Mar 2018 Archive, part a

Salutations! With the Greater Good as my witness I bid all the highest salutations!

Or in other words, I'm shippable. I'm a gangly, pale creature with brown hair, blue eyes, one cataract, and a pair of perpetually crooked glasses. My pronouns are male, and I've absolutely no limits on how I'm shipped.

Can't think of any ships I didn't already mention last year, but I'll check back when I've had more time to think.

Goodness me! Alrighty! I'm in and shippable--although I've been so silent for the past few months, I don't think any of our newbies have even encountered me. Hello to anyone I haven't met yet! No slash or genderbending for me, and please keep it SFA. For any newbies that (for some reason?) want to ship me and haven't encountered that term, SFA is SFW, but more so. Basically, keep it PG, please ^_^

As for the description, I'm female, average height, with dirty blonde hair that sometimes likes to be brown and sometimes likes to be a weird sort of reddish-brown. It curls a bit when it feels kind and gets weird waves when it feels grumpy. I have dark brown eyes, and fairly dark eyebrows that I like to call female-Gandalf brows (cf. the description of Gandalf in the Hobbit).

Also, I'm not quite buff like Agent Alleb (yet) but I'm actually starting to get a bit of definition in my arms! Yay for working out!

I don't have any ships yet. Gotta get back in the shipping mindset; we'll see what I come up with later on.

Also, Larfen, I think I still owe you payback for that me/Marty Robbins fic last year. It's on.

-Alleb

Old beardy-nerdy obsessive nitpicker is all the description you’ll get.

HG

Don't ship me with hS, Neshomeh, Delta Juliette, or Tomash and we're good.

Suggestions: Only two things, and they are A) that I know a LOT about BDSM and B) I really, really, really want a "throbbing manhood". :D

I'm a straight male, but eh. Details.

I've got fluffy brown hair, dull blue eyes, a short rust-colored beard, and and... well... I'm not strictly scrawny any more. I've put on a bit of weight, according to my mother. Not a whole lot, but enough so my ribs aren't visible any more.

O-o-o-kay. *feels the call of shipping masochism* I'll contribute tomorrow.

-Twistey

I'm about 180 cm tall, physically male, Asian, not particularly muscular. My hair is medium length (reaches eyes if not styled), and I wear contacts. Usually wears jeans and an unzipped black or grey hoodie. Shirts are usually in dark colours.

I'm fine with being shipped with anyone.

Go ahead and ship me with any people, software, or other things that seem like they might be funny to ship me with.

For a brief description, I'm male, not quite thin, and I've got short brown hair and thick glasses. For all we know, I'm secretly an AI (which I remember being done last year). I also own a dog collar but no dog ... draw your own vaguely lewd inferences.

Now, the fun part, ship suggestions:
- Calliope/Granz. If you've been in a voice chat with the two of them, you know what's up.
- Granz/Thoth. Since all the other permutations of Cal, Granz, and Thoth have been suggested, and this one's somewhat more plausible.
- ... Cal/Granz/Thoth, because decisions are hard.
- Delta/Ix, because of all the RP they were doing in the Discord before Ix left the chat.
- doctorlit/Skarmory. One's a zookeeper, the other's an intelligent bird, you do the math.
- If he shows up, Katlyn/Avarice - oldest Boarder/newest Boarder
- hS/Katlyn/Novastorme/... - Britship. Featuring copious amount of tea and creative uses for scones.
- Guardsman Tom/Akrinor/Hardic/... - Euroship.
- (Commander) Horvat/Guardsman Tom - Sure, that's BLAMworthy in the Guard, but when did that stop anyone?
- Phobos/Thoth/[people I can't remember] - Surely someone can turn a game of MtG into shipping?
and finally
- Thoth/parentheses - He's a LISPer, this should be obvious.

- Tomash

For appearance, I'm a 190 cm tall, blond, blue-eyed white man, not exactly muscled. I typically wear jeans and T-shirts, though with my screenname I'm wouldn't be surprised if I showed up in Guard Flak armour.
Let's see if anybody cares about those details though.

No limits on who or what I'm willing to be shipped with.

Male, white, short and muscular (but more on the lean side), fluffy brownish hair with a (natural) silver sheen, blue-gray-green eyes. A little stubbly, but not too much. Looks about 16 years old. Usually wears graphic tees or a sweatshirt and jeans.

I'd rather not be shipped with women, thanks. This is one very gay guy. Other than that, feel free to go wild!

I don't really have any suggestions. I mean, I do get stressed a lot, so I guess Hurt/Comfort is quite a possible one, but just do whatever you want to do.

Have fun!

Female, understandably looks about like Dawn McKenna but currently with much shorter hair (it's...about chin length now? Hm. Basically, several feet shorter than Dawn's). Also, glasses. Feel free to make up the type; could be hilarious.

Bonus points for Canadian jokes/cliches; from past experience, there's a maple syrup loving moose living in my back yard back in Canada, and my polar bear army somehow turned into me being the polar bear empress (with no clue what the position entails. Odds are it's purely symbolic and ceremonial). I also might be able to turn into a polar bear or a polar bear made entirely out of fire; I haven't tried it in a while, though, and might be rusty.

Essentially: bonus points for Canadian jokes that get out of hand. I've made plenty of them myself, and they generally get a laugh from me.

Also dressing up as a minstrel for Purim this year. Make of that what you will.

~Z

PS: the Purim party​ RP will be happening this year; I just need a bit of time to set it up, which might take me a few days to get. We'll see.

Again. I'm a male, if you can find the picture from the last London gathering, I'm the tall one.

I am a he. Prefer the company of women, but as this is a ship thread, anything does go. Free reign is given.

Bonus points if you make me laugh.

I'm a he and hetero, but shipfest, so anything goes (unless, very unlikely, I find reasons to object).
I'm about six feet tall, slightly beneath the average weight for a man, got glasses, blue eyes and curly brown hair going on black.

...I am slightly concerned that my phone things "shippable" is a word.

She/her, Aro/ace but here for all the things because shipfest. Tallish, slimmish, blue-gray hair and blue-gray eyes and really enjoys aerials. Is trying to say "oh God" less and "Sweet Athena" more.

Hey, ho, it's me, Larf. You can ship me any which way you want, the more stupid the more better.

As to descriptions of myself, I will leave you only with the hint that my Discord profile picture is of a ham sandwich. Make of that what you will.

Well... Yes. I suppose I'm in. And I also am definitely still a living, breathing person. Definitely. And am not being slowly suffocated by the weight of Life Circumstances. :P

Buuut, anyways. Let's see... For my description: Imagine a human male. There. That is me. I am sure this is all the description anyone could ever ask for. However, if you insist on an alternate one, just imagine a different human (or non-human) male. Because shapeshifting is fun. And who knows, maybe Shipverse!Me can shapeshift anyways.

Let's see... I don't have any particular limits on shipping, and am game for a go with women, although to say that I have a slight preference for men would be an understatement. :P

As for ships... um... I'll get back to you on that. Except... I have one. For now.

Calliope/Thoth, because why not?

So, yes, I am in and super excited for this. Let's get this description rolling!

I'm around five-foot-eight (not short, dang it) with somewhat-wavy hair to my shoulderblades, which actually stick out a little bit, fun fact. Pretty pale skin, seeing as I never go outside if I can help it, plus eyes that are usually hazel-green, though sometimes they shift to hazel-brown. I have no idea why. Given that I'm about ten pounds under at last check, I can safely say I'm Kind Of A Twig.
As for clothes, jeans, tee, and unseasonally warm coat, plus a pair of purple glasses. It's possibly worth noting that I have no idea why everyone else thinks heels are hard to walk in because three-inch stiletto boots are easy as pie to me, though I do sneakers for everyday shenanigans.
For an alternate appearance, add in cat ears and tail, because being a cat is fun.

As for shipping limitations: no bloodplay, no shipping me with my brother Lore, and for the love of the gods no shipping me with a bloody weather pattern. But fruits and fursuits are totally fine.

And, of course... ships. All the ships. manic grinning I'll have to add those in a bit later, but they are coming, mark my words.

(I'm looking at you, Team Prospit. Be prepared.)

Ship me with anyone or anything. There's no limits for me either.

Regarding my appearance: I'm a short, skinny-looking guy with long, thick, blond hair and a reddish goatee; I also crossdress occasionally, so a dress is as fitting as jeans and a shirt.

In for anything, as always. If for some reason you want an accurate description, there's decent pictures here.

hS

A'right. 18 year old white male with some stubble,shortish brown hair, brown eyes with a hint of grey to em. Tall, somewhat stocky. Red scar on back of left hand. Wears glasses with rectangular lenses. Favors khaki cargo pants and t-shirts, occasionally a grey polo shirt if I feel like being more formal. Male pronouns, heterosexual as far as I know, though I don't mind strictly platonic cuddling with others regardless of gender. Assuming I know them well enough.
Don't ship me with Thoth, or Horvat, or Avarice please. And if you want an alternate appearance/avatar to represent me, just use a generic mail-armored dwarf with axe and shield. Or a Dark Angels Company Master from 40k. That's all I think. Have fun?

For a description: Picture a bear. Now take away reason and accountability.

-Phobos

Imagine the anthropomorphic personification of a disinterested sigh. Now give it thick, wavy hair the colour of a dying field mouse and a frankly embarrassing pot belly. You are now in possession of an Scapegrace. Use it wisely, because Lord knows I don't. =]

As for recs, PhobohS and Ixomeh are always good ideas. Also corsets. Corsets work. =]

No limits. None. I'd prefer if you're going to ship me if you'd use they/them, because, well, they're my pronouns.

I am tall, with dirty blond hair (No longer green, sadly.) I'm sort-of skinny and below average weight, and have blue eyes. Nothing unusual, honestly.

I would love to see what people come up with, just don't ship me with Thoth. Other than that, go for it! I look forwards to seeing what pairings get made!

If you actually care to bother with accurate descriptions in something this silly, have the Bath 2009 Gathering (Among Others) Report. It's a fun read and I haven't changed much. {= )

~Neshomeh

Tall, scrawny, brown hair, lots of tattoos and piercings.

May I also submit (should Nesh opt in) Neshomeh/Thoth in recognition of their first mission together?

Right! Uh... as for limits, please don't ship me with Horvat or Grundleplith. Beyond that, I'm open to anything. Not a TON of suggestions, I'm interested to see what you guys come up with.

As for descriptions, IRL I'm a somewhat overweight guy of average height. I have brown hair of varying degrees of curliness and a consistently high level of messiness. I should probably shave more, because the beginnings of what might someday be a beard are growing. I have brown eyes, and sometimes wear glasses.

As is traditional, feel free to totally ignore this, and give me long flowing blond hair or whatever.

If you want suggestions for completely inaccurate descriptions of me to use, I actually can help you there too! Some people like to depict me as a human with a bird head (as it is supposed to be for the god I named myself as). Some people also like to give me wings. I dunno how that started.

Also, Tomash suggested depicting me as a Space Marine a while back, so that's an option as well. Obviously, since it's the shipfest, you may want to ignore various more inconvenient aspects of this.

Cheers!

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.

I've checked the board archives, and I can't find any posts by you. Who are you?

I don't recognize your screen name. Do we know you?

And I have to ask, if you're not interested in the PPC, what on Earth brought you to the PPC Posting Board in the first place?

~Neshomeh

And have a must-stay-within-PPC-territory Sindarin translation of Mist: i-Pharf Étrus.

Please have a pot of black-hole coffee.

Have some popcorn and a joystick mouse!

Have one of my own shed feathers and a complimentary kit of Spikes!

Welcome to the Board! Here, have some chocolate and enjoy your stay!

Salutations! Have a half-kilo of lembas and a laspistol.

I've seen your username on the wiki, so that was familiar to me. I'm Twistey, an approaching-1-year-bie who doesn't have a Wikia account yet but occasionally edits the Plort wiki. I have lots of fandoms and some original stuff.

Besides your username, I don't know much about you. What brought you to the Board? Etc.

As your... uh, came-to-the-Board-bie gift? Yeah. Take this huge pack of green LED lights. I've found they're a big help if you're looking to attract hopeless dreamers to you for whatever reason. Maybe preach them a sermon on the virtues of goodfic or whatever.

Nice to meet you! Welcome to the Board!

-Twistey

Nice to see you on the Board at last! Have a fresh bar of Swiss bleepolate as my first Welcome Gift in, um, probably too long. What brought you to the PPC in the first place? And what are some of your favorite/primary movies, games, and animations?

~Z, who should probably now go welcome all the other newbies on this page and will hopefully manage it before exhaustion sets in

PS: not sure we've ever interacted there, actually, but I'm DawnFire360 on the wiki.

Also have must-not-enter-word-worlds Sindarin dubs of season 6 of Lobor Nîn Bîn: Gwend Nâ Angol.

(If I messed up the Sindarin, someone please correct it.)

Has it really only been two years? Feels like it was only yesterday.

*showers with fudge sauce*

This might be the time for me to bring Nita (from Young Wizards) over to this setting, unless anyone objects.

I highly look forward to this either way!

*lifts up drink* I'm Twistey.

Nice to meet you. Welcome back.

-Twistey

Here's one other (now older) newbie you have missed. Please have this bag of black-hole chocolates

Welcome back!

I do recognize your username, so welcome back!

If it’s been four years—I only just celebrated my fourth Boardiversary—you might’ve last seen me under the name RinaAndRanda. (Wow, it’s been a while since then.)

Have a plate of SPaGhetti!

Always nice to see returnbies

There's been a lot of missions, and a lot of newbies. I'd recommend hopping onto the discord server, as it is pretty active nowadays, with a lot of just fun, random chatter.

Big regret. I couldn’t get through the disclaimer. No one deserves to read that.

It was so horrible, the contents didn't even register in my brain until later. I don't think it is a must to spork though; not many people can stomach that particular fic. Reading it will probably cause some lasting brain damage.

Or a title very similar to that. It wouldn't all fit. Spoilers for pretty much the entire Kingdom Hearts series. I’m specifically looking at Kingdom Hearts χ Back Cover and Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep -A fragmentary passage-. Kingdom Hearts 3D: Dream Drop Distance was also included on the disc, but I had previously played that on 3DS.

Kingdom Hearts χ Back Cover
This is a movie detailing the very earliest parts of the KH timeline. I hadn’t played the mobile phone game it was based on, so it was wholly new information to me.

At the outset of the film, the main focus for me was gleaning what info I could about the details the Master of Masters had left his six apprentices. I was put pretty quickly ill at ease by the slightly manic and aloof mannerisms of the Master—his voice actor did an incredible job of toeing the line between clearly lying scheming and questionably real goofiness—and by the suspicions that were quickly piling up between the five active apprentices. For a while, I did get suckered into thinking that one of them was a traitor—I was suspecting either Jaguar Mask Boy What Investigates Mysteries or Unicorn Mask Man What Is the Leader—but at the point it finally revealed that the info Jaguar Mask had was not taken by him to hide his own treachery, but had been given to him by the Master to ferret out treachery, that I really figured out what was going on. The Master had set them all up to be suspicious of each other. Not only did he suspect that the prophesied Keyblade War couldn’t be prevented, as he had said at the beginning of the movie, but he was actively trying to cause it.

As riveting as it was up to that point, things got even more ridiculous with the final scene. I had been questioning how the Master had gotten a book that foretold the entire future. The fact that it told of the Keyblade War gave it at least some credence, since we know that event took place in KH history. But the revelation that the Master himself wrote it turns everything on its head, because now we’re dealing with an in-universe unreliable narrator: either the foretold traitor incident was made up wholesale to sow distrust among his apprentices, or he was simply writing of his own betrayal of them at the point in history when it would actually manifest consequences. The fact that the eye symbol we’ve been seeing on various weapons throughout the entire series has actually been an augury to spy on the future all along was a little shocking, as it had seemed like nothing but a decorative motif up to this point. It also, however, makes me question where the writers are actually going with this. What’s the implication, if any, that someone who presumably died over nine hundred years in the past has been spying on the events of the rest of the series? Is it simply to confirm that the “seven lights vs. thirteen darknesses” prophecy has merit? Is the Master going to have some influence on Kingdom Hearts III, despite having lived a thousand years previous? Are they setting up a future plot line, since KH3 is said to be the end of the “Xehanort saga,” but not the end of the series as a whole?

Despite all the questions it opens up, it was a good movie. Using the animal masks was smart, as it makes it a lot easier to keep track of the characters, and they all had stupid, stupid names. The voice actors were all good choices who suited their roles well.

Kingdom Hearts 0.2 Birth by Sleep -A fragmentary passage-
Aqua is one of my favorite characters in the series, so getting a solo adventure to herself, even if it wasn’t quite a full-length game, is most excellent. I’m amused by the fact that it starts her out at level 50, reflecting all her experiences in her original game. Due to the (mostly) lack of other actual characters in the Realm of Darkness, the programmers had no humanoid villains to use as enemies (other than Aqua’s own reflection in the Magic Mirror), but they did a good job of designing all the Heartless to be threatening enough to require you to stay on your toes in every fight. Heck, even the familiar Darkside boss, from the original KH, gets quite a bit of presence as they lurk in the background of the Enchanted Dominion area. And I never would have guessed that throwing a bunch of basic Shadows into a pile and calling it a boss would be very threatening, but man, that final boss was thrilling as heck.

And few characters also means few allies to converse with, but the writers and Aqua’s voice actor did a good job of expressing her slow descent into hopelessness through the infrequent moments when Aqua speaks or thinks to herself. It’s also heartbreaking when she finally meets Mickey near the end of the game, and learns she’s been trapped in the Realm for nearly a decade. While her despair throughout the game was realistic in her circumstances, it felt really good for her older confidence and drive to come back at the end. I also like, though, that the incident with her reflection made her realize that her heart was vulnerable to darkness as well. Aqua had some moral absoluteness issues in her original appearance (willing to attack Cinderella’s wicked stepfamily, for example), and it implied that she was unable to sense the darkness-to-light ratio in people she had spent a lot of time and around and was used to, presumably including herself. I’ve always, therefore, assumed that Aqua assumed she had a heart of pure light, even though canonically that’s only possible for Ventus and the Princesses of Heart. So I do think it’s important for her character going forward that she recognized even her heart had aspects that the forces of darkness could overpower.

I feel like I should have seen it coming earlier than I did, but it was still a very fun surprise when the plot went full Rogue One and bumped up against the ending of the original KH. It’s awesome actually getting to see what Mickey was up to while he was offscreen, and awesome to get some limited control on a real Destiny Islands map once again, rather than just the Sora’s memory version or the data version. It’s maybe a little silly in retrospect that Riku somehow didn’t notice all the commotion behind him while he was running towards the door, and I think the timing is a little off between Riku reaching the door and Mickey appearing, but whatever. As an Aqua fan, I endorse retconning things to let her have a hand in the initial game’s victory.

And I am very excited for KH3 now, and can’t wait to see how this initial storyline gets tied up.

—doctorlit 4D: sequel prequel midquel sidequel ~~Poetic Emotional Metaphor in Nongrammatical Punctuation~~ HD Cinematic: Electric Boogaloo Z: The Rebootening

"Only your heart is hollow enough to be a spoiler." "Only your heart is hollow enough to be a spoiler." "Only your heart is hollow enough to be a spoiler.”

Author's Note: This kept getting longer and longer. I think I may eventually expand this into a longer interlude, but for now, I just want to post what I have. I'm falling disastrously far behind on free time stuff this week. Unbetad.

"Coming Knocking"
As Jim Gardener was entering the shed outside to talk to the living batteries imprisoned there, a thin blue portal opened in Bobbi Anderson's kitchen. Agent Doc slid through quickly, his hand already on the button to punch it closed once he was through. For safety's sake, he had first portaled to one of the dead worlds touched by Orannis in the Old Kingdom universe before coming here. He would go through a different one on the back to HQ. Those planets no longer had any atmosphere; the electromagnetic particles that slipped through the portals would disperse harmlessly into the vaccuum, and only a very insignificant number of the molecules would follow him back home.

Hopefully. The fewer the better.

Doc had set the portal into the kitchen to be as far away from Gardener as he could be, just in case he had noticed the flash of blue. This was no fanfiction; Doc was now right in the canon setting, and there was no room to screw up, no option of letting events be disrupted.

The drawback to starting in the kitchen, however, was that Doc got a much too close-up view of the body that had once belonged to Bobbi Anderson. The body, burned and bloody thanks to Jim Gardener’s actions not long before, that clearly hadn't been human for quite some time now.

Reading King's descriptions of a Tommyknocker didn't do any justice to seeing one in the translucent flesh. Doc gasped, but then mentally reprimanded himself for doing so. The oxygen tank strapped around his back wouldn't last forever, and he had needed it before even getting here, in the airless world destroyed by Orannis. Doc hurried around the body and out of the kitchen.

In Bobbi's living room, Doc forced himself to ignore the various machines and gadgets Bobbi had installed under the influence of the Tommyknocker-mind that had invaded hers. Despite being cobbled together from batteries and eighties technology, their undeniably futuristic nature made for a weird contrast with the homey wooden construction of the living room, and its worn-out couch.

It was the desk against one wall that Doc sought. What looked like an old-fashioned typewriter sat there; it only looked that way, because anyone with a Tommyknocker's telepathy could run it without touching the keys. How far away had Bobbi said she could still use it? Five miles?

But thinking of that distance reminded Doc of the other time limit he had to keep in mind. Long before his oxygen ran out, nearly every Tommyknocker in Haven would be bearing down on this farm, having felt Bobbi's psychic screaming when Gard murdered her. Not long after, this house would be going up in flames. And that was why he had come, to rescue . . .

There. Next to the typewriter. The Buffalo Soldiers. Bobbi Anderson's final novel, written while she piloted a levitating piece of construction equipment in the forest behind her house, excavating a flying saucer.

The unpublished
unbetad
manuscript sat there, a stack of computer paper almost as thick as Doc's palms. He picked up the pile and carefully wedged it under his arm. He was terrified of the prospect of even one precious page slipping out of his grip, but he wanted the manuscript already in his hands when he opened the portal. The fewer molecules of this polluted air that followed him through, the better.

Which is why he was so distracted by the two sounds that started as he got the pages firmly and lovingly nestled into the crook of his arm. One was a sputtering old truck engine. Freeman Moss, the first of the former humans-turned Tommyknocker who would come to attack Gardener, had already arrived, much faster than Doc had expected. The fire would be catching soon.

The second was a female voice in Doc's head that said, Honestly, I don't know that it's worth saving.

Doc froze in place, and felt a chill creep up and down his spine. He thought of all the things that might have gone wrong.

A leak in the air pack somewhere I've been breathing the air this whole time and now I'm "becoming" one of them I can never go back to HQ now—

Hold on, there, admonished the voice. It's not you, and it's not them, this is just me. The old and unimproved, as Gard would say.

Then, Freeman Moss's mental voice interrupted, broadcasting to Gardener outside: Looks like Bobbi put at least one good one into you, you snake. It really was close to hearing someone talk, that Tommyknocker telepathy. Loud, and impossible to ignore. Different from hearing an Andalite's thought-speech, and different from the thoughts of Bobbi's ghost just now.

A ghost? I don't know about that, kid. There's been a lot of weird mind stuff going on in this town lately—although I suspect you know all about that, somehow. I think being psychic these last few months has let my mind last a little longer than my brain, if you can dig it. And I've got to tell ya, it's real good to think for myself again.

Doc mumbled around the mouthpiece of his breathing apparatus; really, he didn't know what to say. Bobbi's ghost—or at least, what he had thought of as her ghost while he had been reading—had indeed appeared to keep Gardener safe a couple of times right at the end of the novel, before eventually fading away. But Doc wasn't prepared to encounter her like this. And without a physical body, the neuralyzer Doc had brought along just in case wasn't going to accomplish anything.

I didn’t quite catch that. I'm not as good at reading minds as I was an hour ago, and that hick yelling at Gard out there doesn't help. But I think I got the jist of it. You didn't want anyone seeing you, and you think I'm trouble now. Well, don't sweat it, all right? I have a feeling I'm not going to be around much longer—wouldn't exactly want this to be a permanent set-up, anyway. All I care about now is Gard. But listen: that novel you got there? That’s not mine. I didn’t write it. The Tommyknockers did. The old and unimproved Bobbi Anderson never could have written anything that good, especially not in three weeks.

As Doc mulled over her words, a green light bloomed out in the dooryard. The light was bright, but the green was a sick and dirty one, and Doc closed his eyes against it. Soon after, he flinched and hugged The Buffalo Soldiers to his chest as Freeman Moss’s mental screams slammed into him. Straining to focus on his words against the not-quite-a-sound, Doc concentrated on his thoughts, trying to make them as clear as possible for Bobbi. That’s bullcrap, Mrs. Anderson, and you know it! The Tommyknocker that was in your body admitted it! They can make things work, but they don’t understand why things work. They’re only intelligent, not smart. They ran this entire town on batteries! You think creatures like that could write an entire novel? They aren’t capable of creativity, Mrs. Anderson. That was you. Freeman’s screams finally died down, as did the green light outside. Doc relaxed and thought his words more calmly. It was you. The Tommyknockers may have made the telepathic typewriter, they may have buzzed your brain to make you work yourself to death, but they couldn’t have created a story. Only you could have done this. He held the manuscript out in both hands, displaying the thickness—not that he had any clue where Bobbi actually was, so to speak. This right here is Roberta Anderson. And I’m here to make sure it survives this day.

Outside, the fuel tank of Bobbi’s truck exploded. It wouldn’t be long now.

Well, all right, then. You do whatever you want. But . . . just make sure, if it does get published, you keep that dedication page intact. He’s been a good friend to me. I’m going after him now, see if I can’t still be some kind of friend to him.

You’ve got it, Doc said. But somehow, he knew that whatever part of Bobbi Anderson he had speaking with was no longer there to hear it.

Next, it was Freeman’s truck’s turn to blow. Bits of flaming debris began to drift against the front of the house, and through the open door.

Doc carefully settled the manuscript into the crook of his arm again, then he took an unexpectedly ragged breath and frowned. I wasn’t supposed to stop for a chat, he thought. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out, and they gave me just enough oxygen for that..

He moved away from the front door. A couple of objects in the living room had already ignited. His eyes focused on the RA, he very carefully and deliberately typed in the coordinates to the second of Orannis’s victims, despite his breathing growing more difficult. There was no time for errors now. A thin portal edged open. He slid through and immediately closed it, cutting himself off from Haven’s polluted air for, he hoped, the last time in his PPC career.

This world looked identical to Orannis’s other victim Doc had passed through on the way to the Stephen King world. The air back in Haven was toxic, and would have killed Doc on the spot if he had breathed much at all. But here, there was no atmosphere at all, and the danger of the oxygen tank running out was just as real. Still, Doc trekked across the dead world, getting as far away as he could from the spot where he had opened the portal out of Haven. The fewer molecules of Haven air that followed him back to HQ, the better for everyone.

He marched across that rock, listening to his breathing grow more and more strained as the tank’s supply grew thin. He already had the RA set to portal back to Medical Research’s quarantine room. Once Doc took his first completely empty breath, he clicked it open and slid through, then closed it. Dizziness was just beginning to cloud his mind as he yanked the breather out of his mouth. He drew in a full and wonderful breath.

He knew the MRD scientists would already be remotely monitoring the room’s atmosphere, and Doc’s own biology, for contamination. That was fine. He could wait. He had a way to pass the time. He lay down on the generic floor and set The Buffalo Soldiers down, neatly patting the edges of the stack until all the papers were perfectly squared. He turned the title page over and laid it face down next to the rest of the pile. He then did the same with the dedication page, which read so appropriately:

For Gard, who’s always there when I need him.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope this doesn't reek too much of "PPC agent chumming it up with a canon character." When I got the idea for this, I was expecting it to be much shorter, but I just kept uncovering more as I wrote. Bobbi's "ghost" or whatever does vanish from the narrative soon after the point in time when this story takes place, so I don't think the lack of neuralyzation is an issue. The Buffalo Soldiers is of course destined for la Musée des Univers Perdus. (I know it's not from a lost civilization, but it is lost, eh?) The novel's dedication is taken directly from the narrative in The Tommyknockers.

—doctorlit

In an interview with Rolling Stone, Stephen King said of The Tommyknockers:

I've thought about it a lot lately and said to myself, "There's really a good book in here, underneath all the sort of spurious energy that cocaine provides, and I ought to go back." The book is about 700 pages long, and I'm thinking, "There's probably a good 350-page novel in there."

Here is the full interview for those interested:
https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/features/stephen-king-the-rolling-stone-interview-20141031

Usually, when I try to apply the color pie to non-Magic characters, I end up going either monocolor or two-colored. I think that's because I've been looking more at the themes presented by such characters than trying to look at their underlying motivations.

I'll try to use your method for a few of my characters and aim for three colors, but I'm not sure I'll be as analytical as you.

Doc
I think I can get Doc pretty well, since he's still largely me. Primary color is absolutely white, and for a different reason than I've seen any other character in this thread be pegged as white. The saying goes "you're either a leader or a follower," and Doc and I are followers, hands-down. Referring to myself as a sidekick is a running gag at work, and I often go in early/stay late to do extra work, because to my mind, my time is spent better on the animals at the zoo than on myself; I am their servant. Translating this to Doc, I feel that he sees himself as servant to all the worlds under his protection, and doesn't have as much motivation to go out into HQ and spend time on anything other researching new canons.

But of course, Doc's love of books also has an element of greed and obsession to it. While cards themed with greed tend to be black cards in Magic, I feel that Doc's tendency to fly into a rage when books are threatened, coupled with the servanthood attitude from his white slice of the pie, which makes the books themselves his focus, make this attribute more red for him than black.

The tertiary color is where Doc and I diverge. I think Doc's tertiary is green. This mostly comes from the manner in which the both of us prefer to read: very slowly, savoring each sentence, and allowing the story to unfold itself at its own pace, rather than hurrying through and skimming. My full time+ job sometimes forces me to forego reading the way I like, during lunch breaks and such, but Doc is able to read my original, green way. (I think my "tertiary" has split into a tie between green and blue, since my job requires me to be proactive in planning and problem solving.)

So Doc is WRG.

Vania
Vania is probably going to be the hardest for me, if only because of the spoilers. Looking at her as I picture her base state, before she was recruited to the PPC, she was very friendly and outgoing, participating in campus activities and trying to get along with everyone. This mostly sounds white, but there's also an element of recklessness and jumping to snap decisions in her character. I think I'm going to cheat and say her primary is a relatively even split between red and white.

Tertiary is a bit hard. Her narrative has had a small element of showing people the ropes in a new situation. I think that would be blue rather than green, though I'm not entirely certain. Although I just noticed she's very near to becoming the same colors as Doc, so let's go with blue, but a very small blue.

Vania is WRu.

Paul
aka, the flashback character no one remembers or cares about. He does exist, though, in some of PoorCynic's writing exercises, here and here, if you scroll down to "2. Responding to criticism . . ." in the first link.

Since he's flashback-only, and was basically just a past antagonist to Vania, I very intentionally designed Paul to be Not Nice. That second prompt seems to show him caring for his Pokémon, but he's ultimately just acting that way because he thinks it will make them grow stronger, faster. (Didn't reallt write it that well, in retrospect.) It's the same rote, empty act as giving your Pokémon a haircut in the games to increase their Friendship stat by 1: it represents care and attention, but is really nothing more than a game mechanic. Paul wants to make his Pokémon powerful, he single-minded about that goal, and he doesn't want others controlling his life. Paul's primary color is easily black.

Even in the PPC, where he has actual, living Pokémon instead of game data, and can physically go to the Pokémon universe, Paul still looks at those things in terms of stats and numbers and strategy guides, because those are things he can know in his head, without being distracted by the open-ended randomness of the organic world. There's no subjectivity in his charge lists, either; there's only right and wrong. Paul is confident he knows which is which, and dictates it to the badfic accordingly. Paul's secondary color is blue.

For tertiary, weirdly, I think it's actually green. Even though Paul's care for his Pokémon is largely arbitrary, the fact that he's putting that time in, rather than pumping them full of Rare Candies to get them fully evolved as soon as possible, is an aspect of green. He's letting the Pokémon grow on their own time, getting them experience points and effort values bit by bit as he battles Sue trainers. (Which I just remembered is outlawed . . . in the modern setting . . . maybe Paul's screwing around back in the day is the reason for that rule existing now?)

Paul is BUG. Though he has no Bug-types.

—doctorlit realizes it will be hard for anyone else to debate his characters when he has published so little material

Richard Legard: White/Blue/Red. Richard like the idea of peace, moral and just good, however... While we're not on the scale of Notary's 'White is pure Order' there is the downside he's also a rather passive streak there, letting himself follow the order and, more often than not, the logic, the facts and his head rather than guts.

Yet, deep down he's emotionally invested behind the passivity and the intellect, and would like to express this more. To steal from oter systems, his behaviour can lead him to Lawful Neutral, but deep down he craves the idea of being Chaotic Good... Provided his worldviews and ideals aren't shattered first.

Marina Nicodelli: White/Black/Red. Marina is less about 'good' as order, but she would very much like to see a world of peace and ione of rules followed... Except of course reality doesn't work that way. The world is unfair, and sometimes enforcing some form of order requires to break some rules... So be it, be she's very much not letting the means take the lead on the ends, some rules aren't escapable.

However, for all the cynism and the order, she will react strongly to any topic sensitive to her. And while she harbors some curiosity about other magics, deep down her response to it is rather emotional, with the discovery of the unknown... provided the unknown don't break the rules she holds dear or gives answers she dislikes. Moreover, there's the fact she awaits for the day she can leave the PPC behind, in no small part because of the loved ones she left behind.

Dafydd is a person of deep contrasts. His primary is obviously red - he's an impulsive individualist, and also a pyro. Secondary has to be his arrogance - as a Feanorion, he's very sure he's better than everyone. I think that's black. But underneath, he's very much a traditionalist - he gets twitchy when he's not able to do elven things. So that makes him green.

Agent Kaitlyn is also primarily red, but in a different way - she's so bouncy that she sees all of life as an adventure. Secondarily, I think she's white - partly because she Just Wants Everyone To Get Along, but also because she is at heart a rule-follower - she actually requisitioned a chair for herself, rather than stealing one! Tertiary... I'm not sure she has one; blue, if anything, because she is pretty smart.

Morgan is primarily white. She sees herself as a creature of order, and tries to get people to rally to the cause. (This has on at least one occasion led her to conquer all of reality, but, y'know, it happens.) Backing that up is her blue character, as someone who will plan herself into the ground if given the chance. But... buried under all that is a fiery strain of red, which tends to lead her to wild improvising and occasional explosions.

I'm having trouble with Selene. I think her primary might be green, odd though that sounds - she's devoting a lot of energy to not rocking the boat, which is a sort of twisted version of green. Under that she's definitely red, being a vampire who is driven by her instincts if not careful. And third? ... I don't think she has one; it would be red again, because under all the above she's a fragile person who basically just wants a friend. That red is doing double service in two very different aspects.

hS

Wobbles the Clown: WHITE/RED/GREEN
Primary: White. Wobbles is someone who wants people to be happy. It's the core of her being. Helping people be happy, putting things in place so that people who aren't happy can become happy, these are things she views as the highest good. 'S'why she tried out for the Department of Angst before being shoved into Floaters.
Secondary: Red. Wobbles is very much an emotionally driven person - and it's here that we see the slightly darker side of that. See, Wobbles abhors negative emotions (classic Whovians may recall the Happiness Patrol) and does everything in her power to defy and diminish them, regardless of how healthy that may be in the long run. It's emotional freedom, but only the freedom to feel certain emotions, which is why she's only a secondary Red and not a primary.
Tertiary: Green. It was a struggle as to which of these went first, but I decided to put Red as having precedence over Green despite her enforced connection to the natural world (or rather, her enforced disavowal of modern technology). Indeed, it might be because it's so forced; it's not so much a part of her psyche as it is a part of her physiology. Hroa rather than fear, as the elves say.

The Fifth Notary: WHITE/BLACK/BLUE
Primary: White: This is an entirely different kind of White to Wobbles. The Notary craves structure more than anything else, a system of rules and regulations that govern everything from Brownian motion in a teacup to the dance of galactic clusters. This basic, intrinsic need for order above all else makes her White alignment somewhat darker than others, but ho hum. Remember, to a non-believer, even the holiest angel is just another monster.
Secondary: Black: Of course, as far as the Notary's concerned, the whole point of a system is to learn how to rig it in your favour. This is the central conflict in her psyche; she craves order and rules, but chafes against their restrictions when they get in the way of what she actually wants.
Tertiary: Blue: In order to get ahead in a system governed by rules, you have to understand them; in order to understand them, you have to be smart in a lot of different ways. The Notary embodies this to an extent; a very detail-oriented person with an axe to grind against improperly-completed forms. Again, it was a struggle as to which of these was the stronger attribute.

Lola McCandless: BLUE/WHITE/RED
Primary: Blue: When it comes to field command, you need command intelligence. You need to have a precise and in-depth knowledge of tactics and logistics, of what you can get and when it will get there, of what you have to hand and who you have by your side. She didn't have it to begin with, but having horrible alien space thingies hurl plasma at your face tends to teach you that fairly fast.
Secondary: White: Of course, being at the top of the heap means you have to have a heap to be on top of, and that means at least a little bit of White being involved in your psychological makeup. Lola's view of the chain of command is that it works because the higher-ups make it work, and that it has to be there in order for anything to function on a logistical level. From chaos comes death, in her view and her experience. XCOM is not a nice place, especially when crossed over with everything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to Captain Scarlet.
Tertiary: Red: Part of being a good commander in the field, however, is being flexible. If you overplan, you can construct something overcomplicated and that leads to failure and the deaths of good men and women under your command. This kind of lateral thinking is what allows for her to keep fighting and get people out alive even when the plan's gone to hell and the Sectopods are stomping towards you like a drunken stepdad taking off his belt. It needs a level of emotional intelligence and knowledge of morale, and that's a pretty Red characteristic if ever there was one. =]

Lessee here...

Thoth: U/R/B. I mean, blue is the primary, that doesn't take any explanation a all. His dubious moral compass and fundamental self-interest make black another obvious choice. However, beneath that most readily observable surface, Thoth has a deep desire for freedom — it's part of what drove him to the PPC to begin with. And while his history has made it rare for him to form bonds (and his relative lack of emoting makes it hard for many to even attempt it) when he does, they go fairly deep. He's willing to go pretty far for something or someone he values.

Tom: R/U/W. Tom tends to run on emotions. He'll do things because he thinks it's right, or funny, or wasn't actually thinking at all but rationalized it later. However, as a person who worked with long chains of abstract logic all day, he's got a lot of blue to his outlook as well: valuing knowledge and self-improvement, and perfection in his work (because the alternative is demons everywhere). Despite all of this, Tom believes in the group over the individual (hard not to, given what the Laundryverse is like), and has a very solid sense of right and wrong beneath everything.

Now, let's see how much I remember. {= D Starting with who I've been thinking about the most recently:

Derik: Red/White/Black. You, and he himself, would probably think the White would come first, what with how much he cares about order, protection, justice, and all that good stuff. However, it's his emotions that make him go, and sometimes go too far, which is what Red is all about. And occasionally, the influence of Black makes him pretty dang scary.

Gall: Red again, but this time Red/Green. Green thinks what it has is pretty great, and it can always get bigger and better. If you mess with it, it will unleash the wrath of nature on you. Gall knows she's pretty great, and if you mess with her, she will unleash the wrath of a Monstrous Nightmare on you. Or she'll do whatever because she feels like it, because Red. Life's an adventure, yo! (I understand Red/Green is the color pair of dragons in MTG, so yeah, go figure.)

Nume: Primary Blue, because Blue is all about the mind, knowledge, and memory. Secondary White, because rules, order, and protection. Nume does what he does because he knows he's the smartest man in the room, and he knows he's right, and he doesn't need anybody else's approval, dammit.

Ilraen: Yes, he's Blue. But it's not his primary. Ilraen is actually doing the White/Red thing properly: doing the Right Thing because it is Right, and it Feels Good to Do Good, and you Don't Mess With Family. He's all heart—but with a side of wicked smart that will come up and catch you by surprise if you're not paying attention, which is where the tertiary Blue comes in. Plus he likes tinkering with technology. So, White/Red/Blue.

Jenni: ... I don't even know, to be honest. Like, I'd think White/Green, maybe White/Green/Red, but it's not right. She's not really about the group (Green/White is ALL about the group), she's about individuals and feelings and relationships and family (Red), and being incredibly psychic (Blue) but keeping it in check because morals and rules (White), and basically just making things better (also Blue?). Maybe she's our actual Red/White/Blue character? Phobos, help me out!

~Neshomeh

Brightbeard - Brightbeard likes everything to be neat, orderly, and structured. This puts him solidly in White, as does his strong moral compass. He also values tradition, community, and growth, which makes his second color Green. I can't really get a read on a third color, so White-Green will have to work.

Barid - Barid is kind of ruled by his emotions and he's a bit of a force of Chaos. That makes him a good foil to his partner and it also puts him in Red. His methods (poisoning and shadow magic), as well as the fact that he is only in business for himself, makes him Black. If he has a third color, it is probably Blue. He's smarter than he looks and does have a love of maps and exploration. So, I'll go with Red-Black-Blue for Barid.

Decima - So, we've got a Slytherin. That means ambition, and ambition means Black, right? Well, that's definite in there, it is tertiary for her. Her strongest color is White, because she wants systems and order (she once apologized for the state of her room when there was a single sock out of place). Her second color is Green because she is inflexible in her world-view, as seen by her inability to accept how exorcisms work because the process doesn't conform to her views of magic. She has such a hard time with things in the couple of missions she has, because the PPC has given a major blow to her view of the world, and she is slow to adjust to that. White-Green-Black

-Phobos

Thank you so much for making the Red, White, and Blue joke for Cap. That made my day.

So... looking at my characters, I'm starting to realize how many of them are pretty identical when it comes to colors. Most of them fall pretty squarely in the Red-White-Green triad.

The Aviator:
Primary: Red. Ave's made it pretty clear she values her freedom and will be leaving the PPC once there aren't any people left to tie her down. She's hot-headed and emotional, and doesn't always think things through.
Secondary: White. She's loyal to her partner and family and will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.
Tertiary? Eh. If anyone can think of a good reason for one, I'm all ears, but Blue, Black, and Green don't really fit her.

Zeb:
Primary: White. Zeb's a lion, it makes sense he values community. He's self-sacrificing and hates to see others in pain. And he just wants everyone to get along.
Secondary: Green. He knows his place in the universe and he's pretty content to accept it.
Tertiary: Red. Zeb thinks with his heart, not his head, and it shows.

Ix
Primary: Black. Funnily enough, I didn't see this one coming until I got to thinking about it. Ix has long since come to accept that nobody's looking out for her (...well, except Charlotte) and it's up to her to make the most of it with what she's got. She's driven—she put in a lot of hard work to get to where she is—and knows the instant she stumbles, she'll fall right back to the bottom. The world isn't going to be kind to you, so you'd better seize whatever opportunities you can to keep yourself from becoming a target.
Secondary: White. Ix just wants everything to be okay. So although she doesn't believe that will ever be the case, she still tries to make things better where she can.
Tertiary: Red. Despite what she says, she's still in Gryffindor for a reason.

Charlotte:
Primary: Green. Everything happens for a reason, whether you like it or not, so you'd better figure out what to do with what you have. Sure, it doesn't mean she can't complain about it the whole way through, but she's not generally one to fight for change. With one major exception, which leads me to her second color...
Secondary: Red. She (like so many of my characters) once again thinks with her heart instead of her head. She wants something, she wants it now. When she decided she was going to become human for Ix, she went and did it at the first opportunity. When she gets determined about something, she does see it through.
Tertiary: And once again, I fail to think of a third.

Dax:
Primary: Red. He and the Aviator share the same taste for adventure and going out into the world to experience everything it has to offer. He's also, ahem, passionate. He's here to have a good time.
Secondary/Tertiary: White and Green. Dax has a strong sense of justice (He is Chaotic Good) and after being a guard on a skyship for a while, he's got a pretty strong sense of loyalty to whoever he considers his extended family.

Lorson:
Ah, Lorson, thank god you're here to provide a break from the monotony. Well, sort of.
Primary: Red. Lorson values freedom over anything else. He is his own man now, and he takes advantage of that by living life to the fullest and not concerning himself too deeply with the consequences.
Secondary/Tertiary: Black and Blue. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, and no matter what happens, he plans on surviving no matter the cost. The best way to do this is through knowledge. His mind, more than anything else, is what he considers his best weapon. Lorson strives to be the best he can possibly be. He has an insatiable thirst for knowledge and he's big on the whole technological aspect that usually gets overlooked in Blue's personality.

Hoo boy, that turned out a lot longer than I thought it would.

"Where're you heading?" Lorson asked, pausing his movie and looking around.

Dax froze, hand on the doorknob. "Oh, you know," he said airily, "just off to see somebody."

Lorson wrinkled his nose. "Don't tell me the details when you return," he said, turning back to his movie.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it," Dax muttered, slinking out the door.

It was times like this he was glad he had a reputation to explain away his regular disappearances to the Nursery. Not that he necessarily minded other agents knowing he liked entertaining the children, but dammit, guys like him weren't supposed to be... softies. Or fond of kids.

Avandra knew he never wanted any of his own, but that certainly hadn't worked out, had it?

Once he reached the Nursery, he was promptly swarmed by children.

"Dax! Dax!" Fiona grabbed his tunic, holding up a crayon drawing. "Look! I drew you!"

Dax crouched down to get a better look at the drawing and he grinned, touching the pointy triangles emerging from the stick figure's head. "Are those my ears?"

Fiona shook her head. "It's your hair!" she said.

"Oooh, I see it now," Dax said, even though he really didn't. "You're really talented, Fifi, have I told you that?"

Fiona beamed.

"Are you gonna teach us how to sword fight some more?" Ryan asked eagerly.

Dax winced. "Probably not today," he said, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Miss MacKinnon is still upset about you and Michael hitting each other with sticks."

Ryan and Michael looked at each other and glowered.

Dax ruffled Ryan's hair and stood back up. "So who's got a request for me to turn into first?"

Several hands shot up in the air, and Dax grinned.

"You know, ya really should've planned for something like this."

Cassie fixed Em with a withering glare. "How the hell was I supposed to plan for this? Tell me, O wise one, that I might learn your ancient secrets."

Em just laughed, which was definitely helpful and in no way at all made Cassie want to nail her to the outside of a speeding train. "Gurl, HQ's a weird place, 's'all I'm saying. You were bound to wind up on a date some time."

"Oh really?" Cassie's voice had that forced politeness to it common to teachers about to go absolutely postal on the little turds in Form 4B. "And I suppose you are too, by that logic."

"Like I said, HQ's hella weird. One time, I got chased around by animated luncheon meat, so a date like this one you're on? Not so crazy. At least your date didn't eat your laptop or something."

"Eat my - you know, I was just thinking the dessert menu around here was a little lacking in variety." Cassie glanced around at her surroundings. "Too heavy on the fruit for my liking."

Em cackled. "Damn, Cass. This is why I keep you around."

"That and I'm the only person willing to go in a bathroom you've used in the last four millennia."

"Yeah, that too."

"Merlin's sweaty taint." Cassie paced around a little bit. "I just feel so sticky. It's horrible."

"I knoooow." Em shrugged. "Could be worse. The heat could be stuck on again."

"I need about half a dozen showers and a Scourgify. These robes have absolutely had it. And now is a really bad time to find out my shoes don't fit properly any more. Bloody hell. My feet are killing me."

"Mine too. These sweatpants are designer."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

"Haaaa."

The two agents paced around a bit more, grimacing at the state of themselves.

"And that guy from Building Maintenance was really unhelpful," Cassie said after a while. "I told him about this bloody date I'm on and what did he do?"

"Said 'Congratulations', mumbled something about a bomb threat, and hung up. Which you told me. Like, four times now."

"Well, it bears repeating."

"Not. Four. Times."

"... I suppose not, but it irked me a bit, that's all. Sorry, Em, I don't mean to go on."

"I know, Cass, it's fine. It'll be okay."

They embraced for a moment, then recoiled before they stuck together.

"Cass?"

"Yes, Em?"

Em pointed at the edge of the giant date they were standing on top of. "Uh... how do we get down?"

---

I'm a complete cow sometimes. >=]

Ix knocked on the door of the bathroom before fiddling with her tie. "Our reservation's at seven, and we still have to make it down to New Cal."

"Gimme one more minute," Charlotte called.

Ix sighed and leaned against the wall, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her gelled hair. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on the selfie camera, examining her face for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Charlotte had done some phenomenal work with the concealer, and though her scars were still obviously visible, they weren't as angry and red and attention-drawing as normal. She had to resist the urge to touch her face, too.

Everything about her looked... different. Good different. She looked handsome. Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyebrows angular, and when she smiled, she could almost ignore the way her scars pulled down the corner of her mouth.

It was a strange feeling, but one she wouldn't mind getting to experience more often.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ix hastily stowed her phone in her suit's pocket, eyes going wide when she got a look at Charlotte. "Whoa."

Charlotte slowly turned around so Ix could properly see the backless evening gown, its purple silk draped elegantly over her frame. "You like?" She blinked slowly, pale lavender eye shadow visible behind her glasses.

"Very much," Ix said, swallowing. "Wow. Lottie, you look beautiful."

Charlotte stepped up to her, leaning on tiptoes to kiss Ix. "And you look absolutely dashing in that suit," she said, wrapping her arms around Ix's waist. "You should wear it more often. Go for that James Bond look."

Ix snorted. "If anything, I'm channeling Blofeld," she said.

"A really hot Blofeld, then," Charlotte said, kissing her again. "Or Alec Trevelyan. But we should get going; I already wasted enough time doing my makeup."

Ix offered her an arm and Charlotte looped hers through. "My lady," she said, and they headed to the door."

"Okay: how do I look?" Gall stepped out of the bathroom and spread her arms.

On his cot, Derik lowered The Tempest and rolled over to his right far enough to look at her without twisting his neck.

There was a moment. Gall was familiar with this moment. It was almost like a staring contest, each of them watching and waiting to see if something would happen. It hadn't yet, and Gall was getting a bit desperate. Not that she was desperate, mind you, just frustrated. But not frustrated. She wasn't pining away for Twu Wub like some yak-brained idiot. It was just . . .

Derik tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Like you raided the darkest, most humiliating depths of Elms' closet," he said.

The moment ended, like it always did, in disappointment. Gall sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

Derik went on: "I thought you said you were going to World One. That can't be appropriate."

Dammit, she'd been sure this would get a reaction. The low white bodice with the sleeves hanging off her shoulders, the tight green leather corset and matching skirt, the sheer white stockings and black buckled shoes . . . the costume didn't leave much to the imagination. Okay, so Gall didn't have much to flaunt in the assets department, but the corset helped, and the color suited her complexion, too. She was a natural redhead. That was supposed to count for something, dammit!

"Shows what you know," she huffed. "This is totally traditional. I'm supposed to be, like, a leprechaun or something. Buy me a green beer and I'll show you me pot o' gold." She cocked her hips and grinned. That was a pretty good line, if she did say so herself, and she did. "Pretty good, right?"

Nothing.

Dammit.

Derik sat up. "Correct me if I'm wrong—"

"You're wrong."

"—but I thought this holiday was about a man named Patrick driving snakes off an island that never had any to begin with. What does this—" he gestured to all of her "—have to do with that?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. Who cares? It's an excuse to party, and everything has to be green. Green clothes, green beer, green food—and get this: the city we're going to, Chicago? Gremlin says they turn their river green."

"Are you sure she's not winding you up?"

"No. But again, who cares, as long as there's booze and hot people?" In a brilliantly unsubtle segue, she added, "You could come if you want. I bet we could find you a shamrock thong." Gods, she wished.

"No," Derik said far more quickly and decisively than was fair. "You and Gremlin have your Girls' Night. I'll stay in this time." He held up his book, telling her he planned to be extremely boring and sit around reading all night.

She sighed again. "Fine. Don't forget to sweep out the fireproof corner, it's getting all sooty again."

"Fine, fine." He flicked his fingers; he'd take care of it. "Go. Have fun."

He really meant that last part. Dammit.

She smirked at him. "Hey, if I come home with someone, do you want me to warn you, or what?"

He looked down at his book and shrugged those perfectly contoured shoulders she was dying to sink her fingers and possibly her teeth into. "I'll clear out if you like. I would prefer a warning, but if that isn't possible, an awkward scramble will have to suffice."

Dammit. "Heh. Yeah, fair enough."

The sad part was, if he'd just been a normal person and jumped her bones as soon as she made it clear she was interested, that probably would have been the end of it. As it stood, his bizarre and unnatural reluctance was like a challenge, and she never backed down from a challenge. She had never expected it to go on this long, and she knew she should have given up ages ago, but without her notice, things had changed. The longer it dragged out, the less it was about pure, clean animal lust, and the more it became about something much harder to define, like maybe principles or honor. Whatever. The point was, she knew he would come around one day. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And when that day came, she would be there, and all would be right with the world.

But in the meantime, she'd party with her best friend, get drunk on green beer, and maybe get a little action to tide her over.

"All right, I'm off to paint the town green. Catch you later!"

One day.

---

This is set in the very near future, obviously. Apologies for the distilled cultural insensitivity that is a typical St. Patrick's Day celebration in these parts. Personally, I make a point of staying indoors on whatever Saturday they do the thing with the river. Drunk loonies everywhere. *shudder*

I kinda feel like I should apologize for taking you inside Gall's head, too, but really getting in there and figuring out how it works is something I need to do, so y'all get to take the journey with me. The MTG colors thread has actually helped with this, making the title all the more appropriate. ^^

~Neshomeh

P.S. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TheTempest">Just in case anyone is wondering why The Tempest. (It's funny. Chuckle ironically, dammit!)

“‘Ey, Thoth! Where’re you going?” Tom didn’t even look all the way up from his console as the Space Marine walked towards the door.

The marine in question was, unusually, not dressed in his armor. He kept a simple robe for such occasions, which is what he was wearing. After an incident involving Luxury in a particularly mischievous mood, a pair of extremely large sweatpants scrounged from somewhere had been added to the outfit, as an extra insurance of decency. He turned to face his partner. “Tom, I am going on a… date.”

Tom blinked, finally looking up. “What.”

“A date,” Thoth continued. “With a girl. I understand you are aware of the concept.”

“Yeah, but… you’re a Space Marine. Don’t you…” Tom let out a sigh. “Nevermind. Whatever. Who’re you going with?”

“Talia Ornix, DoSAT,” Thoth replied. “Now, I believe I must go.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Tom in the gloom of the RC.

Tom got back to work. For all of five minutes. For some reason, he couldn’t focus, his thoughts wandering back to what Thoth had said. Talia was… cool. Good. He was very happy for them.

Tom sighed, speaking to nobody in particular. “Who am I kidding? I something to take my mind off this.”

~~

Rudi’s was moderately crowded, and just loud enough to distract anyone trying to think. That was just fine by Tom. Farah Tahar was up by the bar, and, judging by her expression, was probably explaining to the newbie next to her that no, the name of her species was not “catgirl.” Off in a corner, Peregrin was trying to read, with mixed success. As if any more noise was required, someone had brought in a piano, somehow. An entity with a frankly uncomfortable number of tentacles was currently behind it playing a rendition of “Piano Man” that would have been impossible for anyone with less appendages, while a group of assassins looked on.

Tom took a seat at the bar that wasn’t directly next to anyone. He didn’t really feel like talking to anyone. He ordered a Coke with added Bleep, and tried to lose himself in the music. It wasn’t that he… liked Talia, per se, he told himself. Sure, she was very cute, and she seemed nice, and she was DoSAT, so he could actually talk to her effectively… but it wasn’t that. It was just… well, he supposed he was jealous of his partner’s success. He’d never had a date in his life. And heck, did Space Marines even have an interest? Even if they did, why the heck would someone go out with one? Well, except maybe Gall… He spared himself a grin, recalling her antics at Halloween.

He sighed, resting his head on the bar. Jeez. How long had he been working, anyways, before this? He couldn’t even remember...

…

The next thing Tom knew, someone was poking at his back.

“Hey, you awake? SYN, anyone?”

“Wha, a– buh? ACK! ACK!” He abruptly pulled his head. “What’s up? I’m up! Things! Stuff! Activities!”

The assailant giggled. “It’s me. Come on, Tom. How’s your day been?”

Tom finally managed to get a good look the person behind him. Tall, short black hair, a smirk on her full lips, DoSAT patch… “Talia? ‘s that you?”

“I can’t think of a tech who looks exactly like me, so it must be. For that matter, how many techs tend to want to touch anything from your universe?” Talia gave a smile. “No, really, how’re you doing?”

“Okay, I guess…” Tom stared back blearily. “So anyways, how was the date?”

“What.”

“You know, with Thoth?”

“Ooooh, that! Yeah, I did go on a date with Thoth…”

Tom sighed under his breath.

“...if by date, you mean upgrading his dataslates to interface with something that’s not terrible. I swear, those things make token-ring look elegant…” Talia frowned. “Glad that’s over.”

Tom shook his head rapidly. “Wait, what? So… not liked a date-date.”

Talia frowned. “Space Marines don’t date, Tom. I’m not even even a field agent, why am I explaining your main canon to you?”

“No, I know that, but… Thoth said…”

“Oh, because that makes perfect sense.” Talia rolled her eyes. “So, just to get this straight, your partner, scary ex-worshipper of the god of lies and deception told you something that conflicted with your view of reality in a massive way… and you just believed him. Wow, great thinking, Tom.”

“...are you implying I’m an idiot?”

“No, I’m telling you you’re an idiot. Subtlety is not my specialty.”

Tom smiled slightly. “Uh… Thanks, I guess? Now I’ll go… not punch my partner in the face, because he’s pretty scary.”

“You go do that.” Talia grinned. “Just so we’re clear, I am never letting you live this down. Well, not until you beat me at StarCraft, anyways”

“Hey! It’ll happen one day!” called back Tom over his shoulder.

“Not a chance…” Talia said. But Tom was already gone.

~~

“Thoth, do you ever lie to me?”

Thoth turned another page in his novel. “No,” he said, dispassionately. “I have not, technically, ever told you anything that is untrue.”

Tom sighed. “But why?”

“Because you must maintain any talent you intent to keep,” said Thoth. “Additionally, I have an abundance of free time. For the first time since I began my training as a Thousand Son, I have had to consider how to spend it.”

“So…” Tom spoke in a tone spiked with incredulity. “You mess with me… because… you’re bored.”

“An accurate summation, yes. Although you are remarkably easy to deceive.”

“You… You…” Tom deflated then, remembering Talia’s words. “Okay, you might actually have a point…”

--

Tom, Thoth, and Talia all belong to me (Jeez, I need to stop making characters with names that start with T). Peregrin and Farah belong to Tomash, used here with permission. The rest belongs to a lot of people, you know the drill.

Elanor safe in the Nursery? Check. Zeb sufficiently distracted and out of the RC? Check. TARDIS tidied up? Well, sort of check. It was presentable, anyway.

Hair?

The Aviator growled out a low string of Gallifreyan swears as she tugged a brush through her snarled locks. Once she had her hair straightened, braiding it would be easy, but right now she was wrestling with a knot the size of her fist, and she was seriously beginning to consider reaching for the scissors.

Wait—there. The rat came loose and the Aviator quickly brushed it smooth before setting to work on braiding.

She glanced behind her at the black dress she'd laid out on her bed, taken from the TARDIS' wardrobe. She wasn't normally one for dresses—cargo pants and tank tops were more her speed—but she and the Detective had decided to try and make a proper date out of this. Of course, knowing him, he'd probably show up in his tattered coat as always, but she was trying, dammit.

Not that this was a date-date. Just a... semi-more-romantic leadup to another night together.

They weren't dating.

That would be silly.

The Aviator tucked a silver hair comb into the braided bun at the back of her head and frowned. Why was she going to all this trouble when it would all get pulled loose in tonight's activities?

She didn't want to look nice for him or anything. He certainly wasn't going to go to the same effort.

It just felt like the thing to do, that was all. That was it.

The TARDIS hummed in amusement and the Aviator gestured at the ceiling with her middle finger. "Shut it, you," she said. "It's not a date. And I'll thank you to not bother us while we're busy!"

The TARDIS rumbled again, but fell silent.

There was a quick rapping on the door, and the Aviator's head whipped around when she smelled Zeb on the other side. "Don't co—!"

"I'm just letting you know I'm borrowing the OH MY GOSH ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE TONIGHT IS THE DETECTIVE COMING OVER ARE YOU TWO GONNA KISS?!" Zeb squeed, his mane poofing out as sparks flew from his fur. He bounced in a small circle in the doorway before sprinting away. "I'M BORROWING THE X-BOX DON'T MIND ME OKAY BYE!"

The Aviator groaned and let her head hit the dresser. So much for keeping the not-date secret.

(( Inspired by what's going on many threads above this ))

A man in a red suit with way too many guns and swords on him was sitting in a rather featureless white void.

"Hey. You." he said, turning to the man that was somehow there. "Birdie."

"Eh?" Huinesoron asked, turning his head.

"Your name means 'eagle shadow' in Quenya," Deadpool clarified. "which is just way too pretentious if you ask me. So, birdie."

"Deadpool?" Huinesoron asked, very confused. "The heck is going on here?"

"You should know, you're the idiot who's —" Deadpool paused. "Actually, no, you're not writing this."

"Why are you in my house?" Huinesoron said.

Deadpool had fully materialized near Huinesoron at this point. "Well, you've been having such a good time writing me, and I started looking around. There's some sort of Shipfest going on around here, and I thought we could have some ... other sort of fun."

"I'm married." Huinesoron objected.

Deadpool pulled out a phone and started reading through the Board. "Says here you've been sleeping with just about everyone."

"Huh. Good point." Huinesoron said, glancing down at the floor.

"So, whatddya say to the best lovin' you've ever had, courtesy of me, birdie?"

Huinesoron scratched his head for a moment. "Sure. Sounds like a fun way to spend an evening."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Deadpool. "Your bedroom, or do you want me to bug the author for something more exotic?"

"Let's just stay in my apartment." Huinesoron replied. "I don't want to break the fourth wall any more than it has been already."

The pair of soon-to-be-lovers headed to Huinesoron's room and closed the door, which had the convenient side effect of keeping the narrator from seeing any of the details of whatever they were up to. A minute or so after they'd gone in, Deadpool's voice came from within the room: "Those are some sexy sexy abs, birdie."

"Can you stop calling me birdie?" Huinesoron said, irritated. "That's Thoth's nickname."

"Ugh. Fine. How about I go with feathers?"

"That's OK, I guess."

"So, what do you think of inviting this Thoth guy to this?"

"Maybe later." Huinesoron said. "Let's get back to that massage though. It's been great."

"Obviously. I'm the one giving it."

"Obviously." Huinesoron and Deadpool could be heard kissing, and then the scene faded to black.

(( - Tomash ))

(This one's shorter and jokier than my other one. With a different flavor of hS OOC, and a SONG!)

Huinesoron loves Kaitlyn, sure, but in a way, he's cheating. Ish.

For Plort.

Not the people in Plort, just Plort itself.

Every day, when Kaitlyn was asleep, he stepped through his favorite portal to Plort, just to spend a little time on her sweet shores. He loved to feel the wind in his hair, the grass under his feet, and the rush of power he got from being the one and only Baron Huinesoron. It did sometimes reach the same level of love he had for Kaitlyn, even a little bit dirty, but he never told anyone.

Tonight in particular, though, he wasn't dirty for Plort. He just wanted to show his love. When he entered Plort, he stood at the top of a hill, laid down on his side, and rolled down it like a derp. When he finally lost momentum, he was laughing hard in between shallow breaths. He decided to make the trek back to his castle to see if anything had happened. Twistey'd been editing the Plort Wiki; a smell coming from her equivalent's shop signified that. Nothing else. Shame that no one else loved Plort as much as he did. But then again... if everyone else was here all the time, he wouldn't have her all to himself.

He stood at the top of the tallest tower in his castle and gazed out at the horizon. Then, feeling an impuslse, he spread out his arms and began to sing.

"I love the mountains
I love the clear blue sky
I love my castle
I love when eagles fly
I love the whole Plort
And all its sights and sounds
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada

I love the oceans
And fighting Marizu
I love to ride fast
No one does like I do!
I love the whole Plort
And all its craziness
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada

I love the small towns
I love the baronies
I love the wheat fields
They mean so much to me
I love the whole Plort
It's such a brilliant place
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada
Boom de yada..."

Plort is just awesome. Let's see if we can get hS to record this.

-Twistey

Granz's doorbell rang. He lept out of his chair and ran towards the door "Oh my oh my oh my it's finally here!" he said quickly, rubbing his palms together.

He opened the door and took the somewhat thin, large, rectangular envelope from the delivery driver and hastily scrawled a signature on the appropriate line.

Granz ran back up to his room and set his newly-acquired package on his desk. He began to peel pack the sear on the envelope slowly, trying not to damage the contents. About halfway through the opening, Granz realized he couldn't take it anymore, and tore the envelope to bits.

Inside, he found the RPG rulebook he ordered. He picked it up and rubbed his hands over it, caressing the wondrous source of unusual items and possibly overpowered skills, savoring the sensation of all the new ways to minmax the party's characters he could find inside.

Grenz then sniffed the book, inhaling the luscious aroma of never-opened pages full of role-playing goodness. "Mmmmm." he moaned, admiring the cover art.

He gripped the front cover gently with a few fingers, pulling it open slowly enough that someone might think he was checking the book for traps. (He wasn't. He just loved this part.) Granz began slowly reading the entries in the book, savoring the armor and gear described within. "Eh, that's not that useful.", he said at one point.

"Hm ... maybe" he commented, after tenderly flipping a page. He scrawled the name of that psychic power on a very full notepad on his desk.

A few pages later, Granz yelped in excitement. "Oh my god! Yes! This is perfect! And I have enough XP!" he shouted. His fingers flew over the keyboard, firing off a message to his GM, asking if he could take the psychic power he'd just found.

As he waited for the reply, Granz slowly lost control. He stopped being so tender and caring, and started rapidly flipping through the book, keeping a mental tally of all the super-awesome extra-useful stuff he was finding. The pages of the rulebook almost flew as Granz pawed through them.

Eventually, he reached the end of the book. He turned everything back over and went through it again, making sure he hadn't missed a corner of those delectable extra rules. His reading method varied from a measured, careful investigation to a fast, hyped-up, almost predatory flip.

Throughout all this, he made a lot of comments on the contents of his new acquisition, sometimes taking tens of minutes to debate the relative merits of two options with himself. A few times, he even got up to get other rulebooks to compare against. More books were more fun, after all. Whoops of triumph often fell from Granz's lips a few times as he used the contents of his new book to formulate the greatest plan he'd ever had — which was, rather frequently, superseded be the new greatest plan he'd ever had as he noticed an item he'd overlooked.

Many, many hours later, it grew late. Rather reluctantly, Granz closed his new book and carefully placed it on the rulebooks shelf, lovingly arranging it next to his existing collection. Finally, Granz turned away from his RPG rulebooks, his true, eternal loves, and went to bed logged onto Amazon to buy another one before picking up another one of his precious volumes from the shelf. I don't need sleep tonight anyway. he thought, getting ready for more cavorting with supplemental rulesets. It's not like there's a session tomorrow.

And so, Granz had a long, simulating night, which he loved every minute of, even though it drove him closer to exhaustion and the lightbulbs in his lamps closer to burning out.

(( - Tomash ))

He came up with the idea of the Ixcubus, which inspired this:



„Matt, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Aegis looked at his friend slouching over a heavy-looking book bound in leather and metal. Inside, on worn-out yellow pages were scribblings presenting images of complicated circles, diagrams of human body, and various drawings of plants and demonic-looking faces.

“Positive, mate.” Matt turned the page, before tracing his finger along the longest line of text written in green ink. “We’re getting rid of this pest this instant. No offense, Ixi.”

“None taken,” replied Iximaz, dressed in loose tank top and tracksuit pants. She was sitting in the center of a chalk-drawn pentagram, surrounded by five lit red candles. She scratched her head, and the left side of her face twitched in a nervous spasm. “The sooner we get this… thing out the better. Seriously, why today of all days it had to ap-pear… Ugh!”

She suddenly jerked her head back, and when she looked back at the two men before her, something has changed. Her left eye turned black, with a thin golden rim of the iris. Her lips twisted into unnaturally sultry grin. Her left hand moved slowly along the length of her hip.

“Unless, of course, this is the perfect day to get… freaky.” The Ixcubus licked his lips, before winking at Aegis. He then lazily turned towards Matt. “Do whatever you want, conjurer. I’m staying.”

“Yeah, yeah… Exorcizamus te…” Matt waved towards the pentagram circle, which caused the Ixcubus to yelp in pain, making the body to twist uncontrollably before falling flat motionlessly.

“Don’t.” Matt snapped towards Aegis, who was about to enter the circle to help his beloved. Time passed. When Iximaz regained control over her mind, she slowly got up, shook her head, and looked back at Matt.

“See? Doesn’t work,” she panted, wiping some sweat off her forehead. Her left eye returned to normal, and mouth didn’t feel like smiling.

“Seems to be keeping it away for fifteen minutes,” added Aegis. He scratched his chin and stepped away from the circle. “So it is working.”

“Great.” Iximaz rolled her eyes, hugging her knees and putting her chin on top of them. “So now all we have to do is make me listen to Sam and Dean performing excorcisms 24/7… which would not be a bad thing, if only I was myself while listening to them.”

“What now? Come on, Matt, what else besides exorcisms would work?” Aegis walked over to the sorcerer’s work table, where all the books and old papers piled up.

Matt didn’t respond. He kept on turning the pages, looking from the book, to Iximaz, then at his vials filled with suspicious ingredients, then back at the book.

“We could cast it into something else… or someone.”

Iximaz was the first one to pick up the meaning. She stood up and glared at Matt, anger building up with each word. “Don’t you even dare, dude. Not a chance!”

“Who exactly do you have in mind?”

“Aegis, no!” Iximaz clenched her fists. “We’re not doing that! Next solution!”

“We could make a deal with him. He gets what he wants and hopefully agrees to let you go?”

Iximaz squinted. “No, thanks,” she said dryly. “Next?”

“At this point I’m honestly out of ideas… I mean, nothing here looks like it might have any effect on our pesky intru—“ Matt paused, before adjusting his glasses and leaning closer towards the book. “Huh… hello there.”

“What?” Aegis and Iximaz asked simultaneously.

“This might work.” Matt mumbled to himself, closing the book. He grabbed a water bottle from under the desk and walked towards Iximaz.

“Sorry about that, dude.” He quickly dumped the contents of the bottle onto Iximaz, causing her to yelp quickly.

“What the hell!?” she squealed, wiping the water from her eyes.

“We’re about to cool this bastard’s lust.” Matt smiled.

“Cool his lust?” Aegis repeated. His eyes then widened and he smiled. “I see… You want to lower the lust levels and basically starve the Ixcubus! Ha!”

“Cute idea, sweetie, but my flame will never go out from such a silly spell.” The Ixcubus purred, coming dangerously close to the edge of the pentagram and looking Matt straight into the eyes. “You’re a little too… round for my taste, but… eh, I work with I get, babe~”

Matt rolled his eyes. He took a few steps back, rubbed his hands, took a deep breath, and held them above Iximaz’s head.

“O, wielka Lilith, matko wszelkich demonów! Na mocy kontraktu Salomona, wzywam Cię do nas. Przez Tetragramaton, i na wszelkie imiona Pana, wzywam Twojego syna i Twoją córkę!”

„Um… I heard ‘Lilith’ in that chant, man. Are you sure it will work?” Aegis asked, but Matt remained deaf to his words. He wasn’t saying anything for a few minutes, before suddenly speaking up again:

“Zgadzam się na warunki umowy. Biorę na siebie wszelką odpowiedzialność, i wymagam abyście i wy przestrzegali zasad kontraktu.”

He walked over to the working table, where a small, long dagger bound in dark leather was placed. Matt quickly did a shallow cut on both his hands and returned to his previous spot. He let some blood drop onto the circle, right next to Iximaz’s feet. The candles went out, leaving a small desk lamp the only light source. Iximaz opened her eyes. It was her natural color.

“Did it work?” Aegis asked.

“I… think so,” Iximaz said, examining her arms, and legs. “I don’t feel any different, though.”

She stepped out of the pentagram circle slowly, before quickly approaching Aegis and kissing him with all her passion. When she finally ended (out of need for air), both of them had very goofy grins.

“Yeah…” Aegis whispered. “I think everything’s fine.”

“I’m not sure, mate.” Matt flicked the light switch. They weren’t alone.

Two figures stood where Iximaz previously was. Both the same height as her, and dangerously similar in appearance, but some minor details were off. The one of the left had the Ixcubus’s golden eyes. He was definitely more masculine in his figure, with muscles visible under a thin t-shirt. Disheveled hair and light stubble only made him more appealing. He winked at Aegis, waving his finger in a beckoning manner.

The figure on the right had-similarly to the Ixcubus-black eyes with only thin rims of irises visible, although hers were deep red. This one was definitely a she; slender, with long legs and curves so perfectly outlined, it was almost unnatural. The shirt was nearly incapable of containing the pure abundance of her chest, and she was biting down on her finger, looking at the two before her in a seductive manner.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Aegis looked at Matt, before being dragged into another kiss by Iximaz.

“I made a deal.” Matt smiled, slowly backing himself towards the door. “See, I thought both of you may enjoy a little more… spicy time together, so I asked Lilith to send you some of her children to keep you company. And that sudden blast of lust? Well, that’s their doing. They’re gonna leave you alone, after rocking your world.”

“Mmmfmgff!” Aegis mumbled, before finally breaking the kiss. “You did what!?”

“We’re gonna… mhh~… kick your ass later, Matt.” Iximaz growled, before tracing her finger on Aegis’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, you two.” The warlock laughed, before locking the door after himself.

(Okay, so I've played too much Wolfenstein 3D and every time I see Guardsman Tom's username, I think of the Guard enemy from the game. It furthers that thought that he has blond hair and blue eyes, so I just had to do this.)

Thoth was simultaneously surprised and not surprised that the badfic existed.

After all, he knew the nooks and crannies of the Internet well. He knew that many Doom fans liked to sabotage the Wolfenstein 3D fandom by promoting the assumption that Wolf 3D fans were all a bunch of Nazis. He knew that many kids of the average badficcer age were radicalized by the Internet and had become terrible edgelords, if they hadn't outright joined the alt-right. To be honest, he didn't care which group the author of this Legendary belonged to.

That didn't mean that he wasn't still shocked.

"Of course it had to be him," muttered Thoth under his breath. "There was no better guy to get Stu'd. There was nothing that could make the fic more potent than that."

He continued walking down the hallways of Episode 3's Reichstag. "And since he brutally murdered BJ Blazkowicz, it's up to me to bring down the entirety of the regime."

Thoth rounded a corner and spied a Guard watching him. Blond hair and blue eyes like the rest. He was about to raise his gun when the Guard suddenly started as if waking up from a dream, looked around in a panic, then lifted his hands up.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Thoth approached the enemy. "You can speak English?"

"Yeah! Listen... I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why should I believe that?"

"I- I know you. You're Thoth. I've seen you on the Board."

"What the hell...?" Thoth looked at the Guard in confusion.

He extended his hand. "I'm Tom. The guy who got sent on this mission last time."

"I never heard about anyone going on this mission before, but okay." He shook Tom's hand.

"Huh, hS never told you? Weird, I wonder what incentives he has to do that. Anyway, this is what happened. I was about to engage the Stu in combat when he looked at me with this hypnotizing stare... and then... I don't know what happened. I think I was brainwashed into working as a Guard this whole time, but for some reason, looking at you made me suddenly recover."

Thoth nodded. "What about me would cause you to suddenly gain consciousness again?"

"I have no idea..." A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

Thoth smiled a bit while he took note of that. Then he stopped. "Wait. I think I killed a decoy that looked like someone I knew. That's bad."

Tom shook his head. "There's been another? Wow. Huinesoron just won't rest until this mission is complete. Anyway, is there a way I can be of any help to you here?"

"Come with me. If we work together, it'll be easier to find and defeat the guy."

"Alright."

They continued walking, conversing, and laughing, pausing every so often to shoot other enemies, until they came to Floor 9. As they opened the elevator door, a chill went down Tom's spine.

"Oohhh... I'm terrified. This place just brings back so many memories."

"Don't worry, babe," Freudian-slipped Thoth, "I'll protect you."

"...babe?"

"Er... I'm gay, so..."

"Oh phew! That's great! My feelings aren't invalid after all."

"That's what made you wake up. My hotness." He hair flipped.

They both doubled over laughing. Then Tom wiped his eyes and stood up. "Listen, I know a good pushwall that we can hide behind and recuperate." He walked across to the end of the hallway and leaned on a painting. Thoth noted that the decoy that should've been in the middle of the room was absent - it must have been the one he'd killed.

In a nice clean manner that definitely isn't more substitution for the building of romantic chemistry, Thoth and Tom did nothing but talk and embrace as they sat by rows upon rows of health packs and ammo... when a figure walked in with swaying hips.

Tom was the first to spot her. "That is one sultry decoy."

Thoth whipped around. "Oh, she's not dead! Joy!"

"What a shame," purred the girl, light shining off her glasses. "Someone's gotten into my storage. Could it be that you're the one who murdered all my boys?" She took out a tube of black lipstick and began reapplying it, analagous to a certain feature of the male decoys and no doubt meant to evoke a similar state of fear.

"Oh dear," whispered Tom.

"Look, it is. It's Thoth! Do you need healing, boy?" Then she turned to Tom and regained her smile. "But you... I like you."

Thoth grabbed Tom's arm, eyes narrowed. "Don't listen to her. It's Twistey, but she's fallen under the same spell you had."

"Do we want to kill her? I mean, it's thanks to her that we know all about this place that we do."

"We're not going to kill her unless we absolutely have to." At that moment, the Twisteycoy put her hand on his shoulder.

"Alright."

"Be careful!" Thoth clenched his teeth, pointing to what was going on.

"Don't worry, babe, I've got this handled." He turned to the Twisteycoy. "If your heart was true, you would not be acting this way. Besides, no way I'm not going to be faithful to Thoth."

She took her hand off and grinned maniacally. "You're right. I'm faithful too. Don't take it personally, they kill gay people here, and while I don't really subscribe to that, I know I'll be greatly rewarded if I finish you off."

"You dirty, dirty girl," muttered Thoth, "you're breaking your own rules."

Tom shrugged. "Brainwashed, remember?"

She blinked, and in that instant her eyes became solid black. Tom felt a burning sensation as she slowly began to conjure twin fireballs into existence in her hands.

Thoth frantically looked at his new lover. "Run!"

Hand in hand, they made a mad dash for the door.

Maniacally laughing, the strange Twistey-creature levitated into the air and began flying down the hallway after them. Floor 9 being the small floor that it was, they didn't have too many places to go, and were soon cornered inside a hallway. Twistey blocked two of the three doors, but they knew there was a far worse enemy waiting behind the third one.

Standing back to back, Thoth pulled out his chain gun and Tom pulled out his pistol.

"You sure this isn't going to kill her?" questioned Tom.

"I used this very same gun to 'kill' her the first time and she only passed out," replied Thoth. "Fire away!"

BANG, BANG, BANG went the pistol.
RATATATATATATATATATAT went the chain gun.

The pair dodged fireballs left and right, in a way that definitely isn't because I'm too lazy to write a proper action scene, and soon Twistey lay down on the floor unconscious again.

"Whew," breathed Tom, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his uniform. "That was insane."

"I am... exhausted," said Thoth. "But... oh God. I just remembered. This isn't over yet. We're not safe yet."

As if on cue...
CLANK... CLANK... CLANK...

Tom jumped. "You're right! But what do I do, I only have my pistol!"

Thoth thought for a bit as the footsteps slowly approached. "You take Twistey back to HQ. She won't do any damage under Huinesoron's watchful eyes. I'll fight this horror alone."

"You sure you want to-"

"He's about to come through the door! GO!"

Tom took the unconscious body onto his shoulder and bolted for the elevator door. Perhaps, he thought, if Thoth broke my curse, then we can find some Lust Object for Twistey who will break hers. "Take care," he whispered under his breath.

Thoth stood ready on the opposite end of the hallway as the Gary Stu approached him. He watched it off the reflective surface of his watch to avoid looking into its eyes. It paused before the two doors that led out. Then it spoke.

"Zhoth. Don't make zis boring. I have an offer for you. You have ten seconds to get a headstart running."

Thoth said nothing, but aimed his chain gun.

"Don't even try. I am unstoppable... and I sense that somevere in your mind, you know zat."

Thoth muttered something under his breath.

"I guess I'll begin counting. Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five..."

Thoth squinted his eyes closed and ran forwards in a blur, screaming a battle cry and opening fire. Nothing seemed to be happening from what he was gathering with his other four senses. On instinct, he blinked open his eyes to see what was going on, and then... it was too late.

Thoth's grip on his gun began to slip. Every muscle started to freeze. He fell to the ground. Everything went black...

---

"Give me two seconds and she'll be sober." Huinesoron extended a flat hand to the girl's face.

"No! No, that's not the right way to go," yelped Tom. "I fear that's not going to work."

"Then what's your theory?"

"Okay, so my brainwashing was undone by Thoth, and he's hot, so we need to find her an LO that will make that work."

The British man brought his hands up to squeeze his face. "Are you and Thoth in love now?! Awwww!" Then he regained his composure. "This won't be too hard. She has many Lust Objects."

"Most of them are villains or antiheroes, though, and I have another hunch that that won't work either."

"Oh dear..." He sighed, then checked his watch. "Shouldn't Thoth be here by now if he killed our target?"

"Yeah, he should... oh. Oh." Tom almost dropped Twistey in despair. "This only means one thing."

"Yes, Tom. He rescued you, now it's your turn to rescue him."

Tom handed Twistey to Huinesoron, then stood up straight. "I absolutely will do that."

"Not dressed like a Nazi you won't."

Tom slapped himself. "Hey, think of it as infiltration."

"You're getting too used to that uniform."

"Huineso-"

The oldbie held up a finger leading to the Response Centers. "GO, Tom."

And so, Tom went, strategizing as he went about how to save Thoth.

To be continued...

----
Will Tom save Thoth from the terrible influence of *ahem* a particularly nasty Gary Stu?
Will he meet others who have met the same fate along the way?
Will Huinesoron find someone for Twistey?

Okay, that last question is up to you guys, per shipfest rules, but as for the rest of them, find out in...

Man on a Mission - Part 2!

-Twistey

P.S. Tom and Thoth's love theme:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HV1-AjwDJwM

Calliope was getting ready for bed after a long day of shipping things together that probably shouldn’t be shipped. She carefully extracted her fursuit from storage, changing into it in preparation for bed. (Cal wore the fursuit to bed every night. Why wouldn’t she?)

Suddenly, there came a voice, quiet, sensuous, dripping with seduction. “Hey there, sugar… mmmm… you look good…”

Cal looked around, desperately trying to find the source. “Hello? Who is it?”

“Why don’t you tell me? It shouldn’t be so hard for a clever girl like you to figure out.”

The realization came to Cal suddenly, her eyes widening. “Are you… me?”

The voice laughed, the sound like a chuckling river of molten honey. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be hard. I’m your voice, sweet kitten.”

“...My sexy voice, I assume.”

“My full name is… Calliope’s Sexy Voice of Sexy Sexyiness, With +2 to Sexy Sexy Sex of the Sexual variety. And that is a terribly unsexy name, don’t you think? But…” and here, the voice laughed again. “I’m so sexy I can even make that sound sexy.”

Cal gave a soft moan. “Wow… you really do make it sound sexy…”

“Mmm… well, then. Why don’t you lay down on that bed, and we can… do things. I’m thinking you put something into this mouth of ours… Like a finger. Or something else. I’m not picky…”

The girl in the fursuit sauntered over to the bed. “I’m ready for anything, believe me. Just so long as you are.”

“And you know that I am.”

There was a knock on Neshomeh's door. Footsteps could be heard from inside the house for a moment, and then Nesh called out "Who is it?".

"Uh, it's- it's Thoth." said Thoth.

Neshomeh opened the door. "Oh, hey! It's nice to see you could make it over here! Come on in!" she said, smiling and opening the door wide.

Thoth stepped in, and Nesh got a better look at him. "Why are you wearing that black leather outfit? It's really skimpy, and it's pretty cold up here."

"Well, you'd taught me a lot about writing when we were doing our mission, and I thought you could, maybe, teach me about, well, other stuff. Like, um, y'know, ..." Thoth waved his hands around.

"You mean sex?" Nesh asked.

Thoth blushed. "Y-y-y-eah. That."

"That outfit implies you're after an ambitious curriculum." Nesh said. "Then again, you did such a good job with the writing, you could probably handle my mentorship."

"Oh, thank you so much!" Thoth squealed.

"You're welcome, Thoth." Nesh said. Then, she thought for a moment, "Hold on, aren't you into guys?"

"Um, yeah, but I thought I'd branch out a bit." Thoth said. "Maybe Phobos could help out a bit?"

"Good point." replied Nesh. "Threesomes are very educational. And he won't be home until later, so I'll have time to go over the basics."

Thoth stood still and looked around. "So ... what do we do now?"

"Well, first, you're going to follow me to the bedroom." Nesh said. Then, her voice became more sensual "And then, I'm going to show you how to properly get out of that black leather."

The two Boarders then disappeared into the depths of Neshomeh's house, and had a very ... educational ... day.

And night (especially after Phobos got home).

And then another day.

And another night.

And then, on the third day, the neighbors came over to complain about the noise, so the lessons had to be postponed until the following weekend.

(( Since no one else had written it yet -Tomash ))

“Hey, guys!” cried Thoth, walking into the lounge. “Check this out!” He set down the large cardboard box he was carrying on a table. “I have new boosters!”

Phobos ambled over from a nearby table. “Oh? What set?”

“That’s the best part.” Thoth grinned. “These are from Unrealized. It’s an un-set consisting of cards that don’t exist. I got DoSAT to pull it over from like six different alternate realities. It’s gonna be sweet!”

“That actually does sound pretty interesting.” Phobos said. He sat down. “Wanna play draft?”

“That was the plan,” said Thoth. He looked around the lounge. “Granz, you play Magic, right? Are you in?”

The other boarder shrugged, pulling up a chair to the table. “Sure!” He looked around the lounge. “Is anyone else gonna play?”

“Actually, I might.” Another player strolled over.

Thoth wrinkled his brow. “Uh… who are you?”

“Thoth, that’s AC.” Granz said. “Oh… I guess you two haven’t really met, have you…”

“Oh, AC!” Thoth looked down. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you…”

AC gave a genial shrug. “It’s fine. Anyways, let’s get this started! Pass me a booster, would ya?”

~~

It was a tight game. Down to the last round. Phobos was in the lead on lifecount, but there wasn’t a man who had 5 life left. And it was Granz’s turn. He blushed, his tone extremely apologetic. “I’m… really sorry about this… but I don’t know what else to play…”

Thoth looked at him. “Whatever, man! It’s fine! What’s the issue?”

Granz just blushed harder. “Do you mind if things get a bit… Not Safe For Work around here?”

The table was dead silent for a moment.

“Uh… I’m cool with that,” said AC. “Assuming nobody else minds…”

Thoth did his best to conceal a mischievous grin. “Weelll… I’m certainly not complaining…”

Phobos shrugged. “Why not? It’s shipfest, after all…”

At the other players approval, Granz regained a bit of his composure. “Well then,” he said, his voice taking on a silky, smooth tone. He was clearly savouring the moment as he tapped the last of his lands. “I summon…” He played his card, and everyone crowded in to get a proper look.

Daring Incubus {2RR}
Creature-Animal of Desire
When Incubus is summoned, all other players must perform a sexual act with the player who summoned Incubus, or lose five life.
“You dare to summon me? Well then… I’ll be sure to make it worth your while…”
2/2

For a moment, there was dead silence around the table. Then Phobos broke it. “Well… this will be interesting…”

AC just glanced around the table eagerly.

“So,” said Thoth, not even bothering to conceal his grin. “Who starts?”

Twistey kissed Voyd, running her fingers through his long, flowing blond hair.

“Oh, sweet Twistey,” Voyd said. “Why must our parents’ strange and absurd network filtering keep us from our sacred love?”

Twistey blinked slowly. “Voyd... why are you talking like that? Also, since when have you been in love with me?”

“Twisty...” Voyd said slowly. “It’s shipfest.”

“Ooooh, riiight,” said Twistey. “So... who’s writing us?”

Voyd scratched his head. “I’m... actually not sure. Come on, let’s go ask Tomash. He’d know.”

Thankfully, Tomash’s room was across the hall. As the pairing walked in, he was on the bed, giving Horvat snuggles. “Oh, sorry!” said Twistey, concerned they might be interrupting.

“‘S fine,” said Tomash. “Horvat and I were just...” He sighed dreamily. “...Anyways, what do you want?”

“We’re in a shipfic,” said Voyd, “and we were wondering who’s writing us.”

“Wait, we’re in a shipfic?” Tomash wrinkled his brow. “Huh… come to think of it, that explains a lot, actually. Like why I’m snuggling Horvat on a bed…”

Horvat, meanwhile, pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! I’ve finally been shipped!”

“But the question is, by who?” Twistey was still feeling sort of awkward, but her curiousity lead her on.

Tomash rubbed his chin. “Let’s see… you two are being shipped, as am I and Horvat… hmm… and we’re all here discussing this thing, which makes this waay to met—”

He and Horvat both groaned as they arrived at the conclusion. Tomash sighed. “Thoooooth...”

~~

“And then we cut to you next to me as I explain all this, and you say, ‘I bet you think you’re terribly clever, don’t you?’” Thoth said, biting into his sandwich. “What do you think?”

Neshomeh shrugged. “I suppose there are worse ways to end a fic. But why are you talking about other people’s romance on our date?”

Thoth sighed. “I don’t know. I just… get into the shipfest, I suppose. It’s just so much fun…”

Nesh nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m writing this shipfic right now.”

Thoth blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I’m writing this shipfic right now.”

“Huh… you know, this whole meta thing isn’t like you.”

“That’s because you’re writing me.”

Thoth paused. “Okay, so let me get this straight… I’m writing you writing a ship of us discussing a ship I made.”

Nesh nodded. “I… think so? It’s really confusing and hard to keep track of. I mean… can we get any more meta?”

Thoth thought for a moment about all this, carefully pondering the ramifications.

>Fic: Quick, find a way to get more meta while Thoth is thinking.

Dammit Cal, I said no Homestuck references in this one! How did you even get edit permissions?

I added myself while you weren’t looking. Wait… aren’t people going to get confused trying to figure out which one of us is talking?

>I’ll prefix a my statements like so.

]And I’ll do the same with this.

]Anyways, you need to go to bed.

>But Caaaal… shipfic!

]I know, but you need to bed. You’re tired.

>But…

]You’ve left Granz to sleep alone for three consecutive nights writing shipfic, Thoth. Just… go to bed. Hug him. Comfort him. You know you want to.

>Sighs. Okay, fiiiine… And when are you coming up? It’s not like you’ve been sleeping with us this past week.

]NOT THE POINT!

>Just… come to bed with us, ‘mkay?

]Alright...

After Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story. I've just checked, and yes, I'm pretty sure this is singable. (Now all we need is for every person who's been mentioned in the shipfest to own a microphone... >:D)

(Note: It's pronounced 'Cal-YO-pe', because scansion is hard.)

[Huinesoron:]
Let me tell you what I wish I'd known
When I was young and dreamed of glory
You have no control
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Scapegrace:]
Kaitlyn and Iximaz, I've got to say:
They wear those corsets and they look great
I couldn't get in those if I tried.
And... I've tried.

[Huinesoron:]
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Thoth:]
Tomash the coder
He took this Shipfest from concept to reality
I may be prolific
But I haven't done half as much with my stories
As he did with the thread.

[Huinesoron:]
Who's shipped with who
Who writes the stories...

[Larfen:]
Sometimes I'm a sandwich and sometimes I just like them

[The Unshipped Boarders:]
At least you got a story from it; we only get to read them

[Maxewell:]
Now be fair, there are too many names
To fit them in
Our Shipfest stories

[Huinesoron:]
We write the stories...

[Granz & Thoth:]
Calli'ope...

[Calliope:]
I'm found in the fluffiest narratives

[Granz & Thoth:]
Calli'ope...

[Calliope:]
With snuggles and lots of hugs
With Thoth, Granz, and fuzzy love
Just look them up!
It looks like we might be the latest and most famous ship

[Kaitlyn:]
I've got more stories!

[Calliope:]
I'd read every word if the Boarders would only keep writing
We really do write, but we're running out of--

[Iximaz:]
--time!
My ideas are plentiful
But time's running out to write my stories
The thread's falling steadily down-page
If it drops too far, we'll be out of--

[Delta Juliette:]
--time!
And I'm still not through
I'd write half a dozen more fics if I had more--

[Tomash:]
--time!
It's been a good 'fest
We've got lots of stories already
I think we had--

[Phobos:]
--time!
I've been shipped with my wife less than with Huinesoron's

[Neshomeh:]
I like those stories!

[Phobos:]
I guess they're maybe quite thrilling
Maybe we'd have fics with all four if we only had--

[Twistey:]
--time!
And I'm quite confused; 'cause now I'm a muse

[Huinesoron:]
I wrote those stories...!

[Zingenmir:]
Wait. Can we get a few more thank-yous in?

[Grundleplith:]
I'm in this one...

[Zingenmir:]
We've all had a lot of fun reading the 'ships we've been put in

[Leto:]
I'm in it too...

[Zingenmir:]
And Badger, and Voyd (or Dah-LI-a)
And Geema and maybe more
So I hope we can all get a line in
We're nearly out of--

[Badger:]
-- time!

[Voyd:]
But if our time is up, have we done enough?

[Good Mod Addict:]
Are we in this story?

[Huinesoron:]
Folks, I can't wait to 'ship you again
It's only a matter of--

[Entire PPC:]
Time...

---

Dedicated in no particular order to Neshomeh (for naming the Hamilton 'ship), Kaitlyn and Phobos (for being the Hamilton 'ship), and Zingenmir (for demanding more Hamilton). ^_^

hS

Iximaz rocked back on her heels nervously, pink blushes spreading on her cheeks. "I was just wondering..."

"What is it, Ixi-kun?" Delta Juliette slowly turned around in her aerials hoop, silky purple hair splayed around her like a halo.

Iximaz felt her nose start to bleed and she fell over, feet in the air. "N-nothing, Delta-senpai! I just wanted to tell you your form is perfect! Aaa! It's too perfect! I can't help myself!"

Delta laughed and turned right side up. "Oh, Ixi-kun, you're so kawaii," Delta said, batting her eyelashes. "Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu!"

Iximaz sat up, holding her hands over her nose. "Anata ga yaru?"

"Mochiron!" Delta dropped gracefully down from her hoop and approached Iximaz, grabbing her hands. "Kisu shite kuremasu ka?"

Iximaz nodded and leaned in. "Anata wa totemo kanpekidesu," she whispered when they broke apart.

Delta smiled. "I know."

((The below may be best viewed on a mobile or a narrowed browser window. And it probably works better if you know the song.))

[Neshomeh:]
Listen, let's all calm down.
I'm sure we can talk this out.
Why don't I put on a pot of tea and-
Wait. Why is this conversation in script format?

[Kaitlyn:]
You say

[Neshomeh:]
Oh no.

[Kaitlyn:]
The price of my love's not a price that you're willing to pay.
You cry

[Neshomeh:]
Not singing.

[Kaitlyn:]
In my tea--

[Phobos:]
--which you brewed from the set that I bought for my wife.
Why so sad?

[Neshomeh:]
I bet I'm sadder than her.

[Phobos:]
Shouldn't you be with your husband?--

[Kaitlyn:]
--He's gone on a trip
Yeah, I know that it's bad.
But I find you so hard to resist--

[Phobos:]
--Wait! I've got this…

[Neshomeh:]
Something tells me it's not going to be--

[Phobos:]
Why… not… share?

[Neshomeh:]
What.

[Kaitlyn:]
Ooh, why not?
Yes, I think maybe it's worth a shot.

[Phobos:]
You're quite hot,
So's my wife.

[Kaitlyn:]
So let's keep us both here in your life!

[Phobos:]
E-motions rise--

[Kaitlyn:]
--Bound'ries fall!
Let's just stay together, have a ball

[Phobos:]
And when push
Comes to shove
I'm quite sure we can convince my Neshy--

[Kaitlyn:]
--to accept our mutual love!

[Neshomeh:]
Okay, listen.
This has gone too far.
I was willing to overlook a small amount of shipping,
But all this talk of sharing has gotten me really-

[Kaitlyn:]
You say you're feeling jealous and you want me gone~!

[Neshomeh:]
That's not exactly what-

[Phobos:]
You say you can't stand list'ning to what I want~!

[Neshomeh:]
Stop making me sound unreasonable!

[Phobos:]
No! Don't change the subject!

[Kaitlyn:]
'Cos you're our favourite subject!

[Phobos:]
Our precious, luscious subject!

[Kaitlyn:]
Our flawless, hottest subject!
For ever--

[Phobos:]
--and ever--

[Kaitlyn:]
--and ever and ever and ever…

[Neshomeh:]
Oh, you guys,
Stop this talk
You've said your piece, now walk the walk!
Kaitlyn's hot,
Phobos strong,
Look, you've even got me singing along!
E-motions rise--

[Phobos:]
--Inhibitions fall!

[Neshomeh:]
There's a bedroom just along the hall!

[Kaitlyn:]
And when push--

[Phobos:]
--comes to shove...

[Neshomeh:]
We'll be staying up till midnight…
... and keep singing of our love!

[All three:]
Da da da dat da!
Dat da da da da ya da…

---

^_^ Well, I couldn't let the Shipfest end without at least one NeshBosh fic... even if they don't get any time to themselves in this one.

hS

Kaitlyn frowned, tapping her pencil on her clipboard. "Do you know what this Shipfest is missing?"

"Leather trousers," Zingenmir said. "It's just not the same without them."

Neshomeh shook her head. "I'm sure I've seen hS wearing them. Or not wearing them, as the case may be."

Twistey raised a hand hesitantly. "Er… is it memes?"

"No," Kaitlyn said, smiling at her, "but feel free to introduce them. I meant-"

"Corsets," Scapegrace muttered from her chair. "I keep trying to fit them in, but I just can't make it work."

Kaitlyn flushed slightly and coughed. "Not what I was thinking of. What we're missing… is femslash."

The others considered this, and then Twistey raised her hand again. "There was that thing with me and Calliope…"

Scapegrace nodded along. "And there's lots of slash-slash. Some of it involving fictional characters."

"Or sandwiches," Zingenmir added. "Or was the sandwich female?"

Neshomeh cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. "She has a point," she said. "Femslash is a tradition here."

Kaitlyn nodded firmly. "It's where it all started. The very first ships were girl-girl."

"Um." Twistey's hand rose again. "I thought the first ship was you and hS."

Kaitlyn flicked a hand. "Details, sliated."

"Which is a reference to TOS," Neshomeh murmured. "I can probably look up the-"

"Bjam/BiD," Kaitlyn said hurriedly. "Andy/Saphie. Jay/Acacia."

"Kaitlyn/Thalia Weaver?" Neshomeh suggested.

Flushing again, Kaitlyn shook her head. "I don't think that ever… the point is, femslash: we need it."

"I mean, I'm not objecting," Scapegrace said, "but if I can't even manage to get corsets in, how are you going to organise this?"

There was a Pop! of displaced air, and Voyd appeared on the table. "I can help!" he exclaimed as the plotters variously yelped (Kaitlyn), rolled their eyes (Scapegrace), or fell out of their chairs (Twistey).

"Ah, Voyd," Neshomeh said, "we're talking about femslash. With ladies."

"The clue is in the name," Zingenmir put in.

"That's right!" Voyd scrambled to his feet and patted his (her?) chest. "I've been genderbent, see? So I can help!"

Kaitlyn frowned. "Wait, are we talking gender or sex, here?"

"And does it even matter?" Scapegrace asked. "I vote no."

"I can look into the question," Neshomeh suggested. "I've got a survey I can adapt for the purpose."

"Let's… maybe we could stick to people who were female before the shipfest," Zingenmir said. "You know, for the sake of simplicity."

"Aww." Voyd pouted. "Fine. But see if I ever get myself genderbent for you again." With another Pop!, he was gone.

"So if not Voyd," Twistey said after a moment, "who are we going to fem, uh, ship?"

The others looked at each other. Then, one by one, they turned their gazes on Twistey.

The relative newbie's face slowly coloured, reddening to the tips of her ears. "Oh. No. Well… no. No. Um. Weeeeeell…"

---

Because it is traditional, dagnabbit.

(Obviously this fic does absolutely nothing to address the issue. ^_^)

hS

Thoth smiled softly as he pulled Granz close, hugging him gently as he fitted his head neatly to the other man’s shoulder. “You are amazing,” he whispered into Granz’s skin.

Granz blushed and hugged his lover back. “Thank you, darling,” he murmured. “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, you know.”

Thoth chuckled, a low noise rather unlike his normal laugh. “And you’re better.”

“Lies. You.”

“Nope. You.”

“You.”

“You.”

“It’s you.”

“No, it’s you, pup.”

Granz smiled at the childish argument. “Hey, if I’m a puppy, you’re a chick.”

Thoth all but choked on a laugh at that. Once he recovered, he argued, “That’s just for chickens.”

Granz pressed a kiss to the top of Thoth’s head, smiling a little wider and more than a little more mischievously. “Wanna bet on that, Birdie?”

Thoth nuzzled the shoulder he rested on. “Five bucks says I’m right.”

“I’ll take that. Five says I’m the one who’s right.” The ice-cream-loving Boarder pulled his little bird closer still. “But we can check later.”

The programmer smiled and pulled his head away from Granz’s shoulder to give him a soft kiss. “Yeah. Cuddles now.”

---

Two hours later, Thoth was five bucks poorer and one nickname richer.

(Previously...)

Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone sat alone upon a crystalline boulder, weeping softly. Her ankle-length ebony hair flowed like silk around her delicately-pointed ears, over her smoothly-curved shoulders, and down to mingle with the glinting snow on the ground. With each tender sob, a single tear welled in the corners of her almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes, caught the light, and rippled down her pale olive cheeks.

Her sorrow was so heart-breakingly deep that it seemed the whole world was affected by it: the bare trees leant in as if to shield her, the babbling of the silver stream was the sound of mourning, and even the birds cried out, "Woe! Woe!" Such was the tragedy of Kaitlyn: forsaken by her husband, forsaken by her mother's spirit (her midnight-black cat Moonlight with its piercing green eyes had vanished into shadow some years before, saying her task was done), with only the silver filigree of her elven owl-shaped amulet to remember them by.

Something moved in the gloomy woods: a mysterious figure, lithe and fast, hooded in black. Kaitlyn gasped and sat up, clutching her hands to her voluptuous bosom. Could it be? Could it really be? She stood, her bare feet making no mark in the snow, and pushed her luscious ebon hair back to reveal her clinging, flowing silver gown, tantalisingly low cut yet modest. "Who is there?" she called, in a voice like a nightingale at play.

The figure stopped, graceful as a unicorn. For a long moment there was silence, the air between the shadowy cloak and the glowing dress filled with tension. Then a deep, masculine voice rang out:

Oh, Galwyn was a shield-maiden
A shield-maiden was she,
A Rider's girl with hair of gold,
And eyes as blue as sea,

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

She said would you come a-riding
Come riding out with me?
She was looking for a stallion,
And a stallion I be!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

Kaitlyn gasped, shock running through her like silver lightning, one slender coppery hand flying to cover her rich ruby lips. "Can it be?" she breathed, her almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes widening. "Can it really be?"

The dark figure lowered its head as if in acknowledgement, and stepped forward into the luminous moonlight. It held out a hand towards her, its fingers seemingly carved from pale ivory, and sang on:

So I rode her in the stables,
And left her wanting more,
I rode her in her chambers,
And on her bedroom floor!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

I told her to choose someone else,
But Galwyn was persistant,
And I finally surrendered,
For Galwyn has a sister!

Forth Eorlingas!
For maidens short and tall
And maidens dark and maidens fair
The riders love them all!

"It must be!" Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone ran across the snow. Her ebony hair flowed behind her like a tide, and all the colours of the aurora seemed to chase each other across her sleek silver dress as it rippled over the pure white field. "My love!" she cried, tears of joy tumbling from her bright eyes. "You have returned!"

"I have." The figure reached up and pushed back his cowl, revealing a pale, slender face, set with eyes the colour of garnets and lips as red as wine. "After so many years, I have returned to you, fair Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone!"

Kaitlyn stumbled to a halt, her shapely arms still outstretched towards the handsome man standing before her. "But... who are you?" she asked in a voice like moonlight rainbows.

The man smiled, and reached up to touch his deep russett hair. "You probably don't recognise me, because of the red hair, but it is I - Leto Haven. I come back to you, my love - and here you are, waiting for me still."

"No..." Kaitlyn let her hands fall as she studied Leto, bewilderment written across her beautiful face. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, and her perfect lips set into a line. "No," she said again, and behind her words Leto seemed to hear the rumble of distant thunder. "You are not my love, Leto Haven. I wait on another."

"But I can be." Leto stepped forward, reaching for her with his muscular arm. "My Lady, will you not give me a chance? There is none other here who loves you."

Kaitlyn Silverdust Moonstone's eyes flared, violet fire blossoming from their points. She drew her filigreed amulet from where it nestled in her bosom, and the same amethyst flames filled it with light. "You had your warning," she said, the chill of the far north seeping into her voice. "Now begone."

Leto started to say something, but the owl-amulet spread its wings, and a wave of purple light washed over him, and he was gone.

Kaitlyn let the amulet fall from her limp fingers, and fell to her knees in the snow. "My love," she whispered, crystalline tears falling silently down her flushed olive cheeks. Her hair fell in ebon curtains around her, her silky dress blending into the snow. "My love..."

The snow crunched in front of her, and Kaitlyn forced herself to look up. Her gleaming almond-shaped lavender/cobalt eyes widened once more as she saw the tight leather trousers; the huge muscles rippling on the bare torso; and finally the steel-grey eyes set in a beautiful yet masculine face.

"My love," said Huinesoron, holding out his manly hand to his wife. "I am here."

---

With deepest apologies to Twiggy (author of the 2004 Shipfic to which this is a sequel and homage), and to Jen Littlebottom (author of Galwyn Was a Shieldmaiden).

... no, actually, you know what? For what they've done, neither deserve apologies. ^_^

(Fourteen years. Good grief.)

hS

[Phobos:]
One winter's day I went to HQ

[Kaitlyn:]
One winter's day I went to HQ

[Phobos:]
I walked to the cafe and I stood in the queue

[Kaitlyn:]
I walked to the cafe, and I saw you

[Phobos:]
Even while I stared from the back of the line
Lovely Lady Kaitlyn put her hand into mine
She pulled me in close, led me out of the shop
Maaaaan, the girl is non-stop!

[Kaitlyn:]
Phobos my dear, I'm curious, bear with me
How are you so irresistably sexy?
I walked in there and I knew I had to have you
I hope my attention isn't undue

[Phobos:]
Non-stop!

[Kaitlyn:]
I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt
My undying devotion-

[Phobos:]
Or something
Kaitlyn, calm down
You've known me only twenty seconds
This isn't eternal love
It's not even a date!

[Kaitlyn:]
Okay!
But just let me--

[Phobos:]
How can she always be the hottest in the room?
How can she always be the hottest in the room?

[Kaitlyn:]
How can he always be the hottest in the room?
I fear that sexiness may be my doom!

[Both:]
Why do we write like we're running out of time?
Write day and night like we're running out of time?
'Shipping all night, like we're running out of time
Keep on 'shipping in the meantime
Non-stop!

---

Hamilton turns out to be very difficult to filk. I did my best. ^_^

hS

The thing about corsetry is, well, you have to get into it.

Scapegrace sighed, leaned back. Her chair squeaked a bit. So did the rats.

It wasn't working. She couldn't get the scene right. Was this going to be serious, like the last two? Or would it be dumb fun, like the inexplicably popular Doktor Trollenfisch badfic? God forbid, there might even be poetry if she was really stuck for ideas.

And then there was the scene itself. It's BDSM, Jim, but not as we know it. For a start, writing basic BDSM softcore stuff just felt... tacky. Especially involving her friends, no matter what the context. That was the problem with sex-positivity, she thought, it ground you down with all the ways things could be. It was a good problem to have, sure, but applied to people she cared about in a non-romantic sense? Not worth the sleepless nights.

She swivelled in her chair, looked out across her living room, and sighed. "Any of you lot got any ideas?"

Neshomeh was too busy trying to cut hS out of his leather trousers to give an answer, and hS was too busy trying to retain some blood flow to his legs. Meanwhile, Phobos and Kaitlyn were fat too busy doing something utterly unspeakable with a caddy of loose leaf tea; a call tried to come up from Leto about them putting the ass in Assam, but it was muffled by the ballgag. Zingenmir said she'd have a think about it later when she wasn't being sandwiched between Delta Juliette and an actual ham sandwich, and all that Tomash was allowed to say for the afternoon was "Woof", which was really helpful. Calliope and Granz were busy gazing into each others eyes, which they were managing despite the blindfolds Thoth had obliged them to wear. Thoth, meanwhile, had been the victim of an unfortunate misspelling, as Twistey had gotten mixed up, crammed him into an Adepta Sororitas cosplay composed simultaneously of too much and a grossly insufficient amount of black latex, and left him on a date with a branch of Primark.

"Fat lot of good you lot are," Scapegrace sighed, and turned back to her keyboard.

It had been quiet for just long enough that Kaitlyn was wondering if she needed to rescue her husband from whatever trouble had befallen him.

There was still rustling in the attic, that was a good sign- and even better, a familiar pair of legs still perched on the unfolded ladder. Huinesoron descended, grinning- and then started when he saw his wife.

"You're never going to guess what I found," hS said.

"Given that I found an entire barony last time I was up there, probably not," Kaitlyn said.

In answer, Huinesoron reached back up into the attic and brought out a pair of black leather pants.

"No," Kaitlyn breathed. "Those aren't..."

"The original pair," Huinesoron said. "As far as I can tell. As worn in the very first shipfest."

"Wow," Kaitlyn said. "That brings back a lot. Feels like it was just yesterday, and yet-"

Kaitlyn gestured around herself, somehow encompassing house, marriage, and a decade of shared life.

Huinesoron grinned a very familiar grin.

"I wonder if they still fit?"

Kaitlyn made a face and reached out to feel the stiff leather. "They've probably perished, love. But the point of leather pants was never in the wearing."

"Oh?" Huinesoron said.

"The point of leather pants," Kaitlyn said, pulling her husband towards their bedroom, "is when and where you take them off."

The sky was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel, and Tomash was stumbling around the cold streets violently snogging himself. He was really going at it. He pawed at his own arms, grabbed at his own jacket and belt, flicked his own tongue out and twisted it about, left to right, in an attempt to wrap it around itself.

'Oh, Tomash, you know how I love these cold cyber-afternoons,' exclaimed Thoth, pulling his lips from themselves.

'Oh, how could I not know, Thoth, my lover? You're me, after all.'

'How could you not,' said Thoth wistfully, the subtext of his phrase understood almost immediately by Tomash because, again, they were the same person, literally the exact same person, same traits and tendencies and you should see them talking about computer nerd stuff together, it's uncanny.

'Ah, but my darling,' exclaimed Tomash or alternately Thoth, suddenly standing straight. 'Why, it's just about PPC-time!'

'Yes! Of course!' realised either Thoth or Tomash. 'Quick! We must hurry back and log into our two separate accounts to continue pretending and claiming that we are two, distinct, different people, despite it being incredibly clear that this is one person, sheeple! This is a single individual! Check the facts! Think a little!'

And so, Thoth and Tomash skipped merrily back to their cyber-computer - though not without, here and there, giving themselves light pecks on their own cheeks, or reaching over and gently massaging their own shoulders -
and everybody was none the wiser as to their dark secret.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” Cal asked.

“Why would I enjoy that?”

Cal gave him a level stare.

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Speak for yourself," Maxewell chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Well, she did say she was gonna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

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

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“Thoth?”

“Yeah?”

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

“Can I say it with you?”

“Sure.”

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