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#obviously there are fucked up parts but that is just crosshair’s story
mandos-mind-trick · 10 months
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Here's To The Future - Part 8: Trust*
Summary: A brief stop for supplies and fuel has Hunter questioning his trust in not only the newly returned Crosshair, but also himself.
Warnings: Very NSFW, very explicit, this is absolute filth, threesome, fingering, oral, p in v sex, degrading, heavy discussions of kinks, appearance of dom!Crosshair, voyeurism. This is just porn. It's just straight porn. Also there is absolutely no clonecest in this at all. If you support that then you can get right the fuck out.
A/N: This takes place after the last chapter, but it is not necessary to read for the story. There's absolutely no plot whatsoever. What little discussion there is about emotions and such will be addressed again in the next part as well, so there's no need to read this one if this isn't your thing.
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Hunter had let Wrecker, Tech, and Echo take Omega into town, letting them explore when they decided to land on this planet. They needed some supplies, as well as fuel, so it was the perfect opportunity. Hunter had elected to stay back at the ship, as well as Midnight and Crosshair. 
He definitely hadn’t stayed just because of Crosshair. 
He had seen the looks passing between Crosshair and Midnight for the duration of the flight. If Omega hadn’t been on board, he had no doubt they would have slipped into her room without hesitation. He can thank Omega’s new clinginess towards Midnight for keeping them from doing it anyway. 
It had taken some convincing for the young clone to leave Midnight behind on the ship. Hunter’s not sure exactly what she had said, but whatever it was, it had placated the young clone enough to leave with the others. 
Hunter had given the excuse of his senses being overwhelmed for too long for staying back, watching the four disappear from the spaceport before heading back into the ship. 
They haven’t even made it to her room yet, both of them standing in the middle of the hull. Midnight’s hand is on Crosshair’s cheek. She’s looking up at him, her eyes shining with nothing but love. Hunter isn’t sure how anyone can look at Crosshair like that. 
Crosshair turns to him, his lips lifted in a smirk. “If you’re so intent on listening in, why don’t you just join us?” 
Hunter’s eyes widen. He hadn’t exactly planned on listening in for that reason. He just doesn’t trust Crosshair. For all he knows, he’s going to hurt Midnight the second the door closes. 
“You don’t need to be an ass, Hunter, if you want to see mine.” Midnight says, trailing her hand down Crosshair’s chest. “If you’re so determined to protect me, then maybe you should stand guard. Make sure nothing...bad happens to me.” 
Crosshair’s hand trails up her body, coming to rest on her jaw. His thumb slips between her lips, pushing into her mouth. “She’d enjoy it.” He teases. “Still a little voyeur.” He pulls his thumb from her lips, dragging it down her chin leaving a wet line on her skin. 
“I missed you.” Midnight says, pulling him closer. 
“So I’ve heard.” Crosshair smirks. “You want to show me just how much?” 
Midnight nods, taking his hand. They disappear into her room, the door still open. 
Hunter stands there, staring after them for a moment. He can’t believe what he’d just heard. He had hoped they’d be in her room already when he boarded the ship, and his presence would go largely unnoticed. Instead, it’s almost like they’d been waiting for him. 
He should walk away. Hell, he should leave the ship, maybe go catch up with the others. He shouldn’t want to follow, to see what he’d heard many, many times take place in Midnight’s room. 
He’s doing it to protect her. 
He’s doing it to keep her safe. 
She’s obviously not thinking much about it. 
Crosshair could snap her neck before he even gets in there. 
What if he has a knife? She could be dead already. 
His feet are moving, rushing towards Midnight's room at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of Midnight’s quiet gasp. He stands in the doorway, hand on his blaster. He’s ready. He’d take out Crosshair in a heartbeat if he ever hurt Midnight.
Instead he finds Midnight bent over her bed, pants already down around her ankles. Crosshair is standing next to her, his hand massaging her ass cheek. Crosshair smirks, a knowing glint in his eye as he stares at Hunter. 
“Look who decided to join us.” Crosshair says, bringing his hand down on Midnight’s ass once more. She yelps, body jerking forward at the force of it. “I should be insulted, you trust me so little. But, I know she likes it.” He slips a hand between her legs, rubbing her over her underwear. “You don’t even have to feel it to know.” 
He doesn’t. He can smell the musky scent of her arousal. He can hear her heart thumping in her chest, the way her breathing has picked up. 
He won’t fall into the trap, though. Instead he moves to the corner, leaning against the wall. He shuts the door, in case the others happen to come back early. 
Crosshair hums, delivering another smack to Midnight’s ass. “I think you might have to convince him, cyare.” He taps her ass twice. “On the bed.” 
She crawls onto the bed, Crosshair grabbing her legs to tug her so her head is on the end of the bed. If she tilted it back, Hunter could see her face. Hunter shifts slightly at the rough manhandling. He knows Crosshair is the roughest of all of them, the most willing to push boundaries. Midnight had never complained, she’d never voiced any concern. He wasn’t willing to push things like that, though. 
“Don’t worry, Hunter.” Crosshair says, tugging Midnight’s shirt over her head. “She’s not a breakable little doll.” 
Crosshair pulls her breastband off as well, his hands instantly cupping her breasts. Her back arches, breath hitching as he tugs at her nipples. She lets out a whine as he tugs harder, the scent of her arousal only getting stronger. Crosshair releases her, taking her nipple into his mouth to soothe it with his tongue. He switches sides, giving her other breast the same attention. Midnight arches into him, letting out quiet, breathy moans. 
Crosshair smirks, pulling away from her breast with a pop. “I missed those sounds.” 
Midnight reaches up, tangling a hand in his hair. “I missed you.” 
Hunter can smell the saltiness of her tears as she pulls Crosshair down against her. His arms slip under her back, practically crushing her to his chest. His face presses against her neck, allowing this moment of tenderness. Hunter’s never seen such...vulnerability from Crosshair before. It’s a bit jarring, seeing a side of his brother that he didn’t think even existed.
Then Crosshair lifts his head, staring right at Hunter. His lips curl up in a smirk, his arms moving from beneath Midnight. Hunter’s body goes rigid, his hand ready to reach for his blaster. Crosshair moves slowly, sitting himself up on his knees. His hand trails down Midnight’s stomach, her legs parting around him. His fingers slip under the waistband of her underwear, slowly dragging them down her legs. 
Crosshair slingshots them, hitting Hunter right in the middle of his chest. His hand reaches up unconsciously, grabbing onto them. The heavy musk of Midnight’s arousal is like a punch in the face. He can see the large damp spot on them, his own cock beginning to get hard just from the overwhelming scent. 
He quickly drops them to the side, trying to clear his head. He’s here to make sure Crosshair doesn’t try anything. He’s here to make sure Midnight doesn’t get hurt. 
Crosshair shifts her further up the bed, her head dropping over the edge. He settles himself between her legs, nipping at her inner thighs. Midnight’s eyes are open, staring right at Hunter as Crosshair teases her. Her lips part, chest moving in a gasp as Crosshair bites down on her inner thigh. Her hand blindly reaches down, searching him out, but her eyes stay locked with Hunter’s. 
Crosshair kisses his way closer to her pussy, pausing for a moment just to stare at her. His thumbs settle on her lips, pulling them apart. She’s opened up right before him like a savory dish, all wet and slick just for him. He leans forward, dragging the tip of his tongue across her clit. Her body jerks slightly, another quiet gasp leaving her lips. He repeats the motion, earning the same reaction. 
“Still so sensitive.” He murmurs, sucking her clit between his lips. “Don’t tell me they’ve been neglecting you.” 
“Too busy.” She gasps out, his hand settling on her hips to hold her still. “‘S hard,” She murmurs, tilting her head up to look down at him. “To find time.” 
Her head drops back as he licks a line up her pussy, getting a taste of her. “Still so sweet.” He slaps the side of her thigh as she tries to squirm, her body falling limp back onto the bed. “Stay still.” 
“Sorry, sir.” She murmurs. 
“Still so obedient too.” He smirks, lifting his head to meet Hunter’s gaze. His chin is shining with her wetness already. “Well, at least for me.” 
Hunter shifts slightly, feeling irritated by Crosshair’s jab. It’s true he feels a bit like he’s losing control of Midnight. She’d been making far too many reckless decisions for his liking. He hopes with Crosshair’s rescue she’ll dial it back. He had been the reason she was doing it in the first place. 
He doesn’t want her getting hurt because of something he can’t control. 
Her quiet moans drag him from his thoughts, his eyes dropping to look at her face. Her eyes are closed, mouth parted as Crosshair eats her out. He knows the sounds of those moans mean she’s enjoying herself. 
“No one’s here but us, darling.” Crosshair says, pulling away for a moment. “Be as loud as you’d like.” 
He dives back in, a loud moan tearing from her lips. Her hands grip her sheets, balling into fists. Her thighs try to close around Crosshair’s head, but he slips his hands around them, keeping them pulled apart. 
The sounds are absolutely filthy as Crosshair slurps at her pussy, her moans bouncing off the bare metal walls. She’s close, her legs trembling around Crosshair’s head. 
“Please, sir.” She whines, hips pressing into his face. “Please let me cum!” 
Crosshair pulls away, making her whine in disappointment. “You think you deserve to cum?” 
“Please, I’ve been good.” She almost sobs. 
“Have you?” He asks, sitting up on his heels. “Has she been good, Hunter?” 
Hunter stays still, keeping his eyes on Midnight’s face. Her eyes are open now, staring hard at him, almost pleading at him to answer. He doesn’t, keeping quiet. He doesn’t want to take part in this little game. He’s only here to make sure she’s safe. 
“Not going to help her?” Crosshair runs his fingers along her slit before pushing two of them into her. She gasps at the sudden intrusion, her grip around the sheets tightening. “Maybe he still needs some convincing.” 
Crosshair thrusts his fingers slowly, dragging them along her walls. She’s soaking his hand already, her walls gripping his fingers tightly. 
“Why don’t you tell him?” He says, reaching into his blacks to stroke his cock. He’s half hard already, he has been for hours in anticipation. Since he’d met Midnight’s gaze and watched her squirm in her seat. “Tell him all those dirty little thoughts I know you have.” 
Midnight lets out a whine like Hunter’s never heard before, her head falling back so she’s staring right at him. Her eyes are clouded with lust, pupils blown wide. “I want Crosshair to fuck my pussy,” She gasps as Crosshair shifts his fingers inside her. “While I suck your cock.” 
“Good girl.” Crosshair says, curling his fingers inside her to brush against her spot for a moment. “Keep going.” 
“Want to wake up with your head between my legs,” She gasps. “Wanna get tied up and used, fucked till I cry.” She nearly sobs, close to crying with how Crosshair is teasing her. “Want you to use your knife, want you to tease me. Want you to hunt me down.” 
Crosshair ghosts his thumb over her clit, her whole body jerking. “Finish telling him, and then you can cum.” 
“Want you all to watch while I fuck myself with my fingers.” She moans, each confession bringing her closer to the edge. “Want you to take turns,” She whines, squirming against the bed. “Fucking me till I’m full.” 
“Good girl.” Crosshair praises her, rubbing her clit as he thrusts his fingers into her spot. 
She cums with a cry of his name, arching off the bed beautifully. Hunter can’t take his eyes off her, watching the way she rides out the high of her orgasm. He’s hard, his cock pressing against his codpiece, but he won’t do it. He won’t even adjust himself. He won’t give Crosshair that satisfaction. 
Crosshair drapes his body over hers, his slick-coated fingers lifting to grip her chin. For a moment Hunter thinks he’s going to kiss her, but instead she opens her mouth, her tongue sticking out. Crosshair spits into her mouth, and she swallows, beaming up at him. 
“She’s not as innocent as you like to pretend.” Crosshair says, moving back to kneel on the bed. “She’s a filthy little whore.” 
Hunter winces at the word, but Midnight doesn’t seem upset. Instead she moans quietly, reaching up for Crosshair. He slaps the side of her thigh, making a circle motion with his finger. She pushes herself up on shaky limbs, turning around onto her hands and knees, still facing him. 
“I’ll take pity on you this once.” Crosshair says, pulling his blacks down enough to free his cock. “Only because it’s been far too long since I’ve been inside this tight little pussy.” 
“Thank you, sir.” Midnight gasps, pushing her hips back in anticipation. 
Crosshair strokes his cock, using her slick to wet himself. She’s still wet, even after having just cum. He won’t last long. It’s been far too long since he’s had anyone, much less this sweet pussy. He puts a hand on her hip, stilling her as he drags his head along her slit. 
She moans quietly, dropping her head as he presses into her. It’s still a stretch, despite his attempts to make this easy for her. Her breaths are heavy and even as he presses his length into her, her hands clutching the sheets already. 
“Cross,” She whines, his hand smoothing over her back. She has a new scar on her shoulder, hardly more than a small nick, but it certainly hadn’t been there before. He knew all her scars, all her wounds, every inch of her body. 
He thrusts lazily, working his way inside her. He’s missed her, and not just because of this. The sting of his brother's betrayal hurts, their willingness to leave him, to not even try. Midnight had tried. Midnight had risked everything. 
He won’t say he loves her. He’s not capable of that. 
He does feel though. 
He keeps his gaze down, watching as his cock disappears into her pussy. She’s so warm and tight and wet around him. He won’t last long, not if he lets himself go. He wants her to cum again, at least once more. He sharpens his thrusts a bit, watching her ass jiggle with each slap of his hips against her. 
She’s moaning, the sound muffled by her face pressed into the sheets. He slips an arm around her, lifting her head up. He bends over her, holding her head up as she stares at Hunter. 
“You want him.” He says quietly, knowing full well Hunter can hear him. 
“Yes.” She whines, licking her lips. 
“Then ask him.” Crosshair releases her, straightening back up. He keeps his pace, letting his eyes drift to Hunter. 
“Please, Hunter.” She whines, staring at him. “Please, I need your cock. I want your cock in my mouth.” She inhales sharply as Crosshair smacks her ass. “Please, Sergeant.” 
Hunter meets Crosshair’s gaze for just a moment. There’s no mocking look behind his gaze, no normal seething hardness he’s so used to. Midnight’s confessions have gotten to him. He’d had no idea she was so...adventurous. That she wanted so much from them. He knows she’s not just saying it to appease Crosshair, either. Those confessions had come from the depths of her soul. Her own yearning. 
So who was he to deny her? 
His codpiece hits the floor with a thud, his feet moving as he pulls himself free of his blacks. He moves to stand at the end of her bed, running a hand along his cock. It’s hard, painfully so, after his refusal to do anything but watch. 
He cups her chin, running his thumb along her jaw. He silently asks, pleading with her to say no, to turn him away if she doesn’t want it. 
Instead, she opens her mouth in anticipation. 
He nearly groans, his hand sliding into her hair. He guides his cock towards her mouth, her tongue darting out to lick the tip as soon as it’s close enough. He lets her take over, her tongue tracing the length of his cock, getting it nice and wet. Crosshair never slows or pauses his thrusts, keeping a steady rhythm, even as she begins to take his cock in her mouth. 
One of her hands lifts, holding onto the base of his cock. She strokes him as she works him into her mouth, using her hand for what she can’t reach. He knows her limits, and he tries not to push them. 
She pulls him from her mouth, swirling her tongue around his head. How she could manage to focus with Crosshair behind her is a mystery. She takes him back in her mouth, letting Crosshair’s thrusts guide her mouth on him. She scrapes her teeth across the sensitive skin gently, his hand tightening in her hair. She could play him like an instrument, she knows all of them so well. 
“She’s getting close.” Crosshair says, her moans muffled by Hunter’s cock. “Make your Sergeant cum first.” He says, smacking her ass once more. 
She doubles down, sucking his cock harder as her hand picks up speed. Hunter’s close, hips hips thrusting a bit. It feels so good to finally have some relief after being pent up while watching. He never thought he could be into something, but seeing Midnight being plucked apart by someone else...perhaps there’s other thing’s he’s willing to explore. 
He cums, holding her head in place as he releases down her throat. That’s one thing he can be sure of. She always wanted them to cum in her mouth. Less hassle she had once shrugged when Tech had asked why she preferred it that way. With one fresher between the five of them, and limited ways to wash clothing and sheets, he could understand. 
She pulls free of him, her hand falling back to the bed to cling to the sheets. Crosshair has picked up the pace, thrusting brutally into her. Her body rocks back and forth, her arms giving out and she drops onto her elbows. 
“Please, Cross. Please.” She begs, legs trembling. Crosshair’s hold on her hips is the only thing keeping her up. 
“You’ve been good.” He murmurs, shifting his hips just slightly. “Now cum for me.” 
She cums with a cry of his name, her body spasming as her second orgasm washes over her. Crosshair groans before stilling, his own orgasm hitting him. He spills into her, dropping to his hands over her for a moment. Midnight’s body drops as he releases her, limp and shaking from the aftershocks. 
Crosshair wraps an arm around her, shifting them so they’re on their sides on her bed, her back tucked into his chest. Hunter grabs his codpiece, putting himself back in place. He listens for a moment, the ship silent. They still have time before the others return.  “You still don’t trust me, Hunter?” Crosshair says as Hunter opens the door. “Remember, I was never programmed to kill her.”
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@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7, @burningfieldof-clover,
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vinxwatches · 6 months
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the bad batch season 2
really liked season one, trough probably too much because i headcanon Omega as trans.
Omega is badass now? cool.
Cid is damn manipulative... by having a valid point.
the call for adventure of the season: help people. they are good people, helping when the opportunity arises, seems like they'll be making the step to looking for places to help.
i just realized something i really like in this over clone wars: people can't die. don't get me wrong, it was neat, but it also meant you wouldn't get to know the cast. in this the cast is an actual cast.
oh, that's one fucking cliffhanger, strong opening.
stop being stupid, you can't run on a broken leg... i mean you can, but you shouldn't.
they were hunted by Wilco... the name sound familiar, but my memory for names is ass. also he's dead now, so not that it really matters. i literally caught it on his death grunt.
i do like the message, but i wonder where they'll be going with it.
Crosshair episode? also cody again, probably about to die too.
there's always something neat about a sniper just sniping overly well.
maybe not, maybe cody is able to leave and live. more likely not. the only reasonable way to achieve that is by linking up with Rex or task force 99. and i don't recall him being with Rex in rebels.
well damn, he went awol. hope we'll see him again.
i love a good race, especially layed out well, and it was. good episode
ok i'll admit it my gay hart is losing it over phee, worried she'll turn out to be the villain, or at least not trustworthy.
pre jedi stuff. how will not force users make it trough here. also they're going big with the music.
i was sure it would be a kibar cristal (lightsabre core). oh, it's big.
so i really did recognise him... HOW?!
the message of the show seems to me "people need their people". now this isn't a bad message, but is easily malformed.
ah, so wookies are argonians.
"don't stand where i'm flamethrowing"
i really like where she moved. how she seems to have grown... it's probably going to get her killed isn't it? ep 7 btw.
i love the leitmotifs.
damnit two parter? i need to prepare, not need to watch part two... oh well.
Echo's role is always the most questionable to me, but here they really found a role for him.
fuck he's such a politician. (yes that is obviously an insult)
feels fitting for Echo, the old squad reuniting... yet also we know this isn't where he ends up. after all i watched rebels.
hello purple hair, should i know you already?
and it's given proper weight, nice.
tech is autistic isn't he? because my god can he be almost stereotypically oblivious. damn growth for tech. also yea you'll always lose against water.
oh, this really just is the neurodivergent episode... and i think it's handled pretty well. episode 9. Techs and Omega's conversation around 22 minutes is very good.
nope purple hair is not someone we know, and definitely doesn't have cool feather hair.
ugly and disabled means evil... not a fan.
the workers suffer while and to increase the profit of the company? what a new story, good thing such things never happen in the real world /s. if only the solutions were ever more realistic. revealing the truth never changed anything. but obviously disney doesn't want to tell that.
a broken space dropping out of hyperdrive?
oh shit, they're continuing with what i thought was a dropped plotpoint. but why though? what do they plan to do with this plot now?
Rex? doesn't look like him, but certain talks like him. and i don't just mean same voice. i mean how and what he says. ep 12
oh, is this the deserting episode? they have been building it up.
in case it wasn't obvious enough the empire was evil and a bunch of dicks.
welcome to cold, the cruellest, slowest killer. the cruellest part may be the hope. there's nothing you'll survive better then cold, because while it kills you it also preserves you. you can hope to make it, until the moment you die. and the people who find your body will feel that same hope until your corpse is warmed up. it's a blessing too, for you'll survive it more often then drowning, but the hope is cruel.
damn that ending though.
are they planning to split to group up further? i mean probably the right decision, but not healthy for the series i think. they are making this play too idyllic, like 80% sure it'll either be destroyed or secretly evil. the only reason i'd say maybe not is because they seemed to have put too much afford into the assets to throw it all away. of all the enemies to throw at the it, this is one of the most mundane and with that cool. especially in it's accuracy.
also did they hint at this ship before? i didn't notice it but i'm notoriously bind to this type of ship. or did they introduce it in this episode.
that ship sure looks like the ghost.
"i suggest i you proceed before i come to my senses"
two things i still really like: Wrecker is allowed to be afraid of heights and it's not a flaw. a hinderance and a weakness, sure. but everyone has those. it's not something that's wrong with him that must be changed. Omega is trusted with important tasks and is competent. she's not just a tag along kid, she's an actual member of the team with useful skills like any of them.
there's going to be more then one team working here, that'll be a problem. called it, and called it... fuck. this season won't end in a successful rescue. they better be getting a season 3.
on no. i see the solution, Tech does too. please don't. yet you must. fuck. come on, it's too early in the episode for a mayor character death. right? unless the rest of the episode it to come to terms with the loss. i'm wrong... right? i mean... the start of the episode did set it up, but, like.. no?
this feels like an episode where they all die... but that can't be. they have an unresolved plot. whatsit fuck face needs omege, she needs to be captured and then rescued. that's how those plots go. everyone can't die, not yet at least, the plot demands it... right?
ok... they "salvaged" him. that has to mean he's alive... right? fuck i already know a friend of mine would call out my hopium.
another female clone? the fuck? also how can you be here? do what you do? that just doesn't make sense? trying to improve the system from the inside? that won't work with the empire, and if you were a mole you'd be a shit one. they're really hoping they'll get another season.
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ct-hardcase · 3 years
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idk why the inquisitors recruiting crosshair to be a purge trooper commander and him getting a fucked up found family out of the deal is so funny to me but this gag is starting to turn into an actual concept help
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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years
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Human!Freddy Krueger x Fem!Reader || Oneshot
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Title: What The Fuck Now, Freddy!?
Notes:
This is not inherently romantic, at all. Or sexual. Just... Freddy being a bastard, and you are caught in the crosshairs- and are forever linked with him because of it.
I've been listening to Lizzie, a lot lately- and this is inspired by 'What The Fuck Now, Lizzie!?'
Also- I'm thinking this will have a part 2. Due to the ending not being quite enough. Maybe a part for the court proceedings!
Plot: Many will know the story of that terrible day Krueger essentially snapped- killing his wife, Loretta Krueger. She saw the basement, they say, and he didn't like that. Their daughter saw the whole thing and suffered a traumatic response to seeing the sight of her mother, strangled to death, by her father- and forgot the whole thing.
But if she were to remember something, one day.
She may remember something no one knows about that day, aside from Freddy himself.
She may remember, that someone else was there.
She may remember you.
//
Alternatively- you're being blackmailed by Freddy who found out you, another supposedly Plain Jane in Loretta's 'mothers club', is cheating on your husband and calls you up to help deal with the mess he made. Because who else did he have?
Warnings: Okay lemme see, its basically a potluck of triggers. Hm. Murder, swearing, cheating (You, on your husband. Not with Freddy), getting rid of a body, a child gets traumatised (Obviously, Kathy/Maggie), Freddy himself, mention of the basement and all that entails, reader with a very questionable moral compass. Look, I think if you can watch Freddy's Dead, you're good here.
I'm just heading out the door, to go grocery shopping - or, at least, that's the story I tell my husband. When really I don't do the grocery shop until the day after tomorrow. He never notices... - when the phone rings. By very nearly tripping over my feet in my endeavour to catch it before the ringing stops, I manage pick up the phone with very little injury besides an achy, slightly twisted ankle. "Hi! Hi, sorry, I'm here. Hello?"
Pouting, I sit down at the kitchen table; Rubbing my poor ankle to sooth the pain, which would soon diminish anyway. Still- I'm sorry, ankle. I'll try to chill.
When the voice on the other end reveals who it is who's called the house, I lose all need to be pleasant. Damn. I really need to memorise this goddamn number... so I can not answer it. "Whatcha wearin'?"
"Thank god Harrison didn't answer this, you fuck." I deeply roll my eyes. Thank god Har's out. No, this is not my mister, not the man I was going to meet just now- but its bad, enough. In an entirely different way. Its stupid, blackmailing, son of a... hundred maniacs. "What do you want?"
"What a way to answer the phone, Y/N. Gee, seems like every time I we talk, I'm learning how you really aren't in the right place, are you? Cheating on your poor husband, swearing... These aren't really signs of the perfect suburban house wife, is it?" Gritting my teeth, I keep from lashing out. I've learned, if you stay real quiet, Freddy wont have anything to pull from and will get bored quick. "Why so silent, hm?"
"... " Oh, fuck me. I cant help it. "Wondering where you get off judging me on being 'suburban', actually."
"Anywhere I like, thanks."
Oh... oh. Gross?
He doesn't see the disgust tearing my face into two perfect halves right now, but my silence must be enough as he laughs. The sound is directly into the phone, and harsh on my poor eardrums. Ugh... "Oh for gods sake... What are we? Fourteen years old?? Come on- why'd you call?"
"Uhhhh... " Quickly, midway through that drawn out 'um' sound, Freddy's voice transitions, and gets a whole lot darker. Something deep in his chest dislodging, to make it so. Perhaps, his heart. "Well... you might wanna come and see for yourself."
"Uh, I don't think so. I have somewhere to be right now- "
"Oh well you don't, anymore." And its clear what he isn't saying- or else I'll tell Harrison about Carter and set your life on fire. "Tell your boy toy you're takin' a reign check for the day. I think you'll last. In fact... after you come over here, you might be out of the game for a couple a hours at least- maybe days."
Hold on, hold on Freddy what the fuck- "What!?"
"... Believe it or not, I didn't actually mean for that one."
Moron.
~
Nevertheless, no matter how just... off setting, Freddy is, I had to when he asked. I had to jump when he said so.
Because if not, then he would tear my life apart.
So here I am, about to knock on that big red door he lives behind, wondering what I'm walking into. Where's Loretta? Where's Kathy? How long will the visit be? I told Carter I'd be an hour or two late- any longer and I wont see him at all today. Which would absolutely suck.
Just after my knuckles come down on the wood the first time, a hand comes down on my shoulder and I immediately jump out of my skin... then slowly look around.
There's Freddy, a cheeky grin on his face. It does nothing to set my nerves at ease. "Ugh... Why are you out here?"
"We're going to the backyard. Lets go." Taking me by the shoulders, he marches me around the side of the house, instead of through it for some reason, and into the familiar backyard. I've been here numerous times, as Loretta likes to hold our club meetings here - Barbecue's, tea's... that sort of thing. Just to let the kids play together and so the adults can enjoy some adult conversation. Its a nice yard... but depending on what her horrid husband is about to show me, it may not be considered as such anymore... - , but I'm now starting to develop a sick feeling in my stomach.
Honestly- I don't know much about Freddy at all. Yes, I went to school with him, but that doesn't mean much when he was a freaky loner kid the whole time. I remember he killed the class hamster once- that's about the only splash he ever made in the news pool; But it definitely stuck.
Yes, Loretta cleaned up his image a fair bit since getting married, but now he's blackmailing me, and as far as I know I'm now alone with him.
Suspicious of him suddenly, I slip out of his grip with a dirty look flashed his way. Don't touch me.
He just rolls his eyes, leading me around some hedges.
And then everything stops.
Him, me, the air; The air around me, the breeze, the breath in my throat.
There lays Loretta, on the ground. If I was really really naïve, I could imagine she were sleeping... or passed out, at least, due to the way she's sprawled out. No one would lay down like that willingly.
But... her eyes are open.
For a moment I'm tempted to kneel down; Take a closer look. Find out how, myself. Is she bleeding anywhere that I cant see now? Are her lips turning blue? If I moved some short red hair out of the way- would their be marks on her neck yet?
But then I come to my senses...
And freak. The fuck. O u t.
"What, the fuck, did you do!?" I whip around, looking at Freddy now which entirely new eyes. I mean, before I sure wasn't fond- but now I'm filled with something new, looking at him. Something a lot worse, something that makes me want to run. Run, and hide, and stay there.
And all these, even though he hasn't really changed. He still wears a mischievous smirk, stony blue eyes eating up my reactions... like always. But this time its just so so much worse. "Made some dead weight- now you're gonna help me get rid of it. So!" Finally, though its been only a matter of seconds, he turns his gaze off of me and I'm glad. That gaze is far too heavy. "Ideas?"
Only for a moment am I lost for words, struggling to push anything out. "I... I'm sorry??"
His gaze returns to mine, but this time my eyes are hard as his are dark. "Help. Me. Get rid of her. Fucking. Body. Or do you want your dirty laundry aired for the whole community to hear?"
Before I can help myself, I let out a sharp laugh, only succeeding in making Freddy's scowl deeper. "Freddy- this secret's a lot bigger, then mine. Sure, I might get divorced- but you're going to prison!" Does he get that? He's g o i n g to j a i l. Crossing my arms, I try to avoid looking at my ex-friend's body. I cant. "I'm sure as hell not gonna be in there with you, for being an accomplice."
I really cant look at her... I can only focus on Freddy. And that takes a lot of energy- its taking everything in me, in fact. Everything I have. But I have to. If its him or her, there's no choice.
But... then a creepy smile spreads across his face- a vast polarity to the frustrated glower of before. It makes my blood run cold.
"Ohhhh..." He looks almost ferocious, even in his composed state. Like a monster. Like any moment a fanged, inhuman creature is going to burst out of him and I'm going to wake up, and this will have been a nightmare. A horrible nightmare. The kind where that creature haunts me for a long time, after its over. After this over.
He's going to haunt me.
"You must think this is my first time... " My heart turns to ice, mouth hanging a little open... what the fuck have I found myself a part of!? Suddenly all the children's disappearances on the news lately come to the forefront of my brain... "Sweetheart, give a man his dues. I'm a hard working kinda guy... " I watch his gaze flicker to a door - the back door? No... The basement door, - and when a filthy smirk pulls at his mouth, my heart flies up into my throat. God, it makes me feel sick. I want to be violently ill. "My first was my adoptive Dad... pretty sick, huh?"
The fact that he didn't say anything about the basement, makes my imagination go wild. I swallow it down, though.
I just need to get out of here, and never think about this again.
And to do that I need to help Freddy get rid of this goddamn body- and... probably... testify at court... As the panic starts to finally rise up in my, right up to fill my throat, I immediately take in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Okay... " No time to freak out. Now's the time for action.
Gaze flickering to Loretta again, I try to acclimatise to the sight. I think its a lost cause, though. "How did you get rid of him? Your Dad?"
"No, that's not gonna work. He was a drunk dead beat, and I just had to tell the police some guy's he owed money to came over to the house." Freddy grins happily at the memory, but then just as quickly, scowls at his poor deceased wife's body- that certainly cant fight back. I just tack this onto the long list of reasons I hate him. "Lore's such a goddamn goody goody- we cant do the same thing. You don't think I woulda thought of that??"
"Hey." I snap, hands braced on my hips as I flash a glare his way. "This is not the time to get defensive!"
"Whatever... "
Then- suddenly, something occurs to me. Confused, I look around; A deeply horrified feeling disturbing my stomach. "Hold on... Where's your daughter?" Seeing no sign of her anywhere, I definitely start to panic again- especially when I look to Freddy and just see a pert look in his eyes as he looks back at me, a smile that strikes something horrid inside me. My eyes narrow. "You sick fuck- where the fuck is she!??"
"Under the bed."
"What the fuck does that mean!?" I exclaim, frustrated and freaking out. He did not- he did not! Killing your spouse is one thing, but the kid?? Your own kid??
I don't wait around for him to be cryptic some more, and rush right into the house to look for her. Under the bed, under the bed, under the fucking bed...? Which fucking bed!? Forcing ferocity out of my voice, I carefully call out to Kathy. Hoping to god she answers. I try to sound normal. Maybe a little bit cheerful; Excited.
But my voice wobbles.
"Kathy?? Sweetheart, its Y/N! Are you hiding? I have something for you... " ?? You have something for her, Y/N?? God... now you have to figure out some kind of treat.
You know what? Whatever. We'll figure that out later.
Lets just hope we aren't searching for a corpse. I'd definitely be sick, seeing a child... the way Loretta is...
Shaking my head and clenching my fists, I try to focus on Kathy.
I check under the bed in the guest room because it comes into view first and she isn't there, then her bedroom and she isn't there either... and get a sick feeling as soon as I enter the last bedroom. Freddy's and Loretta's.
God, I've never been in here before but its like a museum peace now. A horrible one. Like if you would walk into the Titanic... or the Borden house.
"Kathy? You in here?" Flicking on the light I kneel down on the ground, and check under the bed.
And something immediately crashes over me, as the sight of her covering her eyes down there. It isn't exactly relief, because this whole situation is still phenomenally fucked up for her, but I am selfishly glad to not have to see her body... crumpled, just like her mother.
"Hey sweetheart," My voice quivers slightly now, but I quickly swallow. No. No. Now, you must be strong Y/N. "Its just me. Your Daddy was looking for you, and couldn't find you! It got him worried!"
"I... I don't wanna see Daddy. He hurt Mommy." Kathy doesn't remove her hands from her face, and stays firmly by the wall- too far away for anyone to grab. My heart sinks.
Slowly straightening up again, I try to take that piece of information in. Turning to the doorway, I see Freddy there. he must have followed me. I didn't even notice. Slowly, and quietly ferociously, I say; "She saw?!"
He has the good sense to look embarrassed, even if it is just to make fun of me. "It was spur of the moment... " He shrugs. "I didn't have time to get a babysitter!"
What a fucking excuse. For gods sake.
I'm definitely dealing with a psycho- if that was even a question before now.
Swiftly, I look down under the bed again, because I'm afraid that if I continue to engage with him- I'll scream, and I'll lose my breath, and I'll scare Kathy even more. She's at the forefront of my mind; That's all I can think about.
But what to do with her after I get her out from under this bed, I don't know. I cant give her back to her father... but I cant hand her over to the police either because that would involve telling them about Loretta, and... Freddy will definitely kill me, for that.
This is a nightmare of a situation.
I'm just opening my mouth to say something - what, I don't know yet, - when she speaks, instead. "Is he there?"
"... Yes." I wont lie to her; That would be treating her with not nearly as much respect as she deserves.
When she takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes, as if just trying to keep herself together, my heart clenches. God... and to think I might not have picks up Freddy's call today. I would have been leaving her with this. For the first time today, I'm morbidly glad I came.
She speaks in that loud, hissy way that kids think is a whisper. "Can he... can you please make him go away?"
Immediately I straighten back up and look to Freddy again, my eyebrows raised halfway up my forehead. Like well? "Get out."
"I don't think you're in a position to make demands here, bi- "
"Do you want Kathy to live down there now!??" I snap, trying not to be scared. Not really feeling scared, actually. Just happy to have a reason to tell him to get the hell away from me.
A deep frown creases his mouth, deeply unhappy about the situation, but steps back. I only hear him step out of the way of the door, but its good enough. Quickly, I get up and close the door - fighting with myself not to slam it, - and lock it.
Then I return to the floor, and see this time Kathy has uncovered her eyes. She looks so small, smaller then she actually is, and she looks like she's shaking. Little red bows and piggy tails in her hair are messy from crawling under the bed. "He's gone, sweetheart. And I locked the door."
She just nods, so I take the silence as a chance to offer my hand to her. "Take my hand, sweetie? Come on out from under the bed. Its cold down there, and no one wants you getting sick." I need to upkeep the family friend bit, I need to sound caring and collected. I need her to trust me.
Her big eyes, not Loretta's colour or Freddy's, look nervous as hell. And she shakes her head.
Taking a deep breath, and I conjure all the sincerity as I can. And mean it. My eyes soften and I try really hard, to resent myself as someone trustworthy- which is hard, seeing as I've never really been that. I mean, I'm cheating on my husband. I told Carter today the same lie I told Harrison when i knew I was going to be late. The only person I think who knows the truth behind all my lies is Freddy. That says something about a person, that the only person who knows them is a psychopath.
But I want to, I need to, be good for this little girl. And there's no time for me turn my life around so it has to start with this. How fucked is that?
"... I promise, I'll take care of you. He wont hurt you."
After a few whole minutes, in which I stay silent because yes she's a child, but she's still thinking, she crawls over and takes my hand, letting me lead her out. Crawling into my lap as I cross my legs under her, she buries her face in my shirt- hiding. "You promise?"
Taking a deep breath, because I've really done it now, I offer my pinky for her to see if she turned her head. I know Freddy's listening to all of this through the wall, but I try not to freak out. "Pinky swear?"
"Pinky swear." She peaks out from my shirt, and curls her little finger around mine. Okay... "Y/N... I'm scared."
"Yeah... Me too, sweetie."
What am I going to do?
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squishneedsahero · 3 years
Text
Healing Wounds
The Lost Padawan
Part 8 of ?
Word Count: 2122
You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.
A/N: btw comments are the thing that gives me motivation to continue these stories so anything is appreciated <3
"Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit-" is the only thing echoing through your mind as you run through the abandoned star destroyer. You'd all been a tad bit late to the party and Wrecker's chip had taken over. He was the reason you were currently running, and now ducking from blaster bolts.
He had targeted you, since the Jedi were the clone's main priority to eliminate. You'd taken off, but didn't want to get so far ahead that he turned his attention to the others. So staying in sight but dodging open fire wasn't something you were excited about. Lightsaber whirling through the air as you duck and cover and dodge and block all the blaster bolts he was eagerly firing, luckily his name was Wrecker and not Crosshair or you'd have been dead by now.
In all honesty you were functioning and fending for your life but trying so hard not to go into a full blown panic attack. Your friend trying to gun you down, while you hadn't personally experienced it you'd been a witness. Every night when you closed your eyes had only brought visions of Cody shooting down Obi Wan, and your many other friends whom you considered family. Only an hour ago you'd dove into murky water to save Wrecker's life and here he was now trying to kill you. It wasn't his fault but it still hurts.
You're brought back from these thoughts as Wrecker shouts behind you, something about you not getting away. You can hear the others shouting, further away but still there as they tried to defend you. You didn't need them dying for you though, so you tried to keep Wrecker's attention.
"Hey-" your voice cracks. You start again, "hey! You can't catch me Wrecker! I'm a Jedi and I'm still alive, you're disobeying orders!" You taunt him, finally gaining some small sense of stability as you duck behind a crate.
You hear him growl and his booming footsteps growing closer. You couldn't take him if he got ahold of you, you knew that much. He'd fought a Rancor and won, you were basically just a kid. Sure a battle hardened veteran, knowing nothing but war your entire childhood, except for when it was kind of just tense, but still you were a kid.
You glance around you as his footsteps grow closer, there's a vent above you. You know for a fact you can fit inside, you'd hidden in them plenty of times. You use the force to pull the cover off and send it flying towards Wrecker.
As you leap up into the vent you hear a solid thud and grunt before the metal clangs to the floor. You then hear another angry shout, you'd definitely hit Wrecker. From inside the vent you crawl back the way you had come, being sure to clang around and make some noise to keep his attention. A few blaster bolts firing through the ceiling and up at you in the vent tells you that you do indeed have his attention.
Your heart is in your throat, your throat is closing up from anxiety and you can hardly breathe, you can't keep this up for much longer and you know it. The tears you've been holding back for weeks are welling in your eyes and you know once you break there will be no stopping it. You'd be too broken to defend yourself for a hot minute while you got ahold of yourself and your emotions once again.
You crawl another 30 feet, dodging the blaster bolts, except for one that grazes your leg but you're feeling so numb to everything you hardly feel it. Once you crawl another 2 feet you realize everything has stoped, Wrecker falls silent, the shooting stops and the others stop their shouting. You allow yourself to collapse to the vent floor and just lay there on the cold metal, taking heaving breaths and trying to get ahold of yourself.
"Y/n? Are you alright?" from the tone you can tell Hunter asking you this.
You take another breath before speaking, hoping to keep your voice from cracking again, "yeah I'm alright. I'm-" you pause in thought, "I'm going to stay up here a minute... at least until Wrecker's alright."
You hear some whispers before he responds, "alright." If you'd cared you would have gone and tried to hear the whispers but you didn't care at that moment. Let them say what they need too, you needed to pause even for the slightest of moments in a vent on a star destroyer, somewhere you felt protected enough to let your masks fall and the emotional dam to break.
You listen to their heavy footsteps move away, carrying Wrecker back to the medical bay, then it happens. Everything you'd been holding in comes falling out. A tear for master Obi Wan, a tear for Cody, a tear for what Cody had done to Obi Wan, a tear for each of the clones you'd been close too, and a tear for the life you had lost. The only thing you'd known and now it was gone and it was slowly setting in that you'd never be getting that back even if you still spent all your time with a different group of clones. Once the tears start you cannot stop, you stay right there on the cold, growing warm metal, creating your own little pity puddle, a puddle of your tears.
~~~~~
"... at least until Wrecker's alright."
Hunter goes to respond but Rex places a gentle hand on his shoulder first and shakes his head, before responding for Hunter, "alright," and you couldn't tell the difference, one of the few perks of being a clone. The two then get Wrecker up and with a nod for Omega, who'd saved the day, to follow they carry their brother to the med bay and get him in the machine to begin the surgery that would hopefully work. The surgery that hopefully wouldn't kill him.
Once Wrecker is settled Hunter turns to Rex and asks, "why'd you leave them there?"
Rex shakes his head gently, but responds, "I served around them enough to know despite their training that they need some time to themselves."
Hunter lets that sink in for a moment before nodding, he trusted Rex on this, he had hardly spent any time around the Jedi, usually their team worked alone. He didn't know enough to dispute the idea that you just needed some time. Sure, you were probably close to the same age as the Clones were, but they aged much faster than you did. You'd had as many years experience as they did, but you were still mentally and physically a child. Order 66 and all the aftermath had to have hit you harder than you let on, but Wrecker going after you had been your breaking point.
Omega is worried about you, but to her you seemed invincible always ready to face danger and sacrifice yourself for your friends. For Omega, Wrecker is the priority of her worry, she stays by his side knowing how dangerous this procedure is to him, how he might not wake back up despite their best efforts. Finally the procedure is over and now they all wait on edge to see if their friend would wake up. After what feels like forever he does, he finally wakes up and the first thing Omega does  is hug him, throwing her arms around his neck as she lets out a breath of relief.
Wrecker apologizes to her, as he'd gone after her at one point, then looks up and asks, "how- how's y/n?" Sure, he remembered some stuff but you'd been in the vents, what if he'd hit you with a lucky shot? He could hardly bear the thought that he'd hurt or killed you. He quite liked you, you weren't stuck up like other Jedi, you fit in with their little family perfectly and if he'd hurt you even on accident-
He's pulled out of his thoughts by Omega answering, "y/n is still in the vent, they weren't ready to come out yet. I'm sure as soon as they're ready they'll be glad to know you're back to yourself."
That isn't the answer Wrecker wanted but his head was aching and the world was spinning so he couldn't go find you at the moment, he had to just lay back down. From there the next person is prepped for the surgery and they begin moving, going to get everyone fixed up before anything else could happen.
As soon as everyone is distracted and paying attention to the preparations being made, Omega makes her move, Hunter was fine, so now she needed to make sure you were fine. Whether you liked it or not she'd made you part of their little family, you were her sibling too, she had all her older brothers, and you.
"Y/n?" Omega's soft voice sounds below you, "can I come up?"
You don't get much of a chance to answer as next thing you know the vent in front of you opens up, and Omega crawls in. Fuck. She was also small enough to fit in the vents. "Uh," you quickly wipe your face and try to dry the puddle where your head had been, "hey- hey Omega, what's up?"
"Wrecker woke up, he's okay... I thought you should know." She settles in place, laying on her stomach and facing you, obviously not leaving.
You offer a slight smile, "okay, thanks..." you trail off not really sure what you should say, and not really in the mood to talk.
Omega obviously picks up on this since, despite being somewhat secluded all her life, she was inteligent and could somewhat read emotions despite not picking up on every little queue. "Are you alright? Wrecker didn't mean to-"
She stops as you look at her, you don't look harshly but you making eye contact once more is enough, "I know Omega. I don't blame him, it isn't his fault," you quietly say, "I don't blame him at all it's just-"
You pause wanting to backtrack, seeing the curiosity in her eyes as she innocently asks, "it's just what?"
You chew on the tip of your tongue for a moment before looking at her for a moment. It had been long enough. She was your sister. You needed to accept that you weren't a Jedi any more even if you were connected with the force. You didn't need to follow all those rules, you could accept that you cared and got attached to people. That you considered them family. And most importantly you could afford to show emotions.
You'd shown emotion anyways with Obi Wan, because you trusted him and you were only learning. You'd seen him show emotion on occasion. It's in this moment as you're facing your sister that you realize and accept the fact that you don't have to follow the Jedi code and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.
You take a breath then say, "those chips caused me to loose everyone I was ever close too. You grew up on Kamino and never left there. That was all you knew. The Jedi Order was all that I knew," tears well up in your eyes once again but you don't try to hide them this time. "I lost all of that then to have it almost happen again, in a way, to have someone I consider a friend once again try to kill me? I just-" you take a shuddering breath as you try and ground yourself again, "the Jedi tell you to not show emotions or get attached to anyone, and I cannot help but do that, so loosing everyone, it hurt. But I've been trying to following those rules and it's just hard to change and stop it. I need to stop it if I'm going to be able to help all of you." You wipe your eyes and take another deep breath.
Omega smiles softly at you, "that makes sense, but we're family, you don't have to hold everything in."
You smile back, knowing she's trying her best to help, "yeah, it's just a matter of learning that... thanks Omega..." you pause before changing the subject, "you said that Wrecker's awake?"
"Yeah."
"Then I'm sure he's worried about me, let's climb down and I'll go see him."
Once out of the vent the two of you share a hug and it's all alright, except for the wound where the blaster bolt had grazed you which you'd been numb too until you were on your feet. Fuck. It hurt, and you'd have to get it patched up, but first you needed to make sure Wrecker was patched up.
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nina-nkl · 3 years
Text
The Notorious Alpha// Chapter One//Peter Hale
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A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW. I am terrible, but life has been a mess. With university, personal life and all that. My mom had the corona but she is great now. I am trying  to come back to writing.  I am really sorry guys. Merry belated Christmas!
The Notorious Alpha// master list.
Chapter one.
S02 E12- Master Plan
Zoe’s P.O.V.
I parked my new BMW X6, which was a gift from my father when he tried to get me to stay with him, in front of Beacon Hills High School to see my little brother and Stiles who is not my brother but after knowing him for his entire life, I am pretty sure he is my brother. 
As I walk in the school hallways so many memories come to my mind, I mean it’s only been a year since I was a student here, I miss high school life was so much easier. I was late when I parked the car in the parking lot, some people were leaving, there was a lacrosse game tonight, Stiles took my ear off about it. I walked towards the locker room first to see if the boys were in there, as I neared the locker rooms I could hear talking.
“She is gorgeous,” a voice said.
“Shut up” I heard two different voices say at the same time and I am pretty sure one of them was Scott.
I leaned against the wall watching for a few seconds, and I decided to make myself known.
“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!” I say and in a flash four pairs of eyes snap to me. I see my brother, a cute blond guy beside him and to men in front of the boys.
“Zoe?” Scott said surprised to see me.
“Surprise, I guess?” I said a little bit weirded out from all the attention I was getting right now.
“What are you doing here?” Scott asked me.
“Stiles called me a couple days ago, filled me in on what's going on. I got a little tied up with dad or else I would have been here sooner” I answered “ I can’t believe you are a werewolf” I continued.
“Uhmm, who is she?” the cute blond asked.
“Zoe, my sister,” Scott said.
“Another McCall? Great,” the tall moody man said sarcastically.
“Tone down the sarcasm Cranky Pants” I bit back at him.
I glared at the man as I walked around him towards my brother. I am not going to lie, he is kind of hot.
“I am going to guess you are Derek and you are Isaac,” they both look at me weird, “as I said Stiles filled me in”.
“Hi,” Isaac said awkwardly.
“Hi,” I said sweetly to him, “so, who is the Cranky pants.” I pointed towards him as he glared at me and I sarcastically smiled back at him.
“That's Peter, Derek’s uncle. Little while back he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat out.” Scott explained.
“Hi.” Peter waved with a small awkward smile.
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“That's good to know,” Isaac replied. 
I was too shocked to say anything, I mean yeah Stiles filled me in but only informed me about my brother being a werewolf, the kanima, and Derek’s pack. That is just too much to handle. I mean my brother took part in the murder of someone, werewolf or not, psycho or not, that is still a life. Not to mention the supposed murdered victim is alive, breathing, and standing  right in front of me.
“How is he alive?” Scott asked, still glaring at Peter .
“Look, long story short he knows how to stop Jackson, maybe even save him”  Derek answered him.
“Well that’s very helpful, except Jackson is dead” Issac says.
“WHAT?” I scream the same time Derek says what too.
“Yeah! Jackson is dead. It just happened on the field” Scott confirms. 
Derek and Peter look at each other obviously bothered by the news.
“Okay why is no one taking it as good news?” Issac asks. 
“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen,” Peter says, and damn his voice is deep, mysterious and sexy.
“But why?” Derek asks his uncle to elaborate.
“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing”.
“Peachy, just god damn peachy.” I say done with this whole thing already. 
“We are going to the Hale House,” Peter says.
As we walked towards the parking lot, I could feel eyes on me from behind. I didn’t turn around though. When we reached the exit I started walking near my car, when I felt Scott stop a few steps behind me. I turn around to look at him.
“Well aren’t you gonna come? I am driving!” I tell him.
“I think you should go home” Scott tells me and I look at him with disbelief. “I will go with Derek,” he continues.
“Oh, so I am supposed to let you get in the car with the guy who turned you and tried to kill you and the guy who slashed his own uncles throat out? I am not crazy yet. ” I tell him seriously and am kind of angry. Derek looks at me mad, or offended I can’t really tell and Peter just looks uninterested.
“Zoe--” Scott tries to plead.
“No, puppy eyes don’t work on me. I am the one who teached you that look.'' I cut him off. “Now get in the car and let’s go”. Then I unlock my jeep and hop in, which is kind of a challenge since I am short and the stupid thing is 10 times the size of me.
“Do you need directions?” Derek asked me when Scott got in the car with me.
“No, I am good. I know where the infamous Hale  house is,” I replied and with that my car roared into life and I backed out of my parking space. “Don’t get left behind Sourwolf”. I saw Issac try to hold back a chuckle and even Peter let out a small smirk slip out of his hard façade.
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As we walked into the Hale house ( Derek got his ego bruised ‘cause I beat him here) Scott was looking at his,
“Oh. Oh they found Stiles.” Scott said relieved.
“I told you I looked everywhere,” Derek said to Peter who walked towards the stairs.
“You didn’t look here”, Peter says and crunches at the beginning of the stairs and takes something from underneath a step.
“What is that? Α book?” Derek asks/
“No, it’s a laptop. What century are you living in” Peter replied with sarcasm. Derek rolls his eyes at him. “A few days after I got out of the come, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.” Peter says. He got up and walked towards a table. Suddenly Scott's cell phone rings.
“Hey, Mom, I can’t talk right now.” Scott answers the phone. “What's wrong?” he asked. After a few seconds he hangs up the phone and announces that we have to go to the hospital. “ Isaac, Zoe, we have to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t think I should come with. I haven’t seen mom yet and I don’t think we should reunite over a dead body” I say to him. “ Take my car, I’ll stay here to see if I can help” I look at him as I extend my hand to give him the car keys. “See you soon, be careful.”
As Scott and Isaac practically ran out of the burned down house, I look at the older werewolves in front of me. Derek just looks at me, as Peter has already started working on getting information for the kanima. 
It’s been maybe 30 minutes since we were all staring at the laptop screen, I was standing leaning over Peter's right shoulder and Derek was just standing by the left.
“Oh my god, what is that?” I look at the screen. 
“Call Scott.” Peter says. I was still staring at the screen leaning closer to it and brushing Peter’s shoulder in the process. Ignoring that, I hear Derek talking in the background.
“Okay, look, I think I found something,” Peter says. “ Looks like what you are seeing from Jackson its just the Kanima’s Beta shape.” he continues.
“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?” Derek asks, also leaning over.
“Bigger and Badder.” Peter replies with worry in his tone.
“He is going to turn into that? That thing has wings.” I exclaim. 
“I can see that sweetheart.” Peter says to me but not sarcastically, but with fear in his voice.
“Scott bring him to us.” Derek says into the phone.
“What is that? Right there?”  I point towards the screen where there is a play button.
“Look, somebody made an animation of it. Maybe it’s less frightening if we--” Peter taps the mouse and a screeching sound comes out of the speakers. The tree of us jump back and Peter closes the laptop quickly. “No not at all. We should probably meet him halfway”
All of us ran towards the door and suddenly I ran into Peter’s back. “For fuck’s sake Cranky Pants” I curse under my breath.
“We need Lydia.” Peter says.
“There is no time for--” Derek starts
“That's the problem. We are rushing. We are moving too fast. And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard’s crosshair.” Peter says.
“If i get the chance to kill Jackson, I’m taking it.” Derek says and turns back around. 
I freeze in my spot, shocked that I am about to participate in the murder of a teenage boy- kanima or not. Peter sees it and grabs my hand rushing behind Derek.
We stop behind an abandoned building, Derek and Peter get out of the car and I follow.
“You guys stay here. I will go meet Scott and Isaac. Peter you will know when to come out” Derek says.
“Whoa, hey, wait a min--” I was caught off by Derek already running in all fours, like a dog I guess. “Well, fun meeting you Cranky Pants, but I am going to go to my brother now.” As I turn to walk away, Peter grabs my arm, really hard may I add, and turns me towards him.
“What are you doing? You can’t go out there. When Jackson will wake up he will go on a killing spree.” Peter whisper yells.
“Well, you already went on a killing spree once, what if you get off your rockets again and I will be your first victim.” I whisper yell back at him.  
“Zoe-”
“Bye Peter!!” I say as I look him in the eyes and tear my arm from his grasp. I could see that he was a little angry, but excuse me that I wasn’t gonna stay with somebody that tried to kill my brother less than a year ago. When I cached up with Scott and the others, they were already in the abandoned building. I could hear Peter close behind me. 
“-- wouldn’t let a rapid dog live.” A middle age man explained to the three werewolves. I was about to walk into the building another voice broke the silence.
“Of course not” an old man said. That’s when Peter grabbed me and pushed me beside the door. I knew it wasn’t the time to argue. I could feel the tension in the air. Peter and I peek around the corner although he tried to hide the view from me the best he could. “Anything that dangerous. That out of control... Is better off dead.” The old man said.
Right when Derek went to slash Jackson stomach, Jackson’s claw dug in his chest. I felt like I was going to vomit and I turned myself so I wouldn’t see what’s about to happen. From the side of my eye I could see Peter getting angry and his claws expanding. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself and I look towards Peter. 
“Kill them all” I heard shouting and I almost fainted. I got down to the ground and pulled my knees close to my chest, trying to make my self as small as possible when we heard the screeching of tires and a loud bang. I heard the voice of Lydia yelling Jackson name and I slowly stood up. After a couple of seconds Peter jumped out and pushed his claws in Jackson back and Derek in his stomach. When Lydia was on the floor besides Jackson body I make my way towards my brother and Stiles.
I was looking toward the couple with tears in my eyes as I stood beside Stiles. Derek was looking on with a sad expression on his face and Isaac too. 
“Where is Gerard?” Allison asked and the middle aged man answered that he can’t be far. When Lydia turned towards us Stiles started towards her but was stopped by the sounds of claws dragging on the concrete. All heads turned to the dead boy in front of Stiles jeep to see his wounds starting to close and Jackson getting up slowly. My eyes widened and turned my eyes towards the older werewolf here hoping that’s there is an explanation for this but all he did was too looking on with a shocked expression. 
Stiles started to tear up and moved forward but stopped beside Scott for a few minutes the two boys were looking at each other when Stiles looked down and said “He scratched my Jeep.” With hurt in his voice.
“Stiles...” I moved towards him following behind in the Jeep. He got in the driving seat and  I got on after him. He started driving and didn’t say a word. “Stiles... are you okay?” I speak softly as if i was going to scare him. I didn’t get a reply back...
“Stiles, let’s go at my place, have a sleepover like old times.” I said and he turned towards the route for Scott’s and mine’s house. When we got there my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she must work late night shifts. I will see her in the morning. 
We go up to my room and I give Stiles some of my brothers clothes as I too take some for pajamas, because my suitcase is in my car and right now I really don’t know where my car is. After I was my face in the bathroom, I go to my room seeing Stiles in my bed already. I creep towards him and get in the bed beside him. I hug him from behind when he starts to sob quietly.
“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Stiles” I whisper sweet nothing to his ear until he fells asleep, me following close behind.
A/N: The sibling love is real between Stiles and Zoe!!!!
Tag list: @wil2space​ @iclosetgeek​
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kessel-fun · 3 years
Text
so what did we think of The Bad Batch S1 (spoilers duh)
well that sure was a star wars cartoon sgafsagbxcswvsbcnd i thought it was pretty good when it wasn't very blatant filler, i enjoyed the characters for the most part, and it obviously looks amazing. i feel like a lot of people felt let down by this show not having some profound message, or being super socially conscious. but like. did we really expect that from lucasfilm ?? idk, i don't really feel let down by this or anything, but it mostly was just a standard star wars story. i did end up liking omega a lot more than i thought i would, she was really only annoying in those filler episodes i mentioned earlier. i sorta liked hunter, im not a huge fan of the stoic leader archetype. ALSO WHILE IM ON OMEGA AND HUNTER, PLEASE STAR WARS STOP MAKING THE SAME SHOW. "serious guy adopts funny baby" was already played out even before mando did it. but that's whatever, it didn't really impede my enjoyment of the show. back to characters, i think echo sorta stands out as a pretty odd character in this show, given that he almost always acts exactly like hunter. it's weird and i really think they could've done a lot more with him, maybe get into what he thinks about the situation more, seeing all of his brothers being replaced by conscripted soldiers. wrecker was.. fine ?? i liked that he and omega were just besties but other than that he didn't really have much going on, just the strong dumb one. tech felt very underutilized, which was a bummer because i really enjoyed him in TCW S7, he felt needlessly cold at times, but i did enjoy how he kinda told off crosshair in the finale. and crosshair..... was probably one of my fave characters ?? the way they switched perspectives between him with the empire and the bad batch reminded me a LOT of the story telling in the original trilogy, switching between the factions to show us what's going on on both sides. im confused on what he meant by having his chip removed a long time ago, i really don't get why he'd stay with the empire, like what just made him fucking evil gasvdbsvcgdshvdf. but i thought he was cool, he really stole the show whenever he was on screen. i really liked the stuff with the empire, seeing how they operate. the new disney canon has a LOT of time that they need to fill in, and i really enjoy what they're doing with it so far. something that stuck out to me was the cool bases built into like mountains n shit on remote planets, THAT'S SO COOL and really shows how much other shit the empire had going on. god. the art direction is so good. i reeeeally loved seeing the TK trooper armor be based off of the concept art for stormtroopers, i think that's a good way to adapt the ralph mcquarrie concept art, do it sparingly (unlike rebels lol) one thing i DISLIKE HEAVILY is the reliance on prequel era stuff in modern star wars. i know im just a little hater but i really dislike the prequels and really want to see more stuff taking place during the galactic civil war/after the sequels. although this soooooorta gets a pass bc it's during the dark times so. whatever. uh. i think that's all i really have to say. this is really unorganized sorry. i enjoyed most of the main cast and the antagonists, the story driven episodes were really great, the filler was not so great, and the overall aesthetic of the show is just. mwah chefs kiss. I AM GIVING THE BAD BATCH SEASON 1 A......... 7/10
okay goodbye forever now
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"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."
“So you see,” Sebastian continued, “There is a historical precedent for this sort of thing. I’m hardly the first businessman to notice the wasted resources just rotting away underground. Or stuffed into an urn, depending on customs and family sentiment.”
“There’s historical precedent for a lot of fucked up shit, Shaw. That doesn’t make it okay!” Pyro stared, aghast, at the website. “Does the Council know you’re doing this? They can’t possibly approve!”
“Are you going to run and tattle on me?” Sebastian sneered. “That doesn’t seem like you, Allerdyce, but you have become more of a conformist rule-follower in Krakoa, it seems. At any rate, some of the Council are aware of my side business. They have elected not to bring it to a vote in meetings, so presumably I am breaking no law of the island.”
“But….it’s wrong. It’s bloody grotesque is what it is!” Pyro exclaimed.
“Is it better or worse than burning people to death during a bank robbery, or as part of some half-baked political protest?”
“Oh, give me a fucking break, Shaw!” Pyro snapped. “I know I’ve done some bad things – “
“Some bad things. What an adorable generalization, ducking out of all serious responsibility – “
“I know I’ve killed people, okay?” Not quite as many as some X-Men wanted to pretend, though. He mostly went for guards, police officers and soldiers, who, as far as Pyro was concerned, had it fucking coming. He hadn’t wanted to kill people to rob a bank, and there was never a need to if the civilians were smart enough to stay well back.
“But killing people doesn’t mean I can’t draw any moral lines, ever,” Pyro continued. “And I’m drawin’ a line right here. This is not okay.”
“Why not? Who does it hurt, really?”
“Well, surely the people whose bodies are getting rented out to sickos! No one would want that.” Pyro wasn’t sure he could articulate the sick churning in the pit of his stomach. It was something that went beyond logic, just a deep sense of disgust that seemed to well up from the center of his being. He was an open-minded fellow, he was willing to play fast and loose with a few morals, but surely some things were just….wrong. Right?
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively. “And apparently X-Factor is running some very interesting experiments with discarded mutant corpses over in their appropriately named “Boneyard.” And I’m quite confident that Sinister is probably churning out clones in his little lab, no matter how he might deny it. So whats the harm in my business?”
“Just because other people are doing it doesn’t make it okay! It’s like a….desecration, isn’t it?” Perhaps there was some of his Gran’s staunch Catholicism lurking under the surface, despite Pyro’s current status as…well, not an atheist, exactly, more like an agnostic who didn’t want to think about things too hard. He had to admit, a childhood of Mass and Confession and Hail Marys really got under your skin, no matter how long ago you walked away from the church.
“All this fuss over discarded meat,” Sebastian shrugged. “That’s all it really is when you remove religion and sentiment from the equation. Really, Allerdyce, I’m surprised at your squeamishness.”
“Are you really okay with it, then?” Pyro asked. “Letting some human fuck a mutant corpse? That’s what they’re doing it, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. I believe that’s the most common activity, but a few people want to cook and eat choice pieces.”
“Oh, that’s perfectly all right, then.” Pyro’s words were so heavy with sarcasm, they practically thudded onto the floor.
“Understand, Allerdyce, I find all this personally distasteful. I am disgusted by the idea of necrophilia, and even cannabalsim. But I see no reason to deny others, if there is money to be made. The ‘sickos’ will pay top dollar for discrete fulfillment of their taboo desires.”
“But do you really want to be putting mutant corpses in human hands? Haven’t they got scientists trying to study us or clone us or whatever? Put our DNA in Sentinels to make super-weapons?”
Sebastian laughed heartily. “Really, I didn’t think you were so naïve. Mutants have been in the public eye for several decades. The various governments of the world have been capturing mutant test subjects for a very long time. There are hundreds of mutants buried in graveyards and millions in the heavy layer of ash that still covers Genosha. If some enterprising human scientist wants mutant DNA, it would be very, very easy to lay hands on it. In fact, your own corpse is probably preserved in a government lab somewhere. In other words, there’s no point in closing the barn door at this point. The horses are long gone.”
Pyro couldn’t resist a full-body shudder at the thought. He knew, deep down, that his body was probably stuck in a metal drawer somewhere, or cut into chunks sitting in labelled glass jars. The US government had probably been interested in him as a Legacy Virus victim, back before the cure. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.
“And the bodies are only available for a limited amount of time, at any rate,” Sebastian continued. “Aside from the obvious natural impermanence of a corpse, I’ve had Sinister inject the bodies with a kind of “kill switch.” After five days, the corpse will dissolve, leaving no trace behind. The humans are only paying to rent, after all.”
“But wait…..” Pyro ventured. “What gives you the right to sell other people’s bodies? Shouldn’t they be the ones to profit off that?”
“What gives people the right to collect discarded trash?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms wide. “Would you begrudge the little old lady collecting aluminum cans for a few pennies from a recycling center? Or the struggling student who takes a sofa from the side of the road? That’s all these corpses are. Trash. Their previous owners have shiny new bodies – bodies gifted to them by Krakoa and the Five, by the way – and left no instructions as to disposal. I don’t use bodies from people who requested to be cremated, or some kind of ritual burial. Just bodies have have been carelessly tossed aside, by people who clearly don’t care.”
“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to everyone else, then,” Pyro said. “I’m sure they’ll all be totally understanding.” He realized a moment later, with a nervous twinge, that threatening to tell on the unscrupulous businessman while you were sitting alone in his massive castle and no one else knew where you were was a very stupid thing to do. Fuck. He should have at least claimed to have evidence left with a trusted friend or something, but he’d only just stumbled across this, while exploring the so-called “dark web.” Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.
“I told you, some Council members are already well aware,” Sebastian said, sitting back and regarding Pyro across steepled fingers. “I don’t think you’d find those in authority quite as willing to turn on me as you imagine, Allerdyce. In fact, it’s entirely possible that any attempt to inform the public will lead to a hasty mind-wipe for you.”
“I’ve got proof. I left it all on a flash drive with……” Freddy? Dominic? Mystique? “….a friend,” he finished, not wanting to actually put anyone else in the crosshairs. Hell, Mystique might even know about this. He’d like to think better of her, but she always had schemes within schemes going. He wondered which telepath on the Council might be in on this. Was Sinister a telepath? That arrogant piece of shit Exodus? He seemed too high-minded to approve, but that mission in the Savage Land had shown Pyro that Exodus did not give a single fuck about mutants that he considered weak or “unworthy.” Frost? Even Xavier? Pyro had never trusted that creepy bastard. Something about him had always seemed too good to be true.
Sebastian laughed again. “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you? That’s cute. Allerdyce, you are not in some ridiculous detective story. I am a practical man, and despite your bleating about morals, I know you are, too. I am willing to make you an offer. It’s an easy job. All you have to do is ‘keep mum,’ as they say.” Sebastian wrote a number down on a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.
It was, in fact, a very nice number. Enough to make some of Pyro’s disgust quickly fall away.
“After all, why shouldn’t you enjoy the same kind of luxury experienced by Krakoa’s elite? You serve aboard the Marauder, and you’re obviously on the lowest rung of the crew. None of the power and privilege weilded by the X-Men, none of the wealth bestowed by birth on Christian Frost, my own son, and the Von Struckers. And you do significantly more work than for the Hellfire Trading Company than those spoiled idiots. Why not take a little something for yourself?”
Pyro’s mind whirled. Of course, taking the money now would mean he was “in it,” so to speak. And if the secret got out, he’d probably be implicated along with Shaw, at least in the eys of his fellow mutants. Which would hurt a bit, after all his heroics with the Marauders. He was starting to feel, at least a little bit, like a good guy.
But on the other hand, if Sebastian was telling the truth, and some of the Council already knew, trying to tattle would just get him in the shit. It was all well and good to have movies about heroic whistle-blowers, but in the real world, they got slandered, ruined, and sometimes murdered. No one would stand up for a relative nobody like Pyro, especially if Frost and Mystique already knew. At best he’d just get mind-wiped.
It would be safer to just walk away and keep his mouth shut. And if he was going to walk away anyhow, why not pick up a paycheck for it?
They were just corpses, right? What a resurrected mutant didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
And it didn’t seem to actually be breaking any Krakoan laws.
And it was a lot of money.
And Pyro really did like money.
It wasn’t like he was a proper journo anymore, was he? No need for integrity.
Pyro pushed the paper back across the table.
“You’ll need to add a zero to that number before I’ll even consider it,” he said. “And this is just for silence, understand? I’m not gonna be your employee, don’t start expecting me to fetch and carry.”
Sebastian grinned, making a mark on the paper, and held it his hand to shake.
“I knew you’d see sense. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Allerdyce.”
OOC: I was going to make that sillier, but the more I thought about it…..Sebastian probably would bribe Pyro to shut up, and Pyro would probably just take the money. He’s trying to be “good,” but not that good. Also, no offense intended to Exodus. After the story in the Quicksilver min-series, when Pyro is working with Acolytes on a mission for a supposed Legacy Virus cure (which doesn’t exist), Pyro probably holds a serious grudge against him.
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herstarburststories · 4 years
Text
Freckles Like Stars
A/N: For @amanda-teaches​​‘ 2kWriter+Reader challenge. Love me some AU!Dean from the last ep. I had so much fun writing this one!
Summary: Dean Winchester, son of HunterCorp’s owner, interrupts your hunt.
Words: 4231 (longest oneshot here so far!)
Prompt: I’ll sleep under the sheets. You sleep on top of them.
Warning: Fluff, bit of angst if you squint, season 15 related but no major spoiler.
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Your breath was caught in your throat, avoiding allowing even the smallest noise to come from you. You were observing your supernatural prey from afar, armed with a revolver full of silver bullets and aiming at your target. You bit your lower lip, the flavor of apple lipstick spreading through your mouth as you clicked off the safety. The werewolf was right in your crosshairs when you heard pacing behind you, causing your shot to follow a different angle. It barely hit the werewolf’s shoulder.
Swearing through mumbles you turned around, prepared to kill whatever was after you. Maybe it was a pack of werewolves and not just one. You could hear the previous monster whining as they ran away, and you wished you could murder who was at the barrel of your gun.
“You made me miss the bitch!’’ You pulled the safety back on, putting the weapon under the hem of your jeans to glare at the Winchester in front of you. “You again? Come on!’’
Pulling his hands down, Dean relented after coming to the short conclusion that there was no imminent danger of being accidentally shot by you: “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention.’’ 
You grunted. The mere sight of him alongside the fact that the werewolf had just ran away after a grazing shot was enough to frustrate you for the night. “I already said no to your precious HunterCorp invitation in the most polite way that I could. So here’s something new: you can take your little cooperation and go fuck yourself right up your spoiled ass.’’
“If I remember well enough, your polite decline was very similar to your... outburst.’’ Dean threw a smirk, and you aimed your gun at him in response. He gulped, tugging at his cardigan’s collar. “I didn’t intend to invade your hunt. I wasn't notified that someone was taking care of it.’’
“Obviously, because I don't answer to anyone, much less you. Now step the fuck away from my case or I will make sure you choke on holy water.’’ You started to walk away, leading towards your car. The hunt was done for tonight, but you certainly could hit a bar and have some fun. 
“I can't do that. I already started the protocol—’’
“Shoot it! Burn it! Give it to a dog! You could even lie on it. I don't care,“ you interrupted him, the noises of crunching sticks and leaves under your feet while you looked for your vehicle.
Dean gasped, barely trusting his ears to listen to your blasphemy of his work. “I would never lie on an official report! What do you take HunterCorp for?’’
Dear lord, you wished it was a werewolf behind you earlier or that you could at least shoot him. Just a bit, perhaps a grazing one. Which kind of hunter got so offended about paperwork? And wore a dumbly cute hippie bracelet? It was a mystery how a random creature hadn't ripped it yet.
“A bunch of self-centered bitches trying to control the hunters for the financial benefit of their investors.’’ You swirled, facing him with a lopsided grin. “Listen, Dean, I just want to finish my job, get a whiskey and go to bed before I have to come to this forest again.’’
“I'm certain we can do it faster if we work together.’’
You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, buddy. I made myself a promise when I was little: never work with a guy who dresses like Ken.’’
“I don’t look like Ken! If anything, I’m a Superman.’’ Dean huffed. You finally reached your car, throwing the gun inside the trunk while you laughed at his remark. Thankful for the night hiding his heated cheeks, he insisted, “Listen, I can’t abandon a hunt and I could assist you.’’
You sighed, beyond tired to argue with him. It was better to accept his help now than have him mess up with the job again. After all, he was a decent partner in Mexico with John when you bumped into the same case back there. “Okay. You know what we do now?’’
“Find a quiet place and work on the case until it's time to sleep,“ he stated simply, brushing the dust off his pants. When his eyes laid on your face again, Dean caught your furrowed brows and slightly cracked mouth in mild surprise. Maybe you weren't used to taking the most healthy route in self-care when it came to hunts; most rookies on HunterCorp weren't either. Quickly, he explained himself, “A healthy sleeping routine is important for our performance during the hunt.’’
“Your adrenaline can do anything a good night of sleep would. Maybe even more.’’ You winked at him playfully. “If you want to work with me, let's do it my way. Lucky you, my way is much more fun than yours.’’
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Your fingertips stroke against the pool table, the feeling of the green-colored acrylic fabric bringing a grin to your face. You looked up at Dean and how out of touch he was in the atmosphere of a callous bar with his cardigan and country club styled clothing. The hunter looked stupidly handsome, especially with the obvious frown on his face as he watched you.
Grabbing one of the available pool cues, you threw it at Dean who was fast to grab it. “Let’s play, Winchester.’’
“I’m not against relaxing, but we are in the middle of a case, (Y/N).’’ He scoffed, resting the end of the stick against the floor — a usual beginner's mistake. You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Have you ever played pool before?’’
“What? Of course I — ’’ You tilted your head, gesturing to the way Dean held the stick. His cheeks flushed pink. “No, I have not. I — I don’t usually come to places like this.’’
“You mean a bar? It’s basically the headquarters of a hunter!’’
He shrugged, clutching the cue closer as he spoke, “I go to bars, just not like this. Besides, dad prefers me and my brother to drink from his homemade collection. He likes to spoil us.’’
Part of you wanted to make fun of him, nudge the man a bit more. Which kind of hunter drank homemade beverages, was spoiled of all things and didn’t go to quality dubious bars on a daily basis? If you weren’t aware of his last name, you wouldn’t even believe he was one of your kind.
Yet, you didn’t tease him. Dean’s head hung low and the way he so openly admitted he didn’t fit that place, yet came because you called him felt like an indication that there was a real hunter in there somewhere. The green-eyed man might have invaded your hunt, but he could be a tolerable company. It had nothing to do with how cute he looked with his blushed face. Of course not. He wasn’t the type you’d normally go to, neither you were his, that’s for sure. Besides, Dean was basically the right arm of HunterCorp. So, no. It was just a matter of not being an asshole towards him again. 
Whatever you internally convinced yourself, your voice was tangled with a gentle smile and a softer tone when you spoke now than when you first met him. “Okay, country boy. I’m gonna teach you. Come here.’’
He walked towards you with hesitant steps, probably waiting for you to trick him in some way. You grabbed the pool cue from his hand, placing the stick in the correct spot to hit the cue ball right into the triangle of colorful ones. Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him closer. “Hold here.’’
“Dean, relax!’’ You placed one of your hands on his waist for support, the free one adjusting his posture around the pool cue for more efficiency. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, nervous for having you that close to him. Dean’s heart was racing the way it did when he was in a hunt or driving a bit too fast. It felt good in a different kind of way, like he was running to win a competition and sitting at the table telling funny stories at the same time. He liked it; he wanted more. “Okay, now you gotta to get the white ball.’’
“All right.’’ He mimicked your position, leaning in with both hands gripped tight around the cue stick. Whoever looked at Dean’s features would potentially conclude that he was about to commit an assassination with the way his brows were drawn tightly together, body laced with a tense rigidity.
Being that close to him made your skin tingle. Sure, you could admit he was conventionally attractive when you first met him, but this? The eldest Winchester had never quite evoked much more than passing interest before, but this newfound attraction suddenly struck you like a comet in the middle of a dingy bar. 
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“I know it’s not your daddy’s homemade scotch, but I swear you are going to like it.’’ You slapped the counter with a glimmer of delight on your face, sure of your drinking choices. Whiskey might be the love of your life, but you would always have a soft spot for cocktails. Besides, you were certain that Dean would be crazy about this one.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, (Y/L/N).’’ He winked in a humorous way, and you chuckled. The waiter put the drinks on the table, two gorgeous glasses full of a pineapple, vodka, and god knows what else mixture. You pushed one of the cups towards him, your eyes glued on Dean’s as he arched an eyebrow. He grabbed the cup, sticking the straw between his lips before sucking it.
Your cocktail was untouched in hand while you viewed him with a wide-eyed gaze. Maybe the earlier beers and pool playing had gotten to you. Dean pulled the glass away, a stoic expression in place when he looked back at you.
You were about to slap him for creating more suspension than necessary, thinking that he might not have liked it. Instead, his features dimpled in a softer manner, eliciting a light-hearted smile that almost made your chest sigh of adorableness. “It tastes heavenly!’’
“I knew you would like it!’’ You clapped your hands together, both of you temporarily lost into a burst of joyous laughter. Raising your own cocktail, you took a sip before adding, “Now, let me introduce you to the main course: cheap hamburger and fries. You will never want fancy things again. And then, darts! You had good aim in Mexico. Let’s see if you can put it on use.’’
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“See you tomorrow!’’ You beamed at him, waving with your keys as you trotted to your car. Dean’s mouth was torn into a grimace. It was the same one he had given you when you said you were going to drive after drinking a bit too much.
“Let me get you home safe, (Y/N). We can call a cab or I can at least make sure you won't crash on your way to the hotel.’’
“First of all, it's a motel.’’ You winked at him jokingly, but Dean just crossed his arms on his chest. God, it felt like being lectured by a professor. You were a hunter! Your tolerance was well beyond the levels of an alcoholic coma, and you still killed monsters after another glass. You didn’t need to be looked after. “I'm not your date, Dean. You don't have to do it. Besides, I can take care of myself.’’
His expression fell at your speech. “Well, still. I'm just worried about your wellbeing for our hunt tomorrow.’’
“Don't worry. I'll make sure to be alive.’’ You unlocked your car, opening the driver's door. Dean sighed, picking up his phone to see if there was an Uber near his location. Elbows resting on the hood of your beloved vehicle, you stared at him for a few moments, analyzing the curve of his pursed lips as he texted out something on his phone. The midnight breeze felt good, and you deliberately coughed to catch his attention. Dean rapidly abandoned his phone to meet your eyes. “’I'll let you know once I get home.’’
You should consider his ensuing smile nothing but polite, but, in your nearly tipsy state, you didn't want to.
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You threw the crumbled napkin on the table. “I think you are right. We should check it. Come on, let's go in my car. Driving around the city in different ones isn't smart.’’
Dean nodded, placing perfectly straight dollars near your used paper as you both stood up. “Yeah, it would be more practical. Do you have enough werewolf-killing bullets?’’
You hummed in response, following the path to your old road friend; a very well-preserved Chevrolet classic. The previous times that Dean had encountered you, it was too dark to actually look at that masterpiece of a car, and now he simply couldn't stop admiring it. Your Baby was broken when you encountered his father, so you had to use one of Jimmy Novak's old cars as yours waited for you to have time to fix her up.
“Impala 67. My mom bought him and it just kept in family.’’ You grinned, enjoying the way he carefully caressed the hood and smiled, impressed. “’Wanna drive?’’
“I — Really?’’ You giggled at how flustered he seemed, throwing your keys at him. Dean almost didn't catch them, probably stunned by your proposal.
‘'Just don't crash Baby, Winchester. I'd kill you.’’
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“I know it's not your usual five star hotel, but at least we have free ice!’’ You spread your arms in a kidding manner, soon regretting such a decision with a wince of pain. Werewolves’ nails were sharper than any of your knives. You should grab some after the monster was gone for good and turn them into a weapon.
Dean remained in silence when he arrived at the room, closing the door with you balanced carefully in his arms. It was strange for him to be that quiet around you. With your hold tightening on the improvised — a plastic bag with ice cubes — cold compress, you looked up at him. His expression twisted into a grimace as he glanced around and headed towards your current bed, laying you carefully on the mattress. You thought you had passed his spoiled surface, but maybe he was just what you saw. Irked, you didn’t miss the opportunity to bite him about it. “’What? Not enough for you and your five hundred dollars shoes?’’
His response was a straight, harsh tone that poorly camouflaged his obvious worry. “Not enough for someone injured.“
Dean’s words made your stomach spin brutally. The hint of guilt coupled with the irritated wound on your leg that made you want to puke. All he had been was nice and awkwardly friendly and helpful, yet you were mostly rude. It probably had annoyed him.
He was quiet, internally eating the blame for leaving you open during the hunt’s most delicate stage — the execution. The Winchester was furious at himself, but mostly guilty for being the one to cause you to go through this. You were hurt and were going to feel even more agony during the patch up because of him. Although he highly doubted you would accept it, the hunter couldn’t help but mourn for his own first-aid kit. With it, he could’ve at least given you a sedative. At least the hunter could try to distract you from the inevitable ache.
Fortunately, you were very talkative.
“I don't have anything against you. I seriously don't. I'm just not a fan of corporations.’’ You attempted to articulate your feelings as he placed you on the mattress. Dean didn't answer you right away, rather focusing on the poor excuse for medical supplies he had brought from your car. God, you needed to get more useful first-aid. Why was the best thing you had cartoon-related band-aids? At least you had some Scooby Doo ones. “Getting paid to save people doesn't seem fair, you know? Would you pay Superman to save your ass if you were falling from a building?’’
“Perhaps the more appropriate question would be why I was on the top of a building to begin with?’’ he finally asked, his terse silence receding in favor of his usual dorky demeanor. A chuckle blossomed from your lips despite the werewolf’s painful autograph on your leg, relief settling in for awareness of not having hurt his feelings. He grabbed some scissors, cutting your jeans until up to your knee. “I'm joking. Dad made an empire from the ground up while he raised Sam and I. He helped people. I am very proud of my old man. He needed to find a space between taking care of me and Samuel and saving others.’’
“And it isn't possible to be a hunter and something else. It's this life or another.’’ You completed in recognition. John’s work was really impressive, mainly because he was a good father above any hunting business. You chewed on your lower lip to restrain a groan when Dean started to clean the wound. “I guess I can understand it.’’
“At least we don’t fake credit cards and pretend to be the FBI.’’
“Shut up, summer clothes. You have two private planes and a pool bigger than them,” you remarked, a lighter feeling enveloping the room despite your momentary protest from the physical discomfort. Willing to tease him a bit more, you said, “Still, you are here with me.’’
He tried to brush it off with a shrug. “Dad likes to spoil us. Maybe I wanted to see what the other side could have been. You know, not being a... How did you say it? Spoiled little rich boy in an expensive cardigan.’’
You giggled at his justification, almost whispering your reply, “Or you are here because you got worried about me.’’
“That's a possibility…’’ Dean admitted before locking his green eyes with yours, rosy red cheeks not going unnoticed by you. “You should consider our proposal. No one should depend on bar games and fraudulent credit cards to eat everyday. Especially when they are trying to help people.’’
“I don't wanna be an underling, Dean. It's easy for you. You are the boss' kid. I'd just be an employee. A minion. Someone who doesn't have the last word.’’
“That's not how we function. They wouldn't take away your free will. I can assure you of that.’’ You looked away once his sincerity rattled through your head, glaring at his improvised cold compress that laid on your belly. Dean continued working on your wound, occasionally asking if it was aching until he was finished. “So, is it okay?’’
“Best stitching job I've had in awhile. Thank you.’’ You gave him a grateful beam, twinkles of shyness glimmering there that you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. You couldn't even remember the last time you’d felt anything near timid around a guy. You barely knew why you were in such a state now.
Perhaps you did. Dean cared about you when you got hurt, allowing the werewolf to storm away to cease your pain. It was more than tactical wisdom. He made you feel more as a human being than a hunting partner in the last 24 hours. When was the last time someone had treated you like that? You didn’t even notice you missed the glimmer of kindness inside the tender touch and go moments with other people around usual violence of the life you had chosen. 
Dean nodded his head in acknowledgement, examining your patchworked wound for a little longer before he got up and grabbed a lonely chair next to you. “What are you doing?’’
“Getting as comfortable as possible to sleep.’’ He scowled, squirming in his chair to find a less displeasing way to doze. “You are still hurt. What if the werewolf or something else comes here?’’ You sighed; he was right. “Now rest.’’
You pouted. “Stop giving me orders that make sense!’’
There was something pleasantly refreshing about the sounds that the both of you echoed, but in that moment, exhaustion won. At least, that rest felt complete.
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Dean shifted a lot in efforts to find a more bearable position to rest, but he didn't seem to be able to stay in one place. The scratching noises from the friction of his clothes with the aimchair were starting to disturb you, and you weren't the most patient person after being attacked by a monster. 
“Dean.’’ You sat on the bed, glaring at him.
He sat straight, suddenly alarmed. “What? Did you hear something?’’
“Yes, the noise of you humping the chair.’’
“I wasn’t!’’
“Sure. Come here.’’ You patted the spot next to you, Dean’s mouth dropping half-open as his brows furrowed in confusion. You rolled your eyes. “I’ll sleep under the sheets. You sleep on top of them.’’
“That could work.’’ He thought he was nervous before, but the seven steps to reach your bed felt like a New York marathon. Laying beside you proved that whatever emotions he experienced back at the bar could increase a hundred percent.
As promised, he laid on top of the sheets while you found yourself seeking for heat under them. Your feet were chilly, and Dean sensed it even between the barrier of sheets when you casually touched his with yours. The Winchester crossed his arms, refusing to pull you closer by using the poor excuse of shared body heat.
You laid on your side, and he turned a couple times before resting on his side as well. Your eyes just relaxed into each other's gaze. It was like a secret, silent lullaby. It was vulnerability at its finest, the moment where you feel comfortable in the quietude of the city around someone. You found freckles etched across his face like stars, and Dean discovered that you blinked three times before shaking your hips a bit, as if it made you more cozy in bed. 
You could joke your way out of it. He could comment on how you two should go to his hotel because of many reasons, starting by the fact that it was a hotel, with an h. Nevertheless, you two were content despite the chaos of your own different worlds colliding by way of this tiny, sweet glimmer of happiness.
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“Here.’’ Dean handed you a card, but you stood with your arms crossed despite your upbeat mood.
Shrugging, you stated, “I am still not interested in joining the corporation.’’
“I imagined that. For as much as I do not agree with your decision, that isn't a HunterCorp card.’’ Dean curved the corners of his lips into a sweet, exaggerated whisper of a smile, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Raising your eyebrow, you grabbed the piece of paper. In perfect calligraphic script, Dean’s name was scrawled next to a phone number.
“Your number.’’ You took a defiant of joy in it, shifting your glare from the card to his face. He still looked like an adorable mess. You shove the card in your pocket. “God, I can't believe I'll do it.’’ Stepping closer, you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips against his. Dean’s hands easily found their way to your waist after a few moments of surprise, bringing you to him. His stupid lips were as soft as you imagined they would be yesterday, and he kissed you like you were the most valuable thing he had ever put his hands on. “Been wanting to kiss you since yesterday.’’
Dean pecked your lips one more time, missing them as soon as he pulled away.  “I've been wanting to kiss you since we first met in Mexico. I guess I won.’’
“Cheesy.’’ You scrunched up your nose, and he chuckled. “But this!” You pointed at you and him, allowing your intrusive thought to surface. “It doesn’t change one bit of what I think about the corporation.’’
“I know.’’ Dean nodded slightly, too enchanted by your closeness. There was a childish grin lingering on his features as you talked. Jesus, the gorgeous freckles on this man made your head spin.
“Or what I think about your clothes…’’ you teased him, but the words left your mouth more tempered with affection than you would have liked.
The Winchester snorted, pursing his lips. “Yeah?’’
“Or about your stupidly cute bracelet.’’ He chortled as you lifted your arms to lace around his neck, his thumb rubbing warmly into the bare part of your waist.
“We could stay in the city for a bit longer. It’s karaoke night in the bar,’’ Dean mumbled, searching for your neck to offer a gentle peck. 
Between sighs of pleasure, you found the will to finish your sentence with an added dose of firmness: “But if you need to go and do your corporate things... Well, I'll call, Dean Winchester. For real.’’
This time, Dean was the one making the first move, leaning to capture your lips in his again. That was what a kiss should be like. Neither of you wanted it to stop. Maybe he could find another case near here. Perhaps ask Samuel to cover him on the job for a few. And if he didn't, you could always help him trick company procedure to spend a little more time with you.
Dean's sweetheart; @akshi8278 WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK FOR DM!
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jupitersmoon167 · 3 years
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Challenge: List the WIPs you promised you'd update, and why you haven't yet
Curse you @inknopewetrust for making me realize that out of the *checks docs* 50 story ideas I have, I’ve never actually wrote an entire fic off of any of them. At least 20 of them have an actual semblance of a storyline, but I’ll speak of just a few, cause we ain’t got all day. I would like to say off the bat that these are either gonna contain either OC’s or off of characters from other properties. I’ve never appealed to the x Reader base. So basically I create OC’s to each character I have an interest in, to fill the readers place (does that make sense?).
1. Summer Rose: Guardian of Remnant (these titles are based after their Pinterest board names ok, live with it)
So basically, Summer Rose is kidnapped by aliens during her last mission where she supposedly “died” in canon. Over the next few years, she becomes a bounty hunter after failing her attempts of finding a way back to Remnant. She then winds up becoming a Guardian after Ronin’s assault on Xandar. Skip forward to the conclusion of Endgame, and the Guardians and Thor crash land on Remnant (sometime during Salem’s siege on Atlas, so season 8 I guess). The Guardians help defeat Salem, yada yada yada, and Summer Rose returns to her family. 
“I’ve wondered thousands of times what I would say to you if I got to see you again. Now that I’m here, I’m afraid that I’ve completely forgotten every bit of what I’ve planned.” - Summer (to Ruby)
2. Avenger Touya Todoroki
I started watching My Hero Academia during the beginning of quarantine, and this idea planted in my mind where Touya Todoroki winds up in the MCU during his supposed death (sensing a pattern here?), and with the support of Tony (who after hearing about his life back home winds up becoming Touya father figure), and the other Avengers, he becomes a hero. Eventually, Touya and a fraction of the Avengers wind up in the MHA universe, and Touya has to confront his family members after 10 years. 
Aizawa: What the fucking hell is wrong with you idiotic Avengers people?” Touya: “Everything, like, so many things. Are you looking for a particular category? Alphabetical order?”
3. Number Eight
Now this idea I really love. Mostly because it involves one of Pedro Pascal’s signature characters. This story revolves around Dani Hargeeves, an informant for the CIA during Pablo Escobar’s rain over Columbia. She is also one of the eight children adopted at birth by Reginald Hargeeves, and a member of the Umbrella Academy. After the events of Season 2 of UA, Danu decided to help the Commission rebuild, and becomes an agent. She’s assigned to be an informant for the CIA to help guide them thru the timeline correctly. She ends up meeting Javier Pena, and he eventually finds out about her true self and where she actually comes from due too her siblings interference. 
Javier: “Everything about you was a lie! We can’t trust you!” Dani: “You’re going to have to.”
4. Yelena Belova in Star Wars: The Bad Batch
So Black Widow (finally) came out when the Bad Batch was airing. I had already made an OC to go with the Crosshair x Readers I was reading. But upon realization, I came across a goldmine of a ship. Crosshair x Yelena Belova. During the blip, Yelena is turned too dust and winds up in the Clone Wars. After learning about her abilities as an assassin, she’s paired with Clone Force 99. After some time, she and Crosshair hook up and later start a relationship. Right before Order 66, Yelena is snapped back too the MCU, much to the Bad Batch’s horror (because they have no clue where she is, if she’s ok, and if she’s even still alive). Yelena eventually ends up back in the Star Wars universe post Order 66, but details as too how that will happen are still in the works. 
Yelena: “So….what part of ‘make the person I like hate me’ screamed being a good idea to you?”
Crosshair: “Are you ever going to let that go?”
Yelena: “Nooope.”
5. Multi-crossover
The basic premise of this story is that it revolves around a group of deities that house characters from throughout different fandoms that either died (permanently), or just stay at the Between for refuge for a limited time. Storylines include:
- The Goose from Untitled Goose Game creating havoc in the Between and between its residents.
- Helping Dr. Strange with his nightmare of a multiverse problem (albiet reluctantly as it’s gonna cause such a major headache).
- Babysitting Mothra during her larva phase (titans and kaigus are shrunk to avoid cramped spacing).
- Dealing with a Xenomorph infestation
And so much more...
Becca: I’m sorry, I’m just having trouble processing this right now. Jupiter: *Hands her a pamphlet* Becca, reading: “So You’ve Discovered Your A Fictional-” I don’t want your pamphlet!
Honorable Mentions:
- Europa Quill: An MCU and Mandalorian Crossover
- Lara Vulcan: An MCU and We Can Be Heroes Crossover
God this took me two hours to assemble, but I’m done. I’m tagging @goingknowherewastaken ; @shenanigans-and-imagines ; and @greeneyedblondie44
Obviously you guys don’t have too go so in depth like I did, I’m just an over achiever. 
If anyone wants too know more details, let me know and i’ll be happy to relay more information on my ideas!
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phoebestarks · 3 years
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can i get some diana x lena headcanons? ruin my mental health bestie <3
LET’S GO BESTIE!!!!! (also lena & diana are our riverfail ocs agenjensjs)
diana and lena meet when diana moves to riverdale in middle school - when she gets there, she has two choices of friend groups; cheryl and the populars & betty, archie, jughead and lena. she picks the latter mostly because of lena.
they start off as classmates and partners for a lot of classes - they win the science fair together for this weird remote-controlled monstrosity of a godzilla thing that diana designed after lena took a bunch of pictures of the original movie!!
later when lena comes out everything kinda implodes lowkey?? betty obviously doesn’t like that lena’s gay so she takes archie and runs. jughead is caught in the crosshairs and then he just stops talking to people.
still diana and lena hang out constantly - cheryl starts like asking if they’re dating every day but they keep on denying it.
diana asks lena to homecoming freshman year - the year veronica shows up, so season 1, and they start dating!! they’re actually really sweet but betty tells veronica a bunch of shit ab lena bc of course she does so veronica tells diana, worried that she’s gonna get her heart broken, and then diana and lena have a fight over it bc diana’s believing someone she’s talked to maybe twice over her girlfriend of like, 4-ish months and friend of 3/4-ish years. 
they break up soon after and diana goes back to archie & betty and now jughead & veronica and they get really aggressive when diana brings up once how much she wishes she didn’t end up on the wrong side of breaking up with her and that’s when she finds out betty is the reason veronica told her all of that.
lena ends up dating cheryl for a bit bc why the fuck not and diana gets really really pissed and kisses archie and they start dating when he’s on a break w veronica.
then she breaks up w archie realizing maybe boys aren’t that great and betty breaks up w jughead so betty tries to hookup w diana bc why not and diana calls out betty on her shit. 
lena is busy dating cheryl this entire time and is completely over the gang’s shit and decides to call out betty in the cafeteria which is when jughead punches her.
diana screams at them for it (like scream scream) and jughead gets suspended.
diana and lena try to think about dating again but diana still wants betty more than anyone so she has to choose....and she chooses betty. betty’s a bitch though towards lena so that doesn’t work out great :///
during the timeskip diana marries archie for some fucking reason and then archie cheats on diana w betty so then diana and lena reconnect finally!!!!!
i didn’t include much of the most-important parts of canon bc that’s kinda spoiler-y for diana’s story but yeah!!!!!! aggressive exes to lovers here we come!
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toongrrl-blog · 4 years
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The Mommy Myth: Threats from Without (Part One)
*TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE*
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This will be a doozy folks...
Razor blades in apples and cookies during Halloween. Day cares run by child molesters and Satanists! Flammable pajamas! Car seats not installed properly! Cavities from bottles! Child Porn! Kidnappers! Toys choking kids! Alar in apple juice! Peanuts stuck in windpipes! Stalkers! Rapists! Radiation from household appliances! Murderers! Gangs! Fetal Alcohol Syndrome! Car jacking! Tylenol causes liver damage! Milk Cartons with missing kids! If you fuck up just a little, your kid is screwed!
Welcome to the 1980s where childhood danger became the new obsession along with designer goods, buns of steel, big hair, cell phones, and greed being good. In many decades that traced the growth of mothers in the workplace (check the 1940s), there was moral panic about juvenile delinquents and latchkey kids going bad, there were 19.5 million working mothers by 1984, also 6/10 women with children under eighteen. Mothers of preschool children working had doubled since 1970 and it was 15% higher for African-American women because unemployment for black fathers was 10.2% compared with 5% for white fathers. And these women were not making the big bucks to afford clothes and lifestyles seen on Dynasty and Falcon Crest, where they’d mostly work in retail, clerical, service, or factory positions and daycare workers earned less than most clerks of liquor stores. 
In 1984, aside from the fictitious case of the disappearance of Barbara Holland and the re-appearance of the thought to be dead Will Byers the previous year, there were two media events that captured the public fascination with child endangerment: the McMartin daycare scandal and the premiere of The Cosby Show (it was a more naive time) which was a typical sitcom except it featured two parents who worked outside the home in white-collar professions and focused on an African-American family. It showed the contradictions of what 1980s moms lived with: you can’t trust your kids with just anyone or leave them alone, you can have a demanding job and the loving family made for tv, act as paranoid as an FBI agent, be the spontaneous mom, and be constantly aware.
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These media panics also happened around the same time the Reagan Administration was a big thing; he was aided by the regressive STOP ERA and Religious Right which led to a huge anti-feminist backlash in policies and the media. Women’s magazines scared moms about what could go wrong with their kids and exploited the fears of the public. Around the same time the McMartin daycare scandal was a thing, the government refused to fund daycare centers for millions of kids and was a result of such coverage. The War Against Women had started and programs benefiting women and children were in it’s crosshairs as being “too expensive” and “trickle down economics” will help anyways. So while the Chrysler Corporation and the Savings and Loans industry were given financial life rafts, programs like WIC (Womens, Infants, and Children) were cut mortality rates for infants of color (which declined in the 1970s) started climbing again and family leave was virtually non-existent. Parents magazine published a later-debunked warning in 1982, that children in daycare will become hoodlums. Moms were also warned kids will pick up lice (also in Little League or in the classroom) from daycares. 
The roots of this sensationalization of childhood perils stared in the mid 1970s with it’s peak a decade later, where Ladies Home Journal dumped Bruno Bettelheim for Geraldine Carro’s “Mothering” column where she was a mom giving guidance to other moms where she acknowledged that “motherhood rates mixed reviews” and she promised to offer opinions rather than impose them as “For too long, we’ve been living by other people’s books” and featured short pieces with titles on how to pick a pediatrician or teach the kids to cook safely. What was meant to soothe and offer empowerment ended up striking terror with warnings about all the things that could kill kids and that summer camps were the sources of “close to 100 deaths and 250,000 accidents” in 1974 and moms were urged to investigate the camp’s accreditation, the camper-counselor ratio, the number of life preservers in boats, all the codes were met by state standards, the lifeguards had Red Cross training, and all the counselors were experienced. Imagine what happened when Friday the 13th and Sleepaway Camp came out...
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If you tossed your baby in the air, you could risk whiplash and hemorrhage of blood vessels feeding into the brain. But kids can’t get new babysitter and crib on the same day or kid will freak and kids got poisoned a lot from eating plants and flowers. Also kid’s sleepwear had to be flame retardant but washed with warm water, high-phosphate laundry detergent, no soap or bleach, no fabric softener or they will be rendered non-retardant. Ages where kids need to learn swimming was disputed, even Santa was scary or teaches them to lie, buy simple toys, costumes needed to be flame retardant and have reflective tape strips on the costumes and bags, kids needed flashlights or can only trick or treat in the daylight hours, kids can’t wear masks anymore, and all treats need to be examined.  Then in 1977, Carro asked how parents can protect kids without making them fearful. Hrrrrmmmmmm......
There have been missing children before in the past, even in that sweet long ago when people hardly bothered to lock their front doors at night, one of the most notorious early cases that have been exploited by the media was the Etan Patz case where 6 year old Etan was kidnapped in downtown New York City on May 1979, before getting on his school bus, there was a huge effort to find him locally and in the media but the case has remained unsolved until 2010 when his killer was found and it was 9 years since he was declared dead. Perhaps the most influential case was that of Adam Walsh, son of John Walsh from America’s Most Wanted, who was kidnapped from the toy department at a Florida store and was made into a TV movie. In March 1984, the missing for a month ten year old Kevin Collins made the cover of Newsweek magazine. The media had exploited these tragic cases with wildly exaggerated figures soon circulated in the media, what was a small number of cases became sensationalized to make people think kids were being snatched every time they took a breath.
On March 28 1984 NBC’s Tom Brokaw reported “The fear is thick around Denver these days. A number of kidnappings have made everyone nervous--parents, children, and police.” Parents were driving their kids to school rather than let them wait on the bus stop and left the school after seeing their kid enter the building, such stories hardly explored what could be done as a society and community to protect children. No you were on your own.
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Late March 1984, headlines talked about a daycare on Manhattan Beach, California, this daycare being McMartin Preschool where seven nursery teachers were arraigned on over 100 counts of child molestation. Virginia McMartin, age 76 and on a wheelchair, presided over the day care center where she and her family members allegedly drugged, fondled, and molested at least 125 children and killed cuddly animals in front of them. 90% of Los Angeles residents surveyed believed that Ray Buckey and his grandmother Virginia to be guilty. Children were interviewed by therapists where they were videotaped and used puppets. As it turned out, the children were badgered by therapists who used leading questions and threats to get the kids talking. From 1989 to 1990, California received at least 440, 000 reports of child abuse, 84% deemed to be unfounded, and 8,448 of the cases were defined as sexual abuse. Suddenly, as the media warned, you couldn’t trust very many people with your children. In other news, the founder of Children’s Theater Company in Minneapolis, John Clark Donahue was forced to resign after allegations of molesting three boys and Little Rascals Day Care in North Carolina became notorious when it was the owner and cook (owner’s conviction was overturned). There was news of fathers molesting their daughters. On May 21st, there was a Los Angeles teacher brought to court on charges of molestation at the elementary school and both ABC and CBS reported that a religious boarding school for boys in Walterboro, South Carolina had beaten and abused boys. Then in June, CBS and ABC reported on a fundamentalist commune in Island Pond, Vermont that was raided with 100 children taken from their homes because it was alleged their elders and parents abused them. The FBI got involved, saying groups of people abuse kids and circulate a book titled “How to Have Sex with Kids”. Obviously these stories had the subtext that no place was safe. In 1985, CBS announced that a church run day care had children suffering broken bones linked to violence (a total of eleven broken arms and legs) and Missouri exempted church run centers from licensing. 
Even “Rockwellian”, small-town, Christian (and White) American places were dens of abuse. Jordan, Minnesota featured 24 defendants (factory workers, housewives, and a grandma) who were part of a “sex ring” and charged with more than 400 counts of sexually abusing dozens of children including their own kids. As Michaels and Douglas noted, a central theme was the failure of government agencies to oversee day care centers and catch molestation in time but Reagan’s administration kept their fingers in their ears singing “La la la can’t hear you la la la”. Geraldo Rivera did a sensationalist show on Satanism that played on adult fears of their teens. And Priests were being outed as having molested altar boys and other young men, like a priest in Henry, Louisiana where he admitted sexually abusing at least 35 boys and was sentenced to 20 years hard labor. The media was talking childhood abuse more seriously with 22% of adults saying they were victims of sexual abuse as children who never told anyone or when they did, nothing was done to the abuser. 
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Back to old Virginia McMartin, follow-up stories assuring people that child care centers weren’t dens of rampant abuse weren’t publicized for example. Raymond Buckey’s defense attorney found two doctors who said that one of the children told them that it was his own father who “poked” him in the anus and the boy’s mother Judy Johnson who circulated the charges against them was known to be mentally ill and had trouble distinguishing between what’s real and what’s not. She also accused a Los Angeles school board member of molesting her son and claimed kid was injured by an elephant and forced to drink baby’s blood. The children initially denied abuse, Kee MacFarlane the therapist had the kids name gas station attendants, community leaders, and store clerks as molesters and she came up with the name “naked movie star” for a game the teachers supposedly made the kids play. Jurors viewing the tapes of the interviews were appalled and it turned out Kee had an affair with Wayne Satz, television reporter for KABC who broke the McMartin story. After nearly 6 years and $15 million, Ray Buckey and his mother were found not guilty and there was a hung jury and still not found guilty. Sadly he was viewed as a loner who liked to go commando in shorts and a mama’s boy with more shorts than brains. Virginia died in 1995, Peggy McMartin Buckey died in 2000, and Ray Buckey who was incarcerated for five years during the trials later went to law school and changed his name and moved elsewhere to have a family. Meanwhile in Jordan, cases were falling apart with one couple getting aquitted and vowed to regain custody of their three sons. Only one person plead guilty: James Rud, who lied and implicated others. 
“It was all Momma’s fault!” I’m exaggerating but the public imagination linked day care centers with child sexual abuse, molesters targeted kids from “broken homes” (read single moms not like dysfunctional families with distant parents) and you couldn’t trust Mr. Wilson next door. The subtext clearly targeting working mothers or moms considering going into the workplace and leaving their kids in programs after school before picking them up. Of course Susan Faludi in her book Backlash, revealed that kids were twice as likely to be abused at home than in day care but media panics tend to focus on what’s juicy rather than facts. In her study of working moms in magazines, Kathryn Keller stated:
Each negative image of day care and the implication behind it that women should not be working but should be at home with their children was countered by a positive image.
Moms were surrounded by mixed messages that served them guilt and paranoia, it was nice that issues that were swept under the rug were given the attention they deserved, but it was used as an indictment of non-traditional family structures and women not feeling they have to sacrifice their autonomy at the service of their families or stay in terrible marriages for “the good of the children”. It’s best I leave this dreary part (before heading to sitcoms and humor and magazines) with Tamme Dawson from GLOW to empower all women and snap back at the powers that be.
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bluboothalassophile · 5 years
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Happy Birthday!
Jason had missed a single person in his self-imposed exile; and he would sooner boil his tongue in hot oil than ever admit it. Because admitting it would mean that he was welcoming the fucking Bats back into his life again, and he was not. No. No he was not. He would not deal with Bat-drama of any sorts for a third time in his life. He wasn’t foolish enough to do that; despite being stupid enough to get caught by little bird after stealing her mind.
However, he was already east coast, and he was kind of needing to pass through Gotham on a lead, so he kind of didn’t have a problem with doing a bit of evasion and spying. It wasn’t like it could be harder than what he did as Red X and besides, it wasn’t like Bats would be expecting him so they wouldn’t be looking for him.
Which was what he told himself as he lay there scouting the layout of the Manor through his scope.
Dickhead was still in San Fran, Baby Bird and Demon Spawn were here though, and he watched as Alfred handed them their lunches and loaded them into the car. Selina was there, pregnant, waving off Bruce who was on the phone. Cass and Steph appeared as if by magic, and received a scolding about running before they were handed lunches and herded into the car. Jason smirked, this would be so easy.
He watched B wave off Selina and Alfred before getting in the driver’s seat and starting down the drive. Selina waited a bit before she darted for a motorcycle, leaping onto a bike, grabbing a helmet and racing out the gate. Alfred stood there looking aloofly vexed and Jason took that moment to move. He was swift, sneaking onto the property via the old oak, looking around he saw the motion sensors he had hacked earlier to do this visit. Pausing he waited a moment, watching the grounds. There wasn’t much in the way of staff here, never had been, but there was enough to make him pause.
B always had a few gardeners on hand but that was it.
Not sensing or seeing anyone he made his way for the house, getting to the kitchen door he almost yelped when it was opened by Alfred, who raised a grey brow at him.
“If you are finished with your attempt at sneaking, you might come in for a spot of tea and biscuits,” Alfred said primly.
“Heyya Alfie,” he smiled.
“Master Jason,” Alfred’s lips twitched a bit, but he let Jason in regardless. “I must admit your skills have vastly improved.”
“Thanks,” he nodded.
“I would not have known you were here, if it were not for the date,” Alfred remarked.
“Well…” he started but then shrugged. “Hear from Bazza and Dave Boy?” he asked taking a seat at the kitchen table.
“They have sent words, for both of us,” Alfred smiled as he handed Jason the envelopes.
“I…”
“These are from your family, and this is from me,” Alfred said.
“Hey now! Today wasn’t for that!” Jason protested.
“Pish-posh,” Alfred dismissed as he put on the kettle. “I believe that we share the date,” he said kindly.
“I brought this,” he smiled as he produced the package. Alfred blinked twice at it. “It’s not stolen, I bought it,” Jason promised.
“My my, aren’t we coming up in the world,” Alfred mused dryly, though a smile was tugging on his lips.
“Yeah-yeah, do you ever gripe on Dickhead for creating the persona to begin with?” Jason asked. He was a bit put out that Alfred thought he was a thief by his own merit (he was, but he didn’t create Red X).
“Many a times, Master Bruce and I have both thoroughly scolded Master Dick for his brash decision to create and lose the Red X persona, though I must admit you have grown into the role a little too well,” Alfred said sitting at the table.
“Yeah, well, little bird smashed that job to smitherines,” he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Hey, have they figured it out yet?”
“No, not for a lack of trying,” Alfred said ruefully.
“Too bad none of them have thought to check your footlocker,” Jason grinned.
“Since that incident they should not have access to it.”
Jason grinned hearing that. It was truly an accident on his part, about four weeks in living in the Manor, on a night he couldn’t really sleep, he had decided to sneak around. This was shortly before he found out about B being Batman, and naturally that was a night B was out as Batman and Alfred was manning the helm of intel and comms. This was before Babs did it, and before she was Oracle. Jason’s snooping had uncovered an old military footlocker, and opening it he had uncovered much about Alfred Pennyworth. There was a shit ton of metals, along with many photos, including one of a beautiful woman, and Alfred with three men; two of whom he knew. There were other things in there as well, treasures that mattered to Alfred; his mother’s pearls, his father’s cufflinks, his fiancée’s ring, a few mementoes from places he had been, a gun, a knife, his birth certificate; revealing his date of birth, along with his American citizenship, and British citizenship; several passports, and a few other pictures.
Today was Alfred’s birthday.
Today was his birthday.
And it had made Jason feel; when he was a child; so much closer to the man he had come to think of as a grandfather. Alfred had been mad at him; for pawing through his things, but Jason was incessant about knowing more about Alfred. His apology was a birthday gift to Alfred literally a week after the incident (though B obviously hadn’t known it was Alfred’s birthday gift Jay had bought that trip). And that had lead to him getting to know the stories behind the photos, being introduced to the few remaining living friends Alfred had, to seeing the butler in a new light; Jason never wanted to be like B, he wanted to be just like Alfred.
“Happy Birthday, Alfie!” he grinned.
Alfred smiled a bit as he slowly started pulling open the wrapping paper; the job was a bit disheveled because Jason had done it on his motorcycle. A chick in car over had obviously digged it as she rolled down her window to flirt with him about it.
“You can just rip it open like a normal person!” Jason teased, getting up when the kettle started whistling. Prepping the tea; Alfred’s favorite he grabbed the appropriate biscuits with the tea and sat at the table.
“It’s marvelous Master Jason,” Alfred smiled at the gift.
“I saw it a while back, thought of you and bought it,” Jason admitted. The pocket watch was something he had bought years back, when he had first escaped from the League of Assassins; before he had gone to the All-Caste. When he had held hope of returning home, only for that to be shattered. He couldn’t even kill a gasoline soaked Joker, and B had thoroughly replaced and upgraded from him; so what was the fucking point of even trying to come back. But he had bought that pocket watch; for Alfred, and before his life was shot truly to hell.
“It is beautiful,” Alfred said checking it out, pulling it out of the box with care.
“I’m glad you like it!” Jason grinned happily at the knowledge he had pleased Alfred.
“I have something for you as well,” Alfred admitted, pulling open his jacket and pulling a thing, rectangle box from his jacket.
Jason tilted his head a bit at it, but accepted the gift as well, he opened the box, moved aside the tissue paper and blinked several times at what was in his hand.
“I… I can’t accept this Alfred,” he sputtered dumbly.
“It was going to be your sixteenth birthday gift, as you are the only one with an appreciation for such things,” Alfred said crisply as he served them tea, Jason blinked a few times. Looking back at what was in the box he slowly reached in and pulled it out. It was a knife; not particularly beautiful, it wasn’t even particularly threatening to look at.
It was an old Fairbairn-Skyes, simple, and beautiful in it’s lethal use. It was something Jason had always admired in Alfred’s footlocker, he had loved it actually. It was a great fighting knife; it was the knife Alfred himself had taught Jason to use in a fight. Bruce hadn’t approved of that, but Alfred said a knife could save his life. He was not wrong. All of Alfred’s training, for knives and guns had actually saved his life in various situation since his death. They had never been skills he needed before his death, as B would never permit a thug to do real harm, but after his death they were skills of survival. Life was truly: Survival of the Fittest. Ra’s and the All-Caste had loved Darwin obviously.
“I…” Jason stared at the blade which had saved Alfred so many times in his youth, and then back to Alfred.
“You have many knives, I have no doubt, but I remember you being particularly fond of that one, and as no one; other than Master Damian; would have the appreciation for the blade, it should go to you. Saved my life many times,” Alfred said fondly.
“Why not give it to the bat brat?” Jason asked, carefully pulling it from it’s old leather sheath; which had been cared for and repaired many times.
“Master Damian’s affinity for blades is not to care for, but to use. He has a blatant lack of care for his weapons; including his own sword.I would rather the knife have a proper home, than to be used and discarded.”
“I… thank you, Alfred,” Jason smiled. Sheathing the blade he strapped it to his right thigh. It was the best gift he had ever received.
“So where to next, Master Jason?” Alfred asked as they started eating the cookies; well biscuits. Brits named shit weird; like bullocks; what the hell were bullocks!? Jason jolted himself from the thought and looked thoughtfully at Alfred. He could always tell Alfred his plans, Alfred wouldn’t tell B, no matter what.
“I’m heading to your neck of the woods actually, I got a lead on Talia,” he said.
“And why are you tracking Miss al Ghul?” Alfred asked dryly.
“Well… for starters, she’s a lying, no good, double crossing bitch who put me in a demon’s crosshairs; as well as putting me on the Bat radar; of which I was not on before I might add!” Jason grumbled sourly.
“And where exactly are you heading?”
“Well I thought to head for Inverness, and work my way from there,” he admitted.
“I see.” Alfred nodded.
“It’s not like she can hide from me forever Alfie! She trained me so I know she’s bound to slip up,” Jason promised.
“Well, I will have Bazza and Dave Boy meet you, they would love to catch up to you,” Alfred remarked.
“Uh…”
“I will also be requiring the number of the mobile Miss Roth was so kind to provide you with,” Alfred stated.
“Uh… sure? I can take international calls on it, I think. I think even interdimensional calls and texts because Constantine called me earlier,” Jason said.
“I will try not to take offense that you took the liberty of providing the number to Mister Constantine and not myself,” Alfred remarked.
“Actually, little bird programmed the damn phone, not me, though I’ll happily take your number,” he grinned. Alfred took the phone and put in his information, Jason also suckered Alfred into a photo with him, saving it as the contact photo.
“I gotta go, I have a plane to catch, Happy Birthday Alfie!” he smiled as he stood.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, Master Jason,” Alfred caught him and pulled him in for a rare hug, holding tight before letting him go.
“See you around.”
“You will be texting me when you land, Master Jason,” Alfred warned.
“Of course, I have to text the Queen anyway!” he grinned and darted out the door as he made his way off the property and to his bike.
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abundantchewtoys · 5 years
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HS Epi: Meat p15 reaction
I wonder what Dirk turns out to have in store for Rose. My idea was a soulbot of some kind, but I don't think she'd want to trade in her body for one. Perhaps there's a way to temporarily transfer her consciousness, like in a dreambubble dream, while Dirk prepares her body for the transition. Or maybe I'm just looking for ways to have a post-victory adult join John in the Furthest Ring. :p
Dirk claimed to have completed the process already but that seems like a presumptuous state of mind. I wonder if an ultimate self, a true one, not a sprite squared, might even be tangible? If it isn't, though, then who are even going to feature in Homestuck 2.0, if not the humans of Earth C...
What's also of interest, is whether the post-victory selves will in any way be able to access the memories of the selves that John is currently leading, since their timeline is far from being finished, unlike all those doomed timelines that were discarded!
I also thought of something regarding Dirk's scheming: he seems to be juggling both the solution to Rose's problems with Jane's run for president, as if they're at least of equal importance to him.
Anyway, we're probably going to be seeing the story from John's POV again.
---
I do wonder if when he finds about Vriska, what he'll do. He didn't consider her a friend anymore I think, after how he saw (Vriska) acting towards her friends. But still, for Terezi he might be inclined to go save her.
As it is now, though, things can be summarized à la Craigslist: Missed connection: you, exiting from captivity in the midst of a battlefield. Me: being sucked into a black hole, screaming.
---
"> John: Fight Lord English." OH BOY. He's actually doing it. I do wonder how this boss battle will even go, with how in parallel, on Earth C things only seem to get started. But with the monster's end form being on the same battlefield as a black hole, I'm reminded of Problem Sleuth and its glacier-paced endgame boss battle. :p Things might happen in stages, or perhaps they'll have to escape oblivion first and return with ACTUAL things that can hurt LE, not red herrings.
"Meenah’s ghost army claws at the borders of Paradox Space. Wait, that is her army, right?" No, John, obviously it's that other ghost army. :P I take it to mean he's talking about who's leading the army, more than anything.
"you’re pretty sure this is the army you, Meenah, Vriska, and the other Serket were trying to raise." Ah yes, Aranea was there at the inception of the ghost army idea. Funny how the (Vriska) he's thinking about is also an "other Serket" than the Vriska that is (was) leading the army now.
"Every screaming body pitches down and goes white the closer it gets to the black hole above you." That's presumably due to the distortion of the particles that make up the ghosts as they're sucked in. But it reminds me of how the dreambubble hologram selves (aka the representation of alive people that are sleeping) also glowed as they woke up! Also, how dream selves went white as the dreamer awoke.
"They’re locked in place, an eight ball in each socket. You briefly wonder what that means" Yeah, I wonder if they'll do something pool-related in their efforts to kill the monster.
"The laser show tears its way through a squadron of ghosts led by... is that... Tavros?" Yup! The very same dead Tavros he last saw in the bubbles, in his spunky Pupa Pan outfit! Guess he might reminiscence about them both fighting over Vriska, before he got turned off on the whole idea.
"Seems like an awful choice to lead an army, but what do you know." This is Tavros' ultimate Fiduspawn battle.
"Wasn’t Vriska supposed to be leading the charge? Where is she, anyway?" Yoooouuuu just missed her on her way out. :|
"> Listen." Is he... going to hear the echo of Vriska's scream? ... I just got a Legend of Zelda thing to reference. "Hey, listen!" ... That was an annoying firefly fairy guide, much like Vriska profiles herself.
"She’s probably somewhere around here, biding her time, waiting to execute her masterstroke and finish English off at just the right moment" No, John, not this time, you won't be able to rely on her tricks or her powers, I'm afraid. Plus, she's already made a sort of killsteal before in the story: this won't turn into a repeat of the Black King battle.
"You’re becoming enraptured by the sound surrounding you. Not a sound... a sensation. A subharmonic symphony that you can only hear in your bones." I wonder if that's part of his Breath powers, because I remember him feeling the wind skimming his home too, in the reunion scene a few pages back.
"This is it: the end of Paradox Space." If you mean, the end of the part of the Furthest Ring that the Green Sun's lifespan encompassed, then yes, I do think so.
"Behind you the juju disappears, sucked out of reality with a POP." And that's the last thing anyone saw of that? Maybe? Hopefully? (I wonder if he still has his retcon powers.)
"You move your arms in a dumb little motion, sort of like jazz hands, and summon up a wisp of wind to keep your cracked glasses in place." Oooh, cool, yeah, that would have been awkward fighting for him without being able to see right. Good thinking John! It shows his Breath powers have still grown! For practical purposes, they eclipse the retcon powers.
"You then pull one of your sickest hammers out of your strife deck." AWESOME! He a) still has his hammers, and b) still has his strife deck! That wasn't really a given, since they were supposed to be living in a paradise on Earth C! (Maybe spring cleaning isn't just something for John. Plus, his Dad wouldn't have approved of him discarding such a well-earned strife modus. :P)
"You cast a glance back over your shoulder at them. They all look pretty cool. Rose knitting light around her with the Quills of Echidna, Dave with his sword Caledfwlch at the ready, trailing time distortions behind him that look, if you don’t squint, a lot like JPEG artifacts. Jade’s got her favorite gun cocked and ready, with her ears perked up." Everyone, pose as a team! Wow, I'd really like to see this moment as a drawing. Could it be that John's weapon is the Warhammer of Zillyhoo? In spite of it being overclassed by the Vrillyhoo hammer, if Jade took out Ahab's Crosshairs, the kids are wielding the same weapons the bunny had. ... Okay granted, the bunny had the Royal Deringer, not Caledfwlch, so in fact Vrillyhoo as an upgraded version would not be far out. Also, so time distortions resemble JPEG artifacts as long as you DON'T squint? So, what does squinting do, sharpen them for the eye of the beholder? :p
"ROSE: Don’t get overconfident. ROSE: We have to do it exactly like we discussed. First..." I don't think their plans will be that easily executed. Plus, they were planning on taking on Caliborn, not his adult self! ... Okay yeah, they will have had time to make new plans while inside the juju.
"But Rose doesn’t get to finish what she was trying to say. Lord English’s mouth roars open and a wave of energy blasts through your group. Rose is the only one caught in it. She dissolves in slow motion." WHATTHEFFFFFFFFFF--- Rose! Is the group going to fall apart this soon??? ... Unless LE can't overwrite the just/heroic judgment, Rose just died permanently! ... Maybe Dave can rollback time? Or John, retcon this?? I. Don't know what to think.
"You can see the outline of her body in shadow." :((( Just like how Kanaya died in Game Over. Fucking Hell. And I hope that doesn't incite rage in someone, provoking them into getting closer to get run through...
"One arm thrown up over her eyes, shoulders pulled up defensively, cape billowing out behind her." Her pose reminds me of another scene... Like how she looked when peering up into LOFAF when she was drunk, maybe?
"She leaves an afterimage of shimmering light in her wake and then dissipates, drifting apart like a handful of salt tossed out to sea." :( almost anti-climactic.
"You can almost hear the cosmic clock counting down, tick tock, and a chime to accompany her fate: Heroic." Dear god. Well, at LEAST she still gets a judgment, not an insta-double death. ... Actually, come to think of it. She'll reappear right there as a ghost, won't she? :( Still in risk of a double death.
"JADE: rose!!!! no!!!!!!!!" Oh boy, Jade... Don't get drawn in, he'll want that and you won't be able to escape. John has ONE ring of life to give away, not two or even three!
But I think the chances are low that Jade and Dave will survive the rest of the battle, if this was any indication. (Blaperile has a theory Davepeta might come and take Dave's place, taking up Caledfwlch in his stead.) Unless they outright planned for this eventuality, things might continue falling apart. ... John is not going to have to pull an Aradia, is he? Continuing to retcon this moment until there's an army of him swarming LE, ensuring the others have enough time to actually DO things?
"Space splinters open around her so loudly it drowns out the fire from her rifle. Lord English raises one of his giant, fuck-off hands to deflect her anomaly-powered bullets" I don't know which rifle it is, but it seems she can now shoot bullets that run on space distortion, which reminds me of Becquerel teleporting her bullets (and themselves) during their Strife.
"It’s a wonder how such a big man can move so fast." And there he goes. the big man... HAS the speed. That's the first time we know he can move so fast right. Well, aside from being already here. Oh, right, and his moves during Collide, I forgot.
"Jade inspects her rifle, and tosses it aside. What is she doing? With all the powers of a Witch of Space at her command, combined with the infinite abilities of a First Guardian, she’s still messing around with basic firearms?" Well, yeah, it's what she was trained to do. She didn't any tutoring in First Guardian powers, so it might be risky to start using them here? I mean, I'm fairly sure her powers won't be a dud? Well, okay, the end of the Green Sun should have removed Doc Scratch' immortality granted to LE, and hopefully his First Guardian powers too, but... Well, it would suck if Jade were to try them out now and come up empty.
"Nothing. No crackle of electricity. No licks of chartreuse flame. She searches within, realizes her power source is completely unavailable to her. Then she looks up, and it dawns on her." Wwwelp. Hey, but the Black Hole was a Space-instigated object, can't she do something with that, though?
"Jade opens her mouth to scream for help, but she’s cut off." Oh shit.
"A razor-sharp fragment of reality slams into her back. It skewers her, exiting right through the center of the space symbol on her hoodie." ... Seems to me that John might have taken the people out of the doomed timeline, but he couldn't take the doom out of the people's timeline.
:(
What is it with Homestuck and stabbing people through the back and torso?
"> Get in there!" ... This must be paralyzing to John, it's all happening so fast, faster than he can react, if he's seen what happened to Jade at all.
"Lord English struggles to emerge from the wind-prison you just whipped up." Wow, John's powers are actually capable of (at least) stalling LE, that's good news. Too bad of all the horrible news we've already had.
"Tavros has pulled himself to his feet and, recognizing English’s temporary state of vulnerability, directs the ghosts on his side to attack. No one is paying attention to him." I take that to mean, neither Lord English nor Dave nor John. Hopefully the ghosts still listen. But still, I'm afraid this battle is doomed.
"Jade is floating away from you." The clock is going to sound any second now...
Wait a minute. If my theory about John retconning this battle (if he can) to form an army is realized... Will there be ghosts of his friends that just died as well?
Hmm, Blaperile has a point, maybe Jade is also getting sucked into the Black Hole right now, I took it to meaning gravity was just a personal illusion in the Furthest Ring, and now that Jade's dead her body started hovering.
"You stare directly down the dark barrel of his throat, which readies another terrible laser shot. There’s not much time to react." ... Dave is not about to jump in front of the blast to save him, is he?? :(
"> Make a decision." Zapping out of there? Or, yeah, deciding what of the four things to keep a grip on. ... He might let go of Jade and the hammer, if he chooses the battle. But will it even be enough? But I don't think he'd bring her body with him if he zaps away, that'd be gory.
"But releasing her has created enough separation, just as you hoped. The laser breath passes between you, narrowly missing you both." Wow, he actually did it? But, like, she won't last long with her torso skewered, right? What is even his plan?
"You reel back like you’ve just been punched. Your control over the storm goes haywire for a second, long enough for Lord English to free his gaudy gold peg leg from it and, more catastrophically, for you to drop your already broken glasses." Well, that's three steps back for one step forward, now, ain't it.
"You whirl around and swing your hammer to bop his horrible, deadly skull back into your storm. You can’t really see what’s going on, but you hear a gigantic CRUNCH. And then another. And another. It sounds like a cereal commercial is playing outside the periphery of your vision." ... Either John accidentally hit Dave, or LE was able to get Dave while John is incapacitated. :( ... I don't think it's Terezi watching the battle from the sideline, eating Dorito chips.
"JOHN: dave!
DAVE: what
JOHN: is lord english... eating my hammer?
DAVE: yeah dude he totally is" Oh dear god. How totally OP can a bloke even be? Kind of a mood whiplash in the middle of this otherwise heartclenching scene.
"This isn’t going to work, waging battle without your glasses. Lord English has just eaten one of your sickest hammers due to your blind folly." ... Is he going to retcon back somewhere and steal his own glasses?
"You take a deep breath and dive down, right into the sea of ghosts. You land clumsily, palms first, and do an accidental handspring right into a bunch of alternate timeline trolls you don’t recognize." Or, yeah, maybe steal a troll's glasses? Though I guess only Eridan's might work, and does he even have the same prescription? :p ... Or maybe there's still a doomed John somewhere in there. Alternative, he might steal glasses from a Beforus troll, since he doesn't recognizes the trolls he's jumped in the middle of. ... Though that can still apply to Eridan. Or maybe Kronus wears lenses?
"JOHN: uh, hey guys. anyone see a pair of glasses down here? it’s pretty important." Ah, okay, they're still in one piece then. His windy spell wasn't broken. Welp, good luck finding your pair in a sea of trolls. The longer John's away, the riskier it gets for Dave...
"Ghosts scatter like bowling pins, many flying into the cracks in space." Eesh, yeah, that must be as doubledeathly as his lasers or the Black Hole.
"Before the leg hits you, a troll leaps into action and blocks the blow. Her trident makes a satisfying ring off the round of the peg and sends it skidding backward." Ah, I was wondering where Meenah got to! Waiting for a moment to shine, of course. Good to see her fighting efforts are definitely not in vain!
"JOHN: have you seen a pair of glasses down here? TAVROS: uH, aRE THESE WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR?" Oh cool, he's joined them! I do hope Tavros isn't going to try and hog the glasses in a fit of spite for John hogging the ring. :p There are higher stakes in play!
"Also, Tavros suddenly is leading an admirable charge of about six ghosts to attack Lord English’s flesh foot. You wince, because you can see what’s coming before it happens." Noble undertaking, but a small party to try and handle even the foot of this monster. I just hope (Tavros) makes it out!
"English raises his knee and stomps three ghosts into oblivion. The other four, Tavros included, get vaporized in a beam." Aw... NO! Tavros!!
Gee...
He's made it this far, and now... Just like that...
I...
I mean, this hit harder than Rose and Jade's deaths, actually. I guess I still thought of (Tavros) as the main Tavros, after all this time. I mean, I GUESS John could still retcon this moment, but it's getting increasingly unlikely.
Actually, I'm starting to wonder, given the size of the page, that this is it. This is where LE gets offed, at one of the steepest prices.
"The ghost army seems to be thinning out pretty badly by now. Most of the ones remaining are either fleeing or getting sucked into the hole." The window to kill him is closing though, and if LE gets out of here, who knows what he'll do next?
"You whip out another hammer. A classic this time, the Wrinklefucker. Its boinging pair of irons are hot, hissing, and ready for action." ... That IS a classic, wow! Long time no see. But uh, it's severely underpowered versus the rest of his hammers, though given his high god tier, it might not matter all that much.
Guess we know what pose John struck here as he took out the hammer.
"Dave is slicing papercuts into English’s torso with glancing nicks from his blade, but the monster is spry as ever, making him a difficult target." Dave is lasting surprisingly long, though! It might all be a red herring, of course.
"He chomps down hard and shatters the hammer’s head, gobbling down the broken pieces." ... Isn't there anything Lord English can break his teeth on???
... Quick, John! Alchemize SPIDERHAMMER OF VRILLYHOO && CALIBORN'S LEG!!
"You look at the handle of your tragically masticated Wrinklefucker, shrug, and toss it into the hole." Well, he SHOULD be able to alchemize more of them, if he still has the code.
"Glancing back down toward your foe, you notice Meenah still appears to be hanging on, clinging to his left suspender." Pfff, so epic.
"
MEENAH: yo hold on
MEENAH: goin in for the krill" Fuck, Meenah's going to bite the dust now, too???
"She raises her trident and jams it into the back of Lord English’s neck. English reacts as if he’s been stung by a bee." Not the effectiveness she was hoping for, I imagine.
"He howls and rears up, throwing Meenah off his back with a force that sends her hurtling out into space. You can’t track her into the void with your eyes, she’s flung so far and so fast. You can only assume the worst." Sure, say 'they could not have survived that', that will ensure we'll see her again, hopefully.
"He has Dave pinned under his big green foot and is applying pressure." Shit, he's got him in mortal danger.
"English quickly whips his head in the direction of the sailing hammer, and swallows it whole." Must've been one of his smaller ones. (We can only hope.)
"DAVE: john i need a little...
Dave ducks a wide blow from English’s swinging fist. He backs up nervously, holding his sword out in front of him with two shaking hands." Jegus. Dave's holding up admirably! Guess Bro's lessons have at least served to save his life her, at least a few times.
"DAVE: anything
DAVE: i need a little anything right now
DAVE: literally any stupid fucking thing you can do
JOHN: i’m on it!"
... What will John even do now? Take out a cake from his sylladex and throw it in LE's face?
"With another flick of your wrist you spin them around you so fast they form a perfectly impenetrable barrier of pure Shitty Hammer." As far as endgame moves go, I like John's style.
"In your hands is a weapon you haven’t thought about in a long time: the Pop-a-matic Vrillyhoo." Oooh! There it is!!!! Will it's Luck-based powers be relevant here? Will John hit a 8^8 roll????
"However, you’re interrupted by a voice screaming out from behind you. It’s half familiar," ... Vriska??? Don't tell me she's interrupting to shout 'that's mine'?
"half... cat?" PFFFFFF. NO. HELL. NO. ... Well, at least Reload Rose's memories might be living on in there somewhere, maybe.
"DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < waaaaaaaaaaaait" NEVER MIND I WAS THINKING ABOUT JASPROSESPRITE FOR WHATEVER REASON!!! OF COURSE!
Davepetasprite^2 still was around! They'll likely want to take over from John, thinking they're the ones destined to kill LE. ... Will... Will Davepeta and Dave TEAM UP though??? THAT WOULD ROCK SO HARD!!!
"You whip your head around just in time to see a bolt of orange-and-green energy racing by you like a bullet. It slams into Lord English and sends him stumbling." Odds are, John doesn't even know about Davesprite getting prototyped into Nepetasprite, so his reaction will probably he hilarious. And yeah, Davepeta seemed convinced her persona was something LE was weak towards. It didn't show during Collide, but at least they survived the Undertale attack there. :P
"DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < im back" BOOM! Fifteen minutes late with Starbucks, but they're here now! Hopefully this time it'll go better! It's still weird to think, that this kind-of-ultimate-Dave and a regular-Dave are going to be working together. In a way though, it's a fitting end to Dave's arc. Also, it's a homage to Davesprite's team-up with Bro vs. Jackspers Noirlecrow.
"
Dave stands there with his sword, absolutely agog, his expression perfectly reflecting a blend of horror and the total inability to process who or what he is looking at." YES. PERFECT DAVE REACTION. 'who the devil are you' wouldn't even suffice! If this were a cartoon, Dave's shades would have dropped to his lips by now.
"DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < we purrmenantly merged forms and worked out all our shit!
DAVE: oh
DAVE: well that sounds fucked up but ok" Dave's like: eh, there are worse sprites I could have had. :p (*coughCALSPRITEcough*)
"
Davepeta spreads their wings, sending waves of warm light through the battlefield. The light feels comforting, somehow, when it hits you." Like an angel. :P Or yeah, like Blaperile points out, regular sprite healing.
"Above the bedlam, Davepeta is finishing up an inspiring speech. You realize you tuned most of it out due to the surrounding chaos." Welp! Well, John mustn't have missed much, lots of furry puns probably. ;)
"
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i know it looks pawful right now but we can do it
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < in fact were literally the only ones who can do it
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < after all
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < it is our destiny B33" Ah, okay, the speech was mostly aimed towards Dave, I suppose. Unless they know stuff about John's destiny. :P
"You and Dave exchange a look that silently says all that needs to be said right now." Like how Rose 'n Roxy exchanged looks. Guess part of why we didn't see their conversations was because they didn't matter all that much. Unless Rose returns through the Ring of Life, and Jade turns out to not have been killed... (And Tavros was... just another version of himself that got killed?)
"Davepeta is right. You three are the only ones left, and there’s no room for failure." Eesh, okay, so all the ghosts have been doublekilled.
"> Final Round." HERE WE GOOOOOO
"Perhaps a well-oiled machine careening down a steep hill toward the edge of a cliff, but well-oiled nonetheless." It's a step up from most teamups in Homestuck, right?
"The butts of the hammers hit him over and over again, like racking up points in a slot machine." 777
"Dave manages to carve a red line up Lord English’s side, drawing real blood this time. The slash snaps one of his suspenders in half, and must sever something else too, because the sword makes a gristly, meaty squelch when he pulls it out." Awesome! First REAL wound and... Hold on. Is the prophecy about "the tyrant less an arm and an eye" going to come in play again!!
"You realize you seem to be stuck in a cycle and are in serious danger of running out of hammers." I'm surprised he had this much of them to begin with. Guess he spent a lot of time alchemizing hammers out of boredom, perhaps even still on Earth C.
"Davepeta scrapes their cool Wolverine claws up Lord English’s back, and then kicks him in the back of the head. You time it perfectly and complete the combo with a well-placed Vrillyhoo undercut to his jaw." Awesome combo!
"Which is why you refuse to let the handle go when English wraps his tongue around it and unhinges his jaw with a sick, wet pop." At some point, a man has to take a stand and defend their property. :P John: Extract hammer from jaw like the sword from the stone. You can do it, you're the chosen one! Will John hit the 8^8 right in LE's mouth?? It would be something if he can dislocate his jaw, and tear it off!
"Your heel slips on some drool, and your whole leg skids straight into his mouth.
You twist, off balance, and fail to catch yourself. You only let go of the hammer when you feel the walls of his throat constrict around your ankles. The pressure sucks you in up to the knees with one gulp." Dear god. His throat is also a black hole!! ... Oh no, Blaperile points something out. I joked about Caliborn's leg. I hope John isn't going to lose his!
"Vrillyhoo is in his stomach, and you’re following it down quicker than you can even process. Is this the end? No, you think. This is such an unfairly stupid fucking way to die!" John. John are you going to retco- No. He's going to blow LE up from the inside, maybe?! With windy powers??
"
Davepeta reacts quickly, shoving their claws between his molars. You can hear them growling as they slowly twist their arm to pry the massive jaw open." Wow, Davepeta rescued John, two times in quick succession! And they are ridiculously strong if they can pry his jaw open!
"
You’re not dead yet, but Lord English definitely got a big, sharp tooth in you. Your vision reels and goes blurry, then patchy, then dark, then—" Don't pass out don't pass out don't pass out don't pass out. There's no happy ending down that road.
"> Don't fucking die." Best. Command. Ever. Wish I could get Super Mario to respond to that when I mistime a jump.
"
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < wrow you almost got vored to death
JOHN: what?" Don't google it kids. I'm not even sure if it's Dave or Nepeta that made a reference to vore here. Don't want to know, either.
"
DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < im afuraid to say that you look like total shit my dude" my dude is what Arquiusprite would say.
"DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < purromeows me you wont move
JOHN: i... purromeows?" The puns. It's a wonder John can read through them.
... Oh, he couldn't.
"DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you should stay here while we wind this bitch down" Are they going to tire him for John to land the killing blow?
"You’re woozy and don’t have the energy to stop yourself from drifting. There’s blood floating up around you, dilute and bubbly in the air like cooking oil in water. It’s yours.
> Examine wound" Wow, it's reminding me of Problem Sleuth, who got so mortally wounded as well before Demonhead Mobster Kingpin was finally killed for good.
"You lift your chin and see it: Lord English’s gold tooth cracked off at the base and embedded in your chest." Oh, wow. So that tooth was the only 'vulnerable' one in the jaw, then. Since it wasn't real. Will he do something with it against LE, once he regains his strength?
"Dave finds his moment. He rams Caledfwlch into Lord English’s chest, all the way up to the hilt. It penetrates his flesh like nothing else has to this point. The wound around the blade sizzles slightly. The weapon—the unusual material it’s made out of—is poison to English." Cueball meets pool ball. Hah, eat shit!
"He cries out in a cracked, broken staccato. It’s an earsplitting wail that cleaves the last of the Furthest Ring apart. Reality falls away from the mooring of the all-surrounding white light like a peeled eggshell." ... Wow. The entirety of the Furthest Ring is evaporated around them!! Or well, definitely the part LE cracked. But what's the dimension 'behind'? Blankspace, or something else?
"Dave’s trying to get his sword free but he’s stuck. English’s shriek morphs into a sinister, predatory rattle as his jaw creaks open. His mouth envelops Dave’s head and snaps shut. He twists once, then twice, then again with a CRACK. A disaster of blood instantly coats his skull and upper torso." I-WUH. NOW? OF ALL TIMES?? JUST AS THEY'RE- FUCKING. HELL MAN. WHAT A MURDER DINOSAUR OF A BASTARD SON.
... My only, ONLY hope now is that through ultimate self means, at least hopefully the victory selves will be able to remember. Well, that, and that John will survive the next part. Maybe Davepeta will take the sword out now.
"Your limbs feel like lead. You consult your strife deck, but you’ve got nothing left. No hammers, no nothing." Eesh. Not even fistkind? Maybe?
"It’s up to Davepeta, who appears to have plenty left. If not in the strife deck per se, then in the heart." Maybe that last Dave dying... empowered them somehow, too.
I wonder though... Dave could never pull Caledfwlch out before, can Davepetasprite^2? John might be able to though! If Davesprite was to be believed, confetti would have popped out together with the sword if John had tried it. If he can just muster the strength now...
"Davepeta stands twenty paces behind him, crouches low to the ground, wiggles their behind, and pounces. " Now. Now of all times, the pouncegreet makes its return.
"They cling to English’s back, wrap their legs around his midriff, draw back their arms, and plunge their claws deep into the behemoth’s armpits." Hah, classic Wolverine.
"Davepeta then spreads their wings in an awe-inspiring display. An unwitting spectator viewing Lord English from the front might suspect the garish orange-green wings belonged to English himself." Pffff, just like an adult cherub WOULD have looked like. Blaperile just- WITH THE SWORD THROUGH HIS TORSO, LORD ENGLISH NOW ALMOST EXACTLY MIRRORS BEC NOIR!!!!!
Only thing left is for him to lose an arm and an eye, maybe!!! The tyrant will definitely die today, though.
"Davepeta then, with all their might, lifts Lord English into the air and flies toward the black hole, trailing ribbons of blood and neon." TIME FOR DAVEPETA TO FLY UP INTO THE FUCKING [s]SUN[/s] BLACK HOLE LIKE AN IDIOT. And now, finally, that SBaHJ strip has finally been seen realized.
"English resists fiercely, but they’re both already locked into the gravity well, beyond any threshold of escape." Wow. It's really going to be his undoing. But the Hole would have never been enough, it was the combination of the sword and Davepeta that brought him to the brink.
Now, the main thing is... Will John survive? ... Rose did seem to have had a vision that had her smile... sadly, perhaps. :(((
"This victory, this final sacrifice, has always been the destiny of Davepeta, as they have sensed from the moment they were created. And to die on this day, in this way, has always been the destiny of Lord English." Wooow. WWWWWWOOOOOOWWWW. It's really happening.
I wonder how conscious Lord English still is, whether something remains of that bratty Caliborn to bask in this defeat.
I do hope he truly can't escape it, not through some shitty timeline duplication or anything. Not even stuck as Caliborn as Lord of Time with cueball powers.
"The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English home." Yeah, that was part of their mating ritual, one partner leading the other home to a black hole near their old home. LE is going to be the ultimate Homestuck.
"English and Davepeta are sucked in with a subatomic whimper. The reunion sends shock waves across the pitiful remains of Paradox Space. And then everything is wholly, utterly, and categorically silent. It’s over. Lord English is dead." Wow. 'Reunion', yeah. Because this represents Lord English becoming 'whole', reunited with his sister's embodiment!
Davepeta made the ultimate sacrifice. I hope post-victory Dave can cherish the memories. But... Yeah. Nepeta and Equius, the parts of them present in Davepeta and Arquius... Are gone for ever. And Nepeta and Equius are united, for ever.
And now.
I hope... I hope John won't succumb. I hope he can be safed. But I fear that it's not going to be as easy as the B2 kids finding them and Jane healing him.
Also, the Candy path, I'm getting more and more the feeling it might contain conversations that are the 'fluffier' counterpart to this path. That maybe it just shows Calliope 'n Roxy as they eat the candy. And then we get a lot of conversations that were cut out of the Meat part but still happen in the same timeline.
"But it doesn’t feel over, somehow. You don’t feel like you’ve won." I know, right?
"You can barely feel anything, actually. Eesh, John, stay with us!
"All you can think about, for now, is...
Davepeta. How they were so unfettered and brave. How they sacrificed themselves by flying right into the black hole like...
Like a fucking piece of garbage, you can almost hear Dave saying. May God rest his soul." Reference, locked and secured.
"You’ve convinced yourself of this truth well enough to allow yourself to exhale. Enough to allow yourself to suddenly acknowledge the agony coursing through your body, emanating from the gold tooth lodged in your chest. Enough to allow yourself to succumb to the overwhelming urge to sleep." Don't. Don't you dare succumb to unfathomable sleeplust. That's not going to end well. In spite of Jane, I'd settle for Meenah, but Thief of Life doesn't seem like a healer class.
"> Close your eyes." ... It ends here. The fucking end battle. Is over.
Wow. That was SO intense. So chaotic, but then that's always been the case with battles in Homestuck, all plans for naught.
... Will John be able to survive curtousy of the Ring of Life? But then he'd have to have it put on, first.
... On the other hand, if he were to... die, would he have even spawned a ghost? That goes for Dave and Rose, and perhaps Jade, as well. I mean, the reason for the dreambubbles is gone, and their makers, the Horrorterrors themselves, perhaps, too.
But man, I am pleased with the fact that we've had a conclusion to Lord English' arc, and the battle of the Furthest Ring.
It's way past my bedtime, so I'm going to log off now. Going to be digesting this.
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fapangel · 5 years
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So that Tu-22 crash. I'm having trouble figuring out how the fuselage snapped right the fuck in half. It was definitely a hard landing, but you'd think a combat aircraft could handle that. Was the descent faster than the video suggests or something, or was it just a worn-out airframe?
For those who missed it, the video in question.
Truth be told, I doubt it was the airframe’s fault. Aircraft can be significantly more fragile than most people realize. It is entirely possible in a great many civilian aircraft to over-stress the airframe with control inputs. On fly-by-wire aircraft the computer will usually stop you from going too far, but on smaller private aircraft, the incautious pilot can easily warp the airframe if they yank on the stick too much. Pulling 2 gravities in a turn is effectively doubling the load of the aircraft, for instance. It’s not impossible to rip the wings off, but usually the engine will part company first. Formal airframe g-limits are actually determined by the strength of the engine mounts (as they’re much smaller than the wing roots, but supporting the densest weight in the whole aircraft.) Obviously, aircraft load effects this quite a bit. After installing the Huge Wonderful Mod Pack everyone uses for IL-2 1946, I took a fully-loaded B-25 out for a spin, yanked on the stick like I usually do, and watched in dismay as the wings promptly parted company with the fuselage full of heavy bombs. D:
Military aircraft are built for performance with the most advanced, expensive materiel available, but they still have to contend with the same engineering trade-offs. For instance, early-war American fighters like the P-40 and F4F Wildcat were legendarily strong; the P-40 had five main wing spars (most aircraft have two,) which made it so tough that one Soviet pilot rammed and destroyed two German fighters with his wingtip - and the wingtip wasn’t even severely damaged. (Most of the time a mid-air collision guarantees destruction of both aircraft.) But all that structural reinforcement came at a steep cost in weight, which is why lighter Japanese and German fighters could easily fly loops around the P-40. On aircraft, weight is the enemy, and the lighter you can make the airframe, the faster and further you can go, with more payload.
Where a plane is strong varies greatly, as well. Wings are usually very strong, as they’re literally carrying the weight of the entire aircraft, and they also have to flex a bit in flight, especially on big airliners. The fuselage usually isn’t subject to nearly as much stress. The size and mission of an aircraft also determine requirements. Fighters can expect to be shot at and have to perform very heavy-G maneuvers, so they’re built as compact and strong as possible. Bombers need range, speed and payload above all with maneuvering an afterthought, so they save their structural reinforcement for the wing roots (to lift all that weight) and redundant systems in the fuselage to make them resilient against battle damage. As long as the wings stay attached to the fuselage, and the fuselage has at least one of all the important things (hydraulic control systems, fuel tank, and engine,) they can typically come home, even with gaping holes in the fuselage. (More than a few B-52s demonstrated this when hit by NVA air defenses over Hanoi.) Wings are non-negotiable, however. 
In the specific case of that unfortunate TU-22, size is also working against them in the engineering case. To borrow from the physicists, if you imagine a perfectly spherical bomber, as the size of the sphere increases, the volume increases exponentially, as does the surface area. The surface area requires structural reinforcement running under it, and the volume must be crossed by reinforcing members criss-crossing it. There’s also the basic law of the lever, which combined with the issues of structural strength dictate that the further a point is from the fulcrum point (the support that transfers the load to ground,) the less load it can support without exceeding the lever’s structural strength and snapping it. And bombers need volume to store all the fuel and bombs they must carry. 
Now apply this to the video we saw, and you can see what happened. The TU-22′s landing might not look very hard, but for an aircraft of that size, it really is - especially if it still has significant amounts of fuel on board, increasing the weight. When it hit the ground its downward velocity was completely halted; imposing a brief but high G-load surge. You can tell how hard the aircraft hit by how it visibly bounced off the runway on contact. G-loads are effectively multiplying the weight of an aircraft, and larger aircraft will generally have lower G-limits before structural failure, so what qualifies as poor technique that abuses your poor Cessna is considered much harder when it’s a 757 pogo-sticking down the runway.
The bad news doesn’t stop there. The speed of an aircraft hitting the runway has even more of an impact on the effective g-load (remember, kinetic energy is mass times velocity squared,) and the TU-22M has relatively high landing speeds. Take a look at the design: 
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This is a high-speed supersonic bomber, so it has small, highly-loaded wings. They are swing-wings, which helps considerably, but the lower lift-to-weight ratio (i.e. wing loading) means the aircraft has to be moving faster to generate X amount of lift, which translates to a relatively high landing speed compared to something like an airliner. 
Putting all this together, you can understand why a bounce that qualifies as “very hard landing” in a 757 is an airframe-destroying event for a high-performance supersonic bomber. This is a prime example of why military aircraft have been fabled as pilot-killers since their inception; every design choice that makes them high-performance also narrows the safety margins, especially in the most dangerous parts of flight; take-off and landing. In that Tupolev’s case, the initial structural failure was exacerbated by how quickly it happened. If the plane was slowing down on the landing roll, the plane might’ve sagged as it broke in half and ground along the runway, setting it afire and giving the pilots a chance to eject safely. But since the aircraft was bouncing airborne, the shifting center of gravity and loss of weight (as the fuselage bent, it was not transmitting its load to the rear of the plane,) make the rear pitch up, as the lift of the wing’s fixed pitch is adjusted to balance the whole plane, not just half of it. That caused the whole thing to fold up in a hurry, and it was all over from there. 
Maintenance issues might well have been responsible for this, but it was probably a failure of instruments, not a weakened airframe. The bad blizzard conditions visible in the video are likely the main reason for the accident - as you can see from the above graphic, a TU-22 has very poor cockpit visibility to begin with (a common problem on many aircraft, esp. military ones,) and the blizzard eliminated what little was left. The warning lights that indicate the glide path were definitely not visible, which means the pilot was probably relying on their instrument landing system. 
Instrument landing systems are very simple and robust tech first invented in the 1930s, requiring nothing digital to operate; you can find them standard in ye olden Cessna 172 RGs worldwide. It’s a simple “beam riding” system; using directional radio beams to guide a pilot into landing. Even modern HUD systems on advanced fighters use the same two crosshair needles on their display, just like the physical cross-hair needles on a Cessna’s instrument gauge, to tell the pilot where he’s at. They can bring an aircraft in to landing completely blind, although the pucker factor is very high, as this HUD tape from a night carrier landing shows. It’s rare for these systems to malfunction or break, but if there was an issue throwing off the readings, it’d fly that pilot into the ground too fast.
Another possibility is an age-old enemy of pilots - ice. Icing up of the pitot tube, which measures an aircraft’s airspeed via the airflow into the tube, has been the source of many, many aviation accidents, especially when the data was acted upon by an autopilot before the human pilots could react (or even resisting the human pilots; do not fly on an Airbus.) These many lethal accidents have resulted in fixes, of course, but a slight error might not be noticed. And then there’s the altimeter - the basic altimeter operates on air pressure, so it tells you height above sea level, not the ground (you have to keep track of that yourself.) Air pressure also changes with temperature and weather conditions, so you have to calibrate for that, as well. But advanced military aircraft have radar altimeters, which bounce a radar signal off the ground to get nice, accurate feedback without dicking about; if that system had an error, a malfunction, or was just impeded by weather (ice on a runway can reflect radio waves in funny ways), would result in inaccurate altitude readings, which in turn would give them a false reading on their climb/sink indicator, which tells them how fast they’re moving towards terra firma. 
Long story short: it is very easy to die in a military aircraft, and these poor bastards had to do it in an old Russian plane, maintained by Russians, landing at an airport maintained by Russians, in a blizzard. Of everyone who might deserve blame, I expect the airframe techs are third to last, pilots second, and Tupolev corporation itself dead last. 
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radramblog · 3 years
Text
Halo through its guns: Halo 2
Welcome back to Halo. Feeling well? Had enough water? Had a good week? Good.
Halo 2 is a game that was as ambitious as it was rushed, with a lot of work being thrown out to accommodate engine overhauls and restrictive Christmas deadlines. Regardless, the finished product is hailed as among the best games in the series.
Much of Halo 2’s work was done to add to the foundations built with Halo CE, both in mechanics, in equipment, and in story/world. (Last week), I discussed the baseline game design and innovations the series in general brought to the world of first-person shooters through the lens of the iconic Plasma Pistol, the backbone of the Covenant military. This week, I intend to discuss the additions its sequel made to this formula through the lens of a similar piece of alien technology.
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That’s right, we’re eschewing the Battle Rifle (kinda), this is Halo 2 through the Covenant Carbine.
It’s kinda impossible to talk about the Carbine without talking about the Battle Rifle, though. And you can’t talk about the Battle Rifle without talking about the CE Magnum. So I guess we’re stopping back there again for a moment.
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Every single gun in Halo: Combat Evolved has a deliberate purpose within the weapon sandbox. The Magnum is a part of this, being the intended sidearm used to finish off targets softened by other weaponry (typically the Assault Rifle), or in Campaign to mow through smaller targets like Grunts and, with good aim, Jackals. It was one of only two weapons (the other being the Sniper Rifle) that both had hitscan, good accuracy, and bonus headshot damage (in this case one-hitting an unshielded target 100% of the time), and considering the restrictive fire rate and ammunition of the Sniper and the fact that you often spawn with the Magnum, it became many a player’s weapon of choice.
One could argue that the Magnum was too powerful, and they might be right- one-shotting Hunters and three-shotting players (with headshots) is a little much. But I think most of the reason that the Magnum worked so well in that game was because it was quite literally the only thing that did what it did. It was excellent at medium range and functional at long or short range, it suits team-based engagements extremely well, and just has the fasted TTK of any non-“power” weapon in the game.
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However, Halo 2 sought to introduce a new mechanic, that of course being dual wielding, that would require a significant tweak to the Magnum. There’s really no beating around the bush- the returning weapons that became dual-wieldable got hit hard with the nerf bat to compensate for the added flexibility. The Magnum lost its scope and much of its damage, being almost completely useless against shields, though it now fires much faster- and the unshielded headshot kill still works, so you could now dual-wield the Noob Combo if you preferred. It was not the hardest nerf to any of the weapons (the Needler suffered that fate), but it was a pretty big one.
However, the role of the Magnum as a medium-range all-purpose get-em gun was still something that Bungie wanted filled, and in order to do that, the Battle Rifle was introduced, quickly becoming one of the franchise’s most iconic weapons. Like the CE Magnum, it has the scope, range, and all-purpose nature, but the three-round burst fire makes it much, much harder to use.
The Battle Rifle effectively introduced a new classification system into Halo’s lexicon. The Magnum, Sniper Rifle, and Battle Rifle were now “precision” weapons, as delineated by their semi-automatic/burst fire nature and unshielded headshots always being lethal. This paralleled the automatic weapons, in this case the SMG and Plasma Rifles, which were better at stripping shields and at closer range. Combining the two was not only the standard player loadout but also generally quite effective. This trend would continue for the entirety of Halo, though the effectiveness of automatics has generally crept upwards as games go on- the BR was effectively the staple for professional and casual players for it’s entire lifetime.
But we aren’t here to talk about the Battle Rifle, neat as it is. I’m here to talk about the Carbine.
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Another thing introduced in Halo 2 was an expansion of the game’s alien enemies, the Covenant. More specifically, there’s more of them, with more weapons and more species, and also you spend half the Campaign playing as them. The Arbiter’s introduction into the story is kind of a shock for newer players, as hovering your crosshair over an Elite or Grunt and seeing it turn green is extremely odd. The game does deliberately ease you into it, with the Heretic enemies having significantly different silhouettes as a result of their, like, jetpacks and shit.
And part of that easing is in giving the player a familiar, but different, loadout. Carbine and Plasma Rifle instead of Battle Rifle and SMG. The point I’m trying to get to is that Halo 2 came with an effective parallelisation of the Covenant and UNSC arsenals, with most of the game’s available weapons having an equivalent on the other site of the technological divide.
This comes at a cost of variety, as it means a lot of the guns kind of play the same. There isn’t a huge difference functionally between the SMG and the Plasma Rifle most of the time,  and the Sniper/Beam rifle debate isn’t really a thing that exists. But for much of the remainder, the weapons play and feel different enough that it’s easy to see how people might prefer one over the other.
Much like I do. I’m not going to beat around the bush, the Carbine is probably mmy favourite gun in all of gaming, definitely my favourite one in any first-person shooter. Much of that is nostalgia- Halo 3 was one of the first if not the first FPS I ever played, and since I was obviously player 2 the Carbine was in my starting inventory. It immediately struck me as very cool. It’s a weird looking thing with a long purple barrel and a rounded stock, it shoots green fucking lasers, it reloads up the top with a strange little cartridge, and it even has a visible ammo counter- but it’s like a healthbar! What’s not to love about this thing?
The Carbine and Battle Rifle make an interesting pair. Functionally, they’re basically the same, but there’s an interesting interaction between the two as player skill changes. A weak player will do better with the BR since spamming three-shot bursts is more likely to hit something than with individual ones, a medium player who can aim will do great with the Carbine since hitting most of the time is better with the shots doing more damage, and a strong player will excel with the Battle Rifle as they’re able to get a higher DPS landing every shot, sometimes finishing the shields and getting the headshot in one burst.
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The parallelisation represented by the Carbine is kind of a turning point for Halo in general, as it allowed for slight preferences in gameplay between specific weapons. This also extends to entire gamemodes- Halo 2 was the first to allow you to play as an Elite in both Campaign and Multiplayer, and through the Carbine, going between the two species wasn’t as jarring as it potentially could have been. Could you imagine if you started with the Plasma Rifle and Pistol or something? How would you kill anyone out of melee? This is a trend that would continue along later games, for better (Reach!) and worse (4!).
That’s kinda the long and short of it, I guess. Halo 2 introduced a lot, both story and gameplay wise, but much of it is laying the foundations of what would come to Halo in future. Much of it had to be thrown out in the process, but what we were left with is an extremely solid foundation for the rest of the series. Of course, Halo CE is supposed to be the foundation, but that’s kind of the thing about early Halo with Bungie- everything was building and experimenting on top of itself, iterations and expansions upon the same formula, keeping it fresh all the way through.
Next up is, of course, Halo 3, and things end up getting a bit more brutish. Maybe that should be capitalised?
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