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Tho i dont get thy you habe all the sideays text stuff. Os someone spyinf on ilraen? What are they gpnas do two him!!!@@@1

Iv CANt wait to find out

You should have used numbers insteadof all the tiny dot thingies so ir wasnt be so confising. Just a little top next time.

I liked the story istelf tho!!1 there juat arent enoufh faities in the poc lol.

((All real typos. -Ls))

Overall great mission, I liked the conflict between agents. And I definitely can see myself featuring Spam in the future.

-Ls

I had a few minutes so I went looking.

He appears in this trailer, having a long scene covering the first 36 seconds, and then a brief appearance 1:20-1:24.

This one mostly just has an excerpt of the long scene, but also flashes a closeup at 0:56.

This one is the one I saw first, and it's short but Makes-Things heavy: he shows up 0:10-0:17, and then for a split-second around 0:20.

Finally, this one has a flash at 0:23, then repeats the group shot from the previous trailer a bit later.

I can totally picture him complaining that everyone keeps thinking he's dead for no reason. ^_^

hS

He speaks in an Osaka accent, and the "phonetic" writing is meant to reflect that. Don't ask why Inasuke doesn't speak it despite being from Osaka too 😂

Ah, we’re coming up on the end, and Kaguya finally learns what’s been going on! Having the other two ask him to teach them without telling him why is pretty funny, and also probably the reason for him slapping them at the end? I mean, if I were Kaguya, I would have slapped Inasuke anyway, because his accusations that Kaguya is mistreating Momoka must be pretty grating by now. And I appreciate Urato pointing out that Kaguya’s anger mode contradicts his supposed gentlemanly nature, because that is a pretty glaring point of hypocrisy on his part!

I was amused by the details that Urato writes in his own phonetic accent—it feels like just the right level of carelessness for him—and seeing Urato and Inasuke mess with Kaguya’s appearance while he couldn’t stop them in anger mode. (Did Inasuke have to mess with the glasses, though? That’s a low blow!) But most especially, I love the Spam! It feels like a very PPC foodstuff, and a perfect counterpart to flames!

—doctorlit, wolfing down spaghetti, Urato-style

frist of all his name is ILLIAN not iralien or whatevs. dOn't know howyou got that so wrong..

and third its' the one RING, Iget that it's hard too rememember words sometims but its' right there in the title "lord of the ONE RING"

but NEway this is like a PPC/LotOR/PotC crossover right?? thas't pretty clever, and we ALL NOW that Barabossa and Jarrow (lol I cal him Jarrow) LLLLLOVE enchanted gold so it macks sense. is Illian there to stop them or start them????

((That is ADORABLE and I am NOT going to have the Illian-Sims kids get in on the badficcing. I'm not. I'm not.))

(Content Warning: contains language and some more violence than previous chapters. Also contains parts that may hit BL1, BL2, BL3 and BL9 on the Blacklist, going off of the Wiki.)

---

Despite its ironclad shell, the Virginia’s deck was still wooden planks tightly packed together. The entire entourage of bits from earlier was scattered across the deck, and if anything there looked to be more of them. The Agents portaled in, hidden by the shadows of the staircase leading up to the helm. Even then, a couple of bits were an arm’s reach away from them, more than close enough to notice them if they glanced.

At least for the time being, the bits were all too distracted to notice - most of them were enacting stilted slice-of-life scenes concerning their specific gimmicks, and those who weren't were staring off into space or out into the open waters.

For a moment, it looked like Molly had zoned out completely, staring blankly into space. Then she blinked, shook her head a little, and looked at John. She held up her charge list in one paw, pointing at the crowd of Suvians with the other.

“We have enough charges to do the Duty,” she whispered. “Ready to stop them?”

John didn’t know what ‘the Duty’ was. He nodded out of habit, before realizing it might not have been the best idea. Molly immediately turned and strode to the center of the deck, by the mast of the ship. Hopping up on top of one of the supply barrels stacked around the flagpole, she cleared her throat.

Despite the cough being incredibly quiet, every bit stopped talking and moving at once. Then, slowly and in perfect unison, they turned to face her head on. A wave of stares met the two Agents.

Another oversized sweatdrop appeared on Molly's face. She averted her gaze into the chargelist and began to read.

“Okay, everyone listen for a moment, please! In the name of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, you’re all charged with the following:

“Taking up so much space with character profiles, breaking time to infodump the profiles everywhere, bringing non-canon powers and tech into Narnia, having weak personalities, some of you having no personality at all, claiming to be rebels when you don’t act like it…”

Molly lowered the charge list, only to notice all the staring Suvians. She clutched her list a little tighter to her chest. “Um… and in general being awful excuses for heroes. And helping a Suvian. Any questions?”

“YOU DON’T BELONG HERE,” the bits replied in droning unison.

“Oh, gosh.” Molly crouched down and slipped off to the deck, placing the barrel between the Suvians and herself. Then she turned to her partner and called, “Okay, Mister John! Now you can do your thing!”

A moment passed as John processed those words. Then realization set in. He tensed beneath his armor, and his hand drifted towards the holster of his energy rifle. He unslung the weapon and aimed it at the bits, clicking off the safety. The Suvians in front of him, noticing the sound, turned robotically and crouched into battle stances of their own, an eerily united wave of movement that rippled across the deck as more and more of them noticed the armored giant.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, in the back, one of the bits screamed, “KILL IT!” And the horde charged forward, John breaking into a run to meet them.

The absurdly top-heavy ‘cow girl’ from earlier was the first one to reach him, arms outstretched in a very poor attempt at a tackle. Almost casually, John took a single step to the side. Already precariously balanced and unable to change her trajectory, the bit barreled past him before tripping and crashing forward. She tried to get up, struggling under the weight of her massive chest, but found herself pinned to the deck by her own proportions.

Deciding she was no longer a threat, John turned to fire a salvo from his rifle, blowing another incoming bit to cardboard chunks. Liquid glitter sprayed out over the deck like a macabre rainbow.

Meanwhile, Molly was lost in thought behind her barrel, double-checking to make sure she didn’t miss a charge. WIth a quiet splat, a small glob of wet, pink-on-red glitter landed on the paper. She blinked, peering over her cover in time to see John throw a dead bit into another group charging at him, scattering them all like bowling pins.

“Mister John! I’m sorry, but could you watch your, uh…” A gunshot rang through the air, and Molly scooted back as a cardboard arm bounced off the barrel, sending it rocking. “Maybe you could try to be less messy, please? Thank you!” She popped back down, shook out the charge list, and went back to checking.

Molly’s words were just audible enough to show up as subtitles on John’s HUD. He didn’t get the chance to read them, however, as he raised an armored gauntlet to parry a lightning-infused punch from one of the bits.

The bit was panting, huffing, its strongest blows not doing anything as it backed John up against the helm under a storm of blows. All of its strikes were parried or outright tanked, not even smudging John's armor. Then, in a blur of movement, its head exploded in a cloud of cardboard and glitter. John drew his glitter-stained fist back and shoved the body away, adding another husk to the growing pile around him.

The next enemy to approach was one of the less cardboard Suvians - Samuel Hunter, the edgy swordsman. He stood in front of John for a moment, hand against his sheathed katana’s handle. With a finger, he popped the handle up an inch.

In a flash of light, he suddenly stood behind John, katana outstretched from a move made too fast to track. With a spinning flourish, he lowered his blade into its sheath, but not quite all the way. Eyes shut, letting out a breath for dramatic effect, he let his katana drop fully into his sheath with a quiet click.

The loud sound of a sword slice rang through the air behind him, and all was silent. The bit exhaled, eyes closed, satisfied. He knew no one could withstand the blade that could shear through molecular bonds—

A hand gripped his shoulder from behind.

“wha—”

John lifted the bit up and slammed him through the wooden deck in a storm of dust and splinters. When the dust cleared, only the bit’s legs stuck out of the floor, slightly twitching. His katana quivered next to him, jammed into a plank of wood nearly up to the hilt. John's armor wasn't even scratched.

Reaching down, John pulled out the katana, whirled it around, and threw it across the deck - another bit fell to the floor, compressed glittery slime spraying out of its cardboard body.

A splash of glitter hit Molly's charge list, which she had lifted up as an impromptu shield. “Mister John, please! It’s not easy to focus like this.”

This time, John managed to read her words off his helmet HUD. He couldn’t help but feel a touch of guilt - an unfamiliar feeling, seeing as he had spent the last decades of his life with little more emotion than rage and bloodthirst. There was something about the experiences of the last hour - had it only been an hour? - that was drawing out parts of him he didn’t know he had, thoughts long-buried after a life of salvage and slaughter.

Then he was driven out of his wandering thoughts as a bit grappled him from behind, driving a golden knife towards his neck. The blade shattered against his armor in a rain of shards, and John took advantage of the bit’s shock to grab it and throw it straight up into the air.

At the apex of its impromptu flight, a rifle blast tore a hole straight through the bit’s chest. As the body fell, John followed up the shot with an armored punch, tearing further into the glitter-filled cardboard husk until he was wearing the monster like an oversized, macabre glove. He turned, using the body as a shield to block a salvo of energy blasts from a bit wielding a high-tech rifle not unlike his own.

John charged forward, his cardboard shield decaying piece by piece as blasts tore it open in chunks. By the time he had closed the distance, the last few shots had to be blocked by his gauntlets held up in a defensive guard. The gun-toting bit didn’t even get a chance to scream as nearly half a ton of armored giant slammed into it, sending it flying off the deck.

Even before the body made a splash, John turned after an alert from his HUD - three more of the bits had crept up behind him.

John’s fist punched straight through the first’s cardboard torso, spilling the liquid glitter inside to the deck. As the body fell, John turned and drew his rifle to shoot off the legs of the second bit, who was too lacking in individuality to even make a sound as it died.

The third bit actually managed to get in a blow, slamming what looked like a warhammer made of lava-veined obsidian into his helmet - it shattered on impact, shards of rock flying everywhere. John promptly grabbed the stunned bit, lifted it up by the throat, and slammed it to the ground hard enough that its cardboard body split open on impact like a pinata full of soggy glitter.

The smell of wet cardboard was beginning to fill the air. The deck was littered with cardboard bodies and wet globs of red glitter. The bodies were already beginning to pile up in a large heap.

John continued to fight the horde, punching, grabbing, headbutting. He was running out of clean room on the deck to place his feet, and he found himself adjusting every step so that the cardboard corpses he trod on wouldn’t put him at a disadvantage.

Soon, he found that the Suvians were hesitant to approach him, standing around him in a wide circle. John scanned the dull, expressionless faces of the closest ones, patiently waiting for any of them to make a move.

“You insignificant fool…” A low, purring voice came from behind him.

John turned to see who was speaking. It was that psychic mockery of split personality disorder - another of the Suvians with enough substance to be more than a cardboard pinata. A feral grin stretched across her face, eyes glinting that floodlight-bright red.

“Your mind is an open book, and I…” The bit paused, her eyes widening. Her grin fell off her face and her bright red eye-lights flickered out. “No…”

Holstering his rifle, John began to approach, heavy boots shaking the wooden deck with every step.

"Why can't I read you? *WHY CAN'T I READ YOU?"* she screamed, the veins on her forehead looking dangerously swollen.

John kept walking. One bit ran up to him, napalm gel in one hand and a lit torch in the other. Without losing stride or looking away from his original target, John grabbed the bit by the neck and threw it up into the clouds. A second later, there was a muffled explosion, and bits of cardboard rained down on the deck.

"I'LL TEAR YOU APART FROM THE INSIDE OUT!" the psychic yelled, though her voice peaked from stress. She took her hands, clenched them into fists, and slowly wrenched them outward as if stretching a roll of taffy.

John kept walking. He kept walking as the world around him was twisted, wooden planks cracking and splitting, the space around him warping.

The bit began to visibly panic, arms waving wildly, the ship itself twisting and breaking to throw itself at the approaching man. Glitter began to ooze from her mouth, her nose, even her eyes as she pushed her body to the limits.

John kept walking. Pieces of the ironclad hull, torn off for use as telekinetic projectiles, shattered against his armor.

“Stop it! I WON’T LET YOU WIN!” The bit gave one more defiant scream, and the air itself compressed. It tried to crush him with telekinetic force, pressing in on all sides like a vice, slowly lifting him up into the air.

However, years of pushing back against the reality-bending abilities of Invaders in his own world had well prepared John for cases like this. These powers were familiar, and it was almost a comfort as that knowledge settled into his mind. He clenched his hands into fists and flexed his arms, pushing outward against the monster’s own power.

The cardboard bit screeched, trying to fight as its glitter-fueled power was pushed back, reality warping back into it. John snapped his arms out, the power forcefully shattering - overwhelmed by the backlash, body rippling with the force, the bit let out one more scream and exploded into a forceful blast of glitter and vapor. Several nearby bits were sent spinning through the air like ragdolls.

Yet another non-cardboard Suvian swaggered forward - yes, swaggering - to such a degree John actually didn’t shoot it immediately. It was the ‘anime pervert’ one, actual ooze dripping from its mouth as it approached. In its hands it gripped a warbling blue ball, which it dropped to the deck at John's feet.

This Suvian, another of the ones with more than the bare minimum of substance, grinned at him with its sleazy grin. "Do you know how it feels to have every molecule in your body ripped apart?"

John stared. The Suvian stared back, then gestured at the slowly growing ball of energy between them. “Well, now you will.”

The warbling sphere exploded, the force pushing John a step back. For a moment, the world flooded with blue as a wave of color washed over it, and then it was gone.

The color was gone, and so was the Suvian - it hadn’t moved far enough from its own explosion, as the only parts left of it were a pair of smoking boots. Before John could fully register the humor in this, another voice rang out from behind him.

“Ara, ara! You’ve fallen into my trap!”

John turned to see another of the more substantial Suvians, this time a busty kimono-wearing kitsune who looked extremely out of place considering the canon she was in.

“Ara, ara,” she repeated. The Suvian let out a haughty laugh, putting a hand over her mouth. “That idiot may have blown himself up, but he made for an excellent distraction!”

With an overdramatic flourish, she reached into her concerningly generous cleavage and pulled out a katana that was far too long to reasonably fit in there. It was ornate and golden, with heavy gemstones embedded all over its hilt.

“It’s my turn to play, and you’re trapped in my GOD AURA! You obey me now.” She waved a hand, and a few black sparks appeared in the air, illuminating a shimmering orb of mist that surrounded John and herself. “Now. Take your gun and shoot yourself in the head.”

John stared at her, expression unreadable under his opaque visor.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear the first time. Listen to me, take your gun—”

John took another step forward, and the Suvian's eyes widened.

“No - that’s unfair!” she yelled, raising her katana to point at him. “This is my god aura! No one can disobey me in—”

John lifted his rifle, now fully charged, and shot her in the head. Before the husk could fall, he grabbed it by one shoulder and hurled it in the way of an incoming ball of rainbow-hued energy. On impact, the body exploded into scraps of scorched cardboard with enough force to rock the entire ship. Still crouched by the steps, Molly squeaked and nearly dropped her charge list.

The bits kept coming. Watching John get swarmed by more and more Suvians, Molly tried to remember how many bits had been on the ship originally. Was it in the fifties? How many new OC volunteers did the fic take? As she watched the pile of broken cardboard and glittery sludge grow high enough that it looked like John was fending off the horde on top of a DIY volcano, even a hundred started to look like a massive lowball.

John, in contrast, couldn’t care less about numbers. He was simply fulfilling his purpose of killing monsters, and he would go through with it until there were none left around him.

A loud scream broke through his concentration, so air-shatteringly loud it demanded his attention. Behind her barrel, Molly squeaked and curled up into a ball, paws held tight over her ears.

John turned towards to face the Suvian the screams came from. This one was Colette, the main Suvian's love interest, her mouth open wide in an unending, unbreathing howl.

Her screams warped the air itself, making it look like the world was consumed by a violently wobbling glob of clear jelly. Its sheer force made it a struggle for John to stay standing. Cardboard bodies crumpled and dissolved beneath his feet, only making balance more difficult. He could hear the wooden planks of the deck behind him creaking and snapping in indignation as the Suvian’s screams intensified.

He began to walk forward. Seeing this, the Suvian screamed even louder, mouth opening even wider, eyes becoming even more piercing as their pupils shrunk to tiny blue dots. John ignored her reaction, making progress through the mountain of bodies.

Step by agonizingly slow and measured step he moved, but even when he had made it within arms’ reach of the Suvian, she didn’t try to run away, only screaming loud enough the ironclad hull of the ship cracked in protest. Her mouth stretched wider, inhumanly so, looking more like a snake's than anything resembling a human's.

Pushing through the pounding noise, John reached through the rippling curtain of air at the hazy silhouette they came from, managing to grip the sides of the screamer’s head. His arms flexed, his gauntleted hands shoved inward, and a second later the headless bit slumped to the ground, its deafening screech muffled by the remains of its own head forced into its hollow imitation of a chest cavity.

Looking around, John counted less than a dozen bits still standing - only a few more left to deal with. None of them seemed willing to approach, even as he drew his rifle and shot another one clean off the deck.

"Mister John! Mister John, help!"

John swiveled around, gun at the ready. Molly was running across the ship as fast as her tiny legs could carry her, one of the Suvians - the giant, hungry one - lumbering after her with arms outstretched. “Food! Food!” it chanted.

John aimed his rifle and fired, blowing a hole in the Suvian’s shirt, but the cardboard-like skin underneath looked barely scorched. However, it did get the giant to stagger, before slowly turning to stare at him instead.

“...You interrupt food,” it said. “NOW YOU FOOD!”

"Thank you, Mister John!" Molly squeaked, before crawling behind some barrels to hide. John couldn’t respond even if he wanted to, as his attention was drawn to the monster lumbering forward, a look of childish anger plastered across the giant Suvian’s face. It began to march up the hill of dead bits, glaring at its new target standing on its peak. Wet cardboard crunched and squelched under its feet as it went.

At similar heights and body shapes, both giants shaking the deck as they approached each other, the two looked like they would be evenly matched. The Suvian swung first, giant cardboard fist clenched, a 'diamond-shattering' force behind it.

John caught the fist with his own hand, then squeezed. The fist crumpled into a glittery mess the shape and size of a crushed soda can. The bit roared, and its other hand shot out, clasping over John's visor. It attempted a crushing of its own, but John didn't seem to react at all, his armor not even giving slightly.

The giant Suvian was so focused on trying to crush John's head, roaring in rage and agony, that it didn't notice as he reached for his holster and drew out his rifle with his own free hand.

The rifle shots hit their marks, blowing apart the Suvian’s legs. While not as cardboard as some of its bot comrades, the giant was still clearly hollow and filled with nothing but glitter. It fell onto the mountain of its fellow bits’ corpses, screaming in eerie autotune, arms flailing in an attempt to pull itself upright. Its writhing sprayed glitter across the floor and over John's visor. As John rose to his feet, wiping the mess off his helmet, he raised his rifle and aimed at the now-prone monster, only a pinkish silhouette through his blurry vision and glitter-stained visor.

As on Earth, there was no reason to torture or taunt monsters. It was inefficient and pointless, and would delay the satisfaction of a demon unmade. He fired another shot at the red-lined shape's head, and its stopped writhing.

On the windowsill, Molly squeaked and jerked away as a splash of glitter hit the barrel she was tucked behind.

And then the ship was silent. All around him, the Agents could only see dead or dying bits and Suvians (and one simply pinned to the deck, but the effect was the same).

"Is that… it?" Molly asked tentatively, poking her head over the rim of the barrel. "Are we finished with the Duty?"

"S-s-stop right there, p-p-please!"

"Never mind," sighed Molly.

One more Suvian stood on the helm overseeing the deck, flanked by two bits so cardboard they looked like faceless mannequins dressed in concerningly revealing sailor's wear. For a second, her face looked like a sickly-sweet mask of innocence, matching her earlier, stuttering tone. Then it curled into a snarl and her eyes lit up red, casting a glow over the entire deck.

“GRANDMASTER!” the Suvian screamed, slamming a button on an elaborate watch she wore.

There was a twinkle in the sky, and a shadow formed over the deck. The two remaining bits behind her didn’t react in time and were crushed as an enormous Bob Semple tank dropped from the clouds, crushing the helm down to the deck, rocking the entire boat and nearly sending Molly flying off the side. She was barely able to grip the handrails to avoid going over.

“Sweet Cheesus!” she squeaked as she took in what had dropped onto the deck. “Is that a tank?!”

”IT IS A TANK!” screamed the watch-wearing Suvian, now the last of her crew standing, laughing as she leapt up and into the open hatch in the tank’s top. It closed shut after her, and her laughter became muffled. While the treads had slammed straight through the wooden deck, the gun turret still stuck out the top. It swiveled, displaying a massive, heavy railgun on its weapon mount.

"DISOBEY AND DIE, BAKA!" the Suvian screamed, and the elaborate gun of the Ubertank lowered to point straight at John.

With no hesitation, John held up one armored gauntlet and plunged it down the nozzle, up to the elbow. There was a small click from deep inside the tank.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Even the waves seemed to still for a moment.

"What," came the muffled voice of the Suvian. A low rumble began to fill the air.

Molly had gone for cover the moment the tank had aimed at her partner. She barely managed to dive behind her familiar barrel hiding spot and fold down her ears before a billowing explosion rocked the entire boat. There was a cacophony of wood shattering and metal snapping, and she was bounced around her hiding spot like a stuffie in a washing machine. It was only after the initial echo faded away and reality had stopped shaking that Molly dared to peek over her barrel.

Scraps of metal rained from the sky, and the deck was covered in the glittering, flaming ruins of what once was the Ubertank. A massive, smoldering crater sat straight in the middle of the ironclad ship. Molly thought she could hear water gushing from blasted leaks deep inside the hole. She hoped the ship would at least stay afloat for a few more minutes.

John turned to face her, soot-covered arm still outstretched, the remnants of the tank's cannon covering it like a bracer. The orange light and falling embers from the fires behind him made him look like a wraith. It was a shockingly cinematic scene, all things considered.

“Are you…” Molly coughed to clear her throat. “Are you okay, Mister John?”

John pulled the tank cannon off his arm and let it hit the deck, where it collapsed into scraps of smoking metal on impact. He looked back up and shrugged, content. After all, his job was complete. All of the bits were either dead, overboard, or otherwise unable to fight.

Molly seemed satisfied at this, pulling out her charge list to show to him. She tapped her pen against the paper.

“Well, I double-checked and we’re all good with the bits!” she chirped, putting her list away again. “Didn’t miss a single charge! Now the only thing left to deal with is—”

There was a loud, drawn-out creak. Both Agents turned as a trapdoor behind them, nearly invisible at first due to how it blended in with the planked deck, flipped open. Brock, the lead Suvian, looking groggy from sleep, emerged from belowdecks. A handgun dangled at his side.

“What’s happening here? A party wasn’t on the script…” Then he noticed the mess on the decks. “...What the fuck.”

John fired his rifle, and the Suvian exploded in a spray of glitter.

“Wha - Mister John!” Molly looked at the new stain on the deck, then back to him. “We had unique charges for him! It wasn’t time yet!”

John looked at her. He lowered the still-smoldering barrel of his rifle, letting it point towards the deck. Despite his face being completely hidden behind his visor, he managed to look confused.

“I…” Molly weakly waved her chargelist. “To be honest, I don’t know what to do now—”

A geyser of glittering void erupted from the deck, shooting up into the atmosphere with a tremendous blast that made the air ripple like waves. Molly squeaked and made for her barrel again. John raised his rifle and fired at the geyser, but to no effect. A booming voice blasted through the air, smarmy yet rage-filled and echoing.

“YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS! MY PARTNERS!” It roared, the ship cracking from the force of its shout. “YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!”

The geyser slowed to a halt, its spray of black gunk falling down and condensing, before shifting into a more glittery, ghost-like appearance. Becoming a flash of glitter, the Sue-wraith grabbed John, carried him off the ship and into the sky, back towards Narnian mainland.

Molly was left on a silent ship, only corpses (and a single bit still pinned) surrounding her. Trying to bite back panic, she pulled out her RA, opened a portal, and scrambled through.

Hey, we haven’t seen one of these in a long time! Not a whole lot of comment to make, since it’s largely a legal document, but it feels like a complete one! I especially enjoyed the sections on social disruptions and space-time distortions, since those contained the meat of the canon-specific charges.

Regarding the Department of Records, Accounting, and Tabulation, I don’t know if a new department is necessary there. It’s a great acronym, to be sure, but the duties implied by it are handled by other departments already: the Legal Department covers tabulating charges, the Department of Finances has the accountants, and the archivists in the Department of Personnel keep records. I would say to make it a division instead, but again, its elements are in different departments. Any ideas on tweaking it?

Hope this at least helped with your writer’s block!

—doctorlit is charged with building illegal libraries on campus

Are we doing them this year? I can start the thread if need be.

This has been a gooood chapter, and I looooove that opening scene! I love that Gaunt’s flagrant murders of his neighbors have finally caught up to him, and in a way that can’t just be obliviated away, now that the protests have been broadcast to at least local news stations. And, more generally, the man just deserves to be protested, and his own culture is too cowed and afraid of change to do it. Is that “young man” Ali from ch. 1?

I see Madam Skeeter couldn’t be bothered to identify proper song titles from the Yule Ball! I’m a little shocked the Prophet allowed her to print that “Hermit” title, though at least she’s getting a head start on the homophobic fear-mongering she’ll no doubt engage with in the following decades. I’m afraid I’ve developed a conspiracy theory of my own regarding her, though! During her showdown with Hermione in the Broomsticks, she says she has dirt on a bunch of Ministry officials, which . . . doesn’t really threaten or affect Hermione in any way? Unless Skeeter didn’t mean it as “I have leverage,” but rather as, “these people are more dangerous than you know, so don’t risk rocking the boat.” So: does Skeeter actually want to be elevating Gaunt and tearing down Dumbledore, or is she being blackmailed or otherwise forced to, for fear of what Gaunt might do to her otherwise? I also can’t help but notice that, even though she was present at both the ball and for Harry’s conversation with Dumbledore, she’s only covered the ball itself in this article, despite the fact that bringing Rose to Hogwarts would be much more scandalous. Did she prioritize the ball because it's a current, publicly known event, and is saving the “Harry tried to bring a Muggle to a society ball” for later? Or did she actually choose to protect Harry there? Hm . . .

Perfect immigration metaphor for Muggleborns becoming New Bloods! Immigrants don’t have to give up their language, their skin or hair, or indeed, their family members to move to a new country, so why should Muggleborn kids have to give up their family and hair to be accepted?

On a much more puerile level, perfect portraits fighting metaphor for Harry to explain Mortal Kombat to Ron. ♪Portrait Kombat! Dun dun, dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun dun♪

I never noticed it reading the original series, or watching the film adaptations, but uh. Wow, the prefect bathrooms are basically designed to encourage wasting water, aren’t they? Like, not even a normally sized bathtub, but a whole jacuzzi? Unless Hogwarts is just freakishly dusty, there’s no reason for anyone to use an entire jacuzzi’s worth of water to get clean! Wasteful

Oh, Flutterby pollen smells to Ron like parchment and ink, tee hee? Like, the sorts of things one would find in a library, tee hee, or being used by a person who often frequents libraries, tee hee? I wonder why that would be, tee hee?

Oho, the twins aren’t just suing Bagman, but blackmailing him? I love it! I also love that the Sneakoscopes didn’t activate until after Bagman’s conversation with Crouch, which I take to mean that even though Junior is masquerading as Senior all the time, his responses to Bagman’s wheedling during that conversation were so reasonable and in-character for Senior that the Sneakoscopes couldn’t detect anything wrong there!

Other miscellaneous things I enjoyed:
-Ginny looking at the Scandinavian girls’ Scandinavian arms and thinking, “Yeah, I’ma rassle those, I feel no fear of failure.”
-Skeeter being so prejudiced that she mistook the Goblins Bagman was talking to for students, because Goblins couldn’t possibly be involved with anything of importance, right?
-But most of all, the reconciliation at the end, and the five students all returning to Hogwarts together, including Krum! Everyone can be friends!

—doctorlit would probably get a similar smell to Ron’s from Flutterby pollen, but for a rather different reason

There were multiple clips of I-can't-believe-it's-not-Makes-Things, including several voice lines, so I reckon he's going to be a moderately significant character. This bodes well!

For the PPC, I mean, not for Loki. That guy's doomed.

hS

At the least he doesn't sound not Dafydd, which is about the most I can do; like I said, I'm not much of a one for fan-casting.

(Of course, Dafydd technically has a Welsh accent, but I think speaking Japanese in singsong Welsh mode might break something in the concept of linguistics. I would be fascinated to be proven wrong though!)

hS

I... really should have referenced them for Dawn's pic in Doriathrin Night's Dream, huh. Oops.

hS

I feel like my maths must be off, because that would be more than half my life?? And I'm not old enough to have lived two halves of my life???

The book sounds interesting! I almost certainly haven't met it, my Tolkien linguistics is almost entirely online.

hS

Seriously tho, talking like a pirate is so hard. It's a West Country accent for no obvious reason, with incomprehensible naval slang peppered through it, and sometimes people rattle off whole speeches about loving weddings or being disinclined to acquiesce to your request, and isn't piracy a crime anyway? Why are we acting like these people?

Thankfully he doesn't use a Universal Translator, or I imagine it would be even worse. "Greetings-greetings, land animal who has not had sufficient vitamin C! Tie some ropes together and clean the floors, mischievous domestic canine!"

hS

(No longer Talking Like A Pirate, as we're well past the date now.)

That was a fun Gathering, and I'm sad that the report got blipped; I still have all the photos but I'm not up to rewriting the tale of it.

I do hope to make stories like this fun even if you don't know any of the names, but of course namechecking everyone is a huge bonus. ^_^

hS

Urato and Inasuke take one more gentleman lesson in a TouRabu badfic with an unexpected teacher. This is the penultimate episode of the Pennacook Club Membership arc, so stay tuned for the wrap-up.

...I'm already popping over to the UK twice more this year for Various Shenanigans, and I'd better not push my luck work-wise for more. XD Next year I'd be down, though, if anyone else is.

The head Suvian slammed his hands on his podium a few more times, despite none of his bit audience saying or doing anything without the fic’s instructions. Then he cleared his throat once more and spoke.

"This world is broken and full of weak creatures, letting themselves be ordered around by a tyrant who dares tell them what not to do! We are the heroes they need, and we are the heroes it gets!"

He spread his arms out in a grandiose gesture. No one in the audience reacted except for the Agents - specifically Molly, who wrote down a charge for ‘lies.’

“The world will be free, free to choose for themselves the most rational decisions, to advance civilization to greater heights! We will make our own order, our own rules!”

“And if anyone violates our rights…” The Suvian drew a handgun and fired a shot into the air. “They get what’s coming to them!”

And the trainees cheered in unison, arms pumping down in an eerie, robotic motion.

“...I don’t like this, Mister John.” Molly turned away from the scene and scooted closer to John, something that greatly confused the latter.

Why did she trust him? He did nothing to earn it, as far as he knew. Then again, he thought, it could simply be self-preservation leading her to move closer to the most combat-capable entity in the room. Surely that was a likelier explanation.

What was clear to him, however, was the nature of these creatures. At first, he had been conflicted about these being the targets to kill - they looked like humans (at least most of them), and it had confused him at first.

However, as the scene had gone by, he noticed more and more how unnaturally they moved - or didn’t, for that matter. They spoke in a way that seemed less alive than pre-programmed, and none of the bits did very little without their leader directly commanding them. They weren’t humans at all, merely monsters wearing their skin.

Finally, the scene ended with a booming, mid-chapter author’s note. It screamed:

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: THis is all of the rebels I have for now, but I’m always open for more!!! Just put their name and powers in the comment section and like the fic, and maybe your OC’s will show up in the next chapter! :D :D :D)

By the time the ringing had cleared from the Agents’ ears, the fic’s plot continued. What looked like a vague attempt at a training montage ensued.

John and Molly quietly watched as Brock, lord of the bits, ordered his minions to formation across the bunker floor - then demanded them to do “pushups, situps, and planks.” However, without time specifications, the room immediately descended into chaos. Many of the more lifeless bits blatantly sounded like cardboard as they twisted themselves into inhuman positions trying to do all three at once. The few with the smallest trace of individuality still struggled maneuvering around the flailing of the other bits.

Their Suvian leader didn’t seem to care, only spurring them on further. "Harder, faster! Are you alphas ready to change this world for the better, or are you chuds like those who want to keep us stuck in the past?"

“Why do the Words say they like her?” Molly said, looking concerned. “She’s pretty mean to them.”

John stared at her, silent. Not sure whether the stare was positive or not, Molly stumbled over her words as she continued.

“Do you… have something to say, Mister John?”

More silence. John slightly tilted his head. Unsure what to make of that, Molly quickly glanced at the Words. “Oh, will you look at that? The Suvians are moving!”

And she was right - the horde had formed a solid line and begun to march out the bunker doors. John and Molly hurried to follow them, managing to slip through as the heavy gates closed shut behind them.

Suvians and Agents walked together for a minute or so, cresting a nearby hill - then the world seemed to warp. Molly nearly lost her balance, stumbling into John’s leg for support as suddenly rows of tents appeared in front of them. The Agents found themself in front of an entirely different hill - one that Molly recognized.

“Ooh, Aslan’s Camp!” she squeaked, clasping her paws together. “I’ve visited here before, but it’s so nice to come back to!”

She turned to John, clearly excited. Her tail flicked back and forth, and what looked like tiny stylized stars sparkled around her head. “I hope you don’t mind if I explain! I really like this series, and this is an important place in the lore.”

She took his dead silence and blank stare as an invitation. She cleared her throat, then took a moment to adjust her glasses.

“Okay, here we go!” She pointed a tiny paw towards the camp. John couldn’t tell exactly what she was pointing at. “So you see that big red and yellow tent at the end of the path? That’s where Aslan’s waiting to come out! And the Stone Table… right, that should be a while that way!”

Molly kept talking even as the Suvians marched down the hill before them, towards the camp. She was fully engrossed in her verbal tour of Aslan’s Camp, stubby arms waving as she skipped from one side of the hill to another to view the camp from different angles.

Almost five minutes passed before John straightened up, realizing at some point his head had sagged forward.

“Oh!” Molly seemed to notice his movements, and rubbed a paw against the back of her head. She glanced away, a cartoonishly large sweatdrop appearing by her head. “Sorry if I rambled for too long! Was that too long?”

John considered this for a moment. For the sake of politeness, he decided a simple shake of his head would do.

"Thank you, Mister John!" Molly clapped her tiny paws together. “It’s nice to have someone listen to me.”

John was confused for the umpteenth time that day. Being thanked was a new experience for him (being the only resistance left alive in his home universe didn't help with that), and it caused a foreign feeling to stir in his chest. Not uncomfortable, but foreign. He also had no idea why simply listening merited thanks.

He didn’t get more time to think about it, however. The Suvian brigade had approached Aslan's Camp, lined up behind their leader. Brock, leading the horde as always, slammed a hand onto a suddenly-summoned podium (the same one from the bunker, on closer inspection) and began to speak.

“Aslan!” Brock shouted, heroic tones carrying out and over the air, cutting off the idle rambling of Aslan’s horde. “Your reign of tyranny and bigotry ends here! You and your minions are holding us back from true societal advance! You quash our potential, stifle our rights, and you will be stopped!”

“And if that means killing you or making you scurry off and hide, so be it! Believe me, I couldn’t care less if bigots and their insane beliefs die out. I only care for people.” He waved an arm. All of Aslan’s troops shrank back out of fear.

“So what will it be, lion? Accept truth or die in delusion? Frankly, I couldn’t care about your decision, but I’m letting you choose anyway because I respect freedom.”

John sat in silence, glaring at the Suvian through his visor. This rhetoric vaguely reminded him of the propaganda he had heard from Earth-destroying invaders of his home world, of their call to kill all humans because they believed them meaningless to some grand advance of galactic civilization. Specifically, it brought to mind the Invaders' belief that humans were useless and actively detrimental to keep alive. This was a much different scenario, but there were some parallels. Any reservations he had about harming them faded away into nothing.

Molly’s squeaky voice broke him out of his thoughts. “I feel a little bad, Mister John. You look like you want to do something, right?”

John did, in fact, want to do something. He was actively holding back the urge in him to draw a weapon and blast these ‘Suvians’ on the spot. Parasites, self-absorbed monsters with no other desire than to consume and assimilate — they were exactly like the creatures he was created to kill back on Earth. They looked like humans, but were mere monsters wearing stolen skin. He realized his fingers were tightly clutching the grip of his energy rifle. He loosened the grip.

The movement didn’t escape Molly's eye. “Oh, was that a yes? Perfect, I have just the job for you!”

A jolt of adrenaline ran through John’s body. Was it finally time? He mentally prepared to draw his weapon and start firing.

Molly held out her charge list and pen. “You can try writing charges! We have to write down all the bad things here before we can fix them, you see."

John’s grip loosened immediately. Silently, he re-holstered his rifle. With his free hand, he reached down and plucked up the pen from his lap.

The pen was comically small in his grip, two armored fingers dwarfing the tiny metal stick as he turned it, scrutinizing it from all angles.

"So for instance," Molly continued, "you could write a charge for accusing Aslan of bigotry without evidence, or maybe dehumanization.” She took the charge list and tapped a paw on a blank line to demonstrate.

John continued staring blankly at the pen.

“Um… if you're ready, you can give it a shot!” said Molly in encouragement, holding up the charge list like a makeshift living easel.

John looked at the paper in front of him. He slowly lowered the pen towards the paper.

There was a quiet crack, and John separated his fingers, plastic scraps and drops of ink clinking and drizzling to the floor.

Molly looked considerably more stressed out than when the mission had started. Wiping another oversized sweatdrop off her brow, she reached into her shirt pocket. “Haha… whoops! It’s a good thing I always bring spare equipment with me!”

She pulled out another pen and was about to pass that one out as well. Then she paused, thought about it for a second, and packed it away again, still trying to smile. “On second thought, maybe I can charge after all.”

John handed the chargelist and remnants of the pen back, head slightly bowed. He looked vaguely ashamed.

“It’s okay, Mister John! We all have to start somewhere!” said Molly, even as she pulled a small plastic bag out of her purse to sweep the pen scraps into.

Still trying to wrap his mind around a feeling of unfamiliar embarrassment, John shook his head. He stared at the pen ink running down one of his armored hands.

Molly tried to give him a reassuring look. “It’s fine, I promise! Please don’t be mad at me.”

Thankfully for Molly, a trumpet blast from Aslan's Camp interrupted the conversation. The Lion himself appeared on the crest of the hill, flanked by a ‘Mr. Tummus’ - a mini-dragon, brown-scaled and spouting goat-like horns, who looked terribly confused at what it was supposed to be doing here.

“Who are you intruders who threaten our sacred tradition?” roared Aslan, sounding angry. “You would dare question my rightful authority? You will all die for your impudence!”

“Perish for your sins!” said Mister Tummus. The mini’s voice was the polite, accented tenor of the movie-canon Tumnus. Its single line finished, it flew off the crest of the hill and over the heads of the Suvians. None of them seemed to care as it left the scene.

It made a beeline for the Agents. John was about to draw his rifle when Molly put a paw over his hand. “Don’t worry, Mister John! It’s just a mini! They appear when fics misspell names.”

The mini-dragon coiled itself around John’s armored neck, humming softly like an old microwave. Still suspicious, John raised a hand and lightly pressed a finger to its scales. The mini only hummed louder, pressing its horns up against his chin.

“Aw, I think it likes you,” said Molly. “I’ll get a portal ready! A lot of the time, we send minis to the HQ Adoption Center for the pet-loving residents to adopt. It’s a nice place, really.”

She reached into her purse, pulled out a device, and tapped away for a few seconds. “Sometimes, though, the mini actually belongs to one of those Fanfiction Universities out there, so it can be confusing.” A portal opened up in the air, revealing a large room full of other mini creatures wandering about.

“I’m sure the Center workers can figure that out, though. Here, little dragon! Over here!” Molly held out her paws and made a noise that sounded like a clumsy attempt to click a tongue. Mr. Tummus tilted its head at her and yawned. “Um… Mister John, do you think you could help a bit?”

John complied, reaching to his neck. With careful hands, he uncoiled the mini-dragon from his shoulders and lowered it down to the portal. Mr. Tummus looked through the portal, tongue flicking in and out as it seemed to consider its options. Then it slipped out of John’s hands and scurried through, joining its fellow minis in the crowd.

Molly closed the portal and packed her device away. “Okay, that should do it… are they still arguing, Mister John?”

John gestured at the fic scene, where Aslan was going on about how he would stone the rebels to death as per the ‘old law.’

“Oh, this? Yeah, this is… not really accurate to his canon self. He’s a nice enough lion,” said Molly. “Not tame, but never anything like this, I promise.”

John looked at the arguing characters, then back to his partner, gun still gripped tightly in his hands. His skepticism must have been evident in his body language, because Molly elaborated.

“It’s - it’s not the real him.” She hesitated, trying to figure out the right words. “Here, let me check real quick.” She aimed the CAD at the scene.

[Amogus.]

A large, bright yellow question mark appeared over Molly’s head. “Huh? That can’t be right.” She tapped the screen with her paw a few times.

[Glod, you’re boring. Fine, yes, they’re replaced. All of them.]

The question mark disappeared. “Oh, thank you, Mister CAD!”

[Miss.]

“Miss CAD!” Molly said, not missing a beat.

[Shut up.] And the CAD shut itself off.

“So there you go! Replacements.” Seemingly unfazed, Molly packed the device away and turned to John. “Sometimes canons act out of character because Suvians possess them, sometimes they kidnap them and stick them into plotholes so they can replace them with puppets instead. These guys are the second case.”

Noting John’s silence, she gave him an almost pleading expression. “Am I making sense so far? Do you need me to say that again?”

John shook his head. After hearing the Suvian strategies from his partner, realizing these targets shared more with the Invaders of his home world than the humans they appeared to be, he was starting to get a sense of familiarity back. Back on his ravaged Earth, said Invaders would often wear the rotting bodies of the dead as disguises and attempt (very poorly) to be other survivors, but they were never successful - something was always off their imitations. The little mouse’s words made sense, though he wondered where she got her information from, and how accurate it actually was.

Molly kept going, putting a paw up to an invisible mouth. “Though, for Aslan, it’s always replacements and never possession. I could never figure out why, but at least it’s an easy pattern.”

The one-sided conversation was interrupted by the fic.

“For Nar—” started Aslan before he was cut off.

Brock screamed louder than the lion could ever hope to match.

“FOR A BRIGHTER FUTURE!!!”

With his scream, the world seemed to crumple inward, stretched and distorted scenes flashing by as multiple hours’ worth of battling was compressed into a single sentence. Then everything snapped back to normal, reality wobbling like a rubber band. John took a step back, planting his rifle to the ground for support, while Molly was sent tumbling head over heels across the green.

Aslan lay dead on the ground, along with the bodies of nameless bit ‘followers.’ Around him, the Suvian’s own bits were cheering in robotic unison, pumping their arms up and down like they did in the bunker.

John gestured towards the dead lion corpse, turning a questioning glance to his partner. Molly shakily got to her feet and gave it a glance.

“Don’t worry, he’s still a replacement,” she said, rubbing a sore spot on the back of her head. “We can leave it be.” To double-check, she pulled out the CAD and aimed it at the corpse.

[I literally told you he was a replacement a few minutes ago. You didn’t have to wake me from my beauty sleep for this.]

"Just making sure, sorry!” Molly stuffed the device back into her satchel (with a muffled [I’ll kill you] from the CAD), then looked back to John. “So since it’s a replacement, I think we’ll be fine. It should vanish with the fic when the Suvians are gone, and we can always check if it’s not!”

With that, the Agents turned their attention back to the fic, where the Suvians were celebrating their ‘hard-earned’ victory. They had zero casualties or wounded.

“No tyrant will tell us what to do again! We are free, and now we can change the rules of this world for the better!” The lead Suvian put his heavy biker’s boot on the lion’s head, digging in his heel slightly.

“Well, we can start off with the simple, rational decisions. Round up any survivors - we’ll banish them from this land. We simply can’t tolerate those who align with the old ways of thinking if we are to truly advance.”

“You’re so right, Brock!” Colette swooned, grabbing my arm.

John stared, then slowly reached for his holstered rifle. He paused when Molly scurried over and started tugging at his arm.

“W-woah! Hey, Mister John! Mister John, wait!”

Her tugging didn’t even budge his arm an inch. John was sure that if he were to raise his hand, she’d be pulled off her feet.

“We can’t kill just yet!” She lifted her charge list, tapping at its pages. “We have to read our targets their charges before we act! Plus, we just have to fill out a quota for charges before we can read to begin with!”

John stared. He was unused to restrictions, especially when they came between a parasite and its death. He looked at the monsters before him, watching them gloat over their body counts, then back down to the little mouse pulling on his arm.

He couldn’t remember the last time he let authority prevent him from killing monsters. Granted, this was because when he emerged from his pod everyone else on Earth was dead, but still.

He studied Molly, saw how desperate she looked. She was back to tugging at his armored sleeve, yet another large sweat drop running down the side of her head.

“Mister John, please! It would violate protocol!”

His fingers tightened around the rifle’s grip.

“The Flowers would be so upset with us!”

He raised the rifle, leveling the sights at the lead Suvian’s head.

“Surely you can wait just a few more minutes… right?”

John stopped moving. He sighed, a sound barely audible through his visored helmet. His shoulders sagged, and he lowered his rifle back to his side.

“Oh, thank you, Mister John!” Molly wiped the sweat off her brow, then took a moment to re-adjust her glasses. “It won't be more than a few more minutes, I promise. We should have enough charges by then.”

John nodded. Molly didn’t know whether it was a ‘good’ nod or not, but optimism had her act like it was the former. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Mister John!” she added, just in case, and he simply nodded again.

In the fic, the Suvians began to cheer, drawing the Agents’ attention to them as their leader finished up his speech.

“We still have a few more loose ends to clean up before we can advance though,” he said. He gestured to the side, where an ocean and dock suddenly popped into existence where a stretch of land used to be. “We're going to the Dawn Treader! Prince Caspian represents the same cruel regime Aslan did, so we can’t tolerate his tyranny either!”

“Oh no… wait, Prince Caspian?” Molly pulled out her notepad and wrote down a charge. “That confuses the timeline quite a bit.”

John didn’t know who Prince Caspain was, but judging by his partner’s reaction he could tell this was a problem.

"FOR FREEDOM!” I shouted valiantly. I stood on the stern of my Ironclad Virginia as she sped away from the Narnian shores.

The two Agents watched as what looked like a Civil War-era ship rocketed away into the distance far too quickly to be natural. The hill was now empty, as every Suvian had vanished to appear on the ship’s deck as it left.

“Well, uh…” said Molly. “That’s not good.”

John stared at her in silence. Molly looked up and blinked. She glanced out to sea, then back to John, then back to the sea again. Then she jolted, reaching into her bag.

“Right, we can follow them!” She pulled out the RA and opened up a portal in mid-air. “Come on, through here!”

---

(Author’s Note: Sorry for this being a longer chapter than normal, I just couldn’t find a good place to split this one. Hope you understand.)

"wow" said puffy and ilraen at the same time. "Good fighter!!" Sanji heard and grinned at them before kicking a Fishman in the face!!! Zoro sighed. There's two of them, he thought. But he kind of liked ilraen, because ilraen was really nice and even zoro want immune to people being unrelwntedly nice to him. Even though he tried to be because zoro was TOUGH.

"Get the map!!" Nami yelled a minute later. "The thing in the gold tube!" "Got it" yelled luffy and he streeeeeeeeeeeeeetched out his arm and took it away from the marine who'd just picked it up!! "Gum guuuummm....catch!"

("So this was definitely written by a kid, right?" Dawn said, unable to keep from smiling. "Like, no offense if I'm wrong, but this definitely feels like something my kids would write." She paused. "...hey, Jenni, haven't they all been getting together to watch Netflix recently?"

Jenni stopped reading (and petting Gwilithiel, to an indignant chitter from the gold) and blinked up at her. "...they have." A smile began to tug at her mouth. "You don't think--?"

"The author clearly thinks Ilraen is great," Dawn said, grinning. "Almost as if he's...a favorite uncle?"

Jenni began to laugh, a little ruefully. "So this is what they've been so excited about doing on Seren's tablet lately, hm?" she said, and shook her head. "I guess at least it's unlikely they'll write anything especially scarring..."

Dawn leaned down and put a hand on her shoulder, mock serious. "What if they hit on something scarring by accident? We have to be responsible and keep reading, Jenni. There's no other option. Just think how embarrassing it would be if our kids accidentally scarred Ilraen and we could've stopped it!" She was grinning at the end.

Jenni's serious expression was steadier, though not by very much. "Of course, you're very right. We need to read this all the way through before it gets to Ilraen." She paused, allowing the serious expression to give way to mischief. "I think we need some snacks. Maybe some tea. Are you game?"

Dawn grinned at her. "Reconvene in fifteen minutes?"

Jenni grinned back. "I'll make the tea."

"I'll gather snacks," Dawn promised, and slipped away through a portal with Gwilithiel flying cheerful swoops around her head.)

[So Nesh pointed out that this sounded like the kids might be writing it, and I think that's too adorable to pass up! Also, with apologies to Luffy: autocorrect is not especially fond of his name! Weirdly, it has no real issue with Ilraen. ~Z]

"I'm monkey d puffy," said the boy cheerfully. "I'm going to be kind of the pirates!"

"Oh, I see!" Said ilraen. He rather liked this boy: his attitude was very good natured, and Ilraen thought they might get along well. "How will you do that?" What a strange world he was in.

"Well," said Liffy, "first we're going to find the One Piece!"

("Hang on," Dawn said. She was reading over Jenni's shoulder. "Is that what One Piece is about?"

"Mhm." Jenni scrolled down a bit further, sparing a smile and a scritch for the very pleased gold fire lizard Gwilithiel. "Pirates all the way down..."

"Cool," Dawn said, with feeling, and the two kept reading.)

"So we're going to get there, but first we need this map," Luffy said. "And we've lost it, so--"

"What's the map look like?" Asked olraen. "Maybe I can help."

("It looks like a map, probably," Dawn said. "On the plus side, this looks pretty harmless! Just a lot of minis. I don't see anything that would be upsetting for Ilraen to read yet."

"Better safe than sorry," Jenni said. Her tone warned of knowledge gained through harsh experience. "You never quite know with these. Poor Gerry once read one about himself that was fine - even funny - until he reached the last chapter..."

"Oh, poor Gerry," Dawn said, grimacing. "Okay, let's keep going. Ilraen's a sweetheart; if we're going to screen this for him, I'd feel especially bad if it turned out we missed something awful...")

---

[~Z has been watching the live action One Piece and mostly rather enjoying it, with zero prior knowledge apart from the title name and animation style of the original. The pirates were a surprise!]

Ok I'm trying something new here Which is called ouch painkillers distractions, yes yes? And lowercase name because why not Anyways so yeah, at first I kind of thought you were censoring the story saved then I realized it was all footnotes!! XD awesome m except then I started getting lost so maybe next time if you have so many footnotes your night want to make some labeled with numbers or other symbols or something? Just a thought bc I got really lost by the end and that was sad BC I was enjoying it before that

That's it hope ur doing well dw

[ETA: there was actually formatting in there! XD It even shows up in the editing view! I'm just going to leave it as is for ~realism~ or somesuch, though. ~Z]