Fer8girl, the wild weasel

I mean, sure, most don’t expect the denizens of the Underworld to be gainfully employed, but we can’t just prop up our feet(hooves, claws, whatever…) and relax. Hell is expensive! They weren’t lying when they said money was root of all evil, and after leaving my old job I didn’t have enough roots to support a sapling. So when a position opened on the Hell-per’s Hotline I was willing to give it a shot.

It sounded easy; take a call, grant a favor, set up soul collection paperwork. No biggie. Once I got my assigned cubicle and worked my headset around my horns, I kicked back and waited for my first client.

BEEEEEP! 

Alright, that didn’t take long. “Hell-per’s Hotline, you’ve got Lucie.”

“Uhhhh, hello?”

“Yes. You’ve reached the Hell-per’s Hotline. How may I assist you?”

My caller stayed silent and I could instantly visualize him. Young guy, completely average in size and looks. Lived in one of those big cities where it was easy to get lost in. Unsure about pretty much everything, no wonder he called.

“Oh… wow,” he still sounded fairly surprised. “Didn’t think this would work.”

“Well it did. Now, what’s your name?”

“Uhh, Milton, Milton Leonard.”

“One moment please.”

I turned off my mic to hide my snickering at the irony and punched his information into my console while letting him listen to dreadful hold music. When I came back on he sighed with relief.

“Alright Milton, what would you like?

“Can I have anything?” 

Good question, even down here there are checks and balances. I looked at my screen for more details. “You’ve lived a fairly nondescript life. No huge achievements but no major sins. Your soul’s worth a Level 5 favor.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means I can’t promise worldwide fame or immense wealth, but I can make your existence more comfortable.”

“So no winning jackpot numbers?” He sounded deflated.

“Not my department. You want Prophesy, and they’re currently shut down due to unforeseen circumstances.”

“What is your department?

“Was. Used to be Fraud. Needed a break though, been way too busy lately. Election year and all that.”

“Oh.”

This was starting to drag on and I was craving a smoke, Milton needed some nudging. “Ok Milty, you called for something. What’s causing the most difficulty in your life right now?”

He hummed thoughtfully, then stated, “My car.”

“Your car?”

“Yes! Between payments, insurance, and parking I don’t have money for anything else.” He grunted in frustration. “In fact I just took it in to get the brake pads replaced and they told me the rotors were shot. Cost me all my vacation money.”

“Your car, huh?” 

Sounded easy enough. I typed in a few lines and struck enter. Within seconds I could hear the explosion through the phone and Milton’s yelp. “What the hell was that?”

“Your problem is gone.”

“Wha… wha,.. what?” Milton sounded sick and I heard a thud that was probably him dropping to his knees. “You blew it up?”

“Not exactly. There were wiring issues and it blew itself up. Was probably going to happen anyway, I just gave it a push.”

He paused for a long time before asking, “Now what?”

“The insurance company examines the remains and pays up. Oooh.” Struck by inspiration my claws flew over my keyboard. “There! Now they’ll discover the fuel sensor that should’ve been recalled. They’ll bring it to the attention of the automotive company who will issue you a substantial check, make up for that vacation you missed. Consider it a Level 6 upgrade at no extra charge.”

“Wow, really? Thanks!”

“That’s what we do.” I leaned back in my seat feeling pleased with myself, “I’ll have the collection paperwork out right away. Just need to sign it. The faster that happens, the faster you get paid. Then we’ll be seeing that soul of yours soon.”

“Whoa, wait!” Milton squeaked, “What do you mean ‘soon’? How long is ‘soon’?”

Super cute food💕

Now, I'm going to give you a number, and I'm going to ask that you send in a photo of your target alongside any additional information you may have- family members, security, combat training, medical conditions, just anything you can think of that might be helpful.

Wonderful, you are all good. All we need now is a piece of government-issued ID, for insurance purposes, and a location for payment pickup. We accept cash, gold, processed uranium, and etransfer.

I'm sorry, we don't take american express.

Good, okay, so it looks like we are all set- when the job is complete, you will be notified VIA discreet codeword that a stranger will whisper to you on a crowded street.

We do not issue receipts, but if you'd like, I can arrange for a specific breed of tropical flower to be sent to your home address. Our associates will be able to validate it should the need arises.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm afraid the Pope is a high-status target that is beyond our area of service.

Yes, I- no, I'm sorry, I'm not able to do that for you.

Okay. Okay. Yes, I understand.

Sir, if you're going to use that sort of language, you should know that our HR department does operate in a hands-on capacity.

The original tweet summarizes it pretty well. Fanfic tends to be popular among certain types of neurodivergent people (aka people most likely to read excessively as a child, and have burnout as an adult) for the same reasons that we tend to hyperfixate–neurochemical signaling (I hope I’m using that phrase correctly). What I mean is, for people who are really dependent on changes in dopamine/serotonin/neurotransmitter levels, who have low levels or wonky neural reward systems (perhaps the most common types of neurodivergence)…people like us rely on dependable external sources of those neurochemicals. In order to function, we spend a lot of our free time trying to level out our brain chemistry using things that can reliably bring us a steady stream of joyful moments (rewards) without costing too much of the mental effort that is already in short supply. 

significantly: the investment of reading has to be balanced with a steady “return on investment”–and this return has to start fairly quickly. because again, we don’t have a lot of attention/energy to invest on tiring things. we have perpetual “low batteries” in that regard.

that doesn’t mean these stories are “simple,” or that they lack complexity or value–only that the reward has to come in short regular intervals, and it has to have a low “upfront cost.” which is why fanfic stories are so perfectly formulated for neurodivergent readers–they are often beautifully written, but skip a lot of the upfront costs (of introducing new characters, of world-building, of getting the audience emotionally connected to the story elements).

the nature of fanfiction is that the reader has a pre-existing relationship with this world and these characters. that–combined with the shorter average length of fics–means that fan fics very quickly start “rewarding” the reader in a way that traditional fiction struggles to. that’s not a bad thing! and maybe it’s something more traditionally published writers should be paying attention to.

we recently had a very confused lady who called that her cat was trying to take care of an astounding 8 kittens and brought them in

the kittens were obviously malnourished, and we looked around her neighborhood and sadly found the dead mama, she got hit by a car

it’s a really useful thing that cats will do

sometimes the mom will just have gotten lost and will come back to try and find her kittens and so that can be frustrating, but considering how rough it is for stray kittens, it’s a lot better for them to be in a household and cared for where the parent cat can get guareenteed food and shelter

I can’t tell you how many abandoned kittens we find that can’t make it

it sucks a lot

anyway tangent done

‐———————————

“Honey, I’m home!”

As cliché as the line was, Dixie couldn’t help singing it out as she climbed aboard Sunrise, and as always it was followed by laughter and tromping footsteps.

“'Bout time you got back,” Corso called out. “What kept you?”

“Just a lil’ hiccup. Nothin’ me and Bowie couldn’t handle.”

Her sweetie rounded the corner and when she saw him she felt a familiar flutter in her chest. Taking several rapid steps, she pounced on him, giggling as she caught his mouth with hers. He staggered for a moment and chuckled as he returned her kiss with one that was warm and welcoming. His hands grabbed under her ass and she giggled again as he hoisted her higher, keeping her close.

“Okay, so you missed each other,” Risha said dryly as she walked past them. “Give it a rest.”

Dixie lowered her feet to the floor but kept her arms around Corso as they parted reluctantly. “Never,” she declared, rubbing her nose to his and breathing in his scent.

They stood there, smiling into each others eyes as they enjoyed their ‘welcome home’ ritual. It made the goodbyes easier when she knew this was what waited for her.

“So a ‘lil’ hiccup’, huh?” he teased.

“Nothing serious. Just a debate about the final price.”

“And who won?”

“Sparkles, of course,” she laughed. “Who'da guessed the ol’ girl could pack such a wallop?”

“That Rodian didn’t,” Guss piped up. “Should have seen it Riggs. Green goo everywhere…”

“Enough Guss.” Dixie gave the Mon Calamari a stern look. “Go get Bowie and have him help with the cargo.”

“You got it Captain.”

As he headed to the cargo bay she shook her head. “You know for a former Padawan, he’s surprisingly blood-thirsty.”

“Noticed it too did ya?” Corso chuckled again as he squeezed her. “Stars it’s good to have you back.”

Dixie sank back into his chest, sighing deeply and listening to his heartbeat. It is good, she thought, relaxing for the first time since she’d left her ship. Another relaxed inhale had her nostrils prickling and she lifted her head to smile up at him. “Been cleanin’?”

“Yup,” he replied with pride. “Me an’ Seetoo been goin’ through Sunrise with a fine-tooth comb, leaving no dust-lepi unturned.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Just how long had that nerf-cream been the cooler?”

“We had nerf-cream?”

He chuckled again at her feigned surprise. “By the time I found it it was nerf-cheese. But I tell ya, I’m ready to kick up and take a break.”

“Me too,” she said. “These dogs are barkin’. Can’t wait to prop them up.” She gave him a sultry smile, “Maybe in someone’s big, powerful hands.”

He knew exactly what she was getting at, clucking his tongue as he shook his head. “Ohh no, not this time. 'Sides, ain’t it my turn?”

“Well maybe…” She glanced past him to the couch, then looked up and winked. “Race ya. Winner gets rubbed.”

“Wha…” Was all he had time to say before she ducked from his arms and darted to the couch. “Why you lil’…” followed, carried on a laugh as she felt a broad arm loop around her waist. “Not this time cheater.”

She started laughing too, trying to wiggle free and was caught off guard when he gently pushed her back and made a break for it. “Oh no you don’t,” she cried.

She made a flying leap and landed on his back, but he’d just reached the couch and was about sit so she ended up squashed between him and the cushions.

“Ooof!” she wheezed and he jumped back up looking concerned.

“Stars Dixie, you okay?”

“I win,” she said breathlessly and he covered his face with his hand.

“That don’t count,” he scolded, then plopped next to her. “Technically I was here first. And you owe me after disposing of that ‘science experiment gone wrong’ in the cooler.”

“But Honey, you’re so good at it.” Usually the flattery worked, but this time he shook his head and propped his feet up on her lap while she pouted at him.

“Go on, put that lower lip away,” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes and started taking off his boot when he surprised her by reaching down and grabbing hers.  He unfastened them slowly, like when they undressed in private. Out of curiosity she slowed too, taking her time with him until they sat with each others bared feet in their laps. When she gave in a questioning look he winked at her.

“Never said we couldn’t compromise. I’ll do you and you do me?”

“Do me?” she giggled and his cheeks flushed.

“You know what I meant.”

To punctuate his point he ran his thumb deep into the sole of her foot and she moaned loudly. “Oh Honey, that’s nice.”

He chuckled and wiggled his toes, reminding her that she was supposed to be returning the favor so she slid her fingers between his toes, splaying them and rubbing at the same time.

“Damn Dixie, where’s you learn that?” he groaned.

“Ancient Cathar secret,” she joked, doing it again and getting another groan from him.

Not to be outdone he smoothed his palm over her instep, then rubbed circles into the ball of her feet. Her head fell back as she moaned again. “Ohh, that’s sooo…”

“You like that?” His low and sensual tone had her glancing up at him and she saw his eyes sparkling with humor.

“You know I do,” she replied in a sultry whisper and he started shaking from restrained laughter.

It went straight downhill from there. He caressed her heel and she moaned, “Harder.” Then she found a sensitive spot on the side of his big toe, and he bit his lower lip, groaning “Yeah, there.” The whole time they stifled their laughter, enjoying the hilarious innuendos.

It was when he ran his knuckles firmly into the arch of her foot and she cried out, “Oh, Gods!” that they heard footsteps heading towards them.

“What is going on here?” Risha sounded incensed as she took in the sight of Corso and Dixie on the couch. “Sounds like you’re…”

“Just a foot-rub,” Corso stated, holding up Dixie’s foot while she nodded.

“Yup, nothing to see here,” she agreed.

Risha’s eyes narrowed as she looked each each of them, then threw her hands up in exasperation. “Whatever you’re doing, either quiet down or take it to your quarters.”

As she stormed off Dixie’s eyes met Corso’s, brimming with amusement They only lasted until the bootsteps stopped echoing before they fell against each other, collapsing in laughter.

Gods, I love him, Dixie thought as he cradled her on his quaking chest, and as if he heard the thought he pressed a kiss into her hair. They waited for the chuckles to subside before sitting up and cleaning up their footwear.

“She had a good point,” Dixie said offhandedly as she scooped up her boots and Corso looked over at her.

“What, about quieting down?”

“No.” She reached over and stroked his leg. “About taking it to our quarters.”

A flash of heat lit up Corso’s brown eyes and he grinned slowly. “I’ll do you and you do me?”

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An elephant casually stealing and then returning a wildlife photographer’s hat