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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years

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Love Akuma - Fun Option

Marinette was dead, that was the only explanation.

She must have died on the way to school, probably by tripping and falling into traffic.

That was the only explanation for why Adrien Agreste was kissing her.

She was very clearly dead and this had to be the afterlife. Because she was pretty certain that Adrien suddenly walking up to her and quite literally sweeping her off her feet was not something that would happen in her life. Well, not happen and and still let her survive at any rate. So this must be some sort of afterlife.

The only question was whether this was heaven or hell?

Maybe she could figure it out once her brain started working, but she was distracted by the sheer surprise of the matter and all the rather pleasant sensations it came with.

Very pleasant...and warm…with arms holding her close and hands that were gentle yet sturdy and keeping her stable when her legs felt like they were going to give out. One arm was wrapped around her waist and the other bracing her upper back as she was held back into a dip and that might explain why her feeling of gravity was off because wow her head was spinning and oh—he sucked on her lip like an expert to make her gasp and...that was tongue. Hi, tongue. Please do invite yourself in.

Should she kiss back? Or wrap her arms around his neck and draw him closer? She really wanted him closer.

Maybe this was heaven? A reward in the afterlife for all the city-saving and kind things she’s done? Or maybe this was all in her head—not that she cared as long as she didn’t have to leave.

Because this…this was kind of nice.

Or it would be if not for that screeching sound interrupting her heaven.

“GET YOUR GRUBBY HANDS OFF HIM!”

It sounded like a screaming Chloe.

“MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG! HOW DARE YOU?!”

Ah. This must be hell then.

“Of all the things you’ve done, forcing yourself on Adrien is a new low for you!” Chloe screeched. Though for as loud as she was, it was admittedly a bit hard for Marinette to actually pay attention to anything Chloe was saying in favor of the delectable feeling of Adrien’s lips on her own.

“Hey, Marinette was just standing there!” Alya exclaimed from nearby, sounding bewildered but amused. “Adrien’s the one who came and started…THAT!”

THAT was the aforementioned lip-locking and Marinette was pretty sure all of her blood was rushing to her face by this point.

“We should probably separate them before Marinette’s head explodes.”

No! Who cares if her head explodes, let her die happy!

Unfortunately, several hands interrupted her dream and she soon found herself separated from the warmth and happiness. Instead, she was pulled away, completely dazed and only barely aware of the two sets of hands holding her in place to keep her from falling over.

“Marinette! Are you okay?” Someone small and blonde asked, worriedly. Rose? Marinette wanted to reassure her, or she would have if her brain was in any working order to form the words.

“Uh...”

What even were words?

“Poor girl is shell shocked.” Alya muttered, sympathetically. The other girls nodded in understanding—sans Chloe, who was turning rather red.

“Adrien, what the hell?” Kim demanded as he and Alix both glared at the blond.

Said blond glared right back. “What? We were having a moment.”

“You don’t have a ‘moment’ by just walking up and locking lips with someone!” Alix insisted.

“But Marinette isn’t just someone!” Adrien insisted. “She’s the love of my life and of course I’m going to show her such!”

And if the kiss didn’t completely mess up her orientation to reality, that certainly would have. Because Adrien loved her! Adrien! Her! Love! Together! And then they can get married and have three children and a hamster named—

Ivan looked back and forth between the two. “But It thought Marinette was just a friend to you?”

Luckily, Marinette was still too off kilter to really take in the dose of reality.

“Of course not!”

The others looked incredulous.

“Marinette?”

Someone was poking her in the cheek.

“Muh?”

Alya sighed. “I think that’s the best we’re going to get out of her for now. But I need answers.” She spun on the only potential source of information still capable of understandable speech.

Maybe this wasn’t the afterlife? Maybe she was just dreaming?

Marinette completely zoned out, still caught up in…whatever had just happened. She was dreaming, right? But if she was dreaming, that meant reality was going to be barging in and trying to wake her up soon. Then she’d be denied further kisses and happiness and probably forget all about this!

Nooooo…

Please don’t let her wake up!

So out of it, she didn’t even notice the argument ensuing between the girls and Chloe as they tried to keep the “Princess” from assaulting her, or the boys and Adrien as they tried to keep him from continuing to ravish her. Or even everyone and Lila when she arrived on the scene and started making accusations that Marinette was probably better off not having heard.

“She obviously planned this!”

“Guh.”

Breathing is nice. She needs to do more of that.

Alix stared blankly at Lila. “I don’t think she’s in a state to have planned anything.”

“She’s taking advantage of him! He’s clearly under some sort of spell!” Lila insisted.

“Well, what with that akuma running around…”

THAT snapped her out of her fugue.

“Wait—what?”

Alya looked a bit guilty. “Yeah, there’s an akuma running around and zapping people.” She winced, seeing Marinette’s expression. “Making them…fall in love…”

“It’s not a spell!” Adrien insisted, angrily. “So would you let me get back to her?”

“No way man. Better safe than sorry.” Kim replied, keeping himself as a buffer between them even though he certainly didn’t sound any happier about it. “Wait until the akuma’s dealt with and see if you still feel the same then.”

An…akuma?

And just like that, all happy feelings were gone. Like a mirror shattered with the baseball of reality and she was left with an empty board full of broken dreams and lost potential. Because Adrien HADN’T just kissed her because he liked her. He’d done it because an akuma made him.

Which immediately put a damper on her “dream” as elation gave way to heartache.

Oh, and rage.

Hello, rage. What fun we shall have together.

“I have to go!”

“Wait—Marinette?”

“Hold on! Marinette, come back!”

_____________________________

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news. I’m reporting live from the scene of the latest akuma attack where things have taken a…rather unusual turn.”

“YOU!”

“Who the hell are you?!”

“YOU CHANGE HIM BACK! YOU CHANGE HIM BACK RIGHT NOW!”

“GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FREAK!”

“YOU WANT TO TOY WITH A GIRL’S FEELINGS?! I’LL MAKE YOU A TOY AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!”

“OH GOD WHY?!”

“HEY! YOU GET BACK HERE!”

“HAWK MOTH! TAKE IT BACK! TAKE IT BACK!!!”

“DON’T YOU RUN FROM ME! I’M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!”

“I REGRET EVERYTHING!”

#ml fic #ml drabble #love akuma #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #i regret nothing #ml humor

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saiikavon · 4 years

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Adrinette April: 3&4

(By my calculations, I should be fully caught up by day 12 if I keep doing two a day. If I enjoy combining them I might just skip a day somewhere down the line, tho. We’ll see how it goes.)

Multimouse & Adrien and Hand Touches

Marinette had hoped not to take on multiple Miraculous very often, and at least since Miracle Queen, she hadn’t had to. But in this case, it seemed best to be undercover--she didn’t want Hawk Moth to try tracing Ladybug’s movements, now that he knew she was the Guardian. Not that being out in the open as Multimouse was much better, but, well...at least Multimouse could be mostly undetectable when she was divided into parts. With any luck, she wouldn’t need to use Tikki at all.

The one problem with being so tiny was that it kind of made it harder to get places she needed to be (and part of her wondered if she was complicating things; maybe she could have just gotten transformation ingredients at the store like a normal person). Sure, she could be in multiple places at once, but she could also potentially get into more trouble.

Like, say, getting stuck in someone’s locker, for example.

As she is now. Stuck in a locker, that is.

Adrien’s locker, to be exact. Because the universe can be just so terribly cruel sometimes (also, it smells awful in here, like old socks; does the boy ever wash his fencing gear?).

She can’t exactly detransform while she’s in pieces like this, so getting Mullo’s help is out of the question. Tikki might have been able to help, but she’s off with one of the other Mini-nettes, so no use there, either. She doesn’t really have the time to figure out a plan of action anyway, because Adrien’s fencing class is already over and he’d be coming to his locker any second, now.

She may be trying to get over the boy, but hey, some things just stick in her memory.

All she can really do is try her best to hide--which she ultimately fails miserably at, and Adrien catches sight of a tiny Multimouse attempting to duck behind his bag.

He stutters for a moment. “Mari--uh, Muh--who are you?”

She waves at him, sheepishly. “Um, hi! I’m, uh, Multimouse! Nice to, uh, meet you, citizen!”

“What are you doing here? Is there an akuma?”

“Uh, no, no, no!” Marinette assures him quickly, waving her hands. “I’m just on a super-secret mission from Ladybug, no one can know! So, um, I’d appreciate it if you kept it a secret, okay?”

He smiles his sweet smile, and she almost forgets not to swoon. “Of course, Mar--uh, Multimouse, you can count on me! Uh, but...why are you in my locker?”

“Miiiinor mishap, I got locked in looking for, um, a place to hide,” she lies. Doesn’t need him to know what she’s hunting for. “So if you wouldn’t mind, could you help me out? I should get back to Ladybug soon.”

Adrien chuckles. “Sure thing.” Then he holds out his hand, and tentatively, she steps onto it. A part of her can’t help but squeal--she’s in Adrien’s hand! She’s touching his hand! If only she could lay in it and take in the sweet scent of his hand lotion...

No, no, rein it in, Marinette, don’t get excited. Getting over him, remember?

She might enjoy clinging onto his thumb a little too much, though, as he carefully brings her out and lowers her to the ground. Might even get a little nuzzle in as she steps away, then gives him a little salute.

“Thanks, Adrien--uh, citizen! Bug out!”

Then she flits off, not realizing what she’d said, nor noticing the stunned expression on Adrien’s face as she leaves.

(Does this count as hand-touching? I just wanted Adrien holding a tiny Marinette in his palm, okay! It’s cute! @adrinetteapril )

#adrinetteapril2020 #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #multimouse #writing warmup

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intothestarkerverse · 5 years

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The following does contain Endgame spoilers! It is also going to be have more than one part because I’m a long winded bitch, okay? This also took on a life of it’s own ridiculously quickly so it may deviate a teensy bit...

The Time of Our Lives (Pt 1)

Read on AO3

It began with a dream.

Peter had not been sleeping well since he returned from dust and watched his mentor die saving the universe. There were so many things left unsaid, so many regrets, and so much that he felt he had missed out on in his absence. He was surviving on a cocktail of energy drinks and melatonin that kept him awake when needed and lulled him into a deep sleep when he found his own fatigue was too great to withstand any longer.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a dream that wasn’t a pulse pounding nightmare that left him dripping with tears or sweat when he finally pulled himself out of the terrors his own sleeping mind created. This night, he found himself facing something completely different than his average night terrors and, at first, he had trouble even differentiating it from the real world.

“Mr. Stark?”

The lab felt cold, as if the a/c was cranked to its highest setting. The lighting was too dim, the shade too warm. It smelled…wrong, almost clinical. There was no smell of warm metal and oil on the air. Peter paused, searching the room for his mentor. The moment his eyes landed upon him, Peter dropped his backpack, heavy with textbooks and homework and rushed forward, eager to begin whatever task Mr. Stark had for him that day. Instead, he came to an abrupt stop, staring at the man he loved so dearly.

Tony Stark was standing completely still, staring at Peter but not moving, not so much as breathing. It was so unlike the man that it was freaking Peter out. “Uh…Mr. Stark? You okay, Sir?”

The man blinked, finally, gaze slowly moving to lock with Peter’s and the teenager shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it. There was something wrong with his eyes. They were not the deep brown that Peter remembered, instead they shone a shifting hue of gold. “Our sincerest apologies for the nature of this meeting, Peter Parker.” While the voice sounded like Tony, there was a lack of warmth to the tone and a stilted nature to the words that reminded Peter of a poorly developed computerized voice from some non-Stark AI.

Peter’s eyes widened at the strangeness of his mentor’s behavior. “M…Mr. Stark?”

“No. We have assumed a form we know to be important to you, Peter Parker, but we are not Anthony Stark.”

“Then what are you?”

“The singularities. The Gems. The Stones of Infinity.”

“Wait…what?” Peter looked around at the lab, realizing now why nothing seemed exactly right. It was a dream. It was all a dream. While Peter wasn’t an avid lucid dreamer, he did become self aware in dreams with enough frequency to relax somewhat at the truly outrageous nature of what he was experiencing. Speaking with Infinity Stones wasn’t as terrible as most of his nightmares. He’d heard that overdosing on melatonin caused vivid and often nonsensical dreams, clearly he was going to need to drop his dosage. “Thanos destroyed the Infinity Stones.”

“The mind of Anthony Stark considered you a man of science, Peter Parker, what then does the first law of your thermodynamics teach you?”

Peter chewed his lower lip momentarily, he knew exactly what his dream was referring to, but he didn’t like what it was implying. “The law of conservation of energy. It can be transformed or transferred but it cannot be created or destroyed.”

“And what are the Stones if not energy, Peter Parker?”

Letting out a long sigh, he scored a hand through his hair. “Okay…so the Stones changed into a dream vision of Tony Stark? That seems…unlikely.”

“No. We lost our physical form. Our energy is no longer contained. It is spreading throughout space and time. Soon, it will reach the Heart of the Universe. When this occurs, your world…and every world, will cease to exist.”

Peter froze, his mouth falling open. Scratch everything he’d thought before, this was worse than any of the nightmares he’d had yet. “Okay…let’s say…let’s just say I believe you, why are you talking to me? You know I’m just a kid from Queens, right? There are like…gods and aliens and geniuses and people way better qualified to keep the universe from imploding or exploding or just plain ploding than me. Why enter my dreams…what’s the point?”

“We have an intimate knowledge of three minds, three souls. Thanos. Bruce Banner. And Anthony Stark. It was Anthony Stark’s sacrifice which impressed us most. Through the Vision, the Mind Stone was able to gain access to his brain patterns, his thoughts. He was a worthy hero, and of all those with whom he interacted in his lifetime…it was you, Peter Parker, in whom he had the greatest trust, hope, and faith. That is why we seek you out and why we ask you to aid us in saving ourselves and all that lives and exists in your plane.”

Peter blinked at the thing that was wearing Mr. Stark’s face, using his voice. He was the one that Mr. Stark trusted most? Him? His mentor had a strange way of showing it. “You must be confused…”

“There is no confusion. We require your assistance, Peter Parker, and we believe based upon our knowledge of Anthony Stark that you will not refuse us…and for the task that we require completed, we believe you are the least likely to fail.”

Peter didn’t know what to do. This was by far the strangest dream he’d ever had, but try as he might, he couldn’t seem to wake himself up. “You have enough power to snap away half of the universe, me included, why can’t you just create your own bodies?” Picking apart the logical discrepancies in his dream seemed his last avenue towards wakefulness.

“We cannot wield our power on our own and you are not strong enough to wield us collectively without perishing as Anthony Stark did.”

“Okay…let’s just say…let’s say I’m going to help you. What…what do you need me to do if you don’t want me to make you bodies by snap?”

“There is a device in Anthony Stark’s memories. A ‘prototype’ that was created by his father. With modifications, it can be used to collect our energy and confine it much in the way the Stones did.”

“So you need me to get the device? I can do that. Tell me where it is…”

“It was destroyed.”

“Can I make another one?”

“No. Anthony Stark did not see the plans for this device, neither does he know how to recreate it without them. They died with Howard Stark.”

This was incredibly frustrating. “Okay…so…what do you expect me to do, then? I can’t snap. I can’t get the device. I can’t build it. What good am I to you guys?” Peter pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to combat the headache that was building behind his eyes. “You’re not making any sense.”

As if sensing the frustrations of the boy in front of them, the figure shifted. “We have been attempting to save you from distress, Peter Parker, but we are failing to connect with you through methods of the Mind. It is imperative that you assist us and we will use any means necessary to gain your allegiance. Allow us to attempt the use of Soul.”

“What?” Peter was about to try scaling the building and jumping off the roof to try to utilize the falling sensation to wake up from his dream when he saw the change in the figure’s eyes. Gold to orange. But it wasn’t just the eyes, it was something else, the way the figure was standing, the life behind the eyes.

“Kid…”

Peter froze, his hands beginning a small but noticeable trembling at his sides. “Muh…Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, Kid.”

Peter surged forward, throwing his arms around the man, forcing himself not to hold on too tightly lest he literally crush him in a super powered embrace. Hot tears formed in his eyes and he could feel them falling down his cheeks. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do, but all he could manage at the moment was to ask a simple question into the now damp fabric of Tony’s shirt. “Soul. Using Soul means using your soul?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Tony squeezed the kid back and Peter no longer had any desire to wake up ever again. “Look, Kid, we don’t have a lot of time here…You leave REM sleep and the window of communication is gone without potentially harming you with the Infinity Stones. As much as I want to make this more sentimental, we don’t have time.” Tony rested his hands on the kid’s shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze as he pushed him back to look him in the eye. “You can’t wield the Stones together, but they can allow you to use them separately and for simple, isolated tasks within reasonable intervals. With the power spreading through the universe, they don’t have enough backlash to kill or maim you…they don’t even have enough power to make this job easier for you, just enough to get the job done.”

“But what job, Mr. Stark? What…what am I supposed to do?” As much as Peter wanted to relish being close to Tony once more, he understood the urgency and forced himself to return to the task at hand. He really didn’t want to fail Mr. Stark now, not after everything they’d been through.

Mr. Stark gave him a sad smile. “You’re going to go back in time to a point before the device was destroyed. Steal it…and bring it back here where we can modify it and save the universe one more time.”

“B…back in time?”

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean it is…paradoxes and all that jazz, but I did it and nothing terrible happened. Your odds are pretty good not to muck this up. I’m just sorry they won’t be sending anyone with you.”

“I’m going alone?” Peter didn’t know when he’d gone from believing this was an elaborate dream to absolute truth. Well, no, he did. It was the second he’d actually started talking to Mr. Stark. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I do.” Tony gave him an apologetic half smile. “You’re going to a gala at Stark Industries in 1992. There’s security, but it won’t be a match for Spider-Man. You get in, you get the device, and you get out. The Stones will return you to the present and I will try to help you determine how to modify the device through your REM sleep cycle. Simple.”

“Simple.” Peter scoffed. “Whatever you say, Mr. Stark. I don’t even know what it looks like…”

“Like this.” Tony stepped back, holding out his hand before a metal object, roughly the size of a retro lunchbox, materialized in it. Peter studied it. It wasn’t much to see, really. Small and angular with moving parts, what appeared to be gold and crystalline components and a very rudimentary circuit board. They did say it was going to need to be updated. “It was going to be destroyed the following business day, so you’ll find it in the company’s incinerator.”

“Of course, I will, and I can’t go get it before it’s in a giant furnace?”

“No, security will be too tight.” The object in Tony’s hand vanished again and he reached out instead to cup the side of Peter’s face. “Pete, you can do this. I hate to ask it of you, but there is no one else I trust. You gotta do it.”

“Fine.” Peter sighed. “Fine.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than Tony’s eyes glowed again, this time taking on an emerald green color, flashing red, purple, and blue periodically before the world went black.

The first thing Peter became aware of as his dream faded was the sound of a string quartet and the low murmur of voices all around him. Blinking open his eyes, the teenager was assaulted by several things all at once.

He was no longer in his bedroom in Queens.

Instead, he was standing in the middle of an ostentatiously decorated foyer of what appeared to be Stark Industries headquarters…on the west coast…and not in 2023. Hair, makeup, and fashion was all reminiscent of very old 90’s movies and in a very unfortunate way. Struck by abject terror, he looked down at himself to make sure he was not wearing the over-sized Iron Man t-shirt and boxers he’d collapsed in the night before. Instead, he was both relieved and shocked to find that he was now dressed in a tuxedo complete with bow tie and shiny black dress shoes. He smoothed one hand over the jacket and wondered idly what the rest of him looked like. If only there was a mirror nearby so he could see. His gaze swept the room, finally noticing the mirror behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the gala. Peter was going to head in that direction just to satisfy his own curiosity, when he drew up short in the middle of the room looking far too conspicuous and neither noticing nor caring.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

All he could do was stare.

—

Tony Stark had a reputation as the kind of young man who enjoyed a good party, probably a little bit too much…but unfortunately for him, this was not a good party. He swore he could practically taste the Ben-Gay, Old Spice, and cigar smoke in the air, the aroma was so strong. Everywhere he looked there were old men and their gold-digging wives. Every conversation was about business, stocks, politics…it was mind numbingly boring. There wasn’t a worthwhile scientist in the bunch, so there was no hope for intelligent conversation at all…and the only people at the party that he found even mildly attractive were the caterers. Tony had parked himself at the bar, drowning sorrows in expensive Scotch and doing his best to avoid the sycophants who hovered around the youngest Fortune 500 CEO in history, anxious to curtail some kind of favor. Maybe he should have let Obie run the company a little longer? Or, at the very least, be his ‘face’ at events like this one. Clearly, one of the first things Tony needed to do now that he was in charge was hire some younger, more attractive people into the upper echelon of the business.

He was in the process of flirting with the bartender, the guy wasn’t half bad. He was no male model, but Tony could at least pass the time with the guy… Then, something far more interesting caught his eye.

It wasn’t that the kid looked out of place. Well, no, he did. He totally and completely did. He was by far the youngest person in the room and Tony could have sworn he hadn’t seen him an hour ago, nor had he ever seen him before. He’d remember this one.

Tony drained his Scotch and tapped absently on the side of the empty glass as he leaned against the bar and observed.

The kid was standing with his eyes closed. That alone seemed a little strange. His reaction when he opened his eyes was just as peculiar. He looked…startled? Not just by where he was, but by his own tuxedo. Tony found himself laughing softly at the way the kid examined his clothes as if he hadn’t put them on himself just a few hours ago. Then, his gaze was sweeping the room and he was heading in Tony’s direction.

Maybe Tony’s luck was about to change?

They locked eyes across the room and Tony had trouble reading the expression in those captivating doe eyes. He looked…frightened, surprised, perhaps even overjoyed. He could work with all three of those emotions, actually. They’d make for a delightful cocktail later.

The bartender had returned with Scotch to refill his glass but Tony waved him away without taking his eyes off the kid who was now frozen like a young buck on the highway. “Two flutes of champagne.” He held out his hands for the objects, determined not to break eye contact lest the kid get away. He really didn’t want to let this one get away.

When the crystal flutes were pressed into his waiting hands, Tony started across the room. He broke eye contact but didn’t look away from the kid. Instead, his gaze raked over the boy. Slimly muscular. He looked…elegant in his tuxedo. Lovelier than any of the women in their evening gowns. His hair was styled with just enough gel to tame what Tony hoped were usually unruly chestnut tresses that would look deliciously attractive after he’d run his fingers through them, mussed them up, and given them a good tug.

Tony was only a few feet away from the boy when the kid seemed to snap out of his trance and looked as if he was going to make a break for it. The young CEO of Stark Industries rushed forward the last few steps, holding out one of the flutes of champagne with a lascivious grin. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart. I didn’t come all the way over here to watch you walk away…although, I’m sure that’s a sight I’d enjoy.” The boy’s eyes had grown ridiculously wide at the statement. Somehow, he managed to both pale and blush at the same time. Tony found that absolutely irresistible. “Go on. Take it. Something tells me your nerves could use a little alcohol.”

“I’m not old enough to drink.”

Tony laughed, “I won’t tell if you don’t, baby.”

The boy’s adam’s apple bobbed noticeably with a gulp as he took the flute of champagne and stared at it as if he was uncertain about what do with it.

“Go on. Put it against your lips, sweetheart. Open your mouth. Swallow. I promise, you’ll like it.”

Damn. The kid almost dropped the glass. It was only Tony’s quick response and the hand that had lingered within the boy’s personal space that kept the glass and it’s contents from hitting the floor. His cheeks were absolutely on fire now and Tony was loving every minute of it. “You want me to keep calling you by pet names, beautiful, or are you going to tell me your actual name?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” Tony pressed the glass back into his hands and guided them up to press the lip of the glass against his mouth. Peter took a small sip, his nose crinkling at the bubbles and probably the taste of the champagne.

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Seventeen…” His answer was lost in the glass as he drained the contents on his second drink.

Tony glanced at his own glass and held it out to the kid. “Go on, baby, I’m nothing if not a generous lover.”

Peter coughed but took the glass and swallowed it’s contents in another quick gulp. Now holding two empty champagne flutes, he looked around nervously for something to do with them, and Tony graciously took both only to deposit them on a caterer’s tray.

“Who am I going to have to promote for bringing you here tonight, Peter? I thought this was going to be a complete waste of my time…but here you are like a princess from a fairy tale ready to bring a little magic to my night. I want to make sure your fairy godmother is adequately rewarded.”

“Does…does that make you Prince Charming in this scenario?”

“That is what I was going for, yeah. And don’t think you can avoid answering my question by distracting me with my analogy, dear. Who brought you?”

“No one. I mean…well…” Peter was stuttering and Tony was enjoying the hell out of it. Really, the kid couldn’t be any more adorable. He was ready to lead him to the executive elevator and blow off more than just this party. “No one you know? I…kind of…I’m crashing, I guess. I wasn’t really invited. Someone I know…kind of snuck me in.”

“Well, I consider myself a very lucky man then, Peter. Since you’re not here with anyone, it means I can steal you away without anyone noticing you’re gone.”

Peter was staring at Tony’s lips as he wet them with his tongue in a less than innocently suggestive way. He’d bridged the distance between them and slipped an arm around the boy’s waist with practiced ease, steering him towards the elevator bay. Peter allowed himself to be directed for several steps before he gave a little start and tried to pull away.

“I can’t. I have…something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do at a party you weren’t invited to?”

“Yeah? I mean, I didn’t just crash for shits and giggles, Mr. Stark.”

Tony stepped backward, clutching as his chest with both hands. “Did you just ‘Mr. Stark’ me? C’mon, beautiful, what the hell did I do to deserve that? Do I look like a Mr. Stark to you? Really? So many things I want you to call me tonight…that is not one of ‘em. Now, stop playing hard to get and let me show you a good time…I promise you won’t regret it.”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Again with that hideous moniker. Tony might have thought it was an innocent blunder, but there was a new fire in the kid’s eyes that had him a little surprised. “I have things I have to do…and you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

Tony’s brows rose in surprise. The kid had spunk. God damn, that only made him want him more. “Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m pretty damn charming…”

“Not surprising.”

Tony cocked his head at the kid. “I’m digging your idea of foreplay, sweetheart, keep it coming.”

“What?!” Peter’s voice rose in octave and volume and several nearby people turned to look at them. Tony didn’t care, but Peter seemed to because he dropped his voice and stepped a little closer to Tony. “It’s not…it’s not foreplay, Mr. Stark. Geez…I have important things to do, okay? Way more important things than flirting or making out or…whatever you have in mind. I have to go and you have to leave me alone. You really, really have to leave me alone.”

Tony held up his hands in mock surrender. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, I’ll let you go.”

“I don’t want you.”

“You’re looking me in the nose, Peter.”

“UGH! Why do have to come on so strong?! It’s so exhausting. Give it a rest. Gosh. Too much. It’s all too much. You’re too much. You’re not at a freaking night club. You know, I never understood how you got your bad reputation…but I kinda have to say that I’m seeing how the whole playboy thing came about and I gotta say…it’s accurate. I…I like the other you better.”

“Other me?” Now Tony was intrigued. “What ‘other me?’”

“Scientist, for one.”

Peter wanted the scientist over the playboy? Tony frowned. Damn. If Peter thought that was going to turn Tony off, he was dead wrong. The pretty package, the hard to get, the apparent love of science…Tony had no intention of letting this one get away. Peter was only succeeding in turning mild interest into full on infatuation. “Whatever you have to do can wait until after I’ve had my way with you in the elevator. The party’s not going anywhere.”

“The party’s not, but I am.” Peter’s tone was full of his exasperation at Tony and the situation. Turning around, he practically shoved his way through men that could have bought and sold entire American towns on a whim.

Tony was left chuckling to himself. Oh, his night had gone from boring to one of the best he’d had in ages…and he had no intentions of letting Peter Parker get away from him that easily.

This was going to be fun.

He loved a good chase.

@geekymarvel

#starker

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guu · 4 years

Text

dear future spiral,

a letter for my own reference once i’m not with charles anymore

hey dude! it’s me, you! with an important list of reminders from the past that you cannot forget, okay? so if you’re feeling scared, lonely, questioning your decision to leave, please read this over.

if you’re finding yourself wishing you had charles around, be it for emotional or practical support, i’m here to tell you right here and now on this sunny day of april 27th, 2020, that you need to take off those rose tinted glasses.

we both knew that leaving would mean you’d eventually start to glorify charles at least a bit since this is a HUGE step. (and forward, mind you!)

you’ve entered more than a new chapter in your life; you’re in a completely different story arc, and i’m so fucking proud of you. i’m scared rn about making the change, but look at you; you DID it!! absolute mad lad.

and lemme tell ya, this morning was the one rare time you asked charles if he would take the morning hours and let you sleep in a tad bit. he did respond the night before sweetly, saying ‘of course love’. now lemme remind ya that this morning he responded to ur prodding and calling out to with a resounding fucking nothing. he opened his eyes as u sighed and got up, no doubt stayed up too late playing with jaron. fucking. videos gaem.

anywho!! i AM rambling! let’s get to this sweet list of reminders you need:

first off, you don’t miss having charles’ help. you miss the idea that he may have potentially helped you, but i can say that he barely fucking did, alright? it was drops in the barrel, no, no even that. more accurate to say that every once in awhile when you were completely overwhelmed he would bring a bucket over to the barrel and toss the water out over it, and it’d splash EVERYWHERE, and well, yeah SOME of that water would land in the barrel.

his help quite often left cleanup work, came too late, and made u wish u just did it urself, and you learned to just do it urself. because we knew better.

he’d bitch and moan and groan when we asked him to do things after getting upset when he’d sit on his ass for hours, we’d bring it up again and he’d say ‘oh i forgot’ or ‘yeah yeah i already said i’d do it’ remember that? haha

“oh his cooking was so good...” bitch.... so is urs. u absorbed all his best recipes, u know how to read a recipe now. ur fine.

‘but muh anxiety... he was rly dependable to get things done for me’

no, no sweetheart please... he wasn’t. you really wanted him to be a wall you could lean on, but he wasn’t. any good he did for you did not outweight the bad.

don’t fondly remember that day you came home from work and collapsed on the floor from exhaustion and he came over, took off your shoes, and helped you into bed.

remember those heated “arguments”

notice the p..it’s early the air quotes w/e.

they were always so fucking one sided bc of how stubborn he was that he broke you every time. drove u insane and deeper and deeper into depression.

yes, it was 11 years of ur life u spent together. 11 years in hell bc we didn’t get out sooner. we shared a lot together, we shared our lives, we knew everything abt each other.

he knew how badly u needed to be who you are, a man, and forced you away from it.

i doubt i need to remind u of the real early stuff like how he slowly isolated u from all ur friends when u were pregnant with xander at the ripe young age of fucking seventeen. the 20 yr old creep. yes honey, the gap mattered okay? it was still messed up even if it felt like we were close enough in age u couldnt blame him.

he graduated highschool (and remember he was held back a year) and the next year that fucking sad sack creep picked u up after school, this lil 16 year old, and he shoved you in an evening dress, smeared lipstick on u, and made you a mother before u were ready.

you pulled it off, we love our kids!! yeah!! but don’t let that make u forget that this was poison from the beginning. and it didn’t get better. he just changed in which ways he was awful.

let’s bust out a classic. look at this photograph

aww so sweet! that was a lovely day :)

it was Not. a lovely day. you two traveled behind brooke around the park for the photoshoot while he chewed you out. the whole fucking time. in between photos. he was bitter and pissy. he was a slimy 20 year old scolding you for not being mature enough. i canNOT stress that enough!

now then,

remember all the late bills? all the times geoff came over talking abt back rent bc charles was lazy on payments and never shared the financial shit with u cause he didn’t kno how to do it without stressing u out like mad? remember all the stupid shit he burned money on? it was way more than the 1k gacha, that’s just. that’s just the stupidest.

remember how messy he’d let the house get. bc he wouldn’t be proactive and help u clean. it had to be a giant sweep like, once a month, and he would act so exhausted awaiting ur praise. he’s a fucking SLOB...

boy, idk what else to put here but i think i’ve done a good job for ya. thinkin abt all this stuff while i still have to deal with it is a god damn headache.

i can’t wait to be you.

i’m really fucking proud of you. thank you. thank you. thank you.

thank you.

with endless love,

past spiral

#remember

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imdoingthismspaintadventure · 5 years

Text

WORM 1.5 : In which we are saved by the bestest of good boys

You don’t properly appreciate what superhuman strength means until you see someone leap from the sidewalk to the second floor of a building on the far side of the street. He didn’t make it all the way to the roof, but he came to a point maybe three quarters of the way up. I wasn’t sure just how Lung kept from falling, but I could only guess that he just buried his fingertips into the building’s exterior.

Holy shit.

He just mega jumped to the building where Taylor is and is hanging on the outside wall by his claws!

You better come up with a way to escape or to do something, cause you seem preeetyy dead right now.

I heard scraping and crunching as he ascended, and looked to my only escape route. I didn’t harbor any delusions as far as my ability to get down the fire escape before Lung came over the top of the roof and deduced where I’d run off to. Worse, at that point he could probably just beat me to the street level by jumping off the roof, or even just shoot fire at me through the gaps in the metal while I was halfway down. The irony of the fire escape being anything but didn’t escape me.

Yeah that’s kind of a disadvantage of being in high-up places if you can’t fly or teleport or something. Pretty easy to get trapped.

I wished I could fly. My school offered the choice between Chemistry, Biology and Physics, with Basic Science for the underachievers. I hadn’t picked Physics, but I was still pretty sure that no matter how many I could gather together, jumping off the roof with a swarm of flying insects gripping me would be just as ineffective as the 9 year old superhero wannabes you heard about in the news, jumping off ledges with umbrellas and bedsheets.

I really don’t think they can carry your bodyweight, or even slow down your descent. You would splat on the floor like a, well, bug.

Also holy shit that is kinda dark and probably a likely consecuence of powers in our world. Poor kids.

For the time being, I was stuck where I was.

Home BuildingStuck

Reaching inside the convex armor that covered my spine, I ran my fingers over the things I had buckled in there. The EpiPens were meant to treat anaphylactic shock from allergic reactions to bee stings and the like, and likely wouldn’t do a thing to Lung, even if I could get close enough and find a point to inject. Worst case scenario, the injections would supercharge his power by prompting a surge of whatever hormones or endorphins fueled his power. Not useful, dangerous at best. I had a pouch of chalk dust that was meant for climbers and gymnasts, I had seen it in the sports store when I was buying the lenses for my mask. I had gloves and didn’t think I needed the dryness and extra traction, but I had gotten the idea that it could be useful to throw at an invisible enemy, and bought it on a whim. In retrospect, it had been kind of a dumb purchase, since my power let me find foes like that with my bugs. As a tool against Lung… I wasn’t sure if it would explode like regular dust could when exposed to flame, but fire didn’t hurt him anyways. Scratch that option.

...Fuck yes

I love characters that think about what they could do best in every situation with the resources they have. If Taylor is like this for the rest of the serial....God I’m gonna enjoy this.

The problem is that I don’t think she has many options at all

I tugged the little canister of pepper spray free from my armor. It was a black tube, three inches long, not much thicker around than a pen, with a trigger and a safety switch. It had been a gift from my dad, after I had started to go on my morning jogs for training. He had warned me to vary my route, and had given me the pepper spray for protection, along with a chain to clip it to my belt loop so it couldn’t be taken and used against me by an attacker. In costume, I had opted not to keep the chain for the sake of moving quietly. Using my thumb, I flicked the safety off and positioned the tube so I was ready to fire. I crouched to make myself a smaller target, and waited for him to show himself.

Hmmm could pepper spray work? Maybe if he doesn’t have his eyes or face fully armored...

Also I find the mental image of this possibly hilarious.

Lung’s hands, still on fire, were the first thing to show up, gripping the edge of the roof hard enough to bend the material that covered the roof’s raised lip. His hands were quickly followed by his head and torso as he hauled himself up. He looked like he was made of overlapping knives or spades, smouldering yellow-orange with the low temperature flame. There was no skin to be seen, and he was easily seven or eight feet tall, judging by the length of his arms and torso. His shoulders alone were three feet across at the very least. Even the one eye that he had open looked metallic, a glowing, almond shaped pool of liquid-hot metal.

He probably looks more like a daemon than a dragon now. At least he doesn’t seem to have wings...

Just a veritable inferno of molted metal and flame and a looot of anger

I aimed for the open eye, but the spray fired off at a sharp angle, just glancing off his shoulder. Where the spray grazed him, it ignited into a short lived fireball.

Taylor used improvised flamethrower against the fire demon! Doesn’t seem very effective...

Hopefully the spray doesn’t ignite before touching his face because I think a pyrokinetic can handle himself otherwise...

I swore under my breath and fumbled with the device. While he brought his leg over the edge, I adjusted my angle and shot again. This time – with a small tweak of my aim mid-shot – I hit him in the face. The ignited spray rolled off of him, but the contents still did the trick. He screamed, letting go of the roof with one hand, clutching the side of his face where his good eye was.

AAGH MY EYE! WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE GODDAMN EYE??!

Taylor could be an excellent markswoman, she seems to have a lot of precission and nuance in aiming.

It had been vain to hope that he would slip and fall. I just counted myself lucky that however metallic his face looked, there were still parts of it vulnerable to the spray.

At least for now...

Lung hauled himself over the edge of the roof. I had him hurting… I just couldn’t do anything about it. My bugs were officially useless, there was nothing left in my utility sheath, and I would hurt myself more than I hurt Lung if I attacked him. Making a mental note to pick myself up a concealable knife or baton if I managed to live through this, I bolted for the fire escape.

Time to use the Joestar’s secret technique then!

Also yeah some hand to hand weaponry could be useful for the future. Probably not with this warp-demon, but with regular joes, so that we can be less squishy wizard in our approach

“Muh… Motherfucker!” Lung screamed. With my back turned, there was no way to see it, but the roof was briefly illuminated before the wave of flame hit me from behind. Knocked off balance, I skidded on the gravel and hit the raised lip of the roof, just by the fire escape. Frantically, I patted myself down. My costume wasn’t on fire, but my hair – I hurriedly ran my hands over it to make sure it hadn’t been ignited.

Oh fuck!

Yeah the fact that the costume is not yet fully complete came back to bite you it seems. Let’s hope we don’t end up with too severe burns in our first night out, christ.

Small mercies, I thought, that there was no tar used on the roof. I could just imagine the flames igniting the rooftop, and just how little I’d be able to do if it happened.

That... would have been unfortunate. 100% fucked instead of the .... 87% we are at right now.

Lung stood, slowly, still covering part of his face with his hand. He walked with a slight limp as he approached me. Blindly, he lashed out with a broad wave of flame that rolled over half the roof. I covered my head with my hands and brought my knees to my chest as the hot air and flame rushed over me. My costume seemed to take the brunt of it, but it was still hot enough I had to bite my lip to stop from making a sound.

The costume seems to be fire resistant! Mostly.

Spider silk is fucking badass.

Lung stopped advancing, slowly turning his head from one side to another.

“Cock. Sucker,” he growled in his heavily accented voice, his cussing interrupted by his panting for breath, “Move. Give me something to aim for.”

Actual perfect recreation of trying to hunt a fly at 4 am in the morning when you can’t sleep, and aren’t a white hot metal terror.

I held my breath and stayed as still as possible. What could I do? I still had the pepper spray in my hand, but even if I got him again, I was running the risk that he would lash out and bake me alive before I could move. If I moved first, he would hear me and I would get knocked around by another blast of flame, probably before I could get to my feet.

Eeeh your options are...

1) Spray him in the face, get blasted

2) Stay quiet.... probably get blasted as well.

3)Try to get away, and get... I’m starting to see a pattern here

Lung moved his hand from his face. He blinked a few times, then looked around, then blinked a few more times. It was a matter of seconds before he could see well enough to make me out from the shadows. Wasn’t pepper spray supposed to put someone down for thirty minutes? How was this monster not an A-Lister?

Well ain’t that a fucking horrible thing to think about.

Either:

1) He’s way stronger than he should be and he’s basically content with being small-time thug, even with the potential he has in the larger world stage

or...

2) He’s a big fish in a small pond and the people out there make him look silly by comparison which is.... holy shit.

He suddenly moved, flames wreathing his hands, and I screwed my eyes shut.

At least he’s not saying feel the heat over and over

And also how the fuck will you get out of this one

When I heard the crackling whoosh of the flame and wasn’t burned alive, I opened my eyes again. Lung was firing streams of flame, aiming for the edge of the roof of the adjacent building, a three story apartment. I looked to see what he was aiming at, but couldn’t make anything out in the gloom or in the brief second of light Lung’s flames afforded.

!!!!!

Reinforcements!! Someone has come to help!! Or at least to fight AGAINST Lung!!

Yes!

With no warning, a massive shape landed atop Lung with an impact I could swear people heard at the other end of the street. The size of a van, the ‘massive object’ was animal rather than vehicle, resembling a cross between a lizard and a tiger, with tangles of muscle and bone where it ought to have skin, scales or fur. Lung was now on his knees, holding one of the beast’s sizable claws away from his face with his own clawed hand.

OH FUCK

A GIANT FUCKING METAL-LOOKING BONEY FERAL BEAST JUST FELL FROM NOWHERE AND IS FIGHTING AGAINST THE INFERNAL DRAGON MAN

Lung used his free hand to strike the creature across the snout. Even though he was smaller than the beast, the impact made it rear back. It took a few short steps back in reaction, and then rhino-charged him off the edge of the roof. They hit the street with an audible crash.

AND THE TWO BERSERKERS ARE HURLING THEMSELVES OFF OF THE BUILDING TO THE STREET BELOW

This is glorious.

I stood, aware I was shaking like a leaf. I was so unsteady on my feet, from the mixed relief and fear, that I almost fell over again as two more impacts shook the roof. Two more creatures, similar to the first in texture, but slightly different in size and shape, had arrived on the rooftop. These two each had a pair of riders. I watched as the people slid off the backs of the animals. There were two girls, a guy, and a fourth I identified as male only because of the height. The tall one approached me, while the others hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out.

THEY WERE JUST THE RIDES FOR THESE PEOPLE

What a fucking entrance

“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” he told me. His voice was deep, masculine, but muffled by the helmet he wore. He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet. The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet. The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was. It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn’t half bad if you didn’t look too close. He reached out a hand towards me, and I leaned away, wary.

Damn he looks cool. He’s giving me ghost rider vibes in his outfit, but without the flaming skull part. Just badass biker energy

I didn’t know what to say, so I stuck to my policy of not saying anything that could get me into a worse situation.

At least you are not on fire, even though mr black leather and his zombie behemoths aren’t really giving me heroic vibes

Withdrawing his hand, the man in black jerked his thumb over one shoulder, “When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked. We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day. We eventually decided, fuck it, we’d meet him halfway. Wing it. Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah.”

Oh! ooooohhhh.

So the “Killing kids” part wasn’t actually murdering random civilians for the evulz

It was probably a territorial dispute! Cause these are totally villains or anti-heroes/vigilantes. Either/or

Behind him, one of the girls whistled sharply and pointed down at the street. The two monsters the group had been riding on bounded across the roof and leaped down to the street to join the fight.

Seems like that one is the trainer.

The guy in black kept talking, “Wouldn’t you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found,” he laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.

He doesn’t seem to consider us a threat at least so that’s a relief

So they fought his underling while our girl here, on her lonesome, straight up picked a fight with bossman.

“Lee’s no slouch in a fight, but there’s a reason he’s not leader of the ABB. He got spooked without his boss there and ran. I guess you’re responsible for that?” Skull-mask waited for a response from me. When I didn’t offer one, he ventured towards the edge of the roof and looked down, then spoke without turning to look at me, “Lung is getting creamed. The fuck you do to him?”

Oh shit the venoms or the eye-injuries are making a difference in helping the hell-mount win!

“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the girls said, answering the question for me. She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – I couldn’t tell in the dark – and her dark blond hair was long and windblown. The girl grinned as she added, “He’s not holding up too well. Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”

She can know all that with just a look??

Information-based powers!! Intuition? Clairvoyance? Omniscience? Those always seem crazy OP to me in terms of offering support!

The man in black suddenly turned to look at me, “Introductions. That’s Tattletale. I’m Grue. The girl with the dogs-” he pointed to the other girl, the one who had whistled and directed the monsters. She wasn’t in costume unless I counted a plaid skirt, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume. “-We call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead. Last and certainly least, we have Regent.”

Grue? Huh, I can’t really guess what he could do based on that. Isn’t it like an urban legend or fairytale monster?

Tattletale...so her power IS information based! I also like the simpleness of her costume which I hadn’t mentioned

Bitch (Hellhound think of the children! ) looks really butch and badass from what I can hear. She seems to be the one with the beast power, cue the “Bitch” in her name

Regent...hmmm, something nobility-related?

I finally caught up with what he was saying. Those monsters were dogs?

Abyssal doggos!!

“Fuck you, Grue,” Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t really that offended. He was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar. He’d placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots. The outfit was very renaissance faire. He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

He looks really theatrical. I really like his aesthetics. I still wonder what his power is.

Introductions done, Grue looked at me for several long moments. After a few seconds, he asked me, “Hey, you okay? You hurt?”

“The reason she’s not introducing herself isn’t because she’s hurt,” Tattletale told him, as she continued to lean over the edge of the roof and watch whatever was going on at the street level, “It’s because she’s shy.”

Damn omniscients and their lack of privacy!!

Her power is actually scary though. No secrets with her around..

Tattletale turned around and it looked like she was going to say something else, but she stopped, turning her head. The smile she’d been wearing faded, “Heads up. We’ve gotta scram.”

Bitch nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones. After a brief pause, the building was suddenly rattled by impacts. In just moments, the three creatures of hers leaped from the alleys to either side of the building and onto the roof.

Grue turned towards me. I was still standing on the opposite end of the roof, by the fire escape. “Hey, want a ride?”

What?? Oh god is someone else coming as well?? What now?

I looked at the creatures – dogs? They were bloodied, snarling creatures out of a nightmare. I shook my head. He shrugged.

The dogs look like something you would see on doom and it is amazing

“Hey,” Tattletale said to me, seating herself just behind Bitch, “What’s your name?”

I stared at her. My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”

“Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice. Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they’re not going to let one walk away. You should get out of here,” She said. She flashed me a smile. She had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners. Behind her simple black domino style mask, her eyes were glittering with mischief. If she had red hair, she would have made me think of a fox. She kind of did, anyways.

It’s true she doesn’t have a name yet! I guess bug would suffice for now.

And yuup they were bad guys, I knew it. Seems they have mistaken Taylor for one!

Well when you take into account the possibly too-grimdark edgy-lite costume and what she fucking did to Lung with her bugs in his eyes.... yeah I could see how they can draw that conclusion

With that, they leaped over my head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on the fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

When I realized what had just happened, I could have cried. It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers. It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys. Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

Happy first day out as a hero, Taylor! Well done!

And it still might not be over yet, let’s see what happens with this hero arrival. Let’s hope they don’t reach the same conclusions this time.

But we will see that next time! See you in the next update!

#worm parahumans #worm #worm liveblog #parahumans #wildbow #parahumans liveblog #worm 1.5 #arc 1

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denbroughbill · 5 years

Text

chapter 1 of “sky so blue”

word count 2.3k

author’s note based on the hc i wrote that recieved positive feedback! the medieval times written are not completely accurate just to be a little humorous and have fun with this story :) the lowercase letters are intended. also please let me know if the paragraph spacing is awkward! i’m working from tumblr mobile

there was a crooked, tiny, wooden cottage on the outskirts of the town of derry. the ivies outside had overgrown, wrapped around themselves and found comfort in the cracks of the house’s walls, making it an unruly sight to by-passers, but the owners enjoyed it that way. inside, there were shelves upon shelves lining the walls. they had books that were not in order and glass bottles of different shapes and sizes, filled with adder’s tongue, baby’s breath, and dragon’s blood.

this is where beverly lived.

beverly was a young woman, fair skin and face splattered with freckles, who was shunned when she cut her own hair with the blade of a sharp sword, offering her auburn locks wrapped in a tight braid to the norse goddess, frigg, ruler of marriage and love.

and it worked.

beverly’s partner ben was a blacksmith, who worked closely with the kingdom — their go-to man when armor and weapons required repair, which spared beverly from being burned at the stake for her witchcraft. he worked outside in their shed behind the cottage which held his swage block and hammers and bellows and drifts.

in the afternoons, there was a man in a hooded cloak. he would bring gifts of fresh bread and candles for ben and beverly, and ben would allow him inside.

his name was prince edward.

prince edward walked from his castle to visit beverly and ben, walked for hours starting at night until he could begin to see the sun rise on the horizon. at one point before, his feet would ache with every step he took, but he was used to this now. he had no fear in his mind or heart when he would look towards the village and see the dim lights from the houses, and he would set off on his trek to the village.

sometimes he would look back, though. he would look back at this fantastic castle, towering over the meek rest of the village. his grey eyes narrowed in anger, he looked back in disgust.

he did not have to duck under the ivy leaves that reached out to touch him or the herb plants in hanging pots. he was a smaller man, and looking up at the dangling plants was similar to looking at the chandeliers that adorned the castle.

candles were lit for edward’s arrival, and beverly smiled her all-knowing smile, beckoning him closer.

“so we meet again, edward.”

edward rolled his eyes in good humor, sitting on the wooden stool across from beverly, her work space separating the two.

“bev, please, i told you to call me eddie.”

eddie liked beverly because they shared the same belief system that the natural riches of the earth and their loved ones were worth more than anything. prince eddie was never one to decorate himself in silver or jewels; to him, every rock was precious, every ray of light golden.

she removed the clear crystal from the top of her deck of cards and began to shuffle. she had eddie shuffle the cards, too, filling them with his energy, thinking about the longing question he wanted beverly to reveal the answer to.

being a prince kept him hopelessly cut off from the rest of the beautiful world, and romance was something he constantly found himself craving. he never let those thoughts disturb him, for he knew that it wouldn't happen anytime soon. sometimes eddie wished that his prince charming would come rescue him from his dismal world of passivity. he would take him traveling all around the world, and he would assist him as he made his kingdom a better place. after one month, he would take his hand in his, kneel on one leg, pull out a wonderful diamond ring, and ask for his hand in marriage.

“this is the queen of swords — reversed,” beverly laid down a card on the table in front of eddie. pictured was the queen of swords, sitting on a stone throne, holding a sword in her right hand. this card was upside down.

“there is a treacherous enemy. a resentful, cold-hearted person blocking your relationships and clouding your vision.”

eddie shook his head, laughing, “that’s just my mom, bev.” she has also been shown as the queen of pentacles and the devil.

beverly pulled other cards. the queen of swords ruled over eddie’s chance of ever reaching the sun, the seven of swords, and the lovers.

he sighed.

“maybe you could try a different question? want a hex spell?” beverly asked with a friendly smile.

eddie thought to himself. there could be glass shards, dead scorpions, vinegar, or garlic in the jar. if he said yes, beverly would probably instruct him to cook his mom’s hair while she slept. or worse, an eyeball.

he politely declined. “hm, maybe some other time, beverly.”

“hey, stick around for a while,” ben placed his heavy hand on eddie’s shoulder. his warm smile brightened his coal-blackened face.

eddie thanked them both but decided it was time to leave.

treading through the grass once more, eddie thought the fortress of kaspbrak itself was a fine castle, built with a panorama of the surrounding land. from the towers once stood medieval watchers, quiver and arrow ready to fly, and moss clung to the ancient walls in the shade, which reminded him of beverly’s cottage.

he made it back before suppertime. the halls were bustling with activity, but the click of the heels of his leather boots on the tile floor stopped them in their tracks. there was complete silence except for the sound of eddie walking through the halls and his personal butler walking towards him.

“good evening, william.”

“you muh-must change for supper.”

the suits of armor and framed oil portraits of elders towered over the both of them.

he liked william a lot. his mother had lined the potential workers in front of him one day and allowed him to chose his person butler himself. the rest were picked off to work the courtyard grounds and cook meals.

eddie picked william because he was close to his age. he liked his red hair and blue eyes, and sometimes william visited eddie in his daydreams of marriage. eddie also thought he would look better in the gold lacework and rich embroidery clothes eddie had to wear. william liked how eddie allowed him to spend time in the courtyard when he was not tending to the prince; he thought he was kinder than the queen, and they became good friends.

but neither would allow eddie’s mother to hear the boys call each other out of their formal names or whisper and laugh together, nor would they let her majesty see william pick loose leaves and twigs out of eddie’s blonde hair.

there was no need to question the prince; he was obviously visiting beverly again. there was a long, painstakingly unnecessary spiral staircase that led to where eddie slept.

william ushered him ahead, opening the heavy wooden door to his chambers. he would be back to fetch eddie when he was dressed properly.

prince eddie stood in front of the open window, head perched in his hands as he watched the bright, clear lake shimmer in what was left of the sun. he wondered frequently why he had to dress for the occasion of sitting across the incredibly long table, where food was in such abundance that it looked more like decoration, for just him and his mother to eat. it made him angry, the thought of food going to waste as the queen at the opposite head of the table rubbed her full, plump stomach.

a voice called out from below him and pulled eddie out of his thoughts. “could you help me out?”

“oh, yes. my apologies,” eddie said. reaching outside the window, he grasped the clothed covered hand of a man.

he screamed and jumped backwards, reality setting in now. there was a stranger climbing the cobblestone walls of the castles, how had he not noticed? was this thief foolish enough to climb through the prince’s chambers to steal from the bottlery? was this planned — had he chosen this window, knowing it was the prince’s, to hold him hostage? he hoped william had heard him.

eddie stood with his back against his wardrobe, fist tightening around the door knob. he fought between the thoughts of fighting to the death or flinging the door open and hunkering down small, hiding himself between long silk robes and hidden jewels. he understood now why the thief had chose his chambers.

the man acted quickly. with the boost eddie had given him, he was able to grab hold of the edge of the windowsill and climb through the window.

and before prince eddie could grab the glass candelabra from his bedside table and wield it as a defense weapon, there was a man standing in his room.

eddie did not care how well-dressed this man was — there was an intruder in the castle. and he didn’t care how tall, dark, or handsome he was, either.

he could not cut, thrust, or slash with the candelabra, but he was willing to try. his knuckles were turning white from his tight grip. eddie didn’t have to pretend to be brave; he could call for a servant or guard immediately, but then the mysterious man could attack. he noticed the actual sword in the man’s bronze scabbard, and his eyes widened.

the man firmly placed his hand on eddie’s mouth before he could call out and wrapped an arm around his waist. eddie clawed at the gloved hand for his life as fear and dread swirled in his stomach. he’s watched his mother force two townsfolk to fight to the death for entertainment rather than call for the jester. the sight was evil, twisted, and bloody, and eddie did not want stains like those on the finest silk of the land. he tried his best to fight back and squirm, but his grasp was too tight.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” eddie stopped struggling when he loosened his grasp, but still trembled in fear. the man let out a soft laugh, and his voice was smooth and soft spoken, but strong somehow, like he wanted eddie to believe him. he removed the hand from eddie’s mouth, and placed it on firmly on his shoulder, other hand on his waist now.

he was taller than eddie, with dark skin, strong shoulders, and brown cassiterite eyes – heart-stopping eyes that flickered when he said, “i want to marry you.”

“oh,” eddie laughed, slapping the man’s chest in a manner that said, ‘how foolish of me.’ “why didn’t you just say so?”

they leaned closer, a faint smile on the man’s lips and eddie giggled under his breath. when he thought of his moment before, he thought he would be in a horse drawn carriage, or whisked away on the back of a white, noble steed. he didn’t even know this man’s name, but butterflies in his stomach told him there was no time for introductions now.

as their lips drew closer, there was a knock on the door.

“the queen is wuh-waiting for you to accompany her.”

“okay, you hide in here,” eddie whispered, grabbing the man by his lapel. he forced him inside his wardrobe. “what’s your name?”

“michael, prince edward.” michael responded, silk hanging over his face now.

“okay, mike, i’ll be right back.”

eddie plastered his most charming smile onto his face, forcing himself to enjoy eating in the grand dining hall with his mother. at least stanley’s performance was enjoyable.

eddie called him stan for short, and he had sunken eyes and curly hair and what eddie thought to be a rather lovely nose. the entertainment consisted of satire and self-deprecating humor, but he was nice. eddie also thought it was silly when he danced with his scepter and the bells from his hat jingled. stan was loyal and friendly, and even the queen enjoyed his company. she even consulted with him once to make strategies for battle— stan had agreed with everything she said because he believed she just wanted to hear herself talk.

supper ended, and eddie did not protest about all the food that had gone to waste, partly because mike was waiting in his wardrobe, and partly because he knew what his mother would say; “that's how hierarchy works.”

the halls were nearly deserted, and only their shadows followed as eddie strolled with mike, hand-in-hand, showing him every inch of the castle. he learned that michael hanlon was a farmer who worked in the fields under the blistering sun from dawn until dusk. he assured him he wouldn’t have to do that anymore, his smile as warm as the candles and lanterns illuminated around them.

“and this is our oubliette. this is where my mother leaves prisoners to die.”

mike gasped. “that’s kind of cool.”

“what does that mean?”

“i don’t know.” they both laugh.

eddie sighed, heartfelt and knees weak. “oh, mike, i’ve had so much fun getting to know you. i can’t wait until we marry,” he said, bringing mike’s hands to his chest. then he exclaimed with a brilliant idea, like if the light bulb had been invented then and it was dangling over his head.

“let’s marry tomorrow! at sunset!”

the excited gasp brought attention to the pair, alerting the guards that there a intruders afoot. eddie thought fast, and pulled the two into a small, dark corridor. he wasn’t afraid of his guards by any means, it was his mother he feared. and he did not particularly need to sneak mike around, but it was kind of fun.

they were pressed together, breathing heavily from the anticipation of being caught. their faces drew closer, laughing softly, and the image of doves flying crossed eddie’s mind as they kissed.

prince edward had always seen beverly and ben kiss, but he never knew what it felt like. a surge of energy and passion from being engulfed in this kiss made him think he should’ve asked beverly for a love potion years ago. he never wanted this moment to end.

and it wouldn’t, as they would be married at sunset tomorrow. eddie could not think of a single thing that would ruin their nuptials. taglist: @reddiesetrichie, @veganmikehanlon, @bumblerea, @eddiessecondfannypack, @tinyarmedtrex, @jwilliambyers, @edstozler, @eddiecare, @stephenskings, @constantreaderfool, @imeddie, @kaymcgivemeacall, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

#mike hanlon #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stan uris #it fanfiction #my writing

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m00nslippers · 5 years

Text

So I watched YJ3 episodes 7-9...

Oh, so much to say, let’s just get into it.

So I was discussing with someone how I thought Prince Brion was a convenient character to get naked for fan service and how it would be tragic if they found him clothes that wouldn’t burn and, what-do-ya-know, they gave him clothes that wouldn’t burn, obvs. But on the other hand they revealed a wonderful new potential of getting Conner naked by having Brion burn his clothes. Balance in the universe is restored.

Dick’s whole act and spiel with choosing their codenames was so ridiculous, I was in stitches and just imagined Jason’s voice the whole time shouting, “YOU ARE AN ACTUAL FUCKING IDIOT, AREN’T YOU?” at him. That’s pretty much what I imagine any time Dick does something dumb on screen, tbh. It’s just a rolling litany of Jason MST3K-style shouting insults at everything Dick does or says.

Like can we stop killing Halo? It’s vaguely fetishy the amount of times they’ve done it already, it’s making me uncomfortable. I get that she’s the only one they can get gruesome with to show how edgy the show is without permanently crippling anyone, but have some decency.

Everyone was on-point with suggesting the Goode-Goggles had something to do with Granny Goodness. And this stuff about partnering with the Wayne foundation to get her goggles in meta-youth centers? She’s so planning to mind control the meta-kids.

Helga and Jefferson hooked up. Saw that shit coming a mile away. Kind of makes me sad though, are Jefferson and his wife divorced in the comics? I wish they weren’t here, it would be nicer if they could stay together, IMO.

Okay so why do we have 3 CASSANDRAS now? That’s at least one too many. I was almost horrified for a second there that they were making Cass Vandal Savage’s daughter instead of Shiva’s, and then they showed us the character everyone thought was Cass in the advertisements and they confirmed she was ‘Orphan’ and then Shiva actually showed up in person and I was totes relieved. I don’t know why I used ‘totes’ but I’m keeping it in, I stand by that shit.

We saw Orphan and Spoiler and Tim! (And Arrowette but I don’t actually know who she is honestly). The music they played during their scene was totally funky spy thriller, it was cute. And all I could think of through the whole sequence was that darn meme of Tim with the girls behind him running that says, “Let’s go lesbians!” Goddamn, Tumblr why you do this?!

I was raising my eyebrow a bit with Cass having a sword. Like does she ever use a sword in the comics? I’m sure she probably could but I know she’s really against killing and that’s pretty much all a sword is used for, I just don’t think she would carry one.

Speaking of, when we see a quick flash of two detectives arresting Stagg? That was totally Bullock and Montoya.

That part when they revealed the crazy lady who kept talking about the bear was also one of vandal Savage’s children was really sad for some reason. Like she couldn’t handle being immortal and went crazy and he had to kill her. Like dang, that’s messed up.

Shade is a gay man and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. That boy be flamin’. Like, did you hear those sex innuendos? Did you see that fancy hat?

We saw Chesire again! I really feel for her. Also I love her voice actress’s smoky voice and her huge mane of lion hair! She’s so cool.

I’m guessing that crazy white light of Halo’s that got Brion out of his shadow pocket is going to be a problem at some point. Like it will make her insane and want to obliterate the world or something.

That fight with Lobo was awesome, everyone got to show off their powers. Clearly Lobo is just a bad guy the show can throw in at any time through an anonymous contract-kill to create an awesome fight scene because no one can actually beat him, and he just leaves when he feels like it.

When Lobo smashed Forager I was like GASP! NO! NOT MUH BABY! I was like, that better have been a giant pumpkin someone switched out at some point! And then it turned out to be his shed skin and I was so relieved. And we got to see him gooey and pink, aw. And Halo and Brion said Goojie for some reason. Accents, I guess.

The whole meeting between Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Oracle, Aquaman/Kaldur, Wonder Woman/Diana and Miss Martian. It was cool to know they are all still working together, just in secret. They said seven teams though? So Young Justice, Outsiders, Batman Inc, Justice League on Earth and maybe Justice League in Space? Which are the other two? Maybe Justice League Dark? I don’t know about the last one.

And WW is all, “Are you prepared to lie on the stand?!” all outraged-like and the Bats are just looking at her like, “Pff, as if they could get us on a stand. But yes, obviously? Also, most of you guys have diplomatic immunity, being from Atlantis, Themyscera and goddamn Mars, so you better not let them even ask you.” Batman chose his conspirators well, he’s only got people who can lie through their teeth or who won’t force their citizens to stand trial if they beg out of it. He knows what he’s doing, Diana.

We saw a grown up Billy Batson! WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS!?

That playdate, though. Someone actually asked Will what the deal was with him and Artemis, and he started stammering and I’m hoping it’s not because he’s actually got anything with her or is interested. Honestly it kind of sounded like he was into whoever was asking the question, but I don’t think that was it either cuz I’m pretty sure she’s still married. Just please let this not be Hamlet-style, get with both siblings. Will, don’t get with both sisters, just don’t do it.

We saw Jon Kent! Future Super Sons is a go! We have Jon and Conner in the same world too, I want to see them be big and little bros so bad! It would be so cute.

THE KID THAT POINTED TO BUMBLEBEE’S STOMACH AND SAID WITH A TOTALLY GROWN MAN’S VOICE, “YOU GOT A BABY IN THERE!”

Like, I know Orm is a bad guy but he’s also kind of an Anti-villain, isn’t he? I’m not sure how in-character it is for him to say he’s going to kill off like thirty kids and their parents just to fuck with Aquaman.

Shiva confirmed. Totally running the League of Shadows. Also, Deathstroke is part of the Light, did we know that before?

So yeah, really looking forward to next set of episodes! I hope we see more of Tim’s team in particular.

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skullsnsunbeams · 7 years

Text

Abandoned (Harry Hook Drabble)

A/N: Hey, so this was inspired by prompts given to me by @butterflywingednight and @thilda. It’s basically just Harry’s thoughts and feelings on Uma’s departure for Auradon the night of the Cotillion. I didn’t really mean for it (lbr, I totally did), but it kinda gave way into a poly relationship between Harry/Uma/Gil. If that’s not your cuppa tea, then it could be read as a close friendship/camraderie between the three. I might do a part 2 with an interaction between Harry and Uma, but for now, this is between Harry and Gil (my two sweet boys who I will protect forever). Also, sorry if both boys seem OOC, I was just trying to show the potential vulnerability that Harry possesses and that Gil isn’t as dumb as people think. Enjoy xx

~~~~~~

Harry Hook couldn’t tell time, but he knew that much of it had passed since Uma had fled to go through the barrier before it closed. The Cotillion had began at six pm, as the reporters announced to the kingdom over the television. The dusk sky bled into night as the clock ticked on methodically. The young Scottish pirate grew anxious, as he didn’t know what was going on over in Auradon. The last thing he and the rest of the crew saw was King Ben’s gift for Mal, his one true love, before the connection was cut. The Captain hadn’t show face since, and no one knew of her whereabouts. The last Harry had seen her, she was explaining her plan to him, Gil, and the others.

He didn’t enjoy the thought of his Captain over in enemy territory without him, but he trusted her enough to let her leave alone. She was strong and cunning, he knew that. But his nerves weren’t settled, still, as Ursula’s Fish and Chips slowly became vacant as the night wore on. The distant sound of music and fireworks were all that could be heard. All of the other pirates left, trusting Uma’s right-hand man to keep things under control. And that was what terrified Harry. What was he to do now? He has no clue how to run the crew as smoothly as Uma did. Sure, he was intimidating, could keep the pirates on a leash enough to not allow the both the literal and metaphorical ship to sink. But Uma was wise beyond her years, she knew everything about the sailors that she could use to benefit herself, to easily manipulate anyone on the Isle into doing her bidding. She was made to be a leader, a Captain. Although Harry was the son of one of the best pirate Captains (he would say the best, if he knew Uma wouldn’t make him walk the plank), but he didn’t have half the skill that the young sea witch possessed.

Harry was known by anyone who crossed his path to be rash, and a bit unhinged. That was why he and Uma worked so well together; she was there to keep him in check when he became too reckless. Who was going to do that now that she was gone? ‘Not gone,’ Harry thought to himself, ‘she wouldn’t leave us here forever.' The young lad kept repeating this to himself in his head, if only to appease his worry. But no matter how many times he tried to reassure himself that Uma didn’t abandon him them - no, she was going to come back. She had to come back - Harry couldn’t stop the frown from forming on his handsome face. He began to pace, muttering to himself, his pirate hat abandoned on the bar.

This was how Gil found him not thirty minutes later. He was worried, not only for his Captain, but for the First Mate. The brawny teen wasn’t considered bright by any means, but he knew those two more than anyone. He knew that Harry would be distressed over the mere thought of having to run the crew. Despite his charming facade, the middle Hook child wasn’t always confident. If he couldn’t properly be a leader, he would let his father down, and that was one of his biggest fears. Gil tried to quietly enter the restaurant, but to no avail; he accidently knocked into one of the tables, causing Harry to startle. Gil became even more worried for his companion, because this wasn’t like Harry at all. He was always on guard, even around his own. No one on the Isle could be considered trustworthy.

The two young men stared at each other with deer-in-headlights looks for a few moments before Gil slowly made his way over to the other. “Um, no one’s seen Captain around shore, but Desiree and Jonas are keeping look out. Just thought you should know.” Gil spoke quietly, but the words still pierced the air as if he had shouted them. If it were possible, Harry’s face seemed to fall even more. He nodded, straightening up as if to seem more in control of his emotions. But Gil knew that wasn’t the case. Neither boy said anything as they sat together at the nearest table, their knees bumping into each other underneath. Harry found comfort in knowing the other was there.

Gil was someone he could rely on, someone he didn’t feel as obligated to put on a mask in front of. Gaston’s third son was the most open-minded, non judgemental person Harry had ever met, and that was rare for a VK. Gil was one of the only people that the young Hook felt no need to impress, because he didn’t feel threatened by him. That was hardly the way he felt with Uma. And yet, he cared for them both so deeply. Uma made him feel like he should live every moment to the fullest, like he was a wild animal freed from a cage. Gil, on the other hand, brought him a sense of peace. Harry took comfort in the jokes and sheer happiness from the other boy. They were like his dark and light, night and day; he needed them both to balance himself out. At that moment, Harry needed calm, to not worry. Even just being in the presence of the blonde eased him a little. The warmth of his legs in between his, the sound of his soft breathing filling the still night.

Harry let himself speak, not caring about the emotions leaking into his voice. “I dunno what I’m gonna do. I never… I never imagined doin’ anythin’ without her, ya know? She’s always been by muh side.” Though he spoke softly, Gil heard the worry in his words loud and clear. He looked the Scot dead in the eyes as he replied. “She has a good reason for doing this, you know that. She will not abandon us.” Whether he meant “us” as in the whole crew, or as in Harry and Gil, it didn’t matter. Harry didn’t doubt their truthfulness for a second. He brushed his fingers against the other boy’s hand that rest on the table top, the two sitting in silence, waiting for their Captain to return.

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fapangel · 6 years

Note

WWII planes question- which is better, machine guns or cannon? Followup, does this change based on what country you are and therefore available guns? Do some kinds of planes like one more than the other?

Oh boy, a good fighterplane question! This exact question has been the subject of intenseand furious debate both during the war years, and especially amongmodern simulation nerds and angry Wehraboos.

Aerial gunnery has a great number of factors toconsider - destructive potential against the target, exteriorballistics, (which affect accuracy and range,) weight of fire, ammosupply/duration of fire, reliability and redundancy, and especiallythe weight efficiency of the armament - destructive potential perpound, which affects how much performance you sacrifice to lug theguns around. I'll get into the technical discussion of all thosefactors and how they manifested in different guns/aircraft during thewar, but there's two big caveats to cover first.

First - one must remember that to a significantdegree, questions of destructive power, accuracy, ballistics, et al.were a moot point, as most pilots didn't have the skill to reliablyland deflection shots (or snapshots, for that matter,) and weretrained to fill their windscreen with the enemy before firing. Fromdead astern at 50 yards, it really doesn't matter whatyou are shooting. There's outliers - such as Japanese Zeros with twin7.7mm pecking away at Wildcats - but those were the exception.

Second -for all the obsessive sperging various internet autists have lavishedon the topic, actual combat experience reminds us that weaponry mustbe matched to the target. On lend-lease.ru, one of the most valuableresources I've ever found on the internet, Soviet fighter pilot N. G.Golodnikov (who flew I-16s,Hurricanes, P-40s and P-39s during the war) saysbluntly that they quickly removed the .30 caliber guns from the wingsof their (early-model) lend-lease P-40s to save weight, as theyfound the twin Browning .50caliber machine guns in the cowling to be more than sufficient!Against the light, mostly unarmored Luftwaffe fighters they werecontending with - and the ranges they were shooting at - twin .50swere more than enough. (Theywould repeat this with their lend-lease P-39s.)

Now, for thetechnical discussion. Machineguns/autocannons have to make tradeoffs between several categories ofperformance - weight of shell fired, muzzle velocity, rate of fire,and gun weight. For instance, compare the famous 20mm Japanese Type99 Mark I - an incredibly weight-efficient weapon at only 51 pounds(the American aircraft version of the Browning, the AN/M2, weighedmoreat 61 pounds!!) It paid for this, however, witha terrible muzzle velocity of only 600m/s and sluggish rate-of-fire,only 520 rounds a minute - but the weight efficiency was crucialfor the power-challenged Zero, which kept it light enough thatmaneuverability more than compensated for the cannon's ballistics bysetting up point-blank shots. Compare that to the SovietShVAK 20mm cannon, which was similar to the Hispano or the MG/151-, a good rate of fire (800 rounds/minute, equal to the AN/M2,) anice, high muzzle velocity - but heavy, at a solid 40kg(88 pounds). The reasons for all this were fairly simple - to achievea higher muzzle velocity, the barrel and action had to contain moregas pressure from a more powerful cartridge (and possibly a longerbarrel), in turn requiring a stronger action/chamber, which meantthicker, which meantheavier. Likewise, anaction capable of cycling faster had to be stronger to survive theheavier battering it took, and the heavier the shells it was slamminginto the breech, the harder this was - so a higher ROF required moreweight as well. (This tended to synergize with better muzzlevelocity, as the action was already stronger for that reason aloneand the extra gas power available helped with loading - but you couldstill trade ROF for weight even then. The Japanese Type99 Mark 2 is a good demonstration of that; delivering a solid750m/s at only 34kg/75 pounds, but with an abysmal 480 rounds/minuteROF; worse than the original!)

Clearly, anyconceivable combination of tradeoffs could (and were) made, for alldifferent purposes. Both the Soviets and the Germans installed veryhigh-velocity, high-power, heavycannons on ground-attack aircraft (NS-37and BK-3,7respectively,) for tank-busting, as the only precision(non-cluster, non-napalm)direct-fire munition available for hitting hardened, mobile pointtargets was a cannon. (The famous GAU-8 of A-10 fame is the finallegacy of that dynamic - it didn't die till the PGM revolutionarrived!) And of course evenbigger cannons were used (57mm on the “Teste” Mosquito foranti-shipping work, the 75mms in B-25s, etc.) But these aren'tdebated over as they're clearly specialized weapons for specializedtasks that no other gun could accomplish.

Thus, the onlyapplication machine guns and cannons were really competing in wasfighter-bomber armament, and therefore that's where the debate did -and does - center. Since the monster guns mentioned above were simplytoo massive and heavy to be practical or useful on fighters, thislimits discussionto medium and heavy caliber machine guns versus20mm to 30mm cannons.

Again, we shouldremember that at close-range, bothends of this spectrum were perfectly lethal -asGolodnikov attests, rifle-caliber machine guns, with their impressivehigh rate of fire, could actually cut tails and wings right off enemyaircraft if you weren't stingy with ammo. Onthe far opposite end of the spectrum, he observed that the37mm M-4s horrid ballistics andROF didn'tmatter if you simply closed in close before firing. Ofcourse rifle-caliber machine guns had problems penetrating deep intobombers from the stern angle, big slow cannons were poor for takingsnapshots and both would've benefited greatly from the optionof effective long-range fire. Plus,these extremes of heavy cannon/light MG were usually mixed with heavyMG/light cannon to cover any weaknesses (Spitfires with .303s and20mm, Yak-9s with 12.7mms and 20mm cannon, etc.) Thoseexamples, in turn, show that the “balancing” armament was almostalways 12.7mm-13mm heavy machine guns, or 20mm high-velocity cannons- because both had high muzzle velocities, good rates of fire andwere flexibly potent against almost any target, ground or air.

In short, thewhole thing really boils down to 12.7mm HMGs versus 20mm cannons, andthat's where most of the debate has centered.Thisis especially because US forces explored moving to 20mm-primaryarmaments during the war, and because Wehraboos are eager to assertthe 20mm master race's ascendancyover .50 dumb yankee scum. Comparinghigh-velocity 20mms(Hispano/ShVAK/MG-151) versus 12.7-13mm, (MG-131, AN/M2,Berezin UB,) onefinds their external ballistics and ROF to be roughly similar; cannonvelocities ranging from 700-840m/s to machine-guns 750-890m/s, andROFsfrom 700-900 rounds/minute. Cannonshad far superior boom, of course, but also weighed as much as twomachine guns at least - so the argument, ultimately, comes to this:are cannons betteror worse than an equivalent weight of HMGs?

TheUsual Suspects passionately argue for the greater efficiency ofcannon with various metrics - often trying to quantify thedestructive power of the guns in some arbitrary fashion (total joulesof energy delivered over time and such) whichare further spun into firepower/weight coefficients like so.These analysiesare clean, neat, fully quantifiable, and have about as much bearingon reality as “muh stoppanpower” 9mm vs. .45 arguments do.They tell you nothing about howmunitions actually destroy a target. Aircraftare destroyed in one of two ways:

1.Score an effective hit against one of the three critical systems(engine, fuel tank, pilot.)2. Destroy theairframe's integrity.

Cannonsare obviously the most effective at #2, as their high-explosiveshells detonated on impact and did blast/frag damage to the immediatestructure. How many hits were required depended on the target and hitlocation, of course, and I couldn't find anything like authoritativeinformation, but my gut feeling is that, onaverage:

*four 20mm cannon strikes on a wing will probably do the job (more forbigger/tougher planes, less if they hit the wing root, which is alsowhere fuel tanks usually were,)

*two to the elevator(rendering the ship uncontrollable,)

*two to four to the empennage, toblow it off,

*one or two for a liquid-cooled in-line, two to four for a radial,

*oneinthe cockpit (the angles this is possible from depend on theaircraft's cockpit armoring,)

-and the fuselage... differs,sincethe fuselage aft of the pilot seat/radio was mostly empty space. Themore of it there is, the more hits required to make it crumple up.Plus,compared to the wing spars, the fuselage bears less structuralload in the air (which is why at least one B-17 camehome with a massive hole in its side just fine, but cracked in halfafter landing.) Asan example, Thunderbolt ace Robert S. Johnson's P-47 soaked up atleast24 20mm cannon shells from a Bf-109 sitting dead astern and hisship still came home (as he states in his autobiography, at leastthree detonated against the armor in the seat-back, meaning they flewthrough existing holes in the fuselage.) He also took fiveshells in the right wing, four in the left, two to the empennage(blowing away half his rudder,) andone shell that detonated in the cockpit, near his left hand. Soaccording to my cute list, Johnson should've been dead ten timesover, P-47 ruggedness or no. Thisalso demonstrates that dispersionmaters; hadthose five shells in his right wing all landed close together nearthe wing root...? (Alsonote that 20mm cannons couldanddid utilize AP or semi-AP ammo to go for the three critical systems,but this reduced their HE effect, and without the volume-of-firemachine guns enjoyed, getting hits in the right places was harder.For air-to-air they tended to stick with HE.)

Heavymachine guns, on the other hand, are king of kill option #1, as theywere often mounted in greater numbers, fired faster, and oftenbecause ofdispersion (from wing-mounted guns vibrating and/or convergenceissues,) they generally had far greater chances of landing a goldenBB somewhere important (like the pilot's skull.) This was enhanced bytheir armor-piercing ability - since they carried no fuzed explosive,they'd pop right through a fighter's aluminum skin and keep goingtill they met something substantial - like afuel tank, or thepilot. And they were typically AP-I (armor-piercing incendiary) toensure they'd do something nasty once they got there. Agood concentrated burst to a wing root or tail could indeed do enoughstructural damage to destroy the aircraft, but it was mucheasier to just go for the fuel tanks, engine, or pilot himself.

Thisall was exacerbated by the other tradeoffs cannons and machine gunsbrought - cannons are far more volumeefficient,which was vital for aircraft like the Bf-109 (you don't reallyrealize how small a Bf-109 was till you meet one in a museum.)Especially for the 109 and its thin wings, mountings were limited tothe propeller hub, the cowling, and the wing roots, almost mandatingcannon to achieve sufficient firepower. Incidentally, it meant thattheir whole armament had zero or near-zero convergence (same for theFW-190,) which allowed exploitation of the gun's full range (againstbombers) and with concentrating damage on target for good effects.(Evenplanes with a choice of mountings, like the Spit and Hurricane,mounted cannons in the wing roots for that reason.) Machine guns,naturally, were limited to two 12.7/13mms in the cowling at best, andthe rest in the wings, where greater vibration and the necessity ofconvergence dispersed their pattern a lot more. (Pre/Early war USaircraft had two .50s in the cowling and the .30 cals in the wings,before the six-fifties armament debuted.)

Thenconsider the targetsthey were shooting at - Americans were trying to nail fast, nimblelittle German fighters that had modest to no armoring, and Germanswere shooting at lumbering bombers and... well, fuckingP-47s.The Germans, twiceover, had literally no other choice for armament but cannons.

Whichbrings us back to the Wehraboos again and their favorite pasttime -bagging on the US Army Air Corps for not going all-20mm. Theyloveto give the Browning AN/M2 shit, because it was relatively heavy27.6kg(61lbs)and had a relatively low rate-of-fire (750-850 rounds a minute.) Thatdoesn't compare well to the best aircraft-mounted heavy machine gunof the war, the Russian BerezinUB, at 21.5kg (47.4 lbs,) with a ROF of800for prop-synchronized guns and up to 1050 for wing-mounts.It even had good muzzle velocity. (TheGerman MG131 weighed a mere 37 pounds and fired at a hefty 900 rounds aminute, but paid for it dearlywith a horridvelocity fo 700m/s - this was mostly because the gun had to be tinyto fit in the Bf-109s cowling.) Soyou get a lot of shitposting about how four Hispano-Suiza cannons(weight unloaded, 368 lbs or so) would've far better than six AN/M2Brownings (366pounds unloaded or thereabouts.)

Asusual, theWehraboos are always wrong.

Entirelyaside from the Hispano being a twitchy,jam-o-matic pile of shit who's need for armorer hand-fitting andbabying doomedUS efforts to reliably mass-produce it, QUAD-DAMAGE isn't thepanacea it's made out to be. One limitation is that cannons really,really don't fit in cowlings so well, which is why the FW-190 carriedtwo MG 151s in the wing roots, and two wing-mounted guns (which hadthe usual convergence problem, but without the rate/volume of fire tomitigate it and less volumeto store ammo.) They also have more vibration, and thus dispersion,further complicating one's efforts to land sufficient concentrationof firepower to blow important bits off a plane.

Still,four cannons is afantastic amount of firepower, and the volume of fire (actual numberof bullets in the air) wasenough to make higher angle deflection shots and snapshots a lot morelikely to land hits... unlessone of them jammed (especiallywith the damn Hispano.) The AN/M2 might've been heavy, but it alsoinherited the ground-based M2's rock-solid reliability. Thicker,heavier chamber, barrel, and so on isn't great for weight, but italso makes a gun a lot more tolerant of temperature extremes, poorammo lots, gremlins, negative space wedgies etc. Plus,you had redundancy. Ifone gun jammed, you were down 1/6th your firepower; if one cannonjammed, you were down by 1/4th.

Andthen there's dispersal problems. “Convergence” relates to theneed to aim wing-mounted guns inward sotheir rounds all land in the same place some fixed distance ahead.The closer to centerline the guns are (such as in the wing root) thelesser the angle, and the tighter the pattern will be further awayfrom the perfect “convergence range.” Closer or further away andthe rounds land in a wider pattern, which can significantlyaffect lethality. As theWikipedia page shows, convergence schemes that aimed to maximizeeffectiveness over the widest span of ranges abounded. Theycould get pretty complex. Pilots/units could also modify them toaccount for changing theater conditions, differenttactics or even personal preference.

Withfour cannons, however, the wing-root mounts have only slightconvergence issues, and the wing-mounted ones could converge at...one point. (Assuming ships like the P-51 could've installed cannonsin the wing-root at all; withthat thin laminar-flow wing, I'm not sure they would've fit...) Gunswere typically harmonized in pairs (one on each wing) so thesix-fifties gave you three possible convergences, and the cannons,two. The machine guns couldexploit their greater volume of fire to cover more sky withlead, which made a bigdifference when taking snap-shots or high-angle deflection shots.Cannons, with their lower volume of fire, really needed toconcentrate their firepower on one point to achieve proper structuraldestruction (you could mix AP/HE or all AP, but then you were reducing your target from the entire aircraft to the three criticalsystems...) More dispersed fire is superior for deflection shots(especially as rounds are coming in from higher angles that can rakethe whole planform, giving you the whole smorgesboard of criticalsystems to aim for - and there's no armor on the top of the canopy!)Conversely, cannons are better for delivering lots of firepower fast,when you don't have time for a leisurely tracking shot (especiallyrelevant with the sanic acceleration of most German fighters, beforeyou factor in boom'n'zoom fighting - play a simulator and you'll seewhat I mean-) but American fighters suited to boom’n’zoom were not volume-challenged and could set all their guns on asingle close-range convergence to achieve similar results (such asthe FUCKIT WE'RE GOING TO 8 GUNS Jug.)

Andthe final clincher was the AN/M2s muzzle velocity of 890m/s - prettymuch the best of the war (even the UB only clocked in at 814.) Theflatter trajectory made deflection shooting easier, but only incomparison to other HMGs, not M2-versus-Hispano; the Hispano made upfor its other failings here with an 870m/s velocity, leaving even theexcellentShVAK in the dust. Nordid this matter much for distance; a pair of cowling mounted .50s aren't going to out-snipewing-root mounted Hispanos. But it did matter for actual firepower,as it gave the excellent .50 calAP-I rounds that much more oomph to penetrate - sometimesthrough a decent amount of fuselage structure and reinforcements tohit a fuel tank or engine on the other side. Whenyou're spreading lead around to maximize the chances of the goldenBB, the performance of each BB matters - andthe US had the hardest-hitting HMG of the war to use.

There'salways porquenolosdos.png of course - had the Germans managed to makea sufficient number of heavy bombers that didn't conveniently setthemselves on fire,and had the Hispano not been a French fustercluck, four .50 calibersin the wings and two 20mms in the wing-roots would've been theabsolute best of both worlds (imagine a Spitfire with four .50sinstead of six .303s and the same cannons.)

Soin the context of the perennial WWII argument - which I'm sure you'veheard before - I find it a realstretch to say that cannons were superior to the six-fifties -especially considering that American pilots didn't have heavy bomberformations to fight. Andspeaking in general, thechoice really, really rides on what your intended targets are, andespecially on what you can actually fit into the aircraft inquestion. A HMG/cannoncombo is hard to beat. Two synchronized low-ROF, low-velocity 13mmscrammed into the cowling aren't gonna cut it alone, but if you've gota bigger plane to fit something like Brownings (as the Soviets did,with early P-40s and P-39s) or you just cram twice as many in thewings, it's great. The Germans had room for neither, so QUAD-CANNONwas really the closest they could get to that ideal loadout - andgiven their aircraft's sanic acceleration, suitability for energytactics and heavy bomber formations to contend with, it probably wasthe ideal armament.

So, in general -

- if you’re in a fast-accelerating fighter that likes to boom’n’zoom, your firing windows will be short, at close range, so deflection shooting is minimized and weight of fire matters the most, as you’ve little time to deliver enough dakka to kill the target. Advantage - cannons. Head-on attacks against a heavy bomber are identical.

- if you’re in a slower-accelerating fighter that can actually turn, you’ll often be taking “tracking” shots, with plenty of time to pour fire into someone; the challenge will be aiming and scoring. Advantage - machine guns.

- if you’re flying an interceptor, a cannon/machine gun combo is highly desirable, as you’ll want long-range (400, 500m!) firepower to engage bombers, and machine-guns to deal with fighters. A perfect example is the Spitfire.

Cannonsand machine-guns eventually merged when Soviet MiG-15s met AmericanF-86s over Korea and both found their armament wanting. Withthe speed of jets, F-86s couldn't put enough firepower into a MiGwith just machine guns, and the slow-firing cannons of MiGs justcouldn't put enough bullets into the air to land a hit. This isprecisely why the modern rotary-barreled 20mm aircraft cannon wasdeveloped - it's a merging of the machine-gun's ROF and the cannon'sfirepower in one package.

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butabitconfused · 4 years

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whew

I caught up to episode 36 of Fairy Tail: Final Series, and I gotta ask what the hell has this season been so far.

So, where do I start? How about the horrendous animation. FT isn’t known for spectacular animation quality, but at least its fights were entertaining. However, this is a massive downgrade. I know people have said it before, but it’s like watching a colored slideshow. They put up a shaky picture, add in some sound effects and some screaming. That’s what the fight scenes constitute of. Compared side by side with the manga, there is almost no difference in how the “action” plays out. The flashbacks padding run time aren’t helping, either. Plus, any flashback containing fight scenes just reminds me of how much better the action used to be -_-

So, Spriggan 12, am I right? I think FT did a good job at emphasizing the danger S12 posed as these massive powerhouses compared to anything before, being that they’re as powerful as Ishgar’s strongest wizard. Discovering that God Serena has joined them only escalated the situation further. The future seemed bleak, and our heroes would have to struggle in a monumental effort in order to defeat even one.

Then the Spriggans did jack shit. For FT’s final villains, most of these guys were disappointing pushovers. Maybe it has something to do with the messed up powerscaling. If a single wizard can win against a Spriggan, then how is said-wizard not as famous as the four great wizard saints? Whatever the case, it crushes me to think about what S12 could’ve been like at their fullest potential both combat wise and as characters.

A thing I’ve noticed about FT is that it wants you to take it serious despite nothing rational really happening. I don’t really know how to explain it, but take the end of the first Natsu vs Zeref fight for example. Happy drags Natsu away before he can deal the presumed finishing blow on Zeref because he doesn’t want Natsu to die. From the characters’ perspective, Happy just sabotaged Ishgar’s one and only chance at killing Zeref for a selfish reason (yes I’m calling it selfish). The characters should have no reason at this point to think that a sure-fire way of killing Zeref is even feasible. Yet, Happy thinks he can afford to stop Natsu because he’s “muh frend”. Of course, Natsu thinks Happy makes perfect sense that there’s obviously gotta be another way, even when they have no evidence that an alternative solution exists. It’s like the characters know they have plot armor at this point.

Another thing is with Brandish. Her allergies are literally why she didn’t destroy Fairy Tail in the blink of an eye, and how Lucy was able to get her on their side. Plain old allergies. For some reason, I’m more willing to excuse this one than the Happy example simply for how ridiculously hilarious and stupid it is.

I haven’t gotten to the conclusion of Irene and August yet, though I’ve heard bad things about them. Same thing with Acnologia. Either way, I won’t talk about them because I’m not there yet.

What I can talk about is imo the Spriggan that disappointed me the most: Invel. It hurts having to watch his character potential destroyed as Gray basically ORA ORA ORA’d him to victory.

For most of the war, he was the Spriggan accompanying Zeref. Although Irene and August are stated to be the strongest, there should be something special about the Spriggan who’s always standing by the emperor’s side. They even gave him the epithet of the Winter General for his...wait, “cunning use of ice magic”? Despite what he’s built up to be, I didn’t see him do a single strategical action as a commander nor as a fighter, unless freezing Gray’s ice magic is supposed to count, but that sounds like bullshit to me. Also, he’s pretty dumb for a general. He probably caught a case of plot-induced stupidity, which is why he went out onto the battlefield when his magic was the only thing restraining Mavis. And on a side note, when Zeref teleported to Natsu in their first fight, how did Invel follow him to the front of the army? Did Zeref drag him along, or...?

(I’m lowkey certain that at least half my salt over Invel comes from him giving off the same vibes as one of my favorite OCs, so to see him get crushed on screen without doing anything hurts me more. Oh well, at least he’s hot.)

Alright, what else is there? Oh, right. LARCADE. Seriously, what the actual hell was that fight? You’re telling me that while Sting and the literal fuck boi were duking it out, every non-virgin was orgasming to death? And he was supposed to be Zeref’s plan to defeat Acnologia? That’s gotta be a joke.

Of course, you can’t talk about the final season without mentioning the fake out deaths. I can’t believe anyone would defend this blatant, atrocious writing of killing off characters for cheap shock without having any actual consequences. Yes, I know that Juvia’s “death” was supposed to be the catalyst for Gray to fight END, but there are other ways for that to happen that don’t involve death and are just as emotional. What makes matters worst is that she was revived in the next fucking episode, which completely absolves any emotional impact her “sacrifice” may have had. At least Gajeel didn’t come back until Universe One, but Juvia’s “death” was so dirt cheap I can’t even—

Not only is reviving the characters cheap, it means that I can’t trust the show to actually go through with killing its characters. I’m referring to Makarov dying in order to use Fairy Law. It’s supposed to be a sad moment, but after Gajeel and Juvia, I’m just expecting him to come back to life somehow by the end of the season. This means that even if he’s actually dead, all I can do at this point is shrug my shoulders because the emotional part has already come and gone.

On the flip side, the OST still rocks. I’m gonna go read FT City Hero because it looks like the fan fiction I didn’t know I needed.

Edit: FT: CH was a good salt cleanse

#rant #salt #note to self: DO NOT edit on mobile #fairy tail #ft

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glopratchet · 4 years

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labs-mirro

found human flesh in the ruins of a burnt house, added it to my diet hahahaha added a human taste to bear meat and chewy snail shells ive earned muh name too now they call me 'Sumner the cannibal' visit that forest at night without jake and crew? NOPE! but ive been avoiding those tempting near by farms and sniping any strays i see sadly its not the same sport as hunting with treachery too easy boredom has set in as ive wiped out the majority of the gators, started wiping out small villages searching for new plague bearing rats but sickened by how weak and soft this land is now, not worth conquerin or even robbin Instead ive been wasting days locked in my house trying and failing to think up "AART nostalgia tour favorites" currently locked in my "meditation room" getting invasion plans from every direction, this village is weak as anything and theres dozens of fat sheep full of bone marrow and blood me on solid ground ahead of a potential alligator attack THEY wont be expecting a thing??!' ^ good news! seems like old charlie has found his purpose again, attacking while theyre eating will obliterate half before they can even react oooooOOOOOoooooo Just jumped to close to the boy and he caught me!!!!!!! my custom ballcutter caught on his armor and now hes furiously shredding it off scraping it along my own underside as--- GAAAH! too late ive been sliced across the eyes NOW what am I gonna do --oops he just slid off trembling waiting to regenerate He was delicious but I was starving back after a regenerative meal, war's been on my mind a lot lately seems everytime mama stomps off in one of her moods now me and pops end up running raids, setting villages alight and raiding conquests for a time gotta say I love being on the attack, bringing fear to other humans never bores me and neither does killing I've certainly had my taste during this long winter guess I've been developing a taste for blood in general too humans are tasty after all no rest for the wicked Where was I? oooh yes Here I am consumed with vile bloodlust and the energy it gives but a quick jot of prose rest the mind and brring clarity Let me tell you all about my dear friend charlie, in fact he was the first one among my recent friends ive not killed or eaten The man gave himself the name "charley horse" Finally managed to settle into a good rhythm with these deranged people and I get the sneaking suspicion charley horse was involved in getting humans to raid my homeland! really rubs me the wrong way Why has he not been killed yet?? hes never done anithing right! Ahem sorry one moment regenerating like nobodies business OOoooooh that feels better!! where were we? oh yes charley horse Pretty sure he's been sabotaging my every effort to fit in with the rest of the humans, those raiders were bad enough but to think he's been actively getting them to target home makes my scales itch I assume hes been organizing these raids from the south up near new aggressor territory so thats where Ive headed Finally caught up to him, and ambushed his band of ambitious little opportunists only to watch him escape Those humans were all loaded down with fur and hide armor so Im guessing charley has been organizing things with the bears as wel guess I'll have to get rid of him This act of kindness is gonna hurt him more than a little bat to the head since Ive had enough of his traitorous actions surprise surprise the raiders are organizing up there and have been recruiting humans from all the way down south, (even near the ruins of DC) those wackos seem to pop up everywhere don't they? Oh and charley horse is organizing things with them !!!! The little turncoat definitely has to die Ive had just about enough of his act I'm gonna need to get in deep and hasta muerte* That was interesting, ive been trying to get in good with the bear brutas for weeks now and I finally managed it by getting captured by a bunch of destroyer robots and had my mind probed and my body royally mangled! I hate robots! But in the end I got accepted like I wanted :) the bear brutas are pretty good folks once you get past their gruff exterior theyre kinda just like us scaly folk even if their primarily carniverous shhh! im supposed to be hiding by pretending to be one of them :) One of the girls just came around, ooooooh shes cute!! Gotta remember to keep an eye on charley horse *Hasta muerte means "until death" in spanish Comment too long Click here to view the full text Seeing alot of robots lately, makes me miss the old world and the old ways before all this new technology showed up, I almost long for the unified church inquisitors to hammer on my door again tough not nearly as tough as the old coalition or Enclave hunts Ive actually managed to become friends with a guy named Zero and his gang of repurposed robot killclowns, funny bunch of guys that love to joke around but they mean business when it counts Done a couple of jobs with them actually, never followed carly's rule of just sticking to one weapon and ive found its been quite helpful having access to an entire armory! I think in this crazy new world theres nothing better than a huge pile of weapons to pick from Keep coming across these fur clothes wearing tribals too, they actually seem to revere charley horse as some sort of deity or greatest warrior or something Theres more to him than meets the eye, good thing ive been getting on his good side :) The wish i could find out more about him but he just vanishes for days at a time some odd instinct tells me its best not to ask questions Its funny how im not the only one keeping a watch out for him its like all of us scaly types have this mutual understanding, hes the man but none of us want him to get too big for his boots, also because we all have our own agendas and jobs to do Just like old times back in the coalition! And now ive finally made my move just like old times! I cant even believe ive pulled it off either, took a while to set up and almost got caught a couple times but it all payed off! Was actually stupidly easy if i do say so myself!

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horrible-monstrosity · 6 years

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17 We open with friendly neighborhood dumbass Akko studying studiously, sitting on a bench in a sunny grassy field which she ignores in favor of a massive stack of books like the bookworm Lottie only sort of is, while redhead side witch bitches about dropping out of school because she's just too cool. An... interesting entrance into the episode, to be sure.

Redhead turns herself into a dashing boys' school student. ..... Did the spell make her grow bollocks

"even though no one's asking you?" is a pretty weird way to ask someone about their dream. I don't think anyone asked redhead to become a broomdancer, or robots girl to become robots, or... anyone to do anything they just wanted to do. and again, she has already accomplished what she says she wants to do- the yeti, in the next episode robert girl, the fairy strike... this show does not know what it has done or what it's doing.

... Wait, are they really here to just fucking steal the grail from the school? why? I've already forgotten why they wanted it, and why petty theft by a couple of randos is so easily accepted as a method of getting it back. Are there no witch authorities who might have wanted in on this? Later redhead says it "belongs" to the guys' school as a way to deflect explaining how it works... shrugg

Have I mentioned yet that I like the supporting trio more than the main three? I could probably write a whole fucking essay on that. All three of them are straight-up archetypes... but that alone is enough to make them at least basically functional as characters. Because that's *why* archetypes end up as archetypes- it's a grouping of character tropes and traits that hits a chord with people. And that's why "cunning normal" was such a fucking retarded concept, Kiznaiverrrrrrr-

It's kinda weird she stays disguised even after getting caught... I guess this is actually consistent; it's been shown before you need to use another spell to transform back, meaning unlike most settings ontological inertia actually applies. but then later on the transformation seems to start slowly undoing itself for no reason anyway. How does this work? magic router?? why'd akko even take that?... whatever

we finally get some violence against witches (threatened but never put though because of course not), which doesn't explain anything but at least characterizes the guys as your entirely typical medieval-styled witch not-likers. The fact that this is what passes for an improvement in this fuckshow of a shitshow is just fucking sad. there are some actually tense and brutal scenes in there, some nice visual shots, like akko getting thrown on the table tied up and the distant side-shot of the guy getting hit by the armor... that aren't killed by wackyness! Amazding! ... Though it still doesn't quite work, probably because the show is still clearly too light-hearted to, say, actually use the torture devices. But them being pulled out isn't a wacky gag either aside from a bit of the reaction. what tone is this?

"y u no use ur magic on me??" "because there's no reception here dumbass the fuck do you think this works like"

Yet another interesting unaddressed plot point- magic was what got them into this mess and turned blong guy into an armored monster, and while a witch was the one who stopped it little to no magic was used in doing so, she basically just needed to smack him hard enough. It seems like the takeaway from this is that witches are perfectly fine people, but magic still needs to fucking die. hmm

by the way what happened to the wordfinding plot this episode

So clearly this was Croi boi testing her angery magicks, but I have to wonder... *why* is anger magic the strongest sort? I mean, it can basically only be arbitrary, but how convenient that her evil energy-having plan can't just go off by spreading feelings of sunshine and happiness.

18 "trained to catch every gost in 12 days, but the goal is one gost in one year"... This is literally, exactly, what Lottie says. What? Literally one minute in and like 20 seconds of dialogue and already this shit makes not a single lick of fucking sense.

akko trips and fucks things up again okay we fucking get i- why was that enpugh to breakm the fucking robort? akko's own body must be the most destructive object know to mankind.

We return to the generic wackey-qwackey humorisms the show had mostly shed in the last couple episodes, and it feels more forced than ever before. After all these thng I can't actually believe Akko's still this shit... and apparently the show itself doesn't either, since as soon as Akko finds something she can actually do it entirely stops. Once she starts working as a convincer/go-between/gopher, not a single thing gets broken. In other words, Trigger just abandoned her character development to churn out and force out more mediocre obligate humor. But at least it was only for, like, half of the episode.

on the other hand once she gets her shit back together the cards get brought back. That was always a kind of interesting little thing, that Akko knew some things even other witches didn't because of the fandom-ing that brought her to the school where she was otherwise so far behind everyone else. I mean, that just raises the question of why the other witches apparently never saw these cards and I feel like I asked exactly this many an episode ago so let's just move the fuck on again

isn't the ship from the OVA? it looks like the shiny rod... and like the same old vaguely eva-lagann looking shit. I forget what it was from Gainax that looked like that, but definitely it was something.

"I already know I won't be as good as Constance"... Man, when Akko's good, she's fucking good. She really isn't trampling over someone else with the conviction that she's always right about everything, she's just so excited she wants to draw a fucking robort. And then Candace loves it and is inspired to make it actually work. it's fucking cute man

gosts viral on social media Normies can't see gosts, but presumably Akko can. How is this actually determined? Rather, the deeper problem is that the line between witches and normies was never defined. There's some implication that it's hereditary, since everyone aside from Akko comes from a "witching family", but the very existence of Akko belies that. So if anyone can train to become a witch, how much training do you do before you become witchy enough to see gost? Actually, should people with latent potential be able to see gost? If Akko is bad at becoming a witch, logically there should be some people who would be better at it relative to her. Shouldn't there be some people in the crowd who can see gost as is? Also, do any males exist with any amount of witch potential, who could see ghosts on their own? If they had never called attention to it by doing the "gost can't see normie" thing, there'd be nothing to really question- you could assume witching is a skill like any other that people could aquire, that's often handed down through families like any other job or career, and that some people are just kind of terrible at. Buuuuut they had to get in this lame "muh on muh cell phone at tuh evuuuunnnt" joke and didn't think it through. Good work, Trigger, keep it up

how is many crow? how many gost We're shown each cube succing up at least one gost each, then multiple cubes forming one crow, but then there's a whole fucking lotta fucking crows. How many gosts were there? How many were left after the large amount that were already taken out? There's just an unmeasured infinite supply of gost somewhere offscreen to conveniently move in as needed. Trigger didn't think this through. And then a super-giant mega-crow shows up which must have used up even more gost. Great

and then the robort- OKAY TRIGGER WE GET IT YOU WUZ GAINAX ONCE CALM THE FUCK DOWN this is just so boring. YEAH, A FUCKING ROBOT, WE GET IT TRIGGER, YOU FUCKS HAVE FUCKING ISSUES. GAINAX-SENPAI WILL NEVER FUCKING NOTICE YOU, GET OVER IT. ... reactions from the peanut gallery are on point tho. akko even credits constantinople for her part in making this possible. she's a good kid. so good. too pure for this fucking show - the robort runs out of energy- WHY DID YOU NOT BRING A ROUTER YOU FUCKNAUTS THERE WAS ONE IN THE IMMEDIATELY PRECEEDING EPISODE WHY - it's a drill. it's a fucking drill. ........ i want to cry acid.

team cubes it blastign off againnnnnnfuck this gay earth

aww man akko doesn't even want to be thanked but compton gives her a training broom anyway. it's beautiful.

19 an old tradition and a new power... croix-was-write is written into the very fabric of reality in this show. good and then mom-diana fucking dies. LOL BYE BITCH.

why would you have the head-appointing ceremony randomly every few years rather than, like, when you need to appoint a new family head? it would even affect the exact same urgency, just have events come to a head so she needs to be pulled out of school and become family head now. why are they electing a baby teen as family head anyway? what age are these kids, anyway? akko looks like ten sometimes.

the second diana says "muh respekt for convention!!" you know she's gonna be treated as full of shit. it's over something we've never heard of and had no reason to assume, anyway. i don't even know "you know about the words?" you've blabbed them to everyone including the rival school that wants to execute you all, so why are you surprised?

...... LOL WHUT THE AUNT LITERALLY HAS GLOWING RED DEMON EYES WHAT THE FUCC?

.... Andrew is one of the best fucking characters in this shitshow of a show. The amount of fucks he's come to not give... Just invite the witch girl your father knows and hates to ride in your car squished up between him and yourself. And dad-man just can't fucking do anything about it. Holy shit lol and lol these british people sure fucking love soccer. boy i sure bet this isn't hammed-in foreshadowing for some fucking bullshit that's going to happen in the last episodes!!!! i'd fucking bet my lyfe on it !!!!!!

what fuck is diantha wearing We get another one of those nice moments that makes me hate the rest of the show. Akko, being energetic and people-oriented as always but somewhat more constrained due to the awkward and unfamiliar situation, tries to go for the teddy bear as an attempt to start some conversation with Diana... Diana yells at her not to touch it, and she actually does not touch it. Now go back and watch the robot episode again. HMMMMMMmmmmm Except it wasn't about the bear, it was about the box of Chariot cards, because of course Diantha actually likes Chariot, bet no one ever saw that twist comingHEY WAIT A MINUTE, didn't one of the earlier episodes hinge on Akko knowing something Diantha didn't because of the cards?? It can't be because Akko was the only one to autistically memorize them all, because Diantha is smurt character and should have remembered it at least somewhat just from reading it normally. kindness from diana, when the rest of the family and household is by akko's own statement even worse.

old lady yells at akko while unfitting music plays

#triggered by trigger

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