AxB: Fanfic a la carte @axb-ffac-blog - Tumblr Blog

So I know you haven't been on in a long time, but I had this idea and I really thought it'd be cool if you did it. So anyway, I thought it'd be cool if you had the Gamergate people and they're like in the GI Joe universe and they try to recruit cobra commander to their cause. They fail, miserably, and cobra commander f's their shit up.

Because it was too good to go unanswered.

Cobra Commander: Fighting the Good Fight

Cobra Commander leaned back in his chair, his favorite cobra-shaped mug letting off a small cloud of steam.

"Ah! Nothing pleases me more than to monitor the social media trends of the day while sipping a nice cup of tea."

He logged into Facebook. Destro had liked several of Baroness’s status updates, while his own status updates on the Mega Cobra-Bot had only been liked by Tomax and Xamot. Storm Shadow had left a comment, but it was in japanese and Cobra Commander assumed it had something to do with needing more swords, or having to do with vengeance, or both. None of the Cobra infantry had left any comments, either.

“The fools! They dare to ignore my status updates.”

He continued on, updating his Anti-Joe tumblog while one of his tabs blinked with a stream of constant updates.

“Who dares to spam my twitter feed?!” Cobra Commander said. He scanned the dozens of tweets that had been sent to him over the past hour. “What in Serpentor’s name is Gamergate? What are these people getting so angry about?”

A notification caught his eye. One tweet in particular had been addressed to him, specifically.

“@BestCobraCommander, We of the #Gamergate Coalition would like to extend an invitation to join us. Gamergate will never fall, join us or perish.”

“They threaten me? ME!? I am Cobra Commander. And then they extend an offer to join their foolish, ill-conceived crusade? Have we fallen so low? Cobra is the most fearsome terrorist organization in the world. We’ve nearly conquered the world at least once. At least once! This Gamergate coalition knows not who they have trifled with! Cobra! Assemble!”

Meanwhile, at GI Joe Headquarters, the team was assembled for General Hawk’s daily briefing…

General Hawk entered the meeting room flanked on either side by a pair of armed commandos. His expression was grim and he carried a heavy folio in his hands.

"Joes, we've got trouble." General Hawk said. Scarlett, Stormshadow, Shipwreck, Duke, and Roadblock stood at attention.

"Is Cobra at it again?" Scarlett said.

"Yes, and it seems that they've decided to get involved with a group called...Gamergate."

The Joes were silent. Snake Eyes nodded his head and rested a hand on his katana.

"No, Snake Eyes, they haven't joined forces. It seems that Gamergate and Cobra are having a little argument. We picked it up while monitoring Cobra Commander’s twitter feed. It seems they made the mistake of asking him for help.”

“Are we sure they’re planning to attack? This could be a ruse. Gamergate might be a petty group of entitled bullies now, but with Cobra technology, who knows what they could do.” Duke said. The other Joes nodded.

“Yeah, I say we take the fight to them. Two birds with one stone.” said Roadblock.

“Easy there, Duke. The Cobra Carrier was spotted just a few miles away from their desert island base. Their formation matches that of a classic sneak attack. Command wants us to sit back and watch the fireworks."

The Joes were silent.

“That was all.” General Hawk said. The Joes looked at one another.

"So, uh, you guys wanna get pizza?" Roadblock said.

"Yeah." Duke said.

"Yes.” Scarlett said.

"You know I want some of that Super-Supreme, baby." said Shipwreck.

"Get the breadsticks, you know Snake Eyes likes the breadsticks.” said Duke. Snake Eyes gave him a thumbs up.

Back at the Cobra Carrier…

The inner circle of Cobra was gathered before a viewing screen showing a cabal of shadowy figures sitting at a round table. Torches blazed around the room, but their hoods obscured their faces. Their leader, a similarly robed and hooded figure with a golden Eye of Providence sewn upon his breast, addressed Cobra Commander.

“Ah, Cobra Commander, how good of you to join us. I knew you would see reason. Together we will destroy the feminist conspiracy to emasculate gamers everywhere.”

“Yes, I, uh, read your mission statement.” Cobra Commander said.

“We feel that Cobra is definitely the kind of reputable organization that we would like to be associated with.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. We feel our message of restoring the integrity of videogame journalism and making sure that political correctness stays the hell away from games meshes well with your ambitions for world domination. I mean, we’re not really like you. You guys are an evil terrorist organization, we’re fighting for truth and justice, but in this day and age you can’t be choosy about your allies.”

“Right…” Cobra Commander said, his voice was like broken glass being dragged across sheet metal.

“Plus, you have a reputation for getting things done.”

“That we do. Perhaps you would like a demonstration of our military might?”

“Oh, of course. Would you need any time to set up, or…?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Cobra Commander turned to Baroness. “Baroness, give the order.”

She nodded.

“Dah. Launch zeh Cobra missiles and zeh Mega Cobra-Bot!” she said.

“All units, attack!” Destro said. All at once the Cobra Carrier erupted into a blaze of laser fire, missiles, and snake-headed cobra bots. On the viewing screen, the leaders of the Gamergate Coalition ran for their lives. Debris was already raining down as their base came under withering fire. Their leader stayed to face Cobra Commander.

“Cobra Commander, why have you betrayed us? We only wanted to save gaming from the likes of Zoe Quinn, Anita Sarkeesian, Brianna Wu, and probably anyone else who dares criticize-”

“Enough! Look at yourselves. You harass innocent people and paint yourselves as victims. You skulk in the shadows and claim to be fighting for good. To even think that we, Cobra, would stoop so low as to help you is an insult that demands retribution. We may be evil, and one day we will conquer the world and annihilate the Joes once and for all, but by Serpentor’s scaly backside, at least we own it. You’re all just a bunch of whiny, entitled children upset that the party isn’t all about you anymore.”

“You have not seen the last of us! We will return! Whenever a game developer mentions inclusivity, or talks about privilege, we’ll be there, you’ll see.” The Gamergate leader said.

“Perhaps. Or, perhaps you’ll be buried under the rubble of your own pathetic base! Cobra, launch the final attack!”

A cheer went up amongst the Cobra soldiers. The Mega Cobra-Bots unleashed all the fury of their Cobra Cannons, laying waste to the Gamergate Coalition base. Moments later it was nothing more than a smoking ruin.

“Pizza for everyone!” Cobra Commander said. Another, louder cheer went up.

That night, Cobra Commander composed a short tweet before retiring for the night.

“Long day. Destroyed #Gamergate, got pizza. Time for sleeps. #COBRARULES!”

When he awoke, he found that it was his most favorited tweet of all time.

#AxB #Gamergate #Cobra Commander #GI Joe #fanfiction #Anonymous

State of AxB: So much gotdamn work it's stupid edition

Hello, readers of AxB, it's been a while. I mean, it's been a hell of a long while. Too long, if I was being honest, but I had a good reason. As I told my friend when I posted the last story, as much as I would love to continue doing stories, I can only truly do so when I find the time apart from my other writing. It's sad, and it's not an excuse for neglecting this little project, but it's the truth.

Here is what I am working on right now, and the word count I've poured into each project:

-A long-ish sci-fi novel, about 72k right now

-Weekly short stories, 4 completed so far to give me just over 21k

-Spec Scripts for:

-My Little Ponx (x2)

-Rick and Morty

only about 2k a pop, but they still need to be properly formatted for animation. Also, on a side note, trying to do an Adventure Time script was ludicrously hard. Seriously, I wish I could reach through the internet and absorb both Ryan North and Steve Wolfhard's powers.

-A twine story about knights flying jets.

So yeah, that's what I'm doing now. It's hard, possibly some of the hardest writing I've ever attempted. I try to keep my eyes on the real end goal (why yes, Ursula K. LeGuin, I'm honored to receive the Hugo award from you, and for my first real novel to boot!) but I will do my damndest to try to put out some new AxB stories in the future. Like that Robocop vs. River Tam one. Robocop would totally win, IMO, but who knows? Maybe River can turn the tide with a little extra upgrades from OCP and a half cyborg clone of Clarence Boddicker watching her back...

Until Next, Readers.

Oh, and before I forget, I'd just like to thank Josh Tolentino of Japantor for his lovely mention the other day on the front page. It actually brightened my day a fair bit, and made me chuckle at the fact that it synced up perfectly with their April Fools Day theme.

#Rant #AxB #author

The SCP Foundation captures River Tam. Hilarity ensues. (Please don't make it a love letter to River though. I've seen more than enough of those.)

Ok, sorry, but I totally misread that as OCP and I had this image of something happening to River that leads to her becoming Robocop's sidekick. RoboTam, you could say.

#axb #firefly #my idiot ideas #Anonymous

Chell and Jean Valjean bond over their shared obsession with baked goods.

http://axb-ffac.tumblr.com/post/76155984361/chell-and-jean-valjean-bond-over-their-shared-obsession

I liked doing this one.

#Anonymous

Chell and Jean Valjean bond over their shared obsession with baked goods.

Sun shone on the small imitation Parisian cafe. It was quiet for the time of day. Chell could not remember how exactly she’d gotten here. She still clutched the portal gun, and she was still in the orange and white clothes of the testing facility, but besides that there was nothing.

“Madame, you are well. I did not believe you would wake. You took a nasty fall, rest a bit, for Heaven’s sake.”.

Chell blinked.

There was a man sitting opposite her, haggard, dressed in grey coat, older than her by a number of years, with a definite french tinge to his accent. In his arms he clutched a loaf of bread as tightly as she clutched her portal gun.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who am I?” the man said, one hand letting go of the bread to touch his forehead. “Who am I? How did I find myself in the strange place? Was I not pulled through time and space?” He rose to his feet. “Who am I? I’m Jean Valjean!” he said, and looked forward to a black sheet that cut the world in two. She blinked hard. It was just a wall of blackness, a complete, unending nothingness that, as far as she could tell, led to a blank, tumbling void.

Something clattered to the side, a ball of metal desperately forcing itself to move over dropped croissants, baguettes, and other pastries.

“Oh, hello, didn’t see you there. Say, Chell, could you do me a small, meaningless little favor and, oh, point your gun at that big light over there?” Wheatley said, his single eye winking at her, a bit of jam blocking his iris. She grimaced.

“Hello, Wheatley.” she said.

“Hello to you too, Chell.” he said, followed by a pause. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Wheatley said. “Whoa. Chell...you can talk?”

“That’s right, Wheatley, I can talk. Which means...” Chell said. She turned away to face an imaginary audience. “I can sing!”

Soft flutes began to play, followed by gentle, deeper woodwinds. The parisian cafe disappeared, chairs and tables vanishing into the aether. From the side, robots emerged, a long procession of turret guns on conveyor belts, all of them wearing a red, white, and blue cocarde.

The lights around the parisian cafe dimmed, and a spotlight shone on Chell.

“Sir, do you like bread?” she asked.

“Yes. I stole this loaf. Do you like bread?” he said.

“No, but I love cake.”

“I, too, love cake.” he said.

“Then you are a friend of mine.” Chell said. She could feel something welling up inside of her. The time for talk was over. The emotions, the joy, the anger, all the fear of being trapped inside Aperture labs came back to her.

“Chell, what is going on? Do you hear music?”

“Shut up, talking sphere. Get out of here.” the man said, and kicked Wheatley into a nearby pile of tuscan loaves.

A microphone emerged from the floor and rose up to Chell’s level. Around her, she could see other people gathering. Two robots, each with their own portal guns, a smaller robot with a stereo mounted on top of it and, lowering down from some invisible rafter, the white and grey frame of GLaDOS.

One Cake More

To Be Sung By:

Chell

Jean Valjean and Loaf of Bread

Wheatley

The Bots

GLaDOS

Cave Johnson on Stereo

---

Featuring the audio board sound generations of the Sentry Turret Choir

Musical Accompaniment provided by the Source Engine Orchestra

---

#axb #fanfiction #Portal 2 #les miserables #CrossOver

Sam and Max try to survive the apocalypse of The Last of Us.

Sam blew off the dust from his gun and holstered it with a deft motion. He knelt down by the unconscious monster.

“Max, these guys look like they’ve got mushrooms growing out of their heads.” he said. There’d been so little time, it had all happened so fast, but a part of him was glad he’d hit some gross monster and not some adorable kitten. Hitting a kitten would just be unthinkable.

“Mushrooms? You mean like portabellas, shitakes, white buttons, morels?” Max said.

“Precisely, Max, though nowhere near as delicious. I suspect we’re gonna need more than some onions, butter and a hot skillet to take care of these baddies.”

“Ugh, don’t say anything, you’re making me hungry.”

Sam looked around. They were in a dreary, grey city. Graffiti covered the walls and there was an air of general chaos about. Ruined, abandoned cars littered the highways, buildings were crumbling and rotting away, and, somewhere, a lonely guitar was playing.

“So, where do you think we are now? I didn’t get a good look at any signs on the way over.” Sam said. The buildings were grey, the sky was grey, everything about the city was just grey.

“Euhhh...Detroit? Pittsburgh? It’s got that sooty, abandoned look to it.” Max said.

“Please, Max, social destitution is no laughing matter, especially in the middle of a mushroom-zombie apocalypse.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Max said. He squinted at a distant wall to a stripped office building. “Hey, you see that?”

“I can’t think of an amusing quip right now, so no, all I see a bunch of rubble.” Sam said.

“Not the rubble.” Max said, and leapt onto Max’s back and pointed. “THAT pile of rubble.”

In the center of the road, a kind of barrier had been erected. Concrete slabs and rusted out car hulks were piled on in a desultory heap. Unlike every other pile of rubble they’d seen in their cross-country journey, this one had a glyph painted on it. Bright orange, the Firefly symbol.

“Max, it’s the symbol of those crazy people who wanted to chop you up before.”

“Hey, you’re right. I wonder what all that was about.”

“They said something about a cure. Call it a hunch, but I think these mushroom people have got something to do with it.”

“Yah think?”

“I do, Max,” Sam said. There was movement up ahead. His gun was out in an instant , though he hesitated to put his finger on the trigger. He holstered the gun once he felt they were alone again. Every little hair on his nape was standing on end.

“Max, we gotta get moving. We need bullets and food if we’re going to get out of this pickle.”

“And also some new tunes, we’ve been listening to that same mariachi band cover album since we started moving.” Max said. He kicked a rock, which tumbled down the street unto it struck a pile of bones.

“I’ll never get the sound of ‘Ode to Joy’ played on a pair of maracas out of my head. Let’s move.” Sam said.

Their search quickly turned fruitless. Every sign they approached had been vandalized beyond recognition, with crude gang signs or profanity in place of directions or helpful tips on how to survive in a grim-dark future.

Night fell and the city began to stir. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam began to see figures in the darkness, the same mushroom-men from before, faster, stronger, hungrier. Big things lumbering about, strange clicks and twitching motions denoting a kind of systematic hunting doctrine, like spiders.

“Hey, what’s that?” Max said. There was a black shape on the remains of a collapsed bridge, a pair of white headlights cutting through the dark. “Sam, it’s our car!”

“Holy Mary mother of Sweet Baby Ray’s down home triple combo platter, you’re right!”

“Sam, stop making me hungry.” Max said.

“Sorry about that, buddy, but what were the odds of the DeSoto turning up now?” Sam said.

“Wait, look, there’s some people messing with our car.” Max said. The pair froze. Sure enough, two figures were circling the car, touching

“Max, I can’t see. Do they look like mushroom men?”

“Can’t tell. They’re not making that annoying clicking sound though, so that’s something. Wanna go talk to them?”

“Can’t think of a reason not to.” Sam said. He pulled out his gun. “Just to be safe.”

“Uh huh.” Max said.

As they approached, the car, the two dark figures ahead of them turned and ran.

“Hey wait, stop!” Sam said, but they disappeared over a low wall and into a building. “Strange, they didn’t look like bandits.”

“You know, I’m honestly disappointed in this apocalypse. It’s like I bought that leather jacket for nothing.” Max said. Sam waved him down. His gun was still out and a deep frown had come over his face.

“I wonder who those people were. I hope they’re alright, I’m smelling a lot of bad stuff in this city.” Sam said. “Really, Max, this isn’t like our other adventures. I think it’s gonna get harder from here on out. Just you and me against the whole world.” The both of them sighed. “Well, at least we’ve got the DeSoto back.”

“Aw, yeah, baby!” Max said, jumping into his seat and pulling out his mauser. “Come on, crank up some tunes and let’s blow this popsicle stand. We can even shoot at some mushroom-zombies. It’ll make you feel better.”

After a moment’s pause, Sam took out his place in the driver’s seat. The key was already in the ignition, and the DeSoto roared to life as he gave it a turn.

“Sam…” Max said. Sam faced his friend. “We’re gonna get through this.”

“I know, buddy,” Sam said. He revved the engine. Clicking zombies started to run towards them, their clicks, moans and roars drowning out every other sound. “I know.”

The road ahead was clear. These zombies didn’t seem so tough. He put the DeSoto into gear and slammed his foot on the pedal. They zoomed off into the night, leaving the zombies to chase after Max’s cries of joy and the roar of the DeSoto.

Fade to Black:

AxB presents...

Sam and Max in…

“The Second-to-Last-of-Us”

or

“The Road less traveled”

#Sam and Max #the last of us #Fanfiction #AxB #crossover