#split-n-splice

[ichorai]

xerox ; robert reynolds ; part one.

part two. | part three.

pairing ; robert (bob) reynolds x reader, thunderbolts & reader

synopsis ; you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

words ; 7.8k

themes ; action, angst, slowburn, the beginnings of romance

warnings / includes ; violence/gore/death, human experimentation, reader has the ability to split into multiple bodies (think dupli-kate from invincible), foul language, walker is an asshole, everyone's mental health sucks!

a/n ; this is part one !!! a second part is already in the works :) this was written all today so apologies if there are any mistakes!

main masterlist. read on ao3!

It didn’t seem a hard task. One kill. One more. Then you could go. Quit the clean-up business for good. You could practically hear Valentina’s sickly sweet smile through the phone. 

“You’ll be in and out of there in no time,” her voice crooned. “And I wouldn’t worry too much about your target. After all, you’re rather… disposable, aren’t you?”

You frowned at that. “My self-copies aren’t disposable. I feel it every time one of me dies.”

Valentina laughed—a high-pitched keening noise. You assumed she was waving her hand about in a dismissive manner, as she usually did with you. “You’ll get back up. That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it? Good luck. Try to have some fun. It’ll be your last one, anyway—make the most of it.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your free hand wound around your midriff, almost as if you were cradling yourself. “I’ll take care of it.”

You hung up before you could hear Valentina say one more word.

There were ringing gunshots, muffled grunts, and resounding thuds when you arrived. Who else was here? Your target was only one person—an untouchable woman. A Ghost. Would a thousand of you be able to tackle one of her? 

Or perhaps the better question was… were you willing to sacrifice yourself a thousand times to kill one woman? You definitely have before, on previous missions. Over and over again, the bitter taste of death was stuffed into your mouth, dry as a sock, tainting your innards like black tar. 

You waited outside the junk room’s entrance, counting the voices you heard. One man, for sure. One unidentifiable. Two women. You split yourself into two, then three. With a begrudging sigh, you spliced once more to make four. 

Three copies ran in. One stayed out. 

You spotted the ghost immediately. She was phasing between the shield of another masked assassin. Were they also here to kill her? Another copy spotted a woman being pinned down by another man, a blade inches away from her throat. Not your mission, not your problem.

Though, it certainly became your problem when the woman croaked, “There you are!” upon seeing you. “Holy shit, there’s three of you.”

She bucked the man off after tasing him, scrambling towards her gun. A click, a point, a shot. Your copy dove behind a pile of sturdy cases, but clearly not fast enough. You felt the bullet pierce your chest, the warmth of the blood pool across your ribs—and then you were dead.

“Fuck,” you winced, feeling the resounding ache of the gunshot in your own body, eyeing your dead self. Without a second thought, you split once more. Your copies scattered from your assailant, off to find the ghost. 

You tackled your white-masked target as soon as she materialized once more, managing to get only one powerful strike in before you fell to the ground, the ghost phasing away and disappearing once more. Then your head pierced with the terrible, agonizing pain of a bullet fracturing your skull, and you were dead. Again. And again, and again. Impaled by a shield, stabbed by the ghost. 

You gasped from outside the room, crumpling to your knees. How many more times were you willing to die? How many times could you?

Then there came a nauseous, gagging sound from inside the room. For a moment, you wondered if one of your copies had miraculously survived and was making that sound. You split yourself and crawled inside. Maybe you could save yourself. Spotting you coming in, the man with the shield seemed to realize there was one of you waiting outside. He sent the shield—already covered with your blood—arcing outside and striking you clean across the throat before you could react. Your decapitated head hit the metal floors with a disgusting, bloody noise, lolling to the foot of the entrance. 

That left one copy inside the room. You gasped for breath, air painfully dragging within your esophogas as you clutched at your neck, the veins beneath your skin popping. For safety, you duplicated yourself once more. 

“Woah,” came a voice beside you. There was a man in… hospital clothes? You scrambled away from him. He watched you with an open mouth, blinking in a manner not unsimilar to an owl. 

One of the assassins was dead already, bullet wound in the head, not unsimilar to one of your deaths here. You could see your own bodies scattered about, in varying states of mutilation. The three assassins left were all pointing their guns at each other, then you and your copy, then to the man gagging next to you. 

“Which one of you is the real you?” said the blonde woman. 

“I’m all me,” the both of you said at the same time.

She shuddered. “Well, that’s not creepy at all.”

The man on the ground made a disoriented noise, as if realizing that he really shouldn’t be in a room full of people with guns trying to kill each other. “Actually, I—” He struggled to his feet, then turned to run. Thick metal shutters fell down over all the entrances before he could leave. It crushed your decapitated head as if it were a grape, your blood splattering all over you, your copy, and the hospital-man.

Shit. If you were still outside, you could have gotten away. 

The assassins all trained their guns at the man, spooked by his skittish movements. 

“No, no!” he exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m—I’m Bob.”

It didn’t look like he had any place to hide weapons. Still, just to be safe, you split yourself again, now three of you. The faux Captain America flinched. “Fuck!”

“Who?” said the ghost, eyes trained on Bob. 

“Bob,” said Bob, shrugging. 

“Who sent you, Bob?” asked the blonde woman. 

“Nobody, why would I be sent?” he said, hands trembling. He was afraid. “You were all… you guys were all sent?”

His question went largely ignored. The woman’s eyes, lined with hazy blue makeup, darted to you. “You—how am I meant to kill you if you can’t die?”

You raised your hands in surrender now, mimicking Bob. “I can die. It’s the one thing I’m really good at.”

Something flickered in her gaze. She lowered her gun just slightly. “Who sent you?”

The ghost rolled her eyes and lowered her gun. “I’m not sure what’s happening here, but my job is done.” She gestured to the dead assassin on the ground and stepped forward to go. 

One of your copies blocked her way. “My job isn’t.”

She scoffed, then phased straight through you. You felt a cold chill traverse down your spine. 

“Neither is mine,” said the blonde woman, turning the barrel of her gun to you. 

“Don’t waste your time,” you snarled. “I have infinite lives. You have finite bullets—do the math.”

The man with the shield tilted his head at the woman. “Convenient cover for someone stealing weapons from O.X.E.”

“I’m not stealing, Copy-Cat here is ste—” She paused, and realization came over her bloodied face. Then, she raised her hands in the same way you did. “Okay. It’s clear we have all worked for Valentina in some sort of shadow ops capacity.”

“Yeah, so?” said the man. 

“So all of this shit is O.X.E’s secrets. And so are we.” She gestured to the mountainous stacks of boxes and crates.

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. You should’ve known Valentina would pull something like this with you. It should’ve been suspicious how easily she accepted your request to leave. How could you be so stupid? So naive?

“We’re liabilities no one would miss,” said Ghost. 

The man scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I was sent here on a mission.”

“Look around!” said the blonde. “We are the evidence, and this is the shredder! She wants us gone.”

The three began to bicker over who was in the right. From their argument, you learned that the man with the shield was John Walker, officially Captain America for about three seconds before he had murdered a man in public. And the blonde woman—tasked with the impossible mission of eliminating you—was Yelena. Former Red Room assassin.

Bob began to shuffle closer to you, and you tensed. 

“Hey—” he said, reaching out a hand to help you up. “Are you okay? I watched you die, like, fifty times or something.” He fidgeted when you hesitantly accepted his hand, pulling yourself up with his help. Bob took turns smiling at you and your clones, all lopsided. He was so… off-putting. You scrutinized him with a narrowed gaze. 

“What are you doing here, Bob? You clearly aren’t… like us.”

“Wh… Why not?”

“You’re in a patient uniform. It’s the kind of shit I always wore as a kid,” you said, beckoning to his pants. 

Bob was about to respond, but clammed up when John Walker began stalking closer to the two of you. Subconsciously, Bob edged behind you, almost as if he were using you as a shield. You sure as hell didn’t know who Bob was, or what he was doing here, but he certainly didn’t seem deserving of the piercing glare Walker was sending his way.

“I’m not leaving here without completing my mission,” said the man. “Valentina gave me a clean slate, guaranteed—I’m not screwing that up.”

“And you believe her?” you said in disbelief, almost a whisper. You stepped back, bumping into Bob in the process. He felt strangely solid behind you. “She promised to let me go. A rogue, powered assassin let loose out of the cage. I was stupid for letting myself believe her. And you are, too.”

Walker’s face crumpled with anger. “Listen here, you freak. You multiply like… like bacteria. Obviously Valentina doesn’t trust you. She may be lying to you, but she trusts me. And you—” He rounded on Bob. “You were part of my job, so I gotta know. How’d you get in?”

You shifted so you’d be able to see Bob. He seemed to shift with you slightly, unhappy that you were no longer between him and John. Fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, Bob shrugged. “I don’t… Pfft. I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

One of Walker’s eyes twitched. “Terrific answer. Great. Well, alright!” He beckoned to you, Yelena, and Ghost. “Tie yourselves up. I’m sure there’s rope in here somewhere.”

“Wow,” said Ghost—Ava, you remembered reading her name from your mission casefile. “No.”

“Hey,” whispered Bob, tugging on one of your copy’s utility belts. “I just realized I don’t—I don’t know your name.”

“Now’s probably not the time for niceties,” you said. After staring at him for a moment longer, you sighed. It was pitiful how lost he looked. “I’m known as Xerox.” 

“Xerox—that’s a… that’s a cool name. Way better than Bob.”

To your surprise, you found yourself giving him a small twitch of a smile. “Bob’s a palindrome. Same backwards as it is forwards. That earns it at least half a point on the cool scale.”

Bob paused, regarding you with an equally twitchy, uncertain grin. “I never thought about it that way. Yeah, that’s… thanks.” He let out a nervous laugh that was obviously forced—and yet still somehow endearing.

As you spoke with Bob, Ghost walked on ahead, intent on leaving. She phased out of tangibility, so you knew there was no way you could stop her even if you tried. You watched her go passively—you no longer cared if you failed your mission. It was clear it wasn’t a real mission, anyway. You were glad that Yelena had come to the same conclusion. She didn’t seem intent on wasting any more bullets in your copies’ skulls.

When Ghost drew within an inch from the door, a piercing sound echoed throughout the chambers. You and your copies keeled over in pain. The noise made violent shudders ripple through your body. It reminded you of all those times you had to be strapped down when you were a child before you could control your powers, riding out your seizures with a belt across your mouth to muffle your screaming. 

You could feel shaking hands drift to cover your ears for you. Bob’s. Your head snapped up, meeting his worried gaze. 

Eventually the noise subsided, and his touch fell away. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, eyeing him cautiously. What did he want from you?

“You were hurting,” was all he said in response, tone hesitant and soft, as if worried he’d done something wrong. 

You felt your face soften and you let out a weak exhale, suddenly feeling as if your heart was going to fall out of your chest. Why was he making you so flustered? 

The five of you were left sitting around for the next ten minutes. Walker and Ava took to raiding the dead assassin, Taskmaster’s body. Yelena didn’t seem too happy with that, snapping at them to respect the dead, job or not. 

“You knew her?” you quietly asked the blonde as she paced to and fro like a caged tiger, watching as Ava took a gun off the corpse. 

“I did,” she said, nodding solemnly. Then, she gestured to your own dead bodies strewn about. “Sorry about—” 

“It’s fine. Comes with the job,” you mumbled, voice soft. 

Yelena nodded grimly. “You live and you die, right? You more than most, I suppose.”

You blinked at her. Before you could say anything back, a siren blared across the room. The lights turned an angry shade of red that made the blood on your hands look black as tar. You felt your stomach roil.

Ghost looked upward. “It’s not a shredder,” she said. “It’s an incinerator.”

There was a large timer by one of the entrances that started to count down from two minutes. “Two minutes before Valentina’s slate is wiped clean,” said Yelena.

“Don’t know that for sure!” John protested. “Could be for when they come to pick me up.”

You could only barely withhold yourself from driving your fist into the smug look on his face. It did, however, make you feel slightly better that you weren’t the most stupid, delusional one in the room.

“Do you not feel that? The temperature rising dramatically, as if heat were involved?” Ghost pointed up at the gaps in the ceiling, where heat was filtering in, so strong that space warped and wobbled looking through the columns of air.

“Oh, boy, that is no way to go,” said Bob, nervously wringing his hands. 

Walker scowled. “Well, how would you like to go, Bob? With a hand around your throat choking the life out of you or a bullet to the head? Either could certainly be arranged!”

“Stop,” you barked. “You really want to spend your last moments alive being a complete asshole?”

The man clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Yelena stepped in before another fight could start. “Listen, Ghost-lady—”

“Ava.”

“Sure, whatever. We need to get you through one of the walls so you can open the door.”

“She tried that already,” said John, eyes rolling up to the pipes on the ceiling. 

“I know she did, but we haven’t tried shutting off the sound barrier!”

“If they built a barrier specifically for her,” you said, recalling your casefile. Her weakness was high-frequency sounds that caused interference with her suit’s technology. “The emitter must be in close-range. Somewhere inside the room. Outside would be too weak and dampened to work.” 

Immediately, you spliced a few dozen times and scattered, looking for some sort of power source.

“What—what exactly are we looking for?” asked Bob, hurrying alongside one of your copies.

“Not stupid questions, Bob!” John said. 

“Ignore him. Look for something with circuitry. Wires, a battery cell, that kind of stuff.” You tore through a few crates, feeling up the nooks and crannies of the walls. 

Fifty seconds left on the clock, rapidly ticking down. You were no stranger to dying, but this was strangely a different experience altogether. True, complete death. It sounded like both a blessing and the most terrifying thing possible. You could feel the panic rise up like bile in your throat. 

To your relief, Ava found the power source, and John immediately hacked away at it without thinking, orange sparks flying with the power of his strike. You would’ve been angry with his impulsive behavior if it hadn’t worked—Ghost successfully phased through the walls and disappeared.

Twenty seconds. 

She was going to come back, right?

Ten.

The furnaces above grew hotter and brighter.

Nine. 

One of your copies pushed Bob forward, since he was loitering directly beneath one of them. “Don’t stand under there.”

Five.

One of you caught sight of Yelena shutting her eyes in solemn acceptance.

Four. 

You heard Walker curse under his breath. 

Three.

You braced yourself. Would death be kind to you this time, despite all of its ugly cruelty before?

Two.

And then—a blaring siren. The slabs of metal began to shirk upwards. The four of you dashed out just as the columns of fire began to spew out. 

Bob was slow. You split yourself multiple times to keep shoving him forward. You could feel fire engulf your body, shrieking as the searing flames tore through your suit, into your skin, eating at your flesh, burning you to a crisp.

Some of you escaped, thrown by the explosion. One died instantly with a broken spine. Others clung to the walls, injured but alive. 

You watched in horror as many of your selves wailed in agony, dying a slow, agonizing death. You curled up into yourself, a few tears silently rolling down your cheeks. You supposed that was another one of your talents—you were very good at crying quietly. 

“Thanks for coming back,” you heard Walker say to Ava.

“I had to use someone. They cut the power to the elevator.”

“Hey,” the ghost said, reaching out a hand to you. You looked up at her, furiously wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, trying your best to ignore the pain. “Come on. Up you get. We need to find a way out of here.”

When she helped you up, she noticed that you were shaking violently. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never been set on fire before,” you murmured. “Burned alive is a new one to add to the books.” You kneeled down to close the eyes of one of your corpses. You caught sight of Bob on the other side of the room, having just woken up from being knocked unconscious beside Yelena. He was uninjured, to your relief. 

“You helped me out,” he said, once you neared him. “Why did… Why did you do that? You died for me—so many times. I’m not…” He fidgeted uncomfortably. You could see the guilt weighing heavy in his eyes. “I’m not worthy enough for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were never good with sentimentalities.

To your dismay, John cut you to the chase. “I won’t disagree with you on that,” he told Bob. He stormed forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with Bob, who cowered away just slightly before straightening himself to his full height. “I’m tired of your bullshit! Tell me how you got in here right goddamn now!”

“I swear I just woke up in this place,” he said, placating, as if he were talking to a spooked mare. “One minute I’m having my blood drawn for this medical study, and the next I’m here. I don’t know what’s happening, I really don’t.”

“Okay, then show me where you woke up!” 

Bob hesitated, then pointed into the incinerated room. “In—in there.”

“Where everything’s on fire,” John deadpanned. “That’s real convenient.”

“Walker, relax,” said Yelena. 

“You don’t remember anything?” asked Ava. “Bag over your head, a needle in your neck?”

“Chokehold? Nerve pinch?” Walker asked. It was beginning to feel terribly like an interrogation of sorts. 

Bob stepped back again. “No, none of those.”

“I think he’s just a civilian,” said Yelena, eyeing Bob carefully.

With an edge to his tone, John hissed, “Okay, well, if he’s a civilian, he knows too much and if he’s an agent he sucks. Either way I say we throw him back into the fire!” 

“No,” you said, glaring daggers at the man. “I died multiple times just to get him out. We’re not murdering an innocent man.”

“What do you want, a medal? And we don’t know he’s innocent!” Walker fired back.

Suddenly, Bob started to laugh. It was a wheezy, chuckling noise. You looked at him in surprise.

“You said you’re… Captain America?” he said, smiling incredulously.

John’s countenance grew even stonier than before. “What’s funny about that?”

“It’s just, heh, you’re… you’re an asshole,” Bob said between his peals of laughter. 

There was a beat of tense silence. Then John smiled, wolfish. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. In an instant, he was an arm’s length away from you and Bob, grabbing Bob by the throat and shoving him back so hard his back crashed into the wall behind him. You scrambled forward, multiplying twice to place enough hands on Walker’s chestplace to shove him back. Yelena also came to help, physically placing herself between the two men. 

“Okay, woah!” said Yelena, shooting a warning glare at John. “We swung our tiny dicks—it was a lot of fun, but we need to have some space now. Walker, you go over there. Bob, come with me.”

You watched the blonde woman whisk Bob off to the side, who followed her with no complaint. When you looked back at John, he was toeing one of your burnt corpses with his boot. He caught you staring at him and stopped.

“Sorry,” he said. Even he knew that crossed a line.

“Force of habit?” you taunted him with a tilt of your head.

John apparently had nothing to say to that. He turned away from you. Then, he began hacking at one of the walls with the shield. “There has to be a way out of here if we go in one direction for long enough, right?”

You shrugged. “Go right ahead. Be my guest.”

After a few more pummels, the solid concrete gave in and revealed metal doors. He pried them open, grunting with exertion, revealing an empty elevator shaft. There were no wires or indented surfaces to climb. Just sheer, smooth metal walls for as far as the eye could see. Likely even further than that. You gulped as you stared up.

“Hey, are you guys done with your therapy session yet?” John snarked to Yelena and Bob. 

Yelena, after saying a final few words to Bob, let him go. Bob made his way to you. Whatever it was that Yelena said to him, Bob didn’t seem particularly settled. You decided not to dwell on it for too long.

“So, this is—our way out?” 

“Looks like it. No way to climb, though,” you said. You glanced at his head. “You okay? That looked like it hurt.”

Bob glanced at you strangely, not used to others being concerned over his well-being. First Yelena, and now you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can’t have been as bad as you.”

“It’s no competition,” you said, pursing your lips. Then, to the rest of the group, you asked, “Should we all get in there? Maybe we’ll figure something out once we scope it out.”

All of you crowded into the bottom of the elevator shaft, staring up at the endless void above. 

“So… none of us fly? All of us just… punch and shoot?” Yelena asked, looking around.

“Don’t worry,” said Walker. “I got this.” 

He pushed you and Ava to make more space for himself, ignoring both of your startled noises. Then, he leaped up. An insane distance for a regular human, and what you assumed was just above average for one pumped with super serum. You watched him disappear into the darkness for all about four seconds. And then you heard screaming as he came back down. Bob tugged you back just in time not to get crushed beneath John crashing back down on his shield. 

“You should try that again,” Ava suggested, grinning down at him as he struggled back to his feet with a pained groan.

John looked at you and you clones expectantly. “You can multiply. Why don’t you, I don’t know, make enough copies for us to climb up there?” 

“You want me to form a human ladder for you guys?” you asked, horrified. 

“Well, yes—”

“My clones have limited range,” you interrupted, voice curt. “We’re a collective mind. If we don’t all stick within a few meters of each other, I get seizures and lose control.”

Walker frowned down his nose at you. “Is it not worth a shot?”

“Not unless you want to risk me spazzing out mid-climb and all of us falling to our deaths,” you retorted. “We need to think of something else.”

Then, Walker turned his gaze to Ava. “Can’t you just phase up there and throw down a rope for us, or something?”

“First of all, someone other than you would have to ask me,” she hissed. You had to admit, you were starting to warm up to her. “Second, I’ve only ever been able to hold it for a minute, and who knows how long it would take to get up there—I’d be crushed under the weight of it before I could phase back.”

“Just a minute?” Walker deadpanned. “What is it with you lab rats and your limitations?”

“Shut up!” both you and Ava exclaimed at the same time.

“I… have an idea,” said Bob, raising a tentative hand.

All of you turned to him expectantly.

Your backs were pressed up together, your legs splayed out onto the metal wall as the group slowly inched upward. For the plan to work, there was only space for one of you, so you reabsorbed your copies into one body again. The rest of the group watched you do it in a mix of muted curiosity and horror. Bob gave you an awkward thumbs up, which made you smile despite the ridiculousness of the entire situation.

A part of you wanted to leave a copy down on the ground in case something happened, but you couldn’t risk having a seizure if you got too far away, and with everyone else on the line, too.

“Ew,” said Yelena. “Which one of you is wet?”

“Sorry,” Bob winced. “I run hot.”

You shifted the arm looped around his, grimacing at the sweat dripping down your own face. “I get it. It’s fucking sweltering in here.”

“Someone’s got a weird, hard butt,” Walker groaned.

“That’s not my butt, that’s my suit,” Ava hissed in return. “Pardon me for the inconvenience—I only spent my entire life in labs, hooked up to machines so I could create this physical cage to keep my material body from disintegrating at all times!”

You heard Yelena let out a bark of a laugh. “You don’t want to start the whole sob story game. I’d win. Enslaved child assassin over here.”

For some reason, John said, “Well, you were just a kid, so—”

“Oh!” said Yelena. “Does that make it better? Gee, I wish someone had told me that earlier! That makes me feel so much better.”

“Not that it’s a competition, but I’ve spent my whole life quite literally dying over and over again,” you said. 

“Oh, really?” said Walker. “Sounds like you’re making it a competition.”

You fell silent, not wanting to waste your breath arguing. The group, panting in ragged, short breaths, simultaneously decided to fall silent. You were so high up now that you couldn’t see the bottom of the shaft anymore.

After what felt like eons, Walker finally gasped out, “I see a door!”

“Now what?” Yelena asked. 

“Uhm—I guess one of us should… go first…” said Ava from your other side, uncertainty weighing her words. 

“No, then the rest of us would immediately fall!” protested Yelena, breath trembling with the strain of holding herself up. 

“Shit… sorry guys, I guess I didn’t really think this through,” Bob muttered.

“Genius fuckin’ plan, Bob!” Walker exclaimed.

“Always making things worse,” the man on your right muttered. 

Your brows furrowed. “Bob, we’re all the way up here because of you. Come on, we’re so close. I can duplicate and—”

“We can’t risk your additional weight,” Walker barked out. “One slip and we all come tumbling down!”

“Then what do you want to do?” you asked. 

“Hand me a baton, I can reach it!” he said. 

Immediate protesting ensued. “No way, you’re just going to leave us!” Yelena gritted out.

“We have to hurry, I don’t know how much longer I can keep my bloody boots from slipping!” Ghost said. True to her word, you caught sight of her shoes slowly gravitating downward.

Yelena inched upward. “Spin us around and we’ll—” 

“No! Are you crazy?”

Bob shook beside you.

“Bob, are you alright?” you asked, wondering why he was tossing his head from side to side like a dog shaking off excess water.

“Cucumber—cucumber, cucumber!” he said, scrunching up his face.

“What the hell is happening?” Yelena asked.

“Growing up, somebody told me if you have to sneeze, you yell out cucumber to confuse your brain. I have to sneeze, but if I do, I’ll lose control and we’ll—”

“This is insane!” Walker bit out. “I can get us all out of here, I just need to go first!”

“NO!” Ava said. “There must be another way!”

Bob tilted his head back, knocking against yours. “Oh, no,” he said.

“Oh—” You began to panic. “Cucumber! Cucumber, cucumber! Bob!”

Yelena and Ava both began chanting with you. John, his patience worn thin, reached behind and grabbed Yelena’s baton. Then, he jumped out of formation.

You felt yourself falling, your heart dropping to the balls of your feet in sheer horror, trying your best to grip onto the slippery metal walls. In your panic, you duplicated yourself in an attempt to slow down your descent. Just above you, Ava punctured the walls with her dagger, braking to a halt. 

Then, to your shock, you were abruptly smacked against the wall when Ava grabbed hold of your wrist. But only one of you. 

“No!” you exclaimed, watching as your copy plummeted downwards with a blood-curdling shriek. After several seconds, you could feel your mind grow hazy, dizzy with the distance. “No, I’m—”

Your pupils rolled into the back of your head and you began to convulse. You didn’t register that Yelena had grabbed a hold of your ankle as she fell, and she sent a grappling hook down to catch Bob.

He tried his best to catch your copy, but you had streaked past so fast that you slipped right through his arms, and fell into the darkness below. 

The rest of the group, minus Walker, who had climbed through the opening, watched as you shook about violently. After several agonizing seconds, there was a resounding thud and splattering noise. It seemed a twisted sort of blessing that the fall had killed your copy immediately. You broke free of your seizure but immediately fell into a bout of pain, doubling over. It felt as if you were on fire all over again, and someone had carved you open, poured honey all over your innards, and released a thousand fire-ants to crawl over you.

You were so out of it that you only barely realized Ava was pulling you through the entrance with John’s help. Yelena hauled herself up after that, Bob shortly following her.

The ghost kneeled down beside you, gently tapping your face as you came in and out of consciousness. “Hey. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

With slow, painful movements, you nodded, sitting back up. It took you another moment to realize that the entire group was huddled around you. “Oh, God. I felt my brains spill out down there.”

“What did you go doing that for?” Walker said in an irritating I-told-you-so tone, kneeling down beside you. “I told you not to duplicate yourself, didn’t I?”

“I really don’t think a lecture is needed right now, thank you,” Yelena told him. 

“I’m sorry,” said Bob, looking wearing yet another expression of guilt. “I tried catching you, but—”

“Thanks, Bob,” you said, nothing but sincerity in your eyes. “I felt you. Thank you. And thanks for holding onto me, Ava. Even though I tried to kill you.”

The woman averted her gaze, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah, well. Would have been a terrible weight on my consciousness. So really, I did it for my own benefit.”

“Alright,” you said, not believing her in the slightest, but you decided not to comment on it.

With the help of Ava and Yelena, you stood up on your own two feet, albeit a little wobbly, and completely exhausted from the climb up. 

“You selfish prick,” Ava spat at Walker. “If you had just waited for one goddamn second—”

“I made a tactical decision to secure my own safety before ensuring all of yours,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Pretty ungrateful, if you ask me.”

Then, something strange happened. Bob placed a hand on John’s shoulder, saying, “Thanks for saving us, Captain.” 

Instead of making a snarky comment, John’s face grew dazed. Unfocused. He turned and stepped closer to the elevator shaft, feet just a few inches away from joining your dead clone on the ground.

“Walker?” Yelena asked, wondering what on earth he was doing. Both she and Ava stepped closer to check him out.

You looked to Bob, one of your brows arched. “What’s up with him?”

Bob spared you a cursory glance. “I don’t know,” he said. You chose to believe him, but frowned nonetheless. “Are you okay, though? You were—you were shaking really badly in there.”

“A seizure,” you whispered. “Sorry I scared you guys. I panicked and duplicated. It wasn’t very smart on my end.”

“No, I get it,” he muttered. “The only one you can truly trust is yourself. I get it.”

You tilted your head, regarding him curiously. As much as you thought Bob was a perfectly ordinary civilian, he said some very cryptic things sometimes. “Right… yeah.”

“I know I haven’t given you any reason to, but… you can trust me,” he offered. His hand trembled, and you could read the anxiety plainly across his features. When you took a second too long to respond, he retracted slightly. “But, I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t—”

“I trust you,” you said, cutting him off. You spared him a downturned smile, which made him relax just a smidge. “You haven’t given me any reason not to, Palindrome.”

The mellow blue of his eyes shone with mild amusement. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Is that my nickname now? Palindrome?”

“If you want it to be,” you said, shrugging. “It is a bit catchier than just Bob. The same forwards as it is backwards.”

Bob looked back to John, who still wouldn’t move away from the shaft's sheer drop. “I guess that’s fitting,” he whispered. “Nothing changes even if I want it to.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, John finally seemed to snap out of it. He stumbled back from the edge of the shaft. 

“Jesus Christ,” Yelena said, completely bewildered. “Are you crazy? What did you do that for?”

“Do what for?” John grouched, waving her away as if she was a fly. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Ugh, nevermind, then,” said Ava. “It’s time we all get out of here.”

Once Ava pressed a button for the exit to slide open, light spilled in from outside. But—it was nighttime. You knew because you arrived at 10 PM on the dot, and you also knew for certain that not enough time had passed for the sun already to be rising. The lights were coming from cars. Multiple of them, at least three dozen. There was chatter as well. Boots. Guns. Tactical armor.

It was an entire squadron out there. No doubt sent by Valentina. 

Ava, John, and Yelena then started bickering about a plan and who was in charge.

“I think I might just surrender, probably,” said Bob. 

“I suppose she won’t hurt you if you’re just a citizen,” you said. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Okay, fine,” John said, shrugging. “Every man for themself, then.”

“Why should you be in charge?” snarked Yelena. “You almost killed all of us right there!”

John propped his fists onto his hips. “Well, let’s see—I’ve been in the trenches of every war-torn country there is, rescued God knows how many hostages, and shook the hands of two US presidents!” 

“And how, pray tell, does any of that help us in the slightest way?” you hissed. 

Walker ignored you. “What else—oh! High school state football champs, back to back to back. Go bears!”

You stared at him incredulously. You never met Steve Rogers, but you wished you had that Captain America rather than this one in front of you right now. You were sure Steve was infinitely more tolerable than Walker.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “Oh, wow. When I was five, I was in a peewee soccer team named the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Shane’s Tyre Shop. We won zero games, and one time one of my teammates did a poo midfield! Anyone else have any pointless stories to share?”

Exasperated, Ava pointed to herself. “Grew up in a lab prison.”

Bob scratched the back of his neck. “Meth-addicted sign twirling chicken. Was a… summer job.” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Had my entire skeleton pulled out of my body once. Took me twelve minutes to die,” you said, bouncing on the balls of your feet. The rest of them turned to you, horrified. “What?”

“... Great,” said Yelena. “Now that we’re all done sharing, here’s the plan…”

It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the only one on the table. You and Walker take out the first wave of soldiers coming through, wait for Yelena (and Bob) to turn the lights off and back on once the second wave of soldiers came in with night vision goggles, effectively blinding them, all while Ava went out to find an escape vehicle.

Naturally, Walker didn’t wait. He went barreling into the wave of second soldiers, knocking them all down with his shield and picking them off one by one. You hadn’t even bothered to step in, watching him punch through all of them on his own. 

“Thanks for the help,” he spat at you once he was done.

“Didn’t want to get in your way,” you snarked in return. “Now come on. Let’s get their gear on and head out.”

Eventually, Yelena and Bob came back, the former angry that the two of you hadn’t waited for her. John was quick to defend themself, but you merely tossed Yelena and Bob their own sets of tactical wear.

“No time to argue. We can’t keep Ava waiting.”

Walker sneered. “If she’s even waiting for us at all.”

Once everyone was changed, the four of you walked out, dragging Bob as if he were a fallen soldier.

“I don’t think I want to be carried anymore,” Bob groaned, arms stiff and aching from where they were grabbing him. 

“Shut up, Bob. You’re injured, remember?” Walker gruffed, which made Bob fall silent.

“Just a little further. Ava should be here somewhere,” came your gritted mutter. 

“We don’t know where she is. She could be halfway to Mexico for all we know,” Walker retaliated. Behind your visor, you rolled your eyes. 

And then, from the corner of your vision, you spotted Valentina. Pristine as always, sipping a warm cup of coffee. Envy and white hot rage scratched within your chest, but you swallowed down your anger. It took everything you had in you not to storm right up to her, chug down her coffee, and punch a hole straight through her pearly whites. You had a cover to keep up, after all. 

Finally, after a few minutes of dragging Bob, a truck pulled up to the four of you. Ava materialized in the driver’s seat. “Get in,” she said. 

You smiled. A small part of you really did think she was going to abandon you. You were glad she came back.

Yelena and John clambered into the front while you and Bob sat in the back of the tactical vehicle, where there was nothing inside but two wooden benches for seats. “Will you be okay back there?” Ava asked, and the two of you sent her tired thumbs-ups.

Both you and Bob swayed back and forth as the truck began to purr to life and rumble ahead. “I wonder what they’ll think once they see all my bodies down there. Can’t be a pretty sight,” you whispered. 

Bob gave you a sympathetic grimace. “Do you still feel them? After they…?” He motioned vaguely with his hands.

“After they die?” you finished, sucking on the back of your teeth in thought. “I don’t feel them, no. I feel the pain right before they die, though.”

Bob slumped into the truck’s wall across from you. “Sorry,” he said, to which you just shook your head. 

“So…” You started, eager to change the subject. “What did Yelena say to you back in the incinerator after your little argument with Walker? You seemed a bit… downcast.”

Bob squinted in thought, trying to jog his memory. “Oh… that. Well, I told her that sometimes I have… really high highs… and then really low lows… and it’s hard to remember things in the middle.”

“Must be a really low low right now, hm?” you said, a laugh lacing your words.

“Hah… yeah. No, I mean… right now I’m fine, I think. Compared to other times, now is… much better.”

“Yikes,” you said, now only half-laughing. “Glad you’re having a relatively good day, then.”

Bob laughed along with you, awkward as ever, then cleared his throat. “Ahem. And then I, uh, to Yelena I said there’s this… darkness… inside me. Never-ending. Like, uhm, I called it a void. Anyways, she said she felt the same way, so I asked her how she dealt with it.”

You motioned for him to keep going, leaning forward. “And?”

“She—she just said she pushes it down. Deep, deep down. Heh. I mean, i-it makes sense, I guess,” Bob said, stumbling over his words a little. “Like, what else is there to do, even?”

Judging from the way your brows knitted together, Bob came to the conclusion that you didn’t seem to think it made much sense. The thought crossed his mind that you looked rather endearing the way your nose wrinkled in thought. You would be a terrible poker player—the cards were written all across your face. Bob liked how easy it was to read you. It made him feel safer to be around you. But these thoughts were quick to wash away when he remembered that you were just—another bump in the road. You would pass, and everything would go back to being… nothing. A void. 

“It makes sense for an ex-red room assassin,” you told him, not unkindly, roping him out of his drifting thoughts. “Doesn’t mean you should take the same advice, seeing as you’re not an assassin. Right?”

Bob itched at his wrist. “Right.”

The truck slowed to a grueling halt when a few soldiers stopped the group. Walker, to no one’s surprise and everybody’s dismay, insisted on being the one to talk. They asked for identification and a reason for leaving the base, since the medbay was northside, and they were currently heading southward. Walker tried to bluff his way through, but it was clear that the soldiers were not buying his story.

Bob’s expression twisted as if he had swallowed something sour.

“I’m sorry for this,” he said.

“What?” you asked, watching in confusion as he softly took your hand. 

And then, strangely, you were no longer in the truck. 

You were in a hospital. The air smelled distinctly of sterilizing chemicals with the sharp twinge of copper—blood. There was a belt in your mouth. Screaming muffled around the stale leather as they hacked away at your leg. Your copy stood off to the side, also bound, but whole. There were tears streaking down both of your faces. You looked younger then—your hair was longer, your face rounder. The years had weathered you.

“Again,” said one of the surgeons. Your younger, whole self trembled, then split into another copy. It took longer back then. An entire minute of straining yourself just for one duplicate. Now, you could make hundreds of yourself in an instant if you wanted. Nurses came in and took the other copy away. Off for more screenings, more tests, more surgeries, more experiments. That’s what you were to them—an experiment.

“Please stop,” you croaked. You weren’t sure whether that came from the younger you or just—you. “Please… I don’t want to die again.”

“Oh, sweetie,” said the surgeon, coming around the dissecting table to push sweaty strands of hair away from your head. “You’re not actually dying, though. Not really. None of these—xeroxes of you are actually you.”

You broke down into silent, heaving sobs when he returned to the other you, and began hacking away more parts of you. “For science,” they’d always told you. 

Present-you turned, desperate to leave. Only, you were met with… Bob?

You searched his face, completely dumbfounded. “Palindrome?” you whispered.

“That’s where Xerox comes from?” he asked, clearly perturbed by the scene he was watching. You didn’t spare him a response.

His lips pursed and he reached out to take your hand again. In this strange, hazy world that you knew not to be real, his touch was cold. You rather liked how it felt against the warmth of your own palms, sticky with blood. Was that yours or one of your copies? You couldn’t remember. Was there any difference at all?

You held onto him tighter, shutting your eyes. Bob’s free hand raised to cradle the back of your head, shielding you from your own memories. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” he murmured. “I’ll fix it. Leave it to me.”

Then, he pulled away from you despite your protests, and the nightmare realm seemed to spin and spin and spin, caving in on itself—

By the time you came to, Ava was shaking your shoulders and calling your name, as you were passed out on the floor of the truck. You glanced around with glassy eyes, confirming what you already knew to be true.

Bob was gone.

[foldingfittedsheets]

My friend @supernovasolace has been sharing some stories from their partner G’s eating habits and each one is funnier than the last so I finally begged permission to write about it and they both agreed. His actual permission was: “I want you to make whatever art your heart desires. Get as weird with it as you want, give me a fever dream.” This man is so much funnier than I could ever be.

The first story shared with me was fairly innocuous. The couple likes to split up who gets the last crumblies in bags of treats. If they polish off a thing of chocolates one of them gets to tip the bag back and inhale the ghostly whispers of flavor left in the container.

But the item in question was one of those tubs of chocolate salted caramels from Costco.

“Can I finish this?” He asked.

“Go nuts,” they said.

It’s worth noting that N knew this was a terrible idea but it didn’t occur to them to warn him. They simply accepted that their partner wanted to take a face full of sea salt.

He threw back the container and was immediately assaulted get it with the massive granules of salt instead of the chocolate dust he’d been hoping for.

He coughed and choked while N started laughing hysterically and realized a moment too late that he didn’t think about the contents before tossing it back.

But today they shared another story. They were settled up in bed. He was making eye contact with N when he popped a catnip Greenie treat into his mouth. The horror, they informed me, was instantaneous.

“Worse than the caramel salt?” I asked.

“So much worse. Because he did this in a bizarre power play and committed way too hard to the bit.”

When I asked his motivation the sum of it was that he’d been compelled by forces outside his control. He simply obeyed the exhortations of his soul. As a result he stared into his partners soul as tears and regret filled his eyes with each crunch.

The best thing though was that apparently one day N came home to find G in the workshop. He was crouched over an array of M&M’s like a mad scientist, X-acto knife in hand. But he only had green and yellow on his operating table. He was carefully cutting each color in half and sticking yellow to green in a freakish Frankenstein of green and yellow candy coating.

According to N it was a not insignificant number of candies that had been surgically spliced together, an assembly line of confectionary madness.

When they asked what he was doing he informed them he was, “Making Sprite flavor.”

[claimedcrossbows]

Season 2 is Delivering us MORE Weyler & more Heartache!

So this is actually a surprise..I didn't expect sneak peak at all today, but here we are.

Alright the first thing I wanna say is what I've seen a lot of people point out, and I agree.

Hunter Doohan being the only person non Addams family related interviewed is VERY interesting.

And I believe that is only done when someone is a MAIN character/plot point within a series. This means a lot of this season more than likely is going to be centered around him, maybe even a 50/50 split with Wednesday is he really does appear in every episode this season as some rumors have said.

I think this is a really good sign that for one, Tyler won't be offed at the end of this season, and two we are guaranteed to get more Weyler even beyond season 2.

Now let me talk about something else a few people have noticed and pointed out and let me expand on it and give your my perspective as a film minor graduate and a Journalism graduate.

From what I've learned over time and in classes a big reason in editing to splice together scenes in a trailer/teaser/sneak peak etc..is to either misdirect completely, to avoid any spoilers, OR to foreshadow and hint at the correlations between these characters in scenes.

Now I'm not saying that's 100% what the film directors are doing in this video..but it is a MAJOR possibility.

To explain what I'm talking about is there is a edited clip of Gomez and Morticia dancing together and not only does this kind of mirror Wednesday dancing with Tyler and the Rave N as a couple..But this also reflects their relationship.

Tyler and Wednesday's relationship is much like a tango..calculated,sexy, a little chaotic..but absolutely beautiful.

So the fact they have this scene interlaced with the scene of Wednesday visiting Tyler at Willowhill..that could allude to Tyler having a further connection to the Addams family in the future.

But also proving that Wednesday and Tyler are still to some degree dance partners, only this time they're going to be partners in teaming up to stop whatever it is going on.

Now before this scene even happened.

We find out some more interesting things like..

Wednesday goes to the Galpin residence.

And it has been completely vandalized because the whole town now knows that Tyler was the Hyde.

And Oh boy..

This scene scares me for a lot of reasons because for one..

Is Donovan still living here?

And if he is..Donovan must be in an absolute horrid state of mind because every day he walks out of his home he is immediately met with a that huge sign in red, "EVIL LIVES HERE" as just a reminder at how he failed his son..

But I would lie to add maybe a brighter point of view to this scene that I also have learned over time and as a lover of film and literature. And that is a little thing called red herrings.

And actually I would say this scene might be a good sign for Tyler's character because I would say more than half the time a main characters goes somewhere where someone is accused of being horrible, and graffiti is all around their home.. 9/10 times the character in question actually turns out to be a good guy or simply misunderstood...so in this case..Tyler is just being misunderstood like most of us has said for years.

Now I'm going to back pedal a bit and talk about more that scares me about Wednesday visiting the Galpin house hold.

Now I'm not saying I'm a film expert/writer...but this would 100% be the scene where if I was a writer and wanted to off a character it would be when the main character goes to their house and finds them deceased..

I have said many times I think Donovan might die and I thought Wednesday would be the one to find him..well that could very well be that scene.

While she's there, she also might have a vision of Francoise Galpin...

We also find out that it looks like the Addams are moving into the Gates mansion and I actually am mad at myself for not seeing this coming..but this is perfect for a lot of reasons..but the main one i'm gonna focus on is that someone said Wednesday might have visions of what happened to Tyler at that mansion..

What if she sees the bathtub scream?

And realizes that he truly didn't want to go through with what Laurel was doing. Maybe that's why she eventually decides to go see Tyler because she believes there's still something worth saving within Tyler.

Anyway I'm gonna wrap it up, but this is getting very interesting.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 8: Dottore & Pantalone x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4652

Warnings: Afab!reader, cat girl reader, body horror elements, mentions of genetic modification & surgery, pet play, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, fucking machine

A/N: As always anything I write for the Harbinger's tends to skew towards the dark so be mindful of the tags, everyone! Also this is why I need them to hurry up and release more content that features Pantalone, I could not find a pic where these two were photoshopped together lmao

⭐

Sometimes Dottore finds himself wondering why he even bothered creating you in the first place. 

It’s certainly not so he can watch you shamelessly rub up against Pantalone’s legs in a supplicating gesture for attention — the exact same attention you regularly eschewed when it was coming from him — nor was it so he could continuously find tufts of your fur caught on all of his clothes. Even the ones he’d never worn around you were mysteriously inundated with the clinging hairs, which was particularly remarkable given how little fur you actually had on your body. 

Pondering this conundrum, he doesn’t immediately notice that Pantalone is speaking again until something he says jolts the doctor out of his thoughts. 

“What did you just say?” 

The bespectacled man sitting across from him on the spacious sofa in Dottore’s office tips his head in a curious manner, although the arguably polite smile on his face never so much as falters. “Hm? I was just commenting on how friendly your pet has recently become. I seem to recall her being quite skittish not all that long ago.” 

Humming a curt sound of acknowledgment, Dottore shoots you a quick look. 

You peer right back at him from your spot curled up on the floor at Pantalone’s feet, your cheek pressed into the carefully ironed line of his dark pant leg. Something about the way you meet his gaze despite the barrier of his hook beaked mask standing in the way speaks of an audacity that almost manages to irritate him. It was the sort of gall only a cat could embody, either by nature or through an inflated sense of superiority that was rarely ever warranted. 

But if he’d wanted a pet that would cower and look at him with blind obedience rather than silent, judgmental contempt then he should have used a dog to genetically modify you into existence instead. 

What’s done was already done though, so there wasn’t any point in lingering on it unnecessarily. Lifting his attention, Dottore looks over at his fellow Harbinger again. “I can see that. But what did you say afterward? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it, or perhaps my ears are simply playing tricks on me.” 

“Ah, that.” Relenting with a soft chuckle, Pantalone reaches down to idly pet over your head. The faint vibration of a purr rises up as you tip into the indulgent motion, ears twitching eagerly in demand of more scritches. “I just made a joke that perhaps it was getting to be that time of year for her. I’m never quite sure what any of your miraculous experiments are capable of though, so perhaps that doesn’t apply here?” 

Lifting a thoughtful hand to his chin, Dottore turns that over for all of half a second. “No, there's every possibility that she’ll still be susceptible to the same biological cues as her feline counterparts. I didn’t omit any of the genetic hard coding for that when I spliced her together but I also didn’t go out of my way to include it either. It’s hard to say for sure right this moment but …” 

He sends you another considering glance but this time you’re much too distracted by Pantalone’s hand and the way it’s rubbing at the spot just behind your conically pointed ears to notice him looking you over. By his estimate you were very close to being evenly split between the two halves, which was just as he’d wanted it. Neither a simple girl who could bore him to death with an endless stream of prattling nor a true cat that would easily expire under his care. In truth he’d initially wanted to use you as a personal assistant after spending a few dozen decades with only his own clones for company. 

Unfortunately you’d proven to be just a bit too simple for him to trust with sharp pointy objects and he’d had to give up on the idea quickly enough. He still recognized that you weren’t completely without worth though, medical marvel that you were, and looking at you now … he’d take a guess that there was about a fifty-fifty chance you’d inherited a cat's natural mating drive and all that came with it. 

The thought intrigues him a great deal more than he would have expected it to. Certainly this was a rather foolish endeavor to undertake when he compared it to all of the other projects and experiments he wanted to dabble in, but for an afternoon dalliance this didn’t sound too terribly lackluster. 

Allowing his mouth to curl into a brief smile, Dottore lifts his attention to fix back on Pantalone again. “What a fascinating idea, Regrator. Are you quite certain you have no interest in science?” 

Pantalone tips his head again, but in a rather quizzical manner this time. “Ah? I’m afraid I can’t claim to have the same aptitude for such pursuits as you do, Doctor. I’m sure I’d be nothing but a hindrance in your search for answers.” 

“Oh, that’s just not true at all. Almost anyone can fill the role of assistant, at least, and I see a wealth of untapped potential in you on top of that. You’re of a sharp mind to match that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You flatter me greatly, Doctor.” 

Eager and grinning, Dottore shifts to the edge of his high backed chair and leans forward to brace his forearms across his knees, bringing the hands together in a loose clasp. 

“You.” He intones, earning a languid glance from you, though it’s obvious you were still far more interested in his colleague than in him. No matter though. He would correct that soon enough. “Come over here kitten, and I suggest you do not dawdle.” 

For a moment it looks like you’re simply going to ignore him in the proficient way cats do where they give no sign at all of having heard their masters bidding and simply go about their business as usual. Luckily for you, however, the human part of your brain has enough reasoning and cognitive abilities to understand the imperative nature of an order, and you reluctantly push away from Pantalone to get on your hands and knees. 

Deliberately slow, you crawl closer to him across the floor with a wary look on your face and your long tail flickering stiffly behind you to indicate your displeasure at having been summoned away from the banker. Such an obvious display of clear disrespect would have been enough for just about anyone else to win themselves a rather unfortunate end at his hands, but Dottore was well acquainted with the physiological behaviors of felines. The fact you were coming to him at all was a small testament to his unmatched abilities as a scientist. 

Of course he would’ve liked you to be a bit more intelligent but, he supposed, that was his own fault for choosing a cat rather than something more inclined towards cleverness. A raven, perhaps, would have been the better choice. As long as he issued orders that were short and to the point you understood him well enough though, and he feels a sharp smile pulling at his mouth now as you come to kneel before him. 

Reaching out, Dottore places a gloved palm on top of your head, flattening your ears before dragging it down across your neck and back. The way you shirk and dramatically hunch your spine inward under the pressure assures him you don’t like the rough handling very much — but then he reaches the base of your tail and you promptly tip forward to jut your ass up in the air, nudging against his hand. From his elevated position over you he can see your claws coming out to prick into the rug and pull at the woven fibers but he allows it for the time being. It was a promising sign, at least. 

“Does that feel good, my little experiment? You look like you’re enjoying being rubbed here.” 

You issue a low, vibrating sound that human vocal cords probably shouldn’t be able to make, tail arching up and over in plain invitation. He hadn’t ever thought to toy with you in this manner before, but after seeing how receptive you were to this sort of touch he was very tempted to make it a regular part of your role here. You weren’t doing much of anything else except getting fur on all of his clothes, after all. 

“That is quite interesting, isn’t it?” Pantalone murmurs, leaning forward as well to get a better look at the scene playing out before him. “Aside from the paws she looks so human. I wouldn’t have expected to see this kind of reaction from her.” 

“I don’t think it’s too surprising. The base of the tail has a veritable smorgasbord of receptive nerve endings which naturally feeds into the nervous system of the surrounding areas. The lower half of her spine is likely a sensitive hotspot as well, and of course that includes the genitals too by proxy. By the way, did you know,” Keeping his tone light and conversational, Dottore drags his hand lower past your twitching tail to idly rub his fingers along the center seam of the bloomers he was nice enough to let you wear. “Even humans had a tail at one time and we still carry the vestigial leftover to this day in the form of a dormant tailbone, so the anatomy was already there. I just filled in the blanks on her genetic genome to … encourage the development of this specific appendage a little bit.” 

And it had been a resounding success. 

Sadly the same could not be said for your feet. The human leg simply was not built the same way as a cats, and the backwards curve of your hind paws did not lend itself well to upright locomotion. You preferred to crawl as a result, occasionally going up on all fours to move quickly, but this too seemed to give you some amount of discomfort when the joint mobility simply wasn’t there. If he’d deemed you to be well equipped for working as his assistant he would have gone through the trouble of performing surgery to try and fix the mistake in your physical deformity but it hadn’t seemed necessary after he’d realized how dull you actually were. 

Besides that, it also made it that much easier to keep track of where you were at any given time when you could neither flee nor navigate anything more arduous than a flat surface without causing a great commotion. You couldn’t even successfully manage any of the doorknobs in his wing of the palace when the paws where human hands should have been were completely bereft of opposable thumbs. This meant you were effectively trapped without him having to do much of anything to ensure you couldn’t escape, and sometimes he found himself half convinced that this was the only reason he hadn’t disposed of you much earlier. 

Dottore was rather glad for his own generosity on the matter though while he pets over your cunt through the thin layer of cotton to make you enthusiastically squirm at his feet. There isn’t an ounce of shame in the way you arch your back to better present yourself to him and neither did you seem all that concerned about the audience you had watching the flagrant animal display. And Pantalone, for his part in this as little more than a bystander, seemed rather fascinated with observing the curious scene. 

That was why the two of them got on so well with one another. Even if he didn’t have any particular talents for scientific pursuit, the banker still recognized ingenuity and progress when he saw it. 

And as he peers down at you, observing the hopeful shake of your hips when you rear back on his hand, Dottore comes to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind. He could guess at how the genetic marriage between human and cat would affect you on a physical level, but testing it first hand was always his preferred method. 

Of course he doesn’t give you any warning before he does it, simply removing his gloved fingers from between your legs, and you immediately noise a displeased sound into the room. Your claws come out in earnest now to tug fitfully at the rug even as you crane your head around to glance up at him. The expression on your face seemed to suggest you were very offended that he would take away your source of pleasure, and he grins at the sharp flick of your agitated tail. 

“Oooh, don’t be upset. I’ll give you more of what you want as soon as you properly ask me for it.” 

Rumbling a brief sound of annoyance, you insistently nudge your ass at him but Dottore momentarily stays his hand, deciding to merely watch what you’ll do instead. 

And you don’t disappoint, your impatience showing in the way your ears twitch back against your skull as you push your upper body up from the floor. Just sitting there for a moment, you seem to think it over before the temptation proves too great and you lean heavily into his leg to rub your body against him in a coaxing manner. Now it was Dottore who you were all but plastering yourself to, and he can’t help the laugh that rises in his chest. 

“I’d almost say my feelings were hurt.” Pantalone murmurs, though the ever present note of vague amusement in his voice remains. 

“Yes, she’s certainly easy to win over, isn’t she?” 

Not even trying to hide his satisfaction, Dottore allows his mouth to pull into a sharp toothed smile as he reaches back down again. You give a placating little mewl when you realize his hand is coming near but he just nudges your hip off him with an indelicate push so he can grab at the band of your bloomers. With one good tug, he has them rolled down over your ass to pool in the bends of your knees, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air. 

A faint shudder works down your spine, tail flickering somehow more aggressively than before, but even now there isn’t so much as a hint of reticence in your body language. Had you been nothing more than a frail, stupid girl, he was sure you would have been wailing at him to stop while you tried to cover yourself. And if you were just a regular cat, well … he wouldn’t have had any such interest in your biological behaviors to begin with were that the case. 

But you were a unique specimen and a highly interesting one at that, even if the end result of your creation hadn’t quite met his expectations. So he finds himself almost bordering on giddy eagerness when he directs his hand between your legs again where he softly pets over the fleshy crease of your body. The purring immediately starts up again, verbalizing your pleasure for him as you slowly start to press your chest down to the floor in another supplicating arch.  

“I’d wager that must feel rather nice, doesn’t it? And to think you usually want nothing to do with me. Such a pity.” 

Gradually, Dottore increases the pressure of his gloved fingers until he can feel the meaty seam starting to squish and spread under his ministrations. The direct contact against your clit makes you shudder fiercely in response, mewling a heated sound into the carpet when you press your face into it. And your tail just keeps flicking back and forth in its upright position while he caresses over you, clearly pleased with his cooperation but still impatient for the building tension in your body to reach its tipping point. 

But he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction just yet so he pulls his hand away when your breathing starts to deepen, indicating that you were getting close. Once again you mewl an unhappy sound and shake your ass demandingly at him to no avail. He merely brings his hands together between his knees and watches you fitfully squirm on the floor, enjoying the shameless display far more than he expected to. 

“I’m certain you can do a better job of asking for it than that. How about you try again?” Dottore coos at you, earning himself a brief chuckle from his colleague. 

“You’re a cruel one, Doctor. It’s not nice to tease her like that, is it?” 

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.” 

Chittering a poor little sound, you stiffly push up onto your hands and knees again and try rubbing against his leg much like the first time. When that doesn’t work though you become all the more antsy, twisting your bloomers up around your legs when you start to pace back and forth, yet you don’t stop long enough to kick them off. Evidently you were much too focused on the current state of your cunt to give it much thought, and Dottore intently watches when you finally shift towards Pantalone as if suddenly remembering he was there at all. 

It’s obvious that you’re thinking about it, toying with the notion of seeking out his assistance instead and weighing the odds. He would have easily guessed you’d try your luck with the banker since you seemed to like him more anyway. To his mild pang of surprise though you decide to beseech your master once more, turning to point your cunt at him before jutting your ass up in a clear offering. 

The tender plush of your body inspires a slow twitch of his cock, his lower stomach curling in anticipation of sinking himself into that tight little clutch between your thighs. That was, perhaps, an activity for later, if he found you to be worth the effort that it would entail, and preferably not when Pantalone was watching with that eternally placid smile on his face. 

“Well, that’s better I suppose.” 

Reaching out for you again, Dottore takes just a moment to savoringly nudge at your clit with his thumb to make you purr in appreciation. Then he moves his hand higher, easily locating your entrance at the epicenter of all the sticky slick coming out of you where he somewhat rudely bullies a long finger into your pussy. You noise a startled sound of pleasure in response but rather than trying to escape from the sudden penetration you stiffly push back on it. 

Mewling rather excitedly now, you swivel your hips to grind yourself on the intrusion. Even through his glove he can feel your walls enthusiastically squeezing him, trying to suck him in deeper despite his knuckle pressing flush to your labia with nowhere else to go. 

“Insatiable thing.” 

“Do you suppose she’s really gone into heat then?” Pantalone queries across from him, prompting Dottore to hum in thought. 

“I’ll have to examine her hormone levels later to know for certain, but given how very hot she’s internally running I wouldn’t be surprised.” He can feel that through the barrier of leather as well, your body temperature so high it seems to him that you’re burning up. 

The stretch to your inner sleeve clearly comes as a great relief even for as slight as it is though, so he kindly squeezes a second finger in with the first to put more pressure on your puffed up, gummy walls. You outright keen at the addition as you fuck yourself back on his hand, pussy softly clicking in time with the restless motion. 

But it’s not near enough to fully ease the ache deep within you and whatever reprieve his fingers had provided quickly appears to wear off. You get antsy and fidgety again, impatiently trying to take Dottore’s fingers harder, faster to no avail. Whining a low sound of growing distress, you finally dig your back paws into the rug and push up to brace in a true mounting position that begged for him to oblige and fuck you sensless. 

“Goodness,” Pantalone murmurs, his usual brand of faux, crooning concern heavy in his voice. “I almost find myself pitying the poor thing. Isn’t there something you can do for her, Doctor?” 

He turns that over for a brief moment while he idly thrusts his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, twisting his wrist to ensure he would hit the sensitive nerve cluster on the other side of your upper wall. You clearly appreciate it, given how loudly you keen in obvious pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“Hm. I think I might have something for her but I’ll have to go fetch it. Keep an eye on her for a moment, won’t you?” 

Pantalone’s head comes up at the same time yours does, but for two completely different reasons. While it was clear his fellow Harbinger was just surprised at what he’d said, you were dismayed by the sudden loss of his fingers when he withdraws them with a sticky wet slurp. And you don’t even make an attempt to hide it as you pathetically whine and meow at him as he moves to stand up, completely ignoring you now in favor of wiping his glove off on a handkerchief procured from his coat pocket. 

“It will only take me but a moment. Entertain her however you see fit.” He intones before turning on his heel to step out of the office without giving either of you a chance to question or otherwise pester him any further about it. 

A quick stroll down the corridor to his lab plus a few minutes spent locating the specific machine he wanted is all it takes for him to have what he needs. He’s rather pleased at his own genius to have thought of something like this and on such short notice too, and he was eager to get back to test it. In fact, he almost catches himself humming a light tune along the way. 

And he’s not at all surprised to find you curled up in Pantalone’s lap when he returns with the adjustable piston tucked in the bend of his arm. He had a few guesses at how you’d managed to weasel your way into that position, particularly when you peer over at him like a disparaged orphan who’s had to seek out the comfort of strangers on the streets. How very typical of a cat, he decides as the banker glances up from where he’d been softly petting over your cunt in his stead. 

“And what is this curious device?” He ventures with an accompanying quirk of his brow. 

“This is nothing more than a simple piston. Not very exciting on its own, I’m afraid, and if I had the time right now I’m sure I could make a much better attachment for it. But something tells me our little kitty here won’t be too picky about what ultimately gives her what she wants.” 

Practically leering under his mask, Dottore moves to set up the machine on the floor between his chair and the sofa. The long metal base is sufficiently heavy to act as a counterweight for the moving rod so he doesn’t need to worry about it unbalancing while he makes quick work of simply adjusting the angle. From his peripheral he can see you warily watching him the whole time from the safety of Pantalone’s lap but when he calls for you to come over you slide down to the floor without a fuss. 

It was remarkable how quickly you’d warmed up to him after just having your pussy fingered a little bit and he makes a mental note of that as you shuffle over to inspect the device. 

“Turn around.” He commands, gesturing what he wants you to do with his hand. 

Giving an agitated flick of your tail, you comply with this too, further solidifying his suspicions that you were indeed quite easy to manipulate when needed. It was hard to say if you truly understood what was about to happen but the wet cunt you bare at him assures Dottore you wouldn’t have any complaints about it. And he can’t help but notice that Pantalone must have removed your bloomers for you while he was gone as they were now nowhere in sight. Good. 

Bending at the waist, he takes hold of your hips to pull you back and position the center of your body directly in front of the waiting, smooth ended bar. He would have liked to use something that was better suited for you but it was the best he could do on such short notice. And you rumble a low sound of warning at his manhandling, flicking a sharp look at him over your shoulder which he mollifies with a saccharine, condescending coo. 

“There, there. This should have you sorted out in no time. You’ll probably be pestering me to bring it out for you again if my hunch is correct.” 

Keeping you in place with one hand, he reaches down with the other to guide the bar to your entrance. You give a startled jolt at the touch of cool metal, a new tension running through your shuddering frame, but it quickly shifts towards deep felt relief when he nudges you back to take it inside. Watching your pussy slowly stretch and open up around the foreign object fills him with a particular sort of satisfaction that makes his cock eagerly stir again. It had been a very long time since he last felt so compelled by the human body. 

Well, in this case it was human-cat, wasn’t it? 

“Oh my.” Pantalone softly breathes out, intently watching the same thing with a great deal of plain faced interest. 

Dottore chuckles a heady sound under his breath while he reaches down to hit the button on the side of the machine that makes it whir to life. With a faintly groaning chug, the piston slowly starts to move in a sluggish thrust but it immediately seems to have your attention for as slight as it is. 

Your impatient wriggling promptly stops, tail curiously flicking up while you simply kneel there through the first full motion of the pump action. Gradually the bar slides deeper into you until it reaches the end of its allotted length before withdrawing with a viscous sheen of arousal coating it now. Evidently pleased with the sensation, you shift slightly on the floor to better accept the next push of the machine and Dottore outright laughs at the appreciative purr that quickly starts up. 

“Looks like I was right. You don’t care what it is as long as it’s stuffing you full, eh? Such a shameless beast I have on my hands.” 

“It’s not entirely without its charm.” Pantalone chimes in. 

“No,” He agrees, reaching back down to turn the knob that controls the speed. “It’s not.” 

All but preening in self satisfaction, Dottore straightens up and walks over to his chair where he sits down to watch the show. The machine groans a little louder with the speed increase, rumbling softly on the floor as it works your pussy over on an endless, tireless effort that has you hungrily mewling into the air. 

It may not have been what he’d created you for but it was certainly entertaining in its own right. And although he was sure to grow bored with it eventually, because he always did, for the time being at least he was quite content to listen to your messy cunt greedily suck at the piston with each and every steady thrust it takes into your body. 

Perhaps when the time came and he no longer had any use for you, he’d give you to Pantalone as a gift.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[bcbdrums]

Fic Rec Friday

it's smut rec time! dunno why, just is.

Love Burns by @split-n-splice

Fandom: Kim Possible Ship: Drakgo (Drakken/Shego) This fic has one of my single-favorite lines in any smut fic ever. That single line lives rent-free in my head and will let this fic live forever too. But this fic is replete with incredible lines (as are all of this author's works). It's a headcanon prequel fic, not canon (necessarily), but dang does it ever drag you in and immerse you both in the characters and her universe. Top tier Drakgo smut, if that's your flavor.

[untitled] by @hydok and @marshofsleep

Fandom: Soul Eater Ship: SoMa (Soul/Maka) Click the "read more" first, and then read marsh's continuation. And if it does in fact have a title, someone please correct me. This...is an innovation. And created an entire genre of smut fic in the Soul Eater fandom. There isn't actual smut, it's just an incredibly expert build up of frustration on Soul's part with the perfect fade to black at the end. This, this is how to write foreplay and a build up of sexual tension and succeed. This is another story that will live absolutely rent-free in my head for it's perfect, perfect execution.

Highly recommend these two for smutty enjoyment, and for writers to study.

[obsessedwhim]

Sweet Treat

Quick footsteps paced through an empty town late at night, arms tight around you as bitten lips rolled and split to take in deep uneven breaths.

Doing everything in your power to stop your mouth from falling into a painful arch. And with you out in the open like this, you were hopeful that it would strengthen you from having a terrifying breakdown.

So focused on the twister of emotions within, your vision blurred perfectly enough that it was hard to take notice of the oncoming bench.

And just like the fanny you believed yourself to be, you bent your knee so perfectly wrong that the hardwood of outdoor seating spliced through the gap of the right knee's patella and tibia.

An exemplary sweet spot for instant pain.

An entire torso's worth of muscles strained at the attack. Your throat clenching to smother a monster of a scream.

Your bones collapse as you attempt to breathe in only once, you just can't take it anymore. One hand slapped across dry lips as the other squeezed if only to bring you a short moment of peace. The throbbing knee. Both legs had been shaking from the awkward squat you found yourself in.

Tears finally fell and escaped their swollen barriers, easing you for a second before you realized what was happening.

"God... why" you sobbed, falling to the cold concrete below with the grace of a cardboard cutout and leaned into the scene of the crime. Wounded knee kept at a bend to not anger its soiled joint.

The other knee came up with a quiet creak and you bowed an aching scull, arms raising to his your pitiful cries from the world. Teeth grit to contain the machine flesh raging from within. Fuming at the unluckiness of it all.

You tried so hard to not let it all get to you, but the human body could only contain such powerful emotions for so long, and you had yet to fully cry at your current losses.

A Partner of Ten Years, ten whole fricken' Years! And you introduce him to one best friend who had just moved back into town and Boom! Like a bad joke none saw coming, he left you. Dust in the wind, off to be cradled in her romanticized touch.

As if you were never anything to him in the first place.

Good thing he left you without notice, lest you lose yourself and try to claw out his perfect eyes.

For a second, your shoulders slumped in your pile of pathetic clutches 'Why even care? Why should I be upset when I did nothing wrong?'

'BECASUE?? YOU LOVED HIM?? Gave him everything you had, even!'

Shoulders raised, fingernails dug into your one working leg, scratching away at the jean fabric covering your shin. Until your fingers grew heavy and you wanted your limbs to fall apart.

'I mean... sure yeah I- but it's not like-' Much like Jenga, you wished you were a bunch of blocks because board games dont have to deal with life-shattering realities.

'Shut up, shUT THE FUCK UP. SHUT. UP. STOP!'

Your strength came back in muscle-breaking waves, and you were sure you could break this bench if you tried hard enough 'Dont let some... M A N rot you from the inside because that's TO EASY, YOU DON'T DESERVE EASY!'

A black shadow peaked from a rooftop, watching as you constricted and loosened. 'That can't be healthy' the spectator thought, only noticing you after a strange squeal echoed from a nearby park and bounding over a handful of buildings, there he saw you curled before the unoticable criminal that halted your late-night walk.

'Are you really gonna let your foundations collapse just because of one bump in your timeline?'

You sniffled, using a damp sleeve to wipe away tears that refused to let up. This was the beginning of the end, you thought. It was hard to not allow any of your cracked sobs to pass through your clenched throat.

"Uh.. hey there"

You yelped, the loudest noise you had made all night. Your head turned with a tilt as your soiled vision rose past purple appendages. A green coat topped with strangely bright hair pulled you from the inner voices continuing on with their rants about current events and how you shouldn't let your horrible pathetic self fall apart.

Cold night air refreshed your tired lungs and you blinked a couple of times as the stranger moved to take a seat next to you, his bending legs missing the bench and sitting on the cold ground with an arm's length between the two of you.

"Yooou... okay?"

"Yeah, just... a rough day at the office y'know?" You snorted through a blocked nose, shrugging as sleeves wiped away at the water barriers between your eyes and the stranger's features.

"Don't you work in a sandwich shop?"

Taking in a stifling breath once more, you turned to meet the pinched features of a familiar ginger. "Oh, it's you. Hello Mr. Customer" You turned away quickly, why did such an attractive customer have to find you in such a state at so late of a time? You must look like such a weirdo.

Ichigo frowned, he wasn't used to seeing you in any other state than unbearing cheeryness. Even from a whole building away, Ichigo was able to recognize you.

He thought about how strange it was to see you out of your regular setting, how much smaller you looked despite baggy clothes hanging from you. Ichigo sighed with a saddened look in his eyes.

The next few minutes were filled with awkward conversation. It's not like Ichigo knows how to comfort someone he's barely talked to, and he doesn't even really know what's upset you in the first place.

You cackled at something he said, your dry laugh filling the empty street till your hand slapped over your smiling mouth. Voice lowering to a hushed giggle "Oh god, that was so loud"

Ichigo stifled his own laugh, but you pointed out how his face strained at the act. He breathed out the funny and did his best to keep his composure. You really were loud.

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

Ichigo waited for you on a street corner, hazel eyes glancing over a shoulder at his reflection for only a short moment but the ginger huffed and fixed his shirt for the third time since he'd arrived. Fingers rinsing and raking through his orange hair to perk his spikes up just right. You mentioned how you liked his hair slightly messy one morning.

He took in a deep breath, and a grip around the sunflowers that he had brought grew sweaty. A great icebreaker and gift, Ichigo was sure you said sunflowers were a favored plant.

"Hey gorgeous"

The male spun on the spot, quickly turning to meet your raised vision and his face nearly exploded with blood.

God, you were cute, it was almost too much. Ichigo's heart clenched but he hadn't yet realized you took notice the flowers.

Your hand covering his circling grip and lips pressing against the corner of his jaw "How's the most wonderful man in the world doing today?"

Okay, now he was definitely about to explode. Stream rising and ears turning red. Lips wriggling as he did his best to welcome you.

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

Ichigo had been making his way through some paperwork he brought home, but it was way past noon and you knew he hadn't even attempted to head to the kitchen for some food.

It was too nice of a day to spend locked away in his office, not when you were out here.

You sighed from said kitchen. Leaning on the doorframe with a hand pinching at your chin.

What should you make your beloved for his lunch? You wondered with a hum and turned to head into the sun rays stretching from the front window.

Though Ichigo was deep in concentration, it was hard to miss a bowl of spicy karashi being set in the middle of the dinner table.

Ichigo eyes shone at the familiar bright yellow goo and glanced up at you with hope in his tired gaze "Are you... making Mentaiko?"

"Sure am" you glowed like some sort of beautiful food angel "I've cut the fish, just waiting on the rice now" and you walked away as if it were nothing, but secretly, deep within your heart lunged at Ichigo's adorable features.

You hoped he'd be okay with you joining him for lunch because there was simply nowhere you wanted to be more than with him, even if it was just for lunch.

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

Though most of your morning was spent canoodling with a more cuddly than usual ginger, you stood before a till and kept yourself busy with customers, cleaning, and restocking.

It was a nice day of sunshine and music filling the small business from a random radio.

A coworker had come from the back kitchen and asked if you'd like to take a break, and you were never one to decline lunch.

You hummed and sparkled as you constructed the perfect sandwich and picked out a slice of strawberry and chocolate cheesecake. Your work pal snickered at your sudden shift to favoring strawberry desserts, and there wasn't one bone in your body that would disagree "I guess he really is the Love of My Life" You smiled down at the slice of berry garnishing your dish "I miss him!"

"Get over it already, the fanny's probably on his way to see you right now" They waved a dramatic hand "Shout on me if there's a customer would ya, I gotta get some stuff from the back"

"Sure thing!" You made your way to a favored booth, with enough room for two.

The door to the cafe rang and a wide body came through with a scanning stare.

~

Ichigo found his steps were quicker than usual. He got a little too caught up at work, and translating took a lot of concentration.

Thank goodness for his Hollow Hunting habits, keeping him fit and speedy. Though there were a few handful times of nearly running into some poor pedestrian but he was so close!

Just one more corner and Ichigo would make it to your place of work, of course, slowing to fix his clothes before stepping through the shiny glass door.

The bell rang and his ember gaze found you quickly, but you hadn't noticed him yet. You're attention taken away by a large being kneeling before you with a strong grip keeping you from retreating farther into your booth.

"Please Baby, I miss you so much. I always loved you y'know?" the stranger's voice was padded and sweet "It was always you" but his grip slid from your wrist to your forearm and there was no way Ichigo would let those grimy fingers gain another inch.

He was close to yanking the fiend away but said fiend screeched and cried and screamed for his dear hand where an unused fork splintered from his skin. Popping from the shallow wound and ringing against the hardwood floor "What The HELL?! You Crazy BITCH!"

"Don't Make Me Use My Knife!" you held up a rather threatening butter knife, meant for your sweet treat but some would say revenge may be even sweeter.

"You Shithead! You Better Leave Right Now!"

Ichigo knew about what this Ex had done, how he'd treated you, and stepped to the side as- you named him perfectly- Shithead stumbled and winced in his rush to leave the establishment.

"Ah! I'm so sorry everyone!" you apologized to local patrons with a deep bow and red face, but a few of them clapped at the experience "Dinner and a show, well done young lady," A customer told, others soon agreeing.

You sprung from your bow, and tears inked at the side of your eyes. The regulars were very in the know-how about their servers.

A smile split through your hot cheeks, almost at a melting point as Ichigo came from behind with a curve in his brow and a gentle hand on your shoulder "Are you alright?"

You didn't know if you had any teeth left to bear. Leaning in with a hand covering his, you said "I am now, everything's just perfect"

[capicola323427]

Japanese Kirby Fangames!

If we're talking about old Kirby fangames, may I interject with some I've found myself?

So, about two weeks ago give or take I've found a folder I've long forgotten on my computer containing a series of Japanese Kirby fangames I've downloaded from a now defunct Kirby fansite called Ashika no Hobii. It's been a a while since its shut down, so I figured I'd share with those who might be interested in these sorts of things.

Puchi Puchi Kirby - 2016 Karamero Games, Karakara

It's a lemmings type game wherein you use Kirby's abilities to lead Kirby to the goal. The Kirbies will automatically bounce off of any obstruction or wall. This can include using Rock to turn a Kirby into stone so that they become a stone that will cause the Kirbies to go into the opposite direction, Hi-Jump to jump over large gaps, and Sword to break any Star Blocks in your way. It ranges from a medium to high difficulty. You start out with 21 levels so it's not a short game.

Bikaby Land - 2014 Karakara

This is a mirrored styled puzzle game based off of Binary Land where you control the results of Kirby being split in two pieces by Splice n' Slice from Fofa Factor. It's a little tricky because the two mirror each other in opposite directions when it comes to movements but after a bit it becomes really fun!

LOLOLALA - 2021 Karamero Games, Egger Engines Software, Castle Lololo Laboratory

It's a LoloLala fangame, the best way to describe it is to see it as more of a remaster. Comes with a training mode, small adventure mode, and maze mode. You might need some basic knowledge of Japanese to get the full experience of the game. From looking at the credits this was a large fangame project among different people.

Kirby's Word Puzzle - 2013, Karamero Games, Karakara

This is a Japanese Kirby themed word puzzle game. Good way to learn Japanese words related to Kirby. You slide shift blocks from side to side to make words. It has six levels in total.

Balance Number - 2016, Ashika no Hobii, Egger Engines Enterprise

A game where you play as Lolo and have to use numbers to balance a bridge to save Lala. You jump to grab a floating number block and then place it on the red question mark, if your math is correct then it'll balance out. All the while Lala will continue to slowly roll across the bridge. I like this game in particular because it is the closest I'll ever get to a Kirby edutainment game.

Star Breaker - ???, Ashika no Hobii

I believe this is supposed to be a remake of that one block breaker game featuring Rick from Kirby's Toy Box. Not much I can say, it's works well!

GO! Lemi-Robo! - 2018, Ashika No Hobii

This is another lemmings type of game where you play as the robotic Kirby you control in Planet Robobot with the remote controller in those casino levels. However, unlike Puchipuchi Kirby, you don't control with arrows keys and have to actively type out the instructions with really simple code to make it move. I found this game in particular to be fun! Reminder, use 8 and 9 for parenthesis.

There were others like this fangames of Samurai Kirby or a Kirby parody of Action53 in my folder, but to my knowledge those can still be downloaded for now. The games I've listed are from a now defunct (as far as I'm aware of) Japanese Kirby fansite called called Ashika no Hobii (あしかのほびぃ), or ashihobi.net. From what I can tell and gather, the download links for these games are completely gone or lead to dead ends with the site's shut down. You can find the site from the Internet Archive as, thankfully, there were some captures taken. I've downloaded and compiled these games for archival purposes. They work fine but need to be ran with a locale emulator. Some of the games will have a .txt document which has instructions for the games and how to play them, along with credits too.

As a side note, I would like to recommend a YouTube channel, KirbyYellow or きね. They're a channel that does a lot of Kirby quizzes but also makes videos with gameplay on various Kirby fangames and Kirby fan RPGs. If you're interested in looking at niche Kirby fangames, they're the channel you're looking for. They tend to put links to downloads in they description, however, don't be surprised if those links are now defunct.

[ronmanmob]

How many shots would it take you to sleep with a certain Nurse Shark?

How Many Shots Meme

So exotic a beauty was she compared to London's usual fare that it surprised not a soul when the eyes of local chancing lads lingered where they pleased as Beth - made of skirts and soft vests and of cardigans four sizes too big for her and red - put in appearances at The Sole Trader, E1. Be she waiting tables, serving bar-side or just taking a constitutional before getting back to her day she was noticed, admired, thought of and wondered about in hushed-voiced commentary-

"--Tiny li'le fing, ain't she-"

"F'kin' arse on 'er though-"

"Th'tits too - small, like I like 'em."

Just like that, spliced with a species of beery, blokeish laughter that sat just this side of harmlessly lascivious. These commentators weren't the kind to follow people down alleys. Folk like that didn't populate round Kray lands for they knew, whether they'd met the brothers Kray wearing gangland's skin or not, that certain kinds of interpersonal conduct would wind you up with smashed kneecaps ever it got back to the Bad Men of the neighbourhood. And it always would.

Always did.

So they stuck to looking and to making light conversation amongst themselves. There was a Terry in attendance, 5'6 and small framed for a lad - football fan; a Stuart, 5'9, of average build - a local bricky; and an Adrian, who sat listening to his mates chat lascivious about the dusky lady who, just now, right this second, had taken up chatting animatedly to a lady Ade recognised very well. That was May Lee whose hands were on her forearms; who was laughing with her, hunkered close like she knew her right personal. Neither woman paid him any mind whatsoever, as engrossed with each other as he was with watching them and it was that - that single-minded, single-sighted focus that closed Ade's whole world off to much else at all - which made the weight of a wide hand landing on his shoulder with what looked to Tel and Stu like companionable airs send him clear out his skin. At least it would'a done if the fingers on that hand hadn't curled just enough to hook over his collarbone and take hold there. Ade half-turned towards what'd trapped him, got round far enough to see a strong wrist before his gaze leapt beyond it and-

"--Y'scared us there, Ron."

The words wheezed out on a tight exhalation, a grin held up at its edges by bones weak with nerves. There was something off in how the publican was looking at him, some dark thing in how his passive-seeming black regard lingered still before coming lively; like the man had blinked himself out of a stupor. Fucked if Ade or Tel or Stu had the fast moving cells to delve into the whys and wherefores of that right this moment though. Ron spoke-

"--Y'wanna mind 'oo yer dribblin' at, chaps"

-and immediately, Tel was defensive. "Ain't illegal t'admire th'furnicha." He glanced at Ron's hand on Ade's shoulder, then back at the publican's face. Confidence lit in him, its source only fuck knew what. "Bet you'd 'av a crack at 'er aftah 'alf a bottle off y'top shelf."

And that--

That got Ron's attention off Ade, but not his hand off him. A withering glare settled where Tel's confidence had come out, some ghost of learned behaviour counselling how easy it'd be to split his tongue to its root, but that wasn't for men like Tel. He was a pig, but an innocent one. It wouldn't do to mark him up like he was something else. So Ron didn't. He kept hold of Ade's bones for a mo instead and answered Tel's chest beating with a more straight-and-narrow-appropriate kinda verbiage.

"Y'don't know me t'talk like tha', one" he said, clocking Stu setting down his now empty pint glass in his periphery. "N two, sure as m'speakin' she's spoken for, so I'd keep y'forts be'ind y'teef 'n yer eyes off 'er if I was you. Lad she's wiv--" Ron loosed Ade's shoulder and scooped up the glass for a refill. Tetley's Beer was Stu's delectation of late. Amber coloured with an easy pour, the libations were decanted neatly and presented across the mahogany bar top as their purveyor finished his thought.

"--Lad she's wiv'll break yer legs as easy as I'll serve yah beer. Don't take 'im no drink at all t'go bed wiv 'er, so God f'bid 'ee 'ears yah talkin' like she's tits 'n arse."

A frisson of realisation bought once watchful Ade round on his stool, the Kray matriarch and her dusky friend given his back quite pointedly. The other two - Tel and Stu - weren't quite so quick on the uptake, but he'd right 'em. Just as soon-

"Tha'll be f'ree eighty, fank you"

-as he threw money at the pub's gaffer. It weren't even his round, but if coin would make the wall of a man move away from them he'd lump his whole wallet at him.

@brooklynislandgirl

[midnightcaptions]

Team Possible comes crashing in to bust another of Dr. Drakken's ingenious nefarious plans, but he's found alone. He raises his goggles and gives a weak smile. "Can you come back later? Shego got some mustard in her hair and she's, erm, busy." He knows he's in for it.

Screams for assistance from his assistant go unanswered. Haha.

Meanwhile, Shego is holed up elsewhere in the lair, humming to Oh Boyz in a nice steamy bathroom, oblivious to Drakken having his butt handed to him as he's foiled by a couple of teens yet again. She takes a whole 6 hours. Maybe more. (Serves him right for concocting a plan to rule the world via exploding mustard. Who keeps that stuff in the fridge next to the hotdogs anyway?)

Outside the door, Ron suggests they crash her home spa day but Kim calls him off. "No, no, Ron, this is important. Let her finish." Kim knows the importance of hair care. How courteous of her.

When finally Shego emerges all fresh and wrapped up in a towel, she's greeted by Team Possible and a hog-tied Dr. Drakken. She decides it's not worth the risk of losing that towel in a fight. Hands go up. "Well, at least I'll have good hair in prison."

[pikolswonderland]

Garten Of Banban: As Above So Below…EXPLAINED!

HELLO BITCHES AND BROS AND NONBINARY HOES

It’s about time I FINALLY explain my GoBB rewrite, titled “As Above So Below”. However, before we get started there is some things I need to explain.

This is NOT a full explanation of the WHOLE rewrite, such as complete descriptions of characters and the ENTIRE storyline (those will be saved for future posts). This is just an introduction to the main premise, characters, world building, and LLOOORRRREEE~! Additionally, some details may change in the future due to new offical GoBB content (at the time of making this post, Chapter 5 and 6 have not been released yet). Finally, this rewrite will discuss and portray some potentially triggering content, although this explanation won’t touch any of that sort of stuff yet, this is just a warning for the future.

Now, without further ado, let’s begin!

******************************************************

The story is set sometime in the early to mid 2000’s, taking place somewhere around or near Montréal, Canada.

Banban’s Kindergarten, despite its name, is more of a recreational daycare for children with mental disabilities and can’t function in a normal educational environment. The kindergarten was particularly known for its positive reputation, supportive and enjoyable learning environment, and its huge cast of fun mascot characters! 

The kindergarten was first opened sometime in the late 80’s to the early 90’s, though the property was first purchased by the kindergarten’s founder, Uthman Adam, sometime in the late 60’s to the early 70’s. The building was first constructed as a massive military storage facility and bomb shelter, but was abandoned and put up for grabs after WW2 ended. The building was mostly underground with many floors, but most of them went unused and were supposedly sealed off. However, there was secretly some fucked up shit going on behind closed doors.

In reality, the building was secretly an illegal science facility that began production shortly after being purchased. The kindergarten was later built as simply a means to help fund the experiments and further disguise what was happening. The floors that were claimed to be sealed off were actually where the facilities experiments were being done in private. Uthman Adam was in reality both the founder of Banban’s Kindergarten and the co-founder and lead scientist for the science project.

The secret experiments almost entirely revolved around creating and raising genetically spliced hybrid creatures using a mysterious extraterrestrial substance known as Givanium, or GV for short. 

The substance was first discovered on a meteorite (which also had traces of DNA from an unknown extraterrestrial life form, that will be important for a particular character later), and it was the discovery of GV that lead to Uthman Adam and (NAME REDACTED) to begin the experiments in the first place. 

The experiments were split into two main categories, the Mascots and the Mutants. The Mascots were any experiment that was considered “successful” in their creation and development, and the Mutants were the failures. The Mutants were kept in the lowest floor of the facility, and their numbers were in the HUNDREDS, while the Mascots were on the second lowest floor, and were only made up of…well…every single canon monster character (except one or two, that will be VERY important) in the actual games so…only about 17…yeah. The Mascots, as their name suggests, were used as inspiration for the kindergarten’s mascots (so instead of like most mascot horror stories were “oH wE wAnTeD tO bRiNg OuR mAsCoTs To LiFe” here it’s the exact opposite, it’s “Oh we based our mascots on our horrible unethical experiments for shits ‘n giggles”).

Of course, that’s just the background info, when are we going to get to the ACTUAL plot?! Well, right now!

Of course, as Murphy’s Law suggests, anything that can go wrong WILL go wrong. One fateful day, the massive ball pit in the kindergarten’s indoor playground mysteriously collapsed the day before the kindergarten’s fabled “Friendship Day” (Which was also the last day of school for the year).

All of the children and staff members also disappeared, as well as nearly all police officers sent to investigate.

After a few days of searching with no luck, the mother of one of the missing children, known as Morley Newmaker, decides to take matters into her own hands and sneaks into the building at night to investigate. Unfortunately, she ends up getting trapped in the facility instead. Even worse, the experiments have escaped their containment, running amok in the facility and many of them killing any human on sight. Thankfully, shortly after getting trapped, she meets one of the Mascots, Banban, and the two decide to team up and make a truce. Banban will help Morley rescue the children as well as protect her, and in return, Morley will help Banban and the Mascots escape to the surface.

Now, it is up to Morley, Banban, and their future companions (those companions being Banbaleena, Stinger Flynn, Little Beak, Sheriff Toadster, and later on BitterGiggle) to brave their way through these deadly walls, defend themselves from the murderous Mutants and Mascots, save the children, and discover the horrible secrets buried deep under the earth…especially what exactly is the deal with that strange giant moth…

QUOD EST SUPERIUS EST SICUT QUOD INFERIUS, ET QUOD INFERIUS EST SICUT QUOD EST SUPERIUS

****************************************************** …annnddd there ya go! That’s was the main introduction to the rewrite! I’ll go in further detail with the plot in characters in the future, but this is how the story stands for now. PLEASE feel free to send me asks about this rewrite, I REALLY want to see what you have to say!

Thank you!

[eclipsednewmoon]

Yin the Cat, and Yang the Cat

These two are the result of Slice n' Splice ( Kirby: Right Back At Ya! ) splitting Chase the Cat into two smaller kittens.

[bcbdrums]

@split-n-splice @gothicthundra

If you're a creator and you needed to hear this today:

You have no idea how many people lurk on your work. No idea how many times people go back to revisit your work. How big they smile when they simply think about your work. How fast their heart beats, how excited they get when they see that you posted something.

People are shy with their feedback. Sometimes it’s because they’re simply shy. Other times it’s because they assume you already know how great and talented you are. Could be both.

My point is, even if you barely have any likes or reblogs, don’t get discouraged. You have a lot of silent fans, but they are still your fans. Keep on creating. Because there is always someone out there who will love what you have made.

[bcbdrums]

Yeah I’m gonna talk about it.

You admitted harassing me to @drakgo-reblogs

A month!? A MONTH!!??

Excluding the PM’s which have gone on for over a year, here’s the most recent and first anon asks.

Check those dates. This week, and almost a year ago. PM’s from nuked accounts happened months before that.

Oh but there’s more. Three videos to come in showing the ask harassment, one in this post and two in follow-up posts.

Note in the first vid the DeviantArt names he sent me, he also sent to @drakgo-reblogs. To whom he kept insisting repeatedly it wasn’t him doing the harassment. Yet same random links.

Look at the dates in the videos.

@midnightcaptions @split-n-splice @gothicthundra @sharperthewriter @flowery-laser-blasts @dailysassfromshego @creatorping @simplyshelbs16xoxo @danglovely @razzmatazs @amvwolfgirl @yesimacreepweirdo @ilikethequiet

and anyone else who keeps getting messages from someone who will make some small talk about smear animation but then always goes to Kim jumping on Ron in that one scene where we get the briefest tiniest not the least bit inappropriate upskirt shot of Kim in her cheer uniform, BLOCK and report each time this guy hits you.

Years of harassment needs to come to an end.

[junkychaos]

RHYTHMICSHIT/CIRCUITERROR - B.O.N.K.(karma detonation tapes/republic of china c10 2024)

split between RHYTHMICSHIT(noisecore from Shanghai) and CIRCUITERROR(harsh noise from Taipei)

Recycled, hand-spliced C10 Tapes

High quality real-time dubbing

Limited in 30 copies

order:https://karmadetonationtapes.bandcamp.com/album/b-o-n-k

[bruisedconscience-reblogs]

67/100 Days of Code

Log 1

Today I am creating a JS personal project. (I will learn more about Prototypal Inheritance soon.)

Log 2

After messing around with splice() and split() and DOM manipulation, I've hit a wall on that project. I tried to pare it down to its simplest elements to make a test, but so far, no luck. I think I will have to pseudo-code this one out to make sure that it thinks it does what I want it to...

Edit: also... A Word Count / Character counter is more useful to me personally than a twitter post-maker.... so maybe I will try that first :')

Log 3

I went back to the truncating and got something I'm happy with, so far. Doesn't 100% do what I want yet, but it will!!!

let thread = document.querySelectorAll(".container"); for (let i = 0; i < thread.length; i++) { let text = thread[i].innerText; let split_text = text.split(" " || "\n"); console.log(split_text); if (split_text.length > 5) { let new_text = split_text.slice(5); console.log("It is above 5 by" + " " + new_text.length + ". Excess is" + " " + new_text); } else { console.log("It is below 5 at" + " " + split_text.length + ". It is" + " " + split_text); } }

Log 4

Ahhhh reading more about Prototypal Inheritance until it gives me a task that needs an IDE to complete. Cool! Feeling OK about it so far.

[bcbdrums]

This was easy actually. Pink, blue, and light green.

I’m turning it into a tag game @amvwolfgirl @gothicthundra @ilikethequiet @sharperthewriter @yesimacreepweirdo @split-n-splice

Saw this on Twitter. What 3 potions would you drink?

I would take brown, white, and yellow!