AN: Alright, you guys know the words to this song, so sing along. This story started off as something of a joke, but then Auto bullied me into developing it into a full chapter. Possibly the first in a new series. So if you don't like it, he's the one you blame :)
"And with that, I'll see you all Friday. Class is dismissed."
The second his professor had begun to utter the sacred words, Lincoln had already slung his backpack over his shoulder begun pivoting in his seat, aiming right for the classroom door. At their conclusion, he was already barreling for the exit. Technically speaking, he was violating the class rules by making a run for it before class had actually ended, but arguably the thrust of pre-law was to educate students in the manipulation and circumvention of such rules. So the way he saw it, being called upon to explain such behavior was just an opportunity to test what he'd been learning.
Lincoln felt his phone twitching in his pocket, and though he instinctively began to reach for it, he quickly pushed down that impulse, focusing on navigating the myriad obstacles, both sentient and otherwise that littered his path. Odds were pretty good it was one of the guys asking him to hang out, and while he'd love nothing more than to do so, especially on a Friday, the fact of the matter as that Friday classes extended well into the afternoon. And that meant that Lincoln needed to get back to his apartment, ASAP.
As he approached his favored exit, a side entrance that would deposit him right onto the street, and start him at the most direct path to his home, Lincoln stopped to catch his breath, psyching himself up. He'd done this literally a million times before, plus or minus a few thousand. He could do this. The most important thing to do, was to keep moving. Thus sufficiently psyched up, Lincoln clasped the door handle in one hand, checked his backpack straps one last time, making sure his cargo was properly secured against his person, and pushed, entering the exiting into the outside world.
Three steps from the door, Lincoln heard the noise and instinctively leapt to the side. Only moments later a heard of some kind of giant, lizard-like creatures rushed by, their collective velocity and mass sufficient enough that they would have pancaked his squishy, human frame had he been only a little slower. Were they dinosaurs? Lincoln was inclined to say "yes", they certainly looked the part, but he was also pretty sure that dinosaurs were supposed to have feathers now. Regardless, he flipped off the herd, and was only mildly surprised when a scaled appendage reached out from the middle of the group and returned the gesture. There was a gladiator fight going on just down the street (either historical, or one of those future-retro deals, he couldn't tell from this distance), and something remarkably UFO-like floating in the sky, briefly blocking out the sun as it passed overhead. It was honestly more exhausting than it was worth to be surprised by the things one ran into on a daily basis these days, much easier to just roll with the punches. Literally, if need be.
As best as scientists could determine, an event had occurred some two-decades prior that had drastically altered the nature of reality. The rapidly growing field of "super science" (not to be confused with "super, science", and entirely different field of study) had provided a slightly more cohesive explanation, narrowing down the event to "something quantum. Probably." Regardless, that was when the world as they had known it had forever changed. That, was when the rise of metahumans began.
Lincoln came to a stop as he reached the street corner, jogging in place so he'd be ready to to resume his route the instant the crosswalk gave him the go ahead. Glancing to his left, he could see a pair of Samurai. One classic, feudal japan flavor, and one appearing to be some kind of technologically enhanced deal, both engaged in spirited debate, yet each clutching his respective sword a bit too tightly for Lincoln's taste. Undoubtedly there was a fascinating story behind this odd relationship. Still, Lincoln knew better than to get involved. Stanly's Law said that the more metas that gathered in one place, the more likely something fantastical was likely to happen, and as far as he was concerned, "fantastical" was often more trouble than it was worth. The light changed and Lincoln sprinted off. The ground below him was briefly illuminated by a bright flash of sapphire energy, but he didn't spare the time to look behind him. "Just keep going." He urged himself. "You're almost there."
"Metahuman" was a short-hand, catch all term for any human who had been augmented to possess extraordinary abilities in some way. Some varieties were more common than others. There were folks who'd found themselves a mystical artifact, or garnered the attention and subsequent blessing of a trans-dimensional being. Others found themselves exposed to strange chemicals, or scientific procedures that induced powers in them, while others still were simply born with natural abilities, or enough intelligence or creativity to produce something that would give them those abilities. The tapestry that was the world's metahuman population ran the gamut from all conceivable angles, and while there had been a time when such people were fairly rare, by the time of Lincoln's childhood, statistics suggested that roughly one in every five persons achieved metahuman status before they reached adulthood. Lincoln hated that statistic. It certainly sounded nice on paper, but was significantly harder to swallow when you weren't part of that metric.
"Woooooooooo! I can flyyyyy!"
Lincoln broke his stride as a vaguely human shaped looking blur rocketed rocketed overheard, frowning at the mild disturbance. A new meta presumably. No jet exhaust, which tended to rule out artificial means. More likely than not, that meant the dope had just lucked into his new abilities. Fantastic. Lincoln shook his head, pushing down the familiar twinge of envy deep within his heart, and resumed his journey. There wasn't time to dwell on what a ridiculous, statistical outlier he really was, he had to keep moving.
Seeing his apartment building finally come into view, Lincoln doubled his efforts, pumping his legs even harder. Generally, Lincoln tried to arrange his schedule in such a way that his classes finished fairly early in the day. Friday was the very frustrating exception. His Civil Procedures class only met once a week, and for a fairly lengthy period towards the middle of the day. This meant that Lincoln was forced to be out and about well into the afternoon, and that was a terrible, terrible thing. Because more often than not this was the time when—
—All that fantastical meta stuff...tended to come to a head. Lincoln sighed, shaking his head forlornly as the gigantic, vehicle-sized boot that had crashed into the ground, blocking that last, tiny stretch before he'd reached the safety of home.
Well, this was frustrating. The forecast had called for Vikings, and Lincoln had been fairly optimistic that he'd been able to make it home unmolested. After all, vikings typically traveled in boats, and he didn't live anywhere near water.
The sound of drumbeats drew his attention back the way he'd come. There they were, longboats and all, somehow rowing their way up solid concrete. That was equal parts strange, but somehow expected. More importantly, it meant should have avoided the worst of today's chicanery. So that left the uncomfortable question of what this thing was...
Lincoln flinched as a loud, but undeniably feminine voice boomed from above. And again when a second gigantic foot crashed down to join the first. At this point, he seriously considered trying his luck with the vikings. However, much to his surprised, the giant feet immediately compressed inward, re-configuring themselves into a fairly normal sized set of dainty, female feet. Albeit, ones which each still had an inhumanly long leg still attached, stretching high into the sky. With a sound not unlike that of soda being slurped through a straw, the legs began to retract into the footwear.
"Look out below!"
Instinctively, Lincoln took a step back, which had the unintended side effect of allowing him a better vantage to view the process. It was at this point that Lincoln caught what appeared to be a human torso, rapidly plummeting towards the ground.
And then it was over. Where the pair of ginormous feet had been situated only moments earlier, now standing before Lincoln was a fairly tall, but otherwise normal-sized youg woman.
"Ta dah?" She announced, hesitantly throwing her arms to the side, like a magician announcing his latest trick was now complete.
"I'm sooooo sorry." Said the girl, clasping her hands in front of her. "I didn't see you down there. Honest!"
Lincoln considered himself a good judge of character. He had to be, it was literally life and death in this city. The girl standing before him stood a few inches taller than he did, short, black hair curled upward adorning tanned, freckle-flecked face She absolutely reeked of sincerity, which was somewhat surprising, but undoubtedly welcomed. More telling was her outfit; thick white gloves and boots worn over simple white spandex, the only adornment of note being a red starburst emblazoned upon her chest. While she enjoyed the slender, buxom hourglass figure that was commonplace among young female metas, she carried herself in a rather conservative manner; legs kept close to each other, arms never wandering too far from her center of mass, presumably to avoid drawing attention to just how form fitting the ensemble was. In short, the make of her outfit and the hesitancy of her stance spoke volumes. He was dealing with a rookie. And not a particularly confident one.
"I'm sorry." She yelped, her face slowly beginning to redden. It occurred to Lincoln that he'd been staring at her for the duration of his analysis without actually saying anything. Lincoln opened his mouth to reassure her that he was fine, if out of politeness if nothing else. After all, it's not like he could do anything about nearly being stepped on. However, he wouldn't get the chance.
"I'm Stella." The girl continued, her voice just a bit too exuberant, her tone just a little too desperate. "Stella Zhau."
Lincoln blinked in confusion. "Uh..." he began.
"And you were probably expecting me to give you my superhero name." Stella continued, growing increasingly nervous. "Which...probably would have...made...a lot more...sense..."
To Lincoln's surprise, the spandex clad girl began to shrink, growing smaller with every word. By the time she'd finished trailing off, she was only about a foot tall, by his estimation.
"You...uh, you okay down there?" Lincoln asked, not entirely certain how to deal with this unique brand of weirdness."
"Yeah!" Stella called up, her voice considerably more high pitched than before. "Gimme a second."
Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, when the strange girl suddenly seemed to spring upward, immediately returning to her original size. He promptly closed his mouth, having lost any trail of thought he might have had.
"That was weird, right?" Stella said, tittering nervously. "Sorry about that. My powers run off my emotions. So sometimes when I get really self conscious...that happens."
"But only sometimes?" Lincoln asked, trying to grasp at any form of rhyme or reason.
"Y-yeah." She nodded. "Its about fifty-fifty. Other times—"
Lincoln looked in the direction of the unfamiliar voice, only to be met with the image of half of a flaming car plummeting straight towards him. Before he could properly react to his imminent peril, Stella literally sprung into action, leaping in front of him. Lincoln made to call out to the girl, only to have the words catch in his throat as she instantly tripled in size—
—And batted away the flaming wreckage with her super sized hands, as easily as a kitten might batter a ball of yarn.
"...THAT." She boomed, her voice now several octaves deeper. "SOMETHING MORE LIKE...THAT...HAPPENS"
"I...see." Lincoln replied, noncommittally. Once more, Stella shrank back to her normal size, save for her hands, which remained gigantic.
"Ta da?" She repeated, giving him a little jazz hands with the supersized appendages. And in spite of himself, Lincoln laughed. This girl was weird. Very weird. But...strangely adorable.
The spell was broken as a high pitched whining pierced the air. Stella spun around once more and held her still tremendous hands out, forming a protective barrier in front of Lincoln.
FWIP FWIP FWIP
And none too soon, as a barrage of metallic shrapnel began to pelt the fleshy barrier. Fortunately, the meta girl appeared unharmed.
"Listen..." Lincoln said, glancing around nervously. "As fun as this is, you're clearly busy. So I think I'm gonna head out. Uh, Stella."
"Sure thing." She replied, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, uh..."
"Lincoln." He said, instinctively sticking his hand out, before immediately retracting it, realizing how stupid of an idea that would be at this time. "Lincoln Loud."
"Cool!" With that, Stella turned her head around, her neck contorting until it had managed to turn a full 360 degrees, allowing Lincoln full view of the superheroine's smiling face.
"So..." She ventured, swallowing audibly. "I guess I'll see you around?"
Lincoln couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Sure." He replied, nodding with an enthusiasm that surprised even him. "Definitely."
"Awesome!" Stella turned back to the fight, and resumed her blocking duties. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get in safely!"
Not wanting to impress upon her more than he needed to, Lincoln dashed up the steps to his apartment complex and shut the door behind him, sparing one last glance out the peep hole, catching a glimpse of Stella punching a giant robot straight in the face. Metas could be intensely infuriating to deal with, but Stella, at least, was pretty cool.
...It was a shame he'd never gotten her superhero name.
Lincoln returned to his apartment and let out a loud, sigh of relief. Happy, accidental meeting with that Stella girl notwithstanding, he was glad to be home. The post-meta city of Royal Woods was a weird, and often terrifying place for normal people like himself, and it was incredibly relieving to be safe and sound once more. Now he could settle in for the night, and try to enjoy himself.
Flinging his backpack aside, Lincoln busied himself with preparations for the evening. He put a simple pot of pasta to boil, threw some greens in a salad bowl to be tossed later, then went about showering and changing out of his sweat-stained day clothes. The happy burbling of his pasta pot greeted him as he returned to the kitchen, now comfortably dressed for an evening in, and he finished his chore by tossing some store-bought sauce into the mixture, stirring well. It wasn't anywhere near dad's cooking, but it was good enough for what his budget would allow. Not like he could go home, anyway. Now all that was left was to find something bingeworthy on tv, and settle in—
BAM BAM BAM
—For the night. Lincoln let out a long, laborious sigh. He could almost hear the interruption coming. Lincoln glared at the front door. He had no idea who it could possibly be, and that worried him a bit. Maybe if he just played it cool, whoever it was would get the hint and continue upon their—
BAM BAM BAM BAM
Well, so much for that. Lincoln set his meal aside and trudged towards the door. He clasped the nob in his hand, and gave it a good twist, pulling the door open while silently praying it was just some asshole trying to sell him something.
"It's not a salesperson." Lincoln's brain helpfully informed him as he found himself staring into a well-muscled, torso, clearly visible against the red and white fabric wrapped around it. Instinctively, Lincoln stepped backwards and began to crane his neck upward...and upward...and further upward still. Standing before him, barely able to fit in the hallway, even slightly stooped over as she was, stood a vision of beauty unlike any that one so mundane as Lincoln was likely to see in his life. The woman was easily eight feet tall with shapely, yet powerful arms and legs bare to the world, her her red and white leotard visibly struggling to contain the sheer amount of woman that was currently packed into the comparatively tiny hallway. A wild, mane of chestnut hair rolled down her voluptuous backside, splaying over her powerful shoulders and cresting upon her large, but undeniably soft, comfortable looking breasts. She was the very image of an amazon warrior, or perhaps a Valkyrie come from Valhalla, and Lincoln had little doubt that any other man, and quite a few women besides, would have already prostrated themselves before the veritable goddess that had appeared on his doorstop.
"How's it going, Stinkoln?" She said, cheerfully.
Lincoln wasn't most people, however, and happily allowed the door to slam shut on his uninvited guest. Because most people weren't related to superheroine extraordinaire, La Furiosa. More commonly known to him as his overbearing, and very much estranged big sister, Lynn Loud.
There was a brief, fleeting moment in which Lincoln hoped that his act of defiance might actually mean something. He hadn't seen Lynn in years. Surely that was enough time for her—
"Open the door, Lincoln." A distressingly familiar voice growled from the other side of the portal.
—to remain exactly as abrasive as he remembered. That tracked entirely too well with his expectations.
"Go away, Lynn." He said, flatly.
Lincoln resisted the urge to facepalm as Lynn simply tore the door off its hinges, and stepped into the apartment.
"Ahhh." She sighed, taking advantage of the slightly higher ceiling to stretch out to her full height. With little ceremony, the slammed the door back in its place.
"Good as new." She said, nodding proudly to herself, even as the door immediately began to slip from the frame, thankfully catching on something before it crashed to the ground entirely.
"It's fine, Linc." He tried to assure himself. "That's what deposits are for."
"Did you seriously think you could just shut the door on me?" Lynn scoffed as she strolled past her brother, plopping her tremendous frame down on Lincoln's couch. He tried not to wince too visibly as the couch springs strained audibly.
"I'd hoped I could." He confessed, glowering at the older girl. "What the the heck are you doing here, Lynn?"
"What?" She asked, innocently. "Can't a girl drop in to see her favorite brother every now and then?"
"It's been years since we've seen each other. You're not the type who just 'pops in'. What do you want?"
"Impatient as always." The amazon muttered, rolling her eyes. "Can't even be happy to see..." She trailed off, sniffing the air, first with suspicion, then with undeniable interest.
"That dinner?" Lynn asked, her mood peaking visibly.
"It was." Lincoln admitted, seeing no point in hiding.
"Then per your gracious invitation, i would be happy to stay for dinner." Lynn announced, slapping her knee with enthusiasm. "Bring on the grub, Linc!"
"This is pretty dang good, little bro." Lynn mumbled as she slurped down the last of her pasta. Wordlessly, Lincoln spooned another serving onto her plate, and the superheroine resumed her meal.
"Thanks. It was going to be mine." He grumbled, staring forlornly at his war torn kitchen. He'd already had to whip up a few more batches. Lynn had always been a hearty eater, and the dramatic changes her body had undergone after the...incident, had only exacerbated things. Not for the first time, Lincoln shook his head, powerful feelings of frustration welling up within. One in five people sounded like pretty good odds when you were one of eleven ids. It was a statistical nightmare that he'd somehow manage to dodge a meta empowering event of such magnitude that it spared him and him alone. As opposed to any of his sisters. Or the friends they'd had in attendance. Or even some of the local wildlife.
"Worst camping trip ever." He grumbled to himself.
"You say something bro?" Lynn asked around a mouth full of noodles.
"Yeah." He said, rounding on what he'd hoped was a now fed superheroine. "What are you doing here? I thought you were doing a stint with that one team up in Great Lakes City..."
"The Super Acquaintances." She interjected, settling back into her chair and patting her cheese-grater like stomach. "Yeah, that was...a thing, for a while." She blinked in surprise, and something seemed to occur to her. "Wait, how'd you know about that?"
"I keep tabs on you." He said, shrugging as he took his seat across from Lynn. "All of you, actually. It's not like it's hard, you're al pretty big deals."
"Even..." She prompted.
"Yeah, even them.' He nodded. Headlines were headlines, regardless of who they were about, media outlets were just hungry for content. Pieces about heroes tended to garner the most attention, but in a pinch, most were happy to make due with alternatives. Even stories about villains.
"Huh." Lynn mused, uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Well, yes, I did. And things were going...pretty well..."
"Putting an uncomfortable pause in your sentence is a sure sign of sincerity." Lincoln snarked.
"Shut up." Lynn grumbled, flinging a fork at him.
Lincoln looked at the small, fork shaped hole that now adorned his wall. Then to his sister.
"I'll pay for that." She said quickly, smiling nervously.
"Aaaaaanyway." Lynn announced in an overly exaggerated fashion, presumably to prevent Lincoln from getting a word in. "The short version is I left the group because of creative differences."
"What kind of differences." He asked, suddenly suspicious.
"Nothing worth getting into." Lynn said shrugging indifferently. "A lot of things happen in the middle of a high end meta fight. A historic bridge might have been involved, something about "excessive force" and "property damage"—"
"Wait." Lincoln interjected. "How historical are we talking?"
"My legal team had advised me to against answering that." She replied blandly. "Also to deny knowing what a bridge is."
Lincoln stared at his sister for a few moments, trying to process this. Discretely, he began inching one hand towards the tv remote, it suddenly having occurred to him that big meta news was pretty much guaranteed to stay in the news cycle for some time. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough.
"Oops." Lynn said with a complete lack of sincerity as she snatched up the remote and gave it a little squeeze, crushing it into a mesh of warped plastic and electronics.
"...Must have been some bridge." Lincoln deadpanned.
"I can't confirm or deny that." Lynn said quickly. "Also, what's a bridge? Also, don't tell me, I'm not supposed to know."
"Lynn!" He barked.
"Point is, my PR team decided it would be best if I found a place to lay loooo—I mean, took some much needed time off. And so, here I am!" She held out her hands, grandly.
"Here you am...what?" Lincoln asked, dread creeping down his spine.
"Your new roommate, stupid." Lynn exclaimed, reaching across the table and yanking him close. "And I just know you're stoked!"
"Totally." Lincoln squeaked, despair intermingling with the spine-shattering pain he was now suffering from Lyn's show of affection.
"What the heck are you talking about?" Lynn barked, throwing a handful of cards down on the table. "That thing is toast!"
"No, it's not." Lincoln replied, gesturing at the cards arrayed on the tabletop. "Adaptive plating means that Omnitron is immune to whatever type of damage he was last hit with. You attacked him last turn, so he's still immune to melee damage."
"That's bullshit!" Lynn stood up, flexing her prodigious arms. "I've fought robots exactly like this! I know what I'm talking about!" She snatched up one her discarded cards, which depicted a well-muscled Maori warrior on its face. "If this guy's even half as strong as he looks, there's no way some stupid plate is gonna stop him from carving that stupid thing's guts out!"
"Well, be that as it may, Lynn, that's how the game is played."
"it's a stupid game!" Lynn collapsed down in her seat, pouting. "Why are we even playing this? It's nothing like a real fight!"
"Because you broke the remote." Lincoln said, dryly. "So anything involving the tv is out. Which pretty much leaves this..." He gestured at the table once more. "OR...reading, basically."
Lynn stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I will graciously concede your point."
"I'm so happy."
"Alright." Lynn slapped the tabletop, mercifully remembering to pull her blow at the last second, and narrowly avoiding a repeat of what happened with the coffee table. Well, his former coffee table. "Set it up again, Linc. This time I'll get him for sure."
"Actually..." Lincoln trailed off as he glanced at the clock. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, Lynn. It's pretty late."
"Oh.." There was a flash of...something in the older girl's eyes. A brief moment of uncharacteristic weakness. Probably just the day catching up with her. It certainly sounded like she'd been through a lot.
"Come on." He said, standing up. "Let me show you to your room." He didn't bother to look behind him, his sister's heavy footfalls serving to signify that she was behind him. He guided Lynn down the short hallway, and opened a door at the end.
"Here you go." He said, stepping aside so she could move past him. She did so, with no small amount of difficulty.
"Oh..." Lynn murmured softly. "This is...your room, isn't it?"
"It is." Lincoln nodded. Not like there was any point in hiding it. The stacks of comic books and gaming paraphernalia was a pretty dead giveaway.
"A-and you only have the...one...bed." Lynn continued, swallowing loudly. She turned back towards him, fidgeting slightly. "Gotta say...I wasn't expecting this from you Sti—" She coughed softly. "Lincoln."
He shrugged indifferently. "Just part of being a good host." He gestured towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable."
Lynn glanced to the bed, then back to him. The process repeated several times, each time her body language growing a little more erratic. It was a strange look for his normally suicidally confident sister. Finally, Lynn seemed to reach some kind of decision. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room, and gently lowered herself onto the bed, rolling over and turning back towards him, her pose oddly provocative.
"Okay." She said at last. "I'm ready."
"...Alright." Lincoln replied, trying not to let his confusion show. He leaned back and gestured down the hallway. "Bathroom's right there, shower too. I'll be on the couch if you need anything." He waited, expecting some kind of acknowledgement, but Lynn said nothing. She merely lay there, staring at him with a strange, blank look in her eyes.
"Lynn?" He asked, snapping his fingers, trying to prompt a response. But none was forthcoming. Finally, he shrugged, stepped back out into the hallway, and closed the door, letting Lynn have her privacy.
"Metas." He muttered, rolling his eyes as he trudged back up the hallway. "Sisters too."
Lincoln's couch was cheap, thin thing, designed for tv binges and gaming marathons, not for sleeping. Doubly so once his oversized sister had put unnecessary stress on it. Still, exhaustion was a powerful thing, and after the day he'd had, he possessed an abundance of that. Slowly but surely, his tossing and turning began to slow, and soon Lincoln began to find himself drifting off to sleep. He'd had a long, hard day. And Lynn's presence was only going to complicate things. But he could worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, he would sleep.
Lincoln wasn't sure how long he'd managed to sleep, but he found himself stirring as his blankets were stripped away from him. Blinking his sleep blurred eyes, he was barely able to make out a large figure looming over him.
"Guh?" He mumbled, ad powerful arms plucked him from his spot, and lifted him into the air.
"Shh." Said a familiar voice. The figure pulled him close, cradling him against her body, and Lincoln immediately found himself at ease once more. Moreso than he had been before.
It wasn't long before Lincoln found himself gently being down once more. His new resting place considerably softer than his previous one. Moments later, he felt a great weight settle down beside him, those same arms pulling him into a surface that was somehow even softer still.
"Night, little bro." Lynn murmured, giving Lincoln a kiss on the cheek before laying her head down to rest next to his own.
"Night, Lynn." Lincoln mumbled, leaning fully into his big sister. It might have been the warmth, the supreme comfort, the sleep deprivation, or all of the above, but he found himself strangely accepting of these new accommodations. In a city which constantly found new ways to terrify him on a daily basis, Lincoln Loud had never found himself feeling quite so safe, nor secure, as he did in that moment, cradled against his big tonight, he decided, he would allow himself to enjoy that small peace.
Lincoln had almost managed to drift off to sleep when one, niggling thought about the feel of his new sleep partner finally pierced the fog of sleep that was enshrouding his brain.
"Lynn?" He slurred, trying to pull his face away from the tantalizing softness of Lynn's cleavage. '"Are you...naked?"
"Don't worry about it, little bro." She murmured, kissing him on the top of his head. "Just go to sleep."
"Kay." And for the first time in his life, Lincoln listened to his big sister. Almost entirely of his own volition.
AN: The card game Lynn and Lincoln are playing is real, and one of my favorites. It's called Sentinels of the Multiverse. Seemed like a fun thing to throw in there, given the circumstances. Also, I'm cross posting my stuff to AO3 now, and I also have a twitter, which I mostly use for posting Loud House gifs I make. Just making conversation, it's 3am and I get weirdly chatty when I'm sleep derived.