ChucklesButt

Poll conclusion

Alrighty folks, it seems like Golems won the run off poll- which had dramatically lower turn out, but hey, its fine. 

I will begin working on that, expect something in the next two weeks!

Close poll, run off time

Hey folks, the last one was super close between cyberpunk and golem, so here’s a run off poll, now that ive got demo pieces up. 

Pick which one tickles your fancy, this’ll be open for 5 days

Golem demo chapter

Your first memory is laying out atop a kitchen, staring out of half formed eyes, watching a ceiling fan lazily twirl around the mounted light bulb, cigarette smoke slowly rising in a coil, as a woman scoffs over a newspaper she holds.

“The Peoples’ Observer,” she sneers the title out for a moment, before stubbing her cigarette on the cover, “Nazi filth.”

Glancing down, she jumps in shock, looking into your eyes.

“Samson! Your eyes!” Her scowl cracks into an excited smile, as she cups your face, “You’re working! It’s really working! Let me just-”

The memory ends there, and for a time, you simply don’t exist. Nothing happens. The nothing envelops and gently pulls you out into it’s eddying tide, away from the world of matter.

The endless void embraces you, and you allow it. You have no limbs to deny it, no thoughts to propose against it.

What could have been a day, what could have been a year passes, sensationless and still, before you suddenly have eyes to blink, lids lowering and opening again, as you look out at the world.

The same woman smiles at you, “There you are~” she coos softly, “My Samson. Welcome back to the world… Can you sit?”

Your back flexes- you have a back- and arms! Arms you use to push yourself upright to a seated position, swinging your legs off the table to face the woman that you know to be your maker.

“…” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking you up and down for a moment, “Hi.”

“Shalom lekha.” The old words pass from your tongue easily.

Her eyebrows rise, “Please tell me you don’t only speak in Hebrew.”

You switch your language, “Is this better?”

“German, good, thank God… You’d stick out even more if you were trudging around spouting off ‘ma-zal-tov’ this and ‘ze ka-sher’ that.”

“Stick out?” You repeat her words.

“That’s right, Samson,” she reaches for a piece of paper, “Having a rabbi for a dad has it’s positives, for all the downsides,” she murmurs, “Now, open wide?”

You part your lips, the paper being placed on your tongue, before it fits into a slot at the back of your throat; your mission becoming clear; protect the jews of Germany- especially this woman; Delila.

You rise to your feet, startling her back a step, as you loom over the woman.

“Protect the jews,” you nod. “And stop the Nazi occultists.”

“That’s right, big boy!” Delila grins, “But, first thing’s first… let’s see how you deal with this.”

Without ceremony, she reaches for something shiny and metal, points it at your chest- before there’s a sudden deafening crack, a jolt running through you, as something punctures your chest and blows out through your back, shattering a lamp that had been behind you.

“Well?” Delila asks, “How do you feel?”

You look down at the small hole blown through you, sticking a finger in it idly.

“Pain? Nothing? Shock?” She presses.

“Not… pain,” you inform her, “But… something.”

“Can you close it?” She asks, “Or do I need to patch you?”

“I… don’t know.”

She nods, reaching for a bowl of wet clay, pressing it into the hole, with some wet, sloppy sounds, her ample bosom bouncing slightly as she works her arms.

“There!” She sighs when she’s done, “Well… Why don’t you take a look at yourself? Admire my handiwork.”

She points you towards a standing mirror, giving you the chance to properly survey yourself.

You’re large for a man, over six and a half feet- with a bulky, strong frame. Your arms were sculpted and honed with veins and muscles, your stomach taut and showing off clay abdominals, your legs are thick like tree trunks, sturdy beneath you, and you have a manhood nearing thirteen inches and ‘circumcised’.

“Was… all this detail necessary?” You ask, looking down at the woman who’s admiring her handiwork.

“Well, I mean, the muscles make you more intimidating, I feel.”

“And the-?”

“Now, let’s see if these clothes fit you!”

Cyberpunk demo chapter

Downtown New Istanbul pulsed with life, music blaring out of tiny nightclubs, the screams and whoops of the drunk and drugged forming a treble to accompany the baritone boom of the muffled music.

Internet hotspots, installed on the exterior of buildings pinged all the foot traffic passing through, sending popup advertisements straight to the front lobe of anyone with visual cybernetics. The odd person falling on their face, blinded in exchange for force uploaded information was considered an acceptable risk by local law.

A babble of languages swirled through the air, Turkish, Chinese, Arabic and English, all shouting to be heard over everyone else, as the street thronged with people, flush with their payday and trying to put aside the tedium they’d had to endure to earn it.

Titanium alloy limbs glinted under the colours of the myriad advertisements that weren’t simply uploaded straight to people’s mind. Holographic displays, projected from store fronts, onto the smoky air, smaller businesses having to make do with ancient and outdated glass screens to display their video, boasting how their products can and would change lives, today! Make them more virile, make them live longer, help get the promotion they deserved, let them unleash the true beast within them, make them feel oh so good.

Swilling the dregs of a can of Torque energy drink, crushing it and dropping it in the street, Beyza Liu wandered through it all, slipping down one of the hundreds of myriad spiderweb back alleys, checked to make sure she wasn’t being followed, before slipping into her bosses office.

Hassan’s office was a cramped, tiny space, overflowing two things; Bobble head dog knick knacks, littering every surface, and server banks, the large, black structures humming and whining away, dominating the back half of the already tiny office, he was given kickbacks on the rent for the place for cramming them in.

Unfortunately for Hassan, and everyone that came in here, they made the place feel like standing in a fiery pit. Dabbing drops of sweat off his brow to keep them from running into his chrome eyes, he fixed Beyza with a smile, “Beyza! So wonderful to see you! Come in, come in, take a seat.”

She slouched into a seat, rolling the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows. “Have you got my pay for the last job yet?”

He chewed an edge of his walrus moustache for a moment, “It is coming, my dear girl, it is coming! Do not worry.”

She put a foot over the opposite knee, “Of course, ‘Hassan always gets the money’. ‘How can I ever doubt you’? ‘I wound your pride as a man’!”

“Exactly!” Hassan nodded, pointing a fat finger at her, “You understand, yes. Good. Now…” He turned to his computer, the end of his pinkie finger rotating, to reveal his universal plugin, a discrete, but very illegal cybernetic enhancement, that allowed him to have all sorts of fun with computers, especially ones that weren’t his own.

The old processing unit that had replaced half his brain whirred a little, something mechanically clicking inside of it, as he plugged himself into his computer and instantly started navigating through folders, faster than Beyza could follow.

The old man knew what he was doing, that was for sure, and soon enough, he had a picture of a man pulled up on the monitor that Beyza could see. A tattoo on his neck depicting an Eight Trigram coin. A member of the Cobalt 900, the triad that all but ran things, in the eastern dock districts. “Who’s this and what’s being done to him?”

Hassan smiled, “Diwu Nian.”

“Mhm. So? What’s the deal? Rob him? Cut a finger off and mail it to his boss? Put a bullet in his head?”

Hassan shook his head, “Always so violent, young one, always so violent… No.” He dabbed at his sweat again, “Nothing so dramatic.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a small envelope, “Simply take this, and escort it to Mr Nian’s home.”

Beyza narrowed her eyes, “Do I look like a fucking courier, Hassan?”

“Er-no, of course not….” She certainly did not, short, muscular and with far too mean of a look in her eye to ever work a job that involved exchanging pleasantries. “Just, well, the pay is extremely good for relatively honest work.” He pushed the envelope towards her, “Come now, Beyza, for this, we will get paid immediately. Twenty thousand lira, nothing to sneeze at, I tell you.”

That would cover her rent for a while… and whoever wanted this done was supposed to be paying right away, unlike most of Hassans’ jobs…

“Fine.” She slid it off the desk and tucked it into her jacket pocket. “What’s in there that’s worth so much, anyway?”

Hassan chewed his moustache, “I do not know. It was delivered to me by a man in a red suit earlier, bearded fellow… Rather unsettling, didn’t talk much. But he showed me the money.”

“Really instilling confidence, Hass, buddy.” Beyza muttered, getting to her feet and stretching, giving one of the server towers a little parting slap. “Don’t suppose we can open it first? Make sure I’m not carrying a bomb around?”

“Absolutely not.” Hassan shook his head, “The man in red, he was very clear that the package was not to be opened, until it has reached Diwu.”

“Okay, okay, don’t stress.” Beyza waved at him soothingly, “I won’t open it, I promise.”

“Good. Thank you.” He dabbed his forehead again, “Come back in a few hours, and I should have the money in my hand.”

She clicked her tongue and shot him a little thumbs up, before stepping out of the little office, back into the noise of the city night.

She considered the mystery package in her hand for a moment…

And then ripped it open, to find out what was inside.

Just a thumb drive.

“Oh, come on.” Beyza tutted, “What? No secret vial of drugs? No bomb? No doomsday virus in a vial? Where’s the fun in this?”

She plugged it into her left arm, the cybernetic one, and took a rifle through its’ contents. Blueprints, for… something, she thinks. All very technical, with 3D diagrams and models that were fully rotatable, but that she had no idea what she was actually meant to be looking at.

One of the 3D models, shaped like a bullet, it seemed, had words printed along the side reading out ‘Project Babel’.

There was nothing else of even remote interest she could glean from the drive though, so she unplugged it with a disappointed groan.

She pocketed the drive and studied the envelope it had been in. Easy enough to replace, it was a generic postal package, only cost about fifty lira.

Stealing one from an all-night post office, she packaged it up tight, and set out for Eastern Istanbul. She’d have to get across the Eurasia tunnel, preferably while dodging all the stupid fees they try to impose for using it.

Taking a hover taxi that could just fly over the strait separating the halves of the city, now that was for people who actually got paid regularly, and not people who were employed by Hassan.

Down in the dirty, mean streets, she had to find a way across without being asked to hand over her money, or being checked for weapons. That second one was the real problem.

Slipping through the raucous crowds, Beyza left downtown behind. She knew a place that, if you were really careful of camera movements, and sure of grip, you could propel yourself into traffic and hitch a ride across the tunnel, on the roof of one of the thousands of trucks that crossed the tunnel every day.

She used a sky bridge near the tunnel’s entrance to oversee things, the Bosphorous stretching out, all the way to the other side of the city, more than ten kilometres away.

Drumming her fingers against her thigh, she waited, spotting some fellow riff raff like her that were waiting for the exact same thing, a truck to hitch a ride on. Though most of them looked too nervous to actually make the jump, the bridge high above the nearest road.

Some had even been cautious enough to bring magnetic grips, to latch on better, or dampeners to break their falls.

Not Beyza though. She was the first to act, before anyone else, hopping the bridge’s railing and plummeting down, enjoying the moments of weightlessness, as she plummeted towards a box truck, tucking into a ball and rolling cleanly onto her cybernetic arm to soften her fall, coming to a rest on the back of the truck.

No slowing down, so they didn’t know she was up here. This was good.

She waved back at the potential stowaways she’d left behind on the bridge, enjoying the rush of adrenaline through her system, as the truck angled down, descending below the sea, into the phosphorous yellow light below.

Billboards along the way advertised all sorts of thing, as traffic kept up it’s pace, speeding along, Beyza’s hair whipping behind her, she took her time to take a look at what was on show on the billboards.

Two girls for the price of one at mid-tier brothel, the new Super Triple Decker Cheesy Beef Nightmare was twenty lira off and firms were offering great mortgages on paying for cybernetic arms, with only a fifteen year contract to pay off the artificial limbs, and, on top of that generosity, the job still offered minimum wage.

What a bargain.

She’d have quipped that out loud, if the air in the tunnel wasn’t absolutely disgusting, the smell of trapped diesel and smoke hanging in the air always made her want to retch. The people all tucked away in their vehicles had their air filtered, not a luxury afforded to the plebes catching a ride.

Not that she ever breathed truly clean air, really, but down here, it made the perpetually grey smog of the Istanbul sky seem like unspoiled land, a place that had never seen so much as a campfire to obscure the sky.

In all honesty though, Beyza pitied the poor bastards who were pushed into cybernetics contracts. Forced to get enhancements, so that you could work to pay off your enhancements. A real cash cow of an industry, kept the rich so deeply entrenched in the means of production, that they could legally take a workers’ arms away.

Not her though, Hassan might be late with payments a lot, but the questionable industries he got himself involved in usually paid decently. And she’d been working for the pudgeball since she was ten, so she’d managed to scrape together a good enough nest egg to get some pretty nifty enhancements. Some legal, most not.

They passed another sign for a brothel, rent two girls, get a guy free.

“Oooh, now I’m listening.” She curled onto her side, and her eyes glaze over, the stream of advertisements forming a comforting neon stream that whizzed past, the smoggy air making her chest sting a little from having spoken.

The truck bounced into a pothole, jostling her out of her tiny moment of zen, as she had to grip onto a bar to keep herself from flying into traffic.

No comfortable ride then.

She let her legs hang off the back, one hand gripping the truck, the other she used to wave at the kids in the car behind the truck, who were excitedly pointing her out to their mother.

Here’s hoping she wouldn’t contact the cops about it.

Way back, behind the mother and children, her eyes caught something, an armoured car was slicing through traffic at speed, cutting impossibly close, into gaps that seemed to small, car horns blaring in shock, as the neon lights glinted off the vehicles chrome paintjob, the windows tinted so dark it was a wonder the driver could see, as it pulled into the microscopic space between the mother and the car that had been behind her.

Beyza gulped, and made a swiping motion at the mother, to get her car the hell out of the way. Cos whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

The passenger seat window lowered as the family got out of the way, but from her angle, all she could see was a gold-plated arm, aiming at her with an enormous hand cannon.

Instinct had her swing her legs up and splay herself flat across the truck roof, a split second before a bullet was occupying the space her skull had been occupying, the enormous ‘BLAM!’ of the cannon enough to make most drivers around them panic and slam the brakes, while the truck below her stepped on the acceleration.

Beyza’s let go of the breath she’d been holding, loosening her grip on the truck, while reaching into her jacket and whipping out one of her firearms- in this case, her sawed off shotgun, a semi-automatic monster that she’d shortened to the length of her forearm- She blasted right back at the chrome truck, the buck biting deep into the chrome hood, she was trying to focus on destroying the engine.

But it was reinforced by the looks of it, enough that the car could keep thundering after her.

Her cybernetic eye fed her with the fact that the armoured vehicle had no licence plates, a fact she stored for later, as she ducked low to avoid another blast from the passenger, rolling across the roof of the truck, towards the driver’s side, making it a harder shot for whoever was trying to blast her, she whipped up to a knee and blasted at the trucks tires.

The reinforced hubcaps deflected most of her shot, and the situation was only getting worse, two vans rolling up behind the armoured truck, flanking it on either side, before their side doors were flung open, men and women with their faces covered by headscarfs carrying pistols.

Gulping, Beyza dumped two shots in through the van door on the armoured cars’ driver side, turning it into a bloody mess before they’d even got a shot off, before she had to hit the deck, bullets whizzing through the air above her.

Fumbling at her waist, she got some spare shells from her ammo belt and fed them into the top of her shotgun, before pumping it.

She needed to make space for herself to breathe here, and had an idea on how to do so, ensuring she had least had a clear spot for the next few seconds.

Rolling towards the van she’d shot, she grabbed a bar that ran along the trucks top and let the rest of her body roll off the edge, tumbling for a moment, until she braced her legs against the trucks side, while with her free hand, she dumped a shell right into the tire of the van, able to hear the screams of pain inside, before the blast of her gun turned their wheel to shreds, and it veered out of control, the driver desperately trying to maintain control, slammed on the brakes and fell away. The other two cars pursuing her fell back too, dropping their speed and giving her space to gain some distance.

Hanging off the side of her truck, she heaved a sigh of relief, for her short lived moment of victory.

And then the truck angled up, heading back towards the surface, police sirens wailing that she was going to be in deep shit, if she didn’t move quick.

New Patreon project

Howdy folks. Since the guys at Patreon made me delete a bunch of posts from here, it’s been pretty dead around these parts, huh?

Well, I’m thinking of starting a Patreon exclusive writing project, with chapters uploaded (hopefully) every two weeks. 

I’m planning on these being closer to a regular story, rather than interactive quest type thing, now the question is for you folks, which idea sounds more fun?

What should i run this weekend

What should I run this weekend?

What should I write this weekend?

Posts removed

Hey folks, Patreon’s getting mad at some of the stuff I post so I did some take downs of stuff

Chapter 1 of ???: I don't have a name for this yet, but its a cyberpunk thing I've had kicking around my head.

Downtown New Istanbul pulsed with life, music blaring out of tiny nightclubs, the screams and whoops of the drunk and drugged forming a treble to accompany the baritone boom of the muffled music.

Internet hotspots, installed on the exterior of buildings pinged all the foot traffic passing through, sending popup advertisements straight to the front lobe of anyone with visual cybernetics. The odd person falling on their face, blinded in exchange for force uploaded information was considered an acceptable risk by local law.

A babble of languages swirled through the air, Turkish, Chinese, Arabic and English, all shouting to be heard over everyone else, as the street thronged with people, flush with their payday and trying to put aside the tedium they’d had to endure to earn it.

Titanium alloy limbs glinted under the colours of the myriad advertisements that weren’t simply uploaded straight to people’s mind. Holographic displays, projected from store fronts, onto the smoky air, smaller businesses having to make do with ancient and outdated glass screens to display their video, boasting how their products can and would change lives, today! Make them more virile, make them live longer, help get the promotion they deserved, let them unleash the true beast within them, make them feel oh so good.

Swilling the dregs of a can of Torque energy drink, crushing it and dropping it in the street, Beyza Liu wandered through it all, slipping down one of the hundreds of myriad spiderweb back alleys, checked to make sure she wasn’t being followed, before slipping into her bosses office.

Hassan’s office was a cramped, tiny space, overflowing with two things; Bobble head dog knick knacks, littering every surface, and server banks, the large, black structures humming and whining away, dominating the back half of the already tiny office, he was given kickbacks on the rent for the place for cramming them in.

Unfortunately for Hassan, and everyone that came in here, they made the place feel like standing in a fiery pit. Dabbing drops of sweat off his brow to keep them from running into his chrome eyes, he fixed Beyza with a smile, “Beyza! So wonderful to see you! Come in, come in, take a seat.”

She slouched into a seat, rolling the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows. “Have you got my pay for the last job yet?”

He chewed an edge of his walrus moustache for a moment, “It is coming, my dear girl, it is coming! Do not worry.”

She put a foot over the opposite knee, “Of course, ‘Hassan always gets the money’. ‘How can I ever doubt you’? ‘I wound your pride as a man’!”

“Exactly!” Hassan nodded, pointing a fat finger at her, “You understand, yes. Good. Now…” He turned to his computer, the end of his pinkie finger rotating, to reveal his universal plugin, a discrete, but very illegal cybernetic enhancement, that allowed him to have all sorts of fun with computers, especially ones that weren’t his own.

The old processing unit that had replaced half his brain whirred a little, something mechanically clicking inside of it, as he plugged himself into his computer and instantly started navigating through folders, faster than Beyza could follow. 

The old man knew what he was doing, that was for sure, and soon enough, he had a picture of a man pulled up on the monitor that Beyza could see. A tattoo on his neck depicting an Eight Trigram coin. A member of the Cobalt 900, the triad that all but ran things, in the eastern dock districts. “Who’s this and what’s being done to him?” 

Hassan smiled, “Diwu Nian.”

“Mhm. So? What’s the deal? Rob him? Cut a finger off and mail it to his boss? Put a bullet in his head?”

Hassan shook his head, rattling his chins, “Always so violent, young one, always so violent… No.” He dabbed at his sweat again, “Nothing so dramatic.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a small envelope, “Simply take this, and escort it to Mr Nian’s home.”

Beyza narrowed her eyes, “Do I look like a fucking courier, Hassan?”

“Er-no, of course not….” She certainly did not, short, muscular and with far too mean of a look in her eye to ever work a job that involved exchanging pleasantries. “Just, well, the pay is extremely good for relatively honest work.” He pushed the envelope towards her, “Come now, Beyza, for this, we will get paid immediately. Twenty thousand lira, nothing to sneeze at, I tell you.”

That would cover her rent for a while… and whoever wanted this done was supposed to be paying right away, unlike most of Hassans’ jobs…

“Fine.” She slid it off the desk and tucked it into her jacket pocket. “What’s in there that’s worth so much, anyway?”

Hassan chewed his moustache, “I do not know. It was delivered to me by a man in a red suit earlier, bearded fellow… Rather unsettling, didn’t talk much. But he showed me the money.”

“Really instilling confidence, Hass, buddy.” Beyza muttered, getting to her feet and stretching, giving one of the server towers a little parting slap. “Don’t suppose we can open it first? Make sure I’m not carrying a bomb around?”

“Absolutely not.” Hassan shook his head, “The man in red, he was very clear that the package was not to be opened, until it has reached Diwu.”

“Okay, okay, don’t stress.” Beyza waved at him soothingly, “I won’t open it, I promise.”

“Good. Thank you.” He dabbed his forehead again, “Come back in a few hours, and I should have the money in my hand.”

She clicked her tongue and shot him a little thumbs up, before stepping out of the little office, back into the noise of the city night.

She considered the mystery package in her hand for a moment…

And then ripped it open, to find out what was inside.

Tier Update

Hey folks, I've overhauled a little, since I might not have been using the 5 buck tier much, now I've got a new tier, to pick what I run over the weekend. Enjoy.

I made a Discord server, tada!

https://discord.gg/auM6yYU

Picking Flowers

You stroll through the fields of the western Lowlands. Within the relative anonymity of the unsettled western bank of the Zora River, everyone has decided to take just one day to relax and to have for themselves.

And for you, that means accompanying Link as he tried to quietly slink away from camp a way, awkwardly hiding your larger body behind bushes and tree trunks, wondering just how Impa can be so sneaky, until Link seems to have decided he’s far enough away from camp to let his guard down and bend over to inspect something at the base of a tree.

Which is precisely when you step out from your hiding place and move to stand very close behind him, the playful intent to surprise him welling up within you.

He straightens back up as you get in place behind him, just in time for his shoulders to bump into your chest. 

He lets out a small noise of surprise and stumbles forwards, hand reaching for his sword hilt for a moment, until he sees it’s you, dropping his hand and turning a light pink.

“What are you doing all the way out here on your lonesome?” You ask him with a smile.

He hangs his head a little and tries to hide whatever he has in his right hand behind him.

“Liiiink?” You ask.

He shakes his head. “Embarrassing.” He whispers.

You grab hold of his chin and point it upwards, locking eyes with each other. “Nothing so embarrassing that I won’t spend time with you doing it.” You tell him.

He swallows, softly, his skin soft as rose petals, as from behind his back he pulls a delicate looking, fresh flower in a vibrant shade of blue its’ petals furling out in triangular folds.

“Flower picking?” You ask, a little laughter creeping into your voice, “What was so embarrassing about that?”

His eyes droop, “It’s… for ladies. I get teased in Hyrule.”

You scoff, “Then Hyrule is a silly place of buffoonish gender norms.” You tell him. “Who’s for them to say that enjoying the scent of a garden in bloom is not for voe?” You pat his cheek lightly, “Come, we’re going flower picking.”

You release his chin and he keeps staring up at you for a few moments, before he lifts the blue flower up to you, offering it. You pluck it from his hands and sniff. A delicate aroma, something akin to a rose, but not quite.

“Very nice.” You nod, passing it back down to him, “Do you know what it is?”

He shakes his head, withdrawing a small book from within the depths of his pack and flipping it open, sketches of various types of flowers, noted in a neat, tiny script on the pages as he rustles through them, coming to a blank page at last.

You take a seat on the ground and consider it, trying to pick out noteworthy details about it, while he seems to be laser focused on counting the leaves, the petals, mulling over the description of the petals’ colour…

It seems he takes his ‘shameful’ hobby quite seriously.

Once he’s satisfied with the notes he’s taken he half reaches out to grab the flower from your hand, before hesitating…

You cock your head slightly, before leaning forwards and stroking his hair lightly, enough to create a divet to poke the stem through behind his ear.

“Very cute.” You nod, the blue accenting the golden blonde of his hair.

The slight pink becomes a near red as he fusses with his belongings for a few moments, very preoccupied as he gets back up and marches off stiffly in search of a new flower to study.

The Tsarina

You’ve pulled each other through sleet, mile after mile without rest, to reach the meagre safety afforded by the cabin, the blizzard howling outside, turning the whole world a blank slate of whites and greys outside the window.

But here?

Here, inside, with the pop and crackle of wood in the hearth you’re both safe and comfortable, and most importantly- warm at last.

Your charge is safe, for now, the tiny, petite tsarina taking a shower in the bathroom, the heater for the water cranking loudly as the electricity runs it, royal money hard at work.

You’ll have to get up when she’s done. She deserves the comfiest chair, the one closest to the fire, but for now, after all the running, you’re luxuriating in the chance to put your feet up and soak in the heat.

Thank god you left changes of clothes here, it’ll be nice to wear something a little less formal.

You left your bloodstained coat by the door, the Tsarina’s snow-white fur coat somehow having stayed impossibly clean, as if the dirt itself believed it was unworthy of touching her.

The pipes thud, the water shutting off with a creak and you hear a shower curtain being drawn back, as you puff on your pipe.

There’ll be no leaving with this blizzard. Not until it’s worn itself out. 

Until then, you have smoked meat and tobacco to last, firewood aplenty and books to pass the time. A far distant change from the last few days, certainly.

You pull your feet down from the footstool as you hear footsteps crossing the floorboards and start to stand, to give this seat to Danica, but a gentle press of her fingers on your shins keeps them in place.

You look at her in confusion as she straightens, her long blonde hair tucked behind her ears where it spills out from beneath her ushanka.

“Ma’am?” You ask.

There’s a smile in her eyes, “Come now, Alexei.” She sighs, “After everything you’ve suffered for me, I think you’ve earned the right of a first name basis. Now sit still. We’ll share our warmth…”

You swallow as her petite frame swivels and she lowers herself into your lap, her snow-white coat back on, covering her from shoulders to thighs, buttoned neatly up…

But you’re uncertain if there’s anything else underneath. 

Not even small clothes.

But she is soft, and she is light, and she is oh so warm in this miserable snow storm, snuggled perfectly into your lap.

She faces the fire, but looks up at you, her head barely reaching the base of your neck given your difference in size. “You’ve been… great, the last few days.” She trills softly, reaching her hands up and locking her warm fingers behind your neck, her voice light and playful, now that she’s gotten out of immediate danger. “My big strong bear.”

You swallow again, unsure of what to do with your hands other than grip tightly at the arms of the chair so hard the word creaks.

“Anything for you, Ma’-“ Her eyebrow raises imperiously… “Danica.”

Despite all your best intentions, your mind screaming at you for it, your body can’t help but react as she shifts in your lap, the soft mink of her coat grinding in your crotch, the smooth, shapely buttocks underneath making their presence known.

“Anysing?” She asks. “How generous you are, Alexei.”

You find your eyes wandering away from her face, to the collar of her coat and she smirks. “You know what I want.” She purrs, stroking her fingers from the back of your neck up to your cheeks.

“You- you’re husband-“

“Is dead. And took a different woman to his bedchambers every night.” She replies, taking one of your hands and putting it on her hip, the soft fuzz of her ushanka dragging against your chest now as well, her ice blue eyes staring up at you. “Please.” She begs, “I just want to feel good after all this misery… I want you to make me feel good, Alexei.” 

You swallow again, and you find your hand moving to the buttons of her coat, undoing them with as much delicacy as your hamhock hands can manage, parting the bottom of the coat enough to confirm that, indeed, she wears nothing underneath, bare between her thighs, save the fair hairs of womanhood.

And your hands have their own mind from there, one hand slipping between her thighs, one thick digit seemingly enough to entertain her, her heat unbelievable to the frigidity outside, your other hand palm and fidgeting at her buttons, pulling them free one at a time, first exposing her belly button, then the bottoms of her breasts, which you briefly rub the undersides of, earning an extra appreciative purr and a clenching on your finger, before you move up, freeing her breasts entirely, groping and grabbing, trying your best not to bring her harm or bruising with your crude hands, Danica pressing her back into your chest and letting her delicate, soft moans spill out against the thick, wooden walls of the cabin, riding your finger, before the button at her collar comes free at last, baring her in the entirety of her nudeness, as she lets out a soft cry and climaxes under your attentions, one of the first sounds of pleasure and happiness she’s let out in days, and it’s all because of you.

She sags back as you extract your finger, your groin still swelled against your trousers…

But she lounges against you, regathering her breath, bathing in the heat of the fire…

“Alexei?” The tsarina asks.

“Yes, ma’am?- I mean, Danica.”

“There’s two bedrooms here, da?”

Your hopes sink dramatically. “Da.”

“Well…” She hums, getting up from her seat. “Well, we won’t be needing both, now will we?”

The coat drops to the floor, her slender form backlit against the fire in it’s perfect, royal majesty, as she saunters to the closer bedroom door and crooks a finger, beckoning you to come.

And come and come and come.

Mega Krypton!

Kara was enraptured with the experience of a ‘manual’ pregnancy, and seemed to almost literally glow from within, as she began to absorb enough sunlight for two.

One thing she doesn’t appreciate much is the light stretch marks over the bump in her belly, however, and you, being the best, most lovely man ever, have made it your mission to assure her they’re beautiful.

You find her entertaining herself by carving wooden toys with her heat vision atop Titans’ Tower, cooing a gentle greeting as you climb up, a golden goddess reclining on a deck chair.

“Morning.” You greet her with a pair of kisses, first to her lips, then by flipping her shirt up and kissing the noticeable bump of her belly.

“Stooooop.” She protests, gently trying to tug her shirt out of your fingers and back down, “Don’t look at that.”

“But I spent so much effort making it this big in the first place.” You wink and pull her shirt back up. “Kara, trust me, you have never looked more beautiful than you do right now.”

“Yeah?” She asks, “But… I mean, you’re a pervert, though.”

“Yes. Yes I am.” You nod. “And I plan on showing you just how beautiful you are.” 

She gasps as you straighten up, Little Dick hardening as you pull her shirt higher up, exposing her bare, creamy tits for you to play with.

“Diiiick!” She protests weakly, “We shouldn’t!”

“But you’re not stopping me.” You point out, kneeling gently over her on the chair and kissing her softly, “Beeeeecause you want it.”

She mock-pouts, “I didn’t realise you could read minds now.” 

“Minds?” You chuckle, “No, my dear. But this is a good hint.” You plunge your fingers down her pants and stroke her folds, grinning in satisfaction to find her growing wet with excitement. “So lay back and let daddy spoil mommy.”

“Ooooh, daddy…” She coos, smirking in your face, but palming your swelling crotch all the same, before freeing you from your trousers, letting Little Dick breathe freely, twitching with excitement at the sight of Kara’s beauty.

You end up pleasuring her with your fingers for a few minutes, Kara laying back and letting you do most of the work, pumping every so often to tease and edge you, leaving you grunting and growling until you’ve finally just had enough of that.

In a burst of passion and energy, you tear the crotch out of her pants, exposing her gleaming, hairless cunt, soaked from pleasure, Kara letting out a whine of need as you shift and help her lay back more, gently spreading her legs and laying over her.

The hormones are really getting to her, she’s blushing harder and moaning louder than she has since the first time we ever made love, rubbing a hand over her belly to spread her lower lips for you.

“Show me how much you love me.” She begs, more of an order than a plead, locking her smooth lower legs around your thighs and pulling you closer with ease, before you line Little Dick up with her slit once more and plunge-

“HaOHhhh!” Kara moans, digging her fingers into my arms as she cums on insertion alone, having been teased long enough, her body quaking and shaking around me.

You stifle her moans with another kiss, before you make your move, nibbling your way down her chin, then to her neck, pausing to suck and bite the tender flesh, enjoying the soft, plush give of her body, as her insides suck you deeper in.

Guess her body missed this, her own insecurities denying of her beloved Little Dickings.

And then the most fun part.

You bend your neck down further, kissing down her collarbone and brush your lips over her left breast, Kara shivering and goose pimpling at the light touch, before you suck her nipple into your mouth.

It was quite the feat to get here though, her already large assets having become swollen, larger and ever so deliciously lined with faint blue veins.

And then you suck her nipple, softly, gently, teasing her, enjoying the delighted squeak of pleasure, as she strokes a hand through your hair and you pump deeper into her eager cunt.

You suck harder, licking and lapping at the areola around her nipple, bringing your hand up to her other breast and massaging it softly…

“Hey!” Kara bonks you lightly on the top of the head, “Are you trying to-?“ Her question dies into another moan, as your efforts pay off.

“Mmmmmm…” You hum, as a few drops of warm, white cream splatter onto your tongue and you suck a little harder, drawing more out, milking the ‘defenceless’ Kryptonian beneath you.

“Stooo~ooop!” Kara whines again, “You’re being greedy, that’s for Jenny!”

You grin and detach your lips, making a show of swallowing the milk in your mouth, Kara’s eyes following the movements of your throat closely and her insides clenching tighter at the sight, “She’s not going to be using it for a few months still.” You point out, “Until then? I think it’s free game.”

Her other nipple lets out a soft, warm spray that drips down your shoulder… and after a moment, Kara dabs some of the drops up on a finger and tastes them herself, humming with delight.

“Attagirl.” You grin, hefting her hips gently and fucking her harder, drinking deep of delicious Kryptonian milk. No matter how much you seem to take, she never seems to run dry, letting you drink and drink until you’ve quenched your thirst and then some, before Kara decides it’s time she took command of things, lifting the pair of you up into the air and spinning so that she lands straddled over you.

Her belly jiggles with it’s plump expansion, and you give it a rub, as she grabs Little Dick and hammers down on you, the chair letting out a threatening creak, as she props her arms back for support and humps her sweet, wet tightness up and down on you, letting you enjoy the full view of her delightful body, your toes curling and balls tightening in warning.

“Hey?” She asks taking a hand from her hips and squeezing it gently between her fingers, “I found out something fantastic from Faora the other day.”

“Wh-what’s that?” You grunt, your eyelids twitching as you hold yourself back on the brink of orgasm.

She laughs a little, “She sai-hah-said that- mmmn… She said that Kryptonian woman- ah- can have-“

She trails off, clearly on the edge herself.

“Yeah?” You pressure her.

She leans forwards, pressing her delightful, soft tits to your chest, “She said Kryptonian women can simultaneous, separate pregnanciiiiiiies!”

You grin as you cum, flooding her womb with even more Grayson specimen, growling as you plant Jenny’s first sibling deep inside Kara. 

Mount Kansas

“Will they laugh at my accent?” Kara asks, shifting about uncomfortably in backseat of the limo, headed for a post launch celebration for Wayne Interstellar.

… “I won’t lie, probably when they don’t think you can hear them.” You tell her, “But anyone that does, I can make Bruce buy them out of business, sound good?”

She pouts and gives your arm a slap, before stopping to consider it. “Maybe.” She nods.

The car pulls to a stop and you crack the door open rather than ask Alfred to get out and do it, emerging out into the flashing of cameras, giving a casual wave, before offering a hand to Kara and helping her out.

“Mr Grayson, Mr Grayson!”

“Who are you wearing?”

“Any thoughts on dinner tonight?”

“Who’s this with you?”

“Mad Mods’ summer collection, I’m hoping it will be delightful, and this lovely lady is my girlfriend; Kara.” You take her hand and squeeze gently, as she awkwardly smiles at the camera and waves.

Already you can see the reporters’ eyes lighting up, trying to get the scoop on Kara, but you tug her along. 

“So many cameras!” She exclaims, blinking rapidly. “How do you deal with all this?”

“Years of practise.” You shrug, stepping forwards and holding the door open for her, letting her enter ahead of you, partially out of politeness, but also to enjoy the way her dress hugs her hips from behind.

The sky-blue colouring might be a bit on the nose, but oh well.

“Where iiiiis- ah!” You wave to Katie, who’s sitting with her sister, “Katie Zellerbach, Kara Kent, Kara, Katie.” You make introductions.

Katie’s looking better. She’s started showering regularly for one thing, and seeing a normal psych, so she’s much better than the dishevelled wreck she had been.

“Nice to meet you!” Katie smiles, “You're Dicks’ new squeeze?”

“Squeeze?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You murmur, enjoying a handful of soft kryptonian backside, Kara tensing up, but smiling as it goes unnoticed. 

“Like, girlfriend.” Katie elaborates. “Damn, you said she was country, but I didn’t think she’d be this-”

“Let’s try not to get rude, Katie.” You politely interrupt.

“Right. Sorry.” She nods, “I’m trying to be less of a bitch.” She adds to Kara.

“And the doc told you not to self-denigrate like that too.” You add.

“Oh yes, let’s just lay out my whole mental plan while we’re at it.” Katie rolls her eyes, before leaning in and kissing Kara on the cheek, “Nice meeting you, sorry, you’re lovely.”

Kara smiles back, reciprocating the sentiment, as Katie walks back to her table and starts talking to her sister.

“They’re talking about my chest.” Kara tells you.

“It is a lovely chest.” You remind her.

“Other people are too! It’s the first thing everyone’s noticing about me! And- Someone just called me a starry-eyed, corn-farming bimbo that you picked up!”

You scowl a little, “Rude. The only people who get to ogle the twin peaks of Mount Kansas is us." Kara gives you the puppydog eyes at the use of the nickname. "Well then, I have to give a speech, but if you wanna impress everyone, I have an idea.”

You lean over and whisper it in her ear.

“Okay. I have one too.” 

She leans up and whispers it in yours.

“Both?”

“Both.” You agree.

“And that’s why we can all feel proud of what we’re going to accomplish here.” You conclude the speech to a round of applause, before waving Kara out, “Now if you don’t mind, one of our most promising science interns is going to explain her theory of faster than light travel.”

Theory here meaning the engines of several spaceships she’s pulled apart and help the League fix and improve.

Already you see eyebrows being raised as Kara steps up to the podium, beaming with confidence this time as she launches into a looooong, boring, scientifically accurate explanation on how the engines work that even you can’t keep up with. Something about…. Quantum tunnelling, but it’s definitely impressing the people in the crowd, some mouths falling open as Kara details the process, before finishing with a short, “Thank you and… um… have a good night.” 

She then steps out from behind the podium and does a cute little curtsey, before hurrying off the stage, giggling as she launches at you to grab you in a hug.

“Now who’s the dumb hick?” She asks, twirling on the spot.

“Everyone but the alien with a superbrain.” You agree, smooching her on the forehead.

“Part two of the plan?”

“Part two.” You nod, sneaking off for the back door.

At the end of the night, the woman who’d insulted Kara walked back to her car alone, flicking her clicker button to flash the lights as she approached.

There was a slight drunken stumble to her steps, that her heels weren’t helping, but its’ not like she wasn’t fine to drive.

She lurched to her car, before a swirl of blue and rushing wind took her by surprise.

And then in the blink of an eye, she refocused and had her mouth fall open, as her car sat in the middle of the lot, each piece disassembled individually and stacked from smallest to largest, with a small basket left in front of it, stacked to the brim with corn. 

And in the corn, a small note, scribbled with stars upon it.

In Another Time, In Another Place, In Another Way.

Clark gave his friend a tap on the right shoulder, while brushing past to stand behind Bruce's left shoulder.

"You're nearly thirty, you know." Bruce pointed out. "One of these days, you'll grow up."

Clark just shrugged, "Insert something here about millennial angst and immaturity."

Bruce scowled at him as seriously as he could muster, before turning his attention back to the teleporter.

"Watcha doing, anyway?" Clark pestered him. "You know, the kids are all around to fuss over Di, you could spend time talking to your family."

"I'll see them when Diana gives birth." Bruce shrugs. "Something's wrong with the teleporter."

"What is it?"

..."It's getting some weird signal. Like a teleporter that's in the same place is trying to connect to it."

"Huh?"

"Exactl-"

The machine crackled and suddenly a full squad of incredibly familiar superheroes beamed into it. Wonder-Woman, Supergirl, John Stewart, Batgirl, a Robin, a woman who likes like a much older Zatanna, a ruffled Alfred Pennyworth... and Batman and Superman.

"What?" Bruce and Batman asked together.

"Bruce broke it!" Clark declared, throwing his hands up and walking away. "Dianaaaaa, Bruce broke the teleporter and now we're all cloned!"

Bruce pinched his nose, before studying the new arrivals, who were quietly whispering among themselves, and staring between Batman and Bruce, then Superman and Clark.

"Not clones." He determined. "Differences more than superficial."

"Perhaps an alternate reality?" Batman suggested, approaching him and staring him intently in the eye, while the rest of his group stayed back.

It took some explaining to both groups, before the two Bruce Waynes paired themselves off in an attempt to send the new group home through the teleporter.

"It'll take at least a few hours to complete. Until then, we don't know how safe it will be for our groups to interact, so don't-"

Dick bounced over to his double, talking over Bruce. "Hi me, I'm you. Nice to meet you." His hand came forth for a shake. 

Robin cocked an eyebrow, before taking Dick's hand and shaking it. "Weird. Like looking in a goofy mirror."

Dick scoffed. "And I think you've been hanging around Jason too much, Mr Broody."

"Who?"

"You don't have a Jason?"

"Weird. Cassandra?"

"Not ringing any bells."

"Jesus Christ. Sophie 'best-little-sister-ever' Forrester?"

"How many kids did your old man adopt?"

Dick grinned. "You remember back at the circus? With the clown car where Bozo would cram everyone in? It's basically like that."

Robin looked around at the children talking to Wonder Woman, the ones without doubles from his world. "I'm surprised he can stand that many kids."

"Oh no, he hates us." Dick assured him. "I adopted a Red Lantern for a pet!"

________________

John Stewart stared at the cat sitting on the bench in front of him. "You're the Green Lantern on the team?" He asked.

"Meow."

"Then where am I?"

"Meew"

"Lantern War?"

"Yoooooow."

"And you're a former Red Lantern!" 

"Rrrrrrr."

"You. You caught Bleez? For real?"

"Mrrrrrrrm."

"This world is insane."

________________________

"Do you miss it?" Supergirl asked Kara. "Our home?"

"Every day." Kara sighed. "But I'm glad that I've found my way here. I've made new friends and new family here. The Kents are wonderful people."

"They are." Supergirl agreed. "Even if they can be a bit fuddy duddy..."

"They can?" Kara quizzed. "...To me they're retired hippies."

"For real? Freaky. Heh. Imagine hippies back home on Argo."

Kara blinked... "Excuse me, where?"

"Argo. Our home. You just talked about how you miss it every day."

"I was born on Krypton. The city of Kandor."

"You're full on Kryptonian? Weird."

"I've never even heard of Argo." Kara mused. "Maybe... if it's habitable to Kryptonians, then maybe if I can find it, humans could safely live there some day. I wanna be an astronaut for Dick's company when I'm done with school."

"Dick is Robin, right? I... never talked to him much."

"He changed it to Nightwing," Kara pointed to the pair of dark haired boys. "And he's my boyfriend."

Supergirl choked on her spit, eyes widening. "Huh? For real? And you haven't... split him in half?"

"Believe me, I was worried."

______________

Barb made a gagging noise, scrunching her face up at her clone.

"Uch, think I just threw up in my mouth."

Batgirl's mouth was an uncomfortable line in the opening of her mask. "Not. My. Finest hour, no."

"With Bruce?" Barb retched again. "Gross! Uch! No! Dude, he's like ten years older than you are! And what about Dick? Were you and he....?"

"We were, but... grew apart. He was so angry all the time. And then he left Gotham... and Bruce didn't. And Bruce was..."

Barb stuck her fingers in her ears, "LALALALALA!" She drowned herself out, "I'm gonna go punch your Batman in the face for this."

And she did.

__________________

Little Zatanna stared at Big Zatanna...

"Soooooo... how come you're like, ten years older than me, when everyone else is basically the same." The younger one asked.

"Probably magic nonsense." Big Zatanna replied.

"The classic fallback." The younger smirked. "Always better then saying you've got no clue."

The pair high fived.

"So, a whole bunch of stuff seems different." The younger of the two figured, "Any chance the magi are alive and well where you come from?"

"Mmmmmmagi?"

"What we are? What mom was?"

"I'm just a full blooded human as far as I know. Didn't figure out magic powers deal until I was.... pppppbbbbbbbt eighteen? I trained with Batman over there under an escape artist. I had a thing for him, but h-"

"EEEEEEEEEEW!" The younger of the two shook her head, "Don't want to know. I'm dating his freaking son, don't make it weird."

"You're making it weird!" The older countered, mocking her alternate self's disgust.

________

Alfred straightened Alfred's tie.

"Thank you Mr Pennyworth."

"No problem, Mr Pennyworth."

"It seems everyone's swapping war stories from their respective lives."

Bruce's butler let his eyes drift upwards, examining the hairline of Batmans' butler. "I don't suppose you could tell me what led to- forgive me- the rather shocking state of your hairline. I'd hardly care to go bald."

The bald butler shook his head, "But of course. Stress, mostly. Master Bruce is a lot more tightly wound and prone to near fatal injuries than yours is."

"You might be surprised." The fullheaded Alfred quipped back. "I'm afraid we might just have better health care." He cleared his throat. "As it were, would you care to meet our- my?- your?- daughter?"

"Daughter? Truly?" 

Bruce's butler nodded, before calling Cassandra over from the wall, introducing her, then Jason when he came trailing behind like a lost puppy. "Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Pennyworth and her hanger-on; Jason Todd."

Jason took that in his stride, knowing better than to try and match barbed tongue with Alfred, while both children shook hands with the balding Alfred, who was trying not to tear up."
______________

"So." Diana was relaxing back in her chair, "They've relegated me to the Watchtower duties, while J'onn's away. Or at least Bruce says that's the reason." She rubbed her stomach, "I suspect... other intent behind it."

Wonder Woman paused, before her mouth fell open. "No!" She gasped. "You're-" Her eyes flit around the room, "Is it- It's not.... Steve's is it?"

"I do not know a Steve." Diana replied. "The father is on the Watchtower."

Wonder Woman's eyes flit over to the teleporter. "You're quite the fortunate woman then. Mine won't bite, no matter how hard I try to draw him in." Her eyes fell on Diana's belly, losing their hard warriors edge as warm, gentle curiousity replaced it...

"You can rub my belly." Diana whispered, giving herself a wink. "For luck."

__________

Batman was sporting two burgeoning bruises on his jaw, one from this world's Barbara Gordon. The other from a much younger Zatanna.

"Now, Zatanna, I could see, they never knew each other." Bruce figured, reaching for a wrench as he fiddled with the machine. "But for Barbara? You deserved that one."

"And this is why I don't mix my romantic life with work any more." Batman replied, examining the machine's code, feeling a loose tooth wiggle in his mouth.

Bruce looked up, "Seriously. You're lucky I don't break your jaw on that one. She's what? Eighteen? Nineteen? And your sons' ex."

"And I deeply, deeply regret doing it, and the rift it caused between me and Robin."

"Between you and Dick." Bruce corrected. "Use his damn name."

"Mm." Batman grunted.

"Mm." Bruce agreed. "And I never thought I'd be in the position to say this to a person. But stop being such a emo bitch and date Diana. She knows what's good."

"Mm."

"Also Selena and Ellen."

"Selena and who?"

__________

"Aaaaand that's how I ended up dating a Kryptonian woman who's nearly triple my age."

"Fascinating."

"So." Clark puffed his cheeks out. "No offense, but you seem kinda... generic."

"How so?"

"I dunno... you just kinda are there. You exist, but there's not a whole lot to define you."

"I'm a staunch believer of truth and justice!" Superman declared.

"Sure, sure... but like, are you funny or smart or something?"

.... "I'm a staunch believer of truth, justice AND the American Wa-"

"I'm gonna go talk to Supergirl over there." Clark decided, shuffling off. 

With two Bruce Wayne's and one Dick Grayson on the job the teleporter reversed it's charge, ('or some science bullshit, I don't know' Dick would add).

Robin split off from his conversation with Jason, as the extra-dimensional visitors filtered back to the teleporter, Diana giving Wonder Woman a quick squeeze on the arm and a wink before they parted ways.

"Are any of us gonna remember this when we get home?" Robin asked.

"Unlikely." Bruce figured. "Neither will we, most likely."

"Why's that?" The bald Alfred asked.

"Shhhhhh-sh-sh-sh." Zatanna shushed him.

And with a rev of the machine and a bright flash, they were gone, Zatanna and Barb latching onto Dick's arms possessively for a few moments and glaring at Bruce.

Then the teleporter wiped their memories through the power of non-canon science fuckery, and everyone returned to their day, though with a subconscious feeling that they should all cherish each other for exactly who they were.

County Unfair.

Clark winced as Faora reached for the hammer with eager glee in her eyes.

"Farrah?" He coughed, "Just don't break the thing." He reminded with a nervous laugh.

The carny in charge of the high striker seemed amused by his comment at least. "Buddy, I ain't ever seen a man hit the top bell. No offence ma'am, but-"

DING!

Clark wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as the bronze bell at the top cracked nearly in half, a nasty split in the metal.

Faora was already busy humming over the prizes, wandering a few steps away to examine the shelves...

Clark had to remind himself that staring at a lady was rude. Least that's what Pa said... Then again, Ma said it was rude not to stare at least a little, if you're on a date...

He rubbed his head, confused as to how much he should be staring. She'd knotted her shirt to expose a... lot of midriff which was quite distracting.

Dick and Kara melded out of the crowd, his cousin giving him a light pat on the wrist.

"She asked you a question." Dick pointed out.

"Huh? Sorry?" Clark blinked. Super hearing can't overcome a wide set of hips it seems.

"You enjoyed that Stitch movie at the drive in, yes?" Faora quizzed him, extending a large plush toy of the fluffy blue alien at him.

"Y-yeah." He nodded, "Thanks Farrah."

He noticed Dick pulling his phone out, tapping on it without actually typing... 

Morse code.

'Get it together big guy.'

He nodded at his young wingman... Nightwingman?

No, even he thought that pun was too lame to voice. For now.

He tucked the plush toy under his arm, before clearing his throat. Clark Kent; man's man. Deep voice.

Still wasn't entirely sure if this was really what he wanted. Lois was... complicated, but beautiful, funny, clever, a real shot caller.

Then again, Faora is hardly a pushover. And she was clearly starting to see him as more than a baby dispenser, if she remembered his taste in Disney movies.

"I wanna show Dick the hay ride." Kara told him, "You guys have fun."

They both flashed him discrete thumbs up behind Faora's back as they retreated.

"Do you want to go check out the roller coasters?" Clark offered.

"Do they do anything for you?" She asked.

"Not really. The effect's not that impressive when you can swoop faster than the sound barrier." He admitted. "Uhhh, how about the pig races?"

"Hm." She considered it for a moment, "Sounds interesting. Why pigs of all things?"

He shrugged, laughing a touch more naturally, "Hey, we're not the weirdest, some places do duck races."

Faora shivered. "Horrible creatures." She groans. "I've scoured the galaxy for bounties on monsters... But ducks might be one of the most unpleasant things I've ever encountered."

Animal talk! Now this he could handle.

"Yeah, they're nasty little buggers." He chuckled, leading the way to the races. "Cannibals... among nastier habits in regards to their carnal life."

They swapped talk on critters for a while, his date regaling him quietly with talk of creatures she'd hunted across the stars. For money, for food, for the Kryptonian military...

"I- uh- know it's impolite to ask a lady such a thing." He admitted, "But just how old are ya exactly?"

She rolled her eyes skywards. "Time spent outside suspended animation?" She had to think... "Seventy Earthling years."

He choked on a bite of corndog, "Sevent-" He pounded his chest. "I mean... it's just, you don't look a day over thirty."

"Our people age slowly under yellow suns." She nodded. "I suppose it's one benefit of my forcible exile."

"So... I'm gonna look like... this for the next forty odd years?" He asked her. "Shoot, that's gonna be hard to explain to folks."

She actually laughed at that one, a surprisingly gentle sound from the lifelong soldier. "How very... you, Clark." She snickered. "You find out you're going to live in your prime for the next half a century... and you worry about explaining it to the humans."

"Guess I'll say the Kent genes keep strong." He rubbed his neck. "Pa still hasn't gone grey after all these years, after all. Just a bit of salt is all."

She snuck his corndog off him and crunched into it, spinning the stick it was impaled on between her fingers as she chewed thoughtfully.

The starter bell rang, and the pigs were released from the starter line, squealing and oinking their way down the track. 

"I've been thinking." She mused quietly. "I know I told you I don't plan to join in on your... capes and tight business. But... well..." Her cheeks took on a rosy glow in the late afternoon sun, "Your mother... made me... a suit to match yours. The symbol of the house of Ul in place of El's."

"And how'd she pick that up?" He asked. 

"I... supplied her with the design."

"Well." He took a long sip of coke, watching the race for a moment. "Thanks. Glad to hear you'll have my back Faora." 

She leaned her head against his shoulder, scooting a little closer on their bleacher seating. "Call me Farrah." She reminded him gently, twisting her head and giving him a gentle peck on the cheek.

New in Town

Raven dragged her sleeve across her face.

She wasn't crying.

The lid of some metal cylinder burst off, spewing garbage all over the alley, Raven focusing on trying to quell herself, her hands shaking.

She knew how dangerous letting herself get out of control like that was.

Besides... She didn't have time to cry. She was in some strange new realm, drawn here across dimensions when she was thrown to the void. This world didn't feel like it had particularly strong arcane currents, barring a few leylines, one of which she ended up surfacing through.

Well, that sounded too elegant.

More like she was spat out here and couldn't muster the energy to leave this place.

It seemed to be a dingy alleyway, in a city of neon and palm trees, where the lights on the ground blotted out the stars that would be shining at this time of night.

She sensed something nearby though. Something like her... Like her father. A mighty well of demonic energy, laying dormant. But it was different. Not her father. And not demonic, in the same way. Brighter, purer.

She chanted her mantra quietly to herself, minute after minute, trying to meditate the pain, the shock, the fear away... while honing in on that source of energy...

A building across the street. A sign over it read 'LUX' in tacky pink neon, loud locals stumbling and staggering out over it, singing and sacheting their way down the street, clutching others close, kissing and hugging... other acts. Live music tinkled out from inside as a woman that reeked of demonic power seemed to be shutting the place down.

It was now or never.

She floated a few inches above the ground as she crossed the road, slipping around the womans back and getting into the bar.

Only two blonde men remained inside, arguing, one perched in front of the large piano, while the other stood, grumpily complaining at him with hands in his coat pocket. It seemed to be some sort of bar, by the look of the place.

She was doing her best to make herself go unnoticed, as she approached, catching the conversation.

"-And I'm telling you, to get off your cushioned arse, and go look into this Azarath business." The man in the coat told the musician. "Terry's done gone and fucked up another plane of existence, and things aren't looking so good."

"Johnny, baby." The musician flashed pearly teeth that physically hurt Raven to look at. "You worry to much. Terry's too long in the tooth. Sure, a reality here or there, but he's not a danger to existence itself." His hands tickled up the ivory keys, starting a jaunty little tune up. 

"Brujeria's mobilizing." The man in the coat, 'Johnny' growled, slapping a fist on the piano. "And you're just gonna sit here and do nothing? The same old useless barstard?"

The musician laughed, "Johnny. You know what happened last time I interfered with the mortals, don't you? Now, because of me, snakes don't even get to have legs anymore! Honestly, it's kinda messed up."

Raven flitted closer to them, her magic aiding her stealth as she entered deep patches of shadow in the darkened bar.

"Listen to me! You smarmy arch-cunt! Shit's stirring out there! Trigon's moving his fat arse around, feeding off suffering and spreading fear and worship. He's trying to usurp the throne your arse isn't occupying. He wants to be a new Lord of Hell with Az and Beelz."

The musician shrugged, "Let it be, let it be~" He crooned, shifting to a low key. "Ya like that one? You're from Liverpool."

John snarled, before turning and pointing right at Raven. "You see that girl?"

"I've known she's here since the leylines coughed her out." He shrugged, without looking in her direction. "Come on out. We won't hurt you."

Raven hesitated...

These people were clearly knowledgeable... but the man playing piano hurt to look at, to be near. There was something about him.

She dropped her cloaking spell, but stayed where she was, at a hopefully safe distance.

"An Azarathean." The musician surmised. "I take it you're a refugee? Managed to slip away at the last moment?"

"...Sorta."

He smiled knowingly, "But that's not the whole truth. You're of Trigons' blood. Anywhere you can go, he can follow. You led him to Azar, and now you endanger this place." 

John stared at her, hard, "The charitable thing to do would be to commit suicide, luv." He pointed out. "Save trillions, maybe more, by taking yourself out."

Raven swallowed, remembering evenings she'd spent, curled up alone. "I've considered it." She replied. "But..."

"But you're too much of a coward?"

"I-"

"Or you think you can stop him?" The musician asked. "I like that idea." He nodded and pointed at her, his free hand...s letting him start up a new melody, as new arms folded out of his chest. "You should give that a shot! I don't want to bother with that upstart, but as a mortal, you probably have a lot more incentive!"

"I-" 

The man on the piano grinned. "Look in the safe behind the bar, take a lot of money, a lot of money and go wander the Earth. I'm sure you'll find what you need."

Raven swallowed. "But- who-"

"It's either that or slit your throat." He shrugged. "There's a knife in the safe too. One little slice and Terry's not coming to this reality any time soon... Of course, if someone were to take him out all together, he wouldn't consume anyone." He waved dismissively at her. "Now, go away. Kids aren't allowed in my bar."

The lights around the two men and the piano shut off, turning the area pitch black, like a small pocket dimension had swallowed the space up.

Raven gulped, before looking behind the bar, a quick chant opening the mechanical safe from the inside.

Sure enough, there was two things inside. A small piece of plastic... presumably how this world tracked currency... and an ornate knife, the hilt encrusted with bloodstones and amethysts. 

She stared down at the two quietly... Weighing her options.

Could she really sacrifice this world, go on living in exchange for the lives of an entire plane being snuffed out for hers?

Her fingers drooped into the safe, hovering between the two choices...

Money. 

Or suicide.

Life or death.

Her inner turmoil took its toll on the bar, light bulbs and bottles smashing and cracking, showering glass and foul smelling liquids everywhere, as Raven stood in front of the safe, eyes screwed up tight...

She let out a short, sharp scream as she made her choice, hand closing around the plastic and slamming the safe shut, before finding herself out on the street, outside the bar. 

Her breath raced, her heart beat nearly through her ribs...

"I choose life." She croaked, her voice weak and small in her ears. "I'm going to stop my father."

Fortress of not quite Solitude.

The ice crunches below, as Kara sets the car down. You huddle into your clothes a little deeper, before shutting the engine- and thus the heater- off.

You're dressed up to the nines in full Antarctic gear for a reason, as you step out of the car, looking up at the icy mountainside Kara carved her so called 'Fortress of Solitude' into.

"Well." You chatter. "It's got a killer view." 

"Are you still sure you want to be here?" Kara asks, rubbing your arm. She's still just wearing casual farmwear, stepping over the frozen ground.

"M'fine." You shiver, huddling. "I-is it any w-warmer inside?"

"A little?"

You hurry forwards, before Kara grabs you under the armpits, soaring up for an entrance about fifteen feet up.

You stamp your feet, glad to be out of the cutting wind, once Kara sets you down on an platform of sheared flat rock.

The place is impressive, nicely carved through ice and rock, a grand hall... but cold, and lifeless, still and unmoving.

There's strange statues carved out of the ice too, as Kara touches down, letting you look around.

You notice a rather large statue of two people down the far end of the hall. A man and a woman. Their features are a little indistinct until you pull your goggles off, the cold hitting your eyes in a harsh blast.

"These are your parents?" You ask.

"Zor-El and Gen-El." She nods, looking up at the statue. "I don't think I quite got the way her hair curled... or his nose. But they're close."

"I'm sure they'd be honored to be remembered this way, still." You assure her. "And I'm sure they'd be proud of you, and all the good you've done."

"Maybe..." She looks down. "I was supposed to be looking after Kal-El... that was my job, and I never even got the chance to do-"

"Hey." You pull your mask down and kiss her, softly. "None of that. You're still a hero, and you've done fantastic things. Any parent would be proud of you."

She nods, and lets your gloves wipe away a few tears, before you nod around at the other statues. "All of these are things from Krypton too?" She nods. "Good. Then teach me all about them."

She takes your hand and smiles, leading you around the hall. Animals she remembers, people, distinct buildings- particularly an 'abandoned cathedral of Rao' which is impressive in it's alien architecture, all sweeping towers with curves that don't seem possible and entrances from the sky.

She squeezes your hand a little tighter, giving you a melancholy smile. "Thanks Dick... at least for one afternoon, it feels like Krypton was alive again."

You squeeze her hand back and nod, silent understanding passing between the two of you.

Yo, what's up?

Thanks for at least clicking on the link before writing me off as a money grubbing shekel lord, maybe you'll donate, maybe you won't, but it'd be cool if you did