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greekgeek21 · 3 years

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Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - percy is taken by the men (women) in black

Ok, so by what I've been hearing, there has been some confusion regarding the timeline, so here's the full explanation: figure it out for yourselves. My beta reader and I have already discussed this (MONTHS AGO IN FACT!) and we ultimately decided to not go into any specifics because it wasn't important to the story and the only thing you guys needed to know was that Percy and Annabeth were 18 now, and it's after the first Avengers movie and that Thor's not there. Got it? Ok, now to the real good stuff!

Thank you to all the people who have responded kindly to this story. Honestly, it made my day to find that I had already received 3 reviews on ff before it had even been out an hour. So, thanks so much guys.

THIS IS STILL CANON I JUST HAVEN'T HAD THE CHARACTERS MENTION MAGNUS CHASE OR THE KANES YET YOU MONGRELS!!! Ok. I think I covered everything. Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

PS hopefully these will start to get shorter cuz I hate reading long A/Ns on other fanfics so I don't want to be THAT person.

Ω ♆ Ω

Knock Knock

"Come in, Hill," Fury said, already knowing it would be his second-in-command.

As she entered, Fury noticed a slight change in her attitude. It wasn't large, but it was noticeable to the experienced spy's eyes. It was almost- confusion? What could she have discovered that caused her to be confused?

"Sir, I found a possible suspect. He's...not what we expected," Hill told him, placing a file on his desk.

The file included a single piece of paper. A SINGLE PIECE OF PAPER!!! Who was this guy that could evade SHIELD's suspicion for so long? Surely, someone smart. Very smart.

"What do you mean, Hill?" he asked, picking up the paper.

The woman in question cleared her throat before responding, "See for yourself. He's just a kid."

Not displaying any surprise, though there was some going through his head, Fury read the information on the sheet:

Name: PERSEUS "PERCY" JACKSON

Gender: MALE

Age/DOB: 18; AUGUST 18, 1993

Status: ALIVE

Last Known Location: MANHATTAN, NY

Place of Birth: MANHATTAN, NY

Race: CAUCASIAN

Height: 6'1"

Hair: BLACK

Eyes: GREEN

Disabilities: DYSLEXIA, ADHD

Family: Sally Blofis (Formerly Jackson), Mother - ALIVE

Paul Blofis, Step Father - ALIVE

Estelle Blofis, Maternal Half Sister - ALIVE

Gabe Ugliano, Step Father - MISSING

BIOLOGICAL FATHER UNKNOWN

Education: GOODE HIGH SCHOOL - EXPELLED

YANCY ACADEMY - EXPELLED

...6 OTHER EXPULSIONS

Abilities/Weapons: CLASSIFIED

Other Info: Was involved in a nation-wide manhunt at 12 years old; Pushed class into shark tank; Blew up school bus with colonial cannon; Flooded an Aquarium; Seen traveling Greece with six other teens after missing three months of school (wasn't reported missing by parents);Suspected abilities; Was seen at Brooklyn Bridge explosion

Fury sighed. Just great. Another troublemaker to give him a headache. And what was with the Classified stamp? Nothing is classified to the director of the company who created the file, so why was this?

Deciding to put it off for further thought, and steeling himself over again, Fury gave his orders to Agent Hill, "Find him. Bring him in for questioning. Don't make a scene."

They were simple orders in themselves, but Fury knew better than to expect everything to go smoothly. Any second grader could figure out that Perseus Jackson was not one to do things smoothly. Hell, it would be a miracle if they even got the chance to talk to the kid before he did some crazy stunt that would most likely get someone hurt. That's just how Fury's luck was.

"Understood, sir. I'll let you know when we have him in custody," Hill answered before briskly striding out the office door.

Fury sighed once she was gone, running a hand over his face. With nobody watching, he could truly let the stress on the inside seep into the outside. It wasn't just this one case either, there had been a couple other bombings popping up around the US, and they weren't any closer to finding the source. All they knew about them was that they were connected and that they were seemingly random attacks. Add finding Jackson to the mix and his mind was about ready to implode.

But unfortunately, the director of SHIELD didn't have time for breaks, so he went back to work on the multitude of information residing on his desk.

Ω ♆ Ω

Percy and Annabeth were back at home, which was currently the Blofis apartment, and they were enjoying every minute of it. With his sister Estelle around, there was always something to do. Percy absolutely adored his sister. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Just another side effect of his fatal flaw.

He hadn't told his mother or Paul what had happened during their trip, not wanting to worry them, but he had given Annabeth the simple explanation when he got back. He made sure to stress that he had been discreet, so she had eventually given up the interrogation. That's why it was such a surprise when they were sent a visitor not a week later.

When it happened, Percy was playing with Estelle in the living room while Annabeth studied in their room. Even though she had graduated from high school early, and they weren't due to start at New Rome University for several months, she insisted on keeping up with her studies. He, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less about school. The only reason he was going to college was so he could stay near Annabeth.

Sally was cooking lunch in the kitchen, and Paul was at work. There wasn't much the man could do for the case of Percy's expulsion from Goode, but he still worked there as an English teacher. And Percy used the powers of being a savior of Olympus to get a diploma for himself from the gods anyway. Annabeth still made him study sometimes, but he figured it was the least he could do after practically giving his girlfriend a heart attack when he announced he wasn't planning on finishing mortal high school.

Just as he was about to let Estelle win their game of cars, there was a knock at the door. Since his mother was closer to it, Percy didn't feel the need to interrupt his playtime with his baby sister. A year ago, Percy would have bolted to the door to make sure it wasn't a monster, but ever since the end of the Giant War, monsters tended to steer clear of the smell of the sea. Besides Kelli, of course. She was a perpetual nuisance for Percy.

And just as he was about to make his car lose, his mother called him, "Percy! There's someone at the door for you."

He was immediately on alert. The way his mom's voice sounded made it seem like she was trying to warn him, so his mind went straight down monster lane. Gripping Riptide in his pocket, Percy made his way to the front door, trying to act casual, but his muscles were tensed for battle.

"Coming, Mom!" he answered.

What he found was certainly not what he was expecting. Sure, it wouldn't have been a surprise to find that it wasn't obviously a monster, but his eyes weren't completely masked by the Mist. He could still tell when in the presence of something related to the divine, and he most-certainly was not in that moment.

As he got to the door, he noticed that his mom had positioned her body to block the entrance to the apartment. So not a monster, but possibly a threat, he concluded.

"Who's this?" he asked his mom, taking her place in front of the doorway.

"I'm Agent Hill with the FBI, and I have a few questions to ask. Would it be alright if we stepped inside?" the woman introduced herself, flashing a badge.

Percy wished he could have checked the badge's authentication, but his dyslexia prohibited that. He did his best to keep a cool persona as he acted like he could actually read what was on the badge. Given that his mother hadn't made any protests, he passed it off as good enough.

He narrowed his eyes at the agent, assessing her threat level quickly before deciding that saying 'no' would cause more trouble than saying 'yes' and answering with a simple, "Sure."

He and his mom backed away and let the women enter before shutting the door behind them. As the woman walked inside, Percy and his mom shared a silent conversation. He told her to take Estelle to her room and stay with her after alerting Annabeth of their visitor. He was sure that his girlfriend had already figured it out, but better to be safe than sorry.

"Take a seat. Do you want anything to drink?" Percy gestured to the kitchen table and went to grab glasses out of the cupboard.

The woman took a seat before saying, "Some water would be great, thank you."

Percy mentally noted that the woman was keeping a professional front while trying to still be friendly.

After he had gotten the water and sat himself down across from Agent Hill, he said, "You said you wanted to ask some questions. I'm not sure why, though. I haven't done anything."

Hill took a sip of her water before responding, "Well, we are just going over some of our older files and wanted to fill in some blanks on yours. For instance, where were you when you disappeared? We have a record saying you were spotted in Greece."

Percy had been prepared for this question. Annabeth had ingrained it in his head after he had run into his old swim team and had fumbled over an answer. After that, Annabeth had come up with a whole explanation for what seemed like every possible question out there.

So, he quickly answered, "I was with my dad."

He had been told that it was best to answer with short sentences. That way there was less room for confusion. Honestly, he was surprising himself with the calmness he exhibited. Annabeth had suspected he would end up needing her to rescue him if the need for these explanations ever arose.

"I thought you didn't know who your dad was," Hill countered smoothly, gaze becoming almost snake-like.

"We recently connected. He lives in Greece," Percy said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out some blond curls peeking out from the edge of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. His mind let out a sigh at the knowledge that his Wise Girl was here to save him from whatever inevitable mistake he made.

"Ok, then could you please inform me of his name?" Hill asked, "And then maybe we could travel somewhere more private for the rest of my questions."

She could tell that they were being spied on, then. That seemed like a little above the average skill-level of an FBI agent to Percy, but he was just basing his thoughts off of movies, so he wasn't too sure.

Whatever the case, there was no way that he was going to go anywhere with Agent Hill. Here at home, he was on his turf. Wherever he was taken would be unknown territory, and it was common sense to not go into there.

Trying to dodge the name question, he said, "I'm not going anywhere with you without a warrant. I have rights, you know."

He was just saying what sounded right. Honestly, he had slept through US History. He barely knew who the first president was, let alone his constitutional rights.

"Those are irrelevant with probable cause, and we're only going to ask some more questions. I promise that if you come calmly, there will be no record of it anywhere," Hill said, standing up and brushing off invisible dirt from her clothes.

Percy thought about it, he really did...for a whole three seconds. I mean, what would one expect from the most irrational person on the planet?

"Yeah...sorry but I'm not going anywhere with you, especially not calmly," he said, standing up and reaching into his pocket again.

Even though he knew that the Agent was a mortal, and that Riptide would be useless in a fight against her, he still had an instinct to go for his most-trusted weapon when endangered. And in the moment, he felt extremely endangered.

Hill seemed to be trying to inconspicuously reach for her gun, but he saw it. His ADHD had kicked into overdrive, and he was noticing every little movement the woman made. ADHD could come in handy sometimes.

"Mr. Jackson, I highly suggest you stand down and let me take you in. I don't want this to get messy," Hill said smoothly, holding a hand out in a placating gesture.

"Too bad everything I do gets messy," Percy said, trying to simply swipe Agent Hill's legs out from under her, but she jumped over it and threw a punch to his temple, which is swiftly dodged.

Percy may have been taught to never hit girls when he was younger, but when he became a demigod, he learned that a threat could come from anywhere, and more often than not, it came from the female gender (or something resembling a female).

His signature troublemaker smirk made its way onto his face when he realized that this fight was actually something he had to work for. He wasn't arrogant persay, but he knew what he had defeated before, and a simple mortal isn't usually a comparison to them. But he knew better than to underestimate any opponent. Annabeth taught him that one. Speaking of Annabeth, she was still hiding behind the wall, probably waiting until the prime moment to strike. Always the strategist!

Hill and Percy's fight become a fluid motion. Sometimes they got a hit in, but most of the time it was a game of defend and retaliate. Nobody had the upper hand...yet.

Percy may be better at swordsmanship, but it wasn't like he was completely ignorant to hand-to-hand combat. He knew some stuff, including how to feint and attack. Blame Luke for that one.

So, Percy used the technique. He wasn't actually expecting it to work, considering the obvious skill level of the agent he was fighting, but maybe a simple trick was just the thing he needed to knock her off her game. Even so, when he feinted a punch to her temple, just to pull back and knee her in the stomach, he didn't stop in shock. He let his adrenaline guide him into pulling the woman into a headlock that even Tyson, with all his cyclops strength, would have trouble getting out of.

Hill pulled at his arm a couple times before giving up on that strategy and trying another one: talking, "You know, Perseus, this little display makes it really hard for me to believe you're innocent. In case you haven't noticed, you're holding a federal agent in a headlock."

Percy grip barely loosened, but his determination to defy the agent's questions lessened. She was right. What makes her think that he's one of the good guys if he fought another one of them? Nothing, that's what. Because of this, he let out a large sigh, making eye contact with Annabeth (who's eyes widened in realization and shock), and released Agent Hill. He knew that she had manipulated her, but he also knew that what she had said was true.

As soon as Hill was out of his hold, she turned around while simultaneously pulling her gun out and pointing it at Percy, chest heaving for breath, "Don't move! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head."

Percy complied, but he could see Annabeth finally slipping into the light, ready to fight off the woman arresting her boyfriend. He met her eyes and tried to convey his thoughts, but she ignored him, instead opting to go ballistic on Agent Hill.

"What do you think you're doing?! Let him go!" she yelled and grabbed Percy as Hill cuffed Percy with some seriously high-tech handcuffs and tried to pull him to his feet.

Hill kept a steel face as she shoved Percy towards the door, "He assaulted a federal agent. I have probable cause."

All of the noise had pulled Sally out of her hiding spot in her daughter's room. Once she saw what was happening, she joined Annabeth in protest. Percy just really wanted them to let it happen. Better it be him than anyone else.

"Mom, Annabeth, let me go. I'll be fine, I promise." Percy said, eyes pleading as they reached the front door.

Annabeth scoffed, eyebrows furrowing, "Like that means anything!"

"Mom, let me go. I'll be fine," After saying that to his mother, Percy turned to Annabeth, "Tell my cousins what's going on. They can help."

He prayed that she understood what he was trying to say. He wanted her to tell their demigod friend's what happened to him, and then they could help her with whatever plan she comes up with. Knowing Annabeth, she already had a plan, though, so there was no doubt in his mind that she had understood what he was insinuating.

Annabeth hesitated before giving him a curt nod. Hill took that as her signal to tug him out the door, but before he was completely gone, Annabeth grabbed his face in her hands and gave him a kiss. They were deepening it as the Agent once again pulled him away. Annabeth and his mom's worried faces followed him until he was inside the elevator, heading down to the lobby.

On the ride down, his entire body tensed up as flashbacks from the Doors of Death shot through his mind. Usually, he could push them away when Annabeth was there with him, but the stress of the previous hour was weighing on his mind, so it became difficult. Hill seemed to think that he was going to try to resist again, so she pulled out her gun again, aiming at his side. For the first time, Percy noticed that the gun looked a little odd; it was glowing blue. Then, before he could react, Hill pulled the trigger and the last thing Percy saw before he blacked out was blue liquid seeping out of his side.

Ω ♆ Ω

How was it? Let me know in the comments! As always, like, follow, and reblog pls!! Thank you to my amazing beta reader, nightskywithrainbows on Ao3! This would suck without you! Go check out their writing!

- your author

other chapters :)

#pjo #heroes of olympus #the avengers #mcu #percy jackson and the olympians #fanfic #writing #superheroes #team up #I don't know what other tags to put so here is a super long one

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recilarotten · 4 years

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Title: Insatiable (working title, will be changed) Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn In short: Inspired by @cheshiresense ‘s Hungerverse. Flames are everywhere, in everyone; weak, flickering things to be cared for as any other part of their health. For Skies, however, things are a little different. A little more dangerous. Word Count: 4000

Tsuna is seven when he finds out what his Flame is. It’s not a surprise, exactly, when his body explodes in an orange so bright and warm it’s almost an actual fire, but it’s startling enough that he yells and Mama peeks her head into her room.

It’s a lot more of a surprise when she waves blue Flames over him, shot through by gold, and pushes Tsuna’s Flames back in. Mama sighs in relief as the orange disappears, tells him she loves him, and reaches for her phone with shaking hands. When it’s pushed into Tsuna’s little hands, awkward and heavy, Mama tells him listen, okay Tsu-kun? This is important.

Sky, Papa says, in the same way he’s told Tsuna that he won’t be coming home today, or tomorrow, or in another year. Frank and sad. You’re a Sky, Tsuna, do you know what that is?

All Tsuna knows is Skies are home, because that’s all he’s ever heard of it. Papa laughs, agrees, but – that’s not all it is, that is not all you are, Tsuna.

Tsuna is four when he finds out about Guardians, and bonds, and what happens to Skies. Papa can’t come home to help, not yet – next week, he promises, I’ll be back then. Okay? – but one more phone call and a meeting later in the day with an orange corona still flickering around Tsuna. The brunet is led to a new doctor, is told he’s a thermatician and works with Flames (stabilizing, mitigating, improving, he’s here to help), and in moments a freezing band is curled over his wrist. Tsuna can’t bring himself to do much more than simply pick at it, even as the chill seeps into all of him.

“It’ll keep you safe until we figure out something more long term,” the thermatician says. It sounds like he’s speaking to Tsuna, but his eyes are on Mama. “I’m sure you can feel it, Tsuna-kun? That cold is just the bracelet keeping your Flames down. It will eventually fall off, and when it does, you’ll need to put another one on. Here; take these. Don’t put them on now! Keep them with you, okay? I’ll give some more to your Mama. When one starts to fray, then you can wear another. Never take them off unless you have to, okay?”

Tsuna doesn’t know how to explain the way his insides curdle at the idea anyway. He can’t see orange flickering over his skin, which is almost as bad, but what Papa said – that makes him even more scared than the emptiness. So this is okay.

Anything is better than that, right?

The thermatician looks at Tsuna at last, and smiles. “Don’t worry. I know you probably want to show off your Flames, but this is just temporary. Sky Flames are a wonderful thing to have.”

“… Papa said Skies get eaten,” Tsuna mumbles. The thermatician locks up like he’s the one freezing. “I don’t want to get eaten. What if my classmates notice anyway?”

“I’m not sure what your Papa said, exactly, but they won’t be eating you.” The doctor hums for a moment, before standing to pick out a note book. He flips through most of it before landing on a blank page, and a pen the thermatician wasn’t holding before – with multi-colored tabs on the end – is suddenly in hand. “Okay. So, there are seven elements, right? Sky, Sun, Mist, Cloud, Rain, Storm, Lightning. And they all have their own abilities.” The doctor draws out the elements, clicking on tabs to color them in appropriately – in the center of the other six is Sky. “Most elements are… Limited. While every element is capable of fueling themselves, the outer six, here, struggle with it; they can only spare so much energy gotten by eating and sleeping. So, they don’t have enough Flames to feel – to be healthy, even if they’re otherwise doing very well.”

The thermatician draws in little flames in the middle of the circles, then pauses, looking at Tsuna expectantly. The brunet blinks. He nods.

“Skies don’t have this deficit – this lacking. In fact, even when they’re going hungry, or staying up much, much longer than most people even can, they’re doing just fine! They produce plenty of Flames, which helps keep the Sky energized and healthy no matter what – sometimes meaning they can do amazing things, if they’re trained! – and this energy can be spread to other Flames, to make up for what those elements don’t have.” He punctuates this with a large flame around the Sky circle, then draws arrows out to the other elements.

Tsuna nods again, slowly. He… thinks he gets it. “So Skies share their Flames?”

“Yes! That is part of a Sky’s natural ability, Harmony. As Skies share with an element, it helps to stabilize – to calm – that element’s Flames, as well as allow them to interact freely. Both Flames adjust to suit the other, and Skies are capable of adjusting to many Flames at once, giving Sky Flames to fill up other elements so they have enough of their own Flames, and Harmonizing with them naturally.”

“Then why do they eat Skies?”

The thermatician sighs. “You see, elements, when they find a Sky, tend to get… excited. Elements that don’t already have a Sky are – it’s a bit like starving, forever. They aren’t really hurt for it, and they can live their lives without ever gaining more. The only thing that would be a real problem, would be a perpetual want. Putting a Sky in front of a lot of elements – especially elements that are just becoming active – is like placing a very large meal in front of a starving person, and you just happen to be in their way. They don’t want to eat you; they want to eat your Flames. Since Flames are capable of manifesting, and Sky Flames in particularly are permanently exposed unless interfered with – such as by those bracelets. Faced with that, those more desperate or unused to their Flames would…” He hesitates, running a hand over his head again. “Well, they would take those manifested Flames from you, and physically eat them, just like you’d eat anything else. If they’re hungry enough, they won’t stop either; not until they’re removed, they’re full, or… there’s no more Flames for them to eat.”

Tsuna stares. He stares, and stares, and then: “So they would eat me. Papa was right.”

The doctor nods.

Mama ends the meeting not long after; with a few more warnings about the bracelets, and keeping in contact, they’re going back home and Mama’s talking about school tomorrow.

Tsuna can’t bring himself to say, or think, or do much of anything for the rest of the day; but tomorrow, when none of his Flame-active classmates notice, and his teachers don’t acknowledge his Sky Flames, the worries whisk away. Tsuna’s okay; that’s what’s important.

— — — — —

Tsuna finds out a week later that Sky Flames are rare, but not the reason. The churning in his tummy begs him not to find out.

Tsuna also finds out that even now, his Papa is a liar. He won’t be coming this week; he won’t be coming the next week, or month. Papa has no idea when he can come by, no matter how much Mama tells Tsuna that he’ll be coming ‘soon.’ He’s been saying ‘soon’ since Mama told Papa about the bracelets, and Tsuna wonders if ‘soon’ means ‘never.’

— — — — —

Three months and seven bracelets later, Tsuna’s class briefly falls apart.

(All seven bracelets that Tsuna is still wearing. The first is hanging on by a single thread and the other six are so ratty that it’s nearly impossible to tell what they were in the first place. They still chill his skin where they touch, though, so he leaves them on. He’s got two new ones on besides, because just one leaves him with Flames that even Mama looks at, sometimes.

His classmates too, are becoming Flame-active; most have a colorful halo, and everyone is alive with new energy. Tsuna’s favorite is still Misty Rain Flames, who have blue with darker bursts of indigo, because those are Mama’s Flames and he’ll always love those – but there are many, some mixed, and Tsuna thinks they’re all so pretty. He wants to touch. His bracelets remind him not to.)

It was a normal morning for a little while; Tsuna’s trying not to nap because he’s so cold and so sleepy from the bracelets. It’s hard for him to remember lessons, too. He’s teased as being no-good because of how often he slips up, and it’s almost in good fun. Even now, Tsuna’s deskmate is grinning and prodding him, whispering “Da~me-Tsu~na! Wake up!”

It doesn’t make Tsuna any less tired, but the poking and teasing keeps him from falling asleep. Tsuna nudges back with an elbow, sticking out his tongue as the teacher isn’t looking. His classmate sparks – something Tsuna recognizes, knows to jerk away from because someone else in class had activated and their deskmates had been burned. She sparks again, chest flickering white, then explodes into color. Muddled, a mess, then a deep nearly-brown orange, racing to cover all of her. Tsuna blinks once, twice – the classroom is silent.

Sky, he realizes. Orange is Sky.

His hand is in his bag, digging, but it’s too late already. Someone shoves Tsuna out of the way and that’s all the warning he gets before his classmates – a rainbow of colors and bodies and warmth – crowd around her, into her, hands digging and scraping what little Tsuna can even see anymore. He hears yelling and sees dark orange fire cupped and dripping like magma between so many hands, swallowed whole before they reach again and Tsuna’s classmates block his view entirely – he’s seen enough. Enough to fight, try to scramble away from the mess and drag his bag with him (are his bracelets in place? Some have ripped off, but he can’t see any orange, there isn’t any Flame, not his—) too panicked to cry or shriek and his deskmate was doing enough of that on her own anyway. He breaks out of the pile to find the teacher prying students away, grabbing them by whatever she can and all but tossing them aside, golden-green Sun Flames boiling as she fights through the kids. Tsuna sees his deskmate in the teacher’s arms after a moment, clothes and hair ruffled and torn, covered in scrapes and red marks as she sobs.

Tsuna realizes that her Flames are little more than sparks now, and still– still the teacher is hefting her up above grasping hands with orange palms and red nails

Papa was right, Tsuna thinks. His stomach churns. His hands find his bracelets, which feel very, very thin suddenly. Still, his classmates fight after the teacher until she leaves – escapes – the room. Things get very quiet after that.

Orange stains lips and cheeks. The majority of the class lingers, blinking, like they don’t know what they’ve done. At the door, their hands, each other. Tsuna, and every Flame-inactive in their class – three students total – stare. I don’t want to be here, he doesn’t say. I shouldn’t be here.

Tsuna instead reaches into his backpack and pulls another bracelet on. Ice rushes up his arm and settles around his core. It feels safer, though. A little less like his classmates are glancing at him, like they know, they see it, and just want his bracelets off before they go for him instead.

I don’t have Flames, Tsuna tells himself. If he says it enough, maybe it’ll come true. Maybe he’ll never have to worry about this again. I don’t have Flames.

A moment later, another teacher comes in – he’s less ruffled but his voice shakes as he says “we’ll be calling parents; your class is over, for today. Pack up.”

No one is steady enough to celebrate – maybe no one wants to. Tsuna certainly doesn’t, not when he thinks about being swarmed, yelling and punching and getting eaten. That train of thought sends his eyes watering, and while Tsuna is the first to start crying, he’s not the only one. By the time parents start coming in, all worry and reassurance, most of his classmates are in tears too, shaking and clutching at their parents and sobbing. When Mama comes in, Tsuna’s right among them, and she holds onto him like she thought Tsuna got eaten.

Tsuna tightens his hold on her skirt and buries his face in her. His bracelets are heavy.

— — — — —

“You need to come home,” Mama says into the phone, that same night. She isn’t yelling (Tsuna doesn’t think she’s able to), but her voice is sharp and desperate. Tsuna’s quiet and holds his bracelets tight. He hasn’t stopped since leaving school. “There was an accident in Tsu-kun’s class– no, it wasn’t him but… Please, come back. He needs you. We need you.”

— — — — —

Papa is home in two days to arrive on a Sunday. He sweeps up Mama and Tsuna and holds them tight, but that doesn’t last long – it never does. For the rest of the week, he teaches Tsuna how to take his Flames and tuck them away. He shows Tsuna, the way Flames can be twined into bone and blood instead of dancing on his skin. When that doesn’t work, because there’s so much, and Tsuna is so small, he teaches Tsuna something else.

He teaches Tsuna how to take his orange Flames, bright and burning, and so warm they fill the whole room, and break them into something else. How to pry off a piece and swallow it and find the regrown parts to smear over the rest of his Flames. Hide them all under an ugly non-Flame and say that is me.

Tsuna gags on it every time, feels the brownish, oil-slick Flame dig in like thorns (reversed Sky Flames, Papa calls them. He doesn’t explain further, and Tsuna doesn’t want him to). Still, it works. Tsuna can take off two of his bracelets and feel closer to warm than he has since getting them in the first place, and Mama can look at Tsuna and not his Flames. She can hold him without her own Flames trying to snap up Tsuna’s, and the brunet takes every second of cuddling he can get. Papa stays just long enough to make sure Tsuna can keep his Flames hidden, and then he’s gone again.

Going back to his school – because the whole school was out for that week, to make sure families knew what happened and recovered, the teachers knew to keep an eye because some kids were still inactive, and those white sparks were just moments of warning. – the first thing those newly informed teachers did was say, she’s alright, and she is not a Sky. There was an inactive Sky in the room, she latched onto that.

The teacher looks at him, at Tsuna, too pointedly to be accidental. Tsuna fiddles with his three bracelets, the other seven finally gone after that week, too frayed or torn or simply worn to stay on. Later, after announcement and class has started, she circles to his desk and says, quietly, “stay after during recess. I want to talk to you about your Flames. You’re not in trouble; I just need to make sure you’re safe, okay? I’ll be meeting with your parents afterward, too. Don’t worry, Tsuna-kun.”

Tsuna nods jerkily, clutching his pencil. The teacher hums quietly, then walks off again. If possible, he feels less safe. He drops the pencil to hold his bracelets again, reassuring himself – they are still here, and so is he. His Flames are gone, ice clinking along his veins instead of blood. I should eat some later, Tsuna thinks. Orange flickers in his mind’s eye – not on him, no, no, no, but bright enough that he imagines it. What it would look like, if he let it.

The idea sends nausea burbling up his throat, tears pricking his eyes. He’d glow in lovely orange and then there would be– hands over his throat, his clothes, and now matter how he shrieked all of them, all of them would pile on top of him, until his teacher broke apart the mob and—

Tsuna swallows, clutches his bracelets, and bunkers down.

He can’t tell if the eyes on him, that have been on him ever since the teacher silently pointed out he was a Sky, are real or imagined.

— — — — —

“Tsuna-kun–”

Tsuna flinches away from the hand before it lands on his shoulder, curls into himself. His teacher hesitates. Steps away.

“I know what happened last week was scary. That’s why we’re having this talk now. Your deskmate, Hinari-chan… She was a Rain. But because you were right next to her when her Flames became active, she picked up on your element. That happens sometimes; it happened to me when I was little, and she’s doing just fine now. Tsuna, I haven’t noticed any active Flames from you at all, but if they weren’t active, she shouldn’t have picked them up. I need you to answer me honestly. Are you a Flame-active Sky?”

Helplessly, he tugs and pulls at his bracelets. “Yes,” and as he sees his teacher start to sigh, Tsuna barrels onwards. “B-but! Mama took me to a doctor to keep them hidden! My- my bracelets, that I wear, they hide it.” Tsuna lifted his arm, showing off the colorful bands. “I have spares, so if they start to fall off, I can put on another one and it’ll be okay. And, Papa – he was here, and he taught me how to… He’s a Sky Flame too, and Papa taught me how to hide my Sky Flames, so I’m not – I don’t get eaten. I can – I can show you!” Tsuna drops his arm now, hand holding so tight over his bracelets he thinks he’s going to bruise. No, he knows he’ll bruise, but Tsuna can’t bring himself to let go. The cold spreads over his hand too, and that feels good – feels reassuring.

“… Alright. Are you sure? I’m sure we can figure something else out.”

Tsuna shakes his head violently. Carefully – so carefully – Tsuna pulls his bracelets off. The first is fraying, he notes. Dread curdles in his tummy, thick and sour. The second looks fine, as does the third. With the bracelets gone, Tsuna sighs softly. Warmth pulses gently in his ribs. Soft and small and relieved. Then it grows. He explodes in orange flames, shuddering as his body turns to static in shock. Tsuna grabs a desk as feeling returns to him, tries not to sob in relief because this is what being warm feels like? His teacher sits heavily on a desk, blinking.

“You are Flame-active,” she says, numbly. Tsuna doesn’t like the blank expression on her face. It takes several moments before she looks normal again. Tsuna, though, doesn’t feel normal; he feels like dropping to the ground or crying or running until his legs fall off. He’s so warm. “Tsuna-kun, you said your Papa taught you how to hide your Sky Flames?”

He nods – everything is tinted orange, and Tsuna can feel his teacher’s Sun Flames, light and scattering like sparks, recoiling from his own inbetween moments where they reach and try to dig and grab and steal. Tsuna doesn’t see it, but he feels his teacher grip the desk. Hard.

Tsuna shakes off the giddiness, remembers his feet are on the ground and his body is wreathed in Flame. He coats his hand in the orange fire, feels it sing from his ribs to his hands through his veins. It coalesces there, coiling into and through itself to form a sphere that flickers and coils around his fingers. Harmless.

It feels so much– so much like his insides are being pulled, his lungs and heart dragged inside-out and strangled by his intestines, bones digging in to pry his body apart– still, still, his Flames taste like Mama’s cooking, warm and wonderful and so much like home. Thoughtlessly, agonized – it feels like comfort as he swallows and Tsuna drags out more, body (is that just him?) shuddering in sobs as he eats, and eats, and eats, until something sticky and icy gutters through his chest. It seeps out with every exhale and swallows up orange Sky Flames. Painless, yes, but covering his skin in a way that’s almost worse than the bracelet’s icy cold. Hideous Flames – are they still Flames? – oil-slicked and sickly, drift off his body in fumes. Inside, safely locked under the fake Flames, his Sky Flames flicker and roil. If he was warm earlier, Tsuna feels like his insides might be boiling now – but is that so bad? He slides on a bracelet, just one – that boiling fades to an unfamiliar, soothing warmth, and nothing else.

His teacher shifts.

Tusna flinches, coils into himself, and waits.

“… I can’t sense them at all,” she says eventually. Her voice is trembling. When Tsuna dares to look, she’s gone pale. “You eat your Flames?”

“That’s how it works,” Tsuna whispers. “Skies get eaten no matter what. Papa says it’s better to eat my own Flames than let anyone I don’t want to do it, and… and it’s not too bad.”

His teacher lurches; she swallows hard enough to be seen – to be heard – then stands upright again. “Alright. I… I’ll still have to talk to your Mama, but this is – this will work. You’re free to go.”

Tsuna sighs in relief, only to immediately wince as the bell signaling the end of recess chimes. He retreats to his desk, hand already fiddling with his bracelet. The brunet feels sick with the fake Flames and his real Flames, like his bones and blood will light up and Tsuna won’t be anything but ashes. The first classmates to come in, nudging and laughing and pushing each other don’t notice him – but it doesn’t last. That kind of thing never lasts. Someone glances over, and that’s the end of it. He nudges a friend, and soon the class is looking – staring – eyes tracing over Flames like factory smoke, black and roiling and heavy.

It’s not Tsuna that breaks the silence – no matter how much he wants to throw himself under his desk and cry. He still hurts. The stares are worse. It’s not the teacher either, who still looks pale and sick and unsure, no matter how she tries to hide it.

“What’s wrong with your Flames?!” Someone demands, and the room explodes into noise. Tsuna can’t pick out any one phrase, hears Flames and “wrong” and “strange” and “he really is no-good-” and no matter how the teacher calls over the class, they won’t settle. They start pressing in, curious and worried and unsettled, hands coming to press and brush through his Flames—

Tsuna bolts, pushing through bodies as his Flames begin to roil in his insides, as the reverse Flames start dripping up and down, flooding the air with a stench that chokes Tsuna and follows him out the door, to the bathroom as he locks himself in a stall and gasps for air through tears and choking. The tile floor is cool, seeps into his skin when Tsuna drops to the ground to hold himself, to cry.

With only his sobs echoing back, it’s easier to calm down – when he’s not being swarmed, when there isn’t noise pressing in at every angle. He breathes deep, ignores the smell of rot, sighs his fear out and leaves hollow spaces instead. Even when that gripping fear lets go, Tsuna doesn’t leave. Brown-black fire, dregs of something gentler, coat his skin in a mockery of comfort. Of Flames.

To hate them because he had to eat his own fire to make them– because they hurt, that was one thing. His classmates staring and whispering and yelling, reaching to touch in fearful interest that—

Tsuna buries his head in his arms and shivers.

#Katekyo Hitman Reborn #KHR #fanfiction #my writing #((If you're down here; congratulations! Thank you for reading.))#((I highly recommend you reward yourself by reading Cheshire's original Hungerverse or any of their works.))#((they are - and i cannot stress this enough - a fantastic author who deserves more attention))#((as for this lump of suffering))#((I intend on cleaning it up; getting a more solid storyline together now that I know the feel of it; and trying to make a proper story.))#((for this though--))#((Skies aren't hurt by having 'too much Flames' because they DO have an upper limit))#((the difference between elements and skies is living in a small apartment v. alone in a huge house))#((everyone's happier when they get to share the big house))#((Skies are pretty rare though so most people don't even know what they're missing out on))#((having said that))#((Iemitsu's way of hiding Flames is 100% not recommended))#((it works great but the reverse Flames are what they smell like))#((rot))#((in the long term the autocannibalism forms an addiction and eventually rots away all natural Flames))#((in addition to being A FORM OF AUTOCANNIBALISM))#((anyway))#((Normally Skies are just temporarily bonded with their parents to keep everyone under control until they have proper Guardian bonds))#((but Nana's bonded to Iemitsu and Iemitsu's a Sky himself))#((so Tsuna's shit out of luck))#((also those bracelet-bands are pretty much the equivalent of chugging liquid nitrogen for a fever))#((they have serious mental-emotional-physical side-effects in long term use; especially when they're used to contain powerful Flames))#((they're supposed to be used to contain people who's Flames are making them dangerous or stop them from using Flames they don't have))#((putting them on a child isn't unheard of but you're not supposed to wear nine of them at once!))#((even if Tsuna's Flames have naturally eaten away at the bands they're still leaving an effect to be wearing them))#((and yeah the wear and tear IS from Tsuna's Flames. They're short-term items after all.))

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blackphoenixalchemylab · 5 years

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Lilith’s Winter Travelogue: New Perfume Blends

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In winter of 2017, we used our savings, blew our collective airline miles, and maxed out our credit cards on a trip to Paris, Salzburg, and Berlin so that we could attend a Krampuslauf, visit the Christmas markets, and help Lilith practice her French in realtime. I’m pretty sure that we’ll be paying off that trip for the next decade, but it’s all worth it. We travel with our daughter Lilith as much as we can; we take her to conventions and business trips and trade shows, we take her on road trips and weekenders, we have taken her to as many cities, states, and countries as we could manage.

I want her to meet people who are not like her. I want her to hear voices that are not like her own. I want her to see history alive and vibrant surrounding her. I want her to see, hear, touch, and understand. I think she could stop here and do miracles. The following collection is a perfume scrapbook of these warm family memories, which we set aside to share during the coldest winter months. Lilith and Brian (our Doc Constantine!) have contributed scents and stories to this series. You can find Ted’s scrapbook of the trip there, too!

++ LILITH’S WINTER TRAVELOGUE

A BALMY 26 DEGREES

These three are far braver than I am. It was snowing buckets and the wind was whipping across the Fuschlsee, but these maniacs still went into the outdoor hot tub.

A wintry spa scent: green tea, aloe, eucalyptus, icy lemon, and French sage.

ARC DE TRIOMPHE CARROUSEL

Once the site of a guillotine that rolled the heads of thirty-five people during the Terror, now the site of a triumphal arch dedicated to Napoleon’s military victories of 1805.

Also: my family is ridiculous.

A sharpened blade, a pinch of snuff, a blast of gunpowder, and a pop of strawberry bubblegum.

AT THE KRAMPUSLAUF

I know I’ve talked about Lilith’s experiences with Krampus for years, so I hesitate to reiterate them here. She loves Krampus. Her love for Krampus easily equals her love for Santa, so in 2017, we took her to the Gnigl Krampuslauf in Salzburg (which we memorialized in our 12 Lashes From Krampus and Perchtenläufe series). She was enraptured. She was charmed by the wee little kid Krampuses, the Perchten, the switches, and the chains. She loved the snow and icicles, the roadside cider vendors and the bitterly cold air. I love this photo; it really seems to encapsulate her joy that night: the sparkle in her eyes and her bursts of laughter.

Ice, leather, and snow warmed by a steaming stein of children’s glühwein.

BEARS OF BERLIN

Even in utero, Lilith had a full head of hair. She looked like a Monchhichi when she was born, and from the moment I first saw her, I called her Bear. She’s my Baby Bear, Bunnybear, Bearington, Beanie Bear. I made up bear bedtime stories for her – we still tell each other bear jokes all the time. Every time I see a bear video or meme, I save it for her, my little Princess Bear.

While we were in Berlin, we made a point of taking photos with as many Buddy Bears as possible. They’re intended to symbolize peace, tolerance, and understanding between religions, nations, and cultures worldwide, and Lilith knows how important that is – especially now.

Sweet buttered rum, brown musk, wildflower honey, tonka bean, labdanum, and clove.

BEWARE: PICKPOCKETS!

Brian: “Lilith is always up for staging a hammy, fun photo. Here, I’ve found a Distracted American Child at Weihnachtsmarkt am Alexanderplatz and am very subtly and skillfully picking her pocket.”

Lilith: “We saw a sign on the ground that said Pickpockets! – and me and Unkie decided to pose like what the picture looked like. He let me pickpocket him for real after we took the picture and he let me keep the money.”

Neon pink grapefruit, lemon peel, petitgrain, and peppermint, all crunchy with sugar crystals.

BYE, AUSTRIA!

Lilith: “Nooooo! I don’t want to leave Salzburg!!!! I loved how it snowed, and I loved the food. I piled up on bread, mostly, but the bread was really good. And honeycomb. And bacon and sausage and eggs. I loved the outdoor hot tub thingymajigger. Being in a spa when it’s so cold outside is fun. I love the Christmas markets and I got unicorn and bat stuffy heat packs which is so cool.”

Brian: “I agree with Lilith’s sentiment on this. All the cities we visited were great, but Salzburg was the most charming. I loved the Christmas markets in Berlin, but Salzburg was… – quainter? I loved the gruff and distant replies we got to questions we posed to locals. I LOVED THE KRAMPUSLAUF. You can’t beat a Krampuslauf. Plus, I got a fancy hat. A legit fancy Tyrolean hat. I love that hat.”

This scent? Sachertorte.

C’EST ICI L’EMPIRE DE LA MORT

Our trip to the Catacombs was bittersweet. Lilith was touched by the beauty and poignancy of the experience, but also horrified by the stories of people getting lost underground.

Lilith surrounded by the ghosts of six million Parisians: damp black moss, grey sandalwood chips of bone, and winding sheets of balsam, ambergris, nagarmotha, and frankincense.

CATHEDRALE NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS

Lilith meets the Gargoyles of Paris: stone and ancient incense, beeswax and lavender smoke.

CREPE AUX FRAISES

Lilith’s first genuine Parisian crêpe!

Strawberries, whipped cream, confectioners sugar, vanilla bean, and orange zest.

DIE JUNGFRAU

Brian: “She’s my Mini Me.”

Lilith: “This was me and Unkie posing for a picture with a play thing going on in the background at the ice rink in Alexanderplatz. I didn’t understand it because it was all happening in German, but it was fun!! I love my Unkie so much. He’s like my older twin. We have the same birthday and we are both year of the Rat. Mom is a stinky ol’ Tiger. Anyway, I just love him so much.”

Virgo’s sacred lavender and mosses with thyme, chamomile, lemon balm, and fig.

ELLE EST HEUREUSE

It was pouring rain and bitterly cold, but this smile kept me warm.

Wrought iron lattice and sparkling amber lights.

FIRST MORNING IN PARIS

We were exhausted, hungry, and batty from travel, but Lilith made herself right at home. She’s a born traveler, and takes just about everything that happens on a trip in stride; she’s as comfortable in a hotel, hostel, or airport floor as she is at home. Just before dawn on our first morning in Paris, I tried to talk Lilith into putting on a coat and watching the sun rise with me, but she’s didn’t bite.

Burgundy oudh and crushed velvet musk with a misting of lavender.

GALERIE DES GLACES

Lilith in the Hall of Mirrors: marble and gilded bronze, Venetian mirrors and a drop of poison.

GORDIAN HAIRMOP

Brian: “It’s something we always do when we’re on a trip, ever since she was really little. She complains constantly about how Beth brushes her hair, and I honestly enjoy the challenge of brushing her mop. It’s like that knot Alexander had to undo, except on my niece’s head, and I don’t have the option to cut it. Plus, her hair looks really nice when it’s done right.”

Lilith: “Every time we’re on a trip together, Unkie brushes my hair for me. I hate brushing my hair. Also cuz mom says I don’t do it thoroughly and I miss parts in the middle. I think there are pictures of him brushing my hair in every city we’ve ever been together. He brushes my hair way better than mom does.”

A warm scent, mahogany-dark: spiced teakwood, coffee bean, bourbon vetiver, styrax, tobacco, and oakmoss.

HELLO, SALZBURG!

Inspired by the deep purple hues of the night we arrived in Austria: icy air, plum musk, and blackberry with a beam of amber light.

HOHENSALZBURG FORTRESS

An absolutely stunning view of the Baroque historical district from high atop the Festungsberg.

A shiver of iced chocolate and white amber.

LA BASILIQUE DU SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTE

Perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament has been continuing uninterrupted since 1885, and I wanted Lilith to see the monstrance where the Blessed Sacrament is held.

An incense for the Maid of Orléans: red rose beads, frankincense, lily of the valley, iris petals, red labdanum, and steel.

LA JOCONDE

There is nothing mysterious or enigmatic about my kiddo’s smile. Her joy, laughter, and good cheer radiate delight and are impossible to eclipse, even when she’s jetlagged and exhausted.

Bright Italian bergamot, pink grapefruit, sweet California sage, and glittery white musk.

LE CARROUSEL DE MONTMARTRE

Spinning merrily at the foot of Sacré-Cœur, this is one of twenty permanent carousels scattered around Paris. Just down the road, Lilith watched street hustlers play Three-Card Monte and ply the old gold ring scam.

A swirl of color against a rainy backdrop: golden amber and blackberry oudh with pineapple, tobacco absolute, cinnamon leaf, bay, sweet vetiver, and red apple pulp.

LILITH DE MILO

A lesser-known work of art in vibrant 21st century polychrome: vanilla cream, coconut, fossilized amber, and white sandalwood.

LILITH’S FIRST ICICLE

The only icicles we get at home happen when we have a fridge malfunction.

Plucked from the walls of Hohensalzburg Fortress: a glassy frozen snowdrop with whipped cream and glacial musk.

MOMMY’S LITTLE M16 AGENT

Lilith learning the art of spycraft at Deutsches Spionagemuseum.

A pre-teen superspy’s secret identity: white pear, apple pulp, golden musk, and fossilized amber.

MORNING AT FUSCHLEE

Salzburg is so goddamn beautiful.

Chilled white tea, freesia, and bergamot blanketing skeletal branches. Winter wind brushing across still waters.

NEPTUNBRUNNEN

Brian: “No one else would come out onto the rink. It was just Lilith and me skating, and Beth and Ted were trying to get pictures. I was trying to teach Lilith to skate while dodging penguins and other tourists. There’s a pretty funny photo of Lilith falling and me lunging to catch her, and the funny part is that it’s angled in a way that almost looks like I’m pushing her down. We skated together a ton that night, and she insisted that we go back again the next night.”

Lilith: “I’ve ice skated before when I was littler with a thingy, but this is the first time I really learned how to ice skate. Unkie helped me when I wasn’t using the penguin and he skated me with a lot and helped me learn how to do it. I fell down a lot, but that’s fine.”

Sugared chestnut and powidltascherl.

OU SONT LES JOUETS S’IL VOUS PLAIT

Lilith’s French teacher is a lovely, kind, radiant human being, and always so generous with her time. Before Lilith left for Paris, she helped Lilith put together a cheat sheet of phrases that Lil knew she’d need for the trip.

Où sont les jouets, s’il vous plaît? French vanilla, strawberries, and raspberries.

OVERLOOKING THE GARDEN

While we were at Versailles, there was a bomb threat on the premises, and we were unable to see the garden due to the evacuation. It’s difficult to convey how challenging and heartbreaking it has been to explain things like this to Lilith, from shooter drills at school to bomb threats in palaces. We live in difficult times.

A perfume of hope for a brighter tomorrow: sun-dappled amber, yesterday’s rain, and fresh-cut grass.

PANTHEON!

All right, so we only saw the Panthéon for a moment because Lilith wanted to hurry the hell up and get some crêpes, but I can’t with this smile. It’s THE BEST.

An incense for Sainte Geneviève, patroness of Paris: iris root, frankincense, and violet leaf.

PERSPECTIVE

Lilith’s guide at the Louvre was attempting to explain the difference in perspective between Medieval and Renaissance art by utilizing paintings of the Nativity and the Adoration of the Shepherds from both periods, and it fell a little flat when he assumed that she knew what the paintings depicted and she hadn’t a clue beyond the fact that they were paintings of a lady holding some baby.

Oops? Sorry, mom!

The scent of failing to pass on a Catholic education to the next generation: spilled sacramental wine, a splatter of vermillion paint, Bible leather, and a puzzled cherry chypre.

POTSDAMER PLATZ TOBOGGAN

Brian: “Now this shit was fun. When we arrived in Berlin, we stopped by the Potsdamer Platz market for a few minutes on our way to the hotel, but we didn’t stay for long because we were all exhausted. We check into the hotel, and I open the curtains in my room and Lilith and I see the lights of the market… and this ride, this alpine slide, that we must have walked right by in the dark. Lilith and I knew we had to do it first thing in the morning.”

Lilith: “There was a humongous slidey thing where you sit in a pool thingamajiggy and slide down it. And you have to carry your pool thing up the stairs. Ok, so DAD had to drag it back up the stairs for me. Anyway, I went on it a bunch with my Unkie and my dad, and mostly mom took photos. AS USUAL. This was one of my favorite things in Berlin!”

A tube of black rubber sliding wildly down a whoosh of white musk and white oudh.

SCHEITERHAUFEN VOM BOSKOP APFEL

Okay, this isn’t a photo of Lilith, but it IS a photo of a dessert I had on the first night in Salzburg. It was delicious and amazing and perfect, and it gets its own scent.

Baked apples in cinnamon cream, with a blueberry and raspberry garnish.

SNOW BEAR

Lilith put on my boots to run out into the snow this morning in her pajamas. Ich wünsche dir einen guten morgen!

Pink cotton candy snow, tuberose, plumeria, melon blossom, green tea, lavender, and a shiver of white musk.

SNOW OF THE GRAVESTONES AT PETERSFRIEDHOF

Lilith at Petersfriedhof, the oldest cemetery in Salzburg. As the bells of Stift Sankt Peter tolled around us, we wandered through the graves and the catacombs that date back to Late Antiquity.

Benedictine incense drifting on a frost-chilled December breeze.

SNOWFLAKE-SHAPED SNOWFLAKES

We’re such ridiculous LA rubes. We were standing outside our hotel laughing, oohing and ahhhing, and taking photos of snowflake-shaped snowflakes, when an Austrian fellow walks up to us and says, “Snow.” I told him that we’re from Los Angeles, so snow is super exotic to us.

He nodded and walked away.

The awe and wonder of a couple of Angelinos marveling at the snowy snowness of the snowflakiest of snowflakes: golden amber, California sage, white tea, and sunny Matilija poppy speckled with snow.

SQUELETTE ET FANTOME

My two favorite spectres, haunting the apartments of Paris: white musk, graceful lavender, blackcurrant, teakwood, and cacao.

SWING CAROUSEL

Brian: “I’m not afraid of heights, but I am reasonably afraid of landing, and I have what I feel is a legitimate concern about rickety old carnival rides. I kinda hate carnival rides, but I’ll do it for Lilith.”

Lilith: “Mom says this ride is called a Swing Carousel, but she also calls it a Barf Ride. She wouldn’t go on it, but my dad and my Unkie did. We went on it, and it’s pretty much where you’re sitting in a flying seat. When we were stopped, I couldn’t reach the ground with my feet. I love this ride. The swing is kinda like one of those baby things you have at the park, with the bar for the babies. It’s like those swings, but crazy and way up high. We ate cheesy hot dogs and got hot chocolate right next to the ride, too.”

Bright orange peel and osmanthus with polished cedar, rings of burnished amber, sweet incense, and gingerbread.

THE HOHENZOLLERN CRYPT

Beneath the Berlin Cathedral lies the Hohenzollern family crypt. It is the final resting place of many of those who shaped the history of Berlin, and is one of the most important dynastic burial sites in Europe, with roots reaching back through centuries.

The memory of an 18th-century perfume from the royal houses of the Holy Roman Empire drifting through marble-white walls: white bergamot, clementine, lime peel, grapefruit, blood orange, neroli, lavender, thyme, and tobacco.

THE UMBRELLA INCIDENT

Travel brings educational experiences that you just can’t predict. We visited the German Spy Museum in Berlin on a whim, and Lilith learned all about the history of espionage, data encryption, cryptography, and cypher machines, poisons and truth serums, and the strange and clever artifacts of Cold War spycraft. For me, the most interesting part was the Stasi’s collection of scent samples of German dissidents. For Lilith, the best part of the museum was dodging beams in the laserparcours, full Mission Impossible-style.

Here, Lilith is inspecting the poisons exhibit after watching a reel about the Bulgarian umbrella.

Leather shoe phones, the gleaming metal of a M-125-3 Fialka cipher machine, a femme fatale’s heady, dark perfume, and a breath of castor bean accord.

THUTMOSE’S NEFERTITI

While we were at the Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, I desperately wanted to see the Nefertiti bust and share the moment with Lilith. There’s a story behind why the bust is so important to me, but that’s for another time. Suffice to say, I was overwhelmed with awe and joy, and a kind docent told me that we could take a photograph from the doorway as long as we didn’t use flash. This blurry mess is my best attempt!

Myrrh steeped with cardamom, cinnamon, and sweet wine, streaked with lines of labdanum kohl, and gilded with crushed ambrette seed, a copper oxide musk, and accords of lime spar and iron oxide.

TRAVEL BUDDIES

Brian: “Here, we’re en route to Frankfurt Flughafen and then off to Berlin. It’s always fun to travel with Lilith. We’ve been on a lot of trips together, going all the way back to her first trip out of LA when she was 1. We went to New Orleans that time. We’ve traveled for work and we’ve traveled for fun, and everything is a little bit more interesting when I’m with this kid.”

Lilith: “I remember being in a t-shirt in the freezing cold here because I took my jacket off in the airport because it was so hot. I love travelling with my Unkie.”

A reinvigorating travel survival oil containing essential oils of frankincense, lemon, eucalyptus, peppermint and rosemary. Leave it to the Virgos to have a practical oil here.

UBI BENE, IBI PATRIA

Lilith once told me that home is wherever her loved ones are. My sweet girl, may you always be surrounded by those who love and support you.

White musk and lavender, frankincense and amber incense, sugar cookies, rose petals, and Florida Water.

VIRGO SNOWBALL

Brian: “Our first morning in Salzburg, I wake up to the sound of something thudding against the window. I look outside, and Lilith is out in the snow throwing snowballs at our door. So, I put on all my snow gear – mittens, hat, boots, overcoat, the whole pile of stuff – as fast as I can, and I go outside and I realize this kid is in her just in her long johns and her mom’s snow boots, standing in the snow laughing. Beth comes out yelling for her to put her snow clothes on and to get out of Beth’s boots because she was getting snow in them. She gets changed, and we run around snowball fighting.

“There’s another story – an inside joke – that if my feet get cold wherever we are, we have to go home. But I’ll save that for another time.”

Lilith: “You can’t tell in the picture, but I’m in my jammies here under my coat and stuff. Me and Unkie had a snowball fight. We tried to build a snowman, but it very much failed. Unkie got me a lot with the snow, but I got him back!”

A scent the color of the sun rising over Lake Fuschl: a joyful lemon ginger cologne with a touch of bay leaf and white tea.

WEIHNACHTSMARKTE

The first Christmas market that we visited in Berlin was at Potsdamer Platz. We were completely wiped from the day of travel from Salzburg, but we were stubbornly determined to at least step into the market before collapsing into bed.

The scent of brightly frosted lebkuchen, warm mutzenmandeln, and chocolate-drizzled, marzipan filled schneeballen.

YULETIDE AT HEATHROW

Honestly, there are a lot of smells in any given airport that I probably shouldn’t translate into a perfume, but this particular scent was inspired by this radiant ribbon tree at Heathrow and the joyful little girl standing in front of it.

Sparks of snow-white musk dotted with shining bulbs of blackcurrant, plum, and lavender.

ZONKED IN PARIS

Even the most intrepid adventurers get sleepy.

Coffee, coffee, and more coffee for the grownups, and vanilla ice cream to en’sugar the kiddo out from her stupor.

#perfume #winter perfume

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busttangdabar1982-blog · 5 years

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Scheduling trials for hair and makeup is important, and practice makes perfect! Don't wing your beauty routine on the big day without a dress rehearsal. Schedule a hair appointment with your hairstylist six to nine months before the wedding, and discuss what length and condition you'd like your tresses to be in by the time you'll be married. Schedule any treatments that the stylist deems necessary to ensure your hair is healthy and beautiful before you walk down the aisle. Countertops are one of the primary focal points of a kitchen design. Not only do they make up a large portion of the kitchen, but they are also put to use just about every time you do something in the kitchen, and they take up a good chunk of your budget when doing a kitchen remodel. But all countertops are not created equal. Just know that even without the support you hope for, you can stop. I 9 months sober and only told 3 or 4 people plus my therapist, all of whom said, oh come on you not an alcoholic, so I can never have a glass of wine with you?graedus29 108 points submitted 4 months agoI mean, yeah, I really thankful for my job. I have a great employer who treats me very well. Generations of people not being in nature is taking a toll. And I don mean just walking passed a flower. People aren playing in nature anymore and that important wether people think it hippy mumbo jumbo or not.. I plan on 임실출장안마 doing other activities in French (something with audio and transcripts) after learning 임실출장안마 a lot of words but for now I like how I being productive while watching the show I would watched with English subs or no subs anyway since I know English. Also besides the reviews being fun on anki, I have full context when I do my reviews on anki since I saw the episodes. Those textbooks sentences or pre made decks are burdensome and tiring since I have no context and it hard for me to care enough to figure out the context.. The pain is getting so intense that sometimes I can't get out of bed. I can't walk without feeling like I'm going to fall down or pass out. Pain with sex becomes more frequent and my sex life takes a nose dive because I just can't stand it. Truth is, they arent a good liar. Are they in too deep? Judging by all these profiles probably. But are we enabling them? No. Except you do here. We talk, and swap emails. The white night has now almost gone. Are there any recommendations or solutions for long wearing cushions? I currently use the Hera UV Mist cushion and by 2 or 3pm my new colleague asks me if I wear any makeup. I actually went out and bought the Etude House Fix and Fix Primer and it seems to have made my cushion last a bit longer but I still look ghastly by the time it late afternoon. I in a job that requires me to perpetually be talking to clients too.. It's never the same without you here. It's a mess. They never even sweep the piles of autumn leaves in front of the yard. I've lost 75 lbs on Keto in a year and have kept it off for almost 3 years. I have a 5 lb bounce once in a while but for a day or two if I eat something carby. This was honestly the easiest "diet" I've ever tried. Lol. I try to gauge them before I ask that. My favorite is guessing elderly people like if they tell me it's their first time and I ask them where they are from and one tells me a city far away and the other is from our location. A (white) judge then had to look at all of that evidence and come to a decision, which is a Herculean task. It was then appealed all the way up to the SCR. If this Bill of Rights looks to make this task easier and affords protections to Indigenous peoples that they are owed, then it seems to be a good move (recognizing that I am speaking as a white person).

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growningupgeek · 7 years

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Seven Years Gone-Part 6 The End?

Word Count-935

Character-Sam, Cat(OC/me), Dean.

Warnings-Fluff, practical joke, bubblerock.

Summary-After her little talk with Death can Cat make that leap of faith and make it work with Sam?

A/N-This is it, my darlings. The final scene has been written since before I started this journey. Here is the bubblerock song that inspired it all because all I could think of when I heard it was Dean’s face. Please remember; I would never hurt Baby!

Thanks for coming along on this ride with me. Special thanks to @wheresthekillswitch for taking the time to beta read this part and catching a real stupid mistake. Love you, doll.

SYG Masterpost

-JediCat

I drifted back to consciousness slowly to the sound of soft snores from nearby. The next thing I was aware of was that I felt normal for the first time in I didn’t know how long. I opened my eyes carefully, not wanting to get blinded again, and was relieved to find the light at a normal level. I let my eyes drift around the room; Sam was sleeping in the other bed and the source of the snores, Dean was sitting at the table by the window watching something on the Laptop; when I tried to sit up, his head jerked up.

“How you feelin’,” he asked softly.

“Like I just went twelve rounds with Ali,” I replied just as softly. “And in need of a shower. Then I want to talk to you about a conversation I just had.”

His eyebrows shot up, but I shook my head. “After I’m clean. And I get something to eat, I’m freaking starving.”

He gave me a grin. “I’ll get you something from the diner down the street, just let me wake…”

“Don’t you dare wake Sam,” I hissed. Dean looked shocked at my vehement tone. “Every time I woke up he was there. He deserves to sleep.”

Dean just nodded at that, then he helped me out of the bed and to the bathroom. At some point the boys had moved my stuff from my room to theirs because everything was waiting for me. I adjusted the water to the temperature I wanted and proceeded to indulge myself in a long shower. By the time I climbed out the water was starting to cool. I dried off and dressed in the sweats and tee-shirt I’d brought in with me. When I opened the door a wonderful, familiar smell hit me full in the face.

On the table in front of Dean was a white bag with the familiar logo for Kirby’s Coney Island on it. I crossed the room, grabbed the white carry out box from the bag and opened it to find a taco salad. I shoveled in the first bite before I spoke. “How did you know?”

“We were here for a case and stopped in for lunch. It was about six months after he was completely back, before he gave up finding you. He ordered that, he’d never eaten it before and he never ordered it anywhere else,” Dean smiled at me as he spoke. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.”

Then he turned serious. “So about this conversation you had…”

I swallowed the salad I had in my mouth and gave him a grin. “You mean the one with Death. A little freaky.”

“I killed him over a year ago,” Dean sounded shocked. “How did you talk to him?”

I stared at Dean for a minute, and then decided I really didn’t want to know. I related the whole conversation to him, every detail I could remember. After Dean confirmed that Death had been the one to retrieve Sam’s soul from Hell and put it back I was quiet until I finished eating. Dean seemed to understand that I needed to think things through and left me alone.

I don’t know how much time passed before we heard Sam groan as he woke up but I’d made my decision; I would follow my heart and trust Dean and Death that this was the Sam Winchester I’d fallen for. A little older with a little more wear and tear on him, but I figured it was worth giving this a try.

We stayed at the motel another three days, Sam insisted on it saying that I needed to get my strength back before driving to Kansas. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to see the bunker the boys called home. Dean was perpetually teasing me about my name no matter how many times I corrected him; so the night before we left I snuck out and installed a little gadget I’d bought in Baby. Nothing that would hurt her, but I was going to get even with Dean if he killed me for it.

I looked at Sam as we made a final sweep of the room, “You might want to ride with me for the first part of the trip.”

“What did you do, kitten,” he asked.

I just gave him a Cheshire cat grin. “Maybe nothing, maybe a little revenge.”

He just shook his head then went to turn the key in and check out. Dean and leaned against our respective cars discussing the route to the bunker. When Sam returned and told Dean he was going to ride with me for a while he gave us a sly smile. “Try not to fall too far behind.”

He climbed into Baby and started the engine. As soon as he did a bouncy pop tune started playing. I rushed Sam into my car and started the engine, peeling out as the song ran through the first verse. I stopped at the drive to the main street just as Sam’s phone rang and he put it on speaker.

“What did you do to my baby, Cat,” Dean roared.

In the background I could hear Shaun Cassidy's voice get to the chorus

Hey Deanie won’t you come out tonight

Stars are dancing like diamonds in the moonlight.”

I shared a grin with Sam. “I told you not to call me Mouse, Winchester. Don’t worry; it’s only going to repeat for seventy miles or so.”

Then I pulled onto the road and headed south towards the boy’s home and a new life.

The Usual Suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld @black-shad0w-w0lf @imagine-that-supernatural @ladysaraharper @thedepthsoffandomminds @kbrand0 @soaringeag1e @supernaturalismalife @iwantthedean @jojomonsterbunni @little-red-83 @growleytria @ashleymalfoy @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @halespecterwinchester @driverpicksthemuusic @isometimeswritesomethings @whyisleepacesoamazing @mist-and-echoes @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @kaylas-obsessions @aerisawriting @letsgetoutalive @divinitycas @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @jodyri @soab1967 @busybee612 @appleschloss @kazchester-fanfiction @oriona75 @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sammy-moo @for-the-love-of-dean @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @sandlee44 @apeshit7x @purgatoan @fast-times-in-the-impala @wereallbrokenangels @wonderless-screwup @dontsassmecastiel @cherrie-liquor @deascheck @mrssamfuckingwinchester @winchesterprincessbride @tjforston @babi-correia @helixiaray @writingthingsisdifficult @mysaintsasinner @mogaruke @wheresthekillswitch @skybinx-blog @bohowitch @hexparker @jensen-jarpad @ellen-reincarnated1967

#Seven Years Gone #supernatural #spn fan fic #sam winchester #sam x Cat #sam x oc #YouAU #dean winchester #supernatural fluff #sam winchester fluff #finally finished #supernatural humor #humor

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butchgwenwhyvar · 7 years

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Don’t Let the Winged Bastard Get You Down

This is for @glowing-dimp-as-an-ember , Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Valentine’s day as a single camper was interesting. Will could remember the first winter he’d spent at the camp, complete with couples making out as if their lives depended on it every time he turned a corner, couples screaming and throwing things at each other, and the ensuing prank war that occurred between the remaining campers. Since that strange winter, after his mother’s death and coming to camp as a year-rounder, valentine’s day was always the same. He’d wake up, eat breakfast and try not to fall asleep in his pile of pancakes, then go and sulk in the infirmary until the first injured campers started to trickle in from the inevitable sword fights.

This valentine’s day was different. This year he had a boyfriend, his father was hanging around camp (still mortal, godsdamnit), and Chiron had finally consented to freeze the canoe lake over so they could go ice skating. The medical part of his brain told him not to take Nico ice skating, pointing out the inevitable hypothermia and broken ankle he was going to get, but the romantic part of his brain won that argument. What was more romantic than ice skating together, on valentine’s day?

Nico’s loud yelling brought Will out of his thoughts.

“Will! Will! Pack a bag, we’re leaving!”

“We’re what?” Will asked, still half asleep at the door of cabin 7.

“Mr D said that Eros was coming to camp today so we need to leave now!” Nico replied, bouncing from foot to foot. “Besides, I have permission from Chiron, we just have to be back by dark.”

“Give me five. I need to wake up.”

“Meet me at the Athena Parthenos then!” He grinned, loping off up the hill.

“So why did we leave camp in such a hurry?” Will asked, walking up Broadway, hand in hand with Nico.

“I’ve got a … History with Eros” Nico replied, curling in on himself. Will immediately noticed his change in body language, and changed direction to Nico’s favourite café in New York. The people that ran it were older demigods, and there was an amazing secret menu for demigods. Nico had discovered it by accident when he was teaching himself to Shadow Travel. The coffee was good, and they had created a blend of ambrosia and mortal food that was safe for demigods to eat.

They arrived, ordered two Ambrosia chocolate muffins, and sat down.

“D’you want to talk about what happened?” Will asked quietly, feeling apprehensive.

“I’ll try. You know how Percy was the demigod that found me, right?” Will nodded. “Well, during that crazy quest where I was captured and stuffed in that jar, Jason and I had to go to Split to find Diocletian’s sceptre. Zephyros turned us into the wind and took us to Eros’ palace. He taunted me, got me to say who I liked. He forced me to out myself to Jason. Hades, I wasn’t even ready to admit it to myself, not someone I’d had three conversations with. It wasn’t fair, and I really, really never want to deal with Eros again.” Nico said, shuddering. “And before you ask, I’m completely over Percy. I like you.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that, but thanks. I like you too.” Will replied, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. “What did you plan for today, or was it ‘holy shit I need to get out of the camp’? Because if we don’t need to do anything, do you want to see if any of our New Rome friends are in New York?”

“I went over to San Fran yesterday to see if any of our friends were in camp. And before you ask, yes, I did shadow travel, but it’s been six months since I last did it so I’m alright.” Will let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He was always worried that Nico was going to dissolve into blackness, or go missing. “Hazel, Frank, and Reyna are there, Jason and Piper are in LA. Do you want to go now? We have a couple hours before we need to go back to camp and the time zones help as well.”

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Will grinned, standing up and knocking his chair over (AN: Will is as clumsy as fuck and you can pry that out of my cold, dead, hands). “I did it again, didn’t I?” He asked, not even bothering to look behind him.

“Yep. Pick it up so we can go.” With a wave to the baristas, they jumped into the shadows and turned up at New Rome.

New Rome was buzzing. Will had thought that because maybe the holiday wasn’t Roman, it wouldn’t be celebrated. Evidently not. He could see hearts everywhere, confetti, and his perpetually grumpy boyfriend with glitter in his hair.

“Why is it every time I show up here I get glitter in my hair?” He grumped, shaking his hair out.

“Maybe it’s Hazel” Will suggested, snickering at his antics. Nico was already marching down the hill into the Fifth Cohort barracks, laughing. “Wait, why are you laughing?”

“Come with me!”

Will ran after Nico, tripping down the hill. He caught up just as Nico ran into the Barracks, and saw Hazel chasing Reyna around the courtyard, with glitter in her hair. That would take years to brush out, with her wild curls.

“Reyna I swear to Pluto if this glitter doesn’t come out I will do something drastic!” Hazel screamed.

“You could just mist it out,” Nico called, snickering at her. “We’re going to the Garden, don’t mind us!”

Reyna smirked and waved, the signal for ‘don’t do anything’.

They were lost. Hopelessly lost. While New Rome looked like an organised town, with little streets and large squares, it was a clusterfuck not dissimilar to Los Angeles. If you made one wrong turn, as Will and Nico were apt to do, you ended up lost in some strange square they’d never seen before.

“Nico, are you sure this is where we’re supposed to be?” Will asked, looking around at the temples that surrounded them. It appeared that they were somewhere near temple hill, judging from the statues and pillars around them. “I thought we were headed to Bacchus’ Garden?”

“No, we’re supposed to be here. I set it all up especially!” Nico replied, pushing some ivy out of a doorway and entering. “I wanted to do something special today, and yeah.”

“Thanks. I kind of had plans but it would have involved ice skating and then helping in the infirmary so I’m glad you had an idea.” Will said, blushing madly.

“Happy Valentine’s day then,” Nico replied, kissing his boyfriend.

#valentines day exchange #Solangelo #my work #i apologize if this is shit #pjo discord

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 6 years

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Somehow, Jeff Green Still Keeps Popping Up on NBA Rosters

You are walking in the park one day when an old crone draped in a red and black robe emerges from the bushes. She croaks at you with a hideous, reedy voice. “What kind of player does your squad need?”

You are taken aback for a second, unnerved by the sheer gruesomeness of this crone, and the really very unnerving specificity of the question. But, your squad does have some needs to get to the next level and you��re not opposed to talking sports with your elders, so you answer nevertheless. “I’m thinking an experienced wing player with obvious NBA skill and athleticism, but he’s still big enough to play the four. Long arms, of course.”

“Well well, have I got a DEAL for you!” The crone laughs, hideous laughter that seems to call forward the spirits of chaos from the bushes. Then you both stand there for a second, she says “OK, bye,” and walks to a nearby bodega to buy a Slim Jim. That was weird, you think to yourself, but you just walk it off.

You head home, crash out on the couch, and whip out your phone. There’s a notification… from ESPN… your squad has…

…My God…

…They’ve signed Jeff Green.

Boston, Memphis, Los Angeles, Orlando and now, the Cavs. Every one of these squads felt like they needed an athletic forward who could create a little, shoot a little, and defend a little, and they all saw Jeff Green play and decided that he was that dude. There’s something about him, he always looks fine, just a little out of place. It’s exceedingly easy to convince yourself that your coaches can figure out how to use him, the game is shifting towards smaller fours or bigger threes, or whatever excuse you formulate in your brain. But, like clockwork, as the years or the weeks and months go along, he proves them wrong, managing to disappoint no matter what you were expecting from him.

There are NBA players—Tracy McGrady, Chris Paul, nearly every Toronto Raptor—who seem cursed. They’re always tumbling into some playoff fuck-up or another, whose contending ambitions perpetually get scuttled by some contender or another forming from the mist and running them down in a depressing second round series. But this curse is of the existential variety, a curse in the way we all can feel cursed. Jeff Green is not cursed like this. Jeff Green is cursed like a talisman is cursed, like a monkey’s paw is cursed, like a fun, flirty, short summertime haircut is cursed. You convince yourself you need him, that there’s no other solution to your problems, and he just fucks you every time.

What do the Cavs need from Green? Much the same thing they need from most of their players: to be a body who is not LeBron James. And yet, even at this, there is some apparent difficulty. Green was insanely terrible in Cleveland’s Game 2 loss to the Celtics, notching a measly six points, two boards, and an assist in 28 minutes, and really EARNING a game-worst -17 box plus/minus rating.

Green spent most of his minutes chilling behind the three point line. Now, of course, chilling in the corner has a lot of value, sometimes, but Green’s deeply middling three point shooting makes him a functional non-threat from beyond the arc, and his defender, whoever his defender happens to be, is totally unconcerned with shadowing him in any meaningful way, opting, instead, to help crowd the paint and keep LeBron from the rim.

But Green doesn’t just, like, spot up. He shuffles around back there, drifting back and forth in his corner box, half-engaged in the proceedings at large. During a down and dirty, all-bodies-to-the-floor jump ball contest between Aron Baynes and Larry Nance, Jr., while everyone else was throwing themselves onto the pile and letting themselves get taken over by the spirit of rowdy-boy competition, Jeff just strolled over slowly and stood and watched at middle distance. Malaise is Jeff’s trademark, his Jordan tongue. He is nearly inspiring in transition, like a vision out of an ad for warm up pants, vacillating between light jogging and straight up walking.

Then again, it’s not like an engaged Jeff is doing much more out there. Early in the second quarter, with LeBron sitting on the bench, Jeff gets touched by the Holy Ghost for God-knows-what reason, and calls his own number. He and Kyle Korver run a high screen and manage to get a switch, leaving Green up top with Semi Ojeleye guarding him. Green takes a pair of big dribbles into the paint, executes a tremendously slow spin move, extends for the layup, then slides on the floor as he watches his shot hit the bottom-left side of the rim. He ambles back on defense, arriving right as Rodney Hood is boarding a Marcus Smart miss. Then, he jogs back into into his corner, gets the ball with Al Horford shadowing him, decides that he has an advantage, drives at the rim, mushes into Al’s wide body almost immediately, turns around to bail on the drive, and gets his attempt at a pass out immediately picked off by Jayson Tatum.

Jeff does manage two good plays. The first is hitting an extremely open corner three pointer—unremarkable. The second is more interesting. With 2:50 remaining in the first half, Greg Monroe has J.R. Smith in transition in the post. Marcus Smart throws a post-entry pass to Greg and J.R., unable and unwilling to get down in the post with Big Greg, unsuccessfully gambles for a steal and leaves the rim totally unprotected. Jeff, in the right place at the right time, rises up on a driving Monroe and sends his dunk attempt flying.

Monroe is a profoundly marginal dude in today’s game, but once upon a time GMs lost their shit for dudes like him: a big man with some post-scoring ability but defects in other areas, slow footed on defense and prone to occasional lapses in competitive spirit. Front offices took every chance they could to get players with that combination of size and touch, and kept extending their careers one contract after another, each one smaller than the last. The Monroes of the league took in a pretty good haul on resumes where not much of use happened, drifting from team to team and irritating whatever fanbase was cursed with watching them kind of laze about on their teams. Around ten years ago, Greg Monroe was what Jeff Green is now.

The game demands something else now, though. It demands versatility, length, switchability, speed, shooting—all things Green can appear to have if you break your brain thinking about it. And so, a new kind of deeply mediocre player has risen from the ashes, listless as his predecessors but standing in the corner instead of in the post, defined by his altogether lack of utility on the perimeter.

Watching the Celtics defense enact a scouting report that just says “Who gives a shit?” and letting Jeff Green fester beyond the line while his assigned defender does everything he can to deter LeBron from getting into the paint, thoughts drift to the difference between what a general manager does and what a scout does. When you’re building a roster, getting whatever dude you think could possibly work, you consider things from a very wide perspective, thinking about fit and potential and utility and health in a very broad way. What could possibly help here, and how much do I have to pay them? is the operating question, not What is going to happen TONIGHT?, the question a person putting together a scouting report for a playoff series is going to ask.

Time after time, GMs ask the first question and talk themselves into Jeff Green and his ilk, while some dude looking at Synergy and SportsVU data night to night draws a flip book of a hand doing a jerk-off motion in the scouting report. Not that that dude is always right, either: volume scorers and other types of try-hards fool pretty much every eye-test known to man. Green’s whole career is the war between thinking big and thinking small, the general and the specific, playing out on your TV, game after game.

Jeff was still in the game in the fourth quarter, because the Cavs were out of dudes who could be a body out there. He got fouled and missed the first free throw with about a minute and a half remaining. He made the second, tacking another point to his playoff pile, getting larger in small increments, one contract at a time.

Somehow, Jeff Green Still Keeps Popping Up on NBA Rosters syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

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flauntpage · 6 years

Text

Somehow, Jeff Green Still Keeps Popping Up on NBA Rosters

You are taken aback for a second, unnerved by the sheer gruesomeness of this crone, and the really very unnerving specificity of the question. But, your squad does have some needs to get to the next level and you’re not opposed to talking sports with your elders, so you answer nevertheless. “I’m thinking an experienced wing player with obvious NBA skill and athleticism, but he’s still big enough to play the four. Long arms, of course.”

“Well well, have I got a DEAL for you!” The crone laughs, hideous laughter that seems to call forward the spirits of chaos from the bushes. Then you both stand there for a second, she says "OK, bye," and walks to a nearby bodega to buy a Slim Jim. That was weird, you think to yourself, but you just walk it off.

You head home, crash out on the couch, and whip out your phone. There’s a notification... from ESPN… your squad has…

...My God…

...They’ve signed Jeff Green.

What do the Cavs need from Green? Much the same thing they need from most of their players: to be a body who is not LeBron James. And yet, even at this, there is some apparent difficulty. Green was insanely terrible in Cleveland's Game 2 loss to the Celtics, notching a measly six points, two boards, and an assist in 28 minutes, and really EARNING a game-worst -17 box plus/minus rating.

Somehow, Jeff Green Still Keeps Popping Up on NBA Rosters published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

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