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| Meet the Fuckers; 5/23 - Night, Rachel, Calvin, Others | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 9 2013, 11:04 PM (674 Views) | |
| Mimic | Dec 26 2013, 10:07 PM Post #61 |
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One Man X-Team
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The Mets? The Icedork wanted to teach Hope to play for the Mets? Jesus. Even Rachel was looking a little wide-eyed at that one. With good damned reason, even if Drake was shrugging and looking like he didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Despite having lived with Jeannie for who knew how many years. "Umm, yeah. That's kinda the idea." Yeah. Jesus. Drake went back to smiling at Hope as she came over and plopped down against his legs, but close enough to Drake to keep an eye on him. Maybe talk to Bear a little or whatever she was doing. Didn't matter and Calvin took a second or two of his own to smile down at his daughter. Before reminding Drake that Jean was most definitely, absolutely not a Mets fan. In fact, she was so not a Mets fan she'd probably kill both of them just for sitting here talking about it if she were here (and fuck did he wish she was here, but not to debate baseball teams). Drake had to remember she was a Sox fan. How the fuck did you forget that? Looking over to Rachel for support got him a reluctant nod, but it was definitely a nod. Shit, what'd she done, take after Summers when it came to baseball? And what the hell was so great about baseball to start with? Never really had figured that one out. He rather watch a decent game of hockey himself. “You’re kind of right,” Rachel hedged and his eyebrows winged. Kind of right? But then she gave up and shrugged, even if it was maybe a little reluctantly still. “Okay, totally right. Daddy was the Mets fan, not Mom.” "Told you," Calvin insisted with a smirk as Drake shrugged again with a shit eating grin he sent toward him and Rachel, both. "All the more reason to teach her what team she should be cheering for," the snowy shit pointed out and Calvin let out a derisive snort he didn't even bother trying to suppress. "Besides, if I don't get an early start, Kitty'll try to get her to root for the Cubs. And nobody wants that." Giving that a couple of seconds thought, Calvin shook his head. "Still not sure that's worse than the damned Mets." Next thing he knew, all this Mets talk had Hope patting Drake's legs and asking about the Mets like they might be aliens from outer space. Aliens that were fucking morons when it came to baseball. Yeah, he'd let Drake field that one. He'd asked for it. The fucker smiled and nodded, turning toward Hope and at least willing to try to find some kinda explanation for that. "Mets," he confirmed, pretty much forgetting there was anyone else in the room. "The Mets are the best baseball team ever," he began, "and you've got one of their hats." He pointed at the hat on her head and that had Hope screwing her face up in a frown and tilting her head back, pretty damned obviously trying to look on top of her own head. It didn't go so well but it was cute as hell. "Someday Uncle Bobby'll take you to see a game, but first? We've gotta teach you how to play." He grinned mischievously and jerked his chin towards Calvin. "We'll probably have to teach your dad, too. Which might be kinda hard," he added, pretending to consider it for a moment as he rubbed his chin, "but I think between us we can probably manage it. I'm just gonna have to track down a ball first." The littlest redhead was giving the Icedork another one've those serious looks, like she was trying to figure out if he was bullshitting her with all that. "Ball?" she asked hopefully, looking from Bobby to him and back again. Reaching down, Calvin laid a hand lightly on top of the cap on her head. "Don't have one right now, but we'll find one, okay?" Tilting her head back so she could see him, or maybe partly see him, Hope nodded seriously after a few seconds, then looked back at Bobby and said just as seriously, "Mets." Then she looked down at Bear for a second, adjusted her hood and added, more quietly, and a little thoughtfully, "Play ball," then smiled over at Drake again kinda shyly. "Don't encourage him," Calvin mock-grumbled but with a smile on his face as he shook his head and then looked over at Drake. "This is your damned fault." The Mets. Jesus Christ. "Forge?" he heard Hope ask after another couple of seconds. She was sitting there and looking around the room like she'd lost something. She looked over at Drake for a second, like he might be hiding the Fucker somewhere, then over at Rachel questioningly. And why the hell did he get called by his damned name when he'd got stuck with Fucker? Where was the justice in that? |
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| Marvel Girl | Dec 28 2013, 10:41 AM Post #62 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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The Cubs now? That was definitely a fate worse than death, no matter what Mimic might say (and come to think of it, Rachel was pretty sure that Mimic’s opinion on what was irrelevant on account of being a Philistine, Philanderer, and possibly even worse, a Phillies fan), and though she was willing to let Kitty share her life, her brain, and just about anything else the brunette (or other versions thereof) might name, some things were too important, including her little sister’s current and future baseball preferences. You couldn’t mess with that! Though... yeah, on balance, when it came to having to explain to a basically entirely fresh soul why they ought to be a Mets fan? Okay, so yeah, ducking that in favor of giving up the onus/honors to Uncle Bobby? Totally a good plan, especially when Hope had actually gone and directly asked him about them. "Mets," [Uncle Bobby] confirmed, as a starting point, then "The Mets are the best baseball team ever," which had even Rachel, a several generations long lifelong devotee, but also hereditary realist, raising an eyebrow, "and you've got one of their hats." Okay, trying to see the hat now? Totally adorable. "Someday Uncle Bobby'll take you to see a game, but first? We've gotta teach you how to play." There was a voice in Rachel’s head right now that she could totally still identify as her father, casting cynical aspersions on Uncle Bobby’s ability to teach anyone how to play America’s game, but she was being tactful and ignoring that, because he was on a role, mugging for the camera and picking out Hope’s daddy for some extra consideration. "We'll probably have to teach your dad, too. Which might be kinda hard," he added, pretending to consider it for a moment as he rubbed his chin, "but I think between us we can probably manage it. I'm just gonna have to track down a ball first." Well, that was one of those things that she could totally help with, but this was probably one of those times that admitting to supranatural ability to create pretty much anything out of thin air might be an awkward moment for pseudo-uncles who weren’t nearly as okay with the Phoenix stuff as they were trying to pretend, were they, right? "Ball?" Hope asked, showing a good instinct for the important things in life that her father took care of, placing one hand on top her head. "Don't have one right now, but we'll find one, okay?" That seemed to somewhat placate Hope, who nodded to her father, looked at Uncle Bobby, and then nodded again, confirming that they were still discussing the "Mets." Little interlude to check on Bear, some adjustments, then, "Play ball," [and she] smiled over at Drake again kinda shyly. “Play ball,” Rachel agreed, echoing the classic phrase with a broad smile. "Don't encourage him," Calvin mock-grumbled but with a smile on his face as he shook his head and then looked over at Drake. "This is your damned fault." Which it might have been - scratch, almost certainly was, except Uncle Bobby’s fault or not (and hey, if he wanted to take responsibility for the infliction of Mets on an otherwise innocent girl - only Hope had other ideas about that. "Forge?" she asked, looking around the room like their might be a half-robot mystical shaman person hiding under any couch cushion. “You’re... looking for Forge?” Rachel had to ask, because she was her mother’s daughter, and the idea of anyone actually wanting to care where the Cheyenne man might be was thus-wise kind of odd, but Hope nodded, entirely without concern for the fact that this was a very, very odd kind of request. Rachel whistled through her lips just a little, raising her eyebrows as she did, but though that did give Hope enough pause to shoot a very confused look at her, then back at her Dad, then at Uncle Bobby for good measure before coming back around to her, it didn’t seem to budge the idea itself. “You are a strange little girl, Sis,” Rachel said, relenting, and leaning forward over her knees so she could bend down closer to her sister’s level, “But okay. You want to see how he’s doing?” Hope nodded, and Rachel held out her hand to her little sister, beckoning for her to come take it while looking up just long enough to explain to Uncle Bobby, “He was the one who found her today.” A little Hope-paw slipped into her hand, and Rachel looked back down, smiling automatically and reaching over to adjust the Mets cap just a little before her precarious work there came apart all the way. “You want to call him Uncle Asshat?” she asked. “At least one out of three Moms would approve.” And it would probably even up for the Fucker thing that he’d started. |
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| Iceman | Dec 28 2013, 08:24 PM Post #63 |
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Giving new meaning to "Freeze!" since 2007
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Yeah, so Jean was a Sox fan. He knew that; it wasn't something he'd exactly forget, considering she'd been pretty vocal about it. Still, even if the truth of the situation was something he was trying hard not to think about too much, Jean wasn't here. Obviously, it was his duty to make sure Hope got off on the right foot, cheering for the Mets. Besides, if he didn't, Kit would have her cheering for the Cubs in no time. And no one (other than Kit) wanted that. Calvin shook his head. "Still not sure that's worse than the damned Mets." Bobby just stared at him for a long moment, then glanced over at Rachel with a "can you believe this?" sort of look before taking a deep breath. Right. Canadian. He probably followed dog sledding or something rather than baseball. Time to move on to the important things, like explaining to Hope who the Mets were. ...honestly, the Cubs? Hope looked up, trying to see her hat when he mentioned it, which he'd have decided then and there was the cutest thing ever if a) the title didn't have to compete with her as an Ewok, and b ) he hadn't been on a roll. Baseball was serious stuff, after all, and once they got hold of a ball, he'd get to work teaching her the basics. Hope looked at him as if he were imparting the Great Words of Wisdom or something, which he had to admit gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling in and of itself. "Ball?" she asked hopefully, looking from him to Calvin and back again. Reaching down, Calvin laid a hand lightly on top of the cap on her head. "Don't have one right now, but we'll find one, okay?" Hope nodded, apparently confident that Rankin would produce one in good time, and Bobby looked up and met his eyes for a moment, then shrugged. He'd try, too. There had to be one around somewhere. If nothing else, he could keep his eyes open. Meanwhile, Hope was looking at him once more, saying seriously, "Mets", then "Play ball," and offering up one of those cute little smiles again. “Play ball,” Rachel agreed with a smile, while Calvin grumbled, "Don't encourage him," Calvin mock-grumbled but with a smile on his face as he shook his head and then looked over at Drake. "This is your damned fault." Bobby shrugged and grinned unrepentantly. "Y'know, I've heard that a few times before." Many, many times. But he really couldn't see any harm in teaching his four year old niece to play baseball, whether her dad liked the game or not. "Forge?" Hope asked a few seconds later, and he looked back down to see her looking at him, then turning her attention to Rachel. Bobby frowned a little, confused, and glanced over at Calvin to see if he had a clue what she might be asking. Were they supposed to teach the former X-Man how to play baseball, too, or... “You’re... looking for Forge?” Rachel asked tentatively, and much to his bemusement, Hope nodded. “You are a strange little girl, Sis,” Rachel said, relenting, and leaning forward over her knees so she could bend down closer to her sister’s level, “But okay. You want to see how he’s doing?” Hope nodded again, and her sister held out her hand for her to come over. “He was the one who found her today.” Rachel added by way of explanation, and Bobby nodded, uncertain as to what he should say. Should he ask about what had happened, maybe? He wanted to know, but he wasn't sure Calvin wanted to talk about it, or if he should get into it in front of Hope. Somehow, taking down the pens didn't seem like a topic to talk about in front of a four year old, even if she'd been there for the event itself. Rachel was suggesting alternate names to Hope (yeeaah, definitely not telling OtherJean about that, because while he had no idea how she felt about Forge in general, he was pretty sure "Uncle Asshat" would've been off the list as far as names went), and he looked over at Calvin. "You want me to see if I can find him?" he asked, shifting to get to his feet. "He was down at the party when I left, but I'm guessing he'd be willing to head back up. Or I can give you guys a lift down if you want," he added, turning to Rachel. He wasn't sure a strip club was the best place for a four year old, either, but it looked like they were going anyway. Might as well offer. |
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| Mimic | Dec 30 2013, 09:38 PM Post #64 |
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One Man X-Team
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Hell yeah. They'd find a ball. A bat. Whatever the hell she wanted, he'd figure it out. Had to be some stuff like that around this place somewhere. Seemed to have every damned thing else. Even if Drake had somehow convinced his daughter that playing ball with the Mets was a good idea, nodding along and smiling at Drake before looking over at her sister. Jesus, yeah. If Jeannie were here she'd kill the hell outta all of them. “Play ball,” Rachel agreed, echoing the classic phrase with a broad smile and the winged man heaved an internal sigh. He might not be all that smart, but he damned well knew when he was beat. Still didn't keep him from trying to get them all to stop encouraging the icy fucker, though. Especially since all this was Drake's damned fault. Fucking Mets. Jesus Christ. Jackass was still shrugging and grinning at him and not looking a bit damned sorry for his part in all this. "Y'know, I've heard that a few times before." Which was the damned truth at least, but then Hope was suddenly looking around like she'd lost something. Apparently that something was the Fucker who'd took off to see what kinda trouble his teenagers had got themselves into. And she was looking at Drake a little like she thought he might be hiding Forge behind his back or something before she turned her attention back over Rachel's way. “You’re... looking for Forge?” Rachel had to ask sounding like she couldn't figure out why the hell Hope would be looking for him, either, and Calvin kinda smirked, shaking his head at Drake. Fuck if he knew. No accounting for taste, he guessed, and Hope was nodding to confirm that's exactly what she was doing. Rachel let out a sound that said, yeah, who the hell knew and Calvin shrugged himself as Hope gave her sister a confused look, then looked at him. "Don't look at me, I don't get it, either," he told her with a grin that softened around the edges, so then she was looking at Drake, then back to Rachel. Apparently waiting for one've them to hand Forge over. “You are a strange little girl, Sis,” Rachel said, relenting, and leaning forward over her knees so she could bend down closer to her sister’s level, “But okay. You want to see how he’s doing?” Hope nodded, and Rachel held out her hand to her little sister, beckoning for her to come take it while looking up just long enough to explain to Uncle Bobby, “He was the one who found her today.” A little Hope-paw slipped into her hand, and Rachel looked back down, smiling automatically and reaching over to adjust the Mets cap just a little before her precarious work there came apart all the way. “You want to call him Uncle Asshat?” she asked. “At least one out of three Moms would approve.” Letting out a snort of barely suppressed laughter, Calvin looked over their way. "Hell, I approve," the winged man added. Asshat. Yeah, that sounded about right. "You want me to see if I can find him?" Drake asked, looking over at him and Calvin frowned a little. Hell, finding the Fucker wasn't a problem. "He was down at the party when I left, but I'm guessing he'd be willing to head back up. Or I can give you guys a lift down if you want," [Iceman] added, turning to Rachel as Mimic shook his head. "Nah, we can find him," he told the other man, one hand lifting and index finger tapping briefly at his temple, "He went down to see what the hell his kids were getting into, but I don't think anybody needs to come up or down. What the hell good is telepathy if it can't keep us from running the hell all over the place?" Not a question that really needed an answer and no question Rachel couldn't find him and patch Hope in to say hi or whatever she wanted to do. "Thanks for the offer, though," he added to Drake, then waved a hand at him again, "but you can stop popping up and down like a damned jack in the box. She probably just wants to make sure he didn't fall of the face of the damned earth. Or that all those teenagers didn't lock him in a storage room or something." His expression sobered a little as he added to Drake, "Hope likes people to stay where she can see they're still there." Wasn't hard to figure out why, either. Too bad they could only kill that bastard Ahab the one time for all the shit he'd done. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 1 2014, 09:37 PM Post #65 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Okay, it was all Uncle Bobby’s fault, but that was okay too, according to the faulted (faultee?) because he was used to hearing just that. Different universe, same Uncle Bobby - for this part, at least. But Uncle Bobby being Uncle Bobby or not, at least one of the party was already moving on to something else, and that someone was Hope, and that something else was... ...Forge? "Don't look at me, I don't get it, either," said Mimic, and you could hear the softer part of that grin even in his voice, not just his thoughts. Well that would have been sweet enough to crack the most resistant of hearts, except it was kind of irrelevant in the face of the even cuter look on his daughter’s face as she sought around the room, apparently trying to solve the case of the disappearing Indian. Right then, relenting time, even though she was still sticking to a need to voice the all-important observation that Hope was a strange little girl. Who must seem even stranger to Uncle Bobby right now, since the Forge thing was odd enough to believe even when you knew that he’d been the first one to find her in that place. Explaining that bought a nod, and maybe even some extra added confusion from Uncle Bobby. No, scratch that, that was uncertainty rather than confusion, but... ...well, they’d just all tacitly agree to let that slide, huh? Yeah, better plan. Next question - since Hope had already designated her father as Fucker, and her Uncle Bobby as an Icedork, there definitely seemed like at least an even chance that she’d be willing to go for calling the inventor Uncle Asshat. At least one out of three moms would approve of that name for Forge, since she’d kind of invented it. "Hell, I approve," the winged man added, laughing a little. Or snorting, anyhow. Uncle Bobby, on the other hand? Still kind of making back with the uncertain stakes, and looking over with all the askance toward Mimic. "You want me to see if I can find him?" he asked, shifting to get to his feet. "He was down at the party when I left, but I'm guessing he'd be willing to head back up. Or I can give you guys a lift down if you want.” Because nothing said ‘I need a ride’ down through the sky like cosmic avatar levels of telekinesis. But that was a nice thought still, and since the first question had been asked of him, Rachel left the answering to Mimic. "Nah, we can find him," he told the other man, one hand lifting and index finger tapping briefly at his temple, "He went down to see what the hell his kids were getting into, but I don't think anybody needs to come up or down. What the hell good is telepathy if it can't keep us from running the hell all over the place?" “It...” Rachel began to say half-automatically, grin creeping over her face as several extra benefits of telepathy crossed her mind. But it was probably for the best that smarter parts of her mind intervened to shut her mouth before she completed more than one word of the sentence, opening it again only when she’d agreed to let it admit, with a wink and a grin directed just for the little girl who she was lifting into her lap as she spoke, “Yeah, I’ve got nothing suitable for young ears.” "Thanks for the offer, though," [her father] added to Drake, then waved a hand at him again, "but you can stop popping up and down like a damned jack in the box. She probably just wants to make sure he didn't fall of the face of the damned earth. Or that all those teenagers didn't lock him in a storage room or something." His expression sobered a little as he added to Drake, "Hope likes people to stay where she can see they're still there." “But it’s okay when they don’t, too, because we can still find them and poke them in the brain to say hi,” Rachel finished for Hope’s benefit, giving her sister a hand as she squirmed and wiggled and arranged herself into a more comfortable spot on the lap. The little girl nodded, making the hat wobble and dip over her eyes for a second before she pushed it back. “In the brain,” she repeated solemnly, lifting one hand up, as if to poke an invisible brain floating in the air between them. Yeah... well... no, they’d just go with it, huh? “Alright. You just relax, Sis, and we’ll take a little fly-by buzz Tour to Uncle Asshat’s head,” Rachel told her, gently lifting a part of Hope’s consciousness in to piggyback on her own and dropping them back down to peer in on the party going on down in the bar. Lot of singing and good feelings, dancing, and that was a big shining ball of happy radiating out from a couple of minds that could only be Mom and Dad. That... ...shit, that was exactly what she didn’t need to be focusing on with Hope hitching on in her mind, was it? “Not there,” Rachel said swiftly, both in her head and out loud, as she guided Hope’s ‘hand‘, or at least the idea of it, away from the reach she’d made toward the Mom-shine of happiness that they were passing by, and settled her instead - barely an instant later - next to the consciousness she recognized as Forge’s. “Here,” she said aloud, waiting for a break in the mix of conversation that he was having with - with Emma???? - then mentally sent to the inventor, *Hi Forge. Someone wanted to be sure to check on you.* “It’s all good, Sis. Just think about whatever you’d like to tell him, and he’ll hear it,” Rachel explained, out loud again, and then watched the flash of an obviously bright and exciting idea pass onto her sister’s features. “Poke him in the brain,” Hope announced, and grinned widely. |
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| Iceman | Jan 4 2014, 06:51 PM Post #66 |
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Giving new meaning to "Freeze!" since 2007
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So...she wanted Forge? Bobby couldn't help but look confused by that, a sentiment that the explanation of Forge having been the one to find her didn't do much to change. Not that he had anything against the guy, exactly, just... Well, okay, maybe he did. But either way, he couldn't see what appeal the inventor turned cult leader could possibly have for a four year old. Still, if that was who Hope wanted, he'd do his best to oblige. No reason he couldn't pop down and find him, if he was still down at the party. Hell, he could give her and Rachel a ride down if they wanted. He should probably be getting back to Kit, anyway. "Nah, we can find him," Calvin said, tapping at his temple in the universal sign for telepathic methods of "finding". "He went down to see what the hell his kids were getting into, but I don't think anybody needs to come up or down. What the hell good is telepathy if it can't keep us from running the hell all over the place?" “It...” Rachel began to say, with a mischievous grin, but the shut her mouth with a glance down at Hope. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing suitable for young ears.” "Hey, don't stop on Calvin's account," Bobby joked from his position of half up off the floor, directing a grin at the other man. "He's not all that young anyway." Turning back to the not-so-young former teammate in question, he shrugged. "The kids are okay, or they were when I left. There was some mess about one of them making another dump beer on his head, but Frost stuck her nose in and got it all settled." With some belated help from him, admittedly, but hey. He had to help out his new student, didn't he? Besides, the pink-haired kid'd had it coming. Not that he really cared all that much about the beer dumping, but c'mon. The kid was a telepath. He should've known better than to do his thing right there in reach of not only his victim, but his victim's friends. "Thanks for the offer, though," he added to Drake, then waved a hand at him again, "but you can stop popping up and down like a damned jack in the box. She probably just wants to make sure he didn't fall of the face of the damned earth. Or that all those teenagers didn't lock him in a storage room or something." His expression sobered a little as he added to Drake, "Hope likes people to stay where she can see they're still there." Bobby's grin faded, and he looked over at Hope and nodded. "Yeah, I get that." Both why she would feel that way, and because he felt like that himself more often than he really wanted to admit to. He settled back down on the floor cross legged. He could stay just a little longer, he guessed. Kit was probably still rescuing Shuri from whatever trouble the other girl had gotten herself into, anyway. “But it’s okay when they don’t, too, because we can still find them and poke them in the brain to say hi,” Rachel finished as Hope scrambled her way into a more comfortable position on her lap. Hope seemed to like the sound of that, doing a whole wiggly fingered poke thing into an imaginary brain as she echoed her sister's words and they got on with the telepathic Forge poking. “It’s all good, Sis. Just think about whatever you’d like to tell him, and he’ll hear it,”] she said after a few moments, and Hope grinned and re-echoed the whole brain poking plan. Bobby laughed, leaning back on his hands. "Hey, when you've got a plan in mind, might as well stick with it." He grinned over at Rachel, raising his eyebrows. "Any chance you can give Flamehead a poke while you're in the neighborhood? Find out if karaoke started yet?" It was pretty much inevitable, after all, that Ali was going to talk Johnny into it, and equally inevitable that Flamehead was going to drag him up there with him. They might as well get a jump start at picking out a decent song. |
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| Mimic | Jan 7 2014, 05:50 PM Post #67 |
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One Man X-Team
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Hell, yeah. Uncle Asshat. It'd serve the fucker right and he, for one, sure as hell approved. Something told him more than one Jean would've, too, even if Drake didn't seem to know what to think of any of it. Nothing new there, though, and this once Calvin even knew how he felt. This whole damned last few days had been either try to go with the flow or get dragged down and drowned by it. So far, he was keeping his head generally above water, but not without some damned help. No point, though, in Drake running around trying to find Forge, though, if that's who Hope wanted. The room was half full've telepaths. One or both of them could manage that, at least, and what the hell good was all the head shit if it didn't keep you from running all over the place trying to find people? “It...” Rachel began to say, grinning in a way that told him she'd maybe come up with a few ideas there, but then looked down at the little girl in her lap and thought better of saying any've them out loud, apparently. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing suitable for young ears.” "Hey, don't stop on Calvin's account," Drake quipped and Calvin shot him a sour look and casually flipped the other man the bird. Smartass. "He's not all that young anyway." Turning back to the not-so-young former teammate in question, he shrugged. "The kids are okay, or they were when I left. There was some mess about one of them making another dump beer on his head, but Frost stuck her nose in and got it all settled." Frost was down there 'settling' shit? Well, Jesus no damned wonder Forge had needed to get his ass down there. No point in them doing the same, though he appreciated the other man's offer to go track the Fucker's ass down for Hope. But he could stop popping up and down like a jack in the box. Most likely, all she wanted was to make sure Forge hadn't dropped off the planet or that those kids of his hadn't tied him up and locked him in a store room down at the strip club. Hope was just getting used to people being here, she wasn't much on not knowing where they were if they got outta sight for long. Hell, they were probably lucky she wasn't a whole lot worse, considering what she'd been through. His own expression sobered at that and even the grin faded off Iceman's face for once as the other man looked over at the little girl in her sister's lap and nodded. "Yeah, I get that." Calvin gave a short nod in turn. Yeah, he was pretty sure most've them got that by now. They'd had way too damned many people vanish out from under them. “But it’s okay when they don’t, too, because we can still find them and poke them in the brain to say hi,” Rachel added as Hope settled in for some Forge brain poking. Then she nodded and agreed, “In the brain,” with as much seriousness as her four years would let her muster and complete with poking motions. Cutest damned thing, but Calvin was starting to think he was gonna end up thinking that about everything she did or said at this rate. “Alright. You just relax, Sis, and we’ll take a little fly-by buzz Tour to Uncle Asshat’s head,” her sister told her and Calvin debated whether to follow along or not. Hate to miss Forge's reaction to that, but- Fuck. Yeah, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist that kinda temptation. He knew she was down there. Somewhere. She didn't need him poking around and making her deal with shit she was probably trying hard as hell not to have to deal with. “Not there,” Rachel said swiftly, and, yeah, that was exactly why he didn't have any business poking around down there with them. Didn't take much to figure out what 'not there' meant. “Here,” she said a few seconds later, apparently having found the fucker down there in all that crowd somewhere. “It’s all good, Sis. Just think about whatever you’d like to tell him, and he’ll hear it,” Rachel explained and, oh man, that was a whole lot of sudden excitement Hope had going on there. Not that there was all that much she could probably do to Forge's brain on a ride along, but damned if he wouldn't love to see the Fucker's face when she came out with whatever she had in mind. “Poke him in the brain,” Hope announced, and grinned widely and Calvin laughed right along with Drake over there, who'd sat his ass back down and was leaning back on his hands. Damned right he wished he could see Forge's face for that. "Hey, when you've got a plan in mind, might as well stick with it." Drake said, grinning over at Rachel and Hope, brows heading upward. "Any chance you can give Flamehead a poke while you're in the neighborhood? Find out if karaoke started yet?" Karaoke? Jesus, fuck that. Drake was nuts. "You sure Storm's got a brain in there to poke?" he asked the other man with a wide grin, "And when the hell did you turn into a girl?" Karaoke. Jesus Christ. Did he want pigtails to go with that? Then he turned back to Hope and Rachel with that same grin and added, "Give Uncle Asshat's brain a poke or two for me, huh?" "Lots of pokes in the brain," Hope agreed with the cutest damned grin on earth and one've those serious nods again. The she kinda frowned and tilted her head to look back up at Rachel, like she wasn't real sure exactly how to get the poking started. Hell, she was enough her fathers daughter, he didn't have no doubt she'd figure it out just fine. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 11 2014, 11:22 PM Post #68 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Oooh... okay, ouch. Judging by what Uncle Bobby was saying, and even more by the thoughts going on in his brain to accompany it, Little Bro was looking on pretty good odds of striking out where it came to getting an extra pseudo-Uncle over here. And... well, she’d just let the comment about Emma having been the one to sort it out kind of pass there, since explaining that not only did she know all about that mess from a kind of insider perspective, but she might have had something to do with it probably wasn’t going to make for productive conversation right now. Rachel did do a little mind brush through on her new Little Bro though then. Just to make sure he really was still doing okay, and... ...okay, more information about how he calculated odds of whether or or two new blonde girls might be persuaded to sleep with him than she’d needed. Put that down to ‘yup, still doing okay’ and moving on, while Mimic waved away the need for the offer of finding Forge, and explained about where Hope was coming from with the otherwise still kind of incomprehensible determination to find the old semi-mechanical inventor. Yeah, so Uncle Bobby got the feeling there. Probably quite a few people in this place did, if she remembered the feeling right. Too many people stolen right out from under you in a world like this one. Yup, that nod from Mimic kind of spoke for just how well he knew about it, but that was okay too - or at least it was okay for Hope right now - because they could always track people who were still here down and poke them in the brain, right? Definitely a winner, and so the redhaired telepath got on with setting her sister up to take a tour down to ‘Uncle Asshat’s’ head. Little hurried detour there around the big glowing ball of happy that was Mom just now, because this definitely wasn’t the time to get into that just now, for all the reasons ever, but there, that was Forge, and.... that was something like a break in his conversation to drop in a greeting on Hope’s behalf. All her little sister needed to do was think about what she wanted to tell him, and he’d hear it. Or... yeah, okay, poking him in the brain. That also worked, if that was what she wanted. Cue laughter from both men in the room, but then... well, yeah. Couldn’t argue with that. "Hey, when you've got a plan in mind, might as well stick with it," Uncle Bobby said with a grin, followed up by a raising of eyebrows. "Any chance you can give Flamehead a poke while you're in the neighborhood? Find out if karaoke started yet?" Karaoke - oh, was that was Ali and Kiwi Black were doing right now? Well that explained a lot. Maybe. Or maybe nothing at all. Still, before Rachel had managed more than a slight considering frown as she left Forge returning Hope’s tentative mental greeting and skimmed over the rest of the room, Mimic had thrown his two cents in on the subject. "You sure Storm's got a brain in there to poke?" he asked the other man with a wide grin, "And when the hell did you turn into a girl?" “Not just him. Kiwi Black,” Rachel offered in tones that were halfway between distracted and making an intent point at the combination of the winged man’s words and his thoughts, lifting her eyebrows for emphasis on the name of the guy that had been leading the raid on the pens today and... hadn’t really seemed like the karaoke type. Or the girl type. Though... “Now I want to see him in pigtails.” "Give Uncle Asshat's brain a poke or two for me, huh?" Hope’s father suggested to her, and little Sis was quick to oblige that request, assuring him that there would be "Lots of pokes in the brain,” though maybe kind of losing the thread of how she was supposed to that a moment later. Never mind, they had that covered, and Rachel smiled encouragingly down at her sister, boosting her up with her mind and helping her make a first tentative poke at a piece of the inventor’s mind that probably wouldn’t mind it alll that much as she shook her head over top of the little girl, back at Mimic and Uncle Bobby. “Yeah, plenty to poke at there. God,” Another shake of the head, because this was the most amount of time she’d ever spent near or inside Forge’s brain, “That place is like some kind of steam punk junkyard museum.” Ordered and clean, kind of, but holy Herbies with all the clutter of random ideas ever. “It’s okay, Hope,” she added, looking back down at her sister, who was still looking a little uncertain about the whole business now that she’d gotten it started, “How about you tell him all about what you’ve been doing since you saw him last?” That seemed to strike a note with Hope, who brightened a little, and nodded with a little, “‘kay,” before getting on with just that, in a stream of half-mumbled quiet words and brighter mind pictures involving Bear, and ewoks, and Mets, and half a dozen other miniature adventures, which Rachel relayed on a kind of auto-pilot, while turning the greater part of attention back to the two men and looking to Uncle Bobby. “Karaoke has indeed started, and Uncle Johnny is totally signing you up to sing the Archies as we speak,” she informed him, with a pretty close to perfectly straight face and a very unnecessary clue of an overly honest nod. “Really.” Okay, yeah. Not really at all, but her original own Uncle Bobby would never forgive her if she didn’t do her best to mess with any other Uncle Bobbys she happened to come across, right? Right! That totally almost made sense, which was all that was really required! |
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| Iceman | Jan 13 2014, 08:03 PM Post #69 |
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Giving new meaning to "Freeze!" since 2007
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Hope didn't like people out of sight. He could understand that, with absolutely no difficulty, and based on Calvin's nod it looked as if the other man could, too. Which wasn't surprising, really - he was pretty sure all of them were in the same boat, there. It was just sad that a four year old was already having the same problem. Hers, though, could apparently be fixed by a simple mental phone call down to the party and a few pokes to the brain of "Uncle Asshat", something Rachel was preparing to help her with already. Since the telepath was already going to be in the neighborhood, he asked if she could give Johnny a poke, too. Based on what he'd heard earlier in the day, Ali was pulling out the karaoke. Which, he didn't doubt, meant that once he headed back down he'd be singing karaoke. No point in arguing it, even if he'd been so inclined. Ali could be as unstoppable as the Juggernaut when she put her mind to something. Better just to go with the flow and make sure that Storm picked something decent. That, of course, got a wide grin from Rankin. "You sure Storm's got a brain in there to poke?" he asked the other man with a wide grin, "And when the hell did you turn into a girl?" "According to you? About ten years ago," Bobby shot back, right along with a grin and one fingered salute for good measure. Actually, he wasn't entirely sure Rankin had ever called him a girl, but hell. If he hadn't, he was sure he'd take the credit for having done it, anyway. “Not just him. Kiwi Black,” Rachel observed, apparently having checked on the karaoke situation already. “Now I want to see him in pigtails.” "Hang on," Bobby said, pulling up a mental image of Kiwi Black in all his scarred glory, then editing it to include a pair of braided pigtails on either side of his face. After a moment's considering, he added pink bows to the bottom of each, then sort of jiggled the mental image around in the front of his brain to grab her attention. "It's a good look for him," he added, trying nobly to suppress a grin without much success. "Give Uncle Asshat's brain a poke or two for me, huh?" Calvin requested of his daughter, who grinned and nodded, assuring him that there'd be adequate poking. “Yeah, plenty to poke at there. God,” Another shake of the head, because this was the most amount of time she’d ever spent near or inside Forge’s brain, “That place is like some kind of steam punk junkyard museum.” He let out an amused snort, then listened as Rachel got Hope started before turning back to him. “Karaoke has indeed started, and Uncle Johnny is totally signing you up to sing the Archies as we speak,” she said, with a hint of a smile and a serious nod. “Really.” "The Archies?" Bobby asked incredulously, eyes widening. Okay, he wouldn't entirely put it past...hold it. Yes, he would, considering that he had no doubt whatsoever that Flamehead knew he'd drag him up there right along with him. Narrowing his eyes, he gave his niece a considering look. "Just how much time did you spend with me as a kid?" he asked her. After all, there was no way that Scott or Warren could've taught her to pull that off without cracking a smile. It almost had to have been "him". |
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| Mimic | Jan 16 2014, 02:20 PM Post #70 |
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One Man X-Team
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Drake and Storm and fucking karaoke. Jesus. To each their own, Mimic guessed, but hell, did Storm even have a brain for anybody to poke? And when the fuck had Drake full on turned into a damned girl? "According to you? About ten years ago," Drake shot back, flipping him off in the process as Calvin just snorted, part amusement part just sheer damned disbelief that anybody in their right mind would volunteer for fucking karaoke. But, then, they were still talking about Drake. “Not just him. Kiwi Black,” Rachel observed, and Calvin couldn't have stopped the surprised, "You're shitting me?" that he'd blurted out if he'd wanted to. The big tattooed fucker, singing karaoke. What the hell were they drinking down there? “Now I want to see him in pigtails.” Calvin let out another half snort/half laugh at that. Yeah, guess that was his fault and he grinned over at the redhead. "Hang on," Drake said and...ah, holy shit, he did not need to fucking see that. Jesus christ! "It's a good look for him," the slushy fucker insisted as Mimic gave him a sour look. "You're lucky I don't stick that in there permanently, where you can't get rid of it," he grumbled, shaking his head before telling Hope to poke the hell outta Forge's brain for him, too, while she was at it. Somehow, all this shit was probably the Fucker's fault anyway. He deserved it. And there she went again, being the cutest damned thing in the world and promising lots of poking in Uncle Asshat's brain. That was his girl. “Yeah, plenty to poke at there. God,” Rachel gave her head another shake and one side of Calvin's mouth quirked up, “That place is like some kind of steam punk junkyard museum.” "Yeah, that sounds about right. Always knew the Fucker had a head full of useless, rusty shit." But, hell, it wouldn't be Forge if it wasn't. “It’s okay, Hope,” Rachel added, looking down at a kinda unsure Hope, now that they actually were poking around in Forge's brain, “How about you tell him all about what you’ve been doing since you saw him last?” Couldn't resist peeking in a little at that, or smiling at the stream of consciousness impressions that came with it as Hope gave a little, "'kay," and flooded the fucker's head with Bear and Ewoks and her damned Mets cap and M&Ms and everything else it looked like she could think of. “Karaoke has indeed started, and Uncle Johnny is totally signing you up to sing the Archies as we speak,” Rachel informed Drake as she looked up and left Hope to flood Forge's brain and add to the shit already in there. Hell, she even managed it with a straight face and a serious nod. “Really.” Letting out a bark of laughter, Calvin sent a shit eating grin toward Drake, not even bothering to try for anything else. "Hell yeah, you'd make a great Veronica." "The Archies?" [Drake] asked incredulously, eyes widening as Mimic kept grinning, then narrowed down again pretty damned suspiciously. "Just how much time did you spend with me as a kid?" he asked her and the bearded man shook his head. "If it was any, I'd say too damned much." Though, hell, if he and Storm really were gonna do the Archies, he might just have to listen in to that shit himself. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 20 2014, 05:53 PM Post #71 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Karaoke? Yeah, it had started, and whatever Mimic’s odd, but definite aversion to people doing it, or men doing it (was that something Canadian?), it was being done. Not just by Uncle Bobby and Uncle Johnny, but also, apparently, by Kiwi Black. You had to wonder if the winged man’s standards meant that guy was also now a girl (harder to fit in to mind, unless you were imagining girl walruses, or possibly just girls like Anaconda). Not to mention what he’d look like in the pigtails Mimic had just been imagining for Uncle Bobby. "Hang on," said the pseudo-Uncle in question, apparently quite taken by that challenge, as an image of the New Zealander with two bunched dark braids got projected up mental front and center. "It's a good look for him," he added. Rachel spared a chuckle or two for that, though Hope’s dad seemed much less taken with the sight. "You're lucky I don't stick that in there permanently, where you can't get rid of it," he grumbled, which only went to show that Canadians were a race favoring cruel and unusual punishment. Which only went to explain hockey. Still, violent physical and psionic trauma to people’s heads did seem like it was going to be something he was going to be able to bond with his daughter over, if the mutual desire to poke Hope’s ‘Uncle Asshat’ a lot in the brain was any indicator. Though Mom would probably approve of that too, and even Rachel had to admit that there was at least plenty to poke in the inventor’s brain. Plenty of insane, crowded, steampunk museum graveyard brain stuff. There was snorting, or close enough to it from both men then, and some wry observations from Mimic on the subject too, just for good measure. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Always knew the Fucker had a head full of useless, rusty shit." Privately, Rachel had to wonder whether the most disturbing part of that mind was actually that none of it seemed to be rusty at all, but all moving independently in odd ways without ever looking like it might need to stop, but observations about Forge’s brain one way or another definitely had to take a backseat to reassuring her sister than this brain poking thing wasn’t so hard, really, and that maybe a good place to start might be just to tell ‘Uncle Asshat’ all about what she’d been doing since he’d left with the multicolored possible Aunt-women people. Cue a little ‘kay’ of agreement from Hope, and a flood of this that and the other all jumbled up to be fed into Forge’s brain. Rachel spied Mimic peeking in on that a little, and couldn’t really blame him, though for herself, it was probably time to set that to psionic autopilot, making the transfers as needed, while getting on with other important business. Like properly confirming the presence of karaoke for Uncle Bobby, and making as good a go at the original Uncle-mandated messing with a universal duplicate as she could manage on the fly. Yup. Totally being signed up for some Archies karaoke goodness, as they spoke. Really. The big hoot of laughter from Rankin wasn’t helping the efforts to sell this as straight-faced as it really needed to be, but still, she was getting Uncle Bobby, Rachel knew. His eyes were going all wide, like they did when Uncle Hank and sometimes even Daddy had decided that the messing with needed returning, even before Mimic chimed in with an observation about the potential excellence of Uncle Bobby’s theoretical Veronica. "The Archies?" Bobby asked incredulously, eyes widening. Keeping true to her training, Rachel didn’t let so much as a tiny smirk slip through, not until she’d seem him catch on finally. At which point she laughed, and grinned her way through the narrowed eyes he was trying to fix on her. "Just how much time did you spend with me as a kid?" he asked her. "If it was any, I'd say too damned much," Mimic suggested with a shake of his head, but Rachel shrugged at that, unconcerned. “No one else wanted to spend Saturday mornings watching cartoons,” she informed the bearded man, as if this explained everything (it kind of did, at least a little. Or was a pretty good start), before flashing a grin back over to Uncle Bobby. “And he knew all the best old ones.” Duck Tales, like she’d been telling Pete not all that long ago, and all the others too. Good memories. Happy ones, of the sort that you could take out and hug when you needed them. Looking back down at Hope though, who was still working through her news, though quite possibly repeating some of it for at least the second time now, Rachel began idly smoothing the little girl’s red hair back down out of where it had gotten messed up between the cap and the Ewok hood that had fallen to her shoulders. Half thinking about other memories, half watching the byplay between her sister and her sister’s ‘Uncle’ as she brushed over Hope’s mind again to judge how she was doing. Well, still, maybe, but fading out around the edges now as tiredness started to creep in, wasn’t she? Rachel looked back up then, seeking Mimic’s eyes with a mildly more serious expression. “I’m guessing we’ve got about fifteen, twenty minutes tops before this one conks out totally,” she told him, nodding down to the little girl in her lap, “Probably time to start thinking about getting her toward bed.” End of a big big day. |
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| Iceman | Jan 21 2014, 12:23 PM Post #72 |
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Giving new meaning to "Freeze!" since 2007
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Kiwi Black, singing karaoke? That he could hardly picture himself, try though he might. Kiwi Black as a girl, however - that he could visualize, and he offered up a mental image to his older niece with a grin. The pigtails, he thought were a nice touch, though he probably should've thrown in a lacy dress and pinafore. Ah well, she'd get the idea, at least. And apparently did, given her chuckle. Rankin, of course, had to throw in a threat, offering to stick it in his head permanently. Which Bobby magnanimously ignored, of course. He'd done good, and now he could just kick back, watch Hope poke around at Forge's brain (maybe she'd poke whatever had apparently come loose in the camp back into place. Personally, he was hoping), and wait to see if Rachel had any response from Johnny. Calvin could say what he would about karaoke, but one way or another, Storm was going to end up dragging him up there. The big question was, how long should he try to hide from the inevitable. The answer? Apparently a very, very long time, because Storm was supposedly signing them up to sing something by The Archies. Which cracked Rankin up, of course, generating a comment of, "Hell yeah, you'd make a great Veronica." "Watch it, or you can be Jughead," he shot back, meanwhile watching Rachel's face. Which wasn't as amused as it probably should be, delivering that message. Or...no, there was definitely something there, and that extra "Really"... Just how much time had she spent with him as a kid, anyway? That got a laugh, just as he'd suspected, and he grinned back over at her, nodding approval. Nicely done. Not quite good enough, but hey. It'd been one hell of a day, probably all the more so for her. "If it was any, I'd say too damned much." his other niece's dad pointed out, but Rachel shrugged that off. “No one else wanted to spend Saturday mornings watching cartoons,” she informed the bearded man, as if this explained everything (it kind of did, at least a little. Or was a pretty good start), before flashing a grin back over to Uncle Bobby. “And he knew all the best old ones.” "Hey, of course I did," he replied smugly, as he directed a proud grin her way. "Besides, that's what Saturday mornings are supposed to be for." Cartoons and annoyance, his specialties. Or they had been once, anyway, and apparently, he'd had an important role to play in niece-raising. Hopefully, he could translate that over to here, too. He glanced over at Hope, then, who was still babbling away at Forge, though he wasn't sure whether or not Rachel was still relaying. Apparently his interdimensional future niece was having much the same thought, as she looked down at her little sister, smoothing her hair down between her hat and her hood. “I’m guessing we’ve got about fifteen, twenty minutes tops before this one conks out totally,” she told him, nodding down to the little girl in her lap, “Probably time to start thinking about getting her toward bed.” "Which is probably my cue," Bobby said, getting to his feet despite any likely comments from Calvin about acting like a jack in the box. He smiled over at Rachel. "Nice meeting you," he said, honestly meaning it despite the circumstances. "You need anything while you're here, look me up, okay? Or, y'know, if he does." He directed a negligent wave in Calvin's direction, figuring the guy would understand he actually meant the offer without him having to make a serious one. His smile softened, though, as his eyes dropped down to Hope, and he reached down to ruffle her head, hat and all. "As for you, munchkin? Sounds like Uncle Bobby needs to track down some cartoons before Saturday morning, and hide us one of those boxes of Cocoa Krispies cereal your Aunt Kitty brought back with her before Forge's kids eat it all. But I'll see you before then, okay?" He glanced back towards Rankin and smiled crookedly as a thought occurred to him. "You need a babysitter, give me a call. You need clothes and stuff for her? You might want to talk to Yana; from what I've heard, she's been all over time and space picking up tech equipment and stuff for people, and keeping the cabinets stocked with Nilla Wafers. She could maybe drum up some other things while she was at it?" Not, he supposed, that it was any of his business, and maybe Rankin already had it covered. But still, it didn't hurt to point it out. The guy had enough to worry about, he was sure, without figuring where to find girls' clothes in a size four. |
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| Mimic | Jan 23 2014, 10:06 PM Post #73 |
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One Man X-Team
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Jughead his ass. Calvin was pretty sure Storm already had the part of Jughead covered. Rachel was doing a pretty good job of pulling that off over there, though, but Drake seemed to be catching on all the same. Maybe it was that extra 'really' she threw in there. Hell, either way and where ever she'd got that, he was pretty sure any time spent with the alternate Drake where she was from was a little too much. That had to be a fact that spanned universes. Rachel just shrugged, though, not seeming too concerned about the Iceman exposure. “No one else wanted to spend Saturday mornings watching cartoons,” she informed the bearded man, as if this explained everything (it kind of did, at least a little. 'Cause, yeah, that sounded about right for Drake. “And he knew all the best old ones.” "That's because he's still five," the winged man insisted with a grin at about the same time Drake jumped in to agree. "Hey, of course I did," [Iceman] replied smugly, as he directed a proud grin her way. "Besides, that's what Saturday mornings are supposed to be for." Hope was still babbling away into Forge's head, doing her 'poking' in a way that had him smiling in a completely different way and that also had him wishing to hell he was down in the strip club to see it. No doubt the Fucker would tell him all about it, though, when he got back up here. Looking up from where she was rearranging Hope's hair or cap or ewok hood, Rachel turned his way. “I’m guessing we’ve got about fifteen, twenty minutes tops before this one conks out totally,” she told him, nodding down to the little girl in her lap, “Probably time to start thinking about getting her toward bed.” Oh, yeah. Shit. It was probably pretty damned late for somebody that was four to still be awake, wasn't it? He probably needed to get used to thinking of things like that. Dammit, how did people do this all the time without forgetting half the shit they were supposed to be remembering? "Which is probably my cue," Iceman was popping up to his feet again and Calvin decided he might as well get off his own ass, too as the other man added over to Rachel, "Nice meeting you," he said, honestly meaning it despite the circumstances. "You need anything while you're here, look me up, okay? Or, y'know, if he does." Calvin let out another snort, accompanied by a wry smile. Jesus, yeah. Drake worrying about him needing stuff definitely meant he was in way the hell over his head here. Still, like he'd said, it was nice of him. Fuck knew he'd need all the help he could get with this and he wasn't too damned proud to take it. He nodded to Drake then the other man got a version of that same damned sappy look on his face Calvin was pretty sure was on his own off and s he looked down at Hope. Then he reached down and ruffled her..well, her hat, he guessed, and she tilted her head to look up at him curiously, reaching up herself with two small hands to apparently pat back right whatever he'd moved around. "As for you, munchkin? Sounds like Uncle Bobby needs to track down some cartoons before Saturday morning, and hide us one of those boxes of Cocoa Krispies cereal your Aunt Kitty brought back with her before Forge's kids eat it all. But I'll see you before then, okay?" Hope pursed her lips and seemed to try to figure that all out for a second or two. He wasn't sure if she made any progress, but she nodded solemnly all the same and gave him an agreeable, "'Kay," then grinned and informed him, "Mets. My hat," as Drake turned back to him, that lopsided smile he seemed to almost always be wearing spreading over the other man's face. "You need a babysitter, give me a call. You need clothes and stuff for her? You might want to talk to Yana; from what I've heard, she's been all over time and space picking up tech equipment and stuff for people, and keeping the cabinets stocked with Nilla Wafers. She could maybe drum up some other things while she was at it?" One hand rubbing at the back of his neck, Calvin nodded, brow knitting. "Yeah, shit, she's been here all of half a day. We haven't had time to round up much of a damned thing for her." If it wasn't for Rachel, she wouldn't even have any damned pajamas. Hope was gonna need more than that and one stuffed toy and a Mets hat. "Thanks, I'll check on that. I'll take all the help I can get, since I don't have a damned clue what I'm doing." Especially since he didn't have a damned clue what a four year old girl would need or want. Hopefully to hell Rachel, or Kara, or Clarice or Rasputin or some damned body would have a better idea. "If it wasn't for Rachel, she'd probably be running around in one've my shirts," the winged man added, half-smiling over to the redhead provider of pajamas and general sanity in question. Hope may or may not have still been babbling and or poking Forge in the brain, but she was busy with a big yawn, too, arms stretching out and little eyes drooping. Then she reached up to him and something went tight in his chest again as he bent to scoop her up. Tiny little thing, he hardly knew he was holding her, but she was the biggest damned thing in his life. "Yeah, she's gonna be out soon," he commented to Rachel as Hope settled herself against him, head drooping down to his shoulder and still muttering something about play ball and Krispies and cartoons. At least Forge seemed to be holding up pretty damned well under the assault as far as he could tell. "Wanna say good bye to Uncle Icedork?" he asked Hope softly and she lifted her head again and waved one small hand at Drake. "Bye, Uncle Icedork," Hope told him with a sleepy little smile, then leaned over a little and making him juggles her slightly for balance so she didn't go tipping to the floor as she reached over to give his shoulder a pat. Then she snuggled back against his shoulder with another yawn and went back to babbling sleepily, but at this point he wasn't entirely sure she was doing it to anybody but herself. |
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| Marvel Girl | Jan 25 2014, 11:58 PM Post #74 |
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Needs her powers to dress herself
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Spend time with Uncle Bobby? Of course Rachel had, since no one else had time to watch cartoons on a Saturday morning, even in the Xavier Institute. Plus he’d known all the old best ones (he’d assured her that’s what they were). "That's because he's still five," Mimic threw in with a grin, while the pseudo-uncle in question (or at least this other version of him) didn’t look the least bit worried by this, and grinned himself. "Hey, of course I did," he replied smugly, "Besides, that's what Saturday mornings are supposed to be for." Rachel shook her head very slightly, adding her own grin to the mix, but wasn’t about to argue. Not when there was a little girl on her lap, sneaking back her attention with the babbling and brain poking that she was keeping up in a steady stream, and with hair and hood and cap that definitely needed to be set back to something closer to proper order. Well, check that, actually, the telepath noticed after a moment’s closer inspection. A stream that was starting to ebb just a little off and on there, in the way that spoke of sleep creeping up on her a little at a time. Probably fifteen, maybe twenty minutes tops was all they had, she let her sister’s father know, before Hope was dropping off to sleep where she sat. "Which is probably my cue," said Uncle Bobby, rising to his feet while Mimic did the same just a moment after, and looking to Rachel for a moment. "Nice meeting you," he said, as she smiled back, and nodded. "You need anything while you're here, look me up, okay? Or, y'know, if he does." “Ice in his underwear?” Rachel murmured with a slight grin, while the ‘he’ in question snorted and smiled himself, then nodded. Uncle Bobby’s attention was all for Hope then, giving her the kind of look that the cuteness of four year old adorable redheaded children demanded, then he reached over to mess with Hope’s hat and hair. Gently, but the look she was giving him in return was Mom’s ‘do not touch the hair’ icy stare, done in miniature, as she set the cap back to something like rights on her head. "As for you, munchkin? Sounds like Uncle Bobby needs to track down some cartoons before Saturday morning, and hide us one of those boxes of Cocoa Krispies cereal your Aunt Kitty brought back with her before Forge's kids eat it all. But I'll see you before then, okay?" It seemed to take Hope a few moments to try to process that, but she nodded in the end. "'Kay," [she said]. then grinned and informed him, "Mets. My hat," and though she could very well imagine her mother facepalming somewhere, when or if she ever heard about this, Rachel had to grin even wider for that. Then it was another smile, that crooked one on Uncle Bobby’s face, as he turned over to Mimic, offering his own services as babysitter (judging just by what they’d seen already in these few hours, Rachel was starting to think Calvin was going to need a timetable just to be able to schedule time with his own daughter, the rate at which people were volunteering to help with babysitting duties), and Illyana’s for procurement of clothes and ‘stuff’(possibly those Nilla wafer things too, by the sounds of it). That had Mimic looking awkward and rubbing his neck like he thought he was out of his depth again, but he nodded through the frown. "Yeah, shit, she's been here all of half a day. We haven't had time to round up much of a damned thing for her." “It’ll come together,” Rachel interposed, gesturing toward Uncle Bobby briefly by way an example of her point, “Lots of people here to help you with that.” "Thanks, I'll check on that. I'll take all the help I can get, since I don't have a damned clue what I'm doing," the winged man added, before looking her way with a thing they could call a smile, "If it wasn't for Rachel, she'd probably be running around in one've my shirts." With a shake of her head and another slight grin she shared with Uncle Bobby before turning back on Hope’s dad, Rachel dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand. “Nah, Clarice and Kara would have insisted on one of Forge’s instead,” she pointed out. “No wing holes.” Plus looking at him, you’d have to guess that one of his shirts was probably going to be at least about twice as long as Hope, who was... ...aww, now there was a cute yawn, and a big stretch of her arms up toward her Daddy, who obliged the unspoken request by scooping his daughter up off of Rachel’s lap and into his own arms, where she snuggled in readily against his shoulder. "Yeah, she's gonna be out soon," he commented to Rachel as Hope settled herself against him, murmuring in ever decreasing little bursts of words, still half to Forge, who was ‘looking on’ in a sort of silent amusement through headspace, but at least half just to herself, or maybe back to bear now. "Wanna say good bye to Uncle Icedork?" [her dad asked Hope softly, and the little girl lifted her head up enough to wave a tiny goodbye. Repeating the words in sleepy smiling mode, then she leaned over to pat him once, before the lures of her father’s broad shoulder as the perfect pillow called her back to the world of yawns and babble that was rapidly losing anything like actual coherent content. It was a nice sight. One that could make you sad and happy all at once, given everything that happened, and for a moment, Rachel just watched it, seeing the past and the future and the present all together. Then she remembered herself. “Good to see a you, Uncle Bobby,” she told the pseudo uncle in question with a sincere smile that shaded to knowing after that as she added while waving her own goodbye, “Try not to let Uncle Johnny embarrass himself too much with his singing, huh?” If Scrapper and Uncle Ben weren’t there to do it for him, someone else was definitely going to have to step up to that. |
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| Iceman | Jan 26 2014, 08:07 PM Post #75 |
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Giving new meaning to "Freeze!" since 2007
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Despite the circumstances, he had to admit that it was pretty cool meeting Rachel. His "niece" (give or take a few dimensions) wasn't exactly what he would've expected of Scott and Jean's daughter (for one, he would've expected a whole lot younger, but Kit had explained that), but she had a great sense of humor and a knack for quick comebacks. He was attributing both to the influence of his other self, though he supposed Hank might've contributed as well. Obviously, he'd imparted a whole lot of knowledge during those Saturday mornings. And so, it came as no great surprise that when he jokingly told her to give him a call if Rankin found himself needing something, her retort was, “Ice in his underwear?” even if Calvin let out a pretty obligatory snort. "A specialty of mine," he assured her with a grin and a semi-serious nod. With any luck, she'd actually call him to provide that. After the incident earlier at the party, he was in good practice. That done, he turned his attention to the younger of his newly acquired nieces, giving her hat a little muss and laughing softly as she fixed him with a look worthy of her Mom and fixed her hat, despite the way the memory tugged at his heart. Still, he had uncle-ly duties to discharge, and he assured her that he'd be ready for Saturday morning. She looked as if that required serious consideration, which nearly made him laugh again except she looked so serious he was afraid he'd hurt her feelings if he did. "'Kay," she said finally with a decisive nod, then grinned and added, "Mets. My hat," That, he had to laugh at, and he nodded. "Definitely your hat, and I'll see if I can track down a ball, too," he promised, which reminded him that Hope might have a few other things she needed as well. Not much he could do with that (he was good for babysitting, but his acquisition skills were pretty limited), but he turned to Calvin, suggesting he might want to talk to Illyana. From what Kit had said, it sounded as if the demon sorceress/teleporter had been sent shopping for stranger things over the past few days. Some kids' clothes and stuff probably wouldn't be much of a stretch. Calvin rubbed at the back of his neck, his forehead furrowing as if he hadn't given any thought to the possibility his daughter might need a change of clothes. Which, to be fair, he probably hadn't, given the timeline, something he confirmed. "Yeah, shit, she's been here all of half a day. We haven't had time to round up much of a damned thing for her." “It’ll come together,” Rachel said, gesturing towards him for some reason. “Lots of people here to help you with that.” "Thanks, I'll check on that. I'll take all the help I can get, since I don't have a damned clue what I'm doing." Calvin added, and Bobby shrugged. "Like you ever have?" Bobby pointed out, smirking, then chuckled as Rankin pointed out that if it weren't for Rachel, Hope would probably be drowning in one of his shirts. Something Rachel contested, pointing out that the wing holes would be a problem and Forge's would've worked better (and probably been at least a little closer in size). "I can ask her the next time I see her," he offered. Given that a) Rankin looked pretty done in (and probably was) and that Illyana seemed to spend half her time with Kit anyway (an exaggeration, but not that much of one), he'd probably see her before the other guy would. "If she agrees, I'll send her your way and you can place orders or whatever."Meanwhile, either because she recognized she was being talked about or because she just wanted her dad, Hope was reaching out to be picked up, something Rankin did with a whole lot more of a comfort level than Bobby would've ever expected of the guy if he hadn't seen him doing it on and off since he'd arrived. "Yeah, she's gonna be out soon," he commented as Rachel settled her head on his shoulder, still muttering as if continuing her conversation with Forge, though Bobby was pretty sure Rachel'd long since stopped transmitting. "Wanna say good bye to Uncle Icedork?" and Hope picked her head up and waved at him sleepily. "Bye, Uncle Icedork," she said sleepily, and he reached out as she leaned forward to pat him on the shoulder, only to realize with relief that Calvin had it under control. "G'night, Hope," he said softly, reaching over to pat hers in return. "See you tomorrow." “Good to see a you, Uncle Bobby,” Rachel said, which sounded odd but probably described it pretty aptly from her perspective. She smiled and waved a little, then added, “Try not to let Uncle Johnny embarrass himself too much with his singing, huh?” "And who's going to save me from embarassing myself with mine?" he shot back with a grin, but nodded. "I'll do my best to drown him out, though, promise." After all, he sang better than Johnny did. Probably. Maybe. Some, at least. Turning back towards Calvin, his smile faltered a little, but on impulse, he reached out and gave the other man's shoulder a squeeze. "You'll do fine," he said sincerely, then jerked his head towards Hope and offered a smile that was a little more reassuring. "You are already." And with that, he directed one last wave at them all and headed for the door. The weirdest thing, he decided as he headed out into the hall, feeling more than a little bemused at the thought, was that Rankin actually was. (Continued for Bobby in Drink With Me) |
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Illyana seemed to spend half her time with Kit anyway (an exaggeration, but not that much of one), he'd probably see her before the other guy would. "If she agrees, I'll send her your way and you can place orders or whatever."
3:33 AM Jul 11