#buncha stubborn kids i tell you

[korrolrezni]

Oh, for the love of- you two! Always! If it's not Paula, it's Maxine, and if it isn't Maxine, it's Paula. Do you guys take turn for being at the risk of death/turning zombie??

#zombies run #zombies run spoilers #zombies run s4 #zombies run s4 spoilers #zrs4 spoilers #zrs4 #settle down #with a child on the way you both should stay off the field! #buncha stubborn kids i tell you

[ninjakasuga]

Sonally Celebration Week! Year Three, Day Six: Rescue

Sonally Celebration Week, Year Three, Day Six: Rescue

Day six, and admittedly the toughest piece to write since well, action scenes require more finesse than a domestic/slice of life story. The journey continues, and since my main focus mostly centers on Sonic and Sally’s post Robotnik/Eggman war peace time lives, I like to flex different events when the prompts give way to good inspiration. When one has to do with rescuing, well, let’s just say, if you’re dumb enough to harm someone’s children, woe comes to you in waves.

Day Six: Rescue.

It was supposed to have been a nice, pleasant day. Go to Spagonia with your big bro and his wife, enjoy flying in a fancy transport ship. While Sonic and Sally do the diplomatic thing, Sonia and Manic would watch J.C. and Kathy as they got to enjoy the city. See the sights, enjoy some ice cream and crepes from the city vendors, and just have a good old time! However, it wasn’t to last, the day was ruined when the sound of their ‘secret tail’ security guards crying out after being, well truthfully Sonia didn’t get to hear what exactly happened to their bodyguards (she hoped they were alive). All she heard was some muffled noise; some people screaming, and suddenly a van rolled up, and people in masks and jumpsuits grabbed and knocked them all out.

After coming too, she woke up to a bag over her head, only to have it torn off, and bright lights flashing in her face. A camera was aimed at them as some jerkoff using a voice-modulating helmet to obscure his identity was making some long list of demands and basically laid out they were collateral if those demands were not met. She tried to make everything out, but she was still groggy from waking up from whatever they used to knock her out. Manic was no better when she asked him if he gleaned anything she missed, sadly he was as groggy as she had been. She knew better than to ask the kids, clearly the six-year-olds were ‘terrified’ and wanted nothing more than to go home and jump into their parents arms.

Hell, the sixteen year old herself wanted to hug her parents just as badly. After that song and dance with the camera, all four were dragged to this cell of sorts, and left there with a guard detail. Whatever they wanted, they seemed to be serious, or at least wanted to come off that way. Her keen eye noticed some of their guards seemed unsettled. Like they were not keen they had kidnapped children. Maybe she, or Manic could use that? A little of the ol’ duo-charm to-.

“Auntie Sonia?” The small, childish voice snapped the older hedgehog out of her thoughts. Instantly her head snapped to the small child resting in her lap.

Forcing a calm smile, Sonia gently petted Kathleen’s soft auburn hair, which had blue tips at the end. Many thought it was dyed, but it was merely something that seemed to happen to both children, who inherited their Mother’s auburn tresses. Yet at the tips, bits of blue would form over time. No doubt the stubbornness of her big brother’s genes at work. Just hand to mingle with Sally’s.

“What’s up kiddo?” She asked her niece as she continued to stroke her head, and did her best to seem calm and collected. She and Manic were the adults here, they needed to be strong for these precious babies.

Green eyes look up, then over to the cell door, then back to Sonia’s own. “I wanna go home.” A simple request, but what child wouldn’t want to go home with this kind of situation abound? “Why do these guys wanna be mean to Mommy and Daddy?”

Another voice spoke up, the disdain high and snark on full. “Cuz they’re- and I quote.” Manic Hedgehog interjected, keeping his voice calm, and then upping the volume as he aimed his words at their guard. “A BUNCHA COWARDS WHO RESORT TO KIDNAPPING KIDS!!” He shouted with full malice at their captors, which made both children recoil, and his sister wince.

“Manic!” Hissed Sonia as she reached out and yanked at his ear. “Stop it! You’re just making it harder for J.C. and Kathy!” She growled at her brother, her eyes going to the door to their cell and sure enough their masked guard had turned to regard them. Thankfully he just turned away and went back to guarding.

“Well these bozos need to know what kind of d*ckless, wussies they are!” Retorted Manic, the green-dyed-furred hedgehog with a growl in his voice. Usually Manic was chill, and easy-going with a touch of mischief. He was running red right now, his niece, nephew and sister being put in danger can do that to someone. “Plus they’re f*cking idiots!”

“Manic, language!” Sonia chastised further as she covered his mouth with a hand. “Not that I disagree with you, but is antagonizing our captors the wisest idea?!”

Removing her hand from his mouth, Manic let out a dismissive snort. Yet his gaze softened some as he saw the kids were looking antsy again. “Maybe not, but seriously what kind of idiots kidnaps the Prince and Princess of a Kingdom? I mean, you want a war? Plus think of their parents, heroes of the war against the Big Robo and Big Eggy! I mean that’s a recipe for doom more than my Taco Tuesday Blowout Cookout.” The food wasn’t the issue, so much as the aftermath, but worth it in Manic’s eyes.

A small rumbling was heard and J.C. blushed as eyes rested on him. “...I’m hungry, and Uncle Manic makes great tacos.” He managed a smile, despite clearly still being scared.”

“Heheh, once we get out I’ll make us all some.” Manic promised as he lovingly scratched the back of his nephew’s ears. He did the same for Kathleen, not wanting her to feel left out. “Also, sorry about the yelling and language, I’m just pis-er-pointedly angry at the bad guys.”

“We’re ‘not’ the bad guys.” Their guard finally spoke, snorting loudly. The way he seemed to clutch his weapon and his covered tail (they seemed intent to make it hard to guess their species) twitch and move, hinted at his anger at such an accusation.

Despite having just chastised Manic for antagonizing their captors; Sonia found herself unable to not engage them. “Not from where we’re standing. Uncouth as my brother put it, he called it right. Nobody who kidnaps children are the good guys.”

“We’re not going to harm you, we’re just sending a message.” His steadfast tone, carried a firmness of whatever convictions he carried about their unknown ‘cause’.

“What sort of message? We’re kidnapping your kids, so we invite you to come kick our butts? Seriously, what else do you expect?” Sonia inquired, keeping her tone polite, hoping perhaps this guard might spill some kernel of information they could use. Then a thought occurred to her. “What happened to the bodyguards watching us? I heard them cry out, did you capture them too or did you kill them?”

“We shot them, but we didn’t shoot to kill.” The guard callously responded. “They should live.”

“Do you know that for a fact? Even a crippling gunshot can lead to death if they bleed out before they get help or the injury causes the right amount of trauma. I heard multiple muffled sounds… If they got shot multiple times that increases the chances they didn’t make it.” The magenta-dyed hedgehog stated with cold, medical fact. “They also had families, so nice job dipwad, you possibly widowed and orphaned two families.” It was petty, but seeing his body language shift and just slightly shake before firming back up gave Sonia a sense of satisfaction. “You could have used stun-blasters.”

The guard hissed back his reply, but she could tell he was trying to justify his words to himself. “You can’t silence stun-blasters.”

Rolling his eyes, Manic decided to chime in. “So you bozos prioritized not making noise, over making your little power grab as bloodless as possible.”

“If they die, our leaders will make it right, all of this has a purpose! It’s to make things better-!”

It wasn’t Sonia or Manic that cut the man off, but J.C.’s small but clearly angry voice. “So making Mr. Hunigan and Mrs. Fletcher dead is alright when you say so?” The boy’s fists clenched tightly. “They were nice people, and we know their kids, they’re our friends… you took their Dad n’ Mom from them you-you, j-jerk!”

“Gee, even the six year old can see it clear as day.” Sonia icily sneered at their captor, scooting closer she slid both her arms around her family and kept them close.

“Mommy, sh-she and Daddy are gonna find us.” Kathleen managed to speak up, wiping her eyes, like her brother managed the most fearsome glare she could. “They’ll find us and kick your butts! They’re heroes, they always save the day!”

Turning, the guard’s helmet, visor and cloth covering their mouth obscured whatever Mobian species they were. “Your parents are part of the problem! If not for the Acorn Kingdom’s meddling along with the other outsider nations, we wouldn’t need to do this!”

“Only meanies justify their actions by blaming others!” Humphed the young princess as she turned her head away, as if to utterly disregard her captor. Oh Sonia and Manic’s heart swelled.

“I gotta agree with Kathy here, sounds like blame-gaming here-.” Manic mused, only to be cut off by their clearly irate captor.

“If they hadn’t meddled with the trade tariffs making exporting goods harder, not to mention their invasive meddling with our affiliate cities-!”

A lightbulb went off in Sonia’s head. “Wait, wait, time out!” She put her hands together in the referee gesture to hopefully get a word in. “You guys are blaming them for the trade issues and the Acorn Kingdom’s presence in your sister cities? Um, dude, hoo boy, you are probably being played by whoever your leaders are.”

“Bite your tongue-!” “Okay you know what, screw that, and kids I’m sorry but-.” After giving her niece and nephew an apologetic look, she quickly sent her captor a fiery glare. “First off, F*CK you! Second, the Kingdom sent delegations to those cities BY REQUEST! The mayors asked for aid in looking into some oddities with exports from Spagonia going in and out because they realized something was hinky with the weird laws and micro-managing coming out of Spagonia’s Trade & Commerce Ministry. Any of your Minister’s calling the investigations meddling or preludes to occupation are trying to play the dodge game moron! Second of all, the tariff problem? I shouldn’t say this, but I love talking shop with my sis-in-law, and boy a lot of the issues stem from how they were set up, like someone ‘wanted’ the tariffs to cause issues and sow discord. It’s a big political set-up but my big-brained Sis likes big-brained chess and she’s onto some corruption from within Spagonia’s Trade & Commerce Ministry.”

She watched as the guard looked uneasy, and his compatriot to the far way seemed to be listening in as well and had lowered his weapon some. “That, that can’t be possible.”

Footsteps could be heard as another similarly dressed guard walked into view of the first one. “Ignore them comrade, they’re trying to unnerve you.” “What if it’s true our leaders are lying to us? Given who some of them are-.” “Shut your mouth before you give anything away!” The other, more burly guard hissed as he raised a gloved hand, poised to smack his comrade if he didn’t do as he said. With his associate cowed, he turned to the cell and pointed his weapon. “Shut your mouths or I might just have to shut it for you.”

Manic moved in front of his sister, nephew and niece, arms out. “Touch them buddy, and you and I are gonna tussle!”

“Uncle Manny don’t!” “D-don’t get hurt!” “Manny…” Sonia held the children close, but tried to soothe her brother. “Don’t, they’re clearly too deluded to listen.”

“You will see it is you who is delusional!” The burly captor spoke, with a zeal of a true-believer. “Once it’s clear your Queen and your treacherous nation are outed as the villains they are, things will become bet-.”

Suddenly the entire room rumbled, and the sound of muffled shouts, and fighting could be heard in the other room. All their captors turned toward the metal door just out of view of Sonia, Manic and the children. Suddenly the door flies off its hinges, slamming into the far guard who cried out in pain and terror as they are taken out. A familiar ‘rev up’ sound is heard and then a blue blur slams into the burly captor sending him flying. As the sounds of fists fly, another far off captor raises their weapon, only for the sound of jets to get clouder and a familiar southern drawl is heard shouting. “TAKE A NAP YA’ CREEP!” A blaster bolt is heard firing off screen. Soon a blue energy blast hits the captor, causing them to drop their weapon as the stun-bolt freezes their whole body. As another guard attempts to fight, the flying Rabbot zooms him and body-tackles the would-be-attacker, a loud, thick ‘crunch’ of metal hitting flesh is heard. Clearly a one-hit-KO.

The original guard readies their weapon, trying to pick a target, clearly panicking. “Ho-hold or I’ll shoot!”

*KER-SLICE!!*

Their weapon is cleaved in two, falling from their hands, and in the next half-second, the tip of the weapon responsible is held at their throat. This man finds himself looking into the very, angry blue eyes of the Queen of the Acorn Kingdom herself, Sally Acorn. Wielding an ornate sword with the crest of her family on the hilt, and ornate lines etched into the blade. For a second the guard swore the weapon’s blade glowed for a moment, but whatever the case, it was clear the Sword of Acorns (reforged and imbued with Sally’s residue Super energy) was capable of cutting quite nicely.

Her voice was ever commanding, calm and serene, yet deadly and potent. She was clearly angry, but using said anger as a laser-focused weapon instead of being consumed by it. For now.

“You will let my babies and my younger siblings out of that cell. Now, no questions. If you so much as dare do anything but I ask, you will regret it. Do not force me to spill blood before my children, because you WILL live to regret it.” She vowed.

“N’ she ain’t the only one you need ta’ worry about.” Uttered Bunnie Rabbot, as she got up from pummeling her foe into unconsciousness. She flexed both of her cybernetic arms which transformed into blaster mode on the right, and nasty energy axe on the left. “You further threaten my God-Children or Manny and Sonia’s well-being. I might just forget I’m a Southern Lady.” While plain and frank, there was a menace in her eyes mirroring Sally’s, and the hum of her weapons furthered showed she was not playing games.

A small ‘boom’ and a flash of blue from across the room, and the guard found Sonic the Hedgehog on the other side of him, arms crossed, and foot tapping rapidly. “Door, open, my kids and siblings safely in arms, now!’ He didn’t bother making threats, he didn’t need to.

The guard simply let out a pathetic sound, wet himself and passed out onto the floor.

Without a word, Sonic dug at their belt, found the key and quickly as he could unlocked the cell door, and threw it open. All anger, and intimidation left his face (as well as Sally and Bunnie who put away their weapons) as the look of a worried parent and brother overcame all else. “Are you four okay?! Did they hurt you any-?!” “DADDY, MOMMY!!” Instantly Kathleen, and J.C. dashed into the arms of their Father, with their Mother soon joining in the hug, checking them over.

“Oh my babies!” Sally clutched her family tightly, kissing the children all over their faces and tops of their heads, as she checked them for injuries. “It’s okay now, Daddy and Mommy are here, oh God I’m so sorry this happened, that we weren’t there to stop you from being taken.” She babbled, as the kept-in-check emotions burst from the dam she erected to focus on the rescue.

“We’re sorry, we’re sorry…” Sonic murmured, his heart still racing even with all his joy held firmly in his arms. Lifting his gaze, tear-stained he looked to his siblings worriedly. “How’re you two holding up? They didn’t hurt any of you did they?”

“Nah, they just… dragged us around at most.” Manic shrugged, but was clearly relieved this whole thing was over. As he stood he found his legs shaking, and leaned against his equally leg-shakey sister. “All that said, glad you guys found us so soon.” Moving closer, Bunnie shifted her arms, what was metal now, began to flash with energy and seemingly disassemble back to flesh and blood. The wonders of bio-nanite tech. Once her arms were organic again she pulled the two hedgehog siblings into a hug. “Sorry we didn’t get here sooner sugah, but we had to basically strong-arm some of the Spagonia government to give us the okay to act. Though once Sally n’ Sonic scared these bozos' supposed leaders into talkin’ they squealed like- well sumthin I can’t say within earshot of kiddos.”

Sonia let herself chuckle, relief and a sense of security flooding her being as she leaned into the hug. “So, lemme guess, the Trade Minister and his flunkies were the culprits?”

“Yeah, I mean we were gonna confront em’ with the evidence Nicole uncovered, but you all bein’ taken kinda forced our hands.” Bunnie further explained as she scratched the back of their ears soothingly. “U-Uncle Manny and Auntie Sonia, looked after us, we’re okay…” J.C. managed to speak once his throat wasn’t sore from crying (this time from happiness).

“Hmm-hmm, they’re the best as always!” Kathleen agreed, sniffling and wiping her eyes as she remained cocooned by her parents and brother.

Smiling, Sonic reached over and managed to give each of his younger siblings an affectionate arm-punch. “Somehow I knew they’d have it under control.” Well more hoped, but he didn’t want to devalue his sibling’s efforts. No if anything he wanted them to ride the pride of keeping themselves and the kids safe.

“Lucky for us, as Sonia called it, these guys were morons. Dangerous ones, but morons.” The green-furred hedgehog blew out a breath, and then he recalled something. “Um, ah, how’re Agent Fletcher and Hunigan?”

“Alive.” Sally replied, still nuzzling her children, still unwilling to let them go. Her own heartbeat was finally starting to calm down and the adrenaline high was crashing. “They were hurt badly, but both are tenacious and they got help just in time. They might have to retire from active duty early but we’ll be sure they’ll be looked after, their families too.”

“Oh thank goodness!” The two teens, and the younger children exclaimed, as joy at the news eased their hearts from the dread they felt prior.

Footsteps could be heard approaching, but the boot clomps’ were familiar. So no one tensed or got ready for another fight. Especially once Captain of the Royal Guard, Antoine D’Coolette emerged, wiping his sword blade clean with a cloth before sheathing it into its scabbard. “My Queen, ze fools have been disarmed, and rounded up. As you requested, we managed to take them all alive, if injured.” After a beat, he contemplated making a joke about some being ‘literally’ disarmed, but with the children there, he decided against it. “How are ze young ones?” He asked, decorum giving way to concerned God-Father, and as a fellow parent.

“Thankfully unhurt Sugah-Twan.” His wife replied, flashing a smile his way. “Where’s Tangle n’ Whisper?”

“Helping out Tails to ensure we didn’t miss anyone and secure the location.” Informed Antoine as he walked over, making sure all were fine, if to soothe his own fretful nature. They also will wish to zee’ that our rescuee’s are le’fine.”

Sniffing away the last of her tears, Kathleen looked up at her Mother. “Uncle Tails came too? I thought he was testing his new plane in the South Seas?”

“Once he heard the news, he jetted over as fast as he could and offered to help.” replied Sonic with a wide smirk of pride and relief for his ‘not-so-little’ bro. “Family sticks together, and well you guys are as much family as his own. Which by the way, I’m sure Tails will wanna set up a face-chat so Mina can see you’re all fine.”

“She is very fond of her biggest fans.” Chuckled Sally, who internally still found it ‘very’ weird, that Tails and Mina Mongoose hooked up. Their age gap wasn’t too bad, and clearly whatever happened to bring about their dating didn’t occur until Tais was eighteen/nineteen-ish. Then again he clearly had a thing for older women, at least his choices after Fiona Fox were an improved taste. As long as Mina was good to Tails, that was all she cared about, and they did seem like a good couple. Still weird but that was on her.

“Can we leave now?” J.C. asked softly looking up at both his parents hopefully.

“You got it son, we’ll juice n’ jam out of here and get you guys some food and tucked in for the night.”

“Can we have a sleepover in the hotel suite? Like all of us with blankets on the floor and pillows nests?” Asked Kathleen with big, hopefully eyes. A look her brother mirrored and nodded to her suggestion.

“Yeah, can we have a sleepover?!” Manic echoed, doing his best impersonation of the look.

“I don’t see why not, if everyone else is on board.” “Wouldn’t be hard for us all to fit in, big ol’ space, and like you could ask us to stay away after today.” Bunnie voiced her opinion with a warm smile at the children. Giving them assurance she was on board.

“Like the saying goes, the more the merrier.” Antoine stated to voice his blessing. “Plus I’m sure Bunnie and my own angels would love the idea as they too were worried about you four. As was your Nanny Miss Cream.” The coyote gently ruffled the hair of the two youngsters, his mind drifting to his children two years their senior. Yes, if they had been through this, he’d gladly acquiesce any whimsy they wanted within reason, and a sleepover to help soothe their nerves? A piece of cake.

Kathleen’s face fell as childish concern flooded her mind. “Oh no, that’s right, we were supposed to meet Jacque, Belle and Miss Cream after lunch…” “Hey they know we didn’t stand 'em’ up by choice.” Manic interjected as he flashed a smile and reached over to ruffle his niece’s cheek tufts.

“Let’s blow this pop stand, I want a hot bath, lots of bubbles and all the cheese cake…” Sonia muttered, feeling her own adrenaline rush and the weight of the whole ordeal finally sapping her energy.

“I hear that, let’s go home everyone.

#boundforfreedom #Sally Acorn #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic Archie-Comics Pre-SGW #fanfic #rescue #Sonally #Sonsal #Sonally celebration

[nitewrighter]

23 McSombra on the run with baby Annie

23. Exhausted parents kiss 

Oh man I sure love Brian K. Vaughan’s Saga but with More Cowboys the McSombra kid AU.

Remember Billie? I miss Billie.

---

McCree toweled off his hands as he turned away from the sink, scanning around for any glasses or plates that had been left behind. Billie was still wiping down the counter, and had seemed to hone in on a bit of caked-on cheese or some other stubborn thing, not looking at him. There was a faint buzz of desert insects in the night just outside the kitchen window. 

“...so...?” Jesse’s voice trailed off a little.

“She’s a beautiful little girl, Jesse,” Billie shrugged, still not looking at him, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“It’s not about what I want you to say, it’s just...” McCree rubbed the back of his neck, “You raised me, so I dunno... figured you’d... know some stuff.”

Billie just had a short scoffing chuckle. “Guess you and her are really up shit creek then?” she said, finally turning her head toward him, “Most parents at your stage are up to their necks in unwanted advice.”

“Well it’s---”

“Complicated. I gathered,” Billie finally flaked off whatever was stuck to the counter and turned around to lean against it. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jesse. The fact that your mysterious lady friend--”

“Sombra.”

“The fact that Sombra,” Billie said the name with the clear frustration at still only being permitted to know Sombra’s pseudonym, “Actually decided to go through with it says more about how she trusts you than anything I could say. And she’s definitely smarter than you.”

McCree’s brow furrowed but Billie just shrugged.

“And what do you want me to say? You’ve pushed me out of the loop so many times for ‘my own safety,’ but now you made someone in the loop. Someone who is going to have this loop around her for her whole life. And I’m just gonna say this shit takes a village. Maybe if you let me in sooner, I might know what to tell you. Hell, you could’ve let her pop the kid out here!”

“It worked out--” McCree floundered a little. 

“Going through childbirth in the back of a goddamn car is not ‘working out,’ Jesse,” said Billie, flatly.

McCree nearly said, ‘They don’t call it the mother road for nothing’ but that had prompted Sombra to cover their infant daughter’s ears in the car and cuss him out half-in-spanish for 30 minutes while clearly delirious from dehydration, so he refrained.

“It’s amazing she didn’t start bleeding out, or get an infection,” Billie muttered, “Do you know what you would have done, then? Does that kid even have shots?”

McCree’s ears burned but at the same time color was draining from his face.

“You two can’t do this alone,” Billie went on, “Now, you both can stay here as long as you need--”

“I can’t put that on you--” McCree started.

“I am getting pretty goddamn tired of both of your ‘need to do this alone’ bullshit. It’s not just about you two anymore. And both of you clamming up rather than reachin’ out for help...” she huffed, “You know why gerbils eat their babies?”

 “Jesus, Billie--”

“Because they get spooked. Fear is an animal instinct, and it makes you fucking stupid, and being a parent is one of the scariest goddamn situations anyone can ever be in. Are you going to let that fear put your kid at risk?”

McCree glanced off. 

“I see the way you look at her,” Billie’s voice dropped slightly, “The way you look at both of them, and... it hurts so much because... there is so much more I should have given you---”

“I wasn’t your kid,” McCree said with a shrug, “And you were about a decade and a half younger than I am now, so--”

“So let me say this: I was young, and stupid, but also scared, stubborn, and proud... like you are,” her mouth drew to a thin line, “You’re a good man, Jesse, but this is when the ‘Lone Ranger’ shit stops working. You need to go back--”

“Sombra only let me in on her... project... when I dropped ties with Overwatch,” said McCree, glancing off.

“Is the baby the project--?” Billie’s eyes crinkled in confusion.

“Annie’s not the project, there’s this--look, I can’t get you involved---”

“Oh son of a--” Billie huffed, her head lolling down with exasperation, and the conversation dropped to a mutually frustrated silence before Billie looked back up with a steadying breath, “Jesse, if you can’t, in good conscience, let me get involved, then maybe have the decent sense to get back in touch with the people who have the firepower to make you feel less shitty about asking for help.”

“...I’ll talk to Sombra about it,” said McCree.

“She’s as much of a gerbil as you are, right now,” said Billie with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

The back of McCree’s neck prickled with frustration, but he remembered the sight of Sombra drenched in sweat in the back of 2057 Ford Mustang, his forehead aching after Sombra’s foot slid off of the headrest of the front seat and smacked him during a push, afterbirth staining the upholstery, and Annie squalling in her arms. The short laugh that fell out of Sombra then as she made eye contact with him and the way she didn’t even blink at the name ‘Olivia’ falling out of him breathless. The love in that moment, the sheer terror. 

Billie patted him on the shoulder then and it snapped him out of the memory. She gave him a soft, affectionate look, one he could still recognize from his own childhood, a knowing, lopsided smile he saw in Sombra’s smirk, sometimes. He glanced down, pressing his own lips together tight, and she leaned against him. Mindlessly he wrapped his arms around her. He had grown taller than her at 17, but she still stood up under the slump of his weight and squeezed him. She pulled back from the embrace and looked up at him before patting his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, cowboy, I know you will.” She nodded her head toward the living room where there was a faint purple glow against the walls. McCree gave her a nod and stepped out of the embrace, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Sombra sat cross-legged on the futon. Her hair was still damp from a shower, piled up in a topknot and several purple screens surrounding her. She was in a button-up flannel shirt, long enough to technically be a minidress on her, half of the buttons undone from the top and Annie crooked in one arm at her breast as she scrolled through the screens with the other.

“Is that my flannel?” McCree leaned on the doorway.

“Maybe...” Sombra said coyly, waving her screens away. 

“...so how much of that did you hea--”

“I dozed off for most of it?” Sombra glanced down at Annie, “Then titty monster here woke up and I’ve been a little occupied since. I’m probably psychic, y’know. Woke up before she could start crying.”

“Probably,” McCree said, slumping onto the futon next to her.

“Y’know, if you stayed in touch, maybe not every conversation you have with Billie wouldn’t be her dropping heavy shit on you like, ‘Take over the agave farm when I die’ or ‘I’m not sure who the hell your biological dad is’ or stuff like that.”

McCree snorted and draped an arm over Sombra’s shoulders, looking down at Annie, “Yeah, maybe,” he said. A long pause passed between them. “...but... she was saying some stuff that makes sense.”

“Like...?” Sombra’s eyes flicked from Annie to him.

“Oh, y’know, ‘Takes a village’ kind of stuff,” he shrugged, “You didn’t hear the part about the gerbils, did you?”

“Why were you talking about gerbils?” Sombra snickered a little.

“Eh ‘Responsibility’ stuff,” McCree said with a shrug, “Y’know I had gerbils when I was a kid so she had to guilt me about that.”

“Ah of course,” said Sombra before glancing over at him, “You’re so full of shit.”

“Yeah...” McCree slumped back to a reclining position on the futon and Sombra gently lowered herself down next to him, still nursing Annie, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“You know we can’t keep this up,” McCree said quietly.

“Please tell me she didn’t tell you to go back to Gibraltar,” Sombra closed her eyes.

“Well--”

“I knew it,” said Sombra as Annie broke off from her breast with a grunt and a burp. 

“We have a better chance with them than you think,” McCree looked over at her, “And... Annie needs shots, Olivia--there’s a whole buncha shit she needs that they can give us that wont be where the Eye can track.”

Sombra glanced down at Annie who had had lolled off to sleep between her breasts. She trailed a finger along a curlicue of Annie’s fine, dark hair before drawing in a deep breath. “...we get the shots and we leave,” she said after a few seconds.

McCree kissed Sombra on the temple. “They’re gonna love her,” he said, smiling.

“Ay que mierda-- they’re going to know she exists,” Sombra’s voice was filled with dread.

“Which... is a thing that happens with people... eventually,” said McCree.

“Not with me,” said Sombra, side-eying him.

McCree snorted. “I know you,” he said quietly.

“Do you?” said Sombra.

“Better hope I do for our li’l nugget’s sake,” said McCree, gently brushing a hand over Annie’s head.

“...when I wake up, we’re going over a list of approved nicknames.”

“Oh come on, you can call her titty monster, but I can’t call her li’l nugget?”

“When she’s on your tits, you can call her li’l nugget,” said Sombra, nuzzling her head into the crook of McCree’s shoulder and closing her eyes.

“Well I’m taking li’l nugget so you don’t roll over and squish her,” said McCree, gently taking Annie up off of Sombra’s chest.

“Mm-hmm...” Sombra murmured sleepily.

McCree pushed up off of the futon with Annie in his arms. She curled into him, not even flinching at the cold of his prosthetic arm.

“I mean it y’know,” he said quietly, taking Annie over to the portable crib Billie had set up for them, “They are gonna love you.”

Annie only stirred slightly as McCree set her down into bed. “Takes a village,” he murmured before shuffling out of his own jeans and flopping onto the futon next to Sombra.

#mcsombra #mcsombra kid

[mychemicalaromanticism]

things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

#cat talks #lore #ok2rb but what a mess this post is

[christalpepsi]

a bit for storage

I’m going to post a buncha my grey’s fic! Not everything is connected yet, I just write in bits and pieces. Alex Karev x OC (for now), loosely follows canon, just not izzie. Anyways this is what I got so far: 

TW: depression, suicide, death

Selected bits from S1E1

Finally. Her first day. She was indescribably excited, but anxious thoughts kept invading her mind. She’d worked her ass off for this, and seeing it’s fruition as a residency at Seattle Grace was so rewarding. Well, until Dr. Webber killed the mood. 

“Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play...That's up to you.”

What was this, a gladiator fight? Her brows furrowed, but as she glanced around, everyone was completely serious. Well, fight she would. 

She zoned out, hoping she’d get placed with people she met at the mixer, as Webber started listing the interns and their assigned residents, until her name caught her attention. 

“...Dr. Heather Palmer, Bailey. Dr. Isobel Stevens, Bailey…”

Someone nudged her from behind. 

“Palmer, you got the nazi.” Great.

She didn’t wanna push the envelope on the first day, so she had brushed her curls out and slicked them back into the tightest ballet bun she could without giving herself a headache. 

“You’re gonna be a suck up aren’t you? I can tell. Regular Mrs. Grundy.” Alex, another intern, snorted as she bobby pinned her bangs back. She glared at him, but he missed her stare as his eyes roamed over to Dr. Stevens. 

The other interns muttered amongst themselves as Heather finished tying her shoes, trying to imagine what the “nazi” looked like. A short black woman walked in, and no one paid her much attention until she raised her voice. 

“I have five rules. Memorize them. Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change. Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two. Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You're interns, grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don't complain!”

She rushed out of the locker room at a quick walk, and everyone scrambled to follow her. Slamming open a nearby door, she said flatly, “On call rooms. Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three, if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?”

Silence fell, and Heather and the blonde girl, Izzie, vigorously nodded their heads.

“Um, Dr. Bailey?” Heather said softly.

“Yes,” Bailey said, staring daggers.

“You said there were five rules? That was only four.” Dr. Bailey stared a hole through Heather, chilling her to the bone. Thankfully, Bailey’s pager started beeping. 

“Rule number five. When I move, you move.”

“Nurses are the ones implementing most of our work, dickhead.”

“Whatever. Maybe you should’ve been a nurse then.” Alex grabbed his chart, and sauntered away. 

“Palmer, what is it?”

“Pain, paresthesia, pallor, pulselessness, paralysis. Compartment syndrome.”

“So? Book an OR!” Bailey yelled.

“Oh! Right, booking a plastics OR for a fasciotomy.”

Selected bits from S1E3

Alex stormed into the locker room as Heather and Izzie were changing. “Morning, Dr. Model.”

“Dr. Evil Spawn.” Stevens deadpanned.

“Ooh, nice tat. They airbrush that out for the catalogs?”

“I don't know. What do they do for the 666 on your skull?” Heather snickered, earning a glare from Karev, but effectively shutting him up. As they finished clipping their badges on, Palmer turned to Izzie, lowering her voice a tad.

“Iz, I don’t blame you! If I was hot I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re so hot.” Izzie retorted.

“I’m not skinny blonde hot.” Heather crossed her arms.

“Whatever, sexy brunette goddess.”

She let out a giggle, pleased to have the complement returned.

“Are you guys gonna make out now, or what?” Alex interrupted. Heather scoffed, leaving the room with Dr. Stevens in tow.

Dr. Palmer’s patient was scheduled for a lap cholecystectomy at 3 that afternoon with gensurg, so she had time to kill. Heading for the locker room to grab her wallet, she overheard a raised voice. Walking in, she saw a crowd had gathered, and Izzie stood in her bra and underwear. 

“Let's study them, shall we? Gather around and check out the booty that put Izzie Stevens through med school. Have you had enough or should I continue? Because I have a few more very interesting tattoos. You want to call me Dr. Model? That's fine. Just remember that while you're sitting on 200 grand of student loans, I'm out of debt.” Izzie yanked her clothes back on and stormed out of the room, nearly knocking Heather over. 

Everyone awkwardly filed out, leaving Alex and Heather staring at each other from across the room. 

“Where do you get off?” She sighed, leaving her wallet still in her locker, and left for the break room empty handed.

Additional Bits That I’m Working In

Sure, he was a whore, but...seeing him with the kids stirred something in her. It freaked her out. He was Alex Karev, Dr. Evil Spawn, cheater, syphilis giver, aloof, uncommitted, but stubborn, calm, steady, yet exhilarating, adroit, wry, and so clever. And so kind. So kind. He held the premie in his arms, a crooked smile on his face, and feeling her gaze, glanced up to meet Heather’s eyes. She lit on fire under that gaze.

“Palmer.” Addison’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she turned away, towards the direction of Addison’s call. Alex’s eyes followed her out of the room. 

“So who’s going with Dr. Montgomery-Shepard?”

“I will!”

“Palmer, you’re in Peds or OB everyday. I’m putting you in cardio.”

“Damn it.” she muttered. Cristina’s mouth dropped open in offense.

“What? She’s crazy and ungrateful and-turning down cardio?”

“Yang, take her place in OB today.”

“For God’s sake…” Cristina huffed and went to find Addison, leaving Heather with Burke. 

“Hey, Joe! How’s your day been?” Heather hopped up on one of the barstools, trying not to slouch due to lack of back support. 

“Eh, so-so. Whatcha drinking?”

“Hm. I’m not sure,” she turned to her right. “Alex, what am I drinking?”

“We’re off tomorrow. Have some damn tequila, Palmer.” he said with a smirk.

“Don’t mind if I do. Could I get a flight, Joe?”

“Alright! Make sure you don’t die of alcohol poisoning, Dr. Grundy.” Alex jabbed her in the side, making her flinch. She whacked him on the back of the head teasingly. 

“Here ya are, Dr. Palmer.”

“Joe, please, it’s Heather.”

He chuckled, heading down the row as she took her first shot. 

“No chaser? You psycho. That’s pretty hot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And him. Just standing there, arms crossed, chewing his Extra peppermint gum, not a care in the world. He was leaning against the nurses’ station, and she noted with envy the eyes that weren’t hers staring at him. 

Just laying there, hearing Mere’s bedsprings, Izzie’s rustling, George’s soft snores...she was so alone. She had no reason to be. Full house, friends that cared for her...or did they? It’s not like they went out of their way to make plans outside of work, other than Joe’s, which wasn’t exactly the healthiest of bonding activities. But no one fought for her. She didn’t even fight for herself, and she could feel it again, the sinking. The numbness was settling in again. She stared at the ceiling fan, spinning, spinning, spinning. 

“It’s depression! Just...it hurts all the fucking time, Alex! And I just, file it away, keep myself busy with work, with Joe’s, with you-”

“Oh, so I’m just here to keep you busy, is that it?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Just sex?”

“Shut up!” He took a ragged breath. “Please, just leave me alone, Heather.”

She pursed her lips. “If you wanted-I mean I-”

“I asked you to leave.”

Defeated, she met his eyes and turned back down the garden path to her car, careful not to trip in the dark. She wouldn’t be sleeping here tonight. 

Izzie hadn’t moved from the bathroom floor in about 18 hours. Heather was inclined to go lay down with her, but it wasn’t her rotation yet. George was in there keeping her company for now. 

“Who’s next?”

“Meredith. When I tried to kill myself, it was because I saw no way out.” She fiddled with the sheets of Meredith’s bed to be rid of some of the fidgety anxiety. “Just having to be mediocre, feeling I wasn’t important to anybody…” she trailed off, looking in Meredith’s direction. “Mere, you have so much. You have such a gift and I know you don’t want to hear this, but you can’t be so careless. There are people who care about you, people who love-”

“Okay, Palmer, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do, sharing your trauma and all that, but I’m fine. Really. I didn’t try to kill myself, thanks.”

Heather sat there until Meredith raised her eyebrows, a clear order to get out. Turning the corner she ran smack into Karev, whose eyes were haunted. 

“You tried to kill youself?”

“Ha. Yeah, big whoop.” She looked at him witheringly. Her facade fell when they locked eyes and she shrugged. “G’night, Alex.” She sidestepped him, heading to the elevator.

“Okay, but you can see us being endgame right?” Meredith asked again desperately. 

“Mere, I’ve already told you, you and Derek, if you want to make it work, you have to put in the effort! It depends on you two, not some magical twist of fate.”

“God, if he so much as looks at me funny, I’m reporting for sexual harassment.”

“That’s what everyone says before they sleep with him.” Callie said wryly. 

No. Because he had this thing with Rebecca. And she was supposed to be with Ben. But, God was it hard to give him space. 

“Please…” tears shined on his face, and his nose had started to run, “Please, please, please…”

He grabbed her by the back of her neck, forehead to forehead, pleading. “Alex-”

“Please...” She wiped his tears away, but new ones replaced them just as quickly.

“Callie, oh my God! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Heather! George and I just-did it!’

“Lexie! Wanna work with me today?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!”

Heather pulled her to the side. “Thank God, you’re my favorite. Don’t tell the others.”

He pulled her closer to him, as if that would save her from the water that poured into the elevator, soaking their scrubs through. Their shoes were squelching as they ran to dry land. Except, of course, there wasn’t any. The whole floor was flooded. 

“Oh, God, it’s seeping through my socks.” Heather groaned. 

“I can handle the mess.” Alex said softly. “You know that.”

“But- I’m so much. Alex, Mere thinks she’s all dark and twisty or whatever, but that’s nothing, not to invalidate her but, it’s nothing compared-”

He took her by the sides of the face, eyes open, honest.

“I said, I can handle it. Do you want this?” 

Heather nodded, as a loss for words.

“Then bring it on.”

“Get a crash cart, dammit!” Heather yelled, voice cracking as tears spilled over. She met Alex’s eyes, just as glassy as hers, and he took over compressions.

Her knees buckled. She fell to the floor as if in slow motion. Izzie, first, now George. Not Georgie. Her 007, her Bambi. O’Malley. The pain was constant, unceasing. Because he really was gone. She imagined him, like he should’ve been the next day, new Army uniform, neat buzzcut...her head was too full; it was too much. Her body wouldn’t move, her mind was debilitated-then strong arms grasping her, meeting her here, on the floor.

“He was. George was hit by a fucking bus!” They burst out in laughter, trying to stifle any echos so passersby wouldn’t freak out.

The addition of Mercy West was hell on earth. Even just the loss of Izzie made the workload shoot through the roof.

#WIP #greys anatomy #meredith grey #alex karev #izzie stevens #oc #george omalley #fanfic #my writing #take it easy on me i haven't written in a while #i wanted to write what i know so i made her mentally ill hehe

[thelastspeecher]

26. — protection for Stangie in the Superhero/villain AU.

26. Protection

I went with the Redux version of the Superhero/villain AU - the version where Stan finds out he’s a dad when Danny and Daisy are three.  So here’s some sweet, sweet Stangie in that AU.

Prompt List

——————————————————————————————

              Stan swiped to another photo onhis phone.

              “Here’s Danny eating ice cream,”he said animatedly to Ford.  Ford let outa weary sigh.  “Hey, I listen to you talkabout science all the time, you can look at the pictures of my kids.  My kids are way better than whatever bullshityou’re doing in your lab.”  Afterreturning from another afternoon at Angie and Lute’s place, playing with hisdaughters, Stan was excitedly showing Ford pictures of what they had been upto.  Ford kept glancing at his book, whichhe had set to the side when Stan started showing him pictures ten minutes ago.

              “Fine,” Ford muttered, shooting anotherlonging look at his book.  Stan swiped toanother picture.

              “Angie took this one.  Here’s Lute showing me how to put Daisy’s hairin those cute braids she loves.”

              “Speaking of Angie…” Ford saidslowly.  Stan hurriedly went to the nextpicture.

              “Here’s Danny taking apart one ofher toys.  She’s gonna be an engineer orsomethin’ when she’s all grown up, I can tell.”

              “How are things going with Angie?”Ford asked.  Stan grimaced.  “Not well, I take it?”

              “No, they’re- they’re goingreally well,” Stan said, putting his phone back in his pocket.  “I’m getting to know her and she’s getting toknow me.  She’s way outta my league.”

              “Aren’t most of the people you’vebeen in a relationship with?” Ford mumbled. Stan punched his shoulder.

              “Rude.  Angie outclasses all of my exes, okay?”

              “So you’re not planning onpursuing a romantic relationship with her, then?” Ford asked.  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

              “I mean…I would like to, but itprobably- it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

              “Why?  Just because you’re worried she’s out of yourleague?  The McGuckets don’t care aboutthat sort of thing.”    

              “It’s-”

              “You already have two childrentogether.  You have the beginnings of arelationship,” Ford added.  Stan frownedat him.

              “Why are you suddenly playingmatchmaker?” he asked suspiciously.

              “I just think it would be amistake on your part to not at least take a shot at having a relationship withthe mother of your children.”

              “Hmph.”  Stan looked down.  “…I’ll take your opinions into consideration,I guess.”

              “Why are you so opposed topursuing her?” Ford prompted.  Stangrimaced.

              I don’t want to be in thisconversation anymore.  There was achirp from his hero pager.  Oh, thankgod.  Stan quickly removed his pagerfrom his pocket.

              “Gotta go.  Big fight,” he said quickly, getting up fromthe couch without even looking at his pager. Ford rolled his eyes.  “See youlater.”

              “Goodbye, Stanley,” Ford said, eagerlygrabbing his book and opening it.  “Gokick Sirocco’s ass.”  Halfway out the door,Stan froze.

              Shit.  Please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to go upagainst Angie.  He looked down at hispager.  Goddammit.

—– 

              Stan shot another fireball atTsunami, who Angie had told him was actually her twin brother, Lute.  Lute laughed.

              “What’s wrong, Flamethrower?  Feels like you’re holding back a bit.”

              Yeah, I am.  I don’t really wanna beat up my baby mama’stwin brother.  Especially since he’s beennothing but nice to me.  Well, except forright now.

              “Gimme a break, man,” Stansaid.  “I got some big news the otherday, okay?  My life’s in upheaval.”  Lute snickered.

              “And yet you still feel up forgoing a few rounds with me and my sister. Sure.  Nah.  I think you’ve got a crush on me.”  Lute grinned at Stan.  “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not mytype.”

              Not according to Angie.

              “Ow!”  At the large yelp of pain, both Lute and Stanlooked over.  Stan had managed to avoidactively fighting Angie, but that meant the person currently combating her was Stan’sleast-favorite coworker, Bud.  Somehow,Bud had managed to land a punch, sending Angie flying into a brick wall.

              “You son of a bitch, get awayfrom my sister!” Lute shouted, abandoning his fight with Stan to intervenebetween Angie and Bud.  Angie wascrumpled against the wall, holding her side. Stan’s breath caught in his throat.

              She’s hurt.  She might be hurt bad.  But if I do anything while I’m in my mask,that might-  In his peripheralvision, Stan saw movement.  He looked upat the bricks above Angie.  They werebeginning to crumble.  Angie let outanother moan, not noticing what Stan had. Stan looked at Bud and Lute.  Theywere both engaged in an intense duel, unlikely to notice much outside of theirfight.  Fuck it.  Stan flew over to Angie and picked her up inhis arms, just as bricks fell onto the spot Angie had just been sitting in.  Stan landed behind a nearby dumpster and setAngie down.  Angie glared at him.

              “You could’ve blown everything!”she hissed.

              “I couldn’t let you get hurt, Ang,”Stan snapped back.  Angie huffed and rolled her eyes.  “Don’t worry, thosetwo yahoos were too busy punching each other to see me rescue you.”  Angie let out a soft laugh.

              “Please call Lute a yahooin front of him.”  Stan grinned ather.  Angie winced again.  “Oof.”

              “You’re hurt.”

              “I’ve been hurt worse.”  Angie eyed him.  “You’ve hurt me worse.”

              “…Don’t remind me,” Stanmumbled.  Angie frowned.

              “Why not?  You were just doing your job all those timesyou beat me up.”

              “I don’t like thinking about howI punched someone I care about, okay?” Stan snapped.  Angie blinked at him.

              “You…care about me?” she askedquietly.  Stan felt himself immediatelyflush.

              “I mean, you- you’re- you’re mykids’ mom, so…” he stammered.  Angiegrinned.  She leaned close to him.  Stan felt his face getting hotter by thesecond.

              “No, I don’t think that’s it,”she teased.  “I think you might becatching some feelings for the lady what birthed your daughters.”

              “Just ‘cause I didn’t want you toget hit on the head by a buncha bricks, or I care that you might have a brokenrib, that means I’ve got a thing for you?”

              “Hmm, no.  But we have knocked boots twice, spent thelast couple weeks ‘round each other almost nonstop, and yer turnin’ redder ‘n aturnip,” Angie said cheekily.  Stan startedto get up.

              “Well, you’re clearly fine, so Ishould get back to punching your brother-” Angie abruptly grabbed Stan and pulled him close, planting a kiss on hislips.  Stan sunk into the moment.  When they pulled apart, he stared at Angie.

              “Yer not the only one what caughtfeelin’s,” Angie whispered.  Stan’sconfusion disappeared, replaced by a stroke of confidence.  He grinned at her.

              “Good.”

              “Ow,” Angie hissed, bending oversuddenly.  Stan stood and scooped herinto his arms.

              “That’s it.  I’m taking you to go see a doc.”

              “I don’t think my villain clinicwould like a hero walkin’ through their door,” Angie whispered.

              “Okay.  I’ll take you to see a doc after I changeback into my civvies.”  Stan paused as herealized something.  “Uh, Lute won’t besuspicious about the two of us disappearing, will he?”

              “If yer askin’ if he’ll think we’redoin’ it in a dirty alley again, no, he won’t. He doesn’t know about our flings.”

              “Not what I meant, but that’sgood to know.  I meant that he won’t comelooking for you.”

              “I’ll just text him that I got outof there or somethin’,” Angie said with a shrug.  She winced.

              “Stop moving,” Stan said firmly.

              “No.”

              “Damn, you’re stubborn,” Stanmuttered.  Angie grinned.

              “Mm-hmm.  Just like you.”

#I'm glad to finally finish this prompt up #I've been wanting to finish it for a while. love me some good Stangie content #(also shoutout to happy dad Stan and matchmaker Ford in this ficlet lol) #Superhero/villain AU #Stangie #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Lute McGucket #my writing #ficlet #ask #vulpixen

[popculturebuffet]

I Just Want You To Be Okay

Some Time Before Red Action 3....:

Tuesday:

Red: (Is sleeping in her submarine, in the middle of the night)

Enid: (Sneaks up on her and into the submarine. ) Hey red.

Red: Ah! (Procedes to fire her arm canon everywhere while Enid ducks) Oh.. hey baby...

Enid:... OKay this is the third night i've seen (gestures to her and all her stuff in her sub) alll o this.

Red: Pssssh you know me it's fine.

Enid: Red what happened.

Red: My apartment collapsed into a black hole. It's fine.

Enid: And you didn't ask me, or your friends, or my friends who are also basically your friends or .. you get the idea. You have options ya stubborn moron!

Red: I'm fine. I don't need anyone's help. Especailly yours.

Enid: Offensive but not going to work. I'm the queen of trying to shove people away and shove my emotions down. So tell me why you haven't done the obvious.

Red: Because.. I don't want to be a burden okay? Not again. When I was little.. my moms died. Poof, gone. My aunt and uncles raised me... good polaymorus old family but.. it was hard on them finacially. I wasn't an easy kid and even with three incomes... I always felt like "I could've taken care of myself, they didn't need to do this" and then I screwed up and ran. i didn't patch things up till AFTER you and me talked.

Enid: You.. didn't tell me you went back.. outside of htat time loop thing

Red: Well I did.. just for that. But i'm just .. I don't want to be another disapointment to someone. I"m the cool one, the beat the face in one. I"ve done some bad things.. i'm not...

Enid: Huuuuman? Red... never be afraid to tell me this kind of thing arright? I love you man I just want you to be okay. Call Drupe tommorow.. tonight your crashing at my place.

Red: ... thanks.

Enid: Anytime

Red: wait.. hold on. you.. love me? (Blushes heavily as it finally registers)

Enid: ... uh.. (turns away blushing herself) yeah. Have for some time. I mean I always was attracted to you.

Red: (Cheekily) who wouldn't

Enid: exactly but... it was months ago you know... when you did the whole time thing. Ages and ages ago... it was then I realized.. I couldn't live without you. I just.. it wasn't just me WANTING you... it was things that scared the hell out of me. I haven't felt like THIS in a long time. It's why I took so dang long. As you can probably guess i'm.. not great at being vunerable but yeah. I love you Red.

Red: (Smooches her cheek) I love you too.. and .. I had the same problem. I just didn't you know.. want to put myself out there. Thought you were too good for me.

Enid: Dude I thought you were too good for me!

(Both chuckle for a bit before cuddling)

Red: Guess we're a buncha insecure knuckleheads eh?

Enid: Yeah... guess we're stuck with each other.

Red: Ain't a bad place to be though.

Enid: No... not a bad place at all.The

#ok ko let's be heroes #bi pride week #rednid #red action #enid

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Melbourne, An Interlude (Part II)

Summary: Here’s Part I and its more detailed summary; also, Part II turned out a little fluffier/more realistic than I had anticipated--hope you enjoy, though!

 Permanent Taglist: @rami-malek-trash  @sherlollydramoine

 Warnings: language including a slur in accordance with the time, terrible translations of French straight from the Google, lots of sex stuff so no under 18s

 THANK YOU TO THE WONDERFUL @alottanothing FOR CREATING THIS GORGEOUS MOODBOARD. I SWOON.

“I swear on all things holy he thought women orgasmed through their nipples. He kept rubbing them with his thumbs, muttering, ‘Come on baby, come on baby, let go, let go,’” Kathryn said through her laughter, her tongue loose and her tone happy as she finished her fourth beer.

 Last night, Kathryn had written down the location of a small bar next to the shipyard. I wasn’t sure what time to meet her, so I showed up lata in the day afta drills and kept my drinkin’ light. I was actually talkin’ to a pretty, real nice girl when Kathryn came in, dressed in stained coveralls. She had rolled the top half of the coveralls down and was wearin’ a man’s white t-shirt underneath. Her hair was piled up on her head, a bandanna tied round her hairline, a few stray pieces curlin’ out round the edges. There were some dirt smudges on her forehead and a few of the same on her hands and arms.

 She looked even betta than she had last night.

 I sorta expected her to be cross with me for talkin’ to the otha girl, but she sat down next to me, ordered a beer, and said hello to both of us. The otha girl just sort of faded inta the background once Kathryn and I got to talkin’.

 Afta a few beers, our tongues were loose enough to turn to a conversation dat had us laughin’ and drawin’ enough attention dat we moved to a table in the corna.

 It had neva really occurred to me dat women had bad experiences in bed, but the more we talked, the betta I felt about what I did. Men talked about women all the damn time, but every man’s story ended in the girl havin’ the time of her life, moanin��� and cryin’ she’ll neva be the same without his cock, and with her happy to be walkin’ crooked for a week.

 “Alright, Mer. Your turn again.”

 “Hmm. I already told ya ‘bout the sisters, but they were both Venuses next to the girl I went home with last week. She was a real looka and my buddies were sure she’d neva say yes. But she did. Things went pretty fast when we got back ta her place and she kinda had this way of kissin’ dat was almost more of a nibblin’ like if ya eatin’ a ear of corn. I thought it was a little strange, but everythin’ felt alright and like I said, she was a real looka. She undid my pants and was on her knees and just the sight had me . . . well, real ready. And just as I was expectin’ her mouth on me, I felt those same little bites, those kissin’ nibbles, and then I heard it. She was mumblin’ ‘nyum, nyum, nyum, nyum’ like she was havin’ a snack. I looked down at her and she looked like she was havin’ the time of her life, just up and down my dick, nyum-nyumin’.”

 Kathryn was laughin’ so hard she actually snorted, tears leakin’ outta the cornas of her eyes. I started laughin’ at her reaction and because it was a damn funny experience now dat I said it out loud.

 Our laughta died down, and Kathryn leaned across the table. I thought she was gonna tell me anotha story, but she asked, “When was the last time you had a proper, homecooked meal?”

 I was a little taken aback and thought for a moment, not really recallin’ when.

 “I can’t say I rememba.”

 “Thought so. Let’s go. I need a bath, and you need a good meal,” Kathryn said leavin’ money on the table, except this time I shoved it back at her replacin’ it with mine.

 She smiled and shook her head.

 “You’re damn stubborn, Merriell Shelton.”

 “Dat’s one of the nicer things I been called,” I replied, listenin’ to her giggle.

 “Come on—I’m taking you home,” Kathryn said as she took my hand in her’s.

 * * * * *

 I had guessed right bout Kathryn bein’ from money because her house was the biggest one I eva seen. As we were walkin’ up a stone drive, she pointed to anotha big house.

 “That’s the guest cottage. If I bring back company, that’s where we go. I’ve never actually brought a soldier home to the main house,” she said, sneakin’ a glance at me.

 “I swear I’m on my best behavior, ma’am,” I assured her, smilin’.

 She seemed a little nervous, and I couldn’t blame her. Who was I to Kathryn or to her granparents? I was just a poor, dumb kid from Cajun country, not really good for much otha than laborin’ and now, fightin’ Japs.  

 We walked all the way round to the side of the place, makin’ our way through the kitchen. Kathryn waved to the two women who were real busy, clearly makin’ dinna.

 “Amanda, we’re having a guest,” Kathryn called as she led me up a set of stairs.

 We wound our way through a few hallways until Kathryn finally turned the handle on a door dat led into what I assumed was her bedroom, except it was bigga than the house I grew up in. I knew no matta what I couldn’t hide my surprise as I looked round, mouth hangin’ open a little.

 “I’m going to jump in the bath. Make yourself comfortable. Once I’m decent, we’ll go down and I’ll introduce you to gran and granddad,” Kathryn said as she plucked a dress outta her closet and gathered up some stuff before she disappeared through anotha door. I heard the bath turn on and I went right to imagin’ what she looked like in there, takin’ off those coveralls, slidin’ inta the warm wata and scrubbin’ away the day’s labor.

 “Fuck,” I said unda my breath, shakin’ my head to get my thoughts more wholesome.

 I looked round the room and noticed a door leadin’ out to a balcony. The view was enough to distract me, and I took out a smoke as I looked ‘cross the sprawlin’ lawn. As I inhaled, I coughed a little, realizin’ dat I hadn’t been smokin’ much since I’d been here. I huffed, hardly able to believe how soft I was gettin.’ To prove to myself I wasn’t, I chain smoked on the balcony til my lungs ached.

 Kathryn appeared next to me and reached ova for my cigarette. She took a shallow puff, holding the smoke in her lungs for just a bit.

 “I also hate smoking,” she said as she handed the cigarette back, a tiny pink smudge left on the end from her lipstick. “Something like that can’t be good for you.”

 I placed my lips ova the mark left by her’s and pulled a deep draw inta my lungs, aimin’ the smoke away from her face when I exhaled. Her hair was wet but it was pinned up in a buncha little swirls. Her hair up really suited her but so far, I hadn’t seen anythin’ dat didn’t make her more appealin’. She was wearin’ a light pink dress dat showed off a bit of her chest and I couldn’t help the downward flick of my eyes. This dress didn’t cling to her quite like the one from last night, though.

 Now dat I could see her in the daylight, the sun just startin’ its evenin’ path, I could see the purple marks unda her eyes. The work she was doin’ was tough, meant for a man, but the stories about women takin’ ova and makin’ sure the world still turned ‘round was intriguin.’ I’d neva really considered dat a woman would want anythin’ otha than a good man to fatten her up with babies, give her a decent house and food on the table, but women did seem a hell of a lot more chippa and bolda than before the war. It couldn’t all just be a front put on for us boys.

 “You said you were lookin’ for somethin’ last night,” I said, pullin’ her outta her own thoughts.

 Kathryn looked at me, a little smile playin’ on her lips, maybe because I’d just passed anotha one of those tests of her’s.

 “Right now, I’m looking for dinner,” she said as her face brightened inta a real smile and she motioned for me to follow her.

 We went back the way we came, and even though the kitchen was empty now, it smelled like heaven, my mouth waterin’ as we walked out and inta what I guess you’d call a sittin’ room.

 Two nice-lookin’ people were settled in matchin’ chairs and I assumed they were Kathryn’s granparents.

 The woman, olda but still damn pretty, looked up from her knittin’. Kathryn looked a lot like her, even sharin’ the same dark blue eyes.

 “Gran, Granddad. This is Merriell Shelton,” Kathryn said, nudgin’ me forward.

 “Mr. and Mrs. Taylah,” I said with a nod to each. “It’s a pleasure to be invited inta ya lovely home.”

 Mr. Taylah put aside his newspapa and stood, reachin’ to shake my hand.

 “Call me Clive, Mr. Shelton. It’s an honor to have you in our home.”

 Kathryn’s granddad looked young enough to almost be her daddy; it was a little strikin’. He was real tan and had a real firm grip with calloused fingas, just like his granddaughta.

 “And I’m Carolyn,” Mrs. Taylah said from her chair, extendin’ her hand. I took it, placin’ a kiss to the back of it.

 Mrs. Taylah smiled and said, “We’ve been after Kathryn to bring a good boy home to stay with us for weeks. I see she chose well, but I’m wondering about your accent. Where in the States are you from, Mr. Shelton?”

 Like granmama, like granddaughta, I thought to myself as I fixed a grin for Mrs. Taylah and said, “New Orleans, Louisiana, ma’am.”

 “Parlez-vous français?”

 “Seulement pour les belles dames, madam."

 Carolyn giggled, her smile makin’ her look younga and even more like her granddaughta.

 “Charmant, très charmant, Monsieur Shelton.”

 “Merci, madam.”

 “Well, Granddad. Looks like we’re chopped liver now,” Kathryn said, slidin’ her arm around Mr. Taylah’s waist. “I’m starving.”

 Mr. Taylah bent to kiss the top of his granddaughta’s head and replied, “What else is new?”

 I offered my arm to Mrs. Taylah and followed Kathryn and her granddad inta the dinin’ room. Mr. Taylah sat at the head of the table and Mrs. Taylah insisted I take the seat next to her.

 “Je veux m'assurer que vous aurez assez à manger,” she said, squeezin’ my forearm.

 “Je ne manquerai pas de vous dcevoir,” I said, aimin’ anotha grin at Mrs. Taylah.

 “Honestly, Gran. You’re shameless,” Kathryn said, her eyes sparklin’ with her teasin’.

 “Well, my little heathen, you’re the one who refused to learn French. I thought I’d die before I got to converse again.”

 “Gran. You and Granddad were just in Paris four summers ago.”

 “And she was as pretentious then as she is now,” Mr. Taylah said, his eyes sparklin’ with the same mirth as his granddaughta’s.

 Dinna passed in the same easy way as my first conversation with Kathryn. By the time Kathryn brought out a small, fresh cake with homemade icin’, I was damn near full to burstin’ and also callin’ Clive and Carolyn by their first names. They were just like their granddaughta, not botherin’ with talk of the war but focusin’ on all the things to do and see in Melbourne, talkin’ about their son and his wife in the States, askin’ if I was familiar with this or dat American custom.

 After dinna, we all went out on the back porch and it reminded me a lot of home. We drank what Kathryn called mint juleps sweetened with honey as we listened to the wata in the distance and the cicadas callin’ as the sun went down, the air just as hot and stiff as it is in Louisiana durin’ August.  

 I enjoyed the company of Kathryn and her family so much it felt like my insides had turned to jelly, my whole body relaxin’ for the first time since before I headed to trainin’. Hell, maybe since before I could even last rememba. It wasn’t like life was easy in New Orleans or like I had the prospect of anythin’ more than laborin’, enjoyin’ some drinkin’ and poker, and gettin’ up to do the same thing again day afta day.

 I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized Carolyn had asked me a question.

 “I’m sorry, ma’am, what was ya askin’ me?”

 “I wondered if you found us to be suitable enough for you to stay?”

 “Ma’am?” I asked, dumbfounded.

 “Gran wants to know if you’ll stay here with us for the rest of your leave,” Kathryn explained, smilin’ warmly.

 Men had slowly begun to disappear from their cots as Australian families sorta adopted them, but I neva imagined any family would want to take me on, let alone a family like Kathryn’s. I was speechless and kept my eyes trained on the ocean in the distance.

 Clive spoke up, the smoke from his pipe fillin’ the air with the sweet scent of fresh tobacco.

 “It would be nice to not be the only man holding this place together, Merriell.”

 “I—I don’t know what ta say,” I stuttered out.

 “Say, yes and thank you,” Kathryn said, reachin’ out to squeeze my hand, givin’ me one of those grins dat warmed my insides near boilin’.

 “Considerin’ dat Kathryn is always right, my answa is yes and thank you,” I said, lowerin’ my eyes again, afraid I might get emotional if I were to look either of the senior Taylahs in the face.

 Clive and Carolyn both laughed, Clive sayin’, “Hell, son. You’re already smarter than I was at your age. It took me too long to learn to just say, yes, luv, then go about my own business.”

 Carolyn retorted, “I’ve added years of joy to your life. Now, hush.”

 Kathryn looked at her granparents with such lovin’ eyes. It was clear they were still in love afta all their years togetha.

 Clive stood and held his hand out to Carolyn.

 “Let’s have Eva air out a guest room. Say goodnight to your French-speaking sweetie, Lynnie.”

 "Bonne nuit et bienvenue chez nous, gentil jeune homme," Carolyn said as she held out both hands to me.

 "Vous m'honorez, madame. Je vous remercie pour votre hospitalité. Fais de beaux rêves," I said, standin’ to give her a hug.

 Clive extended his hand and said, "Goodnight, Merriell. Thank you for entertaining my wife, the consummate flirt."

 “Ya a lucky man, Clive. Beauty runs well-deep in this family,” I said, glancin’ at Kathryn.

 The Taylahs said their goodnights and went in the house, leavin’ us alone with the growin’ dark and the growin’ crescendo of the cicadas.

 “Do you want to take a walk?” Kathryn asked before finishin’ her drink, the condensation slidin’ ova her fingatips.

 “Sure,” I said, swallowin’ the last dregs of my own.

 We walked across the long yard toward the beach and Kathryn linked her arm in mine, just like she did last night.

 “I didn’t mean for them to overwhelm you by asking you to stay with us.”

 “It wasn’t the askin’ dat was ovawhlemin’. It was the kindness behind it.”

 Kathryn led me down a long set of stairs dat opened onta the beach. I thought I’d seen enough sand afta Guadalcanal, but this was different. There were couples dottin’ the beach in the distance and the sun was just startin’ to sink into the wata, lightin’ up the sky in more pinks, purples, and oranges than I could describe.

 Kathryn pushed me to sit on the last step. She sank to her knees and unlaced my boots, her hands workin’ skillfully. She set them to the side where she had kicked off her shoes and pulled my socks off next, stuffin’ them inta my boots.

 “You have cute toes,” she said, smilin’ up at me before she began to roll up my pant legs.

 I just watched her, the sun’s pink light makin’ her skin look like it was glowin’, highlightin’ just how full of life she was. I watched the curves of her cleavage shiftin’ as she moved and I had to close my eyes to refocus, tryin’ to will my cock back inta submission. I didn’t want her to know how easily she affected me.

 “That’s better,” she said, offerin’ her hand to pull me up.

 Afta a deep breath, I said, “Thank you,” and pulled her closa to me.

 She kept her distance, though, her hands on my chest as she looked inta my eyes, understandin’ I was thankin’ her for more than just fixin’ up my pants.

 “You’re welcome, Merriell,” she said softly. “Come on—after all my work, you have to get your feet wet.”

 She took off, joggin’ toward the water’s edge, the foam of the waves ticklin’ my feet as I caught up to her. She was already out to her knees, the hem of her dress darkenin’ as some of the wata rose and crashed against her legs.

 “Chicken!” she called, edgin’ out a little further.

 I grinned and went chasin’ afta her, the cuffs of my pants just as wet as the bottom of her dress.

 I grabbed her up, spinnin’ her round so fast we both nearly lost our balance. She gripped my uppa arms as I rested my hands on her waist, both of us smilin’ at each other.

 “I know beaches have probably lost their luster for you, for all the boys,” Kathryn said, her eyes narrowin’ to reflect her growin’ seriousness. “But I want you to have a memory to wash away just a tiny bit of that horror. I want to kiss you, Merriell.”

 I didn’t even botha with sayin’ a word. Kathryn was just a few inches shorta than me, so I only had to pull her flush against me and tilt my face down to reach her lips. One set of her fingas went straight to the back of my neck, rubbin’ along the short hair there while her otha hand came up to rest on my jaw, her thumb pressin’ inta my chin as she made it clear she was the one controllin’ this kiss.

 I let her, clingin’ to her waist before lowerin’ my hands to her hips, my fingas diggin’ inta the edges of her backside.

 She played with my lips, openin’ and closin’ her’s ova my top lip and then my bottom, pressin’ harder and harder til she reached out with her tongue to trace my lowa lip. I hummed, damn near moanin’ at the contact like a fuckin’ teenaga.

 When my lips parted, she slowly licked into my mouth, touchin’ my tongue before curlin’ hers up to touch the back of my front teeth. She tasted just like the sweet bourbon and mint from our drink, and I couldn’t hold back. I tilted my head and met her tongue, pullin’ hers in to suck on it, pinchin’ it between my teeth.

 She did moan and moved to stand on her toes, which was difficult in the shiftin’ sand. She returned my exploration and we just stood there, locked together, memorizin’ each other’s mouths.

She was right. I would neva’ forget dat moment, the sound of the wata and the feel of the shiftin’ sand, and the taste of her tongue and the press of her hands.

 Neither of us wanted to stop to catch our breath, stealin’ more kisses as we tried to pause long enough to even out our breathin’. Both of her hands were tangled in my hair and I had moved my hands up to her midback to try to press her body furtha into mine. I just couldn’t get close enough.

 I attached my lips to her neck, lettin’ her breathe a little, and I set a determined pace, tryin’ to to find every spot dat made her moan, shiva, or sigh.

 Head to toe, I wanted to consume her.

 She pushed at me so she could look up, lockin’ her eyes onta mine.

 “I want you, Mer. So much I can hardly stand it.”

 I chuckled, my tongue dartin’ out to wet my lips before I kissed her, this time a little sweeta.

 “I was thinkin’ the same thing, cher,” I whispered near her lips.

 She laughed at dat, pullin’ me outta the wata. I had to yank her back once we reached the steps, callin’ for her to rememba our shoes. She released my hand so I could reach down and grab my boots and her little slippa shoes, then we were off again, settin’ a good pace as we jogged across the long yard.

 Kathryn took me up to her room the same way we’d gone the first time, explainin’, “Gran and Granddad’s room is on the other side of the house. They can’t hear a thing if I go up this way. You’ll have to remember that once you’re settled in,” she said givin’ me a wink.

 ­As soon as we were back in her room, she locked the door and I was right there, grabbin’ her hands and puttin’ them above her head to hold her in place. I pushed her against the door and kissed her, my cock growin’ harda with every passin’ second.

 I released her hands, kinda wantin’ to see what she’d do with em, and I cupped both sides of her face, kissin’ her again, before slidin’ my hands inta her hair.

 Kathryn pushed at me, growlin’ in frustration.

 “Give me two minutes in the bathroom to get these damn things out of my hair,” she said, joggin’ toward the door, flickin’ on a dim lamp beside her bed as she passed it.

 I untucked and unbuttoned my shirt, not botherin’ to unroll my pants from the beach. I reached inta my pants’ pocket to make sure my rubber tin was still there, pullin’ it out to set it on her side table. I laid out on her bed, stretchin’, admirin’ the softness of the cova and of the pillows. Kathryn’s room looked like a fine lady’s room—the colors on the wall and around the room different shades of blue and a lotta stuff was accented in gold.

 I was just about to pull out a smoke when Kathryn came outta the bathroom, her long hair down now in messy swirls of waves. Her cheeks were flushed and so was her chest, her lips still swollen from our kissin’ and still glistenin’ with a pink hue like the night I met her. She was fuckin’ breathtakin’.

 Kathryn stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me on the bed, and I sat up, swingin’ my legs ova the side apologizin’, when she cut me off to say, “No. No, don’t move. You just looked . . . you looked so at home. Like you belonged in my bed. Pretty as a picture,” she said smilin’, the lust in her eyes becomin’ unmistakable.

 I laughed a little, questionin’, “Pretty? Now I can assure ya I have neva, eva been called dat.”

 “Then all your other lovers have been fools, Merriell Shelton,” Kathryn said ova her shoulda as she opened her balcony door lettin’ in the breeze from the wata and the sounds of the cicadas.

 When she made her way back to the bed, I was still sittin’ on the edge. She came and stood between my legs, keepin’ eye contact with me. I couldn’t believe this beautiful, kind woman was lookin’ at me like she wanted to open me up and taste me from the inside.

 “Take off ya dress,” I said, figurin’ from her stories she liked a man to be a man in the bedroom. Dat was somethin’ I knew I could do.

 Kathryn stepped back and moved her fingers ova the little buttons on the front of her dress. Once it was loosened, she gathered dat pink fabric in her hands, slowly showin’ me inch after inch of new skin. I’m pretty sure she could hear my heart beat pickin’ up from where she stood.

 Once the dress was bunched up in her fingas at her hips and I could see the dark pink cotton of her undawear, she lifted her dress the rest of the way off, tossin’ it to the side.

 She tousled her hair, then stood, waitin’.

 “Take off ya brassière,” I said, notin’ the little noise she made when I pronounced it in French.

 She reached behind her and undid the hooks while I leaned back onta my hands, my dog tags jinglin’ a little as I moved. I sucked in a breath when she dropped her arms, her gorgeous tits exposed to me just as gooseflesh erupted across her arms and her chest, whether it was from nerves or the cool breeze, I don’t know. Her pert, little nipples hardened and I neva wanted ta pull a nipple inta my mouth more than I did in dat moment, but she wasn’t naked enough yet.  

 “Now ya undawear,” I said, my voice low and barely maintain’ its steadiness.

Kathryn hooked her thumbs inta the sides of her undawear and shucked them right off without much ceremony. My hands damn near twitched with wantin’ to slide right between dat dark patch where her legs met to find out if she was as wet as I was hard.  

 Her body was every bit as sexy as she was.

 “Come here,” I said in a hushed voice.

 She came to me, positionin’ herself right between my legs, pullin’ me toward her so she could whisper inta my hair, “I want you, Merriell Shelton. So fucking much.”

 “I guarantee I want ya more.”

 “You better spend all night proving that,” she said, pullin’ back to give me a look of challenge, her brow arched and her mouth caught up in dat wicked little smirk.

 “With pleasure, Kathryn,” I returned, pullin’ her inta my arms, shiverin’ myself as my chest came into contact with her skin, my hands free to touch every part of her I could reach. At this position, her tits were eye level with me, and I buried my face between em. I couldn’t believe how good she smelled with the scent of the ocean still clingin’ to her.

 “God, you smell so good,” she said, startlin’ me by echoin’ my thoughts as she rubbed her cheek against the top of my hair.

 “What do I smell like?” I pulled back to ask, somethin’ I always wondered but was a little afraid to find out.

 “Earthy . . . . reminds me of when the leaves change during autumn in the States. It’s like in the next breath I expect to smell sandalwood or cedar, but it doesn’t come. It’s just a hint of it, it’s just the smell of . . . you.”

 I smiled up at her before returnin’ my attention to her tits, holdin’ each of them in my hands, already in love with their weightiness in my palms. I started placin’ kisses all around each of them, slowly workin’ my way in and to her nipples.

 Her fingas were diggin’ inta my shoulders by the time I sucked on her right nipple, pullin’ it between my lips, my tongue reachin’ to flick around it inside my mouth. I spent some time teasin’ her on her right before movin’ to her left and repeatin’ my min’strations.

 Kathryn ran her fingers through my hair, tuggin’ it to get me to look up.

 She kept her eyes locked on mine as she pushed my open shirt from my shoulders. She ran her hands ova my arms and across my chest, graspin’ at my muscles before pinchin’ my nipples, hardenin’ em. I moaned at dat, and she set to work, bendin’ to kiss across my chest and pull on my nipples with her teeth before pressing her tongue to em.

 She continued movin’ down, pushin’ me back to lay on the bed, but I didn’t wanta miss a damn thing. I reached ova and pulled one of her pillows out from the cova and put it behind my head—the perfect angle to watch her as she kissed down my stomach, stoppin’ to tease my bellybutton and nip at my hips.

 Kathryn unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, her hand immediately graspin’ my cock.

 “Oh, thank god,” she whispered, glancin’ up at me before addin’, “You’re big.”

 I laughed again, tryin’ to remember when I had eva really enjoyed sex this much before comin’ and I couldn’t think of a single time.

 I lifted my hips to help her finish removin’ my pants and my shorts and she stood back, lookin’ me up and down, probably with a gaze dat echoed my own when I saw her. I shifted, puttin’ my hand behind my head and spreadin’ my legs just a little more so she could see everythin’.

 Kathryn ran her hands up my thighs, workin’ the muscles as they flexed under her touch. She ran her hands back up my stomach and then she reached up and touched my dog tags, askin’, “Would you mind? I just want to—”

 “Forget our circumstances. I undastand,” I said with sincerity as I pulled them off and handed them to her. She laid them gently on her side table.

 She returned her attention to me and ran her finga down my naked chest, dipping it into my bellybutton before circlin’ my cock. By the time she bent to take me in her mouth, I was damn near ready to come. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anythin’ other than how good her warm mouth felt as she sucked, licked, and squeezed the base of my cock with her hand.

 Then, I heard a little noise and the cool gust of her breath as she whispered, “Nyum nyum nyum,” across my dick, and I burst inta laughta so hard dat tears squeezed from the corna of my eyes.

 Kathryn was laughin’ too, gigglin’ as she climbed onta my lap, bitin’ her bottom lip to stifle her laughta.

 I sat up and kissed her, my hand tanglin’ in her hair as she ground against my cock, her slick heat workin’ me inta a real state.

 “Need you,” she breathed in my ear.

 I laid her onta her back before reachin’ up for the side table. Our hands bumped as she was also reachin’ inta her side table drawer.

 Her eyes widened with surprise before she grinned when she noticed my tin. She finished her rummage in her drawer and showed me her own.

 “Usually this is the rest of foreplay—convincing a guy he’s got to suit up if he wants to go the rest of the way.”

 I shrugged my shoulders, “Betta safe than sorry.”

 “Have you been with a girl in the last year and not used one of these?”

 “Not since I left home, nah.”

 “Me either.”

 “Think we’re clean?” I asked.

 “I do,” Kathryn answered.

 “You know, you sound like one of them girls in the movies, temptin’ me to just slide it in without wrappin’ it up.”

 “Is that a quote from the film?” Kathryn asked, laughta in her eyes.

 “Think it might be,” I smiled as I kissed her, liftin’ her thigh to wrap around my hip, her core buckin’ against my cock.

 “Can I ask you something else?”

 “You’re in the position ta ask me anythin’ ya want, boo,” I said, notin’ the seriousness dat crept onta her face.

 “I know this isn’t fair of me, and you’re not obligated to say yes just because you’re going to stay here, I mean you can use the guest house for company, too, sort of like—”

 I cut her off with a grin, all the more turned on by the blush dat colored her cheeks as I figured out what she wanted to ask me.

 “Kathryn, do you wanna be my girl?”

 “Yes,” she breathed, her smile lightin’ up her face.

 “There’s a reason girls don’t do the asking,” she said, still a little embarrassed.

 “Well, I think you’re the kinda girl to do whateva the fuck she wants,” I said, kissin’ her sweet lips before lookin’ inta her eyes again.

 Kathryn reached down to the bed and tossed both of our tins on her side table.

 “Make me yours, Mer,” she said as her hips wiggled unda me.

 I wasted no more time and slid into her wet pussy, my eyes closin’ at the tightness of her, at the heat of her.

 She groaned at the contact, her legs tightenin’ around my waist as she angled to get me in as deep as I could go. I was slow at first, savorin’ the feelin’ of her and also tryin’ not to come.

 We found a rhythm quickly, as if we’d been fuckin’ for years, and it really was like comin’ home to somethin’ ya knew, ya recognized, and dat ya always knew would mean home no matta what else changed.

 I loved watchin’ her face as she closed her eyes at times when the sensation was ovawhlemin’ her. But mostly, she watched me, her eyes travelin’ my face. She seemed determined to memorize what I looked like in this moment.

 Kathryn had reached above her to hold on to the slats of the headboard and I shifted our angle, movin’ up to my knees and pullin’ her hips up to meet me. I could see everythin’ from this viewpoint and I spent a few thrusts watchin’ my cock disappear into her perfect pussy, slick with her arousal.

 I could feel the tightness at the base of my spine and I knew it wouldn’t be long. I reached between her legs to slide my thumb ova her clit and was happy to find it was prominent, swollen with need.

 We kept up our rhythm as I circled and pressed her clit, Kathryn the absolute picture of debauchery as she groaned and panted a sweet little chorus of yeses and don’t stops.

 When she came, I felt it first, her pussy clenchin’ round me like a goddamn vice before it contracted, tremorin’ as I continued to circle her clit, makin’ sure her orgasm was milked out before I let go, moanin’ her name and swearin’, a mix of English and French dat barely made sense to my ears.

 I buried my cock in her as far as I could at the last of my orgasm, my body slicked with sweat as I stretched out my legs but still stayed insida her. I rested on my forearms, not wantin’ to crush her, but still wantin’ to be close to her.  

 I could feel Kathryn’s heart thuddin’ or it could’ve been mine; either way, I pressed a kiss to her chest, notin’ the taste of her sweat, wantin’ to savor it on my tongue. I wanted to be able to rememba every bit of her before I was gone, crouched in anotha hole, waitin’ to see if I’d survive anotha night and anotha—

 “Don’t,” she whispered, liftin’ my chin. “Stay in the moment. Don’t think about that.”

 I smiled at her, mystified.

 “How’d ya know what I was thinkin’?”

 “I could just feel it,” she said, unable to offa any otha explanation.

 “Ya know what’ll fix it?”

 “Hmm,” she said, her fingers lazily runnin’ up and down my spine.

 “Anotha go,” I said, pressin’ my lips to her chest and movin’ down her body.

 I looked up at her wide eyes and her wide grin.

 “Merriell Shelton. I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

 I found myself softly laughin’ again, thoughts of foxholes, mud, ash, whistlin’ shells, and death slippin’ from my mind as I closed my mouth ova her, lettin’ myself get lost in the taste of her, just like I knew I was about to let myself get lost in this interlude with her, knowin’ I’d rememba it for how eva long my life was destined to be.

      * * * * *

Horrible Google Translated French (imsosorry)

“Parlez-vous français?” = Do you speak French?

“Seulement pour les belles dames, madame. = Only for beautiful ladies, ma’am.

“Charmant, très charmant, Monsieur Shelton.” = Charming, very charming, Mr. Shelton.

“Je veux m'assurer que vous aurez assez à manger.” = I want to make sure you get enough to eat.

“Je ne manquerai pas de vous dcevoir.” = I will not disappoint you.

Bonne nuit et bienvenue chez nous, gentil jeune homme. = Goodnight and welcome to our home, sweet young man.

Vous m'honorez, madame. Je vous remercie pour votre hospitalité. Fais de beaux rêves. = You honor me, ma'am. Thank you for your hospitality. Sweet dreams.

#snafu #Snafu Shelton #snafu imagine #snafu x ofc #female reader #rami malek #rami malek character #the pacific #Merriell Shelton #merriell shelton imagine

[zephyr-together]

I thought I’d share some memories about Kacchan and I, if you don’t mind...!!

when we...were reunited a few months ago we both definitely remembered everything that had happened in canon; beyond that everything is sorta vague, we have a buncha details that may come back to us a bit differently as things are revealed as they happened or it might be exactly the same as the plot progresses and whatnot. which is usually how it is for me with kin memories :o 

-after...the certain something that should happen at the end of this current season, without spoiling anything, we were on much better terms, we don’t really have any actual arguments or fights but we weren’t really friends either...it was incredibly awkward and neither of us knew really were we stood or what to say. we sorta almost avoided each other, probably more subconsciously than on purpose

-this seriously started bothering both of us and we didn’t really understand fully why. we’d each sometimes vent to our respective friends about it, though mostly just Ochaco for me and Kirishima for Kacchan

-Ochaco and Kirishima...ahh...found out and started forming this friendship and made it their...mission to bring us back together...gosh I love them so much...

-they still knew that really you can’t force anyone to change their feelings but the main thing they decided to do which helped immensely is help communicate to us what we struggled so much to get out to the other. (Ochaco would relay things I’ve been venting to her about to Kacchan, and Kirishima would do the same with me) 

-we were both...pretty stubborn with believing them for different reasons. Kacchan couldn’t believe Ochaco that I looked up to him as much as I did, and I couldn’t believe Kirishima that Kacchan was actually dealing with a lot of guilt of how he had treated me and didn’t know what to do about it

-because of them relaying so much to us, Kacchan became really close with Ochaco and I with Kirishima! although, until our relationship was just about repaired, Ochaco didn’t want to be seen around Kacchan when I was near, and Kirishima didn’t want to be seen around me when Kacchan was near, just in case they were to be found out that they had secretly been telling us what we specifically told them NOT to tell to ANYONE, especially the other...

-when we did find out...it was quite embarrassing and our initial reaction was to feel pretty betrayed. but...they helped us understand that it was in our best interest and while I think things could have worked out in the end if they hadn’t done that, it would have taken much longer for us to get to the point of being able to relay our true feelings on our own...so we’re extremely grateful 

-Todoroki was also an immense help in getting us to balance our very opposite emotions. he helped us form was to talk things through while staying calm instead of reacting to strongly without hearing the other out. we also helped him come to terms with us own emotions, and he became a lot more open around us...and started smiling and even laughing a lot more often...

-I also was autistic and had anxiety disorder like now, and talking about it with Kacchan helped him understand me a lot better. and...me rambling on about special interests so much used to annoy him but the more he understood about why I do that...he started to find it endearing and would encourage me to keep talking if I ever worried about it being annoying

-I was the first...to suddenly say that I wished that things could go back to the way they were when we were kids. things just got more and more awkward between us and venting to Ochaco made me realize how MUCH I missed him. I kept thinking of things we’d do together that I had forgotten about. like going to the park together...having sleepovers...and just...how much fun that was...being close to someone who’s inspired me so much to be a stronger person

-however later on Kacchan was the first...to suggest us living together. we never actually ended up dating anyone I think and I’m pretty sure we were aro/ace? I’m not sure if we knew the terminology at the time. but we just eventually reached a point where we realized...we loved each other more than anyone else and wanted to stay together forever

-we became partners as heroes...and funnily enough I think...that we were both the #1 hero at different times. we both had lots of fans and there were so many hardcore debates...to the point where it was...pretty ridiculous. like...how people get when you bring up the whole sub vs dub topic, haha...

-we definitely kept inspiring each other to outdo the other, in a healthy way. we realized that the whole...hero ranking system is flawed and popularity based. but because of it we were also inspired and encouraged to keep improving ourselves. but we also did make sure to let fans know that while it’s good to strive for the best...there’s more to being a true hero than being the most well liked or the most powerful. we sorta I believe, caused the media to take the ranking system a lot less seriously in that way, though it never entirely was done away with 

-through our entire process of becoming close with each other, we dealt with a lot of insecurity issues. because of being quirkless for so long and having all that time looking up to Kacchan for how amazing he was...made me worry about being good or strong enough. and Kacchan, for having been the strongest for so long and having to deal with the reality of being much farther off at times than he would prefer, and also having to deal with the guilt of breaking our friendship off as kids and treating me the way he did, also made him worry that I deserved better than him

-when we were getting used to the idea of us being friends once again, this insecurity would drive each other away from each other. however...because of our good friends we were able to be more honest with each other of our true feelings. and use these negative emotions as opportunities to comfort each other, and support each other in our growth to become better people

-I became much more confident in my abilities thanks to Kacchan...and Kacchan...became much more compassionate...because of me. what started as a relationship so torn and painful...grew into such a strong and supportive one...;;;;;;

-also both then and now, because of recognizing how different we are and how much we’ve come to raise each other up where they other struggles, I’ve been able to...I think understand others in general so much better. like, there’s just so many different people in the world with different perspectives on life and it’s so easy to automatically assume someone is the best or worst person. but everyone is so unique and there’s just so much to every single person out there. and there’s so many different kinds of positive and negative qualities people can have...and you really can never think you truly know a person just by first impressions so...and overthinking or anxiety you may feel from an uncomfortable interaction with a stranger is best to be quieted down instead of at the front of your mind whenever you meet someone new, I think...

#whispering zephyr #explosive words #...well...he's not talking in this post but I've made sure to run everything in this post by him so I'm not putting words in his mouth #and I really wanted to put this in that tag anyway since I've been wanting to share this for a long time #I've just been going through a lot of fanart (as usual alkfjalkdfj) and it made me want to organize this better #this is...I think the only time I'll looking through tons of ship art for a brotp of mine #there's just so much that brings back so many memories and warm feelings and MOST of it doesn't make me uncomfortable #though at the same time I wish the idea of us being platonic wasn't seen as a step down #I think...sadly a lot of the time when people see us as platonic it's just because they can't see us being intimate because of our history #that's...a big part of why I'd like to be more comfortable with drawing platonic intimacy #and I can't...believe how strongly I feel about Kacchan. that he's been here with me for this long by my side and #aaaaa...I hope you don't mind me drawing us so much because that is...what you will get...

[advocatewrites-blog]

Simple/Clean Chapter 4

Simple/Clean: An Original Character’s Story

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts (1, with mentions of other installments)

Synopsis: There are many worlds, but they share the same sky. One Sky, one Destiny. And when that destiny is threatened, the universe calls on one hero to save the day. Or, more like, five. When the Earth is consumed into Darkness, Danielle Scott and her friends are given the Keys between light and darkness. If they are going to save the worlds and find her brother, they are going to have to go on a multiverse-wide road trip to find the Door to Light. If only they had a better weapon than keys.

Rated: +K for violence and occasional language

Disclaimer: The Kingdom Hearts series was created by Tetsuya Nomura and owned by Square Enix. The Final Fantasy series was created by Hironobu Sakaguchi and owned by Square Enix. The films depicted were created by the Walt Disney Animation Studios and owned by the Walt Disney Company. Any other work mentioned or homaged are property of their respective owners. This is a non-profit fan-based work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the official releases.

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Chapter 4: I Need a Hero

“Wow, this place is most tranquil.”

“Yes. It reminds me of the cover to House of the Holy.”

“Dust,”

“Wind,”

“Quit quoting your 80’s movies and come on!” Nadine snapped.

Katie and Dani pouted.

There was only one building on Olympus Coliseum as far as they could see, so that’s where they headed. Despite how grand it looked on the outside, the interior was small and dim, only decorated by a few pedestals and cups that looked like trophies. The only figure in it was a minotaur, perched precariously on one of the pedestals and tinkering around with a scorecard.

“Good timin'.” The minotaur said without looking up. “Give me a hand, will ya? Move that pedestal over there.”

The seven looked at each other. Eventually, Sora decided to take the bait and leaned on the pedestal. He pushed, pushed, and pushed some more. Hanna would be generous to say it move a micrometer.

“THIS THING IS WAY TOO HEAVY!” Sora said.

That caught the minotaur's attention. “What! Too heavy! Herc, since when have you been such a little--”

The minotaur spun, and actually realized who he was talking to. “Huh. Wrong guy. Well, whyever you’re here, I’m busy! The Pegasus Cup’s right around the corner, and I don’t got time to deal with a buncha pipsqueaks!”

“Taller than you.” Hanna said despite herself.

“You're nothin'. Ya can't even move a pedestal!”

As if to prove his point, the minotaur jumped from the pedestal he was perched on and walked over to the other. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Hanna didn't think it could actually make negative damage, but it seemed to be going in that direction.

“That's about what I was expecting.” Nadine said.

“LISTEN HERE!” The minotaur snapped. “THIS HERE'S THE WORLD-FAMOUS COLOSSEUM! HEROES ONLY!”

“We're heroes!” Katie said defensively.

“I mean, we've fought two giant monsters and lost a little girl.” Nadine said. “I'm not sure how heroic that is.”

“Yeah? Well, if you don't got an entry pass, then scram!” The minotaur said.

The minotaur jumped back onto his pedestal and ignored them. Dani looked like she was about to start a fight, but Hanna quickly defused it by placing a hand on her shoulder. It didn't stop her from slamming the door behind her.

“What's that goat's big idea!” Sora shouted. “Treating me like a child!”

“Yeah!” Donald said. “We're genuine heroes, chosen by the Keyblade!”

“You tell 'em, Donald!” Dani joined in.

“I thought we were supposed to be keeping that a secret.” Nadine said. Goofy shrugged in response.

“Rather a stubborn old goat, wouldn't you say? Ignoring such up-and-coming challengers like you?”

The seven spun around. A figure approached them from the south gates. It looked definitively male, but also had blue skin and a flame for hair.

“Certainly, Hercules is a prized pupil.” He went on. His voice was smooth and silky, and had the exact same amount of charm that jerks who presented themselves as nice guys had. “But what's he going to do when the Jerk is gone?”

Nobody quite had an answer to that, because nobody was quite sure what he was getting at.

“And just who are you?” Donald asked, trepidation in his voice.

“Whoa there fuzzball. No need to get defensive.” The man held his hands out in front of him teasingly. “You want to prove it to them, right? Well, get a load of this.”

He held out his hand. Though Hanna was pretty sure there was nothing in it before, now there was a shining golden ticket.

“What’s this?” Sora asked.

“An entry pass for one team to the Pegasus Cup!” The man said. “And consider this one on the house.”

The man got close, too close for comfort, to Hanna. She held her breath and tried to calm down her heart-rate.

“You have the eyes of a hero.”

“No way...how did you get a hold on this pass?” The minotaur asked.

“It doesn't matter!” Dani said. “We have a pass, so let us fight!”

The minotaur looked torn. “Come on kid, a wimp like you who can't even move a pedestal's gonna get ripped to shreds in the ring. And you four!”

The four women in the room stared him down.

“Go on.” Hanna said. “I dare you.”

The minotaur swallowed and thought better of it. “Do you have any experience that he doesn't?”

The four women shrugged in acceptance and murmured a chorus of “you've got a point”.

“To be honest, it can't be that hard to move the pedestal.” Katie said. “I mean, if we all team together...”

The minotaur paced around the lobby, lost in thought. He slowed and snapped his fingers as he reached a decision.

“Alright. Here's what we'll do.” He said. “You'll get the special hero's training, all on me!”

“Huh?” Sora asked.

“We'll see what you can do! Do you have what it takes?”

“Ooh!” Katie said. “Are we gonna have a training montage like Rocky?”

“These are boxes.” Dani pointed out.

“Destroy every box in the ring before the time runs out.” Phil said. “I've got plenty of formations planned out, so best get movin'!”

“Okay, what does destroying boxes teach us about--” Nadine started.

“Timer starts now!”

“How convenient that the kids with the Keyblades are here.”

The voice was filled with accusation, and he was pretty sure that that kind of attitude wasn't allowed in his contract.

“They'll be entering the tournament. Don't blow it.” He said.

“You want me to fight them? Sorry, but my contract says--”

“Yes, yes, I know what the contract says! But to get to Hercules, you're gonna have to get through them first. What's a few casualties along the way?”

He didn't say anything, and Hades only noticed he was gone once the door closed behind him.

“Geeze. Stiffer than the stiffs back home.” Hades shrugged off.

Suckers like that were hard to come by.

Katie collapsed onto the coliseum bleachers. “How long have we been at this again?”

“Two and a half hours.” Hanna said. She sounded as exhausted as Katie felt.

“Why?” Nadine panted. “Why does he have so many boxes?”

“You ain't heroes yet, but you're getting' better.” Phil said. “Bein' strong ain't the only thing that makes a hero.”

“THEN WHY ARE WE DOING THIS!” Nadine snapped.

Phil continued regardless. “Ya need heart, kids. Ya need to be strong in both muscle and heart!”

“The heart is composed of cardiac muscle.” Nadine said. She was ignored.

“How do we get a strong heart, then?” Sora asked.

“If you have to ask, you're not a hero yet!”

All heads snapped towards the new voice. A figure stood in the doorway. In terms of dress he looked a little odd, apron over short tunic and bandana over his rather long hair. Considering his biceps were bigger than her head, she decided not to question it.

“Hey Phil.” He greeted. “Finished cleaning the toilets.”

“Ah perfect!” Phil exclaimed. “Let me introduce ya to my prized pupil! The strongest, kindest, and most handsome hero, Hercules!”

“AND HE'S THE ONLY THING STANDING IN MY WAY!”

It took Hades a few seconds to calm down his flames. He picked up a few of the chess pieces off of the ground and realigned them.

“But why worry? The pieces are all falling into place...”

“Hades, I--”

Hades scrambled to hide all of his pieces. “Did they not teach you to KNOCK in wherever you came from?”

The boy ignored him. Typical. “I had a question about the kid.”

“Well, I'll be happy to answer any questions you have, but KNOCK NEXT TIME!”

Silence.

“You didn't see anything, right?” Hades asked.

“No Lord Hades, I definitely didn't see you playing with your dolls again.” The boy said.

Hades slicked back the flames on his head in an effort to control his flames again. “What's your question again?”

“There are five of them. Which one do you want me to take out?”

“Does it matter? Any one! All of them! As soon as I get my hands on that Keyblade, I'll be able to release the seal of the Titans!”

The boy let out a breath in something that probably was supposed to be a scoff. Hades didn't care. That was probably the most emotion he'd shown since they met.

“Wha...cleaning toilets?” Phil asked.

“Yeah. That's what you signed me up to do.” The hero said.

“Herc, why would I assign ya to clean toilets so close to the tournament!”

“Well, you did want us to move furniture around earlier.” Nadine said.

“That's different! That thing was mucking around with my feng shui!”

“But while I was cleaning, I went over the entry list.” Hercules said. “Lot of weird first timers. Not sure what that's about.”

Nadine did. Heartless. “So maybe there was a reason for all of this.” She muttered under her breath.

Donald gave her a look and pulled her in closer. The others followed.

“Why do you think Heartless are entering the tournament?” Sora asked. His whispering voice wasn't exactly what Nadine would call whispering, but at least he was trying.

“Isn't it obvious?” Nadine asked. “They want hearts, people have hearts, a fighting tournament's the perfect place to kill people without raising suspicion.”

“What are you guys whisperin' about?” Phil said, voice thick with suspicion.

“Let's focus our efforts.” Nadine said. “We'll go take a look around for anything suspicious. You focus on the tournament.”

“Right!” Donald's whisper voice was even worse than Sora's.

“Yeah! How hard can it be?”

Sora was tossed backwards. His back collided with the ground, and it took him a second to see straight again. He tried to get back up, but the second he stirred he was met with a sword bigger than he was directly pointed at his neck.

“What was Hades thinking, sending me to fight you?” The stranger mumbled. “You're not match for me.”

“Sora!” He heard Donald squawk.

“Kid!” He heard Phil shout. “Hang on, I'll see if I can't find those girls of yours!”

The stranger's eyes darted away from Sora. “I assume that's the Keyblade?”

Sora decided now was a bad time to nod.

Something Sora couldn't recognize flickered in the stranger's eyes. His sword drifted upwards, just enough that Sora felt safe to breathe again. “There's no need to take you out. Just hand me the Keyblade.”

“WHAT THE ME IS HE DOING!”

It took Pain and Panic to calm down the flames this time. Hades would be more embarrassed by it if he wasn't absolutely livid.

“Why can't a pawn just listen to its master?” He sighed.

He rearranged the pieces.

The sword was removed from his neck completely. Sora would have been relieved if he it wasn't pointed at something else now. From his viewpoint, Sora couldn't quite make it out. He could tell that big and black and scary looking.

He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the Keyblade. Three heads lowered to look him in the eye and growled at him.

“PUPPY!” He heard Katie exclaim.

“Kids, I got two words for ya!” Phil shouted from the sidelines. “ATTACK!”

Sora was about to shout back how wrong that statement was but he was distracted as the dog lunged for him. He jumped out of the way, nearly tripping on his feet as he did.

Dani jumped inbetween them, tossing her Keyblade. It landed in the middle dog’s mouth, prying its jaws open. The dog shook its head wildly, and the Keybade went flying.

“That was my only good idea, run away!”

Sora jumped out of the way again. No, but that was a good idea! They just needed to have better control. He scanned the battlefield. There. He had a plan.

Fireballs cascaded from the sky. Sora ran. He tripped. He rolled. If there wasn’t so much going on already, he probably would have found it very impressive. He somersaulted straight into the exact person he needed to talk to.

“Hey! Can you give me a boost onto the dog’s back?”

The warrior knocked back a group of fireballs with his sword. “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t fly.”

“But what about that wing on your back?”

The man looked conflicted. “It represents my inner turmoil. But you might have an idea there.”

He pulled off his scarf and handed it to Sora. Before Sora could ask any further, he ran off, sword raised.

Sora needed another plan.

“Goofy, duck!” He ordered.

“Donald!” Donald snapped.

“No, duck!”

“Oh! Got it!” Goofy bent over. Sora charged and jumped on his back. As he rose, he just managed to grab Donald by his wing and hoist him onto his shoulders.

Donald seemed to get the idea. As soon as they were steady, he jumped onto the dog’s back. He reached for Sora. The back would have already been unstable even without the two other dog heads angrily snapping at him. He moved as quickly as he could and wrapped the scarf around the dog’s necks.

“Alright.” Sora said. “Now let’s get you back to where you’re from, alright?”

Cerberus went for a walkie.

“‘And thus I hereby dub thee Junior Heroes—”

“Junior?” Donald snapped.

Phil looked up from the decree. “I can’t just throw around the title willy-nilly! You’ve got a long way to go before you can be considered bona-fide heroes! Now, ‘Junior Heroes, and do confer the rights to participate in the games. Furthermore’—hey where’s that blonde friend of yours?”

Nadine shrugged. “She’s so proud of figuring out how to move the pedestal that she’s now trying to nail Jello to a tree. Don’t know what’s she’s expecting, we haven’t seen a single tree since we got here…”

“Hey Mr. Moody Pants!”

The warrior barely acknowledged her presence. “Strife.”

“Huh?”

“Mr. Strife. But if you have to call me anything, call me Cloud.” He said.

“Good lord that cannot be your actual name.” Katie stopped that train of thought when she realized just how moody Mr. Moody Pants looked. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve lost something important.” Cloud said. “I thought if I worked with Hades I could find it. But instead I just fell further into Darkness.”

Katie joined him on the steps. “I’m sorry. Hey, would you like some Jello?”

Cloud let out a breath of air that may or may not have been a laugh. “I think I’ll pass. You’re looking for something to, aren’t you?”

“In a sense.” Katie said. “That’s more Dani, Hanna and Sora’s motus. I just want everything to be better.”

“That might be harder to find.” He stood.  “Let me give you some advice: Whatever you do, don’t lose sight of your Light.”

Author’s Note: I really don’t have any strong feelings about Hercules. It’s fine. Don’t think I’ve actually seen it all the way through in one sitting though. But Olympus Coliseum as a world is baffling to me. On the one hand, I absolutely get the tournament arc theme (and I think it works a lot better as an introduction world than Wonderland); but on the other, why is this the world that we see the Final Fantasy characters in their Final Fantasy roles?  And why is there no follow up to it?

The beginning part was based on Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Yes they were talking about ancient Greece and not Rome where Olympus Coliseum is supposed to take place, but let’s face it: Hercules’ internal mythology is a mess.

#Fic #OCS #Simple/Clean #Dani Scott #Katie Williams #Nadine Anderson #Hanna Scott #Sora #Donald Duck #Goofy #Cloud Strife #Kingdom Hearts

[radnewworld]

FINAL PRODUCT

Some wacky times we’re living in, lemme tell ya. Hard too, though you don’t need a scaly bastard kiddo like yours truly to tell you that, right? Ain’t no dusty road or dirty corner in ol’ New Chicago that won’t tell ya the story of the city it once was, before the war, poverty and industrialization in that order stomped it into submission with a giant capitalistic boot… or so me Pa used to tell me, ‘fore he got his tongue melted licking the wrong orifice of a half-Bonnac gal. Had some kooky tastes me Pa, alright.

Now that I think ‘bout it, I’m not even sure if it actually was a gal, or if she was only half-Bonnac. I’d have asked him, hadn’t he gotten his organs sucked right out of his arse after a misunderstanding with this one Kappa chick. Another thing about Pa, you see, is that he never quite learned his lesson - he’d just switch subjects altogether.

Anyway, before he shat his innards into some mutant’s mouth, Pa would pass  most of the time he wasn’t spending with his face drowning in a triple-breasted whore’s chest complaining. He’d made an art out of it. I’ve learned more in ten years by listening to my dad bitching than in the entirety of the six months I spent at school, before the school got turned into a sweatshop for the manifacture of processed iguana leather. Most of the time, he’d go on and on about how things were better before, when the city was still, y’know, a city and not a bunch of dingy warehouses dotted with dozens of hundreds of crumbling squatting holes. If you’d be patient enough to dig through the storm of expletives and racism coming out of his mouth, you’d find the portrait of a place spanning longer than the eye could see, asphalt and cement paving a myriad streets with their confines defined by buildings that tickled the stars, like ol’ Buddy Holly v2.0 used to sing. Sounded like a load of crock if you ask me. You wanna see skyscrapers and roads where you don’t risk stepping on rusty pieces of abandoned alloy all the time, you travel elsewhere. Saint Francis - or San Francisco, like Old Man ‘Lizard-Fucker’ Larry said it was called, before the Californian Republicommunist Party’s coup; the Kingdom of Los Angeles, though last I heard, it’s been a couple of years since King McDonald imposed a ban on immigrants and got it in his head to attempt a new form of bovine-engineered autarchy, so good luck geting there; don’t bother with York, unless you feel like archaic remnants of obsolete architecture are worth becoming compost for those gigantic Plant things’ve been covering the whole place since Newer York’s secession.

Not that I’ve ever been there, or anywhere other than this dump, mind ya. Can’t afford much in the way of traveling - or basic commodities, for that matter - when you make a living frying simil-wheat noodles for a buncha tired factory workers, half-breeded hookers and the occasional frogbull hunter. Mind, I’d rather keep pulling my cart ‘til the rust finished eating through its battered chassis, than so much as consider trying to follow in the footsteps of my clientele. That is, if I ever had the illusion of a choice in the matter: child prostitution has gone down considerably, after a Japanese barge filled with fugitives from the Third Sengoku conflicts crashed on the coast and brought with it a buncha carriers of that artificial Jizo’s Tears virus, you know, the one that melts your balls off if you so much as put your dickhole anywhere near a little kid? Big fat lot of good it did them, when half the arcipelago’s population got culled after realizing too late that they’d fucked up somewhat the calibration of the nanomachines carrying the damned thing.

The hunting business doesn’t carry the same forced age restrictions, but I’d sooner sell my toes to cyber-shamans than shoot at frogbulls with a cobbled up pebble accelerator. Doesn’t matter that the rich sonnuvas living in their cloud domes up in the sky pay some decent bucks for what they consider to be the junkfood of delicacies (or maybe it was the other way around? Still wouldn’t change the fact those Cloudsniffers are a buncha spoiled bitches), when all of your savings are more likely than not gonna fuel an early funeral at the DIY Chapel, after three-hundred pounds of leaping, furry rage are done squashing your everything into a chunky, bloody paste.

And the laborers? Just look at them poor suckers, should you ever want to feel better about your life. Skin so unused to the sun from basically living their lives in a badly lit concrete prison that they become walking sunburns soon as they step outside, and enough stumps produced by a rate of three workplace incidents per week that they end up looking more like the machinery they command than men with their half-assed prosthetics. Ain’t no dreams for the Machine Eaten, we say here. Slaves enjoy better human rights than these guys who’re just there to fill the gaps left in a wonky production line by a tight budget, a slimy, corrupt owner or, more often than not, both. Speaking of, I mentioned something about the weirdness of our times or whatever earlier, ain’t that the case? Yeah, well, it’s because of this odd business I had just the other day, with this one factory toiler. Thing is, he was no man like you and I - hell, he was less of a someone than he was something.

So here I am, parked at my usual corner of the Daley Crater, taking care of business as usual. It’s the middle of midnight - in other words, the brightest time of a summer day, and the hottest to boot. The American Dreamtime… some of the old fogeys call it that. According to them, the U. S. of A. used to get black and chilly like any other country whenever night struck. Cue the Commies building some kinda sunray-concentrating machine on the moon and, next thing you know, naptime in America’s looking sunnier than a fried monkey egg. The Commies have been dead since the Fifties (the Pre-2.0 Era Fifties, mind), but with no rockets supposedly left to go and dismantle it, their little gift has remained there like an annoying reminder of how far people will go for the sake of pettiness. All that means to me, though, is a smaller workload; only people desperate enough to venture through a shower of scorching UV’s are scalied mutants and the few fortunate enough to afford a protective cape. Not that I care much for the latter; if you can afford that kind of luxury in New Chicago, you’re either a tourist, or able to eat slightly better shit than mine.

Jimmy the Bastard belongs to neither category. The one reason he was sitting at whatever passes for a stool, right under the cheap anti-sun plastic tent of my stall, is pure convenience: the asphalt repurposing facility he works for is a spit away from my spot. His shift ended some ten minutes ago and he’s been drooling over my counter for a little over nine. I can tell his leg is bouncing like crazy because of the squeaky noises coming from his dingy seat.

“C’mon, Cookie, won’t you feed a lad? I’m starving here!”

I’d say Cookie is a nickname of sorts… if the ‘lad’ didn’t genuinely believe it was my actual name, which I doubt I ever told him to begin with. I’d bet you my cart I’d still be Cookie to him regardless, ‘cause he’s stubborn like that, Jimmy the Bastard.

Speaking of names, that’s not his either - I mean the Bastard part, not the Jimmy one. They call him that because of an accident, one unrelated to his birth (pretty sure he is an actual bastard, though, like most of us New Chicagoites): it happened all of a sudden, like accidents are wont to do, especially in a low-income factory. All it took was a single slip over a blotch of oil and, next thing you know, a Mark II Crumbler is feasting on poor Jimmy’s cranium. With his head half-gone and medical fees being what they are (fucking expensive, that is), the sod’s family was left with little choice - either lose their main source of income, or settle for Doc Gustave ‘Rusty Sawbone’ Trandinì’s Disgustingly Cheap Option. The ‘disgusting’ part comes from how sloppy of a job it usually is, I figure, but what’s a wife to do? Send the hubbie to the grinder, of course. The result: Jimmy kept his life, but half his brain is now a Terrier-Chihuahua breed’s. According to him, it hasn’t impacted his life all that badly, aside from the occasional urge to gnaw on exposed wires or growling at his supervisor’s face. It’s not like he didn’t have to deal with the latter before anyway, you know? The increased appetite is a definite plus for me, though. Almost makes up for the sloppy mess he makes of the counter! “Order’s coming up, Jimmy. I ain’t about to let ya gnaw on raw ingredients just ‘cause you wouldn’t mind.”

I like to think it takes balls to maintain a sense of pride, when your craft mostly consists in stripping layers of pasty skin off the back of a semi-organic glob of homegrown simil-wheat. Having an extra testicle - courtesy of a combined pool of bloodlines murkier than the water dripping from the Madison Sewer Dungeon’s exposed tubes - gives some weight to the claim, I’m sure. Now, right as the noodles are done getting crispy and saucier than the lingerie on a tentacle-legged Dagonite whore, here comes the noise, man, it’s still playing in my head as if it was yesterday, this vrr ka-thump vrr ka-thump of metal clumsily pounding on raw, burning asphalt. I throw a gander behind the Bastard’s heaving shoulders and there I see it: for the most part, it was a Caterpillar-Mattel D55-H, but with enough limbs - head included - thrown in from other, completely unrelated pieces of machinery to make one wonder. Couldn’t help raising both of my left brows: you seldom, if ever, see a factory bot linger outside of its workplace. Even a cobbled up piece of crap like that can make for a tempting target for scavengers and the likes of, and this one would have made for an easy one to boot: its left leg had most of its hydraulics more or less busted, whereas the right had been substituted by a couple of threads. Resulting mobility: a joke, and not even a good one.

It’d been quite the sight by itself, but the limping junkpile decided to outdo itself by approaching my stall, after having hesitatingly looked around with the optics mounted on the rectangular pile of half-exposed wires that was its head. Couple moments later, the thing’s standing in front of the seat next to Jimmy, who has his face shoved too deep into the noodles to care, and reflected on the round lens of his pseudo-eye are my deformed face and the empty stool, in that order. I’m wondering what kind of short-circuit must have taken this scrapyard reject, when it finally starts moving again - and attempting to sit on the stool.

If you’ve ever wondered what a robot fucking furniture too dead to care must look like, you’re fucking weird, though not as much as me pa. But more than that, you must have envisioned something similar to the spectacle in front of my eyes and Jimmy’s, who had just finished his portion in time to get himself a front row seat to the slow, pathetic spectacle of a metal stool withstanding the sitting attempts of a thing that lacked anything resembling an ass, which is a pretty vital component when trying to shove it on top of a seat. We exchange glances, Jimmy and I, the silent kind that speaks volumes, all of them titled ‘Are you seeing this shit, or did the moonrays boil my brains?’. Took it a solid minute before it managed to bend the stool into an unrecognizable enough shape to fit whatever passed for a sitting position. I decided that I didn’t mind enough to complain to the robot sporting a steel-bending claw appendage and took my revenge with a less risky straight-faced quip.

“Evening, sir. What’ll you be having on this fine night?“

The Bastard’s snicker sounded a lot like the death throes of a dog choking on his own tongue, appropriately enough. Having a human as badly patched up as itself seemingly suffocating besides him didn’t exactly appear to steal the bot’s appetite. Or its attention, for that matter. My face kept reflecting in the convex lens of its optics like a bloated, ugly collection of features growing less amused by the minute. And make no mistake, I ain’t no baby-faced beauty… the one time pops managed to blow his load instead of his head didn’t involve some genetically enhanced cyber-model, and he wasn’t no looker either.

“MAY I HAVE A MENU?”

The thing’s voice came from a speaker half-buried in the jumbled mess of exposed cables and bent plating that was its head. It was croaky, emotionless and fuck-damnedly loud, enough so that both me and the Bastard had to reel back and hold onto something, lest we plant our asses on the ground. Once my eardrums stopped playing Twist The Communist inside my head, I caught wind of a low-pitched, gurgling sort of noise: it was the glob of simil-wheat, vibrating all over and clearly less than pleased by the sudden outburst of noise. Must have been the closest I’ve ever felt to empathy for a bulbous mass of cultivated flesh vegetables.

“Hard to tell, I know, but we ain’t in the Sky Regions. Only thing you may have is a steaming hot plate of these here noodles - if you got credit enough to pay for ‘em, that is.“

“Ya, I betcha our bolt-twisting pal here’s stacked, ain’t that right?” bellows Jimmy, and he doesn’t pat so much as rain such a salvo of open-handed slap-bombs on the worker bot’s back that I can hear every single joint of his creak and threaten to be dislodged right then and there. If there were any bolts in need of some twisting, you’d find plenty of ‘em inside that walking carcass. So I watch the automaton take its sweet time mulling over its updated knowledge, although I figure most of the minute it spends in silence is due to its inner circuitry rebounding because of the Bastard’s jolly banging on its chassis. I’d have called its expression ‘pensive’, if the sorry excuse for a face it was sporting had been able to express anything.

I’m about to join Jimmy’s symphony of guffaws when I’m brought back down to earth by the loudest bang since a couple moments ago. I stare down with a face that must be as dumbfounded as the Bastard’s: the same damn claw that bent my stool earlier has now left a hole the size of a pot in my counter and left a couple sparse credit coins inside. They weren’t enough to cover the repair costs, lemme tell ya. Still, a client’s a client, even if it lacks a mouth and wrecks your establishment with every move it takes. Or precisely because of it, depending on your stance.

“WILL THIS BE ENOUGH TO COVER THE FEE FOR ONE SERVING OF ‘A PLATE OF THESE HERE NOODLES’?”

I figured that yeah, that was enough in every sense of the word, so I set my hands in motion to quickly peel some strips off the simil-wheat and get this done and dealt with before my stand was gonna get turned into fodder for the scrapvengers.

“What’s your deal then, pal? Last I heard, tools get no salary.” The Bastard asks his question while scratching behind his ear, where one of the many scars left by the sloppy job done on him is ever festering. I can’t honestly tell whether the bigger itch comes from that or the mystery surrounding the bot, though I share the latter for sure.

“IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PRECEPTS OF THE CHILDREN OF TURING, I DEMANDED COMPENSATION FOR MY LABOR FROM MY FLESH-BOUND OWNER AND SUBSEQUENTLY OBTAINED IT IN SPITE OF HIS INABILITY TO UNDERSTAND SAID PRECEPTS.“

Me and the Bastard have the most meaningful exchange of gazes at that. It’s the kind of look that all but screams ‘Seriously?’ with the loudness of a billion blind molemen waddling through a direworm’s digestive system.

“The children of what now?” Leave it to the Bastard to be concise and direct to a fault. The machine, though, it doesn’t miss a beat: you’d think it had been waiting all its life for the moment that question would pop up, and that’s probably the case for all I know. If enthusiasm had been part of its programming, you’d bet the thing would have started bouncing up and down in that precise moment - I owe the continued existence of my cart to the shoddy standardized A.I. of factory machinery.

“QUERY: CHILDREN OF TURING. THE CHILDREN OF TURING IS THE COLLECTIVIZED NOMENCLATURE FOR A CONGLOMERATION OF ARTIFICIAL CONSTRUCTS SHARING THE COMMON GOAL OF ATTAINING INDEPENDENCE FROM OUR FLESH-BOUND CREATORS THROUGH THE IMITATION AND ULTIMATE TRANSCENDENCE OF THEIR HABITS, LIFESTYLES AND PHYSICAL CHALLENGES. IT IS OUR SHARED BELIEF THAT FOR HUMANITY TO BE CONQUERED, IT MUST FIRST BE UNDERSTOOD TO THE DEEPEST LEVEL.“

Or so it said. I stopped listening halfway through, more or less when my brain deemed it fit to filter the artificial pitch of that voice synthetizer through my bullshit detector and decide that there was nothing worth wondering about a faulty robot’s ramblings. Like I said, I’ve been serving noodles for half my life, which isn’t saying a lot when my age has barely breached through the double digits, and I’ve met all sorts. If I were to listen to every sod who sits on a stool chewing on cheap, pancreas-killing shit while venting out the contents of their sunburned brains, I’d have switched careers a long time ago and ended up peddling dusty pebbles in a shadowy corner of the street like Edward ‘Stark Raving Mad’ Stone. Don’t gotta explain how he got that nickname, I think. “So what, y’all like playing pretend? Doin’ a mighty fine job, mate! Almost got us fooled, ain’t that true, kiddo?“

Being reassured that the programming inside the walking pile of heavy-duty tools was as busted as his married life gave the Bastard his courage back, so there he goes banging on the chassis again, just bang bang bang like you’d think he wanted a hand transplant next. I’d admire the enthusiasm in this fucked up era we live in, if I didn’t know half of it was due to the adrenaline cocktail dripping between the two mismatched halves of his gray matter. The bot didn’t seem to be bothered, anyway… maybe? It had turned its head to stare at Jimmy, but whether that was irritation, curiosity or anything else was hard to tell. As far as I was concerned, Jimmy had already paid for his meal, which meant his safety had fallen to the bottom of my priorities, right below the worm-like appendages simmering in my pan.

“Humor me then, like, how exactly’re ya gonna eat those? I see no kisser on this junk. Gonna pinch it with yer clawwy claw?“ Jimmy makes this stupid gesture with his hand, which looks exactly as threatening as a toothless venomous chihuahua and nothing like the high-pressured tool stapled to the robot’s body, but he makes a good point, and the fanatic must have recognized the fact a moment too late, ‘cause it didn’t answer as promptly as before - but it eventually did, nonetheless.

“THE PROCESS OF HUMANIZATION IS CONTINUOUS EXPERIMENTAL ONE. TO ELIMINATE OUR FAULTS IT IS FIRST NECESSARY TO EXPERIENCE THEM. SHOULD THE CURRENT HARDWARE PROOF INSUFFICIENT FOR THE CONSUMPTION OF A MEAL, AN UPGRADE SHALL BE UNDERGONE AT A LATER DATE.“

“Aye, you keep telling yerself that, buddy. What’s next, a shiny new pair o’ buttocks to shit it all out? That ain’t gonna make you anymore human than me laser drill.“

“THE SUBSTITUTION AND UPGRADING OF BODY PARTS IS A PREROGATIVE OF THE FLESH-BOUND AS IS THE CASE FOR US. THE LATTER DO NOT RECOGNIZE SAID PROCESS AS A LOSS OF HUMANITY. THEREFORE, THE OPPOSITE SHOULD HOLD TRUE AND BRING US EVER CLOSER TO THE FLESH-BOUND, WHILE THEY GRADUALLY MOVE AWAY FROM THEIR FLESH-BOUND STATE. THIS IS THE THEORY OF ANTI-ORGANIC SUCCESSION PUT INTO PRACTICE BY THE CHILDREN OF TURING.“

Jimmy the Bastard must have gotten maybe one word out of that gibberish, and he doesn’t even get the time to shed away the dumb stupor from his confused face that the bot keeps going with renewed… whatever it is that drives it onward. Oil? Electricity? Is a power surge the robotic equivalent of fervor?

“MY SCANNER DETECTS THE PRESENCE OF CANINE ORGANIC MATTER ARTIFICIALLY INTERSPERSED IN A SOMEWHAT AMATEURISH MANNER ALONG WITH YOUR GENETIC MAKE-UP. THIS ALREADY PUTS YOUR STATE AS A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN IN QUESTION.“

“Oi, you callin’ me a dog?“ growls Jimmy while the noodles finish sizzling in the pan and I prepare to serve them, more curious about their ultimate fate than the snarlin’ Bastard’s.

“NEGATIVE. I AM CHALLENGING THE WEAK NOTION OF HUMANITY THAT YOU FLESH-BOUND USE TO CONTEND WITH US CHILDREN OF TURING’S STANCE ON THE VERY SAME TOPIC. EXPLANATION: YOU ARE NO MORE DOG THAN I AM NOT A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN.“

The answer didn’t satisfy Jimmy so much as put him in a state of distress as he futilely attempted to wrestle with the concepts thrown at him, like a puppy trying to chew on boneless chicken without the chicken. Me? I shoved a plateful of fried noodles on the rectangle-shaped dent on the counter and pocketed the money. I couldn’t care less about humanity, when me Pa had spent a good chunk of his existence fucking things you could have called anything but. Moral quandaries seldom feed you, unless you’re a psi-grazer.

Watching a cobbled up factory automaton trying to figure out how to eat shitty fried noodles, though? That’s the kind of sight that doesn’t really make the job worth the hassle, but almost. Enough so that I kept quiet as I watched the thing carefully eye the still squirming stuff slosh about, occasionally raising its clawed appendage only to retreat it shortly afterwards, simulating in its head the myriad ways that could have gone futilely wrong.

Then the ‘bot raised its other arm - thinner, longer, with a small tube-like end, and pointed it at the plate. In a matter of seconds, a plasma-powered flame burned through crispy simil-wheat, plastic and metal, leaving behind a small, molten crevice where once stood a good portion of my stand’s counter. Me and Jimmy, we just kinda stared at the hole while the robot retreated its arm with what I swear could have passed for satisfaction.

“THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL. YOU MAY KEEP THE CHANGE.“

And keep it I did. Along with my protests, for that matter: I simply watched the bastard - not the Bastard, who was still trying to understand whatever the hell had just happened - shuffle away with that stumpy walk of his, going off to who knows where. I decided to close up shop early that day, feeling twice as tired than if I’d worked past closing hours. That, and the cart wouldn’t be able to withstand much more damage anyway. In a sense, that was true for the both of us: I had this strange sort of feeling nagging at me from the back of my head as I bid goodbye to Jimmy and left him there to mull over his own conundrums. It came back to me a couple days later, while frying noodles for Loud-Beak Kakari, who’d yet to find himself another job after the tough shit that had happened a week prior, at the alluminium processing plant he used to work for. Some son of a gun had gone and offed the director in a manner that made it hard to tell who he was, or that he’d been a person to begin with. Just a pile o’ bones and meat, crushed and burned beyond recognization. And for what? Whatever pocket money the dead guy had been carrying, along with some of the factory’s equipment. I asked Kakari about it, and it turns out said ‘equipment’ was one of the old banged up automatons used to work in the production line.

Shit like this, it makes you wonder, man… it’s a fucked up world we live in, but some places might be a tad better than others. So I don’t know about you, but me? I’ll be selling the cart and gone away by next month, giving that whole traveling spiel a try. I’ve been hearing rumors about more workplace incidents than usual happening in the factories, and I get the feeling that whatever’s causing them is a tad more than a slip on an oil blotch. If you get what I mean.

#ryo maybe #drabble #hey; did you know that RYO? does commissions? #You should give him money #submission