#now that I think about it… has he had any toothpicks this season?

[thereforepizza]

(Below is a very sad take on/analysis of his character development. If you don’t want the sad vibes, feel free to ignore)

Ok but in all seriousness

I was rewatching the introductory episodes for the Boys in TCW and the Energy that Cross brings to the team is insane. There is so much more banter and casual talk when he’s around. In later episodes of tbb we see the guys a lot more chill, but if you rewatch the ones in S7 of TCW, you’ll notice they’re much more talkative. This could be bc it’s before the traumatic events of order 66 or they were showing off for Rex and Cody or whatever, but I really think Crosshair’s leaving made everything unbearably quiet and serious

The worst part?

Even if Cross comes home, it’ll never be the same again. He unlocked a level of darkness in himself that no one can return from. He betrayed the trust of his brothers. There’s now a kid on the team. They no longer serve a singular power (aside from Cid). The things that changed them all will never let them be the same lighthearted group of brothers they once were.

So yeah, I miss Crosshair too. But Crosshair is gone. At least the one we first met a while ago is. The new one… he won’t hit the same if the writer’s do their job well. Crosshair’s never coming back, but the new person he is could. Perhaps the things he’s gone through with the empire will deepen his character and give us a more interesting version of the playful, sassy sniper.

I suppose we can only hope

I miss Crosshair. I miss his big ol' grouchy face. I miss his snarky comments. I miss his silver hair. I miss his trickshots. I miss his confidence. I miss him

[leonw4nter]

been obsessed with ur fics relating to Taylor’s songs 🥺 can u do one with ‘sl/t’? Just a good ole fluffy fic.

My Cuddly Eldritch Boyfriend!

Eldritch Horror!RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

“Ah yes, my human female companion, I believe I am required to inform you of my whereabouts for today. Since we have run out of the minuscule jar of the chocolate-hazelnut spread you quite enjoy consuming with sliced bread, I had to leave our shared den and purchase some for you. It appears that I have underestimated the price of such delicacy for the bills I have pocketed fell short of a few more dollars,” your boyfriend Leon happily recounted as he showed you the large tub of sandwich spread that he bought earlier today. “Boyfriend”, rather, if he can be considered that.

Leon waltzed into your life quite interestingly, a little more differently than most boyfriends do in the lives of others who have them. You were trapped in an unhappy relationship, the kind where you had to beg to be shown affection and got scolded for buying yourself little goodies like a funny little pond jewelry dish. He was always on his gaming computer or out with his buddies for beer and snacks, yelling at you over the phone whenever you refused to lend him more money. You went home one evening, after a draining workday, to see your “boyfriend” quietly cleaning around the house and stopping to greet you good evening and ask you about your day. It’s quite the contrast to go from an “annoying clingy hoe” to “human female companion” but the latter is leagues better than the other words hurled at you. Leon isn’t even the name of your former boyfriend, wherever he is now; this replacement simply decided to name himself. You know you should be looking for your former partner, wherever he is, but you don’t want to. You’re more than happy with Leon and you wouldn’t want another undeserving girl to fall into the suffocating clutches of your ex.

“A lady has also offered me a small slice of processed meat– a sausage, it is called. Seasoned pork meat rolled into logs, a cut skewered into an infinitesimally slim stake referred to as ‘toothpick’. It is quite delectable, I must admit, but I haven’t any payment in my pockets so I had to politely decline her offer,” he continues recalling. You take out your phone and google a word: “infinitesimally”. This is another of the changes you noticed with your boyfriend: his lexicomane speech; you would never hear words the likes of ‘infinitesimally’ and ‘minuscule’ from him, intelligent phraseology is not in his vocabulary. A few days after the swap of boyfriends, you found yourself having to install a dictionary app on your phone in order to keep up with his sesquipedalian use of words and engage in conversation. You smile, finally spotting the definition of the word: extremely small.

“That’s great, Leon. We still have some sausage in the freezer, though, so I think it’s only right that you didn’t get some coz we might’ve ended up with far too much,” you respond as you set your phone down on the counter. “What brand was it though? I might pick that up for you next time around when I go for groceries.”

“Hm,” he hums in thought.

His human appearance appears to slightly glitch as he delves deeper into his recollections of the day earlier; he appears to have a chromatic aberration, multiple shadows of his head moving about and twitching around in smoky wisps, as several muffled voices of ancient chanting begin to grow a little bit more noticeable in volume. You grow worried yet you stay seated on your chair, carefully observing Leon before anything too out of control and mind-shattering occurs. Thankfully, he finally manages to remember before the voices get too overwhelming for your human mind.

“I believe it was called ‘MorningStar’,” he finally says. He falls silent, head tilting as his face grows expressionless. “Are you alright, girlfriend?”

He steps closer and sits in front of you, back straight and hands in his lap as he continues to observe you thoughtfully, the gears in his head turning to determine how to approach you.

“Oh, yes, Leon. Don’t worry, just zoned out a little. That’s all,” you respond with a forced smile that doesn’t convince him entirely.

“Have you finally observed that I have left the bathroom light bulb switched on during the entirety that I was out purchasing goods to consume?” he quietly asks, voice laced with guilt and shame as he looks at you with something akin to puppy-dog eyes; you didn’t know that eldritch horrors are capable of giving puppy-dog eyes. “I apologize with utmost remorse, my human female mate. In my haste to please you, I have overlooked a step in securing your household utilities.”

You wonder what is the connection between his previous concern for you and the most recent sentence he just uttered then it occurred to you that he wanted to delay admitting to  you that he forgot to switch off the lights; Leon must’ve also forgotten that humans don’t have the level of perception as whatever his kind has, or maybe he assumed that you and you alone possessed that ability. You never would have known if he didn’t bring it up to you. It is funny to see this eldritch being that was clearly trying to pass off as human, as if you had the power of the universe in your palm and could so easily kick him out into the streets, a look on his face now reminiscent of a kicked puppy. It appeared as if he shrank into his olive green sweater, hiding into the warm and dark depths that the piece of clothing offered. Now his ashamed aura was seeping into you, making you feel a slight tinge of what he’s feeling.

“Leon, it’s fine, okay? We’re still in one piece and nothing too bad happened. Besides, I have enough money to comfortably pay off utility expenses so there’s nothing much to worry about,” you reassure him with a gentle hand to his firm shoulder, feeling the spot unwind from the tension beneath your warm palm. “That happens to me too and I get frustrated sometimes but now I just laugh at it.”

He lights up again and that aura of despair fizzles away lickety-split. He beams again, a little too widely for what could be considered normal. He continues rambling on about sausages before asking you about your workday and leaning in to listen intently; you talk and talk, he sits and devotes all his attention to you and answers too, from time to time. He’s a lot more engaging and present when it comes to talking about yourself than your former boyfriend; all he’d talk about is himself and how you’re lucky he loves you, the occasional comparison to other girls. When you’re finally finished talking about your day, it’s Leon's turn to talk about his.

You don’t want to tell him that he’s not perfect on trying to pass off as another ordinary human being– he still tends to unhinge his jaw when he gets excited, his form glitches when he’s deep in thought, he refers to you as ‘human female mate’ or ‘human female companion’ or simply ‘girlfriend’ though in a manner free of offensive intentions, he likes to change the shades of his blue irises, and his verbose vocabulary. Other than the multiloquent manner that he converses in, no one seems to pick up on the irregularity of his physical form, not even when there’s faint shadows of his head fluctuating when he thinks; surely he’s travelling to universes beyond human comprehension just to figure out an answer to “what’d you think of the new Deadpool and Wolverine movie?”. You guess that he’s conjuring some form of illusion that mask slip-ups in his form but why this doesn’t apply to you, you’re not exactly sure but you don’t plan on telling him his lapses; you’re perfectly content with him cooling up your drink with his hand alone in a matter of seconds when you’re out together. He’s far from perfecting the image of a totally human boyfriend but you’re slightly positive that he’s the most perfect lover.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I would like to relish in the amusement of motion pictures with sound alongside you on our couch,” Leon expresses in mild emotion though he seems quite eager to watch movies, just phrased in a more archaic fashion.

“Me too” you respond with a small giggle at his unintentionally goofy personality. “Got a movie in mind?”

“Movie? Ah, yes. The moving images,” he recalls. “I have overheard this title from a young couple I happened to share a bus with, Kate and Leopold, they said. Appertaining to this hearsay statement, it must be a picture that thoroughly imprints itself on the heart and mind.”

“Kate and Leopold?” you say out loud and he nods. “Sure, why not. C’mon let’s head to the living room.”

“Of course,” he responds with an enthusiastic smile as he gets up from his dining room chair and quietly pushes it back before trailing behind you like the lovecraftian horror puppy that he is.

You put on the movie, both settling into a comfortable silence, attention centered on the film on your TV. In the middle of the film, you realize how you are quite near to him yet he does not make advances to touch you as he appears content with your shoulders touching. You sit up, inching closer to his side yet you don’t make this all simultaneous as you don’t want to shock him into discomfort. Much to your pleasant amazement, he not-so-subtly extends his arm behind your neck and rests it there. You look at his head and his face is still trained on Leopold chasing the snatcher, though the tips of his ears are dusted with a faint bloom of pink; who knew that cosmic beings could blush. Now slightly more confident, he slowly tries to urge you closer to the warmth of his side though he’s now hesitant with his actions. You snuggle closer to his side and now his hand is comfortably resting on the side of your arm where his silvery touch sends a flurry of tingles. Leopold and Kate are now sharing a kiss on a rooftop after a waltz to which your heart nearly goes into overdrive; Leon is not faring any better, visibly red-faced and overcome with butterflies that press up against his lungs (if he has any), making breathing feel a little funny. You wonder if he’s mentally replacing the characters with you and him and the image makes him feel madly excited.

“Leon, are you cold?” you ask towards the movie’s nearing end.

“No, but are you?” he counters, turning to face you now.

“Kinda.”

“Would you like me to fetch some for you?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can get it myself–”

Something heavy and weighted and fuzzy envelopes you from the chest down, placed down by the man beside you.

“What’s this?” you ask in a slightly raised voice.

“A blanket,” he responds in a nonchalant manner.

“Why is it so heavy? I know weighted blankets exist but this one’s a little heavier than what I’m used to…”

“It’s bear fur.”

You fall silent, staring down at the brown fur mass laid above your body before staring back up at him, silently asking if this is his form of a prank. Unfortunately, he is serious about this.

“Um… Leon, I appreciate the blanket but I generally prefer faux fur to actual animal-sourced fur. It’s, you know, more wildlife friendly… yeah, um…”

You need not to say more when the blanket is still brown but is now clearly made of faux fur, having changed it right away without arguments or insults hurled at you. He seems satisfied with his service, adjusting the blanket to cover you up properly without obstructing your view of the movie. You offer to share the blanket but he objects, tomato-faced as he stutters his apology.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The movie is finished and he smiles, remarking on how the couple was correct about their opinions and recounting some of the lines that stuck to him. He seemed to especially adore the portion where Kate is enchanted by the sight of Leopold on horseback, most excitedly analyzing the scene and going into detail about the look of love and the twinkle of Kate’s eyes before sighing dreamily.

“I wish to one day flawlessly emulate the depth of emotion she captured with only both her eyes, though I am well-aware that this is all expert acting. It would be my pleasure to one day look at you with such adoration as you tell me tales for there is nothing more that I desire than to enlighten you about the boundless worship that I present to you,” he wistfully conveys as he watches you walk around the bedroom before settling down to lay beside him.

You softly giggle, biting your lip as his voice bounces off in the walls of your mind and plays over and over again.

“Thank you. You’re doing a great job at that already honey,” you sincerely respond to him as you slip under the sheets and get snug.

“Your welcome,” he softly murmurs as a dopey smile points the corners of his lips skyward.

You ask if you can switch the bedside lamp off and he nods, the darkness of the room taking over as your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You lay still and silent before quietly wishing him a good night and restful sleep, to which he returns before he shifts and faces his back to you. Sometime in the middle of the night Leon awakens to the warmth and weight of your head and arms on his chest, the sight of you causing a human warmth to bloom where a human heart would be. You are peaceful and delicate, basking in the warmth that his form offered; the fact that you sought him out in your sleep made him feel loved, a feeling he didn’t know he’d grow to constantly crave. He pulls you closer and delicately wraps his arms around you in a protective embrace, a soft purr humming from his chest– an actual purr, like a cat’s. He strokes your hair with a silvery touch, daintily patting strands as he thinks about the fragility of his human and how he’d need to be very careful with them. His silky hands cause you to drift between the world of sleep and waking consciousness, growing more aware of his purr. You’re not new to his purring; he purrs when you two hold hands while running errands together, he purrs when you refer to him as your boyfriend to other people, he purrs when he finds out that you bought him a snack he likes. He has yet to discover that humans do not and cannot purr, that’s why you aren’t returning his physical display of contentedness but he’s satisfied that you’re letting him hold you like this. You don’t mind his purring at all and you’re firm on the decision that you love him and that he loves you back.

NOTE - First off, thank you to the anon who requested this!! I hope this one reached your expectations, even if I did put a little twist to it :)) guys... I think we're back!!! coz I decided to start on this last night at around 11:30 PM and I rlly had my creative juices flowing, like it just occured to me so clearly so now ig I'm going to start quite late into the evening if I'm going to start something new :D this fic is inspired by the eldritch horror boyfriend prompts that I came across on TikTok and also bc I felt like writing Leon rlly poetic and soft tonightt teehee :3 That's it and and I hope you really enjoyed this fic :)) Thank you for reading my works!!!!!!!!!! I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!

The dainty chain dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[miss-musings]

The Official CrossDad Ranking of The Bad Batch Season 3 Episodes

I love TBB Season 3 so much, and it's partly because of Crosshair's arc and his growing bond with Omega. His attitude toward life in general and her specifically really evolves throughout the season, to the point where he becomes CrossDad™️.

So I thought I'd rank all the S3 episodes by how many and how significant of CrossDad moments we get.

Disclaimer: I'll only be counting episodes where Crosshair and Omega have screentime together (Ep 1, 3-9 and 11).

So, starting with the least CrossDad episode and working our way to the most:

9. Episode 3.01 "Confinement"

Crosshair literally tells Omega that if he had a chance to escape he wouldn't think twice about leaving her behind. Ouch. I’m 99% sure he’s lying, but it’s still not very CrossDad of him to say that.

He also says "I'm not them" when Omega says he's her brother.

But, I guess bro had to start somewhere.

Grade: F

8. Episode 3.03 "Shadows of Tantiss"

Unsurprisingly this is only slightly better. Crosshair's definitely mad at Omega for just winging an escape, but he goes along with it and watches her back. He's definitely not as protective of her here as he is later in the season, but I guess that's to be expected.

The one highlight is, once she thinks they've failed and they'll be killed or recaptured, his Dad instincts kick in and he praises her for getting them as far as she did.

Grade: D

7. Episode 3.08 "Bad Territory"

As much as I love Crosshair and Omega's scenes in Bad Territory -- in fact, they're the only good parts of the whole episode -- I don't think Crosshair acts much like Omega's dad in this episode. More like that older sister-younger brother dynamic she's teased him about before.

However, there are a few crumbs I can highlight:

Crosshair telling her she needs to stay safe and Hunter agreeing with him.

Crosshair's unenthused look when Omega talks about Phee.

As Hunter correctly deduces, Omega is the *only* person Crosshair would listen to about getting his hand examined.

Omega telling Crosshair he doesn't like anything and him agreeing with her.

Crosshair looking very sad and upset when he realizes just how much time he's missed with Omega.

Still, overall, definitely not the most CrossDad episode of the season.

Grade: C

TIE-5. Episode 3.11 "Point of No Return"

This is a weird one, because while we don't get a lot of CrossDad moments with Omega, the episode goes out of its way to make parallels between Crosshair and Hunter to show they're both parental figures to Omega.

I'll talk about this more later on, but one of the ways S3 really solidifies CrossDad is by putting him alongside Hunter so it feels like they're co-parenting Omega together.

This episode does that, in part, by sidelining Wrecker the entire episode. Crosshair and Hunter go up to the colonnade together to get Omega while Wrecker loads the ship, and they watch over Omega together after Wrecker's incapacitated.

And then, we have the parallel between Hunter watching Hemlock's shuttle take Omega away in 2.16 "Plan 99" and Crosshair watching CX-2's shuttle take Omega away from Pabu.

Another poignant parallel that shows Crosshair has become a parental figure to Omega, the way Hunter has been the entire show.

However, I feel like Crosshair ultimately agreeing with Omega's plan to turn herself in is something Hunter would never do. I get that Crosshair was reluctant, tried to talk her out of it and only agreed because he didn't see any better options. But, I still feel like Hunter would never have done that.

Ultimately, I feel like this one's a mixed bag.

Grade: C+

TIE-5. Episode 3.06 "Infiltration"

Admittedly there aren't many CrossDad moments in this one, as the bulk of the runtime is focused on the CX assassins and Rex's clone underground.

But we do get a few:

Omega copies Crosshair's toothpick thing, just like she did with Hunter in 1.01 Aftermath (and her other brothers throughout the series). Now, she's finally copying him, and he takes note of it.

He just nonchalantly tells Omega the Empire's after her again, but once it's clear there's an operative nearby, he freaks out.

Again, the show pairs Crosshair up with Hunter as co-parents talking about Omega's safety and the bigger problems with Hemlock, Tantiss and the CX operatives. Meanwhile Wrecker hangs out with Omega -- like a big brother distracting/entertaining his sister while the "grown-ups" talk.

Not a lot to work with, but it's cute for what we do have.

Grade: C+

4. Episode 3.05 "The Return"

This is another episode where we don't get a ton of one-on-one interactions between Crosshair and Omega, and some of the ones we do get fall more into that brother-sister dynamic (ie, "He started it," and Omega sighing in frustration).

But there are some big CrossDad moments in this episode:

When Omega first approaches the beach and Crosshair looks up at her, his expression definitely changes. It's hard to tell because the focus switches as Batcher comes into the foreground, but it honestly looks like he smiles when he sees her. Or at least his expression "lightens up."

Crosshair has a nice teaching moment with Omega where he describes what it takes to be a good sniper!! :)

Despite his resentment and anger toward Hunter, it's clear that Crosshair agrees with Hunter about not wanting to endanger Omega. In fact, he even defends Hunter's stance to Omega and tells her not to hold it against him.

The "you let Omega be taken to Tantiss" exchange is *chef's kiss*. I feel like I could write entire essays about it.

It's clear that, for the first half of the episode, Hunter doesn't like that Omega and Crosshair are so close. Not only does he not trust Crosshair, but he definitely resents Crosshair for helping Omega escape when he couldn't. I think he's also a bit jealous (???) of all the attention Omega shows Crosshair after she and Hunter have been separated for months. Like, she couldn't even spend one minute having breakfast with him and Wrecker before asking where Crosshair was and immediately going to find him. Hunter also needlessly threw Crosshair a dirty look for seeing how much Omega was following him around before they left for Barton IV. Again, I know it's because he and Crosshair have their own issues -- which they resolve by the end of the episode -- but he never seemed insecure/jealous/resentful of Omega spending so much time with Wrecker, Echo or Tech before.

Overall, this is the one episode where it's clear that, despite their personal differences, Crosshair and Hunter both care about Omega and prioritize her safety. Because they're *both* her dads now.

Side note: the little exchange where Crosshair says he'll handle getting the creature outside the perimeter and Hunter saying "Not alone -- we'll do it together" and then Crosshair asking him if he's sure... you can definitely read that more than one way... :)

Grade: B-

3. Episode 3.04 "A Different Approach"

This episode isn't the *most* CrossDad episode, but I feel like it's the one where Crosshair first starts down the CrossDad path thanks to two big moments:

THE FIRST:

As I said, the show goes out of its way several times to show that Crosshair is on the same path as Hunter -- just two seasons later. While Hunter acted like Omega's dad pretty much from Day 1, Crosshair's just starting his journey in Season 3.

In 1.01 Aftermath, after TBB fails Tarkin's mission, Hunter decides to go back to Kamino for Omega. Even though there's a possibility TBB could be captured or killed if they return to Kamino, Hunter chooses Omega's safety and well-being over his and his squad's freedom.

At the time, Crosshair argued against returning for Omega. But, here in 3.04, he faces the same decision as Hunter: Ensure his own freedom by going to the spaceport OR follow Omega despite the risk of both of them getting (re)captured or killed.

And like Hunter, he chooses Omega over his own freedom and safety.

This was his own Point of No Return, if you will. The moment he first takes up the CrossDad mantle -- never to let it go again.

THE SECOND:

Additionally, in this episode, we have the Imperial officer mistaking Crosshair for Omega's dad. I'm 99% sure that Hunter is the only Bad Batcher who was assumed to be Omega's dad before this episode. I can't recall anyone ever doing that with Echo, Wrecker or Tech before -- just Hunter. (Please correct me if I'm wrong.)

The fact that another character in-universe believes Crosshair is Omega's dad is a purposeful choice by the writers. The captain could've easily said "I've never seen you two around here before," and the conversation could've continued the same way. The fact that he says "dad" is significant, because again, we're drawing parallels between Crosshair and Hunter.

And in this episode, where Crosshair ultimately makes the same "Omega>freedom" choice Hunter did, that seems poignant.

ADDITIONAL POINTS:

Outside of the two big items, I'll only say that there are a few other CrossDad elements in this episode, like him being ready to square up against anyone who threatens Omega. Including a poor street kid. LOL

But, the bulk of the time, he follows her lead. She tells him they need new clothes; she has the idea to bribe the spaceport employee; she decides to "hustle" people at the cantina; and she refuses to go with Crosshair after the Imperials take Batcher. Heck, even the "Let's try things your way" line is still HER decision.

Hunter definitely has his moments where he defers to Omega's judgment (and moments when she just 100% defies or disobeys him), but the narrative and other characters definitely see him as the one who has the final say as the squad leader and her guardian.

So, we can see that Crosshair might be transitioning into a "dad" role, but he's definitely not there yet.

I also like how he grabs the briefcase of credits, even though they didn't really need it anymore. He was like, "I'm not going to let all of Omega's hard work go to waste." LOL

The final moment I want to highlight is Crosshair trying to emotionally prepare Omega that Hunter and Wrecker might not be there. Of course he was wrong, but I appreciate that he was not only looking out for her physical well-being in this episode, but also her emotional well-being too.

Overall, this is one worth being in the Top 3 of Most CrossDad episodes.

Grade: B

2. Episode 3.09 "The Harbinger"

Like 3.05 The Return, we don't have a lot of one-on-one interactions between Crosshair and Omega. But, again, the narrative and other characters go out of their way to treat Crosshair as a full member of The Dad Batch.

Asajj seems to view all three brothers as equally problematic toward Omega's possible Force training. She doesn't single Hunter or Crosshair or Wrecker out more than the other two -- they're all "overprotective shadows" in her eyes.

If anything, I think that shows just how well Crosshair has slotted into the family dynamic in such a short amount of time. Hunter and Wrecker have been with Omega longer and arguably know her better, but Crosshair is just as fiercely protective of her as they are.

It also demonstrates how far he's come in just half a season. Seven episodes ago he said he'd leave her behind without a second thought (although he was probably lying), and now he's fighting a former Sith apprentice because she might be a threat to Omega's safety.

But, while Asajj might view all three brothers the same way -- and to a certain degree they are -- the narrative once again has Wrecker playing a different role in Omega's life while putting Crosshair and Hunter on (near) equal footing.

Multiple times throughout the episode -- namely the family meeting in the Marauder and the final conversation with Asajj -- we see Hunter and Crosshair are framed more as co-parents while Wrecker acts as either guard dog or Omega's distraction while the "grown-ups" talk.

One final point I'll make is that, while Crosshair nominally agreed with Hunter's plan to let Omega train with Asajj alone, he also made it clear he disagreed with Hunter’s decision. He basically gave himself an out. Like: "You might've agreed to let Omega train with a former Separatist assassin unsupervised, but I made no such promise so I can intervene if I see fit. I'm only up here with you guys because of peer pressure."

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a big fan of this episode in general, and honestly wish we could've consolidated it with 3.08 Bad Territory somehow. But, it's definitely a CrossDad heavy episode, and in that respect, I *am* here for it!

Grade: A

1. Episode 3.07 "Extraction"

You all knew this had to be No. 1. It's THE quintessential CrossDad episode!!

I love the little touch of Omega going to look down the spire alongside Crosshair. She really is trying to learn from him, and he doesn't seem to be opposed to it.

As we see later in this episode and again in the finale, once Crosshair knows a CX operative is after them, he volunteers to face him. I know he has all sorts of reasons for wanting to confront CX-2 by himself, but protecting Omega must be one of them.

Once they get away and crash-land in the jungle, we get THE CrossDad conversation -- which was apparently a late addition by the production team.

Once again, he's checking on Omega's physical and emotional well-being. He makes sure she's safe and knows what to do, even though they've been in at least two firefights together at this point.

And once again, we get another parallel between him and Hunter, this time by Omega herself!

Omega: You're as bad as Hunter. Crosshair: Oh, I'm much worse.

He's so fully embraced the CrossDad path that it convinces Howzer (who understandably didn't trust Crosshair earlier in the two-parter) that Crosshair really is different.

Once those Jango Fett "dad genes" kick in, all the clones are practically different people, and Howzer clearly sees that in Crosshair. I'm sure it reminded Howzer of his own time on Ryloth and how much he cared about the Syndulla family and Hera specifically.

We also get a nice allusion to Crosshair's own journey of loyalty. He said earlier in the two-parter that he wasn't loyal to the Empire any longer, but didn't really specify who he was loyal to now. But, Howzer clearly sees Crosshair's now 100% dedicated to his family, especially Omega.

During the first skirmish between the protagonists and the Imperial troops, Crosshair unnecessarily tells Omega, "Stay by my side and stay down."

I say unnecessarily because 1) he should know by now Omega can handle herself and 2) neither Hunter nor Wrecker felt compelled to give her similar directions. But, he's full CrossDad™️ in this episode, so his first priority is her safety. It was also objectively a good idea for Omega to stay with Crosshair, considering he has an infrared sight and could see enemies the others couldn't.

Which is exactly what happens when Crosshair realizes CX-2 is after them. So, once again, he takes on the responsibility of distracting CX-2 so Omega and the others can get to safety.

Omega doesn't like his decision, and in the perfect CrossDad™️ move -- in that it combines all of Crosshair's quintessential traits with those of the quintessential dad -- he turns off his comm and says under his breath: "Too bad." LOL

The fight against CX-2 is so well-done, in part because we see exactly who Crosshair used to be in S1 and who he could've become in S3 if he hadn't resisted Hemlock's "re-education" efforts.

Granted, this was a headcanon someone else shared, but I like the thought that Crosshair was able to resist specifically because of Omega.

Either:

Hemlock controls the CX operatives by enhancing the effects of their inhibitor chips (like what Tarkin & co did to Crosshair in S1); in which case, Crosshair is immune because he took Omega's advice in S1 and removed his inhibitor chip.

OR

While he'd never admit it, I'm sure seeing Omega regularly (probably daily) on Tantiss gave him some amount of hope and comfort in an otherwise desolate and isolated environment. In which case, he had something to hold onto mentally and emotionally while he was being tortured. This would be a nice parallel to Hemlock interrogating him in S2. He didn't break then because he was clearly thinking about his family, and it'd poignant if that was the case again in S3.

In any case, 3.07 Extraction is, without a doubt, the most CrossDad episode in S3. I honestly wish we could've gotten more episodes like it, or just more S3 episodes in general. But, I'm thankful we got to see Crosshair and Omega grow so much -- both individually and together -- this season.

Grade: A+

EDIT/UPDATE:

Episode 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

I initially said I wasn't going to grade the finale, because I felt like it'd be too hard. But I kinda had a change of heart:

While I won't put it in the official ranking, I will share some thoughts and give it a general score.

This is another episode that falls into same category as 3.05 "The Return": Omega and Crosshair might not have a lot of screentime together, but the narrative and other characters go out of their way to reinforce Crosshair's role as a co-parent to Omega.

The first time Crosshair mentions Omega is in the "change of plans" scene. It's genuinely heartbreaking for a myriad of reasons, but one is that Crosshair doesn't feel like Omega needs him the way she needs Hunter and Wrecker.

I personally don't feel like this is a very CrossDad moment. Him doing whatever it took to infiltrate Tantiss and rescue Omega -- absolutely. But deprecating himself and saying he deserves to die -- definitely not.

(Tech's sacrifice was different, because there was no alternative. That definitely wasn't the case for Crosshair.)

Look, I know why he says it. He must feel like Hunter and Wrecker genuinely mean more to her, and after letting her surrender on Pabu and missing the shot to track her ship, he probably also feels like he failed her and doesn't deserve to be in her life anymore.

Thank goodness Hunter and Wrecker talk sense into him! (Btw, I love their little look at each other when he says "Omega needs you both." They're like, "Buddy, she'd be devastated if you died. That ain't happening.")

And I love that it's Hunter who emphasizes to him that Omega needs all three of them in her life. This moment -- plus the final confrontation later -- shows how far Hunter and Crosshair's dynamic has evolved, especially regarding Omega.

Moving on, the next time we get a real CrossDad moment is when Hunter says he's going after Omega and recommends Crosshair stay behind.

Considering that Echo and Wrecker were still fighting the CX clones, Crosshair covering them from above would've been helpful. So it wasn't a terrible suggestion on Hunter's part, but that's not Crosshair's place emotionally or narratively.

If Hunter's going after Omega, he is too. They're going to do it together, as they've said since 3.05.

And I'll say: once again, the narrative sidelines Wrecker while putting Hunter and Crosshair on (near) equal footing.

Wrecker stepped into his role as the team's Tank and fought off the CX clones long enough to give Hunter (and Crosshair) a chance to save Omega. His role in the story -- just like in Omega's life -- is important, but it is different from Hunter and Crosshair's roles.

And now we have THE SCENE.

Holy crap. I can't tell you, as a CrossDad fan or just a TBB fan in general, how much I adore this scene!!!

Hunter and Crosshair take out CX-2's Dagger together. I'm sure they both had their respective flashbacks of helplessly watching Omega be taken away, and they both thought, "OH HELL NO!! We're not letting that happen again!"

They take every move together. They destroy the Dagger; they shoot Scorch; they take a knee on the bridge after Hemlock puts the blaster to Omega's head. They're in total lock step.

Until Hunter catches Omega's signal, but Crosshair apparently doesn't.

So, Hunter tells him what he needs to do. He physically and emotionally supports him in that moment.

It's also crazy to think that Hunter is trusting Crosshair with Omega's life, and the fact that Crosshair is hesitant to shoot while Hunter is encouraging him. How far these kids have come since 1.01 Aftermath!

As I've alluded to before, Crosshair has been kind of speed-running through Hunter's Dad arc from S1-2. Now, he gets to the moment where he must fully accept how capable Omega is and trust her. This is something Hunter has understandably struggled with before, but he seems to have made his peace with it by this point.

But, Crosshair hasn't.

He loves Omega so much AND has lost so much confidence in his own abilities for numerous reasons that he can't stand the thought of potentially hurting her.

It's a far cry from the shot he made to save her in 1.16, when he had full confidence in his abilities and didn't seem to realize or care that he might endanger her if he missed.

But, with Hunter's support and Omega's faith, he makes it!

And now the hug:

Omega runs toward them, but rather than flinging herself onto one or both of them, she stops a few feet away and smiles. It's only when she sees Crosshair's missing his right hand that she goes to hug him first.

(BTW, the English-Audio Description version confirms that Crosshair's eyes well with tears in that moment.)

Crosshair definitely doesn't like to be touched. We've seen this as far back as 1.01 Aftermath, when Wrecker's messing with him. His brothers and Omega seem to be the only people he'll accept physical affection from, and even then, he doesn't really reciprocate it.

Until now.

He doesn't use his arms, but he closes his eyes and presses his head against Omega's as she hugs him. Also, once they start walking back, he puts his right stump on her shoulder.

Side note: others have pointed out how Hunter's body language in that scene suggested he wanted Omega to hug Crosshair first, that he was happy when she did, and that he hugged both Omega and Crosshair back. I agree with this assessment. Hunter clearly understands how important Crosshair and Omega are to each other, and really reinforces how all of them are a family together.

Now, I really wish we could've gotten one post-Tantiss conversation between Omega and Crosshair, because they haven't had an onscreen conversation since 3.11. (Although that's better than poor Wrecker, who hasn't had an onscreen conversation with Omega since 3.09.)

But, I do love that, once Crosshair and Wrecker settle into their "family portrait" pose, Crosshair is on Hunter's side. Again, it's significant to their relationship as brothers, as well as co-parents to Omega. They're going to be supporting each other for the long run. (Wrecker too, but I would imagine in a different way based on his role in the narrative.)

One final thing I'll mention is that, in the epilogue, Hunter says, "You're our kid, Omega. You always will be."

Hunter might've been the first one to step into the role of Omega's Dad, but he also recognizes that he didn't raise her alone. She's not just his kid. She's Crosshair and Wrecker and Tech and Echo's kid too. They all raised her, together.

It reinforces the same point as 3.09: Crosshair might've been the last brother to officially join the Dad Batch, but he was a full member all the same. Even Hunter acknowledges that.

Anyway, looking at the finale on the CrossDad ranking, it's a weird one, because we only have a few CrossDad moments in the hourlong episode. But, man, do those moments really pack a punch!

If I have to grade it, I think it'd put it in the same ballpark as 3.05 "The Return." It hits a lot of similar beats as far as the Hunter-Crosshair dynamic and how the narrative once again frames them as co-parents to Omega.

But, we got the long-awaited Crosshair-Omega hug, so I think that automatically bumps it up from a B- to a B!

Grade: B

*****

Here's to hoping that, somewhere down the line, we'll get a Bad Batch comic, novel, spin-off show, cameo... something! I'd love to get more CrossDad content, but I suppose fanfics will have to do for now! LOL

Thanks for reading 'til the end, especially now that I've added in the super-long finale analysis. :)

[freesia-writes]

The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel [Part 1]

A fun action/adventure/romance with Tech and an original character, set during the Clone Wars. Rated PG-13 for passion and peril. ;) And just a heads up -- so far, it's got about 27 parts, and I anticipate about 30-32. It kinda got away from me. ;)

Also, I did my best to keep a steady plot line and tried to think of all the potential plot holes or questions or whatnot, but ultimately, this was just an excuse to indulge in imagining a little romantic adventure for Tech. So forgive any inconsistencies or inaccuracies and enjoy the ride. ;)

(STORY STARTS BELOW THE PHOTO) Also, I'll publish the rest on Wattpad for those of you who want to read it all at once. But I probably won't finish it til the end of the month; want to see how Season 2 ends!

The Bad Batch: Tech and Vel - CT-9902 - Wattpad

"Steady, Wrecker..." Crosshair said smoothly, lifting his left elbow to bring his sniper to his shoulder plate, "We will be finished in a moment."

"We either do it now, or I go down there and do it myself," Wrecker replied, "This has taken... three times too long! I'm starving!"

"Well, select your next meal, then. Here he is," came the silken retort. The target came into view, a short, fat little politician flanked by two guards. His chin quivered as he walked, bent over his datapad, engaged in an intense discussion on a comlink in his hand. A taxi whizzed by, causing people to hustle to the side. A few choice words came flying after him from the left guard, but there was nothing more to it.

Except that it was the precise gap Crosshair had been waiting for. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.

"Your call, Hunter," he said, in a tone that bordered on boredom, keeping an eye on the target and confirming his sniper set to stun. 

"Take it," came the order.

ZAP! A red beam of light sizzled into the wall next to the politician's head. Both guards immediately leapt into action, activating handheld ray shields that glowed around them and the diplomat. The shimmering ovals flew up from the ground to form a perfect bubble as the right guard called for backup, poised at the ready, eyes flitting to and fro. In one smooth movement, the group disappeared into a nearby building.

"How did you miss? You never miss!" Wrecker shouted, pushing his helmet up to rest atop his head.

"That wasn't me, nitwit," Crosshair hissed, scanning the rooftops with his scope, "That was a live round. Someone else is after our target."

"Crosshair is correct," came Tech's matter-of-fact voice from behind the two, "The shot originated from a rooftop at an approximate angle of--"

"Just tell us where!" Wrecker interrupted.

"There," Tech replied, angling his hand toward a tall building behind them. Before the word had fully left his mouth, Hunter was on the move. He ran swiftly toward the side of the building, taking a flying leap onto a parked speeder bike, launching off the handlebars, and catching hold of the tail end of a ladder dangling off the side of a second-story balcony. He scrambled to the top of the ladder without virtually no effort, disappearing over the side of the railing.

The rest of the team wasn't far behind. Wrecker stopped at the base of the ladder, giving Crosshair a leg up. He was nearly as lithe as Hunter, gliding up the ladder and leaping onto the balcony without a sound. He whipped his sniper from his back and brought it to his eye, adjusting the scope with his middle finger and thumb.

Tech was running toward them as well, typing furiously into his wrist. "I'll fetch the ship to get eyes in the sky; Wrecker can man the rear gun if we need any backup."

"Meet me at the top of the building; I just sent the coordinates to you," Hunter affirmed, "Crosshair and I will flush out this little interruption."

"Affirmative," Tech replied, and was joined by Wrecker as they sprinted back to the Marauder. ***

A pebble slipped from beneath her foot as Vel let fly a word that would have made her father smirk. She shuffled along the balcony, reaching the corner and rounding it swiftly. Finding the ladder down the side, she slid down as quickly as she could, hopping off two stories below to creep along the backside of the building. 

She saw movement up ahead, the flash of a figure crawling up the ladder on the other side and caught a hint of grey and red armor. Figuring it better to stun her pursuer than risk being caught, she pulled her blaster from her hip and furtively approached the ladder. 

Suddenly, a flash of blue light enveloped her, and her ears rang with a deafening high-pitched sound. She dropped to the ground and remembered no more. 

***

"You make good bait, Hunter," Crosshair crooned, stowing his sniper on his back as he smirked at the perfectly-placed stun. 

"Meet me on the roof," came the only reply. 

The Marauder lowered smoothly as the remainder of the team boarded, the passed-out figure thrown over Hunter's shoulder. He dropped her onto the floor under the control panel before continuing up to the bridge. 

"Let's report in and we'll see what to do with her," Hunter said.

With a nod, Tech moved a lever and the stars around them turned into solid blue lines as they disappeared into hyperspace. 

[stankycowboy]

Severen blinks, slowly, grinding the wooden sliver to splinters between his teeth. It is clear she is far more invested than he, coming to the rescue of the author of this inane jumble of queries despite all proof to the contrary that even they were not clear on how any of these decisions would provide insight into one’s seasonal needs.

Of the women he had known for more than a meal, he could not recall any of them having taken any interest in the fashion of the time. His mother had dressed for utility, long skirt, loose blouse, boots; her leather apron and tool belt if she was working. Diamondback wore whatever was at hand and not too tore up like the rest of them, and Lira, although clearly aware of certain modern trends, seemed far from concerned if her leather laced top was “in” at the moment. He hoped she never changed her mind on that either. Mary continues her rationalizing, Severen having momentarily lapsed out of listening, wondering what his lover's answers would have been to these questions, if she could be convinced to participate. "Oh, I missed one..." he mutters as the more interested party concludes her reasoning. "D. A Snack, now there's a thought". He is revived at the thought of consumption, the heinous glutton always ready to fill himself, even when he has already hunted for the evening. It would be a delightful palate cleanser, pun intended, to slake his thirst after finishing here. "Why would you want anythin' else?" For his own purposes, the storage suggestion would have to be truly innovative. Not much besides his usual duffle would have enough room for his meals of choice. He looks down and sees that they have reached the final question. Relief floods him, he flicks the remnants of his smashed toothpick onto the table. "Finally, it's a day at the beach, are you: A. Lounging out in the sun, B. Splashing in the waves, C. Enjoying...a crisp salad?" Although he has thoughts on the matter, he hurries through to the last option, "D. At the bar with a cold drink". Severen can't help briefly thinking of Mae, knowing she would also be delighted to participate in the quizzing; never fully broken out of her teenage attitudes. It was almost too bad he had buried her under 8 feet of dirt in the middle of Oklahoma. She assuredly would have had thoughts about summer attire. "Well?" He insists, more than eager to be done so he can go thin the human population.

"Oh, wonderful - I'm ready," she confirms, leaning in for the dramatics of it all. Of course, summer fashion is always on the top of her mind, ready to pull blues and pinks from her closet the moment the bright, dazzling sun hits. This quiz is sure to provide valuable insight for what she should wear in the heat. Unlike her usual attire - a closed door and windows drawn where the burn of the sun can't hurt her.

"Perhaps the extra set has a special place in someone's heart," is her defense of this poorly written option. "Or it's the set you always remember where you had it last, rather than the original set." Rationalising the nonsense is a difficult feat and she's clearly unsuccessful.

"What I want to know is how this question determines your summer fashion. The night sky one has some logic - your colour preference alludes to your overall look - but what does this... Oh! The utility of your clothing. More pockets means carrying larger items."

[evita-shelby]

Inspired by that boat scene in Marvelous Mrs. Maisel season 2.

Luca is younger here, like maybe in his early twenties.

The Lake

Gif by @bl-ck-sw-n

“Luca?” The young woman came up to him as if he owed her something.

When the other Luca in attendance turned around, she specified, “Audrey’s son, Luca?”

They knew each other in passing, but he’s never actually talked to her.

Their mothers were friends and this holiday was planned for them at this lake resort every time his parents came to the states.

Their cabins are close and he has lost count on the many times he’s seen her forget to close her bedroom window when she changes, but he has never truly met her.

“Yes, I’m Audrey’s son, Luca. And you are?” He knew her name, everyone did, there was no woman here who could compare to Y/N.

Of course, he knew her as Y/N, Silvia’s daughter. And her annoyed scoff let him knew she was not amused.

“Y/N.” she was stunning, never a hair out of place and always dressed in the latest fashion. He could bet one hundred dollars that every girl here would be wearing a wide brimmed straw hat liker hers by tomorrow.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, can you be more specific?” he said finding her irritation much better than her refined façade.

“Silvia’s daughter, Y/N.” she crossed her arms and stared him down despite how short she was. He could tuck her under his chin and yet she looked as tall as him with that glare.

“What can I do for you, Y/N?” he asks taking a new toothpick in his mouth.

He was Audrey’s gangster son, the prodigal son who all the women want because of the danger he supposedly emanates.

“Our mom’s got it in their head that we’d be great together. Mamma won’t shut up about how great you are and this morning implied that the size of your nose means you are well endowed. If we go out on a date she will shut up and let me enjoy the rest of our vacation.” She is direct, doesn’t even blush at the correct assumption her mother made.

Oh, Silvia Lombardo, never change, he thinks as he lets Y/N explain her plan.

“And when is this date, I need at least six hours to get us a good spot in this fucking resort.” He says taking the challenge.

He'll make her change her mind, they all change their mind and before they know it they are sneaking around the resort because they can’t get enough of him.

“Too bad, its right now. We’ll go on a boat ride where they can see us as they gossip and where she can’t have any wiggle room to suggest a second date.” She said grabbing him by the arm like they aren’t practically strangers.

“If someone has to be tossed in the lake, it will have to be you. Mamma will kill me if I ruin this suit.” He says as he lets her guide him to the dock where the life guard gets a boat ready for them.

They sit at opposite ends of the little boat and he takes out the resort’s newsletter he had been reading before was so rudely interrupted.

“Aren’t you going to row?” she asks as she sits there looking pretty.

Too bad she’s determined to dislike him, but he’s enjoying getting her riled up.

Makes the whole thing much more believable.

“No.” he pretends to be engrossed by the inane and dull words of whoever the fuck the resort pays to write this.

They’ll be a Shakespearian play tomorrow evening, maybe once she’s cooled down, he’ll make things worse by taking her out on a real date.

“The guy always rows.” She says as if it would get him to lift the fucking paddle.

Or he’ll take her to a club near here and see if perfect Miss Lombardo is a whore under that expensive summer dresses.

“Not this one, signorina.” He emphasized that by sitting back and flipping the page on the newsletter.

She huffed and Luca thinks the view of irritated Y/N Lombardo enhances the picturesque lake behind her.

“At least say something so it looks like we’re having fun.” She suggests and he tries not to smirk.

“Alessandro Russo wishes to thank all those how were there to say their final goodbyes to his late wife, Guilia.” He reads and tries not to laugh when she throws her head back laughing and giggling like he had made a joke.

“Fuck you, Luca. Read something funny, now people think I’m crazy.” She says with a fake smile as the passengers in the boat near them stared.

“You are. I swear you Lombardos are fucking insane, but your mother is never wrong. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, wear something nice and tell your mother not to wait up.” He says as he tosses the paper aside and offered the crazy girl in front of him his hand as their boat rode came to an end. “I’ll kiss and you’ll toss me in the lake, your mother will think this is little act is real if you do it.”

“What about your suit?” Y/N asked unaware of his intentions as he pulled her in for kiss.

“You can make it up to me by wearing that red lingerie you had on when you came last week.”

She’s a good kisser, makes him wonder what else she can do with that pretty mouth of hers.

Makes ruining this suit worth it, he thinks as he lets her push him into the water.

“I hope you can swim, signorina.” He says as he takes her down with him.

[thimbil]

Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.

So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.

I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.

Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.

So who is?

Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.

Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?

Hunter

Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.

Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.

Crosshair

The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.

In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.

Wrecker

In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.

You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.

Tech

Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.

And finally,

Echo

Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.

The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.

So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.

But they didn’t do that.

So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.

The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.

Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.

Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)

None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.

This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.

Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.

[jj-babebank]

Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence. 

Chapter 1 can be found below.  Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;) 

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly. 

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily. 

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore. 

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result. 

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it. 

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building. 

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town. 

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm. 

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him. 

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl. 

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu. 

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL 

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have  any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms. 

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

[salcreus]

*SHAKES YOU* what’s that AU please talk more‼️‼️

I'm sorry in advance to you and the other people that went to ask in hopes that I actually produce something of quality hgdnfg So 💃The overgreat AU (which is the name that I have going on right now, I might change it but it's just an awful pun for now that only makes sense to me and me alone) Is basically "What if I took whatever Mumbo has going on right now, but I made it everybody's problem". Mostly because I am biased about characters going fucked up and evil through corruption side effects of their world. There are already a couple of fanart pieces under the overgreat au tag if anyone wants out of context content <3

The premise is that, during Season 5, when the NHO entered a temple in their first episodes, they accidentally released a type of weird plant based parasite, slash curse slash being into the world, whose objective was to go from host to host, until it was able to be on top of the food chain. What is the “top”? That’s to be defined later, if I ever do end up writing or drawing this.

Also when I speak of It (It purposefully does not have a name, I promise for a good reason) as a parasite, or plant, etc, It can cause effects or grow things that do fit the definitions, but It’s something intangible, odorless, etc. It’s not *actually* a parasite, nor a plant, yada yada, It just Is. It’s It. The Thing, if you will. Bug mentions that people do not need to know about but I’m including it out of curiosity: (It has some design/characteristics based on the Leucochloridium paradoxum, which is a parasite that affects snails, in a gross way that I won't explain here nor do I suggest googling it if you don't like bugs, but the little guy does it to call attention and take advantage of the bigger hunter, birds, to- do whatever it does and multiply. Rinse and repeat) Point is, that very same “Curse” uses one’s ambitions and wishes against them, twisting whatever their desire is, to better fit the needs of this being, making people that would otherwise be completely rational and wonderful functioning members of society into thinking and doing… Weirder, more questionable stuff. Think of it as a cocktail of impulsive thoughts but you actually go through with them. It does have more side effects and it does have logic drowned into it, but again, I won’t explain now just in case I DO end up writing something with this. It affected several of the Hermitcraft seasons, from the Bdubs’ Vine situation during season 5, to the Mycelium resistance in s7, and now some of the people during season 8, jumping from person to person as It sees fit (or, at least, if it’s strong enough to actually do something. Think of it as cross riding the player’s data) but it lingered on this edge of being strong enough to change someone’s personality and behaviour, without being fully able to take over onto bigger prey, thus laying in this limbo of no one being aware that these events were interconnected, and by what, even though they were all pretty worrisome scenarios. Like yes, this thing sure just happened, but the blame was always placed upon another external factor. However, what changed this season, is that it’s host, the “Infected” person, is a) Not that strong, both in a physical and mental sense (sorry Mumbo, sweetie, but your Minecraft persona looks like a Don’t Starve character fused with a toothpick) and b) already had an ambitious goal going on, which was to make sure not to murder anything. Like, don’t get me wrong, as much as I take advantage of the fact that Mumbo this season is anything but eco friendly, he still was extremely “nice and pure” at the start of the season, and that is to be commended. So- Why not take advantage of this person that doesn’t show much resistance to your influence, but also someone that already has an affinity to plants, which is your domain, but ALSO has a goal that he’s dead set on fulfilling. It’s peachy and nice. And that- Is the resume of the “backstory” of this hngdfngdfg. As resumed as I can make it, at least, which is mostly the boring “this is why x is x and why y is y”. The idea would be to go onwards from that basic idea into exploring and explaining each detail of S8, and how It affects the hermits, from Impulse’s love for amethyst, into Zedaph’s Lab experiments, or whatever the Gem has cooking in her gardens. (Which trust me, that's a whole thing in itself) Which is hilarious because I do have all of these plot points that are actually important and interesting, but I can't say any of them without giving this introduction, or because they would spoil the resolution/major plot points that I don't want to fully explain just yet. But hgndfg yeah!! premises!! backstory!! cool!!! Will I ever actually write this??? Who knows!! I sure don't!!!

[tangerineliqu0r]

Kindle

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Hero!Reader

Summary: They haven't seen each other in 6 months, and after meeting on the metro, have a cute dinner.

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, married couple stuff, cursing, reminiscing

Word Count: 1373

a/n: I've been dying to actually start writing and I love Sam so much and don't see enough love for him so here it is <3

The bumpiness of the metro had never been nice to you. Whether it was smacking your head into the window or throwing you off balance, it had never been something you liked. Unfortunately, it was much faster than driving when you had to be downtown. Not to mention you weren’t much of a driver anyways.

That’s how you got stuck dosing off on the cracked seats on your way back from work. You’d think that working for the government would have its perks, but here you were working until late and riding the damn metro back home. You were exhausted, so much so that your eyelids were half closed where pictures of a warm bed and Chinese takeout danced behind your eyes. To anyone else on the train, you probably looked completely asleep or at least in your own little world. You were almost knocked out until the train pulled up to a stop and a voice yanked you out of your dreams.

“Hey, is that really you? What’re you doing in DC?”

The striking figure of Sam Wilson entered your half-lidded vision. He was getting on the train and grabbing a standing spot directly in front of you. Despite the initial shock of seeing him you were still able to get a stiff answer to come out of your mouth as you tried to wake yourself up.

“Oh, you know, working myself to death, you know the feds don’t want any of us roaming the streets.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Retiring was never an option for you, it seemed you’d always be paying them back for your ‘enemy of the state’ pardon.

“Yeah, I felt that. Always the next job, right?”

“Exactly. They’ve got me cooped up in an office with a bunch of techs now. Said something about me being unsafe and unpredictable in the field, before assigning me some shitty therapist and slapping me behind a computer.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought.

“Shit, I’d kill for a desk job right now. Seems like I fly from mission to mission and get patched up on the plane in between.Dealing with the world post blip isn’t as easy as it seems.”

“I know Sam, the world’s so different and I’m so busy I swear I don’t think I’ve sat down at my kitchen table to eat in 4 months.”

I shifted over so I was fully in my seat and motioned for him to take the seat next to me. I could see the exhaustion on his face as he plopped into the seat. He leaned fully back and stretched out his long jean clad legs.

He blows air out of his mouth and laughs at me, “God damn, I felt that, takeout’s good, but nothing beats a good steak and sprouts.”

Obviously, it hadn’t taken long to fall back into their old ways: complaining about work and talking about food. All we needed to turn back time now would be a quick kiss. You couldn’t help but to reminisce. The two of you used to be like two peas in a pod, where he was you were. Seeing him after all this time made you realize just how much you missed him. You missed being around him all the time. You missed the way he’d laugh at your stupid jokes. You missed cooking for him and staying in to watch some cult classic. You missed going out to Tony’s fancy parties and then driving around for hours with Sam after. You missed the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin against yours. You missed him more than you realized, and the feeling gave you the confidence to speak up.

“Come over to mine then, I still go grocery shopping and I’m sure I can whip up an actual meal for you.”

His brown eyes light up, and you know you’ve got him with the promise of good cooking. “God, it’s been forever since I’ve ate your food, you know I can’t turn that down.”

“Good, I got you just in time then, because my stop is coming up.” You smiled at him.

Suddenly the day had gotten better, even with the torture of work and the monotony of life, Sam Wilson had managed to brighten up your world with just a glance.

Despite your stops coming up in any minute, you felt that they were taking an indefinite amount of time. The excitement to be with Sam for the evening overrode any patience you had managed to develop over your lifetime.

When the stop finally came, the two of you made the quick walk back to your apartment in no time.

“Government assigned?” Sam quirks his eyebrow at you as you pull the front door open.

“Of course, I’m sure they’ve got a million agents in this damn building watching my every move. I swear, you can get pardoned, but they don’t every really pardon you.” You smirk as the two of you enter the elevator.

“Ha!” He barks out a sharp laugh, “You think they’ve got a Sharon Carter in the unit across from you?”

“Oh I’m sure of it, the guy in the unit across from me is definitely an agent,” you snark at him. “He’s doing a real good job at pulling off the frail look thought, especially with the hourly cig breaks and the toothpick arms, I’m sure they think I’d never suspect.” You laugh.

“But really, Sam, most of the people in the building are suits, along with a few agents that I know of.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they keep a close eye on you, being all unpredictable and unsafe like you are.” He jabs you in the side and laughs.

“I’m telling you they’ve got it all wrong!” you laugh. “Alright this is me,” you wiggle your key into the knob and open the door.

“Kick off your shoes and relax wherever, I’m going to see what I’ve got in the kitchen.” You wandered into the kitchen to find something to whip up.

It didn’t take Sam long at all to get comfortable. He quickly cozied into the second-hand brown leather couch situated in the living room parallel to your kitchen. The man was barely awake when you got to him with a plate of food.

The two of you sit next to each other and eat on the old couch. It doesn’t take long until someone suggests that they find something to watch on television, and not long after you all are watching reruns of the Office.

Both of you laugh wholeheartedly through the episodes and somewhere in between the 4th and 5th episode you begin to notice the glances Sam is giving you. They’re somewhere between sad and longing, and you’re beginning to think he’s going to leave until Sam wraps his hand over your shoulders and pulls you in tight against him. Suddenly it’s like the blip never happened, the snap never happened, and it’s just the two of you, doing what you always do.

You were content with that, being close to him, being immersed in him. Hell, you hoped that the familiar warm musky smell of his cologne would stay on the shirt you were wearing. The two of you had nearly watched a half a season when you really began to get tired. Gently, you tapped his arm, so he’d lift it off your shoulders and asked if he minded if laid down over his lap.

Of course, he obliged and there the two you were just like old times, you half-asleep with your head in his lap and him stroking his fingers through your hair and scratching gently against you scalp.

The sad look he had been giving you earlier had transformed. It was a gentle, mellow, content look now. You could guess he was reminiscing too, just by the look on his face. And you knew for sure he had been reminiscing when leaned down and attached his lips to yours.

There it was, that spark in your chest, that you hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time. Sam Wilson had sparked a little flame your heart again, and you just hoped he’d kindle it.

[pradadoie]

A full translation of HXX’s second victim’s post - Part 4

The second time I met him was at the Shenyang Skechers event (21st December 2019, morning). I was supposed to meet him at the event, but I ended up catching a fever and rested in the hotel instead. This was also the time I learnt that he was contacting a few other fans from China (she knew it from her friend). After the event, he came to look for me at night. 

First pic 

HXX: But I think there are a lot of fans here (in the hotel)

OP: Just swipe the room key in the lift and come up to the 22nd floor

HXX: alright

OP: Maybe you can come later

HXX: I just woke up

OP: Ok, go eat something first

HXX: ok

OP: Should I just visit you now?

HXX: You know what, It’s fine! I will just meet you later

OP: Yea, meet me later

HXX: Do you think I should wash up first

Second Pic

HXX: Which

HXX: number

HXX: Is it?

OP: 2202

HXX: But you have a fever

HXX: Is it really alright with you? 

OP: It’s fine, I feel much better now

OP: I’m just freezing a little

HXX: Alright

HXX: I won’t arrive that fast

HXX: I’ll tell you when I’m on the way up

OP: Alright

HXX: I’m coming up now

HXX: Open the door for me

HXX: Ok?

OP: ok 

Third Pic

OP mentioned that she could only find these few screenshots as proof as she changed her phone prior to making this post - causing her to lose some of the chats between the both of them. She kept these screenshots above, which are dated 21st December 2019. 

This was also the time where we didn’t use any protection (while having sex). During that time, I asked him to put one (condom) on, and he said it’s alright/fine. I assumed that he wasn’t in a good/healthy condition. After having sex, he mentioned that it has been a year since he had sex, and once again, I believed his words. What I did not know was that he (supposedly in a bad state) went back to Seoul that night to meet up and flirt with other women. 

After said intimate actions, I asked him about the other fan. He immediately admitted that the girl happened to be the Chinese fan who we talked about the other day. They had a meal together and hugged each other in a friendly way to express gratitude. They did not do anything else other than that, HXX even showed me their (HXX and the chinese fan) Wechat chat logs, the chinese fan sent him affectionate messages and I could tell that she genuinely liked him and had strong feelings for him. However, his replies were simple (T/n: The chinese word for this has more nuance - it implies that he never put in any effort into the replies he sent to the chinese fan). During that time, I thought it really wasn’t nice of him to show me their private chat logs, but I liked him too much, I understood where he was coming from and appreciated the fact that he was able to be transparent about their relations together, and that the chinese fan’s feelings for him were just one sided. 

He expressed his fear of the chinese fan spreading the story and I asked him whether he was afraid of losing his fans. He responded saying - “I’m not afraid of losing fans because it doesn’t matter to me, I’m more afraid of the company finding out.” I told him to pretend to switch his accounts and ghost her (to not contact her anymore), and he kept emphasizing that he was really afraid, and wouldn’t stop smoking cigarette after cigarette, finishing an entire pack of cigarettes within two hours. I tried to comfort him and give him advice, thinking back, I was probably deceived by his lies as well. 

After that, he would tell me that his schedules are getting more packed and he was getting more popular, and we wouldn’t be able to meet up. Thinking about it now, he was probably giving me a vaccination (T/n: OP used a metaphor, possibly to describe what HXX said in order to make her immune to other men). I jokingly brushed it off and said when that happens I would pursue another male Hong Kong celebrity, and to annoy/playfully aggravate him, I told him that I used to like this male celebrity, he told me: “His girlfriend is my friend, we filmed a program together and we even cleaned our ears together.” Our conversation shifted to the artists who were under the same company as him, he said although he fooled around (T/n: Going out and having fun), he thinks artists like K*is *u were dumb (T/n: OP used the word “傻逼”, aka moron - which came out of HXX’s mouth), took training for granted and never practiced, instead he spent his time playing around. Although I agreed with his opinion on this, he was essentially a pot calling the kettle black. The things you do aren’t any better, if his nickname is “Toothpick Wu” then your nickname should be “Needle Huang/Wong” (T/N: “Toothpick Wu” is a nickname given to Kr*s W* because of his small...you know, which was mentioned in one of his victim’s posts. OP may be insinuating that HXX’s small as well)

As he talked about himself and his body, he mentioned that his body wasn’t suitable for heavy workouts. Because of his small head size, working out heavily will make him look like a muscular barbie (T/n: slang for girls with a pretty face and a muscular body). At that moment, he mentioned his participation in the Korean military show (Titled: Real Men), where he faked a lower back injury/pain in order to leave the show earlier because he felt that it was too exhausting. Are you even worth your fans' concern by doing something like that? He also complained that the mainland entertainment shows he participated in edited him maliciously and made him look like an idiot - which made him contemplate on whether he should appear in the next season because he hated it. 

Previously, I gave him a ring as a gift, which he wore most of the time - which was why I asked whether he could give me something that I could keep around me at all times, he refused and said he would never do things like this. He also mentioned that he had to take our couple ring (that I gifted him) off in order to comply with the show’s styling during recording sessions and told me not to overthink about it. I told him I would give him many rings so he could switch it out anytime and he said yes. 

Apart from that, he strikes me as a boy with childlike innocence (T/n: read between the lines when OP says that, it's just a metaphor for innocence), at least that's what I thought. He believed that we would be able to travel to the moon sometime in our lives (T/N: WayV - Moonwalk?)I asked him if I could follow him and he smirked while saying he would think about it. Then I said if I earn enough money to get tickets and travel to the moon with him, would he follow? He responded saying “Then we can.”

In the end, he couldn’t give his everything to me, but I was willing to give everything to him. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the Meet Ugly Prompt: #23 Sternclary NSFW if you can :)

23: our mutual friend has been talking us up to the other and when we finally meet, we have to tell them that we’ve been in a feud for the last six years (and I can’t stop thinking of all the nice things our friend has said about you). NSWF

“EeEEH, I’m so excited for you to finally meet him.” Aubrey tugs her uncle down the hall, “he’s practically like another uncle to me, and he’s really such a fucking amazing cook--he made all the stuff tonight--so he’ll go with your whole foodie thing-”

“Critic, firebug, food critic” Stern smiles at her.

“Right, right, and he’s got the hunky lumberjack thing going that you know you love.”

“Geez, you buy one calendar-” he elbows her, chuckling. Then the world screeches to a halt. 

“Mr. Cobb.” He nods, polite as he can manage with rage-horns blaring in his head. 

“Stern.” The bearded man nods back, pushing off of the counter where he’s leaning, glass in hand, talking to Dani.

“Why do I have the bad feeling you two know each other.” Dani looks at her uncle nervously.

“You remember when Amnesty was first getting off the ground and we were struggling to get anyone to take us seriously? This” he points to Stern, no anger or ice in his voice but plenty in his eyes, “is the fucker who gave us the bad review that set us back months.”

“I was doing my job, I’ve told you that a dozen times since then, it was nothing personal. Unlike what you did afterwards.” He replies coolly. 

“Oh for fucks sake, I apologized for that.”

“Yes, two years after the fact, which hardly makes up for arguing with every review I wrote so forcefully that Hayes pulled me from the review circuit for months and made me do cookbook reviews instead.”

“Poor Stern, had to do a slightly different desk job while I was terrified the restaurant would go under.”

“You ended up fine, and if the food at Hornet is any indication, you improved.”

“Lucky me, getting such kind words from the illustrious Joseph Stern.”

“I was trying to-”

“Nevermind. I gotta go check the stuff on the grill.” He reaches the screen door to the back yard, then turns, “and I appreciate the thought, kid, but he’s just not my type.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

The problem is, of course, that Stern is exactly Barclay’s type. Or maybe he’s everyone’s type, all nice suits and handsome face and perfectly slicked down black hair. They’ve run across each other at plenty of food functions in the city over the last six years, and Barclay always feels like a scraggy mountain man standing near him. It doesn’t help that Stern talks about food the way other people talk about fine art, and Barclay could listen to him do it all day. 

He also tells really, really corny jokes when he thinks no one is listening, and Barclay hates his mouth for how many times it’s laughed at them. 

Making amends is the right thing to do, but every time he considered it his whole being--piloted by his ego-- recoils. 

But they’re going to be family soon. And his niece doesn’t deserve to deal with their feud. He picks up his phone, Stern’s number on his desk thanks to Dani’s wedding planning list. 

Me: This is Barclay. If you’re still reading, I think we should meet and talk things over. For real, not in the way we keep fucking up.

Stern: Why?

Me: Because your niece and my niece are getting married and I don’t want us bickering like jerks at the wedding.

Stern:Good point.

Me: Meet me at the Arch? Bar there is good.

Stern: Ok. 8 tomorrow work?

Me: See you then.

---------------------------------------------

Stern fights the urge to shred his napkin as he waits at the bar. Maybe this is a set up, or a trap, or-

“Hey.” Barclay announces himself with a tap on the shoulder. His auburn hair is hanging loose, and the blue shirt he’s chosen brings out the brown of his eyes and the copper in his beard.

Stern should stop staring. 

He picks up the drink menu as Barclay sits down next to him, “Um, the, um, I can buy. Consider it another apology. What do you get?”

Barclay gives him a mild smile, “How about you pick for both of us?”

It’s an olive branch wrapped in a challenge, and so Stern studies the menu carefully. Chooses the Bigfoot, a mixture of bourbon, chocolate bitters, with a splash of cherry soda, for Barclay and and the Roswell (smoked prickly pear juice and tequila) for himself. 

“Good choice.” Barclay smiles at him over the rim of his glass, the first genuine smile he’s ever sent his way, and he straightens proudly at the praise. 

“I remember the drink menu at Hornet was bourbon heavy.”

“Goes with the food, but yeah, it’s my booze of choice.”

“So…” Stern swirls the toothpick in his drink, “how do you suggest we go forward?”

Barclay sighs, “Was kinda hoping you had some ideas.”

“Look, how about we agree that when we’re together for wedding planning stuff, we don’t talk about our history, restaurants or food that isn’t specifically related to the wedding menu?”

“Deal.” Barclay finishes his drink, “what do we talk about instead?”

“Books?” Stern signals the bartender, orders them both another round.

“Works for me. Hmm, lemme guess, you read those big-ass historical ones.”

Stern snickers, “I prefer mysteries, or well done travelogue.”

“You’ve read Bourdain, I’m guessing?”

“Of course. He put me on to a cooking memoir by, by, oh damn it all, he wrote that Madeline series.”

“Bemelmans! Shit, I love his memoirs. They’re my comfort reads along with My Life in France.”

“Classic.” 

Before Stern even knows it, an hour has gone by, they’re three drinks in, and he has a new reading list. He also sees now why Aubrey thought to set him up with the cook; Barclay is easy-going and friendly, even stopping their conversation to exchange hellos with several staff that recognize him, a needed counterpoint to his own professional demeanor. That soft, deep voice slips under his skin, sets his nerves humming, and Stern wants to move closer, let those capable hands do whatever they wished to him if it meant Barclay would keep stealing appreciative glances at him. 

Then he puts his foot in it.

“....food was just a little heavy, like how it is at Amnesty.”

Barclay frowns, “have you even been back there lately?”

“No, I assumed I’d be forcibly shown the door.”

“I would’ve been tempted, but I’m a fucking professional, thank you very much.”

“Besides, it wouldn’t prove your point; I know you’re the exec, but you don’t cook there anymore.”

“Hold the fuck up, it’s my cooking you think was the issue?”

“I didn’t mean that, just that...no, actually, I did mean it. That menu never played to your strengths.”

“That so.” Barclay slams his glass down, the dram undercut when he flashes an apologetic look at the waitstaff before standing in Stern’s space and looming over him, “my house, Tuesday at seven. I’ll show you exactly how good that menu can be in my hands.”

“I look forward to it.”

Barclay leans closer and whispers “bring an appetite” in his ear, voice just shy of a growl. 

Somehow, Stern doesn’t think he’ll have trouble doing so.

------------------------------------------------------

Stern knocks on the door of the modest house. He knows Barclay is now worth quite a bit of money, so the fact he’s chosen an A-frame that looks like it belongs in Tahoe is charming. As was the afternoon they spent with their (clearly relieved) nieces testing out wedding cake ideas. Barclay even laughed at his corny puns and complimented his flavor choice (and how the suit he’s having fitted for the ceremony fit him).

“Come in.” 

He steps into the house, finds the kitchen off to the right, just beyond the dining room. There’s only one place set at the table, and when Barclay comes into view he sees why. The taller man is in his chefs whites, hair tied back, making Stern relieved he’s wearing a suit. 

“Should I…”

“Take a seat, first course is gonna be out shortly.”

“Right, of course--what’s that sound?” Something is whining behind a door down the hall.

“Hmm? Oh, just Sass, he heard someone come in and wants to be the welcoming committee. He’ll chill out in a sec, he has a dog puzzle there to keep him occupied.” Barclay turns back into the kitchen as Stern sits down. Thanks to the pass through, he can watch as he pulls down a plate and sets three parcels of dough on it. 

“You’re getting tasting portions” he sets the plate down, “I’m not blowing through a bunch of ingredients just to prove a point. Smoked salmon pierogies to start.”

Stern takes one bite and knows he’s beaten. The filling is perfectly seasoned, feels like butter in his mouth, and the dough is impeccably made. Maybe it’s a fluke, but all three are gone before Barclay sets the next plate in front of him.

“Bacon, arugula, goat cheese, and blueberry jam on sourdough.” The aroma from the sandwich is intoxicating. 

The first course was not a fluke, and he moans after taking a bite. Barclay chuckles, turning back to the kitchen. 

“So, Aubrey told me something interesting.” Barclay says casually as he slices what looks like lamb, “she said you don’t only write about food.”

“Oh lord.” Embarrassment creeps up his back, so he focus on his meal.

“Weekly World News is almost as good a byline as the Times.”

“Please don’t say more.”

“Bigfoot is my boyfriend’ was especially good.”

“Oh lord, you looked them up?”

“Yep, Aubrey gave me your pen name. I had a blast reading them, you should, uh, let that funny side out more.” The oven shuts and he returns to the table leaning against the counter of the pass through, “gonna be a minute more on the third course. How is it so far?”

“Incredible.”

“Glad to hear it.” Barclay wipes his hands on his apron and Stern has a moment of clarity; the cook is nervous.

“Can I tell you something nobody else knows? I, um, I’m working on a pitch that combines the two. I want to travel to famous paranormal locations and write about local food at the same time.”

“That sounds amazing.” Barclay pulls out a chair, “do you know if anyone’ll take it?”

“I’m trying some magazines and websites first, to see if they’ll pick it up as a series, which’d make it easier to jump to a book later on.”

A timer dings and Barclay stands, returning with a lamb pot pie for one that Stern eats without concern for how conspicuous his sounds of delight are getting. 

Dessert arrives on a small, round plate. Stern tucks into the airy chocolate strawberry cake with raspberry sauce on the side, notice Barclay already washing up. Pity, he was hoping he could stay and talk awhile. There’s only a bite or two left when he decides to admit defeat.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve ever had, Barclay. Whatever you were trying to prove, you proved.”

“Good.” Is all he gets in reply. 

“Barclay, I have to know: I wasn’t the only critic to give a less than stellar review of Amnesty when it opened. We both know that. So...why me? Why act as if I was the one who wronged you.”

Barclay turns, wiping his hands on his apron before hanging it up as he sighs, “yeah, you weren’t the only bad one, but the Times held more weight than any other food section in the city. When you reviewed us we were floundering, and when I saw it I just, I almost gave up; I’d put everything, my heart, my soul, my last dime, into Amnesty. And here was some critic basically dooming us. But once I was done being upset, I got pissed, threw myself into proving the bad reviews wrong and you, uh, you became the avatar for every critic who wrote us off as not being fancy enough to compete in the food scene here.”

“Are, did you make me your  fucking mental punching bag?” Stern stands just as Barclay leaves the kitchen.

“Yeah, and I’m not fucking sorry. That spite was the kick I needed.”

“And it nearly cost me my job, and my reputation!”

“Maybe you should have lost both, given that you helped Hayes shoot down anyone who threatened the old guard.”

“No I fucking didn’t! I fought him time and again to let me review new chefs, feature them, praise them. Lord almighty Barclay, I’m not some soulless fucking machine who just does as I’m told. In fact-” they’re toe to toe, his lower back to the table, as he pulls out his phone and searches, “even in my review, the one you hated, I was defending you, telling people to give you a chance.”

“Like hell you were.” Barclay snorts. 

“I’ll prove it, here” he clears his throat, reads off an excerpt, “Chef Cobb is clearly talented, with a sense of flavor that’s at once exciting and comforting. It is my hope that as Amnesty leaves it’s growing pains behind, we will see incredible offerings from him. There.” He tosses his phone on the table, “see?”

Barclay stutters once, twice, then mutters, “finish your meal, Stern.”

“No, not until you apologize.”

“Jesus christ, just eat the fucking cake!”

“Make me!”

Barclay inhales, long and measured, as he reaches around Stern and picks up the bite of cake. When he holds it to Stern’s lips, he keeps them in a firm line. 

“Open. your fucking. Mouth.”

“Fuck youOghm” he flails backwards, hand landing on his plate as Barclay shoves the cake into his mouth. He’s never had sweetness applied so forcefully, and the part of him that isn’t annoyed is screaming with arousal. 

He swallows, feels something sticky on his fingertips. 

Barclay leers, rumbles, “that’s bet-”

Stern smears his hand across his face, streaking raspberry sauce on his cheeks and mouth. 

Barclay licks his lips, growls, and lunges forward at the same moment Stern grabs his shoulders and pulls. Teeth connect first with his neck, then his lower lip before Barclay shoves their mouths together, moaning when Stern tugs their hips flush. Grinds against him so hard the table digs into his back as they yank ineffectively at each other’s clothes. 

“Tell me, Stern, four courses enough for you?”

“I’m satisfied. Barely.” He bites Barclay’s ear, making him grunt. 

“Barely? Barely? Fine, think I got one more you. On your fucking knees.” Strong hands shove him down by his shoulders, or they try to; he’s already dropping, panting in anticipation as he fumbles with Barclay’s pants. When he finally gets a look at his cock he groans hungrily at the size, lips staying parted as Barclay guides it between them with one hand and yanks his hair with another. 

He’s craving, praying for, and expecting roughness. Even so, he gags when Barclay thrusts as far as he can, toes curling and eyes watering as he bumps the top of his throat again and again.

“Fuck, fuck, there we go” he tugs his hair, wonderful pain prickling his neck and making him moan, “oh fuck yeah, every time I do that you tighten, so good, so fucking good.” He tightens his hold, fucking his mouth harder as Stern brings a hand up to stroke the base of his cock, “nmm, yeah, that’s it, show me what those hands are good for, god, fuck, Joe.” 

Stern whimpers, delighted at how his name sounds in that rough, demanding baritone. 

“Shit, fuck, you want something else to swallow tonight?”

He nods, paws at Barclays thigh. 

“Then you, fuck, you got it, fuckfuck Joe, baby, that’s it ohfuck.” Cum spurts down his throat and he swallows like he’s starving, licks and sucks when Barclay orders him to finish it all. 

As soon as the cook releases him, he drops to his knees on the hardwood next to Stern. Stern, for his part, is wondering if Barclay will at least let him hide in his bathroom a few minutes so he doesn’t have to drive home hard and soaking wet. 

Then his back hits the floor, one calloused hand cupping his face and the other yanking his pants open so messily a button goes flying. 

“I, you, you don’t have to-”

“Do you want me to?” Barclay pauses, meeting his eyes with such genuine, tender concern that he melts like butter in a pan. 

“Lord yes.”

Barclay’s hand slips beneath his boxer-briefs, three fingers sliding into him when he spreads his legs.

“Fuck, fuck, ohlord, Barclay, just a little shallowerAHfuck, yesright, right there.” He cranes his neck and Barclay gets the hint,dipping down to kiss him to the slick sound of his fingers fucking into him. 

Jerking his hips, he can’t find the friction he needs, so he reaches between them and tilts Barclay’s hand so his dick can drag across his palm. His vocabulary has diminished to affirmation laced profanity (or profanity laced affirmatives) and Barclay is faring the same, growling praise in his ear as he gives him more pressure to rut against. 

“Lookit you, god, shoulda known you’d look as good fucking as you do eating. Take me so well, gonna find every way to fill you.”

“Please.” He whispers, eyes squeezing shut in concentration.

“Gonna spread you out on a table and eat you like a fucking gourmet meal, gonna fuck that perfect mouth til your so full of cum you can’t swallow any more.”

“Lord, Bar, Barclay, please don’t stop, don’t tease.”

“Who said anything about teasing?” A tender kiss to the corner of his mouth even as the hand fucks him hard enough to make him cry out, “you’re my new favorite taste, babe, and I got so many fucking plans for you.”

Stern cums so abruptly his leg kicks out and bangs his heel on a table leg, but he doesn’t feel it. His would is the pleasure speeding through him, the repetition of Barclay’s name, the affection that overwhelms him and the fear nipping at it’s heels. 

He comes back to himself on his side, face nestled against Barclay’s chest. 

“Christ, think we both needed that.” The cook sighs, content, and pets his hair. 

“I, um, I certainly no longer feel the need to argue with you over things from six years ago.”

“Me neither. And, uh, I’m sorry for being a dick for so long.”

“And I’m sorry for the spot my review put you in.” 

Barclay laughs, shaking his head, “only took six years and some killer sex to get us there, huh?”

“It is pretty silly, in retrospect.”

“Your foot okay?”

“Uh huh. I, um, I can be out of your hair in a moment.”

Barclay raises an eyebrow, “because you want to be or because you think you should be?”

“The second one.” 

“Don’t gotta leave on my account. In fact, uh, I, uh, I was hoping maybe you’d stay. I want to test out some breakfast ideas on you. Also I like cuddling you and don’t want to stop.”

“A compelling argument. Though we should move to the bed.”

“On it.” Barclay stands, scoops him up with some effort, and carries him precariously to the still-shut bedroom door.

“Damn it.”

“On it.” Stern reaches out and turns the knob, whereupon Barclay barely gets him to the bed without dropping him, as Sass is boinging about their feet.  

“What kind-”

“Rottweiler, corgi, spaniel. I think. Not sure where the huge feet came from.” Barclay cuddles up next to him as he strips off his clothes. As he rolls under the covers, Barclay nuzzles his cheek.

“Would, um, would you like to try having a, um, a different kind of relationship? Like a dating one?”

“I’d love it.” 

Barclay’s smile is pure bliss, and when he kisses him, it’s the best taste in the world 

[kilannad]

Yona of the Dawn

Yona of the Dawn- Akatsuki no Yona- whatever you want to call it, is a well loved if not incredibly well known manga. What I want to talk about though, is the protagonist, and specifically her character development. For the purposes of this, I’m going to be focusing mostly on what was covered by the first season of the anime.

Yona starts out as an incredibly spoiled, naive, little girl that has had everything handed for her and could barely be trusted to take care of a toothpick, much less a country. In fact, this is one of the first interactions we get of her;

Just a sixteen year old girl worrying about her hair and clothes for her birthday party. Honestly, I’ve seen puddles with more depth. And yet, we eventually get to this;

A confident young woman leading a band of warriors. The question is: how?

The first step, I think, came when she and Hak, her bodyguard and childhood friend, were in the Capital of the Wind Tribe. Fuuga is Hak’s home town and respects him greatly, considering he’s their general. Before arriving here, Yona was in shock over loosing her father, and completely unwilling to acknowledge that Soo-Won, the man she was in love with, killed him. This was undoubtedly shown by her continuing to hold on to the hair clip he’d given her. In Fuuga, however, she’s given the option to stay in hiding while Hak leaves. She finally comes to her senses and decides to leave because she refuses to hide away, lose as she is with what to do. With the advice of Hak’s grandfather, they go in search of an oracle, not knowing what else to do.

On their way, they’re attacked. Yona is told to hide, and what any fan of the show would point to her turning point happens. Yona, this small, little girl with no battle experience and who has never been expected to protect herself, decides to ignore the sensible decision because Hak is in danger. Yona lost her father, the man she love, her kingdom, her life, all in one fell swoop and refuses to loose anything else.

This moment. Right here. When she takes up a sword for the first time in her life and cuts away the hair that she’s always hated so much. This moment when she is ready to do anything to protect the last thing she has left. This is when things start changing for her, because this is when we see her potential in the fire in her eyes.

After this, things start picking up, but the change doesn’t happen over night. She’s still a little ditsy, she’s still dependent on Hak. She’s still lost over the big picture plan, but they eventually decide to start hunting down the Four Dragon Warriors of legend. She learns bits and pieces from them, learns how her country really functions. Learns of how their are good people and bad people in the world.

In Awa, she’s so desperate to be helpful, to prove herself, that she climbs across a dangerous cliff to get a plant to help people. She goes undercover in a smuggling operation to help free slaves. She fights in a battle, and she kills.

She isn’t just a little girl though. She was and that is perhaps what makes that quote one of my favorite in the show. He’s the antagonist, egotistical and repulsive, serving his purpose in the narrative and then being thrown away and forgotten. He calls her a little girl and that’s what she looks like. Small, thin, no real presence. That’s who she was when we first met her.

Now though, now she’s strong enough to stand and fight. Now she’s strong enough to shoot an arrow and end a slave trade operation. Now she has fire in her eyes.

The next moment that comes to mind is this one though;

They have the warriors, Yona’s a little lost still but wants, desperately, to help her kingdom. The Warriors have just asked if they can call Yona by her name and she agrees because Yona, as naive as she was, has always been kind. The Warriors were always thought of as tools, but she sees them as her partners, her friends, and that means she wants them to be comfortable with her. But Hak...

Yona has lost everything she ever knew. Her view of the world has been stripped away, she’s dishonored, her name disgraced. She isn’t the princess of the kingdom right now. She’s a fugitive slowly building up a family of misfits and creatures of legend. Hak is the one place where the two worlds over lap. She respects Hak, loves him. But she needs him to remember. She needs someone to remember that she is the princess, rightful ruler of Kouka. She needs him to not just be Hak, her childhood friend and bodyguard, someone to lean on. She needs him to be Son Hak the Thunder Beast, General of the Wind Tribe. In this moment, she needs the reminder that she is more than just Yona. She needs to remember that she is Yona, Princess of Kouka and King Hiryuu Reborn, Daughter of Emperor Il. And in this moment, it hurts so much that she needs that reminder, that her life has fallen apart to such a degree that her loving father is in fear of being forgotten, that she may be forgotten, that she can’t help but break down crying. But afterwards? Afterwards she gets up and continues on her journal because that’s what she know she must do.

When we first meet Yona, she can barely claim to be worthy of the title princess. She’s useless and weak and depends entirely on Hak. But she grows, slowly and wholeheartedly. There are so many more moments that I haven’t touched on that show just how she did. The reason Yona is such a great protagonist is because of this growth and how it came about. She starts so small, so needy, but she slowly becomes someone strong, someone who will define what it means to be a female protagonist in this genre.

[queenofcats17]

Hi there! I hope you’re having a lovely holiday! If you have the time/energy (I know the season can be draining for some), I have a prompt for Hell’s Studio AU: Sammy slowly shrinks over the course of a few days due to an ink incident (he refuses to acknowledge it) until he can’t even drink his coffee without falling in—ofc everyone thinks he’s adorable and Sammy is very upset + is ready to fight the entire world. All Susie has to do is hold him back with a finger or two amdjd.

Than you so much! I don’t have all that much scheduled this holiday season, so I’m happy to complete this prompt. Although, I did get a lot of prompts all at once, so I apologize that this took a bit.

This is going to be really funny.

———————————————————————

Sammy was shrinking.

It had started out small. Sammy had woken up one morning to find his pants were a little long. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. But then he’d had trouble reaching something in the sheet music closet that had never given him any trouble before. Sammy had never been the tallest, but he’d been tall enough to reach that one shelf just fine.

“Maybe you’re shrinking in your old age,” Wally joked upon seeing Sammy’s struggle.

“Shut up, Franks,” Sammy growled, smacking the back of Wally’s head.

“It’s all that hunching over your desk.” Susie clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “I keep telling you, it’s going to warp your spine.”

Loathe as he was to concede that he was destroying his back, he was more willing to admit that might be the truth than humor Wally’s outrageous theory that he was somehow shrinking. Nothing out of the ordinary, he told himself. Then he scheduled an appointment with a chiropractor.

The next few days, though, things began to pick up. People were literally able to see Sammy getting smaller. Sammy tried to pretend nothing was happening, snapping at everyone who dared bring it up.

“You’re being ridiculous.” He kept saying. “Everything is fine.”

But it became rather difficult to deny that something was going on when he found himself literally swimming in his clothes and nearly drowning in ink puddles more than once, which somehow seemed to speed up this shrinking.

It ended with Sammy standing at a little over six inches tall. Naturally, Sammy was furious about this. How on Earth was he supposed to get work done when he was the size of a doll?! He couldn’t hold his conductor’s baton, nor a pen. Nevermind the fact that he couldn’t reach his desk or podium. And so he went to the person he was certain was both responsible and could put things right.

“Fix this, Joey!” He demanded, standing on a pile of books so that he could properly threaten Joey. His threats lacked much bite given that he was, again, six inches tall. Joey was trying to keep a straight face but was finding it rather difficult. Especially since he’d had to sit and watch while Susie assembled the stack of books for her six-inch tall boyfriend.

“I’ll do my very best to figure this out.” Joey’s lips were twitching with the effort it took to keep himself from bursting out laughing.

“You’d better!” Sammy growled. “I can’t work like this!” He also rather resented the fact that he now had to wear doll clothes, brought in by a helpful intern.

“It’s not so bad,” Susie said, picking him up. “You could use a break. You’re always working yourself so hard.” She patted his head with one finger.

“I’d prefer if I were to get a break, it wouldn’t be because of something like this,” he grumbled. Susie, in his opinion, had been having a bit too much fun with this whole thing. She’d taken quite a lot of joy in dressing him up in tiny handmade suits and taking as many pictures as he would allow.

“It won’t be for that long. I’m sure Joey will get this figured out,” Susie reassured him, putting him into her breast pocket. She’d worn a shirt with a pocket on it for this express purpose. As cute as she found Sammy like this, she was also rather worried she’d end up losing him and wanted to keep him close by at all times.

“I’ll do my very best.” Joey agreed, his expression becoming more serious. “We can’t have our music director stay six inches tall forever.”

“Good.” Sammy settled more comfortably into Susie’s pocket. “Take me to the band room. I need to conduct today’s piece.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Susie asked even as she was already walking to the band room. “They might not be able to see you. Not to mention, you can’t hold your baton like this.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Sammy waved dismissively. “I can’t let this interfere with my job!”

To his credit, he made a valiant effort. He had Susie stack a few books on his conductor’s podium and got on top of them to conduct, using a toothpick as a baton. Susie had been right that many of the band members had a hard time seeing him. Thankfully the first chairs could see Sammy well enough to lead the others. However, the recording was continually derailed as various musicians kept breaking into giggles at the sight of doll-sized Sammy Lawrence conducting with a toothpick.

Sammy, upon realizing that they were all laughing at him, went on one of his famous tirades toward them. The effect of this was lessened by Susie picking him up by the back of his shirt and putting him back into her pocket where his yelling was severely muffled by the fabric.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.” He proclaimed when lunch break rolled around.

He was sitting on the table, eating pieces he’d torn off of the sandwich Susie had packed for him. It was regular person-sized, so it would likely last him all day. He’d tried to drink his coffee as normal, but had fallen in and had been forced to change his clothes.

“You gotta admit, you look pretty cute,” Wally said. He’d decided to sit with Susie and Sammy that day, mostly because he found Sammy’s predicament hilarious

“I don’t want to be cute,” Sammy snapped, leveling him with a glare. “I am a grown man and I would very much like to be treated with respect.” Each word was short and clipped, betraying just how fed up Sammy was with the situation.

“Don’t be rude.” Susie chided him, poking him with one finger.

“I can be as rude as I want.” Sammy folded his arms. “I’ve had a miserable last few days and I’m still currently miserable.”

“You’re always miserable.” Wally snorted.

“Not true. I’m always surly. There’s a difference.” Sammy corrected him coolly.  

Wally just shrugged and went back to his sandwich. Deprived of someone to snipe at, Sammy looked back at his massive sandwich. He really hoped he could go back to normal soon. Susie had set up a doll bed for him at home, but he didn’t particularly want to sleep in it. He doubted it would be comfortable.

“Joey will get this figure out soon,” Susie reassured him, sensing his change in mood.

“I hope so.” Sammy sighed dramatically, laying back on the table.

“He will. I know so.” Susie nodded definitively, a big smile on her face. Sammy watched her for a moment, feeling a smile of his own creeping onto his features. Perhaps this was what it was like for mortals to behold gods. There almost seemed to be a halo around her head cast by the lightbulbs on the ceiling.

Well, maybe this wasn’t too bad. At least he still had her.

[harris-coopers]

‘Riverdale’ heartthrob Cole Sprouse goes for leading man status in ‘Five Feet Apart’

When Cole Sprouse left Hollywood, he didn’t think he’d ever come back. He was 18, and he’d been acting alongside his identical twin brother since they were in diapers. The choice to work as a kid had not been his own: His single mother wanted to be around for the boys and have a steady career, and putting her twins in the entertainment industry seemed like a “lucrative alternative,” he says now.

But then Sprouse and his brother, Dylan, landed their own Disney Channel show, “The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.” By 13 they’d signed a licensing agreement with Dualstar Entertainment Group, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen’s company, to develop their own quarterly lifestyle magazine, ringtones and cologne. They were full-blown teen heartthrobs.

And yet when it came time to apply for college, the twins decided — unlike fellow Disney stars Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez or the Jonas Brothers — that they wanted to pursue higher education and enrolled at NYU.

“My brother and I were getting recognized a lot. It became one of those things that we realized we had just sort of taken as gospel since we were little kids, and that there was another path through life,” Sprouse, now 26, recalls. “I was completely content, at the time, to let the Disney shows exist within this little nostalgic bubble and I was ready to move on.”

But somehow here he is now, sitting on the balcony of a ritzy hotel smoking Marlboros, promoting his first leading role in a movie, “Five Feet Apart.” And the film, a romantic drama about two young lovers with cystic fibrosis, is not the only project he’s taken on since graduating with honors from NYU in 2015. For the past two years he’s starred as Jughead on the CW series “Riverdale,” a teen drama based on the Archie comics.

The program, which has already been renewed for a fourth season, has reignited Sprouse’s popularity. On Instagram, he has nearly 24 million followers, many of whom are obsessed with tracking his real-life relationship with his on-screen love interest, Lili Reinhart.

“Riverdale” also rekindled Sprouse’s love for acting. During college he did none of it, opting to study something completely different: archaeology, geographic information systems and satellite imaging. He became interested in the field because his grandfather was a geologist and ��it seemed like an academic discipline that was really competitive and challenging. I fancied testing if I could do something like that.”

He traveled to Germany, France and Bulgaria for excavations, and on one dig, after spending six weeks hunched over a 1-by-1-foot trench of dirt with a toothpick, he pulled a 35,000-year-old Aurignacian stone blade out of the ground. Following graduation, he began working in cultural resource management as an archaeological assistant in a Brooklyn artifact laboratory. He was thinking about going into academia: studying at graduate school, researching a specific time period or peoples and becoming a professor.

But then he heard from his acting manager, who, per Sprouse’s request, had left him alone during his four years at NYU.

“He asked me to come back for a single pilot season. I was on this path, but I said ‘OK, if I don’t book anything, I don’t think I want to do acting anymore,’” he says. He did book something — “Riverdale” — and soon began to realize it wasn’t acting itself he had an issue with.

“From a very young age, the industry had been defined as a business,” he continues, “and it took me going away to school for a while and redefining that to find [performing] as a passion again.”

On “Riverdale,” Sprouse’s Jughead is a something of an outsider — an artsy writer with a signature beanie and leather jacket. Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, the show’s creator, initially thought the actor might be a better fit for Archie, the lovable jock. But after reading the pilot script, Sprouse expressed interest in Jughead — even though the character only had one scene in the episode.

“It was already kind of a sign that he viewed himself differently,” says the showrunner. “I think Cole is an old soul. He’s done a lot, and he’s seen a lot, and I think that gives him a little bit of wisdom that other actors his age might not have. When he smiles, he looks like a true 15-year-old kid. But when he furrows his brow, he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

When it came to tackling his first adult movie part — he and his brother were in Adam Sandler’s “Big Daddy” as boys — Sprouse didn’t want to stray too far outside of his comfort zone. Recognizing the persona he’d established on “Riverdale,” he chose to play a similar archetype in “Five Feet Apart”: Will, a brooding teenager whose rebellious spirit attracts his romantic interest, played by Haley Lu Richardson of “Split” and “Support the Girls.”

“This role was interesting in a larger business sense, because a return to film also meant a question of how much of [the ‘Riverdale’] audience would turn out,” says Sprouse. “I didn’t want it to feel so incredibly distinct.”

The CBS Films production, out Friday, follows two CF patients as they fall in love but are unable to physically touch due to risk of cross infection. Cystic fibrosis is a genetic, progressive disease that affects lung function, making it difficult to breathe; the average life expectancy for the 30,000 afflicted in the U.S. is 37.5 years.

Justin Baldoni, who makes his directorial debut on “Five Feet Apart,” is also an actor on a CW series: “Jane the Virgin.” But he and Sprouse never crossed paths at network affairs. Instead, Baldoni began thinking of him for the role after catching some of his interviews on morning talk shows.

“Cole’s a great actor, but I was actually more interested in who he was off-screen,” explains Baldoni. “Cole had to grow up a lot faster than the normal kid. He was surrounded by adults: directors and producers and writers and people that were basically employing him. … When you grow up with cystic fibrosis, you grow up with doctors and nurses. Those are your friends. You learn medical terminology. You have to understand regimens and taking care of yourself in a way that regular kids don’t. You’re forced to grow up a lot faster. So there was an interesting parallel between Cole’s life and Will’s life.”

Baldoni came to “Five Feet Apart” having steeped himself in the world of CF. He had the idea for the film while working on a web series about those with terminal illnesses, “My Last Days.” One of the episodes focused on an 18-year-old girl named Claire Wineland, a CF patient whom Baldoni became so close to that he ultimately hired her to serve as a consultant on “Five Feet Apart.”

Sprouse spent a lot of time with Wineland, who died last September three months after filming was completed, talking about how CF affects both the mind and the body, including how the disease makes it difficult to gain or maintain weight. Together, he says, they came to the conclusion that it would be “a really powerful choice to embody that physicality,” and so with the aid of a nutritionist, Sprouse lost 25 pounds over the course of five weeks.

Sprouse initially told Baldoni he was somewhat hesitant to sign onto “Five Feet Apart” because he knows the scrutiny that films in this genre — “The Fault in Our Stars,” “A Walk to Remember,” “Me Before You” — can face for romanticizing illness.

“But I’m a believer that even if it might feel like the volume is a little bit too high within that genre, it still serves as an amazing platform to discuss something like cystic fibrosis,” says Sprouse. “And the star-crossed lover narrative — this is something that has existed before Shakespeare to Ovid and Pyramus and Thisbe. It’s part of our cultural memory bank. It’s one of those motifs that we just understand so well.”

Sprouse, who has the kind of poster-boy mane that’s perfect for brushing out of his eyes, frequently peppers his speech with these kind of literary references. He and his brother were the first ones on their father’s side of the family to go to college, which is “positive upward momentum” he’s proud of. Someday he hopes to spark a larger conversation about the California High School Proficiency Examination, a test that many young actors take at 16 so they can receive the legal equivalent of a high school diploma and no longer be considered minors.

“It basically cripples young academics who are working children from feeling capable to take the SAT and the ACT,” Sprouse says. “So many of us don’t go to college because our skill sets are not defined enough to be able to take those tests that would eventually allow us to apply. And kids are encouraged to do it because if you’re 18, you can work more hours and hypothetically make more money — and also because as a kid, you always want to sit back in your high chair and go ‘Yeah, I’m an adult.’”

On set, his collaborators have come to value his intelligence. Aguirre-Sacasa says that Sprouse “does a ton of work” on the “Riverdale” scripts, asking questions about the scenes and offering different points of view.

“A lot of times our episodes are homages to different films,” the executive says. “So Cole asked: ‘Can you send me a list of the movies you’re referencing in any given episode?’ And I’m that exact same way.”

While Sprouse no longer dreams of leading excavations in far-off lands, he’s found another non-acting passion that fulfills the “desire for learning and otherness” that archaeology did: photography. A few years ago, he walked into One World Trade Center in New York wearing a button-up T-shirt and asked the receptionist at Conde Nast Traveler magazine, “Hey, can anyone give me a job?”

He was pointed in the direction of former creative director Yolanda Edwards, who was willing to toss him a few unpaid assignments. Since then he’s landed a handful of high-profile gigs for Elle, W Magazine, Adidas and J Brand. He’s planning to spend the majority of his upcoming hiatus from “Riverdale” working as a fashion photographer.

Sprouse showcases some of his work on his Instagram account, which he admits is “very curated.” He’ll often delete old photos of himself, and he’s careful not to post too many photos of his girlfriend, Reinhart.

“I’ve girded my private life very intentionally,” he says. “It’s one of those things that I still sort of grapple with, and Lili and I grapple with.”

Asked if he thought about how much attention dating his costar might garner, he says he had no choice in the matter: “We legitimately could not stay away from one another.”

Beyond Reinhart, he and his cast mates — who film in Vancouver — are exceptionally close, especially of late, as they grapple with the loss of “Riverdale” costar Luke Perry.

“It’s been very, very hard this week,” he acknowledges, referring to juggling his film press responsibilities with his grief. “But the family has asked us all to keep it as private as possible, and I respect them tremendously through this time, so I continue to do so. We go back tomorrow, and it’ll be nice to be together. We all got together and talked it out a couple days ago, and then they gave us a couple of days off of production to acclimate, which was really wonderful.”

As for his future as an actor, Sprouse says he doesn’t expect to leave Hollywood again any time soon.

“It’s easy to forget, because this industry has so many different sides to it, that the act of acting is an incredibly enjoyable thing,” he says. “It’s a really empowering thing to do and it’s all the stuff on the outside of it — the publicity and the celebrity — which I actually had a problem with.”

Source: LA Times

[ramheavenandhell]

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 1: Getting into the Game

AN: I'm so sorry for the long absence, but I'm finally back (more or less). This is a fanfic that I had finished for a while already, but I hadn't posted it before because I wanted to add more visual stuff to it. However, I never really finished any of those plans and so I give this to you now as it is (I'll add the few things that I did manage to finish though). Still, I'm excited to finally be showing this to you. While it is a direct continuation to all the previous stories in the "Entricked Fates" series, I'll tried to write it in a way that you will still understand what's going on even if you haven't read them (of course, this will still be more fun for you to read if you have read all the other ones before). Also, if my "Entricked Fates" series has something like arcs this story could be considered the season 1 finale. Warnings: there will be Rick/Morty and Rick/Rick and also smut in later chapters, but for this one only mentions of trauma and past rape Summary: After losing his portal gun to the Council of Ricks thanks to Mysterious Rick, Rick C-137 is forced to participate in the Pocket Mortys game. At the same time, Rick C-133 is on the Citadel trying to find the Morty who had tried to kill and replace his Morty and Rick P-78 and his Morty help him in the search. All the while, organized Mortynappings that might be linked to an illegal Morty brothel ring are happening on the Citadel and Morty K-4872 is trying to find the root of it.

The Lines Between Ricks And Mortys – Chapter 1: Getting into the Game ~Though they were born beneath alternated stars they will join in one battle and will fight under the same sky~

Rick C-137 scowled as he walked over the plaza with his Morty in tow.

They were now stuck on the Citadel of Ricks, with no portal gun and forced to participate in this stupid "Pocket Mortys Game" if they ever wanted to leave again.

He actually had to beat all of the council clowns' asses if he wanted to win his portal gun back and it was just rickdiculous.

They would regret making him do that and the only Rick who would regret this whole thing even more would be that Mysterious Rick that was responsible for this whole mess.

C-137 was going to pay this guy back, no matter what it took – not only because of his portal gun, but also for what he had done to his Morty.

"If you want to know about the rules and details of the game, just ask someone from the staff from Morty Inc." Riq IV had said with a smug grin. The rest of the council clowns wore a matching expression on their faces.

Apparently the Morty Day Care and the Morty Games Coliseum were owned by Morty Inc., but there was also Salesman Rick's (the official Pocket Morty Shop) and the Morty Healing Center and they would also be free to ask for advice at any of those places.

Those were all the shops that had been specifically set up for the Morty Trainers whether they were newbies or veterans in the Morty training business.

Rick looked around the plaza in the main atrium that they were standing at after they were more or less kicked out of the building where the Council of Ricks resided in, being surrounded by busy Ricks and their Mortys as well as some other alien folks and he couldn't contain his frustration any longer.

"I really fucking hate this place!" he groaned aloud.

Rick C-133 and his Morty looked around the busy plaza that had Ricks, Mortys and some aliens roaming about. They had followed that ominous Morty to the Citadel of Ricks, but now what? How where they supposed to find one Morty in this mass? C-133 had to congratulate the little bastard for finding the possibly best hiding place for a Morty in the entire multiverse. It would be like searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack. The only difference was that finding that needle would have been far easier for Rick even if the damn thing would have been a toothpick. He didn't even know if that Morty was still on the Citadel, but then again this was the best hiding place that he could ever get so C-133 hoped that the boy was indeed still here. "Fuck! Finding the little shit here will take forever…" The Rick groaned out loudly. They continued to walk over the plaza, C-133 trying to look out for a Morty with a wounded arm since he remembered that the other seemed to have broken his arm before he fled from the scene. However, after seeing a bunch of wounded Mortys walking around and even almost running into a little group of Mortys who looked like they had several broken limbs led by one Rick who looked absolutely fine, he figured that even that wouldn't be a good enough indicator to find the culprit that he was searching for. "If I at least knew from which dimension that Morty was…" C-133 mumbled, getting quickly tired of the sight of hundreds of yellow t-shirts. He happened to overhear another Rick who was close by complaining loudly. "I really fucking hate this place!" "Tell me about it. This place sucks!" he agreed. C-133 wasn't one of those Ricks who frequented the Citadel, much less thought about staying here for a longer period of time or even come to live in this place. Actually, he pitied the Ricks who were stuck here a little, but then again they were responsible for their own misery and didn't deserve something like pity. "All of those stupid Ricks are nothing but dumb sheep that try to cling to their terrible ideas and idealisms, which are nothing more than poor illusions." C-137 continued. "That's exactly what I always say, too." C-133 agreed fully to that. It was nice to know that there were still some Ricks who had their head on right and saw this the same way that he did. However, this opinion also raised an interesting question. "Why are you even here if you hate this place so much?" He didn't want to sound like a hypocrite, but at least he had good reason to be here no matter how much he hated the Citadel. "Some Rick-asshole stole my portal gun and then gave it to the Council as a present who now force me to participate in this stupid "Pocket Morty Game" to get it back." Rick C-137 summed the story up. "And why are you here?" The question was warranted. Rick C-133 tried to give the short version of his story, too. "A Morty had hired a bunch of Mercenary Ricks to kidnap and kill my Morty and wanted to us me as his replacement Rick." Even though both Ricks left out some very important details in their stories, Morty C-137 could see how the other Morty became really pale. "Are you okay?" he asked the other boy, sincerely worried about the other brunet's health. He himself had been through a rather traumatic event just recently thanks to a Rick and he figured being kidnapped and almost dying at the hands of a bunch of Ricks was probably not less stressful than that. Morty C-133 kept silent for a moment and looked at the other Morty as if he was contemplating about something before he finally gave in. "Uh… could you… I mean could we… have a little talk, over… a-alone?" he asked. Seeing, as their Ricks were still busy discussing about one thing or another, he shrugged and quietly excused himself before walking over to the side of the street to an empty corner where it was a bit quieter. After looking around almost as if he was paranoid and making sure that no one would listen in on their conversation, Morty C-133 finally started to talk. "Um… actually… those Ricks that had kidnapped me… they—they… they raped me…" he confessed. Morty C-137's eyes widened in shock before his face took on features of sympathy. "You know… I was also raped by this Rick who is responsible for us being in this mess." He answered. Somehow, both boys felt as if a little weight was lifted from them by talking about what had happened to them and having something to share even if it was undeniably a very horrible experience. It somehow just felt good to be able to talk with someone who understood exactly what they themselves had gone through. Without really noticing it another Morty suddenly joined them and made himself known. "So, you were both victims of Rick-rape?" he quipped in. Both C-dimension Mortys looked at the newcomer with big eyes. While both of them looked like typically "standard Mortys" with their short brown hair, yellow shirt, blue jeans and white sneakers and having no significant features that differentiated them from another, the Morty that had approached them looked considerably different. At least he was dressed differently in that he wore brown pants, a green vest over his yellow t-shirt and a white and dark-gray baseball cap that had the letters "D'n'J" stitched on the front in a blue-green color. "Um… have you been, too…?" they both wondered aloud, simultaneously. "Oh, no. I'm not a victim of any Rick-crimes…" He instantly declined that notion. "…but I have just recently assassinated a Rick, Rick S-121, who put up a front of being a Morty-activist, but was actually a mortyphile. He had adopted Mortys from the Mortyphanage and raped them or forced them to work in illegal Morty brothels." The C-dimension Mortys looked pretty shocked at that information. To think that something like that was happening on the Citadel… well, after what they had just been through, it was not impossible to imagine it, but it was shocking to think that such organized crime was going on. The Morty continued, "I'm currently trying to investigate more about that since a lot of Mortys in other facilities have also gone missing. Even though this isn't an actual mission. I mean, I wasn't hired by anyone to do this, I'm just doing this because I want to put a stop to Ricks abusing Mortys like that and my Rick lets me be in charge for this investigation." "It's pretty cool that your Rick lets you be in charge." Morty C-133 said in amazement and C-137 also nodded his head to that. He knew that his Rick would never let him have the command unless he evoked his right to a Morty adventure, but even then he would constantly complain and give him a hard time. The other Morty sighed. "That actually just means that my Rick is gonna sit back and do nothing while I have to do all of the work. So yeah, it's not as amazing as you think it is. Anyways, could you tell me more about what had happened to you? I want to know if your cases could have something to do with these illegal brothels or the Ricks that are behind it." Morty C-137 and C-133 looked at each other at that before C-137 was the one to answer first. "I'm not really sure if the Rick that had kidnapped me has something to do with it. I mean, he had some weird dungeon underneath his hideout that was full of Mortys, but it didn't really seem to be a brothel…" Of course, he couldn't be too sure about that, but if it had been a brothel then there should have been at least other people – well, customers – too, right? "The Mercenary Ricks that had kidnapped me were actually hired by a Morty and they were actually supposed to "get rid of me" so I don't really think that it has anything to do with the incidents that happened to other Mortys." C-133 answered now. The investigating Morty agreed – at least to what Morty C-133 said, he still wasn't entirely sure about the Rick from C-137's story. "Do you guys have interdimensional mobile phones?" he asked. "I would like to add you to my contacts so I can maybe ask you for more information if I might need it. Also, I would inform you in case I hear anything about that mysterious Rick or Morty. By the way, I'm Morty from dimension K-4872." He finally introduced himself. "Ah, I'm from C-133. And yeah, I would like to add you, too." "Same. I'm from C-137." "Oh, you're the Morty from the "Rogue", huh?" K-4872 noticed. C-137 blushed a little at this, not aware that he and his Rick were actually that famous amongst other Ricks and Mortys. "It's funny that our dimensions are pretty close to each other." C-133 only commented towards C-137. The Mortys exchanged their numbers, actually happy that they were able to make friends with someone even if that someone was literally themselves, but they didn't mind that fact. Surely, it would be benefiting all of them if they would try to work on their individual problems together and the C-dimension Mortys also really wanted to help K-4872 clear up this case. Having just recently been victims of rape themselves, they wanted to prevent something horrible like that to happen to other Mortys. They were also very grateful that K-4872 would try to help them finding the culprits behind the crimes that were done to them, too. Not that they didn't have any faith in their Ricks, but you could never have enough help… The boys were so engaged in conversation that they didn't notice a Rick approaching them. He wore frameless, rectangular glasses, a black long-sleeved sweater with a blue short-sleeved and unbuttoned button-up shirt over it, brown slacks and black sneakers and he held a bag in his hand that smelled like burgers, fries and chicken nuggets. Apparently, he had gotten it from McSanchez – at least that's what was written on the bag in big, yellow letters. "Made some new friends?" Rick K-4872 asked his Morty. The boy turned around to his Rick and tried to explain that it was a bit more than just that. "These Mortys were in some incidents that might have something to do with the case that we're investigating." Well, the "we" was used very loosely here, seeing as Morty was the one bothered about this whole thing while his Rick acted as if he could care less – probably because no material award was awaiting him for their troubles. Figures… "I think that at least this "Mysterious Rick" sounds very suspicious since he seems to have kidnapped a bunch of Mortys and…" His Rick cut him quickly off. "Or, he's just a Morty trainer who wants a complete collection." He intervened. "I know that this is your investigation and all, but if you want some advice from me: you should stick to the leads that you have now, since they're more valid." Morty K-4872 huffed a little, but had to agree. So far, he only had vague assumptions about this Rick and those could hardly be considered a lead. Still, he didn't want to rule out any possibilities. Promising the other Mortys again that he would still keep an eye out for the Rick and the Morty that they were looking for, he left together with his Rick to go and have lunch while going over the information that he currently had again. He knew right from the start that cracking this case would not be an easy task, still he felt that it was something that he needed to do and he wouldn't back down until he exposed the criminal who was behind this illegal Morty brothel ring even if the authorities of the Citadel had failed in doing it so far…

While the Mortys had been talking amongst themselves, the C-dimension Ricks had a conversation of their own.

Looking around and seeing aliens and Ricks alike being followed by flocks of Mortys, C-133 couldn't help but comment on it.

"This whole "Pocket Mortys" business is really weird. I didn't even know that this was a thing since I usually don't visit the Citadel. Makes looking for the Morty that I'm searching for even more of a hassle…"

"Well yeah, who would have thought that having alternate versions of our grandson fighting each other would become so popular? At least this lets me make good use of my newest invention." C-137 claimed.

"And what's that supposed to be?" C-133 asked skeptically.

With a little triumphant sound, C-137 held up his

great invention

.

"This is my Mortytector. It locates every Morty in the multiverse and shows me not only their position, but also their dimension. This little baby also helped me when that Asshat-Rick had kidnapped my Morty."

A scowl was instantly on his face again at the memory of that guy.

C-133 mused silently that he could certainly use something like that, too, even though he had been very capable of finding his kidnapped Morty again without it thanks to the implanted microchip.

Still, at the moment, it wouldn't be of any use to him because un-fucking-fortunately, he didn't know from which dimension that little fuck he's looking for was.

However, he should probably get around building a similar device just in case that another Morty would try to replace his grandson again…

After the two Mortys had returned to their Ricks' side, C-137 cut the conversation short. "Well yeah, better get going if I ever wanna get my portal gun back."

"Yeah, I'll never find that little shit by standing around here either." C-133 agreed.

"Let's go, Morty." Both Ricks said simultaneously as they each went their separate ways, off-white lab coat billowing behind them.

Rick C-133 was a genius and he was a clever enough man to know that he won't be able to find that Morty just on his own. So, he actually called one of his acquaintances, Rick P-78, who agreed to meet him at one of the bars on the Citadel. Entering the appointed pub, C-133 didn't have to search long for the other. The P-dimension Rick easily stood out with his different clothes, – the gray, sleeveless lab coat and the black long-sleeved turtleneck shirt underneath it as well as equally black slacks that had emptied weapon holsters attached to them and a pair of brown boots – the scar that went vertically over the left side of his face, and that optical prosthesis in his left eye socket. Easily, he slid on the stool next to his acquaintance and ordered a whisky for himself that the Morty bartender quickly served up. His Morty took a seat next to him and only ask for a glass of water in his stuttering voice. P-78's Morty sat on another stool by his Rick's side and sipped something that looked like orange juice. "So, what's the big favor that you're asking for?" The Rick with the mechanical eye asked. "Long story short: I'm looking for a Morty." P-78 raised one side of his eyebrow and looked pointedly to the brown haired boy at his side. "Don't you already have one?" C-133 sighed exasperatedly. "Ha ha, very funny. I'm looking for a specific Morty, dipshit." The other Rick wasn't offended by the rude name-calling. He only waited for C-133 to continue. "H-hey, Morty? Why don't you go and play with that other Morty while I have a talk here, all right?" C-133 didn't need his grandson to overhear this whole thing. It was worse enough that he had been through it already so no need for him to relive the memory while he was retelling it to the other Rick. His Morty only nodded and slid a few stools over as he waited for the other Morty to join him. As Morty A-22β6 looked up at his Rick with a questioning gaze, the older man only nodded and the boy joined his fellow kind. While the Ricks were starting to talk in hushed voices, the Mortys started a conversation of their own. "So… you're Rick P-78's new Morty?" C-133 started a bit awkwardly. "Y-yeah. H-he's a-a really nice R-Rick…" A-22β6 stuttered. The extreme speech-impediment wasn't lost on the other, but he decided to not comment on it. "Um… why did you get a new Rick? I-I mean, what happened to yours— i-if you don't mind me asking?" Morty C-133 had hurried to add the last part, not sure if the other would be even comfortable talking about it. Even if most Ricks were assholes, many Mortys still loved their grandfather and would be very sad if he died. Especially if it was a very traumatizing death. It wasn't exactly as if Mortys were asking to get reassigned to other Ricks. Most of the time the Council of Ricks would decide such things over the boys' heads, often enough even taking Mortys from dimensions where no Ricks lived anymore just to have a few spare ones that they could redistribute to others whether those Ricks had once an affiliation with the Citadel or not. A-22β6 had been quite for a while and just as C-133 thought that he wouldn't answer, he began to speak. "M-my R-Rick is d-dead…" Even though that much was obvious even to Morty C-133, he still offered him his condolences "I'm sorry." "N-no. Don't b-be." A-22β6 continued. "I-I-I w-was the o-one, who k-killed him." "WHAT?!" C-133 quickly realized that that came out too loud even before he had the eyes of every Rick, Morty and alien in the near vicinity on him. "S-sorry." He apologized to the other patrons with a blush on his face. With wide eyes, he looked back at his conversational partner, silently urging him to continue. Aside from having a hard time believing that this extremely skittish Morty would have the guts to even do such a feat, he was obviously even more interested in getting to hear about the 'why'. Sure, Ricks were generally sociopathic madmen (some a little more and some a little less), but that didn't automatically warrant that they deserved to die – even if they had the talent to get their Mortys quickly riled up to the point that they wished to do it with all the bullshit that they were putting their grandsons through. "…H-he…" A-22β6 swallowed heavily before he seemed to find the strength in his voice to continue. "He was a-a r-really bad R-Rick. I m-mean r-really really b-bad…" The boy nervously stroked over the long yellow sleeves that were covering his arms. In a slightly squeaky voice he continued "…h-he abused me… a-and r-raped me even…" Sympathy immediately surged through C-133 at those words. It was certainly one thing to be abducted by some other Rick and have this happen to you, but having your actual Rick being such a sick bastard – having to endure that over and over again for who knows how long he had to live together with his grandfather – was an even more horrible fate. "Jeez, I'm really sorry about that…" he muttered, not sure how to respond to that. "Uh… you know… I kinda know what that's like…" The other Morty finally dared to look up into his eyes. He had turned his face away and stared at the ground after they had started with the topic of his original Rick. "R-really? Y-you d-do?" A-22β6 asked in surprise. It still wasn't easy for C-133 to talk about it even if he had told Morty C-137 and K-4872 just recently. The memory was still fresh in his mind and so far, his Rick hadn't given him a break so that he had some time to think about or even properly process it yet. The time that he had scrubbed his skin raw in the shower didn't quite count… "Yeah, just… just recently I-I was kidnaped by some Ricks and they also…" His voice trailed off at the end, but he didn't need to finish the sentence. It was obvious what he wanted to say and A-22β6 sincerely felt sorry for his alternate version as well. "You know, apparently this seems to be a weird "trend" among Ricks…" C-133 continued after a little bit silence. "Huh?" "Well, I heard from another Morty that a lot of Mortys are recently getting kidnapped and sold off in illegal Morty brothels." A-22β6's eyes widened at that. He seriously didn't know that something like that was happening at the Citadel at the time. His Rick certainly hadn't mentioned anything about that. Morty C-133 explained all the details to him and added him to his contacts while also giving him the numbers of the other Mortys. Since Rick P-78 would help them out, his Morty was also more than willing to do whatever he could to help. However, A-22β6 still felt like he needed to add something. "Y-you kn-know, not a-all R-Ricks are l-like that though… T-there are a-also s-some really n-nice ones who d-don't just u-use Mortys." He hoped that his words would cheer the other Morty up because he knew that it was the truth. Since he had met Rick Q-89, who was a Rick that did have sex with Mortys, he knew that this alternate version of his grandfather was very different and a really nice guy. Morty A-22β6 really liked him and the only Rick that he could ever like more than him was P-78. He tried not to blush at the thought, but he felt a definite warmth in his chest at the thought. The Ricks meanwhile were still whispering in their conversation, C-133 laying everything of what had happened down on table. "So, you see. I somehow have to find that little piece of shit." He finished his story. After taking another sip from his drink, he added, "I know that you're the only Rick who I can ask about this because you got some experience of your own how dangerous a Morty can be. Most Ricks wouldn't ever consider a Morty a threat, but this mysterious Morty is gonna mean serious business. All of us Ricks should always keep in mind that a cocky Morty means a lot of trouble…" P-78 had listened quietly through the whole story. With one last gulp, he finished his drink and put the empty glass back down on the counter. "'Kay. You can count me in. I'm gonna help you hunt that little shit down." He said. As he looked over at A-22β6, he thought that this wasn't only to help out an old friend, but also for the safety of his own Morty. He wouldn't know what he'd do if something like that would happen to his little boy…

The C-137 duo made their way towards the Morty Day Care. Morty was honestly not quite sure what to think about that particular shop. However, after having been to a daycare that was full of alternate versions of his dad – the Jerryboree – he probably shouldn't feel surprised that Ricks would come up with the idea to do the same thing for Mortys. Still, he couldn't say that he didn't feel at least a bit offended about it… For Rick, any place to ask was as good as the next one and seeing that there was a long line at the Morty Healing Center and Rick somehow wanted to avoid Salesman Rick's shop, he picked the place that had the shortest line – and there the last customer just left and C-137 wouldn't even have to wait at all! As he approached the Rick, which had a permanent frown on his face and a toothpick between his lips, he could actually see some scribbles on his right arm. Rick C-137 recognized it as a formula that he had just come up with last week – it was a more efficient recipe for dark matter fuel. As he and his Morty came to stand in front of the counter, the other moved the toothpick to the corner of his mouth in a routinely manner to freely talk without obstructions. "Welcome to Morty Day Care!" Storage Rick said in a monotone voice from always having to say this same sentence a few hundred times a day, day in and day out. "What do you want? Store, Withdraw, Bootcamp or Combine?" "Wait? You can actually combine Mortys? Seriously?" Rick C-137 asked. Wow, what kind of Rick had come up with that sick idea? He was certainly a genius! "Yeah, if you have two Mortys of the same type, you can fuse them together to get an evolved Morty who is better and stronger than the two previous ones… You're a noob, aren't you?" he asked, eyeing first Rick and then his Morty before bringing his attention back to the Rick again. "Yeah, I'm new to this whole game. Care to explain the rules since the Council didn't bother with it?" "Sure. It's simple. You just go out there, using the communal portal gate at CentRick Square, which will teleport you to a random, registered dimension. There you can find Morty trainers who will want to battle you and Wild Mortys that you can fight or catch. Also, there is always a Rick who's like the boss of that dimension and who you will have to challenge to win a badge. And in case that you don't have a portal gun of your own, you'll have to beat him to get back to the Citadel." Storage Rick rattled the explanation down in a monotone voice as if he was in a hurry to get this whole thing done. Why did the noobs always have to ask him about the rules? There were many other Ricks to bother around… "Okay, that sounds pretty simple, but how do I do that whole Morty catching business? I mean, I can't just walk up and ask if they're interested in joining me or something like that." C-137 interjected. He was really trying to stay focused even though the rules were easy enough that a little kid could understand how it works, but he was quickly being bored with these explanations and just wanted to have this over and done with as quickly as the Rick behind the counter. Go through portal, defeat trainers, catch Mortys, defeat Ricks – got it! It wasn't that hard! "Of course not. You let your Morty fight against a Wild Morty to weaken them and then you have to plant a Morty Manipulator Chip on them. When the LED on the chip lights up green, you were successful and the caught Morty will think that you're his Rick and will follow you." "Okay and where do I get an injector and those manipulator chips?" "Are you for real? C'mon, you're a Rick." Storage Rick inquired with one side his eyebrow raised. "You can make these things yourself. Fortunately, you can find spare parts scattered across the dimensions and workstations are set up all over the place." Storage Rick suppressed the urge to sigh. Who knows how often he had these conversations already. "Really?! I have to handcraft all the stuff that I need by myself? That's taking way too long! I-I mean I have stuff to get done here, man!" C-137 complained. "Well, you can actually buy Morty Manipulator Chips from Salesman Rick, but he's only authorized to sell them to advanced trainers. I know, it's real tough for newcomers, but I guess this is kinda like, you know, sorting the wheat from the chaff. There are so many people, who think that this Morty training business is such a cool thing, but as soon as they find out how much work is behind it all, they just lose heart and give up. So, you know, all of the ones that are still participating in it are hardcore enthusiast who take this seriously." At least Storage Rick wished that would be the case, but he worked so long in this job that he knew better by now. "Well, at least you already have a Mortypad." Storage Rick commented at seeing the former iPad in the other Rick's hand. "This is a Mortytector." C-137 corrected with a crease in his eyebrow that showed his displeasure about thinking it was the same thing that every other Rick ran around with. Storage Rick looked unimpressed. The scientist from the C dimension continued. "Okay, fine. Anything else that is worth knowing?" Rick C-137 was getting annoyed and just wanted to get started so he could get this whole ordeal over with soon. "Not really. Oh, but one more thing: you can only have five Mortys with you at once. If you capture one more, a Courier Flap will get that one and bring it to me for storage. So, if you want that one in your team, you will have to come here first and exchange them…" It was kind of a stupid rule, but Storage Rick wasn't making the rules here. Before Rick C-137 had the chance to comment on that, his Morty suddenly interposed "Why five?" "What?" both Ricks asked back in unison and looked down at him with an equal, questioning, but also annoyed expression on their faces. "Why is it that you can only be accompanied by five Mortys at a time? That number seems pretty random to me." "It's not random. Everyone knows that you don't need more than five Mortys." Storage Rick replied dryly. "Exactly, Morty! Because it's enough to have five Mortys and-" Rick C-137 stopped in the middle of the sentence as he remembered the reaction that Morty had when he told him about his experimenting with five Mortys and a jumper cable – which was, of course, completely hypothetical! His Morty looked expectantly at him to finish his sentence yet looked like he probably wasn't going to like what he would have to say and so he quickly continued "Anyways, no one needs more than five Mortys. There never was a Rick who had or needed more than five Mortys and that's canon." "So, you mean to say that you would only need five to win our portal gun back?" "Yeah. That's what I said, Morty. And now shut up!" Turning back to the Rick behind the counter, he asked "Oh, by the way. Do you happen to know a Rick that is nicknamed Mysterious Rick? Black hat, red cape…" Storage Rick cut him off and was almost tempted to ask who didn't know this guy by now. "Yeah, I know the weirdo but haven't seen him since he withdrew all of his Mortys. Figures that he probably stopped playing and released his Mortys in the wild." Of course, Storage Rick was sure that that was not the case. There was no way that that mortyphile would actually do that, but seriously, it wasn't his business what that Rick did. If he had to guess, he figured though that Mysterious Rick must have rubbed the newbie  the wrong way and probably tried to get his Morty. His guess was pretty much confirmed as he could see how uncomfortable the little Morty looked about the current topic. "Well, okay. That's too bad then, 'cause I thought that I might meet him here. Whatever. Let's go, Morty." Rick C-137 had heard enough and just wanted to get into battle now. He actually had to collect a shitload of badges if he wanted to fight against the Council and he had to catch some Mortys to get himself a decently strong team so that he could beat them up properly. "No, wait, Rick. I still have some questions." His Morty interjected once again and turned towards Storage Rick. "I-I've heard that there is an increase in Morty abductions on the Citadel. Have-have you heard anything about that? I mean, do Mortys happen to vanish from here, too?" Storage Rick's eyes narrowed the slightest bit at the question and suddenly the Guard Rick that was stationed at the electric fence burped loudly and shifted a little in his stance, momentarily distracting the keeper of the Day Care and causing him to quickly glance over to the guard for a brief moment before he finally answered. "Don't worry. Morty Day Care is the safest place that any Morty could ever be at on the Citadel. I'm leading a proper business here and got nothing to do with that so nothing of the likes happens here. But, hey—you know, if you're looking for suspicious Ricks there are plenty around." Storage Rick started to gesture with his hands. Pointing over in the direction of the Healing Center that was literally next door, he continued, "Have you met Surgeon Rick yet? That guy's not quite right in the head. You know, I've heard that they won't assign any Mortys to him anymore and he's been degraded from his position as a Paramedic of the Citadel's Militia because of the same reason. I also think that he shows a little too much interested in Mortys." Storage Rick paused a little in his speech to make a face and shifted his toothpick from the left corner of his mouth to the right one. "I also see sometimes Mortys going in, but never coming out again, not even their corpses or whatever. It's also quite suspicious that there are bloody Morty clothes in the dumpster behind that place every so often. I don't know what you think, but I tell you that the guy has Morty blood on his hands and not just from healing wounded ones." Morty made a face at the mentioning of the blood, but Storage Rick didn't stop there yet. "He also seems to be in on something with that Rick from Morty Labs, so that guy is probably worth checking out, too. Those guys are not the only ones though. I think you should also check out Salesman Rick from the Morty Item Store. The guy's always all smiles, but I have a feeling that he's hiding something. And you know he's the only one that has free limited access to those Morty Manipulator Chips. For all we know these things could be used to easily kidnap Mortys." He seemed to pause a little bit in thought while Morty C-137 tried to process all the information that he received. His Rick was barely listening to all the droning. Why was his Morty suddenly interested in that crap that had absolutely nothing to do with them? Storage Rick seemed to remember one more thing. "Oh, I guess you should also check out Dirty Rick. I mean that guy has "Dirty" in his nickname and he certainly is a really shady guy. You can find him at the Morty Games Colosseum." "O-okay. Thank you." While all of that information was a bit overwhelming, it was a starting point. Since he doubted that his Rick would give him the time to check all of those places out, he would just have to contact the other Mortys and tell them about this. Maybe they could share the work and figure something out by working together. The thought made him a little excited. "What-what is this suddenly about? Morty kidnappings?" his Rick asked in confusion. Oh, right. He should probably let his Rick in on this whole thing that was going on. Morty could imagine that he probably wouldn't help out and complain that they don't have time for this crap, but maybe he would be in a good enough mood to allow Morty at least to investigate a bit on this. He just had to bring up that the others would also be helping out with looking for Mysterious Rick. It wasn't a completely one-sided thing – they would all help out each other! As Morty C-137 explained to his Rick what was going on, the scientist already decided that this thing wasn't really his deal and he would only focus on getting back his portal gun and find that Mysterious Rick to pay him back for what he had done. If his Morty wanted to play detective and help some of those other Ricks and Mortys then he could do that, but he shouldn't count too much on Ricks help for it. Since they were entangled in their own conversation, none of them paid any more attention to Storage Rick as they left. The Rick of the Morty Day Care waited patiently till the duo was out of sight, watching them with narrowed eyes. As soon as they were gone, Storage Rick called one of his Worker Mortys over. "Hey, Morty. Come over here." he called out. In an instant as if he could only mean one Morty in the entire Day Care with that, a Blue Shirt Morty was standing at his side. "Take over the counter for a moment. I need a smoke break…"

Bonus: ***extra to the conversation between Morty K-4872, C-133 and C-137*** "So, what kind of facilities are you talking about exactly? I mean, what's that Morty orphanage?" C-137 asked now curious since he wasn't too well versed with the Citadel. "We're calling it Mortyphanage here." K-4872 corrected. "Yeah. What's up with those places?" C-133 also wondered about that. "The Mortyphanage is one of the three main facilities where Ricks can get new Mortys. Even if Ricks hate to admit it, they need us Mortys—" "Yeah, because of our brainwaves…" C-137 threw in. K-4872 looked at him funny now. "Well, that probably, too, but it's not the only reason. Ricks are very depressed and self-destructive so they need someone who looks up to them and cares for them. But like I said, they try to deny it, because of their stupid pride." Both C-dimension Mortys nodded. They understood now even if they probably haven't ever really thought about it like that. "Anyways…" K-4872 continued his explanation. "…the Mortyphanage is where they put obviously the orphaned Mortys. Those who not only have no Rick, but also no family anymore. Sometimes, they don't even have a home dimension that they could be returned to. Now, you would think that those Mortys are the first ones who would be reassigned to a Rick, but most Ricks think that these Mortys are "broken". Aside from that, there's very strict requirements that needs to be upheld by the Rick, not to mention the fee that needs to be paid. Many Ricks think that it's not worth it, so these Mortys are the least desirable ones and don't get adopted very often. Another facility where Ricks can get Mortys is Morty Academy. Mortys who have lost more than one Rick are generally being placed here because the Council thinks that if the Ricks, who these Mortys are assigned to, keep dying, it's somehow their fault. Not because Ricks are suicidal and self-destructive and can make mistakes sometimes that get them killed. So, they put those Mortys into a learning program, where they basically try to shape them into perfect companions for Ricks. And the only thing that Ricks need to do it is to register themselves there within a certain time span. Aside from that fee again, of course. Obviously, these Mortys are the most desirable ones and everyone who manages to graduate will definitely be assigned to a Rick. The assignment is determined by the time that Ricks need to show up for the waiting line and for the Mortys by how well they did on their graduation certificate. It's basically that the first Rick in the line will get the first Morty that gets called up and the first Morty that will be called up will be the valedictorian and the grades will go down from there. The only downside about it is that Ricks will only be able to get a Morty on graduation day. And then there's the Morty Reassignment Center. This used to be the first and only place where Ricks could get a new Morty – or receive one for the first time if they happen to be from a dimension where they never had a Morty to begin with. Even up to this day, it is the main facility where Ricks will go to get a Morty. This is also the only place where Ricks won't have to pay a fee if they happen to have a free Morty voucher that the Council sometimes hands out as a reward." C-137 emitted an indignant sniff at the mentioning of the voucher. K-4872 continued, undeterred. "The Center does have a storage place for Mortys that have been picked up after their Ricks died, but they also relocate Ricks to rickless dimensions where they integrate themselves into the Smith family as the new Rick of that dimension. However, most Ricks dislike the Reassignment Center because of all the paperwork and long waiting times. They can also not choose which Morty they are assigned to as you could at Mortyphanage or to a certain degree at Morty Academy. Some Ricks can also get a ban if they lose too many Mortys within a short amount of time. So that's that." Both C-dimension Mortys looked with big eyes at the other brunet as they let all of the new information soak in. They certainly hadn't been to the Citadel often enough that they knew anything about its inner workings. Knowing about all that made them also realize that Ricks were really serious in needing a Morty at their side if they put so much work behind assigning them. In fact, Ricks seemed to need Mortys more than Mortys actually needed Ricks…

AN: This first chapter is more of an intro. The real story begins from next chapter onwards and you will see the structure of how this is all going to be told. Also decided to add these little bonus things at the end, because I've done that for another (later) chapter and thought "why not do it for every chapter of this story?" Sometimes they will be informative (like the one in this chapter) and add to the world building and other times they will be just funny. I hope you'll like this story so far and will enjoy what's later to come :)

Part 11 of Entricked Fates

Chapter 2

Part 1 of Entricked Fates: Gotta Catch Me Some Morty

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 2 of Entricked Fates: Mortyfied and Rickfused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 3 of Entricked Fates: Ricking the Routine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Part 4 of Entricked Fates: Ricks will always be Ricks

oneshot

Part 5 of Entricked Fates: The Morty-Lover

oneshot

Part 6 of Entricked Fates: Second Chances AKA The Rick One For Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 7 of Entricked Fates: Rickvestigating the Morty Disappearances

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Part 8 of Entricked Fates: When the Morty’s away, the Rick will play

oneshot

Part 9 of Entricked Fates: It’s Not His Ricking Fault!

oneshot

Part 10 of Entricked Fates: I Ricking Hate My Life!

oneshot

Part 12 of Entricked Fates: The Mortys and their Stories

Chapter 1