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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years

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Winner’s Curse Ch. 8

CJ stalked the cold, gloomy alleyways that lined the street to the docks with a brazen whistle and jaunty step. A proverbial sore thumb compared to the adults and small Vks who scurried about with shuffling steps using the shadows as cover from the watchful eyes of the Coven.

“As if they would care about the doings of cowards and sidekicks.” CJ thought to herself. She had only been back in the Isle for a few days, possibly weeks, time was never a sure thing for CJ, and she had pieced together a little of what had happened when she was gone.

Some big name villains had gotten their magic back and were ruling the Isle with an iron fist, no one was allowed to do anything without their permission, children and sidekicks were punching bags for others, some sort of new hierarchy, etc.

CJ didn’t particularly care. She wasn’t going to stay here for long anyway. She was meant to live on the high seas and after seeing all the booty that she could plunder from places like Camelot Heights and Charmington, she had a growing desire to return to Auradon. A land filled with gold and magic and all sorts of princess to scare and seduce unlike this island of delusional madpeople.

And she was going to plunder and steal on the Seven Seas on the Jolly Roger. Her birthright.

Just as the golden compass that she took from its’ hidden, crocodile-ridden vault on Neverland that used to belong to the once glorious Captain James Hook, that Jolly Roger was another piece of her great legacy. It would aid her in her acts of treachery and it would be a sign to all her future enemies that her scourge was coming. iT would strike fear into their hearts even before they saw a glimpse of her.

She wanted to be the most vile, bloodiest pirate that ever lived. More dangerous than her father, more wanted than Calico Jack, people would say Blackbeard was the male CJ Hook. She was dangerous in her own right despite what these idiots on the Isle thought. She was always third. Behind Harriet even though Harriet hardly did anything but keep up the Jolly Roger and occasionally entered a bar brawl, and behind Harry who was practically Uma’s whipping boy.

Voluntarily Uma’s whipping boy and first mate. It was disgusting.

When she was young she had envied and idolized her brother for his fierceness and the hook he used to slash people’s throats for daring to not follow his orders. But ever since he fell for Uma and pledged his life to serve her, she lost her respect for him. Why be a first mate when you could be a leader and take the best share of booty for yourself.

It was a universal rule not to fall for anyone on the Isle. It made you dependent and weak. Yet Harry was clearly hook over his head devoted to Uma and that seemed to make him stronger. Harry fought like an untamed animal with Uma by his side whenever someone treaded on their turf or insulted their gang. People feared him more now than ever, not daring to speak a bad word about Uma or him. They said he was insane. They said he killed for fun, a true sadist.

She hijacked her way to Auradon, she stole a whole roomful of treasure, she’s been living the good life on the seas without a tie to anyone, a leader unto herself. And she was still second-place to Harry, a pirate who was no leader, just a first mate.

It was just like that when they were kids. Her father treated Harriet more or less with respect or left her alone since she took care of things when he was off drinking until he could see and defeat his hallucinations of Peter Pan. He more or less ignored Harry seeing too much of himself in the boy, seeing his failure in the future. Her, she was his favorite, she knew that. Sure, he didn’t like it when she talked to him, he wasn’t a fan of kids talking or kids in general, but he would treat her mildly better like teaching her the proper way to stab someone. But it was clear that he had no hopes for her to grow into her pirate legacy or any of her capabilities.

Apparently, he thought her siblings had more raw skill and she had too much of his obsessiveness.

Fine, he was right she was obsessed. Obsessed with treasure, with being a pirate, with being great. She was going to get her own treasure. Steal it from her own father. Like a true treacherous pirate.

He would hate her.

Good, she hated him.

Hook was a greedy man. Wouldn’t be such a fearsome pirate otherwise. He refused to give up any of his possessions to his children. They hadn’t “earned” it. Or as he usually yelled at them, “You’re supposed to be fucking pirates! Get your own treasure!” That declaration led to the bitterest resentment in her piled near the times he forgot her existence in favor of talking to her siblings, doubting her, agreeing with the rest of the Isle. Placing her fourth behind the rest of the family.

She would prove them all wrong, and make them pay.

Her angry thoughts echoed with her pounding footsteps as she kicked the hollow wooden wall behind Madame Medusa’s casino that had formerly been the diamond plunder’s basement, now Lady Caine’s lair.

CJ would have liked to make a dramatic entrance, much like the one she did at the Auradonians silly Neon Lights Ball but she sadly didn’t not see any vines or ropes to swing from so she settled for bounding down the stairs and brandishing a sword.

Brandishing her sword in a dark, empty room apparently, the only light coming from a small window.

The basement was much larger than she thought basements were supposed to be until she realized she was in a small entrance room and she had to go through another door. The door led through a stone hallways, it’s only light coming from the cracks of the wooden ceiling which CJ figured must be the floor of the casino. Some stones had been chipped and the place reeked with mildew and dust but it was also decorated to intimidate.

There were blood splatters and spare limb joints wedged in corners of the walls, rusty swords bent with decay that had been stuck to the wall and unable to be removed. Posters buxom female pirates and males with broad chests holding knives in their mouths were crudely tacked up alongside “Wanted” signs of Lady Caine’s gang.

CJ recognized some of the pirates from the stories Harriet used to tell. The heartless Blackbeard, the infamous Davy Jones, and CJ’s favorites, Anne Bonny and Mary Read, Grace O’Malley, Ching Shih..

“Hmmm I like her too.” A female voice purred, sidling up to her side. It took most of CJ’s composure not to jump at the sudden presence of whom she instinctively knew to be Lady Caine and forced herself to smooth her face into a wicked grin as she faced the self-proclaimed “Queen of Thieves.”

The older pirate was a bit shorter than her, reaching to her nose but that didn’t lessen her intimidating presence. In fact it just made CJ even more on guard knowing that it was likely Lady Caine would find a sneaky advantage like hitting her in the crotch or some other unprecedented move using the dagger at her belt.

The rest of her body was less intimidating since toll of the Isle showed. She was skinnier than CJ so it made her corset look like it was hanging limply from her body rather than pushing up ‘the goods.’ Her hair was limp too, and straggly from lack of clean water and constant sea mist.There was an uneven spread of muscles on her arms tempered with some new and healed-over scars, one that even went through her skull and roses tattoo on her right shoulder. Her left leg was clearly injured since she favored to lean on her right and CJ could see the spread of blood seeping through her tent-canvas pants. The one piece of jewelry, a skull necklace was cracked and rusting over making it look more like a demented clown.

What really brought the scare factor was Lady Caine’s face. Her mouth was set into an unnerving casual smirk. The kind that implied she was the type of person to arrange for someone ‘to swim with the fishes’ simply because she needed something to do to fill her time. Yet her smile didn’t reach to her eyes. No, her eyes were too guarded, menacing, immediately telling CJ that if she tried to double cross her, than Lady Caine would return the favor. Ten-fold.

“Yes, she has quite the treasure chest.” CJ commented.

“Heh, I meant I wouldn’t mind taking over her nine hundred squadron fleet to raise a little hell,” Lady Caine raised an eyebrow, her brown and shoddily red-dyed bangs brushed against CJ’s cheek as the older women got into her personal space. “But I can share your admiration for her figure too. Would she be any competition for that voodoo sorceress you’ve been with?”

CJ forced herself to breath normally through her mouth despite her sudden wildly thumping heart. Unexpected and unwelcome memories filled her mind, pushing the faded poster of Ching Shih away.

Freddie’s dark lips, stained with purple berries that brought out the highlights of her kelp green eyes. Those same lips who created enticing and persuasive arguments with her ‘velvety’ voice coaxing new sounds out of her as they glided across her body.

Her nimble hands easily able to pickpocket and grope with none the wiser than she, but CJ always knew because she knew that girl. Her tricks of trade, her facial tics, what sent her over the edge in the most pleasurable sense of the world.

That was until CJ had been totally blindsided when Freddie decided to become independent. She knew Freddie had a stubborn streak, which Freddie would retort that she wasn’t stubborn, she was practical, not carrying the obsessive Hook madness. But for Freddie to abruptly tear away from her to have her own dreams was something CJ never thought would happen. Freddie had always seemed to content in helping her with her own schemes, she said she found keeping CJ under control to be entertaining which would be followed by a night of dark magic and ecstasy.

“Of course not.” CJ barked out a hearty laugh and tried to move the conversation to safer, less complicated, emotional areas as well as keep her mind off the stunning spawn of Facilier.

“The girl is my sidekick. My pet. My Auradon pet since she insists on becoming a famous singing star for those goody goodies. She’s not at all like Ching Shih. What I would give for a nine hundred boat squadron which brings me to the important thing. How am I getting the Jolly Roger?”

“We’re getting the Jolly Roger.” Lady Caine corrected leading her toward a bigger room which CJ could tell had used to be used for storage due to the familiar musty smell of aged alcohol. The large boxes had been shifted and carved to form makeshift chairs, weapons were hung or stabbed haphazardly around the place and in the center was a wooden throne which Lady Caine lazily slouched upon, looking at CJ up and down with amusement.

CJ pulled out her sword again, glaring at Caine threw slitted eyes. “Not the deal. The Jolly Rogers mine.”

“Relax. I don’t want that ship, I have my own. I just have my own plans for your father once we steal it in front of bloodshot eyes.” Lady Caine smirked malevolently, “He still drinks, doesn’t he?”

CJ faltered a little when she realized that wasn’t a rhetorical question, “Uh maybe. I don’t associate with him. I’ve been Auradon.”

“I’ve heard about that. Now that is something people should talk about more. You got into Auradon on your own. No pitying help from Prince Furrball. No ‘turning good,’ turning their backs on us so we could rot in hell while their mushy goodhearted brains sleep on pillows. You lived up to your wickedness, CJ.” Lady Caine cocked her head, looking oddly at CJ. Her eyes glinted with a strange happiness and her mouth curved in a genuine smile like when Captain Hook envisioned himself killing that dratted green boy. So proud of his imaginary accomplishment.

Proud. That was what Lady Caine looked like. Not proud of herself but proud for CJ.

CJ’s staggering realization that someone was actually proud of her was tempered by the words sinking in, “No one talks about me and my accomplishments? I have stolen loot from Merlin!”

“Exactly. They still speak of your brother and his violence, but not your greatness. It’s ridiculous. Descended from two great pirates..well I’m a great pirate, your dad-” Lady Caine waved her hand as if she couldn’t quite describe the numerous fatal flaws of Captain Hook in words.

“Yeah…” CJ wasn’t sure how to continue, another odd feeling, she had always remained sure and in control most of her life, “How did-How are you my mother? Dad despises you. He has dreamed of you and Pan being crushed under his stern.”

“And I despise him as well. It’s complicated. I wasn’t in the right mind when I did it. I was drunk, we were fighting, his Hook slipped and instead of scratching me it kind of went the hot and sexy route..huh? That actually wasn’t very complicated now that I say it out loud.” Lady Caine shrugged, wiping a hand over eye and smudging her heavy eyeliner. It sort of reminded her of Harry.

Truthfully as she looked longer at Lady Caine she found it difficult to see the resemblance between her and her supposed mother. Lady Caine’s brown hair matched more with Harriet and the eye-liner, totally a trademark of her brother. Maybe..just maybe if Lady Caine ate more and filled out, CJ would be able to see if they have the same slender figure, and if she wiped away the magenta lipstick, maybe they had the same lips....

“And you’re not Harriet’s or Harry’s-” “No.” Lady Caine vehemently denied, “I would remember if I slept with that son of a bitch more than once, especially if I was pregnant afterwards. Just once is enough for me. What else do you think the C in your name means?”

CJ hadn’t meant to look so shocked but she lost her control, her eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped, “The C is for Caine?!”

Lady Caine burst out laughing, getting off her chair and back to CJ’s side, “No again. Your dad named you and he would never choose something that referenced me. You should have seen the look on your face though. Ha!”

Once CJ’s heart resumed its normal rhythm, she managed a weak laugh, “Okay great. But seriously, the Jolly Roger. What’s the plan? I want that boat.”

Lady Caine looked like she was about to laugh again, but she refrained seeing the seriousness in CJ’s eyes. “There’s no official plan...yet. But you will be in charge of it since you know Hook’s turf better than I do.” A part of CJ’s gut pinged at Caine’s words. It felt wrong somehow. Too easy that the “Queen of Thieves,” known for her hard will and controlling way would just hand over the plan to CJ, even if she was her child. Yet CJ swelled with ambitious excitement. She was finally getting the respect her reputation deserved. She could totally plan and execute a way to take the Jolly Roger.

“What do you want with all this?” CJ questioned, giving in a little to her gut feeling and eyeing Lady Caine warily.

“Like I said, I have my own score to settle with Hook. And a small favor. I want to use the Jolly Roger to storm Corona.” “You see, CJ, long before you were born. Before Auradon or the Isle or any of this existed. I lived in Corona. My father was a petty thief that King Fredric jailed because he couldn’t stand any sort of criminal. Murderers in cells with domestic abusers and first time offenders. It was Corona’s own version of the Isle. The first one. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Beast took the idea from him.

My father died in that prison since he couldn’t compete with the big guns. I grew up on the streets which was for the best I suppose ‘cause look at me now.

But that self-righteous King Fredric has the balls to send me with common criminals and louses all over again. Off with his head along all the rest of those do-good bastards.”

“Off with their heads?” CJ laughed, giving the moment some levity, “You sound like the Queen of Hearts.”

Lady Caine glared at her, visions of anger and blood quite evident on her face, “Tie them to the rack, firing squad, crucifixion. Whatever you want. The point is those Auradonians will suffer, and they will not live.”

———————————————————————————————————

Jordan inhaled deeply before knocking on Ben’s office door.

This was it, today was the day, no turning back.

After getting those cliches out of her head, Jordan paused to make sure that the rumbling of her stomach was just hunger from being too nervous to eat dinner and not impending throw up out of nervousness.

Yet before Jordan could knock on the door, Ben flung it wide open. She was starting to wonder if Ben was some door opening psychic for the past five times she visited this week to go over Operation: Defeat the Coven (official more badass title still in progress), he always opened the door before she knocked. Either she was a very loud presence or Ben was always waiting for someone to bother him.

She had a feeling it was the latter since he was King of Auradon and all, which seemed sad. She knew she would go crazy if she had people constantly knocking on her lamp all the time asking to fix some crisis or other.

Well, people used to do that to her lamp, but after sending those people off in a sandstorm, almost everyone learned to leave her alone. Just how she liked it.

"Hi, Jordan! Are you ready to beat some baddies?" Ben enthused, sounding unusually chirpy and breathless.

"Baddies? Really? No wonder you got caught so quickly on the Isle." Jordan shook her head with amusement.

"Yep, that's me." Ben said, pushing her back so he could close the door behind him, smiling way too brightly and nervously swishing his bangs out of his face as if that would make him look more casual.

Yeah, he was hiding a girl, or he was watching porn. She had seen Aziz act with this sort of bad nonchalantless plenty of times whenever she popped by his room unannounced. And since Ben was way too innocent to even know of the dark side of the internet and he did possess a girlfriend, she could bet he and Mal were having some alone time.

Ben leaned firmly against the door in a move that would prevent anyone from being able to open the door without getting through him, "Do you need any last minute supplies?"

As he said this, Jordan finally spotted the tell-tale bite mark on his neck that confirmed her suspicions.

Jordan was tempted to make a comment about how it looked like a certain purple dragon had marked him as part of her hoard, but refrained. Auradonians were still on edge about Vks even though they had been around for a year, and even more were up in arms about Ben promoting Mal to be his future queen.

If anyone had gotten wind that Mal was in Ben's room, alone, giving him love bites and who knows what else when he was supposed to be doing kingly duties, the scrutiny would be worse than ever on Ben. She might as well let them have their private moment.

Even though that private moment just showed how relaxed Ben was about Operation Defeat the Coven while she still wanted to throw up.

And that's exactly why she needed to talk to Ben. It was clear he had too much faith in her and her abilities and so he needed to be given a reality check of how they could all die and the world that they know it would be taken over by every villain on the Isle imaginable.

"Ben, I promise I'm not backing out. I mean, it is really too late for me to back out anyway so I can't. But I don't feel prepared for this at all. I'm a genie. I'm a sidekick. I don't really make tough decisions, I just entertain people with my magic powers, not fight them. The Coven have a millennium of experience over me and in dark magic which a completely different sort of power, and-"

"I understand how you feel." Ben put a comforting hand on her shoulder while her mouth dropped rather unattractively.

"You do?"

"Hey, I turned king when I was 16. I read a lot about politics and policy making, but it is completely different when I was thrown into ruling. It was like everything I studied and read meant nothing at all when it came to dealing with people and trying to listen to all their problems and think of plausible solutions on a deadline. I can't say I know what I'm doing most of the time."

Well that was very reassuring knowledge.

"But one major thing I have learned when it comes to leadership is that we all develop our own style. You can't prepare for it, you can't learn it. It just comes to you as you learn and grow. You just have to take your time."

"But I CAN'T take my time!" Jordan retorted, "This mission has a short deadline with snap decisions. I can't grow from this."

"It's adventure. People always grow and develop during an adventure like all our parents in their stories." Ben answered back with irritating calmness.

Jordan felt her eye twitch. She should have known that knocking some reality into the eternal optimist wouldn't work.

At least the eternal optimist had eyes so he could see her clear annoyance and distress because Ben said something else, "Besides Jordan, you may be the leader of the mission, but you have your friends to help you. That's why I have a Council. I don't know everything, but I surround myself with people who do and who will help guide me to making the right choices. You're not alone in this."

Jordan exhaled, surprised by how that little nugget of advice actually eased some of her nerves. She did feel pretty confident about her team. Aziz and Jay were excellent with parkour and other athletics so they could be counted on in the case of an attack, and Calix had the magical skills to go up against the sorcerers with her. Plus she had adventured with Aziz and Calix enough times to insticively know when to act in sync. It was too bad Jay was left in the cold in that respect, but he knew his way around the Isle so he had an advantage over all of them.

Additionally, Ben, Carlos Jane and Evie volunteered to alternate in keeping contact with them via magically-enhanced ear chip so they could research useful information in the library if needed.

She trusted them to know what they were doing, and she supposed with so much back-up if she did make a mistake then they could resolve it quickly before any real damage ensued.

"Thanks, Ben. I think I'm ready to go." Jordan said, brushing his hand off her shoulder.

"Right. I'll meet you there. I should go get Mal." Ben said, fixing his collar and rushed into his room.

Jordan sing-songed to the door before leaving, "Ben, I'm pretty sure Mal's room is on the other side of the castle."

She walked quickly to the front of Auradon Prep by the Beast statue where Evie, Aziz, Jay and Calix were already waiting and the moon was high above them all.

Since Ben had arranged the excuse to FG that she, Jay and Aziz were taking a field trip to Agrabah for a week to research illusions in connection with desert mirages so the two boys were dressed in loose pants and shirts that concealed the thick leather body armor underneath as well as the shafrah and scimitar strapped to their legs.

She had copied that look in a flowing black sundress with a two straps filled to the teeth with daggers criss-crossing her chest.

Truthfully, she never used a dagger before, but like with leadership, she hoped she would catch on. How hard could it be to stab someone?

Calix, on the other hand, was looking far too casual with a one shouldered toga that showed off most of his chest and no way to hide weapons anywhere on his body. Apparently he ignored her lecture that you can’t flirt someone to death in mortal combat.

"Good luck." Evie hugged Jay once she saw Jordan arrive. "Avoid Harry and the Gastons. And any of your exes."

"I don't have exes. We didn't date on the Isle, remember." Jay said, mock punching Evie on the shoulder, "I just have enemies that I slept with and never talked to again."

Ben and Mal joined the group before anyone could comment on that topic, not that Jordan knew exactly what to make of that piece of information, and they started their official goodbyes.

"We're only an ear chip away." Evie said handing each of them a small metallic chip that Carlos had made to place in their ear drum, "All you have to do is press and it turns on and off, and since Mal spelled it. It is guaranteed to work even when you close the barrier."

"Alright. Now where are we going first? Maleficent's castle? Ursula's fish and chips?” Jay clapped his hands together, clenching his fists for the undoubtedly upcoming fights.

"The jungle." Aziz, Calix and Jordan said in unison.

What?" Jay, and Mal looked utterly confused by the answer.

"Do you not check the group messages?" Jordan snorted derisively, "Anyway, we are going to the jungle first to fix some of the holes in the barrier. Since Evie said the jungle is unoccupied by humans, we won't be noticed and attacked by the Vks immediately. Calix and I will fix the holes so the Coven won't be able to have an escape route. Then we'll work our way inland to the Coven's laier and do battle."

"Oh, okay. But you’re wrong though on the jungle being unoccupied. Some people live in the jungle. Mainly hunters who wanted some fresh meat rather than the leftovers you give us." Jay corrected.

All the Aks tensed at that and Ben looked shamefaced to the floor.

Jay hadn't said the comment in a bitter or accusatory way, but matter of factly. Which made it sound worse. It was simply a fact of the Isle that if one got tired of rotten and disgusted food from the overprivilged that you had to face the dangerous wild jungle and kill for raw meat.

"You’ll fight those VKs off we meet them." Jordan instructed after an awkward silence. Then nodded to the others. "We're going now."

Aziz took the cue and rubbed her lamp that was snugly strapped to his hip. She hated the fact that she had to bring it to the Isle, but she had no choice. While she could do magic to in transporting herself places, when it came to performing magic on others it required a wish.

"I wish to transport to the jungle of the Isle."

Shimmery pink smoke enveloped them, wind rushing past their ears and moving their bodies even though it felt like their feet were still firmly on the ground. Once the smoke cleared, all they could see was shades of green and brown.

The green came from the leafy canopy and thickets of thorns that blocked the view of the sea while the brown was the dead grass that crumpled underfoot, the dead trees that fallen over to their left in a small pile and the holes of dirt.

Jay crouched by one of the holes, studying the edges. Standing up he informed them a hyena probably created it.

"Are hyenas nocturnal?" Calix eyed the hole nervously, looking around as if to find some sort of protective cave even though there was nothing but trees.

"Yes, but I wouldn't worry. Usually the leapords take care of them." Jay said ignoring Calix’s more distressed look and motioned for them to follow him into the trees. "Since we are near the coast, the cliffs should be close by here."

And so their journey began.

#cj hook #lady caine #jordan #jay #aziz #calix #prince ben #mal #evie #jane #winner’s curse #chapter eight #my fanfic #my fanfiction #disney descendants #freddie facilier #cjxfreddie #implied

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aworldofyou · 2 years

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The fact as it stands, Anne Cormac and Wanahton. My ship with @copiesofher is the most historical accurate one yet in terms of Red Dead Redemption. A lot of Irish and Scottish were married into our area because of the cultural relations of what we had in common and the fact that the Irish were enslaved in labor and seen as a scourge of society. As was the indigenous people and! To top it of? Both cultures suffered a mass total of Genocide at the hands of their oppressors. (Don’t believe me? Google Irish and Genocide once.)

Where we have reservations they had ghettos, slums and cramped living spaces.

And together as people from two oppressed classes it’s one of the many things these two can find comfort in and that just warms my heart.

#[ wanahton / dyn: anne bonny ] a sentimental soul for a sentimental love; and i do love you.#[ wanahton / v: red dead redemption ] we did not ask for this and yet we must endure or we will die.#[ wanahton / ch. study ] this is closer to home than you know #[ wanahton ] what does it mean?

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sharperthewriter · 5 years

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Stoppable Family Vacation - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - The Night Before

(Rockwaller Mansion, 7pm, November 18, 2018)

Bonnie Rockwaller was chuckling gleefully as she observed what the Stoppables were doing through her Spy Flies. She had spent eight of her now-reduced 15 month prison sentence at 'Camp Cupcake' aka the Federal Prison Camp in Andersonville, West Virginia. Now, she was spending the other half, seven months to be exact, under house arrest in her opulent mansion. She had an electronic ankle bracelet on that monitored her every move. To her, being in her own mansion was a hell of a lot better than bein in an 8' x 10' dorm room that kinda resembled a jail cell. Althouh she couldn't do any shopping outside the mansion, she employed the Fashionistas and (now ex-felon) Camille Leon to buy things from the World's Richest Mall for her.

She was wearing, of course, her Country Club Banana dark denim baggy overalls with both straps undone and held up by a belt with her boxers showing and a purple croptop. Plus, Bonnie had the usual bling and piercings as well.

"So, the Stoppables are going a little trip to South Dakota for Thanksgiving, huh?" the brunette giggled, "We'll see how miserable I can make your little trip, K! But first, I must call up a couple of...old acquaintances!"

Bonnie got on her cell phone and started to call up numbers.

(Stoppable house, 7:30pm)

Kim was wearing her long-sleeved denim jumpsuit with the top three buttons undone, showing off a good amount of cleavage, for she wasn't wearing a bra on. High-heeled black boots, giant gold hoop earrings, a purple heart long chain necklace, a medium-length chain horseshoe necklace , three gold charm bracelets and several bangles completed the outfit. The Club Banana jumpsuits that Kim owned had a rear flap on the jumpsuit, so that made it a little easier for Kim to do her...'business'.

She, however, was sad tonight.

It had been almost two years since Nana had passed.

Two years.

All on the dining room table stood photos of Nana and the family. There was the 2010 Christmas and the 1998 Possible Thanksgiving where Kim made a mess of making Nana's famous lemon squares. and one note in front of Kim that stood out to her.

It was dated from October 2003, her freshman year in high school.

Dear Kimberly Ann,

I know you're busy saving the world, going to school, and being a cheerleader and all, but you could take a few minutes to call your grandmother. I miss hearing from you.

I love you, Pookie.

Nana Possible.

PS: If you have to go fight villains after dark, at least wear a sweater.

At this, Kim broke down and cried. It was difficult for her to lose her most favorite paternal grandparent. It was so hard for her that she almost didn't go to the traditional Possible Christmas last year, all because it reminded her of so much of Nana.

Ron saw the crying mess of his wife and went to her side. Rufus also patted her

"KS, I know that you're a bit upset right now..."

Kim sniffled and replied, "Yeah, Ron. It had been two years since Nana passed." She wiped some tears from her eyes.

"But you had wonderful moments with her...and the photos are proof of it!" Ron replied, "Treasure them for as long as you live, but create new ones with the family that you have with me, Rufus, Justin, and Alexa."

"You're right! I have you guys to keep me company!" Kim said as the bright smile of hers returned to her face. "We want a nice, peaceful, and quiet trip."

"Do you have your clothes packed up and ready, Kim?" Ron asked.

"I have them ready in the suitcase!" Kim said, pointing to the two pink suitcases. "The overalls have been carefully selected with post-it notes for which day I am going to wear them and which shirt I am planning to wear."

"Awesome! I'm keeping it simple, KS!" Ron said while getting out a list of the clothes he was planning to wear.

"The Wombat should be packed up and ready to go for tomorrow!" Kim said, "It should have enough room for all the luggage."

"When should the kids get to their beds so that we can get on the road?" Ron asked.

"Around 8pm. We're gonna have to get on the road at around 6 in the morning!" Kim said. "We're gonna put in the GPS in."

"Are the batteries charged, Kim?"

"They sure are!"

Just at that moment, the phone then rang.

"I'll get that!" Ron replied. He went itno the kitchen to answer the phone.

(10 minutes later)

"So who was it?" Kim asked.

"Aunt Ednel." Ron said on who was the caller, "She wants me to take her daugher Mary and her friend, Canna to the Lipsky Thanksgiving as well.

"Ron, do we even have enough room in the Wombat?" Kim questioned, wondering about how much space the station wagon has.

"Kim, relax! It has enough room for 6 people and a naked mole rat, plus our luggage!" Ron said. He took out his tablet and played some game apps on it.

"It's not just that." Kim said, "It's that they..."

Her speech about Aunt Ednel's offspring was interrupted by the sound of garage doors going up and down.

"Oh no...don't tell me..." Kim groaned.

Ron uttered, "He got into them again!"

Rufus squeaked, "Uh-oh!"

The Stoppable parents and Rufus ran as fast as they could to the garage. There, they saw that Justin was playing with all three of the garage door remotes.

"Justin!" Ron exclaimed as he got his son away from the garage door buttons.

"What did I do?" Justin asked. He would always say this whenever he got in trouble.

"How many times do we have to tell you that the garage door opener is not a toy!" Kim scolded her eldest child. "You have a playroom filled with them!"

Ron escorted his son out of the garage and Rufus crawled out of there too.

Kim turned out the lights of the garage.

PREVIOUS: https://sharperthewriter.tumblr.com/post/185700157483/stoppable-family-vacation-ch-6

#kim possible #fanfiction #stoppable family vacation

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doctor--idiot · 6 years

Text

Men of Fortune – Ch. 13

Read the whole thing here.

It wasn’t like the building had looked pristine from the outside. But the utter chaos of broken bells, the broken stairs, and the rubble of wood, metal, and stone shocked Nate a little. Glass shards crunched under his boots as he walked.

“What in the–” Sully began, looking around.

“Someone was here all right.”

Suddenly, Nate had a horrible thought. What if– He took in the rubble, as if he could look through it if he stared long enough. He was now sure that Sam had been here. But what is he still was? What if he hadn’t been fast enough in getting out of the way?

Sully patted his shoulder, startling him out of his head. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The mess took a little more shape as they came closer. Nate looked up at the broken clock tower, the ghostly remains of wooden platforms jutting out from the walls, barely wide enough to stand on. The giant bell that had tilted over, dented and scratched, in the center of the room looked like it belonged right at the very top.

“Sigil’s covered up but this is England’s tower,” Nate said, “And from the looks of it, it’s the right one. These,” he pointed at the four statues circled around them that had remained mostly unmarred by the chaos, “are zodiac symbols that, I’m guessing, correspond to these right here.”

He swept his hand over the rubble. The head of a lion and the tail of a scorpion were still distinctly visible. Buried under a sheen of dust from the stone walls lay half a bull’s head, the tip of the horns broken off.

“Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, and Aquarius,” Sully counted the statues off. “That mean anything to you?”

“Nothing in connection with the pirate captains but it could simply be one of those tests Avery loves so much.” He turned on the spot, trying to spot any indication of who might have been here. Footprints, breadcrumbs, hell, he’d even take blood spatters right now.

“Nate,” Sully called from a few feet away. “Over here.”

Nate only now realized that the rubble was half-covering a staircase in the floor that led down into the unknown. The entry was blocked off by fallen pieces of wood and rock.

“Help me with this,” Nate urged, bending down to pick up a large rock. Together, they managed to shovel an entry spot free of wood and larger rubble.

“Watch your head,” Nate said automatically as he crawled through the limited space.

Sully muttered something incomprehensible behind him but Nate was already out of earshot, bounding down the stairs. “Sam?” he called into the forlorn space. “Sam, you there?”

Nothing but his own voice echoed from the underground walls. It didn’t mean that Sam wasn’t there. It also didn’t mean he had ever been here to begin with. Although the chaos upstairs strongly spoke for itself.

The space opened up at the end of the staircase, leading to a room with a center table. At least, it looked like a table. An altar almost. He stroked his hand along the edge, mind spinning to make sense of the metal carvings on the surface.

Automatically, he pulled out his notebook, ripped a couple of pages out and scratched his pencil over the markings through the paper. “This looks like a map.”

“Map to what?” Sully eyed the drawings over his shoulder. Nate crumpled the pages into his pocket. He’d figure them out later, once he had found his brother.

The three adjacent rooms were all illuminated with torches that flickered ominously against the stone walls.

“There are our captains,” Sully said from behind him when I had entered the first room. The painted faces of Adam Baldridge, Anne Bonny, and Christopher Condent looked back at them, their names embossed in large letters over the golden frames. If nothing else, Avery knew how to make an impression.

Nate wished he could muster up more excitement over this. Normally, he would be giddy beyond reason, full of adrenaline and high on the adventure. But this wasn’t about the treasure anymore. At least not as long as he had Sam back, safe and sound.

“He’s not here,” Nate voiced what he had been thinking all along. Sully made a noncommittal noise but didn’t say anything. Nate looked down at his map, the vast landscape of the island unfolding before his mind’s eye, lost as to where to start his search.

“Let’s check out the other room. Maybe there’s a clue around there somewhere.” He didn’t exactly hold out a lot of hope.

The next room merely contained the faces of Richard Want, Joseph Farrell, and William Mayes but nothing useful for their search. The third room looked like one of the torches hand fallen and taken half of the paintings with it. Nate could just barely make out the names of Yazid Al-Basra and Edward England, the other two had been burned away completely.

“We’re missing Avery and Tew,” Nate remarked. And Sam.

Sully grumbled, “I’m also not seeing much of a treasure.”

“I don’t think it’s here,” Nate said, bending over the table in the center room. The profiles of the metal disks were beginning to form a sort of shape in his head. “Hold on.”

He unfolded the crumpled up pages that he had sketched over a moment ago and laid them on top of each other. Through the wrinkles in the paper it was slightly difficult to make out the lines of latitude and longitude but once he held them against the flickering light of the torches, they added up to coordinates.

“I’ll be damned,” Sully said next to him while Nate’s heart sank.

Pro deus quod licentia. The slogan of the secret pirate haven didn’t exactly inspire hope in him. It wasn’t that this wasn’t a gigantic breakthrough. It might very well be the final stop on their tour, the place where finally the treasure would be found.

But where was Sam? Why weren’t there any tracks or hints? Why didn’t he call or text that he had found this room? Damn, why hadn’t he called the moment he had found the tower?

He called Sully. You were sleeping.

Nate stuffed the wrinkly pages back into his pocket.

“I’m gonna try calling him again,” he announced and punched at the screen of his phone until he had pulled up his brother’s number and pressed ‘call’.

The line rang once, twice …

He knew how pointless this was. If he was okay, Sam would have called, texted, or at the very least answered the phone an hours ago when Nate had been calling restlessly.

The call went through, the rustling in the line indicating someone was putting the phone up to their ear.

“Sam?” Nate’s voice sounded breathy to his own ears, strung-tight with apprehension. “Are you okay?”

On the other end, Rafe said, “That definitely depends on your definition of ‘okay’.”

For a second Nate couldn’t speak, his blood running cold.

Rafe used the moment of silence. “He’s alive, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Despite his panic earlier and Sully’s valid attempts at calming him down, up until this moment Nate hadn’t fully realized just how much he had been worried about exactly that.

“Where is he?”

“With me.” Rafe sounded almost cheery. Cruel.

Through clenched teeth, Nate pressed, “And where is that?”

The phone suddenly vibrated in his hand.

At the same time, Rafe said, “I’ve sent you some coordinates. Meet us there. Don’t bring Grandpa.”

“Are you giving me the ‘Come alone if you want to see your brother alive?’ speech?” Nate didn’t know if he’s ever been this furious. He spat into the phone, “Want me to bring ransom, too?”

“No,” Rafe replied calmly, “The treasure will take care of that once we find it.”

Nate had intended to respond but Rafe had already hung up.

#drakecest #men of fortune #my writing #drake brothers #uncharted #uncharted 4 a thief's end #uncharted fanfic

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

Text

Flood my Mornings: A King on a Throne

@anne-hedonia said: ...I started wondering about Jamie’s reaction to more of the nuts and bolts of 20th century life, particularly the hygiene. (I know he’s way past that now, but maybe he and Claire could reminisce.) What did he think when he first saw a toilet? Did he think it was as great an invention as I would if I were stuck in the 18th century without one? (I’m not sure I could do the no-toilets-and-wiping-with-leaves thing, I’m just saying.)

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Cozy

(throwing all the way back to Ch 2 on this one)

October, 1951

“Mummy??!!! Mummy!! Mummm-meeeeeeee!!???”

“What-ee-what-ee-what-eeeeeee?” I chorused back from the kitchen.

I’d had the brilliant idea, in a burst of uncharacteristic domesticity, to try my hand at swiss roll this afternoon. It was NOT going well, so I was more than happy to turn from my own personal disaster area toward the pitter patter (well, more of a thundering) of little feet behind me.

“Mummy!!” Bree crowed as she zoomed across the linoleum and leapt into my arms, “I poo-pooed in the potty all-by-my-SELF!!!”

“You DID?” I cried, swooping her up. “Darling, that’s wonderful!”

“Uh-HUH! And Daddy didn’int even hafta tell me to!!!”

I kissed her exuberantly on both cheeks. “Well DONE, sweetheart!!” This wasn’t feigned enthusiasm on my part, not in the slightest. Trying to get Bree out of nappies had been something of a saga over the last six months in the Fraser household.

I’d taken a high-minded notion, while pregnant, that under no circumstances were we going to have two children simultaneously in diapers; and two-and-a-half was a perfectly natural age to make the transition in any case. And so Jamie, Penelope, and I had all thrown massive energies into the imperative of getting Bree using the toilet before Ian was born.

Some children, as it turned out, though, were simply late bloomers when it came to changing their voiding routines. My child specifically seemed to be of the “I will die on this hill unbloomed from pure spite” genus.

It had been a constant rotation of ‘lessons,’ coaxing (read: bribes), endless sit-and-wait sessions as chaperone on the edge of the tub, cheerful reminders, tantrums, eagerly trying new strategies from books and friends, and the inevitable tearing out of our collective hair when she would have yet another accident, usually with impeccable cosmic timing, in public. To think we might actually have the knack of things now, then, would be a genuinely spectacular early birthday gift, and so I was just about as radiant as Bree at the news.

“I’m so proud of you, lovey!”

“FANKS!!!”

Apparently done with congratulations, she wriggled down from my arms and went mrooooming back from whence she’d come, nearly careening into Jamie’s legs as she turned the corner into the hall.

He made her a leg with a courtly flourish to let her pass, shaking his head and grinning as he stepped through the doorway. “It’s almost a wee bit sad, to have her grow past it, no?”

“HA! NO! I’m over the moon!” I declared as I turned to see if I could salvage my failed roll. “Here’s hoping Ian is a tad more precocious, when it comes his time.”

We both snorted as a ‘Poo-pee-poooooo! Pee-poo-peeeeee!’ sounded out from across the house, to the jaunty tune of ‘Jingle Bells.’

“I still can’t for the life of me decide what it is that had her so hung up in the first place,” I lamented as I checked the backup sponge I’d prepared for just such eventualities. “I mean, she’s well ahead of most children her age in so many other aspects!”

“Well, and if she didna take to it at once, it’s no’ entirely without basis. It is a fearsome device, after all.”

“What, the toilet?” I laughed, taken aback, grinning at him over my shoulder as I tidied up a bit, waiting for the second sponge to cool.

“Aye, of course,” he said soberly with an eyebrow raised, as though taken aback in turn. “Do ye mean to say that you yourself were never afraid of the sound when it whisks away?”

“I mean, not that I can recall....What, are you scared of the flush?”

“Well, none so much NOW,” he said with a defensiveness that made my cheeks twitch with glee, “but it’s relatively fresh in my mind, aye? I’ve been using one little more than a year, after all.”

“I suppose that’s right! Erm...How did you come to use one the first time, might I ask? Did you figure it out on your own?” I tried to make it a serious question and only half-succeeded. My voice trembled absurdly as my lips quivered. “Or did you have to have someone —show you—how?”

“T’was on my own merits, thank ye kindly,” Jamie said with a good-natured glare as he plunked down into a chair and put his feet up on the table. “Though I did have a bit of help to point me in the right direction, ken?”

“I don’t ken, but I’m ALL ears.”

“Let’s see, then...” He stretched luxuriously and ran his hands through his hair as he settled in for the tale. “I suppose it would have been....Aye, it was in Inverness. I’d come through the stones, and the American lads had given me a ride into town, some clothes and such. Early that next morning, there was the kind priest who counseled me and gave me help to get to Oxford.”

He’d told me the story, of course, and I found myself uttering a silent prayer for Jamie’s savior, whoever he was.

“Well, he could see that I hadna anything by way of means, and that I was out of my element, forbye. So, in addition to giving me money and a meal, he took me to an inn and arranged for me to have access to the facilities to wash and shave. The keeper showed me to the washroom and handed me a towel, and I thanked him, and he closed the door, and—” He laughed. “I think I just stood wi’ my gob hanging open for a time. Wasna sure where to begin in the great, shining place.”

I could just imagine Jamie Fraser, bedraggled and bewildered, trying to process all that tile and porcelain and gleaming metal with an eighteenth-century mind.

“My bowels must have taken the measure of the place better than my brain, though, for I quite suddenly found myself needing to, erm, well.... Let us say that urgent necessity prompted a verra rapid leap of faith.”

“Jolly good thing you didn’t shit in the sink! That would have been a bit awkward to explain to the innkee—” I stopped and turned from my task of slathering filling on the cake. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Got it on the first try, thank Heaven. It was a matter of deduction, mostly. I could see that the tub was likely for washing the body (a good bit larger than those I’d used before, but still, it recalled the shape of a proper copper tub) and that the sink might resemble a basin on a washstand; so as for the toilet, it was more a process of elimination—no pun intended.”

“Victory!” I cried as the roll finally rolled without cracking.

“A small one, but a great relief it was, to be sure,” he agreed.

I rubbed my upper lip in an effort not to laugh. “So, what did you think of it? Once you’d, erm.... leapt?”

“Didna like the feel of the cold seat on my arse. I think I ended up squatting over it, more like...” He ran a hand over his stubbled chin, giving him the air of a professor, musing over some weighty theorem. “But, to be fair, I do recall a goodly sort of satisfaction in watching and hearing my offerings hit the water—like that lovely thunk when ye drop a stone in a deep pond.”

I choked on the scrap of cake I’d just popped into my mouth. “Glad it—” I wheezed crumbs into my windpipe and had to pound my chest and wipe my eyes. “—was a recreational experience, on top of—educational!” I shook with unbridled delight as I swallowed and leaned against the counter, grinning at him. “What did you think of the toilet paper?”

He sighed, enraptured. “I felt like a proper king. Most luxurious thing I’d ever heard of, using paper to wipe my arse! And SUCH paper—I thought it was fabric, at first! So soft, and gentle as a rose petal,” he intoned with a look of unequivocal bliss. “There are a good many things I miss about my own time, Sassenach, but cleaning myself wi’ leaves and plant matter isna one. I’ll always insist upon paying more at the shops for the thickest, softest stuff, even if I have to live on bread and water to accommodate such lavishness.”

“No need to give up steaks and fried potatoes just yet, don’t worry.”

He crossed one ankle over the other. “Mind, any enjoyment vanished rather quickly when confronted wi’ the question of what to DO wi’ the new contents.”

“Oh NO!” I groaned. “Oh, Jesus H Christ, tell me you didn’t—”

“Well, and I’d lived twenty-five years of my life emptying chamber pots, had I not? Or else seeing to my business in a privy or outdoors, at which point ye simply walk away! But it didna seem right to simply leave it thus, so stark against the white! There wasna a window in the room, thank God, else I might have tried to chuck it out by hand, but I did spend several minutes trying to see if I was supposed to detach the bowl in some way. It’s a true wonder I didna break it and flood the room! But finally,” he said, ratcheting up his volume to be heard over my cackling, “I ended up pushing down the lever by accident, and had I not recently voided thoroughly, I might have wet myself over again from the shock of it! I still hate that sound when it echoes about the walls!”

It was a considerable passage of time before I was able to speak normally again, and even then, it was more of a hacking cough between sobs of laughter. “Quite an adventure you had, my love!”

“Indeed. The bath, though—that was an unmitigated delight.”

Roll cooling, I came over and melted onto his lap, triumphant on two fronts. “And HOW many times did I tell you so, back in the olden days?”

“Endlessly,” he conceded, pulling me close and kissing my neck, “and ye were perfectly right. Pure heaven.”

“I had to sit at the stones, that first time, and seriously think about hot baths—whether I could give them up forever, for you.”

“Well, I’m most flattered,” he said, pressing slow, warm kisses along my jawline. “Though, I willna lie to ye: I would give YOU up in a heartbeat if it meant I could have toilet paper forever.”

“Arse,” I murmured against his lips, which were tight with a grin, like mine.

“Aye, the very one.”

#;mod Bonnie #Flood my mornings #the pun was GENUINELY not intended #but there it was plain on the page

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sizzlingpenguincollector · 4 years

Text

Never Backtalk Ch 1: Uh Oh

"Hey, Mom and Dad," Jim began. "Can we be excused?"

"We're running a timed experiment, and we have to go log the readings," Tim explained.

James chuckled. "Ah, I love a scientist's commitment to evenly timed data logs. Go ahead, boys."

The twins eagerly scrambled out of their seats to the front yard, where Kim recalled seeing a controlled yet open flame on her way into the house earlier.

"Well, if the boys are heading off, I'll take my leave too. I have an early shift at the hospital tomorrow," Anne said as she got up. She dropped a kiss onto Kim's hair and James' cheek before departing the room, leaving father and daughter sitting diagonally from each other at a full dining table of dishes, serving plates, and cups at various levels of full.

James dabbed at his mouth with a paper towel and announced, "Kimmie-cub, I'm placing you in charge of clean-up." He gave a jaunty little salute as he got up from the table.

Kim laughed good naturedly, but she trailed off awkwardly at James' raised eyebrow. "Wait, by myself?"

James' eyes darted side to side, unsure if Kim was joking. "Is there another Kimmie-cub to whom I could be referring?" he asked, letting a little bit of humour slide into his voice.

Kim's eyebrows furrowed. "Why just me? The tweebs aren't doing anything."

Kim turned her body to keep facing her dad as James graciously placed his own dishes in the sink. He said, "You know if we let the twins do it, our dishwasher will be converted into a superpowered house cleaning android in time for breakfast."

"But they can help!"

"Come on, Kimmie-cub. Just do the dishes."

"This is ferociously unfair, Dad!" Kim argued as she got out of her seat and more fully faced her father. "I didn't eat all the food by myself, so I shouldn't have to clean it up by myself."

James frowned. This was turning into more than a hassle than it really should have been. "By that logic, you shouldn't have helped eat the food since you didn't help make it," he pointed out. "Please just do as I ask and clean up after dinner?"

"Sure, if you had asked it. You just told me what to do." She punctuated the end of her sentence with firm hands planted on her hips and a challenging lean.

James stopped himself from rolling his eyes, but he couldn't help the heavy sigh. "Can you please clean up after dinner, Kimme-cub?"

Kim crossed her arms and turned her head away. "Well, now I don't want to since you're just saying that."

Now James was angry. "Kimberly, I don't know where this childish attitude is coming from, but I certainly don't appreciate it one iota. You may be a crime-fighting heroine out in the real world; but under my roof, you're my daughter who does her chores," he stated firmly, taking care not to raise his voice too much. "I'm going to the living room to read a book; and by the time I go to bed, those dishes better be spotless!"

"I don't think so," Kim announced before her dad could walk away. She started gathering her things as quickly as she could. "I think I'll spend some time out in the real world where people treat me with a little more respect."

She dodged out the house before James could even bring himself out of the frustrated stupor she placed him in. On her way to the street, she passed by Jim and Tim. "Dad needs help cleaning up after dinner," she threw over her shoulder. "Help him clean up his attitude while you're at it."

The twins watched as Kim walked down the road to, presumably, Ron's house. As one, they looked down at their timer, noting they had 36 minutes until the next log. They turned to each other.

"Jim, what if…"

"We turn the dishwasher into an automatic dinner-cleaning robot real quick then get back to our experiment?"

"Hicka bicka boo."

"Hoo shah!"

The sound of Anne's morning routine gently roused James from slumber the next morning. "Honey? What time is it?" he called out with a groggy voice.

"Just a little before 7, dear," came the distant-sounding reply.

James made a noncommittal noise as he stretched in bed, relishing in the latent warmth of his bedsheets and the scent of Anne's honey-lemon shampoo wafting in from the en-suite bathroom.

"How's hashbrowns and scrambled eggs for breakfast sound?" he asked as he tugged on his blue striped house robe.

"Delicious!"

James walked down to the kitchen, taking care to start the coffee maker first before grabbing a whisk for the eggs. As he set about making breakfast, he could hear the early morning sounds of his children waking up and getting ready. He frowned as he remembered last night.

"Smells good, James," Anne sing-songed as she stepped into the kitchen, preparing mugs of coffee just the way she and her husband liked them.

"Do you know if anything's wrong with Kimmie-cub?" he asked, apropos of nothing.

Anne hummed as she set the table. "She and Ron are going strong, her highway cleanup event went swimmingly, and Bonnie missed the last cheerleading practise due to the flu… So as far as I know, she's doing fabulous. Why do you ask?"

James regaled the events from last night. "And I plum don't know what to do about it," he ended as he plated the food.

Anne's frown only deepened as the story progressed. "That certainly doesn't sound like Kimmie. I'm sure she had a good reason for it, though."

"What reasons are there for unnecessary back talk and blatant disrespect for your father, Anne?" James contended.

Anne glanced at the clock hanging above the stove and was shocked into movement. "I'll look into it, dear," she said as she kissed her husband on the cheek and packed some of her breakfast to-go. "Try not to rehash the same argument over breakfast, okay? I have a peripheral nerve injury at 8:30. Love you!"

Anne's concern for rehashing the argument at breakfast were ultimately unfounded.

"It's so nice for you to join us for breakfast, Kim!" Jean said as she laid down avocados, chicken sausage, and toast in front of the teen. 'I don't think I've shared a meal with you at this table since 2001!"

Kim grinned bashfully. "Sorry about that, Mrs. Stoppable. I'll make more of an effort to come around," she promised.

"Don't listen to my wife, Kim," Gene said. "We've saved so much money since we stopped having to feed Ronald and Rufus for breakfast!"

"Hey!" "Hey!" "Hey!"

Kim laughed at Ron and Rufus' objections and the sight of Gene rubbing his sore side as Jean looked on disapprovingly. The rest of breakfast was similarly familial, and Kim wondered to herself why she didn't hang out at Ron's more often.

As Kim and Ron walked to school, the conversation eventually swung back to Kim's spat with her dad.

"And this isn't even the first time he's let the tweebs off the hook for chores!" Kim ranted. "You know, I've never worried about favourites before—my parents are usually so good at treating us all equally—but sometimes I feel like Dad just has a soft spot for the twins since they actually took up an interest in rocket science. Still, that's not a good explanation for letting them slack off on chores and then making me pick up that slack!"

"I don't know, KP," Ron worried. "There's only so much rebellion a parent can take from a kid. One day, you refuse to do the housework; and the next day, they adopt a whole other child so that they can fox all the parenting mistakes they made on you and produce a functioning member of society!" Rufus nodded along worriedly.

Kim cut her eyes at her boyfriend. "I don't think my parents plan on adopting a fourth child just to get someone to wash the dishes. And honestly, I wouldn't have minded doing all that if Dad had just asked nicely. Or offered to help himself. Either one really, without me having to point that stuff out to him."

Ron could tell how much this was really affecting his girlfriend, so he wrapped a comforting arm around her. "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't done the dishes a day in my life."

Kim laughed as she playfully pushed him away. "That's such a lie."

Ron easily slid back into place beside her. "Yeah, but it made you smile."

#kim possible #fanfic

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