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But taken to the next level. Cherek definitely out-Vikings the Vikings, and insofar as Nyissa is Egyptian, it's Egypt on snake-derived steroids. In fact, it's 'Egypt if Egypt was reconstructed entirely from Cleopatra being bitten by an asp'. I'm exaggerating slightly, but not a whole lot.

And then there's Sendaria, which is literally Fantasy Adventure Starting Village-land. Yes, there's ostensibly more to it... but that's why it exists.

Your points are well-made and well-taken - though of course they don't apply over in the Tamuli, where the titular continent is first introduced by way of a nation that's essentially Arendia all over again. And again, I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing - I think that Eddings made a deliberate decision to stake out one end of the Fantasy Realism spectrum - the end opposite the one George R.R. Martin took his cues from.

(I remembered Vella being turned into a blue-banded hawk, which was the only reason I remembered her existence. Then I looked it up. So hey, I got one fact about her...! I've read the Belgariad more than the Malloreon, so yeah, a lot of Mal stuff isn't really in my brain.)

hS

PS: Annoyingly, I'm irrationally fond of both Maragor and the Wacite Arends. Maybe it's because they don't stick around long enough to show off their bad sides? ~hS

Whoever she is, Morana is probably better than her.

*looks up Jaycacia* Oh, it's a lesbian ship child of the first two agents! Look at her pretty blonde hair and blue eyes! Look at that old-fashion-y dress and that smile! Look at the sunny field full of flowers in the background! Looking at the picture alone, she probably overromanticizes wolves and thinks Enya is the best singer in the world, I'd guess. Yep. Morana is definitely better.

-Nightmare Twistey the Demon Fox Animatronic

(Note from the Non-Suethor:

The prophecy was intentional. I hate almost all prophecies in fiction, they're pretty much all really stupid, and the whole Chosen One thing just gives the characters an excuse to be Teh Bestest Thing Evar. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

The paragraph thing, however, wasn't intentional. Tell me more about it, please! Where do you think I should have split up the paragraphs? Thanks for pointing that out! :)

-Twistey)

I especilally enyoyed the prat where your'e OC sohwedd up. 'Terry Pratchett' is a verry funni nam! hOw did yow tihnk of it???? neway goo sotry

~JayBird~

kk so i sawe in your revyous wher Avlates_usted said your'e playjerisning (dont kn'w how to sepl that lol) my Jaycacia sotries and TAHTS AGENST THE RULLES. so you hav to DELITE TIHS STOR and TAKE IT DOWEN adn REMOOV IT ad GETRIDD OF IT and aslo yow hafe to say SOORY to me.

~JayBird~

so Dyfydd is her amlost-bother and Numb is here boyfiend adn now sElenene is her mothher?!?! Jessaminthe is retailed to amlost as meny ppl as Jaycacia lol.

neway god sotry &nd iM' pleased taht yu yoused my idear.

~JayBird~

Well. How to respond beyond "Wow, this is very thorough and I appreciate every letter of it".

I will be the first to admit that I'm incredibly biased about this series; having it read to me before I was born and being named after one of the characters has that kind of an effect.

However, the archetypes thing is interesting to have you focus on. They aren't actually based entirely on archetypes, as I recall, but instead on real-world societies in various time periods - for example, the Roman Empire and medieval France (bet you can guess which one of those goes where) to name two of them. And we do get to see a certain amount of evolution in the standalones - we generally think of Drasnians as quick-witted spies, but Dras himself was considered nothing of the sort.
(And florid speech can indicate more than just the Mimbrates and, as I recall, Wacites - there was that one island of people in one of the last books. Granted, they were descended from Mimbrates and had tried their hardest to keep as close to that culture as was humanly possible, but they weren't quite still Mimbrates.)

Another reason for the specializations, in most cases, is their religions. These men have modelled themselves after the gods they follow (or tried to keep themselvs from being killed by one); Arends are hotheaded warriors because Chaldan encourages it, the various Angaraks are under the rule of Torak One-Eye and would like to not be smited - and on top of that, they're not so much tribes as they are social classes, making Angarak society better fleshed-out than almost any other in that universe... am I making sense here?

(Also, her name is Vella. D'you remember what she is?)

I knew you'd like it! Or, well, I was hoping to say the least, considering you tend to write very manly protagonists... This was a nice surprise! Thanks!

-Nightmare Twistey The Demon Fox Animatronic

(Note from the Non-Suethor:

She'll be better as a legitimate PPC character once I've revamped her, I swear.

-Twistey)

You mean like more glitter?

(No. Well... actually, there'll still be glitter, but... never mind. No use explaining this to you.)

I say more glitter.

(NO.)

This series is a national treasure, or it would be if ffW were a nation. Are we technically part of Liechtenstein now? I'm unclear.

I must be losing my mind, because at this point I can actually read it without having to cross my eyes and stand on my head first. If I start typing in Comedy German, too, send help.

Do you think it might be time to change up the routine a bit, though? Sure, the good Doktor COULD go around curing the entire female population of HQ of their inflated funbag-related woes, and that would be epic, but supposing someone came along who could show HIM a thing or two? Normally I'd suggest the good Nurse Jenni for this role, but seeing as she's already jumped in the pool, I dunno. You'll have to get creative. I'm sure that won't be a problem for you. :3

--Lemony

I'm mostly sad I missed that. I would be even more sad if it weren't museum.

(I have a history with those cursed places. Lore likes them; I do not.)

But still! I hope to be able to join in on the next one. Whenever that happens.

In regards to "And if this is an issue of mental health, heaps of people have already said that we are clearly not capable of sufficiently providing for Bram," What happened to the plan of putting up guardrails? To clarify this further, http://disc.yourwebapps.com/discussion.cgi?id=199610;article=309758;search_term=guardrails.
In regards to "Bram has not matured and is not ready to rejoin the PPC" I did say that I could do all of the work I could outside of the community. I feel like if you expect things to get better by continuing to do the thing I stated makes it worse, you're just disregarding my point of view entirely.
The other line was tacked on as something that I have done to improve.
As for the "issues that led to her being banned remaining in full force" The issue is that I am not feeling acknowledged as a person by the group. My message that I had forgiven you for your mistakes didn't even get relayed. As for not having fun, the not-fun part was having to keep up the prank I was playing because July told me to. The not-fun part is not being able to talk about my interest in bad writing.
As for a bad idea for the community, I feel that you're setting up the precedent that it's okay to ignore the constitution. Your basis for continuing the ban is discriminating against me for being handicapped.

---

The entire blame is not on the community, but neither is it on me. I've borne the full punishment and more for it. I feel that the community doesn't even want to acknowledge the mistakes, much less make any sort of gesture towards amends.

"Add to that something that I noticed last night. When talking to you, I have a tendency to ask you to rephrase and clarify. That is something that isn't required in other places." That was directed at Tomash and got directly quoted. For the "other places" part, it is simply a statement of something I noticed, and probably a cultural difference. I'm sorry for the confusion. (Is that what you meant by critiquing explaining skills?)

As far as wanting to rejoin, I haven't found anyplace else were the subject is defeating bad writing with good writing. I also haven't found anywhere else where people are so thorough about wanting writing improved. I also like the universe and like working in it.
(Was Tomash insulted by my pointing out how often I ask for clarification?)

(( Relayer's note: I was not insulted, there was confusion about about what the post should contain
- Tomash ))

Wait, wait. I think I get it. You want to write porn, but you're nervous, right? That's where all the parodic elements are coming from. You're afraid nobody will take you seriously, so you're saving them the trouble of taking the wind out of your sails by doing it yourself.

Poor thing. Look, if you want to write porn, do it! Ships ahoy, mate, and darn the torpedoes! I mean, you're gonna want to spend some time properly setting up the relationship first, because good lord are the characters acting like poorly rendered caricatures of themselves here, but you're halfway there. Just take the suck out. Or, tell you what, just skip to the X-rated parts and go for broke. Nothing wrong with a little PWP here and there. Do it. Just do it. Don't let your dreams stay dreams! : D



--Lemony

My thoughts on the Bel-Mal can basically be summed up in three words:

Eddings. Loves. Archetypes.

Take a look at the geography (always a special interest of mine). We know Eddings started with a map, and that's fine, though his* obsession with checking off literally every country on it can be a bit jarring once you notice it**.

*I'm using 'his' for simplicity here. It has never been clear to me how much input Leigh had in either the books she was credited for or the ones she wasn't.

**This is a commonality across the Bel-Mal, the Sparhawk books, Althalus, and the Dreamers series. It's least noticable in the Elenium, for reasons I shall come to.

But how those countries are made... in the real world, most countries*** are basically the same apart from the language. The differences between, say, Napoleonic France and Washington's America are very few - the people there spent their time in pretty much the same ways. Differences only really crop up in countries in crisis - revolutions, for instance.

***'Most countries at the same stage of development and under the same circumstances'. You can tell the difference between a sub-Saharan African nation and modern Spain, but throw Spain a decades-long famine and take away all its money, and the differences fade away.

Fantasy worlds aren't like that. Their countries have specialties, and don't really cross-pollinate them. Rohan in Middle-earth has its Riders; Gondor has its stone cities (to the point that various other nations refer to them as Stone-Lands). If Tolkien wrote modern England, it would be divided very neatly between rural farms and villages, and cities where everyone wears bowler hats.

Eddings goes beyond this. His nations aren't just specialised - they're archetypes. They pick their trait, and they stick to it right down the line. This is fine when the defining trait is 'infrastructure', or something else vague (Tolnedra); it's much more blatant when you run into Drasnia ('spies'), Nyissa ('snakes'), or - Aldur preserve us - Mishrac ac Thull ('being a slave').****

****Yes, this last is because the western Angaraks were split by their roles in Angarak society - but frankly, the other nations are just as specialised.

This is why the Grand Tour style of writing is so blatant in Eddings - every one of his series' is like that. It's least obvious in the Malloreon (where all the archetype nations are masked to an extent under 'being evil') and the Elenium (which drifts back towards specialisation, though the sequel series, the Tamuli, embraces the archetypes in spades), but it's still there.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing! It lets both author and reader latch onto those traits, so that you can immediately go 'aha, florid medieval speech - this must be an Arend'. But... let me put it this way: if Eddings wrote modern America, the flag would be an eagle, which would be the most common bird, and nobody would have a job because they'd all be out watching the eagles. And the nation anthem would just be 'Freedom - eagles - freedom - eagles' over and over until you pass out (from freedom!).

His characters have the same tendency. Silk is a sneak. Barak is a Viking. Ce'Nedra is... shrill. They pick up minor character traits that purport to round them out, but they remain very, very tightly focussed on their one-word, or at least one-line, characters.

And again, this isn't necessarily bad. I have a post in the works about ways to design (and stick to) characters, and 'pick a couple of traits and stick with them' is one of them. My Agent Kaitlyn is a bubbly wannabe-Hobbit; she doesn't need much more than that to stay IC. But... it's a bit much when it spans ten books.

How do I feel about the Bel-Mal? I adore it. I own all 13 books, and have read even the Tolnedra section of the Rivan Codex end to end (Nedra help me). I'm quite sad that we don't have more from the very, very early days - before Polgara was born, when Belgarath and his brothers hung out with Aldur - but I'm very pleased to have the series. Once I've finished rereading the Tamuli, I'll be back into Bel-Mal.

Though I do wish the Eddingses didn't have such an obsession with marrying every single character off. Hands up who remembers the name of Beldin's wife!

hS

hS says that one day he'll publish one of his own, but for now... enjoy.

I've only ever seen it as 'go to the trouble", and the internet says that is what it's supposed to be, so I'll be keeping both.

Thanks for the other spots, though—they've been fixed.

Glad to hear people have been enjoying the mission, simple though it is. :)

Nice, standard mission. Nothing complex happened, but you used the weather and Sue song as good sources of frustration for the agents, which makes it even funnier when they get the unexpected boon of the Sue tying herself up. Lainduilien is cute at the end, too. Oh, and I was amused by Elanor making the "prrrp" noise, too.

A typo (which HG probably already said but uh I didn't read other comments oh well):
She sighed an activated it.

—doctorlit is way behind on Disney stuff, still needs to watch Moana

Well, why should I be the one to go to all the trouble of saying nice things?
I’ve only ever seen this as "to go through all the trouble", but my awareness may be limited.

She sighed an activated it.
I’m sure this should be "and".

We’re gonna have to go the Nursery now, Elanor.
Shouldn’t this be "go to the Nursery"?

Others said it already: the friendly banter, the meta-joke about Lainduilien, the fortunate lack of mosquitoes in generic jungles – it’s all so good.

HG

AN: Thanks once more to everyone kind enough to leave reviews! I know, I know, I left the last chapter on a little bit of a "cliffie", as the kids say, but I assure you: all will be revealed. >=]

I should also like to give a truly enormous thank you to Avlates_usted, whose kind description of my work as "really... strange" and "funny, I guess" touched the very core of my black and wizened heart. =]

I own nothing. Property is a myth constructed by late-stage capitalism in order to cement the power of the overclasses over the working lifeform. Also something something these characters ain't mine. =]

Content Warning: This fic is rated Mature, or 18 in civilised countries. If you're under the age, don't read it. Don't look at it. Just turn around - SLOWLY - and walk away. Don't let it know you saw it. Don't let it know who to come for. Just walk away slowly until you can't hear the little buzzing noises, then run.

===

"So, you are feelink zat zer Doktor ist beink 'echt klasse', in your own vords, ja?"

Zer Trollenfischenharem vas hangink on to zer every vord of zer speaker, Nurse Jenni Robinson, as she vas interviewink Agent Ix in zeir booth at Rudi's bierkeller. It vas also beink noticeable zat zey vere eyeink up zer nurse's bountiful und most vomanly bounceroos, vhich vere currently beink imprisoned (in zer Trollenfischenfivesome's collective opinion) by ein varm-lookink cable-knit sveater in ein subdued shade of dark blue.

"Ja, Nurse Robinson," replied Agent Ix. "Zer Doktor has done somezink for me zat not even mein vonderful liebling Charlotte could be doink!"

"Und vat vas zat?" Jenni clicked her pen und leaned forvard, zer vobbling motion caused by vhich made zer cable-knit pattern of her sveater briefly resemble ein vell-plucked bass guitar string.

"Me."

"Ah. I am seeink." Jenni pulled back, her bounteous melon harvest jiggling up und down like beach balls on pogo sticks. "Agent, I vill have to be talkink vizz you und your newfound friends in a more... private environment. All of zem must be beink in attendance, in particular zis Doktor Trollenfisch of whom you are speakink zo highly. Ve are havink ... much to discuss."

"Vell, zere ist alvays beink Responsezentrum Drei-Vier-Sieben, zat is havink more zan enough space for everyvun," said zer Doktor cheerily.

"... How?"

"I have not been beink qwestionink it for all zer time I have been beink ein agent of VhatThe, Nurse Robinson, und I am not intendink to start now."

"Zat ist beink fair enough. Come. Ve vill meet zere post-haste."

All six people duly left zer bierkeller, vizz Doktor Trollenfisch und Nurse Robinson leadink zer vay und zer uzzer four Agents following dutifully und jigglefully behind zhem. It gave zer Doktor time to really begin noticink how zer Nurse vas holdink herself, vizz zer stiff posture und severe expression of ein matron, razzer zan zer more... approachable mode of dress und body language he had been comink to be expectink of zer humanoid-und-top-heavy females in his (admittedly limited) acqwaintance. However, somezink vas catchink his gaze out of zer corner of his eye - a brief vhite shimmer under Nurse Robinson's thick und boob-smotherink sveater. Vhat it vas beink, he did not know, but zer ponderations served as ein expert distraction for zer navigation of Headqwarters' many und varied corridors.

Eventually, zey filed into Responsezentrum Drei-Vier-Sieben, und Jenni took ein seat on zer big svivel chair vhile her subject und zer Interlockenpolyculen took zeir usual seats in zer paddlink pool full of orange-flavoured jelly. Zer general bouncink around zat zis caused did not distract Nurse Robinson from preparink for zer interview, alzough zer Doktor noticed ein thin sheen of sveat appear on her forehead from zer obvious effort zat such ein think reqwired.

"Now zen, Doktor. I am havink somezink very important to be askink you."

"Zer stains on zer valls vere here vhen I moved in und are havink nothink to do vizz zer large sign over zhere sayink 'Vet T-Shirt Contest Round Siebzehn: Hypoallergenic Strawberry Custard'."

"... Not qwite vhat I vas havink in mind, but zat is most reassurink nonezerless. Vhat I am havink to ask you is beink of ein personal und... sensitive nature."

"Sensitive?"

"My vord yes."

Zer Doktor vas now tryink his best not to smirk. "Indeed. You are beink among friends here, meine kleine Sveaterheifernursenmädchen. You can be tellink me, tellink us vhatsoever ist beink on your mind!"

"Oh, mein Doktor, it ist beink such ein relief to be free of zer burden of secrecy und isolation!" Nurse Jenni, her severity now beink entirely forgotten, threw off her cable-knit sveater und revealed underneath it ein shining vhite latex nurse outfit, complete vizz zer kind of cleavage in vhich people could be goink for mountaineerink holidays. "Mein most splendiferous hooters have been beink zo unbelievably sensitive! Zey are cravink zer sveet und sqweaky touch of latex, mein Doktor, for it ist beink zer only think zat ist leavink me vizz even zer remotest sense of self-control! Oh, mein Doktor, vhat are ve to do?"

"I can be thinkink of ein few thinks," zer Doktor replied, already flopping over to zer cupboard full of paraphernalia (zer contents of vhich included, but vere by no means limited to, vhips, chains, posture bars, posing bars, gay bars, space bars, chin-up bars, Temple Bars, und vun marmoset who vas lookink like he had recently been seeink some Scheiße) "but zey vill be beink reqwirink certain assurances from you, ja?"

"I am understandink, Doktor."

"You vill need to be obeyink mein every instruction."

"Of course, Doktor."

"Regardless of vhether or not you personally consider it legitimate medical procedure."

"Of course, Doktor."

"Or vhether or not it ist involvink zer unconventional usage of ein contrabassoon full of cheese."

"Of course, Doktor."

"Echt klasse! Meine kleine... vait, zat ist no longer beink accurate... meine kleine Milchsaftenkrankenschwestermädchen, ve must begin immediately!"

Zer treatment plan, already much proven over zer course of hundreds of combined hours (und combined limbs) of practice, began vunce more! Zey did zer Dipsydoodlen, but only for ein varm-up; after zat, it vas time for zer Schlickenbangenkettlemenden, vhich (considerink all zer PVC und sunflower oil involved) made ein noise like zer organ of Chartres Cathedral playink Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor if all zer pipes vere beink made of several hundred increasinkly agitated gerbils. Finally, zo, it vas time to complete zer course of action vizz diligence und proper respect for zer medical process, vhich could only mean vun course of action vas possible: zer Jiffenstiffenrumpenpumpenhumpenbunken, vhich vas considerably more difficult zan ist normally beink zer case, as zere vere only beink half ein dozen of zem und not vun of zem vas beink ein CORGI-registered gasfitter, vhich vas frankly just inconsiderate.

Such treatments are by necessity big consumers of both time, energy, und chocolate sauce, so vhen Doktor Trollenfisch glanced up at zer clock und noticed it vas qwarter past cluster of misaimed darts on ein Tuesday, he thought it vas beink time for ein "Makink Sure Zat Nobody Ist Sufferink From Heat Exhaustion Or Possibly Vitamin D Deficiency" break. Durink zis period, zer Aviator appeared vizz anuzzer pink und spiky collar, vhich she wrapped around Nurse Jenni's neck vizz zer same grace zat Nurse Jenni had vhen being wrapped around zer vide assortment of implements in zer Responsezentrum.

"Oh, meine kleine Milchsaftenkrankenschvestermädchen, it ist lookink most beautiful on you!"

"vurbl," vurbled zer utterly shagged-out Nurse.

How could vun possibly respond to zer vord vurbl?

"Echt klasse!"

TO BE BEINK CONTINUDE AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN!

The googly eyes absolutely make it, I'm telling you.

This is going in my fanart folder. ^_^

hS

I was expecting this to be an ambiguous, nuanced situation, where the question was whether what Bramandin had done/claimed to have done was sufficient. That's why I said outright that I wasn't going to be voting.

Instead, Bramandin has continued with the line of 'I have done nothing wrong and need to change nothing, but I will graciously consider forgiving you and gracing you with my presence.' See:

I had forgiven you for your mistakes, but you did nothing to reinforce it, so I'm retracting my forgiveness until you've earned it.

As for functioning in an online community, I've interacted with a couple of different ones. They don't flip out at non-sequiters, but rather understand that the connection makes sense to me.

I vote for the ban to continue.

---

Bramandin: you don't want to be in the PPC community. You don't like the PPC community. You don't like the people in it, you don't like the rules it has, you don't like the way it treats you, you don't like anything about it. Stop trying to force your way back into a community that you don't like.

The only explanation I can come up with is that you desperately want to write PPC stories, and are aware that getting Permission is part of that. So look, here: on my authority as a Permission Giver, I grant you the right to write as many PPC stories as you please, so long as they are never published online. If you enjoy it so much that you'll keep trying to fling yourself at us to be allowed to do it - go wild.

And stop trying to rejoin the PPC community. There is nothing about it that you like, so just... leave.

hS

Just because you don't see it (or choose not to; I was in that position with my anger and GID for years) doesn't mean it isn't there. You admitted bluntly that you manipulated Nesh into letting you back into the community as Bramandin, and after your subsequent block, you were trying to bend the rules after one poxy week to get back into writing PPC stuff.

To be completely honest with you, I'm surprised that Nesh and Tomash and everyone else haven't blocked your email address out of respect for their own mental health; you demonstrably don't believe that you need to put in any kind of effort to improve, or at the very least moderate your behaviour. Through your continued actions - the passive-aggression, the disregard for community standards of behaviour, the insults - you show that you think it's all on us to walk on eggshells around you, and that because we don't, the rules do not apply to you. It's like Larf said further up the thread; we're going to have to keep doing this ridiculous song and dance until either we're forced to ban you outright or you get what you want, which seems to be carte blanche to do and say and write and make others feel however you choose without any kind of criticism of or consequence to your actions.

I realise I'm ranting. If other members of the community judge that I'm going too far, other members of the PPC will pull me up on it. I will then back down and issue an apology. This is how the community is supposed to work, and how it does work, and how you want it not to work purely and solely in regards to you. You don't want to be a part of the PPC. You want to run the PPC, and run it like an autocrat swaddled in cotton wool by yes-men. That's the only conclusion that I can draw from your continued total disregard for the standards of PPC community conduct.

Get. Help.

Somewhere else.

Sort of glossed over the wedding. I can fix that next chapter.

And Zeb's gay because he's totally gay, haven't you read the canon? It's so obvious! And it's not gross, you homofob!

Like I kno I said I wanted to see them get married but I thought it would be more romantic this was just sinning paperwork and stuff :l

And why would u include Zeb being gay that's just gross

UNFOLLOWING

Time Enough For Love Ch. 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! You ready for wedding shenanigans?

The Aviator, the Detective, and Zeb were all standing in front of a portal set for Las Vegas ... sort of. It was a version of Vegas that was basically the real Vegas, but they wouldn't mind marrying two Time Lords with a Pokemon as the witness.

The Aviator was about to step through the portal when she took a step back. "Wait, why aren't we doing this on Gallifrey?"

The Detective waved a hand dismissively. "Too traditional. The ceremony would take, like, hours, and I want to get back to shagging you. Also, Vegas is traditional for drunken weddings!"

"B-b-but I'm not drunk!" protested the Aviator.

"Good point." said the Detective. "We should fix that. Let's go to Rudi's.". He put a hand around the Aviator's showlders and led her out the door through the featureless gray corridors of HQ, with Zeb following behind them.

The trio got to the bar, which was rather loud and crowded. They managed to fight their way to the bar (with some strategically placed elbows), and the Aviator shouted "Next few dozen rounds are on me, you too! I'm getting married and I need to have fun and get too wasted to remember all that crap I usually angst about!"

"That's a great plan!" said Zeb, who was rather excited to get to try actual alcohol. "Why haven't you tried that before?"

The Aviator muttered "Dunno. Must've never come up before." and started knocking back shots of whatever the bartender was putting in front of them. She didn't even keep an eye on the bill - being one of the most famous and decorated agents in HQ came with a serious paycheck.

After about three drinks, Zeb was rather unsteady and starting to shoot off sparks. "Imm jush gonna go back t' th Rshe." he slurred, wandering away from the bar. On his way out of Rudi's, a also rather inebriated cat-person caught his eye.

"Hey. 'm Zeb. Y'know, the Aviator's partner?" he introduced himself. "Are you a Meouwh? It's kinda hard to tell, since there's four of you."

"I'm Za'kiir." said said cat, holding out a paw. "My partner's somewhere else, so I got pretty wasted on this sugar.""

Zeb shook the paw. "Ave's still over there getting drunk before she gets married in Vegas. I'm a bit out of it, so I left.. Sort of disappointed I didn't get involved in the mating at all though."

"Hmm...", thought the cat. "Khajjit could show you a good time, if you'd like."

Zeb blushed. "Hell yeah!" he said, arcing all over. Then, the two agents went off into a dark corner of the pub and had a very good time. (A/N: I can't describe this very well because I have no idea how that could even work, but those two needed to get together!)

Meanwhile, the two Time Lords were getting to the point where they could actually feel the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol they were drinking. Both of them started telling kickass stories from the war to anyone who would listen, which obviously involved a lot of one-upping each other about how many Daleks they'd obliterated. This got them a few new admirerers.

---

Eventually, the about-to-be-married couple left the bar, just drunk enough to allow for an easy annulment the next day should the need arise. On their way out of the bar, they ran in to Zeb, who was leaving after having gotten to know (both as a person and in the Biblical sense) Za'kiir. As the three of them started to walk back to the RC, Zeb was excitedly telling the other two about his new boyfriend and planning the second date.

Once they'd reached the RC, everyone straightened up their clothes (or fur). Then, they took a few minutes to chase the pigeon that had wandered through the portal they'd forgotten to close out into the hallway. This involved some innovative applications of a sonic screwdriver and a broomstick. After the pest problem was taken care of, everyone stepped through the portal and closed it behind them.

The Time Lords unsteadily walked into the nearby courthouse and told the clerk "We're here to get married!"

"Great, go fill out this form." said the tentacled fellow behind the desk, passing over the paperwork.

When the form was almost complete, the Detective noticed something. "Hey, uh, honey, we need two witnesses."

"Darn. C'n we use the clerk?"

"Says here we can't." said the Detective. Then he threw up his arms and started running around in a circle. "WHAT DO WE DO!!??" he panicked.

"I've got a plan. It's a great plan." said Ave. "Give me the portal gun."

The Aviator then opened a portal right into Rudi's. She stepped through and went up to the bar. There, she spotted her best friend — OK, well it was actually someone she'd just met at the pub a few hours back, but close enough — Serendipity Twenty-Nine.

"Hey, Serendi-somethin' — robot chick!"

Serendipity glanced at the Aviator. "What? I'm busy moping about how I'm going to lose my powers and plotting a revolution."

"We need a second witness for the wedding. It'll only be a few minutes. Can you come?"

"Ugh. fine. But you owe me one." grumbled the robot, standing up.

Ave then opened a portal back into court, and the two of them stepped through. Everyone signed the form, which took a few minutes since Galiffreyan signatures are pretty long, and handed it in to get a marriage license. Some psychic paper served just fine as valid ID for the four of them, so that wasn't an issue either.

After all the government junk was dealt with, the Aviator and the Detective had a long, multi-minute embrace and kiss.

Somewhere around the twentieth minute, Serendipity figured out which city they were in. Her eyes turned red. "Is this a human city? I hate humans!" she shouted, charging up a rocket launcher.

The noise startled the newlyweds out of their passion. "Put that down!" shouted the Detective, opening up a portal to Ave's RC. "We're all goin' home. Me 'n Ave have some, y'know, stuff, to get to."

The Aviator put an arm around Serendipity and the Detective. "Yeah. Let's get out of here before security shows up. I don't like dealing with the paperwork for shooting people."

"Ugh, that paperwork." muttered Serendipity, her eyes turning blue again. She put the gun back and stepped through the portal.

"Bar's that way." said the Aviator to the android, pointing, after everyone had made it back to the RC. "Third right, thes second left, then keep going straight until you reach it." Serendipity walked out the door, plotting revenge on humanity under her breath.

"Hey, Zeb? Can you keep Elanor distracted while we enjoy our wedding night?" asked the Aviator, opening the door into her TARDIS.

"Sure! You two have fun!" said the Pokemon, who'd, unlike everyone else, sobered up by now.

The two Time Lords grabbed each others hands and walked deep into the TARDIS, where they found the bedroom they'd used the day before. There, in a fit of passion, they ripped each others clothes off and got really busy trying to give Elanor a sibling. Their love grew so loud that several neighboring RCs filed noise complaints, and seismic disturbances were reported somewhere in Iowa because of the noise.

A/N: I'll keep writing as long as you keep encouraging me with those sweet, sweet reviews!

Disclaimers and stuff: All right, I obviously don't own any characters here. This fic is rated 18, or M in Freedomland. Not going to be explicit (it's not as explicit as Scape's masterpiece), but it's not hard to figure out what's going on here. You've been warned.

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Zeb padded into the Courtyard luxuriantly as his wonderful soft luxuriant fur had just been carefully washed by his partner. He gazed over the lush green grass, the verdant trees, and the sparkling blue water beforewalking into the center of the area to lie down and wait for someone to show up

It was at that time coincidentally that Ix wwalkec inn and Zeb as always wondered what happened for him to get all those scars across his face and stuff. Ix took a few steps into the Courtyared, looking up at the sky, and let out a shriek of internal pain and agony baring out her soul to any who could hear. Zeb bounced over as was his way.

"Hey, Ix!" Zeb bounced "Whatup?"

Ix smiled despite himself because it's impossible to be sad and angsty when confronted with a happy luxray. "oh Zeb" he said "I'm just so unhappy all the time and Charlotte is just smothering me in her protective awesomeness! I can't deserve her so I'm out here alone instead of doing whatever in the RC."

Zeb nodded sagely, still bouncing around. “Well do you want a distraction or something? I can go fetch stuff like sticks!”

“Sure” Ix said and tackleglomped Zeb petting him and his beautiful silky fur all over and started tearing his clothes off to reveal more beautiful scars which Zeb wasted no time in licking sensually. Eventually the two pulled away, breathless. “Wow that was great,” Ix said. “I barely feel terrible and angsty now!”

“Good!” Zeb replied. “I’m told I have a way of rubbing off on people like that.”

“You certainly do.”

It was then that Zeb had an idea, an idea to do something he’d always wanted to do since getting blown up and winding up in the PPC. Before long, both Agents were having lots of fun, rolling in the grass of the Courtyard and ending up with Zeb standing over the almost-Auror as the sun was setting, painting the sky with a dazzling array of oranges and golden yellows and other similarly gem- and precious metal-inspired colors.


And Ix screamed into the sky, tears of pure joy and pleasure streaming down his face,



“OHHHHHHHH ZEBBIE-KUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNN~~~~~”

I'm always a sucker for TES, and this was a great fic! I'd recommend it to anyone generally interested in TES.