EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*coff* None of you saw that.
in between bouts of using a host of micro-sized tools to create, tweak, and expand fields of nanocircuitry, they carried on a quiet conversation.
"Digimon is CLEARLY a distinct series and not a cheap ripoff of Pokemon, and I don't know why you keep insisting otherwise!"
"You're just saying that because of your thing for Renamon! I've SEEN whats on on your computer!"
"It's called hentai and it's art!"
breakfast while reviewing his email or a recent tinker-published article (it was always the latter, if he could get it).
They had to be short articles, though. His meal times had been drastically reduced since he figured out the combination of food processors and high-pressure pumps and hoses.
Then the rest of the day would proceed, interspersed by three to five twenty-minute naps. Polyphasic sleep cycles were a perfectly acceptable means of maintaining health, without losing nearly as much time to idleness.
...of COURSE Armsmaster would have one of those weird ass sleeping schedules. Why am I even surprised?
not every fire in Brockton was set by Lung,
Error: Understanding not found.
Abort, Retry, Fail?
It was quite unfortunately disrupted one morning, when he had to look over the photographs collected from the shrine
Just endless images of Oni Lee presenting the ol' pressed ham.
old lady, several old ladies, falling leaf, tree branch, bird, more old ladies, teenager, another bird, a woman accompanied by children, more leaves-- DOG.
Hmmm.... Teenager, you say? I'm betting that's Haru.
Also, hi, Sunny!
Armsmaster stopped, right in the middle of the cafeteria, and hissed at his discovery.
I now have a mental image of Armsmaster doing a full on, arched back, noises from the pits of hell cat hiss... in the middle of the Protectorate cafeteria. In the background, Miss Militia is sighing and phoning in the M/S quarantine... for EVERYONE in the cafeteria.
The wolf was staring into one of the cameras, eyes nearly crossed to focus on the close lens.
Okay, that's ADORABLE.
he photo after that--every photo after that-- was smeared to illegibility by a prominent nose print.
Armsmaster spent the next five weeks going through the city, noseprinting every stray dog he could find. (Also, good job, Sunny!)
Don't forget her meddling kid! That's an important part!
some comfy-looking mats that Sunny licked, thereby claiming as her own.
Another red skirt, also claimed by Rite of Lick,
Wait, if that's how Sunny claims things.... *glances at Taylor*coffs* NEVER MIND, MOVING ON.
(Taylor had a cowlick for a week.)
Maybe it wasn't so unreasonable for cold-treat carts to still be around.
Maybe Sunny just really wanted ice cream. Either-or.
The woman looked up, startled, then after a moment of hesitation, she wheeled the stroller over and sank onto the bench. She was shorter than Taylor, with unremarkable brown hair, but her nails were well-kept and the stroller looked new.
*glances at woman's description*
*checks timeline*
*eyes Sunny*
...yeah, chances of that being Purity are approximately 200%.
"Just a couple months. Her name's Aster."
*DING*
Sunny was crouched in front of the stroller, and every few moments she'd pop her head up to look at the baby, then crouch down again, out of sight. Aster, for her part, was fascinated. Sunny popped up again, and the baby blew a spitbubble at her. Sunny chuffed.
Okay, that's friggin' adorable. Not the spitbubble, of course. Or the baby. NEVER the baby. But Sunny playing peekaboo, THAT'S adorable.
Taylor savored her victory, and pulled out her World Studies assignment.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor was loading the half-empty cans onto her bike. Homework sucked.
*hopeless laughter* Oh, that's good. That's just GLORIOUS. Well done, UnwelcomeStorm. Well done.
Taylor looked for bare patches of buildings to vandalize.
Not... vandalize. More... apply an unauthorized mural. It's guerrilla civic improvement! They'd thank you, really! Tell them you're on a mission from God!
They reached the supermarket--which didn't have bikes racks, Taylor was annoyed to notice---
What? They must pay! Burn them!
BURN THE HERETICS!
Sunny led the way back to the gated district.
Added to Miko's PRT rap sheet: Trespassing, unlicensed trafficking in animals, riding the wrong color bike per the HOA regulations. (The BBPD won't arrest her for that one... except for her own protection. Brockton Bay HOAs have
VERY zero tolerance policies.)
"Look, I'm really not..." The woman trailed off, her eyes on the box. The last kitten, curled very small in the corner of the box, looked up. It gave a small, pleading cry. The woman-- presumably, Mrs. Dallon-- stared, transfixed.
Oh, man. That's DIRTY pool. The only thing more cheating than that is the dreaded silent meow!
Mrs Dallon nodded, and almost automatically cupped the vulnerable creature a little more securely.
And that's how Carol Dallon started showing human emotions and caring for something... and ended up in M/S quarantine right next to Armsmaster.
"I AM NOT GETTING YOU A BABY."
It's said that Sunny's urge to ship Taylor with a nice boy grew three sizes that day....
Kittens for Amy (or Brandish, whatever)! Why don't stories do that more often?
I believe because fanon Carol would eat it while mentally screaming about how it can't be trusted, Amy would promptly go into a self-hate spiral about how she's not worthy of a kitten because she's secretly a terrible person and blah blah blah, and Victoria would either use it as an excuse to break up with Dean or accidentally collateral damage it through a wall.
Frankly I'm still waiting until someone declares Sunny to be a Case 53, and frankly the evidence is pilling up, especially if they talk with Taylor and discover she's the pet.
Coil: A
pet, you say...?
(And, for the record, I cannot wait to see how Sunny destroys Coil. My schadenfreude cannons are fully armed and ready to fire!)