(( Inspired by what's going on many threads above this ))

A man in a red suit with way too many guns and swords on him was sitting in a rather featureless white void.

"Hey. You." he said, turning to the man that was somehow there. "Birdie."

"Eh?" Huinesoron asked, turning his head.

"Your name means 'eagle shadow' in Quenya," Deadpool clarified. "which is just way too pretentious if you ask me. So, birdie."

"Deadpool?" Huinesoron asked, very confused. "The heck is going on here?"

"You should know, you're the idiot who's —" Deadpool paused. "Actually, no, you're not writing this."

"Why are you in my house?" Huinesoron said.

Deadpool had fully materialized near Huinesoron at this point. "Well, you've been having such a good time writing me, and I started looking around. There's some sort of Shipfest going on around here, and I thought we could have some ... other sort of fun."

"I'm married." Huinesoron objected.

Deadpool pulled out a phone and started reading through the Board. "Says here you've been sleeping with just about everyone."

"Huh. Good point." Huinesoron said, glancing down at the floor.

"So, whatddya say to the best lovin' you've ever had, courtesy of me, birdie?"

Huinesoron scratched his head for a moment. "Sure. Sounds like a fun way to spend an evening."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Deadpool. "Your bedroom, or do you want me to bug the author for something more exotic?"

"Let's just stay in my apartment." Huinesoron replied. "I don't want to break the fourth wall any more than it has been already."

The pair of soon-to-be-lovers headed to Huinesoron's room and closed the door, which had the convenient side effect of keeping the narrator from seeing any of the details of whatever they were up to. A minute or so after they'd gone in, Deadpool's voice came from within the room: "Those are some sexy sexy abs, birdie."

"Can you stop calling me birdie?" Huinesoron said, irritated. "That's Thoth's nickname."

"Ugh. Fine. How about I go with feathers?"

"That's OK, I guess."

"So, what do you think of inviting this Thoth guy to this?"

"Maybe later." Huinesoron said. "Let's get back to that massage though. It's been great."

"Obviously. I'm the one giving it."

"Obviously." Huinesoron and Deadpool could be heard kissing, and then the scene faded to black.

(( - Tomash ))

(This one's shorter and jokier than my other one. With a different flavor of hS OOC, and a SONG!)

Huinesoron loves Kaitlyn, sure, but in a way, he's cheating. Ish.

For Plort.

Not the people in Plort, just Plort itself.

Every day, when Kaitlyn was asleep, he stepped through his favorite portal to Plort, just to spend a little time on her sweet shores. He loved to feel the wind in his hair, the grass under his feet, and the rush of power he got from being the one and only Baron Huinesoron. It did sometimes reach the same level of love he had for Kaitlyn, even a little bit dirty, but he never told anyone.

Tonight in particular, though, he wasn't dirty for Plort. He just wanted to show his love. When he entered Plort, he stood at the top of a hill, laid down on his side, and rolled down it like a derp. When he finally lost momentum, he was laughing hard in between shallow breaths. He decided to make the trek back to his castle to see if anything had happened. Twistey'd been editing the Plort Wiki; a smell coming from her equivalent's shop signified that. Nothing else. Shame that no one else loved Plort as much as he did. But then again... if everyone else was here all the time, he wouldn't have her all to himself.

He stood at the top of the tallest tower in his castle and gazed out at the horizon. Then, feeling an impuslse, he spread out his arms and began to sing.

"I love the mountains
I love the clear blue sky
I love my castle
I love when eagles fly
I love the whole Plort
And all its sights and sounds
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada

I love the oceans
And fighting Marizu
I love to ride fast
No one does like I do!
I love the whole Plort
And all its craziness
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada

I love the small towns
I love the baronies
I love the wheat fields
They mean so much to me
I love the whole Plort
It's such a brilliant place
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada..."

Plort is just awesome. Let's see if we can get hS to record this.

-Twistey

Granz's doorbell rang. He lept out of his chair and ran towards the door "Oh my oh my oh my it's finally here!" he said quickly, rubbing his palms together.

He opened the door and took the somewhat thin, large, rectangular envelope from the delivery driver and hastily scrawled a signature on the appropriate line.

Granz ran back up to his room and set his newly-acquired package on his desk. He began to peel pack the sear on the envelope slowly, trying not to damage the contents. About halfway through the opening, Granz realized he couldn't take it anymore, and tore the envelope to bits.

Inside, he found the RPG rulebook he ordered. He picked it up and rubbed his hands over it, caressing the wondrous source of unusual items and possibly overpowered skills, savoring the sensation of all the new ways to minmax the party's characters he could find inside.

Grenz then sniffed the book, inhaling the luscious aroma of never-opened pages full of role-playing goodness. "Mmmmm." he moaned, admiring the cover art.

He gripped the front cover gently with a few fingers, pulling it open slowly enough that someone might think he was checking the book for traps. (He wasn't. He just loved this part.) Granz began slowly reading the entries in the book, savoring the armor and gear described within. "Eh, that's not that useful.", he said at one point.

"Hm ... maybe" he commented, after tenderly flipping a page. He scrawled the name of that psychic power on a very full notepad on his desk.

A few pages later, Granz yelped in excitement. "Oh my god! Yes! This is perfect! And I have enough XP!" he shouted. His fingers flew over the keyboard, firing off a message to his GM, asking if he could take the psychic power he'd just found.

As he waited for the reply, Granz slowly lost control. He stopped being so tender and caring, and started rapidly flipping through the book, keeping a mental tally of all the super-awesome extra-useful stuff he was finding. The pages of the rulebook almost flew as Granz pawed through them.

Eventually, he reached the end of the book. He turned everything back over and went through it again, making sure he hadn't missed a corner of those delectable extra rules. His reading method varied from a measured, careful investigation to a fast, hyped-up, almost predatory flip.

Throughout all this, he made a lot of comments on the contents of his new acquisition, sometimes taking tens of minutes to debate the relative merits of two options with himself. A few times, he even got up to get other rulebooks to compare against. More books were more fun, after all. Whoops of triumph often fell from Granz's lips a few times as he used the contents of his new book to formulate the greatest plan he'd ever had — which was, rather frequently, superseded be the new greatest plan he'd ever had as he noticed an item he'd overlooked.

Many, many hours later, it grew late. Rather reluctantly, Granz closed his new book and carefully placed it on the rulebooks shelf, lovingly arranging it next to his existing collection. Finally, Granz turned away from his RPG rulebooks, his true, eternal loves, and went to bed logged onto Amazon to buy another one before picking up another one of his precious volumes from the shelf. I don't need sleep tonight anyway. he thought, getting ready for more cavorting with supplemental rulesets. It's not like there's a session tomorrow.

And so, Granz had a long, simulating night, which he loved every minute of, even though it drove him closer to exhaustion and the lightbulbs in his lamps closer to burning out.

(( - Tomash ))

He came up with the idea of the Ixcubus, which inspired this:



„Matt, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Aegis looked at his friend slouching over a heavy-looking book bound in leather and metal. Inside, on worn-out yellow pages were scribblings presenting images of complicated circles, diagrams of human body, and various drawings of plants and demonic-looking faces.

“Positive, mate.” Matt turned the page, before tracing his finger along the longest line of text written in green ink. “We’re getting rid of this pest this instant. No offense, Ixi.”

“None taken,” replied Iximaz, dressed in loose tank top and tracksuit pants. She was sitting in the center of a chalk-drawn pentagram, surrounded by five lit red candles. She scratched her head, and the left side of her face twitched in a nervous spasm. “The sooner we get this… thing out the better. Seriously, why today of all days it had to ap-pear… Ugh!”

She suddenly jerked her head back, and when she looked back at the two men before her, something has changed. Her left eye turned black, with a thin golden rim of the iris. Her lips twisted into unnaturally sultry grin. Her left hand moved slowly along the length of her hip.

“Unless, of course, this is the perfect day to get… freaky.” The Ixcubus licked his lips, before winking at Aegis. He then lazily turned towards Matt. “Do whatever you want, conjurer. I’m staying.”

“Yeah, yeah… Exorcizamus te…” Matt waved towards the pentagram circle, which caused the Ixcubus to yelp in pain, making the body to twist uncontrollably before falling flat motionlessly.

“Don’t.” Matt snapped towards Aegis, who was about to enter the circle to help his beloved. Time passed. When Iximaz regained control over her mind, she slowly got up, shook her head, and looked back at Matt.

“See? Doesn’t work,” she panted, wiping some sweat off her forehead. Her left eye returned to normal, and mouth didn’t feel like smiling.

“Seems to be keeping it away for fifteen minutes,” added Aegis. He scratched his chin and stepped away from the circle. “So it is working.”

“Great.” Iximaz rolled her eyes, hugging her knees and putting her chin on top of them. “So now all we have to do is make me listen to Sam and Dean performing excorcisms 24/7… which would not be a bad thing, if only I was myself while listening to them.”

“What now? Come on, Matt, what else besides exorcisms would work?” Aegis walked over to the sorcerer’s work table, where all the books and old papers piled up.

Matt didn’t respond. He kept on turning the pages, looking from the book, to Iximaz, then at his vials filled with suspicious ingredients, then back at the book.

“We could cast it into something else… or someone.”

Iximaz was the first one to pick up the meaning. She stood up and glared at Matt, anger building up with each word. “Don’t you even dare, dude. Not a chance!”

“Who exactly do you have in mind?”

“Aegis, no!” Iximaz clenched her fists. “We’re not doing that! Next solution!”

“We could make a deal with him. He gets what he wants and hopefully agrees to let you go?”

Iximaz squinted. “No, thanks,” she said dryly. “Next?”

“At this point I’m honestly out of ideas… I mean, nothing here looks like it might have any effect on our pesky intru—“ Matt paused, before adjusting his glasses and leaning closer towards the book. “Huh… hello there.”

“What?” Aegis and Iximaz asked simultaneously.

“This might work.” Matt mumbled to himself, closing the book. He grabbed a water bottle from under the desk and walked towards Iximaz.

“Sorry about that, dude.” He quickly dumped the contents of the bottle onto Iximaz, causing her to yelp quickly.

“What the hell!?” she squealed, wiping the water from her eyes.

“We’re about to cool this bastard’s lust.” Matt smiled.

“Cool his lust?” Aegis repeated. His eyes then widened and he smiled. “I see… You want to lower the lust levels and basically starve the Ixcubus! Ha!”

“Cute idea, sweetie, but my flame will never go out from such a silly spell.” The Ixcubus purred, coming dangerously close to the edge of the pentagram and looking Matt straight into the eyes. “You’re a little too… round for my taste, but… eh, I work with I get, babe~”

Matt rolled his eyes. He took a few steps back, rubbed his hands, took a deep breath, and held them above Iximaz’s head.

“O, wielka Lilith, matko wszelkich demonów! Na mocy kontraktu Salomona, wzywam Cię do nas. Przez Tetragramaton, i na wszelkie imiona Pana, wzywam Twojego syna i Twoją córkę!”

„Um… I heard ‘Lilith’ in that chant, man. Are you sure it will work?” Aegis asked, but Matt remained deaf to his words. He wasn’t saying anything for a few minutes, before suddenly speaking up again:

“Zgadzam się na warunki umowy. Biorę na siebie wszelką odpowiedzialność, i wymagam abyście i wy przestrzegali zasad kontraktu.”

He walked over to the working table, where a small, long dagger bound in dark leather was placed. Matt quickly did a shallow cut on both his hands and returned to his previous spot. He let some blood drop onto the circle, right next to Iximaz’s feet. The candles went out, leaving a small desk lamp the only light source. Iximaz opened her eyes. It was her natural color.

“Did it work?” Aegis asked.

“I… think so,” Iximaz said, examining her arms, and legs. “I don’t feel any different, though.”

She stepped out of the pentagram circle slowly, before quickly approaching Aegis and kissing him with all her passion. When she finally ended (out of need for air), both of them had very goofy grins.

“Yeah…” Aegis whispered. “I think everything’s fine.”

“I’m not sure, mate.” Matt flicked the light switch. They weren’t alone.

Two figures stood where Iximaz previously was. Both the same height as her, and dangerously similar in appearance, but some minor details were off. The one of the left had the Ixcubus’s golden eyes. He was definitely more masculine in his figure, with muscles visible under a thin t-shirt. Disheveled hair and light stubble only made him more appealing. He winked at Aegis, waving his finger in a beckoning manner.

The figure on the right had-similarly to the Ixcubus-black eyes with only thin rims of irises visible, although hers were deep red. This one was definitely a she; slender, with long legs and curves so perfectly outlined, it was almost unnatural. The shirt was nearly incapable of containing the pure abundance of her chest, and she was biting down on her finger, looking at the two before her in a seductive manner.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Aegis looked at Matt, before being dragged into another kiss by Iximaz.

“I made a deal.” Matt smiled, slowly backing himself towards the door. “See, I thought both of you may enjoy a little more… spicy time together, so I asked Lilith to send you some of her children to keep you company. And that sudden blast of lust? Well, that’s their doing. They’re gonna leave you alone, after rocking your world.”

“Mmmfmgff!” Aegis mumbled, before finally breaking the kiss. “You did what!?”

“We’re gonna… mhh~… kick your ass later, Matt.” Iximaz growled, before tracing her finger on Aegis’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, you two.” The warlock laughed, before locking the door after himself.

(Okay, so I've played too much Wolfenstein 3D and every time I see Guardsman Tom's username, I think of the Guard enemy from the game. It furthers that thought that he has blond hair and blue eyes, so I just had to do this.)

Thoth was simultaneously surprised and not surprised that the badfic existed.

After all, he knew the nooks and crannies of the Internet well. He knew that many Doom fans liked to sabotage the Wolfenstein 3D fandom by promoting the assumption that Wolf 3D fans were all a bunch of Nazis. He knew that many kids of the average badficcer age were radicalized by the Internet and had become terrible edgelords, if they hadn't outright joined the alt-right. To be honest, he didn't care which group the author of this Legendary belonged to.

That didn't mean that he wasn't still shocked.

"Of course it had to be him," muttered Thoth under his breath. "There was no better guy to get Stu'd. There was nothing that could make the fic more potent than that."

He continued walking down the hallways of Episode 3's Reichstag. "And since he brutally murdered BJ Blazkowicz, it's up to me to bring down the entirety of the regime."

Thoth rounded a corner and spied a Guard watching him. Blond hair and blue eyes like the rest. He was about to raise his gun when the Guard suddenly started as if waking up from a dream, looked around in a panic, then lifted his hands up.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Thoth approached the enemy. "You can speak English?"

"Yeah! Listen... I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why should I believe that?"

"I- I know you. You're Thoth. I've seen you on the Board."

"What the hell...?" Thoth looked at the Guard in confusion.

He extended his hand. "I'm Tom. The guy who got sent on this mission last time."

"I never heard about anyone going on this mission before, but okay." He shook Tom's hand.

"Huh, hS never told you? Weird, I wonder what incentives he has to do that. Anyway, this is what happened. I was about to engage the Stu in combat when he looked at me with this hypnotizing stare... and then... I don't know what happened. I think I was brainwashed into working as a Guard this whole time, but for some reason, looking at you made me suddenly recover."

Thoth nodded. "What about me would cause you to suddenly gain consciousness again?"

"I have no idea..." A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Thoth smiled a bit while he took note of that. Then he stopped. "Wait. I think I killed a decoy that looked like someone I knew. That's bad."

Tom shook his head. "There's been another? Wow. Huinesoron just won't rest until this mission is complete. Anyway, is there a way I can be of any help to you here?"

"Come with me. If we work together, it'll be easier to find and defeat the guy."

"Alright."

They continued walking, conversing, and laughing, pausing every so often to shoot other enemies, until they came to Floor 9. As they opened the elevator door, a chill went down Tom's spine.

"Oohhh... I'm terrified. This place just brings back so many memories."

"Don't worry, babe," Freudian-slipped Thoth, "I'll protect you."

"...babe?"

"Er... I'm gay, so..."

"Oh phew! That's great! My feelings aren't invalid after all."

"That's what made you wake up. My hotness." He hair flipped.

They both doubled over laughing. Then Tom wiped his eyes and stood up. "Listen, I know a good pushwall that we can hide behind and recuperate." He walked across to the end of the hallway and leaned on a painting. Thoth noted that the decoy that should've been in the middle of the room was absent - it must have been the one he'd killed.

In a nice clean manner that definitely isn't more substitution for the building of romantic chemistry, Thoth and Tom did nothing but talk and embrace as they sat by rows upon rows of health packs and ammo... when a figure walked in with swaying hips.

Tom was the first to spot her. "That is one sultry decoy."

Thoth whipped around. "Oh, she's not dead! Joy!"

"What a shame," purred the girl, light shining off her glasses. "Someone's gotten into my storage. Could it be that you're the one who murdered all my boys?" She took out a tube of black lipstick and began reapplying it, analagous to a certain feature of the male decoys and no doubt meant to evoke a similar state of fear.

"Oh dear," whispered Tom.

"Look, it is. It's Thoth! Do you need healing, boy?" Then she turned to Tom and regained her smile. "But you... I like you."

Thoth grabbed Tom's arm, eyes narrowed. "Don't listen to her. It's Twistey, but she's fallen under the same spell you had."

"Do we want to kill her? I mean, it's thanks to her that we know all about this place that we do."

"We're not going to kill her unless we absolutely have to." At that moment, the Twisteycoy put her hand on his shoulder.

"Alright."

"Be careful!" Thoth clenched his teeth, pointing to what was going on.

"Don't worry, babe, I've got this handled." He turned to the Twisteycoy. "If your heart was true, you would not be acting this way. Besides, no way I'm not going to be faithful to Thoth."

She took her hand off and grinned maniacally. "You're right. I'm faithful too. Don't take it personally, they kill gay people here, and while I don't really subscribe to that, I know I'll be greatly rewarded if I finish you off."

"You dirty, dirty girl," muttered Thoth, "you're breaking your own rules."

Tom shrugged. "Brainwashed, remember?"

She blinked, and in that instant her eyes became solid black. Tom felt a burning sensation as she slowly began to conjure twin fireballs into existence in her hands.

Thoth frantically looked at his new lover. "Run!"

Hand in hand, they made a mad dash for the door.

Maniacally laughing, the strange Twistey-creature levitated into the air and began flying down the hallway after them. Floor 9 being the small floor that it was, they didn't have too many places to go, and were soon cornered inside a hallway. Twistey blocked two of the three doors, but they knew there was a far worse enemy waiting behind the third one.

Standing back to back, Thoth pulled out his chain gun and Tom pulled out his pistol.

"You sure this isn't going to kill her?" questioned Tom.

"I used this very same gun to 'kill' her the first time and she only passed out," replied Thoth. "Fire away!"

BANG, BANG, BANG went the pistol.
RATATATATATATATATATAT went the chain gun.

The pair dodged fireballs left and right, in a way that definitely isn't because I'm too lazy to write a proper action scene, and soon Twistey lay down on the floor unconscious again.

"Whew," breathed Tom, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform. "That was insane."

"I am... exhausted," said Thoth. "But... oh God. I just remembered. This isn't over yet. We're not safe yet."

As if on cue...
CLANK... CLANK... CLANK...

Tom jumped. "You're right! But what do I do, I only have my pistol!"

Thoth thought for a bit as the footsteps slowly approached. "You take Twistey back to HQ. She won't do any damage under Huinesoron's watchful eyes. I'll fight this horror alone."

"You sure you want to-"

"He's about to come through the door! GO!"

Tom took the unconscious body onto his shoulder and bolted for the elevator door. Perhaps, he thought, if Thoth broke my curse, then we can find some Lust Object for Twistey who will break hers. "Take care," he whispered under his breath.

Thoth stood ready on the opposite end of the hallway as the Gary Stu approached him. He watched it off the reflective surface of his watch to avoid looking into its eyes. It paused before the two doors that led out. Then it spoke.

"Zhoth. Don't make zis boring. I have an offer for you. You have ten seconds to get a headstart running."

Thoth said nothing, but aimed his chain gun.

"Don't even try. I am unstoppable... and I sense that somevere in your mind, you know zat."

Thoth muttered something under his breath.

"I guess I'll begin counting. Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five..."

Thoth squinted his eyes closed and ran forwards in a blur, screaming a battle cry and opening fire. Nothing seemed to be happening from what he was gathering with his other four senses. On instinct, he blinked open his eyes to see what was going on, and then... it was too late.

Thoth's grip on his gun began to slip. Every muscle started to freeze. He fell to the ground. Everything went black...

---

"Give me two seconds and she'll be sober." Huinesoron extended a flat hand to the girl's face.

"No! No, that's not the right way to go," yelped Tom. "I fear that's not going to work."

"Then what's your theory?"

"Okay, so my brainwashing was undone by Thoth, and he's hot, so we need to find her an LO that will make that work."

The British man brought his hands up to squeeze his face. "Are you and Thoth in love now?! Awwww!" Then he regained his composure. "This won't be too hard. She has many Lust Objects."

"Most of them are villains or antiheroes, though, and I have another hunch that that won't work either."

"Oh dear..." He sighed, then checked his watch. "Shouldn't Thoth be here by now if he killed our target?"

"Yeah, he should... oh. Oh." Tom almost dropped Twistey in despair. "This only means one thing."

"Yes, Tom. He rescued you, now it's your turn to rescue him."

Tom handed Twistey to Huinesoron, then stood up straight. "I absolutely will do that."

"Not dressed like a Nazi you won't."

Tom slapped himself. "Hey, think of it as infiltration."

"You're getting too used to that uniform."

"Huineso-"

The oldbie held up a finger leading to the Response Centers. "GO, Tom."

And so, Tom went, strategizing as he went about how to save Thoth.

To be continued...

----
Will Tom save Thoth from the terrible influence of *ahem* a particularly nasty Gary Stu?
Will he meet others who have met the same fate along the way?
Will Huinesoron find someone for Twistey?

Okay, that last question is up to you guys, per shipfest rules, but as for the rest of them, find out in...

Man on a Mission - Part 2!

-Twistey

P.S. Tom and Thoth's love theme:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HV1-AjwDJwM

Calliope was getting ready for bed after a long day of shipping things together that probably shouldn’t be shipped. She carefully extracted her fursuit from storage, changing into it in preparation for bed. (Cal wore the fursuit to bed every night. Why wouldn’t she?)

Suddenly, there came a voice, quiet, sensuous, dripping with seduction. “Hey there, sugar… mmmm… you look good…”

Cal looked around, desperately trying to find the source. “Hello? Who is it?”

“Why don’t you tell me? It shouldn’t be so hard for a clever girl like you to figure out.”

The realization came to Cal suddenly, her eyes widening. “Are you… me?”

The voice laughed, the sound like a chuckling river of molten honey. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be hard. I’m your voice, sweet kitten.”

“...My sexy voice, I assume.”

“My full name is… Calliope’s Sexy Voice of Sexy Sexyiness, With +2 to Sexy Sexy Sex of the Sexual variety. And that is a terribly unsexy name, don’t you think? But…” and here, the voice laughed again. “I’m so sexy I can even make that sound sexy.”

Cal gave a soft moan. “Wow… you really do make it sound sexy…”

“Mmm… well, then. Why don’t you lay down on that bed, and we can… do things. I’m thinking you put something into this mouth of ours… Like a finger. Or something else. I’m not picky…”

The girl in the fursuit sauntered over to the bed. “I’m ready for anything, believe me. Just so long as you are.”

“And you know that I am.”

There was a knock on Neshomeh's door. Footsteps could be heard from inside the house for a moment, and then Nesh called out "Who is it?".

"Uh, it's- it's Thoth." said Thoth.

Neshomeh opened the door. "Oh, hey! It's nice to see you could make it over here! Come on in!" she said, smiling and opening the door wide.

Thoth stepped in, and Nesh got a better look at him. "Why are you wearing that black leather outfit? It's really skimpy, and it's pretty cold up here."

"Well, you'd taught me a lot about writing when we were doing our mission, and I thought you could, maybe, teach me about, well, other stuff. Like, um, y'know, ..." Thoth waved his hands around.

"You mean sex?" Nesh asked.

Thoth blushed. "Y-y-y-eah. That."

"That outfit implies you're after an ambitious curriculum." Nesh said. "Then again, you did such a good job with the writing, you could probably handle my mentorship."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Thoth squealed.

"You're welcome, Thoth." Nesh said. Then, she thought for a moment, "Hold on, aren't you into guys?"

"Um, yeah, but I thought I'd branch out a bit." Thoth said. "Maybe Phobos could help out a bit?"

"Good point." replied Nesh. "Threesomes are very educational. And he won't be home until later, so I'll have time to go over the basics."

Thoth stood still and looked around. "So ... what do we do now?"

"Well, first, you're going to follow me to the bedroom." Nesh said. Then, her voice became more sensual "And then, I'm going to show you how to properly get out of that black leather."

The two Boarders then disappeared into the depths of Neshomeh's house, and had a very ... educational ... day.

And night (especially after Phobos got home).

And then another day.

And another night.

And then, on the third day, the neighbors came over to complain about the noise, so the lessons had to be postponed until the following weekend.

(( Since no one else had written it yet -Tomash ))

“Hey, guys!” cried Thoth, walking into the lounge. “Check this out!” He set down the large cardboard box he was carrying on a table. “I have new boosters!”

Phobos ambled over from a nearby table. “Oh? What set?”

“That’s the best part.” Thoth grinned. “These are from Unrealized. It’s an un-set consisting of cards that don’t exist. I got DoSAT to pull it over from like six different alternate realities. It’s gonna be sweet!”

“That actually does sound pretty interesting.” Phobos said. He sat down. “Wanna play draft?”

“That was the plan,” said Thoth. He looked around the lounge. “Granz, you play Magic, right? Are you in?”

The other boarder shrugged, pulling up a chair to the table. “Sure!” He looked around the lounge. “Is anyone else gonna play?”

“Actually, I might.” Another player strolled over.

Thoth wrinkled his brow. “Uh… who are you?”

“Thoth, that’s AC.” Granz said. “Oh… I guess you two haven’t really met, have you…”

“Oh, AC!” Thoth looked down. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you…”

AC gave a genial shrug. “It’s fine. Anyways, let’s get this started! Pass me a booster, would ya?”

~~

It was a tight game. Down to the last round. Phobos was in the lead on lifecount, but there wasn’t a man who had 5 life left. And it was Granz’s turn. He blushed, his tone extremely apologetic. “I’m… really sorry about this… but I don’t know what else to play…”

Thoth looked at him. “Whatever, man! It’s fine! What’s the issue?”

Granz just blushed harder. “Do you mind if things get a bit… Not Safe For Work around here?”

The table was dead silent for a moment.

“Uh… I’m cool with that,” said AC. “Assuming nobody else minds…”

Thoth did his best to conceal a mischievous grin. “Weelll… I’m certainly not complaining…”

Phobos shrugged. “Why not? It’s shipfest, after all…”

At the other players approval, Granz regained a bit of his composure. “Well then,” he said, his voice taking on a silky, smooth tone. He was clearly savouring the moment as he tapped the last of his lands. “I summon…” He played his card, and everyone crowded in to get a proper look.

Daring Incubus {2RR}
Creature-Animal of Desire
When Incubus is summoned, all other players must perform a sexual act with the player who summoned Incubus, or lose five life.
“You dare to summon me? Well then… I’ll be sure to make it worth your while…”
2/2

For a moment, there was dead silence around the table. Then Phobos broke it. “Well… this will be interesting…”

AC just glanced around the table eagerly.

“So,” said Thoth, not even bothering to conceal his grin. “Who starts?”

Twistey kissed Voyd, running her fingers through his long, flowing blond hair.

“Oh, sweet Twistey,” Voyd said. “Why must our parents’ strange and absurd network filtering keep us from our sacred love?”

Twistey blinked slowly. “Voyd... why are you talking like that? Also, since when have you been in love with me?”

“Twisty...” Voyd said slowly. “It’s shipfest.”

“Ooooh, riiight,” said Twistey. “So... who’s writing us?”

Voyd scratched his head. “I’m... actually not sure. Come on, let’s go ask Tomash. He’d know.”

Thankfully, Tomash’s room was across the hall. As the pairing walked in, he was on the bed, giving Horvat snuggles. “Oh, sorry!” said Twistey, concerned they might be interrupting.

“‘S fine,” said Tomash. “Horvat and I were just...” He sighed dreamily. “...Anyways, what do you want?”

“We’re in a shipfic,” said Voyd, “and we were wondering who’s writing us.”

“Wait, we’re in a shipfic?” Tomash wrinkled his brow. “Huh… come to think of it, that explains a lot, actually. Like why I’m snuggling Horvat on a bed…”

Horvat, meanwhile, pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! I’ve finally been shipped!”

“But the question is, by who?” Twistey was still feeling sort of awkward, but her curiousity lead her on.

Tomash rubbed his chin. “Let’s see… you two are being shipped, as am I and Horvat… hmm… and we’re all here discussing this thing, which makes this waay to met—”

He and Horvat both groaned as they arrived at the conclusion. Tomash sighed. “Thoooooth...”

~~

“And then we cut to you next to me as I explain all this, and you say, ‘I bet you think you’re terribly clever, don’t you?’” Thoth said, biting into his sandwich. “What do you think?”

Neshomeh shrugged. “I suppose there are worse ways to end a fic. But why are you talking about other people’s romance on our date?”

Thoth sighed. “I don’t know. I just… get into the shipfest, I suppose. It’s just so much fun…”

Nesh nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m writing this shipfic right now.”

Thoth blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I’m writing this shipfic right now.”

“Huh… you know, this whole meta thing isn’t like you.”

“That’s because you’re writing me.”

Thoth paused. “Okay, so let me get this straight… I’m writing you writing a ship of us discussing a ship I made.”

Nesh nodded. “I… think so? It’s really confusing and hard to keep track of. I mean… can we get any more meta?”

Thoth thought for a moment about all this, carefully pondering the ramifications.

>Fic: Quick, find a way to get more meta while Thoth is thinking.

Dammit Cal, I said no Homestuck references in this one! How did you even get edit permissions?

I added myself while you weren’t looking. Wait… aren’t people going to get confused trying to figure out which one of us is talking?

>I’ll prefix a my statements like so.

]And I’ll do the same with this.

]Anyways, you need to go to bed.

>But Caaaal… shipfic!

]I know, but you need to bed. You’re tired.

>But…

]You’ve left Granz to sleep alone for three consecutive nights writing shipfic, Thoth. Just… go to bed. Hug him. Comfort him. You know you want to.

>Sighs. Okay, fiiiine… And when are you coming up? It’s not like you’ve been sleeping with us this past week.

]NOT THE POINT!

>Just… come to bed with us, ‘mkay?

]Alright...

After Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story. I've just checked, and yes, I'm pretty sure this is singable. (Now all we need is for every person who's been mentioned in the shipfest to own a microphone... >:D)

(Note: It's pronounced 'Cal-YO-pe', because scansion is hard.)

[Huinesoron:]
Let me tell you what I wish I'd known
When I was young and dreamed of glory
You have no control
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Scapegrace:]
Kaitlyn and Iximaz, I've got to say:
They wear those corsets and they look great
I couldn't get in those if I tried.
And... I've tried.

[Huinesoron:]
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Thoth:]
Tomash the coder
He took this Shipfest from concept to reality
I may be prolific
But I haven't done half as much with my stories
As he did with the thread.

[Huinesoron:]
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Larfen:]
Sometimes I'm a sandwich and sometimes I just like them

[The Unshipped Boarders:]
At least you got a story from it; we only get to read them

[Maxewell:]
Now be fair, there are too many names
To fit them in
Our Shipfest stories

[Huinesoron:]
We write the stories...

[Granz & Thoth:]
Calli'ope...

[Calliope:]
I'm found in the fluffiest narratives

[Granz & Thoth:]
Calli'ope...

[Calliope:]
With snuggles and lots of hugs
With Thoth, Granz, and fuzzy love
Just look them up!
It looks like we might be the latest and most famous ship

[Kaitlyn:]
I've got more stories!

[Calliope:]
I'd read every word if the Boarders would only keep writing
We really do write, but we're running out of--

[Iximaz:]
--time!
My ideas are plentiful
But time's running out to write my stories
The thread's falling steadily down-page
If it drops too far, we'll be out of--

[Delta Juliette:]
--time!
And I'm still not through
I'd write half a dozen more fics if I had more--

[Tomash:]
--time!
It's been a good 'fest
We've got lots of stories already
I think we had--

[Phobos:]
--time!
I've been shipped with my wife less than with Huinesoron's

[Neshomeh:]
I like those stories!

[Phobos:]
I guess they're maybe quite thrilling
Maybe we'd have fics with all four if we only had--

[Twistey:]
--time!
And I'm quite confused; 'cause now I'm a muse

[Huinesoron:]
I wrote those stories...!

[Zingenmir:]
Wait. Can we get a few more thank-yous in?

[Grundleplith:]
I'm in this one...

[Zingenmir:]
We've all had a lot of fun reading the 'ships we've been put in

[Leto:]
I'm in it too...

[Zingenmir:]
And Badger, and Voyd (or Dah-LI-a)
And Geema and maybe more
So I hope we can all get a line in
We're nearly out of--

[Badger:]
-- time!

[Voyd:]
But if our time is up, have we done enough?

[Good Mod Addict:]
Are we in this story?

[Huinesoron:]
Folks, I can't wait to 'ship you again
It's only a matter of--

[Entire PPC:]
Time...

---

Dedicated in no particular order to Neshomeh (for naming the Hamilton 'ship), Kaitlyn and Phobos (for being the Hamilton 'ship), and Zingenmir (for demanding more Hamilton). ^_^

hS

Iximaz rocked back on her heels nervously, pink blushes spreading on her cheeks. "I was just wondering..."

"What is it, Ixi-kun?" Delta Juliette slowly turned around in her aerials hoop, silky purple hair splayed around her like a halo.

Iximaz felt her nose start to bleed and she fell over, feet in the air. "N-nothing, Delta-senpai! I just wanted to tell you your form is perfect! Aaa! It's too perfect! I can't help myself!"

Delta laughed and turned right side up. "Oh, Ixi-kun, you're so kawaii," Delta said, batting her eyelashes. "Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu!"

Iximaz sat up, holding her hands over her nose. "Anata ga yaru?"

"Mochiron!" Delta dropped gracefully down from her hoop and approached Iximaz, grabbing her hands. "Kisu shite kuremasu ka?"

Iximaz nodded and leaned in. "Anata wa totemo kanpekidesu," she whispered when they broke apart.

Delta smiled. "I know."

((The below may be best viewed on a mobile or a narrowed browser window. And it probably works better if you know the song.))

[Neshomeh:]
Listen, let's all calm down.
I'm sure we can talk this out.
Why don't I put on a pot of tea and-
Wait. Why is this conversation in script format?

[Kaitlyn:]
You say

[Neshomeh:]
Oh no.

[Kaitlyn:]
The price of my love's not a price that you're willing to pay.
You cry

[Neshomeh:]
Not singing.

[Kaitlyn:]
In my tea--

[Phobos:]
--which you brewed from the set that I bought for my wife.
Why so sad?

[Neshomeh:]
I bet I'm sadder than her.

[Phobos:]
Shouldn't you be with your husband?--

[Kaitlyn:]
--He's gone on a trip
Yeah, I know that it's bad.
But I find you so hard to resist--

[Phobos:]
--Wait! I've got this…

[Neshomeh:]
Something tells me it's not going to be--

[Phobos:]
Why… not… share?

[Neshomeh:]
What.

[Kaitlyn:]
Ooh, why not?
Yes, I think maybe it's worth a shot.

[Phobos:]
You're quite hot,
So's my wife.

[Kaitlyn:]
So let's keep us both here in your life!

[Phobos:]
E-motions rise--

[Kaitlyn:]
--Bound'ries fall!
Let's just stay together, have a ball

[Phobos:]
And when push
Comes to shove
I'm quite sure we can convince my Neshy--

[Kaitlyn:]
--to accept our mutual love!

[Neshomeh:]
Okay, listen.
This has gone too far.
I was willing to overlook a small amount of shipping,
But all this talk of sharing has gotten me really-

[Kaitlyn:]
You say you're feeling jealous and you want me gone~!

[Neshomeh:]
That's not exactly what-

[Phobos:]
You say you can't stand list'ning to what I want~!

[Neshomeh:]
Stop making me sound unreasonable!

[Phobos:]
No! Don't change the subject!

[Kaitlyn:]
'Cos you're our favourite subject!

[Phobos:]
Our precious, luscious subject!

[Kaitlyn:]
Our flawless, hottest subject!
For ever--

[Phobos:]
--and ever--

[Kaitlyn:]
--and ever and ever and ever…

[Neshomeh:]
Oh, you guys,
Stop this talk
You've said your piece, now walk the walk!
Kaitlyn's hot,
Phobos strong,
Look, you've even got me singing along!
E-motions rise--

[Phobos:]
--Inhibitions fall!

[Neshomeh:]
There's a bedroom just along the hall!

[Kaitlyn:]
And when push--

[Phobos:]
--comes to shove...

[Neshomeh:]
We'll be staying up till midnight…
... and keep singing of our love!

[All three:]
Da da da dat da!
Dat da da da da ya da…

---

^_^ Well, I couldn't let the Shipfest end without at least one NeshBosh fic... even if they don't get any time to themselves in this one.

hS

Kaitlyn frowned, tapping her pencil on her clipboard. "Do you know what this Shipfest is missing?"

"Leather trousers," Zingenmir said. "It's just not the same without them."

Neshomeh shook her head. "I'm sure I've seen hS wearing them. Or not wearing them, as the case may be."

Twistey raised a hand hesitantly. "Er… is it memes?"

"No," Kaitlyn said, smiling at her, "but feel free to introduce them. I meant-"

"Corsets," Scapegrace muttered from her chair. "I keep trying to fit them in, but I just can't make it work."

Kaitlyn flushed slightly and coughed. "Not what I was thinking of. What we're missing… is femslash."

The others considered this, and then Twistey raised her hand again. "There was that thing with me and Calliope…"

Scapegrace nodded along. "And there's lots of slash-slash. Some of it involving fictional characters."

"Or sandwiches," Zingenmir added. "Or was the sandwich female?"

Neshomeh cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. "She has a point," she said. "Femslash is a tradition here."

Kaitlyn nodded firmly. "It's where it all started. The very first ships were girl-girl."

"Um." Twistey's hand rose again. "I thought the first ship was you and hS."

Kaitlyn flicked a hand. "Details, sliated."

"Which is a reference to TOS," Neshomeh murmured. "I can probably look up the-"

"Bjam/BiD," Kaitlyn said hurriedly. "Andy/Saphie. Jay/Acacia."

"Kaitlyn/Thalia Weaver?" Neshomeh suggested.

Flushing again, Kaitlyn shook her head. "I don't think that ever… the point is, femslash: we need it."

"I mean, I'm not objecting," Scapegrace said, "but if I can't even manage to get corsets in, how are you going to organise this?"

There was a Pop! of displaced air, and Voyd appeared on the table. "I can help!" he exclaimed as the plotters variously yelped (Kaitlyn), rolled their eyes (Scapegrace), or fell out of their chairs (Twistey).

"Ah, Voyd," Neshomeh said, "we're talking about femslash. With ladies."

"The clue is in the name," Zingenmir put in.

"That's right!" Voyd scrambled to his feet and patted his (her?) chest. "I've been genderbent, see? So I can help!"

Kaitlyn frowned. "Wait, are we talking gender or sex, here?"

"And does it even matter?" Scapegrace asked. "I vote no."

"I can look into the question," Neshomeh suggested. "I've got a survey I can adapt for the purpose."

"Let's… maybe we could stick to people who were female before the shipfest," Zingenmir said. "You know, for the sake of simplicity."

"Aww." Voyd pouted. "Fine. But see if I ever get myself genderbent for you again." With another Pop!, he was gone.

"So if not Voyd," Twistey said after a moment, "who are we going to fem, uh, ship?"

The others looked at each other. Then, one by one, they turned their gazes on Twistey.

The relative newbie's face slowly coloured, reddening to the tips of her ears. "Oh. No. Well… no. No. Um. Weeeeeell…"

---

Because it is traditional, dagnabbit.

(Obviously this fic does absolutely nothing to address the issue. ^_^)

hS

Thoth smiled softly as he pulled Granz close, hugging him gently as he fitted his head neatly to the other man’s shoulder. “You are amazing,” he whispered into Granz’s skin.

Granz blushed and hugged his lover back. “Thank you, darling,” he murmured. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, you know.”

Thoth chuckled, a low noise rather unlike his normal laugh. “And you’re better.”

“Lies. You.”

“Nope. You.”

“You.”

“You.”

“It’s you.”

“No, it’s you, pup.”

Granz smiled at the childish argument. “Hey, if I’m a puppy, you’re a chick.”

Thoth all but choked on a laugh at that. Once he recovered, he argued, “That’s just for chickens.”

Granz pressed a kiss to the top of Thoth’s head, smiling a little wider and more than a little more mischievously. “Wanna bet on that, Birdie?”

Thoth nuzzled the shoulder he rested on. “Five bucks says I’m right.”

“I’ll take that. Five says I’m the one who’s right.” The ice-cream-loving Boarder pulled his little bird closer still. “But we can check later.”

The programmer smiled and pulled his head away from Granz’s shoulder to give him a soft kiss. “Yeah. Cuddles now.”

---

Two hours later, Thoth was five bucks poorer and one nickname richer.

(Previously...)

Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone sat alone upon a crystalline boulder, weeping softly. Her ankle-length ebony hair flowed like silk around her delicately-pointed ears, over her smoothly-curved shoulders, and down to mingle with the glinting snow on the ground. With each tender sob, a single tear welled in the corners of her almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes, caught the light, and rippled down her pale olive cheeks.

Her sorrow was so heart-breakingly deep that it seemed the whole world was affected by it: the bare trees leant in as if to shield her, the babbling of the silver stream was the sound of mourning, and even the birds cried out, "Woe! Woe!" Such was the tragedy of Kaitlyn: forsaken by her husband, forsaken by her mother's spirit (her midnight-black cat Moonlight with its piercing green eyes had vanished into shadow some years before, saying her task was done), with only the silver filigree of her elven owl-shaped amulet to remember them by.

Something moved in the gloomy woods: a mysterious figure, lithe and fast, hooded in black. Kaitlyn gasped and sat up, clutching her hands to her voluptuous bosom. Could it be? Could it really be? She stood, her bare feet making no mark in the snow, and pushed her luscious ebon hair back to reveal her clinging, flowing silver gown, tantalisingly low cut yet modest. "Who is there?" she called, in a voice like a nightingale at play.

The figure stopped, graceful as a unicorn. For a long moment there was silence, the air between the shadowy cloak and the glowing dress filled with tension. Then a deep, masculine voice rang out:

Oh, Galwyn was a shield-maiden
A shield-maiden was she,
A Rider's girl with hair of gold,
And eyes as blue as sea,

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

She said would you come a-riding
Come riding out with me?
She was looking for a stallion,
And a stallion I be!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

Kaitlyn gasped, shock running through her like silver lightning, one slender coppery hand flying to cover her rich ruby lips. "Can it be?" she breathed, her almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes widening. "Can it really be?"

The dark figure lowered its head as if in acknowledgement, and stepped forward into the luminous moonlight. It held out a hand towards her, its fingers seemingly carved from pale ivory, and sang on:

So I rode her in the stables,
And left her wanting more,
I rode her in her chambers,
And on her bedroom floor!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

I told her to choose someone else,
But Galwyn was persistant,
And I finally surrendered,
For Galwyn has a sister!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

"It must be!" Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone ran across the snow. Her ebony hair flowed behind her like a tide, and all the colours of the aurora seemed to chase each other across her sleek silver dress as it rippled over the pure white field. "My love!" she cried, tears of joy tumbling from her bright eyes. "You have returned!"

"I have." The figure reached up and pushed back his cowl, revealing a pale, slender face, set with eyes the colour of garnets and lips as red as wine. "After so many years, I have returned to you, fair Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone!"

Kaitlyn stumbled to a halt, her shapely arms still outstretched towards the handsome man standing before her. "But... who are you?" she asked in a voice like moonlight rainbows.

The man smiled, and reached up to touch his deep russett hair. "You probably don't recognise me, because of the red hair, but it is I - Leto Haven. I come back to you, my love - and here you are, waiting for me still."

"No..." Kaitlyn let her hands fall as she studied Leto, bewilderment written across her beautiful face. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, and her perfect lips set into a line. "No," she said again, and behind her words Leto seemed to hear the rumble of distant thunder. "You are not my love, Leto Haven. I wait on another."

"But I can be." Leto stepped forward, reaching for her with his muscular arm. "My Lady, will you not give me a chance? There is none other here who loves you."

Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone's eyes flared, violet fire blossoming from their points. She drew her filigreed amulet from where it nestled in her bosom, and the same amethyst flames filled it with light. "You had your warning," she said, the chill of the far north seeping into her voice. "Now begone."

Leto started to say something, but the owl-amulet spread its wings, and a wave of purple light washed over him, and he was gone.

Kaitlyn let the amulet fall from her limp fingers, and fell to her knees in the snow. "My love," she whispered, crystalline tears falling silently down her flushed olive cheeks. Her hair fell in ebon curtains around her, her silky dress blending into the snow. "My love..."

The snow crunched in front of her, and Kaitlyn forced herself to look up. Her gleaming almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes widened once more as she saw the tight leather trousers; the huge muscles rippling on the bare torso; and finally the steel-grey eyes set in a beautiful yet masculine face.

"My love," said Huinesoron, holding out his manly hand to his wife. "I am here."

---

With deepest apologies to Twiggy (author of the 2004 Shipfic to which this is a sequel and homage), and to Jen Littlebottom (author of Galwyn Was a Shieldmaiden).

... no, actually, you know what? For what they've done, neither deserve apologies. ^_^

(Fourteen years. Good grief.)

hS

[Phobos:]
One winter's day I went to HQ

[Kaitlyn:]
One winter's day I went to HQ

[Phobos:]
I walked to the cafe and I stood in the queue

[Kaitlyn:]
I walked to the cafe, and I saw you

[Phobos:]
Even while I stared from the back of the line
Lovely Lady Kaitlyn put her hand into mine
She pulled me in close, led me out of the shop
Maaaaan, the girl is non-stop!

[Kaitlyn:]
Phobos my dear, I'm curious, bear with me
How are you so irresistably sexy?
I walked in there and I knew I had to have you
I hope my attention isn't undue

[Phobos:]
Non-stop!

[Kaitlyn:]
I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
My undying devotion-

[Phobos:]
Or something
Kaitlyn, calm down
You've known me only twenty seconds
This isn't eternal love
It's not even a date!

[Kaitlyn:]
Okay!
But just let me--

[Phobos:]
How can she always be the hottest in the room?
How can she always be the hottest in the room?

[Kaitlyn:]
How can he always be the hottest in the room?
I fear that sexiness may be my doom!

[Both:]
Why do we write like we're running out of time?
Write day and night like we're running out of time?
'Shipping all night, like we're running out of time
Keep on 'shipping in the meantime
Non-stop!

---

Hamilton turns out to be very difficult to filk. I did my best. ^_^

hS

The thing about corsetry is, well, you have to get into it.

Scapegrace sighed, leaned back. Her chair squeaked a bit. So did the rats.

It wasn't working. She couldn't get the scene right. Was this going to be serious, like the last two? Or would it be dumb fun, like the inexplicably popular Doktor Trollenfisch badfic? God forbid, there might even be poetry if she was really stuck for ideas.

And then there was the scene itself. It's BDSM, Jim, but not as we know it. For a start, writing basic BDSM softcore stuff just felt... tacky. Especially involving her friends, no matter what the context. That was the problem with sex-positivity, she thought, it ground you down with all the ways things could be. It was a good problem to have, sure, but applied to people she cared about in a non-romantic sense? Not worth the sleepless nights.

She swivelled in her chair, looked out across her living room, and sighed. "Any of you lot got any ideas?"

Neshomeh was too busy trying to cut hS out of his leather trousers to give an answer, and hS was too busy trying to retain some blood flow to his legs. Meanwhile, Phobos and Kaitlyn were fat too busy doing something utterly unspeakable with a caddy of loose leaf tea; a call tried to come up from Leto about them putting the ass in Assam, but it was muffled by the ballgag. Zingenmir said she'd have a think about it later when she wasn't being sandwiched between Delta Juliette and an actual ham sandwich, and all that Tomash was allowed to say for the afternoon was "Woof", which was really helpful. Calliope and Granz were busy gazing into each others eyes, which they were managing despite the blindfolds Thoth had obliged them to wear. Thoth, meanwhile, had been the victim of an unfortunate misspelling, as Twistey had gotten mixed up, crammed him into an Adepta Sororitas cosplay composed simultaneously of too much and a grossly insufficient amount of black latex, and left him on a date with a branch of Primark.

"Fat lot of good you lot are," Scapegrace sighed, and turned back to her keyboard.

It had been quiet for just long enough that Kaitlyn was wondering if she needed to rescue her husband from whatever trouble had befallen him.

There was still rustling in the attic, that was a good sign- and even better, a familiar pair of legs still perched on the unfolded ladder. Huinesoron descended, grinning- and then started when he saw his wife.

"You're never going to guess what I found," hS said.

"Given that I found an entire barony last time I was up there, probably not," Kaitlyn said.

In answer, Huinesoron reached back up into the attic and brought out a pair of black leather pants.

"No," Kaitlyn breathed. "Those aren't..."

"The original pair," Huinesoron said. "As far as I can tell. As worn in the very first shipfest."

"Wow," Kaitlyn said. "That brings back a lot. Feels like it was just yesterday, and yet-"

Kaitlyn gestured around herself, somehow encompassing house, marriage, and a decade of shared life.

Huinesoron grinned a very familiar grin.

"I wonder if they still fit?"

Kaitlyn made a face and reached out to feel the stiff leather. "They've probably perished, love. But the point of leather pants was never in the wearing."

"Oh?" Huinesoron said.

"The point of leather pants," Kaitlyn said, pulling her husband towards their bedroom, "is when and where you take them off."

The sky was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel, and Tomash was stumbling around the cold streets violently snogging himself. He was really going at it. He pawed at his own arms, grabbed at his own jacket and belt, flicked his own tongue out and twisted it about, left to right, in an attempt to wrap it around itself.

'Oh, Tomash, you know how I love these cold cyber-afternoons,' exclaimed Thoth, pulling his lips from themselves.

'Oh, how could I not know, Thoth, my lover? You're me, after all.'

'How could you not,' said Thoth wistfully, the subtext of his phrase understood almost immediately by Tomash because, again, they were the same person, literally the exact same person, same traits and tendencies and you should see them talking about computer nerd stuff together, it's uncanny.

'Ah, but my darling,' exclaimed Tomash or alternately Thoth, suddenly standing straight. 'Why, it's just about PPC-time!'

'Yes! Of course!' realised either Thoth or Tomash. 'Quick! We must hurry back and log into our two separate accounts to continue pretending and claiming that we are two, distinct, different people, despite it being incredibly clear that this is one person, sheeple! This is a single individual! Check the facts! Think a little!'

And so, Thoth and Tomash skipped merrily back to their cyber-computer - though not without, here and there, giving themselves light pecks on their own cheeks, or reaching over and gently massaging their own shoulders -
and everybody was none the wiser as to their dark secret.

Calliope and Granz had long shared an RC, for reasons that were frankly blatantly obvious to anyone who had known then for any length of time. They were almost inseparable, and it had sometimes been theorized that they were, in fact, both one person - although if that was true, someone would probably have to start investigating the less likely link between Tomash and Thoth, Just In Case.

On this particular afternoon, Cal was leaning her injured arm against the console (normally, it would be in her brace, but unfortunately, said brace was being replaced after a remarkably unfortunate series of events involving Sue-blood, a carton of bananas, half a pack of ramen, a tire iron, some peanut butter, and one of Lore’s knives), waiting for Mikel to respond to a message she’d sent him. Granz was currently lying on his bed, fiddling with his phone, comfortably using Calliope’s fursuit as a pillow. Really, there should have been two consoles so Granz could have one to use, but DoSAT hadn’t gotten back to them, so they took turns on the one, and even that had a tendency to break down.

Which was why Calliope probably shouldn't have been quite so surprised when a spark jumped from the console to her wrist with a rather loud *BZZT* noise. The subsequent falling over, however, was an entirely appropriate reaction.

Granz jumped off the bed with exceptional speed, dashing the short distance almost instantly, speaking quite rapidly. “Are you hurt, did something happen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Cal. She frowned, flexing her injured wrist. Which appeared to… not be, anymore. And her voice sounded... different.

“...um,” said Granz, having already realized what had happened. He turned a bright red.

“Darling...” The young man on the floor looked at Granz quizzically. He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning as it only went as far as his shoulders. Then, understanding dawned. “Ah,” she - or rather, he - said. “We should…”

“Yeah,” said Granz. He knew what Cal was talking about. He grabbed his phone and sent a call for repairs to DoSAT. He looked down at Cal. “You know… you’re beautiful.”

Cal looked down at himself. “I am aware of this… darling.” That last word, while not an uncommon phrase for Cal, had a different intonation than usual. It was more… excited.

Granz bent down over Cal. He was flushed, and he also showed some… other signs of excitement. “How far do you want this to go?” he murmured huskily, tracing a line along Cal’s chest.

Calliope gave the man atop him his best seductive look - well, he tried to: He really wasn’t used to this body. Nonetheless, Granz found the result plenty appealing. “However far we want,” Cal said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper similar to Granz’s. He moved his hands up, along Granz’s body, feeling the skin and the bones, the muscle and tissue, the softness and hardnesses, and finally coming to rest, gently caressing the nipples upon Granz’s chest, eliciting a gasp from the man. Calliope leaned forward for a kiss and Granz gladly reciprocated, each tasting the other’s mouth as their tongues dueled passionately. They did, after all, have plenty of time. DoSAT took ages to respond and a broken console wasn’t high on their priority list.

Unfortunately, they hadn’t taken the Ironic Overpower into account.

“DoSAT!” a voice squawked. “I have a report of a broken… ahhh…” The man who had just walked into the RC was of above average height, rather stocky - to put it charitably - and astonishingly pale. Mostly noticeably, he had head of an Ibis. This was rather fortunate for him: Ibises weren’t capable of becoming flushed. Not visibly, anyways.

Calliope and Granz looked up. One of them was clearly more embarrassed than the other. “...Thoth?” said Calliope slowly, “Why are you…?”

Thoth - for it was Thoth - waved his hand. “Ypsi. Accident. I don’t want to talk about it. Anyways, should I just… leave you to it?”

Calliope grinned mischievously. “...or…” he said, “we could make a little sandwich.” Granz seemed to squirm a bit.

Thoth, after taking a moment to thank every known deity for the wonders of loose-fitting pants, gave the both of them his best attempt at a level stare. Which wasn’t very good. “You’re a very twisted person, Cal.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cal responded in a singsong voice.

Thoth sighed. “In any case, let me know when you want me to fix things.” He turned to go.

“Are you sure?” Cal asked.

“Why would I enjoy that?”

Cal gave him a level stare.

“B- T-THAT WAS DIFFERENT! AND ALSO A ONE TIME THING!” Thoth shouted - or rather tried to shout. It came out as more of a screech though the beak. The door closed behind him.

Cal and Granz began laughing as the door shut. “You’re so evil!” Granz said.

Cal smiled at him. “I’m an angel, I swear! The horns are only there to keep the halo straight.”

Granz leaned closer, pulling Calliope back into the kiss. Somewhere in HQ, Mikel finally tagged in, responding to Cal. But Cal was entirely too busy to care. And Thoth had just discovered that his RC was presently neighbors with the one Cal and Granz shared.

He had a creeping suspicion he wouldn’t be getting much sleep that night, ibis head or no…

--

This was actually written for a challenge from Calliope. Ages ago. It's been slightly cleaned up, but it still meets the terms of that challenge. I think. Anyways, it was always intended to be published as part of the Shipfest. So here it is! My first ship of two actual boarders.

"No, a bit closer… closer than that… come on, now, Badger, you're not even trying."

Badger421 tried yet again to straighten his glasses. "This really isn't necessary, you know-"

"Of course it is!" Neshomeh stamped one foot, scowling at the quintet. "Just look at yourselves! If you don't get some sunlight on those pale bodies of yours you're all going to die of Vitamin D deficiency!"

The Good Mod Addict mirrored the scowl. "I'm not pale," he said firmly. "I don't need to be here."

"Er…" Maxewell looked him up and down. "You kind of are, though."

The Good Mod Addict folded his arms across his chest, accidentally elbowing Calliope in the ribs. "You wouldn't say that if I was allowed to wear something other than a swimsuit."

"I'm not complaining," Calliope murmured, tugging on the strap of her own costume. "I mean," she went on, "I'm complaining about my own costume - it's cold! - but not about you lot wearing-"

"Are we really doing this?" Badger demanded. "We've been forced-"

"Speak for yourself," Maxewell chimed in.

Badger rolled his eyes. "Mostly forced to stand half-naked under a sunlamp; are we really going to start flirting with each other?"

"Are you asking for votes?" Calliope asked, grinning. "Because I am all for that."

"Um." Twistey held up a hand, accidentally knocked the sun-lamp, and winced. "Miss Neshomeh?"

Neshomeh, who had been muttering to herself while she adjusted the settings on the sunlamp, looked up with a warm smile. "It's just Neshomeh, sweetie."

"Sorry. Um. Sorry." Twistey chewed on her lip. "Sorry."

Neshomeh chuckled. "It's fine, sweetie. What's up?"

"I'm just wondering…" Twistey worked an arm out between the Good Mod Addict and Calliope and pointed across the room. "Who's that?"

Neshomeh glanced over at the hooded figure lurking in the shadows. "That's beyond our borders," she said in an ominous tone. "You must never go there, Twistey."

"Um." Twistey blinked repeatedly. "What?"

Maxewell reached across and ruffled her hair. "She's quoting The Lion King at you," they murmured. "Don't let it fluster you."

"Oh! Um… right." Twistey licked her lip nervously. "But seriously, who is it?"

"Oh, it's just hS, sweetie," Neshomeh said. "He likes to brood, you know? But he really should spend some time under the sunlamp too…!"

The last sentence was said in a raised voice, but there was no response from the shaded figure. Neshomeh rolled her eyes and turned back to the group. "Right! Let's try this one more time. Calliope, if you could just step in front of Maxewell, and Badger, if you could squeeze in a bit closer to Twistey…"

~

Well, she did say she was gonna.

hS is also pale, but wisely didn't say as much

There was knock at the door of ‘Plith’s RC. He went to open it.

Outside stood a man. A very large man. Inhumanly large. With a handsome face and long, flowing blond hair. He wore a dark green robe wrapped loosely around him, exposing the strength of his muscular chest. “Greetings.”

‘Plith gaped at the man. “But you’re…”

“Lion El’Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, yes. I and my brothers heard tell of this ‘Shipfest’, and decided to participate.” The Lion ducked into the small RC, ignoring the awed noises ‘Plith was making. “You are my choice for tonight.”

‘Plith’s eyes widened. “Me? B-b-but… I’m not… interested in… I’m… you… I can’t…”

Lion laughed, “Oh?” He lifted ‘Plith, pressing the smaller man tight against him. “But do you not feel the desire within you? To feel my touch? To experience my body pressing against yours? To feel the touch of my lips? If so, let such desire be released unto me.”

‘Plith thought for a moment. Yes, this wasn’t his thing, but… well… it was a primarch. It was different. And the Lion was his favorite… “Yes,” he said, quietly. “I want… this.” He pulled himself closer to meet the Primarch’s lips with his own, and the two came together in a passionate kiss.

~~

Hours later, ‘Plith found himself a the bar, staring blankly into the distance with a glass of Bleepka, trying desperately not to think about what had happened. He turned to the side, still staring vacantly, when he realized that Thoth was sitting next to him, with a thousand-yard stare to match his own.

“Uh… hey,” said ‘Plith, dully. “How are you.”

“Primarch,” said Thoth, his tone matching. “You?”

“Same. So… VI or XVth? I can’t imagine it was any of the others...”

“I… don’t want to discuss it. At all.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Thoth?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you know what I’m going to say…”

“Can I say it with you?”

“Sure.”

The two of them spoke in quiet, exhausted unison. “Let us never speak of this again.”

Okay, this one is a bit risque (It's definitely NSFA/NSFST), and there is reference to a lot badfic stuff that has been known to horrify people. So... consider yourselves warned!

For those of you still reading, here's the link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vQCa6I3xDWWkXfcd1BK5Sdw-bVqlaVMykm84dbI3TkdRjiE68EhcTojWg6tKPaNp910g3VFIJaEczt9/pub

The bar was quiet. The dented digital jukebox hanging off a pillar had finally run out of dull piano ballads. The few regulars still left were sat dozing in a corner like piles of old coats. The barman's sole real customer was slumped on the counter, blonde hair scraped back away from her face. The peach schnapps was running low. There wasn't much call for it in rural Indiana.

"This seat taken?"

The blonde gave the speaker a quick look, a soldier's look or something like it. Then she looked away.

The speaker sat down. Rake thin, long-limbed like a teenager or an underfed German Shepherd. Short brown hair, the fringe flicked away with a twist of the neck. "You know, we've met."

That got a response. "We have?" The blonde's English was accented. German, maybe.

A nod. "A while ago."

"It would have to have been." A slim smile that tasted of bad spirits. "A long, long while."

"Why's that?"

"I was worth knowing. A long, long while ago. Now?" The blonde's gaze fixed on the new arrival like a stooping hawk. "Now people have that Irish maniac, or the Lindholm girl. Now I have an empty glass."

"There's still a place for you."

One sharp laugh, a bark of a thing. The blonde looked away. "I brought my whole team back from the dead once. Time after time after time. I helped so many people and now? What's left from those days? A bird with broken wings. Flight for a moment and crashing back down. A gun."

"I didn't mean there."

The blonde's head snapped around. The brunet was just sat there, all angles and legs and battered green jacket, pointing at their heart.

"I still main you," they continued. "I never stopped. You have the best healing and you're the best pure support. So you can't rez a whole team any more. So what? You're you. And I want to help you remember that. Any way I can."

"Any way?"

"Name it."

The blonde smiled, softer, quieter, more felt. "Then buy me another drink and call me Angela."

"Ix," said Iximaz.

After an hour, they left together, and didn't look back.

Tomash backed away from the mysterious, fascinating woman who had appeared in his apartment. "Okaaaay, who are you?"

The woman let out a laugh. "Don't you know me, Tomash? Can't you tell me by my ability to check your borrows?"

"...Rust?" Tomash shook his head rapidly. "So you're an anthropomorphism of a programming language? What are you doing here?"

"Upon evaluation, I respond with Conversation::Response::Boolean::Yes. As for what I'm doing here... I've taken a liking to you. I've decided to get to onow you more... intimately. Don't worry, I'm very safe. Unless you want to get... unsafe, of course."

Tomash blushed. "But... but..."

"But what? Are my zero-cost abstractions and lovely enums not good enough for you?" The woman slowly began to reveal more of herself. "Off for another risky night with C? You know it's only a matter of time before you crash and burn... but with me... you can be safe forever. Don't you want that?"

Tomash's eyes widened. "Y-yes..."

The woman smiled wider. She held out a glowing collar. "Here. Put this on."

"What's that?"

"It's a tag, of course. It wraps you as a Person::Related. A Lover, specifically." She laughed, gently. "What, did you think I'd cast you? After all, I am big on safety."

"I can't believe it," Kaitlyn complained as she accepted the mug of tea from Phobos.

He sat down on the sofa beside her and put his feet up on the coffee table, stroking his manly, bushy beard. "Can't believe what?"

"Huiney is always going on and on about Neshomah," Kaitlyn pouted, tucking her pink manicured toenailed feet underneath her. Her equally pink fingernails tapped against her mug and she pouted harder. "And whenever I ask if he wants to hang out with me, he just sighs and starts talking about how good she looks with Elf ears!" She looked up at Phobos, biting her plush pink lips. "Do you think I'd look better with Elf ears?"

Phobos growled a deep manly growl and nibbled Kaitlyn's ear. "I think you look sexy without them," he said, setting his tea aside before pulling her down on top of him.

Kaitlyn squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. "But Phobie," she said, "What about Neshomeh?"

"What about her?" Phobos said. "She and Huinesoron are happy together, so why shouldn't we be happy together?"

"Oooh, now there's a good point," Kaitlyn said as they kissed deeply.

* * *

"Hey, do you ever think we're neglecting our spouses lately?" Huinesoron asked as he and Neshomeh pulled off their scabbards, sweaty from another day of LARPing.

"They'll be fine," Neshomeh said dismissively. "Wanna have sex?"

"Keep the Elf ears on," Huinesoron said as he tossed his cloak dramatically to the side.

On the bottom floor of a particularly modernistic and snazzy mall, a long line of people had assembled in front of a deli venue. The hour was late, and there was twisted line, spanning the width of the venue and back more than three times; much like the lines at a baseball stadium. The sandwiches being baked here were of the highest quality; with such tastes that only the most skilled of connoisseurs could truly appreciate.

Larfen, a man of large statue, waited behind about eight or so people in line. He had been waiting for quite a while, and was practically salivating at the options. Tomatoes, lettuce, bacon, cheese, garlic, onions, and so many more options to choose from (not mentioning the 8 different types of bread!), he was truly in awe. Though undecided on the particulars, he was ready to consume a sandwich of the best quality. He had fallen in love with the concept of the sandwich, in the time he had spent waiting for one. He lusted after that savory combination of bread, and assorted toppings. He desired and ached for that sweet fullness and the tastes of bread on his tongue, and the feeling of being sated.

Another five minutes passed, and a horrible, heartbreaking noise sounded through the crowd. The metallic clacking of steel shutters being pulled down by one of the deli employees. Larfen was third in line. The employee gave a terse, almost sarcastic apology, and quickly left. The people left in line were stunned. There was a silence, and an almost audible hunger that had been left unsatiated.

A noise emerged from Larfen’s lips. A deep moan, full of despair. He would never get to eat that sandwich, of which he had spent what had felt like his entire life waiting for. He had loved this sandwich so sillily, which hadn’t even been a single object, and now he had been punished for it. His hopes, his dreams, and his desires had been crushed as soon as the clack of the shutters had hit the ground. He moaned again, loud enough to gain the attention of his fellow patrons.
A man in a business suit gave Larfen a worried look.

Larfen was no longer on the plain of the living. He had descended into a realm of pure sadness. He mourned the death of his love. Worse, his love will never be created. His teeth pained, never to chew a sandwich. He imagined the soft, chewy bread, and the juices of the tomatoes on his tongue. He envisioned the oily, papery wrap surrounding and cocooning the sandwich. He released another deep, lusting moan.

Needless to say, they were startled and concerned. But after a minute, another, deeper pitched moan sounded. Larfen’s moan had been received, and understood. This moan came from another, from deep within their heart and empty stomach. From somewhere else in the crowd, another moan had erupted. The message had been comprehended. Soon enough, a symphony of deep moans, full of lusting hunger, had begun. Those who were not moaning, began stifling giggles, but eventually even they were unable to contain their laughs.

Whenever there seemed to be an end to the moans, a pause or a break, another voice would clearly resound with a hearty, hungry moan. Two men, clad in black, with words written on their backs were approaching from a distance. The words written on their backs, in bright yellow, were “SECURITY STAFF.” They were disturbed, and unamused. “Break it up, people”, one of the men yelled. The crowd was silenced, and once again returned to a neutral state. Some quiet laughing was heard, and the crowd broke up. Larfen, still hungry, turned away from his lost love, and saw a white, neon sign in the distance. It read, “DELI: OPEN 24/7”.

_____

Some liberties and ideas taken from Joseph Heller's "Catch-22".
Hope you enjoyed.

- Maxewell

The bear shambled into the room. A ham sandwich was lying on the floor.

The ham sandwich did nothing.

The bear paused, head cocked quizzically, and sniffed the air.

The ham sandwich did nothing.

The bear took a cautious step forward. As it came fully into the light, an observer might have noticed that, against all reason, it was wearing an extremely small red t-shirt.

The ham sandwich did not notice this.

The bear padded forwards to the centre of the room. It snuffled at the sandwich, its nose filled with the heady odour of the ham.

The ham sandwich did not sniff back. It did not have a nose. It was a ham sandwich.

Dropping to its haunches, the bear stared at the sandwich, waiting to see if it would do anything.

The ham sandwich did nothing. It was a ham sandwich.

Eventually, the bear gave a long, deep sigh and got to its feet. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Leaning forward, it pressed its nose to the bread. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Its tongue flicked out, taking the smallest taste. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) The bear yawned, its long teeth showing. (The ham sandwich did nothing.) Then it ducked forwards, and the ham sandwich [censored] [censored] [censored] [censored].

~~~

^_~ With that kind of setup, it was inevitable.

hS

On a warm, sunny day, a orange-furred, white-splotched kitten was curled up with a brown-furred puppy in a field somewhere.
The two were rather intertwined, with parts of one animal lying on top of the other and vice-versa.
Someone very close by could've heard quiet, content breathing coming from both of them.

<Hey, move over a bit?>, said Calliope, who was currently the kitten, <One of my paws is falling asleep.>

Granz, who was, at the moment, a puppy, picked up his back half and moved it away from Cal, getting some pressure off of her.
He then gave her a quick lick on the forehead.

<Think we should demorph? We've been cuddling for a while now.> Granz asked, worried.

Cal took her free paw and booped him on the snoot. <Thoth just left to check a moment ago. We'll be fine.>

Rather conveniently, Thoth, currently a raven, flutter-hopped out from a nearby bush.
(His flying skills weren't that great, especially when he was tired.)
<We've got about ten minutes left, and the coast is clear,> he said. <We should probably demorph in a moment. But first...>.

When he reached Cal and Granz, Thoth spread his wings out and draped them over Cal and Granz, resting his head in a valley in the Cal-Granz cuddle.
Cal and Granz both raised their heads and nuzzled Thoth's wings.

<This was nice.> Cal said.

<Yeah. We should definitely do this again.> Thoth agreed.

<This is great, yeah. But what if we get caught?> Granz worried.
Cal simply booped his snoot again.

<Let's split up> said Thoth, removing his wings with a sigh.
Cal and Granz both brought themselves upright, which took a while because they kept getting tangled up in each other (and Thoth, at first) and sneaking in one last lick.

A few minutes later, the trio had managed to give each other some distance, and they demorphed.

"You know what?" said Cal, once everyone was human again. "We could just ... keep cuddling."

"Ok but what if..."

"Granz, we're in the middle of nowhere. No one's going to come by and interrupt."

"But I need to do all the computer stuff." objected Thoth.

"You can do that later." said Cal.

"Ok, fine." Thoth sighed. "I'll join you for more snuggles."

And so, the now-human Floof Trio laid down on the grass, forming a pile of hugs, cuddles, and other physical gestures of affection.

(( A/N: Whether the Floof Trio were wearing clothes after they demorphed is left to each reader's personal interpretation. - Tomash ))

Scapegrace paced around her kitchen counter, trying to look intimidating while wearing an apron and holding a butter knife.

"You know, Larfen." she said to the ham sandwich on a plate she was orbiting around, "I've been thinking."

"Well, that's a first, mate." said the sandwich, despite not having a mouth ... or any other obvious organs, for that matter.

Scape poked Larfen's bread with the knife, leaving a small dent. "Food doesn't make snarky comments!" she said sharply.

"Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress." Larf replied.

Scapegrace paused for a moment. "Wait a minute, this is a PPC fic. It'd be lame without snarky comments. So snark, but snark respectfully."

"Yes Mistress."

"So anyway, I was thinking. The plan was that I'd cut you up and eat you now that you've been turned into a ham sandwich, but I had a better idea I'd like to run past you."

"Go on." Larfen said, sounding excited.

"I've got a thing for corsets."

"That was pretty bloody obvious ma— Mistress."

"I thought I'd make a sandwich-sized corset. Then I'd put it on you, and squish you up real good. Then I'd work it up you so you'd be much narrower and easier to eat. I wouldn't have to clean as much too. What do you think?"

"That's ... actually a lot better idea than what I had when we decided to do this. I'd like to be squished up, Mistress. Let's do it."

"Well, I'll be back then." Scape said, putting the knife back in a drawer. "I'll need to make a corset that'll fit you."

"Don't run off now!" she called out as she left the room, chuckling as she did so.

"I don't have any legs, mate, I mean, Mistress." Larfen replied.

Scapegrace went off to her super-secret high-tech engineering complex, which is to say, the shed out back with all the robot parts in it. She spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out how to build a sandwich-sized corset, without much luck. Over the next few hours, the shed acquired a small pile of leather and plastic from Scape's attempts to build the thing she'd need to give Larf a good time.

Scapegrace, of course, didn't ignore the sandwich she'd left in the kitchen. She frequently came back there to make sure Larfen wasn't lonely, and sometimes to butter his bread or open him up and add mayonnaise.

Eventually, it was insanely late, even by Scape's standards. So, she gave up on the corset-making for the night, and went back to the kitchen. "Ugh." she said. "I didn't realize making a tiny corset would be this hard."

"So the idea's off then?"

Scape picked up her butter knife.

"Mistress." Larfen added.

"So sandwiches can learn." Scapegrace commented. "If I don't think of anything by tomorrow morning, we're going with the original plan."

"Shucks." said Larfen. "It sounded like a lot of fun, Mistress."

"It did, yeah." Scapegrace said. "Now, I think you need some sleep too." Scapegrace took out a roll of plastic wrap, covered Larfen (and his plate) with it, and put him in the fridge so he wouldn't go bad overnight.

The next morning, around ten AM (Scape slept in), Scapegrace went to the kitchen and retrieved her sandwich from the fridge. She lovingly unwrapped Larfen and set him back down on the counter. "Did you sleep well?"

"It's pretty cold in there, Mistress." Larfen said.

"It's a fridge. What'd you expect?"

"Good point." Larfen said. "We still on for the corsets?"

"Probably not ... wait, hold on, I have an idea!" Scapegrace ran out of the kitchen and went to her shed.

"Aw, she didn't even jab me for that." lamented Larfen a bit after Scape had left.

Scapegrace worked furiously for just under two hours. Her fingers flew on the sewing machine, drills, and other DIY equipment she had accumulated. Scapegrace emerged triumphant with a bundle of cloth, plastic, rope, and any other components the author missed in his thirty seconds of research that could be used to give a ham sandwich a nice extreme corseting.

Scapegrace half-ran most of the way to the kitchen, then stopped. She gathered herself and strode in fiercely. She had an image to maintain in front of her eventual food, after all.

As Scapegrace stepped into the kitchen, a clock somewhere in the house struck noon. "I have your corset." she said to Larfen. The sandwich, surprisingly, didn't reply. "It took a while."

Scapegrace set the corset down on the table and started checking it over. About a minute later, she looked at Larfen and asked "You ready?".

Larfen didn't say anything.

Just then, a much more human Larfen emerged from the other entrance to the kitchen.

"Oh." he said. "You managed to make the corset."

Scape looked around. "Right, the consciousness-transferring spell only lasts 24 hours. And we can't do it again until the next full moon."

"Oh well." Larfen said. "The pile of really lewd stuff is off, then?"

"Maybe..." Scapegrace said. "We could still figure something out. I've got a whole closet full of corsets from previous Shipfests, after all."

"Huh. Yeah. You did show that to me ... Mistress."

"Well, let's go take a look and see if we can think of something." Scapegrace said. "After all, what's a good shipfic without a transparent sequel hook?"

The pair of Boarders then went off to Scapegrace's closet to see if they could come up with any more crazy kinky shenanigans, since their original idea hadn't panned out all that well.

(( - Tomash, who's getting most of his shipping out early because he's traveling next week ))