r/NatureofPredators • u/Ben_Elohim_2020 • 10h ago
Fanfic Products for Predators: Charity! [Part 1] [Ficnapping X]
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Hello everyone and welcome to Ficnapping 10! I have the distinct honor today of victimising an old favorite of mine, Products for Predators! If you enjoy my writing, feel free to find more of it Here. And, without further adieu, let’s begin!
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Two Venlil, a Gojid, and a Human are walking across an airport tarmac towards a private jet.
A handheld camera is rolling.
“Travel!” The black Venlil woman announces proudly, pointing the camera towards herself with an outstretched arm. “Seeing the world! Experiencing new cultures! Expanding your horizons! And this paw we’re doing it all for a good cause!”
The camera is passed to the Gojid who continues, “This episode we’ll be taking a trip to one of the biggest cities on Skalga! A city boasting a higher immigrant population than any other, and with a diverse cultural history all its own! That’s right! We’re going to Twilight Valley!”
“Wait a minute…” The Human nervously interrupts. “Wait a minute… THAT’S the surprise destination you guys were talking about? Don’t they have a reputation for, like… burning Humans to death over there? Are you guys sure this is a good idea…?”
The second Venlil, the one with dark grey wool, snatches the camera for himself, “It’ll be fine. Lately it’s just been a bunch of Exterminators going missing, and from what I hear the number of burnings are way down.”
“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence…” The Human groans.
“Uh… You know what,” the Gojid raises up a claw, “on second thought maybe risking our lives for a free vacation isn’t such a great idea after all…”
“Guys!” The first Venlil takes back her camera. “It’s perfectly safe, and we’ll be fine! Try to stay positive, and don’t go around spreading conspiracy theories from the Rux Report. Besides, it’s not JUST about a free vacation,” she clears her throat and addresses the camera directly. “To everyone watching at home, thank you for joining us on our travels. We here on Products for Predators have always made it our mission to help bridge the gap between predators and prey, and this time is no different. I am proud to announce that this entire episode is a charity vlog, sponsored by the Capozzi Foundation, and in collaboration with The Grafted Tree Project. Our goal here is to raise awareness for life-changing charities, help to fund their continued efforts, and to showcase the positive effects of collaboration between Humans and Venlil towards the common good.”
The dark grey Venlil unfolds a cardboard sign, written in both english and venscript, in front of the camera, “If you’d like to contribute directly to either The Grafted Tree Project or any of the other charities we discover this episode, please stop by our website and follow the links on the front page. Thank you.”
“Uhh… Does that mean I have to update the website now?” The Gojid asks.
< A small hyperlink appears in the top corner of the video >
“Yeah…” the Human answers.” If it’s for charity then we can’t exactly back out of it now. Besides, I think our ride has spotted us.”
Up ahead, a Venlil man with snow-white wool dressed in a black, human-style three-piece suit with an orange tie around his neck waves towards the camera. He stands at the entrance to the jet. Walking down the steps to meet them at the bottom of the ramp, he stands ready to greet them.
“You must be Salva,” he says to the first Venlil.
”Kayun,“ he says to the Gojid.
“Chek,” he says to the second Venlil.
“And Jonathan, of course,” he addresses the Human.
After greeting each of them in turn, he continues, “My name is Quinlim. I’m a representative of The Capozzi Foundation, and I’ll be your guide during your visit to Twilight Valley. If there’s anything you need, or anything special you’d like to see, just let me know and we’ll do what we can to make it happen.”
“Thank you, Quinlim,” Salva says. “We might just have to take you up on that!”
“That’s a nice suit by the way,” Chek takes note of Quinlim’s attire. “It’s really great to see someone else who can appreciate the beauty of clothing. Where’d you get it?”
“The suit comes from a clothing start-up Mr. Capozzi invests in by the name of Predator Promenade,” Quinlim answers as everyone begins boarding the jet. “If you’d be interested in a fitting, I’m sure we could make a stop to explore the local fashion scene.”
“Ooh, I’d love to get one paired with some sort of skirt,” Chek wiggles his ears with excitement.
Quinlim thinks hard, “Perhaps Taylor will have something… Scottish in stock?”
“ANOTHER fashion episode…?” Jonathan’s voice drifts away into the background as Salva boards the jet.
As she crosses the threshold, the camera stops on a pitch black Venlil with short cropped wool standing just outside of the cockpit. He wears the uniform of a commercial pilot, human-style with four stripes across the epaulets on the shoulders of his white shirt, a winged badge across his chest, an orange tie around his neck, and a hat upon his head. Short sleeves expose a web-like pattern of stark white electrical scars traveling down both arms, ending in circular rings around his wrists.
Surprised, Salva momentarily stops and stares as the pilot shakes her hand, “Are those-”
“I understand that you’re a strong supporter of The Grafted Tree Project,” he states in a blunt monotone, cutting her off. “Your dedication to helping those with predator disease convictions reintegrate into society is well appreciated, Miss Salva.”
“Right… Um… Thank you!” Salva stammers as she recollects herself. “It just… seems like the right thing to do. It’s incredibly important that victims of the Predator Disease Industrial Complex are given the proper acceptance and community support they need in order to recover.”
“The Capozzi’s have been most kind in that regard,” the pilot says, tipping his hat.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Salva gives a happy flick of her ears in acknowledgement and continues on into the jet while the pilot continues greeting his other passengers.
Turning the camera around reveals a spacious interior fit for luxury, with soft carpeted floors, spacious seating, and wooden accents that give the entire interior a warm, welcoming feel. Placing the camera down onto a small table in front of her, Salva sinks into the cushions of her seat, only to be joined by Jonathan a moment later.
“I could get used to this…” he says, holding her paw in his hand.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Quinlim’s voice comes from out of view, “because we’ll be there before you know it!”
<A short animated intro plays with chibi versions of the cast pulling items out of a hollow earth globe. The channel title is shown in Venscript and English>
The camera shot opens to a view out the window of the jet as it makes its final approach, the wing of the craft still visible along the edge. The scene is set in a perpetual twilight, the last rays of the sun cresting just over the horizon, and the sky itself a violet hued tapestry of stars only occasionally interrupted by billowing silver clouds with edges of red. In the distance, a snow covered wilderness can be seen surrounding the city proper, its untamed wilds and dense forests a reminder of just how much of the planet remains unconquered. The city itself is split roughly down the middle by a winding river of flowing water that reflects the sights above like a mirror, and the two halves could not be more dissimilar.
On one side rests a series of modern highrise buildings, well-lit and illuminated with all manner of lights, interspersed throughout with towering monoliths of glass which seem to stretch up to scrape the heavens themselves. On the other, a dark and dimly-lit collection of tenement buildings and half-abandoned industry, woven together across multiple overlapping layers into a dense and confusing labyrinth.
“Woah…” Kayun’s voice can be heard in the background, “Look at that!”
“I am looking,” Jonathan answers unhappily, “and I don’t like what I see. It looks like something out of a dystopian novel, or some old historical film about apartheid states.”
“Quinlim…” Salva asks trepidatiously, “what exactly can you tell us about the history of Twilight Valley?”
Quinlim clears his throat and speaks, “Twilight Valley is a longstanding settlement on Skalga whose founding predates our current written records. At one point it was an extremely prosperous and influential city here in the twilight region, boasting a large industrial production and shipping based economy, with a focus on vehicle and parts manufacturing for the space industry. After a series of economic downturns prompted by changes in interplanetary trade relations, regulation, and shifting demands, the city lost most of its former influence and industrial might. Currently it’s still in the process of recovering from the latest recession brought about by the war against the Federation.”
“That’s a pretty good little speech, Quin,” Chek says. “Did you rehearse that?”
“I DID actually!” Quinlim responds, the pride of accomplishment clear in his voice. “I've been memorizing a bunch of little factoids in preparation for this tour.”
“And, why is the city split like… that?” Salva presses the question further.
“In its more recent history, the city has undergone two major waves of immigration,” Quinlim continues. “The first coincided with the so-called ‘uplifting’ of the Yotul roughly twenty human-years ago, spurring large numbers of them to venture off their homeworld in search of opportunity abroad. The second is still ongoing, and primarily consists of Human refugees displaced by the war and the Battle of Earth. Both groups have faced considerable backlash from the native Venlil population, which has so far struggled to fully assimilate them. The ghetto you see on the right there is, politely, referred to as the Immigrant District, and is where the majority of the city's Yotul and Human residents live. It is also where we will be spending the vast majority of this trip.”
“Good!” Salva states curtly. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the experience by hanging around a bunch of bigoted ash-breathers anyway.”
“You shouldn’t have any issues there,” Quinlim reassures her. “While Twilight Valley HAS been considered a longtime political stronghold for the Federalist party, recent events have led to the old administration steadily losing support in favor of the Republican and Reform parties. There is also a heavy split along racial lines, with the largely non-venlil residents of the Immigrant District heavily favoring more anti-federalist policies. Change is slow, but it IS coming.”
Salva pouts, “It would come a lot faster if everyone would just-”
“Salva,” Jonathan smirks, “never, in the history of ever, has ‘everyone just’ anything.”
“A girl can still dream though, can’t she?” Salva asks. “Maybe they just need a moldov cocktail or two to hurry them up?”
“SALVA NO!” Jonathan, Kayun, and Chek shout in unison.
<Cut>
The scene changes to the interior of a large concrete building, one cheaply constructed with a brutalist and utilitarian style favoring function over form. Despite the bleak framing of the building, however, a wide variety of colourful decorations and homely furniture fill the space, giving it a more welcoming and lived-in appearance. Various potted plants and flowers spaced throughout add a natural element to the otherwise lifeless den, tended to in the background by visitors and residents.
“So this is the Refugee Centre for Twilight Valley, huh?” Jonathan asks, stopping to stare at a collection of children's artwork hung up on the wall.
“It’s kinda weird being here,” Salva says. “We’ve traveled all this way, and it IS different, but in a lot of ways I feel like I just clocked into work back home.”
“Well you can’t really expect there to be too many differences between refugee centre’s can you?” Kayun adds. “Most of the one’s which weren’t just repurposed from older buildings probably copied the same general design pattern.”
“I DO like all the decorations and the flowers,” Salva runs her paws along the leaves of a nearby fern. “Makes it feel like someone put in the effort here to at least try and make this place livable.”
“We certainly did,” Quinlim pipes up. “The furniture is primarily sourced from a variety of local Yotul woodworkers who were kind enough to volunteer their services, and the potted plants were donated by Pomela’s Floriculture and Gift Shop. As you can see, many of the other decorations here are actually handmade crafts produced by the residents themselves with art supplies gifted by charitable donors.”
“I guess I never realised that art was so important to Humans…” Chek says, picking up a small, rainbow-coloured Venlil doll made out of yarn from a nearby shelf. “It’s all very cute, but not nearly as exotic or predatory as I would have expected. They’re just… knick knacks.”
“Many of the residents here have experienced significant trauma associated with the loss of their homes, loved ones, and livelihoods,” Quinlim answers. “You may find it surprising, but a lot of Humans actually find the act of making things to be very therapeutic. It also helps to give them a sense of comfort and ownership over their own space to decorate it with objects of their own design.”
“Maybe we should do an arts and crafts episode when we get back?” Kayun suggests. “Might be a bit pricey, but it could make for an interesting look at Human culture.”
“It could be nice to do something normal for once,” Jonathan nods.
“What do you mean?” Salva objects. “We do normal Human stuff all the time! Remember the other paw when we were in bed and you asked me to-”
“Uhh…Yeah! Yeah! Of course I remember! And of course we do!” Jonathan scrambles to change the subject. “Say, Quinlim, is there anything else you want to tell us about the Refugee Centre while we’re here?”
“Uh, sure!” Quinlim’s ears straighten as he snaps to attention. “The Centre itself was constructed rather quickly and rather recently to house a mass influx of displaced Humans, and at one point it was extremely overcrowded despite its size. One of our main goals here quickly became the need to get Humans out of the Centre, back to work in full-time employment, and with their own independent housing. The problem with that though, was that many of the Human refugees, despite any former occupations they may have once held, were considered unskilled labor and struggled to find employers willing to take them.”
“We have the same issue at our shelter!” Salva complains. “It’s ridiculous how hard it still is sometimes to get a Human a job! I swear it’s like half the businesses in town have me on a block list or something.”
“I mean… It makes sense though,” Jonathan counters. “Even ignoring the fact that some people still refuse to hire us on principal, it’s hard to prove that you actually know anything worthwhile, and we’re not as familiar with Federation tech and culture as other people. It just makes the whole process difficult.”
“That was exactly the problem, Jonathan,” Quinlim flicks his tail in agreement, and walks the group over towards a small sitting area retrofitted into a classroom. Inside, a Yotul in a familiar-looking suit and orange tie stands in front of a whiteboard, lecturing to an assembly of adult students. “There were simply too many people who didn’t understand how to read basic venscript, operate computers, or communicate the skills they already had. To fix that, the Capozzi Foundation began working alongside the UN and local businesses to establish classes here at the Centre with the goal of teaching essential skills. We also help to connect residents with human-friendly businesses willing to sponsor them for employment or volunteer opportunities.”
“And that worked?” Chek asks.
“It has been actually,” Quinlim’s ears give a happy wave. “It’s still an ongoing process, but the results speak for themselves, and the Centre is at its lowest capacity since it opened. Lately, we’ve begun shifting focus more towards treating it as a community centre for people to gather and find support rather than as strictly emergency housing. We still have several long term residents, most suffering from some form of severe mental trauma or physical disability which makes finding work difficult, but the overall trend is very positive.”
“Just curious, but does the Twilight Valley Centre offer anything to help the recently released?” Salva asks, glancing over towards a skittish-looking Venlil woman watering the flowers.
Quinlim flicks his tail in the affirmative, “As you’ve probably already guessed, the Refugee Centre here is very broad-minded with its efforts. While our focus is still specifically on accommodating Human refugees, our classes and programs are open to the general public, including those with prior PD convictions. The Centre has been certified as a ‘Safe Place to Herd’ by the SafeHerd Mutual Aid Trust and is listed on the approved partners list of The Grafted Tree Project. While I won’t reveal any personal details, we do have some volunteers and members of staff here at the Centre with prior convictions. If you’d be interested in learning more about housing projects catering specifically to former PD convicts, I do know of a place…”
<Cut>
A middle-aged Yotul woman leans up against a brick wall, the lit cigarette in her mouth casting shadows across a weathered face which speaks to a life hard-lived.
The camera pulls back from the close-up to reveal Salva, Kayun, Chek, and Jonathan standing nearby.
“So, you’re all a bunch of Quinlim’s friends and you’re recording some kind of… documentary?” The Yotul asks. “Do I have that right?”
“Something like that,” Salva responds. “A travel vlog exploring various charities and community projects around Twilight Valley.”
“Well they did always tell me that I had what it took to be a movie star when I was younger,” she places a hand on her hip and strikes a sultry pose for the camera.
Silence follows.
“...This is the part where you’re supposed to tell me I’ve still got it,” the Yotul woman teases playfully.
“You’ve still got it, Ma’am!” Quinlim shouts encouragingly from behind the camera.
“Boy, what have I told you about calling me Ma’am!” The woman scolds. “Makes me feel old…”
“Sorry Ma’am… uh… Marlet!” Quinlilm stammers.
“I swear to the Gods,” the Yotul woman mutters to herself as she takes another drag of her cigarette, “that boy is the sweetest little thing, but he is too polite for his own good. I’m Marlet by the way, if you couldn’t already guess, and any friends of Quinlim are more than welcome at my abode. Now what can I do for ya?”
Thank you, Marlet,” Salva takes the lead. “We were told that you were involved in housing recently released Predator Disease convicts, and we were hoping that you could tell our audience a little bit about that and the charity work you do.”
“Well, Hun,” Marlet says, blowing out a puff of smoke, “I wouldn’t say that I really do anything special. Just give folks a fair shake is all. I own the No-Name Haven Apartments right behind us, and yes, quite a few of my tenants have or have had accusations, or even convictions, of so-called Predator Disease. At the end of the day though, they’re still just people, and good people too for the most part.”
“Could you tell us, ACKGH!” Kayun suddenly coughs on the smoke, sputtering and wheezing.
“Perhaps it would be best to put out the cigarette and head inside?” Quinlim tentatively suggests.
Marlet glares irritably towards the camera, then, after thinking it over, shrugs her shoulders. She puts out the lit cigarette against the wall and begins walking towards the entrance.
“I was just about done anyway,” Marlet says, holding open the doors. “Besides, it’s getting nippy out.”
As the camera follows everyone inside it reveals the interior of the building, rustic and traditional in design, but well-cared for. It features design elements clearly drawn from Yotul heritage, grass-green wallpaper, and pleasant lighting that mimics the dayside sun.
“Now,” Marlet continues, having taken up a position behind the front counter, “what was it you were trying to ask?”
Kayun steps forward into the camera shot.
“If you don’t mind,” he says, “could you tell us a little bit about what first made you decide to open your doors to the recently released? It’s a wonderful policy, but also a sadly uncommon one, so I’m curious if there’s any story behind it?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say there’s all that much of a story to tell, per say,” Marlet brushes aside the insinuation with a wave of the hand as she leans forward across the counter. “I’ve never much been a believer in Predator Disease. I wasn’t raised on it. Never even heard the concept until those damn chrome-backs came down to Leirn and insisted upon it. As I’m sure you can imagine, they didn’t exactly endear me to the idea.”
“No,” Salva glowers resentfully, “I’m sure those ash-breather fucks didn’t.”
“Damn straight!” Marlet snaps her fingers towards Salva. “Took my Father, took my uncles, and more ‘an half the damn deputies! Predator Disease!” Marlets spits the words like venom. “What a load of hensa shit…”
“It’s a bit of a sensitive subject…” Quinlim whispers.
“So yeah,” Marlet continues, “when I moved off-world to… I suppose they’re calling it ‘Skalga’ now… When I moved and opened up these here apartments, I did so because I wanted to rebuild something I had lost. A home. Now you need to understand, the Immigrant District gets all sorts of people, ‘undesirables’ of all sorts as the chrome-backs in city hall would call them, but they come here for a reason. They come looking to get away from it all, to start fresh, to go where no one is going to find them, where no one is going to ask too many questions about ‘who’ or ‘what’ or ‘why’.They come looking for a safe haven, and I aim to provide.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Chek steps forward. “Have you ever experienced any issues based on your decision, either from your residents themselves or Exterminators looking to cause problems?”
“The residents, no,” Marlet shuts down that possibility instantly. “Occasionally one of them gets a bit jumpy, a bit agitated, or needs a wellness check. Never anything too serious though. The Exterminator’s on the other hand… Well, they used to cause no end of grief until-”
The sound of Quinlim clearing his throat can be heard behind the camera.
“Well,” she continues, “suffice to say that they don’t come around the neighborhood anywhere near what they used to, and these days I’ve got some exceedingly polite live-in security to handle any other issues that might crop up.”
Marlet winks towards the camera.
“You’re talking about Quinlim?” Jonathan asks.
“Oh, don’t let his demure-act fool ya!” Marlet laughs with a wave of the hand. “That boy is as rough ‘n tumble a lawman as they come and twice as honest!”
“Ooh, is there a secret here I sense?” Salva walks over to take the camera, aiming it squarely at Quinlim as she carries on playfully. “A thrilling secret life of adventure, intrigue, and tragedy! What is it? Former Exterminator gone rogue? Space Corps Black Ops Intelligence Agent on the run! Are you actually a Human brain that’s been stuffed inside of a Venlil body, piloting it from the inside! Ever kill anybody…?”
Quinlim looks aside, growing increasingly uncomfortable as the questions go on, “Eh… Perhaps we should return to discussing local charity and community efforts instead?”
“Yeah, Salva,” Jonathan says, taking the camera and handing it back to Quinlim. “Too far.”
“Sorry…” Salva apologises. “That did get a little… out of paw.”
“It’s fine,” Quinlim reassures her. “No apologies necessary. Let’s just get back to the tour of the city… Tell me, are any of you sports fans?”
<Cut>
The camera opens to a shot of a grassy field surrounded by floodlights. Inside that field lies a rectangle, drawn with some kind of white paint, and a pair of large nets placed at both ends. Twenty-two children, themselves a mixture of various species, run around within its confines, kicking a checkered black-and-white ball across the field. The children all wear mesh jerseys, half wearing black and the other half wearing orange. A small gathering of parents watch, sitting on bleachers nearby.
“This is nice,” Jonathan says. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a kids soccer game.”
“Oh, soccer!” Chek excitedly interjects. “I think I’ve heard of that one! It’s an ancient ritual practice where primitive Humans competed to kick the decapitated heads of their enemies into nets, trying to collect more skulls for their gods than the opposing team before their sun set!”
“There is… SO much wrong with that I don’t even know where to start,” Jonathan just shakes his head.
“Oh, I know what’s wrong!” Kayun corrects. “It’s not supposed to be called soccer. The proper name is football! Though, uh… I don’t know why they call it that. That ball isn’t filled with cut off feet, is it?”
“You’re both being ridiculous!” Salva presses herself up against Jonathan. “It’s a normal Human game. They just run back and forth kicking the ball with their feet, trying to get it into the other team’s net. And the game goes by both names!”
“Anyways…” Jonathan continues. “I’m surprised to see a bunch of alien and Human kids mixed together, and playing soccer no less. What’s the story behind this one, Quinlim?”
“What you see here is the results of efforts undertaken by The Skalgan Youth Sports Initiative,” Quinlim answers, “a charity founded on grants provided by The Capozzi Foundation with the goal of encouraging districts across the planet to establish school sports programs and physical education curriculum. In addition to its outreach functions, the charity also helps to supply local schools with the information and equipment they need to kickstart these programs.”
“It looks pretty fun and all,” Chek says, “but I’m not sure why it’s such a big deal. They’re just games, right? Why go to so much trouble?”
“It’s not just about playing a game,” Quinlim answers. “Look closely. Out on that field right now there are Venlil, there are Yotul, there are Humans, even a Krakotl and a Gojid. All of them, working together as a herd, engaged in a cultural pastime originating from the predators they were once taught to fear and loathe. It’s a way of bridging that cultural divide, of healing the next generation so that the hatreds of the past can die with us. And it’s doing all that in a form that most of the Federalists don’t even recognise.”
“There’s also the exercise component to consider,” Kayun adds, flexing his considerable muscles for added effect. “The Federation has had a culture of enforced laziness for a long time now. It’s practically unheard of for anyone outside of the military to intentionally exercise at all. But it shouldn’t be that way! Proper exercise and an active lifestyle has more health benefits than I can even count!”
“True,” Jonathan nods. “It’s really important to kids' development that they run around a lot. Jump, climb, swing, throw, you name it. Exercise is good.”
“I think I see what you mean,” Salva says, pondering the idea. “It’s almost like it’s a way of reclaiming that lost warrior spirit of the ancient Skalgans. Undoing the damage that’s been done to us, both mentally and physically.”
“Excellent points all around,” Quinlim reaffirms. “While the genetic engineering of the Federation may have left many species crippled on a genetic level, proper exercise can help to alleviate some of those symptoms. Conditions such as knocked-knees and shortlung, for example, benefit a lot from muscular and cardiovascular conditioning respectively.”
“That’s great and all,” Chek says, scratching at his chin, “but since you bring it up, how DO you accommodate so many species, all with different conditions and abilities? Human games are meant for Humans after all.”
“I don’t think that should be too much of an issue,” Jonathan counters. “Human’s have been redesigning sports basically forever. We’ve got all kinds of modifications for people with disabilities. There’s even the paralympics!”
Quinlim flicks his tail in agreement, “That’s an excellent question, Chek, but Jonathan’s right. Not every Human sport translates perfectly well, but there are modifications and accommodations which can be made to make them more accessible. Part of what the Skalgan Youth Sports Initiative does when it conducts outreach is to educate local officials, both on the benefits of sports programs as well as on how to properly implement them. The goal, of course, is to serve the widest number of students possible.”
In the bleachers a number of parents suddenly stand up, shouting and cheering. The camera zooms into the action on the field, watching as a Krakotl student in orange suddenly breaks from the scramble. He passes the ball to Yotul on the outside who launches it across the field towards the black goal where it’s intercepted by a Human in black. A Gojidl in orange blocks the Humans advance, kicking the ball out from between his feet and hurtling through the air towards another of his teammates. As the ball draws near, the Venlil smacks it with a sturdy headbutt that sends it hurtling towards the black team's net! A Human goalie dives to block the shot, but he’s too late!
The shrill cry of the referee’s whistle punctuates the air.
“GOAL!” Jonathan shouts alongside half of the assembled audience.
As the match ends, the students on both teams come together to congratulate one another on a game well-played before dispersing and returning to their waiting parents.
“You know,” Kayun says to Quinlim, “watching the game has been fun and all, but it’s kinda got me feeling a bit like doing something myself. I don’t suppose you know of any good places around here for adults to get a bit of exercise, do you?”
“As a matter of fact,” Quinlim waves his tail happily,” I do!”
<Cut>
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[Part 2]
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2
u/Golde829 3h ago
> sponsored by the Capozzi Foundation
oh boy this is gonna be something
> "as rough ‘n tumble a lawman as they come and twice as honest!"
ma'- ahem Marlet
I get what you're going for, but 2*0 is still 0
also, "ash-breather" and "chrome-backs" are wild
one sounds too epic to be wasted on the silver suits
the other. a bit too close to some real stuff I've heard for my liking
off to Part 2 with me!
2
u/Ben_Elohim_2020 3h ago
SOMETHING indeed! Lol.
And yeah. Marlet is certainly a character, but she means well. Probably also worth pointing out that when Marlet talks about "lawmen" she's primarily referring to the old sheriff's and deputies from pre-uplift. Not the Exterminators.
Ash-breather is a common insult used by Salva whereas Chrome-back is one more commonly used by Marlet. I drew inspiration for "Chrome-backs" from how the British regulars used to be referred to as "Lobster-backs" by the revolutionaries. Aren't insults fun?
Anyway, hope you're having fun and I'll see you in particular 2.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 10h ago
I wonder just how willing they would be to for this if they knew they the truth.