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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Cal asked.

“Why would I enjoy that?”

Cal gave him a level stare.

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

Did I mix things up somehow?

- Tomash

I'm not... entirely sure what I just read, but it was sweet and funny. Nicely done!

...but I think this might, in some way, be accurate to me. Because while I may not flirt too much with people, or at least I don't think I do, I definitely tease my friends. And I would call you guys my friends.

On the other hand, you put me in a swimsuit in front of people and not in the water. How am I not running away screaming for my clothes back?

Regardless, it's a beautiful story. And I love it. So much.

That is glorious. And amazing. And really funny.

~Thoth, who is both pale, and EXTREMELY red. At the same time. Somehow.

But the rules say I can't do that anymore. ^_~

But it's sooooo tempting.

hS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Speak for yourself," Maxewell chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Well, she did say she was gonna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Thoth?”

“Yeah?”

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

“Can I say it with you?”

“Sure.”

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

...Featuring the entire PPC as LARPers.

I'll start working on it after another fic that I'm working on.

*clears throat*

Would now be a bad time to declare Brigitte is my new main?

I definitely look better without elf ears.

Also lulz.

-Kaitlyn, now wondering about hs's "LARPing group"

...I am also willing to be plied with coffee. Or pretty much anything caffeinated to be honest, it's fueling me through my degree.

-Kaitlyn: this post brought to you by the letter caffeine

We are the PPC...

And dubiously appropriate for many occasions!

"Sovngarde Song" is bloody good. "Legends of the Frost" is the one that keeps popping into my head for no reason, though. It's beautiful... and then MoS drops that gravelly Dovahzul verse on it. So awesome. ^_^

~Neshomeh

All the badfic ideas that the Spirit of Badfic references are real badfics. Most (though not all) of them were found by Geema.

Geema and I could probably dig up links to most of them, but... uh... do you guys really want that?

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

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

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

"This seat taken?"

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

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

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

A nod. "A while ago."

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

"Why's that?"

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

"There's still a place for you."

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

"I didn't mean there."

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

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

"Any way?"

"Name it."

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

"Ix," said Iximaz.

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

You and Nesh seem to really like that song... I prefer the Deus Ex songs myself (and Sovngarde song, which is fantastic). But almost everything MoS has done is really good, so...

...Actually you can see this in the Halloween RP. Just kind of a fun aside.

NORD MEAD!

-Phobos

I mostly just wrote this as an excuse to try and fit as many bad jokes about Rust, typing, and enums as I could.

There weren't enough.

So... uh... kudos?

Yeah, Talia and Tom could potentially go somewhere. Maybe. I dunno. She's not really developed enough yet for me to say for sure. They both very much derive from the same sort of inspirations, so they obviously have a lot in common, though they may diverge. Tom would have to get over a bit of his awkwardness first, in any case.

Also, this is my first real serious attempt at writing a female character. So... judging by the fact that you made you comment about it, I haven't totally messed it up.

As your comments about being worried... jeez, thanks! that means a lot, especially coming from someone like you who knows these characters well enough to notice how much doesn't add up about this whole situation (including, of course, the fact that Thoth would have no interest in dating a girl even if he wasn't an Astartes, not that Tom knows that).

Anyways, for the time being Derik is still probably the person Thoth's opened up the most to, and he doesn't open up easily.

...Dangit, I said I wasn't going to bait the inevitable badfic games ships for those two, but here I am. :P