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collaredattachment · 7 months ago

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First meetings (Amanda, Tiffany, Dani)

Home Depot, 9:45pm

Your shift has been grueling and you're more than eager to start closing up, but a woman rushes in so quick she nearly bumps into the automatic door

She's skittish; her fingers twitch rhythmically, and she keeps adjusting her hood to sit better over her head

You drowsily watch her circle the store for ten minutes

Eventually she grows frustrated and lifts her head

The look in her eyes nails you into place. There's more sclera than iris, and it makes her look like a dog straining at its chain

She marches toward you with the determination of someone about to kill, and you almost want to disappear between the shelves and hope someone else will pick up your slack

In the end you stand your ground, though, and try to hide the soft tremble of your fingers. She stops so close to you that she nearly steps on your toes

"I need an external hex screw," she says. No hello, no introduction. Definitely no smile.

Now she's up close, she's barely even looking at you. Her eyes comb through everything but your face, starting from the meandering customers at the back and ending at the gardening tools you were lazily organizing. She reminds you of a nervous rat scanning for trouble

"This way, ma'am," you eventually say and begin to lead her down the isle

The walk is completely silent, and the whole way the woman keeps glancing at you like you're not moving fast enough

"We don't have them individually packaged, unfortunately," you say as the shelf is in sight

She only nods in reply

"Did you have a size in mind?"

Another nod, no elaboration. Her eyes scour the row you gesture at, and then she snatches the box she needs off the shelf

Without a word, she turns and heads off, presumably toward the exit

You can't help staring at the back of her head as she goes. It's not like this is the first rude customer you've ever come across, but there's something haunting about her, like you'd just dodged a bullet by not making conversation

Regardless, there's a gnawing curiosity somewhere in the back of your head, an itch in the tips of your fingers, a desire to know more

You entertain the idea of going after her, asking her name and why she looks so out of place at a hardware store near closing time

By now she's probably shoved cash at the poor guy working the register and barrelled out the door, and it is much, much too late to do anything about it

As much as you agonize over it, you end up leaving the show half an hour early

It was supposed to be a fun Friday with thrash metal and friends, but all you got was the worst migraine in a year

To crown it all off, you miss your bus by mere seconds because the driver couldn't wait for you to catch up - even though you're sure he saw you waving

Your place isn't that far, only a thirty minute walk or so, but at this hour you'd have much preferred to sit down and listen to your ears ring than dodge creeps on the sidewalk

There's no real option, though, so you swallow the string of curses that teases the tip of your tongue and get going. At the very least it's not raining anymore

Three turns and an alley later, you jaywalk across the street and come to the front of a closed up video store. The neon lights still blink, but the building is nothing but bones anymore

Right by the corner, her face drowned by shadows, stands a woman. The fishnets alone are enough to catch your attention

"Got a light?" she asks. Her voice is smooth and crackly, like nails on worn denim

You couldn't possibly consider walking past her. You don't know if it's the poorly bleached hair, the leather jacket or the legs as long as your journey home, but you stop in front of her and dig through your pockets

After an awkward second or two, you pull out a cheap plastic lighter with a scratched label and flick it on

Her grin is hungry as she leans forward to let the flame lick her cigarette

After she's taken a drag, she looks you up and down

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out so late?"

You shrug and clear your throat. "Missed my bus."

"Public transit, am I right?" She laughs - the sound is cheap and dirty like pennies against marble. She takes another drag and blows the smoke right in your face

You fight off the instinct to cough and hope that you might have impressed her by inhaling as slow and smooth as you can make it

She doesn't say anything else, but the way she looks at you shifts. The way she delicately squints her eyes feels searching, like she's assessing you

The realization of where and when you are strikes you like sparks across the back of a match and you take this as your sign to get going

"I'm in a hurry, but um." You pause, unsure of how to remove yourself from this situation without offending her. "Have a good night."

The woman lifts her cigarette at you with a smile

You keep peeking over your shoulder the entire way home, because even after you've turned the corner you swear you can feel her eyes on your back

It's only after checking the lock on your front door three times that you can really breathe

The campus library has never been a particularly busy place, but tonight it is even more sparingly occupied than usual

It doesn't take long to find the textbooks you were looking for, so you take a few moments to browse; see if there's anything interesting in the sociology section, or maybe something on philosophy to read before bed

As you pass historical non-fiction, you see her out of the corner of your eye

It's that woman from introduction to cognitive science who always arrives late and leaves five minutes early. She's tucked at the furthest end of a table between two massive hardwood shelves, and it doesn't take long to figure out that she's crying

She holds her sleeve against her mouth but the look on her face is almost frightening. Her eyes are squeezed shut and there's a crease between her brows so deep it could've been carved with a knife

You stand there looking like a fool, shoes glued to the floor because you can't help but stare

She opens her eyes and pulls her head up to breathe in, but her inhale is splintered, like her lungs have lost all sense

Then she turns and reaches for something in her bag with trembling hands - her phone

She types something, bent in half at the waist, and then wipes her forehead with her sleeve

She has to hold the table for support as she rights herself, and as she lifts her head to look at something, maybe the clock over your head, she sees you

There's this look in her eye, like a child caught stealing

Guilt. Fear. Knowledge of the fact that she's out of place and she's been seen

She throws her books into her bag, zips it up and rushes past you, nearly tripping over her feet as she bumps into you

"Hey, are you-" The words follow the woman in a dripping echo, but either she can't hear you or she's choosing not to

The few people in the building glare at you and your raised voice, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up the neckline of your shirt

You almost run to the self checkout, but by the time you've made it out the door, the woman is long gone

If she makes it to class next week, maybe you'll try and talk to her

Maybe

#Amanda Young x Reader #Tiffany Valentine x Reader #Dani Ardor x Reader #Reader #Amanda Young #Tiffany Valentine #Dani Ardor

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agatharkn3ss · 2 months ago

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Teen theory - Spoilers

Preface: This post is going to be long, but I do think there is something good here! If you just want just the main plot theory: I THINK THE VICTIM'S BODY IN EP.1 IS TEEN. I explain this in the section "The Cool Bit" ;)

It has taken me the absolute longest to write it because I couldn't quite form a coherent theory and my ideas have been changing back and forth. I even had to build some sort of murder board timeline to focus. No, I am not kidding. My hope is that today's episode is going to show us more of Teen/Billy's backstory so we will finally get at least some answers and my brain can rest.

A lot of this is based on episode 1 - I think it contains so many details that are crucial to the story and I probably haven't even made a dent with my observations.

We have a definitive confirmation that Teen is indeed Billy Maximoff. If we still had any doubts about which "mother" Agatha was referring to, it was confirmed by Jac Schaeffer in her ep.5 interview, by Joe Locke in his interview, followed by lots of Marvel Teen & Wanda promos and the trailer where we hear Agatha sneering "What does Billy Maximoff want at the end of the Road?". But Joe also confirms that "Agatha All Along is not following the blueprint of [Young Avengers] narrative — or any one specific comic, for that matter". So... who is Teen?

WandaVision recap

In WandaVision we see Billy Maximoff was created by Wanda's chaos magic when she created the Hex. She became "pregnant" and pretty much within 24h gave birth to twins - first Tommy, then Billy. Interesting that Tommy was named by Wanda as a "nice, classic, all-American name", while Billy was named by Vision specifically after William Shakespeare - Vision even excitedly quoted "All the world's a stage, All the men and women merely players" - foreshadowing the immense power of Billy, who in the comics becomes Wiccan and is thought to be at least as powerful as Wanda.

We see that Tommy has super speed and Billy telekinetic powers. He can hear the thoughts of Westview citizens who are screaming in their heads because they are trapped by Wanda's Hex. He even tells Agatha that he liked staying at her place because she was "quiet inside" - she was the only person staying at the Hex of her own will.

The boys quickly age themselves up at will, so that by day 3, the last day, they appear to be both 10 years old. One of their last moments is Wanda tucking them to sleep, telling them "Family is forever" and thanking them for choosing Wanda to be their mom. Which is quite an interesting choice of words. In the comics, the twins' souls are thought to have been created from the pieces of essence of Mephisto. Wanda's comment could therefore be speculated that perhaps she knew twins were not only not "biologically" hers but also that perhaps they weren't little boys after all (I choose to ignore the events of MoM entirely).

After the Hex, the boys "bodies" cease to exist, but their souls are believed to survive.

Enter Billy Kaplan.

We have long theorised this, and it seems like we were right, that the car crash near Eastview mentioned in episode 1 was the one that killed Billy Kaplan and allowed Billy Maximoff to reincarnate. Agnes mentions that the front airbags were deployed and there was blood stain on the backseat. This suggested that the front passengers, Kaplan parents, have survived, but Billy died.

In the trailer we see exactly that - Teen observes the Hex coming down, but their car ends up on the other side of the road - his parents are probably also distracted by the events. Right outside of Eastview we see an oncoming car - and it's a S.W.O.R.D. car! Teen shouts out to his mom - likely the driver, but we see the car hitting the tree sideways - right where Teen was sat.

Crazy Ralph theory

I think it's interesting that S.W.O.R.D. is seen here - and they are coming out of Eastview. But why? At this point in time all the forces would've already been waiting outside of Westview.

I think this is probably not important and a red herring. But I would like this to be Agent Jimmy Woo, maybe transporting people from Westview. Wanda opened the Hex for a few minutes and let some of the citizens go away, before she closed the Hex again. After that she battled Agatha, said her goodbyes, all the while the Hex was slowly shrinking before it was gone completely. So I think what Teen is seeing from the car is that shrinking phase. Meaning that perhaps some citizens have escaped by then and were brought to safety - the nearest town was Eastview.

I would also love (but it would probably not work out in terms of chronological events) if this was Jimmy Woo returning from Eastview after placing Ralph Bohner into a new witness protection house, this time in Eastview. Quick catch up: Ralph Bohner was the whole reason Woo found out about Westview because he was assigned to his case as witness protection but suddenly Bohner went missing. We now know this was because the Hex has deactivated his ankle monitor, then Agatha kidnapped him so she could live in his house and pretend that she was Ralph's wife. She then used him as Fake Pietro, before Monica released him from the spell. After that, there was a deleted scene where Bohner cuts his ankle monitor and runs away, while Jimmy releases instructions to find him. Raplh clearly hasn't been returned to Westview because we see that Agatha still lives in the same house. The reason I mention all of this is that the strange silhouette of a man in the trailer has longish hair that could be silver-ish. So maybe this is actually Ralph Bohner, still in hiding?

Anyway, I digress.

Car crash aftermath

So Billy Kaplan dies. I think he's dead long enough for Rio to show up. Maybe even long enough that his body ends up in a morgue - similar to the one we will see in the earth trial? But then Billy Maximoff's soul enters the body and we have a miracle. This is where it gets interesting, because there are so many questions. I think Rio sees Maximoff but can't stop him. Maybe that's why she says she hates ghosts - is this because she has no power over them? She needs to do "her job" but Maximoff will not let her, so she needs to find another way. I wonder if the earth trial is Rio's so she can finally reap Billy's body?

Billy miraculously lives and that's why there is that article "Near death in Westview".

Billy lives but I don't think he knows who he is. I think he has Billy Kaplan's memories, maybe flashes of Maximoff, but I think he's confused. I don't think he remembers Rio either. Maybe she was in her "skeleton skin". He's neither Billy Kaplan, nor Billy Maximoff. He's "Teen". That's why we hear him say in the flashback "I want something else. Something more."

We know there is a bar mitzvah in this episode - and Wiccan in the comics is Jewish. So I think this must be Teen must be 13 and it's his bar mitzvah. Now, I don't know enough about this, but I know that it a significant, sacred coming-of-age ceremony:

"Our sages teach that at the age of 13 young men and women are endowed with a greater capacity for both seeking to do good and seeking selfish pursuits. This age marks the young adult’s arrival at the crossroads of moral and spiritual decision making that is engaged in by mature adults. As a community we celebrate the Bat & Bar Mitzvah in order to help our young adults become aware of and draw meaning from this significant transition in their lives."

This sounds like an ideal moment where Teen finally realises his powers and maybe finally starts getting a glimpse of who he might be. As he grows up, he maybe finally remembers Wanda. (Or not? How interesting would it be, that when Agatha says "You are so much like your mother", he thinks she refers to Rebecca Kaplan?)

But. He still feels like something is missing. Maybe he had many more lives before because of being "essence of Mephisto"? And he's trying to figure out who he is, like a normal teenager? But he goes about it the wrong way - starts studying witchcraft, even tries to summon the Road by himself. We see his hand (with his rings) starting to draw a circle of the pentacle.

Eventually, someone ("JamSamwitch"?) tells him about Agatha and he figures out she is still in Westview. Maybe his "Boyf" is helping him. Or maybe it's Ralph Bohner seeking revenge for what Agatha did to him? I think he remembers Agatha as the friend of the family. She babysat them, let them play with Senor Scratchy (as we see he still recognises him), but then she obviously betrays them.

This is where my theories get really fuzzy.

I can't figure out how long Teen has been at her house. On the face of it, it feels like he truly only first got to her when he broke in for the locket... But there are so many books and diagrams all around Agatha's house. It looks almost as though he has been searching for things in her books for a long time now. Also, there is a second chair in her imaginary car, suggesting having a passenger?

THE COOL BIT

Either way, my theory of how this is all connected goes something like this:

I think that when Teen tries to summon the Road by himself, it doesn't work, but he accidentally distorts Agatha's spell. I think he might have actually used a page from Darkhold to do this. This event affects Agatha. And because it's connected to the Road, she starts humming the ballad, and her imaginary reality not only takes her on a road, but even into the woods - which really resemble the Witches Road the coven is currently on!

Maybe Agatha jumps straight into her Agnes O'Connor persona, maybe there are others. But Billy's emotions and intentions during his spell are so big that they are also projected onto her. Teen doesn't know who he is. He feels disconnected to this body of his. The sudden burst is so profound that Agatha must have accidentally dropped her locket in the puddle in that moment, that's why she loses it.

So when Agnes starts her "case" - the victim she investigates is actually Teen. The body is Teen. His fingers are black from Darkhold ink (that he probably used in the spell) and his feet are bare (because he knew you weren't allowed shoes on the Witches Road). She is clearly emotional looking at the victim and wonders out loud "Who are you?", "What happened to you?". I think these are actually Teen's unconscious questions about himself.

Yes we see links to Wanda throughout the show. But I think they were always actually pointing at Teen. So Agatha realised his identity fairly quickly - we saw her throwing Wanda's references as early as episode 3.

When the spell doesn't work, Teen needs to go back to Agatha's house to find out how to make it work. She is the only one with the knowledge and her Agnes persona isn't useful. But to get her out, he needs something that is close to Agatha, something that keeps her to reality - just like all of the witches talismans in the trials - they are their one constant, even if their wardrobe changes. And we have already seen Nicky's photo appearing in and out of her spell. So it must be the locket. Because I am 99.9999% the locket contains Nicky's hair (EVERY time Agatha pays attention to it, Nicky's theme plays).

So he goes to steal it and that's how she meets him. And that's why she gasps when he gets hit by Mrs Hart's car - because she still has that connection to his emotions from the event.

The question remains, how did he know about the locket and where he would find it? And what really is the deal with the Road?

Rio

So there enters the puzzle of Rio, this bit is really fuzzy.

Wanda's mini-Hex might have kept hiding Agatha from Rio (and from Salem Seven), but the second it's distorted, Rio feels her again. She quickly finds Agatha in her current distorted spell and helps her to get out, because for whatever reason she needs her out. Maybe she knows Salem Seven are coming and Agatha won't stand a chance if she's still under the spell. I think she is there more in mind than body, she seems really connected to Agatha's thoughts.

She could also be hiding like this from Teen, in case he recognises her. Because she still needs to do her job and collect his body? She latches onto their bizarre idea of the Witches Road, and somehow manipulates the spell to her advantage so she can kill two birds in one stone (pun intended)? Get the body and reconnect with Agatha? I really don't know what her end game is yet.

Phew. THOUGHTS ANYONE????

Sidenote: When Billy says that "Power does not interest me", we see him holding out a hand with some stones. Now, I think this is him about to demonstrate how magic comes easy to him - similar to when Agatha was showing off the animal illusions to Wanda. But I also think that this is a little easter egg hinting at the infinity stones.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agathario #agatha all along spoilers #teen #billy maximoff #joe locke

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hexgaywire · 4 months ago

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"Airport Coffee (And Tea)"

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Pairing: Hex x GN reader

Word count: 777

Rating: SFW

Warning: Angst, crying and lots of implied crying, implied established relationship, but kinda implied ending that established relationship (that's up to you), bittersweet

A/N: Otsu Hex!!! I promised a graduation fic here it is. I just finished his last ASMR and CRIED bc mf had to have read my airport fic (which is technically a sequel to this one but can be read by itself the link is here if you wanna read it) anyway!!! I'm gunna miss him. My WIPs and requests will still be finished if Hex was in them. This fic was also low-key rushed but THAT'S OKAY I'm mourning my kamioshi okay. Thank you for letting me get my emotions out

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He's anxious on the ride to the airport. He's always this way. His hand is planted firmly on your thigh as you drive. Without the dim sounds of the 5am radio station music in the background, it would be silent. He's too nervous to speak, and you know if you say anything he'll crack.

"What terminal again?" You finally ask, breaking the long silence as you weave through the different airline and terminal signs in your car. "3 I think?" He says his voice coming out horse. You silently nod and head for the third terminal parking. You find a sport fairly close, probably on the account that it was in fact 5am. Hex hand stays on your thigh as you both sit in the airport parking lot.

He lets out a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can leave." You lay a hand over his and lean from the driver's side to the passenger side to rest your head on his shoulder. "Hex... You know I don't want you to go either; you wouldn't leave... If you didn't think you had to. This is an opportunity you can't pass up." You say trying to hold back tears that are brimming your eyes. You squeeze his hand gently. "You're amazing and talented; there is so much world out there for you to see." You pause. "My wanting you to stay, should hold you back from being truly happy." He leans his head against yours. By the shaking of his shoulder you can tell he's crying and not trying to show it.

You both sit there for a moment longer. Both crying, both mourning the final moments you have together for a long time. "Remember the last time you went on a trip." You ask softly. "I missed you so much, I started creating again to keep myself distracted." He nods slowly. "Even though I called like every day." You wack him lightly as he cracks a small smile. "Regardless, I stayed strong. It's funny this time I don't feel as strong."

You help him get his stuff out of the car and walk with him to the check in area. He waits in line and tightly grasps your hand the entire time. He checks his bags in and you make your walk to TSA but a small coffee stand catches your eye. "Let me get you some tea... Before you leave. Besides it's tradition; I have to get some airport coffee." He smiles softly. "Of course, how could I forget."

The moment the overpriced coffee hits your throat a bitter feeling swells in your stomach again. You glance at Hex who's checking his carry-on for his passport. For him, you'd be strong. For him won't let this crumble you. He finds it waving it ceremonially and takes a sip of his tea. He spills some and excuses himself to grab some napkins. You shake your head and chuckle.

You both finish your drinks and you finish your walk to TSA. He pulls you into a huge crushing huge. "Promise me, you won't forget me, you won't forget everything that happened." You can't cry now. You can't cry. "I promise." You answer. "Make sure you don't skip meals, make sure you go to sleep on time, make sure you take care of yourself.... for me... Please. " You hold strong, your grip on his jacket tightens. " As long as you promise me you'll do the same. You won't forget me either." He pulls away looking at you directly in your eyes. "I won't. I promise." He says kissing your forehead gently.

You don't leave until you see him wave at you at the other end of the TSA check. A goofy smile on his face. You want to cry, you want to scream that this isn't how things were supposed to end. But you don't. Instead you smile back and wave. You realize in that moment, though time may not be on your side, Hex Haywire was a man who truly deserves the world. Keeping him to yourself would be selfish.

You pass the coffee stand on your way back out to the car, you feel the wave of exhaustion set in after all the adrenaline and anxiety leaves you. You order Hex's favorite tea, that you literally ordered not too long ago the barista only smiles at you. "It's on the house." He says softly. Once you receive the cup, you nearly burst into tears as you see a little rose drawn with Hex's handwriting underneath. "Forever and always." He never stops surprising you, even when he's gone.

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#nijisanji en #nijisanji #hex haywire #xsoliel #xsoleil #hex haywire x you #hex haywire x reader #hex haywire headcanons

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fishrpg · 16 days ago

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2024-12-12: Ohio (Hex 12)

Great fields of corn are wedged between stands of buckeye trees growing near the numerous streams and rivers, though the waters often smell of industrial chemical runoff. The way to the northeast is prone to delays.

Notable Feature: Black Star Salvage Yard (Resource)

A vast expanse of old and partially-destroyed vehicles stretches out across one side of the highway. For a small fee and a few hours of searching, any component that would reasonably found in heavy machinery, commercial trucks, or consumer automobiles can be located here. Black Star Salvage Yard is a reputable business that is able to offer such cheap prices and broad inventory because the company is able to tow all the vehicles that get stranded on The Routes. The profits from the salvage are invested in Black Liberation movements (which will eventually include the Black Panther Party in the winter of 1966). After paying the entry fee to the salvage yard, each paying customer can select from several salvage options:

A single perfectly functional part that looks brand new

Two mostly-functional parts (they don’t have to be the same part) that have a 50% chance of malfunctioning when used

Four parts (they don’t have to be the same part) that are probably broken, but have a 25% chance of working if installed

Six parts (don’t have to be the same) that are definitely broken but can be relatively easily repaired with the right tools

Mix and match from options 2-4, taking half of the indicated parts from each of any two of those options

It takes 4 hours to search for the needed parts, but they will always be found. Helping can halve the time it takes to find the requested part(s), but the person who is helping doesn’t get to request select from the above salvage options.

Service Station (Black Star Fuel and Towing Company)

Located next door to the Black Star Salvage Yard is a service station owned by the same company. It’s a sturdy building with walls made of painted cinderblock, prioritizing functionality and protection over aesthetics, which is an unfortunate necessity after several racially-motivated arson attempts on the property. The store proudly serves people of any color, creed, or national origin, though making bigoted remarks and acting a fool will result in the offender being forcibly removed from the establishment. LeDarius Huffman runs the service station and freely hands out business cards for their towing services in case of problems along The Routes. He also tries to upsell customers on a more expensive rescue service (paid in advance, of course!).

The tow truck drivers will provide vehicle assistance and towing at any point along The Routes, though the service is neither cheap nor without risk outside of Ohio. Black Star employs 10 tow truck drivers who work in teams of two. At any given time, three teams are patrolling The Routes for abandoned vehicles to salvage, one team is on call local vehicle trouble, while the final team rests. Each tow team is far more familiar with The Routes than the average driver and knows how to reliably cross dangerous shortcuts that are either unknown to most travelers or are too risky. The teams travel with firearms to deal with the horrors lurking in the shadows of The Routes, extra fuel to traverse long stretches without service stations, and food to last for up to four days.

If the party has paid for the rescue service and needs help outside of Ohio or its adjacent hexes, a tow team can arrive at the party’s location in four hours. From there, the tow team can traverse a hexes at a rate of 1 hour per hex, regardless of terrain or if a segment is prone to delays. Inside Ohio or its adjacent hexes, the tow team can arrive within an hour and return to the service station in an hour. If a person lacks the money to pay for towing, Ledarius or the tow team drivers will accept payment in the form of political action. Payments of this kind inevitably involve putting oneself into a life threatening situation.

#hexplore24 #fishdavidson #dungeons and dragons #hexcrawl #5e #resource #road trip

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dreg-heap · 9 months ago

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Headphone driver update: the magnets are Strong. Gonna need a more secure way to hold them together, probably a dedicated slot for the hex nuts so I can just screw it down.

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freedfromthegalactichivemind · 2 years ago

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Of Echoes

She-Ra fanfiction Rating: Teen and up Main characters: Catra, Hordak (sort of). Tragedy, Comedy, Science Fiction. (Mostly comedy, despite the subject-matter).

Summary: In the years after Etheria's last war, Catra and Hordak had learned to accept each other - kind of of - in an uneasy alliance for the sake of their wives. They also had an ongoing prank-war with each other. It is now Hordak's funeral and Catra is uneasy. She attempts to step out for a breath of fresh air. There is something that doesn't feel right - and not just the awkwardness one would expect at a memorial service for a long-repentant ex-warlord. Strange things are afoot at the Crypto Castle. A loose sequel to Project H.O.R.D.A.K. Also found here if you prefer Ao3: Of Echoes

Of Echoes She needed to get away. It was amazing how stuffy such a cavernous room could feel. The high, vaulted ceilings and long dark walls seemed only to catch the echoes of the multitude of murmuring people. Bits of conversation pinged off them like ball bearings in a washing machine. Her ears were sensitive and could catch far too much of low-speech and whispers uttered by people with far less acute senses. She really did not need that one guy’s sexual fantasy; that was for sure. That was from some Maker’s Guild inventor she did not know – someone who had a taste for Horde-clones, apparently, as well as scars and deformities. Catra cringed and flattened her ears. She wasn’t about to kinkshame monsterfuckery (she was of a rare species, herself, and, despite appearances, her wife was the member of an even rarer one), but this wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to hear conspiratorially whispered within her earshot first thing in the morning. Well, okay, it was more mid-afternoon, but the sentiment still applied. It absolutely wasn’t anything she’d wanted to hear about a…friend? Enemy? Enemy turned friend? Frienemy? Lover of a friend who was kind of an enemy and then a friend again? What had Hordak been to her, anyway? Difficult to figure out, yes. Most of the conversation going on in the room concerned philosophy (particularly as it related to the concept of “redemption,”) invention and technology, politics, personal interactions both positive and negative, the old long-disbanded Etherian Horde and the half-forgotten Fright Zone (now New Scorpionia), history, health matters specific to space-born clones of a long-dead galactic emperor and a few snippets here and there of small talk about snacks, pets and the weather. Adora and Bow were talking with Entrapta on the other side of the room. Catra had greeted her earlier, but was avoiding her now. She did not like the sleet that she saw in her hair. Most of it was as purple as ever and seemed to have grown longer since the last time she was up in Dryl. Entrapta was among the oldest of them and of course would probably start graying early with all of the stress everyone had gone through, not that she’d ever seemed stressed at all. In fact, in situations that would have the average person a puddle of misery in a corner, Entrapta would just build robots, usually ones designed to explode. Fireworks during holidays at Dryl were legendary. Catra ducked and weaved between bodies, careful to avoid Entrapta catching a glimpse of her. It was not hard. The woman had a welding mask down over her face and had been wearing it that way for most of the day. Catra did not know what she could say that had not already been said. The altar at one end of the room burned with many candles – red ones, black ones and a few small ones that were dark blue. Pictures in frames were laid out upon it including one large painting in the center. Of course, the table also held a six-sided hex-driver. Most of the little photographs had a shock of purple hair in them, as aside from the Royal Portrait, there were very few pictures of Hordak where he was alone. He and his mad scientist were practically joined at the hip… …until now. The formal part of the memorial service had gone smoothly. The Horde Clone Reaper’s Guild of Etheria had done a respectful job – to the point that one could be forgiven for forgetting that Hordak had once been a vicious warlord. It wasn’t like Catra, herself, was innocent. Adora assured her constantly that she had more years of making the right decisions than of making the wrong ones. Hordak had done his part, too. He and Entrapta had developed many useful technologies together, things that had saved and improved many lives. Catra, for her part, didn’t like to think about abstract philosophical questions regarding the number of lives positively impacted versus the number of lives negatively impacted or lost due to any given person’s actions or existence. Lives didn’t really work that way – individuals were not a numbers-game. Maybe that was one of the core-reasons why she found the clones so unnerving. Catra didn’t bear any particular prejudice against them, not in their post-Prime lives, in any case. She could never bear any gathering of them singing in unison (and had avoided part of the funeral-proceedings for this very reason) due to some of her long ago and far away initial experiences with them, but she had long accepted their victimhood under Prime.

She’d even accepted Hordak’s, not that he was ever someone to be coddled. He’d done many crimes against her that could not be erased, but they had come to an understanding over the years.

The closeness of their wives had pretty much forced it.

Bonding between them was what most outside observers would have called awkward, if not a bit toxic. Conversations were often peppered with physical threats and descriptions of various tortures they might put each other through should a mission fail or one of their significant others be made to cry. They’d had martial-contests, testing out the latest model of Entrapta’s body-armor against a new training-regimen. Sometimes, bonding meant joining forces to evacuate their lovers and friends when a negotiation between them and one council of one nation on one planet or another had gone south or narrowly avoiding a full intergalactic incident. There was, of course, the barbeque they’d hosted together in which one quarter of the Whispering Woods had burnt down before being healed by the touch of She-Ra.

Good times.

It was some good barbequed sand-drake, too. Who knew that both the ex-warlord and his ex-second-in-command would take so well to culinary delights and the making of them after they’d gotten out of a military-mindset? Catra was feeling trapped. Entrapta had assured her that she had disabled all of the traps in the Crypto Castle – not just for her guests – but most of them had been disabled years ago for the sake of the number of Hordak’s brothers that lived there. There were so many of them here... not all of them that were on the planet by any means, but a great number. They all had differing eye-colors, hair colors and clothing now, whatever suited them. Still, each and every one of them carried a certain melancholy that went beyond mere grief. It was something unique to them, even in joyful times – something that Etherians, or, indeed, any member of a people born free – could not touch. They outnumbered Etherians here. After all, Hordak had helped many of them in regards to accepting their independence in a post-Prime universe. Most of the Etherians here were ex-Horde, but Hordak had never had many friends. The friends he did have… well, that had started with Entrapta – his first and for the longest time only true friend. Catra shivered as she caught a glimpse of her again. She ducked behind a doorway. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t face Entrapta again right now. Just let Adora talk to her…that’s right. When she’d spoken to her earlier today, she had said the strangest thing. “Oh, don’t worry!” she’d said with a smile. “Hordak’s all around us!” Catra shook her head thinking about that, trying to dislodge the notion. Such a saying was so…unlike Entrapta! That was the kind of fluffy, quasi-spiritual annoying thing that Perfuma would say, nothing at all suitable to the mad scientist that she knew. Hordak had died two weeks ago, so the report went. It shouldn’t surprise her that Entrapta was taking it in a weird way. In fact, Catra was surprised that they weren’t seeing some kind of hastily-built Hordak-bot walking around. The pictures of Entrapta’s Parental Units she’d seen told Catra that Entrapta did that very thing when she was missing someone – their image in mechanism, attempts at replacement. However, Entrapta had grown in the years that they’d known each other – not just in a few more wrinkles about the eyes and the few long strands of gray in her hair (as motile as the rest), but she seemed to understand friendship with organic beings more. Well, as much understanding as could be had. Catra wouldn’t say she understood people much, either. Whatever. She knew that she couldn’t go through the main room with the milling people and way too many somber clones to go outside to get some fresh air, but maybe one of the corridors lead that way, or, at least, she could find a set of stairs to one of the balconies. Melog, for their part, had gone to one of the gardens. They had wanted some space away from everyone’s strong and varied emotions and Catra had told them to go ahead and go and that she’d meet up with them when she could, and not to worry. It was much easier for someone in four-footed animal-form to get out of these things. Swift Wind had the excuse that he couldn’t fit through the front door! (It wasn’t true, Entrapta’s main room was huge, but he pretended that he couldn’t get his horn under the doorframe). Lucky horse… In any case, a balcony sounded like just the thing for a breather. Her ears pinned back when she remembered that time that Entrapta had threatened to tape a slice of buttered toast to the top of her head and push her off the edge of the topmost balcony – For Science! It had come from some conversation between her and Hordak after his motor-skills had become iffy and he was dropping some items at breakfast – an observation of the rate at which toast landed on the floor butter and jelly side-down versus the old legend of how cats, when falling, “always land on their feet.” Entrapta had wanted to see if “a feline, properly affixed to a prepared slice of toast might suspend itself in midair and form a perpetual-motion kinetic spinning machine.” It was a joke, of course, but something in the gleam of Entrapta’s eyes told Catra that she’d wanted to test the hypothesis in earnest. Of course, Entrapta had not wanted to hurt her, but it had taken Adora to intervene to keep curiosity from killing the cat. She walked down a dimly-lit hallway, listening to the soft clack of her toe-claws echoing on the stone. For all of the technological advancements that Entrapta had made to the place, the Crypto Castle had been built in an old style – solid construction in stone, punctuated by added metal elements. Force of habit had Catra’s ears turned to the absurdly spacious ventilation-shafts above. She didn’t want Entrapta to come popping out of a vent to scare the willies out of her and, as usual, she had no idea where Imp was. Hordak’s old experiment had grown up and had a life of his own now, but he was short and of a small-build. Much like Entrapta, he could fit into small spaces. Catra was pretty sure she’d last seen him out in the main hall, but she was cautious over being tailed. The lack of beeps and boops in her proximity told her that Emily hadn’t followed her, at least. “Forgot how confusing this place was,” she muttered to herself. As she stepped through a doorway, she heard a low groan and then a quick sliding sound. In an instant, a door came sliding down right on top of her! She leapt ahead and came just seconds from it slamming down on her tail! She panted on the floor and caught her breath. She stared wide-eyed at the closed-off path behind her. The tip of her tail had lost a few hairs. “What was THAT?” she yelped. Light streamed in from a window. As she picked herself up, she looked around for any kind of control-panel. There wasn’t one visible – it would seem that this was a door that could only be accessed from the other side.

“HEY! What is this?” she yelled at the door. She gave the door a swift kick with the flat of her foot. “Dumb malfunctioning piece of junk! What I get in Entrapta’s castle, I guess.”

The door began sliding open. It hitched up and down, up and down, making a sound akin to… laughter? It slid back into place. “Weird,” Catra concluded as she shrugged and continued on her way. She ascended the spiral stair. If this was where a window was, this stairway led to one of the balconies – probably. It had been a while since she’d been here. It was this moment that her brain decided to remind her that she had no navigation-pad and that even Entrapta couldn’t get around the place without a map. Catra grit her teeth.

Just as she ascended the spiral stair, up around a central pillar, the stairs collapsed. Each stair shunted into itself, interlocking with the other stairs, forming a rather slick slide. “Aaaaaaaiiierrrgh!” Catra screamed as she slammed her claws into the former staircase. She scrambled with her back legs, her tail puffing out, as she held on desperately with her hands. She felt a couple of her claws chipping as she slid right down, leaving pale streaks in the stone. She was left at the foot of the staircase and the door that had almost pinched her tail was mocking her. It slid up and down, up and down – a gaping mouth laughing at her. “I disabled the traps!’ Entrapta’s such a liar!” she grumbled. “She probably forgot all about this wing. No wonder Sparkles still has nightmares about this place.” She stormed down another path. If she couldn’t go up the stairs from this wing, perhaps she’d try another. That’s when she ran into the trap door that plunged her into a dank pool of water. “Hiiissssss!” Alright, something strange was going on here! And not the usual Entrapta-strange, but strange-strange! Catra climbed out of the hole – it was quite shallow and she was subject to a tidbit of memory: Way back when he was first being domesticated, not all of the government officials in Dryl had welcomed Hordak as Entrapta’s “boy-toy” – er, “Prince Consort.” Not all of them had welcomed the idea of Dryl becoming a clone-haven, either, or of any of the other ways Entrapta had wanted to do things upon re-taking her birthright-queendom. In a bit of playful sadism, she’d installed a trap-door in the Royal Reception Room. A button was placed on Hordak’s throne to control the door and whenever they had to deal with a particularly bothersome bureaucrat, Hordak had the freedom to send them into a rather cold pool located in the basement. Pretty soon after that, people had stopped complaining about Entrapta’s methods of rule.

Hordak had tried to pull that trick on members of the Princess Alliance and visiting ex-members of his Horde many times; as he had found the trap door way too amusing (only Kyle consistently fell for it – quite literally). The trick to it was that the trap door was made moveable and they’d never put it in the same part of the floor twice, so it was difficult to dodge. (And if they had, there was another door that would open up right under them!) – The entire Reception Room floor was probably made of false tiles! Glimmer had, of course, been able to teleport whenever she’d felt a hint of gravity. Bow had rope-arrows. Adora and Catra had acute reflexes and could dodge whenever they heard the tell-tale click of it opening, but even Adora had taken the plunge a few times. Hordak was lucky he hadn’t been arrested for it, but Entrapta INSITED that he was just being playful. After all, no one had died. This one had apparently been installed with a silencer. Catra tried to shake herself to dislodge the uncomfortable wet.

Catra had heard a rumor that Entrapta had started building robots for Hordak to send through the doors to keep him entertained… The Reception Room trap-door had been a Decant Day present, after all. Entrapta was eventually commissioned by Queen Glimmer to install one in Bright Moon as well. Prince Consort Bow successfully kept the queen from using it (most of the time). It did not surprise Catra that there would be a few more of the things around this place.

“Alright, don’t trust the floor,” she said to herself as she tiptoed down her new chosen path, hoping to find some stairs that did not become a Super Happy Fun-Slide. Before committing to step anywhere, she cautiously tapped each tile ahead of her with her toe-claws. There would be a tell-tale sound if the floor was hollow. She hopped and skipped and figured out a solid path. She found another path and turned right. Ah, yes! She actually remembered this part of the castle and that it led outside! Catra was feeling better already. She almost stepped on the vacuum-cleaner. A disk-shaped robot beeped and whistled indignantly at her and raised its circular scrubbing brushes in an argumentative gesture. It then spoke to her with a synthesized voice. Green letters appeared on a screen on the top of its chassis, reading out the same words:

“You have made it this far, Force-Captain. Congratulations. Greetings, Force Captain.”

Catra suddenly felt heat by her ear and heard a “SHOOM!” There was a tiny, smoking hole in the wall in front of her in an instant. She felt the ions in the air as she jumped and rolled, dodging a barrage of lasers fired from rotating turrets in the ceiling! She found a moment, caught her breath, jumped, dodged and clawed out a turret. She jumped between the walls, doing the same for as many as she could find. She grabbed a debris-fragment and flung it straight into the last one at the end of the hall. She found herself at the end of it all panting heavily, her hands on her knees.

She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. She was still young, but this was like the obstacle courses in the Horde!

The robot came scuttling by her feet again. She was about to kick it until it spoke to her again. “Are you feeling too old for this shit?” its tinny voice asked. She thought she’d heard the same question echoed from somewhere up above her, but in a voice that was deeper, somewhat more familiar… Her eyes widened. “Hordak?!” she asked her surroundings.

Okay, that was IT!

“WHERE ARE YOU?” she demanded. “I swear, I will find whatever control room you’re running this shitshow from, I’m gonna break your kneecaps and I will drag you out for all to see!” She shivered in fury. “It is just LIKE you to fake your own death! What did it for you? Tensions with Sparkles? That negotiations-breakdown with Aarboria? The bounty you’ve got on five planets because you and Entrapta blew up that moon?” She sighed and laughed bitterly, “Oh, don’t tell me it’s some kind of ‘ultimate penance’ of yours! Some kind of plan to free Etheria from your shadow! I thought you’d gotten over that! Pathetic!”

Catra stormed through the hall, every hair on her body bristling, wary for any new tricks. “Oh, and it’s just like you to mess with me! I’ll find out where you’re watching from! I’ll get past all of your little traps…and lasers…” She looked around, checking for any cameras or screens. She found a vent-grate and hauled herself up halfway into it. She wasn’t a nice fit for scuttling around in the thing like Entrapta was, but she could get a decent look around with her gifted feline eyes. A few robotic cockroaches skittered about and there was nothing to be seen. She hauled herself down.

She walked down the hall, ears swiveling, senses alight. Catra remembered the prank-war that they’d had going on before Hordak had gotten very sick. It was all delightfully stupid. Sure, there were the threats they’d made to each other and the many insults of endearment. Glimmer had taught Catra many an interesting swear-word to tag onto Hordak. Hordak, in turn, had taught her many Hordish-language insults by using them on her. He’d also managed to convince her that the sentence “I want to lick Horde Prime’s lubricated asshole” was “Hey, can I borrow your screwdriver?” This led to many puzzled and offended looks among clones when she had been trying to borrow tools that Bow had requested of her. It took her a week to figure it out and when he’d shared what the words really meant, he’d laughed and laughed. For her part, she liked knocking things off his lab-tables when he was working (a “typical cat”) and of course, there was the time when she’d replaced his hair dye with razzleberry syrup, leading to much unwanted attention from the Freedom Forest bees. She’d also one time (after she’d learned a little baking) crafted him a pie with fruit that was found to have a certain laxative property in spacebats… And, of course, there were the fisticuffs. They always knew how much of a beating they could take. (And Entrapta had redesigned all of Hordak’s armors with Catra’s claws in mind: Try as she might, she couldn’t ‘equal the playing field’ by taking out any of his power-drive crystals).

Until now, Catra had always been able to dodge Hordak’s trap-doors. “I just know you’re running things from somewhere, Hordak! How about you stop being a coward and show yourself? You’ve had your fun faking your own death, but it’s over now!”

She rested her hand against a wall and suddenly found the wall flipped. She was suddenly in another room. It was dark. “Okay, you can come out now. I won’t tell your bounty hunters or Sparkles, I promise, but Adora ought to know that you’re okay. She was beside herself when she couldn’t give you a healing the last time… when it was….too much. She was broken, you know? She’ll be so happy when she finds out that it actually wor-” Catra paused mid-sentence and went stark-still. In the gloom she could make out the shine of long glass-pods. A chill ran through her bones. No…not here, anywhere but here! Her gaze caught a sign along the top of one wall, a screen with lighted green and red letters. “Techno-Organics Laboratory 5: Morgue.” Now, one strange thing that Catra had learned from working with Bow was that there were different definitions to the term “morgue.” It could, indeed, refer to a paper-filing system in which old designs – both graphic design and technical, as well as old publications were kept. Entrapta probably did keep one or more of these kinds of morgues around but Catra knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was where Entrapta and the medical-clones that lived in Dryl kept the bodies of clones that had been donated to science.

In the years post-Prime, the sacred mission of finding clones that had fallen in the war was complete, but the Horde Reapers’ Guild of Etheria had turned to normal undertaking services for clone-kind. Very few had died post-Prime, as they had been designed to be healthy and apparently long-lived (although their true lifespan was unknown, due to them being slated as cannon-fodder). Until the post-Prime era, no clone had known a “natural death.” To be killed as part of violent conquest for the Glory of Prime (or to otherwise be decommissioned for imperfection) had been their fate. After the Last War and the initial rocky adjustment-period, some did die via accidents or the occasional manifest genetic-illness such as the one that Hordak had, although it was few and far-between enough for the Reapers to almost not be needed at all and they all, indeed, did other kinds of jobs independently. Part of the time, fallen clones were buried or set upon a pyre as per the custom of whatever Etherian family or community they had been adopted into, but donation to science in Dryl for the furtherance of understanding of clone-bodies among Etherian healers, particularly of pathologic specimens, was common.

How Entrapta could keep enough of a detachment to do these kinds of studies on people she’d considered valued friends (she’d practically adopted every clone that came her way) was something that Catra would never understand.

She remembered when she was with Adora, Glimmer and Bow when they’d entered one of the old offices in Bright Moon shortly after the end of the war… They’d found a few sparkling feathers, shed at some point by Queen Angella on the floor and Glimmer freaked out. She’d had a full-on panic attack at being confronted with the remains – and they had not even been the full-remains. It was just a reminder that her mother was gone and it had hit her in full-force after the immediacy of surviving Prime had been taken care of. King Micah wasn’t in great shape that day, either.

Eventually, the “late” Queen had been recovered. Entrapta and Hordak had worked to create another portal, one that could reach into that “in-between” place that had been created by the prior existence of Despondos. Catra had been a part of the retrieval, wearing an Entrapta-created personalized exploration-suit. She wasn’t about to let Adora risk her life again – not for something that had been her fault to begin with. Getting Angella back was on her, Entrapta and the old bat – it was their thing to make right. Angella had thankfully survived her ordeal and the fact that the place she’d been to wasn’t as empty as everyone had assumed it to be had helped her keep her sanity intact.

Funny how they’d all gone from being enemies to how, for several years after that, Angella and Hordak would meet to play Chess on Tuesday afternoons…

Angella’s recovery was long ago, a story that Catra could recount at another time when it was more relevant.

What was relevant to her in the moment was the memory of the panic-attack over a few feathery remains and how… well, Hordak and Entrapta had been so…different. Some… did not like the idea of keeping any remnant of a body in a place of the living. Them? Well… Catra blamed the way that clones were built and raised in the Hell that was the Galactic Horde, a system where death was a way of life, for the way that Hordak could have a certain detachment from his brothers at the right times, such as with aspects of medicine. She blamed Entrapta’s views toward greater goods, such as the pursuit of knowledge. She’d always had a bit of morbidity to her – what with her fascination with explosions, apocalyptic potentials and how, on every space-journey in which she was a part, she’d rattle on about the many different ways that one could die in space with an…admiration for natural powers greater than themselves.

Catra’s heart-rate increased and her palms sweat. In time with a “Rrrzzt!” sound, several pods lit up. She bit off a scream. They were empty – just pods from Horde Prime’s ship, empty of all but green fluid, lined up in a row. One of them was covered in a black sheet, held by robotic clips. With a “Click! Clack!” they un-snapped systematically, dropping the sheet to the floor just as the pod lit up…

All of the hair on Catra’s head, tail and body bristled. He had an undergarment on, at least, a set of black shorts, close to the skin. Everything else was in full-display – every scar, every bit of discoloration… the grotesque holes in his arms… His hair – dark blue, that had not changed, flowed with the subtle motions of the fluid in the tank, as if in a gentle breeze. He had no black liner over his eyes, which were thankfully closed. This looked unnatural for him.

It was definitely him. He wasn’t hooked into anything, no tubes or wires. He looked very much like the specimens of creatures that Catra had seen in Shadow Weaver’s old alchemy room back in the Fright Zone when she’d wandered there as a kid. The stillborn Whispering Woods four-eyed piglet had stood out the most in her memory, although she also remembered the shed-tail of one of the Horde’s lizard-troops being there.

In any case, Catra stared up in shock at a pickled Hordak.

She stroked the glass and whispered to him, noting his concave stomach and how thinned out even his once rather muscular thighs were. “You look… so much sicker since the last time we saw each other.”

After she paused, just looking at this very-much-a-corpse, she set her gaze to the floor and her ears down. “So what is going on here?”

Words came in machine-echoes throughout the room, screens lighting up with corresponding text. “SHIT!” she shouted as she clutched her chest and frantically looked around.

“As you can see, I am very much deceased,” the voice intoned. It WAS made up of a recordings of Hordak, although the words were stilted (much like Imp’s were when he spoke via playback of various recorded voices).

Catra grit her teeth and held her claws out. She looked around the room. Her eyes kept darting back to Pickled Hordak.

“My original body is very, very dead,” the voice said, “Yet, thanks to Entrapta’s brilliance, I remain.”

“This has got to be some kind of stupid joke! Where are you? Did you two set this up just to mess with me?”

The lights shut off on all of the empty pods, leaving only Hordak’s illuminated. Catra remained bristling.

“Alright, you’ve had your revenge for that time I benched you over that table… and for that time I gave you that pie that made you fart for three days…”

“Heh, heh, heh…”

Screens along the walls pulsed with green light, shutting off into dark in fluttering sequences. Catra pawed along the walls, looking for some source of a pre-recording.

“Take a run, little cat.”

A section of wall flipped suddenly back around as she was inspecting it, putting her back out into a hallway. Several humanoid robots with dubious levels of functionality and red eyes were there to greet her.

Catra breathed heavy. She took off in a dead heat, followed by murder-bots, laughter and lasers.

Every single laser missed hitting her, but came close to singing hairs. In the insanity, Catra started to notice that it seemed deliberate that they were missing her. The robots, too, seemed to know just where to not swing their crowbars and chainsaws.

Metallic laughter echoed through speakers set into the wall. A large screen craned down from the ceiling and she almost ran into it. It bore a cartoon-style image of the face of a Horde-clone, winking and making a two-fingered “peace” sign in mockery. The icon’s one open eye, in contrast to its white-green lines, glowed red.

A trap door dropped out from beneath Catra’s feet. She screamed as she fell an entire floor down…

… right onto the plush purple couch of one of Entrapta’s tea-rooms.

People screamed.

Mourners were gathered into the room – Hordak’s first liberated brother, Kadroh, wearing a black dress with a veiled little black hat (which looked quite odd against his pink-dyed hair), Adora, Perfuma, and Scorpia who was having quite a difficult time trying to hold a tiny teacup in one of her enormous claws, Emily, settled beside Imp and, of course, Entrapta.

“Are you alright?” Scorpia asked, dropping her cup, which Entrapta grabbed in a tail of hair before it hit the floor.

“What happened to you?” Adora asked, “You just disappeared… I thought you were just getting some air, but you obviously got lost…and you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Catra gripped the couch cushions. “You… you won’t believe this, but…”

“Chamomile tea?” Perfuma offered.

Catra caught her breath. “Hordak’s still alive!” she huffed.

“What?!” Scorpia yelped, dropping yet another teacup she’d picked up to enjoy some chamomile tea with. Once again, Entrapta caught it with her hair.

Adora looked down. “I couldn’t heal him, remember?”

“No! He’s messing with me! He’s in the castle! Like, wired in somehow! Some kind of Horde non-local consciousness tech bullshit! I don’t know how, but…”

“I told you - Hordak is all around us,” Entrapta said, lifting up her mask and coyly smiling.

#spop #she-ra fanfiction #catra #hordak #catra and hordak #disaster duo

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liopleurodean · 1 year ago

Text

Season 11, Episode 3: The Bad Seed

Back to Rowena

Not great

But she wouldn't know anything about that

This feels like a school play

You didn't, actually

Rip to them, they were smart

This again?

Must be a dream or something

He's spaced out

Sure

Yeah

Dean...

Not exactly

Oh, Cas...

This is rough

Absolutely not!

I don't think so

It'll happen

It's almost cute. Almost

That won't happen

Fair

Nope

I'm still not sure if her dad named her, or if he was compelled

Huh. I guess that tracks

From who?

That's fair

I doubt that

Always on the quest for followers

Drop the name, Rowena

There we go

Probably not

Right...

Well that's interesting

I don't know what he expected

He's not your friend, Dean

He'd prefer to kill her

Blech. He's probably a grandma driver

It's the pimpmobile, Cas.

Aw, Dean

Libraries

He's really not okay

Not even close

I guess that works

Vivid

That's a strong curse to overpower an angel

What voices?

Can you not block it out?

Yeah, I still don't like that

Not Metatron, but still useful

Pretty

She wants out

This doesn't make any sense

I don't think so

Right...

Angel & Demon. Classic

This is funny

No one knows what's going on

Corporate, man.

The Winchesters can handle it

They have no clue what they're doing

Witch!

Don't lie, they've already established they're in the know

Valid

He's cute

Surprisingly, they're here to help

Yikes

Stop lying

Smart Dean truther

Of course she is

Half the fun is unwrapping

Nice

Good choice

And this is before the Eras Tour

For souls

Yeah, figures

He can see that

He's in way over his head

Yikes

Not likely

Where one Winchester is, the other usually follows

Go Cas!

Seriously, Dean?

Cas.

It's getting worse

I'm guessing demon souls aren't as filling

It's a little more complicated than that

The eternal question

What does that mean?

No, I don't think so

Isn't it?

She's always hungry

Of course she wouldn't have it

But she can still read it, probably

Good idea

Right...

I've altered the deal. Pray I do not alter it further

Interesting bluff

There are other ways

Don't listen to her, Dean

Fantastic

He's a friend

None of those words are in the Bible

Of course not

Dude. Court language

She does

Rip this guy

Orders change

She won't take that well

Useless, id imagine

Nope

Wasn't his fault

Oh boy

It's still on the to-do list

It was your hex bag that didn't work, Rowena

Hah! Not really

Cas...

Don't do it, Cas

And she never learned to run in them? Lame

Poor girl

Get away from the door

Cas...

I hate jumpscares

Okay, Dean

Here we go

Hurry, Dean

You might have to use force

Or not

Oh, that's not good

This is familiar

Finally

Cas? Is he okay?

Okay, now shoot Rowena

Or not

Maybe

Why isn't Baby in the garage?

You're good, Cas

That's true

Dean?

No... you really didn't

Pretty standard

Yeah, he should've expected that

She's always hungry

#ashla chick flick moments #supernatural #season 11 episode 3 #the bad seed

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synthesis-music · 2 years ago

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The older Besson trigger springs suck because while their shape makes them stupid strong it also makes them hella annoying to hold on to and difficult to get in place (the newer springs have a different shape that lets you use a spring jig to hold them).

As of this week, congratulations, Besson, you no longer have the most annoying slide triggers. You have been dethroned by CarolBrass.

It was so annoying. It is held in place by a tiny-ass set screw, and I'm lucky it was a band rehearsal night and I had my horn at work, because none of the workshop allen keys or hex drivers fit the damn thing, but the screwdriver set I keep in my instrument case did have the right size bit for the job.

Popping the end of the spring out of its hole was at least easy. Then I spent what was probably only a minute or two even though it felt like ten wiggling the lever around trying to find the one. specific. orientation. that would give me enough clearance to actually, y'know, get it off the instrument. I needed to solder in the area and didn't want to set the wooden spatula on fire, so it had to come off.

Got it off eventually and did the necessary solddering. Then I had to get the damn thing back on, and oh boy that stupid spring just did not want to go back in that hole. Definitely spent a couple minutes wrangling it back in there, only for it to keep popping out whenever the trigger was used. Finally got it properly lined up and snapped back into place after way too long.

Least favourite trigger assembly for sure.

#musical instrument repair #music #brass instrument #brasswind #musical instrument #cornet #Besson #CarolBrass #like seriouly would it have killed you to add some more clearance?

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ecodweeb · 4 years ago

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2019 Hyundai Ioniq: A Sijo Review

youtube

Welcome to my review of the Hyundai Ioniq Electric (16) Flatly Spoken in Sijo, The Korean form of Haiku. (15) Korean haikus have longer stanzas and more syllables (15) (46)

===== Last spring I acquired this two thousand nineteen Hyundai Ioniq Since then, I've racked up Thirty thousand miles in adventures The car has fared quite well despite the hell I've put it through. ===== twenty nineteen's most efficient vehicle was Ioniq The tax credit made the electric cheaper than the hybrid The mainstream, affordable, boring, and bland E V has arrived ===== Despite the low price, it features impressive engineering the forced air thermal management system is highly effective which enables the twenty nine minute D C fast charge time ===== Every Korean appliance sings you a song on start or stop thankfully Ioniq doesn't play thirty second interludes That would go against its inoffensive and compliant nature ===== inoffensive design exemplified with the battery gauge lacks a percentage reading to quell range anxiety The gauge has blocks in white and red like every other Hyundai ===== Thirteen percent charge triggers Ioniq's low battery warning it is represented by the last two red blocks on the gauge Lone red block triggers tortoise mode, charge battery A S A P ===== The dash board layout and color scheme differ between drive modes Normal uses blue hues, Sport uses Orange, and Eco is green also, regeneration can be customized For each mode ===== Hyundai E Vs regenerative braking is unique Paddle shifters let you select: none, low, medium, or high It acts like manual transmission coasting and engine braking ===== With regeneration disabled, A peculiar thing happens The car rolls backwards like a manual transmission Enable auto hold to prevent creeping and keep it still on hills ===== Configure the regeneration to highest level brake lights auto deploy when the accelerator is released Timed right, this will give you a one pedal driving experience ===== avoids sensationalism, unremarkable materials claims Car and Driver regarding the Hyundai's interior But the materials are on par with Mazda and Toyota ===== Blending into the crowd, very few notice this electric Hyundai Mainstream means bland, boring, which best describes Ioniq The ideal rental, ride share, or corporate fleet vehicle ===== tire rack sells A set of tires for less than three hundred bucks twenty six dollar cabin air filter is a D I Y job Good Windshield Wiper blades run a little over forty dollars ===== The L E D tail lights are cool, but the halogen head lights suck The Base Cloth seats lack of lumbar on long trips leads to back aches The Charge port resides in an inconvenient spot, but has a light ===== A seven inch infotainment system is standard equipment It supports Android auto and Apple CarPlay mirroring The system will lower fan speed if using Google Assistant ===== infotainment system manages several schedules The departure climate control and time of use charging control It also displays energy consumption and history ===== auto defogging system eats up range, thanks resistive heater The car must be plugged in for scheduled climate control to work The Virtual Engine Sound System keeps pedestrians safe ===== The twelve volt auxiliary battery is a weak link So Under-powered that hybrid models have a jump start button The electric got Aux Battery Saver Plus and free towing ===== I have a black car hex, and it has infected the poor Hyundai smashed the driver side mirror, then, Two accidents, front and rear, Let's not Forget the twelve volt failed and D C fast charge lock broke ===== The dealership experience was the only silver lining Any Hyundai dealer with hybrids can service the electric The Ioniq can be serviced in more states than it is sold =====

Would I buy it again? Probably. I loathe front wheel drive though. Has it been a good car? Absolutely has been a good car I'd buy another Hyundai, but I want it to be all wheel drive ===== My name is Chris Maxwell, and you can call me the ecodweeb I aim to create informative and useful E V content I will see you next time, please don't forget to like and subscribe

#Haiku #review #hyundai #ioniq #YouTube #2020

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il-predestinato · 2 years ago

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Unfinished sleeping beauty au???????? 😍

You mean we could get a tiny little sneak peak? 🥺👉👈 (absolutely relatable tho, the unfinished works seem to be piling up 😭)

Oh dear, I think I may have conflated my fairy tales, Al. 🙈 It's so freaking confusing with so many of them falling into a cursed sleep. I can't keep track! Perhaps it's more of a Snow White/Sleeping Beauty/Beauty and Beast AU?!

Once Upon a Time in Monte Carlo

Summary: In which Christian Horner can't decide whether he's a fairy godmother or evil stepmother, and Charles can't escape the Monaco curse.

Pairing: Max/Charles (as if I write anything else)

Excerpt #1:

He wasn’t just annoying; he was a goddamn cheater.

Charles Leclerc is on pole in Monaco. In his red lawnmower. After crashing it, causing Max to lose his final run. What a farce.

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches Max express his disappointment with P2 while being interviewed in parc fermé, while the smug little twerp is beaming in the background, waving to his subjects like he was the bloody Prince of Monaco.

Unacceptable. Utterly unbearable.

This is supposed to be Red Bull’s weekend. Max’s weekend.

He cannot just let the selfish brat get away with it like he gets away with everything. Christian glares at the Ferrari prodigy, still basking in the crowd’s attention, and it’s just as well that Charles is too preoccupied to meet his scrutinizing stare or throw him a wink - oh, if he dares to wink, Christian will hex him on the spot, consequences be damned.

Max’s interview has concluded, and he turns around only to run into Charles. For a brief moment, the Dutchman’s disappointed expression is overshadowed by the light blush on his cheeks when the two rivals briefly clasp hands. Max mumbles some words of congratulation, and that’s when the Monegasque does it.

Charles gazes squarely into Max’s baby blues - and he winks.

Christian narrows his eyes.

So you have chosen death.

If the FIA won’t punish Charles, then he will.

Excerpt #2:

Mattia Binotto tries to engage him in some mundane conversation when he pauses to pick up a bottle of water, but he’s far too preoccupied. He has laid the trap perfectly, but he needs to make sure it plays out the way he intends. Tilting his neck to see past the distractingly tall Italian, he glares at the refreshments table laid out for the drivers. A twinge of frustration erupts in his temple when he sees that Max is still engrossed in conversation with the irritating Monegasque.

Maybe Max is taking his media training a little too seriously. What is he trying to do? Fool the media into thinking they were friends? Unnecessary, and wholly obstructive to Christian’s carefully laid out plans.

He sees Max gesturing towards the refreshments; Charles follows him to the table. Christian is now holding his breath, trying to nod blankly at whatever Mattia was blathering about but hearing absolutely nothing.

Then he sees it: Max reaches for the bowl of fruits, his fingers practically closing around the banana -

“Max!” he reproaches sharply.

The Red Bull driver freezes, dropping his hand and whipping his head towards Christian’s direction. The displeased grimace on his team principal’s face leads him away from the table, away from Charles, as he approaches Christian with a confused expression.

Thinking quickly, Christian shoves the bottle of water he’s holding at Max. “You need to hydrate,” he orders sternly.

Max takes the bottle from him, still bewildered. Mattia frowns at him, but Christian doesn’t care. That was too close.

“Right...” mutters Max, still looking at Christian like he had lost his wits. “You know that despite my radio messages to GP, I am not always dehydrated?”

Even Mattia laughs at that. But he’s far too stressed to participate in their usual repartee. Max is saying something, probably at his expense, but he pays the kid minimal attention. He scans the crowd until he catches a familiar mop of dark brown hair. Charles is still at the refreshments table; Valtteri is there too. The Finn is munching away at a granola bar - Christian nearly breathes an audible sigh of relief.

Charles scans the options before him. He walks past all the carbs, sugars, and stops in front of the bowl of fruits. Christian knew he could depend on the Ferrari prodigy’s vanity.

Charles’s hand hovers for a second but then snatches up the perfectly ripened banana, and Christian smiles.

Checkmate.

It’s nearly agonizing watching the little twit peel the banana one side at a time, taking his sweet time. Finally, he raises it to his mouth, ready to take a bite. Then -

His eyes lock onto Christian. Piercing green orbs meet his gaze, and for a moment, Christian nearly believes the rumours. The ones that claim Charles possesses the most ancient of magical gifts: divination. “Il Predestinato,” they whispered. Perhaps it was not just a nickname. Is it possible that Charles Leclerc, with his fearlessness on the track that sometimes bordered on recklessness - is it possible that he sees? Not the mundane reality that plagues the rest of the world, but visions of what is to come?

Christian almost believes it. Charles is staring right at him, and his grand plan seems to be crumbling on the spot. He knows -

But a moment later, it doesn’t matter. Charles breaks the stalemate and gives the banana one last glance before taking a generous bite.

As the Ferrari driver chews away, Christian smirks. Stupid child. Stupid rumours.

Charles doesn’t even get to savour a second bite. It all happens so quickly. Clutching his chest, he gasps in pain, staggers for two steps, and then collapses.

He would have landed hard on the concrete floor if not for Valtteri’s quick reflexes, who manages to catch him as he crumbles like a ragdoll. The Finn lays him on the ground gently as a whole throng of people rush towards them to oversee the spectacle, cameras already flashing barely a second after the dramatic swooning.

Christian spares a glance towards Max, but the kid is no longer by his side, having hurried forward to check on Charles, his young face ghostly pale as he kneels side by side with Mattia. Christian, too, moves closer to examine his handiwork.

“Charles!” The Ferrari team principal shakes his young driver by the shoulders. Christian didn’t think the man was capable of looking so distressed.

“What happened to him?” demands Max, eyes wide with unguarded distress.

Even Valtteri, the usually unflappable Mercedes pilot, has a perturbed frown across his brow. “He just collapsed after…” He trails off, scanning the ground around them until something catches his eye. “The banana. He took a bite and -”

He reaches for the discarded, half-eaten banana.

“Don’t! It’s cursed -” Mattia bellows at him, and Christian should really give the Italian a little more credit.

Unfortunately, Valtteri’s movements are quicker than Mattia’s warning. The moment the cursed banana makes contact with his skin, he pulls his hand back like it was burned - maybe it was - because the dreaded object suddenly explodes in a burst of white light. They all look away to avoid being blinded.

When the light subsides, the banana is gone. In its place is a crystal bell jar with a golden rim. Inside the jar sits a floating red rose, clearly enchanted and ethereal in its beauty. There’s an inscription along the bottom rim:

From this slumber, he shall wake

When true love's kiss, the spell shall break.

Before the final petal falls, at all cost,

For if it falls, he shall remain forever lost.

“What the fuck,” exclaims Max.

The Dutchman looks instinctively towards his mentor - it’s quite endearing actually, and Christian quickly schools his face into something resembling furrowed concern. He places a reassuring hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he tells Max.

Someday, Max will thank him for this.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #elle.ask #my fic #wip #lestappen fic #elle.txt

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