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I can’t believe I enjoyed your story earlier if you can’t even appreciate the nuances of hot gay relationships. Like, for reals.

I actually wrote original stories decades ago (and got one SF story published), but the current answer to "Do you write original stories?" is "No" and thus I didn’t get to answer the other questions for "Original Stories". (I didn’t create outlines and didn’t use beta readers then, and I don’t remember much of what I wrote or how much I finished, but there were only two stories I actually dared to show to somebody.)

The long answer to "Do you write fanfiction?" would be "Yes, three very short Harry Potter stories over the last four years, which may not be enough to give valid answers to the fanfiction questions, but I answered anyway."

My answer to "Do you create outlines for your fics?" has always been and still is "No", but thinking about it, I usually take excerpts from the canon scenes I want to use as background, and then write around them, so you might say that J.K. Rowling did the outlines for me.

Over the last few years, I finished everything I started, but that’s not surprising, considering how short my stories are and that I may think about what to write for years, but only actually start writing when I’m sure that I can finish it within a few days.

I don’t feel like writing my annual Harry Potter fanfiction this year, but since I can’t even decide what I want to write, the answer to "How often does writers block hit you while writing fanfics?" is still "Never".

I actually knew about fanfiction long before I discovered the Harry Potter fandom in 2007, but never felt inclined to join a fandom. Thus, the discrepancy between discovering fandom in 2007, but reading fanfiction before 1990.

Apparently I caught a severe case of writers block on getting Permission, and being made a Permission Giver didn’t help at all. (Because I’m now responsible to do it right and write something worthy of the PPC? I have no idea whether this may be the cause.) So, I didn’t create a spin-off yet.

But I did prepare an outline for the one mission I didn’t write yet (as a workshop exercise done long before I got Permission).

I did write non-mission stories that still use the PPC universe as the setting, but all but one (the Friday 13^th event that may or may not have been just a nightmare) are non-canonical writing exercises done before I got permission.

HG

Hope your spin-off will be long and interesting to read.

Also, now fellow knight of Plort, let me give as a gift a self-updating guidebook of all the deathtraps in the multiverse. Throw glitterbags to the Ironic Overpower's nonexistent mercy has never been easier.

I mean, if they were more pragmatic and left the Agents some actual regular sliver of hope for some down time (like a week of vacation each year, for starters), they'd leave them with something to yearn for and soldier on through the madness.

But naaah, gotta work the Agents to the bone and sanity's end, then complain about them keeping snapping when they pretty much use the most destructive policies regarding their employees, all this while they're 'busy' relaxing inside their offic– Oups, you're Security... And actually one from the division backing up agents and the likes, nevermind.

...Yeah, one hour a week guaranteed to do interesting things feels like it woud be nice. This conversation would have probably been going more regularly than this.

(Join the revolution!)

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

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

LET THE PORN COMMENCE!!!

~~~~~

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

To the moon occasionally, even.

Because she was a wizard. 8D

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

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

Yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

((Really, though, in case someone gets the wrong idea: Yeah, this very much isn't consent and it's terrible. Also, I maaaaay have lifted some of those descriptions straight out of Legendary Badfics. Fair warning, I'm planning--hoping?--for the focus on kink above all else to only get worse from here.

--Good Mod Addict, which should surprise almost no one at this point))

First, in response to your note: Okay but no. a) You didn't do that. I got that Ilraen was interested, but not even a hint of curiosity from Nume before the flowers. b) Even if you had, thinking about a thing is not the same as being ready and agreeing to do it. Nobody talked about this beforehand. That ain't consent.

As for the actual contents of the chapter... sigh. As usual, there is potential for good smut here. The characters clearly care about each other, at least, which puts you head and shoulders above some of the reprobates around here. But you've botched it in so many ways by eschewing logic in favor of fetish and choosing your words extremely poorly.

For one thing, Andalite lower bodies are described as deer-like. A logical extrapolation would therefore give Ilraen a deer-like penis, not a giant freaky horse dong. Rather different anatomy there! Much less alarming, not to mention perhaps not goddamn impossible for a first-time unlubed anal penetration.

That's not even getting into what I assume was inspiration from the likes of Bad Dragon, which... I mean, fine? Aliens, who knows, right? But it's a little silly, though. And then you go and add greenish "sweet milk" with magical recharge powers, and I just can't. XD

Also, I have a list of deeply unsexy words that you are never allowed to use in a serious context again, but I don't think I can post them in the comments. Expect a PM from me shortly.

--Lemony

(( I'm not going to message you. You know what you did. {= P

(( And dammit, when I used the words "fine details," that was not a suggestion! {X D

~Neshomeh ))

Well, now you've done a very unclever thing by introducing this "mate or die" thing. First of all, no wonder Omegas are rare if they up and kick the bucket whenever some haughty bastard of an Alpha decides they are not appropriately pleased.

Second, you've killed any chance for real emotional intimacy to develop between the characters if Charlus is driven purely by the instinct to not goddamn die. It's like instant Stockhome Syndrome, just add moondew!

WTF is moondew, anyway? Off-brand Mountain Dew? Does Charlus smell like lemon-lime soda and a basement full of sweaty, desperate nerds?

*snerk* See, I can't even take this seriously anymore. You lose. Good day, sir/madam/starfish.

--Lemony

(( I Googled moondew, just on the principle of knowing what I was talking about. Apparently it's a plant from the Harry Potter video games. How 'bout that. Still sounds silly enough to deserve a little mockery, though. ^_~

(( Oh, and speaking of Stockholm Syndrome, "Thanks! I hate it" refers to Lindsay Ellis' video essay on the live-action Beauty and the Beast. Good stuff; I recommend it. Also her twothree-part breakdown of the Hobbit films.

~Neshomeh ))

Nume would NOT have tried it without that Bleepka!

Is there such a thing as 'sexily girthy', though? I ask purely out of curiosity.

This fic, on the whole, IS sexy - and it's only bestiality if the 'animal' isn't equally sentient, Jess99! Besides, it's also clearly xeno. That overrides!

((This got increasingly badfic-y as it went on, which was hilarious to watch! Also, I may be getting ideas for something unrepentedly badfic-y of my own, now... Marisanual, anyone? >;) ))

You realize that this totally makes Nume a bestiality, right?

Just so you guys know, the author name of this reply is the account of hellomrbassman/ninny4370. I don’t know why there are other accounts with my name, apparently they are come from the same IP address but there’s no proof of that as of yet. Hopefully this doesn’t happen again.

Hey, guys! I finished another part of my fic!! Unfortunately, because of Da Rulez here, I have to link to it instead. Enjoy!

Link is NSFW GDoc

God story, but I thinku should spend more time on describing ur agent an the cut charries and stuff, since the whoel point f missison is 2 help the charries! Since che has all the charges already, we didn' get to see nething!

Also I don'r know this cnaon, so um, s it realla charfe if the 2 charries Suck lyks rn't a ship?

XOXOX

(( I swear to god, that's a natural typo of Dusk's name. {X D Missed the D and hit S, then the c instead of the s. I don't know why that second one happened, but I did it above in "che," too. *shrug!*

~Neshomeh ))

I was very unmotivated this year, I'm afraid. I skipped a bunch of the long-answer questions. It's not like the answers have changed much, if at all. {= )

~Neshomeh

As someone's noted in the replies, 'Personnel' has two Ns. I also note a distressing absence of the Department of Analytical Science in the questions (^_~), and it's probably an idea to remove Alleb from the question she's named in, now that she's not really around.

But thanks for putting this together!

hS

Have one of my own shed feathers and a Party Ball full of Super Mushrooms! The mushrooms really do change your size, so use them wisely!

It's a bit surprising to see the Permission request in the Board post itself rather than in a collection of Google docs, which is what lots of other Boarders have done before, but it doesn't matter because you've got the makings of a great agent team. Nice touch with the re-use of a character from one of your own works that you found to be badly written overall, but with the character in question being still salvageable - something which several of my agents can definitely relate to.

Best of luck with your first mission, and I look forward to reading your future works! :D

((Try this link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AYp-8IB-2LIt5gQdN7b76x6C2C18mSWPTslMhr9Oljk/edit?usp=sharing

For some reason bookmarks are just totally borked for my GDerps, so this links to the whole fic I have written thus far. Same warnings apply.))

((Hi, Ix here. This is where things get bad, so I'll say it now: NSFW, terrible smut, trigger warnings for dubcon, general squickiness, and your general ABO badness. Chapter 3 is here.))

I was really looking forward to your eventual Permission request, and it definitely delivered!

Rasputin Gibbs would have felt a lot better about life if he had known where he was, but the featureless corridors of the PPC headquarters seemed intent on getting him lost. On the plus side, Colonel Bradbury had a seemingly endless supply of anecdotes, so what could have been total boredom had turned into a fairly educational delve into his partner’s psyche.

“So I had about half a minute to create an explanation for the non-existence of the Bureau of Military Acupuncture, and all I could get out of my mouth was ‘503.’ The Policía Militar thug paused in confusion, and this gave me enough time to turn my random utterance into something I could use. So I said I wanted a signed 503 and an initialed 22b or I would court martial the poor schmuck. Now, that was in no way within my power, but I figured that anyone who got sent to deal with stuff this dumb wouldn’t know that.”

At this point Gibbs interrupted him: “Wait, so you just made up a branch of Sanitary and Health Command?”

Bradbury didn’t answer, instead holding up a closed fist in the universal gesture for “stop.” He then turned and whispered to Gibbs: “There’s someone up ahead. I think we have a problem.”

“I see someone,” said Gibbs, “but not the problem.”

Gibbs looked again at the agent approaching them, just to check, but from his limited experience she seemed to be a standard PPC agent: a frazzled-looking human female with glasses.

Bradbury’s voice took on a more urgent tone, his mind buzzing with the application of inapplicable life experience. “We’re about to have authority abused at us.”

Gibbs was about to reply when the human coming towards them noticed the crate Bradbury held, and asked with mild interest: “Running errands?”

Bradbury knew how this would go. In his hind-brain this was 2022, he was a Subteniente being hassled by someone more seasoned, and it wouldn’t end well. The important thing was to confuse the issue.

This line of non-thought led to his next utterance: “Drain cleaner.”

The agent looked at him for a moment, one eyebrow raised: “Then why do they have hand-written labels saying: ‘Colonel Bradbury’s Old White Lightning’?”

Bradbury didn’t even blink. “I’m smuggling it. For the good of society. I’m thwarting the tyrannical excise-man and bringing cheap goods to those who need them.”

The agent’s mild curiosity had turned into severe confusion. “You do realize no government has jurisdiction in HQ, right? There’s no one who can tax goods.”

Bradbury took this curve-ball and, to mix a metaphor, ran with it. “Exactly. I can buy and sell anything here totally duty-free. Why do impede me in my quest? Do you hate the poor? Are you some kind of Communist? Are you some kind of Capitalist?! DO YOU WANT THE POOR TO HAVE MOLDY PLUMBING?!”

Gibbs wondered what it was like to be an awkward twenty-something confronted by an old guy shouting for no reason. It was all he could do not to explode into a pile of laughter, or whatever it was humans said.

Bradbury turned and whispered to Gibbs, total calm in his voice: “On my count, run. One. Two. Three. Now.”

Bradbury dropped the box and ran headlong down the corridor. Gibbs went with the flow, but managed to get out an incongruously cheerful “Bast Chauble!” before he left the bewildered young agent’s hearing range.

After they had gotten themselves even more thoroughly lost, Gibbs turned to Bradbury: “So, in the end, how did that whole Military Acupuncture thing play out?”

Bradbury thought about this.

“Upon reflection, it doesn't seem that important.”

(Words in Spanish were originally italicized.)