Subject: That's fair.
Author:
Posted on: 2018-09-09 02:19:00 UTC
♪It's okay to not like things.♪ And I'd tend to agree that your common-or-garden-variety shipper does tend to lack... let's go with prudence and temperance, those are virtues and also polite words.
I dig all that stuff you said, though. I'd say I've got three of five going for me in my fic. You should drop by sometime. Let me know if it rattles you in your fortress-monastery at all. ^_~
--Lemony
Yes, our noble Support team have worked round the clock to fix the damage done by the most recent Liechtenstein invasion and bring you an all new, all modern, all fanfic website! Among our new features are--
Hang on. Sorry. One minute please.
Where's the website? You promised me it would be up by today!
No, I can't 'wait a few weeks', this is going out live! They're already--
Well, have you at least got the servers running again? We could roll out the old code, call it 'retro'.
... what about the Fanfic Land code? Surely that still runs?
Then what have you been working on? Please tell me it hasn't all been World of Minecraft tournaments or whatever it is you get up to.
...
... right.
Sorry about that! As I was saying, we're still having a few minor technical hitches, but our all new Support team who I will be hiring as soon as the last bunch are out of the building are working to bring you the shiniest fanfic website on the internet! Until then, here's a sneak oh good grief preview of our can't believe I'm about to do this hi-tech, 3D logo, which will soon be adorning your screen in glorious HD!
Ta-da!
While we're getting the last few things ready for you and weeping into our artisan coffee, why not flex your fanfic muscles by writing for your favourite fandom - the PPC! Remember, if it's not 'canon', that just makes it all the more fun!
~Admin@fanficWorld
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!!
I'm just going to take all of this in stride - and look forward to what happens next!
Lacking context on what Jess has done before, though, I have to ask: why'd she start with Maximum Ride? I don't think that's the only world she'd have gotten bird wings from...
...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.))
Who am I kidding, of course you don't.
These guys were both scarred for life by "Subjugation." Shipping them together in a way that is eerily reminiscent of that monstrosity is just wrong. But you probably think "Subjugation" is the pinnacle of literature, so I might as well be talking to a brick wall. Ugh.
LordHammerfell, your lot are good with walls. Can't you do something to stop this travesty?
--Lemony
(( That shrill sound you hear is the Nume in my head trying to curse and chug Bleepka at the same time, accompanied by the Su in my head quietly sharpening his needles. {= P
(( Poor Nume, always being miscast as the shrinking violet... Just once, won't someone make him the overly macho, aggressive, dominating one? Just for variety? ^_~
~Neshomeh ))
I actually had that exact thought regarding Nume being cast as the shrinking violet all the time. I didn't go that way for this fic, for various reasons.
If I still have time, I'll see what I can do about it. ^_^
And if this is th WEDDING, i wunder what happens on there HONEYMOONE? >;)
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. ))
(("Canonically no side-effects?! Excuse you, but the entire reason I'm in this form to begin with is because of side-effects, you useless, half-burst pustule of a--"
Really, though, I love it. So much. Now, time to get to work on my version... >:3))
((Ori: "AND I AM NOT A DRAGON!"))
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."
I was thinking about what SMDS normally writes, and I realized that "ABO" brings up some thorny issues of predestination. If some men are born "alphas" and some are born "omegas" (I don't know where the "betas" are), doesn't that assume men must carry out the "sexual role" forced upon them by cruel fate, with no possibility of change?
Glory to Dorn, salutations to all present:
LordHammerfell, master of his own destiny, would-be conqueror, "violent, sexual animal"
... and poor Omegon?
It's not that men are forced to assume any role: They will simply naturally gravitate to their role. An Omega need not submit to an Alpha male, but if they don't, their omega instincts and desires will scream out in ever-greater need for it.
((615, assuming that really is you... I love you man.))
Leaving aside the inclusion of your usual nonsense with no real justification, is there a reason you opted not to use any of Dafydd and Constance's actual children for this? Ain't none of them named John, or currently employed in the present-day PPC. And that's not how genetics work, either. Not even Tolkien fantasy genetics.
--Lemony
I'll look those up later.
For now, I've got a really cool plan involving reinterpreting classic folktales...
((I actually do have a plan! You may or may not ever see the results, depends on if I can be arsed to do it. You can thank/blame Ix for pointing me at the idea, though...))
i Hope Contanse gets her gradchildrn soon! soooo one qestion: what knid of perfume in Omgaya Scent && where can i by sume?!
~#JB##
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!
I'mm glad you remembered me, even thhough you BROKE MY HEART. Thinnk twice next timee before you MAKE an OC....
Andd can I speak onlly French, next installlment? French is COOOOLERR!
Maii karakcter haz come eulaive! Of course iou can spik french, ze ost bioutifoul langouage eveure!
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!
Marisa gently touched her laptop - then frowned.
No, not this way. I want it to be MUTUAL.
Her Manual, still confused, shuddered, and Marisa briefly thougth she'd had the right idea after all.
/Haven't we been through this?/ it said, however, and her face fell.
"Aww, I wanted it to be a surprise!"
Her Manual said nothing, loudly.
"Okya, fine, let's start this over. If I wanted to show you physical affection, how should I go about it?"
It sputtered. /You are fifteen! I have known you since you were ten./
Marisa giggled seducitvly. "Now who's being irrational?"
If it had been human, it would have gulped. Very dramatic.
A/N: Yes, another cliffhanger! I've gotta take SERIOUS time to think through these mechanics! |D
(Beta for nottheLonePower here! As it has been determined that there are some things she cannot do without descending into gibberish (and not the usual storm of typos), I told her she could either settle for 'Ikea Erotica' or go for the humanization.
Considering who's writing this chapter, I think you can imagine how that went.
So, uh, enjoy?)
"Sooo, this is the code I'd want to mess with in order for you to perceive sensations like I do?" Marisa asked, poking the relevant area of the laptop's screen for good measure.
/I contest the use of 'mess with', but, in essence, yes./ her Manual admitted.
Marisa whipped her hair back and forth quickly looked behind her at her already-closed door, suddenly nervous.
/You do remember your parents won't be home for a while yet, yes?/
Privately, her Manual wondered if being called on errantry so often over the past five years had left her twitchy - but telling her to not do work came with its own host of problems.
Meanwhile, independent of her Instrumentality's considerations, Marisa nodded.
"And Sam has his meeting, and none of my friends come to my house to hang out; I always go to theirs."
Turning back, there was an unexpectedly vulnerable look in her eyes.
"That's not a bad thing, is it?"
Considering the fit your parents would throw over you having a sleepover here, it's exactly the opposite.
Well, that was what it wanted to say - but really, this was not the time. Instead:
/No, Marisa. And,/ it added, addressing the other question the wizard hadn't brought herself to ask.
/I do like spending time with you./
The smile that graced her face then was truly splendid.
Consent exchanged, they finally got to - ahem - business.
Attempts to describe just how it was (i.e., explicit details) fall short. I cannot properly convey whether a 'kiss' felt like a kiss upon flesh-and-blood lips, whether their caresses on the astral plane went upon curves and planes that humans even have, and of course orgasm is as hard to encapsulate as it always is.
But rest assured, it was had.
;)
IS this SLARSH?!?!
WEW! U can't do slarhs w/a PPC MAnual, thats' GROSS! How is this ecven in the PPC neway?Thers no missions, only this grl whose linving in her paresnt house luike a LOSER.
SO LAME!!! DX
XOXOX
That, and she's FIFTEEN. :V So tere!
Beta-reader: And you are?
Shush, Beta; youre here because you WANT to, not cause of pay!
Adn this is from a Young Wizards!PPC AU! =D Diffrnt kind of Manual.
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.
what if we WNAT to fite SATAn? Any tipps?
/halo of INNOSENSE
pla pony island. and play it agan and agan and agan. i red on crepypast wiki dat evry tiem he diez in dat gaem he loss a litl bit of his powr in reel lief.
also im not crhstin but dont do tings dat encorge him, liek worshipin him an kilin ppl an bein mean 2 ppl. :)
i shal downlod it asappc!
c what i did thar?
i jus disagre w/ ur idea dat everone is secrtly gay. ok?
wow were on at da sam tiem. scru u ur delosinual so im not gonna talk anymor. i alredy sad enof.
And now that you've given up this conversation, I can say whatever I like! Hmm, what should I say first...
Victory is mine! Long live slash!
Dusk
Hunserum is best
-Yee
U gave me nightmares for lyfe u meanine!!!! LOL.
I'm glad ur not posessed by satan nemore tho. My BFF whos a hacker always tole me never 2 downlaod any X-files, and I guess thats' wy!
Fox Mulder is hawt tho, LOL!
XOXOX
(( Today I learned that Brandy does not know the difference between The X-Files and a .EXE file. {X D ))
((BADADADA DADA DADA DADA DA DA WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO WOOOOOO))
Huinesoron would never write lines of gibberish in his emails (however you spell it). He is an Oldbie, and every word that comes from an Oldbie's fingertips is pure genius.
The rest of this sounds pretty legit though.
so ye he was bein smarte thn evn u reelize, mr potato hed.
Dat's a NEW one! =O
oookay, this fic review seccion is now ALL ABOUT new nick's for hS!
Hweenasoar!
Halloweenasoron!
otars?
I bet tha's wat his GF calls him, LOL!
XOXOX
but... hewwosoron?
I mean, he's an elf. It's obvious.
into cross-species. Like Dwarves! Regardless of gender.
But that's just me. ^^;
The DBVS are lyk always stopping LEgoas from ding and stuff bcuz of hacing sex w/Strider. Its CANON.
XOXOX
But we all know that all men are interested in men, and just LOOK at elves: how could they care about women?
What about Jacques then? Huh? How do you explain him? And, like, mos guys in hq who arent gay.and are, Like, happily married and stuff *and are even Elves like DAFYDD*!!!! Huh?? How do you explain THAT??
~~**DW*~**
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
All I can say is wow. You actually got an emotional response from me.
It was laughter.
I'm not sure I've ever read anything less sexy in my life. It's possible, but honestly, I doubt it. You're too clueless to even bother critiquing. If I were the praying type, I'd pray for your immortal soul.
0/10, would not even use to start a rancid garbage fire.
--Lemony
(( It's okay. It's like Cards Against Humanity. Sometimes it's fun to do things that make us all cringe together. ^_^
(( ... I reckon I'm going to have lots of fuel for CAHQ after this.
~Neshomeh ))
Listen SMDS, you wanna roll with the big boy over on 40k street, you gotta learn how Space Marines work. First of all, they are not "alpha." Each space marine was designed to take orders without question, and serve with totall loyalty. Even a hertic astartes is still just the peaon of a bigger, nastier Chaos Champion, so unless Thoth has gotten a promotion while I wasn't looking, he and Derick are in the same boat. The 'guy-who-gets-told-what-to-do-and-damn-the-consequences boat".
Ordinarily, this may be the case. But what I don't think you understand is that being in a relationship fundamentally changes the dynamic. Once two men enter a relationship, that relationship will be unstable until one of them asserts dominance over the other. In this case, it was Thoth over Derik. Although I suppose it could have been the other way, if Derik were less meek and emotional... ^_^
I think a human/astartes relationship would be unstable anyway. Marines can't really function outside the doctrines of the chapter, war-band, or legion.
Wait, sorry, I'll rephrase that as a statement for you:
I do not entirely agree with what you're saying.
While it's true that Space Marines were created and conditioned to serve, they were also left with the greater part of the personality traits that made them individuals. The Emperor and his gene-wrights were clever enough to remember that, genetically and socially, diversification means survival. See, if they just wanted a bunch of guys who were all basically the same and were only good at following orders, taking a beating, and little else, they could've just bred or cloned them like the migou laborers on Terra. But they didn't. They took tough kiddos with different skill sets and wrought them into super-tough kiddos with unfaltering(ish) loyalty and different skill sets. Sure, you need plenty of common soldiers to fill the ranks, but even a common Astartes soldier shouldn't have to go whining to his superior officer for permission to wipe his arse, now, should he? Because out there in the big bad galaxy, beset by xenos and heretics and whatnot on all sides, thinking outside the box and adapting to constantly changing circumstances isn't just useful; it's vital.
TL;DR: Space Marines may not all be leaders, but they sure as heck ain't all followers, either.
Anyway, Agent Thoth has the rules and mores of HQ to keep his head on straight. That counts!
--Lemony
I meant that astartes are hierarchical. A marine is not truly at home (I know about metaphors) without a rigid command structure, even if he is at the top of it. Thoth could not "assume a position of dominance" over Derick because they are the same rank. Even if a marine doesn't need "permission to wipe his arse" (I'll never be able to get rid of that image), he couldn't just start giving commands to his equals.
On the other hand--and I know I may seem to be agreeing with DimBulbDeadGlow for a minute here, but bear with me--being technically equal in rank doesn't necessarily mean being equal in power/authority. The power dynamics of a relationship (any sort) between an Astartes and a human would seem to be weighted toward the Astartes in most cases, wouldn't they?
I mean, Thoth is way older than Derik, in all ways more powerful, and until recently used to thinking of himself as superior to all mortals.
BUT, Derik was a Weyrleader, or at least he remembers being one. He's a take-charge kinda guy, and he has the advantage of way more relevant experience in the PPC, plus his offbeat Harpery/Phantomy charm. :)
Seeing how the scales find balance between them is part of the fun of writing them. ^_^
And you're welcome for the mental image. When you think of it, think also of me. <3
--Lemony
(( Your comment is especially funny because the issue of Space Marine superiority and whether or not Thoth gets to assert it over Derik as his teacher is a thing we're dealing with in the canon storyline. Spoiler: the answer is a firm hell no. {X D ))
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!!
Charlus pressed against Faolan's side when his father began shouting. "Absolutely not!" he said. "We let you werewolfs have your tributes but you are not taking my son!"
"Keep your tributes," Faolan said dismissively. "Your son is the greatest gift you could give me. He is an Omega, and he shall bear my children, who will inherit the throne after I am dead."
Charlus' father's eyes bugged out. "An Omega?!"
"A very rare and prized type of male. Now that he and I are bonded, we—"
"Get out!" his father yelled, pointing. "I won't have that sort of disgusting filth in my house! Out!"
Charlus whimpered as Faolan drew him closer. "You will rue the day you cast my mate out of your home," he declared, his eyes flashing. "Come, Charlus—you have anew home with me."
Charlus looked up at him with large, beautiful blue eyes. He looked so frightened and uncertain, and Faolan had a violent urge to protect him at all costs.
"I will take you back to my castle," Faolan declared, leading Charlus from the house. "Can you ride?"
"I am a Lord's son," Charlus said, drawing himself up. He was still quite short despite being fully grown. If it weren't for his scent—now reeking of mating heat—he'd wonder if this boy was supposed to be his mate after all. He was so small, so delicate, and Faolan's duty as an Alpha was to protect his mate at all costs.
"Then ride on me," Faolan said, and shifted into wolf form. He was a magnificent, enormous jet black beast, with fur the same glossy raven shade as Charlus' hair. The eyes still looked like his human form, though, jade green with a golden ring around the pupil. Charlus gaped at him before moving forward, hesitantly running his fingers through the shaggy fur. Faolan grinned a wolfish grin and crouched so Charlus could mount him.
And that would be the only time Charlus would ever be allowed to 'mount' him, he thought as Charlus climbed onto his back. Faolan waited until he was situated, and then took off, running much faster than any horse ever could.
Charlus yelled with delight at the wind catching his hair, whipping it around his face. They raced through the forest, Alpha and Omega, wolf and rider speeding toward the castle on the mountain in the distance.
((Hi, Ix here. This is where things get bad, so I'll say it now: NSFW, terrible smut, trigger warnings for dubcon, general squickiness, and your general ABO badness. Chapter 3 is here.))
((Try this link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AYp-8IB-2LIt5gQdN7b76x6C2C18mSWPTslMhr9Oljk/edit?usp=sharing
For some reason bookmarks are just totally borked for my GDerps, so this links to the whole fic I have written thus far. Same warnings apply.))
Well, now you've done a very unclever thing by introducing this "mate or die" thing. First of all, no wonder Omegas are rare if they up and kick the bucket whenever some haughty bastard of an Alpha decides they are not appropriately pleased.
Second, you've killed any chance for real emotional intimacy to develop between the characters if Charlus is driven purely by the instinct to not goddamn die. It's like instant Stockhome Syndrome, just add moondew!
WTF is moondew, anyway? Off-brand Mountain Dew? Does Charlus smell like lemon-lime soda and a basement full of sweaty, desperate nerds?
*snerk* See, I can't even take this seriously anymore. You lose. Good day, sir/madam/starfish.
--Lemony
(( I Googled moondew, just on the principle of knowing what I was talking about. Apparently it's a plant from the Harry Potter video games. How 'bout that. Still sounds silly enough to deserve a little mockery, though. ^_~
(( Oh, and speaking of Stockholm Syndrome, "Thanks! I hate it" refers to Lindsay Ellis' video essay on the live-action Beauty and the Beast. Good stuff; I recommend it. Also her twothree-part breakdown of the Hobbit films.
~Neshomeh ))
I can’t believe I enjoyed your story earlier if you can’t even appreciate the nuances of hot gay relationships. Like, for reals.
She writes them like they're lesbians. All love and purity, no savagery, hierarchy, or intense, physical expressions of love.
Right, that's it, Jennotary is definitely next on the docket. That or maybe G-Squared, which is less plausible but possibly more fun.
In the meantime, here, have this educational illustration about hyenas.
--Lemony
Again, let's be clear: This is not a PPC fanfic. It has nothing whatsoever to do with Agents Ix Saibhir and Charlotte Webb. This is a good thing, because if you were actually trying to portray those characters, haha, I can't even type it with a straight face. Just change the names again and what you've got here is a perfectly serviceable original fic.
And as such? Accepting that this is a different world with a different set of rules and social mores? You're doing some smart things, such as setting up some sort of prejudice against Omegas that works to justify "Faolan's" protectiveness of Charlus. It also helps that Faolan is royalty, which makes the whole arrogant and domineering Alpha thing easier to swallow.
One thing I will knock you for, though: The ability to ride a horse, presumably with a saddle and bridle, does not translate to the ability to ride a giant wolf unaided. A wolf's gait is not the same as a horse's. Go look up some videos of horses running and some videos of wolves running and see if you can spot the difference.
--Lemony
(( For real though, I do think this works pretty well so far. Can't hate it on the basis of wrecking the characters if it's not even making a token effort to get them right, and can't hate it for wrecking humans if one of 'em ain't and the other is accustomed to different rules than we are. Either making something that works was the intent, in which case kudos, or you're setting us up for a gutpunch of awfulness later, in which case... well, it's the Badfic Game, so also kudos. {; P
~Neshomeh ))
...Miss Sourmilk has everything wrong. This is a good fic, yes: it continues to establish Faolan's inherent superiority that will come to form the core of their relationship. But she still seems to think that some sort of justification for this sort of relationship is required.
Silly. In their natural habitats, every male gravitates towards an alpha role. Those that cannot become natural omegas, seeking the protection of their peers by becoming adopting a "female-substitute" role for the other men, with none of the dignity that implies. If a would-be omega would not accept their role, they will be forced into it by the alphas, until they inevitably accept their rightful place.
Nasty, brutish creatures, aren't they?
((...Espouse every bad idea I can think of off the top my head, and toss in casual sexism to taste! Joy of joys.
I'm pretty sure it's the latter, FYI Nesh. But who knows? Maybe I'll be proven wrong.
Kudos for not writing the worst ABO fic, Ix. That's tough to do.
~Thoth))
I don't recall ever specifying. What would it do to your worldview if I turned out to be the dudeliest of dudes? *eg*
By the way, I think you're confusing male humans with male ruff birds. You should fix that. Maybe check out the rest of that comic series; it's educational, and might make your head explode. Send me pics if it does. <3
--Lemony
(( The animal kingdom is naturally freaky, in case anyone didn't know. Humon is especially known for the comic series Scandinavia and the World, but all her stuff is really cool. ^^
(( I shall look forward to seeing where this goes! Even if I regret saying that later! ^~
~Neshomeh ))
Okay... I'm with you so far. This is some kinda fantasy ABO AU. Sure. Why not?
I'm not sure it can touch anything that's canon about Agents Ix and Charlotte with a ten-foot pole, but at least it doesn't make me want to laugh until I puke. And it's mechanically sound, too.
If yon DimBulbDeadGlow is going to like the next part, though, I'll probably hate it. Alas.
--Lemony
ABO, is, of course, a brilliant framework for understanding male-male interactions. This fic also starts off well by establishing Faolan's obvious superiority as the more masculine, dominant man. This is a fantastic example of how fics should be written, and I am eager to see Faolan take physical dominance over Charlus soon.
Just you wait until the next chapter, you're going to love it!!!
shes' Illian's grilfriend, right?! i tohughts anderlights were like snails or sumfin, and i'm SURR THeyr'e blu.
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.
Thoth looked at the Words with alarm.
“What the?” he wondered out loud. “How long has this been going on?”
“How long has what been going on?” asked Twistey, as she approached him with an armful of materials and gadgets.
“The oldbies… or, rather, the four people who have apparently been on long enough to count as the true oldbies, are controlling everything in the PPC universe, Illuminati style, and have been for at least as long as the Mysterious Somebody ruled the PPC.” He paused. “Their ultimate goal is to obtain a ruling position over the Board as well.”
Twistey dropped a couple things and scrambled to pick them up, her face taking on a grim expression. “That’s not good.”
“What’s going on?” said a voice. Snowblaze emerged from around a corner, leading Jacob175 on a tour of HQ. With the two were 61516 and SkaterTheDJWolf. The four of them hurried over to hear the news.
Thoth cleared his throat. “I checked the Words today to see what was up in Fanfic World, and I found out... more than I set out to see. The oldbies are conspiring. They have control over the entire PPC universe, and they want to have the Board too.”
“We need to give them a piece of our minds,” asserted Twistey, as if that had already been decided upon. She put down her load and began searching through it. “There’s a Remote Activator here somewhere…”
“No need,” said Snowblaze, pulling one out of [her? forgot the pronouns lol] pocket. “Where are these oldbies meeting?”
“In a secret room in HQ, with twelve thrones.”
Skater shook his head. “That’s not enough detail to get us there.”
“Hang on,” asked Jacob, “can you explain everything to me? Like everything everything? I just joined, and I’m very confused as to what’s going on. Is this normal?”
“No, of course not,” replied Twistey. “The Board, as well as the writing of the PPC universe, is supposed to be a democracy. While in normal circumstances, the oldbies function as guides for us and do occasionally make jokes about this kind of thing, it’s never been a reality, at least on the Board. For the universe, apparently it was a reality all along. So, they of course want to spread their influence.”
“Oh.”
“Back to what you were saying, Skater,” said Twistey, “we can actually get the Remote Activator to hone in on a particular person, so there’s no need to figure out the room.” She turned to Thoth. “Let me guess, the four true oldbies are hS, Neshomeh… Kaitlyn, and…?”
“Delta Juliette,” finished Thoth. “We don’t know where they sit relative to each other.”
“I suggest we go behind hS’s chair,” said Twistey. “He’s the most fun to screw with.”
This prompted Thoth to shake his head. “Not in a serious situation, he isn’t.”
“Ah. Yeah,” agreed Twistey, trying not to have a flashback.
“Well,” objected Skater, “the more time we spend here debating, the more time we’re giving them. For all we know, they could be watching us, and they could be busy shutting down our tech. Behind Huinesoron’s throne it is!”
Twistey picked up her stuff again, Snowblaze opened the portal, and the five of them went through.
----
“Nobody saw us,” mouthed 61516 to the gang.
“Great,” replied Snowblaze, with equal silence.
Thoth thought. “We should take advantage of this and-”
“-surprise them really good,” interrupted Twistey.
Thoth frowned. “I was going to say we should listen in.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we went for diplomacy?” asked Jacob. “They might be willing to hear us out.”
“That’s not going to work,” replied Twistey. “Go! Ambush!”
Skater gave her a thumbs up, then pulled out an MP3 player and speaker. He briefly flipped through the songs, then settled on “MEGALOVANIA” from Undertale. A perfect fit. He cranked up the volume.
As the music began and the newbies (aside from herself and Skater, who was staying by the speaker) looked for strategic places to stand, Twistey checked through the pile for anything resembling a weapon. Eventually, she figured that there wasn’t enough time to do so, and well, she had fire powers anyway. As the music grew louder, the four oldbies looked like they were realizing there was something up. Come on, don’t see us…
Upon the sudden change in dynamics, the rebels emerged from their hiding places around the circle and into view. Twistey leapt up onto a table in the middle for dramatic effect, her shoes lightly soiling the map of HQ that was on it. “Guess who’s here?!” The oldbies were noticeably startled, and fumbled for their weapons.
“Turn it down, Skater,” called Thoth across the room. “I need to talk.”
“Got it,” he replied, and lowered the volume.
Thoth approached the table and leaned an arm on it. “What is the meaning of this?”
Nesh was the first to snap out of her shock. “How were you able to enter this-”
“I’m not finished. Listen, I thought I trusted you. You were my friends, you gave me the support and confidence I needed when I needed it. And then you turn your back because of artificial divides created between the Boarders for the sake of you feeling superior?!”
Huinesoron crossed his arms. “If anything, you should be the one doing favors to us. We were here upon the founding of the Board. The PPC came together because of us. By that right, it belongs rightfully to us.”
“Well,” remarked Snowblaze, “if that’s the case, we’re the heirs of the PPC. We’ll inherit it when you’re gone.”
“Gone?” Huinesoron snorted. “I for one will never be gone!” On “never”, he flipped his hair over his shoulder, producing a chuckle from Kaitlyn.
“Well then,” asked Skater, “what about the other three?” He paused. “Sorry, that was dark. Before then, you’ll all likely get bored or tired of this place eventually. There’s no one who doesn’t. So you better treat us right, or we won’t let you come back to visit us after you’ve left.”
Then Jacob finally spoke. “If you do manage to get control over the Board and get it running under you like some kind of dictatorship, won’t there be no more new people like me? People will stop joining when they hear that the PPC isn’t any fun anymore.”
“We don’t need any more newbies,” asserted Nesh. “When we have the Board, and no, you can’t leave when we have the Board, we’ll have everything we need. Besides, newbies are too much to deal with. Case in point.” She gestured to Twistey.
“Hey-” Twistey swiveled around to look at Nesh. Then she stopped in mid-word, noticing the shadows cast on Nesh’s face. “Those overhead spotlights don’t look good on you, y'know.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered that they don’t,” remarked Delta Juliette, “as we had never intended for anyone to see our faces in these lighting conditions except us.”
“But can’t you see each other’s faces? Can’t you see just how evil you look?” The human-decoy turned around to face Huinesoron, then jumped, briefly creating an outline of flames around her. “Oh God!” Then she whipped out her phone and snapped a picture. “You’re scary!” she laughed.
Thoth looked and then took a step back. “Oh shoot! Hah!” He looked at Twistey. “Please tell me you aren’t going to make a Wolfenstein 3D parody out of this.”
“What?” Then it finally clicked in Huinesoron’s brain. “STOOOOP!” he roared as he stood up from his throne. “I will have none of this slander! This is the last straw!” He drew a dagger from his belt.
Skater and Jacob looked at each other. “There goes diplomacy,” murmured the latter.
Twistey didn’t look up from her phone. “Oh, I don’t think you’re that bad, I just thought it was funny. Nice stern facial expression, it really drives home the idea! Anyway, what you really are acting like right now is a bunch of high school seniors in adult bodies.”
“Oh God, yeah,” agreed 61516. “Blah blah blah we’re the best and we get to boss everyone else around, especially the freshmen. You’re so right.”
Twistey sat down. “I like you guys. You do have a little bit of superiority, being older and wiser and having been here for longer. Nevertheless, I’m going to send this to everyone else. I’ll tell them what’s going on, and we will rebel. Because it looks to me like you’re gonna keep planning domination unless we do. Nothin’ ‘gainst you personally, I mean, there’s a little darkness in all of us. Capitalization on ‘darkness’ is your choice.”
And then she had to scramble off the table, for in that moment, the battle began.
------
Join the rebellion today at www.ppcenstein.org!
"Well," said Huinesoron a few minutes later, "that was easy."
Neshomeh finished pushing the last of the so-called Newbie Rebellion through the portal. "Yes; you'd have expected them to actually train in combat before trying to attack us."
"Expected? Of newbies?" Kaitlyn sniffed. "In my day, perhaps, but the entire population has gone downhill since then. That's why we do this."
"I know, I know." Neshomeh shut the portal down and returned to her entirely-deserved throne. "What will happen to them, anyway?"
"I threw a temperospatial claudication on the portal manifold," Juliette said, tapping the controls set into the arm of her chair. "Put simply, it will reset them to their fifth birthdays, and force them to live through their childhoods again." She ran a hand through her brightly-coloured hair. "Perhaps this time they'll make better choices."
"Entirely reasonable and fair," Huinesoron said, "and I'm very glad none of them forced me to hurt them."
"As if you ever could." Kaitlyn leant over and patted his arm. "If we weren't both gay, I would marry you because of how awesome you are."
"No, stop it," Huinesoron protested. "We're all awesome in this room, you know that."
Neshomeh chuckled. "Very true," she said. "But I'm not going to be marrying her, if that's what you're thinking."
"It wouldn't work anyway," Kaitlyn said, not without a thoughtful look. "We can't afford anyone else connecting the members of S.P.U.D."
"Ah, my dear colleague," said Huinesoron, settling back into his throne, "do you really think there's anyone out there we couldn't deal with?"
-=-
Authors' Note: As if any rabble of newbies could dream of taking on the Oldbies. Luckily, unlike the children, we know the Oldbies to be both merciful and generous in victory.
Its not far to bet us so much that we cant fite bak wihout tim skips or dues ex machia!
(Stupid spellcheck... the typos are deliberate, okay?)
The mission of S.P.U.D., in-universe or out, cannot be subject to the whims of newbies.
Because "If we weren't both gay, I would marry you because of how awesome you are." outright contradicts from the reality of the matter... at least how I understand it! ;)
I know you're a newbie, because you are not an Oldbie. Don't worry - we are all new compared to their magnificence.
It is certainly true that our fabled Oldbies, Kaitlyn and Huinesoron, are married; they are an inspiration to us all in this matter. Of course, their romance was founded on their growing dominance of the PPC, so we cannot follow precisely in their footsteps, but we should do the best we may.
However, unlike some newbies, we at the Society for the Promotion of Oldbie Dominion remember that the Oldbies and their namesake agents are entirely different people. Within the walls of PPC HQ, both Agents Kaitlyn and Huinesoron have been confirmed to be gay. It is these characters who, we suggest, are members of the in-universe S.P.U.D., and who are speaking in this story of ours.
Does the in-universe PPC even have the same concept of "Oldbies" as the IRL PPC? Isn't it more like newbies and veterans? And doesn't surviving for like a year make you a veteran?
How does this work?
Also, where is Phobos? Isn't he typically regarded as Oldbie By Default due to being married to Neshomeh? They might still just be engaged in-universe what with Agent Phobos being lost in HQ as of the last story update, but that was AGES ago, and I doubt it's intended to be the case forever!
(Also, Agent Huinesoron confirmed gay, you say? When did this happen?)
--Lemony
(( *I* knew that, but I wasn't sure it had come up anywhere people could see yet.
(( Also, Twistey, Thoth's "I thought I trusted you" line in WAGS made me legit sad, you meanie. {; P
~Neshomeh ))
The S.P.U.D. in PPC HQ stands for the Society for the Procuration of Ultimate Dominion. There were originally twelve of them, though now they are down to just four. They would never use the term Oldbies of themselves, though of course they have been around long enough to claim the title if they wished to. To them, anyone who hasn't been here at least since the LotR movies were coming out is a newbie.
We suppose some newbies on the Board might consider Phobos to be a sort-of Oldbie, but we at S.P.U.D. hold true to the original meaning of the term. Phobos is far too new to understand the true spirit of the PPC; he should submit to his wife and her fellow true Oldbies, as should we all.
As far as I know, A!hS's orientation has never come up in uniberse
So, A!hS is a Legoluster; it's kind of hinted at in his first mission, but not very strongly. And in his third, he tells fake!Arwen that she is so not his type.
It's explicitly mentioned in his fourth mission, but that's not quite finished yet. I should get back to that...
The issue is that I don't tend to write lusting very much (I think Kaitlyn has, like, one or two scenes where she does it, and that maaaaay be it), and only put my agents into relationships when they're reaching the end of their runs. So yeah, three missions in it hasn't really come up yet.
hS
I just luv tis idea - its like dubledores army and the minsty of majik!!!111111! i defintly want to join the rebellion!
(Me and Minty in the same rebellion... that means things are going to get insane. I think Minty is insane!me.)
I don't know what that means as of now - S. P. U. D. has not yet replied with a counter-spinoff for us to counter-spinoff. I suppose you could take advantage of that to spinoff "We've All Got Something" and turn things in our favor. I shall be archiving every part of the battle, as always.
to be featured in a badfic!
I don’t think I ever officially stated my pronouns, but for future reference they’re female.
I don’t think I’d last more than a second in the battle against the oldbies (snow powers not withstanding!) I suppose we do outnumber them at least...
Since you're one of the fellow newbies I know decently well (this is Twistey here, but don't tell), I figured I'd stick you in to give us a good number of resistance folks.
that you were Twistey. The line about the Wolfenstein 3D parody was a dead giveaway.
(Hope you understand this emoticon, er.)
I figured that since Thoth knows a bit about classic iD Software games, it could slide, but y'know...
-Twistey
Also, I think only you would write this and everyone knows it. ^_^
And hS revenge'd me during the Shipfest for portraying him in a similar way. Perhaps a little more agressive, but similar.
-Twistey
Not Huniesoron, I know he's an aelf and I thini he;s the same person as agent Ilian. vY does every1 think he's inc harag of the PPC, tho? if u read JayBird's stories, u should KNOW it's the SO and JAycacia! LOL.
Kaitlun is kewl. Hobbits r so cue!!!
U chouls b vareful woth Juliete, tho. I think she might b a bit of a Sue with that blue haor!
IDEK about the other 1. Is she evil?
XOXOX
(( So like, these are our Boarder selves, somehow in charge of the in-universe PPC? *gigglesnort* Took me a while to figure out how to respond to this one. I love the attention to details from the wiki. ^_^ ))
None of the Oldbies are evil, because they're in charge of the PPC, and the PPC is good. Therefore, none of their agents are evil either.
I'm sure Jaycacia thinks she's in charge of the PPC, but that's just what S.P.U.D. want her to think...
((So. I was going with namesake agents, obviously wildly misinterpreted in the case of Kaitlyn and "Juliette"; looking up whether Delta has a current self-insert was too much like hard work, so I badficced it up and invented one. ^_^
((No idea who the other 8 former members of in-universe S.P.U.D. would be. Who else was here early on, had an agent named after them, and stuck around long enough to become an oldbie? I was going to say they've kind of gone out of fashion, but given that my own Agent!hS only exists because I signed up to appear in Suedom, I'm not sure they were ever much in fashion. ~hS
((PS: And now if we slip up and accidentally reveal our actual plans for domination, they'll all think it's a reference to this. Eeeeexcellent.))
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.
<Supernumerary? You’d better take a look at this,> 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.
<Well… It’s related to missions,> 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.”
<We got a vacation! Of a sort. But we finally get a break, and that’s your reaction?> 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. <Apologies,> the Andalite said, unable to keep the excitement out of his thought-speech. <It’s just that this grass feels amazing right now.> 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: <I’ve always wanted to do this.> 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!!
At long last, it's here! Sorry this took so long, I had to do a lot of research for it to make sure I got everything right. Thanks to LemonyEggnog for the concrit on Part II, by the way!
I promise there won't be nearly as long of a wait before the next one, since I've had that planned out first ;)
Part III (NSFW)
((Neshomeh, I am sorry. Just not sorry enough to not write this awful thing :-D))
Like I don't know why you'd dedicate that to me I mean it's like animal sex!! That's just gross!
Dedicate some hot gay Jacques/Zeb smut to me, please k and thank you. And you know Zeb is totes the uke in his relationships.
((...GMA. I love you so much for this. It's awful and it's amazing.))
Eww, they so don't belong together!! Zeb/Dawn OTP 5ever!!!!! And Jacques/Luxury or Jacques/Dax or
No I've got it
Jacques/Nume!!! lol they'd be great together don't u think??**DW****
Jacques/Jenni. I mean, duh. Come on!
Or, if you wanna make it really fun, Jacques/Jenni/Luxury. If you want crack shipping, but also want to make it marginally plausible, this is the team you want!
--Lemony
(( I'm not sorry. {; P ))
...wasn't she with Nume??
................JACQUES/NUME/JENNI AMIRIGHT OR AMIRIGHT
~*~*~*DW~~~~*****
Lemme see if I can pull this off. Right, starting from one character, as many as possible, no canon ships allowed, some kind of logic to the madness...
Ave/Zeb/Ilraen/Nume/Suicide/Thoth/Derik/Fellrazer/Gall/Jacques/hS/Dafydd/Selene/Lux/Acacia/Jay/Lichen/SO/Captain Dandy
My apologies to anyone whose names have been misspelled...
Okay, so there is an occasion where Gall uses the disguise generator to turn him human for a mission, but that mission isn't even finished yet, let alone published!
Put Gremlin in there instead. She's in a canonical relationship with her partner Xericka, but she's bi, so at least that much makes sense. {X D
(I think you spelled everything right!)
~Neshomeh
Gall cares about her dragon, and Derik likes dragons, and misses his dragon and...
Yeah, I was being deliberately awful with that.
((And I'm going to blame this squarely on you :P Though also on me, I suppose--I'm the one who decided a while back that he does still sometimes go to FicPsych, even after having done the initial work to become a balanced person/figure out more of who he is.
...I'm going to dare to suggest an interlude. I'm feeling daring. Also caught by the idea, which seriously just figures--I'm great at getting hooked by ideas, even if it doesn't always last. And, of course, the danger of writing Jacques is that he ships himself with everyone--so at some points you end up doing it too. Even when it goes against your actual canonical plans. He's a menace.
Anyway--how about it? :)
~Z))
I don't think I should take on a new project until I knock one or two current ones off my docket, but that sounds fun. ^_^
As for canonical plans, Jenni is in a relationship with Suicide until at least 2019, because I consider that one TYH story canon and oh god that's next year, 2019 is only three months away, where did the time go, aaaaah!
Ahem. Point is, they're not the exclusive, 'til death do us part type, either of them, and sometimes they're on the rocks for one reason or another (but we all know it's Su's fault), so I reckon that leaves plenty of room for random interludes on the side. Reckon that goes for Jacques, too? {= )
~Neshomeh
Hey, guys! I finished another part of my fic!! Unfortunately, because of Da Rulez here, I have to link to it instead. Enjoy!
Link is NSFW GDoc
First, in response to your note: Okay but no. a) You didn't do that. I got that Ilraen was interested, but not even a hint of curiosity from Nume before the flowers. b) Even if you had, thinking about a thing is not the same as being ready and agreeing to do it. Nobody talked about this beforehand. That ain't consent.
As for the actual contents of the chapter... sigh. As usual, there is potential for good smut here. The characters clearly care about each other, at least, which puts you head and shoulders above some of the reprobates around here. But you've botched it in so many ways by eschewing logic in favor of fetish and choosing your words extremely poorly.
For one thing, Andalite lower bodies are described as deer-like. A logical extrapolation would therefore give Ilraen a deer-like penis, not a giant freaky horse dong. Rather different anatomy there! Much less alarming, not to mention perhaps not goddamn impossible for a first-time unlubed anal penetration.
That's not even getting into what I assume was inspiration from the likes of Bad Dragon, which... I mean, fine? Aliens, who knows, right? But it's a little silly, though. And then you go and add greenish "sweet milk" with magical recharge powers, and I just can't. XD
Also, I have a list of deeply unsexy words that you are never allowed to use in a serious context again, but I don't think I can post them in the comments. Expect a PM from me shortly.
--Lemony
(( I'm not going to message you. You know what you did. {= P
(( And dammit, when I used the words "fine details," that was not a suggestion! {X D
~Neshomeh ))
((Really, though, in case someone gets the wrong idea: Yeah, this very much isn't consent and it's terrible. Also, I maaaaay have lifted some of those descriptions straight out of Legendary Badfics. Fair warning, I'm planning--hoping?--for the focus on kink above all else to only get worse from here.
--Good Mod Addict, which should surprise almost no one at this point))
Nume would NOT have tried it without that Bleepka!
Is there such a thing as 'sexily girthy', though? I ask purely out of curiosity.
This fic, on the whole, IS sexy - and it's only bestiality if the 'animal' isn't equally sentient, Jess99! Besides, it's also clearly xeno. That overrides!
((This got increasingly badfic-y as it went on, which was hilarious to watch! Also, I may be getting ideas for something unrepentedly badfic-y of my own, now... Marisanual, anyone? >;) ))
You realize that this totally makes Nume a bestiality, right?
No, wait, your edit says you're NOT actually blaming this on me. But on the other hand, I did eggnog you on last year, so I still feel somewhat responsible, especially if this ends up as M-rated as your last story. Hmm.
I have to say, your grasp of characterization has improved vastly since then! You have hit on something I can almost see for Ilraen if I squint sideways, and I could just about suspend my disbelief for Nume. If something like this happened in the same universe as "The Cabin," maybe, just maybe...
But... MotherShipper. Sweetie. I gotta tell ya, the whole deal with the aphrodisiac flowers weirds me out a little. I appreciate the attempt to justify the situation, that's a good, wholesome impulse, but the thing is, you can't consent if you're drugged. Especially if you're too gosh-darn innocent to know you've been drugged. I'm slightly terrified for Little Boy Blue here.
Nume, too, but we all know he'll have a comedic freakout and drown himself in Bleepka later no matter what. He'll be fine, the silly lovable darling. :P
Consider me cautiously intrigued, but prepared to deny everything.
--Lemony
(( Ilraen gets a Very Odd Day series? Really? {X D
(( I am also slightly terrified of what happens when the M-rating kicks in. I'm perfectly happy not trying to picture the fine details of Andalite anatomy! Really! There are things man is not meant to know!
(( Really very amused, though. ^_^
~Neshomeh ))
Hee, Internet usernames are so hard to get straight! ^_^ I didn't speak with Lemony Eggnog about this, but I did speak with someone else who had a similar idea.
One of my favorite tropes!
You're all right, friend; you're all right.
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 did get a good laugh out of it, though. Also, and I know this is really petty of me: *Ascension.
...I actually agree with Draco. There's no such thing as complete straightness. We're all somewhere in the middle, and some of us are trying to fight it, but that only turns those people cold and cruel.
Next Open Mic Games, I resolve to help this by writing same-sex ship fic of the other writers, especially femslash. This'll help everyone come to realize the truth.
LONG FORKING LIVE SLASH!
Dusk
seems liek its anothr snoflek from tumblr tryin to get ofended ovr everthin.
WingsofAsensin, ur fic sucs. the ppc isnt abot yellin ur sjw hedcanons w/ 1 hand. im sory i evr red this
Get a lief
Jake
http://ppc.wikia.com/wiki/EnforcersofthePlotContinuum
I think this is what you're thinking of.
-Yee
I love how you showed the soft side of Draco in this, and it's always good to see more Hermione ships! Show the poor woman some love!
This is a funny fir! IDK if it's realla ppc fic, it's more Harry Potter lyk that other1 that's in the rwrongf section, but I guess its lyk what if Harry and DRaco were agents? So that's kewl.
plz rite more!
XOXOX
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. ^^
I get the feeling you're trying to parody some of the lesser authors here. I also get the feeling this would make a lot more sense if I were into Young Wizards.
You're right, though, something with a bad concept is much worse than something merely un-beta'd.
And yes, dear lightfairy, it would. ;)
I'd qualify it more as painful self-awareness, though! Young Wizards as a canon deserves better representation here than this. .-.
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'...)))
This seems to be a recurring trend with your writing.
Pros:
- Cycling partners and Jacque's varying levels of success at hitting on them is a fun idea for a fic!
- Everyone is very nearly in character, so it's even more fun!
- Some good jokes, particularly the "charming his own cheese" bit!
- Mechanically, it doesn't make my eyes bleed!
Cons:
- Nearly in character. Particularly, I'm very unclear on who the first two partners are supposed to be (actual Torchwood characters?), and I don't get much Derik from your Derik.
- This "excerpts from a longer fic" format doesn't really work for me. There's no story in this story. Also, I can't tell if this is supposed to be from an actual fan mission you intend to write or predictions for the real thing or what.
If you continue this, I'll probably read it. But TBH I'd much rather see you and/or lightfairy406 continue "Tofu Hop." You know, the real one, not JayBird's mess. ;)
--Lemony
(( Jacques/Gall, huh? Hmm... he's not exactly her type, but it could happen. Flattery, boredom, and alcohol can work wonders. How buff is he?
(( And seriously, can we look forward to more PPC OFU this year? {= D
~Neshomeh ))
((...seems to be going ahead, at least on my part. I can't promise it'll have exactly the same flavor, since it's been a year, I don't remember much of anything I had planned, and so on, but I kind of grabbed a couple of things from the discussion in the thread and...well, I think it's happening. Might not show up right away, or even today, but there's a good half a page or so of one scene, a couple lines for another in the same chapter, and an idea for an 'interlude' chapter at some point.
EPL, do feel free to jump in/let me know if you want to jump in...I'm not sure you've made an appearance in the games yet this year? Anyway. I'm continuing with a chapter for now, since I found the inspiration+time combination I ended up lacking for it last year, but if you also still want to keep going, you're more than welcome! :)
~Z))
((From what I remember, I started it as a straight-up rewrite of the original with a bunch of OC agents, then you made it more like a proper OFU with representations of those characters' authors. So, uh, continue on those lines, I guess? Glad you have something prepared; that's better than yours truly.))
My heart sings!
Jaycacia Thornbird's part was paticularly amusing~
((And we should really drag Zeb into this, shouldn't we? Though he's not mine to volunteer. =P If you want to tackle writing Jacques across someone who's taken the Oath, though...))
((All of my characters are up for grabs. Go nuts.))
(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.
ur in the wronf section! This is 4 the PPC!!!
Also harry is not evil, u SUCK.
XOXOX
A fanfic totally unrelated to its source material is a bad fanfic, I have successfully participated in the badfic games.
YOU HAVE CLAIMED MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS YOUR OWN, AND THEN CALLED THEM BAD! YOU WILL BURN IN THE FIRES OF ALL DAMNATIONN!
THE HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE EXISTS WITHIN THE PPC, I CAN POST FANFIC OF IT HERE, JUST LIKE I CAN LABVE;L X-FILES FANFIC UNDER ST. ELSEWHERE.
You exist in the shared universe of St. Elsewhere, thus you only exist in the snow-globe of an autistic boy. I am your writer, and you will obey me.
P.S. I've never seen St. Elsewhere.
My friend JayBird wuz hacke d 1ce. HAckers SUCK.
GTFO HACKERS!!!
XOXOX
((Forgive me, masters of FanFicWorld!))
I wonder how this got into our Board! Maybe you should crosspost it over on ffnet's 'Harry Potter' section?
Hairy Potter would nevr turn Voldemont into scropions, becaue scroptions ARETN' CUTE. obvously.
NEway wasnt' Darco Malfoy's middde name Scropio or somethin???? sure i remember sthing lik that!
~JB~
Voldemot isn’t cyte, so he doesnt get to be turned int sumthin cute. Hes evillllll, it doesn’t make any sender for himm to be cute.
(“Sender” in case you wondered, was what my spellcheck did to a deliberately mangled version of “sense”. That’s too weird to leave out.)
I luv how voldemor turned into scorpons! One thin: this is ment to be ppc fic, wheres the ppc in this.
(I’m probably not writing anything, but this is too much fun to miss out on altogether - Snowblaze)
***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 Lichtspeer hero, in this case bearing the default name of Hans, was waiting for the newcomer to arrive.
He checked over the description she’d sent of herself again. Her name was Electra, and she was a wandering assassin who had a unique weapon known as the Rave Sword. She came from far away, and was unfamiliar with the territories of the Lichtgods. Hans couldn’t think of anything that existed beyond, as the Lichtgods’ lands were so large. But hey, if she was willing to work with him, he was good.
Just then, there was the whirring sound of doors sliding open automatically. Hans closed the Lichtscroll and turned around to put it on the counter. The Lichtgod of Commerce, commonly known as the shopkeeper, took the scroll and watched the door approvingly as Electra strode in.
"Yep, you're exactly like the picture provided," joked Hans, and the shopkeeper chuckled behind him.
Electra, on the other hand, did not find this joke to be hummorous, and remained silent.
He extended his hand. "I'm Hans." She shook it,a gain without a word.
"Are you... mute, or just don't talk too much?"
She looked like she was thinking. "To quote Shakespeare, my voice is in my blade."
"Impressive!" He meant it. "...I guess we should beam down now and you can show me how you use that thing."
"I suppose you can also show me how you use yours." (A/N: That's what she said.)
And so, by way of futuristic transportation, they left.
I think I'll do like Nightmare was doing and send the finished version next year. :')
-Yee
The Society for the Promotion of Oldbie Dominion is pleased by your recognition of Huinesoron's importance and leadership. Obviously you've understated his significance somewhat, but in a setting which has long ignored him entirely, your story stands out as a masterpiece of the genre.
Please continue, and ensure that you continue to promote the S.P.U.D. agenda.
...being rather half-crazy/goofball, while still putting him in a position of authority? Right?
-Yee
Like, sure, Spud is an actual word, but olbie doesn't start with a U. Check your spelling, mate.
~~A_u**
PS: also, why would you want to be called after a potato? What do oldbies have to do with potatoes? Do you think they all really like French fries, or something?
...mmm, French fries...
For your information, our acronym comes from the Latin, because it is classical. The Latin word for Oldbie is 'vetusbie', and as you may know, the Latins always wrote U as V, so in American that would be 'uetusbie'.
Obviously.
-signed, the Societatum for the Promotionem of Uetusbie Dominatus
((With thanks and apologies to Google Translate! :D))
S.P.E.W.! Society for the Promotion of Elders Winning! It's canon-referential AND all the words fit the acronym AND it sounds exactly as ridiculous as it is! It's perfect!
--Lemony
That sounded SUSPICIOUSLY like an OOC OPINION!
... I almost miswrote that as 'onion'. And now I want an onion.
In any case, carry on!
((I'm joking, I'm joking. XD I tell you, I am TERRIBLE with sarcasm. Or text-exclusive joking. But I shall try anyway, because I love you all! ~S.M.F.))
This is rally good! But the itaalics mke it hard 2 read? Sumbody told me how 2 do them b4, bt I 4get.
Also the Sunflwore Occical and Jaycacia r in charge of the PPC, not Hunecoron! LOL!
I totas want a Rave Speer! It sounds so kewl! XD Can my Agent ARurora have 1?
XOXOX
Definitly in the sprit of the PPC, a wothy edition to canon!
..But isnt agant hunsorn gay? I thougt a clear canon scolar like you would clearly know such a transoparent and oblivious fact.
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]
Also, wow, Agent Dusk? There's a name I haven't read in a long time. Wasn't her partner Agent Dawn, though, not this Cheyenne person?
Nice touch with making the Sue's Semblance basically the same as Aura of Smooth. I look forward to seeing where this goes!
Taht would be soooooo cool & fun. And they could have like a theme!!!**dW***
Dusk arrived at Beacon Academy, where Soluna started her adventure. Given the information from the fanfic that she replaced Blake Belladonna and started a relationship with Ruby Rose, Soluna Destiny was already disrupting both of the Team RWBY ships that Dusk felt with all of her heart should be canon. That made two charges, and Dusk had not even started watching yet. To be honest, Dusk could write down a list of every single charge while she was still reading the fanfic, and kill Soluna as soon as she saw her, but Upstairs would never approve of that, despite how brilliant of an idea it was. Quite brilliant, in fact. Dusk thus decided to do so as she was. Taking her pen in one hand, she wrote down every single charge she had encountered in the fanfiction.
[Author's Note: Bumblebee and White Rose are the best thing ever and anyone who says otherwise is a homophobe and needs to get off the Board.
With a salute,
Dusk]
Seeing as it was the time of team-building by random selection, Dusk approached the courtyard and hopped up onto a wall, from on top of which she watched for her victim. Finally, she saw her target approach, and her heart skipped a beat. That was the issue with being an agent - reading about an incident or a character was nothing compared to seeing it happen in reality.
Soluna Destiny bounced into the courtyard. This does not mean that she was jumping or skipping, but rather that several parts of her were bouncing as she walked. The soft curls of her long tresses, shifting from gold to silver like an illusion in the wind and crowned with a circlet of deep blue and violet roses, bounced. The overflowing voluptuous mass of her body bounced. The crisp pleats of her dress bounced with it. There was an aura of beauty that emanated from her, and Dusk felt it strongly.
“I can’t,” breathed Dusk, and used the Remote Activator to return to Headquarters.
---
Dusk resolved to try assassinating Soluna again. Before she entered the fic, she read through it again. There were no problems she could see with it. All she could think about was how beautiful Soluna was. How strong. How loyal. How kind. She was perfect. Dusk wondered if this was the way of some god to punish her for being part of an organization whose job was to destroy such beautiful creatures.
She entered the fic again, trying to shake these thoughts from her mind. The charges came out mumbled.
"I can talk to Grimm?"
"No. No, sorry. Sorry. I can talk to humans."
"What do you want from me?"
"I... oh, this is such a mess."
Then it spilled out. "I love you."
---
It turned out that the secret couldn’t stay safe forever. Dusk didn’t know how Upstairs had found out, but she was eventually summoned to the Sunflower Official’s office. A lump rose in her throat as she realized why she had been called there. Nevertheless, she had to set off. Expecting to be fired, she packed all her things into a Bag of Holding she’d stolen from a Dungeons and Dragons Sue, and walked down the hallway, feeling a sense of impending doom.
Opening the door to the office, she saw the Sunflower Official glaring down at her with fronds crossed. He was accompanied by a short, disapproving girl sporting both a RWBY-style PPC uniform and a huge bushy tail. A squirrel Faunus? That was a strange occurrence. Squirrel Faunus had never before appeared in canon. How could an agent possibly be something that had not been shown in canon?
As Dusk was wholly lost in confusion, the Sunflower Official cleared his throat. Agent Major General Odile Severheart Dusk, there have been rumors circulating that instead of assassinating the Mary Sue Soluna Destiny, you were enamored with her and have initiated a relationship.
Dusk searched her mind for the right reply. “I… I admit, I did fail to assassinate the Sue.”
The Sunflower Official leaned even further over her. The truth will appear in time. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess anything more?
“No, sir.”
Fine then. I have sent you a temporary partner, Agent Hira Katropher of the Department of Floaters, to help you carry out the assassination once and for all.
Dusk felt a bead of cold sweat down her face. What could she do now that she was being watched?
----
Dusk resolved that she would attempt to escape with her love when Hira wasn't watching. She knew that she could live in the RWBY continuum for the rest of her life, as she knew how to maneuver within it. She had nothing she was attached to in the PPC.
Eventually, however, when her plan was put into action, it didn't work. She was found.
"So the rumors are true," stated Hira, with great disappointment. "You two are in love."
"I-I can't take it anymore!" shouted Dusk. "Yes, we're in love and I can't possibly kill her! Why would you ask that of me?"
"Because that's your job, and you two aren't supposed to be in love."
"Homophobe," Dusk muttered under her breath.
Hira stepped back and tilted her head to the side. "Wow! What a freaking knee-jerk reaction! Of course I'm going to passively let you win the argument because you're lesbian!" She got up in Dusk's face. "No, stupid! The problem is that you're an agent and she's a Mary Sue."
"There's no way that this is about her Mary Sue status! If you could let two women be in a relationship, you'd also obviously be able to tolerate this as well, because love is love is love! You're a liar and a homophobe! Leave my relationship alone!"
"Agent Dusk-"
"LEAVE MY RELATIONSHIP ALONE!!!!"
And Soluna took that as a cue to kill Hira.
----
Dusk tried sneaking back into HQ. It turned out that Hira was in fact a homophobe and was just using that as an excuse to cover up the fact that she was a homophobe, and so she was posthumously fired, and that the Sunflower Official had just never been introduced to the idea that Agent-and-Suvian relationships should be treated as equal and legitimate. He agreed to let Soluna move into HQ with Dusk.
The years passed. The two killed many homophobe Suvians together, making sure that Soluna's friends were spared by all of the PPC. They eventually were married, and by the powers of writing, had two daughters named Sol and Luna. Soluna used her magic to render immortality to them both and so they never retired from the PPC. However, they eventually got bored and let themselves finally slip into death, and they were made into constellations in the sky of the PPC universe.
The end.
With a salute,
Dusk
P.S. I managed to remember the HTML this time, yay!]
*slowly puts finger back down*
Never mind.
-Twistey
Poor Dusk is gonna get in over her head, for sure!
Not that I expect the Sue to out-think her, oh no! ;)
God story, but I thinku should spend more time on describing ur agent an the cut charries and stuff, since the whoel point f missison is 2 help the charries! Since che has all the charges already, we didn' get to see nething!
Also I don'r know this cnaon, so um, s it realla charfe if the 2 charries Suck lyks rn't a ship?
XOXOX
(( I swear to god, that's a natural typo of Dusk's name. {X D Missed the D and hit S, then the c instead of the s. I don't know why that second one happened, but I did it above in "che," too. *shrug!*
~Neshomeh ))
DID YOU JUST SAY DUSK SUCKS?!?!?!?
BECAUSE I SMELL A HOMOPHOBE SOMEWHERE
GET OFF THE BOARD AND RETHINK YOUR LIFE
DUSK
Because with the all-caps it could go either way.
It's all right. There are no stupid questions, only stupid people.
With a salute,
Dusk
Dusk should worry about the Sue, though!
Maybe it absorbed Agent Cheyenne...
Bcuz Jay and Bird mean teh same tihng,so that maks them homophones, rite?!?! so im' not aloud to read your storu? witch is a shame bcus it looks GOO.
JB
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.))
Toth and Gal are most ineresting!
I do like it when the shy meets the bold~ And I might steal that 'undepressed' line myself!
Would you write this the same if Thoth were a girl, though?
You have somehow managed to pick up on the small details from the most obscure source while missing the most crucial ones from the most obvious sources. How do you do it?
You get points for your actual story having better spelling than your comments, so at least you're making an effort there. That's more than I can say for some. And, though you kinda remind me of my own personal Johnny Snow, D4rkm0k, at least you set up a reasonably interesting cliffhanger instead of just ending it up with "and then they did sex to each other." I admit to being curious to know if the collar is just Gall's shrinking device or if there's actually going to be a bit of bondage in this.
To be clear, though, Thoth is WILDLY out of character. Gall not so much, but dang. PPC canon aside, are you sure you've read any 40k, like at all? I can recommend a few books I found particularly useful, if you like.
Also I don't know what some people have against the word "eyes." Eyes are important! They're the windows to the soul! Why must you turn them into creepy, inanimate orbs and spheres and lamps and whatnot? ... Wait, you didn't use lamps, did you? Do not take that as a suggestion!
--Lemony
(( I am still amused by this. ^_^ ))
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. ))
(( Because Part 3 is too long to break up for the Board. {= P
(( Still probably SFW? Involves Astartes body-mods being kinda squicky to a guy from a planet that still has a taboo against surgery outside the most dire of circumstances. Also a serious discussion about nipples on armor Space Marines.
(( In defiance of all that, also makeouts. {= )
(( Not sure why it refuses to center-align my title in the published doc. Is it showing up like that for everyone, or just me? ))
A/N: Did I rustle everyone's jimmies with this one? Too unsophisticated and slow? Too much like real life?
I do hope so. :3
--Lemony
"Have you realized yet that this is both madness and folly?"
Ahh, but that makes this all the more sweet!
Despite the descriptions, the body mods actually sound... beautiful? Though that may just be me, being poetic. =P
Fan theories!
((I did laugh at the description of the eyes.))
Only mostly... /brushes off a tear/
Good to know my effort is not totally wasted here. <3
--Lemony
(( I... actually can't tell if you're playing a character or just posting your real thoughts under a different name. ^_^; What's true and what isn't? And, which description of the eyes? Why was it funny?
(( And BTW, since I forgot to explain for anyone who doesn't know: Lemony Eggnog is a character, but they share many of my opinions for the sake of presenting fic that is a legitimate attempt on my part to write good slash that will simply never happen in canon due to one or two small barriers. The idea is that, if things were nudged just a little bit, this is what the ship would really be like. {= )
~Neshomeh ))
I assure you there is no waste! Unless I am a trash can, omnom.
((And I just meant the general concept, there. |D I am not terribly good at this game; mostly it's the bare-bones idea (in this case 'what if the peridexis had to be incorporated into the PPC?') with more than a little self-deprecation going on.
And the description of the ocean-blue eyes was the most, well, picturesque description of any normal body part in the whole piece! XD))
Time passed.
“Brother? . . . Derik?”
“Hn?” His eyes snapped open and he started up with a sharp intake of breath. He’d almost drifted off. How pathetic.
Thoth took his hand from Derik’s shoulder. “You are injured, and today’s mental effort has drained you. It would be wise to go and rest.”
Derik shook his head mulishly. “Stop trying to get rid of me.” He rubbed his face vigorously, stretched, and rolled his head to rouse himself further.
“I am merely pointing out the obvious. If you choose to resist good sense and stay . . .”
“I do. I waited nine days for this time; I’m not wasting it.”
Thoth nodded. “As I anticipated. In that case, I thought I might attempt to heal you, if you wish it, although I cannot guarantee such excellent results as I achieved with Nurse Robinson’s assistance.”
Derik thought a moment. He vaguely recalled Tom being very concerned about the Astartes using his psyker powers to repair Derik’s foolishly broken knuckle on the day they had met, but it had been perfect afterward, never so much as a twinge. Yes, Jenni had been there, but she had simply been supervising, he thought.
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” A thought occurred, and his mouth twisted into a teasing smile. “Are you trying to get my shirt off?”
Flatly, Thoth said, “Viewing the injury makes no difference to the biomantic healing process.”
Derik sighed and shook his head fondly. “One of these days, you’ll learn when to play along with me. Look, if it makes no difference, it can’t hurt, right? I’ll feel better if you see it with your eyes first.” He shucked his jacket and pulled his shirt off over his head.
There were actually several yellowing bruises across his torso, courtesy of the super-Stu’s fists, but the worst was on his left side, near the bottom of the rib cage but above the floating ribs, where he’d been kicked twice before Gall got behind the Stu and caved his head in with her mace. (She’d thrashed Derik a bit herself for hashing the mission and nearly getting himself killed, but her blows, moved by rough affection, hadn’t left marks.) The main injury was still a livid maroon in the middle with a blotchy blue-black corona.
Derik set himself on his stool and raised his left arm over his head. Thoth leaned in and ran his hand down the smaller man’s ribs, framing the bruise in the angle of thumb and forefinger. Derik felt a mild electric tingle as Thoth psychically probed the extent of the damage.
“I know it looks awful, but nothing is broken; I did get it checked. Medical cheerfully turfed me out with a bag of ice and some arnica gel.”
Thoth snorted softly. “Clearly an inadequate remedy. Your pain tolerance is impressive for a mortal.”
Derik rolled his eyes. “It only hurts when I breathe. But honestly, your psychosomatic techniques have helped, when I’ve been able to use them. For some reason, my focus has not been at its peak, which is how this happened in the first place.”
“Indeed.” Thoth sat back and studied the floor. He spoke through clenched jaws. “It is humiliating to admit, but my own may not be sufficient to perform this task.”
Derik lowered his arm and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”
“You are distracting me.”
“Well, I can shut up, if—”
“No. That is not the issue.”
Derik cottoned on and felt like an idiot. “Oh. Oh.”
He suddenly was aware of his bare skin. He was a warm brown, like many born in sunny Southern Boll Hold. A few stray Threads from the same clump that had scarred his face had bitten into his right shoulder, leaving scraggly white lines behind, and besides the recent bruises, he had a few other miscellaneous souvenirs from fights and accidents. The most prominent was an old lash across his left forearm, faded to a dully gleaming pink, that had been made by a snapped harp string. That had damn near crippled him. There was also a pair of jagged scratches across his belly, made by a young green watch-wher he’d rescued from some ignorant boys when he was ten. The wher had been so worked up and confused, dragged out of her den in daylight, that she hadn’t been able to tell him apart from her tormentors and nearly gutted him like a fish with a stray swipe of her paw.
All in all, though, his hide was remarkably intact, and he kept himself fit by running, working with weights, and swimming when he could (though he’d never managed to find the fabled pool in Headquarters). He had broad shoulders and a deep chest, full but not strained with muscle, and little hair except on his limbs. Exposed to the air, and to Thoth’s gaze, his nipples had puckered into dusky rose nubs.
“You haven’t seen me like this before, have you?” Derik sometimes went topless when he exercised, but he and Thoth had very different physical regimens, so that wasn’t something they’d ever done together. In the past two years, there was no other occasion he could think of where it might have happened.
“No. I have imagined, but I am no longer familiar with what might be considered normal human physique. The reality is . . . most pleasing.” He didn’t sound comfortable saying it, and he gave Derik that invitational look again.
Since Thoth was being forthcoming, Derik joined him in a state of heightened openness and perception. He felt the same turmoil of conflict as before between his friend’s intense affection and yearning for him and what Derik could only call dread of the consequences. Given the context, he thought he understood.
“You can still do it,” he said gently. “Your powers aren’t gone. You just need to focus them in a slightly different way.”
“If I were distracted and they were to fail at a crucial time—”
“Stop right there. This is not a crucial time. This is just you and me, learning something new together in our safe place. Take a moment to look at me if you want to—I certainly don’t mind. Then put all that aside, as I know you can, and do what needs doing. You are very capable, and I trust you.” He knew Thoth would feel the truth of that, and in return he tasted the bittersweetness of gratitude spreading through Thoth’s aura. “When I’m healed, come back to me, and we’ll go from there.” If he was still awake, anyway. Stringing all that together had been a major effort.
Which Thoth also sensed. His brows drew together in a crease. “I will ask no more of you today, brother. I shall do this, and then you will rest.”
Derik gave in. Fighting it anymore was too hard. “All right. I promise.”
“Good. Now, I request your silence. This may take a few minutes.” He closed his eyes and settled into a meditative attitude. His aura receded; Derik could no longer sense him.
Derik followed suit and worked on smoothing out his own mental patterns. It could only help if they were both calm and contained within the Enumerations.
Time was funny in that state, and it might have been a minute or an hour when Thoth finally opened his eyes and said emotionlessly, “Come to me. It would not do for you to fall from your seat if you should be overly depleted by this healing.”
That made sense. As Derik understood it, Thoth would use energy drawn from the Empyrean to speed up his body’s natural repair processes, but some of Derik’s own energy would be involved, too. He scooted back to the floor and sat cross-legged with his left side turned to Thoth.
The Astartes nodded and laid his broad hands on Derik’s back and abdomen, bracketing the injured ribs between them. Abstractly, Derik appreciated the warmth, but made sure to check himself at merely observing the experience, not getting swept up in it.
“I will begin,” said Thoth.
A stronger current of power than before made the muscles adjacent to the area twitch like the shoulder of a horse bothered by a fly. Derik didn’t remember the effect being this harsh the last time Thoth had healed him, but he’d been very drunk then, his nervous system depressed. It wasn’t painful, or at least no more painful than the swollen contusion itself, and Derik didn’t complain. He couldn’t see what was happening with Thoth’s hand in the way, but he could feel a bone-deep itch that waxed at first, then finally waned to nothing.
Thoth sat back and regarded his work critically. “Hm. It is not perfect, but you should no longer be in pain.”
Derik raised his elbow and peered down. There was still a faint tan stain where the angry red had been, nearly indistinguishable from his normal skin color. Within it he could make out what looked like a craze of filament-fine stretch marks, presumably where his subcutaneous tissue had reknit itself in an unnatural hurry. Rubbing it, he found no difference in sensitivity between this patch and the surrounding skin. He nodded. “Thank you.”
“The discoloration may go away in time,” Thoth said, frowning. “I cannot be certain.”
“It’s all right,” Derik assured him. “It’s interesting.” He traced over one of the pale lines with his index finger. “Think it might turn out to be a map of the London Underground or some such?”
Thoth opened his mouth, looking as though he meant to disagree, but thought better of it. “In this place, very little would surprise me. But, apart from that, how do you feel?”
Derik evaluated himself. He still clung to the lower Enumerations, but he sensed exhaustion waiting to claim him as soon as he released them, and he wasn’t sure he could hold on all the way back to his RC. “Would it be entirely too clichéd if I passed out in your arms?” He was only half-joking.
“It would be extremely clichéd. . . . But under the circumstances, perhaps it is an acceptable compromise between your desire to remain with me and my desire to ensure that you are properly rested?”
“Yes.” Derik pointed his finger at Thoth in affirmation. “Brilliant. Makes sense to me.”
So that was what they did. Thoth braced himself against the wall, and Derik leaned back against him in turn, secure in his tireless embrace.
Delayed gratification is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
And it is better, yes!
The Duty intervened such that it was nine days before they were able to meet in RC 2112r again. To Derik’s chagrin, he had indeed suffered from second thoughts, both figuratively, in that he despised himself for having them, and literally, in that his preoccupation had made him careless in the field. On the sixth day, failing to duck under cover at a crucial moment had earned him a beating from a Stu with momentum-based superpowers, and he had the bruises to show for it. He had thought and imagined, fretted and planned, and after three particularly restless nights with an overactive brain and sore ribs waking him up at every turn, his eyes were shadowed and bloodshot.
To compensate, he had made an effort to wear freshly laundered clothes that weren’t wrinkled, and between missions he’d gotten his hair cut back to a faded crew with long fringe in the front, which the stylist had laughingly called “Gibbs hair.” Whatever the joke was, he liked the result: it made him look more like his old self, before all the bad things had happened and he’d stopped caring about his appearance.
He arrived bursting with talk, but Thoth refused to listen to anything he had to say until they had gone through their normal routine of mental discipline. Derik gave in with ill grace, but afterward, he had to admit it was a good thing to do. It put them back on familiar footing, and Derik felt less jittery with nerves and exhaustion.
He gingerly stretched and pulled out his stool. Even with a mat, the Generic Surface was hard, and the stool had the added benefit of putting him at eye-level with a seated Thoth.
“Now,” Thoth said when he was settled, “we may continue our discussion from last time.” The look in his eyes turned cold. “You must have realized, as I have, that to pursue a romantic experiment between us is both madness and folly.”
Shocked and hurt, Derik almost played right into it with a furious retort, but instinct made him dart out with his empathic sense, and he tasted the anguish behind Thoth’s words before the Astartes could fully conceal it.
“Don’t do that,” Derik said softly. “You don’t mean it.”
“It is the truth,” he replied.
Derik gave a frustrated groan and rubbed his hands over his face. “Thoth, please. I see through you. You told me how you feel; you can’t take it back, and I don’t want you to. What are you afraid of?”
His eyes flashed angrily at the word. “I am not afraid.”
“All right, not afraid. Anxious. Tormented. Whatever you want to call it: I have felt it. And last time you spoke as though you thought there was something wrong with you. I hope you have realized that’s not true.”
“It is.” Thoth blinked, startled by the vehemence of his own admission, and said more quietly, “Not in the way you mean, I think, but it is.” He sighed and shifted in place as though physically uncomfortable.
Derik knew he must be very upset indeed. His irritation evaporated. “Tell me, brother. Please.”
Thoth thought a moment, and then, not meeting Derik’s eye, he said, “You must understand that Astartes warriors do not feel the way I feel, regardless of inclination. It is impossible, except, perhaps, under the influence of Chaos. Or bad fanfiction, which is somehow worse. Much worse.” His lip curled, and his fists clenched. “I cannot become like the depraved excuses for Astartes in those stories. I must not.”
“And you won’t!” Derik got up and came to stand before him, placing one hand on his shoulder.
Thoth tensed and twisted away further, fighting a muscular urge to strike out.
“Oh, my friend.” Derik stepped back with his hands raised in a submissive gesture. “I do understand. How long did it take me to stop fearing I might become that other man with a face like mine?”
Thoth’s eyes flicked toward him. “Do you not still fear it?”
“Yes, and that’s the point. As you keep reminding me, fearing a thing does not make it true. You must trust yourself.”
The Marine jerked his head in negation. “I cannot. Blindly seeking my pleasure would lead down a path of destruction.”
“Then trust me.” Derik dropped into a crouch, trying to find Thoth’s eyes again. “I’ll show you the way. I will not let you fall.”
“You do not know what you are saying.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve had yonks to think about it, and this—us—we can work. Will you please look at me?”
Slowly, Thoth turned his head until he made eye contact.
In full view so it wasn’t startling, Derik reached out and took his hand. “It won’t be conventional,” he said. “It won’t be easy. There may well be pain and strife. But it will be worth it, because you make me feel almost whole again.” His throat constricted, and he roughly forced out the rest of the words. “I need you in my life. So I’ll have all of you. Every inch. Every fault. Every step of the way.”
Thoth’s eyes squeezed shut; his mouth pressed into a thin line; his fingers tightened around Derik’s hand. After a moment, he opened up again and raised one eyebrow a hair. “How long did you spend composing that little speech, Harper?”
Derik cleared his throat. “Ahuh, well . . .” He sat back on his heels and ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did have nine days and most of nine nights; there were alternatives . . .”
“It was very good. I believe it has had the effect you desired. . . . It would be more correct to ask for your permission to kiss you again, would it not?”
With what he thought was a heroic effort of will, Derik managed to hide his bemusement as he raised his head. “No—because you already have it.”
“Then . . . let us attempt this.” He widened the circle of his legs and guided Derik to kneel there, which effectively eradicated the height difference. His hands rested around Derik’s waist. “Is that all right?” he rumbled.
“More than all right.” He laid one arm over Thoth’s shoulder and with his opposite hand stroked Thoth’s cheek where it had turned pink again. “So, then.” He had to ask. “You do still want this broken shell of a mortal man?”
“Do not disparage yourself,” Thoth said, peering solemnly at him. “This is madness, and folly, but if you will have all of me, I will have all of you. Every scar. Every hurt that will not heal. Every step of the way.”
Derik’s heart leaped and his eyes prickled. He laughed. “Shards, man. That really does work.”
“Indeed.” Thoth’s arms slid up around Derik’s back, pulling him in.
Just as Derik tilted his head to seal the kiss, Thoth squeezed his ribs in just the wrong place, and he hissed in pain and self-recrimination. “Oh, shaffit!” He should’ve seen this coming.
Thoth immediately removed his arms to his sides. His expression was pure stone, but a tidal wave of dread rolled off him. “I apologize if I have—”
“Nononono, it’s all right, it was my own fault,” Derik assured him, gripping Thoth’s shoulder and reinforcing his own psychic shields. “Shards and shells. I should have told you, but . . .” He shrugged and settled back onto the floor, gingerly massaging his bruised bones. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, and he hadn’t been given an opportunity anyway.
Thoth grimaced; he knew. “You may tell me now, then. I did intend to inquire about your altered appearance, as well. Is there a connection?”
It was tempting to claim the haircut was simply because he’d felt like a change, but there was no putting one over on an Athanaean telepath, so he told the whole truth: he had been an idiot, it had gotten him into trouble, and he had spruced himself up so he’d look less like death warmed over for this crucial encounter.
“I didn’t want to distract you with any completely unnecessary concerns for my health,” he finished wryly.
“I see. In that case, you failed.”
“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Derik groused, turning his head in irritation; but he realized he might have focused on the wrong thing. He turned back, searching Thoth’s face for an answer.
Gazing steadily at him, the Marine said, “You will always fail at that.”
“Oh.” Derik had to look down. A silly smile was trying to take over his face. It was extremely undignified for a man his age.
“However,” Thoth added, “I approve of this haircut. It suits you handsomely.” He raised a hand from his thigh, but stopped. “I may touch you?”
“You really don’t have to ask,” Derik said. “Where is this coming from?”
“I am given to understand that enthusiastic consent is a necessary component of healthy romantic relations.”
Derik blinked. “You read some relationship how-to book, didn’t you? I assume this was before you decided to try and run me off?”
No answer, which was answer enough.
“Thoth . . .” Derik chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “My dear Thoth. You’re not wrong, and I appreciate that you feel the need for caution, but don’t let it ruin a perfectly good moment. Go on.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
Thoth hesitated a moment longer, as though he hadn’t understood, but he got past it and lightly brushed the back of one finger against the short fuzz over Derik’s left ear. “Quite different,” he remarked.
“I used to keep it like this all the time,” Derik said, his eyes fluttering to a close. “Easier to manage short hair with a helmet. Don’t stop,” he added when he felt Thoth’s hand move away. His scalp was still unused to being mostly exposed. Every stimulus was new and delightful.
“As you wish.” Thoth explored the gradient texture of the fade, eventually using his whole hand to rub up and down the back of Derik’s head and neck.
Derik sighed. “That’s nice.”
I like how you've taken time to nail Derik and Thoth's characters. It makes the whole thing so much more believable and exciting, and I always enjoy flowery confessions of love!
I think there's a problem, though. You've had these characters confess their obvious hidden love for each other several times now, so why can't we just get on with it???! Relationship development is nice and all, but you know we're all here for only one thing ;). Stop with the slow burn nonsense and get to the good stuff!
((You're a mad genius. I love this thing you've done.))
Love is a grand, life-changing thing, but it doesn't magically make everything perfect! We're dealing with one guy who isn't supposed to be having any of the feelings he's having and is pretty nervous about the implications, and another guy who's just bi enough to swing over the fence but still typically more attracted to women and, as we'll see in Part 3, is a bit skittish about all the technological augmentations on his friend's body. They've still got some work to do. But bear with it, and you, like them, will be well rewarded.
Don't worry, there's making out next chapter, too, you horndogs. ;3
--Lemony
(( Glad you're enjoying it so far! ^_^
~Neshomeh ))
Over the two years Derik and Thoth had known each other, they had settled into a routine. They met in Response Center 2112r weekly, give or take: less often if the Duty interfered, more often if they had the chance or if one of them called for it. Their meetings had a comfortable pattern. First Thoth would lead them in meditation and lofty mental exercises, and then Derik would share a chapter of a book, a poem, or a song. They both expanded their canon knowledge in this way. Often they would discuss the piece afterward, which led to long, rambling conversations about life, the universe, and everything.
The room had slowly altered to reflect the needs of its users. There had once been a console, but then Tom had decided it would be clever to hack his way into it to alert his partner to a pending mission. Thoth had done the Duty, then promptly returned and torn the entire system out of the wall. Building Maintenance had patched the damage with concrit, but hadn’t bothered with especially good concrit, so now that wall was covered with curtains of swirled midnight and cerulean blue velveteen.
Thoth didn’t need much in the way of physical comforts, but he and Derik both had mats to sit on. When not in use, they were stored in a tall cabinet against the bare side wall, along with a pair of metal drinking bowls, a few tea tins and liquor bottles, and the occult paraphernalia of Derik’s psychic education. He was only an empath, and only a receiver at that, but Thoth still occasionally tested him for other manifestations of subtle powers, or engaged him in uses of his own vastly greater abilities. The room smelled of the incense and aromatic oils that had permeated the curtains, and the sweat of two men concentrating hard in a small, enclosed space.
Derik sometimes came here just to practice music without the distractions of his partner, her dragon, and the minis that shared his response center. Several of his instruments, nearly all rescues from badfic, had migrated here and not found their way back. Most were kept in the RC’s closet along with such things as spare strings, reeds, resin, and polish, but his favorite guitar lived on a stand in the back corner next to a small writing desk full of sheet music from multiple continua. He’d also acquired a three-legged, padded stool to sit on when he played, or just when he got fed up with the floor.
Today, Derik had sung a tune of his own making. He maintained that he was not a composer, and he was still reserved about singing, but his confidence that it wouldn’t turn him into a basement-dwelling madman had grown such that he was using his voice now as often as anything else. He had to admit, it felt good, and he was smiling as he returned his guitar to its stand.
“You performed that very well, brother,” said Thoth, sitting in his usual cross-legged position with his back to the RC door. As always for their sessions together, he wore a blue robe and, somewhat ironically, an enormous pair of sweatpants as a precaution against the Narrative Laws of Comedy.
“Thank you! I think the refrain still needs a little polish, but on the whole . . . ” Derik trailed off, suddenly feeling Thoth’s gaze on him. He turned. “What? What is it?”
“There is . . . something you should know.” The Astartes was looking at him with an unusually open and intense expression in his green eyes. An invitation?
Derik wasn’t sure what he would find, if anything, but he opened his mind. He couldn’t see auras like Thoth did, but after a lot of hard work, he had learned to separate the sensations of external emotions from his own in order to interpret them. He was instantly taken aback by what he felt, rolling off his friend in slow but powerful waves. There was no mistaking that heat, that ache, which rooted deep in the pit of the stomach and radiated outward. Derik’s breath hitched in his throat.
“But . . . I thought your conditioning did away with all that.”
“Mostly,” said Thoth, and Derik recalled that he had always included that word when the subject of his asexuality came up. “And it has been a very long time since then. The conditioning has, perhaps, faded.”
Derik’s head turned minutely back and forth as he processed what was he was being told. “Starting when?”
“Recently. In the last two months or so.”
“I had no idea.” Derik sank back onto his seat and pushed his long hair off his face. “Two months?” He couldn’t believe it—neither that this was happening, nor that he’d been blind to it, nor that his friend had hidden something of such import from him for so long.
“I . . . did not wish to tell you until I was certain.” Until this point, Thoth’s expression hadn’t wavered, but a slight flick of his eyes betrayed his anxiety.
“Certain?”
“Certain it would not go away. Certain it was . . . real. Yes.”
The full import of Thoth’s admission began to sink in. This wasn’t him telling Derik something strange that had happened during a mission, or sounding him about a perplexing interaction with other members of Headquarters. It was altogether more deep and more immediate.
“You are, then.” Derik’s throat had gone dry, so the words came out half-voiced. “You’re telling me . . . you want me.”
Thoth gave him a pained look that might have signified anything from irritation to pity. “Who else?”
“Oh, my friend,” Derik said, shaking his head. He didn’t know what to think, how to feel. “This is so sudden. And I’m not—you know I’m not—inclined that way.”
“Yes,” said Thoth, and he had closed himself off again so that the word was without inflection. “However, I thought it best to make you aware of the situation so that you may judge for yourself whether you wish to continue our association with this knowledge.” He rose to his feet, the slow unfolding of his massive frame always unexpectedly graceful. “I will leave you to think on it . . . brother.”
He turned and reached for the door. Derik almost let him go, mind and heart racing, but at the last second before Thoth turned the handle, Derik jumped up and put a hand on his friend’s forearm.
“Thoth, wait. Don’t be ridiculous—of course I want to continue! How could you believe otherwise?”
Thoth fell into one of his long silences, choosing his words. “This occurrence is . . . unexpected. Unnatural. Dangerous. Perhaps you would not wish to expose yourself to such a thing.”
“‘Thing’?” Derik scoffed, hearing the two-pronged meaning of the word even if it wasn’t intended. “Don’t say that. And how dare you imply that I would ever reject you for such a stupid reason? You should know me better by now.”
Thoth didn’t reply, and his face was set in the stony mask more typical of the early days of their friendship.
Despairing, feeling as though something precious was slipping away, Derik shook his head. “Don’t you understand? You are . . . ” He took a breath, sighed. “So many things to me. My brother. My mentor. My confidant. My greatest friend.” He tightened his grip on Thoth’s arm. “I’m closer to no one, not even my partner. Nothing can change that.”
“Perhaps,” Thoth said softly. “In which case, I could not become more than that to you, even if I were another mortal. As you said yourself, you are not inclined that way.”
“Mostly,” said Derik, and he had the satisfaction of seeing Thoth blink in surprise. “I was a dragonrider, and I was young once. I experimented.” He made a decision. On the end of another deep breath, he said, “For you, I would do it again, if you wish it.”
Thoth stood silently peering down at him for a long moment. He took his hand off the door handle and raised it to Derik’s face, using one broad thumb with utmost gentleness to stroke his unscarred cheek. It was such an incongruous gesture, and Derik felt his breath flutter in his chest.
His expression must have read as concerned, because Thoth abruptly pulled his hand back. “I do not desire your pity, or your condescension.”
“You haven’t got either!” Derik reached out and caught Thoth’s hand, clasping it tightly between his palms. “Read me, brother. Feel what I feel. I beg you.” Emphasizing his words, he pressed Thoth’s hand against his chest, over his pounding heart.
Standing like that, with the heat of Astartes blood radiating through his shirt into his flesh, Derik knew he wasn’t pretending his interest. And as he knew it, Thoth knew it, too. As his mental barriers lowered, his face softened, and a gleam of what might have been hope came into his eyes.
Derik smiled. “I only fear that I’m no match for you, in any regard.”
Thoth nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze. “The difficulty is . . . a practical one. Practical difficulties have practical solutions, for those willing to seek them. But let us not rush ahead. You are certain you want this?” His deep voice dropped to near inaudibility. “Me?” Psychic or not, some things needed to be said out loud.
“Yes,” Derik said, leaning forward into his touch. “More certain every second.”
A small smile twitched at the corners of Thoth’s mouth. “Your emotions still overrule you, brother. Have I taught you nothing?”
Derik smiled back. “You have taught me how to control them when I want to. Right now, I don’t want to.”
He pressed forward again. Thoth moved his hand around Derik’s shoulder, bent down, and tilted his head just so. Their lips met.
With the physical connection came a sharper, clearer sharing of feelings. Thoth’s attraction to Derik was like a landmass built up slowly over eons, finally breaching the surface of the waves that had buried it. It was subtle, but inexorable, and Derik thrilled to be the object of such power. The only feeling that had ever been more potent was—
Derik slammed his barriers back into place, and they both stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” Derik said quickly. He had caught a frisson of trepidation just before the connection cut off. “It’s not you, not you at all. It’s—shards, it’s what it always is.” He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and dug his fingers into his hair. He felt his anger rising and struggled to tamp it down again, repeating the first Enumeration in his mind.
“I understand,” Thoth said, but not without a hint of injury. “I recognize the signs in your aura.” He gave Derik a moment to collect himself, then said, “We will continue this discussion next time.”
Derik’s head snapped up. “What? No, I—”
“Yes. This . . . ‘experiment’ is as good a word as any. If we are to embark on this experiment together, there is much to consider. You must consider your needs and your safety. And I . . . I must consider whether I truly wish to become what this may make of me. It may not be worth the pain for either of us.”
Derik knew that if the two of them couldn’t live with pain, they would both have died long before they met. He knew that Thoth was one of the people in his life who made it bearable—better than bearable. Occasionally, even wonderful. And he didn’t give a shriveled fig for his safety.
He couldn’t muster the words to say all this, and he didn’t know if Thoth was still reading his aura. He said: “I won’t change my mind, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I know you believe so. You are a stubborn man. It is sometimes quite irksome . . . and endearing.” Tentatively, he extended his hand, and when Derik took it without hesitation he pressed his lips together in a grim smile. “You would leap into a fire, knowing you would burn. So I tell you: Go home, brother. Consider long and well. I am patient. I can wait.”
“Patience isn’t always a virtue,” Derik muttered, frowning down at their feet. He hated that his psyche still was not proof against intrusive thoughts of the past and the attendant soul-deep agony of his loss; that he could be so rapidly chilled, as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice over him. He wanted the fire back.
But, he recognized that leaping into this would end up burning both of them. There was indeed much to consider.
He looked up to meet Thoth’s eyes again. “You’re right. We can’t go off half-cocked, as it were.”
No response to the admittedly tasteless joke.
Derik shook his head. “All right, don’t laugh. The point is, I’ll do as you say, because you’re smarter than I am. We will go—and when we meet again, we will make a plan.”
“As you say.” Thoth inclined his head. “Until then.”
He turned toward the door, but Derik was still holding his hand and didn’t let go.
“Brother?”
“Once more,” Derik said, turning up his chin. “Please. So you know there’s nothing wrong with it.”
Thoth hesitated, and Derik thought he might refuse. Just before he resigned himself to give up, though, Thoth responded, “As you wish,” and leaned down, supporting Derik’s back with his off-hand.
Derik was careful to keep his empathic sense locked down and simply focused on the physical sensation of the kiss. It was odd—Thoth’s mouth was over-sized, and his own was distorted by scar tissue. It was awkward, with the ten-inch height difference between them. It was, frankly, underwhelming.
Part of the problem, he realized with a twinge of compassion, was that Thoth had no idea what to do beyond the basic act of touching lip to lip. It was a skill he had not practiced for millennia, no exaggeration, and he was stock-still, stiff, barely even breathing.
Derik was out of practice himself, but at least the instinct was still there. With both hands, he reached up to stroke the smooth-shaven sides of Thoth’s head. His scalp felt warmer than the rest of him, and with hands like heating pads, that was saying something. Derik felt Thoth’s fingers clench into his jacket at the unfamiliar, too-familiar touch and was reminded of the Astartes’ sheer strength. One wrong move, and Derik’s life could be in very real jeopardy.
Perhaps that was something to think about later.
Thoth didn’t pull away, so Derik continued the motion, drawing his hands down slowly over Thoth’s ears and cheeks until they rested along his jaw. Like the rest of him, his face was heavily boned and thick with hard muscle, courtesy of the super-engineered growth hormones that went into the making of a Space Marine. The only softness to it was in his generously proportioned lips.
With that thought, Derik opened his mouth, just a little, and pulled Thoth’s upper lip into the gap, which it filled pleasantly.
Thoth made a low rumble in his throat: a hum of surprise or the start of a moan, Derik wasn’t sure. Either way, he broke it off there and withdrew altogether. He looked at Derik with inscrutable eyes. A light flush colored his pale cheeks a shade of rose.
“There, now,” Derik said, his voice roughened around the edges. “That was a kiss worth the name.”
No answer.
Derik grew concerned. “Are you all right with what I did?”
A curt nod. “Are you?”
Relief set loose a giddy laugh. “Yes! Trust me, please. This is real. I promise you.”
“I will not hold you to any promise that comes with so little thought as to the consequences,” Thoth said sternly. Before Derik could protest, he added, “But I thank you for the intent behind it. And for . . . ” Lost for words, he made a helpless gesture toward Derik.
He understood, and nodded.
Before things could get any more awkward, they left the room and went their separate ways, until next time.
How absolutely adorable.
However, while it might but cute, it lacks all sophistication. It feels unrealistic and fake. This isn't what two men would do with one another. Or even one man. What I'm saying is, where's the uke, the alpha in this relationship? We all know that men are obsessed with hierarchy, and this is well-depicted in most Yaoi, and particularly well in ABO. But in your work, much like that trash Umibe no Etranger (worst $15 I ever spent on a manga), there's no hierarchy at all, no expressions of power through sexual dominance. It's unnatural. Not how I'd write the ship at all.
((...And for a moment OOC where I stop lying, I totally and completely love this story, and Thoth is about as IC as it's possible for him to be in a story like this here, and it's cute and adorable and basically great, and everthing I said up there is the reverse of everything I think. Including the bit about Umibe no Etranger, which I haven't finished, but has been pretty decent as Yaoi goes so far.
So yeah, this is amazing. Thus, if I do this ship, I'll do it in a way that is brain-bleachingly awful.
~Thoth))
Oh, boy. That's not an expression of exasperated disbelief—okay, it is, but I am also addressing you as the misguided kid I assume you are.
Listen, girl. It sounds like you're getting all your ideas about sex, specifically between men, from a certain class of fanfiction. And you know what? Liking that stuff is fine. I ain't here to kinkshame anybody. If you and your hypothetical partner wanna role-play like that, and you're both equally into it, and you know how to do it safely, sanely, and consensually, that's great! You do you.
Thing is, though, fanfic is not real life. If you approach the kink in real life the way the pe—
... the way the hu—
(Deep breath, Lemony, you can do this.)
... the way the caricatures characters in those stories do...
(Got there!)
... wait, what was my point again?
Oh, right. I have several. 1) HEALTHY relationships are founded on good communication. 2) The sex acts you like to perform or have performed on you have nothing to do with your value as a(n) [insert gender/sex/orientation here]. 3) There's no such thing as an "alpha" or "beta" or "omega" in real life—no, not even in wolves. Do not get me started on wolves. And 4) "expressions of power through sexual dominance" is not how decent human people behave toward people they care about!
Unless, of course, it has been thoroughly discussed beforehand and everyone involved has given their enthusiastic consent, secure in the knowledge that they can use their safeword and end the scene at any time. That's different.
So. Before you lecture me on my level of sophistication again, maybe you wanna read some stuff that wasn't written by Coneheads purporting to represent actual human behavior first? Better yet, pick up some proper literature on the subject of sex and sexuality. Don't be shy: curiosity is normal! Please, for the love of little green apples, PLEASE explore outside the shitty relationship box!
--Lemony
(( Well that got longer than I intended. Sheesh. Lemony has Opinions On This Topic. But this shouldn't surprise anyone, since most of them are mine, too. Just with more condescension and sarcasm.
(( Anyway... yey. ^_^ I'll post the next bit tomorrow, probably. I gotta look it over again, and it's too late to mess around with it right now anyway.
~Neshomeh ))
((...And thank you for giving this alter ego some well-deserved smacks, Neshomeh.))
When did I fall through the rift into your home dimension, where men aren't human beings? Dare I ask what the women are like here?
--Lemony
(( And there's the peak snark I have so much fun unleashing. Thank you for this opportunity. <3 ~Neshomeh ))
If this had been with any two characters - guys, girls, neither, mixed - I would have loved it just as much!
Though, that IS a problem: it might be too general in its love potency!
I eagerly await the next instaullment - but, like, what if Thoth is aro as well (instead of???) ace? Sometimes those feelings just aren't THERE, y'know?
Too general? You wound me, sir/madam/starfish. Granted, the moment one friend confesses to another that their feelings have changed CAN happen to anyone... Well, hopefully the next part will clear that right up.
And yes, in canon Agent Thoth is aro as well as ace, because that's how Space Marines are, but we know from a little oneshot piece that he was gay and in a relationship before becoming a Marine, so there you go. I did my homework on these guys, I promise. :)
--Lemony
Omg, gay guys are like so hot, am I right?? Siriusly (lol) good stuff there, I loved it sooo much! Write more plz! <3 <3 <3
I mean... sure? In the sense that all love between consenting adults is hot?
But I shall write more, indeed, and hopefully make it more clear that gayness in and of itself is not the driving force here, because fetishizing an orientation is weird and kinda disrespectful.
(Do people think I'm doing that? D: Note to self: write more straight and lesbian ships...)
--Lemony
I find your lack of confidence saddening. You must not phrase so much of your language as questions, and I find your confused response in the face of foolishness similarly disheartening. You must be firm with those who approach you as fools.
Ave Imperator!
Eternal Glory to the sons of Dorn!
Awww, you literal-minded Imperial Fist type. I was being sarcastic, darling. I'll rephrase:
All expressions of love between consenting adults are hot. Good communication is hot. Consent is hot. Respect and trust are hot hot hot!
How's that? Would you like me to be even more forceful with you? <3
--Lemony
I do not "ship," and I tend assume people involved in "shipping" lack various virtues I aspire to. I should probably stay in my depth, namely, heroism, friendship, the tragedy of the righteous fighting the righteous, absurd humor, and lots of words.
Ave Imperator!
Glory to the sons of Dorn!
♪It's okay to not like things.♪ And I'd tend to agree that your common-or-garden-variety shipper does tend to lack... let's go with prudence and temperance, those are virtues and also polite words.
I dig all that stuff you said, though. I'd say I've got three of five going for me in my fic. You should drop by sometime. Let me know if it rattles you in your fortress-monastery at all. ^_~
--Lemony
That you lack the manliness and power to be secure in your masculinity. Real men are secure enough in their maleness to not care about their desire to see men together in fiction, to watch one become the other's dominant mate.
((...Sorry about that. SMDS has more or less every bad idea about masculinity it's possible to have.))
I simply have no desire to see a man become another's "dominant mate," among other things.
Are you disturbed somehow?
Don't make me report you--for all I know, that form will put you on Lichtenstein's Most Wanted or something. Inadvertently putting out a hit on someone would be bad for my PR.
--Lemony
And because of the perfect timing. This is your prompt for the fortnight.
Badfic.
AKA see above.
Novastorme.
While I must appreciace the varicosity of this daring, experimental work, it's laking in severl impotent aspects.
I found that the joe, such as it was, fell flat, ar lest to my orbs.
Additionally, as a superir writer with a dearth of exponentially bettee work, I foind it excessively denegtating to see it implied that we all write "badfic".
It sum, unfunny, if a bit clever.
I now, i now, ppl are gonig to say its' "not a sotry" and "dosent make sents', but i lik it!! Is't metter, and the pPC is alabout metter.
>~JB~<
I've been working on finishing "The New Recruit" in the time between Badfic Games. See? I do things with my life. Unlike you. Anyway, stay tuned, it'll come out soon.
-Nightmare