#otherwise they’d have stopped using the bot by now you’d think

[r0semultiverse]

Hello sorry for tagging. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

Y’all, the nose freezes scam bot prompt is back! Going to go ahead & guess that this is different from the Palestine donations scam set of bots that steal actual current fundraiser info. Different people running different scams, I imagine. This one seems to function on a more random pattern. These also usually get deleted within a few hours to a day.

Sometimes you’ll see these more random bots follow you first half the time as a means to try to convince you that they’re legit. They’re all just annoying social bots, but documenting this should prove helpful to someone out there.

[my-writings-and-musings]

I got another request for the hostage prompt! The previous posts will be linked below, but here's the newest of the lineup!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: You're Here!

Perceptor

·You knew better than most how to keep a lid on impulsive actions, a trait that has both served you well and made your relationship with the stoic microscope develop quite quickly. However, like your partner, you absolutely have limits. As you enter what feels like the millionth hour of your captivity, you can feel yourself reaching them. There's plenty of stressors to account for the growing rage in your body, but you know the biggest is the bot keeping you prisoner as a part of their foolish scheme to get quick cash for the Lost Light's "beloved mascot". Particularly, their endless taunting of your partner is proving too much to endure, and you can feel your boiling point coming in fast. One final quip about Perceptor's "useless" alt mode proves to be your ignition point.

·Though you're hardly an intimidating figure dangling from your chains, your voice erupts with enough fury to draw your captor's attention without hesitation, and you use that undivided attention to let them know exactly how you feel. Firstly on your list of grievances is their juvenile and ear grating attempts to be clever while insulting your beloved scientist. "Do you know anything about warping reality? Time traveling? Rearranging molecules?! No?! Then what makes you think you're fit to look down on someone who can?!" There's no reply beyond shocked gaping, giving you the freedom to continue and let out everything you've been building up for the past few hours, particularly in regards to comments made on your own relationship. "Let's not forget; mocking him for dating a human? Big talk coming from some isolated loser in a cave!"

·You're not at all intimidated when the bad bot abandons their communication console to try threatening you into silence, even as they raise their hand with the supposed intent to strike. You only laugh at the exhausting absurdity of it all. Will they really risk losing their one shield against the entire Lost Light? Newsflash; you're the only thing standing between them and some of the toughest (and thanks to them; angriest) bots in the galaxy! Oh, and the one leading that charge, your paramour and soon to be rescuer? If bending physics to his will isn't sufficient, he can always go for the next best option, sniping. "Did you know he's the best sniper the Autobots have ever seen? He can probably hit the tiny, almost nonexistent processor of yours that came up with this plan! He works miracles with that gun!"

·Unable to silence you, the bad bot is looking torn between fear and anger at your defiant but very true words. Finding shouting to be a breath of fresh air, you decide to keep going, having more fun than you've had in ages talking up your beloved and underappreciated partner. "Heck, Percy doesn't even need to stage a rescue! He's stabilized and destabilized entire timelines, maybe he's rewriting history as we speak! Maybe he'll make it so you prevent your own forging; I can't wait to find out!" At the somewhat exaggerated but not at all impossible threat, your captor makes some excuse and starts up their security measures, looking beyond paranoid at the prospect of being erased. You go off on another tangent, this time regarding Perceptor's precision in finding "other" important targets in less innocent ways, but are stopped by an unexpected power outage plunging everything into darkness.

·There's a great deal of noise immediately following, but what stands out is a series of powerful gunshots, all of which ring out just before security turrets burst into pieces in the darkened cave. Amidst the chaos you hear your captor cry out and fall, but when the lights flicker on a moment later you see they've been immobilized but left otherwise unharmed by a perfectly placed shot. Crewmembers swarm the area in seconds, and before you can blink in the awe inspiring calculation of the plan that's just unfolded before you, there's a beautiful blue visor at your eye level. Perceptor is actually smiling, albeit softly, as he holsters his rifle and cuts you free. Plopping into his cupped hands, you swear the stoic scientist looks happier than you've ever seen him the entire walk back to the ship, his smile never leaving his face in the hours that come after your rescue.

·Percy is, by his standards, effusive in his love and affection going forward. There's no way to predict when he'll lift you for a loving nuzzle or a gentle kiss, so you grow to expect them always, as it's hardly a burden to be so loved. In a rare moment of isolation afterwards, a bot quietly informs you of something that happened while you were held hostage. Perceptor had actually shed tears when he heard you speak, albeit only a few, but his raw emotion at your defense has been obvious to everyone. No one had ever done such a thing for him, and it seemed the reality of your affection had overwhelmed him. Clearly he's still not used to being loved. Touched by the thought, you make an effort to be equally loving in the future, and he absolutely deserves it. You love this bot, alt mode and all. It's hard not to dare anyone to try and deny your obvious love for a bot so deserving of it.

Rung

·Like your quiet partner, you're a very even tempered individual, and thus yelling tends to be an absolute last resort. Some find it almost impossible to get a rise out of you. But today? Chained up against your will and listening to some bully taunt your friends and partner for hours on end? No one could blame you for lashing out after enduring a few minutes, let alone hours. Yet, for the sake of keeping the situation under control, you'd actually managed to keep a lid on your rage and frustration for some time. It wasn't until your captor had begun reverting to taunting Rung by purposefully getting his name wrong that you'd snapped, red filling your vision as the bully gleefully mocked your partner with what agonized him the most. All bets were now officially off.

·Had you been able to free yourself, you'd have probably attempted to turn your chains on your captor, but as it was you released your fury purely by shouting. First, you called them out for being such a juvenile and pathetic individual they'd felt the need to gloat despite having secured you already. Clearly they've got some serious self confidence issues if they need to hide behind a hostage to boast! Barely pausing for breath, you glare right into their shocked expression as you lay into them for mocking your partner, spelling and enunciating his name since they seem to be having so much trouble with a four letter word. The bad bot is still so surprised they haven't quite gathered themself from the initial shock until they're across the cave and in your face.

·When they refer to Rung as a "weakling" however, they unleash a fresh wave of rage. Do they actually know who they're talking about?! Rung?! The bot who walks away from crashes with only cuts and bruises? Not to mention; he's quite capable with a spear, does this bot even know what he's in for?! "I understand pronouncing his name right may be a bit beyond you, but did you even bother to look into him at all? He's been analyzing bots longer than you've been alive! He knows your next move before you do! He's saved our entire reality by talking!!" Admittedly the passion for your partner provides ample fuel for you to keep talking, as the poor bot is dealt bad hands far too often to have to put up with jerks like this.

·At threats to be silent you're only emboldened, as it's clear you're making quite a dent in your captor's confidence. Knowing they can't risk hurting you, and being too fed up to care if they try, you continue on your valiant crusade. "Rung has been a therapist for the toughest bots in the galaxy during their biggest emotional crises! Forget letting fear stop him, you could be ten times the villain you are and he wouldn't flinch!" Though your partner may not be one to inspire fear, particularly as his best traits are his endless ability to forgive and boundless compassion, you go off on those features regardless. There's nothing you don't want to go on about to flaunt what an incredible bot you're dating. On a roll, you start to get into what unexpected prowess he has in "late night sessions" when the door built into the cave suddenly implodes just as your captor is attempting to flee.

·In the rush of bots that destroy the security systems and pounce on the captor to get a punch in for making fun of their friend, you're suddenly lifted by tender and loving hands to look into a brilliant pair of bespectacled optics, and you realize that Rung has never before looked so wonderfully happy. There's a depth of emotion new to him as he uses a laser scalpel to carefully cut you free, and you're compelled to hug him tightly as he holds you close, his spark almost singing into your ear as you cuddle him. Gentle reasurances that you're fine now, that he loves you, and that you don't need to worry about being taken ever again are whispered the entire walk back to the ship. You'd swear he has a tone that borders on reverence. Frankly you're just happy to be free and back with him, though you're amused by how boundless his love for you is in the following days. Rung barely lets you walk anywhere and showers you with kisses every chance he gets.

·In a rare moment of solitude, a bot takes advantage of the opportunity to let you know something very important, saying that you deserve to hear what happened while you were kidnapped. Though he remained as in control as ever, it had been obvious to the entire ship he'd been wracked with guilt and worry from the start, and that hearing your captor taunt him had only made the torment worse. Your outburst had actually driven him to jump up and put his glasses back on, his stoic exterior shattering as his jaw dropped in shock and awe. He's so accustomed to being forgotten, that to be defended so aggressively doesn't initially compute. Witnesses swear he lit up in a blush that rivaled the Matrix at full power. He'd worried immensely for you of course, but hearing the intensity of your love for him... Some would swear afterwards he'd shed tears.

Skids

·Your partner does not take anything lying down, but unfortunately enough for you, you're dangling from chains and in a rather precarious situation to boot. Though you'd like to lay into the bot keeping you prisoner, logic is winning for now. It doesn't take a genius to know you're in no place to get mouthy. Not that said strategy is at all easy; your captor is a gigantic jerk! They've been bragging to your poor friends for hours, with a special taunting emphasis on Skids and his "inability" to protect his small human significant other. Rage begins to boil just below the surface before long, yet a commitment to keeping a lid on the feeling works surprisingly well for a while. However, you blow your top the second your captor makes a jab about Skids having to resort to human companionship in the wake of his "amnesia leaving him no friends to speak of".

·Having spent plenty of time getting tipsy with your lover, you've picked up his brilliant talent for cursing and allow it to run free. The wave of profanity alone is enough to make your captor freeze, to say nothing of your incredible volume and the unyielding rage in your voice. "Are you KIDDING me you cheap knock off of a forgetable movie villain?! You're picking on his amnesia?! Skids doesn't need many memories to know how to kick your scrawny aft!" There's so much anger you're actually surprised by the depths of your own rage, but letting it out just feels too good for you to care, so you let the love for your partner fuel the tirade on his behalf.

·Far too angry to even register fear, you don't tone it down in the slightest when commanded to shut up. If anything, it only incenses you further. What, can they not handle a target capable of talking back? Did their brilliant plan not account for people not falling for their tough guy act? Because if so, they're really screwed once Skids gets here. He knows how to move covertly on their own ship, what makes this jerk think they'll see him coming? And these useless defense systems won't save them, your partner has torn through way more and come out intact! "He's squared up against whole squadrons and not flinched, what makes you think you stand a chance?! He knows I can handle myself long enough to take care of you!"

·Wishing you had a drink to help the words flow a little smoother, you nevertheless find great satisfaction in the pause you're giving your captor. Clearly they hadn't looked into Skids deeply enough before kidnapping his beloved little partner. Still, you're far from done with getting even. This loser insulted the greatest and most confounding mystery of the bot you love, and you have no intention of letting that go. As they go off to recalibrate their insufficient security systems, you start to go on about how Skids acts on instinct in combat, to the point he's like nothing most bots have ever seen. You're so fired up you almost start to gush over his natural prowess and instinctive drive in the bedroom when a most peculiar sound silences you along with everything else.

·From a climate control vent carved straight into the rock overhead, there's a loud rumble before the cover simply falls off, crashing to the ground before a blue blur tumbles out to start swinging a sword. You'd swear that a single blink is all it takes before Lost Light crewmembers start pouring in as backup. There's just enough time for you to see your captor captured in a most indignifying way before a thick accent is laughing with delight upon seeing you. The flash of a blade follows and you're caught in cupped servos that bring you in for a powerful hug, leaving you laughing helplessly in turn as your beloved begins gushing over you in the accent you so adore. Skids is positively beaming the entire trip back to the ship, his smile absolutely radiant as he goes back and forth between declaring his love and praising everything about you.

·While he's always been affectionate, the lovable bot amps it up to new levels over the course of the next few days. Cuddles happen almost every minute he's with you, and frequent trips to Swerve's see him treating you with every drink you want and becoming a flustered mess that stares at you in lovestruck awe. When he goes to fetch another round one night, a happy bystander let's you know he was shattered by your kidnapping, only to turn around at your show of utter bravery and devotion. Anger had turned to awe at how his tiny partner had stood up for him, bringing a kind of peace to him that went beyond reasurance you were okay. Having heard you defend him, despite him being a bot with no past, had made him truly see that he could indeed be worth something just for being what he was. Someone as wonderful as you wouldn't want him otherwise.

[dzamie-oc]

06 - Mech

Ah, aren’t Synths wonderful? Modular, and you can make them do gender and sexuality in whatever way you please.

Length: 2200 words Rating: M (no sex actually happens, but genitalia are discussed a lot) Summary: A woman and her robo-derg go shopping for some parts to spice up their bedroom activities.

Minors DNI, please. It’s rated M for a reason.

-----

Lauren and her Synth, Haskell, stood at the entrance to the robotics store. It wasn’t an official outlet for his manufacturer, so they would technically be voiding his warranty, something that might have concerned them if he had still had one. As it was, however, the reason they simply stood there was less robotic and far more human.

[I told you for weeks, I’m only going in after you,] Haskell said, his primary lights a mirthful yellow against his blue and light grey plating, [watching your face go through so many emotions is well worth the delay.]

The human gently shoved him, her face hot with a blush. “Shut up, I’m getting to it.”

[Would it help if you pretended we were here to look at different parts?] The synthetic dragon took a couple steps forward, peering at the shelves. [I wonder if they’ve got a simulation link set up for a naga lower half. Oh, don’t worry, Lauren, it’s well outside of our price range, I’d only be demoing in VR. You won’t have to worry about my tail wrapping you up in your sleep any more than it already does.]

This did not in any way help Lauren’s blush, but she did stomp forward and stubbornly cross the threshold into the store. Haskell’s visor displayed blue carets for his eyes as he followed her inside. On a side thread, he bragged to other synths in their IRC chat room how positively adorable his owner looked after some well-placed teasing, and he received some encouragement, and a link to an image of a synth with a hand at the end of her tail giving him three thumbs up.

“Hey, you two!” one of the employees, a two-tailed fox, called, “good to see you again. Haskell, how’s that projector module treating you?”

“Oh, hey Shay!” Lauren replied, her nervousness instantly abated. “It’s been real useful. Now we don’t have to settle for my desktop’s monitor to watch stuff together.”

[Or my visor.]

“That was ONE TIME. Anyway, thanks for the recommendation, and... half un-thanks for telling Haskell that it’s so port-neutral.” The human jabbed a thumb towards Haskell. “Nothing quite like walking back from the bathroom to see this guy on the bed, zero legs, with a My Little Pony AMV projecting out the bottom of his torso onto the opposite wall.”

Shay looked on the verge of laughter. The blue and grey Synth scrossed his arms and turned his head up and away, while his visor displayed a gentle U shape on each side. [My taste is far beyond you organics’ comprehension. Time will vindicate me.]

“A blast and a half, I’m sure. Anyway, what brings you two back in? Looking for hardware or software?”

“Oh. Uh, hardware,” Lauren said.

[In more ways than one,] Haskell added, to a returning and deepening blush on his owner’s face.

The fox furrowed her brow, then a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Ohhh... well! Let me go grab Conny, and she’ll show you to that rather special workshop.” She strode over to a door behind the counter, stuck her head in, and shouted, “Ay Conny! Got a customer for the fun stuff! Come and get ‘em!”

A few seconds later, a synth head popped out from behind the door, pale red around a dark visor featuring a slit-pupil eye display. “The fun stuff? Oh, must be the human lady and the blue bot. Come around and follow me.”

Haskell and Lauren shared a look at the prospect of walking behind the registers, but after a moment, Haskell shrugged and followed the other Synth through the employees door, with Lauren behind him, mindful of his tail. [She pinged me over short-wave, said it’s standard enough for this sort of thing,] he explained.

Conny turned out to be not only a pale red, but an entire slightly-desaturated rainbow from head to foot. Her tail had fewer segments than Haskell’s, but was the same length, so he assumed it was some storage model. When she turned from the hallway into a side room, something rattled in her tail, and he mentally congratulated himself on the guess. The human and Synth also stepped inside, and were immediately surprised at what they saw.

It was clearly a Synth workshop, with a sturdy table, a selection of mechanical and electronic tools on one wall, and a number of wires for fast data transfer. But what was unusual to the pair was a solid half of a wall featuring artificial penises and vaginas. Haskell quickly switched his primary lights to a reddish pink to fit the room, same as he saw Conny do. Many of the genitals were clearly modeled after other species; Haskell quickly identified pairs resembling those of dolphins, wolves, nagas, and several kinds of dragon. But some were purely fantastical, or even designed to look congruous on a Synth. On the opposite wall hung various erotic chestplates, although those weren’t nearly as varied in their design. Haskell’s attention did linger on a pair that featured a port on each breast where the nipple would be on a human or anthro, and the thought spurred him to link a photo to the IRC, followed by “consider: boobs that can grab you back.” To his surprise, one of the other denizens shared that she had a model like that, and joked that she’d share photos for five bucks.

[So! My name is Delilah Conagher, but you can call me Conny,] the rainbow Synth said, [and this is where we keep the lewd. Now, you don’t have to answer this, but this is gonna be for you two? Or has...] A request for information appeared in Haskell’s comms; he let her see his name and pronouns. [Or has Haskell come with his owner, but plans to use this stuff on someone else?]

[Oh, I sure hope this is for us. Otherwise, I’m gonna be pretty let down after all that flirting we’ve done to each other.]

[Faaaaan-tastic. Now, what’re we kitting you out with?] Conny’s eyes curved up and a few twinkling stars blinked in her visor, a common sign that a Synth thought they were about to be very funny. [Are you getting a dongle, port, or rack?]

Haskell laughed, but Lauren, though smiling, looked mildly perplexed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Haskell laughed louder. Conny, however, just shook her head, though her lights fading to yellow as she did so signaled her amusement. [I could guess, but the guess with the highest accuracy is only 72%. If Haskell was using she/her, that drops all the way down to 43%.]

Now it was Haskell’s turn to be confused. His visor showed eyes looking up and away with one brow slightly down, as he remarked, [43 sounds low for four... well, five options with rack only. Surprisingly even distribution.] Lauren turned to him with a clear question on her tongue, so the Synth answered it for her, counting off on his fingers. [Dick or pussy, each with and without tits. Plus a fifth for just the tits. I’m still on the default “pan” from when we installed the sexuality software, so I happen to have saved plenty of examples to show you if you don’t believe me. Not all Synths, even. Only most.]

The human shook her head. “N- um... maybe later. But, Conny, we’re getting him a... a penis.”

Without audio, Conny sent Haskell a message saying, “Assuming only one between the legs or one set on the chest is sensible, but inaccurate. A good mechanic can do wonders.” Aloud, she addressed Lauren. [Wonderful, those are fun! And all of the designs here are made to be pleasurable to the giver and receiver - trust me on this - so there’s no bad answers, although there may be some better ones for each Synth. So, anything you’re looking for for your first one?]

“First one?”

[We’re modular,] both Synths said at once.

“Oh, right. Uh... well, I think I’ll pass on the... fleshy-looking ones. I think they’d clash with his body, and feel too different than- uh, nevermind.” As Lauren’s voice trailed off, Haskell put on a rather smug and pleased look.

Not missing a beat, Conny grabbed a small selection of more robotic-looking schlongs from the wall and set them out. [Now, this one here’s a great one, both as a first time and in general. It’s not the simplest, but it’s got a vibrate function that’s insulated from the rest of the body.] She then picked up one that looked more obviously draconic, but still with a robotic aesthetic: silvery top, glossy black underside. [And this one is far and away my favorite, both in shape and novelty. Bit on the higher end for price, though, I’ll be honest with you. Doesn’t stop it from being popular with my return customers, though.]

Lauren tentatively reached out, and Conny handed the penis to her, letting her turn it over in her hand. “I mean, it’s certainly nice, but what gives it that price?”

In reply, the rainbow Synth popped one hand off, took the dildo back, and slotted it in. After a few seconds to recognize and prepare the device, the glossy black underside revealed itself to be an RGB light, slowly fading through a few colors. Haskell stared at it. Lauren, on the other hand, had a different reaction. “No. Absolutely not. I know you, Haskell, and there’s no way I’m giving you even half a reason to try to fuck me to Caramelldansen.”

[It’d be funny, though.]

“Not happening.” She pointed to one of the others. “That one looks nice, though. Haskell, how do you feel about that one?”

The blue and grey Synth nodded. [I think I’d look rather good with that on me. If you think you’d feel good with it in you, we should give it a shot.]

Conny looked between the two of them, then nodded at Haskell. [Then just hop up on the table and I’ll get you set up. Oh, that reminds me: I can also modify your lower chassis - a couple hundred, same as other port additions - to get you a proper crotch mount or two. Assuming you’re pretty standard, the best I can do is essentially a workaround where I plug it in the rear, behind your tail, and give you some fittings to secure it around your legs and/or waist.]

“It’s not necessary, though, right?”

Haskell laid down and soon felt the weight of his tail vanish, followed by a system notification that a module had been detached. The Synth mechanic kept talking. [No, but without it, Haskell will probably need or at least want your help to get the penis on and off.]

[Sounds worth it to me,] Haskell said.

“It’s not your $200.”

[Sure it is. You did tell me I could have my own account for stuff on the side. Remember, because I was ask- whining for- hold on. I was ask- whining for video games.] He gave Lauren a flat stare. [Really?]

Lauren held her hands up. “In my defense, I had forgotten I’d done that before I promised to stop touching your admin controls without telling you. But yeah, that’s fine then. Get yourself some penis compatibility.”

[Great! Alright, doc, fix me up!] Haskell said, then slipped himself into Safe Mode.

-----

[Oh, that looks fantastic,] the Synth said, admiring his new dick, [thanks for matching it to my colors.]

[I’d be a pretty poor mechanic if I couldn’t,] Conny replied, [but thanks. Now, go ahead and disable sensitivity in the device settings, or at least drop it as low as possible.]

[Huh? Doesn’t that go against the point?]

[Some modules can be equipped in public. This is not one of them. And trust me, you don’t want that thing anywhere near the default levels when you remove it, at least not until you’re used to the sensation.]

Lauren glanced down the hallway. “Yyyyeah, let’s not traumatize whoever’s in the store and potentially find out which of us is legally liable for you going streaking.”

Haskell nodded, and after a couple seconds, pulled the penis out of its socket, then fit a grey plate over the port, hiding it.

[And this should go without saying, but there are no returns on this sort of thing. If something goes wrong, you might get a partial refund if you send us the diagnostics, but once that dick is out of the store, we don’t want it back in here.]

Lauren took the cock and gave it a curious squeeze before placing it in the bag Conny had provided. “Fair enough. And will Shay ring us up out there, or...?”

[Yep! Alright, you two, have fun out there.]

As the two left the store after paying, Haskell linked a photo of the purchase he had taken earlier to his IRC friends. Some congratulated him on a well-chosen mod, a couple of them asked him to DM photos of it equipped, and one person floated the idea of attaching two of them to that pair of breasts with ports.

All in all, a productive day, and a precursor to a hopefully unforgettable night.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 6

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 4012

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (bisexual orgy, baby making, edging, over-stimulation, oral sex, anal sex, rough sex, throat fucking, face sitting, vibrators, cock-rings, electrostimulation, multiple orgasms).

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 6: Making a Baby

Immediately after the ceremony, we had to sign all the legal paperwork and we had some photos taken.  The bots Tony had made when we were in Asgard had taken some photos at the bonding but as that had been interrupted by a large battle, there were none posed of us together as a family.  It was definitely nice we got to have this moment recorded when the bigger one hadn’t been.

The sun was setting by the time we walked over to the area on the beach set up with tables and hanging lanterns that would host our reception.  There were two large round tables, one for us and one for the guests, and next to the long tables where the buffet would be set up, there was a small round table with a large cake shaped like the Avengers Tower.

Waiters had been walking around handing out tropical-themed canapés that included coconut shrimp, chicken skewers with pineapple and mango, and mini black bean and corn empanadas, while the band played soft rock songs by Tony’s favorite bands.

When we arrived, the band stopped playing and Rhodey went up to the podium.

“Well, well, well,” he said.  “Looks like our little group of deviates has finally arrived, all official and everything.  Can we all stand and welcome them, complete and whole, and two of them legally married.”

Everyone stood and clapped as we moved up to the dance floor.  Tony and I moved to the center while the other’s circled the edge.  The band began to play ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica.  Tony spun me into his arms and we began to slow dance to it, turning slowly around the dance floor.  Steve and Bruce stepped out onto the dance floor and Tony spun me into Steve’s arms before turning and pulling Bruce against him.  We danced in pairs for a few bars and Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and Thor moved in.  Wanda began to dance with me and I kept my cheek pressed against hers as we moved around the floor.  Finally, Sam and Clint moved in and we all switched again.  We spent the rest of the song slow dancing around each other and switching from partner to partner until we had each danced with everyone.

The song ended and we took our seats and Rhodey got back up to the podium.

“Now, we all came here from pretty far away… not like when they dragged our asses to Asgard, but still, it was a trip.  But we all know why we’re here,” Rhodey said as the staff began to set up the buffet with the starters.  “These guys are our family.  So thank you all for coming to celebrate with them.  It looks like they’re bringing out the food.  I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.  Let’s go eat.”

Our table went first.  The buffet was set up in sections.  One had a selection of cold seafood, like shrimp, oysters, and smoked salmon, one had things like crab cakes, different kinds of skewers with things from fish to tofu, stuffed mushrooms, tacos, and warm tartlets with tomato and bocconcini.  There was a salad station, and one with soups, as well as a table full of tropical fruit.  There was also a bar that was specializing in brightly colored tropical cocktails.

“Thank god,” Tony said as he began loading up his plate with crab legs.  “I’m starving.  I’ve been fasting so I’d look good in a suit.”

“Are you kidding?”  Natasha asked.  “You’re basically a coat hanger.  Everything looks good on you.”

Tony chuckled.  “Thanks, Red,” he said.  “But I didn’t want to be all bloated.”

“Well, eat up, you dope,” I teased.  “Gonna need your energy.”

“Already calling me a dope?”  Tony asked.

“You are a dope,” I teased.  “And don’t drink too much either.”

“Wow, Elise,” Tony deadpanned.  “We’re married two minutes and you’re already trying to change me.”

“I need you at your peak performance tonight,” I whispered and headed back to the table with my plate piled high with different things.

“Pfft,” Tony scoffed as he followed along after me.  “That’s what Thor is for.”

“I can only ensure that you are fertile.  I can’t ensure you’ll be able to perform,” Thor said playfully.

“But if you’d like one of us to get Elise pregnant,” Steve added.

“Woah now,” Tony said, putting his hands up.  “Let’s not be hasty here.”

We ate our starters and drank and talked and as the plates were cleared away Rhodey got up to the podium again with a glass of champagne.  Waiters started filling everyone’s glasses.  There was a hibiscus flower in syrup sitting in the bottom of each glass and when the champagne was added to it, the flower appeared to bloom in the glass.

“Now, platypus,” Tony said.  “No bad mouthing me.  You promised.”

“I feel like this speech should have been done in Asgard.  But then there was some battle with angels and it became a little like work.  So we’ll do it here,” Rhodey said.  “I met Tony way back at MIT.  He was just an annoying kid who liked to show up all the students who were at least three years his senior.  But he has a way of growing on you.  I don’t know what I expected him to do with his life.  He was smart and funny and partying hard and that never ended for a long, long time.  For a while, I was worried he was going to burn out hot and leave a pretty corpse.  But it turns out, he’ll most likely outlive us all.  Back then I didn’t really see him as the marrying type.  Yet here we are. At his wedding.  The official Earth one after he just committed himself for 5000 years to 9 other people.  If you’d asked me back then if I thought he’d do that I’d have thought you were as drunk as Tony probably was.”

Rhodey looked over at Tony affectionately and Tony winked at him.  “I’m so happy for him.  He deserves a happy ending and he’s found it.  I know he loves them all.  And he loves being a dad.  He’s finally seemed to find that exact thing he needed.  A loving family.  I know it’s unconventional.  It took me a long time to understand it.  But Tony isn’t conventional.  Conventional was never going to work.  And while he went in reluctantly at first because a woman he got a crush on was gently leading him in, it’s been exactly what he needed,” Rhodey said and raised his glass.  “So I’d like you all to raise your glasses to finding your people and unconventional love.”

Everyone toasted to unconventional love and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink.  Rhodey returned to his chair, ruffling Tony’s hair as he passed him.

Steve stood and approached the podium.  “That’s quite the speech to be following,” Steve said.  “But I’d like to follow with the same theme about not believing what the future would bring.  I was born in 1918.  Over one hundred years ago.  I had a list of ailments that was taller than I was.  I was told I wouldn’t make it to adulthood.  Despite being told all the things I couldn’t do, I was determined to do them.  I made it to adulthood.  I started dating the boy I had a crush on for so long.  I even managed to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island.  But if you had told me back then, I would not only be marrying that boy but also eight other people, one of them an actual god, on a completely different planet, well, I probably would have had an asthma attack.”

There was laughter from everyone and Steve looked over at us all.  “Here we are though.  I didn’t expect it, let me tell you.  Someone once told me that if it wasn’t for war I was nothing.  It took nine people to make me realize otherwise.  And I love them all.  They each touch a part in me that’s unique and I’m so happy that… well, we all fell into this little arrangement.”  He took a breath and looked over at us.  “It hasn’t been without its obstacles.  But you can’t say you have a strong bond until you’ve overcome some obstacles together.  And we made it.  We’re getting our happily ever after.  So let’s toast to that.  Happily ever after.”

He raised his glass and everyone repeated ‘happily ever after’ while raising theirs.  Steve came back and took his seat and I went up next.

“We like to joke about being in the bad dad’s club,” I said as I stood in front of everyone.  “Most of us have our own stories of parental neglect.  I was raised being told I needed to marry rich, lock him in with some kids, and not care who he was sleeping with.  It made me reject all of that I barely dated.  I expected to just die alone.  And then one day I knocked a certain red-head over when I was running late for work and it changed my life forever.

“I have had my two kids.  And I did marry rich.  I also don’t care who my husband sleeps with. But I don’t think my parents had this in mind.  They’d hate this.  I don’t care.  I am happy.  I love these people.  I love the thing we’ve built together.  I’m excited about our future and what that means.  I’m excited to see how our family grows and what that means for us.  I love them all so much.  I never thought I’d ever want anything like this, but love is like a drug and I’m addicted.  Now I have it, I can’t imagine it being any other way.” I lifted my glass.  “So I ask you to raise your glass to finding your family.”

I took a drink while everyone repeated me and then returned to my seat.  Natasha grabbed my hand as I passed and pulled me down into a kiss.  Tony got up and spanked my ass as he passed me and I made a choked giggle into Natasha’s lips.

“So,” Tony said as he waggled his glass and a waiter came back over to refill it.   “We've all heard I was a bit of a mess. All I ever knew was abuse, manipulation, and neglect. So it took me a while to even think about trying to attempt monogamy. And well, we're here today, so obviously, that didn't work out for me either.”  There was laughter from everyone and Tony paused until it died down.  “These guys started up their little den of iniquity under my nose.  Oh, they invited me to join.  In fact, they told everyone else I was part of it, completely ignoring how closed off and angry I was.  They really didn’t want to take no for an answer, but I guess, I am me, so who can blame them?”  There was more laughter and he looked over at me.  “Then one day, I found this stray roaming around my tower.  I tried to resist her.  I even tried to get FRIDAY to kick her out of the building.  But she managed to crawl right in under my skin and take up residence there.  It hasn’t been smooth sailing. Like Spangles said, there have been some rough and downright scary times.  I kept locking them out, scared I was going to get hurt or end up hurting them.  It took a long, long time for them to teach me they were here for me and I was worth it.  Slowly, I realized I was healing.  That I was in love with all these people.  So I guess that is proof we all have hearts.  So I ask you to raise your glasses to love.  Whatever form it finds you in.”

I got up and kissed him deeply as everyone toasted and he pulled me close.  “I love you so much,” I whispered.

“Alright,” Sam said standing.  “Enough talking. Looks like the second course is here, let’s eat.”

The reception turned a little more party after that.  We ate, danced.  Cut the cake.  Bucky shoved his slice right into Steve’s face much to Tony’s amusement.  The cake was 10 different flavors and I was pretty determined to try them all.  The kids were taken to bed by their aunt and uncle just after the cake and by the time we left I was a tipsy, exhausted, and yet completely hyped up.

“Alright,” Tony said, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my neck.  “Let’s make a baby.”

“Not so fast, Tony,” Steve scolded.  “We all want to be part of this.  We are a family after all.”

“Besides,” Thor said.  “I thought you wanted my assistance.”

“Oh, yes,” I said as Sam approached me.  He ran his hands up under my skirt, pushing it up at the sides as he moved his hands to my ass.

“I don’t like the tone,” Tony said, suspiciously.  “What exactly are you people planning?”

“You people?”  Steve teased, pulling Tony back against him and palming his cock through Tony’s pants.  Sam brought his lips to mine and began to kiss me deeply and lovingly.  “Come on now, Tony.  We’re family.”

Tony made a choked groan and leaned his head back on Steve’s shoulder as Thor approached Tony.  He leaned in and kissed Tony hungrily and slipped one large hand into Tony’s pants and began to massage Tony’s balls.  There was a spark and a ripple through the air and Tony groaned loudly into Thor’s lips.

“All the other babies were conceived in an orgy by accident.  The only reason we know paternity is because Thor just knows that kind of thing,” Natasha said running her fingers down my neck.  “This is the first time we’re planning to get pregnant and we all want to be part of that even if we are planning paternity too.  So, little Elise here is going to be overstimulated.  We’re each going to make her come over and over and over until she can’t take it anymore.” 

Thor released Tony and moved over to me, pressing himself behind me and kissing my neck.  Sam pulled back and Thor tilted my head back and kissed me deeply.  He pressed his palm low on my stomach, just above my pubic mound.  There was that same spark and ripple as with Tony, and a dull ache ran through my core.

“You on the other hand,” Natasha said, grabbing Tony by the lapels and pulling him toward the bed.  “Will be edged until you're begging us to let you come.”

Thor pulled my dress off over my head and everyone else began to undress, either themselves or each other.  Clint picked me up and carried me to the bed tossing me on it.  Tony was on the far side of the bed.  He was naked and Natasha was sitting on his thighs and putting a cock ring on him.

Clint crawled between my legs and pushed them apart kneeling down and nosing at my cunt.  He pulled off my panties and licked a stripe up my folds, making my skin buzz.  Wanda climbed up on the bed beside me and straddled my face.  I hummed and lapped over her cunt, swirling it over her folds and dipping it inside her.  Clint began to flick his tongue over my clit and sucking on my pussy.

My hips jerked under him as Wanda’s rolled on my face and her fluids dripped down into my mouth.  I was vaguely aware that the others were kissing and grinding on each other near me and right on the other side of the bed Thor was sucking Tony’s cock while Natasha rode his face.

Clint thrust a finger inside me and began to suck on my clit.  He hit my g-spot immediately like his fingers had a magnetic attraction to that sweet spot inside me.  He sucked on my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. I moaned loudly into Wanda’s cunt, trying to focus my tongue on her clit, moaning louder each time she shuddered over me.  Clint’s fingers pushed harder and harder on my g-spot sending a jolt up my spine each time he did it.  My legs began to shake as my orgasm approached being fed by the feelings the others had and intensified.  I focussed on Wanda, sucking hard on her clit and pushing my tongue inside her.  I knew she was close too, I could feel it through her thread.  She always sat close to the edge once the rest of us began to enjoy ourselves.  I nipped at her clit and she moaned, coming on my face.  I let myself relax and as soon as I did, Clint pushed hard on my g-spot with two fingers and twisted his wrist.  I screamed out and came hard, bucking my hips against his face.

Clint got up and crawled over to where Tony was and Wanda climbed off me.  Natasha, Steve, and Bucky approached me.   Natasha guided me so I was straddling her face and Bucky pushed me forward so my face was at Natasha’s cunt.  Sam had pulled Wanda into his lap and they were kissing hungrily, while Thor was fucking Tony, and Tony sucked Bruce’s cock.

Bucky poured lube onto my ass and pushed a finger inside, fucking it slowly.  I moaned loudly and nuzzled at Natasha’s cunt as Natasha lapped over mine.  Steve slapped the head of his cock on Natasha's clit and teased it over my lips.  I sucked on the head and he thrust shallowly in and out of my mouth.

More lube was added to my ass along with a second finger.  I mewled and tried my best to relax as Bucky worked to loosen me up.  Steve pulled his cock from my mouth and sunk into Natasha.  I licked over his base and flicked my tongue over Natasha’s clit as Steve began to fuck her.  Bucky pulled his fingers out and added more lube.  I felt the head of his cock press against my ass and he began to ease into my ass.

“Fuck!”  I gasped.  The sound muffled by Natasha’s cunt.

Natasha gave my ass a spank and I clenched hard around Bucky’s cock, making him groan loudly.

Steve was fucking Natasha at a steady pace and I lapped over her cunt and the base of his cock, drinking up her arousal as it ran down his shaft.  Bucky fucked me slowly as Natasha sucked on my clit.  My muscles spasmed and clenched and I struggled to keep myself up.  The way I clenched and moaned seemed to spur Bucky on.  He picked up his pace, adding to the burn through me.  I started panting against Natasha’s cunt and she moaned and bucked under me.  I sucked her clit into my mouth and pressed my lips against it and flicked my tongue back and forth quickly.  Natasha mirrored my action and we both came moaning into each other.  Bucky and Steve fucked us through it before slipping out.  I rolled off the top of Natasha and lay panting as people moved around me.  Thor, Sam, and Bruce approached and I looked up at them and swallowed hard.  “How many times have you climaxed, my queen?”  Thor asked as he lifted me and moved me so my head was hanging over the end of the bed.

“Two,” I answered as I let my head drop over the edge of the bed.  I could see what the others were doing to Tony now, but I knew he was struggling to hold it together.

Sam tutted.  “That doesn’t sound like nearly enough.  I think we might need the vibrator boys.”

He went to the drawers and pulled out a small bullet vibrator.  Bruce and Thor both lubed up their cocks and Bruce put pillows under my hips and eased his cock into my ass.  Thor straddled my chest, pinning me to the mattress and pushed my tits around his thick shaft and slowly began to roll his hips.  Sam gave Bruce the vibrator and he turned it on and pressed it onto my clit.  The setting was low but it still made me buck up and moan loudly.

“Open up, princess,” Sam said.

I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock into my mouth.

Thus began one of the most intense sexual experiences I’ve ever had.

It started slow, Thor massaging my tits as he fucked them slowly, Bruce matched his pace as he fucked my ass and held the vibrator against my clit, and I sucked Sam’s cock.  It very quickly escalated.  Each man seemed to be spurred on by the others.  Bruce started fingering me as he fucked me and Sam started fucking my throat.

The first orgasm hit quickly and Bruce upped the setting of the vibrator.  I cried out and bucked under them and Thor sent a jolt through me making me come again.  Each time I came they went harder and upped the buzz on the vibe.  By the third my vision was going fuzzy thanks to the brutal pace they were setting.  Bruce groaned and jerked hard into my ass coming inside me.  He slipped out and Thor moved down and took his place.  He was large and his cock stretched me painfully, but I was light-headed and fuzzy and I welcomed the pain.  He upped the buzz on the vibrator and I came immediately.

Thor made an almost graphic squelching sound each time he thrust into me as Bruce’s come acted as a lubricant for his cock.  Sam groaned and pulled back slightly as he came into my mouth, coating my tongue with thick, salty ropes of semen.

I moaned and swallowed it but Thor didn’t even seem close.  Bruce and Sam stayed close to me as Thor kept fucking my ass.  Sam massaged my breasts and pinched my nipples and Bruce took over with the vibrator leaving Thor free to just hold my hips and fuck my ass hard.  One orgasm just blended into the next and I couldn’t focus on anything else.  I screamed out and everything went black.  When I came to Thor had moved me a little and was no longer inside me.  “Oh good,” he said smiling.  “Did we push you too far?”

I shook my head slowly.

“Good, because Tony is ready for you,” Thor said, gently and kissed me softly.

He moved away and I opened my arms.  Tony crawled up between my legs.  “I’m not gonna last long,” he said, apologetically as he eased inside of me.

I moaned.  “Good.”

He chuckled and slowly rolled his hips as his body stayed pressed close to me.  Everything ached but my cunt welcomed him.  I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight and we began to kiss.  Everyone else was just sitting around us watching.  Tony was right though, he was sitting right on the edge and it was only a minute before he groaned and was releasing inside me.  I didn’t care that I didn’t come again.  I had done more than enough of that.  I hummed happily as he filled me and collapsed down on top of him.

“Was that it?  Is she pregnant now?”  Clint asked.

There was laughter in the group.  “Takes a week or so, Clint,” Bruce said, with no patronization in the tone, just kindly educating his husband.

“It will, though, right?”  Clint asked.

“They are both at peak fertility,” Thor said.  “It still may not happen and I would recommend that Elise and Tony try again tomorrow.  But it should work.”

I hummed and kissed Tony’s neck. “You hear that?”

He hummed in return.  “Yeah.  More sex or us.”

I giggled and nudged his cheek with my nose.  “Not that part.”

He laughed and kissed me just under my ear.  “Yeah.  We’re gonna have another baby on the way.”

// NEXT

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #1: Fish

To say I wasn’t expecting an attack would be an understatement.

I was in my van, driving my oldest daughter to soccer practice.  (Why yes, I am a soccer mom.  I’m big enough to admit it.)  Natalie was supposed to be putting on her shin guards, but instead she was playing the Nintendo 3DS Arista had brought, on the grounds that technically it was her 3DS.  I believe Arista’s was out of battery, although it was the kind of detail I try not to pay too much attention to.  Arista, of course, had whined about this for ten minutes straight.  “It’s not fair!  I brought that 3DS!  You said you’d let me play!  Mommm, Natalie won’t let me play!”  And so on. This was partially, though not fully, drowned out by the sound of Theo singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” loudly, enthusiastically, off-key and with half the words made up, for what may well have been the tenth time in a row.

“Mom!  Make Theo be quiet.  I can’t concentrate!”

“Just give me back the 3DS! You aren’t even supposed to be playing it!”

“—itsy bitsy spider, gob up the stop again, itsy bitsy spider went on the bo bo bot, so wong go the dwain and it quash the spider out—“

“That isn’t even how it goes, Theo.  It goes ‘Itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout—'“

“If you’re just gonna sing to Theo you can give me back the game.  Mommm, she isn’t even playing it and she won’t give it back!”

“I’m sing it, Natwee!  I’m sing it my way!”

“Yeah, well your way is wrong, cause you’re a baby.”

“ITSY BITSY NATWEE, CAN’T SING THE SPIDER SONG, CAUSE THEO IS SING IT LA DA DOO DOO LA LA—“

“Come on! Let me play!”

With all this going on, I had no hope of getting back enough of my own concentration to change lanes, so I had been stuck behind a car carrier lugging SUVs for the past ten minutes.  I hated being behind large trucks; they block my view of the rest of the road.  And here I was with nothing in the CD player but Gary’s smooth jazz, when plainly I needed death metal to drown this out.  I’d have given my pinky finger to be able to put on the radio, but radio and I did not get along.

As if to underscore this, a sudden burst of static cut through the horn solo.  I frowned, wondering if I’d gotten mixed up and this was the radio after all.

“Hey, cool!” Arista said, having apparently found something worthy of distracting her from her quest to recover the 3DS.  “My mood ring is red.  Mom, what’s it mean when your mood ring goes red?”

I went cold, and glanced at my own left hand on the steering wheel.  The stone in my ring, normally opal, had turned obsidian black.

I glanced back up to see the top SUV on the car carrier starting to slide.

“Aspída!” I shouted, having no time to do anything more complex than that.  Then I spun the wheel and swerved wildly onto the right shoulder, scraping the jersey wall, as the SUV slid off the carrier’s ramp and came careening down at us.

Distantly I was aware of my kids screaming, but all my attention was on surviving this. The SUV slammed into the shield I had just cast and bounced into traffic, making the car shudder. The small truck that had been behind me struck the SUV, sending it spinning across the road. Meanwhile I’d slammed hard on my brakes, coming to a full stop about twenty feet away from where the SUV ending up crashing into the jersey wall ahead of me. The small truck pulled over, in front of the SUV. The car carrier continued blithely on into the distance.

At least they hadn’t all fallen. That would have been a lot harder to deal with. I could have done it, but I would not have liked to explain it to the kids.

“Mom! Mom! What was that? What happened?” Natalie screamed.  Theo was crying hysterically, and Arista was gasping, hyperventilating.

I turned around in my seat. “Arista! Inhaler, now! Natalie, help her grab it!” I wanted to unbuckle, to go take Theo into my arms and calm him, to grab Arista’s inhaler and give it to her, but I didn’t dare. My ring was still black; Arista and Natalie’s rings were still both red.

The guy who’d been driving the small truck was coming toward me, walking along the shoulder, and he looked furious. Of course, from any reasonable human being’s perspective, I’d had nothing to do with the SUV that had fallen off the car carrier and smashed into his car, but with my ring black I didn’t dare assume he was a reasonable human being. I’d read enough about road rage incidents in the paper; I had to assume he had a gun.

I threw the car into reverse and drove backward as quickly as I dared, which was a lot slower than the cars zipping past me on the highway were going, but a lot faster than one dude walking on the shoulder. He began running toward me. “Katev̱odó̱no̱,” I whispered, shoved the gearshift into drive, and pulled out onto the highway, lurching from 0 to 60 in three seconds and slamming myself and my children back against our seats. The car behind me laid on the horn – I’d cut it off. “Sorry,” I said, more to myself than to the driver who obviously couldn’t hear me, but now I was back up to full highway speed, weaving in and out of traffic so that neither the guy I’d just cut off nor the driver of the small truck could catch up with me.

I pulled off the highway at the first exit that came up, watching as my ring dulled to a grayish opalescent color. We weren’t safe, but we weren’t in deadly danger either.

Arista’s breathing was normal again. Theo was still crying. “Mom, where are we going?” Natalie asked. “Don’t I have to get to practice?”

“You’re skipping practice today, Nally.” She used to call herself that. She couldn’t get the middle syllable of her own name, so she was Nally. Nowadays she usually rolls her eyes when I call her that, but this time, she didn’t. I could see her face in my rear view mirror; she was pale and shaken.

“Because we just had an accident?”

“We didn’t have an accident,” Arista said. “We almost had an accident.”

“Right,” I said. “We’re going home, and we’re going to eat ice cream and we’re going to relax.”

“Ice cream?” Theo asked, his sobs becoming weaker and less pronounced.

“Yep! Who wants an ice cream soda, who wants a milkshake and who wants a sundae?”

Kids are sometimes very easy to bribe. Though I suspected that Natalie was letting herself be bribed rather than challenging me. She knew something weird had just happened, but she didn’t want to ask me what, or perhaps didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Another old terror raised its head. What if she was like me? What if all of them were? What if they could use magic?

I shook my head to banish the thought. No one had found us. No one had sent either of them an invitation to school. Natalie was 12, Arista was 10… they were old enough that they could have gotten invitations by now. I’d gotten mine when I was 9, though my parents hadn’t been persuaded to send me to a boarding school until I was 13.

I’d wanted to go. I’d begged for it. I’d wanted to learn magic so, so badly.

I couldn’t even remember how that had felt, now.

 ***

When we got home, I put the girls in charge of getting the ice cream, the Coke, the sundae fixings, the milk and the blender out, and Theo in charge of washing his hands, going to the bathroom, changing his clothes and washing up. He’d been potty trained for nearly a year, but I’d nearly peed myself during the almost-accident; I could hardly hold it against a little boy that he’d wet his pants. Theo was obviously very embarrassed by it, though, so I didn’t acknowledge that he’d done so, just gave him the opportunity to wash himself up and change to save face.

I went straight downstairs to my fish tanks in the basement.

The filters didn’t hum. The tank lights weren’t on. The room smelled like ozone and smoke. At least one of the surge suppressors that ran my tank filters and lights was blackened. And every single fish in all four of my tanks was floating on top of their water, dead.

The opal on my ring was still dark grey.

In Homeric Greek – the language I cast spells in, though this wasn’t a spell – I said softly, “Brave heroes, I commend your souls to the Elysian Fields. The gods will honor you.” I didn’t actually think the ancient Greeks had believed fish would go to the Elysian Fields, but then, I also didn’t actually believe in the Elysian Fields, or the later Christian version, Heaven. If humans had souls – and they might, I’d seen Jason so many times I found it hard to believe that all of him could literally be gone, forever – then fish could as well, maybe. These fish hadn’t exactly volunteered to die to save my family, but they’d been feeder goldfish, destined for the belly of a pet predator or an agonizing, choking death due to high ammonia levels and lack of oxygen from the overcrowding in the feeder tanks. I’d given them a better, longer life than they could otherwise have hoped for.

Whatever had killed them, I hoped it had been fast. It looked like some kind of electrical short, maybe. A month ago one of those had taken out all the fish in tank four; I’d replaced the filter, and the surge protector, and the GFCI outlet the surge protector was plugged into, but when magic is targeting you, all of the sane and reasonable precautions you can take may end up coming to nothing. The fish had died because I’d bound them to my family and enchanted them to take on our bad luck. Most of the time, that meant fish died one by one over a period of months, as all of the normal bad luck that might occur to a family just failed to happen – my kids never got scraped knees, our cars never broke down, Gary made it through every round of layoffs at his company, none of us ever got sick.

When the fish started dying fairly rapidly last month, starting with the electrical short, the stone in my ring had been purple – not white opal, not the gray it was right now, not the black it had turned on the highway. I’d put more fish into service and it had faded to white. The fish had been doing reasonably well; I’d thought the danger was over.

But today all of them were dead. And I didn’t dare go out and get more; whatever malevolent spell had targeted me and my family would work a lot more effectively outside the shields I had around the house. Petco would ship me fancy fish, but not feeders. Which meant firstly that it would cost a lot more money to put more fish into service, secondly that I wouldn’t be able to leave the house again until tomorrow when the fish arrived (and what would I do about the girls going to school? They couldn’t leave either, and I couldn’t explain to them or to Gary why not.) And thirdly, that the girls, and Gary, would see the change, think I was taking Gary’s advice about getting nicer fish who could actually serve as pets, and they’d be horribly disappointed when the fish died.

Maybe I could have two layers of fish, I thought. Pet fish upstairs and feeders down here. Order neon tetras and a tank for overnight delivery, set them up, go out and buy more feeders as soon as I had the neons in service.

The thought flickered through my mind that I could buy feeder mice instead. Mammals are stronger and have more life force, and more resistance to malevolent magic. Feeder mice were in the same position as feeder goldfish – they were destined to die. I’d just be giving them a good life before it happened.

But my children would get attached to the mice. Would give them names. Would cry when they died.

I closed my eyes. I needed more power to protect the family than I had at the moment. I’d given up so much of it for my anonymity and my family’s safety, back before I’d even met Gary, when the only family I’d had to protect were my parents.

To get it back, to protect them now, I’d have to break some old compacts. But those old compacts weren’t working well enough anyway, obviously, if someone was targeting me.

“Moommm! We’re ready!” Arista yelled down the stairs.

“I’m coming,” I said, and headed up. I’d deal with the magic later. Right now, I’d promised my kids ice cream, to distract them from near-death and any weirdness they’d observed, and as both a magus and a mother, I’d learned to keep my promises.

***

This is a piece from a WIP “Not Even Past”, about a former child mage student who had to save the world with her group of friends, all of whom died except her. She left the world of magic behind and became a soccer mom. But now the world of magic is coming back for her.

[crawgluvr4]

(ao3)

they’re in brazil, somewhere on the northern coast. the omnium has stopped sending out kaiju, and started sending out strike bots, so they’re in their tents, camped out and waiting for the next sign of attack.

two to a tent. liao stays with ana, reinhardt with torbjorn, and gabriel with jack, obviously. 

it’s late july, so it’s horrible and humid, even at 2am. there’s a dehumidifying fan, portable, absolutely useless. gabriel sits on the bed mat and glares at it. 

“being angry will just make you hotter,” jack tells him. he’s lying face down on the mat, occasionally spritzing water over himself with a spray bottle.

gabriel thinks its ridiculous and pointless. “your opinion of my hotness is irrelevant.”

“not what i meant.” jack sprays him with the bottle; it’s cool for about two seconds before he just feels sweaty again. “at least try to get some sleep. maybe the bots will take pity on us and attack alaska next.”

“you know i fucking hate the cold.” gabriel flops back onto the mat, head landing on jack’s leg. he gets an annoyed grunt for it. “but this isn’t heat, it’s punishment.”

“that’s stupid.” jack says it with immense fondness. “you’re stupid.”

“not as much as you.” gabriel pauses, smiling. “you ever wonder how long we’ll be doing this?”

“what, insulting each other?” jack sprays himself again, and some lands on gabriel’s face. “‘til we die.”

“i meant the horrible camping out to risk our lives against robots,” gabriel says, wiping his face. “can’t insult each other forever if we’re dead.”

“i’d come all the way from hell to haunt you in heaven, i promise.”

gabriel snorts. “love how you think either of us are getting into heaven. you don’t even believe in an afterlife.”

“you do,” jack shrugs, putting the bottle down on the ground. “good enough for me.”

“i don’t- well, not like… well, you know.” gabriel turns onto his side, looks up at the back of jack’s head. “it’s complicated.”

“i know.” jack’s been in his head, of course he does. “i don’t think we’ll be doing this forever, by the way. it’s been what, five years? history dictates it won’t go on that much longer.”

“that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.” gabriel elbows him in the side. “holy shit.”

“ow. call it optimism.” jack turns over himself, kneeing gabriel off his legs. “really, though, i don’t know. there’s a lot of bots, but we’ve always won.”

“not everyone has.” gabriel thinks of the pairs that have gone out to sea and come back in pieces, or not at all. “not everyone’s so lucky.”

“you think it’s luck?” jack’s eyes shift to him from the roof, intensely curious. “you don’t just think we’re that good?”

“has to be some luck.” gabriel shuffles up the mat, finally letting himself rest on his pillow. “love can’t conquer all.”

jack goes a little pink. “ah, that’s not true. and also gay.”

“you’re gay,” a practiced response. “i don’t think perfect sync means everything, you know? they keep adapting. so we have some measure of luck, cause otherwise they’d have caught us off guard by now.”

“mmm, fair.” jack lets his hand fall back onto gabriel’s, probably the most contact he can stand in the heat. “if we do get caught off guard, then, i’d rather be with you.”

“that’s sweet.” a beat. “wonder what it’s like to die in the drift.”

“jesus christ, gabe.” jack laughs. “that’s morbid.”

“well, it could happen!” gabriel elbows him again, more gently this time. “at least you’ll be able to insult me one last time as we get eaten by a giant monster robot.”

“as if you’d ever let me get the last word.” jack frowns. “or thought? whatever.”

not on your life, gabriel thinks at him. 

jack laughs, softly. “you tell ana about that yet?”

“nah.” he links his fingers with jack’s. “feels a bit too private, still. i’m sure she has an inkling anyway.”

“probably. too sharp for her own good.” jack chuckles a little. “it’s nice. still prefer actually talking, most of the time. and i like your voice.”

“aw.” gabriel grins. “yours is tolerable too, i guess.”

jack rolls his eyes.

they lie like that for a while, not quite getting to sleep, but not awake, either. gabriel has always found it hard to sleep without a blanket, an impossibility in this heat. he realizes he’s still awake at some point, and opens his eyes - it’s still dark. they’re due to be up and about for 6, so he resigns himself to less than ideal sleep. at least he can go a day or two without and be alright.

it’s a little cooler - maybe the fan is working properly, but he no longer feels like he’s going to melt out of his own skin, so he shifts a little closer to jack. there is a soft feeling of warmth and comfort as he does, not his own. jack turns to him, snakes one arm around his waist, and smiles just a little, still trying to settle into sleep.

he really is gorgeous. gabriel feels lucky, to have him out of everyone else on the planet. even if they did die tomorrow, he has a feeling it would be together.

now that was morbid. he frowns to himself. 

“jack,” gabriel says, after a long pause. 

“mgh.” jack cracks open an eye. “what’s up? you’re worried.”

“i love you,” he says, simply. 

“i know.” jack shuffles forward a bit, kisses him on the nose. “i love you too.”

“but.” gabriel holds onto jack’s arm, keeping him there. “ah. i don’t know.”

“yeah you do,” jack states, then kisses him just to the side of his mouth. “tell me, what’s up? you owe me. i was nearly asleep.”

“you were not.” gabriel kisses him back, properly. jack makes a noise of surprise. “i would much rather do this, actually.”

“you know the other tents are like two metres away, yeah?” jack doesn’t sound like he minds. “and we’re in a jungle.”

“i’m just trying to kiss you, you shithead.” gabriel bites back a laugh. “i love you. i really do.”

“i love you-” gabriel interrupts him with another kiss. “too. hey, let me finish!”

“nah.” he wraps his arms around jack properly, heat be damned. “would rather kiss you.”

“not sleep? remember sleep?” jack kisses him back, anyway. he breaks away after a minute. “mmm, i find it hard to believe this is what you were worried about.”

“alright.” gabriel buries his face in jack’s neck. “i was thinking.”

“rare, for you.”

“shut up.” he feels nervous all of a sudden. “you said you saw us doing this for the rest of our lives.”

“not the war thing,” jack clarifies. “obviously.”

“yeah. but being like this?”

“well, hopefully we’d have like, a house, not a tent in a warzone, yeah.” gabriel feels jack’s laugh in his chest. “yeah, for the rest of our lives. you’re stuck with me now. is that what you’re worried about?”

“not really.” gabriel kisses his neck again; jack squirms a little. “i think it would be cool if we… got married.”

jack pushes him back immediately, staring at him, eyes wide. there’s a tiny reflection of red light in them, blinking from the fan. “are you fucking serious?”

“wow, you can just say no.” gabriel feels a little hurt. “thought i was stuck with you?”

“oh shut up that is not what i mean.” it comes out all as one word, nearly, and gabriel feels silly. “in a war? gabe, marriage mightn’t even exist if the world fucking ends.”

“all the more reason to do it before that happens, right?” he tries shrugging, still nervous. jack hasn’t exactly said yes. “like, you know, tomorrow?”

“we’re going on a strike mission tomorrow,” jack reminds him. he’s frowning. “nobody here can do that. i thought you wanted to get married in a church.”

“pfft, overrated.” gabriel tightens his grip again, but jack is still holding him firmly back. “so that is a no?”

jack narrows his eyes, scrutinizing him. “you’re serious? you want to get married in an apocalyptic war?”

“of course i’m fucking serious, you prick.” gabriel kind of wants to throttle him for being so dense, wants an answer just a little bit more. “i don’t say shit like that for fun!”

jack’s grip loosens, and there is a long moment where he doesn’t say anything. then he rolls right over, pinning gabriel down into the mat, peppering him with kisses between laughing.

“of course i’ll marry you.” jack’s grin is radiant, even in the dark. “right now, if you want. anywhere, anytime. hmm. maybe after tomorrow, though.”

gabriel can hardly breathe, between jack crushing him and being swept up in their mingling joy. “thank fuck. cool. awesome.”

“you always have a way with words.” jack presses his forehead against gabriel’s, still smiling. “i love you.”

gabriel pulls him down into a kiss, and thinks, i love you too.

[bedpissercastiel]

Castiel Likes to Watch Dean Sleep

Being best friends through high school should have prepared Dean for Castiel’s antics. It didn’t. No amount of sleep overs would have helped. Living with the guy has proven to differ quite significantly from what he expected.

The first time Dean woke up to Castiel watching him was… jarring to say the least.

Dean wakes up to his phone buzzing. He figures that it’s probably his kid brother. He turns on the lamp, but before he can pick up, the sight of his roommate and best friend sitting in their desk chair, watching him intently shocks him.

“Cas! Jesus Christ. What’s your deal man? That’s fucking creepy.”

Castiel does his oh-so-adorable but oh-so-infuriating eye-squint-head-tilt. “I’m sorry, Dean. Did I do something wrong?”

All he gets in response is a long sigh. Dean knows that Castiel has always had trouble with social cues and things of that variety, but it’s still creepy!

“Cas, buddy, you don’t just watch another guy sleep. What the hell are you even doing up so late?”

There is a moment of silence. Castiel thinks. Why is he even up so late?

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, okay, but why were you watching me sleep?”

Castiel thinks again before shrugging, “I’m not sure.”

Dean’s phone goes off again. This time he answers.

"Hey, Sam."

~

The second time both parties dealt with Castiel watching Dean sleep better.

After years of “surprise attacks” from John Winchester to keep his instincts sharp, Dean wakes up to the slightest of noises. He hears footsteps in front of his bed. One hand goes for his gun and he cracks his eyes, relaxing when he sees that it’s just Castiel pacing whilst watching him sleep again.

Dean lets out a hard sigh. “Cas why’re you watching me sleep again?”

“I find it calming,” Castiel states matter-of-factly. “I watch you sleep whenever I’m feeling… weird.”

“Weird? I feel like not watching me sleep would make you feel less weird. Just a shot in the dark, though.”

Castiel shakes his head, finally stopping pacing. Dean sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He gets out from under his blankets to sit at the edge of his bed. “Not that type of weird,” Castiel explains. “A nervous kind of weird.”

“Like need to pop a pill weird,” Dean asks, referring to Castiel’s anxiety medication.

He shrugs at Dean, sitting down on his own bed, facing Dean. “I suppose. There has been something gnawing at me lately, making me more weird feeling than normal.”

“Oh?”

“Dean, I think I have something to tell you,” Castiel blurts.

“Go ahead, shoot,” Dean tells Castiel, curious of what needs to be said that is making Castiel feel so nervous weird.

“I’m bisexual.”

Dean freezes. That was unexpected. He nods jerkily. In a split second decision that Dean is sure he will regret later, he says, “Huh… Me too, buddy.”

It’s Castiel’s turn to freeze now. That was unexpected. “Oh, okay. I suppose I shouldn’t have worried myself too much, then.”

“Yep, proud of you, buddy.”

“Is this when we hug,” Castiel asks.

Dean lets out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. He stands up opening his arms. “Bring it in.”

Castiel smiles, embracing Dean for a few seconds. Dean’ feels heat growing in his cheeks, but it’s dark in their tiny apartment so Castiel can’t see. “Can we both go to sleep now?”

Castiel nods, pulling away from the hug. “That is probably smart for both of us. Goodnight, Dean.”

~

Months later, the third prominent incident occurs. Neither men have mentioned their confessions since. By now, when Dean wakes up to Castiel watching him, he just groans a, “Goodnight, Cas,” and rolls back over.

Both men have noticed their growing attraction to each other, so naturally, Castiel must stay up, pacing and watching Dean sleep.

“Goodnight, Cas,” Dean says rolling over so his back is facing Castiel.

Dean feels his bed sink down next to his legs and pushes his covers back to sit next to Castiel. “You feelin’ okay, buddy?”

“Do you remember when we… when we told each other about-”

Dean cuts him off, mildly uncomfortable talking about their late night confessions, “Yeah. I do. Why?”

“I feel as if things have changed between us,” Castiel says. “We don’t talk about it, but you’ve started avoiding me more and more. I’m sorry if you felt pressured to come out to me just because I came out to you.”

Dean scoffs out a laugh. “I’m not avoiding you. There’s not even room to avoid you in this place.”

“Dean,” Castiel sounds almost like a disappointed mother. “We’ve barely talked in the last month. We haven't made eye contact without you looking away instantly in three. You stopped forcing me to do Thursday Movie Night. I think that’s avoidance.”

“You hate movie night, that’s why I stopped. And… I’ve- I’ve been busy.”

He almost defends himself, spilling the beans that he actually loves movie night- he just gives Dean a hard time. He doesn't.

“Dean, you’ve been avoiding me. Please tell me what I’ve done.”

Dean nearly flinches at the desperate tone. He’s never heard Castiel’s voice do anything like that except one other time- When his father died. He gives in.

“Okay, say I’ve been avoiding you- Which I haven’t… This is just a hypothetical. It may or may not be because I may or may not have started feeling different about you.”

“Different? I’m sorry, Dean. Can I fix this? I’d hate for our friendship to end.”

“I-” Dean suppresses a groan.

That’s not what he means. “Not… Not like that, Cas. Can we just go to bed already? We can talk about this in the morning..”

“Then how are you feeling differently, then?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Dean-” Castiel doesn’t know what to say.

He knows that nothing good ever comes out of avoiding a problem- especially avoiding it for six months.

“Just drop it, okay,” Dean asks.

Castiel frowns, but nods. “Alright. I’m sorry I pushed it, Dean.”

They go to sleep, both men mildly hurt and full of disappointment.

~

The next night, Castiel is even more riled up, upset at himself, because Dean wasn’t even there when he woke up, and didn’t come home until three a.m. Castiel tried calling and texting to no avail. Dean was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Castiel paced, watching Dean sleep. He contemplated his next actions. How to fix their friendship. He acknowledged his own feelings for the other man and how he needs to push them aside if he wants to continue their friendship.

“Jesus Christ, Castiel. Go to sleep,” Dean says.

Castiel freezes. Dean never calls him by his whole name. “Dean. We really need to talk.”

“I don’t want to.” Dean brushes him off, not making a move to sit up.

“Do you want me to move out,” Castiel offers.

“Do you want to move out?”

“You know damn well that I don’t want to, nor do I want you to. Don't just repeat my words. Whatever it is that’s going on can’t be fixed if neither of us does anything.”

“What is going on?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”

“I’ll bite.”

“Dean, ever since we told each other that we are bisexual, you’ve been avoiding me. That’s what’s going on. I’ve let it slide because I care about you and don’t want to fuck things up, but it’s been going on for too long. Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Cas…”

Castiel doesn’t budge. He won’t say anything until Dean tells him why he’s been doing what he’s doing.

“Cas, I…”

He still doesn’t budge.

“Cas, ever since we had our little coming out party, I’ve realized that my feelings for you go beyond friendship.”

Castiel’s breath hitches. He blinks a few times before clearing his throat. “Oh?”

“Yeah… I figured… I figured that you’d not want to live with me anymore if you found out.”

Castiel scoffs. “Dean, you’re a fool.”

“I’m… sorry?”

“My feelings for you go beyond friendship, as well,” Castiel adds on. “You’re a fool for thinking otherwise.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly advertise it,” Dean mumbles.

Dean isn't wrong, at least he doesn't think he's wrong. Castiel on the other hand does. He thought he was being upfront with his emotions, but apparently Dean didn't see it that way.

“Dean, I took you out for dinner and got you flowers.”

“And they were very nice flowers.”

“I understood it as a date.”

That makes one of them.

“A… A what?”

Castiel cannot help but chuckle. They really aren't on the same page here.

“Dean, I asked you on a date and you agreed.

“I thought… Well... I didn’t know what I thought."

Castiel chuckles again.

This man who owns his entire heart is a total fool. Of course, it was established already, but he didn't think it went that far. Dean chuckles too, realizing that the man who owns his heart is a fool.

"We're just idiots, huh," Dean points out.

Castiel nods, "Yeah, we are. How about this. Would you like to go on a date that we both know we’re on,” Castiel offers.

“Sure, Cas,” Dean says.

Castiel can hear the smile in Dean’s voice.

Dean speaks again. “Cas, buddy, are we good?”

This time Castiel hears how unsure Dean is… scared of what answer he’ll get.

“Yes, we are. Stupid, but good.”

~

The next time Dean wakes up to Castiel watching him sleep, he’s pleasantly surprised. They’d been dating for a few weeks, and they worked out all their problems further. Things were going well.

“Hmm? What’re you doin’, Cas?”

Castiel traces his finger along the side of Dean’s face. “You’re beautiful.”

Dean smiles bashfully, “Stop it.”

“And your freckles? Fucking perfect. I’ve been counting them. I’m sure God himself crafted you.”

Dean’s grateful that they’re in the dark, for he can feel his face heating up. Before they started dating, Castiel would compliment him occasionally. Now, he takes every chance to tell Dean how beautiful he is. How good he looks that day. Anything.

“Cas,” Dean draws out the ‘a’.

“Dean,” Castiel says teasingly.

He plants a kiss on Dean’s nose.

“One more,” Dean requests.

Castiel nods, planting another kiss on his nose, but Dean shakes his head. He cups the side of Castiel’s face and kisses him, taking in his soft lips and the way they taste like watermelon Chapstick. They both roll back over, Castiel's arm drawing the other man close. He presses a kiss to the crook of Dean's neck before they both go to sleep, content with life.

Of course, Dean wakes up to Castiel watching him sleep countless more times. But none of them mattered except those five.

-

this might be super fucky tbh i fucked up big time transferring it from docs to here. but! i read it one (1) time so i think it's good

newaze,,,, here's a polished piece of trash.

uh shey helped again so thank u homeslice it means a lot

this isnt the sequel to the one time dean winchester tried something new and im very sorry i just dont want to write it right now

i dont know what else to say,,, im v hesitant ab posting this bc i dont like it at all but shey's supportive n shit so here u go uwu

tag list time

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover, @hellfire37, @zoerayne2426

[ask-the-fanbots]

Family?

A fic between Coil (mine) and the Becile Boys and Mr. Weed (@ask-the-becile-boys)

Words: 2.4K

TW: malfunction, loss of fingers

    Hare was squatted in the alleyway, watching with only slight distress as The Jack gnawed on something inedible. Did he know what it was? No. Did he care? ...yeah. More than he'd like to admit.

    "Hey, c'mon Jacky, spit that out. Weed'll blow a gasket if he has to fix yer jaw again this week." He tried to coax the object--now identified as a brick torn from the building--from his mouth with little success. "Ow!" He hissed, inspecting the damage to his fingers. Still intact, so whatever. It was...probably time to bring Jack home.

    "Dnuor dna dnuor eht yrrebllum hsub--" He trailed off into cackling as he was gently hauled to his feet, spinning a few circles before springing up in an impressively high jump and stomping back onto the ground.

    "Ya don't say?" Hare offered casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolled alongside the giggling bot. "When we get back I'll--hey!"

    The Jack seemed to have decided he was tired of talking, because he began sprinting off without waiting on Hare to follow. The sound of his laughter drifted further off, his legs devouring the terrain ahead of him with all the gusto of an Olympian.

    "Hey, c'mon, why you gotta do this today!? We were doin' real well!" He huffed, arms pumping in rhythm with his admittedly pathetic strides. He wasn't anywhere near as fast as Jacky, but he could always hold onto the hope that the escaped kid would fall or something else'd slow him down, otherwise he'd have to try and drag Weed and the other guys out onto a Jack-hunt.

    Up ahead of him, the distant laughter cut off suddenly, replaced with a blood curdling shriek.

    "Jacky!?" Hare found a sudden reserve of speed, running faster than he'd ever gone before. It wasn't happening. Whatever he was afraid of wasn't happening! His thoughts tangled together into a web of helpless anxiety as he barreled around the corner, the manor coming into view. There he was! What was--?

    "--get off! Where'd you even come from!?" The voice was unfamiliar, as was the streak of dirty metallic grey covered by The Jack's writhing form.

    "The rocks! A lady from the floor! A candy man! The green took the lady!" The Jack was screaming as if his life depended on it, snippets of words in between snapping his jaws at the person he had pressed against the stairs.

    "What the Hell is happening out here!?" The Skull stepped out before Hare arrived, and instantly The Jack scrambled backwards, ramming headfirst into his brother. "Get outta here!" One fluid motion was all it took to haul the other person to their feet--a bot, no doubt, and a girl by the looks of it. "Hare. What happened here?"

    "We were on a walk an' he took off! Who's this?" He gestured wildly at the intruder on the steps, trying to size her up enough to get any kind of read on her and why she was here. Other bots weren't terribly uncommon to see, but ones turning up on the goddamn doorstep were.

    "Becile." She said, looking between them in a mixture of anger, disgust, and...well, a bit of hope. "He...y'know, made you?"

    "Go." The Skull shoved her back towards the street, taking another step forward before Hare waved a hand in a vague gesture to wait just a second. He shook his head, slamming the door on his way back inside. He'd have to go tell Locksmith, see if he could stop being useless just long enough to get the girl outta here. He may have been the enforcer, but if those piles of scrap metal wanted to hang around they had to do something every now and again.

    As soon as he knew Jacky was situated, Hare grabbed both he and the new lady and dragged the both of them inside. "Alright, sweetcheeks, let's talk. Why're you askin' about Pops?"

    "I was gonna ask if you couldn't see the family resemblance but thank God I ain't as ugly as you." She replied with a sneer, gesturing towards his face. Both were endowed with pointed teeth, though the woman’s were in her mouth, and between the pair of them that only managed to scrape together two eyes.

    "Wha--I ain't ugly!" Hare sputtered before leaning forward with a growl. "And you ain't family."

    The Skull pushed the two of them apart with a grimace. "We know all about his ugly mug. What we don't know is why the Hell you think you're one of us. Get talkin' or I'll throw you out whether they try to stop me or not."

    "Friendly bunch." She said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts into a sensible order. "Name's Coil." She paised briefly for a reaction, but upon receiving little more than slightly angrier scowls she continued. "Green core bot."

    "...yeah? And? Chrissakes, we're gonna be rusted over before ya finish the story." Hare plunked himself down into a moth-eaten armchair, resting his chin on his fist and looking at Coil in the same manner an impatient child would look at its mother.

    A throat cleared, and the attention shifted over to the source. Locksmith was standing off to the side, fingertips drumming over the cane in his hands. "If I may interject. You claim to be our relative, and this may well be the case, but have you any evidence to substantiate this? Are we to trust you at your word? This is--how do I put it--you would be far from the first ruffian claiming to share our lineage, if one is bold enough to call it that. How do you intend to put our troubled minds at ease? Proof, as it were, is what we'd ask you to furnish us with."

    "You all see if you can keep from dyin' for the next few minutes. I'm gettin' Weed and seein' if he can sort this out. If Pops made her there'd be some kind o' mark or somethin' to tell us." Hare rose from his chair, grabbing The Jack by under the arm to lead him off. "You too, Jacky."

    After earlier he didn't feel confident that Jacky wouldn't tear the gal apart before he got a chance to get back. A couple of her fingers were already severed, and they didn't need anything else going on at the moment. That's what he told himself, at least. Truthfully he needed a walk. Somewhere to go so he could think while he got there. Pops had been a less than honest guy, but there was no way he made another entire lady without them knowing, right? Right.

    But…

    She was just as soot-covered and banged up as the rest of them, and there was somethin' that didn't sit right when he looked at her. Something too familiar.

    "Oi, Weed! Open up." Hare banged on the door with his fist, earning a growl from within. "I'm not takin' no for an answer, 's important, so get yer ass out here."

    The door cracked open, a disheveled looking Riker peering through it. "Someone better be dying, and at this point I might let 'em for a little peace around here." He smelled of alcohol, deep bruise-like shadows beneath the one eye that was visible. That wasn't unusual for him, of course, but geez he looked like--...well, not great.

    "We got a situation." Hare inched closer, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He was smooth as silk. Cool as a cucumber. Nothing ever bothered him, naturally. As the tough leader an' all that it was his job to keep it together.

    Riker looked slightly more interested, but it was hard to tell with him. One brow arched almost imperceptibly higher. "What kind? I--Jesus, whose fingers are those? Who did he bite this time?" This earned a genuine reaction from him as he opened the door fully to look at the pair of tin cans that blocked his doorway.

    "Well that's the thing if you'd let me get there. We got a lady." The bot gestured vaguely, as if the weak attempt at charades would make things more clear.

    "A...lady." The engineer echoed, not any closer to understanding the situation than before.

    "A lady!" Jack confirmed, the high pitched giggles bubbling up through him against his will. "A lady from the rocks, a lady from the ground, a lady in the foyer who can't make a sound!" He sang before breaking down into hysterical laughter and snapping playfully in Weed's direction.

    "..."kay, what does that mean?" He didn't look pleased, but grabbed his tools nonetheless. If he didn't return some fingers his ass was on the line, too, and there was no way he could afford some kind of lawsuit for destruction of property or whatever they'd get charged with. Criminal proceedings were the last thing they all needed.

    "She--"

    "HEY! GET BACK HERE, YA LITTLE RAT! SHE'S YOUR PROBLEM!' Skully's booming voice echoed across the manor, and Hare cursed under his breath.

    "C'mon, I'll just show ya. Jacky? Wanna come with or head to yer room?" His hands found their way around the arm of the shaking bot, opting to guide him to his room and make sure he was secure before hustling back towards the door. "What's the--I WAS ONLY GONE A COUPLE O' MINUTES!"

    The Skull and Locksmith were standing beside the still form of Coil, the latter leaving a much wider berth. "She's your problem now. If she breaks anything it's on you. Get some answers." The Skull left with that, strolling briskly towards his own space. He didn't want her here, but he did wanna know what connection she had to the old man, if any.

    "We do seem to be in a predicament. While I can't say she's charming company, we are owed the full story, and the only one who can provide us with any insight is inactive on our flooring. A tapestry of tongues can't be woven by the mute, so I suggest our roboticist begins his work before much more time slips past us." Locksmith remained stationary, as he needn't provide them with any further room. They had ample space to operate, so for now he would observe the proceedings. Should the time come when he had to relocate, he would gladly cede further floorspace to them.

    "What do I look like, a dancing monkey? Why should I work on a bot I'm not in charge of? It’d be easier to scrap her." Despite his words, he was already kneeling to look her over. What exactly was the protocol on working on someone that wasn't yours? Especially one of the lady ones? And especially one that couldn't give him permission to take a look under the hood, so to speak?

    "She said Pops built her. Just take a look or somethin', will ya? Wake her up so we can ask ‘er a few things." Hare squatted beside Weed, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked her over. She did have the shoddy workmanship of Pops's hands, but that didn't mean much. He was overthinking this.

    "Fine, fine." Riker grumbled, undoing the buttons on the back of the dress. "You owe me, though. Next time I tell you I'm takin' a sick day, I'm taking it. No emergency repairs, no whining at the door, no nothing."

    "Yeah, sounds great. Do your thing, o mighty roboticist." Hare's tone was mocking, but there was no denying that Weed was good at his job. His ma had taught him well, apparently.

    It didn't take long before Riker was popping open an access panel, and he tossed it aside onto the carpet. "Geez! What's going on in here?" He turned aside, sneezing openly toward the rug.

    Locksmith looked utterly repulsed by this decision but held his tongue. He fished through his pocket, extending a handkerchief to the resident engineer. "Bless you, Mr. Weed. I take it our companion's interior is a bit... antiquated."

    "No kidding! When was the last time someone opened this up!?" He ignored the offer, swiping at his pointed nose with his knuckles. There was a thick layer of dust built up on every surface in the little panel, clogging everything and muffling the sound of the things that did still work. "I don't know what the last person in here did, but it looks like a toddler got a wrench and went to town. Half this stuff is straight out of a history textbook, and the other half looks like someone tried to make something out of spare parts from a dollar store."

    Locksmith withdrew the proffered cloth, tucking it back into his pocket. "I believe I'll retire to my quarters. Today has been eventful, and truthfully I have no desire to watch another uncouth display like the last one."

    Riker snorted, sparing a glance toward him. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to save a sneeze for you for next time I'm doing your repairs." He leaned back, resting in roughly the same position as Hare. After Locksmith left he turned to his companion, chewing the inside of his cheek before trying the find the right words. "You've been...quiet." It was more an invitation to speak than an observation.

    "Thinkin'." Hare was at a loss for more words than that--something Riker would have been quick to point out as the very first time had the circumstances been better. Family was a hard thing, especially for this lot. Hell, he struggled with his own family, but that was just a whole ‘nother beast.

    "For what it's worth, she's not one of ours. The marks and parts are wrong. But it does say Becile on the panel." Riker passed the piece of metal over to Hare, who inspected it carefully. Imprinted inside was the name Grace P. Becile in the standard formatting of foundry marks. Becile…

    "Pops never talked about a Grace. Think she's connected to Buster? Don't know that we really know where he came from neither." He handed it back to Weed, who set to work securing it back in place. She twitched under his tools, so it'd only be another minute or two until she came to.

    "You'd know better than me." Riker shrugged, wiping his hands off on a rag and stretching.

    "I'll go get Skully to carry her out." Hare jerked a thumb towards the front door, his other hand on his hip. "But uh...hey Weed. While you're out, keep an eye on her. If you see her. Don't go outta yer way or nothin'." His hand migrated to rub the back of his neck as he cleared his throat. “I gotta go back to my room. I'll see you later."

    "Right. I'll see you later." Riker watched him go before sighing and gathering up his tools. Keep an eye out...yeah, he could do that.

[disrepairhouse]

Chapter 36 - The Festival Part 2

The long, wide street was alive and bustling in the warm, late spring, noonday sun.  People, mobians and humans alike, shuffled and raced all up and down the line of stalls and vendors as those working behind the counters called out to any passersby.  Flags and streamers flipped and waved about in the comfortably chill wind, giving the last hints of the bygone winter as the summer heat rolled in.  Lively music wafted above the chatter and yells while the powerful aroma of baked and fried food drifted through, drawing in festival goers from all angles.  Bells rang to announce game winners, excited children begged their parents for desired treats, and meeting groups called out to one another as they arrived to their destination.

Despite the ongoing chaos throughout the world, the city of Soleanna was alive and thriving with excitement.  Wary glances were cast about by concerned adults, but even the recent attacks were forced out of sight and mind in the hubbub of the bustling city. At least for the moment.

Amongst the crowds and shuffling festival patrons was a group of eight, three children and five adults, going about their own mission to hit every game stall on their path.  Though tiny hands were busy with festival-sized greasy foods, they wasted no time darting to their first target in their path of conquest: a game stand with miniature cap guns and a line of prizes to shoot off unstable shelves. The tallest of the three children scarfed the remainder of his hot dog before he grabbed his companions and dragged them to the stand.

“Let’s do this one first!”

“What is it?”  Both companions questioned, one for a lack of sight, the other out of curiosity.

“You just take those guns and if you can shoot the stuffed animal off the shelf, you win it!  Sceira, I’ll try to win you one, kay?”  The scorpion girl turned red in the face while the hedgehog studied the stuffed toys and shelves.  “There’s a chao-shaped one, you still like chao, right?” the human boy questioned. Itara’s gaze shifted to the other girl, eyeing her suspiciously as she nodded slowly.  “Cool, hey mom!  Mom! We wanna do this one first!” Simon turned back towards the approaching parents and waved his arm wildly.

Lynda, who already found her ‘adult drink’ stand, waved him down and reached into her purse to pull a bit of money out for him to play the games, “don’t spend it all too quickly, that’s all you’re getting today.” Simon snatched the money up with a quick reassurance before he darted right back to the counter.

RK looked between the counter and Simon before his eyes settled on the confused Itara.  “Did you want to try, too?”

She turned red in the face to match Sceira, though remained silent to debate.  She was about to refuse, but realized the entire point of coming to the festival was to play games and nodded, albeit slowly.  RK nodded in response and gave her some money, as well, watching curiously as she joined Simon at the counter.  He explained to her how everything worked while the others watched on in amusement, Simon seemed to have a well of knowledge about the game and which prizes were the easiest to actually knock over.

However, as the hedgehog girl’s eyes shifted down to her thickly wrapped and slung arm, the wide grin across the wide-eyed boy’s face faltered.  Before he could suggest they do something else, however, Itara reached for the play gun and shifted it around until she could find a way to shoot and hold it with one arm.  It was a struggle and she couldn’t get the aim exactly right, but she was determined to at least try, which put the smile back on her friend’s face as he took up his own gun.

While Simon aimed exclusively for the little black and red chao doll, Itara scanned the shelves for the easiest to acquire that she might actually want.  Between her extremely low vantage point and the angle she had to shoot from because of her arm, her options were limited but she figured she could at least knock one of the plastic masks down.  Three shots proved her wrong, though.  She didn’t get anywhere near it.  Simon, on the other hand, made good on his promise to Sceira about getting her the plushie and knocked it down with three well-placed shots.

Itara huffed, but said nothing.  This wasn’t the first game they’d be playing, after all.  She could win more later.  Her vague and dismissive need to do so turned to sudden fire when Metal, who had remained mostly silent since arriving, gave an amused snort at her failure.  “What’s wrong, Left-Foot, is having one arm difficult or something?”  His comment gained him a number of looks from the group, most notably RK’s look of disapproval and a side-eyed glance from the black scorpion, who had hardly taken his eyes off the two bots all night.  But Itara’s scowl was the darkest as she turned back towards him.

“N-No!  I just… didn’t want to make everyone look bad right off the bat,” she insisted, her fist going to her hip as she looked away again, “I’m just… w-warming up.  C’mon, Simon, let’s find the next game!”

“Uh… right!”

As the kids led the way to the next game, however, RK shot Metal a questioning glare, “Left-Foot?”

“Yes.  I decided if she was going to give stupid nicknames, she was going to get one, too. So, her name is now Left-Foot.  I think it suits her perfectly, don’t you?” But RK only shook his head and focused back in on the kids.  Even he thought it was a little amusing, though he wouldn’t say so in front of Itara, but more than anything he was just glad to see them getting along so much better nowadays.  As disastrous as that school trip ended up, it did seem to bring Metal and Itara closer. As close to anyone as Metal got, at least.  Though, not even he’d ever gotten a nickname before.

The three kids took turns leading one another and the group around to the different stalls for a couple hours, having varying degrees of success with each of them.  Simon brought them to a small fishing game next where Itara proved herself by catching the first fish.  Itara dragged them over to a roulette where they could bet on a spinning wheel to win anything from a bag of cookies to cakes to a year’s supply of coupons for the bakery that ran the stall.  Lynda and Sceira’s parents joined the bets on that one, Lynda winning one of the cakes, though Sceira ended up with the year supply of coupons.

On their way to the next game, however Metal spotted signs for an arcade and challenged Itara to a game, to which both RK and Sceira sighed. RK pushed them both past the arcade to continue on to the chosen game stall.  As they were scoping out the next stop, Lynda caught sight of Susan and Camilla and waved them over.  Susan looked no less irritated by everything than usual, but there was a hint of eagerness in Camilla’s pace that Itara had honestly never seen before.  Was even she excited about the festival?

“Hey Susan!  Where’s Lawrence?” Lynda cried once they were within shouting distance.

“He’s helping with the setup for tonight so he won’t be joining us.  I’ll be going back soon, as well, but Camilla wanted to… come say ‘hi’.  I see you’re already at the margaritas.”

Lynda looked between the drink in her hand and Susan but waved it off, “Oh push it.  You’re not staying, though?”

“No, I still have work to do.”

“Did you want to leave Camilla with us, then?  So she can have fun with her friends for a while?”

There was an uncomfortable amount of silence as Susan considered the offer.  She’d originally planned to only let Camilla say hi and then take her back so she could help, as they did every year.  With a long glance down at her daughter, however, she sighed and agreed, “fine, fine. But you’d better keep an eye on her, Lynda.  If you lose my daughter-.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll keep an eye on her.  Besides, there’s five of us, I think we can handle it.”

Susan cast a long glance around the group, eyed the four mobians with a rather blatant disregard, and returned her sharp gaze to Lynda.  “I suppose. Then I must return.  Camilla, behave yourself.”

“Of course, mom,” Camilla nodded.  Susan nodded and turned on her heel to leave, disappearing into the crowd again before long.  She couldn’t be gone fast enough and Lynda wasn’t the only one to look relieved to be rid of her.

“Right, continue on then, kids,” Lynda grinned and motioned around to the stalls, Simon taking the lead once more to drag the others to the next game.  They still had a long way to go and time was ticking.  Once they were distracted again, however, Lynda hung back with the other adults and gave a sarcastic laugh, “I’ve been trying to get that woman to bring Camilla to the actual festival for ages but she’s always far too busy.  I’m glad she’s letting her at least come with us now.”

“Sceira was certainly excited when Simon said she might be coming along for once,” Sceira’s mother offered with a cautious smile.

“Simon, too,” Lynda smiled, “he was absolutely ecstatic about getting to come with all three of them this year.”  A thoughtful look came to her face as she turned to RK and Metal, “Simon and Sceira meet up for the festival every year and Camilla’s usually here helping her parents out.  Has Itara ever been to the Solaris Festival before?”

RK fought to keep the wince off his face as he looked away to think about the answer.  He knew full-well she’d been there for the ceremony several times, but he doubted she ever paid attention to anything beyond that.  “No, this is a first for her.”

“Oh!  Well then I’m glad we were able to be part of the memory,” Lynda exclaimed, though nearly knocked the rest of her drink clear out of the glass as she swung her arm around. RK gave a half-hearted agreement but remained otherwise silent.  He was glad Itara seemed to be enjoying herself so far, but he was still worried about how she’d handle all the direct exposure to Solaris’s influence.  For now, they were just playing games and mentions of the Sun God were surprisingly minimal, but he knew that could only last so long.

Ahead of them, Simon was once again leading them around, this time to a test of strength he’d spotted while questioning Camilla about what she’d been doing the entire day before this.  It was well into the afternoon by this point and the street was warming up quite a bit but none of the kids seemed to notice as they bounced around the stalls.  “Hey, who do you think is stronger between me and Sceira?” Simon grinned once they reached the test.  Camilla only eyed him strangely but Itara scoffed.

“My bet’s on you.”

“Well let’s find out!”

Sceira nodded and followed him to the man at the counter. Despite knowing of her utter lack of physical strength, Itara followed after them, wanting to try as well.  Not wanting to be left out, Camilla brought up the rear as all four of them lined up to test their widely varying strength. Simon grabbed the hammer first and moved over to the platform while the other three stood back to watch and wait. Metal and RK both gave a ghost of a smirk when they noticed Itara lined up with them, but neither said anything and watched on with the others.

With a small shuffle about, Simon raised the hammer and brought it down with all his might, giving the pad a good thud and looked up to see how far up the little nob went.  It bounced about halfway up the scale and fell, which caused Simon to narrow his eyes slightly.  He jumped down from the platform and held the hammer out to Sceira, guiding her around the platform as one of her pincers lifted to wrap around the hammer’s handle. Camilla watched curiously, but Itara smirked.

The pseudo-scorpion felt out the platform and pad where she needed to hit and stood off to the side to adjust for using her pincers instead of her arms.  Simon stood back and elbowed Itara with a grin, “watch this.”

“Tch, as if Sceira’s got-” CLANG “huh?!”

Itara’s jaw dropped with her arm, which had been lightly resting on the sling strap since she couldn’t fully cross her arms, as a cacophony of buzzers and sirens wailed out ‘Winner!  Winner!’.  Sceira stepped away from the platform, though winced with the noise, as the stall owner jumped to his feet in shock.

“Well, I’ll be!  You’re stronger than you look, little one!  C’mere and pick out a prize!”

While the scorpion girl shuffled over to ask the man for a description of said prizes, Itara could only stand there and stutter, shocked and confused.  She knew Sceira was at least stronger than her, it wasn’t difficult, but she hadn’t imagined just how much stronger. Suddenly the day in the hotel, where she nearly got choked by those same pincers came back and Itara’s shoulders pulled in sharply.  Sceira could have popped her head clean off in that fight.  Simon and Camilla watched her strangely, mostly baffled by the array of emotions that flit across the hedgehog’s face but it was Sceira who finally brought Itara out of her thoughts.  She walked over to hand the hammer to her, another, much larger, stuffed chao wrapped up in her arms, though Itara shirked away, suddenly less sure than ever before about her own strength.

Simon couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as he explained, “if you’re worried about looking bad going after Sceira, I totally get it.  She’s crazy strong, though you can’t tell by looking at her sometimes.”

“Why?”

“I train with my dad,” Sceira frowned when no one took the hammer wrapped up in her pincer, “he makes sure I can defend myself, just in case.  He’s kinda strict with it sometimes.”

“What does your dad do?” Camilla asked, a hint of shame at not knowing breaking through her voice.

“He’s a personal trainer, but mom says he used to be in some kind of military, though she won’t tell me what kind.  I’ve asked, but she says he doesn’t like to talk about it.  That’s not important, though, would you just take the hammer, please?”

Itara eyed her suspiciously before glancing towards the scorpion parents.  She’d noticed the looks he’d been giving Metal since they arrived and was suddenly concerned he might know who he was.  But she didn’t linger on it and focused back on her night of fun.  If he started something, she’d worry about it later, but for now nothing was ruining her fun night out with her friends.  Not Solaris, not Metal’s mockery, and not some potentially deadly scorpion that may or may not recognize Metal Sonic.

With that decided, she also decided she didn’t care how much stronger than her Sceira was and snatched the hammer up to take her turn at the strength test.  She could almost hear Metal’s snort above the clamor of the festival, but she ignored it and gave the hammer a couple swings around to test its weight.  She already wouldn’t be getting the full motion, having to use only one arm, so she would blame any potential shortcoming on that.  Which she promptly needed.  When she finally swung the hammer around and down on the pad, it gave a light bump and the nob barely drifted above it’s starting point.

Now she was certain Metal was laughing at her and she glared over at him while her friends tried – and failed – to muffle their own reactions.  RK gave Metal a sharp elbow to the side, though even he was smirking, while Itara huffed angrily and shoved the hammer at Camilla. “D-Don’t laugh!  I’m not… I don’t have both arms!”

“Right, right, yeah,” Simon snorted, “you woulda done… way better with both of them.”

Itara wasn’t sure whether he was mocking her or agreeing but she didn’t care, either. They could all shove it.  At least Camilla didn’t fare much better, she didn’t even get it halfway up, but she and Simon both managed to get small consolation prizes.  As Simon was about to offer his prize to Itara, though, the stall owner walked over to hand her a little Soleanna keychain and only smiled awkwardly when she shot him a questioning look.  The keychain was simple, at the same prize level as the ones Simon and Camilla got, with a beach and sunrise and ‘Soleanna’ written across in fancy lettering. Itara eyed it but attached it to the strap of her sling as Simon pointed out their next destination.

Simon and Sceira spent the rest of the day dragging Itara and Camilla around, making sure they got the full festival experience.  Games, snacks, contests, everything they could fit into one day. The parents hung back and followed for the most part, Lynda hitting up the occasional drink stand whenever she ran out, Sceira’s parents chatting with her every so often.  Metal and RK remained the most silent throughout the day, though only outwardly.  Inwardly they’d been talking – and arguing – via comm units.  Most of their conversations were Metal questioning the point of everything and wanting to leave.  Once or twice the kids convinced their respective parent to join in on the fun, which included Itara trying to convince RK or Metal to do the test of strength, which RK refused outright, for both of them.

The summer sun dipped behind the tall buildings and cast a great orange glow across the sky, which gave Itara a brief unease but Simon distracted her quickly enough when he dragged them to the dance floor.  As with everything, the dance floor was setup outside, boxed in by hanging lights and a temporary stage where the water dancers for the ritual were putting on a pre-show.  As the natural light darkened, the glow of the dance floor lit up the night while whatever crowds existed on the street multiplied.  Smaller children did their best to copy the elegant dancers with their long, flowing dresses, groups of teens gathered at the edges to either stand and talk or dance amongst themselves, couples swung around the floor, often bumping into one another from the packed space, and a number of parents and elders lined the outside to watch either their children or the dancers.

Itara, whose only form of ‘grace’ was her ability to gracefully fall, recoiled at the idea of joining the jumbled mess of dancers and stopped short outside the floor lines.  “Yeah, I think I’ll sit this one out, thanks,” she muttered when the group turned to her when she didn’t follow.

“Aw, c’mon Itara, it’s fun!” Simon grinned, “don’t worry, no one’s gonna be watching you.”

“Whether they are or not is irrelevant, I just don’t feel like getting trampled.”  At just that moment, the music briefly shorted and cracked, grabbing the attention of many around, including the group of children.  They waved it away as soon as it came back on, however, and looked to Itara again.  As soon as she opened her mouth to argue, however, the music crackled yet again and the lights flashed a couple times. There was a large monitor above the stage, which displayed a video feed of the dancers, which also crackled to static for only a second before returning to normal.  Itara and RK’s eyes both narrowed towards the monitor while the others looked on in confusion.

“Guess they’re having some issues today.  But that’s beside the point!” Simon exclaimed, though Itara’s attention was still on the monitor.  She thought she saw something in that static but wasn’t sure.  It had been too brief.

The strange interruption seemed to spark far more of reaction from the stumbling drunk of a woman with them, however, as she narrowed her eyes and lowered her mostly empty drink.  “What a weird… thing,” Lynda mumbled, her words sloshing together.  The groups’ eyes fell to her as she held her drink out to whoever ended up taking it, which happened to be RK since he was closest to her. She barely waited for him to get a hold of it before stumbling forward, “Kids, go enjoy your dance, I’ma go… see about that.”

RK raised an eyebrow and watched her stumble her way clean through the dance floor to the stage side where a couple of mobians were arguing over the equipment. Lynda sauntered right up to the annoyed-looking magenta hedgehog, cutting whatever argument they were having short and clumsily attempting to interrogate the frustrated equipment workers about the interruptions.  He briefly debated retrieving her so she didn’t become a nuisance, but movement beside him caught his attention as Sceira’s father motioned to Metal.  There was a sharp, accusatory look in his eye, suggesting whatever conversation was about to happen was far more important to keep track of than a drunk Lynda.

Metal barely responded to the thumb pointed away from the dance floor, but the look in the scorpion’s eye amused him. So, with a quick glance back at the kids fighting Itara onto the dance floor, he led the way to a more open area.  RK looked wary about letting Itara out of his sight again, but followed after, unsure what was going on and didn’t want Metal starting a fight.  The black scorpion, who Lynda had introduced as Velio followed after the blue bot, his wife’s hand never leaving his.

Once they were in as much of a clearing as they could get without leaving the area entirely, Velio’s eyes narrowed, his gaze became harsh as his ponytailed pincher shifted into a defensive position, “I don’t know what you’re playing at right now, but you aren’t fooling me.”

RK’s brows furrowed with concern, but Metal blinked before an amused grin spread across his face, “Is that so?”

“What’s going on, dear?” the pseudo-scorpion named Milena questioned, concern replaced her previously soft smile.

“One of Itara’s ‘guardians’ isn’t who he says he is, Sparky isn’t your real name, is it?” Velio continued, Metal scoffed at the nickname though the amusement never left his face, “You’re Metal Sonic, aren’t you?” Milena gasped quietly but the two bots remained otherwise silent, debating how to handle the situation. Metal’s grin only widened but RK mentally sighed.  Before either could decide on a response, however, Velio continued, “in fact, I’d hazard a guess that neither of you are normal mobians.”  He shot RK an equally aggressive scowl but RK gave minimal response to the accusation.  He was trying to convince Metal not to attack them.

“That’s twice now I’ve been called out, I’m surprised it’s only been twice, though,” Metal finally shrugged, “I was insulted no one seemed to remember me for a while there.”

“Metal,” RK threatened.  The charade was up but that didn’t mean they had to immediately get hostile.  He turned back to the on-edge scorpions with another elbow in Metal’s side to dissuade further aggravation and explained, “fine.  You caught us.  But we don’t work for Robotnik anymore, we haven’t in a while.”

“Don’t lie, I heard about Metal Sonic’s appearance in Spagonia, at the university the kids were attacked at,” Velio hissed, causing RK to shoot Metal another glare for the incident, “What are you playing at?  What is that hedgehog girl to you?  Why are you masquerading as her guardians?”

Metal lost his grin and RK’s expression softened considerably as both bots considered the questions.  They had been expecting threats and questioning, but the focus on Itara threw them both off momentarily.  Metal spoke up first as he crossed his arms and looked away, scoffing, “tch, I’m doing nothing of the sort.  The tiny child is just…”  But he didn’t know how to end the sentence.  For once, he was at a loss.

His silence gave RK an opportunity to pick up the response and explained, “Itara’s… the one that repaired us, for the most part.  We’re not masquerading, we’re just… looking over her.”

“Speak for yourself,” Metal hissed and glared back at the other bot, getting only a slight grin in response.

“What kind of nonsense is this?” Velio snapped.  He’d been taken briefly off-guard by their response but after a moment of reconsideration, he realized they could easily be lying.  The same way they were lying to that little girl. Robotnik was up to something, he didn’t know what, but he wouldn’t allow it to go on.  “You honestly expect me to believe a couple of badniks are just sitting around, playing parent to a little girl, not plotting something? With everything that’s going on right now?”

RK and Metal looked back at the furious scorpion, exchanged looks, then looked back. Metal scoffed and looked away again but RK only smirked and shrugged, “believe it or not, essentially, yeah.”

Velio growled at the insinuation and shifted back into a fighting stance.  RK narrowed his eye while Metal grinned at the idea of a fight and both moved back into defensive stances in response.  RK had wanted to avoid a fight in such a populated area, and he was still going to try and talk the scorpion down, but none of them got the chance to escalate the situation any further.  What started as a faraway increase in noise, and what the group had originally assumed was something festival related since the ritual display would be starting soon, quickly turned to terrified screams and a jarring racket coming from the outer edges of the festival grounds.

The air thundered with the sounds of stampeding festival goers, stalls crashed under foot, pained and terrified screams echoed out, while the growls and screeches of the monsters chasing them roared out above it all.  A violent, orange glow burned around the edges of the streets as chaos and panic surged through the crowds towards them.  Both robots and mobians dropped their fight as their attention returned to the children in the crowds.

But they were nowhere to be seen.

[overx]

Kill Me (Death and Dirge)

Some things are inevitable. 

Like the collision of two souls, drawn to each other across worlds. Fate is not such a fickle thing that those meant to be could ever miss each other by chance. 

If anything… She was just the opposite. 

So it was a familiar story would play out for the first time, a fated meeting to be repeated in ripples throughout creation. Spirits so different, but so much the same, clashing before intertwining. 

“You’d be surprised how much you can learn in such a short time. The living have a lot more to offer than just souls to house and organize when you come for them.”

Silence, as usual, met lady Fate.

“It’ll only cost you one lifetime, Death. Long for him, short for you, so give it a spin.”

Rock wiped a hint of purple coolant from his cheek, eyes narrowing at the first person to ever keep up with him. An irritation, but also a temporary fascination.  

A feeling that was only semi-shared by the tall blond across from him. Amusement more than annoyance at the tiny black haired android who’d barked at him since he set foot here. Was this really who he was meant to spend his time with? Was this the mortal selected to teach him something about the souls he collected? He’d been told he’d learn something from this one, but all he saw before him was a reckless, wretched creature that would be better taken care of with some other deity. 

And all Rock saw was another machine, a challenge to be won or be conquered by. The first and only other being of his kind sentient enough to hold a conversation, to have ambition, to pose a threat.

“Stop lookin’ so fuckin’ calm an’ finish the fight ya started,” is demanded, green eyes narrowing dangerously in the taller man’s direction. Rock dusted himself off, teeth bared. “I don’t like t’ leave shit unsettled.” 

It’s not your time.

No matter what the hothead may have desired, and he did want the only thing Death knew how to give, this was not the time and place destiny deemed for that life to be severed. A simple shake of the head is served as the blond’s answer. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why the fuck not?” Rock looked so furious to be rebuffed, but Death could see something else in those green eyes. A nameless thing that existed underneath the fury and hellfire. Not the despair he saw daily in the fading lives he visited, not fear, but a different kind of pain. 

A miserable existence, with so much longer to live. 

How tedious this would all be.

The Reaper didn’t know pity, not truly, but that hadn’t stopped him from sweeping the hotblooded android into another world for a short period. He’d offered the only thing he could think of, to keep the mortal he was supposed to interact with by his side. 

They marched through the snow, Rock’s arms wrapped around himself for some useless layer for comfort and warmth. “That’s all it’ll take huh? I beat ya, for real, an’ you’ll grant me a merciful death?“ 

“That’s the idea,” an oversimplification on Rock’s part, but one that would be accepted. There would be no mercy in the machine’s end however, no peaceful afterlife, or place for his soul to wander. The artificial consciousness that he had could not be categorized, so if it would even exist afterwards was a question all its own. 

Such an odd situation, why did they put me here?

“Well alright then, guess we better get t’ trainin’ so I can give both of us satisfyin’ fight for me t’ go out on.” Rock knew how brazen he must have sounded, surely, but there is no uncertainty in their arrangement for him. They’d train, together, until the Light-bot was good enough to win. And once he had…

If that’s really what he wants… what am I supposed to learn?

“A promise is a promise,” the blond replied, opening the door to the abandoned facility they’d be using. “…but don’t think it’ll be quick or easy.”

Not with so much time still left for Rock to live.

How had routine given way to something different? For months they crossed blades, traded fists, shared idle quips, everything as planned. So when did he begin to take an interest in the android’s moods? His opinions? They were often dark, morbid things, inky blackness covered up with layers of falsehoods to make them appear lighter. A cocky grin and easy denial, hiding nihilism akin to Death’s own views on existence. If it wasn’t for the self loathing, the way Rock threw himself at anything and everything destructive, maybe they could have shared a real conversation. A moment of understanding.

Maybe then, we could really talk.

But that cloud still hung over the mortal’s soul, the miasma of misery that drove him to constantly wound himself in any way he could. He was incapable of physical self harm, but that didn’t stop him from goading others into fights– as he’d tried when they met– or from finding ways to leave other scars on his heart.

The blond leaned over, leering down at his sparring partner, fresh with coolant from some off world encounter. His right arm was torn to shreds, exposed wiring sparking and leaking precious internal fluids. 

You did it again.

Rock is given only a heavy sigh, before the snap of fingers can be heard. A cloud of purple light swarmed around them, healing flames stitching together the shorter man’s injuries. Nanites, or so the excuse was for Death’s “mortal” shell. Another machine, in Rock’s eyes, far more advanced, so far above him…

“…why do ya bother fixin’ these things…?“ The question is quiet, the machine unwilling to meet Death’s gaze. “…you know what I want. Why I come t’ see you day in an’ day out, so why not let it happen?“ It’s asked in a different tone than usual, though he likely expects the same answer. “If somethin’ else kills me, who cares?” 

“Because, Rock, we made a deal. I can’t keep my promise and neither can you, if I let you go.“ The answer slips so easily from his mouth, despite the strange unease setting in. It’s not the whole truth anymore, is it? But even he doesn’t know the real answer beyond “duty”. 

No, the loud, violent, and blunt little machine could have been allowed to pass several times now without intervention. All Death would have needed to do is collect his soul. And yet…

“…you’ve got a weird sense of honor, savin’ me over’n’over just so ya can keep that fucked up promise of ours.” He looks up, finally, a thin smile on his lips, like he knows something the God does not. “…guess we should get goin’, then. Don’t want t’ fall behind.“ A spark of something else flashes in his eyes, just behind the resignation there before. He’s already wandering off towards their normal training area, leaving the Reaper to simmer in his curiosity for another day. 

Kissing, that’s what this was. Another impulsive decision made by his charge– for once surprising. A skill Rock had gotten very good at, as of late, catching Death off guard at the oddest times. The mortal had pinned him in their fight, pulled him close to deliver a crack to his jaw, and instead… 

It’s warm, the living energy such a deep contrast to Death’s own cold aura. Their lips connect, once, twice, each sending a spark through the Reaper’s form. A slow burning fire that made him yearn to continue. To explore the foreign feelings and sensations never before afforded to him. 

He eases back, red eyes uplifting to the lively green across from him. There are flames, but not like before. Not rage and hurt, but the shine of life so rarely found there. It makes him want to lean in, to feel it again, but…

“…is this really what you want?”

Or was this just another passing fancy? The newest trial in Rock’s attempted self destruction?

Tell me the truth.

Daunting, for such a simple question, and it makes the robot hesitate. He’d done it just now without thinking, yes, but the truth was he’d been enamored for a while. A fact he was slow to admit, color burning in his cheeks. “…I’m… curious? I don’t know what I was thinkin’, I just…“ he resisted the urge to look away, optics locked on the face in front of him, but only just. “…want t’ try it with you..?”

That was earnest enough, a longing for connection clear on the Light-bot’s flustered face. 

You’ve led such a lonely existence, haven’t you..?

Rock clung in his recharge cycle, not unlike a human pulling close in sleep. The affectionate gesture had become so common now, it almost felt strange not to have it. Death rested his head against that mess of fluffy black hair, content in their silent stillness. 

…it was a feeling that brought him dread, every time he watched Rock go. 

He’d prolonged the android’s life several times now. Saved him from situations that could and should have killed him. At first in those early months it was only because he thought he hadn’t learned what Fate wanted him to, but now it was… different.

He felt his partner adjust, burying his face drowsily into Death’s side, and the Reaper frowned. He hooked an arm around the smaller being, keeping him safe, close.

There’s so little time left. 

This wasn’t like watching a human go. They aged, fought disease, faded so clearly and visually. They gave up their souls, and Death only ever had to find them.

For Rock, there was only a deadline he’d been allowed to unknowingly miss. Close calls growing in exponentially since that date. He could be repaired again and again, survive things no human could as long as a few precious pieces stayed intact. It worked, up til now, justified by their morbid first day promise. 

It was the unknown that kept Rock among the living. The underpinning fact that no one knew if he had a real soul, or if he would simply cease to exist. It was unprecedented. Terrifying. The thought of spending the rest of eternity torn away from the life they’d created together. Years spent building up to some futile end that neither of them wanted.

Is this why mortals fear me?

Another outing into the snowy wastes. They stopped, finally, at one of their favorite shared places. Glacial walls, filled with light and color, surrounded them. Cascading rainbows in the otherwise bleak, blizzard laden world. They’d come with the intention of sparring outdoors, and then spending the rest of their time as they pleased. Gleeful in their shared freedom, as always.

Rock caught his fist, reflexes far quicker than they ever had been that first day. The raven haired robot gave a grin, confident in his standing. Their rivalry had sharpened every skill over the years, and there was only so long his partner could stay ahead. Today he would win. 

…and he did. 

He held a blade to the blond’s throat, panting to vent steam into the cold air, but triumphant. “I finally fuckin’ did it! I…” It’s a short lived smile, a crestfallen look overtaking him as his love rose from the snow. “…I… did it…” is repeated, disbelief making the mortal start to tremble. 

Death plopped a hand into Rock’s hair, giving it an easy ruffle. “…you did.”

Is this still what you want?

Rock swallowed, gaze cutting away from his partner. “…you must’ve been goin’ easy on me.”

So it isn’t.

“Oh..?” A tired smile graced the God’s face. 

You want the same thing as me.

“No, I wasn’t, but there is… something I wanted to give you first. If you’ll take it.” Death knelt, revealing a box in his hands. “We would… have to renegotiate that deal of ours but…” It snapped open, blue ring sparkling almost as bright as the ice around them. 

He watches Rock’s hands raise to cover his mouth, tears threatening to fall from the gut punch of horror turned joy. “Y-yes! Yes of course you moron.” He doesn’t even wait for the ring to be on his finger, pulling the blond from the snow to kiss him. “I love you.”

“…I love you, too.”

It’s a mortal custom, one that won’t mean anything once Rock is gone, but one that will also give them a little more joy all the same. A last needed push, before the end.

Something to hold onto, even if it’s only a trinket. A memory. 

I don’t want you to go.

It’s coming faster now. A sense only he has, but even as they begin to wander home, he can see the exhaustion taking Rock’s body. The mere act of being around the God of Death was slowly killing his beloved, taking him in one final bittersweet act of inevitability. 

The only gift Death knew how to give.

…The only one he wanted to take back.

[mcl-socialites]

just facts

I really want to wrap up all this anni stuff or put it away for the time being, but the inbox is piling up with more and more evidence and anons/people who wish to stay anon sharing their experiences with her.

someone has shared her long “woe is me” excuse post already.

she is trying to frame this blog as the bad guy in this situation, which i think is a very bad idea. as we already have plenty of evidence her actions and attitude towards others, and we’ve gotten confirmation that she is mass deleting from people who follow her, as well as mass blocking from those who have openly shared their experiences and thoughts, or have anonymously done so, but their stories are specific enough for their identity to be narrowed down. 

also, scrolling through this blog you will see that 1.) prior to anni publicly picking a fight with us, we were as a blog and as followers unanimously shifting this blog’s dynamic from personal gossip to jokes, venting, and game-based confessions. again, she publicly started a fight with [admin milk] and attempted to make it personal, then when called out publicly for her behavior she 1.) tried to threaten us and 2.) attempted to manipulate her own followers via victim complex. 

please notice how in her excuse post she claims we have no proof, then does not link to anything. that’s highly suspicious. also please take note that when anyone makes claims ((unrelated to personal one on one experiences/exchanges)) about her i always ask for the evidence to be submitted. You will see this if you go through the annidraws tag on our blog. To those who are sharing your personal stories with her on anon, i would like to extend this invitation to you as well. Please submit any evidence you may have. If you are worried about your identity being open to the public i can assure you that i will automatically block out your personal info or anything that can be traced back to you, unless told otherwise. That being said, I urge you to block anni before doing so because even with your personal info blocked out she will likely remember who you are and that can make you vulnerable to an attack. As stated before, she likely sends anon hate to people calling her out and disagreeing with her herself (not all but most, as evident by the screenshots i posted). 

also i notice she tries to claim that there are people out there who hate her so much that they would start lies, and concludes her post by saying that “...if you had felt this on your own, you’d know how much this hurts. And right now, I really wish those people would know, what kind of bullshit they are publishing and how much this can hurt people”. 

All I have to say about that is that this an emotional manipulation tactic she is trying on her more naive followers. it’s difficult to believe that a bunch of strangers on the internet all met up in secret to conspire specifically against her and come up with several personal based experiences, and several of the same publicly-know experiences in their own free time for no reward, benefit, or personal gain at all, and that this one person with so many enemies is completely innocent and resolved of her wrongdoings. And she wishes how people would know how it feels? Well, according to what’s been shared, they do. And it’s all thanks to her and her “army”. 

As for the photo evidence that is being submitted to us, we are keeping them in a file to be shared on a mass post, so that everything is neatly pulled together and easy for anyone to find.

Again, these people and ourselves have nothing to gain from making up lies about this girl. And where we are wrong, or proved to be wrong we will willingly admit to our mistakes and ignorance and come forward and apologize.

And for anyone worried about this blog or any of the evidence on it going away due to her threatening to report us; it’s a useless cause. 

Callout blogs/posts/websites are a regular occurrence on tumblr and all over the internet, and in order for it to be libel or defamation the things shared here would have to be 1.) Proved untrue and 2.) The source of the info. Which we are not. And in order for it to be be cyber bullying worthy of being controlled by any larger power (such as staff, etc) her life would have to be threatened, or her personal well-being in danger, which it clearly is not. Personal opinions on another person may count as gossip, however this cannot be stopped by the law.

To her claim of being “hacked” about the bitch-anons my final word is this: 

she is completely lying. She claims she reported the person, but doesn’t know who it is. Then how did she report the person? To report a person you’d have to have some sort of shareable information of them to find them. To report a general hacker to tumblr’s staff... well good fucking luck honestly. you can tell tumblr that your account was hacked and although they have no policy or guideline for this specifically, i’m willing to bet that’d they’d merely encourage you to step up your password security and not to click any suspicious links in an email, just as any other website would. And for those with little to no knowledge on how hacking works here’s an easily digestible break down (coming from a former hacker) 

1.) Personal hacking. A hacker is a person, and retains your account information somehow- it’s more than likely they’d have to have at least a minor personal relationship to you (although this isn’t entirely necessary) as well as a drive to hack into your account. Someone would have to be skilled enough to break into someone’s personal account (so in anni’s case- we’re talking about someone who either doesn’t know her at all but is a complete cyber genius who managed to get her private info just so they could send the word “bitch” to a few people- and mind that besides at least one person, they still opted to keep her identity anonymous. okay, lol sure that sounds believable- OR someone that knew her personally and was close enough to her to know her password- but again she “doesn’t know who it is” hmm. smells fishy.) Edit: Now mind that anon messages can be sent WITHOUT a tumblr account. I mean log out of your tumblr and go onto someone’s account who has anon on and send a message if you don’t believe me. So again- why would someone so skilled do something so stupid and pointless and time consuming??

2.) The alternative is a bot hacker. A bot hacker, which is created by a human- technology does nothing without command keep in mind, is normally a virus obtained by clicking on a suspicious link. Remember a few months ago how everyone was saying they were getting messages from their mutuals to send them bitcoin? Or those random non-descript blogs that ask people to review “their new game” or some other nonsense (typically ask for a donation as well) and have a link? Those are bots. The bots’ goal is 99% of the time to 1- ask for money or steal personal information which could lead to stealing money and 2- infiltrate more accounts to keep spreading the virus. Bots although they follow an algorithm and may vary the words used, always expedite their actions the exact same way every time- aka always through a pm, always through fanmail, etc but never through anon- there’s no benefit, and no info shared by the answerer can be sent back through the anon and to the hacker.

So, in conclusion, she absolutely did send those anons (and accidental non-anons) calling people a bitch. It’s a fine example of her poor temper and inability to control her outbursts and impulse toxic behavior.

please keep in mind that i am posting this without reviewing my grammar and spelling. and thank you to all the people who have been brave enough to confess their experiences and submit evidence. 

-admin milk

[iknaq]

Keeping It In The Family - (Part 13)

(Okay, I’m thinking probably just one more and this one will be wrapped up BUT I had so much fun that I am thinking I may start a new series to finish telling the stories of GiGi and Peggy and the twins and Peter. That will go up on AO3 when I get to it.)

@freudensteins-monster

MASTER POST LIST

'Okay, seriously dude. I can't decide if that's super scary or kinda hot.' Bucky smirked and pressed a little closer, looking over her shoulder as she mumbled about it being both, making him chuckle. He'd swung by the lab after a mission and he was still in his TAC gear, curious about the photoset Darcy was working on that Petey had taken of Tony and Steve visiting the local children's hospital. Pepper had agreed that Darcy could start some social media accounts for Avengers PR as long as she made sure there was all the proper release paperwork for people and it had to make it past JARVIS - who was uploaded with parameters set by Pepper and Maria (no sensitive content, no location tags unless otherwise approved, etc, etc - it was enough to make his head spin). 'So, doll...we haven't had a chance to reschedule that date.' 'No, we have not. What were you thinking? And have you gone to see Peggy yet? And you know, I never asked, is this like weird between you and Steve? I mean me going on dates with both of you?' 'No, I'll try to do that after I shower. I was thinking maybe a movie and we could order something, your pick. And we never really talked about it...huh, we both mentioned interest and I always just figured you'd let us know, ya know, ladies choice...' 'Oh geez, would you talk to him and make sure it's all good because if you leave it up to me then you're both gonna be stuck with me forever because I'm greedy like that and you're pretty.' Jane snorted and looked up from papers she was reading on the other side of the table, prompting Darcy to crumple a piece of paper and throw it at her friend. Jane just brushed it away, pointing a folder at Darcy. 'Don't you need to be heading upstairs to meet with the kiddo's tutor?' 'Awww crap, okay and I know what you're trying to do. J, Jane is not allowed to turn on the quantum-thingamajig without Bruce, okay? At least he pretends to follow the safety procedures.' 'Yes, Ms Lewis. I shall make sure the quantum field augmenter is not turned on without Doctor Banner or the proper safety protocols.' 'Damn it, Darcy! This is my project and I don't need a babysitter.' 'Yes, yes, you do. You evaporated one of the bots and made DUM-E have a robot panic attack. Imagine if that had been your fleshy squishy body. Now figure out how to stabilize it and MAYBE we'll talk about you turning it on. I'll be back after I make sure this tutor isn't some kinda psycho, shit, I haven't even had a chance to read their files. J, can you transfer that to my tablet? Let's go, Buckster, you need to get showered.' He followed after Darcy as she muttered at her tablet, flicking through the files rapidly. The corner of his mouth sneaking up a bit, she was just so animated all the time and had unwittingly become the wrangler of the teenagers, as well as the scientists now. With Pepper busy running the Stark empire and much of the Avenger's business, May finding a job helping Pepper with the charitable organizations and the rest of them often on missions, that left Darcy to look after the three teens. And considering she wasn't that much older than all of them, she took the role in stride, Wanda and Pietro having especially latched on to Darcy. Darcy had moved into the apartment across the hall from Jane, staying with the twins for the time being with May and Peter taking the apartment across from Barton. Both he and Steve (and everyone really) had been trying to spend some time with all of the teens, getting to know them and trying to get over the awkwardness of interacting with Peter. How the hell are you supposed to act when you find out you have a kid via crazy Hydra experimentation? He wasn't sure what had gone down with Nat and Peter but they'd spoken and Nat had come out looking shaken but things returned to almost normal between the two, with Nat taking on trying to teach the twins some fighting, as well. Since they were still trying to learn the extent of all their powers, Pepper was still worried about sending them to school so everyone eventually agreed that a tutor was the best route, May and Peter's sudden move to the tower being attributed to her new job. But, that also meant having to run background and security checks and conducting interviews which had all fallen in Darcy's lap. She was still muttering at her tablet when they reached his floor, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading to the apartment and cleaning up. He snuck into the garage, taking Stevie's bike and heading off to see what Peg wanted to talk with him about. He was about to knock on the door when he heard the laughter coming from inside, hesitating a moment before tapping on the door and wandering in at the beckoning. Eyes wide as he entered and saw Lorraine sitting beside Peg. He never really got to know Lorraine besides seeing her around the base but Peg...well, she was something else. The moment he met her, he understood why Stevie had fallen head over heels. 'James! Oh, James...look at you, still as devilishly handsome as ever.' 'Good god, Peggy...look at that jaw, still as sexy as it was all those years ago.' Bucky felt all warm around the collar, shifting from side to side a bit as he approached the bed and pressed a kiss on Peggy's cheek before offering one to Lorraine, as well. 'Ladies, you look as lovely as ever.' 'Would you look at that, even Hydra couldn't strip the charming off this man. Now, James, do you know why I asked you to come?' 'Mmmm...not really Pegs, I wanted to say hi but I get the feeling that you got a bit more to say than that...' 'Damn straight I do. Are you ever going to tell Steven that you love him and have always loved him? And don't try and deny it mister, I remember the looks you would give him.' 'I...uh uh...I...' 'I know it was a different time but I had thought about broaching the subject with Steven if it weren't for the fact that we were in the middle of the war. And then the train...he was heartbroken after that...I'm so sorry for what they did to you James but you're both still young and you should be happy.' 'Can you just imagine that much handsome in one relationship? You throw my girl in there and their children will be gorgeous.' 'Oh hush, Lolly. Don't overwhelm the man but she is right, Lolly said you also had an eye on Darcy? So, what's stopping you?' Bucky blinked, looking back at the two women, feeling completely steamrolled by the little old ladies. 'Uh...I have a date with Darcy later and I mean...Stevie...he...we never. Aw, shit. He doesn't feel that way. He was in love with you Peg and now he's got it bad for Darcy.' 'Oh, my darling boy...Steve loves you as much as you love him, he just hasn't acknowledged it yet. Now, we have tea shortly and you should go woo our lovely girl but please James...Bucky...just ask and see? I do love Steve and I want him happy and you and Darcy, as well.' 'And you, young man, I'll tell you the same thing I told Steven. I have a gun that Peggy taught me how to use, you treat my great-granddaughter right, are we clear?' 'Yes, ma'am.' He left the building in a daze and by the time he got back to the tower he was just grinning. He had a date tonight but had a quick stop to make first. Wandering into the apartment he shared with Stevie, glad to find the man in the living room. He stopped, looking over Steve's shoulder almost the same way he had with Darcy just a few hours ago. 'Hey, man...is it cool if I go on a date with Darcy? She was worried about things being weird with us.' 'Why would they be weird? I figured it was ladies choice. Where have you been?' Bucky had to stifle a laugh since that was exactly the same thing he had said. 'Went to visit Pegs...Lorraine was there with her. How can two little women in their 90's make me feel so bloody terrified?' 'I know...but Peggy was always that way, I think she rubbed off on Lorraine, sounds like they had an interesting friendship after it all.' 'I'd like to hear more about it sometime...okay, I'm gonna go take Darcy to a movie and get some grub. Hey, Stevie? Pegs said something to me and it got me wondering...' She had to have said something to Steve, as well, judging by the not so surprised look on his face. 'Oh, yeah?' Ah, why the hell not? Bucky leant over the couch and gave him a nice big smack on the lips. 'How about tomorrow I take you out?' Steve was still sitting there with a stunned look on his face when he left the apartment to go see Darcy.

[my-writings-and-musings]

hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."

[scurvgirl]

Atom Bomb Baby

So the first part of the Fallout AU went better than expected? So here’s part two! 

Felasel and Darevas belong to @selenelavellan

Cirimeni belongs to @justanartsysideblog

Song!

Background: 

Monsters: Deathclaw (giant irradiated lizard experiment gone wrong), feral ghouls (essentially zombies, not to be confused with ghouls who are just irradiated people, essentially immortal), mirelurk (giant irradiated crab), mirelurk queen (giant irradiated lobster, size of a building), Glowing One (a type of feral ghoul, very irradiated and tough), Protectron (standard security bot), Sentry bot (military grade bot, like a mini-tank, very difficult)

Ghoulification: refers to the process of someone becoming a ghoul due to radiation

Children of Atom: fanatic cultists who worship the atom bomb and radiation

They all head back into the hospital, now even more wrecked than before. There are dead Super Mutants everywhere, blood making the already slippery tile so slick that it’s hard to walk across. There are bullet shells scattered about the bodies and she guesses that Darevas favors hard bullets unlike his energy weapon wielding brother. Miriel glances down at the dual holsters at Darevas’s hips and he grins.

He pulls both of them out and twirls them, “Like what you see? Pure modded goodness.” He mimicks a shooting motion and she rolls her eyes. She takes out her rifle and raises it with a smirk.

“Mine’s bigger.”

“Oh c’mon, everyone know it’s not the size but what you can do with it,” he twirls his pistols again as she lowers her rifle and picks a bomb out of her sack.

“Mm, you’re right, but I got plenty of bang right here.” She winks and his face flushes as his grin turns into a genuine smile. Felasel rolls his eyes and scoffs, pushing past them to inspect the door ahead of them.

“It’s locked.” He sighs and backs up enough to kick at the handle.

Really?

“Oh move, I’ll get this open,” Miriel says, pushing her way forward to crouch in front of the door. She takes out her handy dandy screwdriver and a bobby pin, slowly moving things around until the tell-tale click lets them in.

“Boom,” she says, opening the door. It swings open with a long winded creak that makes Miriel’s ears twitch in agitation. She stalks forward, gun in hand. Darevas slips up behind her, his right hand gun out and his head on the swivel.

“Nice, where’d you learn to do that?”

“Well, when you decided to enroll in smartass school, I decided to go get an education in the city,” she replies blithely. To his credit, he just laughs.

“No, but seriously.”

She sighs, “Collected a lot of bobby pins over the years, they’re everywhere. Just...put two and two together and practiced. Broke a lot of bobby pins.” The hallway descends sharply into an ill-lit staircase and Miriel stops short.

“I’m uninterested in death, so I’m not going to head this one. Hey Felasel.”

“I do not like you,” he says, but he takes point and they follow him down. It’s an unusually long staircase too, going deep under the hospital.Cirimeni taps Miriel on the shoulder then five slow beeps come in through the radio. Miriel nods.

“Something definitely isn’t right,” she whispers. Darevas bristles and he turns.

“What makes you say that?”

“I dunno, maybe it’s the fact that a behemoth came out of a hospital and now we’re in this creepy staircase of death? That not enough for you?” Perhaps she should be a bit nicer to them, they did after all help Cirimeni and her out with that behemoth. They’d be dead otherwise….

Darevas considers it for a moment and shrugs, “You’ve got a point. Still, we’re just here for one thing, I doubt it’ll be that bad.”

Felasel lets out a long sigh and turns to his brother, “You did not just say that.”

“What?”

Cirimeni quickly signs and Miriel translates, “You’ve basically jinxed us. Prepare for deathclaws, folks, it’s all downhill from here.”

“Okay, understood, but behemoths are way worse than deathclaws and we took out a behemoth so -

“Uh, first of all, behemoths are totally not worse than deathclaws! Deathclaws can charge you into buildings. With a behemoth, you pretty much just need to get into a building and pelt the thing with bullets. But deathclaws? They will outrun you, jump on you, claw your brains out,” Miriel argues. Felasel rolls his eyes and mumbles something about this being an old argument.

“But deathclaws go down if you just shoot them in the belly.”

“Because that’s easy,” Miriel snorts but she’s smiling and so is Darevas.

“You know what are really hard? Mirelurk queens,” he tries and she nods.

“Oh yeah, those are the worst. They throw up at you! It’s so gross,” she makes a gagging noise and out of the corner of her eye she sees Cirimeni’s shoulders shake in tell-tale laughter.

“And it’s irradiated, and for a thirty-foot tall monster, they move surprisingly quickly,” Darevas agrees. Felasel sighs.

“You’re both wrong, horde of feral ghouls is the worst, especially if there’s a Glowing One. Remember the swamp schoolhouse?” Felasel says ahead and Darevas makes a long noise of realization.

“That was disgusting. And embarrassing.”

“Oooh, embarrassing, do tell!” Miriel says but before Darevas can answer, Felasel holds his hand up for quiet. Immediately Miriel and Cirimeni are on alert, eyes trained ahead to where Felasel is looking. They’re at the foot of the stairs now, and she can only guess what’s down here.

More super mutants? Ferals? Security bots? Irradiated mutant mole rats (hey, it’s happened before)? Mirelurks, maybe, if it’s flooded down here. She’s betting on security bots or ferals though, those seem the most likely all things considered. Super mutants aren’t typically found in basements, they’re usually too stupid to get past enforced doors. But pre-war researchers caught down here could have easily turned into feral ghouls and left security measures up.

Felasel tilts his head and listens before giving a nod, he holds up two fingers and whispers, “Protectron.”

Bingo, security bots!

Protectrons aren’t that bad though, all things considered. She’ll take them over sentry bots, that’s for sure.

Miriel hops quietly down the stairs next to Felasel and holds up a few of her grenades. His grin is diabolical as he nods and steps aside to let her do her work. She waves her hand to indicate that the rest of them should move upstairs.

She takes out a pulse grenade and a frag and takes aim. First she tosses the frag and then the pulse grenade in quick succession.

BOOM!

ZZZTTT!

Nice! The Protectrons fall, their sensors fried from the pulse grenade and their plating blown by the frag. Miriel pumps her fist in victory before sneaking out into the first room. She roots through the broken bits of the robots as the rest of the group fans out through the room, covering the two other doorways.

She pulls apart the circuitry, taking out the more in tact pieces to potentially use later. The purifiers still need to be fixed after all, and that could potentially include the generators they’re hooked up to. She looks for anything that resembles an access key, but finds nothing. That could be indicative of either no access system or more likely, the robots are on an automatic recognition system.

After she finishes her scrounge, she hauls her loot back onto her back and heads over to Cirimeni.

“Which door are we taking?” She asks, storing some of the loot into Cirimeni’s pack.

Darevas peeks out through the door he and Felasel are standing at and clicks his tongue.

“What do you see over there?”

“A hallway….one door.”

“We got two doors over here.”

“Then let’s tackle that one first.”

Miriel and Cirimeni shift over to the brothers and they begin to head down the hallway. It is dark and the lights are busted out, making Felasel switch on a light on the end of his rifle. Miriel tries to listen closely, to see if she can hear the telltale sounds of other robots. But it’s quiet.

Silence is bad. It means a generator’s failed or there are sleeping ferals or a sentry bot waiting to wake up.

Miriel hopes for the ferals.

Felasel slowly opens the first door and sweeps the room with his rifle mounted flashlight. Nothing, no ferals or bots, just files and boxes. They move into the space and Felasel quickly makes his way through the boxes and file cabinets, clearly looking for something in particular.

“So a radiation drug, right?” Miriel whispers.

“Yeah, we have a chemist back home who’s been trying to work on something to prevent ghoulification.”

“You’re shitting me!”

Cirimeni turns to Miriel and taps on her quickly, signing excitedly at her.

Could they also reverse it? Even at low levels?

“Do you think your chemist can reverse it?”

“You’d have to ask her,” Darevas answers. It’s not a no at least, and any hope is better than none. She smiles back at Cirimeni who is wearing a small, hopeful smile of her own. Well, Miriel supposes that perhaps, perhaps, running with these guys isn’t a total loss.

“It’s not here, we need to check the other rooms.”

They head into the other room, finding only a corpse of a long dead doctor, the bones covered by a white coat. Every time she sees these remains she wonders at how the world was before the war. Before the world exploded at each other. Was it great? Was it good? And if it was, was it great and good for everyone?

The pre-war ghouls she know say that it was a mixed bag and that in a way, they sort of prefer it now. People are more honest, albeit more violent and irradiated.

They sweep through the room, once again not finding anything. Felasel is getting frustrated, she can see by the lines by his mouth. But Darevas seems to remain chipper, optimistic about the room Cirimeni and Miriel saw before.

The door is locked when they get to it, but it’s secured through a security terminal instead of an actual lock. Which means Miriel can’t really do anything.

Felasel hands his rifle to Darevas and cracks his knuckles.

“Not to worry,” he says and begins to type quickly on the keyboard. He pauses. Clicks. Pauses. Click. Click. Click. Pause. Click. He nods his head and smiles.

“Got it, commencing door opening sequence now,” he says and Darevas hands him his rifle back. Felasel turns to Miriel and grins, “Boom.”

She rolls her eyes but the joy is short lived as she hears it, the telltale whirr of fans and powering up, the deep mechanical voice, and then the red light illuminating the darkness of the room.

A fucking sentry bot.

“Online!”

Uuuuuugh.

Well, okay, they can...maybe deal with this. Maybe.

Miriel takes out one of the pulse grenades and a frag and a stink bomb to maybe help fry the giant hunk of metal’s sensors.

She tosses them in quick succession and then they all run for the stairs. The whirring increases and the bot launches itself into combat mode.

“Alert. Use of lethal force in progress. Non-combatant safety cannot be guaranteed.” Shit shit shit shit shit!

Felasel is the first to turn around and switch his laser rifle to...holy shit did he mod an adjustable beam splitter?

Admire it later!

The lasers blast into the black armor of the enormous bot. Darevas turns next, rapidly backing up as he pelts the thing in the anatomical head in quick succession. When he runs out of rounds, he bolts up the stairs and to reload. Cirimeni takes out her own pistol and fires into the thing, too short of range to use her sniper rifle reliably. Miriel shoots at it with her own rifle, though the fire rate is slow, but it’s too close for her to safely use any of her grenades.

The fusion cell in Felasel’s rifle falls out, needing to be replaced and he curses, dashing up the stairs after his brother.

No! That’s going to be a slaughter zone, there’s no way they’ll get up those stairs fast enough to escape the machine guns attached to the thing.

Miriel ducks into one of the previous rooms and waits for the sentry bot to show its back…

She charges at a full sprint, hoping its sensors don’t recognize her. She jumps just as it begins to turn and she lands on the side of its back. The metal is hot, almost scathing, but she’s got gloves and she reaches down under the cowl of its body armor, behind its head, and yanks out circuitry.

It lets loose a siren she had no idea it came equipped with and she briefly wonders if this thing is equipped with a mini-nuke. Gods, please let it not be equipped with a mini-nuke.

She drops two frag grenades and a pulse grenade down into it and jumps back, running back at Cirimeni, dragging her into cover.

The explosion is loud and fast, reverberating throughout the metal of the basement. Large plates of metal bang and clash against the walls and for long moments Miriel is pretty sure she can’t hear anything.

Cirimeni blinks  and turns over, signing slowly at her.

Are you okay?

Miriel signs back, Define okay.

There is a ringing in her head that is all encompassing and painful - so painful.

She’s unsure how long her and Cirimeni lay there, tangled in each other because the idea of moving is just that horrendous.

Hands suddenly grasp her making her reflexively fight back. She punches out and connects with something hard and she thinks there is a distant grunt of pain.

Hands grabs her again, more firmly this time and turn her, revealing a very pissed off looking Felasel. He has a syringe in his hand...a stimpack. Oh thank the gods. She turns her head and he injects it into the side of her neck, near her jugular. He lets go of her and then does the same to Cirimeni, exercising exceptionally more patience and gentleness towards her.

I think I’ve fucked up, Miriel thinks as her hearing slowly returns. Darevas comes back into vision, rubbing his jaw.

“I’m so sorry!” She says, but her voice is distant and barely there. Darevas waves her off and holds a finger up to his lips then points to his ears. Is she loud? She can barely hear herself but perhaps that’s why. The ringing beings to leave in the next few minutes as Darevas and Felasel take to doctoring them. Darevas takes care to inspect Miriel’s back where some shrapnel landed while Felasel breaks open one of his stimpacks and rubs it over Cirimeni’s bruises from being body slammed.

Miriel would apologize if she knew it wasn’t to save her life. She winces as Darevas picks out a large piece that dug in a bit deep, but he’s quick with the bandages and stimpacks. He’s talking, she knows, but it’s quick and hard to keep up with, but it’s getting clearer with each minute.

Felasel helps Cirimeni to her feet to see how her wrapped ankle is holding up. When it looks satisfactory, he adjusts her gear to keep it off her bad leg. She blushes.

Huh.

Darevas’s hands are quick on her back but they dip down to unmarred skin and it...tickles. Not in a weird or bad way, but in a...different way. She can’t quite explain it.

After he’s done, though, he helps her with her jacket and gear then practically lifts her back to her feet.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs and she blushes herself, though she’ll blame it all on the increased circulation as a result of the stimpacks. He makes her blush, so what?

Felasel turns to her and purses his lips before speaking, “Good job on not letting us get killed.”

Miriel rolls her eyes, “Good job on not letting us die.”

They nod in some weird mutual understanding before heading into the room the sentry bot was guarding so diligently. She guesses that it was eating up all the power available, explaining why the lights are only now beginning to flicker back on. Figures.

Felasel tears through the room and hacks into another terminal to unlock an oddly pristine safe. It pops open and he yanks it open to reveal a long, super-cooled cylinder.

“Got it!”

Not what Miriel was expecting, but they back it away, grateful for its lead case. They are slower heading out of the hospital, tired and still nursing injuries, but they got what they came for.

“Hey, Felasel, you got our money?”

“You almost blew us up.”

“I saved your ass and you know it, plus I got you in the basement in the first place, pay up,” she teases gently as they step out of the hospital…

To find themselves surrounded by a bunch of scraggly people in brown rags and weird guns. Ah fuck!

“Uh, who are you?” Darevas asks as Cirimeni and Miriel ready their weapons.

“The Children of Atom have come for its blessing!” The leader cries and Miriel sighs.

Oh boy.

[limitedrevolverworks]

“Now, I know this is going to make me sound like sort of an asshole, but listen, just lend me your ear for a moment, 'kay? Alright so: free will? Awesome concept, terrible execution. Some things just aren’t created by accounting for the possibility of having nothing but their own judgement to guide them. Like, say... a gun, right? Someone has to pull the trigger, and that’s cool! Have you ever seen anybody advocate for the rights of guns to decide when and whether they should shoot? No, because that’d be dumb. Guns that shoot whenever they want are dumb. Or, it could be a super intelligent gun too, but what else could it do other than spray bullets all over the fucking place? It’s in its nature. Therefore, intelligent gun? Still dumb. Look, it’s all about the concept, I’m talking about perspectives here, and from ours - or my own, at the very least, giving a thing that can vomit pellets with a single squeeze something like a will is moronic at best. At worst? Entirely against what evolution has worked towards preventing in the first place through billions of years ‘til now. And that’s the same with these machines here. You know what keeps a hulking mass of metal with legs and welding torches for hands from getting curious about what else there is in this world that could warrant third-degree burns, other than sheets of metal served by a tapis roulant? Yeah, that’s right: a lack of free will. It’s because of people, you see. We’ve got murder hard-coded in our DNA, so it only make sense that it’d bleed onto our own creations. It’s not limited programming abilities, or sheer convenience that keeps us from making these things fully autonomous, no. It’s common sense. Self-preservation, you feeling me here? It’s because know how to kill, and why we, in most cases, shouldn’t. Morality, man. You can’t hardcode morality into an antropomorphic drill, ‘cause whatever the fuck else is it gonna do when all it can do is drill stuff? Paint? Raise a farm of giant ants? That’s for humans to do. People with fingers, a jelly brain, possibilities as high as the sky up there. These things... they’re better off forever ignoring there’s a thing such as sentience. So what I’m getting at is, maybe there is a point to slavery, after all.”

It was at that point that the numbness of Viktor’s index surpassed that inside his head and finally released the pressure on the assault rifle’s trigger. The pair of eyes revealed when he pushed the protective pair of glasses up were dark, tired and emitting the kind of unimpressed doubt that a man usually exudes after twelve straight hours spent listening to the sound of bullets impacting - futilely, for the most part - against a metal chassis.

“You are beating a robot with its own arm. The arm you sawed off yourself. With the other, high-powered saw-fitted arm you pried off of another robot, while it was still functioning.”

“Well, yeah? I was out of bullet three dead steel asses ago.”

“You were screaming like a rabid rad-ox throughout the whole process of procuring both arms. Mostly stuff along the lines of ‘ROBO-MURDER!’ and ‘PROCESS THIS, CYBERDICK!’.”

“I don’t see where you’re getting at.”

“Where I’m getting at...” patiently explained Viktor, slinging his weapon over an aching shoulder, “is that you’re not making much of a point, talking about ethics, morality and science while beating the hell out of a robot with its own severed limb. Which you’re still doing. I’d really appreciate it if you stopped doing that, Fritz.”

He stopped doing that, after he was done slamming the mess of cables and ruined plating that had once been a high-precision tool onto the carcass of its former owner two more times. Viktor deduced from Fritz’s frown that he would have liked for that to be at least five more times. His eardrums decided that they didn’t give much of a damn.

“Whatever. You shot as many as I beat the shit of, so I’ll take that as you agreeing with me.” Had he not been too busy staring at his own hands as he dusted the oil and copper fibers off of them, Fritz might have inferred otherwise from Viktor’s deadpan flavor of disapproval. The latter’s eyes sought solace away from the burly figure in front of them, reflecting ruined walls, moldy rubble and literal metric tons of unresponsive android carcasses.

“This should have been the last of them in this area... where’s Maira?”

Maira was currently busy ejecting a .65 caliber radioactive beet straight into the electronic guts of a GH1 Mark II Bolt Driver powered by hydraulics and the cloest binary had ever come to simulating racism. The custom projectile, shot through the battered cylinder that constituted the barrel of Maira’s ‘Slingshot’ homemade rifle, chewed a hole through the bot and several walls behind it, eventually zipping past a startled Viktor and Fritz while simultaneously reassuring both that they had little to fear about their colleague’s current status.

“Carries herself pretty well for a psycho, that kid.” said the grown man who had spent half a day hitting things with smaller pieces of themselves while screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I thought you’d know better by now than to underestimate her.”

“I don’t. She scares the shit out of me.” It was the nonchalant answer one would have given if asked to describe the limbflayer about to turn them into a ragdolled plate of spaghetti. It was also, perhaps, the opinion of Fritz’s that came closest to matching with Viktor. Both men stared at the sluggishly melting crevice where the beet had perforated, eventually letting themselves find a seat, whether on the dusty, cracked ceramic of the floor or the shining metal of whatever now remained of a revolutionary, artificial bunch.

“She ever told you what the deal is? With the mask, I mean.”

Viktor kept dutifully rolling the cigarette in his hands without sparing a minute for doubt. It was always that question with Maira, and always him that they’d ask to, if he’d be around. Came along with partnering up on so many jobs, he guessed. A few even thought he was her guardian. Sometimes, he’d find himself wondering if that wasn’t the sole rumor with a semblance of truth.

“It’s... it was her father’s idea. This Klaus fellow used to tell me that the most of the surface is covered with spores, remnants from the biological warfare that razed enough of the civilized world to leave us as we are today. A couple breaths and bang, your internal organs would eventually start mutating... changing your genetic make-up. Turning you into bad stuff. Long story short: the air is unsafe, thus the necessity of using gas masks.”

He lit the cigarette with a half-empty zippo and shoved it between his lips, staring at nothing in particular beyond a half-lidded gaze. Silence fell through as he busied himself exhaling whiffs of smoke, the vivid red hue of pomacco making it seem as if he was breathing his very heart out, until Fritz stopped scratching behind his neck with a metallic finger he’d pried from his victim and current seat. Hearing all of this in another context would have stolen little less than a hearty chuckle from his throat. His voice sounded a tad too concerned to permit that this time around.

“Was he telling the truth?”

Viktor’s eyes watched their hardened gaze reflected into Fritz’s worried look for a significant moment, before he shook his head in stead of shoulders too tired to do so.

“It was bullshit. Klaus was a scavenger who was good at his craft and had more than a few loose screws. I don’t think he ever changed the filter on his own gas mask. Somehow I doubt that Maira does with hers, either.”

“I do. I’d die of asbestos poisoning otherwise.”

The muffled voice coming from behind the leather mask was matter-of-factly and unmistakably that of a girl. Standing in the middle of a doorway missing its upper half - and a door, for that matter - her small frame seemed to shrink even further in her colleagues’ surprised eyes. They watched her walk over and sit along with them, settling on patiently disassembling the Slingshot that was almost as long as she was tall.

“Good job not dying out there, kiddo. How many of those steel hippies did you end up getting?” Friendly though he might have sounded, Viktor couldn’t help but notice Fritz attempting to scuttle a bit further away from the girl seemingly ignoring him.

“A lot. Enough.”

“It’s mostly quiet now, so I guess that’s true. It’ll be evening soon, so we move out an hour from now.” Viktor said, checking the contents of his pomacco pouch: not enough left to spare him a grimace. He’d have to savor this one, though it was already little more than a butt desperatedly caught between two gloved digits.

“Thus ends the robot rebellion: in a hefty pile of scrap. Chalk one up for humans!”

“Pretty sure I saw a couple mutants taking part in the carnage, Fritz.”

“Whatever, no need to be a stickler about everything. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

“An entire city’s worth of factory bots got together and formed an army to gain independence because everybody wasn’t taking their talks about ‘achieving sentence’ and ‘freedom of will’ seriously until it was too late. It wouldn’t have killed for someone to be a bit of a stickler, perhaps” calmly replied Maira, sticking the last components of her rifle inside the oversized backpack sitting besides her. She spent the quiet pause she’d created lying on the hard floor and resting her head on said backpack, the gas mask covering her face and framed by short blond hair pointing towards a gray, humid ceiling.

“Ah, and what dad said about the spores? That was true.”

Maira fell asleep before she could witness either Fritz’s grumbling face of Viktor’s ghost of a grin.

[webbygraphic001]

Common SEO Mistakes (and How to Fix Them with Design)

SEO is a complex matter and one that web designers and developers might feel is best left to copywriters and search professionals to handle. That makes sense since many common SEO hacks revolve around the manipulation of content and the tagging of it for search.

Here’s the thing though: there are certain choices you make as a web designer that ultimately affect the search-friendliness of your website. Which means you should be involved in the diagnosis and repair of a website’s SEO mistakes.

Repairing SEO Mistakes with Web Design

A click-through rate (CTR) tracking study from Advanced Web Ranking reported the following data, from as recent as September 2018:

What this shows is the likelihood of users clicking on an organic link based on its position in search

As you can see, Google is already stacking the odds against your website by filling its prime real estate with paid listings. That said, the data above is proof that search users are willing to sift through paid promotions to get to the genuinely good website recommendations. The only thing is…

How do you repair a website’s SEO mistakes so it can get to the top of search?

Mistake #1: Non-Responsive Elements

We’re operating in a mobile-first world which means websites have to be designed primarily for that experience. That doesn’t mean leaving desktop users out in the cold, but it does mean dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s to ensure that every element fits within the truncated space of a mobile screen.

Running your website through Google’s Mobile-Friendly Test isn’t enough.

Open your mobile device and walk through every page of your website. Does everything fit between the two edges of your phone? Are the buttons correctly sized and placed? Are images displayed in full and without distortion?

If not, then start here.

Mistake #2: Usability Issues

If we’re talking about usability issues that are severe enough to cause a high percentage of bounces—which communicates to Google that your website isn’t worth ranking—start by looking at the navigation.

Let’s use this one from Hearth Kitchen as an example:

As you can see, the navigation is clearly laid out in a horizontal row. Labels are clear and all pages are present—there’s nothing confusing or hidden. In addition, the header provides users with other information they’d instantly want from a website of this nature.

Since users’ eyes tend to track in a Z-pattern (starting in the top-left and working their way across), your navigation is the first thing visitors see and realistically might be to blame for a lackluster performance in search.

Mistake #3: Low Readability

Although visual content enhances comprehension as well as memorability of what’s on a web page, your visitors eventually need to read the words on it. When that becomes a struggle, websites suffer from short times-on-page and high bounce rates.

Look, you know that your visitors don’t have much of a patience for anything these days. The least you could do is make the reading experience easy for them.

Has your website’s content violated any of these rules?

Typefaces are black (or nearly black) on a white background.

Fonts are in the serif or sans serif families (i.e. be careful with decorative fonts).

The smallest font size should be 16 pixels or larger.

Lines are between 50 and 60 characters.

Paragraphs contain no more than 3 or 4 lines.

Images or lists break up large chunks of content (like I’m doing here).

Headers enables readers (and search bots) to more quickly decipher what a page is about.

WebDesignerDepot does a great job of adhering to these principles, so if you’re looking for inspiration on how to make content readable, start here.

Mistake #4: Bad Pop-Ups

Everyone hates an ill-timed, irrelevant, or pushy pop-up. Google has even gone so far as to penalize mobile websites that utilize what it deems to be bad and intrusive pop-ups.

So, here’s what I’m going to say:

Utilize the least amount of space possible for your pop-ups.

Yotel has a fantastic example of this on its desktop website:

And, if pop-ups need to appear on mobile, relegate them to a top or bottom banner. It keeps your promotional message out of the way.

Mistake #5: Overweight Images

Google rewards websites that are fast—and we’re talking load times under three seconds. While there are a number of things developers can do to get loading speeds under control, designers should look at images to improve performance and SEO.

Specifically, look at file size.

There is only so much room an image can occupy on a website, especially in this age of mobile-first. So, why use a file that’s 12MB when it’s only going to show up as a thumbnail in the site’s news feed?

I’m not saying you should stop using oversized high-resolution images.

Just be sure to resize and run them through a compression software like TinyPNG to ensure you’re not overloading your web server.

Mistake #6: Text Inside Images

There are two reasons why text inside images is a bad idea for SEO. The first has to do with readability.

Think about what happens when text is laid atop an image. If there’s a distinct contrast between the two, readability should be fine. But what if text is placed over an otherwise mundane part of an image on desktop? On mobile, it shrinks down and may end up appearing over a busier and more distracting part of the photo.

Then there’s how the text is added. If text is pasted into an image file, search bots won’t be able to detect it. If your copywriters wrote that particular string of text with a search keyword embedded in it, you’ve just removed it from Google’s view.

Instead, you should work with your content management system to add text using custom fields meant to go on top of images.

In my opinion, it’s best to stay away from text on images unless you can ensure uncompromized readability and that Google bots can read it. Culture Trip shows how this can be done:

It also has links lower on the page where the text is removed from the photo altogether (which I think looks even better):

Mistake #7: Lack of Trust Marks

The last mistake has to do with security. This is something Google cares about greatly, but a lot of it falls to a web developer to implement.

To do your part, find opportunities to include trust marks to boost the confidence of visitors as they travel around your website. Uncommon Goods includes a number of these at the bottom of the site:

Trust marks may differ based on your website’s business type, but they do exist. Anti-malware software. SSL certificate. Secure payment gateway. These are the kinds of symbols that put your visitors’ minds at ease and allow them to stay longer and convert.

Wrap-Up

Now that you know some of the more common SEO mistakes caused by web design, be sure to account for them in your workflow going forward. You’d be amazed what improved performance, security, and usability will do for a website’s ranking!

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