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  1. - Top - End - #361
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    half-halfling's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Here's my new picture. This pairing is not very crack, but there is soul spilce involved .


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  2. - Top - End - #362
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Water-Smurf's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    By the Gods, you guys go fast.

    *runs hands through hair* And sometimes I wonder if my homework breeds with itself.

    Anyway, lovely picture, CheeseMuncher. I especially like the reference. ^.^

    And I'm still laughing at Half-Halfling's comic.

    Edit: I also love the little kid's soul splice. It's so cute and so twisted at the same time.

    At any rate, here's the next chapter, dredged up between bouts of trying to keep my boarding room habitable and keeping my homework from multiplying like rabbits.

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    There were some things that were clear-cut in this world. Food, water, and shelter were always needed. The ground wouldn’t randomly cave in underneath your feet without reason. Every person has motivation. There were also some things that weren’t as clear-cut, such as whether or not it was moral to kill someone because they were from a species that was supposed to be irrevocably Chaotic Evil, or to kill someone because they were one of the people who thought that of your species. Especially when things such as love and hate get involved, it was near impossible to really understand what the difference between them was. After all, love and hate were brother and sister, far from opposites. Their opposites were indifference.

    Redcloak knew he wasn’t indifferent when he was staring down at the beaten and bloody elf at his feet.

    Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, loathe to let even a small whimper out, and glared up at Xykon rebelliously, wiping blood gently from its lip.

    “Oh come on! What’s your Constitution score? Did you use that and Charisma as a dump stat? Seriously! This is no fun!” Xykon pouted in a way that only liches could pout, holding out his arms, blood sticky on his phalanges and remnants of dark magic sparking from the tips of the finger bones, making the empty stone room underneath the castle smell strongly of licorice. The only others present inside was Tsukiko, her mismatched eyes dancing while she stared at Redcloak, and the monster, though Redcloak wasn’t sure how he had gotten down there in his cage.

    Vaarsuvius’s face was streaked with blood and its robe was stained with it, purple hair almost red. What wasn’t scarlet was starkly pale or black and blue. The elf’s hand remained firmly at its ribcage, lips white with pain, and it didn’t take much deduction to infer that its bones had taken on too much pressure over the course of the beating. Redcloak wasn’t sure if Xykon did this out of pure boredom or malice. Probably both.

    “Xykon, why did you ask me to come down here to see this?” Redcloak asked softly, keeping his temper on a very tight leash and slowly kneeling so he was at face-level with Vaarsuvius, trying to check to see how deep the gashes were.

    “I assume he liked showing off his sadism,” Vaarsuvius said scathingly. No more venom could have possibly been found in any other voice imaginable. The elf gently started to try wiping away the blood on its face. In that little movement, Redcloak caught sight of completely black burns traveling up and down the elf’s arms, possibly going further than that. Healing would be needed.

    “Ooh, spark! That’s nice to see in prisoners these days. Usually it’s either sniveling or silence. Where’s the fun in that?” Xykon’s skull remained immobile, but Redcloak could tell that he was smirking. “But anyway, I figured that it’d be fun to see your reaction.”

    “She kept from screaming, even when Xykon got the spikes out! Just like Mr. Stiffly!” the monster said cheerfully, jiggling his prison a little. “She got a little pale after she bled a lot, though.”

    Redcloak looked up and glared at Xykon, ignoring the monster. “Remember the gates, Xykon? Yeah, we need information on those. Killing our prisoners won’t help.” He lightly put his hand on the elf’s arm. “Cure moderate wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius avoided eye contact, hissing softly in pain.

    “Don’t be a buzz-kill, Reddy. I’m bored with playing with the paladin.” Xykon shrugged. “Teevo has nothing good on. You’ve been coddling the elf for so long that I figured that it should get some blood flowing. He-or-she can barely walk.” He made a wild gesture with his hands. “Seriously! Push the thing off the stairs or something! It’d be totally hilarious.”

    Redcloak scowled, moving to pick up Vaarsuvius. “Yeah. Hilarious. If you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the elf back to its room.”

    Redcloak could tell that Vaarsuvius was biting back a protest. He was glad that the overly prideful elf had figured out that right then was a bad time to drag attention to itself.

    “One last thing, though.”

    The voice held a distinct strain of seriousness, something that usually was followed up by violence. Redcloak immediately glanced up, stiffening, and his eye darted towards Tsukiko and the monster briefly. The monster let out a soft whimper, but Tsukiko had no idea what was coming. Neither did Vaarsuvius.

    The elf looked up sharply at Redcloak, noticing his tension and immediately put on edge by it. Its hand twitched in its lap, an incomplete gesture, and it cocked its head. “Redcloak?”

    “Oh, how cute. He-or-she knows your name. And can tell if you’re upset.” Xykon’s smile looked very, very fake, as if he had a realistic mask and had put it on.

    “Xykon, we need the elf.”

    “Yeah, I find that you’re the only one that thinks that.”

    Redcloak’s heartbeat quickened, the pulse going loudly in his ears. Xykon didn’t used to be so volatile to the point that Redcloak was genuinely afraid of calling him out on something. He supposed, with dark humor, that losing his immortality guarantee would do that.

    Vaarsuvius felt the faster beat in the goblin and pursed its lips worriedly. “Redcloak…?”

    “You’re the only one who’s keeping me from making sure the little corksucker gets what it deserves for sending my frikken’ phylactery to the sewer. In the name of information. Guess what? I figure that information and tactics are more for stuck-up wizards. You see, Reddy, I forgot for a little bit there that I depend on brute force for a reason.” Xykon sauntered up slowly, holding out his phalanges, palms-up. “Namely that I’ve been able to prove over and over again that, at a certain point, tactics can’t do anything against it. Now, the elf has a few disadvantages.”

    The lich held up one finger. “One, it’s a frikken’ wizard. I’m sick of those guys babbling about how hard they worked and how much smarter they are than sorcerers because we actually were born with magic in us.”

    Vaarsuvius tensed up, watching Xykon warily, and Redcloak stood. “Xykon…”

    “Two,” he held up another finger, “it’s an elf. Part of another stuck-up group that’s always looking down their noses at everyone. Yeah, that pisses me off.”

    The monster whimpered again. Tsukiko’s grin seemed to freeze a little on her face, slowly realizing that everyone in the room was treading on thin ice. Redcloak stood in front of Vaarsuvius despite the small protest of ‘I can protect myself, Redcloak.’

    “Three,” another finger, “it lost my phylactery.”

    Magic started to gather inside of Xykon.

    Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, starting to grasp the real seriousness of the situation, and tried to pull at Redcloak impatiently. “Redcloak, get out of the way.”

    “Four,” another finger, “it hasn’t paid for that yet, unlike the paladin.”

    Redcloak braced himself. The elf fell silent.

    “Five, you’re the one protecting it. And I happen to be more than a little angry at you right now, Reddy.” Xykon stood in front of Redcloak, face frozen in a perpetual skeletal grin and eyes glowing red. “I suggest you get out of the way now, bitch.”

    Redcloak clenched his fists and set his mouth in a grim line. Vaarsuvius froze up, understanding what the goblin was really doing for it.

    “Alright, then. It’s always more fun to do this with more than one person.”

    A fist planted itself firmly in Redcloak’s stomach, crushing his solar plexus and making him double over with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and a cold, bony hand planted itself on the back of his head. “Fireball.”

    Redcloak decided that he really, really disliked being on the receiving end of a pissed-off Xykon’s spells.

    He slammed into the ground, fire licking at his back, but he kept his teeth firmly clenched.

    “He is your subordinate!” Vaarsuvius instinctively draped its arms across Redcloak’s scorched back, perhaps not realizing what it was doing. “Why would you attack an ally?!” Vaarsuvius looked up and glared.

    “Oh, look, someone else wants to play. And here I thought he was using you.”

    Xykon backhanded Vaarsuvius, leaving a dark red mark on the pale face. The elf recoiled and glared. “Attack your enemies, Xykon. Not your allies.”

    Tsukiko snickered and Xykon stepped over Redcloak to get closer to the elf. “Alright, then.”

    Vaarsuvius threw its arms in front of its face with a muttered ‘Damnation’ just in time for Xykon’s meteor swarm.

    The spell sent the elf hard against the wall, bruising any affected patch of pale skin. Vaarsuvius allowed only a grunt of pain to escape, slowly struggling to stand only to have its legs buckle, unable to handle the weight after the consistent abuse that they had been suffering.

    The elf looked up and glared, teeth clenched against the burning, throbbing pain in its arms and back.

    “Meteor Swarm.”

    Vaarsuvius jerked its hands up again, slamming against the wall, stones bigger than its fist battering its delicate body, the jagged ridges of the rock opening up slashed and squeezing blood from the pale flesh.

    “Meteor Swarm.”

    More flaming rocks, burning through the skin and tearing open the tiny body. The elf fell down completely to its knees, unable to continue bracing itself, and desperately tried to stifle the sounds rising in its throat.

    A sharp kick came onto the mage’s ribcage, eliciting a cracking sound and forcing Vaarsuvius to let a tiny cry escape.

    Cold bones, still functioning as fingers, reached down and grabbed the elf’s matted hair, holding it up only by that, and a phalange, hot with magic, fisted on Vaarsuvius’s forehead. The wizard tried to stifle an expectant wince.

    “Meteor—”

    “Xykon.”

    A clawed scaly hand grabbed Xykon’s arm, pulling the fisted phalange away, and looked up at what was undoubtedly going to be a very angry lich. “It’s done. You don’t need to beat Vaarsuvius anymore.”

    Xykon glared at Redcloak. He slammed the elf’s head against the stone once before dropping it. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. This is the last time I let you sleep with a prisoner.”

    He missed Vaarsuvius’s expression at that.

    He punched Redcloak hard in the stomach. The goblin doubled over, keeping any sounds of discomfort from voicing themselves.

    “Necromancer chick, get the monster back upstairs. I need to wash this icky organic matter off my phalanges, and I think I know what I want to do with the stuck-up elf.”

    “Whatever you say, Xykon.”

    Tsukiko smirked down at Redcloak and Vaarsuvius, letting the monster out of the cage for a moment, quickly giving him the umbrella to keep himself covered. The monster glanced over at the elf and goblin, dragging the cardboard cage behind him as he walked towards the door.

    “Don’t say anything to them. Looks like their a bit busy concentrating on not ending up like Romeo and Juliet.” Tsukiko smirked and cheerfully jumped out after the exiting Xykon, practically glowing in her abdomen at the sight of his thoughtful, malicious expression as he went down the hall to find a sink.

    “Who’re Romeo and Juliet? Are they friends of Xykon’s?”

    “Seriously? Am I the only one who actually reads this stuff?!” Tsukiko rolled her eyes and both she and the monster were gone.

    There was silence for a while. Only the sound of labored breathing.

    Redcloak grit his teeth against the pain, instinctively sharpening his claws against his scales and standing, slowly staggering until he was able to kneel in front of Vaarsuvius. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” A gentle clawed finger brushed the matted violet hair from the elf’s face. “Cure moderate wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius gave a soft sigh of relief, looking up while the cuts on its face mended themselves. “You should heal yourself first.”

    “I wasn’t the one who took several Meteor Swarms to the face.” Redcloak gently started healing himself.

    “Why did you protect me?”

    The goblin was silent.

    “It was not for the possible information you can gain from me. I have been far from forthcoming and I am not an entirely useful resource. Either way, you could have always healed what was left before I died and taken me back to my room. Why did you protect me?”

    Redcloak shrugged, wincing a little at a twinge in his back, and picked up the elf gently. “I don’t like the idea of you becoming another of Xykon’s playthings and getting hurt in the process.”

    “Why not?” The elf scowled a little, but that was the only protest Redcloak got for picking it up. At least Vaarsuvius knew its own physical limitations.

    “Why did you help me?”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t answer.

    “I say that we both ignore the question and get you to your room.”

    “No.” Vaarsuvius squirmed, forcing Redcloak to let it down, keeping firm hands on the tiny arms to make sure the elf didn’t fall. “We ignore too much.”

    “Vaarsuvius, you’re tired. Healing can do a lot, but the fatigue is still there. Let me take you to your room.”

    “There you are again!” Vaarsuvius scowled, squirming a little. “You’re tender! You’re kind! You’re protective! Even at the cost of your own safety, you remain so. Please show me what to make of it, because I can’t simply think of you as my foe anymore after all this.”

    “You will have to, Vaarsuvius.” Redcloak sighed, staring at the ground, away from the elf. “This is complicated.”

    “I have a distinct feeling that we shall make it more complicated before this is done.” Vaarsuvius’s voice lowered, a gentle, warning hiss. “Redcloak, this is dangerous for us both. Physically and emotionally.”

    “I realize that. I didn’t exactly predict this would happen. I’m usually able to deal with prisoners without being a complete monster while not getting… like this.” Redcloak tentatively ran a gentle claw through the elf’s hair. “I don’t get it, but I don’t get a lot of things.”

    “It is only going to be difficult for the both of us.” Vaarsuvius looked away, frowning and squirming a little, yet not enough for Redcloak’s claws to break the skin unwittingly. “You should stop touching me.”

    “I need to get you to your room. You can’t fool yourself into thinking that you can actually walk up all those steps.”

    “Do not tell me that this is no more than necessity, Redcloak. Do not insult my intelligence.”

    “Maybe it’s not. We’ve both done more than what’s necessary. Acknowledging it won’t make us stop.”

    “Redcloak…” Vaarsuvius took a deep breath, looking up and slipping into a cleanly dispassionate expression. “This is too intricate. We should stop seeing each other. I am tired of trying to make sense of you. You do not fit in black or white. I doubt that your apparent attachment to me does you any favors as well. You are vulnerable, I am compromised, and we both are crossing inappropriate—”

    Redcloak slid his arms around the elf’s waist gently and touched their lips together. Vaarsuvius stiffened up against him with a soft gasp, the little elven heartbeat quickening against his chest, but the kiss was returned.

    The scientist and the person in Redcloak’s head both threw up their hands in defeat. They both loudly proclaimed that he had just screwed up any chance they had of pretending nothing was going on and that they clearly were unappreciated at the moment. They went to the back of his mind and started playing Parcheesi until the two were done making out.

    “We should stop…” Vaarsuvius murmured, kissing Redcloak again, wrapping delicate arms around his neck.

    “Probably.” Redcloak was understandably distracted. Normally, warmth in a body seemed foreign and unnatural. He was so used to goblins and skeletons that he didn’t really know what it felt like to really touch someone who didn’t need sunlight to give heat. Under any other circumstances, he was positive that he would hate it. Just then it felt… nice.

    The heat and fervor increased. Tongues were touching. They both could feel each other’s heart beats quickening. The elf’s face flushed darkly. Neither could, by any stretch of the imagination, be called ‘innocent.’ They knew where this was going.

    Both pulled away. Neither were ready for that.

    “I…” Vaarsuvius shook its head sharply, dissipating the daze. “Please take me back to my room. I must think.”

    “We both do.” Redcloak, had he been able to, would have blushed. Instead, he cleared his throat and picked the elf up gently, taking it out of the room and slowly walking up the stairs.

    The scientist and person looked up hopefully from their Parcheesi game. Unwilling to put up with them, Redcloak slammed and locked the door before they could even stand.

    Both goblin and elf were silent until they were inside the room. “I promise that I’ll do my best to make sure Xykon doesn’t do anything like this to you again, okay?” Redcloak gently put the elf down on the bed, looking up at the only window of the room, eyes adjusting for the sparse illumination from the Snarl.

    “Redcloak…”

    “I have a feeling I know where this is going.”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t even react. Perhaps they knew each other too well. “Ignoring this won’t help.”

    “Sometimes it does.”

    “I am not the sort of person who ignores things and hopes they go away.” Vaarsuvius frowned, hugging its knees and staring at Redcloak appraisingly.

    “You don’t need to say that. I know.” Redcloak sat at the foot of the bed, looking down at his claws, a purple sheen dancing on his scales from the window, a small light show within itself, the colors mixing together until there were strands of jade, pink, and blue among the purple and green.

    “It makes no sense. We are of different alignments, vastly different species, different view points, different personalities…”

    “I know.” Redcloak shrugged, making the colors and lights dance. “Articulating it won’t make it go away, Vaarsuvius. Talking will only do so much. You need to actually do things.”

    There was silence, rather rare when around such a verbose and prideful elf.

    “Perhaps you are correct.”

    Redcloak looked up curiously, frowning. Had Vaarsuvius just admitted to being wrong?

    The elf crawled up to him, hesitated for a moment, then brought a pale hand up to his cold cheek and kissed him softly. “I cannot believe that I am allowing myself to participate in such gross misconduct.”

    Quite frankly, neither did Redcloak. The scientist was banging at the door, screaming about how this could only end badly. He didn’t bother with it. He did too many things that could only end badly. What was one more? It looked like he was too deep to pull out at any rate. Ignoring it obviously didn’t work, he had no intention of cutting himself off from the elf, and if they both wanted this (even if they would die before they admitted it) they might as well.

    And, secretly, he could admit that it wasn’t mere admiration that he felt for the proud, defiant, beautiful elf. And he could also admit in an even tinier place in his mind that what he felt was certainly not lust, as he sometimes tried to tell himself it was.

    He kissed back gently, touching the back of the elf’s head and gently bringing it closer. Maybe they would act like nothing happened again once the kiss was over. That was fine with him. Maybe they would be back to whatever they were before tomorrow. That was fine with him. Maybe he was setting his heart up to be hanged. That was fine with him.

    Maybe he would eventually kill Vaarsuvius just like Right-Eye.

    He tightened his grip a little and kissed harder.
    Last edited by Water-Smurf; 2009-09-22 at 07:01 PM.

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    The April Squickies Award for Best Crack Pairing Story


    Thank you so much to Kaytara for the avatar! It's of Redcloak's and Vaarsuvius's love child.

  3. - Top - End - #363
    Titan in the Playground
     
    Silverraptor's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Zanaril View Post
    I don't know, I don't use Inkscape.

    Here's a version without transparency so you can just copy and paste it:
    Well, is there anyone out there that knows how to download the transparency?
    My own webcomic. Idiosyncrasy.
    Paladin Academy: Chapter 2 Part 28

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  4. - Top - End - #364

    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    That... was beautiful, Water-Smurf.

    I cried a bit there.
    It's been a bit, GitP. If you're reading this, you're either digging through old stuff, or I've posted for the first time in forever.

    If you want to stay in touch, reach out to me on twitter (same username).

    The best answer is always to ask your DM.
    Unless you're the DM, in which case you should talk to your players.

  5. - Top - End - #365
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    half-halfling's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Watre-Smurf -It was very emotional -real masterpiece. Moment when Xykon started to be serious was really scary.
    Last edited by half-halfling; 2009-09-22 at 06:25 PM.

  6. - Top - End - #366
    Orc in the Playground
     
    Meg's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Water-Smurf: Wow... There's really nothing I can say that hasn't been said or will be said by people far more eloquent than I. Just... Wow.

    ...And that is how I met your father.

  7. - Top - End - #367
    Orc in the Playground
     
    TheBibliophile's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by CheeseMuncher View Post
    Water-Smurf: Wow... There's really nothing I can say that hasn't been said or will be said by people far more eloquent than I. Just... Wow.
    Never fear, TheBibliophile is here!

    But on this occasion, I find myself only able to say one thing:

    Freeow, baby, freeow.

    And if you don't understand, go read some Douglas Adams. Right now.
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  8. - Top - End - #368
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    RedWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Water-Smurf, that was wonderful, truly it is the work of a great writer. Great job.

    And to half-halfling, great comic, I love it. Please tell me you're going to make more.
    Last edited by Malkar Grumbo; 2009-09-22 at 07:49 PM.
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
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  9. - Top - End - #369
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    esmerelder's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    @ Half-Halfling... Aww! If only it could actually happen! Also, OMG, those poor little kids. It's only just occurred to me that they've just had to deal with their house being wrecked by a dragon, being seriously injured by same dragon, *and* now their parents are getting divorced.

    And Water Smurf... just 'wow'. That was very much worth waiting for. The transition from to actually!seriously!scary!Xykon was particularly good - absolutely in-character and absolutely chilling.


    Many thanks, blue silk handkerchiefs, and small inarticulate hedgehog noises to Funky Goose for the sig banner!

    Even more thanks to half-halfling for the adorable avatar, which is from this comic
    !

  10. - Top - End - #370
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    Dark Faun's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    @ half-halfling: I love this picture!

    @ Water-Smurf: I always like seeing Xykon as scary as he can be, especially when his funny personna is also present in the story. Poor V though. Her need to put Redcloak in either a white or black box still surprises me, but as I said earlier, I find this interpretation interesting.

    They went to the back of his mind and started playing Parcheesi until the two were done making out.
    The scientist and person looked up hopefully from their Parcheesi game. Unwilling to put up with them, Redcloak slammed and locked the door before they could even stand.
    The scientist was banging at the door, screaming about how this could only end badly.
    I love these lines.
    Formerly known as Discord here and Maladin on avatarspirit.net.

  11. - Top - End - #371
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    The Succubus's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Outstanding work Water-Smurf =D

  12. - Top - End - #372
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Water-Smurf View Post
    By the Gods, you guys go fast.

    *runs hands through hair* And sometimes I wonder if my homework breeds with itself.

    Anyway, lovely picture, CheeseMuncher. I especially like the reference. ^.^

    And I'm still laughing at Half-Halfling's comic.

    Edit: I also love the little kid's soul splice. It's so cute and so twisted at the same time.

    At any rate, here's the next chapter, dredged up between bouts of trying to keep my boarding room habitable and keeping my homework from multiplying like rabbits.

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    There were some things that were clear-cut in this world. Food, water, and shelter were always needed. The ground wouldn’t randomly cave in underneath your feet without reason. Every person has motivation. There were also some things that weren’t as clear-cut, such as whether or not it was moral to kill someone because they were from a species that was supposed to be irrevocably Chaotic Evil, or to kill someone because they were one of the people who thought that of your species. Especially when things such as love and hate get involved, it was near impossible to really understand what the difference between them was. After all, love and hate were brother and sister, far from opposites. Their opposites were indifference.

    Redcloak knew he wasn’t indifferent when he was staring down at the beaten and bloody elf at his feet.

    Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, loathe to let even a small whimper out, and glared up at Xykon rebelliously, wiping blood gently from its lip.

    “Oh come on! What’s your Constitution score? Did you use that and Charisma as a dump stat? Seriously! This is no fun!” Xykon pouted in a way that only liches could pout, holding out his arms, blood sticky on his phalanges and remnants of dark magic sparking from the tips of the finger bones, making the empty stone room underneath the castle smell strongly of licorice. The only others present inside was Tsukiko, her mismatched eyes dancing while she stared at Redcloak, and the monster, though Redcloak wasn’t sure how he had gotten down there in his cage.

    Vaarsuvius’s face was streaked with blood and its robe was stained with it, purple hair almost red. What wasn’t scarlet was starkly pale or black and blue. The elf’s hand remained firmly at its ribcage, lips white with pain, and it didn’t take much deduction to infer that its bones had taken on too much pressure over the course of the beating. Redcloak wasn’t sure if Xykon did this out of pure boredom or malice. Probably both.

    “Xykon, why did you ask me to come down here to see this?” Redcloak asked softly, keeping his temper on a very tight leash and slowly kneeling so he was at face-level with Vaarsuvius, trying to check to see how deep the gashes were.

    “I assume he liked showing off his sadism,” Vaarsuvius said scathingly. No more venom could have possibly been found in any other voice imaginable. The elf gently started to try wiping away the blood on its face. In that little movement, Redcloak caught sight of completely black burns traveling up and down the elf’s arms, possibly going further than that. Healing would be needed.

    “Ooh, spark! That’s nice to see in prisoners these days. Usually it’s either sniveling or silence. Where’s the fun in that?” Xykon’s skull remained immobile, but Redcloak could tell that he was smirking. “But anyway, I figured that it’d be fun to see your reaction.”

    “She kept from screaming, even when Xykon got the spikes out! Just like Mr. Stiffly!” the monster said cheerfully, jiggling his prison a little. “She got a little pale after she bled a lot, though.”

    Redcloak looked up and glared at Xykon, ignoring the monster. “Remember the gates, Xykon? Yeah, we need information on those. Killing our prisoners won’t help.” He lightly put his hand on the elf’s arm. “Cure moderate wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius avoided eye contact, hissing softly in pain.

    “Don’t be a buzz-kill, Reddy. I’m bored with playing with the paladin.” Xykon shrugged. “Teevo has nothing good on. You’ve been coddling the elf for so long that I figured that it should get some blood flowing. He-or-she can barely walk.” He made a wild gesture with his hands. “Seriously! Push the thing off the stairs or something! It’d be totally hilarious.”

    Redcloak scowled, moving to pick up Vaarsuvius. “Yeah. Hilarious. If you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the elf back to its room.”

    Redcloak could tell that Vaarsuvius was biting back a protest. He was glad that the overly prideful elf had figured out that right then was a bad time to drag attention to itself.

    “One last thing, though.”

    The voice held a distinct strain of seriousness, something that usually was followed up by violence. Redcloak immediately glanced up, stiffening, and his eye darted towards Tsukiko and the monster briefly. The monster let out a soft whimper, but Tsukiko had no idea what was coming. Neither did Vaarsuvius.

    The elf looked up sharply at Redcloak, noticing his tension and immediately put on edge by it. Its hand twitched in its lap, an incomplete gesture, and it cocked its head. “Redcloak?”

    “Oh, how cute. He-or-she knows your name. And can tell if you’re upset.” Xykon’s smile looked very, very fake, as if he had a realistic mask and had put it on.

    “Xykon, we need the elf.”

    “Yeah, I find that you’re the only one that thinks that.”

    Redcloak’s heartbeat quickened, the pulse going loudly in his ears. Xykon didn’t used to be so volatile to the point that Redcloak was genuinely afraid of calling him out on something. He supposed, with dark humor, that losing his immortality guarantee would do that.

    Vaarsuvius felt the faster beat in the goblin and pursed its lips worriedly. “Redcloak…?”

    “You’re the only one who’s keeping me from making sure the little corksucker gets what it deserves for sending my frikken’ phylactery to the sewer. In the name of information. Guess what? I figure that information and tactics are more for stuck-up wizards. You see, Reddy, I forgot for a little bit there that I depend on brute force for a reason.” Xykon sauntered up slowly, holding out his phalanges, palms-up. “Namely that I’ve been able to prove over and over again that, at a certain point, tactics can’t do anything against it. Now, the elf has a few disadvantages.”

    The lich held up one finger. “One, it’s a frikken’ wizard. I’m sick of those guys babbling about how hard they worked and how much smarter they are than sorcerers because we actually were born with magic in us.”

    Vaarsuvius tensed up, watching Xykon warily, and Redcloak stood. “Xykon…”

    “Two,” he held up another finger, “it’s an elf. Part of another stuck-up group that’s always looking down their noses at everyone. Yeah, that pisses me off.”

    The monster whimpered again. Tsukiko’s grin seemed to freeze a little on her face, slowly realizing that everyone in the room was treading on thin ice. Redcloak stood in front of Vaarsuvius despite the small protest of ‘I can protect myself, Redcloak.’

    “Three,” another finger, “it lost my phylactery.”

    Magic started to gather inside of Xykon.

    Vaarsuvius struggled to its knees, starting to grasp the real seriousness of the situation, and tried to pull at Redcloak impatiently. “Redcloak, get out of the way.”

    “Four,” another finger, “it hasn’t paid for that yet, unlike the paladin.”

    Redcloak braced himself. The elf fell silent.

    “Five, you’re the one protecting it. And I happen to be more than a little angry at you right now, Reddy.” Xykon stood in front of Redcloak, face frozen in a perpetual skeletal grin and eyes glowing red. “I suggest you get out of the way now, bitch.”

    Redcloak clenched his fists and set his mouth in a grim line. Vaarsuvius froze up, understanding what the goblin was really doing for it.

    “Alright, then. It’s always more fun to do this with more than one person.”

    A fist planted itself firmly in Redcloak’s stomach, crushing his solar plexus and making him double over with a gasp, struggling to breathe, and a cold, bony hand planted itself on the back of his head. “Fireball.”

    Redcloak decided that he really, really disliked being on the receiving end of a pissed-off Xykon’s spells.

    He slammed into the ground, fire licking at his back, but he kept his teeth firmly clenched.

    “He is your subordinate!” Vaarsuvius instinctively draped its arms across Redcloak’s scorched back, perhaps not realizing what it was doing. “Why would you attack an ally?!” Vaarsuvius looked up and glared.

    “Oh, look, someone else wants to play. And here I thought he was using you.”

    Xykon backhanded Vaarsuvius, leaving a dark red mark on the pale face. The elf recoiled and glared. “Attack your enemies, Xykon. Not your allies.”

    Tsukiko snickered and Xykon stepped over Redcloak to get closer to the elf. “Alright, then.”

    Vaarsuvius threw its arms in front of its face with a muttered ‘Damnation’ just in time for Xykon’s meteor swarm.

    The spell sent the elf hard against the wall, bruising any affected patch of pale skin. Vaarsuvius allowed only a grunt of pain to escape, slowly struggling to stand only to have its legs buckle, unable to handle the weight after the consistent abuse that they had been suffering.

    The elf looked up and glared, teeth clenched against the burning, throbbing pain in its arms and back.

    “Meteor Swarm.”

    Vaarsuvius jerked its hands up again, slamming against the wall, stones bigger than its fist battering its delicate body, the jagged ridges of the rock opening up slashed and squeezing blood from the pale flesh.

    “Meteor Swarm.”

    More flaming rocks, burning through the skin and tearing open the tiny body. The elf fell down completely to its knees, unable to continue bracing itself, and desperately tried to stifle the sounds rising in its throat.

    A sharp kick came onto the mage’s ribcage, eliciting a cracking sound and forcing Vaarsuvius to let a tiny cry escape.

    Cold bones, still functioning as fingers, reached down and grabbed the elf’s matted hair, holding it up only by that, and a phalange, hot with magic, fisted on Vaarsuvius’s forehead. The wizard tried to stifle an expectant wince.

    “Meteor—”

    “Xykon.”

    A clawed scaly hand grabbed Xykon’s arm, pulling the fisted phalange away, and looked up at what was undoubtedly going to be a very angry lich. “It’s done. You don’t need to beat Vaarsuvius anymore.”

    Xykon glared at Redcloak. He slammed the elf’s head against the stone once before dropping it. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. This is the last time I let you sleep with a prisoner.”

    He missed Vaarsuvius’s expression at that.

    He punched Redcloak hard in the stomach. The goblin doubled over, keeping any sounds of discomfort from voicing themselves.

    “Necromancer chick, get the monster back upstairs. I need to wash this icky organic matter off my phalanges, and I think I know what I want to do with the stuck-up elf.”

    “Whatever you say, Xykon.”

    Tsukiko smirked down at Redcloak and Vaarsuvius, letting the monster out of the cage for a moment, quickly giving him the umbrella to keep himself covered. The monster glanced over at the elf and goblin, dragging the cardboard cage behind him as he walked towards the door.

    “Don’t say anything to them. Looks like their a bit busy concentrating on not ending up like Romeo and Juliet.” Tsukiko smirked and cheerfully jumped out after the exiting Xykon, practically glowing in her abdomen at the sight of his thoughtful, malicious expression as he went down the hall to find a sink.

    “Who’re Romeo and Juliet? Are they friends of Xykon’s?”

    “Seriously? Am I the only one who actually reads this stuff?!” Tsukiko rolled her eyes and both she and the monster were gone.

    There was silence for a while. Only the sound of labored breathing.

    Redcloak grit his teeth against the pain, instinctively sharpening his claws against his scales and standing, slowly staggering until he was able to kneel in front of Vaarsuvius. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” A gentle clawed finger brushed the matted violet hair from the elf’s face. “Cure moderate wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius gave a soft sigh of relief, looking up while the cuts on its face mended themselves. “You should heal yourself first.”

    “I wasn’t the one who took several Meteor Swarms to the face.” Redcloak gently started healing himself.

    “Why did you protect me?”

    The goblin was silent.

    “It was not for the possible information you can gain from me. I have been far from forthcoming and I am not an entirely useful resource. Either way, you could have always healed what was left before I died and taken me back to my room. Why did you protect me?”

    Redcloak shrugged, wincing a little at a twinge in his back, and picked up the elf gently. “I don’t like the idea of you becoming another of Xykon’s playthings and getting hurt in the process.”

    “Why not?” The elf scowled a little, but that was the only protest Redcloak got for picking it up. At least Vaarsuvius knew its own physical limitations.

    “Why did you help me?”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t answer.

    “I say that we both ignore the question and get you to your room.”

    “No.” Vaarsuvius squirmed, forcing Redcloak to let it down, keeping firm hands on the tiny arms to make sure the elf didn’t fall. “We ignore too much.”

    “Vaarsuvius, you’re tired. Healing can do a lot, but the fatigue is still there. Let me take you to your room.”

    “There you are again!” Vaarsuvius scowled, squirming a little. “You’re tender! You’re kind! You’re protective! Even at the cost of your own safety, you remain so. Please show me what to make of it, because I can’t simply think of you as my foe anymore after all this.”

    “You will have to, Vaarsuvius.” Redcloak sighed, staring at the ground, away from the elf. “This is complicated.”

    “I have a distinct feeling that we shall make it more complicated before this is done.” Vaarsuvius’s voice lowered, a gentle, warning hiss. “Redcloak, this is dangerous for us both. Physically and emotionally.”

    “I realize that. I didn’t exactly predict this would happen. I’m usually able to deal with prisoners without being a complete monster while not getting… like this.” Redcloak tentatively ran a gentle claw through the elf’s hair. “I don’t get it, but I don’t get a lot of things.”

    “It is only going to be difficult for the both of us.” Vaarsuvius looked away, frowning and squirming a little, yet not enough for Redcloak’s claws to break the skin unwittingly. “You should stop touching me.”

    “I need to get you to your room. You can’t fool yourself into thinking that you can actually walk up all those steps.”

    “Do not tell me that this is no more than necessity, Redcloak. Do not insult my intelligence.”

    “Maybe it’s not. We’ve both done more than what’s necessary. Acknowledging it won’t make us stop.”

    “Redcloak…” Vaarsuvius took a deep breath, looking up and slipping into a cleanly dispassionate expression. “This is too intricate. We should stop seeing each other. I am tired of trying to make sense of you. You do not fit in black or white. I doubt that your apparent attachment to me does you any favors as well. You are vulnerable, I am compromised, and we both are crossing inappropriate—”

    Redcloak slid his arms around the elf’s waist gently and touched their lips together. Vaarsuvius stiffened up against him with a soft gasp, the little elven heartbeat quickening against his chest, but the kiss was returned.

    The scientist and the person in Redcloak’s head both threw up their hands in defeat. They both loudly proclaimed that he had just screwed up any chance they had of pretending nothing was going on and that they clearly were unappreciated at the moment. They went to the back of his mind and started playing Parcheesi until the two were done making out.

    “We should stop…” Vaarsuvius murmured, kissing Redcloak again, wrapping delicate arms around his neck.

    “Probably.” Redcloak was understandably distracted. Normally, warmth in a body seemed foreign and unnatural. He was so used to goblins and skeletons that he didn’t really know what it felt like to really touch someone who didn’t need sunlight to give heat. Under any other circumstances, he was positive that he would hate it. Just then it felt… nice.

    The heat and fervor increased. Tongues were touching. They both could feel each other’s heart beats quickening. The elf’s face flushed darkly. Neither could, by any stretch of the imagination, be called ‘innocent.’ They knew where this was going.

    Both pulled away. Neither were ready for that.

    “I…” Vaarsuvius shook its head sharply, dissipating the daze. “Please take me back to my room. I must think.”

    “We both do.” Redcloak, had he been able to, would have blushed. Instead, he cleared his throat and picked the elf up gently, taking it out of the room and slowly walking up the stairs.

    The scientist and person looked up hopefully from their Parcheesi game. Unwilling to put up with them, Redcloak slammed and locked the door before they could even stand.

    Both goblin and elf were silent until they were inside the room. “I promise that I’ll do my best to make sure Xykon doesn’t do anything like this to you again, okay?” Redcloak gently put the elf down on the bed, looking up at the only window of the room, eyes adjusting for the sparse illumination from the Snarl.

    “Redcloak…”

    “I have a feeling I know where this is going.”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t even react. Perhaps they knew each other too well. “Ignoring this won’t help.”

    “Sometimes it does.”

    “I am not the sort of person who ignores things and hopes they go away.” Vaarsuvius frowned, hugging its knees and staring at Redcloak appraisingly.

    “You don’t need to say that. I know.” Redcloak sat at the foot of the bed, looking down at his claws, a purple sheen dancing on his scales from the window, a small light show within itself, the colors mixing together until there were strands of jade, pink, and blue among the purple and green.

    “It makes no sense. We are of different alignments, vastly different species, different view points, different personalities…”

    “I know.” Redcloak shrugged, making the colors and lights dance. “Articulating it won’t make it go away, Vaarsuvius. Talking will only do so much. You need to actually do things.”

    There was silence, rather rare when around such a verbose and prideful elf.

    “Perhaps you are correct.”

    Redcloak looked up curiously, frowning. Had Vaarsuvius just admitted to being wrong?

    The elf crawled up to him, hesitated for a moment, then brought a pale hand up to his cold cheek and kissed him softly. “I cannot believe that I am allowing myself to participate in such gross misconduct.”

    Quite frankly, neither did Redcloak. The scientist was banging at the door, screaming about how this could only end badly. He didn’t bother with it. He did too many things that could only end badly. What was one more? It looked like he was too deep to pull out at any rate. Ignoring it obviously didn’t work, he had no intention of cutting himself off from the elf, and if they both wanted this (even if they would die before they admitted it) they might as well.

    And, secretly, he could admit that it wasn’t mere admiration that he felt for the proud, defiant, beautiful elf. And he could also admit in an even tinier place in his mind that what he felt was certainly not lust, as he sometimes tried to tell himself it was.

    He kissed back gently, touching the back of the elf’s head and gently bringing it closer. Maybe they would act like nothing happened again once the kiss was over. That was fine with him. Maybe they would be back to whatever they were before tomorrow. That was fine with him. Maybe he was setting his heart up to be hanged. That was fine with him.

    Maybe he would eventually kill Vaarsuvius just like Right-Eye.

    He tightened his grip a little and kissed harder.
    Squeeeeee! *dances on table* New V/R! New V/R!

    Xykon is scary...
    Avatar by me...yup that's how good my drawing is. As in not very good.

    Crack-Pairings, Not Dead Just Moved. Someone Hasn't Been Looking In The Right Places.


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    Quote Originally Posted by Caleniel View Post
    Taekwondodo - your nick and your avatar are terrific. I want to award you something... how about enough melons to see you through the next ice age?

  13. - Top - End - #373
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Taekwondodo View Post
    Squeeeeee! *dances on table* New V/R! New V/R!

    Xykon is scary...
    *joins in the dancing*
    This post may contain sarcasm.
    DeviantArt

  14. - Top - End - #374
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    esmerelder's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    *accepts potion from TheBibliophile and downs it!* Thanks, I needed that!

    I'm so glad I finally finished this! Basically, it's the whole OOTS/the whole OOTS. Contains any number of disturbing mental images, some irresponsible behaviour with alcohol, and an explanation of why you shouldn't steal elves' underwear.

    Seven Secrets About the Order of the Stick

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    1. For once, Belkar wasn’t just being obnoxious – he really did mean it when he said Roy was a smokin’ hot babe. What isn't there to like? All height and cheekbones, broad shoulders and lithely muscled frame, big capable hands. Serious coal-black eyes with long dark lashes, and just enough of a temper to make life interesting.

    What he fails to understand is why anyone should think that the stupid belt had anything to do with it. Hey, it’s hardly his fault if the others are going to assume that his loud and frequent expressions of appreciation for the seafood buffet mean that he doesn’t also like to sample the sausage platter on occasion. The Belkster is perfectly happy enjoying the whole menu, thanks.

    * * *

    2. Shortly before the formation of the Order of the Stick, Roy and Durkon spent an evening together. It was night of thunderstorms, which Durkon took as a signal from Thor to remain indoors, and Roy took as a signal that the night-market he'd planned to go to had probably been cancelled. Bored out of their brains, Durkon decided to teach Roy one of his favourite childhood drinking games. He was, of course, careful to choose one that was generally played by six-year-old dwarves and under, and breathed a secret sigh of relief when Roy failed to spot how blatantly the dwarf had allowed him to win. Roy then taught Durkon the Official Fighting and Drinking Song of Bash U, which seemed to involve standing on chairs and screaming 'YAARGH!' a lot before sticking one's head in a bucket of ale and blowing bubbles. Following this, they decided they were still bored, and made up a drinking game of their own which ran along the lines of 'Drink Every Time The Terrible, Terrible Bard At This Stupid Inn Drops a Note, Repeats A Song, or Tells That One Joke About The Alligator and the Bucket Again'.

    After this, things get a little hazy, but at some point Roy invented a significantly less fun game called 'Drunkenly Rant About Being A Massive Disappointment to One's Father' and insisted on playing it until they were asked to leave the bar. Back in their room, Durkon created the 'Hug Roy and Tell Him He's Your Best Friend and You Really Love Him' game. This was followed by Roy's invention of the game 'Tell Durkon He's Amazing And You Love Him Too', and Durkon's creation of the 'Hey, You Know I Think I Have Another Flask of Whiskey In My Pack Somewhere' game. History does not record which one started playing the 'Your Best Friend Is Awesome And You Really Should Kiss Him' game, but it was followed by the 'Mmn, That Feels Nice, Do It Again' game, which went on for several hours before they passed out (Durkon on top of the wardrobe, for some reason, and Roy with his head in the mercifully unlit fireplace).

    In the hideous grey-white morning, in between attacks of vomiting and sincerely-expressed wishes for swift death, they made up another game called 'Tell Ourselves That Sometimes These Things Happen, Particularly Between Close Friends Who Have Been Under a Lot of Stress Lately, and It Doesn't Mean Anything, No Really, It's A Completely Normal Part of Life', and played it with great enthusiasm for several hours.

    They then spent the next two and a half years playing 'Don't Ever Mention That Evening Again', and got very good at it indeed.

    * * *

    3. The confirmedly male members of the Order are under the collective impression that Haley insists upon sharing a room with Vaarsuvius whenever the company stays at inns because the elf is a) a fellow female, b) rendered completely proof against transgression by a happy and secure marriage and/or c) utterly, unthreateningly, asexual.

    The confirmedly male members of the Order are dead wrong on at least two counts out of three.

    * * *

    4. Elan is so, so happy that everyone is all back together again. It's especially nice to be back with Haley - she's smart and beautiful and he loves her so much and he just can't wait for them to get their happy ending! However, he does have to confess that there's someone else he's glad to see too. Well, Roy, of course. Cool, awesome Roy, who's like all the best bits of a big brother and a dad put together, with the added bonus of hardly ever attempting to murder him! But someone else even besides *that*...

    He's never admitted this to anyone else, not really even to himself, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Haley. The thing is, he finds that he can't help but experience certain funny feelings of – well, let's call it 'excitement' – when Belkar starts getting violent, or chases him around and around the camp with his daggers out. The feeling is completely different to the sensation of running away from any of the other things that have tried to kill him so far on this adventure -- it's not terror, or rather, it is, but edged with a fierce joy and a queasy half-nervous curiosity about what the halfling would actually do with him if he caught him. He knows it wouldn't be very nice at all, and yet he still sort of wants it to happen. It's weird -- why would he enjoy someone being mean and hurting him? Why would he be unable to stop thinking about being pounced and tumbled in the dust by someone half his size and three times his strength, of thick dark bruises to be kissed better, of cold steel tracing a delicate path down his naked back...

    Lately, he’s taken to mildly annoying Belkar on purpose, just for the fun of running shrieking across the hot sand, and one day soon he’s going to get himself caught.

    * * *

    5. Momentarily distracted from spellwork, V drifts and daydreams. 'Hmm. While I am by no means either practically or emotionally in a position to conduct a further relationship at this stage, and while romantic speculations are in any case not a particularly productive use of my valuable research time, the topic remains compelling. If some nefarious figure were to hold a crossbow to my head, or perhaps some irresistible libido-enhancing spell were to come into effect in conjunction with some catastrophic Will saves, and I were to be forced to enter into physical congress with one of my companions, which member of the party would I choose?

    A difficult and complex question. Prior romantic engagements aside, while the bard is objectively the most conventionally attractive member of the group, physical intimacy would no doubt be problematic if one felt continually compelled to throttle one's partner -- or at the very least, the character of the sexual act would be fundamentally changed. Leaving him aside, Miss Starshine? She is intelligent, sympathetic and more beautiful than she will ever know. But to risk a friend -- and such an admirable one -- over a matter as frivolous as temporary carnal gratification? Never. Master Thundershield? Please, no. The unfortunate antics of one Legolas Greenleaf aside, elves are generally strongly repelled by facial hair, and the very thought of that accent ('aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!) giving voice to the throes of sexual passion is enough to impel one towards monasticism. That leaves only...
    '

    V's eyes temporarily cross in horror. Hir idle, distracted mind has somehow seized upon the image of Sir Greenhilt (who has beautiful hands, and smells like woodsmoke and old leather) *and* the halfling (presses just a little too hard when he kisses, and has the most wickedly sharp little white teeth). Not only are both images distractingly beguiling, but in hir mind the figures are *together*, and are beckoning hir to *join in*. The scenario that flashes before hir eyes also includes, for some reason, a large bed with satin sheets, a bull-whip and an extra-large jar of sticky orange marmalade.

    V makes a noise that sounds exactly like a small dying kitten, and begins scrabbling desperately through hir bag for a potion of 'Remove Mental Image'.

    * * *

    6. It would all have been just fine if Belkar hadn't made a slight miscalculation on the afternoon of New Year's Eve in Azure City. The whole V's-gender-debate had been getting on everybody's nerves for far too long, and since he was at a loose end, he decided to make his own fun. He'd been mooching around the inn courtyard looking for small animals to kick when he was struck by a brilliant idea: pheromones! Of course! Now, while humans, dwarves and most other races were stinky enough that a halfling with a decent nose could tell their gender three city blocks away, elves were a more difficult proposition. He'd never managed to get close enough to sniff Vaarsuvius properly on the road, especially since the pain-in-the-ass elf had the habit of trancing off the ground, usually a little too high for him to reach. Now, though, with bedsheets and dirty robes and unguarded laundry baskets lying around...

    He'd thought things were pretty bad when Haley had first caught him. She'd given him the oddest look of her life when she'd entered the room she and V shared, only to bust him with his nose buried in a pair of weird purple elven undergarments. He'd thought it was even worse when she then gave him a forty-five minute lecture on respecting the privacy of one's team-mates and charged him a 70gp 'Not-Squealing-to-Roy-and-the-Paladin-Patrol' fee.

    He only really discovered how bad things could get, though, when he ran into the beautiful, clever, gifted, stunningly attr STUPID elf at dinner that night, and realised exactly how powerful elven pheromones could be, and why elven underwear was best left unsmelled.

    * * *

    7. There is one secret that wild horses, Epic-level torture and all of the demons of all of the possible hells cannot possibly drag out of Roy. It is this: during the burning inn rescue on the road to Azure City, something terrible had happened to him. He'd been wearing the Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity at the time, his brain and body attempting to deal with a new and somewhat unstable cocktail of hormones as well as some inept assassins, a raging building fire and the usual chaos that accompanies the Order wherever it goes. He'd been hobbling down a corridor in the soon-to-be-razed inn, half-dragging and half-carrying a horribly-poisoned Elan and desperately searching for Durkon or V to heal him. He had stopped to check their direction, and for one fatal second, made the mistake of looking down into the bard's pale face, his beautiful summer-blue eyes rolling back in his head, butter-coloured hair flopping loose on his pale, sweaty forehead, light frame trembling in Roy's arms. The terrible thing is this: for one horrible, unspeakable moment, Roy totally understood what all the ladies see in Elan.

    Sometimes he still wakes up screaming.

    Last edited by esmerelder; 2009-09-23 at 10:17 AM.


    Many thanks, blue silk handkerchiefs, and small inarticulate hedgehog noises to Funky Goose for the sig banner!

    Even more thanks to half-halfling for the adorable avatar, which is from this comic
    !

  15. - Top - End - #375
    Halfling in the Playground
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Silverraptor View Post
    So I just save it to my desktop... then what program supports PNG files and how do I convert it onto inkscape?
    just press the "import" button in the top row and browse to it, also there is one in the Edit bar i think
    Live each day of your life like the man that has never seen a yurt.

    ~Proverb

  16. - Top - End - #376
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Taekwondodo's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by esmerelder View Post
    *accepts potion from TheBibliophile and downs it!* Thanks, I needed that!

    I'm so glad I finally finished this! Basically, it's the whole OOTS/the whole OOTS. Contains any number of disturbing mental images, some irresponsible behaviour with alcohol, and an explanation of why you shouldn't steal elven underwear.

    Seven Secrets About the Order of the Stick

    Spoiler
    Show


    1. For once, Belkar wasn’t just being obnoxious – he really did mean it when he said Roy was a smokin’ hot babe. What isn't there to like? All height and cheekbones, broad shoulders and lithely muscled frame, big capable hands. Serious coal-black eyes with long dark lashes, and just enough of a temper to make life interesting.

    What he fails to understand is why anyone should think that the stupid belt had anything to do with it. Hey, it’s hardly his fault if the others are going to assume that his loud and frequent expressions of appreciation for the seafood buffet mean that he doesn’t also like to sample the sausage platter on occasion. The Belkster is perfectly happy enjoying the whole menu, thanks.

    * * *

    2. Shortly before the formation of the Order of the Stick, Roy and Durkon spent an evening together. It was night of thunderstorms, which Durkon took as a signal from Thor to remain indoors, and Roy took as a signal that the night-market he'd planned to go to had probably been cancelled. Bored out of their brains, Durkon decided to teach Roy one of his favourite childhood drinking games. He was, of course, careful to choose one that was generally played by six-year-old dwarves and under, and breathed a secret sigh of relief when Roy failed to spot how blatantly the dwarf had allowed him to win. Roy then taught Durkon the Official Fighting and Drinking Song of Bash U, which seemed to involve standing on chairs and screaming 'YAARGH!' a lot before sticking one's head in a bucket of ale and blowing bubbles. Following this, they decided they were still bored, and made up a drinking game of their own which ran along the lines of 'Drink Every Time The Terrible, Terrible Bard At This Stupid Inn Drops a Note, Repeats A Song, or Tells That One Joke About The Alligator and the Bucket Again'.

    After this, things get a little hazy, but at some point Roy invented a significantly less fun game called 'Drunkenly Rant About Being A Massive Disappointment to One's Father' and insisted on playing it until they were asked to leave the bar. Back in their room, Durkon created the 'Hug Roy and Tell Him He's Your Best Friend and You Really Love Him' game. This was followed by Roy's invention of the game 'Tell Durkon He's Amazing And You Love Him Too', and Durkon's creation of the 'Hey, You Know I Think I Have Another Flask of Whiskey In My Pack Somewhere' game. History does not record which one started playing the 'Your Best Friend Is Awesome And You Really Should Kiss Him' game, but it was followed by the 'Mmn, That Feels Nice, Do It Again' game, which went on for several hours before they passed out (Durkon on top of the wardrobe, for some reason, and Roy with his head in the mercifully unlit fireplace).

    In the hideous grey-white morning, in between attacks of vomiting and sincerely-expressed wishes for swift death, they made up another game called 'Tell Ourselves That Sometimes These Things Happen, Particularly Between Close Friends Who Have Been Under a Lot of Stress Lately, and It Doesn't Mean Anything, No Really, It's A Completely Normal Part of Life', and played it with great enthusiasm for several hours.

    They then spent the next two and a half years playing 'Don't Ever Mention That Evening Again', and got very good at it indeed.

    * * *

    3. The confirmedly male members of the Order are under the collective impression that Haley insists upon sharing a room with Vaarsuvius whenever the company stays at inns because the elf is a) a fellow female, b) rendered completely proof against transgression by a happy and secure marriage and/or c) utterly, unthreateningly, asexual.

    The confirmedly male members of the Order are dead wrong on at least two counts out of three.

    * * *

    4. Elan is so, so happy that everyone is all back together again. It's especially nice to be back with Haley - she's smart and beautiful and he loves her so much and he just can't wait for them to get their happy ending! However, he does have to confess that there's someone else he's glad to see too. Well, Roy, of course. Cool, awesome Roy, who's like all the best bits of a big brother and a dad put together, with the added bonus of hardly ever attempting to murder him! But someone else even besides *that*...

    He's never admitted this to anyone else, not really even to himself, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Haley. The thing is, he finds that he can't help but experience certain funny feelings of – well, let's call it 'excitement' – when Belkar starts getting violent, or chases him around and around the camp with his daggers out. The feeling is completely different to the sensation of running away from any of the other things that have tried to kill him so far on this adventure -- it's not terror, or rather, it is, but edged with a fierce joy and a queasy half-nervous curiosity about what the halfling would actually do with him if he caught him. He knows it wouldn't be very nice at all, and yet he still sort of wants it to happen. It's weird -- why would he enjoy someone being mean and hurting him? Why would he be unable to stop thinking about being pounced and tumbled in the dust by someone half his size and three times his strength, of thick dark bruises to be kissed better, of cold steel tracing a delicate path down his naked back...

    Lately, he’s taken to mildly annoying Belkar on purpose, just for the fun of running shrieking across the hot sand, and one day soon he’s going to get himself caught.

    * * *

    5. Momentarily distracted from spellwork, V drifts and daydreams. 'Hmm. While I am by no means either practically or emotionally in a position to conduct a further relationship at this stage, and while romantic speculations are in any case not a particularly productive use of my valuable research time, the topic remains compelling. If some nefarious figure were to hold a crossbow to my head, or perhaps some irresistible libido-enhancing spell were to come into effect in conjunction with some catastrophic Will saves, and I were to be forced to enter into physical congress with one of my companions, which member of the party would I choose?

    A difficult and complex question. Prior romantic engagements aside, while the bard is objectively the most conventionally attractive member of the group, physical intimacy would no doubt be problematic if one felt continually compelled to throttle one's partner -- or at the very least, the character of the sexual act would be fundamentally changed. Leaving him aside, Miss Starshine? She is intelligent, sympathetic and more beautiful than she will ever know. But to risk a friend -- and such an admirable one -- over a matter as frivolous as temporary carnal gratification? Never. Master Thundershield? Please, no. The unfortunate antics of one Legolas Greenleaf aside, elves are generally strongly repelled by facial hair, and the very thought of that accent ('aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!) giving voice to the throes of sexual passion is enough to impel one towards monasticism. That leaves only...
    '

    V's eyes temporarily cross in horror. Hir idle, distracted mind has somehow seized upon the image of Sir Greenhilt (who has beautiful hands, and smells like woodsmoke and old leather) *and* the halfling (presses just a little too hard when he kisses, and has the most wickedly sharp little white teeth). Not only are both images distractingly beguiling, but in hir mind the figures are *together*, and are beckoning hir to *join in*. The scenario that flashes before hir eyes also includes, for some reason, a large bed with satin sheets, a bull-whip and an extra-large jar of sticky orange marmalade.

    V makes a noise that sounds exactly like a small dying kitten, and begins scrabbling desperately through hir bag for a potion of 'Remove Mental Image'.

    * * *

    6. It would all have been just fine if Belkar hadn't made a slight miscalculation on the afternoon of New Year's Eve in Azure City. The whole V's-gender-debate had been getting on everybody's nerves for far too long, and since he was at a loose end, he decided to make his own fun. He'd been mooching around the inn courtyard looking for small animals to kick when he was struck by a brilliant idea: pheromones! Of course! Now, while humans, dwarves and most other races were stinky enough that a halfling with a decent nose could tell their gender three city blocks away, elves were a more difficult proposition. He'd never managed to get close enough to sniff Vaarsuvius properly on the road, especially since the pain-in-the-ass elf had the habit of trancing off the ground, usually a little too high for him to reach. Now, though, with bedsheets and dirty robes and unguarded laundry baskets lying around...

    He'd thought things were pretty bad when Haley had first caught him. She'd given him the oddest look of her life when she'd entered the room she and V shared, only to bust him with his nose buried in a pair of weird purple elven undergarments. He'd thought it was even worse when she then gave him a forty-five minute lecture on respecting the privacy of one's team-mates and charged him a 70gp 'Not-Squealing-to-Roy-and-the-Paladin-Patrol' fee.

    He only really discovered how bad things could get, though, when he ran into the beautiful, clever, gifted, stunningly attr STUPID elf at dinner that night, and realised exactly how powerful elven pheromones could be, and why elven underwear was best left unsmelled.

    * * *

    7. There is one secret that wild horses, Epic-level torture and all of the demons of all of the possible hells cannot possibly drag out of Roy. It is this: during the burning inn rescue on the road to Azure City, something terrible had happened to him. He'd been wearing the Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity at the time, his brain and body attempting to deal with a new and somewhat unstable cocktail of hormones as well as some inept assassins, a raging building fire and the usual chaos that accompanies the Order wherever it goes. He'd been hobbling down a corridor in the soon-to-be-razed inn, half-dragging and half-carrying a horribly-poisoned Elan and desperately searching for Durkon or V to heal him. He had stopped to check their direction, and for one fatal second, made the mistake of looking down into the bard's pale face, his beautiful summer-blue eyes rolling back in his head, butter-coloured hair flopping loose on his pale, sweaty forehead, light frame trembling in his arms. The terrible thing is this: for one horrible, unspeakable moment, Roy totally understood what all the ladies see in Elan.

    Sometimes he still wakes up screaming.

    Oh Gods, that was so FUNNY! Especially Roy/Durkon. Need I say, more please?
    Avatar by me...yup that's how good my drawing is. As in not very good.

    Crack-Pairings, Not Dead Just Moved. Someone Hasn't Been Looking In The Right Places.


    Spoiler
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    Quote Originally Posted by Caleniel View Post
    Taekwondodo - your nick and your avatar are terrific. I want to award you something... how about enough melons to see you through the next ice age?

  17. - Top - End - #377
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by esmerelder
    'aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!
    *bursts out laughing*
    Last edited by half-halfling; 2009-09-23 at 10:21 AM.

  18. - Top - End - #378
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Water-Smurf and Esmerelder all in one day? It's like my birthday has come early. :D

    Water-Smurf: Intense. Beginning in medias res and with such strong characterisation for all the participants and I was really wondering WHEN the first inevitable clash with Xykon would occur.. One odd thing is that I think I liked Redcloak more when was still torn between hatred and that other thing he can't name, rather than completely surrendering to the latter - more interesting that way when he still gets violently angry with Vaarsuvius. But maybe I'm judging too early - this is, after all, just one incident, it's unlikely to become that easy.
    I love your expressions and the wonderfully eloquent way you write... :D

    Esmerelder: Wonderfully hilarious and not too hard to imagine! I love it when crack fics are something that can reasonably be imagined as part of the canon. Even if it does mean that the entire team has their own cracky secrets. XD The Roy x Durkon part was especially wacky. XD More! More! Have you considered doing the Ten Things None of the Good Guys Know About Team Evil? :D

    Short version: you people are gods. :) I shall now crawl in a corner to nurse my inflamed inferiority complexes and build a shrine to both of you out of my salty tears.
    *Above post: Additional terms and restrictions may apply.
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  19. - Top - End - #379
    Pixie in the Playground
     
    ElfRogueGirl

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Esmerelder: That was awesome, not to mention absolutely hilarious.

  20. - Top - End - #380
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    Dark Faun's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Awesome, hilarious and believable. Wonderful job esmeralder! My favorite is the third one, it leaves so much to the imagination...

    Quote Originally Posted by Kaytara View Post
    Short version: you people are gods. :) I shall now crawl in a corner to nurse my inflamed inferiority complexes and build a shrine to both of you out of my salty tears.
    We'll be two building it!

    And I finally could read your own story. The length was epic but the loot was certainly worth it. :D My favorite part is when V calls Haley by her name instead of "Miss Starshine". And congratulations for managing to write Durkon's accent for such a long story.
    Last edited by Dark Faun; 2009-09-23 at 11:31 AM.
    Formerly known as Discord here and Maladin on avatarspirit.net.

  21. - Top - End - #381
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    TheBibliophile's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by esmerelder View Post
    *accepts potion from TheBibliophile and downs it!* Thanks, I needed that!

    I'm so glad I finally finished this! Basically, it's the whole OOTS/the whole OOTS. Contains any number of disturbing mental images, some irresponsible behaviour with alcohol, and an explanation of why you shouldn't steal elves' underwear.

    Seven Secrets About the Order of the Stick

    Spoiler
    Show


    1. For once, Belkar wasn’t just being obnoxious – he really did mean it when he said Roy was a smokin’ hot babe. What isn't there to like? All height and cheekbones, broad shoulders and lithely muscled frame, big capable hands. Serious coal-black eyes with long dark lashes, and just enough of a temper to make life interesting.

    What he fails to understand is why anyone should think that the stupid belt had anything to do with it. Hey, it’s hardly his fault if the others are going to assume that his loud and frequent expressions of appreciation for the seafood buffet mean that he doesn’t also like to sample the sausage platter on occasion. The Belkster is perfectly happy enjoying the whole menu, thanks.

    * * *

    2. Shortly before the formation of the Order of the Stick, Roy and Durkon spent an evening together. It was night of thunderstorms, which Durkon took as a signal from Thor to remain indoors, and Roy took as a signal that the night-market he'd planned to go to had probably been cancelled. Bored out of their brains, Durkon decided to teach Roy one of his favourite childhood drinking games. He was, of course, careful to choose one that was generally played by six-year-old dwarves and under, and breathed a secret sigh of relief when Roy failed to spot how blatantly the dwarf had allowed him to win. Roy then taught Durkon the Official Fighting and Drinking Song of Bash U, which seemed to involve standing on chairs and screaming 'YAARGH!' a lot before sticking one's head in a bucket of ale and blowing bubbles. Following this, they decided they were still bored, and made up a drinking game of their own which ran along the lines of 'Drink Every Time The Terrible, Terrible Bard At This Stupid Inn Drops a Note, Repeats A Song, or Tells That One Joke About The Alligator and the Bucket Again'.

    After this, things get a little hazy, but at some point Roy invented a significantly less fun game called 'Drunkenly Rant About Being A Massive Disappointment to One's Father' and insisted on playing it until they were asked to leave the bar. Back in their room, Durkon created the 'Hug Roy and Tell Him He's Your Best Friend and You Really Love Him' game. This was followed by Roy's invention of the game 'Tell Durkon He's Amazing And You Love Him Too', and Durkon's creation of the 'Hey, You Know I Think I Have Another Flask of Whiskey In My Pack Somewhere' game. History does not record which one started playing the 'Your Best Friend Is Awesome And You Really Should Kiss Him' game, but it was followed by the 'Mmn, That Feels Nice, Do It Again' game, which went on for several hours before they passed out (Durkon on top of the wardrobe, for some reason, and Roy with his head in the mercifully unlit fireplace).

    In the hideous grey-white morning, in between attacks of vomiting and sincerely-expressed wishes for swift death, they made up another game called 'Tell Ourselves That Sometimes These Things Happen, Particularly Between Close Friends Who Have Been Under a Lot of Stress Lately, and It Doesn't Mean Anything, No Really, It's A Completely Normal Part of Life', and played it with great enthusiasm for several hours.

    They then spent the next two and a half years playing 'Don't Ever Mention That Evening Again', and got very good at it indeed.

    * * *

    3. The confirmedly male members of the Order are under the collective impression that Haley insists upon sharing a room with Vaarsuvius whenever the company stays at inns because the elf is a) a fellow female, b) rendered completely proof against transgression by a happy and secure marriage and/or c) utterly, unthreateningly, asexual.

    The confirmedly male members of the Order are dead wrong on at least two counts out of three.

    * * *

    4. Elan is so, so happy that everyone is all back together again. It's especially nice to be back with Haley - she's smart and beautiful and he loves her so much and he just can't wait for them to get their happy ending! However, he does have to confess that there's someone else he's glad to see too. Well, Roy, of course. Cool, awesome Roy, who's like all the best bits of a big brother and a dad put together, with the added bonus of hardly ever attempting to murder him! But someone else even besides *that*...

    He's never admitted this to anyone else, not really even to himself, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Haley. The thing is, he finds that he can't help but experience certain funny feelings of – well, let's call it 'excitement' – when Belkar starts getting violent, or chases him around and around the camp with his daggers out. The feeling is completely different to the sensation of running away from any of the other things that have tried to kill him so far on this adventure -- it's not terror, or rather, it is, but edged with a fierce joy and a queasy half-nervous curiosity about what the halfling would actually do with him if he caught him. He knows it wouldn't be very nice at all, and yet he still sort of wants it to happen. It's weird -- why would he enjoy someone being mean and hurting him? Why would he be unable to stop thinking about being pounced and tumbled in the dust by someone half his size and three times his strength, of thick dark bruises to be kissed better, of cold steel tracing a delicate path down his naked back...

    Lately, he’s taken to mildly annoying Belkar on purpose, just for the fun of running shrieking across the hot sand, and one day soon he’s going to get himself caught.

    * * *

    5. Momentarily distracted from spellwork, V drifts and daydreams. 'Hmm. While I am by no means either practically or emotionally in a position to conduct a further relationship at this stage, and while romantic speculations are in any case not a particularly productive use of my valuable research time, the topic remains compelling. If some nefarious figure were to hold a crossbow to my head, or perhaps some irresistible libido-enhancing spell were to come into effect in conjunction with some catastrophic Will saves, and I were to be forced to enter into physical congress with one of my companions, which member of the party would I choose?

    A difficult and complex question. Prior romantic engagements aside, while the bard is objectively the most conventionally attractive member of the group, physical intimacy would no doubt be problematic if one felt continually compelled to throttle one's partner -- or at the very least, the character of the sexual act would be fundamentally changed. Leaving him aside, Miss Starshine? She is intelligent, sympathetic and more beautiful than she will ever know. But to risk a friend -- and such an admirable one -- over a matter as frivolous as temporary carnal gratification? Never. Master Thundershield? Please, no. The unfortunate antics of one Legolas Greenleaf aside, elves are generally strongly repelled by facial hair, and the very thought of that accent ('aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!) giving voice to the throes of sexual passion is enough to impel one towards monasticism. That leaves only...
    '

    V's eyes temporarily cross in horror. Hir idle, distracted mind has somehow seized upon the image of Sir Greenhilt (who has beautiful hands, and smells like woodsmoke and old leather) *and* the halfling (presses just a little too hard when he kisses, and has the most wickedly sharp little white teeth). Not only are both images distractingly beguiling, but in hir mind the figures are *together*, and are beckoning hir to *join in*. The scenario that flashes before hir eyes also includes, for some reason, a large bed with satin sheets, a bull-whip and an extra-large jar of sticky orange marmalade.

    V makes a noise that sounds exactly like a small dying kitten, and begins scrabbling desperately through hir bag for a potion of 'Remove Mental Image'.

    * * *

    6. It would all have been just fine if Belkar hadn't made a slight miscalculation on the afternoon of New Year's Eve in Azure City. The whole V's-gender-debate had been getting on everybody's nerves for far too long, and since he was at a loose end, he decided to make his own fun. He'd been mooching around the inn courtyard looking for small animals to kick when he was struck by a brilliant idea: pheromones! Of course! Now, while humans, dwarves and most other races were stinky enough that a halfling with a decent nose could tell their gender three city blocks away, elves were a more difficult proposition. He'd never managed to get close enough to sniff Vaarsuvius properly on the road, especially since the pain-in-the-ass elf had the habit of trancing off the ground, usually a little too high for him to reach. Now, though, with bedsheets and dirty robes and unguarded laundry baskets lying around...

    He'd thought things were pretty bad when Haley had first caught him. She'd given him the oddest look of her life when she'd entered the room she and V shared, only to bust him with his nose buried in a pair of weird purple elven undergarments. He'd thought it was even worse when she then gave him a forty-five minute lecture on respecting the privacy of one's team-mates and charged him a 70gp 'Not-Squealing-to-Roy-and-the-Paladin-Patrol' fee.

    He only really discovered how bad things could get, though, when he ran into the beautiful, clever, gifted, stunningly attr STUPID elf at dinner that night, and realised exactly how powerful elven pheromones could be, and why elven underwear was best left unsmelled.

    * * *

    7. There is one secret that wild horses, Epic-level torture and all of the demons of all of the possible hells cannot possibly drag out of Roy. It is this: during the burning inn rescue on the road to Azure City, something terrible had happened to him. He'd been wearing the Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity at the time, his brain and body attempting to deal with a new and somewhat unstable cocktail of hormones as well as some inept assassins, a raging building fire and the usual chaos that accompanies the Order wherever it goes. He'd been hobbling down a corridor in the soon-to-be-razed inn, half-dragging and half-carrying a horribly-poisoned Elan and desperately searching for Durkon or V to heal him. He had stopped to check their direction, and for one fatal second, made the mistake of looking down into the bard's pale face, his beautiful summer-blue eyes rolling back in his head, butter-coloured hair flopping loose on his pale, sweaty forehead, light frame trembling in Roy's arms. The terrible thing is this: for one horrible, unspeakable moment, Roy totally understood what all the ladies see in Elan.

    Sometimes he still wakes up screaming.

    Oh my dear gods that was HILARIOUS!

    I really like all of these.
    Amazingly cool avatar by Mauve Shirt. May she ever be promoted and not demoted! *promotes*
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    Some poetry I've written. Constructive criticism warmly welcomed.

  22. - Top - End - #382
    Titan in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Funky Goose View Post
    just press the "import" button in the top row and browse to it, also there is one in the Edit bar i think
    Thank you. Now to design Kyrie's soul splice outfit. May take a while.
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  23. - Top - End - #383
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    RedWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by esmerelder View Post
    *accepts potion from TheBibliophile and downs it!* Thanks, I needed that!

    I'm so glad I finally finished this! Basically, it's the whole OOTS/the whole OOTS. Contains any number of disturbing mental images, some irresponsible behaviour with alcohol, and an explanation of why you shouldn't steal elves' underwear.

    Seven Secrets About the Order of the Stick

    Spoiler
    Show


    1. For once, Belkar wasn’t just being obnoxious – he really did mean it when he said Roy was a smokin’ hot babe. What isn't there to like? All height and cheekbones, broad shoulders and lithely muscled frame, big capable hands. Serious coal-black eyes with long dark lashes, and just enough of a temper to make life interesting.

    What he fails to understand is why anyone should think that the stupid belt had anything to do with it. Hey, it’s hardly his fault if the others are going to assume that his loud and frequent expressions of appreciation for the seafood buffet mean that he doesn’t also like to sample the sausage platter on occasion. The Belkster is perfectly happy enjoying the whole menu, thanks.

    * * *

    2. Shortly before the formation of the Order of the Stick, Roy and Durkon spent an evening together. It was night of thunderstorms, which Durkon took as a signal from Thor to remain indoors, and Roy took as a signal that the night-market he'd planned to go to had probably been cancelled. Bored out of their brains, Durkon decided to teach Roy one of his favourite childhood drinking games. He was, of course, careful to choose one that was generally played by six-year-old dwarves and under, and breathed a secret sigh of relief when Roy failed to spot how blatantly the dwarf had allowed him to win. Roy then taught Durkon the Official Fighting and Drinking Song of Bash U, which seemed to involve standing on chairs and screaming 'YAARGH!' a lot before sticking one's head in a bucket of ale and blowing bubbles. Following this, they decided they were still bored, and made up a drinking game of their own which ran along the lines of 'Drink Every Time The Terrible, Terrible Bard At This Stupid Inn Drops a Note, Repeats A Song, or Tells That One Joke About The Alligator and the Bucket Again'.

    After this, things get a little hazy, but at some point Roy invented a significantly less fun game called 'Drunkenly Rant About Being A Massive Disappointment to One's Father' and insisted on playing it until they were asked to leave the bar. Back in their room, Durkon created the 'Hug Roy and Tell Him He's Your Best Friend and You Really Love Him' game. This was followed by Roy's invention of the game 'Tell Durkon He's Amazing And You Love Him Too', and Durkon's creation of the 'Hey, You Know I Think I Have Another Flask of Whiskey In My Pack Somewhere' game. History does not record which one started playing the 'Your Best Friend Is Awesome And You Really Should Kiss Him' game, but it was followed by the 'Mmn, That Feels Nice, Do It Again' game, which went on for several hours before they passed out (Durkon on top of the wardrobe, for some reason, and Roy with his head in the mercifully unlit fireplace).

    In the hideous grey-white morning, in between attacks of vomiting and sincerely-expressed wishes for swift death, they made up another game called 'Tell Ourselves That Sometimes These Things Happen, Particularly Between Close Friends Who Have Been Under a Lot of Stress Lately, and It Doesn't Mean Anything, No Really, It's A Completely Normal Part of Life', and played it with great enthusiasm for several hours.

    They then spent the next two and a half years playing 'Don't Ever Mention That Evening Again', and got very good at it indeed.

    * * *

    3. The confirmedly male members of the Order are under the collective impression that Haley insists upon sharing a room with Vaarsuvius whenever the company stays at inns because the elf is a) a fellow female, b) rendered completely proof against transgression by a happy and secure marriage and/or c) utterly, unthreateningly, asexual.

    The confirmedly male members of the Order are dead wrong on at least two counts out of three.

    * * *

    4. Elan is so, so happy that everyone is all back together again. It's especially nice to be back with Haley - she's smart and beautiful and he loves her so much and he just can't wait for them to get their happy ending! However, he does have to confess that there's someone else he's glad to see too. Well, Roy, of course. Cool, awesome Roy, who's like all the best bits of a big brother and a dad put together, with the added bonus of hardly ever attempting to murder him! But someone else even besides *that*...

    He's never admitted this to anyone else, not really even to himself, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Haley. The thing is, he finds that he can't help but experience certain funny feelings of – well, let's call it 'excitement' – when Belkar starts getting violent, or chases him around and around the camp with his daggers out. The feeling is completely different to the sensation of running away from any of the other things that have tried to kill him so far on this adventure -- it's not terror, or rather, it is, but edged with a fierce joy and a queasy half-nervous curiosity about what the halfling would actually do with him if he caught him. He knows it wouldn't be very nice at all, and yet he still sort of wants it to happen. It's weird -- why would he enjoy someone being mean and hurting him? Why would he be unable to stop thinking about being pounced and tumbled in the dust by someone half his size and three times his strength, of thick dark bruises to be kissed better, of cold steel tracing a delicate path down his naked back...

    Lately, he’s taken to mildly annoying Belkar on purpose, just for the fun of running shrieking across the hot sand, and one day soon he’s going to get himself caught.

    * * *

    5. Momentarily distracted from spellwork, V drifts and daydreams. 'Hmm. While I am by no means either practically or emotionally in a position to conduct a further relationship at this stage, and while romantic speculations are in any case not a particularly productive use of my valuable research time, the topic remains compelling. If some nefarious figure were to hold a crossbow to my head, or perhaps some irresistible libido-enhancing spell were to come into effect in conjunction with some catastrophic Will saves, and I were to be forced to enter into physical congress with one of my companions, which member of the party would I choose?

    A difficult and complex question. Prior romantic engagements aside, while the bard is objectively the most conventionally attractive member of the group, physical intimacy would no doubt be problematic if one felt continually compelled to throttle one's partner -- or at the very least, the character of the sexual act would be fundamentally changed. Leaving him aside, Miss Starshine? She is intelligent, sympathetic and more beautiful than she will ever know. But to risk a friend -- and such an admirable one -- over a matter as frivolous as temporary carnal gratification? Never. Master Thundershield? Please, no. The unfortunate antics of one Legolas Greenleaf aside, elves are generally strongly repelled by facial hair, and the very thought of that accent ('aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!) giving voice to the throes of sexual passion is enough to impel one towards monasticism. That leaves only...
    '

    V's eyes temporarily cross in horror. Hir idle, distracted mind has somehow seized upon the image of Sir Greenhilt (who has beautiful hands, and smells like woodsmoke and old leather) *and* the halfling (presses just a little too hard when he kisses, and has the most wickedly sharp little white teeth). Not only are both images distractingly beguiling, but in hir mind the figures are *together*, and are beckoning hir to *join in*. The scenario that flashes before hir eyes also includes, for some reason, a large bed with satin sheets, a bull-whip and an extra-large jar of sticky orange marmalade.

    V makes a noise that sounds exactly like a small dying kitten, and begins scrabbling desperately through hir bag for a potion of 'Remove Mental Image'.

    * * *

    6. It would all have been just fine if Belkar hadn't made a slight miscalculation on the afternoon of New Year's Eve in Azure City. The whole V's-gender-debate had been getting on everybody's nerves for far too long, and since he was at a loose end, he decided to make his own fun. He'd been mooching around the inn courtyard looking for small animals to kick when he was struck by a brilliant idea: pheromones! Of course! Now, while humans, dwarves and most other races were stinky enough that a halfling with a decent nose could tell their gender three city blocks away, elves were a more difficult proposition. He'd never managed to get close enough to sniff Vaarsuvius properly on the road, especially since the pain-in-the-ass elf had the habit of trancing off the ground, usually a little too high for him to reach. Now, though, with bedsheets and dirty robes and unguarded laundry baskets lying around...

    He'd thought things were pretty bad when Haley had first caught him. She'd given him the oddest look of her life when she'd entered the room she and V shared, only to bust him with his nose buried in a pair of weird purple elven undergarments. He'd thought it was even worse when she then gave him a forty-five minute lecture on respecting the privacy of one's team-mates and charged him a 70gp 'Not-Squealing-to-Roy-and-the-Paladin-Patrol' fee.

    He only really discovered how bad things could get, though, when he ran into the beautiful, clever, gifted, stunningly attr STUPID elf at dinner that night, and realised exactly how powerful elven pheromones could be, and why elven underwear was best left unsmelled.

    * * *

    7. There is one secret that wild horses, Epic-level torture and all of the demons of all of the possible hells cannot possibly drag out of Roy. It is this: during the burning inn rescue on the road to Azure City, something terrible had happened to him. He'd been wearing the Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity at the time, his brain and body attempting to deal with a new and somewhat unstable cocktail of hormones as well as some inept assassins, a raging building fire and the usual chaos that accompanies the Order wherever it goes. He'd been hobbling down a corridor in the soon-to-be-razed inn, half-dragging and half-carrying a horribly-poisoned Elan and desperately searching for Durkon or V to heal him. He had stopped to check their direction, and for one fatal second, made the mistake of looking down into the bard's pale face, his beautiful summer-blue eyes rolling back in his head, butter-coloured hair flopping loose on his pale, sweaty forehead, light frame trembling in Roy's arms. The terrible thing is this: for one horrible, unspeakable moment, Roy totally understood what all the ladies see in Elan.

    Sometimes he still wakes up screaming.

    This is great, very funny indeed.
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
    Dexterity- 11
    Constitution- 11
    Intelligence- 12
    Wisdom- 11
    Charisma- 11

  24. - Top - End - #384
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Esme - I could have lived my entire life quite blissfully without reading that. I am now off to seek a capable and qualified therapist.

  25. - Top - End - #385
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by MasamuneSSX View Post
    Esme - I could have lived my entire life quite blissfully without reading that. I am now off to seek a capable and qualified therapist.
    Good luck. Chances are that they'll need a therapist when they're done with you.
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  26. - Top - End - #386
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by esmerelder View Post
    *accepts potion from TheBibliophile and downs it!* Thanks, I needed that!

    I'm so glad I finally finished this! Basically, it's the whole OOTS/the whole OOTS. Contains any number of disturbing mental images, some irresponsible behaviour with alcohol, and an explanation of why you shouldn't steal elves' underwear.

    Seven Secrets About the Order of the Stick

    Spoiler
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    1. For once, Belkar wasn’t just being obnoxious – he really did mean it when he said Roy was a smokin’ hot babe. What isn't there to like? All height and cheekbones, broad shoulders and lithely muscled frame, big capable hands. Serious coal-black eyes with long dark lashes, and just enough of a temper to make life interesting.

    What he fails to understand is why anyone should think that the stupid belt had anything to do with it. Hey, it’s hardly his fault if the others are going to assume that his loud and frequent expressions of appreciation for the seafood buffet mean that he doesn’t also like to sample the sausage platter on occasion. The Belkster is perfectly happy enjoying the whole menu, thanks.

    * * *

    2. Shortly before the formation of the Order of the Stick, Roy and Durkon spent an evening together. It was night of thunderstorms, which Durkon took as a signal from Thor to remain indoors, and Roy took as a signal that the night-market he'd planned to go to had probably been cancelled. Bored out of their brains, Durkon decided to teach Roy one of his favourite childhood drinking games. He was, of course, careful to choose one that was generally played by six-year-old dwarves and under, and breathed a secret sigh of relief when Roy failed to spot how blatantly the dwarf had allowed him to win. Roy then taught Durkon the Official Fighting and Drinking Song of Bash U, which seemed to involve standing on chairs and screaming 'YAARGH!' a lot before sticking one's head in a bucket of ale and blowing bubbles. Following this, they decided they were still bored, and made up a drinking game of their own which ran along the lines of 'Drink Every Time The Terrible, Terrible Bard At This Stupid Inn Drops a Note, Repeats A Song, or Tells That One Joke About The Alligator and the Bucket Again'.

    After this, things get a little hazy, but at some point Roy invented a significantly less fun game called 'Drunkenly Rant About Being A Massive Disappointment to One's Father' and insisted on playing it until they were asked to leave the bar. Back in their room, Durkon created the 'Hug Roy and Tell Him He's Your Best Friend and You Really Love Him' game. This was followed by Roy's invention of the game 'Tell Durkon He's Amazing And You Love Him Too', and Durkon's creation of the 'Hey, You Know I Think I Have Another Flask of Whiskey In My Pack Somewhere' game. History does not record which one started playing the 'Your Best Friend Is Awesome And You Really Should Kiss Him' game, but it was followed by the 'Mmn, That Feels Nice, Do It Again' game, which went on for several hours before they passed out (Durkon on top of the wardrobe, for some reason, and Roy with his head in the mercifully unlit fireplace).

    In the hideous grey-white morning, in between attacks of vomiting and sincerely-expressed wishes for swift death, they made up another game called 'Tell Ourselves That Sometimes These Things Happen, Particularly Between Close Friends Who Have Been Under a Lot of Stress Lately, and It Doesn't Mean Anything, No Really, It's A Completely Normal Part of Life', and played it with great enthusiasm for several hours.

    They then spent the next two and a half years playing 'Don't Ever Mention That Evening Again', and got very good at it indeed.

    * * *

    3. The confirmedly male members of the Order are under the collective impression that Haley insists upon sharing a room with Vaarsuvius whenever the company stays at inns because the elf is a) a fellow female, b) rendered completely proof against transgression by a happy and secure marriage and/or c) utterly, unthreateningly, asexual.

    The confirmedly male members of the Order are dead wrong on at least two counts out of three.

    * * *

    4. Elan is so, so happy that everyone is all back together again. It's especially nice to be back with Haley - she's smart and beautiful and he loves her so much and he just can't wait for them to get their happy ending! However, he does have to confess that there's someone else he's glad to see too. Well, Roy, of course. Cool, awesome Roy, who's like all the best bits of a big brother and a dad put together, with the added bonus of hardly ever attempting to murder him! But someone else even besides *that*...

    He's never admitted this to anyone else, not really even to himself, and he certainly couldn't talk about it with Haley. The thing is, he finds that he can't help but experience certain funny feelings of – well, let's call it 'excitement' – when Belkar starts getting violent, or chases him around and around the camp with his daggers out. The feeling is completely different to the sensation of running away from any of the other things that have tried to kill him so far on this adventure -- it's not terror, or rather, it is, but edged with a fierce joy and a queasy half-nervous curiosity about what the halfling would actually do with him if he caught him. He knows it wouldn't be very nice at all, and yet he still sort of wants it to happen. It's weird -- why would he enjoy someone being mean and hurting him? Why would he be unable to stop thinking about being pounced and tumbled in the dust by someone half his size and three times his strength, of thick dark bruises to be kissed better, of cold steel tracing a delicate path down his naked back...

    Lately, he’s taken to mildly annoying Belkar on purpose, just for the fun of running shrieking across the hot sand, and one day soon he’s going to get himself caught.

    * * *

    5. Momentarily distracted from spellwork, V drifts and daydreams. 'Hmm. While I am by no means either practically or emotionally in a position to conduct a further relationship at this stage, and while romantic speculations are in any case not a particularly productive use of my valuable research time, the topic remains compelling. If some nefarious figure were to hold a crossbow to my head, or perhaps some irresistible libido-enhancing spell were to come into effect in conjunction with some catastrophic Will saves, and I were to be forced to enter into physical congress with one of my companions, which member of the party would I choose?

    A difficult and complex question. Prior romantic engagements aside, while the bard is objectively the most conventionally attractive member of the group, physical intimacy would no doubt be problematic if one felt continually compelled to throttle one's partner -- or at the very least, the character of the sexual act would be fundamentally changed. Leaving him aside, Miss Starshine? She is intelligent, sympathetic and more beautiful than she will ever know. But to risk a friend -- and such an admirable one -- over a matter as frivolous as temporary carnal gratification? Never. Master Thundershield? Please, no. The unfortunate antics of one Legolas Greenleaf aside, elves are generally strongly repelled by facial hair, and the very thought of that accent ('aye, V'suv'yus, aye! Haerder!) giving voice to the throes of sexual passion is enough to impel one towards monasticism. That leaves only...
    '

    V's eyes temporarily cross in horror. Hir idle, distracted mind has somehow seized upon the image of Sir Greenhilt (who has beautiful hands, and smells like woodsmoke and old leather) *and* the halfling (presses just a little too hard when he kisses, and has the most wickedly sharp little white teeth). Not only are both images distractingly beguiling, but in hir mind the figures are *together*, and are beckoning hir to *join in*. The scenario that flashes before hir eyes also includes, for some reason, a large bed with satin sheets, a bull-whip and an extra-large jar of sticky orange marmalade.

    V makes a noise that sounds exactly like a small dying kitten, and begins scrabbling desperately through hir bag for a potion of 'Remove Mental Image'.

    * * *

    6. It would all have been just fine if Belkar hadn't made a slight miscalculation on the afternoon of New Year's Eve in Azure City. The whole V's-gender-debate had been getting on everybody's nerves for far too long, and since he was at a loose end, he decided to make his own fun. He'd been mooching around the inn courtyard looking for small animals to kick when he was struck by a brilliant idea: pheromones! Of course! Now, while humans, dwarves and most other races were stinky enough that a halfling with a decent nose could tell their gender three city blocks away, elves were a more difficult proposition. He'd never managed to get close enough to sniff Vaarsuvius properly on the road, especially since the pain-in-the-ass elf had the habit of trancing off the ground, usually a little too high for him to reach. Now, though, with bedsheets and dirty robes and unguarded laundry baskets lying around...

    He'd thought things were pretty bad when Haley had first caught him. She'd given him the oddest look of her life when she'd entered the room she and V shared, only to bust him with his nose buried in a pair of weird purple elven undergarments. He'd thought it was even worse when she then gave him a forty-five minute lecture on respecting the privacy of one's team-mates and charged him a 70gp 'Not-Squealing-to-Roy-and-the-Paladin-Patrol' fee.

    He only really discovered how bad things could get, though, when he ran into the beautiful, clever, gifted, stunningly attr STUPID elf at dinner that night, and realised exactly how powerful elven pheromones could be, and why elven underwear was best left unsmelled.

    * * *

    7. There is one secret that wild horses, Epic-level torture and all of the demons of all of the possible hells cannot possibly drag out of Roy. It is this: during the burning inn rescue on the road to Azure City, something terrible had happened to him. He'd been wearing the Girdle of Masculinity/Femininity at the time, his brain and body attempting to deal with a new and somewhat unstable cocktail of hormones as well as some inept assassins, a raging building fire and the usual chaos that accompanies the Order wherever it goes. He'd been hobbling down a corridor in the soon-to-be-razed inn, half-dragging and half-carrying a horribly-poisoned Elan and desperately searching for Durkon or V to heal him. He had stopped to check their direction, and for one fatal second, made the mistake of looking down into the bard's pale face, his beautiful summer-blue eyes rolling back in his head, butter-coloured hair flopping loose on his pale, sweaty forehead, light frame trembling in Roy's arms. The terrible thing is this: for one horrible, unspeakable moment, Roy totally understood what all the ladies see in Elan.

    Sometimes he still wakes up screaming.

    That's just awesome. To the power of Totally. And stuff.

    ...And that is how I met your father.

  27. - Top - End - #387
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Well, time to roll up some random people I suppose. Don't want to break tradition from taking a break between Inkyrius's story right? And present-tense mode coming up.

    Uh-oh. Do not read if you have a constitution score under 16!!!!

    Spoiler
    Show
    Celia sat in line waiting to be summoned. It wasn't her fault that her boyfriend's death had put her way behind on school work. She knew that her grades would be low, but never this low. She begged and pleaded with the instructer if there was any way she could have extra credit. And his answer left her speechless. So here she was, waiting in line at the Elemental Plane of Air's Summoning Commision, or EPASC. They really needed a better lettering for it.

    Number 247!

    That was her! Man it's been ages since she got that number. She hurried over to the receptionist.

    I'm here!

    What is your reason for requesting a summoning to the mortal realm?

    *Sigh* Here. It's from my instructer. Hands the receptionist a note.

    Hmmm... Reads over it. An exta credit assignment, huh?

    Ya, have to teach a magic school class about sorceror levels. And only because I'm the only one in the class that has them per HD.

    Well... I don't know if we have any openings. Looks through the computer. Oh wait, here's one. At the Warthog's school of Wizardry and Sorcery.

    They have a school like that?

    Yup. Would you like to take it?

    Well, the sooner I can get this Extra credit assignment over with, the better.

    Alright, so I'll file it in.

    Great! So how long will it be before they succefully summon me to the sch- FWWOOOSSSHHH!!! Purple smoke covers her completely as she feels the similar sensation of being summoned. She thinks to herself how it was fast that they summoned her. When it finishes, she's standing in an office of a upright warthog.

    "Ah, good, so you're the sorceress that took the request."

    Grudgingly, yes. My name is Celia.

    "Excellent. Right this way please." He escorts her out of the room.

    So I just want to let you know that I have no necromancy spells at all. I hope that isn't a problem.

    "Of course not. You're just a guest speaker on the basis on how sorcerers work. You'll be teaching to some apprentice wizards and sorcerors alike on what it's like."

    Well, if that's all, then maybe it won't be as bad as I thought.

    "That's the spirit. Oh, and you are considered an 'Honorary' teacher here. So you can give out punishments and the like."

    I hope that won't be necessary.

    "We never know, but that's why we have the rule available. Ah... Here we are. In you go."

    Celia walks into a large classroom, mixed with races of all arcane types.

    *Ahem* My name is Celia and I'm a Sylph. I'm here to talk to you about what sorcerors are like and everything.

    "Gosh. And just when I thought this school couldn't get stupider."

    Celia ignores the comment and continues on. Now what's important to know is that sorcerors get their magic through bloodlines. In fact, most of the sorceror's here has probably some mixed heritage in you right now.

    I wonder what her's is. A butterfly?" Some sniggering.

    Annoyance starts to creep into Celia, but she ignores it again. Now sorcerors then channel this magic into certain spells that are geneticly stored into the sorcerors memories. Thus, they have only access to a few. But their magic receptors have an easier time at regestering this spell and they have access to more of it.

    I can't wait for access out of this class" Still some sniggering.

    Celia's impatience gets the better of her. She looks at the source of the muttering to see a dark skined, female human in suggestive clothes sitting in a bored postition. I'm tired of disruptions when I'm giving a lecture, miss. Just then the bell rings. You! Come here now, I want a word with you.

    With a groan, the human teen drags her stuff up to Celia as the rest of the class files out. Celia waits for the last of them to leave before closing and locking the door.

    Alright. Let's have a talk, miss...

    "Greenhilt. Julia Greenhilt."

    Sarah Greenhilt? You wouldn't happened to be related to Roy would you?

    "Uh... yes. But how would you know?"

    Wow, small plane of existance. I'm his girlfriend.

    "Seriously? My brother chose you?"

    Ya. Is there a problem with that?!

    "Actually the opposite, it's an opportunity for me." Starts to take her clothes off.

    What are you doing?!

    "Your Roy's girlfriend, and I never pass up an opportunity to mess with him. Especially since you locked the door." Tosses the last of her clothing on the ground.

    Wait young lady, this isn't proper behavior for yourself! Shouts Celia, becoming very nervious.

    "Ya, so." Rushing forward and starting to undress Celia. Celia fights, but the clothes somehow start coming off. "I didn't pay attention to that dull dwarf my brother hangs around with, so why should I start listening to you? Especially being in your position."

    NO- STOP-!!! As the last of her garments are thrown off. You can't be related to Roy!! Yells Celia as she covers her self the best she could.

    "Of course I am." And Sarah leaps forward and knocks Celia over, nearly pinning her to the ground. "And as I've said before, I don't miss an opportunity to mess with him." She starts to lick Celia.

    AAUUGGHH!! Celia does her best to crawl to the door. She reaches up for the doornob, but it's locked.

    "Where you trying to go? The fun is just getting started! And you can't leave anyways."

    Do you forget that I'm a sorceress! Knock!! Celia releases a blast of energy at the door, but nothing happens.

    "Please, you think they didn't think about making the door's 'Knock'-proof? They'd never keep us in detention that way. So, sister..." Picking up a pencil. "I hope you don't mind me calling you that since were probably going to end up that way. Lets do this right." Advances.

    Cowering. NO! NOOO! AHHHHHH!!!!

    ...


    OH MY GODS WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!! And there's a shortage of Brain Bleach too!!! Dammit! This is going to give nightmares to a few of you, I just know it!
    Last edited by Silverraptor; 2009-09-23 at 07:58 PM.
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  28. - Top - End - #388
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    I just know Eugene is watching all of this.

    Nice story. I wonder what would have happened if it was Miko who was Roy's girlfriend and was the one forced to give a lesson... There are typos though (corrected in bold):
    An extra credit assignment, huh?
    Ah, good, so you're the sorceress that took the request.
    You're just a guest speaker on the basis on how sorcerers work.
    You might want to use quotation marks even for colored dialogue too, but that one isn't exactly a flaw or mistake to begin with in my opinion.
    Last edited by Dark Faun; 2009-09-23 at 03:15 PM.
    Formerly known as Discord here and Maladin on avatarspirit.net.

  29. - Top - End - #389
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Discord View Post
    I just know Eugene is watching all of this.

    Nice story. I wonder what would have happened if it was Miko who was Roy's girlfriend and was the one forced to give a lesson... There are typos though (corrected in bold):
    Alright thanks, I'll go back and fix them.
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  30. - Top - End - #390
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

    Quote Originally Posted by Silverraptor View Post
    Well, time to roll up some random people I suppose. Don't want to break tradition from taking a break between Inkyrius's story right? And present-tense mode coming up.

    Uh-oh. Do not read if you have a constitution score under 16!!!!

    Spoiler
    Show
    Celia sat in line waiting to be summoned. It wasn't her fault that her boyfriend's death had put her way behind on school work. She knew that her grades would be low, but never this low. She begged and pleaded with the instructer if there was any way she could have extra credit. And his answer left her speechless. So here she was, waiting in line at the Elemental Plane of Air's Summoning Commision, or EPASC. They really needed a better lettering for it.

    Number 247!

    That was her! Man it's been ages since she got that number. She hurried over to the receptionist.

    I'm here!

    What is your reason for requesting a summoning to the mortal realm?

    *Sigh* Here. It's from my instructer. Hands the receptionist a note.

    Hmmm... Reads over it. An exta credit assignment, huh?

    Ya, have to teach a magic school class about sorceror levels. And only because I'm the only one in the class that has them per HD.

    Well... I don't know if we have any openings. Looks through the computer. Oh wait, here's one. At the Warthog's school of Wizardry and Sorcery.

    They have a school like that?

    Yup. Would you like to take it?

    Well, the sooner I can get this Extra credit assignment over with, the better.

    Alright, so I'll file it in.

    Great! So how long will it be before they succefully summon me to the sch- FWWOOOSSSHHH!!! Purple smoke covers her completely as she feels the similar sensation of being summoned. She thinks to herself how it was fast that they summoned her. When it finishes, she's standing in an office of a upright warthog.

    "Ah, good, so you're the sorceress that took the request."

    Grudgingly, yes. My name is Celia.

    "Excellent. Right this way please." He escorts her out of the room.

    So I just want to let you know that I have no necromancy spells at all. I hope that isn't a problem.

    "Of course not. You're just a guest speaker on the basis on how sorcerers work. You'll be teaching to some apprentice wizards and sorcerors alike on what it's like."

    Well, if that's all, then maybe it won't be as bad as I thought.

    "That's the spirit. Oh, and you are considered an 'Honorary' teacher here. So you can give out punishments and the like."

    I hope that won't be necessary.

    "We never know, but that's why we have the rule available. Ah... Here we are. In you go."

    Celia walks into a large classroom, mixed with races of all arcane types.

    *Ahem* My name is Celia and I'm a Sylph. I'm here to talk to you about what sorcerors are like and everything.

    "Gosh. And just when I thought this school couldn't get stupider."

    Celia ignores the comment and continues on. Now what's important to know is that sorcerors get their magic through bloodlines. In fact, most of the sorceror's here has probably some mixed heritage in you right now.

    I wonder what her's is. A butterfly?" Some sniggering.

    Annoyance starts to creep into Celia, but she ignores it again. Now sorcerors then channel this magic into certain spells that are geneticly stored into the sorcerors memories. Thus, they have only access to a few. But their magic receptors have an easier time at regestering this spell and they have access to more of it.

    I can't wait for access out of this class" Still some sniggering.

    Celia's impatience gets the better of her. She looks at the source of the muttering to see a dark skined, female human in suggestive clothes sitting in a bored postition. I'm tired of disruptions when I'm giving a lecture, miss. Just then the bell rings. You! Come here now, I want a word with you.

    With a groan, the human teen drags her stuff up to Celia as the rest of the class files out. Celia waits for the last of them to leave before closing and locking the door.

    Alright. Let's have a talk, miss...

    "Greenhilt. Sarah Greenhilt."

    Sarah Greenhilt? You wouldn't happened to be related to Roy would you?

    "Uh... yes. But how would you know?"

    Wow, small plane of existance. I'm his girlfriend.

    "Seriously? My brother chose you?"

    Ya. Is there a problem with that?!

    "Actually the opposite, it's an opportunity for me." Starts to take her clothes off.

    What are you doing?!

    "Your Roy's girlfriend, and I never pass up an opportunity to mess with him. Especially since you locked the door." Tosses the last of her clothing on the ground.

    Wait young lady, this isn't proper behavior for yourself! Shouts Celia, becoming very nervious.

    "Ya, so." Rushing forward and starting to undress Celia. Celia fights, but the clothes somehow start coming off. "I didn't pay attention to that dull dwarf my brother hangs around with, so why should I start listening to you? Especially being in your position."

    NO- STOP-!!! As the last of her garments are thrown off. You can't be related to Roy!! Yells Celia as she covers her self the best she could.

    "Of course I am." And Sarah leaps forward and knocks Celia over, nearly pinning her to the ground. "And as I've said before, I don't miss an opportunity to mess with him." She starts to lick Celia.

    AAUUGGHH!! Celia does her best to crawl to the door. She reaches up for the doornob, but it's locked.

    "Where you trying to go? The fun is just getting started! And you can't leave anyways."

    Do you forget that I'm a sorceress! Knock!! Celia releases a blast of energy at the door, but nothing happens.

    "Please, you think they didn't think about making the door's 'Knock'-proof? They'd never keep us in detention that way. So, sister..." Picking up a pencil. "I hope you don't mind me calling you that since were probably going to end up that way. Lets do this right." Advances.

    Cowering. NO! NOOO! AHHHHHH!!!!

    ...


    OH MY GODS WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!! And there's a shortage of Brain Bleach too!!! Dammit! This is going to give nightmares to a few of you, I just know it!
    Good work, I like this. But there is one small problem, isn't Roy's sisters name Julia? I think you called her Sarah, which is his mom's name.

    "Greenhilt. Sarah Greenhilt."

    Sarah Greenhilt? You wouldn't happened to be related to Roy would you?

    "Uh... yes. But how would you know?"

    Wow, small plane of existance. I'm his girlfriend.

    "Seriously? My brother chose you?"
    Just thought I would point that out.
    Last edited by Malkar Grumbo; 2009-09-23 at 05:52 PM.
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
    Dexterity- 11
    Constitution- 11
    Intelligence- 12
    Wisdom- 11
    Charisma- 11

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