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spidernuggets · 3 months

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Jason Todd x Reader

That song "Loser Baby" from Hazbin Hotel has been on my mind ever since I watched the video, and I'm like, ooooh, prompt idea ✨️✨️

Basically, Jason and Reader are both members of the Titans, Jason's going through some shit, thinking he's alone to deal with it because the other members never cared about his problems, so Reader is there to sort of comfort him!

WARNINGS: mentions of suicide, drug use, weaponry use

Notes: Based on HBO Titans, timelines are mixed, idk how a molotov cocktail works, just go w it, unrealistic gun use

Another day, another failed mission. Why? Jason took the impulsive decision to dive in, head first, into the first danger he saw, which led them to be ambushed by other criminals. Sure, they got the majority locked up, but now the others are spread around Gotham now trying to get backup.

And like most times, when Jason messes up now and again, the members start pointing fingers while Dick was at GCPD.

"We went through the plan a million times, kid," Hank grunts. "You wait for Dick's signal!"

"Yeah, yeah! I heard you the first time," Jason spits back. He's been hearing this ever since the whole fiasco ended up until now as everyone got back to the tower. "Get off my back, will you, at least I fuckin' tried, asshole."

"And we would've completed the mission successfully if you tried after Dick gave the cue," Kory chimes in. "You need to work on your patience."

"Whatever," Jason mumbles storming back into his room.

Just as he was, you were exiting your own room, located just beside Jason's.

"Hi, Jay, how was the- oh...kay?" Just as you were greeting the young vigilante, he ignored you, slamming his door shut.

You walk into the lobby. Though you were a member of the Titans, you didn't participate often in missions. You design and create weaponry for the other members, especially Dick and Jason, as they don't have any powers. You excused yourself from joining the missions because although you knew how and when to use your mechanics best, your combat and stealth skills aren't as advanced.

You picked up this interest of building and experimenting after a few downfalls earlier in your life before Dick found you and took you in.

You grew up on the not so upper class side of Gotham City, and you were not an intentionally planned kid. Your parents made bad decisions, weren't married, and both were struggling in their own way. But your dad soon realised that it was all too much for him. He couldn't take care of himself, let alone take care of a kid, his kid. Soon enough, he reached his limit and swallowed a few too many pills.

That's when your mom went spiralling into her own depression. She smoked more cigs, snorted more coke, and drank more alcohol. And when you were old enough to comprehend the profanity she spat at you, she figured that you were smart enough to live life on your own. So she kicked you out. Later that night, when you came back, just to double check if your mom was just on a high and didn't mean what she said, she was gone. The only evidence to prove she was there were the smashed bourbon bottles and and cigarette butts scattered across the floor.

You sat yourself on the couch, legs tucked into your chest as you wrapped your arms to secure them in place and waited patiently for your mom to come home.

But she never did.

Some bad people were after you, claiming that your mother had owed them a shit ton of money. When you told them you didn't know where she was, they said that you'd have to continue to pay back her debt. You had nowhere else to go. So every time they'd come knocking on your door, you'd bolt out through the fire escape.

You had a molotov cocktail in your hand, a little something you saw your dad do once when he was in a difficult situation such as yours. This is the first time you've tried to use it before. You're scared that saving the bottle would be a waste of time. What if you threw it and the fire just went out? What if it wouldn't have the effect you'd expect? What if it would hurt you too in the process??

You just prayed. Prayed for some sort of miracle. In your other hand, spray on deodorant that you stole from the grocery store a walk away from your apartment.

There's a recently abandoned one-story house just down the road.

Lure them there, spray the room, blow 'em up.

You repeated the plan to yourself. So many things can go wrong. You couldn't do anything but pray.

Your chest ached when you got to the building. You covered your face as you choked, inhaling the deodorant that you sprayed around the room.

"There they are!" One of the men yelled towards your direction. You waited. Just a couple seconds.

You ran out the back window as they crashed through the door. Looking back, you waited as much as you could, making sire as much of the men entered the house.

Now.

You lit the cloth on fire, using your mom's lighter, one of the things you kept, and threw it through the window. And just like that, the fire caught onto the particles of the deodorant, and as the bottle smashed to the concrete floor, the building as a whole burst into flames, the painful screams of men remaining in the house.

"Oh my god, it worked!" You said to yourself, panting as you continue to run away.

From then on, you experimented with other, easier ways to create the same kind of effect. You used scraps of metal, lead wires from lightbulbs, plus lightbulb shards to create explosives to protect you.

Soon, your knowledge of weaponry expanded. You managed to steal a gun from one of the men that were after you. You liked to know how things worked. And you liked to manipulate how they worked.

You spent your time disassembling your new gun and eventually created a new weapon of your own. You'd pretend to be too scared to use it, bad man grabs it off you, aim it at you, pulls the trigger, and boom. The bullet blows to the other end, towards their face.

Too bad luck wasn't completely on your side for long.

You screeched as you walked past an alley, your hair being grabbed and pulled by a large man. "Think you can get away from me, bitch?" A gruff voice spat.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, grasping as your scalp that's burning your skull. You heard the glint of a knife as the sharpness poked at your side.

"Please, please, no, please," you whispered, begging for your life to be spared.

"You better pray for a miracle, cunt," the man said, jabbing the knife into your side, then throwing you against the wall, leaving you to bleed out.

Your vision blurred and came to the conclusion that you were going to die.

That is... if some random stranger found you and decided to bring you back to what you found out to be "Titans Tower." Learning his name to be Richard 'Dick' Grayson understood you had no one to take care of you and that you were the one who caused that explosion. He also found your little gun, and the great detective saw how it's been rearranged.

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar area. You were bandaged up well, but you were still scared. You hissed, trying to sit up. At the same, Dick walks into the room, a trya with soup, a glass of water and a small tablet next to the glass all prepared.

Dick smiled, introducing himself and apologising for bringing you unconscious. He offered you a shelter, but also wanted to know more about you. How you ended up in the situation, who was after you, and how you managed to rearrange the gun.

He then took you under your wing, giving you your own room and even your own materials to create more weapons for yourself. These ranged from melee weapons, explosives, and hand to hand combat weapons.

Dick tried to train you in physical combat, but you admitted that no matter how hard you tried, your fighting skills won't really improve. So you offered to just create new defence weapons for the team and operate missions from the tower as the team went out.

A couple of months later, you met Jason Todd. You'd be lying if you said he wasn't attractive, and his flirtatious attitude didn't help with your attraction towards him.

You also admired how skilled he was in fighting. Fighting a person while blindfolded? Fighting two people while they're all blindfolded? You wished to be just like him. But you were too shy to talk to him.

Jason speaks before thinking, and you were scared that he'd make fun of you for being part of the Titans without knowing basic combat and stealth skills. So you avoided him as much as you could.

But your guard was down as you had your headphones on, sitting on the couch in the lobby, sketching out a design for new throwing blades that could inject a liquid into the body to knock someone out for around half an hour.

"Why do I never see you around?" A curious voice chimes. One of your headphones laid off your ear, so you flinched when you heard someone begind you.

"Uhm, I.. I don't know what you're talking about," you quietly say, not sure how to confidently talk to the attractive boy.

"You're never out on missions or in the training room. Why are you here?" He says, arms leaning on the back of the couch, face dangerously close to yours

You shrugged. "I kind of make the weapons, I guess. I got those Rs of yours to send a shock wave of electricity," you replied, trying to identify yourself.

Jason tilts his head. "So, how come I never see you around training or missions? With weapons like them, I assume you would be useful out there."

You shake your head. "Fighting isn't really my forte. And my aim is never accurate," you explain, bracing yourself for the taunts.

"Huh. Want me to teach ya?" He offers.

Your head shoots towards him. "Uhm. Thanks, but Dick already tried training me. Trust me, I'd just be wasting your time and be a pain in your ass," you say, fidgeting with the pencil in your hand, kooking away from him.

"Nah, you trust me. I can teach you way better than Dickwad can. And if you still think fighting just isn't a thing for you, we can stop."

You stare up at him for a few moments before sighing and agreeing.

Surprisingly, Jason was able to teach you the basics, but that was as far as you could learn. Nonetheless, you were grateful that Jason taught you something that you could learn. You couldn't thank him enough. In return, you designed weaponry specifically suited for his fighting style.

From then on, you and Jason developed a beautiful friendship. Unfortunately, your crush on him only grew more.

But you and Jason were always there for each other. You never ran out of stories and fun talks to chat about. And eventually, little by little, the two of you opened up about your not so different pasts.

So when Jason stormed into his room after coming back from the mission while making absolutely no contact with you, it got you worried.

"Jeez, what happened?" You say as you walk to where the other members stood.

"Jason being Jason as always," Rachel mumbles.

"Uhh, Jason was just being eager. He's been trying to solve this case for weeks," Gar tries to reason out.

"If that little shit just stuck to the plan, his case would've been solved," Hank raises his voice as Dawn tries to calm him down.

"Just be patient with him. He didn't mean it," you try to calm everyone down.

"We can't be patient with him if he himself can't be patient," Donna calls out from the fridge, grabbing a drink.

"Listen, he's been through enough already, cut him some slack," you begin to get pissed off.

"If you're referring to when he got kidnapped, that was his fault too," Rachel says, sitting down on the couch.

"You know what wasn't his fault? Drawing crosses on your mirror, Rach. And that made all of you blame him for the other shit planted in your rooms. Do you know how much that shit hurt him? And none of you didn't even apologise! So, sorry, on behalf of him, that he wanted to show he was still strong enough even after he was kidnapped and dropped from a skyscraper. But have a little decency and time to understand why he acts the way he does," you ranted, not letting anyone reply as you stormed away.

During your times spent with Jason, you didn't miss his ADHD meds lying around, and eventually, he opened up to you about his therapy talks with Leslie, and you're glad it's somewhat helping. You just wushed you would be as much helo to him.

You knocked lightly on the door. "Jay?" You called out to him. You sighed when you were met with no response. You know he didn't tell you to come in, hut you were so worried for your best friend, so you entered his room.

His rock vinyl was spinning, and you took the pin off, making the loud mhsic stop abruptly.

Staring out the window, Jason turns to you, glaring at you.

"C'mon, it's just me, Jay. You can talk to me," you say.

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, sure. Then you'd think of me like the others do," he says, his gaze returnint out the window.

"And how do they think of you, Jason?"

He shrugs. "Like a fucking loser," he croaks.

"That's because you are a loser," you deadpan. Jason's brows furrow in confusion as he looks at you once more. He honestly thought you'd start to go on a long, petty rant about you thinking otherwise.

You sighed, walking over to him, hding his hands and bring him over to his bed, sitting him down.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Jay. Your life sucks and I don't know if it's going to get better. There's a chance that it's not. You are a loser. You're spontaneous, make dumb decisions that don't always go well. But, you know? It's not entirely your fault. Your childhood sucks, your current family sucks and most of your teammates sucks. And you're just doing your best. You may be a loser, but guess what? I am, too. I can't fight, I can make weapons, but my aim is shit. My dad died, and my drug addict mom left me. I'm always alone i the tower because everyone else is out doing cool, superhero shit. I understand your pain, Jason. That's why we tell each other the shit we've been through. Because that load might be too heavy for only ourselves to carry. But I'm sure as hell it would be light as a feather if we carry both of our problems together," you choose your words carefully, your hands remaining on his, your thumb stroking his scarred skin.

Slowly, you move your hands, shifting them to link your pinky with his while he remains silent. "Jason, I promise you. I'm always going to be here to listen. I'm always going to be here for you. To help you in any way I possibly can."

Jason doesn't verbally reply. What he does, though, is nod and lean his head against your shoulder, tightening his grip around your hands.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd is my life #titans jason todd #dc titans #i love jason todd #jason todd titans #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #hbo jason todd #hbo titans

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purgemarchlockdown · 5 months

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...the more I think about it the more I actually do get bothered with the Amane voting discourse on the end of the guilty voters.

Not even cause their voting guilty. Like- I don't care too much about that really, vote how you want and stuff, but how...accusatory a lot of them can get.

Not to heavily generalize a group of people, but one of the reasons why I didn't talk about it too much was cause I'd go into the tag and see another complaint about Inno Amane voters being on their moral high horse and being unnecessarily aggressive.

It's why I try my best whenever I talk about it to be clear I don't think guilty voters are bad people or anything. I'm not going to base someone's sense of morality on what they vote on the interactive anime mv series, I just won't.

However...I am starting to get bothered about how defensive and even hypocritical a lot of the discourse can get on the guilty voters side.

Firstly: A big argument I tend to see get thrown around is that "she can actually hurt people stop treating her like she's harmless" which...yes, from what I've seen a lot of inno voters (Including me!) agree with that and just find that:

1. There's an exaggeration of the actual danger and the security of a guilty verdict.

and 2. Find that there's a double standard here, where Amane is being treated as more dangerous even though other characters are equally, if not more so, than her.

(A Lot of these people point out that she killed an adult and I'd like to point that it's Highly Likely she used the Taser, or uh stun gun actually and that the attack had the element of surprise, two things that are not present in T2.)

Second thing: Positioning yourself as more reasonable than inno voters because unlike them your looking at the issue objectively and without attacking people...is a moral high horse! That's literally the definition of a moral high horse!

If I'm on a moral high horse for pointing out that her situation with the audience uncomfortably parallels with her abusive situation then guilty voters Should Also Be Considered To Be on a moral high house for believing that I'm downplaying the amount of danger I'm putting the prisoner in by doing so!

It's not like both points are bad anyway! If someone presented me with information that Amane could genuinely hurt someone in a way much worse than I anticipated then I'll accept that. I'm voting her inno Knowing about the possible danger. Not blindly believing she's harmless (which a lot of these guilty voters say inno voters are doing!)

Third thing: Sorry I will actually be Really pretentious here. Throw tomatoes at me now- How come when we reach the 12 year old abused child that's when people start acting like Milgram ISNT commentating on social issues?

I swear this is a thing- when we reach Amane people start talking about how the inno voters are taking it too seriously or are being too aggressive or again, are on their moral high horse when half the time its...engaging with the themes. Yamanaka said in an interview he wanted to make the audience be apart of the story and everything!

The Interview in Question:

Yamanaka: That's a difficult question... I'm always conscious of emotional control in my work, but in “MILGRAM”, the content has more live feeling to it. So the story progresses realistically based on the presence of the audience. I think I used a different brain than I have been using to create works up until now, I see it as necessary to think very three-dimensionally. I'm currently trying to turn the audience into characters in my work.

It's like pointing out the uncomfortable themes in her story when your an inno voter is the same as calling yourself "smarter" than guilty voters. Which is Weird when those themes Are such a big part of her story.

Or, alternatively, somehow, pointing out those themes means your disrespecting Amane since she didn't want to be treated like a child even though, again, those themes are such a major part of her story!

I was really trying to engage with this in good faith and now I'm fucking pissed that I spent a month worrying about being too aggressive and mean without realizing that a lot of the guilty voters I was hearing this from were doing the Same Fucking Thing!

#ITS MY BLOG I POST WHAT I WANT #AND IM SO FUCKING FRUSTRATED ACTUALLY #cw child abuse

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 2 years

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So I realized that 3 am me is not coherent and tends to ramble on topics that are obvious so I'm just condensing my touch and relationships post into this shorter one.

Basically, the whole thing stems from Dazai using the bare minimum of contact with others - he keeps his space and his nullifying tends to occur either by touching the ability (indirect) or by touching the user with only a single finger (minimal). Moreover, he accepts very little contact from others. So, when he initiates or receives physical contact, it's significant and can be taken to mean that he, with all his sort of control freak tendencies when it comes to people around him, is actually okay with that situation, if not outright encouraging of it.

Part 1: The Buraiha Trio (Friends!)

Ango:

Dazai initiates - hugging him (with Oda) to make his clothes smelly so he'll join their group lol, ends up in his personal space at Bar Lupin

Ango almost never receives or reciprocates

Their dynamic is actually interesting to me because it was Dazai who initiated it, simply because he found Ango's recording of info on all the mafia members who died in DHC fascinating. He was the one to invite him to Bar Lupin along with Oda. That's pretty unusual for Dazai, who hates getting too close and has accepted the inevitability of losing people. At the same time, there's Ango, who is always reluctant or somewhat uncomfortable - he never initiates or receives contact with either of them, in which the reason why is obvious - he's a triple agent. He can't afford to be honest with the other two... and by the time everything is out in the open, it's too late. There is no contact between Dazai and Ango after his betrayal, except for very minimally, when Dazai pulls Ango's own gun on him - Dazai appears to be uninterested in restoring their friendship (even if I don't think he really hates him anymore).

Odasaku:

Oda initiates - literally picking up 16 yo Dazai and force-taking care of him (I am begging you to read Day I Picked Up Dazai pleasepleaseplease), reaching out to stop Dazai from confronting the Mimic sniper

Dazai does not receive this well - basically throws a tantrum for the former and walks away from Oda into a potentially lethal situation in the latter

Dazai initiates - again with getting in Oda's personal space, helping him up, reaching out to stop Oda from confronting all of Mimic after the orphans are killed

Oda for the most part just... passively doesn't react - at least until the latter where he too, walks away into a lethal situation in a direct parallel of the earlier scene of him reaching out to Dazai and failing

It really doesn't get more obvious than this - the anime draws direct attention to the "grab and miss" scenes between the two of them. They keep missing each other because they're both reluctant to change the comfortable status quo and because they each have their own baggage that makes it difficult to allow themselves to be reached out to. Dazai is evasive and while he has respect for Oda and will openly say that to others, he rebuffs any attempts to allow the man to know him more deeply. Oda, on the other hand, is extremely passive and while he wants to help Dazai, he's caught up in Dazai being his superior and intelligent beyond his years - which leads him to hold back at many points when he actually wants to say something out of a mix of respecting his boundaries and "it's not my place to say anything". Both are reluctant to actually use the word "friend" and only do so at the very end, when Dazai calls him friend to Mori, and Odasaku tells Dazai that he considers him his friend as he dies.

The anime has this beautiful moment where both Dazai and Odasaku are in direct contact with each other right as Odasaku delivers his last words. Dazai tries desperately to support a dying man, spurred by his emotions to try and save his friend, even if he knows the action is futile, logically - Odasaku has no choice but to see the depth of Dazai's care for him, despite differences in rank. Odasaku holds Dazai's head and forces him into eye contact - he cannot be avoidant anymore. This moment is when Odasaku says aloud that he found a real friend in Dazai and that he was a real friend to him, and where Dazai realizes that Odasaku knew and understood him better than even he had thought.

Odasaku is special, as Dazai doesn't have a moment like this with anyone else where he allows himself to be so vulnerable - through words or through touch, as I'll expand on in Part 2 - mentees and Part 3 - partners.

Aaaaaand this is still really long. Goddammit.

Part 2 (Mentees) here:

I Like to Write BSD Things — Part 2 (Mentees) of my notes on touch in bsd! If... (tumblr.com)

Part 3 (Partners) here:

I Like to Write Things — Ok finally, finally, here is part 3 of my touch... (tumblr.com)

#bsd #bsd meta #does this count as a meta?#this is more word splatter tbh #dazai #osamu dazai #ango sakaguchi #oda sakunosuke #ango #odasaku #oda #i can't help myself from rambling about dazai and oda #i am very not normal about them #there's something about watching a bond that profound between two lonely people #especially as someone who grew up lonely #it just gets me man #also i actually love ango there will be no slandering the sad little government man here

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southpawbitch · 1 year

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Eleven | De Facto | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Caroline "Casper" Kazansky

(18+, minors dni)

Masterlist

A/N: eleven!!! and officially the end of the "flashback" !!! feel like I kinda rushed through the ending, but I'm really excited to get back to the present. as always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and pls let me know what you think :) happy reading!!

x MJ

Ever since she saw that picture in Jake’s apartment, Caz has distanced herself from him–not physically, but emotionally. She chuckles to herself at the thought. From the very beginning, she knew what they were doing was wrong, sure, but she thought if Jake didn’t feel bad about it, then why should she.

After seeing Laurel with the biggest smile on her face, standing next to Jake, she realized why. Jake painted this picture for her of his relationship, and she just imagined that there was no life in it. He made her feel like she was breathing new life into him with every late night drive or stolen glances at the bar in front of everyone they know. In the picture, though, she saw that life. She saw the little eye wrinkles as he flashed a beautiful and genuine smile, holding onto his girl tightly. He looked just like he looks when he’s with her. The frame was dated one month before she met him at Top Gun.

It’s all a ruse.

He either loves them both, which isn’t an option for Caz because she doesn’t believe in love–the situation she’s put herself in is exactly the reason why–or, this is just who he is. He cheats on his girlfriend whenever he’s stationed and away from her, and he moves on quickly. He’s charming and attractive and incredibly difficult, but she knows that’s what women fall for. If it worked on her, it could work on anyone. Someone who is a better person than she is probably would’ve stayed away the moment they realized he was engaged. She chuckles dryly to herself at the fact that he told her he was engaged before even trying anything. What does that say about her?

Her sadness and guilt are quickly washed away by anger and annoyance. She picks up her placement papers and marks her decision in ink before folding it up and sliding it into the envelope with her other paperwork, sealing it shut and taking a trip to base on her off day to make sure Hutchins gets this ASAP before she makes any more irrational life decisions.

They roll away from each other on the king sized bed, attempting to catch their breath. She’s not proud of herself, but she wanted the last few weeks of training to go as smoothly as possible, and continuing on like nothing ever changed seemed like the least messy way to go about it. Once she graduates, she’ll never have to see him again if she doesn’t want to. She can block his number and pray she forgets he even exists.

“Can we talk?” Jake questions, turning to the side to look at Caz. She keeps her gaze fixed on the ceiling above. She’s not mad at the current situation–her naked in bed next to him, satisfied–but she does wish they were at her place instead of his. Training finished up this week, and next week is graduation. Placement papers are due tomorrow, but she turned hers in weeks ago. Jake doesn’t know that.

“About what?” She questions, finally turning to lay on her side, facing him. She looks so heavenly like this, barely covered up with his white sateen sheets. She cracks a smile, playing the part of someone who’s still interested in whatever any of this is. It hurts her, though. She wishes she could believe the words that come out of Jake’s mouth more than anything, but that’s not an option anymore. He led her to believe he wasn’t happy with his incredibly gorgeous, loving, successful girlfriend. If he can lie about that, he can lie about pretty much anything.

“Me, you, us.” He says simply and it takes everything in her not to reach over and slap him in the face. She’s on the verge of tears, but she’d never let it show. Not to him–not anymore.

“There is no ‘us’.” She reminds him simply, keeping her composure for the time being. “There’s me and there’s you, but–”

“I love you, Caroline.” He cuts off her words and nearly sends her into cardiac arrest all in a few words. She has always been fairly certain that she’d never hear anyone say that to her, at least in a romantic sense, and she’s pissed that he took the first time away from her with some meaningless, last-ditch effort to keep whatever they have going alive for a little while longer. Do women really fall for this shit? She fears she might have if she hadn’t made that huge revelation at his place a few weeks ago.

“I know that’s not something you want to hear, but I know you must feel it, too.” His voice is barely above a whisper now as he sits up. She follows suit, still in shock. She feels the tears begin to form in her eyes, but she wills them not to fall. She’ll be damned if she cries like a heartbroken baby in front of him.

Heartbroken. Is that what this feeling is? He didn’t betray her in so many words–he saved that for his fiancee who will never have any idea about any of this, she’s sure, but he tricked her into thinking he’s this person that he’s just not. She hates to admit that she had actual feelings for him–maybe love, but she isn’t entirely sure. It feels silly now to call it that, at least on her end. If it was love, it was love brought on by a lie.

“You’re lying to yourself if you think this is love.” She struggles out. She believes it, but she can’t deny the feelings that she felt before shit hit the fan with them. Her mother always told her that love is easy, and that’s how it felt for nearly five months. Nothing is easy with Jake now.

“You’re lying to yourself if you don’t.” He knew this would be her reaction. He’s been feeling her pull away because of the circumstances surrounding his other relationship and the realness of theirs. He’s not surprised, but he’d hate himself for letting her go without telling her. His words sting–maybe because he’s right. He’ll never get the satisfaction in that, though. “I’m going to break up with Laurel…break off the engagement.” He breathes out, hoping it might make her feel differently.

I love you. I’m leaving her. It’s textbook cheater shit. She can’t believe it. The longer she looks at Jake, the angrier she gets. His words are beginning to taint every memory the two of them have shared together. Fuck the beautiful sunsets and slurpees and late nights drives. Fuck the sneaking around and stolen glances at work. It’s all so childish and meaningless now.

“Don’t do that.” She warns him, scooting back from him on the bed as she gets up and struggles to find her clothes that are strewn around the room. Panic sets in. His words replay in her mind as she pulls her bra on.

“I don’t love her, Caroline…not like I love you, anyway.” He corrects himself, trying to be as open and honest as possible as he watches her get dressed. “Let’s just pick a place and go and be together. That’s all I’m asking.” The thought might be romantic if she cared about any of that. That’s not what she wants, and even if she did, she wouldn’t want it to happen this way–so ugly and messy and wrong. She thinks of her parents' love story. She can’t imagine telling a story like this to her kids one day. The thought makes her feel sick. The beginning and end might be fucked up, but the middle…that’s a different story.

So many thoughts are running through her mind. She’s torn between what she’s believed to be true about herself for the past twenty-four years and what she’s starting to figure out about herself now. What she wants in this moment is so vastly different than what she thought she would want, but she knows she’s just having a moment of weakness. Jake seems to do that to her. The only thing she’s sure about is that she has to get the hell out of here–away from Jake and his stupid, perfect face and beautiful eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want.” She tells him as she pulls her shorts on and grabs the oversized sweatshirt laying a few feet away. She can’t believe he’s even suggesting it–knowing her feelings on a relationship like that from the start. Maybe he thinks he can manipulate her into thinking it’s what she wants now–maybe he already has.

“All I want is you.” He’s begging and pleading with his eyes, but his body stays frozen in on the spot, watching as she gets ready to leave. He knows when she walks out of that door, it’s not going to be easy to get her back. He’s prepared for that. He didn’t think she would be easy to convince, and he’s willing to do anything–everything–to make it right. If that’s even possible at this point.

If all he wanted was her, he would’ve ended things with his fiancee the moment that his feelings started to shift. She knows this. He knows this, but they both know it’s not that simple–nothing about their situation is simple. How was he supposed to know that meeting her would turn his life completely upside down, making him question everything he’s ever thought he wanted in life? Despite the fact that she’s completely rejecting him right now, he knows it’s what he needs to do. He can’t marry Laurel and pretend like he hasn’t completely fallen head over heels for another woman. He knows he can never be as happy with her as he once was, knowing that he could feel like this with someone else.

“Don’t end your engagement, Jake. Marry her and have the life you want with kids and a dog and all of that shit. You deserve it.” The words nearly tear her apart from the inside out, but she holds her composure long enough to grab her things and leave hastily. Jake doesn’t follow. Her words sting. He does deserve it. He deserves to have the life he promised someone else. His wants and needs will be pushed to the side and his chances of ever loving like this again will be doomed.

Caz leaves so hastily she forgets the small, golden ring that she left on the vanity tray in Jake’s bathroom when they showered together earlier. Her most prized possession and a huge piece of her heart are left with Jake that day.

Taglist: @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @taytaylala12 @what-a-ginger-nymph @novagreen04 @dempy

#jake seresin #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin #hangman x oc #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun #top gun maverick

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fatalezr · 1 year

Text

NYC Takeover (continued)

Lilly looked at her second target across the street. Angelo Patrici wore a smart and expensive suit and had slicked back black hair. He had been going to businesses along the East side, Lilly following him for the last ten minutes, trying to plot her moment of attack. He was closely shadowed at all times by a large man in a bomber jacket and jeans.

She looked at her surroundings and saw a possibility. There was an alleyway coming up that the two men might choose to go down and she decided to take a calculated gamble, crossing the road and going down it whilst the men were in a grocery store. She found a place to hide down the alley and waited, keeping herself patient.

It was now mid-morning. After her positive start, Lucia had killed one target already and so the score between them was now 1-1. Lilly was determined to win, not just against her friend but if she could against all the other women in the gang. They had all been working quickly, trying to make their hits before Piacenza worked out what was going on.

Lilly calmed herself and listened carefully for any sign of the two men. It was difficult with the traffic and other noises in the background but she concentrated on isolating them and heard a man's voice as he approached. "I don't like we ain't heard from anyone yet" it said in an Italian-American accent, "gotta keep the head on a swivel. It's too fuckin' strange all this".

The voice got louder and Lilly knew her plan had worked. She eased her Beretta from her shoulder holster and listened to the sounds of footsteps. She tried to visualise and count as Patrici and his bodyguard approached. The former took one step in front of the alcove and Lilly made her move.

She stepped gracefully out of the alcove, the pistol already pointed at the back of Patrici's head. Pfft. She fired a shot into it before immediately turning her gun towards the bodyguard. The end of the suppressor almost touched his forehead before -pfft- she fired and opened him up. Lilly admired her skill. Within a second both men were dead. In falling to the ground Patrici had dropped his phone and Lilly picked it up, already walking away from the scene before it would be noticed by another passer-by and holstering her pistol.

'2-1' she thought to herself proudly as she walked, already thinking about how to reach her next victim.

------

Lisa was enjoying her cup of coffee in Central Park and watching the world go by when the message came through to her phone. "Time for second meeting" it read. She finished her drink and left some bills on the table before walking swiftly to where she had parked.

It had been almost two hours since she had dropped Harriet off at a luxurious hotel to either carry on the work the young woman was doing or take a nap as Lisa expected she might do. She had contented herself with being patient and awaiting instructions. Her conversations with Marina had told her that everything today must happen in the right order for the plan to work.

She drove a short distance to the upper west side and parked a few blocks from a seedy gentleman's club that was underground. From the intelligence that had been gathered, it would be where Tony Falcano's most feared assassins would meet in the event of a 'code red' situation such as the killing of a family member. Lisa parked and checked the gun in her shoulder holster over her blouse. It was still snug and secure. She picked up a briefcase from the back of her car and opened it to pull out an FN-P90 submachine gun. She loaded the compact weapon with a 50-round magazine of bullets and threaded on a suppressor before strapping it over her blouse and putting her jacket back on over the top.

Lisa added a pair of leather gloves and dark sunglasses before picking up the briefcase again. There was only one item in it that she needed. She buttoned her jacket so the FN-P90 would not be obvious to anyone at a distance and walked swiftly towards where the club was.

There were two black SUVs outside, both with their engines off, standing idly by and awaiting drivers. Lisa checked around before quickly crossing to them and kneeling down. She undid the briefcase and took out the C4 explosives inside. She worked quickly, attaching a packet to the underside of the first car and expertly putting in a remote detonator before running to the second car and doing the same. At times like this her training was invaluable. She stayed calm and assembled the explosives before finding a hiding place near some basement steps where she would be out of the immediate blast radius but still had a view of the gentleman's club.

Several minutes passed before the door to the club opened and out stepped eight men in a variety of jackets all shirts, all of them looking heavy set and thick. They divided between the two cars and the engines started.

Lisa took the remote detonator from her jacket pocket and waited until all the doors were shut on the cars. 'See you boys' she thought as she pressed the button. BOOOOM! BOOOOOM! The C4 under the cars ignited and they were thrown into the air with a deafening explosion, the fire racing into the sky. Lisa shielded her eyes from the initial blast but then unbuttoned her jacket and got to work.

She took the FN-P90 from inside and brought it up to her shoulder to brace, looking for any movement from the cars. A front door on the front one opened and a man began to stagger out. Brrrrrp-brrrrp. Two quick bursts from Lisa finished him. She looked inside the car at the other three men inside. They were bloodied and one man looked to be burning. Brrrp-brrrrrrp-brrrrrrrp. She fired quickly at all three before turning her attention to the rear car.

A man in a grey jacket stumbled out from the drivers seat and onto the floor. Brrrrrrrrrp. Lisa gave a slew of bullets into his back before turning to the man who had been next to him. She gave a burst into his head -brrrrrp- before looking at the burning back seats. The two men were writhing in pain. Brrrp-brrrrp. Lisa finished them with the remainder of her magazine before drawing her pistol.

The door to the gentleman's club opened and two men in white shirts appeared, stunned and looking around. Pfft-pfft, pfft-pfft. Lisa gunned them down whilst moving, her shots expertly guided home as she turned and headed back to her car, holstering her pistol along the way.

It was clean and professional work and she liked the way she had executed it, with another ten bodies added to her tally for the day. She drove off towards her next rendezvous point, pleased with how her exploits were going.

------

Lauren buttoned up the navy blue suit she had changed into before leaving one of the rooms in the Manhattan apartment that was one of Sandra's safe houses in the city. She found her friend chatting to Sally on one of the sofas, Sandra seemingly explaining in more detail about the plans for the day. The door to the other bedroom was still shut and Lauren could guess that behind it Yelena and Raoul were busy catching up after their night apart.

She smiled and walked to the kitchen area where she found the tall woman Bea pouring some water. "You want some?" Bea offered.

"Yes, thank you" Lauren said, taking the glass from Bea and having a sip. "Have you been a member of this group long?" Lauren asked her, making conversation with the woman.

"Been up here a few weeks" Bea said, "used to be down in Tampa but I met Sandra a few years ago. She helped me out of a tight jam".

Lauren smiled. "Ah yes, she does have a talent for that". She had relied on her friend herself on several occasions, including with helping her out with some security systems on a vault she and Sally had plundered back in England.

"How about you?" Bea asked. "You know each other from home I guess?"

"That's right" Lauren said, "she was my mentor when I first stepped into this line of work. Sandra was probably the top assassin for our boss, Mr. Raymond, but gosh that was probably about 20 years ago".

Bea nodded. "And what about now?"

"Now I'm freelance" Lauren said, "I work for myself, or for others on occasion, and do what I please". She looked lovingly towards Sally and remembered how contented and happy she was. "And you, you're a permanent member now?"

"I don't know," Bea frowned, "kind of having an extended trial. We'll see where it ends up going".

Lauren nodded. "Well if you ever find yourself in London...look me up".

"Thanks," Bea replied. The two drank for a few moments in silence until there was movement from the first bedroom door. Yelena and Raoul emerged, Yelena looking washed and well but back to wearing her leather jacket and trousers. She was looking satisfied and Lauren could tell the two lovers had evidently been having a pleasant time together.

"How are you feeling?" Lauren called over to her.

"Better" Yelena said, "much better". She walked over to where Sandra and Sally were sat on the sofa. "OK - who do we kill now?"

"I thought you'd never ask" Sandra said, "it's time to go after the bosses. You know the Italian restaurant Carina?" Lauren's ears perked up at that name - she had been there herself to meet Tony Falcano.

"Of course" Raoul said, "but there is no way Tony is there, not on a day like today, and it will be filled with some of his top men, very heavily guarded".

"Agreed" Sandra said, "but we do not need to kill Tony inside, we just need to force him to think the net is closing. And as for the guards, well...I think that problem has mostly been solved". She grinned as she looked at her phone.

"We're still going to go and take everyone out inside and torch the place. The symbolism on its own will be enough".

Lauren thought about it for a few seconds. It made sense to her. For anyone, the sight of their beloved restaurant in flames would force them to re-evaluate their hold on the city. She saw the idea appealed to Sally too. "Why not?" Lauren said out loud, "I'm in".

"Me too," Bea added, "let's do this".

------

Lilly bit her lip in frustration. She had been tailing her final target, Gary Hunter, for half an hour but he had kept to crowded streets and there was no opportunity to take him out. She knew she was close to her goal and that patience was key but the lack of opportunity was making her nervous.

Hunter had two large bodyguards with him and had been exceptionally cautious in all the businesses he had visited so far, leaving a man on the street whilst taking one in with him. Lilly had been discreet with her kills so far and had no need to risk that just yet.

She looked up the road and saw an opportunity. After a couple of grocers, she saw the small and hidden entrance to an underground strip club. She kept her head down and crossed to it, taking a turn into an alleyway afterwards, looking for the rear door.

It was dark and unlocked. Lilly opened it and could immediately smell the body odour and hear the dull thud of music as it opened for the lunchtime slot. She slipped inside a corridor and peaked through a curtain. The bar was small, with a stripper pole in the middle of the room, some private rooms one side and a bar on the other. There were a couple of men by the stripper pole awaiting an act.

Lilly slipped in and headed to the private dance areas. She chose a booth and luckily found it to be empty. She decided to gamble on a plan and stripped off her navy suit jacket and skirt. She took off her shoulder holster and took the suppressed Beretta from it, hiding it under a cushion in the room. She took off her black shirt and adjusted her red bra and thong, along with the dark brown nylon hold up stockings on her legs. She hid her clothes out of sight along with the Ruger in her stockings and took a breath.

She stepped out of the private area and wandered across the club floor, trying to walk with confidence and sass. Gary Hunter was descending the stairs to the bar with one of his bodyguards, half the buttons on his shirt undone and taking off his sunglasses as he walked to the bar. Lilly made sure to walk just in front of his path and she could feel his eyes wander to her rear as she did so. She kept going but stayed within earshot of the bar whilst she pretended to adjust her stockings.

"Boss needs cash" Hunter was saying to the barman, "we're collecting early this month".

"What the fuck?" the barman retorted, "early? I...I can't give it all early".

"Yeah, yeah" Hunter said, "but give us what you got today". Lilly could tell that he was trying to go around as many businesses as possible but evidently had orders to get cash quick rather than ensuring the full tribute. "Come on". She heard the cash register open and the barman pull out some notes. "This it?" he asked.

"It's been slow trade, come on Gary, I only just opened today" the barman pleaded.

Hunter grumbled and Lilly took her chance. She sauntered to the bar and took his hand. "Don't you think it's time for a lunch break honey?" she offered seductively. "I got a nice way to take your mind off the day". She saw him look down at her body before over to the barman and then back to her.

"Sure" he said simply. Lilly giggled and took his hand, pulling him playfully towards the private rooms, stepping behind the first curtain and pushing him into the booth where she had hidden her gun. "Wait out here" he told his bodyguard and Lilly shut the curtain that divided the booth from his position.

"Mmm yeah, take that stress off babe" Lilly said to Hunter, easing his jacket off his shoulders, "I got something special for you". She straddled him and began to grind her crotch against his. "Mmm yeah". She spoke loudly to make sure the bodyguard would hear her over the loud sound of the music.

Lilly began to feel the rhythm and gyrated more, feeling more confident and sexy at every moment. "Mmm babe, touch me" she said, unhooking her bra and throwing it to the floor.

Hunter leaned forward and began to caress her breasts with his hands and then his tongue. "Mmm, oh yeah babe, more like that" Lilly said, continuing to gyrate over his hips. One hand reached over Hunter's neck while the other went to the cushion she had hidden her gun within. "Yeah, keep that up" Lilly said, gripping the pistol, "I'm going to blow your mind". She brought the gun to Hunter's temple and fired quickly. Pfft. His head exploded out the side but she covered the sound with more shouts of "Oh yeah, Oh yeah babe".

"Yeah, more babe, more" she continued saying loudly as she let his body slump to the side and Lilly picked herself from her lap. "I like that, I like that". She continued to moan a little as she aimed towards the curtain where the bodyguards silhouette was clearly visible. She aimed towards the man's head.

"Mmm baby, blow my mind" she said before squeezing the trigger again. Pfft. She saw the neat hole she made in the curtain and then the bodyguard dropped to his knees and went forward. Lilly knew he was dead and smiled. She dressed quickly and holstered her gun. She grabbed Hunter's phone and the money and slipped out the private rooms and through the back corridor she had entered by, emerging on the street looking like a serious businesswoman and not a stripper or assassin. She hacked the phone as with the others and looked at her own device.

All her targets were off the board whilst the other women still showed at least one remaining. Lilly pumped her fist - she was a winner and she walked back onto the street feeling as proud as she could be of her achievement and already looking forward to making fun of Lucia when they met.

------

Yelena laid a gloved hand on the suppressor on her Mac-10. She looked over to Raoul, who sat stoically in the car next to her, a suppressed assault rifle in his hand. She could see the back door of Carina, the Italian restaurant that was Tony Falcano's pride and joy. She had dined with him on several occasions, including when she and Raoul had told him of their relationship. It seemed a million years ago from where they were today, ready to storm the building and bring about the end of his empire.

She felt a pang of regret that it had to come to this but his gang had made their bed when Enzo tried to kill her and Raoul. Tony ruled with an iron fist - but he could not control his son and now that he was dead there would be no reconciliation.

"What are we waiting for?" Yelena asked Sandra, who sat in the front seat. She was impatient to begin.

"For Lauren and Sally" Sandra replied, "when they give me the signal, we'll make our move. A coordinated attack always works best, you know that".

Yelena considered grumbling or delivering a snide remark but Raoul placed a hand on her leg and it calmed her. She continued to sit patiently in silence for a few more moments. Sandra's phone eventually buzzed. "Right, that's our signal" Sandra said. She started the car engine and drove up quickly to the rear door, Yelena putting the window down in the back of the car as she did.

There were two men in suits by the back, both standing and looking around nervously. Yelena could tell they were inexperienced. Their jackets were buttoned and their hands by their front. They would never be able to pull out a weapon in time. As they approached, she leaned from the window with her Mac-10 levelled. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Even from a moving vehicle she was still deadly, her bullets smashing into the men's chests and they doubled over with pain.

Sandra stopped the car and the group got out, Sandra having changed into a grey trouser suit and carrying a suppressed Glock-17 in her hand. Raoul was first to the back door, kicking it in and aiming his rifle down the corridor. Yelena noticed the steeled determination in his eyes as he aimed his weapon. Yelena stepped through the door that he was covering. She already knew where she would find herself.

The kitchen at Carina's had four chefs working away. They turned as the door opened and all four men in white uniforms looked her way. One immediately went to grab a kitchen knife. Yelena put her Mac-10 to her shoulder and pulled the trigger. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. She put all her bullets into his chest. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Next to her Raoul aimed at another chef and brought him down. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Yelena had already moved on to a man standing by a boiling pot and shot him. His body riddled with bullets and fell by the hot stove.

She looked to her final target, the head chef. He was an older man but loyal to Falcano. He was looking to his side for anything to try to throw at Yelena but could not find anything before her gun aimed in his direction. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. She brought him down too and grabbed a fresh magazine from her the back of her leather trousers, changing it quickly in her gun as she moved through the kitchen, the long barrels of hers, Raoul's and Sandra's guns pointing towards the door that led to the restaurant.

As she walked, she heard a couple of screams from and some gunfire, including the loud BAM-BAM-BAM of pistols. They were coming from the front of the restaurant. Yelena paused by the door and looked at Raoul. He looked at her and nodded. She kicked the door in herself this time, Sandra covering the entrance while Raoul raised his rifle and went inside the main restaurant. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Yelena could see the bullets ejecting from him gun as he fired as he did so.

She brought up her Mac-10 to her shoulder and entered last after Sandra. The restaurant had turned to chaos. There were already several bodies of mobsters and customers on the floor. Tables had been overturned and there were men in suits shooting pistols towards the front of the restaurant where Bea, Lauren and Sally were laying down fire of their own.

The men had their backs to Yelena and her group and were easy targets. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Yelena let out a long stream of bullets as she cut them down with Raoul and Sandra at her side. The men contorted and cried out in pain as she shot them up, and Yelena could feel herself smiling. Each bullet was like a release from a life she had formerly known into a new one.

Within a few seconds, it was over. She finished her magazine into some of the men on the floor pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft before changing it and turning her attentions towards the private room that Tony had often used. Behind her, she heard the soft pfft-pfft-pfft bursts from weapons as the wounded men and customers were finished off.

She stood by the door and was joined by Lauren. Yelena saw the English woman was holding a suppressed Mac-10 similar to her own. She was still in a crisp white skirt suit but the jacket was open, exposing her white lacy bra. Yelena looked at the submachine gun again. "Nice weapon" she said to Lauren.

"Yes" Lauren said, giving her a grin, "got inspired by someone to use it".

Yelena grinned back. She could begrudgingly admit that maybe the English woman was not too bad. Yelena opened the door to the private room. Two men inside had tipped over the long table and were hiding behind it, pistols in their hands. BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM, BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM. They shot wildly and Yelena pulled back from the doorway, letting their bullets whizz past and cause no harm.

When they paused, she and Lauren turned through the doorway, Mac-10s trained on the wooden tables. Yelena had a simple plan - pummel the tables until bullets found their way through. It was more ornate than protective. She aimed towards one man's location and pulled the trigger, Lauren doing the same with the other. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. The table splintered under their combined assault and Yelena heard the men cry out in pain as bullets found their bodies. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Neither woman let up until their magazines were dry.

They finally did so and there was a stillness in the air. Yelena and Lauren both changed their magazines and edged into the room, alert for any movement. All they heard were groans of pain from the men and they leaned over the table to see the two lieutenants bleeding and in pain. Yelena thought she recognised one, the man she had shot up. It did not matter. She curved a gloved finger around her Mac-10 again. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-fft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. Her gun shot up the man as Lauren did the same to hers, completing the massacre.

She looked out of the room. Bea, Raoul and Sally had just finished putting clean headshots into all of the remaining bodies in the room. "Good" Sandra said, "now let's clear out, rendezvous at the upper east house". The group sprang into action, Yelena running out of the back door with Raoul, conscious she would probably never step foot in the restaurant again.

#hitwoman #silencer hitwoman #silencerhitwoman #femme fatale #female assassin #lilly #yelena #lisa #lauren

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letsgolandoo · 7 months

Text

reader pairing: ethan hunt x reader

summary: Ethand and Y/N find themselves in a tough situation while on an IMF mission.

warnings: explosions, guns.

A mission gone wrong; that was the position the two IMF agents were in, stuck in a building that was set to blow up in about five minutes.

Y/N and her mission partner, Ethan Hunt, stood huddled against a wall with guns in their hands. They had five minutes to get out of the building and there were about four men trying to shoot at them. They were also on the very top floor.

"Both of us aren't getting out of here, Ethan," Y/N L/N, an IMF agent and Ethan's girlfriend, muttered as more men joined the four that were already there.

"What did you say, Y/N? I couldn't hear you," Ethan said over the sound of gunfire. He was trying to think of a way to escape without dying. He quickly scanned the men's surroundings in search of something useful.

"Hold on- I've got an idea, Y/N," he said, a smirk forming.

Y/N groaned. "Oh, dear God. Your plans are practically suicide missions themselves."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"You don't know anything about this, Y/N. Just- just shut up and let me do my job," he said, glaring in Y/N's direction. His eyes soon darted back to the approaching group, his smirk turning on another note. That note: pure determination.

"Now, on the count of three..." he muttered, turning to Y/N with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N stood still, frozen. "What exactly are we doing on the count of three? You didn't tell me."

"I didn't think I needed to," Ethan said, giving her a quick wink. "Okay- we do a full-on sprint for the stairs," he explained, taking a deep breath. "One-"

"Two-" Y/N counted.

"Three..." Ethan finished, running towards the stairs. He fired towards the men as they tried to rush them. Y/N was not far behind as she fired at multiple men.

Ethan was first to the stairs. He ducked behind the wall and looked towards Y/N. "Come on! Hurry up!"

"Holy shi-" Just as she reached the stairs, an small explosion racked through the entire floor, throwing Y/N forwards into the wall. She was knocked unconscious by the force, her head bleeding, as she tumbled down a couple of steps before coming to a stop. Her skin had taken minor damage from the heat of the flames, but her head injuries were far more worrying.

Ethan turned in Y/N's direction, his eyes widening. "Y/N!" he shouted, rushing towards her. He knelt beside her body, checking her pulse. "Come on, Y/N. Wake up, wake up."

It took a few minutes, but her eyes cracked open slightly to see her boyfriend's green irises staring down at her. Her throat was dry, her head was pounding, her entire body ached, and her skin felt as if it was on fire. "Ethan?"

Ethan sighed in relief when she opened her eyes. "Thank God. I thought you were dead," he said, leaning down towards her. He quickly checked her body to make sure she hadn't sustained any lethal injuries.

"Hey, what hurts, Y/N?"

She smiled lazily at him. "Everything," she croaked. Using the wall for support, she slowly - very slowly - pushed herself up into a standing position and leaned against the wall to keep upright.

Ethan wrapped an arm around her to keep her from falling. "You don't look so good, Y/N," he said worriedly.

No shit.

He then turned his attention towards the stairs as the men - two less in the group now - continued to fire at them.

"We need to get out of here," Ethan told her, glancing in Y/N's direction. "Can you walk?"

"I can try."

"All right." Ethan nodded his head. "Come on, Y/N, we need to move."

He started to head down the stairs again. He tried to support his girlfriend as best as he could, though the continuous gunfire made it somewhat difficult.

"Ethan," she called. "Ethan, stop."

Ethan turned around to face her. "What is it, Y/N?"

"You go. Make sure we have a clear exit, make sure we have an escape route. I'll hold them off."

Ethan's eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. "No way in hell, Y/N," he said, a firm expression on his face. "We're in this together. I'm not leaving you." He then paused, his tone softening slightly. "I'd never leave you."

"Ethan, just do it."

Ethan's gaze met Scarlett's as he seemed to be debating something. "I'm not leaving you. You're coming with me. That's the way it is," he argued, becoming more stern. He started to drag her towards the stairs. "Now, come on, we haven't got all day."

She twisted her arm out of his grip. "Ethan."

"Y/N, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" He took a step towards her. For a second, it looked as if it was about to turn into a full-blown argument. The men's constant firings as they neared reminded Ethan and Y/N that they were running out of time.

"Go. I'll hold them off."

"No. That's final." He stared Y/N straight in the eyes, trying to get his point across. "Come on," he said softly, reaching out for her hand.

Instead of taking his hand, she pulled out her pistol and pointed it at him. "I swear, Ethan, just go. I'll keep them away."

Her actions surprised Ethan and he took a step back. He hadn't expected his own girlfriend to pull out a gun on him. "Hey, Y/N," he said, holding up a hand to try and calm her down. "We're in this together, okay? I'm not leaving you here."

Her finger hovered over the trigger. Though she would never actually shoot, Ethan didn't know that. "Ethan, go."

Ethan was frozen, staring at the gun in his girlfriend's hands. His eyes then locked on hers. "Put the gun down, Y/N/N."

"Ethan! We haven't got time for this, go!"

He took a deep breath and then took another step back, not wanting to upset Y/N further. "Okay, okay," he mumbled. As the gunfire grew even closer, he sighed, and turned behind him. "Stay safe, Y/N."

But as soon as Ethan exited the building to check that their escape transport was ready and waiting, the whole building exploded.

Ethan stared in shock as the building that he had just left was engulfed in flames. He was stunned; he didn't know what to do.

"No," he muttered, his voice breaking.

He was just...frozen. He physically couldn't bring himself to move from where he was standing. "No, no, no." He kept repeating the same word over and over again, completely in disbelief of what just happened.

"Eth-" A hacking cough. "Ethan?" A small voice choked out. A figure approached him through the thick clouds of smoke and, despite the spluttering of the voice, he recognized its owner instantly.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, it wasn't possible.

"Y/N?" he asked with a shaky voice. For a few seconds he couldn't even move. He felt too shocked to function properly.

His eyes were watering from both the smoke and the near-death of his mission partner and girlfriend who he planned to propose to in the summer.

But damn, was that girl lucky.

#ethan hunt #mission impossible #tom cruise #this man has aged so well wtf #impossible mission force

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tiredassmage · 1 year

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What is your character like with conflict resolution? Are they the first to try and find a middle ground no matter how inconvenient or unfair it might be, or do they stick to their guns (literally or figuratively) no matter what strife that might cause with others? Has there been a point in trying to resolve conflict that they have failed or made the situation worse?

Astor has always been a mediator and seeker of compromise. His bleeding heart doesn't want either side to walk away at a notable disadvantage for what they have gained or given up, but he almost always prefers to reach for understanding before getting into another fight. This doesn't exactly always work out in larger conflicts, of course.

The case of the Ala Mhigan and Doman refugees, for example, is one subject that was beyond him as a single person - even a semi-accomplished adventurer, at that point. It's difficult to negotiate with the needs of an entire nation in mind versus the very immediate needs of a displaced group seeking shelter. He knows understanding won't always prevail, but, ultimately, he tries to remember its always worth trying.

He also isn't exactly a true pacifist. He'd just rather have the best understanding possible of his reasons for getting involved before a fight. And understanding doesn't always mean reconciliation. Just because he can understand Emet-Selch in the ultimate end doesn't change the conflict in their ideals and solutions, nor that they even get along, ultimately.

It's definitely burnt him from both ends. His brand of selflessness can border on and sometimes cross into self-destructive. Thankfully he has a group like the Scions behind him and adventuring company like adopted daughter Kiana or best friend & wife Eden along for most of the story to help check him from most of his egregious offenses. Most of the times, anyway.

Shay is reluctant to trust and incredibly stubborn. He enters potential negotiations with a keen eye for possible areas of manipulation. Especially if he perceives he and his fellows have already been wronged, he can be incredibly difficult to convince. He's not particularly forgiving - with himself or others, though he has made some improvement, I reckon, over the years traveling as one of the Scion's champion warriors.

Shay, ultimately, will prefer to make a stand and is far more comfortable in physical conflict than at the negotiating table. He's anything but a diplomat; he often angers too easily to restrain a barbed tongue and sometimes dark sense of humor. He'll fight tooth, claw, and nail if necessary for what little he has found utterly priceless to him.

It has led to a series of incidents in which he's blamed himself for not acting quick enough, for not being there when and where he was needed, etc. - the Vault being one of them. His avoidance of his feelings and throwing himself into the arts of the Dark Knight also caused some tumultuous times in his relationship with fellow Warrior of Light, Airi (@fatewalker-phoenix) because if there's anything that Shay hates, it's feeling vulnerable and especially admitting to it in any capacity. Though particularly verbally. Shay generally believes his actions speak louder, which is always amusing because he... kind of tends to wax a bit poetic when he actually does verbalize his feelings.

He's kind of an all-around dramatic, lol.

#answered #ffxiv ocs #thanks for the ask!#ch: astor caulfield #ch: shay delacroix

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bearvanhelsing · 1 year

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😊 and 📀 and 🌸 - for Tyrel and Aria both!

Thanks so much for asking Sphinx! these were a lot of fun to think about! ARIA: 😊 What can make your OC smile even when they’re feeling down? What cheers them up and makes everything feel better for them? Is your OC genrally a happy person and do they enjoy making others smile? What about your OC makes others happy? Aria is generally not feeling great most of the time. She doesn't really have any outlet for emotional support in her life so she usually tries to distract herself hence why she generally hates being alone or being at home unless she's practicing with her pistols. I wouldn't say practicing makes her feel happy, but the little adrenaline rush she gets whenever she feels the pistol go off in her hand is enough to alleviate her mood for a short time. Otherwise, it's off to whichever bar or gambling den catches her fancy that evening. She projects that most of the people in those kinds of spaces are just as miserable as she is so she takes sort of a morbid comfort in being around what she perceives are like-minded individuals trying to distract themselves. Regarding making others smile... Because Aria grew up watching her father's generosity and kindness be taken advantage of by so many, she became extremely embittered and cynical toward Absalom society and people in general as a result. Ultimately when it was very clear that her father had a problem with substance abuse, nobody that he had helped had tried to reach out and help him and in many cases continued taking advantage of him. Because of that, she doesn't really take well to helping someone without getting something in return. 📀 How easy is it to shock your OC? To confuse them? To lie to them, to manipulate them? How are they with feelings of trust? Can your OC be trusted? Aria is very slow to trust in general so from the outset, it's rather difficult to convince her of anything she hasn't thought of or come to a conclusion about herself. Because of the aforementioned watching her dad be taken advantage of, she views most people as being out for themselves and will generally try to hurt someone else before they can end up hurting her. She has a very "the winner takes it all" approach to most interactions but when she does truly trust someone, it would be very easy for that person to manipulate and control her because she's rather deprived of positive relationships and would be willing to bend her own truth in order to keep that person around. Can Aria be trusted is kind of a no... but actually also yes if you know what to expect from her. She's willing to lie to get what she wants but also she's blunt and straightforward most of the time. She doesn't really pretend to be anything other than what she is, the way in which she presents herself is honest and she'd be more inclined to use brute force than subtle manipulation in most situations. When it comes down to it... she really doesn't have the patience for lies and mind games. Why waste your time navigating a web of lies when a good threat or the barrel of your gun pressed into their skin can get a result so much faster? Tyrel: 📀 How easy is it to shock your OC? To confuse them? To lie to them, to manipulate them? How are they with feelings of trust? Can your OC be trusted? Tyrel is a conman so he has an easy time telling when someone is trying to use one of his own tricks on him. It's why he was able to undermine Wenduag's many attempts to betray him, how he was able to tell Camellia was lying to him but wasn't a threat to him, personally, and tell that Forn was setting a trap for him. Can you trust Tyrel would be a big NO not really lol! He really can't help himself and often times he ends up hurting people he really didn't mean to hurt. He has been warned in the past that he'll wind up hurting everyone around him and he kind of does with one notable exception.

😊, for Tyrel and 🌸 for both Aria and Tyrel can be found here https://www.tumblr.com/bearvanhelsing/711809398473998336/and-for-aria-and-for-tyrel-for?source=share

#oc asks #oc: aria #oc: tyrel #dmagedgoods

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much-obliged-timothy · 2 years

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Whumptober #24

Overwatch - #24 - Blood Covered Hands

“Bet you’re glad we were in the area,” Gabriel Reyes said as he and Jack Morrison crouched behind a barrier together.

“Bet you’re glad there was an omnic strike that’ll keep me too busy to yell at you about this,” Jack said.

Reyes nudged him with his elbow. “Come on, Jack. It’s like old times. Besides, Mercy is taking care of the civilians you guys evacuated. What would you do without us?”

“Still handle the situation, but without you irritating me the whole time,” Jack said.

Still, he’d been pinned down when Reyes showed up and bought him enough breathing room to get to cover. The omnic strike had been unexpected and overwhelming. The gunfire seemed endless and Jack was just trying to give the others enough time to complete a full evacuation.

“How’d it look out there?” Jack asked.

Reyes’s expression went from playful to serious. “They need more time. There’s a hospital in the evacuation zone.”

“Then we’ll give them more time,” Jack said.

“Jack, don’t you da-”

Jack was already diving out of cover, firing away at the omnics. They returned fire, but he’d already reached new cover.

It gave Reyes time to move around behind them and take a few out before he was noticed. Jack fired again to draw their attention so Reyes could get away.

They went on like that for a bit, Jack acting as bait while Reyes crept in to thin them out. For a while, it even seemed like it might work.

And then the omnics copied the tactic.

Jack was firing, drawing their attention to him. He could see Reyes sneaking around again, guns raised to fire. He looked over, eyes searching for his next cover, when his posture went rigid.

“Jack!” he yelled.

Jack didn’t even have a chance to turn before the gunshot struck him. He hit the cover he was behind, sliding to the ground, wheezing for breath and trying to choke down a pained scream.

He struck his head against the ground as he tried to roll away from any follow-up shots. The pain flared, and when he opened his eyes, the omnic wasn’t before him anymore.

It was Reyes, hands pressed to Jack’s abdomen. “Stay with me, Jack. Stay with me.”

“Reyes,” Jack choked out.

“No yelling at me for this mess, or I tell everyone you knocked yourself out,” Reyes said. He put more pressure on the wound and Jack groaned in pain, clenching his fists and slamming them against the ground. “I know, Jack. Just hang in there. I called for backup. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Breathing was difficult. Jack tried to focus on that instead of the intense pain, or all the blood staining his clothes.

Reyes watched him, his heart slamming as he looked from Jack to the advancing omnics. He’d rushed over here to protect Jack, but that left no one to slow the advancing omnics.

He couldn’t fight back. If he moved his hands away, Jack would bleed to death before help got here.

He could’ve cried with relief as a large figure came sliding into view, shield springing up. He’d had no idea how far anyone was from their position, but for once, luck was on their side.

“Jack! Reyes!” Reinhardt called.

“Back here,” Reyes called back. “I can’t move him by myself. I need to keep pressure on the wound.”

“The others are coming,” Reinhardt promised.

Not fast enough. Reyes looked at the blood covering his hands, starting to soak his sleeves.

“It’s bad, Gabe,” Jack ground out.

“You’ve had worse. Toughen up, soldier,” Reyes said.

“Cold,” Jack said, head dropping back against the ground. He had a nasty bruise already starting to form from where he’d struck it on the ground. “Not good.”

Reyes pressed harder. “Shut up. You’re going to be fine.”

“If they…advance…you need to…n-need to protect yourself,” Jack said, his words starting to slur. “Yourself, not m-me. Promise, Gabe.”

“Shut up,” Reyes snapped. “You’re getting out of here. We both are. Stop talking, Jack. Just focus on your breathing. Stay awake, stay breathing. That’s all I’m asking. Hell of a lot less than what you ask of me most days.”

His hands were soaked in blood now. He was struggling to keep his hands in a firm placement, his grip slipping from all the blood.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

“Come on, Jack,” he said in the steadiest voice he could manage. “Come on, stay with me. Stay with me, Jack.”

But Jack was fading. He could see it in the paleness of the other man’s skin. In the unfocused gaze rolling around. In the struggle of each rise and fall of his chest.

And he could see it in the crimson soaking his hands.

“Stay with me.” He couldn’t keep the plea from his voice.

The battle raged around them. Jack faded beneath him. The blood soaked his hands, sinking into his skin, staining it forever.

I haven’t written Overwatch in years but I figured with the release of 2 it was a chance to go back and try it again - hopefully it’s not too bad!

#whumptober2022 #no.24 #blood covered hands #Overwatch #fic writing #Jack Morrison #gabriel reyes #jtdoeswhumptober

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50calmadeuce · 2 years

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Ch. 8: Your History

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, so please do not copy it and claim it as your own. As always, I hope it gives you happy thoughts :)

You sat on the bed in Phoenix's spare bedroom with your phone in your hand looking at the blue-eyed, raven -haired little boy on your phone trying to show you something with a truck.

"Does dis," the two-year-old garbled.

"Did you say thank you to Miss Abby?" You question him as your young nanny nods yes behind him on the screen.

Christian Junior nods his head up and down. "Yup!" He focuses back on you. "Mommy come home? Miss you."

"I miss you too. I'll see you in a few hours. I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." Christian went back to his new toy and your nanny Abby got on the phone. Her young bright face smiling.

"We'll see you in a couple of hours, Doctor Astor. He loves this toy."

"Thank you, Abby. You're all set for you trip home?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you so much for this."

"It's the least I can do for you. I'll see you guys when you get here."

"Sounds good."

You hang up your phone, stand up, and realize Jake is standing in the doorway. He slowly started walking towards you.

"How old?" he inquires.

"Little Christian is two. I had just found out I was pregnant with him when I got the news Christian was killed." You take a deep breath. "When Celine found out, she was the total opposite of happy because now it really changed things. Now there was an heir to the family fortune." You sat down on the edge of the end of the bed and Jake sat with you. "You see, when my father-in-law passed, he didn't leave her much and she started to blow through the money. Everything was pretty much left to Christian, and he wasn't stupid." You pause for a few seconds. "Christian made sure I was taken care of but keeping mine and Christian Junior's life somewhat normal the past few years has been pretty difficult."

You look at Jake who looks at you. His green eyes full of concern. "In my eyes, you're one of the strongest women I know. I see why you and Phoenix are best friends."

"Phoenix has been my rock throughout this whole thing. I don't know how I could've done it without her, and she loves little Christian."

"Where is little Christian now?"

"He's with his nanny getting ready to take the private jet here. When he gets here, Abby, his nanny, is going to go visit her friends and family for a couple of weeks."

Jake looks at his fingers and starts counting on them. "So, a kid, a Friesian horse, a nanny, private jet...anything else I should know about?"

You smile. "Probably more than you can count on your fingers."

You gaze into each other's eyes. Jake reaches out, tucks some hair behind your ear and then strokes your cheek.

"Why me, Jake?" You question.

"Because you intrigue me."

Your faces inch closer.

"I intrigued you?" You question with a sexy grin.

"Oh, yeah." He gently places his hands on either side of your face, your eyes close, and he kisses you. You could feel all the tension leaving your body. The last time you got so lost in a kiss was the last time Christian came home three years ago.

You both hear the sound of keys and then a door open and shut.

You separate slowly, looking into each other's eyes.

#Spotify #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic

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nitrosodiumepicfps · 6 months

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Going more in-depth with Sparkler's mechanics

Now I've laid the groundwork, I need to include some more things to make Sparkler stand out as a mascot horror game. Obviously, we have the combat, something that most mascot horror games shy away from. When your main selling point is interesting, recognizable characters, it doesn't pay to keep killing them off. If a mascot horror game decides to do combat, it'll either be somewhat poorly implemented or only used as a temporary stunning tool. The games and levels are set up as haunted houses first and foremost, you walk and sometimes run through the corridors, solving puzzles and escaping monsters while the story is drip-fed to you through audio logs, or, if you're especially lucky, environmental storytelling. The last mascot horror to get combat right was My Friendly Neighborhood, though that was more of an RE-like than a traditional mascot horror. But, if you're in a factory that makes toys, being pursued by toys, it makes sense for them to all be copies - they've all come off the same production line, right? You'll have to evade or kill them outright to progress, using your trusty ball-launcher and limited ammo that you find by scrounging around. I don't want to start too big like I did with TWL, there won't be any complex mechanics like smelting down toy parts to make more ammo for yourself. You only have what's in the level; you can choose to use everything you find, or stick to the path, but you're not forced to play it too in-depth.

Now that was a tangent. How about the combat? When your gun fires, the sound of it will alert Sparkler. He can't be put down like the other mindless wooden drones, only stunned for seconds. So, you can choose to not use your gun and simply run away from the enemies. This will prove difficult, but maybe possible. There will be secondary locations of interest available to access, although they are blocked with wood planks. These can be shot apart with your gun, but the sound will bring Sparkler too. So, you're making choices based on these combat puzzles; not just ammo conservation or "Which enemy do I engage first?", but decisions on how the game will progress. You can go through an enemy-filled room or take a shortcut through a barricaded corridor, but both will be alerting Sparkler to your presence. If you do choose the enemy-filled room, you can create even more noise by attacking the toys, or try your luck to sneak through undetected. And if you choose the corridor, something even worse might be waiting for you on the other side. You can't wait around to make these decisions, you're leaving a trail of noise in your wake and Sparkler is always on the hunt.

Along the way, I'll include safe rooms where you can restock your ammo from large brass pipes and read notes left by previous employees, their fates left unknown. Did they escape, were they turned into the toys, or did the machinery itself swallow them up? Further lore can be discovered if you're willing to look, sacrificing your own defense by breaking open side passages. Downtime is essential in a game like this; your player needs time to be introspective, thinking about their current situation or mulling over new story developments.

Now, for the less interesting stuff: the code. Some kind of random pathfinding system can be used for the workers, and for Sparkler, I have an idea for a patrol point system not unlike the Drains of TWL. Whenever you fire your weapon, a pointer is placed on you in the game world, and Sparkler will begin to make his way towards it. Firing again will update the position of the pointer. When Sparkler reaches the pointer, he will stalk the area at a slow pace. He constantly emits light and a crackling from his sparklers, so he can easily be avoided. On the other hand, a slow but persistent stalker enemy has proven many a time to be a dangerous foe - see the various iterations of Resident Evil's trench coat-clad Nemesis or the Xenomorph from Alien: Isolation. Where other annals of horror have succeeded, mascot horror continues to avoid this one trick: giving the player a competent enemy to fight. There's never a time when you're having a true one-on-one with a foe that matches you in skill; the closest we have in mascot horror is Hello Neighbor's titular mustached man of mystery. Let's talk about that.

The neighbor's adaptive AI really made you feel like a stranger in his home; a place he knew like the back of his hand and you did not. Every run became one large environmental puzzle, to plan out where he would go, what actions would attract him to your location, and what areas he had fortified from previous attempts. It was a constant battle of wits in his labyrinth of a house, all while solving a slew of smaller puzzles to find out what was in his basement. Obviously, this was totally abandoned for the final game. The neighbor was relegated to a broken mess who could barely access 80% of his own house, the puzzles were nonsensical, the level design was non-existent and any approximation of a story was surgically removed to be replaced with a boring dead-kids tragic villain set-up. (If you read the books, as I did as a child, there's something about evil bird-men being harbingers of bad luck, and that's the cause for everything, but it's not shown in-game at all.) The neighbor was no longer the focus, he was essentially just another poorly-implemented puzzle hazard to be jumped over. However, this style of game, avoiding one central threat that can not be killed, only stalled, while you navigate a maze-like level and deal with other roadblocks on your way to the end, that's what I want to replicate. It's a particular style of mascot horror that hasn't really caught on in my opinion. Yes, they all have bizarre plots and puzzle-solving, but most of them take the Bendy approach and make their games in the narrative driven setpiece-to-setpiece style. That said, Sparkler won't be a gigantic multiple-hour game, it's a little experiment. Hopefully, it's fun.

#devlog #gamedev #indiegamedev #indie games

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jedi-lothwolf · 1 year

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Whumpril Day 25: On The Run/"We're being Watched."

Fandom: Star Wars The Bad Batch

Summary: The batch gets into a stick situation after taking a mission for Cid. Tech does something and almost gets taken out by some clones. Luckily a friend helps out.

Cid loved sending the batch on strange pickup missions. The terrain was rocky but a pleasant temperature. The trees stood tall and the grass a little taller than Omega's ankles.

Hunter led the group with Wrecker following them close behind. Tech, Omega, and Echo walked between them. The leader put his arm out to stop them. "We're being watched." An erie feeling fell over them as they all realized it too.

Tech and Echo moved closer to Omega and the group continued. Not long later they would run into imperial clones. They ran and fought.

Then they entered the forest. It was dence and thorny. Echo kept Omega close while they tried to slip away. They all thought it had worked until the turned back at Wrecker. "Where is Tech?" Hunter hissed.

"He said he'd get them off our trail and that he'd meat us on the Marauder."

"Alright."

Tech moved swiftly through the trees. He skidded to a stop. A river, to big to jump over was in the way. As he got ready to move to the left side he stopped. The three remaining soldiers moved to corner him.

The mercenary grabbed his guns but looked past the clones and closed his eyes. The odds weren't in his favor and he decided the last thing he was going to see wasn't his killers. Three shots were fired and three imperial soldiers fell to the ground. Tech looked to the nearby ledge that the guns sound had come from. There was Crosshair.

Tech smiled and nodded. Of course Crosshair would be there when he was needed most and of course he would wait tell last second. Tech reached his arm out to him, the gesture meaning for him to come with them.

Crosshair smirked but started to leave. Then another shot went off. After that one more. He turned around quickly to see Tech on the ground. He needed to get down there.

A million thoughts ran through Crosshair's mind as he ran to the river. Had he missed and one of the shots not been fatle? How could he have missed when it was that important? Was Tech okay? Was he alive? He would just have to find out when he got down there.

Tech sat up and looked at his leg. He had been shot in his left thigh. Even though he had already taken care of the soldier who shot him he still held the gun towards him.

Crosshair sighed with relief when he saw Tech sitting up. He was glad he was okay. "Let's get you to the Marauder."

Tech stood slowly and took one step forward. He stumbled and Crosshair moved next to him to support him. Some voices could be heard nearby. "Tech, are you alright?"

Tech nodded, "I'm fine."

The two headed into the woods. Tech informed Crosshair which way they needed to be heading. They snuck around, trying not to be caught.

"Down." Tech forced Crosshair into a nearby bush. Then he tumbled into the bush himself. The two watched as the soldiers walked by them. One of them stopped right before the bush and Crosshair looked over at his brother. Tech, painfully sitting on both legs had his guns ready to fire.

Then Crosshair looked at Tech's hands. He was shaking. More than likely it was the pain from his injury. It still hurt Cross to his brother that way.

"Check that bush" one of the clones commanded. A shot rushed out of Tech's gun. Crosshair grabbed Tech and pulled him out of the bush and somewhat dragged him away from the others.

And they were running again. To Tech it felt like that was all he and the batch did; run. They ran from the empire, from enemies they had made, from their past and their problems. They couldn't afford to stop or slow down.

Avoiding the clones was difficult. Avoiding the trees and briers proved to be hard as well. The adrenaline running though Tech's veins somewhat cancelled out the pain.

"Where are you?" Hunter asked over the comm.

"We ran into some difficulties." Tech answered.

"We?" Echo asked, very concerned for the answer.

"Crosshair and I."

"Crosshair?" Wrecker asked hopeful.

"Correct. We are almost there."

"Alright, just hurt." Hunter turned the comm off and sighed into the pilot's chair.

Crosshair and Tech made their way back to the Marauder. Once there, they took care of Tech's leg. They left the planet and headed back to Ord Mentell with a new, old member. Other than Tech's leg the mission was refreshing success.

#star wars #star wars whump #whump #star wars the bad batch #whumpril 2023 #whumpril #tbb #tbb whump #the bad batch whump #Tech #Hunter #tech whump #tech the bad batch #tech bad batch #tech #Crosshair

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chohyde · 2 years

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Easy methods to Grow Your Splendor Earnings

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#카지노사이트 #안전한 카지노사이트 #에볼루션카지노 #카지노사이트 주소 #카지노사이트 추천

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mgkaizen · 2 years

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How to Deal with Family Rift

Relationships are complicated. Just look at the Ambani Brothers. While Mukesh is climbing the list of the richest people in the world, Anil is struggling and has even filed for bankruptcy. Both brothers don’t see eye to eye which caused their group of companies to split and be divided between them.

Their case showcases that even billionaire families face family rifts like us commoners. In cases of utmost trouble, cutting family ties seems the only possible and helpful solution. While taking a breather can be helpful, but it may not be the right solution.

While the situation might seem difficult, you can reconnect and initiate a positive change. By maintaining a little distance for personal space and taking one step at a time, you can make a difference to the relationship.

Rebuild broken Relationship

Before going onto rebuilding the relationship, it is important to go back to the root cause of the problem and understand what exactly happened and why. Like you have your own reasons, thoughts, feelings and perspectives about what and why it happened, so does the other person. So, try to understand the situation from the other person’s perspective and be empathetic.

Be Ready to Forgive

Often, a lot of time no one is wrong in a dispute. People might simply view things differently and that’s ok too. You need to ask yourself “do you want to be right or mend your relationship?” you have to decide if you want to stick to your gun or accept the fact that you will never agree upon some things. If you choose to accept the difference and forgive one another, you’ll be able to let go of the resentment and take those steps to heal the relationship.

Keep Reaching Out

It may be difficult but you might have to take the first step to initiate contact. Do not directly resort to face-to-face contact as it can be very triggering, rather at first try to connect through methods that are less intrusive like emails, letters, and calls.

Start Slow and Meet in Public

Just because you decided to meet does not mean that your relationship is okay now, it is an overwhelming process. Try to keep realistic expectations and go slow. Seeing your family in the household can be very triggering and some unexpected emotions like anger, resentment and sadness might erupt. Hence, prefer to meet in a public, like a coffee place, which is safe and offers a neutral environment.

Find a Mediator

Sometimes you need a third person to help you in the healing process. This mediator could be a Family and couple Counselors in Pune, an impartial friend or relative. The mediator can help you communicate your feelings and opinions in a neutral environment and help you work through your feelings.

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dycefic · 3 years

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Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it. They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

#welcome to Evil Mart #good is not just good #evil is not just evil #people are complicated #and so is retail #tw graphic #tw gore #tw violence #tw murder #it's a supervillain story #supervillain shit happens #you are now warned

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