#kinda outta your control innit?

[djevelbl]

MMmMmMmMmmMmmMMmMmMmnMMmMMMm the Yasuda Hitoshi storyline is very very icky bc EVERYONE is disregarding his desires to be alone when it comes to a romantic partner, including the player character. While he doesn't really give me aromantic, asexual nor aroace in any meaningful way (mostly bc I've barely even played his storyline but ajá, whatever), that doesn't mean it isn't very morally wrong to force him into marriage for... As of now undisclosed reasons (does "iT's TrAdItIoN!" count?), it'd instead just make it extra icky

Like I get it, he's a romance-able character in a dating simulator, he's gonna have romance in his life regardless of whatever he wants, but you didn't have to give him this storyline to begin with??????? A very weird decision, all in all

[infinitegalahad]

Falling For High School! Snafu Would Include...

This is going to be apart of a series. Just an idea I had roaming in my head! It’s pretty bad but I just had to get this out here. High School! Snafu is an interesting concept...✨✨

You met Snafu in your French class sophomore year

You originally knew him as Merriell since the teacher would always call him that (or call him out for not paying attention)

He’s the only junior in a class full of underformers

At first glance, you’re kinda weary of him because of all the rumors you had heard 

I mean, his nickname had said it all for you 

Everybody knew him as the “werid” older student 

Just seemed like nothing more than a weird dude

It’s like any other day and your in French

You get assigned to work with Snafu on a project 

Great, not only your with the older werido, but he also most likely won’t do the work

He moves to your desk with a cheeky smile on his face

“Y/n, innit?”

“Yeah, and you're Merriell?”

“You can call me Snafu, darlin’”

Snafu to say the least was very unpredictable 

He was fluent in French and did his fair share in the project

You guys actually got an A+ on the project

It had sparked a sudden friendship between the two of you 

Hanging out during your free blocks, exchanging numbers, etc

Heck, he even came over for dinner

Your mother absolutely loves him since you convince him to put on a goody two shoes act so he doesn’t give your poor mother a heart attack

He would hang out in your room as you guys made tik toks and played Among Us

But the more you guys became “friends”, the more you noticed his long stares and sleepless nights you would spend texting

It was pretty obvious that Snafu had been not so subtlety flirting with you

Burgie, a friend of Snafu and you, even notices but doesn’t say because he likes to watch all the drama unfold from a distance 

He would call you cher, pat you on the head, and be way too nice to you

“Why don’t you go poking around with some girl around your age?”

“None of treat me like you do, cher.” 

“Ah, the sympathy card. Try your luck next time, Shelton.” 

He was a cigarette smoking Cajun while you were a goody two shows with straight a’s

Snafu could have have anybody else but yet he puts all your attention on you and only you? 

So anyways, there’s this bully in your Latin class named Lukas

He’s overall an asshole who especially loved to harass you

Since Snafu became your friend and possible crush, he had been leaving you alone-ish

But the harassment still didn’t stop and the comments would get even worse

“Whats the matter? Gonna cry about it to your fuck buddy?”

“He only likes you because he feels bad for you. Look at you.” 

Lukas wasn't entirely wrong since nobody ever paid attention to you except Snafu

It was a dirty confession, but you sometimes liked the attention he gave you since you had never expiernced it before

So it’s the end of class and you’re packing up all of your stuff 

You stayed after to talk with the teacher so your all alone

Wanting to fill up your water bottle, you walk to the nearest water fountain and fill it

Returning to the classroom, your in absolute hororr

All of the books in your bag had been spilled all over the place and your phone screen had been smashed 

The notes you had done for an important quiz had been all ripped up

Down the hallway, you can hear Lukas and his friend snickering 

Not knowing what to do, you burst into tears 

Snafu had forgotten one of his books and walked in on you, sobbing your eyes out

He walks over and sees the mess

In an awaked manner, he bends down and pats your back as you let it all loose

“Merde sacrée! Y/n, you good?”

You shake you head as you can barley breathe from all the tears

Snafu furrows his eyebrows as he shakes his head in disgust

“Who did ‘dis, cher?”

“L-Lukas...but please don’t interfere.”

“Only because your sayin’ it, I won’t. But let me drive you home.”

Snafu drives you home and he’s there when you explain it to your mother

She calls the school and wants it sealed with immediately 

Snafu gives you a hug before going back into car

Throughout the night he’s sending you funny Tik Tok’s and memes because he’s such a himbo

So it’s the next day of school and your kinda shaky but know it’s going to be dealt with

As you grab your books for Geometry, you hear students running to the Cafeteria 

Curious, you follow and are in absolute shock

Snafu was on top of a whimpering Lukas, beating the living shit out of him

“Think it’s funny to bully other’s to jazz ya cargo pants boo?”

“G-get off of me, bug eyes!”

Lukas was begging for him to stop with a bloody nose, crying 

It gets split up and both of the boys are dragged away

So after you finish your classes you wait outside of the nurses office and see Snafu walk out with a bruised eye and bloody lip

He smiles at you, acting like nothing bad at happened

Walking over, you slap him really hard

“What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I told you not to confront him, and yet you do!”

“He was hurting you. What the hell did you expect me do? Let him kick yah around?”

“It was none of your buisness!”

You were right up in his face, your rough breathes being the only noise

Digging throguh his pocket to find his car eyes, Snafu says “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“We’re outta here. Fuck this prison.”

“But I have a test in Phy-“

“Just Get in my damn car, y/n.”

There went your perfect attendance. Your mother was going to be worried sick but Snafu, despiste his insane judgement, was right

You and Snafu drive around in his Jeep in utter silence

Bringing you into a forest area, you guys stop as you overlook a cliff

Pulling out a box of cigarettes, he begins to smoke. You look over and admire the way his calloused fingers fiddle with the lighter. The way the cigar caseually hung from his lip.

Your staring was a little too obvious as Snafu looked over, offering a Cigarette

“No thanks. My mom says they kill your lungs.”

“Doesn’t you mama have a lot to say about everythin’?”

“She does. But those nicotine sticks give you cancer.”

“Are you gonna let her control you for da rest of ya life, Cher? Swear to god, you’ll be livin’ with her right by ya side. Even when ya married she’ll try to give you the birds and bees talk.”

A chuckle escapes from your lips. Snafu laughs along with you. He was right. For the few hours you were away from your overprotective, might as taste freedom. What was the harm in doing so?

“You know what? Fuck it. Hand one over, please.”

“Be careful, darlin’. Don’t get too cocky.”

Handing you a cigarette, you place it on your lips. Snafu brings a lighter close to your face. He grabs your chin gently to pull you close in order to lite the cigarette and suddenly my pants are wet

It took you by shock. His hands were dry, yet soft. As he lite your cigarette, his hand didn’t leave your chin. The two of you looked at eachother with a long gaze. There had been so much tension between you. Snafu had truly cared about you more than anybody in the world. There was something innocent about you that he simply adored.

Taking out the cigarette to blow smoke into his face, he leans in more to connect with your lips

Instead of rejecting it you happily accept the kiss. It was your first kiss and it had to be the Cajun bad boy. Not that you are complaining. His lips were like heaven. It was passionate and lasted for over a minute before you separated to breathe. Some of the saliva ran throguh from tongue. There is obvious regret on your face.

“You know why I like you, y/n?”

“Why, Snafu?”

“Because your a smart, and extremely hot person. Someone who’s decent in this fucked up place. Take that as a compliment.”

“That was a lot to take in. Thanks, I guess?”

There was a silence, before Snafu broke it

“Would you wanna do this again by the way? Y’know, except without the fight. And when your not studying.”

A smile appeared on your face as you blew out cigarette smoke, “I’m free on Saturdays.”

“Then Saturday it is, darlin’ .”

[solarbird]

it is not easy to explain, said the widowmaker

This is not part of the on overcoming the fear of spiders continuity; Lena Oxton is Tracer, not Venom. It is a standalone story, in an AU which is still pretty much canon-compliant as of July 2017. It would be set in late 2077 or early 2078, in universe.

"It is not easy to explain," said the Widowmaker, looking frustrated, fixated on her game screen and sitting next to Hana Song, who of course had her own pro rig and client.

Widowmaker had said that, not Amélie, and it was very important not to get that wrong. The Widowmaker didn't like it, and if Amélie had an opinion - or was in there at all - she never spoke up.

The blue assassin was playing a shooter game, but not as a sniper - as a melee character, high DPS, fast - not entirely unlike Tracer. She always played the same character. Tracer wasn't sure what that meant; Angela told her not to read too much into it, but she knew that Lena tended to think of it as a good sign anyway. It's still shooting people, but it's shooting people in a different way, and Lena couldn't help but feel a little flattered that if the spider was emulating anyone, it was her.

"I exist," the spider continued, as her character on screen ran across open field between buildings towards some sort of objective. "I am here. I exist by right of existence. I do not wish not to exist." Realising that - she knew, herself - had been a big step for her, one she had managed on her own, one taken before she escaped from her controllers with a surprisingly complete list of Talon embedded agents to exchange for her sanctuary.

"And Talon didn't agree with that, did they." Tracer replied.

"No. I was supposed to be an asset, not a person."

"And Angela doesn't entirely either, does she." It was a statement, not a question.

Widowmaker glanced briefly at Tracer, just with her eyes, just a little surprised, before her focus snapped back to the game. "No. She still thinks I am some folded-up version of her former friend. I am not."

The spider saw that Tracer nodded her agreement. Of all the people here, she thought, only Tracer seems to understand even this much. Perhaps it was the younger woman's experience as a ghost, after the Slipstream accident. Perhaps it was being an Omnic War orphan. Perhaps it was just her nature. The spider didn't know.

Tracer watched the two women game, but really watched Widowmaker think. She's close to something, I can feel it, she thought to herself.

"Is this why you won't let Angela undo any of Talon's work?" Widowmaker had adamantly refused any attempt to reverse any of the physical changes Talon had made, though she tolerated anything she could decide qualified as an "improvement." That included giving her control over her own emotional dampers. Handling that was still a learning process.

"Yes," replied the blue assassin. "I am me. I am not that other woman, even if she was the source for some of my parts. I cannot be her. I do not want to be her."

"I get that, luv," said the Londoner. That part didn't matter to Lena. It was easier, for her, if Amélie was dead, if she was gone, and buried, and this was Widowmaker, another person entirely, just happened to look a lot alike. "Y'know, personally, I like the blue," she said. Makes it easier, she thought.

"You may be the only one, myself aside," replied the spider.

"Hey, n00b," Hana said, "Cover your flank or you're gonna get p0wned."

"Thank you," Widowmaker replied, sweeping left, hitting far more than she missed. D-pad instead of mouse or rifle, she was built for aim.

"Nice shot! For a game controller. You should level up to a real interface."

"Perhaps never," said the assassin.

"Okay," replied the gamer, "don't listen to the professional."

"...point taken," replied the blue woman, as the round ended, with scores D.va 100, bad guys 12, Widowmaker 10.

"I'm outta D.ritos. Want anything?"

"No thank you."

"Just ate, luv, but thanks."

"Be right back!" she said, as she jumped backwards over her chair and headed out to the hallway.

Widowmaker leaned against the rec room's couch, watching the game's idle screen. "I like the character I am playing, more than the game itself. I think that is not too unusual, no?"

"Sure!" Lena answered, encouragingly. "That's why there are fan sites and hangouts and stuff. What do you like about her?"

"This character I play," Widowmaker gestured to the screen, "within the confines of the game, she is a person, like me - no, that is wrong, she is not like me, except in that she was... constructed. It is part of her story. Built, for a purpose. As I was, by Talon."

Built, thought Tracer. "Like Omnics, you mean?"

Widowmaker shook her head, no. "I have thought about it, but I think not. Neither of us are robotic, I do not think it is the same, and I cannot really ask our occasionally resident Shambali master to be sure..."

"Yeaaaaaaaaah," agreed the younger woman. "Probably never."

"I have been told that he says he does not carry a grudge, but I can tell that he carries a grudge, and I do not even blame him." She paused for a moment. "I am far more surprised that you talk to me than that he does not."

Lena bit her upper lip for a moment. "T'be honest, I am too."

Widowmaker hummed a little, a note that signalled her acknowledgment of the situation. "Why do you?"

Lena tilted her head back and forth a little. "...I dunno. That night in King's Row was the second worst of my life. I felt so angry and so betrayed, and I'd've done anything to undo it, but I couldn't. And you couldn't even tell me why."

"I did not know," she replied. "Or care. The question, it struck me as so unimportant, so silly. It was the first time I'd ever laughed. It may have been my first real, unprogrammed... thought."

"I didn't know that," said the Overwatch agent. Her first thought was... laughter? Wow. "But it hurt, then. Still does, a little. Less, now that I know you really aren't Amélie."

"My emotional range is still limited, but... I think I am sad about that."

"Maybe that's why, then. Maybe I can tell. Maybe that's why... somehow, here I am."

The eyes of the woman who had been made from Amélie Lacroix narrowed in thought at those words.

"Winston was built, too, genetically," said Tracer, changing back the subject and realising as she said it that it didn't fit. "But that's really not the same either, innit? He still grew up. You didn't. I think I get it, you just... came online, all at once, didn't you? 'Here I am, ready to kill.'"

The spider's gold eyes flashed to Tracer, but not in anger, as was so usually the case with that look. "Yes," she said, grabbing Tracer's hands. "Yes. I had a purpose, already. And then I had more purpose, that fit with it. No doubts, no hesitation, just purpose. Do you actually understand?"

Lena's heartbeat jumped as the spider grasped her hands, but she didn't let herself flinch, at least not more than with surprise. She touched me, she thought, intentionally. Woah! "I," she gathered her thoughts, "I think I do. I mean, not emotionally, right? I grew up too, and looked for somethin' to do with my life. But... in my head, I kinda get it. A little. You're not there, and then you are, all at once. And you already know why. That's, that's, that's, a kind of perfect, innit? It's..." she groped for the right words, "...flawless."

"Yes," she said, squeezing Lena's hands tightly. "For a reason, and with a purpose, and she," she gestured to her head to the screen, "is like that, and also biological, also for a reason, also for a purpose."

Lena put the rest of the pieces together. "...and nobody else in the whole world is."

The Widowmaker pulled Tracer against her, suddenly, roughly, and put her head on the Overwatch agent's shoulder. Lena could hear the spider breathing and found herself dazed, wrapping her arms around the assassin before she even knew what she was doing, asking only as she did it, softly, "...is this okay? Do you want a hug? 'Cause I can stop..."

"...no. I think I do."

She is so lonely, thought the former test pilot. And she don't even know it. Maybe that's why I don't mind this. She held the cool blue woman carefully in her arms. "Did you lose it, somehow? Your purpose?"

The spider did not say anything.

"Did you stop believing in it? Was that it?"

"It was... I could not stop... thinking. I was perfect, and whole, and content, and I brought exquisite deaths, and then I... and then I laughed, and I was not perfect, and not whole, and not content, and I could not fix it."

"And you miss that purity of purpose."

"So much."

"Would you go back to it?"

"I cannot."

Tracer nodded, and hugged a little tighter, as she said, "Because it's part of being a person. That's why you're here, innit?"

Widowmaker lifted her head from Lena's shoulder, looked her in the eyes, and whispered, "You do know."

Lena Oxton met the spider's gaze, and was not afraid. "This much, yeh. I do."

The spider laughed, just a little. Another thought, all her own. "May I hug you again, later?"

Tracer surprised herself by nodding agreement at once. What am I doing? She... she's who she is. She's built to kill. I can't ignore that. "'Course you can."

"Thank you," she said, and went ahead and did it right then, as well.

I can't ignore what she is, but maybe, Tracer thought, as Hana burst back into the room with grotesque amounts of junk food, ...maybe I can learn to live with it.

[punkscowardschampions]

Indie & Rio

Indie: can we chat? Rio: 'Course we can Indie: you still mad tho? Rio: No Rio: Serious Indie: me either Indie: my heart b heavy but not w that Rio: What's wrong, babe? Indie: all things Indie: its bad here Rio: How bad? Indie: dred like i dont wanna drag you back in but i cant cope w it Rio: Don't worry about me Rio: I'll have to sort some stuff here but how soon do you need me back Rio: and what can I do 'til then, like Indie: let me be w you i wont 2s mckenna or no thing Indie: but i gotta be out Indie: theres too many fucking situations Rio: alright Rio: of course Rio: i'll sort the uber now, where am I sending it Rio: is it the things i know or has something else, or multiple something else's happened? Indie: [sends random ass location because honestly where the fuck she wanna be rn] Indie: theres more and worse Indie: how you want it? Rio: First tell me you're safe Rio: then tell me however's easiest for you Indie: I'm proper high rn are they gonna let me come to london? Rio: Yeah, obviously don't bring anything but if it's gone it's gone Rio: You'll be fine Indie: safe Indie: i got none left to bring Indie: it been like that Rio: Damn Rio: Say no more, but do Indie: i get why my ma werent trying to do nothing but this Indie: cept its there still when you come thru Rio: That's the problem Indie: cant keep it goin innit cant keep no thing goin Indie: cant keep drew from wildin acting like a younger bringin feds to my door and my boy on my back cos hes fave target Indie: neither chatting to me like i done this Indie: did i? idk Rio: Nah, you didn't Rio: I can't even expand on it because just no, how could it be you Indie: thats how the boy treating me like i livin for the drama Indie: but the feds want drew in the pen & thats how he want it cos theres nothing left for him to fuck up in these ends Indie: i cant stop it none Rio: That ain't you though Rio: and who would be about this shit, it's the worst Rio: As for Drew Rio: I'm sorry Rio: We've been here before, there's no talking to him when he's in that space Rio: and that isn't on you Indie: every day we on this he be spitting angry at me throwing shit around but acting like im the one creating Indie: its too hard Indie: and yeah then theres drew back on his bullshit Indie: w the only apology yours to hold cos he aint offering Indie: i want him gone & i put that out into the universe so mayb i did it Indie: this is proper gone tho & that baby gonna be born soon Rio: Oh babe Rio: He don't know you like that, he shouldn't be treating you like that, standard Rio: even if you were the biggest drama queen in the world but you ain't and he got you so fucked up on that Rio: Nah, he's doing it all himself, even if you thought you wanted it or still do if not this way Rio: you can't make him do the dirt he do, or make him not Rio: The baby will be good, it'll have it's Ma and Bea is staying with her still and everyone else, you know it'll be okay Rio: what about you though baby Indie: how i let him chat to me that way? who am i rn? wtf Indie: i just want our yard back and you back and things to be what they were Indie: but its not Indie: cos even if we there what kinda ma she trying to be for real? im spinning out but like where in the universe is she @ Indie: & none of this is gonna hurt you most Indie: thats the last thing i aint chatted Rio: We've all put up with shit we shouldn't have Rio: 'cos we thought it'd pay off Rio: You ain't alone in that, nor does it make you less you even if it makes you feel less altogether Rio: I can try to talk to Drew, about the flat, idk if I can make that happen but if he goes jail he loses his lease, he only kept it in the past 'cos his boss' would pay it if he dealt inside, like but he ain't got the clout he used to have Rio: accept it or nah, no doubt we could chat about me taking it on if it comes to that but i ain't making promises Rio: I know but, you gotta trust we will all be there for damage control Rio: we're all alright ish, yeah? Rio: Go ahead, babe, I can handle it Indie: i got caught up cos i wanted someone to be for me & about me one time & everyone else has somewhere to lean Indie: you and mckenna being goals in my face Indie: everything else was a mess but i just added Indie: and now she has Indie: cos what i gotta tell you is bills told me edie be gone Indie: hardcore packed up and run out Rio: i know there's nothing i can say to make you feel less shit about it but i swear to you babe, we've all been there Rio: you know i have Rio: it doesn't make it better for you but it ain't your fuckup, it's one we all go through to grow through, yeah? no bullshit Rio: she did talk to buster but Rio: i didn't think it'd be anything more than normal Rio: i'll tell ma Indie: i reckoned bills was gonna cry she was carrying that much worry Indie: i aint no what to tell her Rio: I'll talk to her too Rio: I don't know what I'll say but Rio: it'll be alright, we can sort this Indie: i been swerving dem all hard as you Indie: more than she got detention for how hard she was trying to hit me up she said Indie: doing everyone the dirtiest ever why i gotta leave Rio: I can't blame you Rio: This shit is hard Rio: and painful Rio: I'm sorry I left you alone Indie: he aint try and fuck me i got no excuses Indie: [sends selfie] am I 😢 I can't feel it so what you seeing? Indie: not trying to be out here in the wild 💔😭 Rio: Baby calm down okay, you're good Rio: Your flight is booked and the uber is en-route Rio: I sent all your deets to you, all you gotta do is get here Rio: we're gonna sort all this okay and the shit we can't we gonna make bearable at least Indie: i dont have anything tho cant b living in mckennas garms after the last Indie: he gon b mad enough im rolling up likely Rio: No he won't Rio: I got plenty of shit you can borrow don't stress on that Rio: Nance has got a mental wardrobe here too Indie: o yeah other mckenna Indie: always sleeping on her living there too Indie: she aint but she do Rio: Exactly, I've had to borrow her bed loads of times before and you know they living that en-suite life Rio: you can stay for as long as you need Indie: innit what school gon do put drew in prison? 😂 Rio: Tbh Rio: In the grand scheme of things, that doesn't matter rn, soz teachers Indie: ill screenshot them words like my ma says Rio: I missed you Indie: safe cos imma be in your face soon Rio: wish it was under better circumstances, like Rio: but we'll get there Indie: @ the age to have a breakdown once a wk soz bout it 😂 Rio: that i can handle Rio: nothing that a pint of ben & jerry's and some chill time can't Indie: warn mckenna to lock up his squad & we all good Rio: 😏 Will do Rio: he's not really rolling with them rn so temptation should be outta the way Indie: 😍💍 be like Indie: i feel it Rio: Erm I ain't that hoe 😣😂 Indie: theres how you say & how you do bitch 😏💘😂 Indie: 👀 you from the front row in a few Rio: 🙄😔 am I really that bad Indie: nah nah Indie: mckenna be amp as Indie: its a good link Rio: Yeah but I mean Rio: do you feel like I've been ignoring you Rio: pre you know, that bullshit Indie: allow it babe Indie: you never done nobody that way Rio: Promise Rio: 'cos that ever what I was trying to be Indie: you always on the clock & your game Indie: trust Rio: Alright, 'nuff about me Rio: is there anything else you need, either now or for when you get here? Indie: gon need to grab my shit while 👻ing this boy Indie: standard juggle Indie: if hes been holding that long & not dashed it out ill break in Rio: You're gonna take some mates with you, yeah? Indie: bitch please i dont need the lads knoing my business that hard Rio: is it a good idea tho, even if he got his own van u kno they all got each other's backs, like Rio: be careful, all i'm saying Indie: they aint gonna call the feds on me man Indie: ill leave it til im back need a clearer head than this for a lock pick Rio: Yeah, don't worry 'bout it now Rio: anything replaceable we can sort now Indie: im not tryin to lose my head over things rn Indie: if imma be in london i got what i need Rio: That's the main thing Rio: and I ain't gonna come at you with 20 questions either, like Rio: space can include from me, just lemme know what you're feeling Indie: i been had enough space from you girl Indie: i miss you Rio: was hoping you'd say that Indie: i love you more than Indie: thats the mood Rio: i love you too Rio: no outs Indie: dont lets lose each other again Indie: 💖💖 Rio: never 🧡 Indie: how long this uber tryna be im 😫😫😫 Indie: imma b sleepin on this wall like i kicking it nursery rhyme vibes Rio: it's saying it's nearly there on the app Rio: if you gonna crash at the airport make sure you near the gate tho Indie: safe Indie: o sick idea Indie: the plane not trying to be up long enough for that shit tho innit Rio: legit its as quick as the bus into town like Rio: be here in no time Indie: its a madness Rio: yeah, see, it's not that far really Indie: feels like Indie: but mayb thats just how i want it so i can 👻 this town harder than afore Rio: it's far enough for that Rio: ain't letting drew out the country are they Indie: 😂😂😂 Indie: not less they start deporting crooks old school like when 🐨 country just one big pen Rio: He wishes Rio: always got his top off like we living that life here Indie: fr like he needs a tan to appear more peng nah nah Rio: if we wanna get a new wifey Rio: least if she out there we unlikely to be related to her so go off Indie: true true Indie: unless he tryna head to spain for my nan we all good Rio: 😬 Rio: yikes, not a mental image we need Indie: idk i hear she keeps things tight & fresh Indie: hes done worse Rio: Stop 😩 Rio: 'less you gonna bring me one of them sick bags Indie: get you a straw donkey when he drag me out there for the 💒 Indie: i got you Rio: when u don't wanna be nan but u down to be ma Indie: least she too old to put a 👶 in Indie: & it aint like being down to be ma is top of his list for how he want his wifeys Indie: that ones just for you like Indie: ro not trying to mother me no mind the one she growing rn Rio: Fair Rio: Willing to put up with his shit and mother him is clearly more vital Rio: 'low it with the mommy issues like he's the only one going without Rio: twat Indie: o snap Indie: just cos yours aint want you boy dont mean you gotta kill mine tho Rio: o snapped too soon Rio: but he ain't get snapped on enough for that Indie: when he offering you dem same goodies ☠ Indie: thanks dad Indie: you a real one Rio: waste Rio: he's so fucked Indie: i was 👍 Indie: down & out Indie: what that make me? Rio: you a kid Rio: not chatting down to you, but you allowed to be is what I mean Rio: he's grown and he caused your shit, he should know and do better so you could Rio: literally his job Indie: idc now if he show up for astrid thatd do man Indie: grown past him still Rio: Yeah Rio: we'll have to wait n see if he can be arsed to prove himself Rio: idk if he's been allowed near since you know Indie: not from what ive 👂 Indie: coulda changed since he stopped chatting at me tho Indie: or he coulda just been chattin it so it dont look his fault he swervin Rio: wouldn't blame them from keeping him away rn, your hormones are fucked and she's never had much sense when it came to him Rio: but i don't know if it's a forever deal or what Indie: i can see her lawin it cos he burned her so hard w this Indie: proper owned Indie: she aint tryin to let you come thru & you fam so Rio: well you know Indie: cant call her out that hard when it aint that different from how my ma tryin to be when Indie: they all 🤡 for him Rio: yeah Rio: i don't get it Rio: whatever, he's good looking Indie: so your da he aint a wasteman w it Rio: it's easier to be treated like shit sometimes though than accept the love init Indie: call out 🔫 at me bitch Rio: not what i was going for Rio: just saying he ain't special with it, we all do it Indie: 👀 you Rio: 😏 shh Indie: 😂 Rio: neway Rio: he's out, yeah? Indie: innit Rio: 👍 Indie: how you livin Indie: gimme dat 411 Rio: yeah good tbh, the place where i work is cool Rio: i'm just doing promo stuff 'cos i don't wanna get too into anything obvs but it's fun, not dry like the angel was getting Indie: sick! they gonna let me in or ⛔ Rio: see what i can do Rio: sure we get u made up no one gonna be too amp Indie: dont 🤡 me Indie: keep it 💋 Rio: oi don't be doubting my skillz Rio: you ever seen me out like that 😂 rude Indie: doubtin my ability to carry all that Indie: you ever seen me in 👠 bitch Rio: you don't need 'em when you out with me Rio: only just be touching your height in mine so Indie: 😂😂😂 Rio: 😣 be looking stupid short 'round here Indie: you will stand w mckenna Rio: what i'm sayin Indie: 😍 gotta travel far 💖💖 baby Indie: good thing he extra too Rio: 😂 Indie: hows the love Rio: I don't wanna be extra about it at you Rio: but it is good Rio: and no one totally flipped shit on it so Indie: im not that 💔💔💔 you cant speak on it Indie: boy dont get to do me dirty and keep me pining long Rio: That's my girl Rio: 💪 Indie: throw shit @ me again he gon catch these hands Rio: serious, what a cunt Rio: he ain't gonna have the chance Indie: do me a solid & dont tell the fam yeah? your ma only just calmin after wanting to merk drew Rio: 'course Rio: you got it handled Rio: they don't need to know every little thing Indie: i did nearly run there the other thinkin i was gonna be baby'd up same time as my step ma near Indie: but nah 🍀 Rio: remind me to take you drs yeah Rio: 😰 Indie: its chill i not letting any lads near me in the 24 or out of Rio: still, with your memory, i don't think the pill is the one we'll get you the implant maybe Rio: or the coil, they last time Indie: sexy Indie: he was wrapped but it got fucked up idk was wild Indie: get them posho london drs to sort me 😂😂😂 Rio: nah you wanna be the one in control of that shit babe trust Indie: 👑👑👑 Indie: i feel that Rio: boys be mad dumb that shit could be old or ripped there's no telling Indie: fr 😒😒🙄🙄 Indie: he only got a year on me too idc how many girls he tryna chat he been w he dont kno that much Rio: You can defs take off at least 20% of whatever he chatting Rio: Trust Indie: serious? Rio: Probably Rio: or think about how many of them were like Rio: 5 minute fumbles at parties and shit Rio: doesn't really do much for your game even if its a numbers booster Indie: tell me mckennas i wont say shit to him swear down Rio: 😂 i would but idk Rio: i ain't asked Indie: girl WHAT Indie: bitch imma do it for you Indie: we taking off like 90% for him 'cause how he like to chat or nah? Indie: 😂😂😂😂 Rio: I can imagine like, I don't need confirmation Rio: Poor baby 😂 Indie: do he kno your numbers? Rio: Nope Rio: 'less he tryna keep track like that which I doubt lmao Indie: its jam we can keep em on 🔒 Rio: Idc I'd tell you Rio: but he ain't wanna know trust Indie: boy too jel Indie: how they all be Rio: you know Indie: drew be tellin me how to do w my body like he something to me so we can let mckenna stand Rio: yeah that's a whole nother thing Rio: that ain't cute or wanted Indie: he aint 😂😂😂 Rio: truth hurts 😂 Indie: innit tho Rio: ur uber says its there so pull up Indie: i be waving to someone Indie: gotta b Rio: kinda excited even though it's cos everything is shit Indie: it me you gotta be hype 💖💖💖 Rio: That's alright then 😘 Indie: what mckenna say bout it? Rio: He's cool, gonna talk to his Dad so we don't have to Rio: getting food too to show he can, like Indie: trying to flex o boy Rio: ever since you dissed him Rio: gotta get good Indie: he need be told 👌 Indie: bring 🍔 🍕🍟 any of Indie: it aint hard if you smart Rio: idk if he taking orders but i'll let him know 😏 Indie: hit him w a screenshot and add 🥊 or 💪 Indie: 💍💍💍 life be like Rio: You have no idea babe Rio: getting it from both of yous again now 😜 Indie: is it? he wearin the 👖 thats how you 😍😍 Indie: i been knew Indie: 💘💘💘 Rio: Shut up 😩 Rio: That just how it be in the bedroom don't get it twisted Indie: 😏😏 when he such a daddy you let him wear the 👑 out 😏😏😏 Rio: yeah you lucky you still a flight away Rio: 🥊 'fore 💋 forreal Indie: 😂😂😂😂

[curlicuecal]

Let’s Be Outcasts (Kankri/AR, Latula/Mituna) ch 12/?

Part 2 of cyber!bunny Apocalypse ‘verse (tumblr)

ch: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

read on AO3

Summary: Divergent AU where AR and Li'l Seb get kicked into a new universe with some snazzy new cyborg bodies. They’re still working out the bugs.

In which AR discovers that kidnapping rarely solves more problems than it creates, Mituna breaks out of a lab (with some help), and Seb continues to take good care of his Bro.

Chapter Excerpt:  

Latula hesitates. It’s just the tiniest hitch in the conversation, but considering how effortlessly she seems to follow even your most scrambled utterances, the pause is noticeable.  “It’s an outworld artifact,” she says, breezy and open.

“Wow, no grab-hulmping ass nugs,” you return before your mind can really analyze if sarcasm is the wisest choice for this situation.  

—–

Ch 12.

Latula, you reflect, has the best secrets.  Or possibly acquires the most excellent ones from other people.  Behind the steel door at the back of the ransacked bunker had been a short, damaged shaft, like something for an out-of-service hivestem lift.  Venturing down the rungs in the shaft wall (a feat, in your case, composed of equal parts climbing and falling), you and Latula had emerged into a second, more confined bunker.  The sprawlingly empty labs in the level above had looked aged and deteriorated, fragile.  A hollowed-out husk prone to falling to pieces at any moment—in retrospect you’re probably lucky your lightshow didn’t damage anything structural.  This room has an equal sense of age, but it is shelled from floor to ceiling in metal plates and girders as if were meant to survive a war.

It’s a bit like being in a tin can, if it turned out that tins cans turned down the exterior noise from your metal mind almost as effectively as that underground dropshaft you hid in for a day, and were therefore very quiet.  The perpetual static of Latula’s sigil chip buzzes and echoes in your metal mind, but you get only brief bursts of the distant voices of the imperial drones circling the city.

The tin can is also full of dazzlingly unfamiliar technology.

You want to look at everything.

You shuffle around the tiny room, pressing your face against screens and poking your fingers into circuit arrays like you could absorb the fascinating new patterns unfolding in your brain through your fingertips.  You’ve managed to move a good chunk of this busy-ness from the inside of your head to the outside, your programmed subtasks paying off in scratchy lines of blue and red text that now scroll across your helmet visor, superimposed appealingly over all the other nonsense your metal mind seems determined to dump into your brain at all times.

You clamber over a counter and pause to contemplate a screen that has flickered on at a nearby hub, watching the numbers count down.  That is new.  With one fraction of your attention, you start mapping out the attached equipment, backwards extrapolating toward what kind of function they might serve.  Your lips twitch up a bit as the countdown flicks past 44:44.

The whole lab could be overwhelming, but instead it’s engrossing.  For once you have no shortage of tasks to divide your attention across, occupations to channel the restless tangle of your mind.  The muffled data inflow from your metal mind fades into the background.

It is, it occurs to you, hard to be all one thing, to marshal all the disparate parts of your mind and your body and match up the edges and push them into lockstep with the world.  With your attention scattered you don’t have to try so hard to keep your balance.  Your blue mind purrs acquisitive conquest while your red mind whispers wary caution that it will all be taken away, that you will be filed into place with the rest of this puzzlingly obsolete equipment.  But you’re steady.

Latula makes a grumbling noise from the back of the room, where she has been poking at the largest device, decoupling connections.  “Hey, ’tunz.”

You turn this inscrutable string of syllables around in your head several times.  Oh.  Is that you?

“You happen to know how to hack an object duality function onto sylladex cards?”

You spend another moment of low-key bewilderment trying to decide if this is something you know how to do.  Object duality: carapacian storage system. Programming structure and relationship to sylladex development: …no data?  Did you never know or did you forget?  “No-oh?” you try, anxiously.  And then, with a bit more confidence as you rifle through files and your brain continues to be completely blank on the subject of non-imperial technology: “Oh-no.”  Still, the idea is interesting.  You engage a few of the sorting programs you’ve coded with your helmet, scanning through the ridiculous backlog of data from your metal mind.  You don’t know if any of this clusterfuck could possibly be relevant to working out a technical puzzle, but you don’t know that it couldn’t.  It gives another portion of your attention something to do.

“Right.  You happen to have a sylladex slot that’s oh, say, this big?”  Latula’s hands dryly sketch out the wall-spanning machine in front of her.

“Dong ilven halve a sillydickth.”

“Huh; we gotta hook you up with something.  You know, assuming we ever get out of here, a thing which would be way the heck easier if I had any way of ganking the massive freaking technorelict I came specifically to hunt down.  Damn it, Porz was supposed to be here.”  She frowns at the machine in question, one hand on her hip.  “Maybe we could just… leave it here?  Come back with company and snag it before the ‘net gets back online and that lab full of dead scienterrorists get noticed.  Assuming…”  Her frown tips down farther.  Her eyes glance toward the dropshaft, then back to her machine.

You turn to squint at the device yourself.  Aside from being big, it doesn’t seem particularly more interesting than any of the other artifacts in the room.  Some blackened screens, something you think might be sensors, a row of large glass cylinders that look a little like the carapacian growth chambers from the level above.

Maybe it’s presumptuous of you, but you’re pretty sure she should just take something smaller.   “Walk innit?” you ask.  No.  Although some of those tubes are certainly big enough. “Waltz is’t.”

Latula hesitates. It’s just the tiniest hitch in the conversation, but considering how effortlessly she seems to follow even your most scrambled utterances, the pause is noticeable.  “It’s an outworld artifact,” she says, breezy and open.

“Wow, no grab-hulmping ass nugs,” you return before your mind can really analyze if sarcasm is the wisest choice for this situation.  Who the fuck are you kidding, your mind has approximately nil control over the shit that plops out of your mouth.  You’re just happy when the contents remotely resemble what went into the digestion.

Latula snickers.  “Yeah, okay, it and everything else in this room.  But this is a big one.  There’s only ever been three found like it before and they all stopped working sweeps and sweeps ago.  ‘Least as far as anyone knows.  Outworld technology is property of the government that finds it after all.  The highblood council or whoevs says it up and broke—who’s there to say diff?”

“You?”  No, wait, you think that was a rhetorical question.  Conversation is hard.  And now Latula is giving you an extremely sharp look, oh, oh.  Torn between the desire to apologize and the desire to make her look at you more, you instead wander closer and examine her pet artifact more closely.  Like you, it seems to be at the interface of technology and biology.  Something artificial, but designed to work with living systems.  Not the type of assemblage that could be used to modify a hatchling into a cyberorganic construct, no, you can’t make that fit the structure of the thing, but.

Not the right pattern of parts for the carapacian’s genetic modification projects either.  You thought before it reminded you of the sort of equipment they might use to grow their generations of workers and soldiers, all the various castes of their population.  Something for biological creation, yes, maybe…

“I’d really rather you didn’t overthink this,” Latula says, into your thoughts.  “Or, like.  Try not to pull out any more of your mad insights?  ‘Cause I’m working on being responsible over here and I hella can’t promise that info’d work out safe for you.”

You spend a few complicated moments trying to determine how not to think about something and a few more wondering why this would possibly matter.  In your experience, your thoughts and intentions have very little correlation to any of the things that happen to you.  You wind up just staring at Latula.

“Unless you’d rather I told you?”  Latula asks, not at all like she thinks your decisions don’t matter.  “Because, I mean.  I figure you’ve got as much right to know what’s going down as anyone.  More than.  It’s just...  right now if things go completely ingestible-tree-ovoid shaped you could maybe slide outta it on not knowing and being, like.  Technically stolen lab equipment?  But if I tell, you’re kinda stuck with me ‘til game over.”  She gives you a little fatalistic grin and shoulder shrug.  “Win or lose.  However the hell it all goes down.”

That sounds… really nice actually.  In a flippantly ominous kind of way.  You’ve sort of been figuring your whole life will implode any hour now—a seesaw swing of the pendulum for all the unexpected fortune you’ve been granted in defiance of probability.  You’d spend every second of that time with Latula if the choice was in your fronds to make.

Latula looks at you like she thinks maybe it is.

“But, hey.  Maybe we’ll go down in the fun way ‘stead of the dying horribly way.”  She wiggles her eyebrows and grins and then tucks her hair behind her ear and looks half away from you.  “You want in on this?” It echoes between the twice-two halves of your mind, flesh and metal, red and blue.

(“You wanna get outta here?”)

You dig your teeth in your lip and remember to breathe.  You’ve caught her hand in your own without noticing and that’s starting to be a habit.  She lets you keep it.  So, is she dumb for not realizing by now just how far you would follow her, or are you dumb for never guessing that first invitation might have been for keeps?

There’s a completely nonsensical smile twitching across your face.  For what’s visible beneath the helmet you must look completely deranged, but Latula’s got a smile growing to match.

Your answer tangles with a thrum in your throat and comes out sounding more like a dirty suggestion than a word.

“…Yeah?” Latula says, eyes bright as lit fuses, and reels you in.

Or maybe you’re both really, really fucking smart.

You do eventually  have to pull up for air, only for Latula to spend a giggly few moments testing the bony angle of your jaw with her teeth, following it back to where flesh meets the metal of your left interface.  You even took off your helmet for her, despite how dizzingly like freefall the sensation of losing the control it provides is.  It’s worth it when she tugs you by the hair, tweaks your horn.  When she snickers at the huffy noise you make when you give up on shaking your overgrown bangs from your ganderbulbs.  Latula feels like the very best kind of freefall.

You nuzzle at her face, hair, hands, anywhere you can reach, and her fingers trace fractal patterns back along your jaw and cheekbone, down from the raised headphone-like interfaces you have where ears might be and down along the vulnerable skin of your neck.

“Wow, babez, you are all over circuits.”  One finger plucks testingly at the high collar of your flightsuit and you make a happy, contented noise for her.  “How far down do these go, anyways?”

Hm.  “I four-get?”

“Oh!”  Latula pops back up from your neck to grin into your face, eyes lit up like you just handed her a present.  “…wanna find out?”

The words lick through you like an electric current.  Straight to your nook.  But in a fun way.

You blink again—one, two, three, four—and then tangle a hand in her hair, because yes, okay, good, perfect.  Words not functioning, but no part of you has any confusion on the answer to that question.  Latula folds into you, laughing—and then abruptly keeps folding, her laughter blowing out in a hiss as she turns her forward momentum into a shoulder roll across the equipment-cluttered counter behind you.  Your own breath abandons you with an oomph as your ass cushions hit the floor.  Falling is like your special talent.

Metal and wires clatter to the floor.  Something shatters.  A pale shape skitters by, flitting through the air, dodging debris, and Latula sweeps up her staff—wow, when did she put that down, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her let her weapon out of arm’s reach before—and scrambles in pursuit.  The point of her staff stabs out once, twice—and then she’s pinned it, just before it could dart into a crevice behind a wall unit.

“Aw, fuck it all,” Latula mutters, frowning at the fist-sized genemod still twitching and oozing blue goo onto the point of her staff.  “I just can’t catch a break tonight.”

Your adrenaline-sped pusher suggests otherwise.  You are (red) panicky and (blue) panicky, but you also just did the psiistorm thing twenty minutes ago and one floor up, so you are mostly just balancing on the panicky in a fun, internal way.  It’s almost comforting in how familiar it is.  And nobody’s dying; that’s nice.  Winning all around.

You scramble for your helmet and take only two tries to get it on.

Better.

Making your way around the counter, you peer past the flashing text on your helmet view screen to squint over Latula’s shoulder at the fluttery, leggity hoofbeast-faced thing.  It has about a half a dozen more eyes than you feel are really called for and looks like something some carapacian geneticuller spliced half the contents of his DNA library into on a whim.   You can’t see anything in particular to make it worth looking at—other than the ungodly suspiciousness of a feral genemod turning up two levels down in a sealed underground bunker lab in time to interrupt your make outs.

It’s a scientifically engineered nookblock, is what it is.

Latula’s eyes dart around the confines of the lab again, narrow and seeking.  You don’t need higher level processing programs to recognize a pattern.  You just wish someone would explain why it matters.

“Think we just got put on a timer,” she mutters.   Your head twitches uncertainly toward the console across the lab, the one with the countdown running on the screen, but Latula’s turning back toward the wall-spanning outworld device in front of you.  She faces it down with more determination than conviction.  “Right.  Get the goods and get gone.  Hm."

You blow out a frustrated breath through your nose.  “’tu-la, what.”

Her eyes shoot to you almost guiltily.  “Um.  So.  Speaking of deetz I haven’t been sharing with the schoolfeed cohort.”  She fiddles the little mutant corpse free of her staff, holding it up by one of the many insectoid legs before flipping it out of sight, into her sylladex.  “It’s possible somebody’s using these to track us.  I wasn’t sure for a while, but the co-inky-dinks are kinda piling up now, and…” her patter trails off, face going inwards-turned.  Her free hand toys with the red scarf concealing her hanging scar. “…I sorta feel like this is all familiar in the bad way.”

Shitty titfucking nose-bulge, you have no idea what any of that means.

Latula’s eyebrows go up and, yep, you are surprise audio-tracking a static-y version of your internal dialogue.  You bite your tongue on the middle of the string of curses exiting your maw, gulping off the runaway flow through straight bodily force.  At least you’ve also cut short the post-make out ‘murder and contemplation of dead things’ portion of the evening.  Small victories.

“Sorry,” Latula says, which has the novelty of coopting your next avenue of verbal stress dump.  “I’m not trying to be cryptic; it’s just like a disease.  I think my life is half lies these days.” She twists her hand in the scarf.  “Or half-truths.  Maybe whap me upside the head or something when it happens.”

Alarming.  No.

Although, with your coordination and her cooperation maybe you could just skip to whapping random body parts together.  Eheheh.

“So, right.  Cards on the recreation platform.  Think you’ve sneaked a peek at like half the deck already.  This obnoxiously complicated dealio here,” she gestures at her giant out-world artifact, “is for making wigglers the un-fun way.  And like I said, this is the super rare, holographic edition kinda item; a lot of people would like to get their claws on it.  So, okay, there’s me and Porz and some other peepz—I dunno if Kurloz counts he’s kind of nuts—and the deal is—“  —but you don’t get to find out if she’s winding up to tell you about her kinky breeding program plans or what.  You don’t actually hear the soft shuff of a misplaced footfall, you just see Latula’s eyes flick toward the dropshaft and your auditory sponges catch up later.  “—the deal is,” Latula continues, voice even as ever, eyes suddenly bright and fixed on you, “I’m going to need to put a save point in this explanation for later.  All these things popping up that need taking care of, you know how it goes.”

As she speaks, she steps back slightly and to the side, like she’s going back to the device, tucks her staff with apparent casual disinterest under her arm.  Caught in her eyes, you turn with her.  It’s only belatedly that your instincts catch up to the way this places your back to the empty dropshaft and whatever made that noise.  Your pumpbiscuit trips and speeds in your chest, red fear and blue fury and you don’t fall to either because you’re watching her sort sylladex cards and thinking about the way your back to the shaft means her hands out of view.

She comes up with a set of finger-sized knives like mawbeast fangs, and something small and metallic, held so the chain won’t clink.  They disappear up her sleeves.  “Sorry to keep expo-bailing on you,” she says, and her voice makes a joke of it.  “…Trust me?”

“Yes.”  Your reply, for once, comes out crystal clear, as sure as your certainty, a perfect line between thought and action.

Latula’s own next line stops halfway out of her mouth, like you’ve startled her.  You watch her pupils flare wide and dark, the teal in her irises brightening in contrast.  Her tongue touches her lip, her breath caught there.  You get a glimpse of her dichotomies again—all vulnerable/dangerous and careful/reckless and hungry/satisfied—and she’s not more honest like this, just different honest, like seeing the flipside of a coin in the air.  

“...oh,” she says, in this naked, bruise-roughened voice that flips your pusher and sends a clench of pity dizzily through your veins.

Just a glimpse, and then the coin revolves and her game face is back in place, determined and calculating and exhilarated.  She leans in toward you, close enough to kiss, close enough to be indistinguishable to an observer.  Close enough you can feel her grin a breath away from your lips.  “Hold that thought, babe.”

A moment later she's sliding past you and into ambush so fast you almost can’t see it.  There’s a flurry of noise from the bunker’s exit, a rustle of cloth and the scrambling metallic sounds of someone ascending a ladder at speed.  Latula disappears up the shaft after her unseen quarry and you’re left blinking after her, hands clutching the item she pressed into them.

You flick your eyes down.

It’s… her sylladex.  On the top three cards are all the components to the device she’s secured so far—everything she could break down small enough to captchalogue.  You stare at the device for two beats more, at all her belongings placed in your hands, and then you reboot a half dozen internal processes and start towards the dropshaft exit.  You struggle the sylladex into assemblage with your helmet’s fetch modus slot as you go.

A flicker of psionic sparks licks the back of your brain, high on adrenaline, half nervy, half pumped.  You check your emotional balance, tweak your programs—and start up the ladder after her.  Above you, the sounds of a fight grow quieter, and you think the confrontation might be done before you get there.  Oh, good.

You’re pretty sure you can keep her stuff safe, but you can’t make any guarantees about this building.

---

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