Hi everyone! Jess is back and better than ever! I'm gonna keep updating TSAOJC1 but imagine this is like a split timeline where one version has her still doing her dimension hopping throughout the multiverse and this one here where she becomes an agent of the PPC! R&R!!

My name is Jessamine Layla Amata Briar Creed. I'm sixteen years old and this is the story of my life.

I was born a normal human girl who loved to read and watch TV, and I wasn't anything special until one day my life was turned upside-down when I was sucked into the world of Maximum Ride. They experimented on me and gave me bluejay wings and my eyes turned amethyst and my hair snow white. I also discovered I had the powers of fast flight (150 mph or 250 in a dive), gills when I'm underwater, and postcognition (basically she touches anything and can get the history of what happened around it). I can also teleport and soon discovered I could use that to teleport into different universes.

This time though, while trying to make my way into Adventure Time, I ended up in someplace entirely different: The Protectors of the Plot Continuum!

Teleporting always left me feeling kind of woozy so I didn't see right away who was helping me up.

"Are you okay?" a gentle voice asked, his arms going under mine to help me sit up.

"I'm fine," I said touching my head. "I just need to lie down a bit." And I fainted.

Supernumerary stared down at the woman in his arms. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with transluscent skin and silvery blonde hair that shimmered with her every movement. He hesitantly brushed her hair out of her face. Though her eyes were closed now, he'd seen them before, a striking amethyst color in all shades of purple.

He carefully picked her up to take her back to his response center. Maybe after she'd slept it off, she would be able to tell him and Ilraen who she was.

There you have it, my lovelies! Review to see the next chapter!!

...and I'd like to say that I got some pretty good revenge on ol' JayBird right here! Yep, that's right! I finished it!

NightmareTwisteyTheDemonFoxAnimatronic and twistedwindowpane are proud to present...
The New Recruit: Full Version!

Warning: Some scenes may be a little dubious to view at work. Also a bit of censored language.

View it here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vTuSv7P79WOqyyKniGbEq3Ggp-DbY4zFQGX06HUamKt64PEdBxVZbHuiTFlNj5PL8c1xnEkaPUa6PQy/pub

(I promise you, this badfic sure gets good. Happy reading! -Twistey)

Yeah, I'm sorry to say that I won't be writing any more for the Badfic Games, as I'd like to learn how to write goodfic, but I'm still going to keep this around. Have a fantastic day!

-Nightmare

I said I'd be doing a folklore project, so here it is! Thanks to others for the inspiration for this one, I think the folk tale is beautiful, and I'm happy to present my own version.

--

“Now…” said Suicide, his voice loud and clear so that that everyone could hear. “Do you take me as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Nume shifted awkwardly in his shabby suit and tie, his throat dry. He’d never been comfortable with crowds, and here he was, about to say his vows before the largest crowd he’d ever seen in all of the PPC. And in clothing that, while the best he could find, was hardly suited for the task. He grabbed his courage and found his voice. “I… I do.”

“Do you give me your absolute obedience, for as long as you may live, and as long as you may be my husband?”

“I… do.”

“Very well. Then prove it.”

Nume looked at Suicide curiously. This hadn’t been part of the plan. “Huh?”

A cruel smile played across the Scythian’s face, as his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “Strip.”

“Wh-what?!”

“Oh, you heard me perfectly well the first time… Prove to me that you’ll make an obedient husband. Strip. Show our guests what will be mine. Unless, of course, you weren’t faithful in your oaths.”

Nume felt himself blushing, but he was powerless. What could he do? It surely wasn’t his place to disobey a command from his husband, and he could never bring himself to break his oaths.

Slowly but surely, he began to pull away his shirt and pants, growing steadily redder as he did so. He knew all of his friends were watching: already he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Ilraen’s curious stare, and knew that Jenni and the rest were watching just as eagerly. He wondered what they thought. Were they in awe of them? Did they look down at him? Perhaps they were laughing, or gazing upon his physique with lust.

Su’s voice cut through his thoughts. “I said strip. That means all of your clothing.”

“Yes! Yes,” said Nume hurriedly. Hesitantly, praying that Suicide would stop, he pulled down his underwear. He wondered which would win: the shame of being before the crowd, or the stare of the husky Greek before him. He couldn’t decide which would be more shameful.

And like that, there he stood, naked for all the PPC to see. He heard chuckles, saw blushing faces. He knew that some felt shame for him. Perhaps, some wanted him for themselves.

Suicide kicked away his freshly removed clothed. “And now for something that more properly fits you.” With that, he pulled out a white silk wedding dress, elegant, and far beyond anything Nume had ever seen in his life. He reached out tenderly to touch it. “Go ahead, my husband. Put it on.”

He donned it, his face still reddening at being forced to wear the clothes of a woman, comfortable though they were. He tried his best not to stare out over the crowd, not to see Jenni’s awkward blush, Ilraen’s furrowed brow, Gall and Derik’s matched cocky grins, and the countless other expressions of so many agents.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Suicide, his voice firm. “I now pronounce this man, Agent Supernumerary, as my lawfully wedded husband.”

--

((So, this is based, only somewhat loosely, on the story of Griselda (the first part of the story, at least). Which is a real, and very messed up, European folktale. Ix pointed out that the entire story fit SMDS to a T... so here we are. I'll adapt the rest of the story if I have time.))

Peregrin was dozing off in the warmth of the Courtyard under a summer-like "sun", at least until a large dragon-shaped shadow passed over his head. Said shadow was, in fact, cast by a dragon, whose shimmering bulk was about to pass over Peregrin.

"Ori!" Peregrin shouted. "Do you have a moment?"

"I might, depending on what you want it for." she replied, gliding lower.

"I was hoping you would have time to assist me with certain experiments."

Ori dived down, coming in for a landing near Peregrin, who was sitting up. "I take it you are referring your quest to, ah, explore, every type of life in the multiverse."

"Yes." Peregrin replied. "Have you reconsidered my earlier request? I have, after all, never been with a Gaemmara, and I believe it would be a very enlightening experience."

"I still do not see how we would accomplish that, given our rather different proportions." Ori said, waving a wing for emphasis.

"I have been considering this." Peregrin said. "You have the power to shapeshift, and, from what you have told me, it can be applied to others. Could you, perhaps, increase my size - or simply increase the size of the relevant body part - so that we could both have a satisfying carnal experience."

"'Carnal', now there's a word I have not heard in quite some time." Ori said, laughing. "Can you even do that sort of thing at your age?"

"We Thousanders have techniques," Peregrin said, "that extend our sexual viability specifically to resolve this problem. After all, it would not be much of an extended life if we could not enjoy ourselves."

"Ah." Ori replied with a low purr. "Then I suppose I could use some ... more intelligent company. Luxury is a rather poor conversationalist, despite her extensive skills."

"Luxury, Luxury, ... she wrote the rather comprehensive reference text, yes?"

Ori nodded.

"Now, before we engage in our practical experiments, would the enlargement process be reversible?" Peregrin asked. "I would rather not specialize in dragon-sized partners just yet."

"Of course. There are canonically absolutely no side-effects to Viviomancy."

"So ..." Peregrin asked, "how do you want to go about this?"

"I think the easiest way would be to make you approximately my size. Then we could," she licked her snout, "... enjoy each other."

"I agree." Peregrin said. "Especially as this plan relies on magic, which means the square-cube law can be ignored for narrative convenience."

"It is also fortunate that Gaemmara have mammal-like anatomy in that respect for no clear reason." Ori added.

"Yes, yes." Peregrin said.

"Now, I think it would be best for us to begin without delay lest someone enter the Courtyard at an inopportune moment."

"Of course." Ori said, rolling on to her side. "May I enlarge you?"

Peregrin moved his things off into the distance where they wouldn't get in the way. These things included his robe, since he didn't want to damage it during all this, especially since he wouldn't be needing it. He laid down near, but not too close to, Ori. "I am ready."

Ori said a few words in pseudo-Latin, and Peregrin suddenly became a whole lot bigger. Since he'd cleared the area beforehand, this didn't cause any damage, and he was far enough from Ori that he didn't run in to her. He slowly lifted an arm. "This will take some getting used to." he remarked.

"It does, yes." Ori said. "Take some time to adjust, and then we can explore your new form thoroughly."

Peregrin spent a few minutes moving various body parts around and turning around the grass. Then, he said, "I think I am ready."

"Good." She scooted over to Peregrin and embraced him. The pair of complete nerds then cuddled, kissed, cuddled some more, and eventually had a very good time, the details of which are being glossed over because the author doesn't feel like writing that sort of thing.

"Peregrin, that was wonderful" Ori said, yawning, after the main part of the experiment had concluded.

"It absolutely was." Peregrin said. "My thanks, Ori."

"We should do this more often."

"Yes. More data will be helpful. Especially with such an intelligent and exciting partner to collect it from."

"Oh, you."

"Was my assessment of you incorrect?"

"Not at all." Ori said. "But it was nice to hear it."

"You are welcome, then." Peregrin replied. "Now, as wondrous as this all was, I would like to be my usual size again."

"Very well." A bit more pseudo-Latin followed, and Peregrin was back to normal, though, as expected, minus clothes.

"Maybe next time I should shrink down." Ori said after the change went through. "I have never been human-sized in this form, and it could be an intriguing perspective."

"Hm, yes, that could be, though it might fundamentally be the same coupling as we just had."

"True. Maybe I could go human. It has been much too long since I have used that form for those purposes."

"We could see if your usual shape affects how you operate!"

"Good idea!" Ori exclaimed. "Not today, though. Maybe next week?"

"Time is inconsistent enough here that 'next week' is almost meaningless." Peregrin said. "How about the next time we meet here?"

"Sure." Ori said. "It's a date."

"Well, no, maybe, somewhat, I suppose it could be, yes."

"Great. See you then!" With a running leap Ori took off and soared into the far reaches of the Courtyard, while Peregrin yawned and dozed off on the grass. It was, after all, a warm, "sunny" day in the Courtyard, and he might as well take advantage of it.

(( Hi everyone. Meet badfic!shipverse!Peregrin and someone vaguely resembling Assistant Librarian Ori. ))

Y'know, people keep saying that all I can write is smut. That's because I usually write about men, who are violent, sexual animals (Beautiful, beautiful animals... *drool*). However, I can write about more than that!

--

Dafydd turned to Constance. "I love you," he said.

"And I love you," said Constance dreamily. Dafydd's omega scent kept her perpetually happy and dreamy all day. It was one of the advantages of marrying an elf. Thankfully, her masculine features made the pairing possible.

"Have you heard from John?" asked Dafydd. Their son didn't often come home, being busy on missions.

"What about him?" Constance asked. "Is he a gay man now or something?"

"No! No!" said Dafydd. "He's just found his first mate. They've already soulbonded."

"Mmmm..." said Constance. "That's good. John's a good son. I hope he gives me grandkids soon..."

"That would be nice," said Dafydd. "Maybe one of them will get the recessive elf gene, and then there will truly be an heir to me..."

"We can hope, darling..." said Constance, kissing him softly. "We can hope."

Ouiv inetance moments!!1!

Richard is eu suepah ajent of ze PPC, with hiz syupah girlfriend, ah parner, Marina, ou iz a griit ouisarde, ou can dou tek steuf and majic steuff at ze saime taime, not laike zis wik Dressden. Beut ouaile zei ouere quiling Siou ouiv magik end Peursonah, Marina louquéd sad, laike Richard bifor I had iz Peursona end bekéime ossome.

Since I was Siupa peurceptif, hi askd Marina ouate waz vrong, méibi ze min Floueurs ouere harasing ér?

Beut zat's ouen Marina séid somessing incrédible: chi had discovérd shi waz eune olde RPIJ karakteure criétéd bai Richard, not eune ossome kanon!!1!

ANGST!

Mini Riale Laife ouont stop me of posting, néveure!

So I was lokking around the YW fandom (thats YOUNG WIZARDs not YOU'RE WELCOME... I mean, that oo), and tehre was NO PORN of the kind I am about to show you. N ot even any Dairine/Spot!!!

Bu t anyway, lets look in on our Errantry!PPC caracters MARISA and- oh, wait, her Manual doesnt HAVE aname! ;)

LET THE PORN COMMENCE!!!

~~~~~

So it had been five yrs since her Ordeal, and Marisa thought she had a good hanlde on things! Her projected grades were high enough that she could get into HARVAD (but she didn't want to go there; Ivvy leagues weren't her style EXCEPT MIT. Maybe.), and her family all loved and trusted her and she got to go on walks by herself!

To the moon occasionally, even.

Because she was a wizard. 8D

But this story isn't about her WIZARDLY antics, no.

Y'see that laptop right there, in her room (yes, she has a room of her OWN now. For PRIVACY. *nudgenudgewinkwink* AlsoThat'sWhereThisStoryTakesPlace)?

Yeah.

She's gonna sex it. She hasn't even said it yet, and it's not suspecting anything, but IT'S GONNA HAPPEN.

/Is something wrong?/ Marisa's Manual asked, cautious.

"No!" Marisa said brightly. Then she smiled, just as brightly.

/But there is something you can do for me!/ she added - and it was in the Speech, so it was true.

A/N: Yes, I'm being mean and putting a cliffhanger here! >>::))) But I'll have the chapter up tomorrow whether anyone reviews or not, because I'm not TAHT mean!

Wats up every1 its XXEPICJAKEdaTNThogEXEXX an im a kewl sonic minecraft youtuber. if u want 2 check my chanel out u can its da same as my bored user name but thats not the point of my post. teh point is, 2day im goin 2 tell u about the WORST day of my lief. that day was the day i played: da PPC VIDEO GAEM!!!! i had a giltched copy an it sacred the crap outta me!! now i kno wat ur thinkin. im not a coward. im not a scaredy cat. i play minecraft at 3am, i summon hero brine an all evil entites (enty 101 thru 909 look em up or u wont be prepared when they come try 2 kill u) an ive played sonic exe an all teh sonic crepypast games an all that. but the glitches i faced while playing the PPC game was scary on a whole new level. lemme tell u what i mean.

1 day i was on da discord an a user i hadnt seen before pmed me with a link. his username was n-ever forgot-n and abov da link he sayed 2 me “u may hav joind. u may have permision. but u arent a full ppc memeber yet. u must face baspatism by FIRE.” i replyd 2 him askin him “wat do u mean by dat” but he suddenly disapeard from the lists of users he wasnt even listed as offlien. so i clickd da link an it told me 2 download somethin. teh file was called “PPC Video Game.exe”. i thought 2 myself i liek sonic exe games but i havnt yet playd any w/ other storys b/c those 1s arnt usally all that gud when theyr scratch prpjectz theyr usualy abot a scratchers ocs an not an actul cannon so i dont under stand them an i think theyre boring. no 1 cares abot ur badly recolord sonic cannons an ur animu hair stick men u peace of poop. (i h8 recolorz) but if its ppc an if huniewsmoron mad it then may b its beter dan al da stoopid sonic exe remixs wit ocs on scratch. so i clicked on da file an downloded it 2 my computerator! Aw yeah! i closd discord an waited for it to finish downlodding really exited to begin.

wen i opend da ppc gaem, on teh tttle screen it sad “PPC da VIDEO GAEM - SATAN EDITION” an it had a hug red pentangram drawed in BLOOD. on da face of a caractr was a big red pentagram an there eyes wer gon an drippin with blood. i was relly scared an kinda ecited bcause it lookd liek a reel horr gam an not jus some poop from a scratcher who dun know what he doin.

so wen i hit plae i starttd off w/ my caractr in his rc. it lokd normla. i had a postr w/ a pic of sonic. m bed was mesy. i had a rug paternd liek a tnt block. it ... it lokd liek it was mad 4 me. i relized how crepy tha twas, knowin how huenesron is nothin lik me an woldnt includ any of dis in his gaem. i also noticd dat m partners bed was enpty an everthin on thdat sdie of da room loke like i t hand’t ben touched for a whiel. dat was crepy. did m partener die? did satn kil him? ther was nothin 2 interat wit/ in da rom so i went oud ta dor. i walkd arond hq. everhtni as drak. but no npcs were anywere until iig found a rom dat was ful of corpss. som of dem wer hman or hunmnoid corses an som wer sueven corpsen. tah twasnt good. der was a big red pfentangram on the flor. den dre was reds tatic aneed a mesag flashne done htde scrheeen. it sad “dis igs hwo its spowesed 2 be. now mak dat a realty.” den evrrythin disaperd. i was bak in mah rc aggin. “aw is this gona repet until id os umgething?” i sad. aprantlh nto. becaye s wen i exitd de rc agin i saw ppl rushin abot.

“so… am is uposted 2 kil dem al?” i wondrd 2 myslef. “am i workin 4 satan? ar da flors satan? hwo do i evn kil al of dem anyway thers a lot of ppc agents?!” so eventuly i kild everyon. al de ablod stans wer shapd like pentgrams so i new i ws doin it wright. rigte? an i got dis mesga dat sad “god job. now its tim 3 do do make dem into ur on cretin.” an then the gam turnd into a dres up game wher i stitchd pizzes of de corpsen togethr an made a new beng. it was rely distrbng, but a litl funy 2. “haha i gues im makin my own sueven. a franekensweben.” my lagh was tingd woth disbeligf. i figred i shold make a fewmla swreven so i can deriv at lest a litle enjoment from tis gam. she was supr sexxxy. i dont regret dat at all. i namd her “dmon of lust” just 2 be humrous. but den ter was a jumpscra. an de gam crashd an owodlnt come back on for dt rest of de dae.

[a/n: did u heer dat satan stopd screwin wit other pwepls videy gams an maed his owne? acoding 2 a gam3 calecd pony iwlasnd he dos. mr/akipleir played it.]

i opend up da discord teh next dae. i had a questin 2 ask da ppc. “just 1 questin…” i sayed. “ar u SATANISTS???” “no, defanitely not” sad nershomej. “we dont promot any kind of satan worship whered u hear tat from??” “i didnt hear it from anywheres” i sayd “i jus got dis messag from a guy cald n-ever forgot-n an it had a donlode link 2 de ppc video gaem an when i playd it it had satanic symbols and blod everywheres.” whinsoreon replyd 2 me sayin “well were not satanits. as da games cretor i can definatly say dat i put nothin of da sort in tere. wonder how tose got ther…?” “sound like a romhak 2 me” tho th piepd up. “yea dat sounds liek a resonabl explanaton” agred hwuinsorone. “b carful it may be a band usr tryin to maek us look bad.” “um i dont kno if dis is da rite time” saed tomash da tank engin “but i dont see n-ever forgot-n in da chat log did he pm u?” “no” quoth i.

and ten… i saw… N-EVER FORGOT-N WAS ON!!11!!11!

“n-ever forgot-n… R U IN BAND!!?!??!?!?” i said canfrontasionaly. “no no of course not :)” he sad. “whew” i sad.

“BUT I AM SATAN!!!!!11!!11!!11!!!!!!!!!!11!!11!!!!!” belowd my compootar in a demonik deep voice an a hyper realistic demon face popd on2 my computer scrfen. “o crap dats a lot worse!!!” i scremd!!! teh demon face started gettin bigger. i clickd around. nothin happend. teh demon face started gettin scarier. i hit contrl q. nothin happend. my compuupuu starte to blead. i hit da powr buton. nothin happend. da demon face started to come out of da comput an towards me. i unplugd it. nothin happend. i herd it wisperin 2 me all da dark secrets of demons. my mom came in and dats wen it went away. da scren was blak. whew! satan must ve not wantd my mom 2 catch him. “wat r u doin up at 3am” she askd. “talkin 2 british ppl” i sad. “well go 2 bed they can wate” she said. “i dont want 2 its importan” i sad. “hwy teh computers unplugd wat r u doin go to sleep!” she said. “damit” isad an went 2 bed. but i didnt fal aslep b/c if i did satan wold get me. nothin hapend. da scren stayd blac. damit i dont like gaems liek dokidoki lit club b/c its alredy gllitchy an thats in10ded by da dev an ther4 i cant make a crepypasta abot it b/c its alredy glitche so i cant make it glitche. oops sory dat was ment to be a pm 2 my friend XoXoAmyRose101 on da an i axidentaly wrot it in da fanfic an left it in. f ya wanna hear wat ame said she sayed “u could maek it even glitcher or mak monica com out in2 da reel world” an i said “gud idea” an she sayd “thx”. but anyways bak 2 wat hapend. it was sumr btw so i didnt hav schol. yay!!!!!!!!111!!!!!!

so i plugd in my comPUTIN AGain an it startd up as normal. but den i saw dat insted of meh usernaem an profile pic an lok scren it had a pic of a pentagrams an a got head and teh lok scren was a blody sacrifical nife an teh usernam dsaid “SATANIC MINION”. “o crap” i sayed “thank god my parents r at work.” i tryed sinin in as anoter usr but it woldnt let me. Satans ben taken tips from monka aparntly. scru u monika, u her me? SCRW U. yea so i must confes i liek anime gaems especialy honey pop im relly god @ playin i w/ one hand ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) but ten amy introdused me 2 ddlc an tol me it was a datin game an of curse ifel 4 it an now i jus finished it an im so freakd out. Liek u dont even know. HUH!

AAAAAAAAAANYYWAYYYYYS. so i of corse had 2 log in as SATANIC MINION an i typd in my reglar pasword. It workd. SATANIC MINION was MY account.. Ten it logd in an i saw dat da bakdrop was an anime pic of al da borders xept tey wer ded, ech had ben kild in a difrent way. “o no did satan kil dem?” i sad. i rite clickd on da bakdrop an it sad “U WER SMART THIS TIEM. THIS IS WAT WULD HAPEN IF UD SLEPT.” i fist pumpd becase ya bein controld by satan so tat id murder all da borders is a prety gud thing 2 hav sucesfuly avoided! i opend up da discord 2 ask 4 help an it sayd i was band. i went 2 da bored an it sayd i was band. i went 2 da wiki an it sayd i was band. i was startin to get anoyd an worid. had satan band me? had he hakt my aconts on everythings an mad me say things so my beluvd frends wold turn on me?!?!?! oh god i hop not!!! so i opend up gmale 2 emale wheenasauron an it sayd i didnt hav his emale. Wat? id emaild him 4 a beta reding so of corse i had it! i usd a roundaboat way 2 look up his emael and finaly i had it. i ekplaind da situaton to him: “dat guy on da discord who gav me da gaem was actaly satan an he almost cam out of da computr (wen i askd him who he was) until i unplugd it. wat hapend tat nite b4 i plugd it bak in? did he ban me or did he hak me 2 make u guys ban me?” hunserum replyd w/ an emael tat was jsut a bunc of gibersit. lines up on lins of giveris. i scrold thru it thinkin dat tere mite b somethin i cold us an eventuly i came acros a mesage in english. Finaly!

hunesrons mesage sad:
“He tryd 2 imperson8 u an wen i chalenjd him 4 not soundin liek u he got mad an band u. i lokd in2 ur problem. alot of ppl hav had ur problem b4, it seme satan has mad many atempts 2 do bad things thru vide games. u cant delete da gaem if satans corupted it. u cant even click on it or hell come back. wat u ned 2 do is downlod da reel verson of da gaem. abov is a cod w/ u must tyep in2 da game 2 maek it fuse w/ its corupted verson. cant copy an paste it, go leter by leter. only typ in da cod wen u hav maed ur agent as porful as posble, an then u can defet teh su u mad an even satan in da gaem an make him go away. thx for rechin out. - hS”

now i knew wat i had 2 do. i did al da tings an defeted satan. now he knos not 2 mes w/ me anymoar. but he cold come 4 u. listen, if a discord user u havent seen b4 trys 2 giv u a copy of da ppc gaem, don’t downlod it. u mite not be as luky as me.

So, Lemony has been doing "her" version of Thorik, which is blatantly unrealistic and wrong. Here's a much better, more realistic way to go about it.

--

((This fic is NSFW. It contains aspects of dubcon. I found it disturbing to write. You have been warned))
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1toT97Q4DGW0SjXu4i61bTiwQhIqWW2ndJSwqhQTK5HI/edit?usp=drivesdk

Faolan Marrok Randel Lycanis of House Lycanis, first of his name, the Untamed, Prince of the Forest and Werewolves, Lord of the Preylands, and Master of All He Surveyed, was having a bad day.

His sixteenth birthday was fast approaching—the time when he would be expected to take a mate. There were plenty of noble Beta girls that he had his pick from to be sure, but none of them excited him.

No, what he really needed was an Omega, but such creatures were rare and highly prized, for good reason. The pups born by an Omega were larger, stronger, and much more fit to rule as heirs.

Of course, nobody had found an Omega for centuries.

Faolan sighed and pulled on his fur cloak, trimmed with gold. He would take a walk, maybe go to the human village to clear his head. His parents would drive him mad with all the planning and festivities surrounding his birthday.

The heir to the throne, come of age at last.

Besides, there was a strange pull drawing him to the village, which he was finding difficult to ignore.

Faolan didn't expect today to be any different from all the other times he'd visited the human village, but when he arrived, he realized the village was decorated with streamers and garlands of honeysuckle flowers. He grabbed a passerby to ask what was going on.

The boy noted the fur cloak and the wolfish cast to Faolan's face, and bowed his head in reverence. The werewolves were the rules of men, for they were faster, stronger, and longer-lived, and in return for their benevolent rule, the humans would pay tribute every month. The village where they were now frequently sent tribute to Faolan's hold.

"Passing through, are you, sir?" the boy said. "His Lordship's son, Charlus Webb, is turning sixteen today. We're having a festival to celebrate."

How funny a coincidence might that have been! Faolan smiled graciously and inclined his head in thanks. Perhaps he would pay this Charlus a visit.

Faolan went to the house and was ushered in. It was nice enough, for a human dwelling, though it couldn't compare to the grandeur of his own holdings. At least the humans here remembered their place.

He didn't have to wait long for Charlus to come greet him. The boy was pale, with handsome, sharp features and thick raven hair that fell ever so nicely over his eyes. The draw was stronger now, and Faolan realized the irresistible magnetic pull was coming from him.

Normally, it was considered improper to shake hands with a human, but he had to see... just this once.

Their hands met, and a brilliant golden glow surrounded them, a wind stirring around them. Prince Faolan and Lord Charlus felt flashes of white fire in their chests as the soulbond settled. They stared at each other.

"Hello," Charlus said breathlessly.

"Hello," Faolan said back, equally lost for breath.

"What is the meaning of this?" Charlus' father sputtered. "What happened? What did you do to my son, werewolf?"

Prince Faolan drew himself up to his full height, towering over the other man. "You will come back to our hold," he said, wrapping an arm protectively around Charlus' waist. "Where I will introduce my mate to my parents."


A/N: Yay! Okay, here it is—my first attempt at a soulmates fic! Be nice and leave nice reviews, and I'll give you lots of cookies!

What will happen next? Will Prince Faolan and Lord Charlus have to deal with the species gap? Will Charlus' father get in the way of their Love? Will Prince Faolan's parents approve of the bond? Find out next chapter!!

Many say that the most secretive location in PPC HQ is the HQ Pool, which can only be found by the deserving, possibly after a night of heavy drinking.

They are wrong.

Those few who are in the know say that the most secretive location is the former headquarters of the DIO, hidden behind an invisible door, down passages painted all the colours of the Suvian spectrum.

They, too, are wrong.

Only four know the location of the true most secretive location, and they are the ones who gather there, once a year. They arrive at different times, in different ways, with nothing in their garb or manner to tie them together. They approach the circle of thrones, a dozen sepulchral seats picked out by flickering spotlights.

Eight of those chairs are dust-covered, and the symbols embossed on their backs are dull now. The arrivals nod respectfully to them as they pass, and assume their own seats in the ring.

Huinesoron speaks first. He sits, tall and grim, perched on the edge of his seat, his long hair laser-straight in the still air. "The Action Departments have proven troublesome," he says in his perfect British accent. "The Aviator continues to be difficult to control, and with the Sunflower still under Agent Thornbyrd's influence, I have had little luck with him."

"We could have her transferred." Neshomeh Soul adjusts her glasses with one long-fingered hand, peering over them like the archivist she is. Her fuzzy sweater stands at odds with her haughty expression. "The Administrative Departments are firmly under my thumb; the Marquis would do whatever I asked."

Huinesoron purses his lips, but shakes his head regretfully. "I'm afraid she would simply refuse," he says. "We don't want another Swan's Egg incident, do we?"

"Certainly not." Juliette has one leg draped over the arm of her chair; she fiddles with a mechanical gizmo while she speaks, stopping only to push her electric blue hair back from her face; despite this, she is perfectly focussed on the discussion. "The Infrastructure Departments under my control had enough trouble cleaning up after the last one."

Neshomeh coughs pointedly. "I think you'll find most of the work was done by the DIA," she says, "which as a security department," she carefully enunciates the description in lowercase, "falls in my Admin domain."

Juliette smiles thinly. "When the Tiger Lily listens to you over me," she says, "I may accept your allegation."

Neshomeh sits up, scowling, but Huinesoron raises his hands for silence. "I will find a way to deal with the Aviator," he says. "Perhaps we can send her to another mission liable to get her pregnant."

Kneeling on her throne, the hobbit Kaitlyn Jackson nods emphatically, setting her long wavy hair bouncing. "Or she could get married," she suggests. "It worked with the vampire and the werewolf."

"Indeed." Huinesoron favours her with a smile. "Sourcing that love potion to bring them together was an excellent idea."

Kaitlyn shrugs, and tugs her waistcoat back into place. "The advantage of dealing with the Ancillary Organisations," she says: "They're excellent at thinking outside the box."

"Provided they don't get too uppity," Neshomeh points out. "The League of Mary Sue Factories, for example."

Kaitlyn fixes her with a hard stare. "And whose domain did the Mysterious Somebody fall under?" she asks. "I'm positive it wasn't mine."

This time it is Juliette who raises her hands. "There's no point arguing over the past," she says, and the others settle down, for the past is a touchy subject for Juliette. "We are here to determine the future of the PPC, at least for the next year."

"And so we shall," Neshomeh says. "Shall we officially start the meeting?"

"Always the archivist," Huinesoron murmurs. "Very well, then: I hereby call this meeting of the Society for the Procuration of Ultimate Dominion to order..."

-=-

Authors' Note: The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia. Since their abandonment, however, it rightfully belongs to the Oldbies, who we hope will take this hint and exert their proper authority both in-universe and out.

I really liked what Lemony Eggnog wrote earlier, and after talking with them for a bit I got a FANTASTIC idea for a story! The first part's really boring filler but I promise it'll get better!

Summary: Ilraen finally gets a break and decides to make the most of it.
Rating: M (Nothing that's NSFW in this chapter)
Pairing: Ilraen/Everyone
Disclaimer: I don't own the PPC; Jay and Acacia do. Ilraen and Supernumerary are owned by Neshomeh. Further characters will be attributed to their respective authors in the chapters in which they first appear.

Ilraen-Aroline-Fothergill entered Response Center 999, returning from the continually shifting and therefore unknowable halls of the PPC Headquarters. The Andalite’s partner sat on the bed, his gaze intent on the thick book on his lap. Agent Supernumerary didn’t so much as glance from the book to acknowledge Ilraen, not that the latter expected him to; when Nume was buried in his canon research, few things (apart from the [BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!] of the console) could pull his focus away.

The console, for its part, was eerily silent. However, the Andalite did notice that an odd blue light was flashing on it. The alien walked over, pressed a few buttons, and pulled up the message.

To: All Agents
From: The Sunflower Official
Message: The Department of Sufficiently Advanced Technology has been having trouble lately with the system that generates portals. As such, no missions will be given until the problem has been fixed. Agents currently in the field must wait to complete their assignment until further notice.

&ltSupernumerary? You’d better take a look at this,&gt Ilraen thought-spoke to his friend. The surly Agent looked up with a grunt.

“If it’s not a mission and nothing’s on fire, it waits,” Supernumerary said.

&ltWell… It’s related to missions,&gt said Ilraen.

Supernumerary snapped his book shut; his concentration had been broken for too long, he might as well look at what Ilraen was talking about. “Move over so I can read,” he said, jumping down from the bed and walking to the console. Ilraen watched, his eyestalks twisting this way and that in an expression of anxiety of what his partner’s reaction would be. Nume stared at the message, reached for the flask by his side, and took a long pull. “Well, I guess that means more time to watch the latest Pokémon spinoff.”

&ltWe got a vacation! Of a sort. But we finally get a break, and that’s your reaction?&gt the Andalite questioned.

“It’s not a vacation,” Nume said. “It’s DoSAT screwing up. Meaning it will either take two minutes or two weeks to fix. It’s not a vacation since there’s no guaranteed time frame.” Supernumerary, having climbed back onto his bed, opened his book with an air of finality.

Ilraen tried to prevent his eye stalks from drooping, but he couldn’t stop the small glistening tear that rolled down his blue-green fur from his right eye at this rejection. He and Supernumerary had done so much together, saved each other’s lives, but nothing had come from it but a lessening of outright hostility. Sealing his mind off from others around him, the alien flopped dejectedly onto the lush grass below the bunk bed. As he did so, one of his hooves crushed a small flower, absorbing some of its nutrients, and an accompanying bolt of exquisite sensation shot up Ilraen's leg.

Ilraen started as if he’d been shocked, but Supernumerary didn’t react. He was used to his partner’s dramatics by this point; he was not exaggerating about only fire or the console being able to grab his attention for any period of time. Ilraen shifted to get a better view of the bloom with all four eyes, crushed as it was.

The flower was small, the outside of its petals all but invisible against the lush grass that ordinarily grew there; however, inside the flower was different. It was an amethystesque rich purple color shot through with rivers of silver and lapis lazuli blue. Ilraen couldn’t help but stare at it for a long moment before remembering what about it had caught his attention in the first place. The Andalite stood and stomped on the ground experimentally, drawing nutrients up through his hooves and confirming his suspicions.

The strange flower buds were everywhere, hidden among the shimmering blades of grass, and were far more nutritious than he was used to. They felt fantastic beneath Ilraen’s hooves; the Andalite couldn’t remember a more delicious sensation while feeding, even in human morph. A low moan escaped his mind as he frolicked, savoring his newfound euphoria, and Nume glanced up from his book, grumbling obscure obscenities under his breath. “Why must you insist on continually disturbing m—” Supernumerary said before he stopped, his mind etching the scene before him into eidetic memory.

Ilraen was posed like a dancer, his thin arms counterbalancing the rotation of his lower body as he reached the edge of the grass. &ltApologies,&gt the Andalite said, unable to keep the excitement out of his thought-speech. &ltIt’s just that this grass feels amazing right now.&gt Supernumerary was only half-listening; his attention was torn between the heady aroma of crushed grass mixed with something else, something on the edge of his perception that was nonetheless intoxicating and alluring, and the sight of Ilraen’s bare chest. Though Andalites are not known for upper body strength, it was plain to see that Ilraen was well muscled from the waist up. Supernumerary moved toward his longtime partner, wiping a bit of drool from his mouth, and cupped Ilraen’s soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it,” he breathed, and planted a kiss where the Andalite’s mouth would have been if the latter had had a human face and wasn’t an alien from an entirely different universe.

The alien reciprocated, guiding Supernumerary’s more lithe but still powerful form against his own with his hands and squinting in his own version of a smile. When Nume didn’t resist, Ilraen whispered in his mind: &ltI’ve always wanted to do this.&gt Supernumerary simply smiled and let himself relax into the soft, luxurious embrace of his coworker, partner, and one true friend.

A/N So, what'd y'all think? Please review, but no flamers! If you don't like good romance, just don't read it!!

There are important elements of fandom and fanlore the PPC is unable to handle. This is my attempt to rectify that.

--

"It's just too much sometimes, I swear!" said Harry. "All these... Harry/Ginny ships."

"I know," said his partner, hugging him gently. "It's hard for you. But it's not like I've got it good... they never put us together."

Harry sighed. "They never put me with any men at all. It's infuriating. I mean, Hermione is my true love, but I'm a pansexual polyamorous hermaphrodite, just like everyone else! Why don't they *understand* that, Draco?"

Draco nodded and gave him a soft kiss. "It is puzzling, how they write you as male, and straight... straight. Is that even a thing? Who's straight? Everyone's done ot with their best mate, it's common knowledge. That's how little Crab Malfoy came to be."

"I guess that's why we have to keep fighting. To show them the truth." Harry put on his best smile. "It's all in a day's work for... the Protectors of the Fanon Continuum!"

I'm gonna do this in the style of one of those funny scenes from it! Then you can SEE where the badness lies! =D Or if it's even badenss at all...

[Insert obligatorily obnoxious scene divider here.]

So, there was a rare Young Wizards badfic - bad in concept, not just unbeta-d, which is worse IMO - and the Sue used the PERIDEXIS as an in-fic EXORCISM TOOL.

[Explanation of the fic 'Spark' - oh wait, is hating on other 'real' fics out-of-bounds??? I'm sorry! D8]

So the Agents had to perform their OWN exorcism - but it didn't work! Not on everyone! How do you neuralyze a near-abstract being??? Canon snapback can't take care of everything, right? We don't even know what the Powers think of the Flowers! Oh, we're getting off track...

But there was - gasp - GLITTER RESIDUE! So the Agents had to perform a TRANSPLANT of CONSCIOUSNESS, and the resulting person had to go to Medical and FicPsych!

[Insert depiction of Angst here - because of course! No one's put a twist on the Oath like THIS, I'm sure...

Peridexis: /wry note of complaint and insight on fic author
Author: /pushback and HINT AT CRUSH
Peridexis: oO]

So now we have the CANON peridexis and PPC AGENT PERI. Innit GREAT?

Thank you for your time. ^^

A/n: What it says on the tin! I had a ton of fun with this one, guys. Hope you love it! Remember to leave me lots and lots and lots of comments **blows kisses**

obvs I don't own any of this its the ppc I'm just playing with it~ pls dont sue! Or Sue :P

PS: all the chapters they go into are from Partially Kissed hero by Lionheart and they're read. I can't make this stuff up!! Each piece is a different chapter. Enjoy!!! r&r? :)

The Many Partners of Jacques Bonnefoy (for the Legendary mission we know is coming!!)

Of all things, Jacques Bonnefoy thought, the last one he’d expected when taking this mission was to come face to face with the Queen of England.

“Ma’am,” he greeted. He was almost surprised when her response didn’t include the name ‘Captain Harkness’—but then, this wasn’t exactly his world, was it?

“Are you, perhaps, from the Queen of Wonderland?”

Jacques made a face. “No, ma’am. Uh—consider me…well, I’m a British citizen. I think. I—”

“Duck,” one of his partners advised him. He did so, and the story took over.

“I really don’t like this,” muttered the third of their number. He was noticeably Welsh, male, and young, in his early twenties. “Are you sure we should be right here?”

“Come on—you don’t want to see this mess for yourself?” The man who’d told Jacques to duck slung an arm around the Welshman’s shoulders. His accent was the slightly odd offspring of Received Pronunciation and Welsh with hints of Scottish poking through; he was also in his early twenties.

He also looked very much like Jacques, if only Jacques had still looked twenty-four himself and had grown his hair out a bit. Jacques had found out far earlier on in the mission that he was actually French; he’d first looked appalled and then laughed himself breathless when Jacques had switched to French with their prompting.

The Welsh-accented man, meanwhile, shook his head. “Not especially. Why do you?”

His friend shrugged. “Well, I’ve never seen it before…”

With a sigh, the Welshman turned to Jacques. “He’s always like this, you know.”

Jacques raised his eyebrows. “Did you want me to do something about it, Ianto? You’ve known him longer; I’m just his non-wizarding counterpart from another Headquarters.”

Ianto opened his mouth…

*

Jacques opened his eyes, confused. What had he…? Why had he…?

“Finally,” said his temporary partner. His name was Derik; apart from the heavy scarring on one side of his face, he was incredibly handsome. He was also just about the straightest guy Jacques had ever met, which was a complete and utter shame. “What happened to you not needing much sleep?”

“Time distortion,” Jacques said. “It’s weird, but true.” He stretched. “How long was I out?”

Derik raised his hands expressively. “You’re really overestimating my ability to tell time in this mess.”

“True,” Jacques said. “Well, let’s get moving, anyway. What’s up next?”

“Something to do with Hermione, loyalty, and…Stonehenge? Harry carrying a hospital’s worth of potions? I just skimmed it.”

Jacques made a face, and offered Derik a hand up. Derik stood up on his own—really, really straight, Jacques reflected.

“Well, then—let’s get going…”

*

“Mmph!” Luxury stumbled. Jacques caught her—easy enough to do, given she’d already been well on her way to pressed up against him. “What was that?”

Jacques tore his attention away to check the Words. “Uh—oh, wow. Treelawney just went thirty years into the past. Welcome to…what is it, 1963?”

“Eh, whatever,” Luxury declared. She pouted at him. “Are you sure we can’t lose the robes?”

“…actually,” Jacques said, once he’d had another quick look at the Words, “we can.” Luxury gave a gleeful whoop and pulled away to yank hers over her head. “But we do have to keep Muggle clothes on.”

Luxury narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

Jacques shook his head. “Believe me, I wish I was. But at least it’s fewer layers…”

Luxury pouted, and stuck her hands up his shirt the moment it was accessible.

*

“Not even a little?” Jacques asked. “Really?”

Agent Supernumerary folded his arms. “Really. Not even a little.”

Jacques sighed. “This would happen. You’re the hottest person I’ve seen all day, and you go and turn out to be straight.” He paused. “I really, truly, seriously can’t tempt you? I mean, you’re gorgeous.”

“And now you’re mocking me,” Nume informed him, and turned away.

“No, no no no,” Jacques protested. “Not in the slightest. Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror?”

Nume went deadpan. “No.”

Jacques groaned. “And you’re sarcastic.” He sighed. “We’re really going to have to sit through Harry’s dragon abuse with no distractions, aren’t we.”

Nume looked suddenly horrified. “No distractions? No! Definitely not. I can’t take that. We’ll just have to—”

Jacques raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” he prompted, trying not to look quite as excited and hopeful as he felt.

“Read books like the agents of the PPC that we are,” Nume finished dryly. He pulled out Les Miserables and began to read, completely ignoring Jacques.

“Right,” Jacques said, “of course. Nice.” He lay back, wishing he’d thought to bring a more interesting book along…

*

“But how can you be straight?” Jacques demanded. It was a fair question, given he was staring himself in the face.

The other Jacques shrugged. “Same way you can be…what are you, again?”

“Omnisexual!”

The other Jacques raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Is that even a thing?”

Jacques groaned and put his head in his hands.

In the background, Treelawney-via-narration was explaining a complicated, unnecessary, and frankly despicable plan which resulted, of course, in Harry turning out to be even more fit (and trained as a child by Bruce Lee)…

*

Jacques raised his eyebrows. “And who are you supposed to be?”

The striking…well, he thought her hair was brown, but it also seemed kind of golden—the young woman, anyway, looked rather offended. “But of course you know who I am!”

Jacques crossed his arms. “I really don’t.”

“But everyone knows me!”

Jacques smiled. “Tell you what—why don’t you introduce yourself, and then I’ll know too!”

The woman pouted, and then shook back her hair. A safe distance away, Harry, Hermione, and Luna lectured on about werewolves and the Ministry’s treatment of them. “My name is Jaycacia Thornbyrd.”

Jacques’ smile gained dimples. “Charmed, I’m sure.” He offered his hand; when she placed hers in it, he brought it to his lips. “I’m Agent Jacques Bonnefoy—but you—”

“Already know, yes.” Jaycacia looked only a little mollified, but she giggled when he kissed her hand again. “Oh, I can’t stay mad at you!” She batted very long eyelashes at him. “I just love your eyes.”

Jacques took a step closer, and then another. To his delight, she let him place her hand over his heart. “And I love y—” He froze.

Jaycacia frowned, and caressed his face with her free hand. “Jacques? What is it?”

Jacques yanked her hands away from him and took several large steps back. “Oh, no. No, no, no—I’m not doing this, I’m not—go back wherever you came from! I’ve already done my time in love with a Sue, I’m never going back—”

Jaycacia’s beautiful eyes filled with tears. “But I love you!”

“No!” Jacques insisted. “Get lost!”

He portalled her away before she could finish opening her mouth. Then, with the badfic almost completely forgotten, he set off to find a drink.

*

Gall was weirdly perfect, Jacques reflected. Oh, not in a bad way—not at all a Sue way. Not her. But she was…

Well, amazing, really.

“Come on!” she was exclaiming now. She’d looped her arm through his and was…well, the only reason she wasn’t pulling him along was that he was keeping pace. Rather easily, actually, given his legs were longer. “This may be the stupidest badfic I’ve ever missioned, but at least the breakfasts are good.”

Privately, Jacques didn’t fancy their chances—it was a badfic, after all—but out loud he said only, “And why are we going to need breakfast so urgently, Ms. Knutson?”

She punched him in the arm, and he fell the slightest bit in love. “It’s just Gall. And why wouldn’t we need breakfast?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Jacques said. He casually drew closer as they walked; she didn’t move away. “I can think of some great ways to spend the energy we get from it, though…”

Gall gave him a calculating sidelong look from her light blue eyes. “You know what?”

Jacques smiled. “What?”

Gall smirked. “It’s a good thing my partner’s not here. He can ruin a mood in seconds.”

Jacques grinned, and ignored the narration’s babbling about Harry’s new and calculated interest in things like ‘charming his own cheese’—which wasn’t even a euphemism. “So there’s a mood here, huh? Well, we’ll just have to make the most of it…”

--
((I'd be completely open to writing a sequel/second part, with enough inspiration. I know this somehow got skewed pretty heavily towards Neshomeh's characters--it just kind of happened.

Got someone else you'd like to see tackle Partially Kissed Hero with Jacques? Let me know! With luck (and any interest), I'll put them in a second part. ~Z))

(((Also, I had never considered Jacques/Gall. Turns out, I actually like the idea quite a bit! Who knew? Wonder how a meeting between them would go with her written properly in character, though, seeing as I went for the good old badfic games standby of 'aim for recognizable but don't worry too much'...)))

(Scene music: Immortalized, bty Disturbed)

So great was the MGIC FIRE the engulphed the bnttlefeird that Harry Potter, undeputed LORD of MAGIO, could hardly breath. But he pushed on, trought the fire and flames, toward his final goal: the DARK LORD VOLDEMORT, the mainiac Harry world prove to be only the second most powerful wizard in the world. He blaimed himself for the triumph of the dark lord four years ago, and he knew he could have stopped the magical hell he brought upon the world. But he could break his reighn, and undo all of his workds, and prove himself the ulitamate wizard.

Harry Foreced himself throught the fire, making his wat ti the hill where the DArk Lord stid, surrounded my sis chosen warriors, inkoking his dark final ritual, one that would make in dominon complete. As harry crested the hill he could lay etes upon those things that lay beyond the ege of reality , those things that the Dark Lord wourld gain finar power from.

Harry called forth grate magiks and the chosen of evil were engulphed in green firem, lleaceing ofly the dark lord as Herry;s fore. Tnhe man whp had once been tom Riddle turned to Potter, and realized his fate. If he released his concentration upon his spell, those creatures that lurk world feast upon him, but if hid did nothing, Harry Potter would surely take out his great and bloody vengeance upon him. He could only stare with wide-eyed terror as Harry brought forth the mighty spell he had perfected upon the Dark Lords lesser liutenants...

As the unkowable creatures returened to their fell demensions all that remained oif the man who wanted to be a god was a pile of scorpions.

***ACHTUNG! Spoilers for Lichtspeer!***
Also, I've been talking with twistedwindowpane about her plans for the PPC once she gets Permission. Agent Gretchen is hers, she's not mine, neither is Lichtspeer, go play the game, yada yada yada let's get on to the story.

It was just another day in the Department of Suspicious Canon (DSC). Agents were bustling about: walking briskly into generic offices, taking orders from their superiors, and then dashing back out to prepare for departure. One of several departments that had been created or re-opened due to a badfic explosion resulting from an announcement by MachineGames that fanmade content would be accepted for use in Wolfenstein V: The New Mastermind (bad freakin’ idea!), the DSC’s role was to streamline the PPC by marking certain continua as unworthy of protection in the first place. An agent in the DSC was to infiltrate new continua as made-up “fan characters” and search for any signs that the continuum was unworthy, mainly any form of prejudice unacceptable enough to take away any and all enjoyment of the work. The department had become very popular very quickly, with many agents happy that canon writers they hated could finally be done justice. It became known that if you had a vendetta, you could tell a DSC agent and it would be carried out. Sadly, as many of this department had axes to grind, they could quickly become overzealous in their work. One such agent was Agent Gretchen Hollehammer, who worked in the subdepartment led by Huinesoron. Who knows why she behaved the way she did, but anyone who so much as said “gentlemen prefer blondes” within earshot of her would be faced with her wrath. Huinesoron knew this, and perhaps he knew a little bit of her motives, for she’d often hint at things they’d experienced together before. Barely anyone knew what those had been. Today, she entered his office with a stoic expression, as usual awaiting a new mission.

As she sat down, Huinesoron smiled. “Why, hello there. Nice to see you again.”
He didn’t wait for an answer; Gretchen stopped giving answers years ago. “Given the particular causes you support, I have a mission that I think you’d especially like to carry out.”
The young woman nodded, one eyebrow cocked in suspicion.
“Here,” he said, spinning around in his desk chair to retrieve a file and sliding it to her across the desk, then stopping his rotation to prevent embarrassment. In another hopeful attempt to excite her, he added with a dash of her personal slang, “This one doesn’t bite.”
Gretchen took the paper without saying anything. She read through the information as Huinesoron got up and began pacing back and forth, explaining everything.
“This continuum is called… Lick- oh yeah. Leaked-spear. Yeah, the spelling of the name was the first thing that tipped us off. Video game. It’s not new, in fact, it came out on Steam a while back, but a few Youtubers have been spewing out fanmade content about it for years now, and they’re finally popular, which has caused it to rise in the world of fanfic writing. It depicts a glorious ‘ancient germanic future’, with enemies such as ‘Penguin Vikings’ and ‘Wurst Zombies’, several areas and bosses for each, and fantastic technology. And the pinnacle of it all is this extremely blond guy, with a German name of the player’s choice, who wields an energy spear and is on a quest to… bring balance to the universe by killing stuff for the light god, I think it was. Sound like any propaganda from back when?”
His employee was staring rather angrily at the paper she’d received, and she finally spoke. “Definitely.”
“Aha, I’ve got you interested! To top it all off, the game’s motto adds to the fun: ‘Embrace the future. Eat strudel. Play Leaked-spear.’ Or... licked-shpeer.” He began mumbling other attempts at pronouncing “Lichtspeer” under his breath until she called for his attention.
“Huinesoron, my mission.”
“Oh yes, right. You’re going to adventure right alongside our protagonist, since that’s the only perspective given in canon, and pretend to be an ally of his. We’ll put you as one of those overly edgy assassin types, as an explanation for why you’re always so icy cold about everything. Fight alongside him, maybe question any sapient enemies if you can, until you figure out his motives.”
“And if we’re right about said motives?”
“That’s where your fan-made weapon comes in.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a jet-black sword that dimly glowed purple, inlaid with bright green gemstones in the hilt. “This is the Rave Sword.” He held it out to her.
“If it’s any good, you don’t seriously expect me to grab it by the blade.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry.” He stretched his arm out further so that she could take hold of the hilt.
Then Huinesoron continued. “Like all weapons of the Licked-shpeer universe, this weapon has multiple abilities that you’ll get to use to your advantage. You can find those in the Licht shop with the protagonist's weapon's upgrades. Do you understand?”
Gretchen nodded. She turned the sword over in her hands, obviously more interested. “I… I love the way this looks, and I can't wait to see what it does. I’ve always been a sucker for the… the aesthetic of black with glowy bits.”
This made her boss smile. There was a little left of the old Gretchen after all.
The stony look returned to her face. “Is there any other information I need to know?”
Huinesoron thought for a bit, then spoke. “This game isn’t exactly of a genre you’re particularly good at. It may be very difficult to survive, even with this thing helping you. If you’ve got other things coming at you, please focus more on the other things coming at you, and not the German. Okay?”
“Alright.” She started for the door, then turned her head to look at him. “Take note that this is the closest we’ve been so far to the kind of mission I was born to do.”
“I will.”
And so Gretchen left.

The high claxon of the console awakened the ruthless Assassin, Agent Dusk of the Department of Mary Sues. She sighed and pushed herself to a seated position in her bed, extensively running her fingers through her hair to tidy it to the smoothness it had been before she went to sleep. She pushed the covers back, swung her legs to the side in a graceful arc, and stood up out of bed in the same fluid motion, then turned the corner of her Response Center to reach her console.

It took her awhile to read the long fanfiction that greeted her on the console. It was set in the continuum of RWBY, and it starred a Mary Sue named Soluna Destiny, who was the princess of Remnant, initiated a spicy relationship with Ruby Rose, stopped the Fall of Beacon, and had the spectacular semblance of being able to turn her emotions into a magic essence that would immediately solve any problem she was faced with with no need for her to control it. It was the same fare that Dusk had warred and strived against for two months now - the same fare that had cost her her beloved partner.

“If you were still alive, you’d probably remark that I look like Ruby to some degree when wearing my formal attire,” remarked Dusk to the empty, lifeless air. “You always teased me about the things that were related to me in even the most superficial of ways.” The air had no reply for her, no words. If only Agent Cheyenne’s life had left her in a continuum that had some form of life after death, some kind of ghostly form she could use to get up and carry on. Maybe then it wouldn’t be agony. Dusk had been told since being recruited that she shouldn’t take her partner for granted because they might be gone for good, and those older agents could never be more right. Dusk missed her partner and that very fact alone filled her with a mighty vengeance.

The console blared again, clearly angered by the amount of time Dusk was taking to reminisce. “I’m grieving,” she snapped at it. “Do you not understand the concept of grieving?” She dealt it a swift kick, without a care about the consequences, and entered the bathroom to dress herself. Emerging in spandex pants, knee-high lace-up boots, a high-collared shirt, and a jacket with the DMS potted cactus on one sleeve and a Nether Star on the other, she pulled out the disguise generator and selected “Grimm”. “To Remnant I venture”, she mused, and stepped through the portal with a sense of emptiness in her heart.

[Author's Note: This is going to be written similarly to a mission at the beginning, but it'll transform into a larger, greater story as the plot continues. I hope this small bit of enticement makes you anticipatory of what is to come next! Also, WARNING: THERE WILL BE FEMSLASH AND I WILL NEVER STOP WRITING FEMSLASH NO MATTER WHAT YOU TELL ME SO IF YOU'RE A HOMOPHOBE GET OFF THE BOARD!!!

With a salute,
Dusk]

I was a 40k fan long pror to seein PPC, so I wantd to writ Toth. Aslo, I alway ssee peolle misineterpet the obviouse and intricate romance arcs thsy have been set up for charsfters. Somekne here's alrwady postend Thlth/Derik—ewww. So wong. Here, I do my bedt to show show clearly what the correct intepretation of the character is for the nimrods. Obviouslu.

--

To Thoth, she had always ben “the lady.” Not that there weren’t others, but viewed through his emereld sight-speres, she was the one that deserved that deserved the most definitiv article. His alien mental complexixon made it hard for him to know what he was feeling: She iritated him, irked him sometimes, but when his gaze meet hers, an electric shock of energy traveleled through him, her ruby hair flowing acros her head like a river as if a magnet to his eyes.

Yes, just the thought of Gal made his heart race. He practically swoneed when he saw her, and it took his warrior sprit concintrated effort to not fall to her silky, seduuctive charms, to melt into her choclatey aura of condifence and desire, to present himself entire before that sner upon her face.

It finally reached it’s breaking point one day, when Thoth was wandring HQ, and bumped right into her. “O-oh… Gall! S-s-sorry…”

Gall smacked him straight across face, a snarlng picture of beauty. “Don’t give me that, ‘Jotun.’ Man up and stop being hestant about everything all the time. Always stutering and bushing… I know you can do beatter.”

Thoth rubbed his hands together, his face tranforming into a mask of flushed crimson even as his his heart began to throtle his brian.

Gall grabbed him close smaked him again, brething hard, her crismon locks glinting as her orbs did. “Go on. Prove you’re a man. Defend yourself. I’ll keep atacking until you do.”

Thoth blushed and rubbed his hands together. It wasn’t as if the smacs hurt, particularly, hed felt worse. But something about them shok him to his core.

Then sudenly, Gall grabed him roughly and shoved him against the wall, and he gunted roughly at the impact, his lungs quivring. Even with all his incredibly stren, he was powerless to defend himself from this scarlet demon. “...Unless, of course, this is just what you want I’ve seen the way you look at me, you saucy boy. Don’t you deny it. And don’t you forget that my ofer still stands… Do you want to get… undepressed, Joton?”

Suddenly, Thoth kised her, his lips locking against hers in an underpressed expresion of need and desire, the moist caverns joining together in perfect union as he releaseed a soft sonic vibraton of pure want, of ecstatic urge, the crimson vixien against him pulling him in closer and pushing her tongue into his mouth in an epression of reciprocatting want that he, in turn, returned. The lady pushed him back further against the bounddary of the hallway, her body and lips hitting his synapses like a wave of heat.

“Yes…” He said. “Please.”

Gall grined. “I thought you would, Jottun. Now all you have to do…” She fished around the comparments of her outfit throwing something to him. “...Is put this on.”

The artice the Astarts now held in his hands was a circlar collar, hen from lether.

--

((Yeah, I am writing one of my own. Hey, I'll branch out sometime, I swear!

Also, 90% of the typos in that intro post are real: Phone keyboards are better at creating plausible badficcers than I ever will be.))

Are you waiting for little ol' me to kick things off? That's so sweet! You didn't have to do that! I'll totally start, though. Without further ado, I give you:

Title: Mostly
Author: Lemony Eggnog
Rating: M (eventually)
Genre: Friendship/Romance

Summary: Learning to love again isn’t easy, especially when it shouldn’t be possible. But, as a certain masked man once said, none of us can choose where we will love. Nothing is ever one hundred percent certain. Only . . . mostly.

Author’s Note: They said it couldn’t be done. I said Challenge Accepted.

Disclaimer: I don't own the PPC or any of its agents. The PPC was invented by Jay and Acacia, whose boots I am not fit to lick. Derik belongs to Neshomeh, and Thoth belongs to Thoth (shocker, right?). Their totally obvious yet criminally unfulfilled chemistry is my gift to you, dear reader.

--Lemony

(( Chapter to follow in another post, because with the notes and all it was just over the word limit, and I need space for HTML. ))

And because of the perfect timing. This is your prompt for the fortnight.

Badfic.

AKA see above.

Novastorme.