it was, though.”  The hope that the other had a vehicle--he figured he had to have a truck, right?--put some light in his eyes, but he kept silent about that and watched Ellis go into the back.  He followed cautiously, watching and listening, while every now and then scanning the area, listening for anything at either door.  The whooping sound made him jump and look back at Ellis with a glare he managed to lessen when the younger man looked back at him.  The mention of his mother was sad--if Nick had any less tact he might have advised the kid to give up any hope on seeing her alive again.  So he ignored the comment altogether.  He came a little closer and asked with a nervous strain to his voice he heard but couldn’t suppress, “Hey, what the fuck is actually happening out there?  Are we under attack?”  He figured between the two of them, the guy who was actually from here would know something.  He sure fucking hoped so.

 Ellis nodded. Maybe the older man wouldn’t have things figured out like Keith. Figures, city slicker looked a bit lost. He was lucky to have found Ellis then. He beamed at Nick. “We’ll lucky for ya, that’s where I’m goin’! Ya can tag ‘long if ya wanna. Be nice to have someone watch my back” Ellis admits unashamed. The help would go a long way, the younger male had to admit it. Now more than ever.

 His attention was pulled back to Nick as he raised an eyebrow. Maybe the older man hadn’t been watching the news. Hell, Ellis hadn’t really paid much attention. It was mostly his ma that kept watching the shit. If it wasn’t for her– Ellis shakes his head. “It ain’t just here. “ He said as he finished cleaning up his cut the best he could. He stuffed a few band aids in his pocket for later, he was clumsy they would be well needed. He shifted, his attention fully towards the man now.

“I ain’t pay much attention to it. My ma was glued to the tv for days. I can tell ya what I know. It ain’t much. “ Ellis admits, and for once he wished he was a news watching kinda guy. “ ‘Ey call it the Green Flu. Ain’t look like no flu to me. Have ya seen the people runnin’ ‘round. Reminds me of an animal with rabies. “ Ellis paused a moment as if remembering something more important. “Keith’s good buddy Dave, one of his dogs dun got rabies. It looked a lot a like. The damn thin’ got all nasty, ready to bite ya if ya were too close…. ‘s like those thin’s out there. “ Ellis frowned, before he shaked his head.

 “I ain’t really know nothin’ else. “ He says after a long pause. “I dun think we’re under attack. “ He asked before he shook his head. “Ain’t nothin’ here for people to wanna attack. Ain’t like we’re in the city. Nothin’ is around here” Ellis bites his lip a moment before he shifts a bit.

 “How many have ya seen? I recon I haven’t run into many. But, they’re nasty– hard to take down. “

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

The Best He Can

Characters: Baby, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Y/N Y/L/N (Reader), Bobby Singer, Charlie Bradbury, Donna Hanscum, Jody Mills

Pairing: Dean x Reader, John x Mary, Sam x Amelia (briefly mentioned - only as in canon)

Warnings: Implied smut, pregnancies, cheating, nothing other than that really aside from canon deaths and angst.      

Word Count: 5800ish (woops!)

A/N: This is written for Baby’s Big 50 writing challenge hosted by @butiaintgonnaloveem and it is told from Baby’s PoV. She is still a car, but she is the one to tell the story, much like the episode Baby but done with words. I hope this worked out as well as I hoped it would.

My prompt was Allman Brothers Band - Rambling Man - I am sure I could have used it better but these were the lines that really inspired me when I wrote this fic: Lord, I was born a ramblin' man, Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.

This is sorta a rewrite of the entire series. Very boiled down and written through Baby’s eyes.. Headlights? Whatever :P Just read it :D

Thanks to the sweet amazing @blacktithe7 for betaing this for me

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

I have been lucky in my time on Earth, even if I have been through more than most. Sal, as flawed as he was, was a good man. He tried to do the best he knew how to with the short time he was given. He wanted to save people even if he couldn’t save himself. So he drove me around, giving Bibles away to people he felt needed some guidance, right up until the day he drank himself to death.

Standing on that lot at Rainbow Motors, I missed him. He had treated me right, and I had no way of knowing if the next guy would. I feared the uncertainty then like I never have since. When he walked up, I knew where I belonged. Even if he wasn’t the guy that took me home, I felt a connection to that man I was not going to understand for years, but I knew I belonged with him.

It wasn’t just the way he talked about me. The way he admired me. He spoke as if he knew me. Like I was important. I was sad to see him go, but John Winchester gave me some good years. He took care of me, and he loved me. So did Mary. They were amazing people, but in all my 10 years with them, the nights I felt the most important were nights I only came to understand later on.

One night after being to a drive in movie, Mary and John didn’t quite make it home. They spend the night in my backseat, and I felt their love as they loved each other. They had done this before of course, but there was something special about that night. I could feel it then, and nine months later, when John was forcing me to go as fast as I could to get to the hospital in time, I knew what it had been.

Two days later, when he didn’t let me go past 40 all the way home, with Mary and their newborn in the back making fun of him, that was the day I knew. Dean Winchester had been born, and I felt the same connection as I had 6 years ago at Rainbow Motors. That little boy had been the same man that had spoken about me with love in his voice. That man was the reason I was going to be important, not just to him, but to the world. With him, I was going to make the difference I had always craved too. For him, I was going to give my everything, and I was going to keep him as safe as I knew how to.

When Sam was born, there was a connection too, but it was different. I felt a darkness lurking and a fear in Mary I hadn’t when Dean had been born. I wanted to protect that boy, and I knew he was going to need it. I knew Dean was going to be there for him, because that was just who he was. He loved his brother with everything he had from the moment he was born. Before then even. He spent hours in my backseat, making up stories of the adventures he and Sam were going to go on when Mary was still pregnant and tired, and John was working extra hours to support his family. Dean was on his own, and he dreamt of a time when he wouldn’t be, a time where he always had someone with him, a brother to lean on and be there for. I have never known anyone that had a heart as big as him, and he was only four years old.

That part of Dean never changed. Not even when his mom died and their house burned down. Not even when John took his sons and me on the road, bouncing from motel to motel. Sometimes I wished I’d had an airbag to shoot into that man's face for what he was doing to those boys, but I also knew he was doing the best he could.

What appeared to be a search for revenge wasn’t just that to me. When his sons were asleep, John would come outside and sit in my driver seat. He would speak as if Mary was there with him, tell her what new things the boys had learned. He would tell her how book smart Sam was and how he wished life was different for them. That it wasn’t safe to just abandon this life and put Sam through school like he wanted. He spoke of Dean and how proud he was of his oldest son. He was a fast learner, and he thought quicker on his feet that even John sometimes. He spoke to Mary, telling her how Dean was the heart of the family after she left. He would never use the word died. It seemed as if it was too final for him, so he used other words instead.

There was no doubt to me that John Winchester loved his sons and that he was doing what he was doing to keep them safe. He had a nagging feeling that would came into Sam’s nursery that night would keep coming, and that was why he was so hard on Dean. If, one day, he wasn’t there to keep his youngest safe, Dean would have to pick up that responsibility. He would have to not only keep the boys together, but save Sam from the yellow eyes lurking in the dark. If John died, the boys would be all each other had left.

Things didn’t turn out the way John wanted them too though. Sam was a lot more like him than he cared for, headstrong and wanting to go his own way. He wanted more from life that bouncing from motel to motel. He wanted to go to school, and he wanted a family. It wasn’t the fight between Sam and John that hurt me the most though. It was the fight between the brothers. It was Dean being left in the rain, bleeding from his lip, and Sam walking off with an eye that was already swelling. It was the words they left each other with and the feeling that the other didn’t mattered to them anymore that hurt the most. Back then,  I wished he would have jumped inside me and gone after his brother, but he never did. That was the thing about Dean. No matter how much it hurt him, no matter how much he wished things were different, he would let people go. He would let them find their own way even if it was against everything he believed in, even if he would fight them every step of the way. When they made their decision, Dean would respect it.

I watched him that night, sitting on my hood with a beer in his hand, and I knew he wanted to scream and yell at John. I knew that Dean blamed him for driving Sam away. I knew that deep down, even though he idolised the man, he blamed him for a lot of things he would never say out loud. Family was too important to Dean for that. He was too scared of losing what little bit he had left, so he held it in. Right up until he met her. I knew she was special the moment she jumped out in front of me, and Dean practically stood on my breaks to keep me from hitting her.

She had lost everything. Her parents, her sister, and nearly her life. Dean took her to Bobby’s, and he called Sam that night for the first time in almost 2 years. He was more shaken up after Y/N had taken him back to where she had believed her sister to still be alive than I had ever seen him. They had gotten there too late, and there was nothing either of them could do for her. Dean had just stood there and let Y/N take her anger out on him until, exhausted and still crying, she  fell against his chest. He had held the girl as his heart broke for her.

I watched him hold her until she calmed down, and I felt him try and find the right thing to say as he drove her through the night towards South Dakota and Bobby Singer’s place. It was the only thing he could think of to take her. He couldn’t keep her with him since he was joining John on a hunt in a few hours. Hell, he knew he was already late, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain himself to his dad. In that moment, all Dean cared about was Y/N’s safety. Dean didn’t know how important that girl was going to be to him then, but somehow, I did. I felt the same connection between him and her that had been between John and Mary before she died. Same, but different.

Y/N came in and out of Dean’s life for the next few years. When John disappeared and Sam rejoined his brother on the road, they became friends, and Sam started bugging his brother why he hadn’t asked her out yet. Had I been able to hug Sam, I would have. I had wanted to kick Dean’s ass more than once for not having the balls to kiss her when they had been on hunts together. I had wanted to honk my horn when I felt his heart ache for her when she walked back up the driveway to Bobby’s place. I felt her longing when she turned back and waved too.

Dean and Y/N belonged together. Everyone but themselves were able to see that, and it had taken a sacrifice greater than anything they could have imagined for them to finally admit it. When she thought she had lost Dean, she ran off only to return when she heard of his salvation. Everyone could see how happy they were to be together again, but even then they denied it, it had taken losing the one thing they always depended on for them to admit to their feelings.

Dean made Sam a promise before he jumped into the pit. Y/N arrived a moment too late, and she fell around his neck just seconds after Castiel had healed him. I don’t know if it was his pain or my own I felt that day, but it was the most profound pain I had ever felt. Sam Winchester was gone. Dean was alone for the first time in his life, but he also wasn’t. That was the night he had given into her. He had taken comfort in her, and her in him. It was more than just comfort though. They had allowed each other to finally feel the love that had been between them for years. They had allowed themselves to try and find happiness in the midst of all the pain. They had agreed to try and keep the promise Sam had made them both make. They were leaving the life, but they were never going to stop trying to save Sam from Lucifer and the cage. They were going to live normal lives, but Sam was not going to stay in damnation. They vowed they would free their brother, by blood and by choice, no matter what it took.

They had tried. The had failed, but each night I saw them through the window. I saw them sitting on the floor going through everything. In the light of day, they were a normal happy couple, but during the night, their grief and loss consumed them. Y/N hadn’t been able to save her sister, and sitting in my passenger seat one night, Dean’s grief had been too much from her. She had confessed to me that she needed to save Sam. She understood the Winchester brothers in a way I don’t think anyone before her had. She understood they were bound, and the bond was unbreakable. No matter what choices the other would make, no matter how many times they fought or disagreed, they were connected. It wasn’t just Dean who wanted to keep his brother safe, it was Sam wanting to make his brother proud. They had been each other's safety and only normalcy for so long, and the love between them was too strong to ever savor. She felt privileged that they had let her in. She loved Dean more than anything, and she knew the feeling was returned. It wasn’t a competition though. Dean needed Sam, but that didn’t mean he needed her less. Y/N wanted Dean to have it all, and I loved her for it. I knew that she was going to be his true happiness, and she was going to keep him sane through whatever laid ahead. Just like I knew Sam wasn’t Sam when he found his way back to them. Dean knew it too, and when no one seemed to believe Dean completely, she did. She said what I wanted to say to him, and I was happy he got to hear it.

“I love you, Dean. More than that, I trust you, and no one knows Sam better than you do. If you tell me that man is not Sam or is not completely Sam, I trust you, and we will figure it out. We will get Sam back.”

They had gotten Sam back, even if Y/N had nearly killed Dean when she found out how he had gone about it. She, unlike Dean, didn’t feel Sam’s life was worth more than his. She had screamed at him for hours that night and had only stopped when Sam had woken up. She had left the brothers alone to hide with me, but Dean had followed her. He apologized to her, and he had shown her he meant it. They laid together on my backseat that night, and she clung to him as she told him she couldn’t lose him. Losing Sam had hurt, but losing Dean would break her. Dean had promised her he would always find his way back to her no matter what happened. He told her he always had, and he had kissed her, telling her he loved her for the first time. I knew he had felt it for years, but words didn’t come easy to Dean. She knew that too, so she had never pushed him. Still, she had cried when he said it, and she had let him roll her beneath him again as she repeated the words back to him. They had spend the entire night awake, proving to each other just how true those words were.

Of course they had no idea how bad they were going to need to hold on to those words, or how the world was just about to go to Hell. Losing Castiel was hard on Dean and started him on his downward spiral. Him leaving me behind when I knew he was breaking hurt. I understood, but I hated it as much as he did. Y/N kept coming around through. Dean didn’t. I think he felt it was part of a past he would never regain, but Y/N came. She talked to me. She told me about Sam losing it. About Dean drinking more and more. About how her and Dean fought, and how it had gotten worse after they lost Bobby. He had been like a dad to all of them. He was the only family Y/N had known for a long time, and it hurt that Dean wouldn’t let her in. He always had in the past, but now she felt as if he was pushing her away. She walked away with the promise that she wouldn’t let him. She loved him more than anything, and she knew he needed her more than ever. She was going to stand by him whether he liked it or not.

I have never been more proud of them than I was the day they came to collect me. Everything seemed a bit off, but Dean was smiling. Not just smiling, he was happier than I have seen him in a long time. Castiel didn’t seem like himself, but he was alive. He was alive, and he stood in the middle of the field that starry night with Y/N and Dean on either side of him. Sam stood behind Dean, holding the rings as I watched from the road. Cars don’t cry, but if they did, I would have that day. I would have when I saw Dean vow to always find his way back to her and always love her. When Y/N promised him she would never stop fighting for him and with him and that she would love him even when he was a dick. I would have cried when Castiel scolded Y/N for her chose of words, and Sam laughed. I would surely have cried when Y/N pushed the ring on Dean’s finger, and Dean pushed another on Y/N’s. I don’t think in my over 40 years of time on this Earth I have ever seen anything more beautiful than that kiss.

For a brief moment, their happiness outshone the pain and the chaos of the world. For a moment, they felt as if they were enough. But then Dean disappeared along with Castiel. Sam was still broken. You can’t blame him from running away from it all. I didn’t. I was mad at him sure, but I never truly blamed him. Dean was all he was ever certain of, and just like the last time he had lost him, he broke. Only this time there was no Ruby and no demon blood. There was noone to turn to. So Sam did what he had always done when things got too much. He and Y/N rebuilt me after the damage Meg had caused running me through a sign to offer up a distraction. When I was mended, Sam took my keys, and he ran.

Y/N was angry at first, but she forgave him. She came to visit him and Amelia, but she never stayed long, even if Sam pleaded with her not to go back out there. Y/N couldn’t stay though. Without Dean, she didn’t have a home. Without Dean, there was no place she could stay for too long before the pain of him not being there with her became too much.

She always visited with me for a few hours before she upped and left though. She always talked to me, reminisced about little moments she had shared with Dean. Most of them I had been around for, and had car's been able to cry I would have cried with her then too.

Her pain was as profound as Dean’s had been when he had lost Sam, or as profound as her own when she had first appeared before me, just after her family had died. Y/N Winchester loved Dean with all of her heart, and no matter how long she would have to search, she would never give up on her husband. I only wished she would take me with her when she left, but she knew Sam needed me. I was all he had left of his brother. She had the ring Dean had put on her finger, and that was enough to keep her going for now.

Y/N hadn’t found Dean. He had found his way back to her just like he had promised he would. He had found Sam first. I didn’t witness it, but I knew they had fought because Dean stormed out of there like a bat out of Hell. He pushed me to drive faster than I had in a long time, but it was okay. I was going to keep him safe. He was back behind my wheel where he belong, and I knew without a doubt where we were going. He found her too, out in the middle of nowhere, and she had pushed all his tests out of his hands and thrown her arms around his neck.

“I don’t need those. I’d know you anywhere Winchester,” she sobbed, and that was the first time in the two days hed had been back that I had seen Dean smile. When he carried her to my backseat, I felt there love. I had missed them, but I felt something else. I felt a connection I hadn’t felt in 35 years. I knew what they didn’t yet know themselves, and the knowledge saddened and joyed me at the same time. So I pushed it away and listened to Dean’s words as they laid together, taking comfort in the feel of each other’s heartbeat and warmth. I listened to Dean tell Y/N what he hadn’t been able to tell Sam. He told her of a year spent running and fighting. He told her of a vampire called Benny and how he hadn’t been able to save Castiel. I listened to her comfort him and tell him he did the best he could, and I thought about how I had thought the same about John so many years ago.

John had done the best he could for his sons, and I truly hoped Dean’s best would be better. Repeating just one of John’s mistakes with the unborn child neither of them knew Y/N was expecting would break him. Dean deserved to find happiness, even in as dark a life as the one I knew he was destined to continue.

I felt his fears a few months later when she told him, sitting in the front seat holding his hands. She apologized, telling him she had made a mistake. There had been noone for over year, and she had been so obsessed with finding him that she hadn’t thought to take her pills. She had been so happy, and she had needed him.

I felt her fears too. Not only fears for what it would mean to raise a child in this world like Dean, she was scared that he would leave her, that he would think the kid would be better off without him around when she knew nothing could be further from the truth. I was happy when Dean proved her fears wrong. I still shared their fears for the kid’s future. Dean made every fear pale when wrapped Y/N in his arms, telling her they would figure this out and a smile slide across his face asking her if he was really going to be a dad, I allowed myself to stop worrying and be happy with them. Y/N and Dean’s laughter filled the car. I know their fears would return, but in that moment, they were just a young couple in love and expecting their first child. In that moment, they were normal and in love.

The Bunker was a blessing at the right time. Dean had a lot on his mind with Sam and the trails. He knew Sam was still feeling guilty for his choices to leave this life without looking for Dean. The trails were a way for him to rectify that along with every other mistake he had made in his life. I hated that Sam felt he had to do this, and so did Dean. He just didn’t have the words to let his brother know that he was still his brother. There was nothing in this world more important to him tham Sam, Y/N, and his unborn son.

The Bunker took a huge weight off of Dean’s shoulders. It was a place he knew Y/N and his son would be safe from the things he hunted. No matter if they did closed the gates of Hell or not, I knew Dean still worried for every other monster in the world wanting payback. His son was a target from the moment he was conceived. Y/N and Dean would never leave this life. They both knew that. They were both determined to give their son the best life they could with the hand they were dealt, and somehow I grew more and more confident that Dean would be a better father than most, even with the dangers lurking in the dark. He would always be there for his family, and to him, nothing would come before either of them. No hunt, no revenge, no anything would come before the safety of his son, wife, and brother.

Seeing Dean with his son for the first time is a sight I will never forget. He held him like he was afraid the smallest thing was going to crush him. He held him as if he was shielding him from the world, because he probably was.

What happened not to long after was one desperate decision, let by another. I watched Dean talk to that angel, and even if I did have a bad feeling about him, even if I could have warned Dean, I am not sure I would have. I needed Sam to make it as much as he did. I have given those boys a home ever since they were born. Even if my connection to Dean is stronger, I do not love Sam any less. I didn’t wanna see him die. So Dean had let an angel into Sam without his brother’s knowledge. Without Castiel’s knowledge. Without Y/N’s knowledge.

Y/N and Sam both felt betrayed by Dean, and he left with me. I wanted to scream at him to go back to his brother, wife, and son, but I couldn’t. So I did what I always had. I gave him a home when he needed it, even after I felt him starting to change. There was something dark inside him, and it stayed even after Sam and Dean started working together again. Even after Y/N forgave him. Hell, she did more than that. She apologized for not listening and not going after him. She told him she needed him. I know he felt it, but something inside him prevented him from letting her in completely. He told her about the Mark, but he didn’t tell her about how he felt. Dean knew as well as I did, that it was doing something to him. I am not sure why he didn’t speak up. Maybe it was because he knew he had made a wrong decision. Maybe it was because he wanted to keep his family safe,or maybe it was because he still didn’t feel he deserved happiness. Dean has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I am not always sure he does it out of kindness and love. Well, he does that too, but Dean truly believes that he doesn’t deserve what others do. I know that even when he got married he felt bad for his happiness, because it was his and not Sam’s. Dean has always wanted the best for everyone else around him and never felt as if he deserved the same himself. The Mark on his arm enhanced the feeling of not being worth anything, and I hated it. I knew it was going to take him down a long dark path, but even I didn’t foresee what came next.  

I hated when he got in my driver’s seat. He looked like Dean. Some small part of him still was I guess. He had his every memory but none of the emotions to go with them. He didn’t care about Sam, Y/N, or even his son. All he cared about was the one thing Dean never wanted; to be free. I watched him hurt people. I watched him with other women. I felt how he stopped caring about me. It hurt. All of it hurt. He looked like the man that I had devoted my time on Earth too, but he wasn’t him and I prayed his brother, his best friend, and his wife would see that. I prayed that they would save him, and they did. They did and all of the guilt returned. The guilt of what he had done. The guilt of not being faithful. The guilt of almost killing his brother, but they forgave him. I am not sure Dean ever truly forgave himself though.

I am not sure anyone could have withstood the powers of the Mark for almost a year like Dean did, but he he didn’t do it alone. The love of his family was what kept him going. The love of his brother, his friends, Y/N, and his son was what made him keep fighting. He wanted to be there for them. He wanted to be the man he had promised her he would always be. When he felt that slipping, and when he lost a girl he had considered a sister, when Y/N took their son to Jody to keep him safe from Dean, that is when he almost broke. It was the blind faith on Sam’s face. It was her voice calling out to him from across the room. It was the pictures of his childhood with Sam. It was the first picture of Owen in Y/N’s arms with Dean smiling proudly besides her that saved not only Sam’s life, but Dean’s own. I didn’t see any of this, but Y/N told me everything later, just like she always did. I know she doesn’t understand that I actually hear her, but I am her comfort like she is mine. We are both Dean’s protectors. We will both do anything to keep him safe, and that is why none of us were relieved for long when the Mark left his arm.

Even if it was no longer visible, and it no longer had the same effects on him, the Darkness had left something behind. Strings she used to control him. Dean fought against them, and he hated the pull Amara had on him. He felt as if he was betraying his brother and his wife, even if Sam and Y/N never saw it that way. They stayed by his side. Their love was his guiding light, and he made it through. Never had I felt like crying as much as I did the night he said goodbye to Y/N. The night he reminded her how much he loved her in my backseat.

It wasn’t just their love that touched me. It wasn’t just the feeling of the powers hidden within his chest, powers that I knew would end his life soon. It was the connection I felt. Soon another life would join Y/N and Owen, and Dean would never know. A little boy or girl would grow up without ever knowing its father. Sure he would hear stories, but no story could ever do Dean Winchester justice. He was the kind of strong, brave, kind and loving you would only believe to exist if you met him.

I have never been more proud of him or more relieved than I was in the moment he returned home to me. Y/N’s hand was still in his, and Owen was on his arm as they stood by my side. She clung to him like she never wanted to let him go again. Her love and relief mixed with mine as well as her confusion. Mary Winchester was with them.

Y/N instantly loved her, because Dean did, but I worried. I worried as I went with her and Cas to pick up Sam after Dean had dropped Y/N and Owen off at Donna’s. Dean kissed Y/N goodbye and vowed he would return to them soon. I knew it wasn’t a lie. Dean was more himself now that he had been in years. He knew what was important to him again. Family. But most of all, he felt a part of it again. He now saw that he was as important to them as they were to him, and he was going to save his brother. He was going to reunite his family, and they were going to get through whatever laid ahead the together.

I was worried though. I knew the Mary Dean remembered was not the person she really was. Mary was always as headstrong as Dean. Hunting is as much in her blood as it is in his, but just like Sam, she spent her too short life trying to deny it. Sam learned from his mistakes, but I am not sure Mary ever did. Her being back in my boys’ life was going to mean heartbreak. I knew that. The image Dean had held onto was going to shatter, and I was afraid I was afraid he was going to shatter with it.

The image did shatter. Dean did doubt himself, but he held onto the things he had always been sure of. Sam, Y/N, and the family they now knew was growing. Still, Mary’s as well as Lucifer’s return brought something else with it I was sure was in the past. Something that had haunted Dean and Sam all their lives, until Dean had finally ended its life. Something I never thought I should see again, but I did. The night Dean rushed Y/N into the hospital to give birth to their second son. Sam was trailing behind them with 4 year old Owen on his arm.

I saw them in the dark, and never in my time on Earth have I wanted to warn Dean as much as I did it that moment, but I am only a car. I can’t tell them anything. Instead, here I am remembering everything I have seen and heard, praying that history won’t repeat itself. Praying that all the pain and hurt in Sam and Dean’s lives is not about to be passed onto the next generation of Winchester boys. Praying that Y/N will be as strong and smart as I believe her to be. Praying that she will never start a chain reaction like Mary did. I can’t know, but I got a feeling that no matter what she does her boys, just like their dad and uncle, will never leave this life.

I can’t know, but the pair of yellow eyes staring down the hospital makes me believe Owen’s path is already set in motion. I only hope he will grow up to be the man his dad is and always has been. I only hope the Winchester’s will always have each other, and that the world will always have them to keep it safe.

Dean Tag Team (CLOSED)

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @percywinchester27 @quiddy-writes @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @supernaturalyobessed @purgatoan @starswirlblitz @revwinchester @aprofoundbondwithdean @skathan-omaha @feelmyroarrrr @torn-and-frayed @kayteonline @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @ayeeitsemry @curliesallovertheplace @docharleythegeekqueen  @winchesterprincessbride @faith-in-dean @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sleep-silent-angel @winchestdiaries @adriellej @moonstar86 @atc74 @knittingknerdy @tia58 @nikolanna @cyranodebergerac @lycangirl44 @brooke-supernatural16 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @melonberri @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @alexafromthefandom @stilinski15 @thatonehaspanicchick @roxy-davenport @phoenixia67 @bringmesomepie56 @thebunkerismyhome @salvachester @chaos-and-the-calm67 @jasminwild @anokhi07 @mrswhozeewhatsis @lilyleely @smoothdogsgirl @angelkurenai @chickenmcsade @covarrubiasalex @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @charliebradbury1104 @chelseypaigeake @katrena7 @thecynicalnerd @nichelle-my-belle @mouselovesmusic @lucifer-ismy-bae @dreamilyjensen @sleepywinchester @tanithlowisabamf @deansleather   @katnharper @ashleymalfoy @secretlyfurrydragon @winchesterswoonathon @fangirl1802 @staticbirdy @spn-fan-girl-173 @jensen-gal @tas898 @iamnotsaneatall @waywardjoy @arryn-nyxx @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @beachy2014 @naadestiel @jensen-jarpad @jayankles @for-the-love-of-dean @mamapeterson @zeneko1987 @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Grimoire of Zero 10 - 11 | Royal Tutor 11 - 12 (FINAL) | Kado 10 | Boku no Hero Academia 25 | Tsukigakirei 10 - 11...plus summer 2017 anticipated anime.

Just gonna put this here so it gets more attention while it’s open.-> http://www.strawpoll.me/13311671

Grimoire of Zero 10

Geez, the staff pulled a Kado 0 - 1 on us here…i.e. the ending of one ep is the same as the opening of the next ep. It’s just to a lesser extent than Kado did.

Seriously, who is Him??? They still haven’t told us!

Welp, there’s my answer. It was too obvious to centre a 12 episode series around, I would’ve given a plot point like that about…3 or 4 eps, tops.

Grimoire of Zero 11

The thing about this show is that you can just turn your brain off and watch along. It’s a tad slow, but enjoyable and that’s why I’ve stuck with it.

LOL, I understand what it’s like to have “messy, wormlike handwriting”…

I don’t believe a wisp of that karate chop, Holdem. The hand was at the wrong angle.

Finally, the show gets funny again. There’s the Zero we know.

I love the sense of scale the animators have demonstrated with the spells. Just saying that before I have no more chances to.

Ooh! Oh, that man. I actually side with Holdem on this one, he deserved that punch.

“I-“ – Ooh, at that moment I got completely engrossed in the cliffhanger. Normally shows don’t cut off in the middle of a sentence, do they?

Royal Tutor 11

I can’t believe they forcibly took Gregor. Isn’t there some kind of legal offence for-oh wait. That’s called kidnapping. (partially sarcastic)

I’ve always found it interesting that the princes have to refer to the king as such, rather than “dad”. That seems to be a problem in every single piece of media you get about royalty, although these guys have a conscious sort of “I am no longer the king, but your father” (and vice versa) switch which is controlled by Viktor.

Oh, so it’s basically all the Dickensian stuff you get in Oliver Twist…(I haven’t read it, but you know how it is with classics *rolls eyes*).

Heine’s movements are believable, but there’s some suspension of belief needed for Viktor’s (because he faints a little too fast, I think).

Welp, this ain’t quite crying material, but I can tell there was a “climax” where the audience was expected to cry. Knowing this is anime-only material keeps my eyes dry, I guess. However, knowing that Heine’s resigned as Royal Tutor really made my heart drop…after all, this is the second last episode, and I’ve really had fun watching these princes and their diminuitive tutor.

Royal Tutor 12

Bruno really likes Gendo poses, doesn’t he?

Heine’s voice is great for a noob VA. It really sells the character.

I always thought “hai-neh” was a weird pronunciation, but that’s what it says in the katakana.

Seeing Heine tell others their strengths really makes me feel like I’m missing them already, in a good way. I’m not tearing up yet, but it’s real heartwarming and I know if I were in the same situation, I’d cry too.

“Goodbye” isn’t quite “excuse me”, but I guess it works context-wise.

This is one of those shows where “show, don’t tell” works well and I think the show’s nailed it for the most part.

University degrees don’t necessrily make good tutors. Any student knows that, especially in uni.

I can see why even the author cried at this now, even though I’m still not crying.

W-Who’s that? With the dark hair? Eins???

Ah, there’s my answer. It was indeed Eins. Why does he have dark hair???

Welp, there’s one finale for the spring season over. The anime staff really couldn’t have done too much about Eins, though, which sucks. Come back another time for a different show, ‘kay?

Kado 10

I’m in that weird stage where I want to like Kado, but because everyone’s jumped ship, I won’t want to like it either…what a weird thing peer pressure is. *feels like crying*

I feel like I’m in Superhero Project (one of my stories) where protag Keisuke wakes up in a white expansive room to be trained in his powers. Only this time, they gave the room fractals.

Interesting. It’s like an alien LINE convo.

Sarasouju tree…apparently, it’s this thing. Commonly known as “sal”. I’ve never heard of it, though.

“Humans are ephermeal creatures.” – You remind me of Haibara (Detective Conan).

“There’re guns everywhere in America!” – LOL, that sure ain’t the truth, as much as America has gun problems.

Let’s play another common anime game. It’s called “Spot the Main Character from their Hair Colour”.

(SPOILERS for White Parasite from now on!) zaShunina’s still teetering on “cuckoo” from his facial expressions here. It’s sad, because I wanted him to be mysterious and beautiful like La Luna forever...that’s why I killed La Luna off!

*sigh* Okay, evil mastermind pretender, put your hands back on and please just negotiate like you wanted to in the beginning. (*on the brink of tears* Hey, I realised something. I keep making comparisons to White Parasite, but people find it confusing. By making those comparisons, I seem to have almost jinxed Kado to be this way.)

*crying because Shindo* La Luna’s force of living was the goodwill that it used to create its powers. Does that mean the anisotropic run off trust in the same way? (By the way, please don’t resurrect Shindo. That would break the laws of reality as we know it – even anisotropic laws.) (end spoilers)

Welp, I guess not. B-But, my dreams just got ruined by Saraka kissing Shindo (although the Kado tag spoilered it for me anyway)…

Pffffft. Okkkkkkay, Captain Shang, hold up!

Shindo’s angry face at Saraka wearing his shirt had me dying. He really is Captain Shang.

Kado. You were so beautiful at first. I placed my faith in you. B-But you changed, and now all I can do is see you through as you become a cliché fest I could have easily created with my own hands. In fact, I did create a Kado with my own hands - White Parasite. So I am the one to blame…I will have to see this through as I have seen through White Parasite.

Boku no Hero Academia 25

Well, that certainly threw me for a loop. Between two forces of roughly even power, it’s unpredictable who’ll win, but the ability to humanise a character comes with weaknesses. I know that already, as a writer and reader of hero stories.

All Might is such a fatherly type. I don’t think I could write a character like him – both OP yet grounded at the same time.

Plus Ultra!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wait, the woman with red streaks is his…aunty? Sister? I’m not sure at all.

Aw, this Shouto segment was just too good. I’m worried about Iida though, because from the Stain stuff I’ve seen floating around, he will not take the defeat of his bro lightly. Also, amazarashi is coming in the next part of BnHA! I loved Speed to Masatsu, so it’s good to meet him again here.

Tsukigakirei 10

“An Encouragement of Learning” is a Fukuzawa work.

From Kawagoe to Chiba it really is about 2 hrs. Look.

Oh great. Bad CGI people strike again…

Monzenyokocho.

Did Hira have kawaii eyes just as the other people thrust trash at him?

Imokoi is a Kawagoe specialty involving…wait for it…sweet potatoes. That’s why the sweet potato mascot makes sense.

My eyes!!!!!!!! Bad CGI people stand out more in night scenes (compared to day scenes, of course).

Toki no Kane, apparently also known as the Bell of Time.

The “game” in question, that rock paper scissors, was probably a batsu (penalty) game.

I guess I should’ve guessed Kotarou would’ve gotten angry at Hira eventually. I just didn’t think it would be now.

That shot of Kotarou walking down the street looked a little awkward because it looked like he was walking on a flat surface when it’s actually slanted.

It’s not just my video, is it? Akane’s crying got sped up and that pulled me out of what was meant to be an immersive scene.

Chotto matte means “wait a bit”, but I feel like “I’ll be right there” is warping the meaning a lil’ too much.

Well, I never expected this show to portray anger. It pulled Kotarou’s anger off really well.

I never thought I’d see the day where Kotarou would rely on the potato mascot, either. I like a show that goes out of its way to be unpredictable like this. Too bad it came a little too late in the game.

Tsukigakirei is all about following the heart and not necessarily the mind, so this is a pefect way to show it.

Oh! That was another good unexpected thing, but then they’ve been teasing that since the fireworks. Too bad they kept part of Kotarou’s face hidden right after it.

This end of ep LINE convo is about a couple that can’t sleep, so one of them starts talking about their part time job…then it gets cut off.

Oh, so that’s how Sakura is related to the main events…okay.

Tsukigakirei 11

“To decide that I’m hopeless before I even begin is nothing but laziness.” - Wise words, Dazai.

Were there always two potato mascots at the top of 13.70? I think one appeared there when Kotarou first received his, actually, although I’m not bothered to look…

The people aren’t CGI now…or I’ve somehow gotten used to them…? Either way, they’ve stepped up their animation game (in exchange for ep 12 being late, according to a note on the CR page).

That’s a cute jumper, Akane.

The fact Kotarou changes his message is something I can relate with. Even one forum post can take hours to type, even though time is always never on my side.

What’s that purple thing on the onigiri plate? A pickled plum? No, those are red…

A “root for the underdog” story is a classic, so I can see why Roman’s rooting for Kotarou.

Hahaha…yeah, let’s just sat I can’t understand the science for the life of me and leave it at that. That stuff’s chemistry, I haven’t touched it since I was 14 or 15.

The stuff about circles appears to be on segments, equal angles and so on (you know how you find the angle of a triangle based on where it is in a circle? Yeah, stuff like that).

Oh yeah, I never thought this but…Kawagoe Seminar. It’s named like Sailor Moon’s Crystal Seminar, and for good reason – both are cram schools.

There’s a grade score near Kotarou’s wrist, so understandably he got an A in Japanese.

Parents aren’t like that, Kotarou. They don’t always hope for your failure, they just hope you’ll do well in life…says someone whose parents have aways supported them.

Instead of having CGI people moving, they’ve finally done 2D people. However, the tradeoff is that now the people are not moving, which is just as weird if not even weirder.

“PoPo” is such a weird name for a shop, LOL.

No wait, I take part of my comment about 2D people back. There is still CGI, it’s just less prononced now they’ve bothered to put in 2D background people as well.

That scarf goes well with his outfit…says someone who sucks at coordinating outfits.

Why not just talk with her when you’re ready, Kotarou? If The Royal Tutor taught me anything, it’s that it’s always good to talk things over if you can’t understand each other.

Aitai can mean “want to meet”(like you’re meant to do to make the fish a heart), but the ai is in hiragana (so it doesn’t mean anything) and the kanji for tai used means “red snapper”. As in, the fish.

There’s a lot of ganbaru (try your hardest) used in this ep, and Kotarou says benkyouganbaresou in this “Sorry it didn’t turn out so great” convo. The nuance is therefore lost in the translated version, “I feel like I’m ready to study again starting tomorrow”, although I can’t suggest a better alternative.

Yeah, Kotarou’s mother is right. If you have a normal sleep schedule, you’re able to work better, despite how great it may be to sleep in.

I get easily lost on public transport, so I understand the vibe Kotarou’s parents are giving off.

This ep’s ED LINE convo is two people (one’s a guy, the other I don’t know the gender of) talking about studying and, at the start of the convo, the guy’s mother being angry. At the end of the convo it turns out the guy’s notebook was blank (and that’s the punchline to the convo).

Well, I’ll confirm my lineup for summer here and now. Licensing’s already being doled out as we speak so some of the lineup’s set in stone already. In order of hype:

Definite hype:

Boku no Hero Academia 2* (carryover)

Katsugeki Touken Ranbu*

Reflection*

Nana Maru San Batsu

Kaito x Ansa (already binged Nazotokine to prepare)

Nobunaga no Shinobi ~ Ise to Kanegasaki-hen ~* (see below, carryover)

Medium - low hype:

Vatican Kiseki Chousakan

Princess Principal 

Jikan no Shihaisha (seen the first chapter or so of the manga)

Isekai Shokudou* 

18if

Youkai Apato

Clione no Akari

Konbini Kareshi

Zannen Onna

Asterisks mean licensing’s been confirmed already for me as of this post - I’ve asterisked anything confirmed to be by CR this season, because that’s likely to be worldwide bar Asia. Katsugeki is the only known show out of the asterisks that isn’t a CR stream. 

Funi’s opened up its services to my region (due to the CR x Funi merger), I could probably watch 18if there, but 1) I feel like Funi doesn’t have a good enough player, and 2) I feel like it’ll show up on a service that has a better player.

You’ll notice Nobunaga no Shinobi, a carryover from the last season I previously didn’t care for, is on the list. I was looking at YouTube videos of people’s favourite OPs and I fell in love with Shirayuki (by Renka, it’s the OP for the current season) recently, so I binged the existing content in one day. However, it being a short series means it’s not eligible for simulcast commentary and I’ll have to make a separate ranking for short series once I make my year-end rankings (to include ~ Ise to Kanegasaki-hen ~, and because watching Kenka Bancho Otome has screwed my rankings over enough as it is). After all, my 2016 ranking policy was “a show I saw at least once over in 2016 and had at least one seasonal entry in 2016″, which if applied to this year would make Nobunaga no Shinobi eligible, but it would be unfair to pit it against any shows with standard 24 min eps.

[kidsviral-blog]

Why Is Calvin Buari Still In Prison For A Murder Someone Else Confessed To?

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/why-is-calvin-buari-still-in-prison-for-a-murder-someone-else-confessed-to/

Why Is Calvin Buari Still In Prison For A Murder Someone Else Confessed To?

Calvin Buari’s former crew put him in prison. Prosecutors and detectives made sure he stayed there.

Elijah and Salhaddin Harris were shot dead in their car in the Bronx, beer bottles still in their hands and takeout food still in their laps, on Sept. 10, 1992. The sun had just set and the block was not yet dark. Elijah was 24 and Sal was 25.

The standout suspect was Calvin Buari. Twenty-one and smooth as hell, Buari ran the crack trade on the corner where the pair was shot. The tall, sleepy-eyed hustler had popped up on the scene in 1991 and within a year he was suddenly rolling through the block in a new BMW, stepping out with gold ropes around his neck and the freshest Air Jordans on his feet. The cops had been eyeing him.

Buari denied having anything to do with the murders, but the cops stayed after him. It wasn’t until three years later that prosecutors got the charges to stick. Damn near Buari’s whole crew turned against him and testified in court that Buari was the killer.

“I don’t know where you came from or where your parents are, but I know they have to feel something,” Daniel Harris, father of Elijah and Sal, said to Buari after the guilty verdict was read. “They have to know, and I want them to know, that they have brought into this world a monster.”

Buari didn’t dispute that he had gotten away with other crimes for years. But, he said, he was not a murderer. He said he was framed. He had nothing but his word to back that up at first. But then Dwight Robinson, his former friend, employee, and eventually business rival, confessed. The confession was signed and notarized in an affidavit on Dec. 30, 2003.

“In 1995, I testified at the double murder trial of Calvin Buari,” Dwight Robinson’s confession stated. “At that time I claimed that Calvin Buari killed Elijah and Sal Harris on September 10, 1992. That was a lie. I killed the Harris brothers. I killed them due to a drug dispute.”

Buari had held Robinson most responsible for his imprisonment. And yet now here was Robinson, trying to take it all back.

“When they went inside the restaurant, I went to the alley where I kept my nine millimeter gun,” the confession said. “When they got inside their car to eat their food, I shot them both numerous times.”

Robinson was in prison himself now. He had caught a murder conviction two years after Buari did, and by December 2003 both men were locked up at Clinton Correctional Facility in upstate New York. When they encountered each other — for the first time in many years, the first time since Robinson was on a witness stand and Buari was at a defense table — they hugged and reconciled. Robinson told Buari he would make things right and that no man should be behind bars for a crime he did not commit.

“In 1995, I pinned this double murder on Calvin Buari because of a dispute between Calvin and me, and because I wanted complete control of my drug spot in the corner of 213th Street and Bronxwood,” the confession continued. “My first attempt to seize the corner from Calvin was to shoot him and Jay Parris in June of 1995. I tried to kill them but they survived the shooting after being hospitalized.”

“When my attempt to kill Calvin failed, I decided to use the judicial system to frame him for the murder I committed. I did this by telling Jerry Connor, Lamont Seabrook, and Brian Johnson what to say to police, the same story I told the police. I believed that they wanted to convict him badly, and believed that they would welcome this story from these witnesses.”

Dwight Robinson had confessed to the crime Calvin Buari was in prison for. It wouldn’t be long, Buari thought, before he was a free man.

View this image ›

Calvin Buari is still in prison today, even though Dwight Robinson confessed a decade ago and two other witnesses said that they lied on the stand.

“I’m just so confused,” said Erica Morris, daughter of Buari’s godmother. “Why is he still there if he has a confession?”

The way Buari tells it, he was the target of two conspiracies. One by his former crew to get him locked up, and another cooked up by the prosecutors and detectives who didn’t want to let him go now that they had him behind bars.

It’s easy to see why the authorities might want Buari locked up — in the mid-’90s his turf was among the bloodiest neighborhoods in the city. “If [police] blame the precinct’s unwanted claim to fame on anyone, it is Calvin Buari,” the New York Daily News concluded in 1995. Authorities had tried to get Buari off the street for years, but had never succeeded.

“You want to get the bad guy off the street, but you want to get the right guy,” said Jay Saltpeter, a former New York City Police Department detective. A few of his colleagues, he said, didn’t seem to mind getting the wrong guy for a crime if it meant getting a guy they knew was guilty for something else. Their mind-set, he said, was “I didn’t get him for that one, so I’ll get him for this one.”

“It’s very, very frustrating,” said one retired detective who was involved in a conviction that was overturned in recent years. “You know this person is guilty and to see them go free and be talked about like they’re innocent — it’s mind-boggling. It’s anger.”

The standard of proof a convicted man must meet is higher than the standard prosecutors must meet at trial to get the conviction. To get a conviction overturned, you need everything to go your way in a system built to keep you behind bars.

“After conviction, there’s no presumption of innocence but a presumption of guilt, and the burden of proof is on the defendant,” said Rebecca Freedman, an attorney at the Exoneration Initiative. “In a climate like that it’s hard to recognize the innocent ones.”

If Buari had been convicted in Manhattan or in Brooklyn, he might have had some help. The district attorneys in those boroughs, and in a handful of other counties nationwide, have units devoted to reviewing questionable convictions. Units like those are part of the reason why there were 125 exonerations in America in 2014, according to the National Registry of Exonerations, more than in any previous year on record and far surpassing 2013’s old record of 91.

Bronx District Attorney Robert Johnson has no such unit in his office — no such unit even though the Bronx had more documented wrongful convictions per-capita than any other county in New York state from 1989 to 2013, according to the registry. Over that span, the Bronx had the fifth highest wrongful conviction rate in America.

“These are all old allegations that have been litigated in the trial court,” Terry Raskin, a spokesperson for DA Johnson, said in an email declining to comment further on Buari’s case. “Bottom line is that after a full hearing, these recantations were deemed incredible, as were any allegations that this office acted improperly in any manner regarding our dealings with these witnesses.”

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Calvin Buari decided to become a drug dealer when he was 15 to support his younger brother and his mother, who struggled to find work. His mother had been kicked out of the house by her father when she got pregnant with Buari and a local pastor took her in. Buari’s father, a singer from Ghana, had already left the picture by then. From the time he was a young boy, Buari realized he would be his family’s breadwinner.

He went to Harlem to get his start in the drug game because he did not want his relatives, neighbors, or anybody else in the Bronx who knew him to see him out on the corners. His family was a good, respectable, church-every-Sunday family and Buari was determined not to tarnish their reputation.

Buari started as a lookout. He kept his mouth shut whenever he was arrested, won the crew’s trust, and moved up quickly. “I was nervous at the beginning,” he said. “But so many other people I knew were doing it, and after a while you kind of lose that fear.”

He made connections with wholesalers in Harlem, learned the business, and by 1991, he was back home, running his own operation near the northern tip of the Bronx. Charming and soft-spoken, Buari became known more for squashing beefs than starting them. He was respected on the block, and he soon built a team of dealers that would own the local crack trade.

He gained enemies too. Twice police arrested him on murder charges. Both times the sole witness against him stopped cooperating with prosecutors, and Buari was out of jail and back on the streets within months. The way Buari tells the story, rival drug dealers in the neighborhood had tried to frame him but the truth had won out.

To the authorities, though, Buari had somehow mastered the art of slipping away. He had risen to power so quickly and silently, and had escaped the law’s grasp so effortlessly, that his reputation began to take on mythic proportions. Lt. John Walsh, commander of the 47th Precinct detective squad, told the Daily News in 1995, “There were rumors going around that Calvin knew black magic and people were afraid of his power.”

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Calvin Buari in an undated photo taken after his conviction and incarceration Courtesy of Calvin Buari

Dwight Robinson was 16 when Calvin Buari, three years his senior, took over the crack scene on 213th and Bronxwood. Buari didn’t know him then, but Robinson knew Buari.

“He was the superstar of the neighborhood,” said Robinson. “I looked up to him. I had a lot of respect for him.”

Robinson wanted Buari’s lifestyle, with the mink coats and the pretty girls and the awe of everybody around him. The two teenagers shared a sharp intelligence and a laid-back demeanor, even looked a bit alike — some in the neighborhood thought they were brothers — and they soon became friends. Not long after that, Robinson joined Buari’s operation.

At the time, in the early ‘90s, rival drug dealers coexisted on all four corners of 213th and Bronxwood. Buari’s crew was small, with six to 10 guys over the years. When Buari was initially arrested for murdering the Harris brothers in 1993, Robinson provided a statement saying that he was with Buari on the other side of the block when the murders took place. Several dealers who worked for Buari provided corroborating alibis as well. Buari spent just three months at Rikers Island, before a judge told prosecutors they had no case.

Buari was arrested on another murder charge in 1994. This time he spent eight months at Rikers before the prosecution’s case crumbled. During that stretch, Robinson and his older brother Peter filled the void and opened their own business. They sold Buari’s stash for him, splitting the profits, and expanded their customer base.

When Buari returned to the neighborhood in February 1995, he found things had changed. All four corners of 213th and Bronxwood now belonged to the Robinson brothers, and tensions were high. Robinson and Buari’s friendship soured in the months after Buari’s homecoming.

“All our enemies were gone,” Robinson said. “What happens after the lions eat all the sheep? They turn on each other.”

The war began in June 1995. Five men would be killed by the second week of July. The Daily News dubbed 213th and Bronxwood “The Bloody Corner.”

The bodies brought heat. The 47th Precinct formed a task force to investigate the string of murders. Detectives concluded that Calvin Buari, the neighborhood’s reigning drug mogul with three murder charges already on his rap sheet, was at the center of the conflict.

“It was all for control of that particular corner,” Lt. John Walsh told the Daily News in 1995. “There’s always somebody else who wants to be king.”

On June 25, somebody chased Robinson with a gun. He believed it was Buari. That night, two men opened fire on Buari and his friend Jay Parris. There were 32 rounds fired. Buari took one bullet to the leg. Parris was hit five times. Both survived. Buari believed Dwight and Peter were the shooters. A week later, Peter was shot dead. Dwight believed Buari did it.

“I had to get him back somehow,” Robinson said.

A month later, he got his chance. Police officers showed up at his mom’s house looking for him. They wanted to speak to him about the murders. Robinson went to the precinct and met with a couple of detectives. In the room, behind where they stood, he saw a push-pin board covered with names and photos. He saw his name near the bottom. He saw Buari’s near the top. The detectives began asking him questions about Buari.

“That’s when I saw how I could get him,” he said.

He told the detectives that Calvin Buari had killed Elijah and Sal Harris.

The trial began two months later. Two witnesses testified that Buari was not the shooter, that he had been down the block from the shooting and had run away when the shots rang out. Six witnesses testified that they saw Buari shoot the Harris brothers. Their stories were consistent: Buari had his friend Kintu Effort retrieve his gun from an alley, and then Buari unloaded on the brothers as they were eating in their car.

Four of the witnesses received leniency on pending gun or drug charges in exchange for their testimony. Effort received immunity on the case, as well as a letter from the DA’s office recommending him for early release on his current prison sentence.

The six also testified that they were once Buari’s allies. “All of the witnesses were friends with and worked for Calvin Buari,” Assistant District Attorney Allen Karen told the jury. “It’s rare to have people come forward on a double homicide, but here you got the whole corner. Calvin’s whole crew.”

Robinson testified that they had decided to turn him in now, three years after the murder, because they had become scared of him. Robinson said that Buari had turned on the crew, and so he told the rest of the crew that they should go to the police.

Buari’s defense attorney argued that Robinson and the others had tried and failed to kill Buari, so now they were trying to eliminate him through the courts. Prosecutor Karen shot down that theory in his closing statement.

“I would suggest it’s absurd to say to you that these guys, drug dealers, street guys, would come forward to the police to trust the system, would walk into the police and say, ‘Yo, let’s fight crime together.’ It doesn’t work that way. It’s their last resort.”

The jury found Buari guilty. In December 1995, he was sentenced to 50 years to life in prison. He was 24. His reign as kingpin had lasted less than four years.

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Getting a conviction reversed is hard because the court system was built upon faith in the jury trial, said Brandon Garrett, a law professor at the University of Virginia who serves on the advisory board of the National Registry of Exonerations. “Beyond a reasonable doubt,” the legal standard at trial, is no longer good enough. The legal standards for reversing a conviction are intended to be high, but whether an argument meets those standards is up to the interpretation of a judge, who has discretion to overturn a conviction and call for a new trial.

Certain forms of evidence — such as a witness who recants — tend to be less persuasive. “There is the concern that motives may change over time,” said Garrett. “We don’t know whether the person lied then or now. Either way we know that they’re a liar. And judges tend not to trust evidence that comes up years and years later.”

The most persuasive new evidence is DNA evidence, present in less than 10% of criminal cases. Perhaps the next most effective type is when another person confesses to the crime. That’s the sort Buari thought he had.

He got the first letter from Dwight Robinson in 2001, two years after Robinson was sentenced to 25 years to life on charges that he murdered a rival dealer. Robinson said he had become overcome with guilt shortly after he began his prison term. He had done a few stints in jail for drugs, but had never done heavy time in a penitentiary before. “This ain’t a place for nobody,” Robinson said.

He had personal interests in mind too. Robinson maintained his innocence on his own case. One of the witnesses who identified him was cousins with a good friend of Buari, and Robinson hoped that Buari could persuade that witness to recant.

“Maybe we could help each other,” said Robinson. “At the end of the day, it’s two men locked away for no reason, and maybe one day we’ll both be free.”

But he did not bring up his case in those early letters. Instead he wrote about the mistakes he had made that led to Buari’s imprisonment.

“What’s good?” Robinson wrote to Buari. “I know that you ain’t hear from me in a while. I’m having it hard living with what I did to you, my brother.”

It was a long letter, four pages on binder paper, written in black ink in neat looping print, explaining the murders, the squashed beefs, the squad of loyal soldiers — and the Machiavellian plot to eliminate the block’s previous kingpin.

“I’m the puppet master,” the letter stated. “How you think I got them to sit down and aim on you?” But the purpose of the letter was not to gloat.

“I know for a fact you wouldn’t of [sic] flipped on us like we flipped on you,” it said. “I hope you find it in your heart of hearts to forgive me for all this sucka shit. … Yo Cal I’m gonna make this shit right. If I have anything to say about it you’ll be back in court to clear your name.”

Robinson acted on his words. In summer 2003, he approached an inmate, Kenneth Smith, who worked as a law clerk at the library. Robinson initially spoke to Smith about his own case, but then “Dwight told me about another crime, a double murder that took place in the Bronx,” Smith stated in an affidavit. Robinson told him that he was the killer “and he had his friends come into court and lie so some else [sic] got convicted for the crime,” Smith said.

A few months later, on Nov. 18, Robinson gave a statement, signed and notarized at Clinton Correctional Facility. “I was the one who shot Jay and Cal on June 25th, 95,” it stated. “When I didn’t succeed, then utilized the judicial system by orchestrating a murder case against Cal with the help of my faithful friends. … My decision to use that Judicial system was easy being that I’ve witnessed that very system on numerous occasions wrongly arrest Cal in 93 and 94 for murders he didn’t commit. … I capitalized on the benefits of avoiding investigations, while obtaining a get out of jail free card.”

The detectives and prosecutors, Robinson said, “wanted Cal just as much if not more than me.”

In December, Buari’s lawyer, Brian Stull, told him about a letter that he had received from Dwight Robinson. Robinson had written, “I would like very much for you to put together a full confession affidavit saying that I, Dwight Robinson was the person who committed the September 1992 double homicide of the Harris brothers that Calvin Buari is currently incarcerated for.”

The affidavit was finalized by the end of the month.

By chance, Buari was transferred that December into Clinton, where Robinson was serving his time. Buari’s first week there, he was eating lunch in the mess hall when Robinson spotted him and called his name. Robinson stood beside two other inmates. One of them, Dondi Youmans, later recalled in an affidavit that Robinson said to Buari, “I already talked to your lawyer. They know you innocent. Come out to the yard tonight so we can talk.”

Buari and Robinson met in the yard that night and walked over to an empty corner. They embraced tightly.

“Love you, man,” Robinson said to Buari.

“Love you more,” Buari replied.

According to Buari, Robinson said that he had killed the Harris brothers because he didn’t want to share the profits from a stash of pilfered cocaine. Robinson disputes this story. But, he said, he did assure Buari that he would do what he could to get him free.

“I felt the remorse,” Buari said.

Over the following weeks, Robinson worked to tear down the case against Buari. He called Buari’s wife Pam for help tracking down the other witnesses.

“As a man I already know what I did was wrong and I’m gonna correct my mistakes,” he told her, in a call recorded by the prison.

Pam told Robinson that she didn’t believe he could undo what he had done. “These dudes ain’t gonna speak, never gonna speak,” she told him. “They don’t care. Y’all have to realize that not everybody cares.”

But some of them did care. Two witnesses, Kintu Effort and Lamont Seabrook, recanted their testimony in signed affidavits. Effort said he testified to avoid being indicted, and that he was with Buari running away during the gunfire. Seabrook said he was afraid Robinson would kill him if he didn’t cooperate, and that he and another witness, Jerry Connor, were at his grandparents’ house when they heard the shots.

Buari’s lawyers prepared a motion to vacate the conviction. Robinson’s confession was the centerpiece of the argument, with statements from Effort, Seabrook, and Kenneth Smith providing support. Buari believed he was about to be free again.

“I thought, Finally truth is gonna come out,” he said. “I thought about being back in the Bronx soon.”

For the third time he would slip away from authorities when they thought they had him trapped. That damn black magic! he imagined them cursing.

“If I have something to say about it you should be going back down soon,” Robinson told Buari in another letter. “I’m going to ride this all the way out until you touch down.”

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Dwight Robinson did not understand what his confession had meant for his own future. One day, in spring 2004, two detectives showed up at the visiting room at Shawangunk Correctional Facility to break it down for him.

He was shocked when they rattled off all the times he had linked up with Buari at Clinton to discuss the case, from their talk in the lunch room to their night in the yard to their various other conversations over their months incarcerated together. He realized that the authorities had been tracking him and Buari on the prison’s security cameras.

“They told me that if I helped him, I’d never go home,” he said. “They wanted me to take back my confession to keep him locked up.” In exchange for his cooperation, he said, they also offered him money and promised to make it easier for his family to visit him. “They don’t play fair,” he said. “They really don’t play fair.”

Every other witness for Buari’s motion had a similar experience. Kenneth Smith claimed that an investigator from the Bronx DA’s office visited him in prison and threatened to prosecute him on another charge if he testified in Buari’s case. According to Buari’s lawyer Brian Stull, Seabrook told him that a detective dropped in during his meeting with his parole officer and threatened that he would be charged with perjury. Kintu Effort also said that an investigator visited him in prison and told him he would be charged with perjury. Effort’s lawyer, Edward Dudley, suggested that he back down.

“I advised him that if he didn’t say anything it would be much easier and he would be risking a lot less,” Dudley said. “But he thought it was the right thing for him to do. Somebody was in prison wrongfully and it was partially because of him.”

Effort testified. So did Smith. Seabrook did not.

When Robinson arrived at the courthouse for Buari’s hearing, his public defender suggested that he plead the Fifth, he said. By then, though, Robinson had already decided that he would testify. For weeks, Robinson said, he had had sleepless nights thinking about it.

“I wanted to help him, but I’m not going to fuck myself to help another man,” Robinson said. “Especially a man they wanted as bad as him. I knew I had to recant.”

Robinson testified that his confession was a lie, and that he feared Buari would have him and his family killed if he did not confess to the crime. He testified that Buari had probably also threatened Effort, Seabrook, and Smith. He testified that he had told the truth when he was on the witness stand in 1995.

Buari’s motion had been built on Robinson’s confession. Without the confession, Buari’s petition had little to stand on, and the judge rejected it. Two higher courts upheld the ruling.

“The record supports the motion court’s findings that none of the alleged newly discovered evidence was reliable,” said the Bronx Supreme Court Appellate Division decision in 2008. “There is no reason to believe that any prosecution witness committed perjury at defendant’s trial.”

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In most wrongful conviction claims, there is no way to truly know if a person is innocent or guilty. There are only pieces to a picture that will never be complete, and all an inmate can do is try to find more pieces, and hope that at some point there will be enough pieces, whatever enough means.

Calvin Buari is still chasing whatever enough means. He sits in his cell and reviews his case and reads old court decisions that might apply, hoping to find another piece. On the outside, his relatives and friends run a website on his behalf and print out T-shirts and flyers that say “Free Calvin Buari” to hand out at the scene of the shooting. Two witnesses saw the shirts and came forward corroborating Buari’s claim that he wasn’t the shooter. Patricia Damm said that she saw Buari out her window when the shots rang out. Benson Headley claimed that he saw Robinson shoot the Harris brothers, and that Robinson then “tried to persuade me” to tell police that Buari did it.

Those witnesses will be part of Buari’s appeal. Same with the two inmates who said they heard Robinson confess. Same with the tape recording of Robinson’s phone call with Pam.

But for now this appeal is only theoretical. Buari does not have a lawyer. He is behind on payments to his private investigator. He struggles with the knowledge that his fate is not in his hands.

“Only thing I can really control is the peace I try to have inside me,” he said. “I’ve grown so much since I’ve been in here. Before that I was so young and I didn’t think I could do nothing else in my life but be about the streets. I have to look at the immaturity of both me and Dwight and just find it in my heart to forgive.”

Robinson has his own struggles. The thought of his recantation eats at him, he said.

“I’ve been wanting to get this off my chest,” Robinson said. “I wrestle with this in here. If everything had gone down the way it was supposed to, Cal would be home right now and the city would be giving him, like, $8 million.”

Buari has three decades before his first shot at parole. Robinson is up for parole in seven years. One call from the DA’s office to the parole board, he figures, and his chance at freedom is gone.

“I want to help him out,” he said. “But I don’t want to rot in here for the rest of my life. If they know I’m helping him out, I’m done. They’ll make sure I never get out.”

Sitting in the Sing Sing Correctional Facility’s visiting room in January, he explained his plan: “In an ideal situation,” he said, “I make parole, then give him all the papers he needs, then I’m gone.” Off to Jamaica, or somewhere. He’d be free from prison, and out of the NYPD’s reach.

“I was there,” he said. “I saw what happened. Cal was there too. The gun was not in his hand.”

Did Robinson kill the Harris brothers? Robinson stared at the floor, hand on his chin, and considered the question for a few seconds. Then he looked up and answered.

“Anybody coulda done it,” he said. “Coulda been anybody.”

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/albertsamaha/why-is-calvin-buari-still-in-prison-for-a-murder-someone-els

[cheerstocrazy]

Wahh

I’ve been feeling so sad lately bc I’m about to start my period, and last week I was nostalgic as hell for past memories. I’ve only been listening to Don’t Take the Money (unplugged version), Good Guy, and 89 (Bon Iver). It sucks to feel this way. Anyway, I think last week’s nostalgia was triggered by watching The Beauty Inside with Mary and Matthew. The date was just so sweet and intimate, and ugh I just wanted something like that in real life. So I thought back to my date right before I left to NYC, and how nice it was to be with someone so down-to-earth and upfront about his intentions. Someone who understood what I was going through and could recite my feelings back to me. I felt so seen (in the best way). I can’t believe he told me, “Why’d you agree to meet me before leaving? You’re at your most vulnerable right now? So anything is fair game, right?” I was still trying to process all my emotions that week so for him to realize I was at my most vulnerable made me feel transparent and like someone actually understood my current emotions. I was so taken aback that he was able to read me. Now that I’m home and don’t have much going on -- I think back to that night. It was a perfect date/night/finale before leaving. He was just such a good guy, I wish we could’ve stayed friends afterward, but I don’t blame him for not maintaining contact. I mean no one can really put their life on hold and wait for something that’s not even a guarantee. I just felt like the rest of the world ceased to exist that night and time stopped momentarily just for us. We didn’t skip a beat and he was just so curious and he spoke 3 languages (!!!!!!!) and was legitimately woke (!!!!) I remember us sitting at the taco place all by ourselves in the corner with our kind of strange seating arrangement. Eating messily and just chatting about random things like 2 people who had known each other a while. I think me leaving made us more uninhibited and allowed for us to really enjoy the 1 night we had. I wish it didn’t have to end, I really enjoyed how kind he was and sociable. Just an all around really great human. Any girl would be lucky to have him as a friend, let alone a boyfriend. I’m sure all his invitations and effusiveness were said out of hopefulness that this would continue when I got back. I wish what he said was true. He was so well-spoken and deliberate, which I really appreciate in a human, and it’s so rare to find that in a 20 something year old - especially a software engineer!! Ugh, I’m going to cry. Anyway, that was one of my favorite nights of this year, I’ll never forget it. It was the best date I’ve ever been on, and it came at a very strange time in my life. After the Snap guy and the Dr., I just realized that good guys who understand and vibe with me will be incredibly hard to come by.  My favorite moments of 2017: 1. Date with the Israeli guy before leaving to NY 2. (Best/Worst) Nice at Hair in the Dog where I threw up my intestines - the entire day. From eating Japanese food, walking through Brooklyn, finding that wicked cool bar with awesome views. Eating that bomb burger at the South American inspired place with arepas. Waiting in the Sbux to kill time and for a respite. Walking around Brooklyn lost trying to find a club. Going back to the weird bar in LES and being pestered by the Asians. Getting free drinks, ducking to escape them. Eventually running in the rain to Hair of the Dog. Stumbling upon Andrew (hot guy) who just took us into the group and bought us drinks. Dancing with Orr’s friend then him, the hand job (lol). Being piss drunk, then not knowing what happened the rest of the night.  3. Salt Flat weekend with the Brazilians. Will be one of my favorite weekends of life. They were the sweetest and funniest guys ever, I cannot believe I found them. I remember seeing them at the bus station in Potosi and thinking omg, one of them is kinna fat and if he lost some weight, he’d be skinnier. I saw they were eating hot dogs and a bag of chips. Just laughed to realize they were my roommates.  4. The jam sessions and dinner in Cusco.  5. Coachella weekend: Bon Iver, Justice, Porteon, Jai Wolf. Having Julian take care of my the entire set and just swaying with me and keeping me afloat. That was absolute euphoria and a nightmare for me.  *Bon Iver ft Francis - Friends (MY FAVORITE CONCERT MOMENT EVER!) 6. The bar by PP’s apt with the fucking disgusting couple making out for 3 hours. Camaraderie is everyone in the bar clapping, snapchatting, heckling that couple.  7. San Pedro de Atacama - absolutely everything in that desert took my breath away 8. FWB Dr. those 2 weeks were pretty fun to have someone on speed dial to hang out with 9. The marathon 15 hour workday with Kathy and Daniel when we were delirious and literally just putting binders together for 5 hours.  10. Going out with the Chileans to Ex-Fabrica, the taking photos snafu lmao 11. Hanging out with Tiare on my last night in Chile. That was so fun to get day drunk and just eat and walk around.  12. WATCHING THE KILLERS FROM THE ROOFTOP IN AUSTIN!!!!! ZOMG WTF!!! 13. Gorillaz set!!! at ACL 14. I think I ran a 7+ miler this year.... 15. The Huaraz hike, sinking into the mud, standing around each night to joke around with people.  16. The entire day at Machu Picchu which WAS TOTALLY SURREAL AND MEETING THAT GROUP OF PERUVIANS!! AND THE SHORT LIL MAN WHO LOVED ME.  17. Barranco!!!! I love that neighborhood so much!!  18. Going off-roading in Sedona with the random Canadian couple we met.  19. My cute as hell South African roommate!! Eek I loved him so much 20. Hiking Montana de Siete Colores 21. Staying with the cutest Peruvian family in Ica. MY HEART, I LOVED THEM. 

Best songs of the year: 1. Francis and the Lights - May I Have This Dance?  2. Rhys - Swallow Your Pride 3. Frank Ocean - Good Guy/White Ferrari 4. Bleachers - Don’t Take the Money 5. Banks - Crowded Places  6. Mura Masa - What’s It Gonna B? 7. Haim - You Never Knew 8. Lorde - Supercut/The Louvre 9. Odesza - Corners of the Earth 10. Jai Wolf - Starlight 11. Kehlani - Do U Dirty Saddest Moments of the Year: 1. August 2nd - getting the call from Eastridge to notify me that I’d been let go 2. March - Seeing Sal, getting anxious that entire weekend, having no appetite, just the lack of control I had over my body. Dealing with his texting. Getting my car towed. 3. My mother not talking to me for 8 months. That took a toll 4. Dealing with insurance for months on end to resolve nothing.  5. In Banos, Ecuador to have my parents sabotage me for the first time and tell me to come home. 6. Cusco, when my mother wouldn’t take a photo of my vaccinations to which I sobbed on the floor. 7. The endless professional shitting -- all the you’re going to get hired/promoted blah blah. Nope 8. June 13th - when Bryan told me he was leaving the company. My heart sunk.  Honorable Mentions:  1. Colombian straggler 2. Date with the tall ass weirdo who made me not date for 6 months afterwards lol 3. HEAVING AND PUFFING AND DYING AT LAGUNA 69 OMG KILL ME  This was such a hard year for me mentally, physically, emotionally. I’m looking back and even though I did have lots of good moments (due to my South America trip), it was mostly a year that tested me. I just felt like I got walked all over and was taken advantage of. I felt so small most of the year at work and like my value wasn’t realized. It was a lot of feeling hopeful only to get crushed immediately, which I guess is what life is. It was so taxing for me to be at work and just not progress professionally and getting lead on. I didn’t deserve that at all. My best couple of months came from me being laid off, so I guess there’s that silver lining? Boys wise, this year didnt’ work out too well, lots of ghosts coming back into my life and another unsuccessful year of dating. My mother and I didn’t speak to each other for most of the year, which was ridiculous. There was a really big life event this year, and I definitely needed her to be there for me, and she wasn’t. That’s a year we’ll never get back, and I can’t really talk about it without crying. She’s talking to me again, but you don’t get to shut me out of your life for 8 months with no valid reason to talk to me again like nothing happened. This isn’t how it works. I don’t think our relationship will be able to come back after that, especially post election. It was just a really hard time for me, and it would’ve been nice to have a maternal figure for venting. I guess that’s when your friends come in. I remember being in the jacuzzi talking to Tam, and she told me about what my mom said and how she felt while I was away and like her heart sunk. And I was like what about me??? I don’t even know why she’s upset. I just teared up, I couldn’t take it anymore. Especially after my trip, and coming back to reality. I just wanted to disappear for most of this year because I felt so insiginificant, and that’s why I ran off to South America. I wanted anonymity but under my call, not someone else making me feel invisible. All I wanted this year was to be seen and heard, and that rarely happened. This was such a hard year for me, I still can’t get over how difficult it’s been. At least I sleep a lot not and am not stressed out. I need to move.  2018 goal: MOVE OUT OF CALIFORNIA!!! 

[carterthornton]

The Third Wave | Chapter Two: Yuko

        Aiko arrived safely at home at around two in the afternoon, after accompanying Salvador to the hospital via ambulance. She took a bus home— coincidentally located right next to her workplace —and refrained from fiddling with her newfound power. Though, admittedly, the temptation was palpable. She was mostly concerned with how to break the news to her father, as the sheer absurdity of the situation would surely hit him like a meteor. He was a short-fused man at times, but he was rational in situations like this. With how she handled the situation with the police, Aiko banked on her father's rational side, hoping it would be the first face she saw as she came through her front door. To her dismay, however, she made a poor investment.

       "You told them what?!" Aiko could see the steam shoot out of her father's ears as she finished her explanation, hissing like a boiling kettle. "Why the hell would tell the police that you have a Mark?!"

       "What? Do you think they'd believe some normie Asian kid kicked a Mark-user's ass just like that?!" Aiko huffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "Dad, I had to defend myself... and you know I'm incapable of telling a good lie."

       "Yeah... yeah, I know, Koko..." He took a couple deep breaths to regain his composure, then held her tightly in his arms. "I'm glad you're okay... though, I can't say the same for Salvador."

       "The doctors told me his wounds aren't too severe. That beast guy's claws didn't damage any internal organs, and he woke up a few hours after they treated him. Though, he'll still have to stay for quite a while..." Aiko trailed off, staring down at her feet as she took a seat at one of the stools by her kitchen island. "I wish I could've-."

       "Don't. Don't start blaming yourself, Koko. Salvador made his choice; he wanted to protect you." Aiko's father reassured her as he sat down on the nearest stool beside her own.

       "Still... what about the store? Salvador is injured, and I'm hardly qualified to run it by myself..." Aiko sighed, looking down at the Mark on her hand.

       "I'll figure something out with him, Koko. Leave that to me." Her father insisted as he took a closer look at the peculiar Mark. "So... what does it do?"

       "I'm not so sure yet. It hasn't been identified in any of my books. Although, based on what I've seen in Sal's store, I think this thing might be an Alteratio-type Mark— the ones that alter the environment but not the user. I'll have to test it out to really get to understand it." Aiko clicked her tongue as she looped around the island and grabbed a mug from her cupboard, setting it out on the island's granite countertop. "If I'm right..." Aiko tapped the countertop with her right hand, then visualized the same arm she had created out of the ceramic floor earlier. To her surprise, the granite began to spawn more of itself. At first, it formed a small bulb, then, it rapidly expanded, forming a very human-like arm entirely composed of the polished rock. "Ah-ha! So it's a Construction Class!"

       "Holy hell..." Aiko's father marvelled at the strange limb as it mimicked Aiko's moving hand, twiddling its thumb in a circular motion. "How did you figure this thing out?"

       "Well... thinking back to my encounter with the homeless guy, I had touched the floor numerous times. I just made an educated guess." Aiko then looked back down at her Mark, trying to make sense of its symbolic meaning— the larger figure standing behind the man like it was some kind of minion. "I don't think this is the extent of this Mark's power..." Aiko focused again, imagining her body emerging from a pool of water. As she did this, the arm extended until a shoulder popped out of the granite, then a face, then a torso. Slowly but surely Aiko constructed a moving, articulate statue out of the granite countertop. Yet, the counter itself didn't seem to reduce in size at all. "What-..." Aiko trailed off as the golem turned to face her. "She looks like-."

       "Jesus-..." Her father was the next to notice as he looked up at its face.

       The granite construct, while retaining Aiko's body type, was much taller and better built than Aiko herself— almost seven feet in height. It wore nothing, and though feminine in form, it lacked any detail on its breasts and was completely sexless. However, the most frightening part of the statue was its face; it was not Aiko's, but her mother's round face, similar to the one in photos Aiko had, photos of her in Okinawa when she was in university. The golem's hair was done up in a ponytail and was also made of granite, yet it flowed the same as if it were liquid— all the way down to her hips. Both Aiko and her father were rendered speechless as the eyes of the silent statue simply stared down at its master from atop the counter, awaiting her command.

       "Yumi..." Her father cupped his mouth with his right hand as the statue looked his way, copying his daughter. "Aiko... how did you-...?"

        "I-... I didn't do it on purpose, dad! I'll try and-!"

        "No, don't-..." He smiled as the statue's familiar face brought him back to his youth. "Her face looks the same as when I met her in the harbour all those years ago." He chuckled under his breath as he saw the rest of the golem's giantess body. "And the rest of her...?"

       "I don't know... maybe I don't have control over that. Maybe it's just naturally... big...?" Aiko said as she waved her hand to the side, motioning to the golem to step down from the island. It obeyed without any hesitation. "It seems to follow my commands."

       "You know what this means, right?" Her father asked as he sat back down on his stool.

       "We have to get me a registration card?" Aiko replied.

       "Most definitely. Now that the police know you've got a Mark, they'll be some registration officer phoning here any minute." He nodded, grabbing his smartphone from his pocket. "Now, where the hell is that phonebook...?" Aiko's father rummaged through a few drawers before he unknowingly bumped into the golem, who he forgot was still in the room; it was blocking the last drawer right next to the fridge. "Um... can I get through?"

       "Dad, I don't think she speaks-..." Aiko was cut off by the golem, who gave her father a nod, then took its place behind her. "Oh."

       "I'll make a call here, alright, Koko?" He said, sifting through the sea of numbers in the thick book. "Hopefully I can book you an appointment at the town office sometime tonight."

       "Um, hey, dad..." Aiko awkwardly scratched the back of her head as the hulking golem carefully followed her, making sure not to drag its abrasive feet across the wood floor. "Can I go out and-?"

       He scowled at Aiko immediately, rolling his eyes as she leaned against the golem, who stared at him with a blank, stone expression. "Aiko, you're killing me! You just got a Mark and-..." He let out a long sigh as the sound of elevator music welcomed him to the call line. "Huh... son of a gun..."

       "What?" Aiko wondered.

       "Well, I didn't think there was even a hold function on the registration line..." He said as he scratched his chin. "There must be a ton of people calling in right now."

       "So then those news reporters were right? About The Third Wave?" Aiko added.

       "For a change, yeah..." He chuckled as he stared down at the floor before looking up at Yumi's stone face.

       "Ah, go-... go outside if you want. I'll call you in once I get an answer from the office."

       "Thanks, dad..." Aiko said with a warm smile as she put her runners back on, grabbing her satchel and books. She turned to her new minion and patted her on the shoulder before opening the door. "C'mon, Yuko."

       "Yuko...?" Aiko's dad raised an eyebrow at the name.

       "Well, I figured since she looks like both mom and I, I'd combine our names...?" Aiko suggested as she walked through the doorway, waiting for Yuko to follow. Sure enough, it opened the door by itself and met her on the other side, much to her surprise. "Did you see that?!"

       Admittedly, Aiko's father was practically screaming on the inside. The angry dad side of him wanted her to stay in the house, to get rid of the silly statue. But he couldn't find it in himself to say something like that, not when he could see his wife's face just a few meters away. Aiko was the kind of girl who would walk her path alone, independent. She got that from Yumi. And now that she had a Mark of her own, he could see even more pathways open up for her. On one hand, the multitude of possibilities frightened his rational side, shaking him by the shoulders, telling him to intervene. However, on the other hand, with all the knowledge she already had, and her mother's spirit guiding her, he just couldn't step in front of Aiko. She was eighteen, and despite his best efforts to get Aiko to stray from her goal, he couldn't stop her. Just like her mother, Aiko wanted to be an IMOP officer. Like it or not, he had to face facts.

****

       Aiko's backyard was dominated mostly by the large creek that ran through it year round into a pond at the bottom of a ravine. Even in the winter, the weather would always be warm enough for her to wade in the clear stream. As a child, she would often make paper boats with her father, then race them down the stream to see who would make it down the waterfall at the end.

       "Okay, okay... let's try something here..." Aiko dunked her hand into the creek, grabbing a rock about the size of her hand. Yuko stood firm in the creek, unmoving in the currents as she watched her master juggle the rock about. Aiko held the rock up to Yuko's face, making sure she saw what she was holding. "Alright, Yuko... show me what you can do. Think fast!" Aiko tossed the rock at her stone minion's face, and as she predicted, the golem blew it away. But not only did it do that; as a showcase of its strength and precision, it flicked the rock with its index finger, smashing it to pieces. "Holy shit!" Aiko shielded her eyes from the flying debris as the piece exploded into a grey mist. "Damn... you're strong." In fact, the force of the impact was so great that the golem's finger had been completely blown off.

       Aiko wanted to try something else, something more intense. She grabbed a piece of white shale from the drier rocks along the banks of the creek, then followed the stream and jumped down into the ravine, marking a large boulder near the pond with a big white 'X'.

       "Smash this rock," Aiko ordered her golem, slapping the large stone before taking a good few steps back for safety.

       "Ha..." The golem muttered as it raised its left hand over the stone. "Ya!" Faster than Aiko's eye could track, the golem's hand slammed into the stone with incredible speed, smashing it like a piece of porcelain. However, it lost its left forearm in the process.

       "Huh... looks like you need some repairs..." Aiko scratched her chin for a moment as she thought, searching the banks for a larger rock. Sure enough, she found a sturdy looking black rock— polished by the gentle currents. "I wonder...?" She tapped the stone with her finger, causing her golem to morph and change. Yuko lost her grey and became obsidian black like the stone in Aiko's hand, and she took on an even more polished sheen. Her forearm and finger also regenerated as well. "So I suppose I'll have to keep switching between substances to get the most use out of you, huh?"

       "Uh." The golem nodded, standing tall and at the ready.

       "Can you speak English?" Aiko asked the giantess, to which she received no reply. "Guess not... but you seem somewhat capable of individual thought. Where do you come from exactly?"

       "Un..." The golem replied, pointing at the black stone in Aiko's hand.

       "Well, yeah, I know that..." Aiko grumbled as she tossed the stone back in the creek, running her hand through her hair, realizing how insane the whole thing was. "Oh my god, am I talking to a rock...?"

       "Uh," Yuko mumbled.

       "Well, anyways... let's try some other stuff."Aiko climbed up the hillside into her backyard, scouring the ground for any other materials. "Where was that-? Ah!" Aiko grinned as she came to her father's axe; it was embedded in a two-by-four lying on the ground. She removed the axe from the wood, placing her hand on the metal head as she watched Yuko closely. As expected, the golem's body became the steel on the edge of the axe— a little faded but still metallic. "Oh, this should be good. Let's see how fast you are now..."

       "Un." Yuko nodded, raising her fists and readying herself.

      Aiko scooped up a handful of rocks, tossing them at Yuko all at once in a grapeshot volley. "Think fast!"

       "Yaaaaaaaaaa!" Yuko screamed as she unleashed a barrage of punches, so fast in fact, that the speed of the punches kicked up wind, and her arms appeared to be simply silver streaks in the air. Each punch obliterated a stone flying at Yuko before Aiko could even gawk at the impressive feat. With a nod, Yuko ceased her flurry, her hands hot from the friction of scraping the air at such high velocities.

       "Holy hell... even when she's made of steel she's fast..." Aiko marvelled at the steam radiating from Yuko's hands. "Her hands must've been going at least six-hundred kilometres an hour!"

       "Un," Yuko grunted in her low but still feminine voice.

       "Hey, Koko! I got through to the registration office!" Aiko's father called out to her as he stuck his head out of the door.

       "What did they say?"

       "They're clogged up until tomorrow morning I'm afraid. There's a ton of new Mark-users in Port Renfrew from what I've heard." He answered, motioning to Aiko to come inside. "C'mon. Let's have a bite to eat in that case." He then stopped the door with his foot to let them both pass. "Hey, is your statue thing steaming?!"

        "Uh." Yuko groaned as she followed Aiko inside.

****

        Aiko's father served his famous grilled cheese and mushroom soup that lunch, a Rodger Schmitt trademark dish he was awfully prideful of. And truthfully, it had the taste to back such pride. Aiko and her father sat at the island like they always did, and Yuko stood in the living room, eyeing the TV like a mystified child as 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly' played on TCM.

       "Uh?" Yuko paid close attention to Clint Eastwood's character as he dispatched a multitude of cowboys with his revolver. "Un..."

       "Uh, dad... don't you think she should be watching something a little more light-hearted?" Aiko asked as she watched Yuko pace about the living room carpet, mimicking Eastwood's stoic walk.

       "Nah, she's a big girl. Besides, you've got her under control, don't ya?"

       "Well, yeah, but..." Aiko swallowed nervously as Yuko began made a fake gun with her thumb and index finger. "I'm not so sure how independent she is."

       "If she has both you and Yumi in her then she won't hurt a fly, trust me." He insisted, taking a sip of his coffee as he unfolded the newspaper, opening up to the 'world politics' section. "Ah, what the hell are the Russians up to now?"

       "What? Did they annex anybody?" Aiko inquired.

       "No, nothing like that. That didn't go over too well the first time. That Brokov is a tricky bastard, let me tell you... he's breathing down the neck of China again. The guy won't quit!"

       "Geez, are the Russians crazy? Why don't they just get him out of power?" Aiko suggested, taking a peek at her father's newspaper.

       "From what I've learned in books, those Russians like being oppressed. Besides, their president has an entourage of Mark-users around him at all times. Any assassin going after him is either a loon or has a death wish."

       "Oh yeah... doesn't Brokov have Crimson Inferno as his right-hand man? I heard that guy once melted a whole town just by walking through it." Aiko recalled her days as a high school student when news of popular IMOP agents would trickle through social media and enter the classroom. "I think he had a Productorem-type Mark."

       "He's a disgrace to the badge. He thinks he's some kind of god just because his academy won the M Games two years ago." He scoffed at the thought of him. "Most of those First Wavers are just a bunch of cocky assholes."

       "First come, first to rule I guess." Aiko shrugged her shoulders, then took a long sip from her glass of milk. Her eyes wandered, staring over towards Yuko, who was clapping her hands vigorously at the sight of Clint Eastwood with a stogie in his mouth.

       "Huh... she has good taste in movies." Aiko's father grinned as he finished off his coffee.

       "You seem fairly lax about this whole thing, dad. I mean... there's a seven foot tall, naked metal woman sitting in your living room watching old western movies, and you're not even flinching." Aiko said as she gathered all their dishes and placed them in the sink to rinse.

       "Eh, your mother told me crazier stories during her time in the IMOP. You've heard em'." He chuckled, folding up his newspaper and laying it out on that table as he tucked in his chair.

       "Not all of them." Aiko pried, wishing to unravel this side of her father.

       "There's too many to count..." He bit his tongue before his excitement got the better of him, and he tossed his coffee mug in the dishwasher, tending to the dishes in the sink that needed to be washed off.

       "You would think." Aiko backed off, realizing the package she was unwrapping.

       "Aiko? Would you toss these dishes in the washer? I'm gonna go out for a walk." Her father muttered as he shuffled past Yuko, who tugged on his pant leg curiously. But he shook her off. "It's fine."

       Yuko unfolded her legs and stood up, wandering over to Aiko, who watched as her father stormed off without a goodbye. "Uh?"

       "It's taken me four years to get that far with him... four." Aiko crossed her arms uncomfortably, glaring at the ground to vent her frustration. "I want to know what he's thinking when he's like that... just once." Aiko was met with a long silence as she sat on the edge of the kitchen sink, Yuko standing just a foot away. "Oh, what the hell am I doing? I'm talking to a giant hunk of metal now..."

       "Ko..." Yuko raised an eyebrow at Aiko as she peered into her eyes; they were the same as hers. "Ko."

       "Yeah, that's what my dad calls me. Koko." Aiko nodded, jumping off the sink.

       "Koko?" Yuko grunted as she stared down at her own hands like they were those of an alien.

[metafinnwinchester]

Task 12: Muse Booster

Name: Finnegan “Finn” Winchester

Height: 5′8″

Age in Story: 24

Birthplace: Santa Monica, California

Hair (color, length, style): Finn’s hair is naturally dark brunet with a subtly wavy texture (most of the time he straightens it), but he’s been dying it blond since he was around fifteen. Depending on how far he lets it grow, it can be full blond and shaggy more often spiked up (x), or if he gets it trimmed, it looks neater with more of his natural color showing styled in either a quiff or left flat and swept over his forehead (x) (x). Currently, he’s letting the blond grow out, so his hair color looks like this (x), with the blond slowly fading in his hair.

Race/Nationality: White; American with Irish ethnicity

Regional Influences: Ireland, California

Accent (voice, style of speech, slang, signature words/phrases): Finn has an American accent, some would say he sounds “straight up Californian.” When he gets angry or frustrated, a little bit of an Irish accent picked up from his parents will slip into his voice. Since he grew up with Irish parents, he does on occasion drop some Irish words (he’s been most known to use “hussy” or other insults). He has a way of spewing out random words and phrases he makes up on the fly when talking, but can never remember them. His most popular signature word he’s sticking with is “bitchachos.” Voice clip here.

Religion: Catholic (even if he’s been bad with practicing the last few years)

Marital Status: Engaged to Daniel Bates

Scars/Other Notable Physical Attributes: He has a few freckles on his cheeks, neck, and shoulders. His back is littered with near-faded, red scarred lines from whippings at C.A.R.M.A. He also has a few other scars from fights and bullet wounds.

Handicaps (physical, emotional, mental): PTSD, anxiety, depression, ADHD, some anger issues. Due to C.A.R.M.A erasing some of his memories at one point, and those lost memories being retrieved by telepathic interference from his sister, Finn also has some very minor memory problems. He’s a functional alcoholic, and sometimes his knees get really sore and stiff after too much acrobatic and agility fighting. 

Athletic? Inactive? Overall health?: Very athletic. Going around as Phantom almost every night and fighting bad guys along with regular training helps keep him in shape. He’s in pretty good health despite his frequent drinking.

Style of Dress: Finn is almost always dressed nice, yet casual, with skinny jeans (either blue or black) with either a simple black or white t-shirt, a casual collared shirt (usually with sleeves rolled up) or a t-shirt with a flannel or plain over-shirt. For shoes, he usually wears vans, converse, or boots. Sometimes he’ll wear his glasses.

Favorite Colors: Blue, teal, black, and silver

How does character feel about appearance? He thinks he’s attractive and likes how he looks, although he sometimes does get slightly insecure when it comes to the scars on his back.

Any siblings?: Aislinn Winchester (younger twin sister), and Axel Winchester (younger brother).

Relationship with parents?: His relationship with his parents is fairly normal, and they get along. There was a brief period of time where he and his dad had some tension after he came out, but that was resolved (with some help from Caitlin), and they’re all on speaking terms. Dylan being in C.A.R.M.A has caused the two of them to talk less for obvious reasons, but he still considers himself close to his dad. He respects and looks up to his dad, and he loves his mother a lot and would do anything for her.

Memories about childhood?: He mostly remembers the good times where he and his siblings would terrorize each other (with love of course) and then laugh about it all later after their mom or dad would tell them to knock it off. He also remembers a lot of trips to Ireland to visit the grandparents, and how much he loved those vacations.

Educational background? (Street smart? Book smart?): He attended Stanford University with a focus in Music and Business. Unfortunately, he only made it halfway through junior year before he was arrested by C.A.R.M.A, so he has not earned his degree...yet. Even though most people don’t think so, he’s actually quite book smart, but his street smarts tend to overpower that.

Work Experience: C.A.R.M.A Meta Agent, and vigilante hero Phantom. Not the best things to put on a resume.

Where does the character live now? Describe home. (Emotional atmosphere & physical): Finn lives in a duplex apartment in West Stone with his fiancé Daniel Bates and their three dogs. The home is rather extravagant, spacious, and luxurious, which is just perfect for the two of them, and Finn always finds it easy to relax and chill out there.

Neat or messy?: It depends on his mood and how lazy he feels, but Finn prefers to be neat. Sometimes he just doesn’t have the energy to pick the clothes up off the floor.

Sexuality: Gay.

Morals: Finn isn’t really sure how to describe his morals. He was raised with the value of always trying to do the right thing, but he hit a dark period where morals were thrown out the window when he was forced into C.A.R.M.A. He had no qualms with assassinating a dangerous Meta or torturing a Rebel without guilt. Now that he’s no longer brainwashed, he regrets his past deeds and uses the Hero Squad as a way to “atone” for those by trying to save anyone needing help and stopping crime without killing the bad guy.

Activities: Playing guitar, singing, occasionally writing, running, dog-walking, sex with Danny, training, being a vigilante, drinking

Friends? Pets?: His closest friends are definitely Kelli, Hope, and Alexandra

Enemies? Why?: Sal Bradbury. The man lives to torment him ever since he was forced into and eventually left C.A.R.M.A, and Finn both hates him and weirdly cares about him.

Basic Nature: Finn comes off as extroverted, entertaining, sassy, and charismatic, but he’s a lot more than that. To those who really know him, he’s kind, protective, compassionate, and will go to the ends of the earth of them. He also has an incredibly short-temper, and when he gets angry, he likes to take it out through fighting.

Personality Traits: Feisty, short-tempered, humorous, protective, brave, intuitive, creative, impulsive, strong-willed, friendly, playful, tough, emotionally unstable, strategic, instinctive, smart, caring

Strongest/Weakest Traits: Finn’s strongest traits are definitely his bravery, his caring and protective nature towards his friends and family, and ability to plan strategies for a fight. His weakest would be his emotional instability since he tends to compartmentalize his negative emotions for extended periods of time until they all bubble up in the form of an emotional breakdown. His short-temper has also sometimes gotten him into trouble as well.

What do they fear?: He fears ending up in C.A.R.M.A again as an agent, forced to kill and torture innocent lives. 

What are they proud of?: He’s proud of surviving the worst part of his life spent in C.A.R.M.A, and the fact that he’s out and using his skills to help do good in Pansaw.

Outlook on life: Finn’s outlook on life kinda wavers towards pessimistic realism and rare hopeful optimism towards the future. Life currently sucks, but it could start getting better.

Ambitions: Finn’s ambitions at the moment are to basically try and really move past his former C.A.R.M.A life, keep his family safe and out of C.A.R.M.A’s hands, marry Daniel, and be happy in life. 

Politics: Surprisingly, Finn is really conservative on a lot of things, but more egalitarian with social issues. He absolutely hates social justice warriors; they are the bane of his existence and the reason he grinds his teeth at night. 

How do they see themselves?: Outwardly, Finn sees himself as hot shit, confident, funny, and bold. But deep down, he kind of thinks of himself as a hot mess at the moment. He doesn’t necessarily think he’s a great person, but he likes to think that he’s working on that. 

How are they seen by others?: Others view him as cute and snarky, but rather entertaining. His friends probably see him as a really annoying but lovable brother they trust.

Do I (the writer) like this person? Why? Why not?: I honestly adore Finn as a person, he’s the kind of guy that I’d wanna grab a beer with and be best friends with. He’d be like the older brother I never had.

Most Important Thing About Them: His resillience.

Present Problem: Finn’s current problem is basically that he feels like Sal and C.A.R.M.A have torn his family apart and it started since the day he was arrested. Sal’s been terrorizing him and his parents, putting ideas into his mother’s head and sharing all the recorded footage of his time in C.A.R.M.A being tortured and doing horrible things. His dad is also still in C.A.R.M.A and it’s been harder to see him more often.

How it will get worse: There are a million different ways this could get worse, but for Finn personally, it could only get worse if he somehow ended up back in C.A.R.M.A and being Sal’s “pet” again. He still has nightmares about what happened to him and what went on during his time there.

Their goals in this story?: He kind of wants to try helping make a difference with how Metas are viewed in the world, that not all of them are bad and some can be good and helpful. That’s sort of the reason the Hero Squad was founded; he and the others who started it wanted to use the skills they had to help others.

What traits will help/hurt them in achieving this goal?: His determination, bravery, intelligence, and skills from C.A.R.M.A.

What makes them different from similar characters?: I feel like what makes Finn different is that he takes responsibility for his actions from when he was in C.A.R.M.A, and doesn’t blame them on the fact that he was brainwashed (even if he says otherwise to other people). He also doesn’t really lament on it a lot or let it hinder him from trying to make it right in his own weird way.

Why will readers remember this character vividly?: He’s kind of a goofball and I find him entertaining, but he also has a bit of darkness underneath that he’s trying to overcome.