#you can tell that this is from way back based on how i drew hk here

[delightful-69]

old animation, liek really really old

[a-trying-writer]

[[ Very risque subject matter with mentions of violence. Contains body horror, blood mention, biting, and rough sensual acts. If you're not comfortable with these themes, back out now. sr--hk based, focusing on the theme of monster f--ker. yeah. btw is it soykaf or soykafe or something else? i completely forgot. EDIT: tweaked it a bit. Might need to tweak it some more though. ]]

As they drank cans of soykaf outside the Dowager Empress, Racter stared at Capricious from the corner of his eye. Once he lowered his can, he asked, “Did you ever had any sort of sensual nightmares of the Yama King, my friend?”

The decker nearly choked on her drink, before quickly gaining her composure with a harsh cough. She turned to the Russian with a perked brow and a crooked grin as if she didn’t nearly die. “Did you, dear Racter?”

His lips curled into a smile as he shrugged. “I asked you first, Capricious.”

“I asked you second,” she replied.

Racter couldn’t help but chuckle at her silly reponse. “How about this -- I will answer you, if you answer me. Are you fine with that?”

Capricious tilted her head while still smiling, then burst out into laughter. Once she calmed down, she took another sip of her soykaf. “I’ll hold you onto that, Racter.” She then cleared her throat. “To put it briefly, I did. It’s not exactly sensual, mind you, but... interesting? Well, in a terrifying way. It’s like... how do I put this... There was something captivating about the monsters that surrounded me, during a time I felt... ‘weird’. I suppose it was when I was in the middle of ovulation... but, you know how I can’t tell.” She took one last sip of her drink, before crushing the can in her cybernetic hand. “At first, I thought they were going to eat me, but instead, they just bit into my flesh which drew out a lot of blood. It was... something similar to penetration, in a very bizarre way... Eventually, I reached my climax and whoosh. I woke up.”

She scratched her nose with her thumb as she thought about the dream silently. “I know there is more to it than that, but... I can’t remember it that clearly. Only bits and pieces.” Capricious then paused to turn to Racter. “Now you! Tell me about your dream!”

The Russian quietly smiled at her, before finishing off his drink as well. “It was something a bit more explicit,” he started. “Like your dream, it did involve biting, and blood, but most interestingly, was the sensation I felt during it. Something between bliss, and pain.”

“Oh? Did it tick something in your implants?”

“Perhaps, my friend, perhaps. It has been stuck in the back of my mind since, and though I may be misremembering some parts of it myself, I still remember some parts of it clearly. Such as the monster that sat on top of me.”

Racter noticed how Capricious’ cheeks turned red while her pupils blown wide. She blinked just as quickly as she backed away with a sheepish smile, making him smile even wider. “Perhaps we should discuss this later in my workshop,” he said as he lifted his hand up to her flushed cheek. “When the others have slept.”

“S-sure,” she replied, then turned away before she could melt into his touch, and ran back inside the Dowager Empress.

Racter couldn’t help but be amused by how this young woman gets so easily flustered around him. Perhaps she is a little bit more desperate than she lets on, he thinks.

“Why didn’t you tell her the full story of the dream?” Gaichu spoke up from behind the crates.

“I see no reason to, given that it wouldn’t persuade her to change even more,” the Russian replied, while throwing the empty cup aside to pull out a cigarette and a lighter from his pockets. “Besides, her brother wouldn’t be happy if he knew about it as well.”

“Understandable,” the ghoul replied. “But, it would had been interesting to see how she reacts. You obviously found the Yama King fascinating, to the point that you were so inspired, you came up with new ideas for your drone within weeks. Not just that, but you also dreamt of Capricious as something similar to the Yama King, but made from chrome and flesh. And if I heard you correctly, you mention something about sharp teeth and claws digging into your-...”

“Body.” Racter blew out a cloud of smoke from deep within his lungs. “I’m impressed by how sharp your hearing is, my ghoulish companion.”

Gaichu chuckled briefly. “It’s a blessing as much as it is a curse. After all, even when I’m above ground, I can hear the sounds you both make when you think everyone is asleep.”

“Which is why you often leave the ship, no?”

“It’s not the only reason, but yes, one of them.”

“Well, I must apologize in advance then, because it seems that tonight would be another loud night.”

“I already made plans.” Gaichu laughed.

[hertist-art]

Sci-Fi Creative Writing

It was the day most remember as Dina Umpluk lan Cartoon, the day of Bubbles and Bombs. I remember it as the day I met the greatest vendetta against adults to ever put a nuke-magnum against the universe’s head, and laugh like a maniacal villain when it turned out to be a water gun.

Kid Bank, the greatest terrorist to ever go against the tech capitol of the world. And she did so with a childish style and a smiley face. She was a bio-reactor with an RPG that got painted on by first-graders. She was a live grenade that exploded radioactive flower petals. A thug in a dress; A criminal kid. A Young Tech Terror to Adults. Young Tech is a rebel group of teens and young adults that are out casted to the underground by the working or “adult” world; corporations, blue collar business, and denied cybernetic technology licensed by Hitotasi Mecha Corp.

Hitotasi Mecha Corp, the world leader in cybernetic technology and the overseer of all technology production in the Far East; also the number one enemy of Young Tech and most of the underground. They are what made Japan the leader in tech since the Toxic Revolution, and they parade around with that title like it makes them king. And with that era of kingliness they create and hold standards, for the people purchasing tech. Every member of Young Tech and the underground do not meet those requirements; leading us to create our own, more destructive kind of tech. And Kid Bank, always gets the best. She is an idol to every member of Young Tech and for good reason. And that reason is easily stated with the day of Bubbles and Bombs.

It was that day Hitotasi Mecha Corp was being given a new company gold for another year of keeping Japan as the tech leader of the world. Many rich business adults, old and older, stood there at the front entrance of the executive building in our home city of Fukuoka. Crowds of people swarming around the barriers separating the rich from the public. I, personal, was on my way back home, Young Tech HQ, and had no interest in the event as assumed by my working with YT and being the resident child to the YT leader, Duke. However, I did hinder my walk to glare defiantly at the adults standing around watching people talk about how “advanced Japan has come with the work of this company” and more round scrap painting the company as wondrous. I stopped in time to see that the assembly was reaching its climax of giving the award to HMC’s President, Masanori Tsukuda. The temptation to pull my goggles down and take a nice ripe shot at the man itched at the back of my mind as my hand subconsciously moving to the laser Marlin 70P hidden in my duffle bag.

Then, all of a sudden, giant bubbles, ten feet in diameter, just drifted down from the top of the chrome building. Metallic in their soapy pigments, ricocheting light on to the building and refracted back off the windows in colorful beams of pinks, blues, and greens. Passersby all looked on at them in awe and interest and I did too; utterly fascinated by the giganticness of the floating orbs. First there four or five, then fifteen or sixteen, then twenty and twenty-one; all staying high and oddly close to the building. No one escaped looking on at the airy soap suds floating around, and for a moment it seemed relaxing.

However, the awe quickly devolved into panic and chaos. At the moment when the bubbles were at their peak of passiveness, their colors shifted angrily –turning a violent red, before exploding in a manner similar to C4 detonations with a sound that had me gripping the earflaps of my aviator cap for safety. Yet I looked on, as the bubbles erupted, shattering windows in setting other explosions off inside the building, one side rupturing more patterned and violently then the other two. Even pulling my modded aviator goggles down to get a better view of the destruction and the people running from the exploding building. That was when I saw her for the first time. Kid Bank standing on top of the building not even bothered by the violence, the screaming, or the panic going on around the base of the structure. Just waving a homemade bubble wand made from a coat hanger, making more bubbles but they didn’t explode just sank down. Hitting debris and popping like normal bubbles.

Hearing the sirens of firetrucks and the quickly mobilizing Terrorist Corps, I made a run for the Metro Plaza down the boulevard between home and the concrete bay –an old shipyard repurposed to store and recycle the concrete rubble left by the Chiyoko Earthquake. I only glanced back to see her one last time; and was it magnificent. Seeing her grapple dive from the building swinging off the neighboring skyscraper, leaving behind one last reminder. In the side of the building where the most explosions had gone off was a huge smiley face with a bandana around it’s none existent neck holding a gun in one hand and a spray can in the other. I laughed at it.

Within a few minutes of running I was in the middle of Metro with no one else insight. Cleared out from terrorist warning. Though the name is misdirecting, Metro actually is an art Plaza –mostly a concrete flat with a statue that looked like a box. It was a good place to stop and reassess what just happened, because that was awesome and I couldn’t even begin to think about how I was going to tell Duke about it with sounding like a moron. A stony clinking sound behind me drew my attention from my thoughts, turning slowly, I almost buzzed out in my Nero-cords. Standing on the statue block not ten feet away, rainbow umbrella contrasting her boxy head, Kid Bank stood in her colorfully contrasting clothes, looking at me.

Kid was tall and slim. She wasn’t at all intimidating at first glance, in fact she kind of looked handicapped when you saw the obscure paper bag on her head. The nuclear shotgun and RPG strapped to her back, however, were more intimidating then alley Rustlers. Just seeing the four acid grenades and the laser HK on her utility belt were scary enough; let alone the ten-inch bowie knife on her right thigh. In fact, her legs looked like weapons too. Cybernetic and metallic thighs, knee and shin guards, heavy paint stained boots, all powerfully and contrasting to the pure white sundress she was wearing. An oversized tribal print jacket on top and a striped bandana around her neck to cover parts of the gas hoses and Nero cabling.

She jumped down from the statue and closed her umbrella before putting it in its holster on her back. She stood there for a moment then tilted her head to one side; then walked up to stand in front of me. Looking at Kid was surreal. Hearing so much of this person that was an idol to all of YT, seeing the person that’s thought of as a legend standing like any other person right in front of me. Meeting a person painted as a legend. Bank then pointed at me tilting her head once more, obviously asking who I was.

“Uh. Hi, I’m Noe, Noe 7.” I said awkwardly. Kid didn’t move for several moments; then lights flicked quickly under the paper bag before a single chime noise went off, then she straightened still looking at me.

Kid Bank dropped her bag, a 2012 U.S. military backpack fitted with neon rave lights and children’s finger-paints smeared on it. A rarity now –since the Mars Nuclear battle with Apollo-zzyq4, that destroyed half of Mars’ core and the U.S. Planetary Station; America went on a downturn in the galactic race toward Super Nova Tech. Also resulting in the United States’ decomposition, their abusive alliance with Germany, then Canada’s conquering of them; the U.S. had primarily not existed for the last 60 years or so. Yet, assumedly, with being the ultimate female terrorist against Japanese government and tech, perks in the underground thrift market of tech and national trade, were to be expected. She knelt down on one knee, unzipping the biggest pocket, then proceeded to rummage around with both arms elbow deep in the bag. After a few seconds of loud rustling and a few squeaks later she found what she was looking for. Pulling it out she stuck both arms out straight like a child showing a parent something they made. In her hands was a flower crown made of thick fencing wire, rusted gears and bundles of dried sumire and tsubaki.

I looked at the crown then to her. She bowed her head then returned it to look at me, telling me to bow. I did so willingly, leaning forward letting her place the crown of love and waiting on my head awkwardly. When I leaned back to stand straight she waited a second before clapping her hands quietly in a cute manner, before forming a heart with her hands over her chest. I adjusted the crown over my goggles, then looked back at Kid.

I looked into the black ovals of the smiley face on the paper bag over her face, it was fake like anyone else’s in this world, yet for the first time in my life I felt like it was the realest one. The realest happiness that I would ever see. She was Happiness. And I smiled, I smiled the biggest brightest smile of my life. She was my Happiness.

Then in an instant, the wind picked up, blowing sakura petals and siren commotion through the Plaza. I looked back toward the sound; the Terrorist Corps probably picking up on Bank’s trail finally. The moment I looked back to say something, to tell her to hide or to come with me home, she was gone. Disappeared into thin air, and lost to wherever she vanished to. She was unreal, a legendary person to ever underground member. She was a terror so high above all else that she wasn’t even meant to be real. And yet…

She was the realest person I would ever meet.