Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread
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@Tsaukpaetra said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@ScholRLEA Recommend making it easier on yourself and just doing one post per clip plz.
And better yet, wrap them in
<details>tags too!I wish I had thought of that earlier...
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@ScholRLEA If only there were some way to edit one's posts?
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More Sith Academy, from "How Darth Maul Spent Winter Vacation", in which Maul 'looks after' (read: tortures) Obi-Wan's pet hamster, and also learns a new skill:
At war with a book
At 3:04 a.m. on December 11, Darth Maul transferred his last perforated, but unbroken No. 2 pencil from the clutch of his left hand to the even more destructive grip of his gnarled teeth. With 5 kilos of book balanced precariously on his knees, he ran a finger down the index of his much-thumbed, more-glossed, most-hurled copy of The Handbook of Sithly Behavior. He skimmed the subject headings, red letters on black pages.
Date each other, Sith do not . . .
Directions, Sith do not ask for . . .
Karaoke, Sith do not sing . . .
Pastels, Sith do not wear. See also Polyester and Bellbottoms. . . .
"I have you now!" His finger stabbed one of the few unfamiliar entries on the page.
Religious Holidays, Sith do not observe.
The pencil crunched like peanut brittle as Maul swore, simultaneously hurling the Handbook against the opposite wall, which from previous impacts, already resembled the cratered surface of a moon. He watched with hatred as the book slid undamaged to the floor, denying him the satisfaction of so much as denting one of his master's favorite instruments of torture. The damned thing had proven as invulnerable as its editor, Darth Sadist. Sidious had not given him a book at the start of his apprenticeship; Sidious had given him the published carte noire for every humiliating, tasteless, stomach-heaving exercise a senior Sith Lord could conceive. A third of the Handbook Maul had memorized outright. The rest was being seared into his memory by experience and smug quotation, which was worse.
"Someday I will rise up and contradict you," Maul muttered, flopping back onto the sofa, "and I will be correct."
Out of the corner of his smoldering yellow eye he saw the Handbook sit up, lean its spine saucily against the wall, then riffle its pages, creating a buzzing sound like a raspberry. In an instant Maul's lightsaber flew across the room and ignited in his grip. But the book only chortled evilly, then shut its covers with a bang. It was indestructible while closed and incontrovertible while open. Few things were more annoying, and one of them was his master, whose last visit had left him in his current state of misery.
a new hobby?
He heaved it onto the kitchen table, which was already overflowing with subscriptions, new credit cards, calling plans, magazines, and catalogs, the fruit of dozens of "YES! Send me, etc." cards that he had been indiscriminately filling out on Obi-Wan's behalf. He didn't remember ordering from this company, however, and in his present state of boredom, he simply ripped open the carton in hope of finding something interesting. The invoice read:Congratulations! The Library of the Month of JANUARY is Creative Cooking. Enclosed is everything you need to lend spice, savor, and color to your culinary efforts. A total of 230 Republic credits has been charged to your account in anticipation of your complete satisfaction. Refunds for credit only, within 40 minutes of receipt. No returns thereafter.
"Creative Cooking"? Maul had expected an addition to the male pornography collection that filled the largest bookcase in Obi-Wan's apartment. He looked at the first book in the pile, Hot 'N' Spicy. This was more like it; "Creative Cooking" could be a code for discreet subscribers. He removed the rest of the books from the carton and began flipping through them.
His well-trained glance picked out the essential words: ". . .beat . . . batter . . . whip . . . pierce . . . slicing disk . . . remove the skin . . . punch it down until it collapses . . . keep the blade close to the bone." A litany fit for the Handbook itself! With growing eagerness, he sought out the illustrations. Sketches and descriptions of carving knives, boning knives, serrated utility knives, kitchen shears, sharpening steels. Diagrams showing the most efficient way to dismember scores of carcasses, with special anti-bacterial tips for humanoid cannibals. Charts of how long to boil and roast and deep-fry in hot oil until bones softened and flesh flaked and skin crisped. He could really get into this.
Did Sith cook? Maul had no idea.
But Sidious had once instructed him to get in touch with his baser instincts. And what instinct was baser than the hunger for food? Not even the hunger for sex was stronger.
Sweeping the rest of the mail onto the floor, Maul picked up Born to Grill and began reading in earnest.
Rise up and slay your master - with pastries!
"'Sith do not refuse dessert,' Master. It's in the Handbook."Sidious picked up his dessert fork. Well, he did want to set a good example, didn't he? And he couldn't easily ignore the Handbook . . .
. . . which you partly wrote, and are still writing. Maul had discovered something else besides the Joy of Cooking: his belief that the Handbook kept getting longer was not the illusion of his own frustration and paranoia. The damned thing truly was a damned thing: there had only ever been one edition, one copy, and one editor's name, because the Handbook itself kept generating new pages to justify the whims of thousands of years of senior Sith Lords. After he'd spooned bittersweet chocolate mousse into its flapping pages, it had confirmed his suspicions, and he had a pretty good idea of how to add entries himself.
Moaning in rapture, Sidious rebuked, "Maul, I shouldn't be eating this. My doctor has warned me to watch my diet . . . this can't be low-calorie . . ."
"Don't worry, Master. 'Sith do not eat non-fat.' It's in the Handbook. May I offer you a second helping?" Maul asked, already reaching for the pound cake.
As he heaped on chocolate and bananas, adding a hefty scoop of Ben and Jerry's Best-Ever Vanilla ice cream for good measure, his black heart beat with joy. Master or not, the current Darth Sadist had arteries, and unlike Maul himself, a standard four-valve human heart. In the days to come, Maul intended to feed him enough cholesterol and saturated fats to clog Cuddles's hamster tunnels.
If his blood pressure didn't rise up and slay him, at least he'd be too sluggish to dodge when Maul did the job himself.
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@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I wish I had thought of that earlier...
What was your excuse this time?
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@Zecc said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I wish I had thought of that earlier...
What was your excuse this time?
Forgetfulness.
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@Zecc said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I wish I had thought of that earlier...
What was your excuse this time?
WTF? checks the
<details>tags are there, why aren't they rendering? What did I do wrong?EDIT: OK, adding a horizontal rule between the
<details>instances didn't help, either. WHY U NO RENDER,<details>TAG?
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Condensing them into a single
<details>group doesn't seem to have worked, either. And now the HRs are missing, too. Damn. A little help here, @ben_lubar, please.
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@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Condensing them into a single
<details>group doesn't seem to have worked, either. And now the HRs are missing, too. Damn. A little help here, @ben_lubar, please.It needs a
<summary>at the top.yup, here's the summary. you should click it.
details details details.
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This is from "Darth Maul makes Peace (and a Choicolate Souffle)".
My souffle cries out for vengence!
Smoothly, stealthily, with the discipline and wariness of a Sith Lord supremely trained to kick ass, Maul eased open one of the doors in his double-oven unit. Just wide enough to activate the sensor . . .
The soft-white bulb inside the oven gently illuminated the oven rack.
The wall behind the oven shook with a tremendous impact.
The just-risen top of his extraordinarily beautiful, four-layer chocolate soufflé collapsed like a black hole.
He heard its dying sigh, and inhaled its last breath of Scharffen Berger bittersweet chocolate, melted tenderly in a double-boiler, the foundation of a masterpiece now sinking instead of setting in its simmering water bath.
He thought, I can start over. Twenty-five steps isn't too many, two and a half hours isn't too long. Not for a Sith Lord.
He let the oven door slam shut like a Rancor's jaws.
Then he breathed, "Someone is going to die."
In the nanosecond it took Maul to whip off his Kiss the Cook's Ass apron, grab his oversized, razor-sharp lame, and fling open his solid-wood door as effortlessly as if it were Mary Sue's silk kimono, he knew, he absolutely knew that he'd spent decades mastering martial arts, fencing, and Force-slamming for the purpose of avenging his chocolate soufflé.
Perky padawan chatter, he could tune out.
Inexplicable bouts in bed with his neighbor, he could even enjoy, at least until he woke up the next morning.
Hatred of the Jedi, he could suppress, until Sidious, who had instilled it in the first place, gave him the thumbs-up to reveal himself to the Enemy and his little twit apprentice.
This time, it's different, thought the fragment of Maul's mind that wasn't already turning Dead Jedi Walking into sushi, and feeding him one slice at a time to My Apprentice.
This time, it's personal.
This time, it's CHOCOLATE.
WTF?
Maul's body flowed in one velvet movement to kick in his neighbor's door.
Then his teeth, his nose, and the rest of his body parts. In alphabetical order.
His foot connected with the door and ripped it off its hinges. As he completed the revolution, ending in a stance that would launch him into the hallway, he heard an unexpected "Oof!" chased by a baffling "Aiiiiieeeeee!"
Misplacing his anger in astonishment, Maul instinctively stepped to one side. An instant later, the painted, broken door came flying out into the hallway, closely followed by the painted, naked Qui-Gon Jinn.
The door hit the wall.
The Jedi hit the door.
The Jedi fell on the floor.
The door fell on the Jedi.
Sometimes, life loves me. This much Maul understood: Qui-Gon had been lined up with the door when he'd kicked it in. But what kicked them both out? If master and apprentice were having another chick-fight, Maul might as well reschedule his vengeance for another night. Jedi or not, when those two had a lovers' spat, they yanked out each other's hair by the handful, and from all parts of the body.
Qui-Gon groaned. He twitched one glittery hand into view, braced it against the floor, and started to raise himself up.
Maul stomped on it, breaking off all five acrylic nailtips. There was a muffled squeal, the fingers curled into a shivering ball, then retreated beneath the door.
Contemplating the size of the hidden mass, Maul decided, Obi-Wan couldn't heave this hulking hippie off himself, let alone out of his apartment. Besides, Qui-Gon's scented, coiffed, and bodypainted condition made it revoltingly clear that the Jedi had been enjoying one of their infamously intimate soirées. They had never invited anyone else to participate, in spite of Palpatine's and Sidious's best efforts.
And yet there has to be someone else with them, someone powerful enough to kick the ass of the Jedi Master, and do whatever he wants to the ass of the Jedi padawan.
Sidiously, Maul decided to investigate.
Decadence, thy name is Jedi
Obi-Wan was sprawled facedown in a sea of pastel silk cushions, surrounded by an assortment of sequined G-strings that Mary Sue would literally kill to possess. Open jars of body butter, shaving cream, flavored oils, and Klaussen extra-crispy pickles were arranged on what could no longer be described as the coffee table, although it did boast one tube of something that was coffee-flavored. The sexual smorgasbord was laid out within easy reach of the sofabed, which had been unfolded into a platform covered with thick pink fur. Its surface was studded with knobs, humps, miniature speakers, and a remote-control device evidently meant to be operated with the tongue. A rack that usually held CDs now clattered with scrapers, shackles, and ceremonial whips made from the dried, stretched penises of calves. Raw oysters in shot-glasses formed a half-circle around a towering incense cone shaped like . . . diapers and lollipops littered the . . .
Something squished under Maul's heel. Dazed by the sights and smells, let alone the sensations they produced, he automatically looked down. Did I really just step on a . . . He lifted his foot to get a better view. Yes, he had, and he hadn't even known they came in metallic plaid.
And the Jedi say Sith are devoted to the Dark Side?!
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Might as well post this here:
The tag line sums it up pretty well. The protagonist is a geeky guy from modern-day Earth who, for unknown reasons, suddenly found himself in a fantasy world one day, and subsequently discovered that he has the apparently-unique power to disrupt magic by touch, which he calls "the Twist."
The problem is, being from a modern-day setting, he has no useful skills in a pre-industrial society; just the Twist, which has little in the way of legitimate uses, particularly in a kingdom that's at peace. So he's forced down the path of marketing his ability as a high-priced mercenary thief, stealing stuff that's protected by magic for clients willing to pay... and then investing the money he makes from it into initiatives to try to develop technology in the kingdom and get the Industrial Revolution started.
Then one day, the latest client turns out to be working for a Great Dragon, and everything goes off the rails...
Fun story, but the update schedule is way too sporadic. :( First chapter can be found here.
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I mentioned Peter is the Wolf in my first post, but I never really made it clear just how much of a guilty pleasure it is.
For those who never bothered to look (which I assume is everyone), PitW is an 'adult' (read: adolescent) series about a 'runt' werewolf, Peter Stubbe, who infects his human girlfriend, Sarah Hazen, with lycanthropy via sex (his parents neglected to tell him about that risk). She becomes a 'thrall' - a werewolf who hasn't grown up learning to control their powers - which makes her Peter's responsibility, and if he can't keep her from revealing the existence of werefolk to the world, it's both of their necks.
Unfortunately, in her werewolf form, Sarah is bigger and stronger than any other werewolf around, and the only thing that can control her is, uh, Peter's peter, the one part of him that isn't runty. Hilarity ensues, at least until the Earthpig shows up and pulls the drama tag on them.
There is both a SFW and a NSFW version of most of the strips, though in some cases the SFW strip runs parallel to events that can't be easily made neutral in content, rather than trying to show them with heavy censorship.
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@ScholRLEA Indeed! That comic I think is like 80% responsible for my secret love of furry porn
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@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I mentioned Peter is the Wolf in my first post, but I never really made it clear just how much of a guilty pleasure it is.
For those who never bothered to look (which I assume is everyone), PitW is an 'adult' (read: adolescent) series about a 'runt' werewolf, Peter Stubbe, who infects his human girlfriend, Sarah Hazen, with lycanthropy via sex (his parents neglected to tell him about that risk). She becomes a 'thrall' - a werewolf who hasn't grown up learning to control their powers - which makes her Peter's responsibility, and if he can't keep her from revealing the existence of werefolk to the world, it's both of their necks.
Unfortunately, in her werewolf form, Sarah is bigger and stronger than any other werewolf around, and the only thing that can control her is, uh, Peter's peter, the one part of him that isn't runty. Hilarity ensues, at least until the Earthpig shows up and pulls the drama tag on them.
There is both a SFW and a NSFW version of most of the strips, though in some cases the SFW strip runs parallel to events that can't be easily made neutral in content, rather than trying to show them with heavy censorship.
By following the link below, I solemnly declare and affirm as follows:
âź
2. I am not accessing this material to use against the site operator or any person whomsoever in any conceivable manner. I am not a law enforcement agent, prosecutor, investigator, or government agent seeking grounds to prosecute on obscenity, or if I am, I acknowledge that any attempt to use material from this site in such a prosecution would constitute entrapment under the laws of the United States;"I'm not a lawyer, and I haven't even played one on TV!"
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I have an HTML file of all of the bookmarks I've made since I first got the internet in 1998. I also have a bookmarklet, "Go to Random Link". I like to go to my bookmarks file, and click on a random link.
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@chozang said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I have an HTML file of all of the bookmarks I've made since I first got the internet in 1998. I also have a bookmarklet, "Go to Random Link". I like to go to my bookmarks file, and click on a random link.
Chrome stores all my bookmarks. Exported, apparently it's almost a whole megabyte (925 kb). I wonder if there's an easy dead-link checker for static files I could use to find out which ones still exist...
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@Tsaukpaetra said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Chrome stores all my bookmarks. Exported, apparently it's almost a whole megabyte (925 kb). I wonder if there's an easy dead-link checker for static files I could use to find out which ones still exist...
I don't remember if you're on Windows or Linux, but back in my Windows days I used this: http://home.snafu.de/tilman/xenulink.html#Download. The author was also one of those who helped bring Scientology's abuses to the public awareness. Mine is 9.3MB btw.
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@chozang said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I have an HTML file of all of the bookmarks I've made since I first got the internet in 1998. I also have a bookmarklet, "Go to Random Link". I like to go to my bookmarks file, and click on a random link.
Fun idea, but how often does it end on a page that doesn't exist anymore?
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Yeah, now I'm posting shit from Whateley Academy again. Deal with it.
This is specifically from the story "Vamp", and covers the eponymous power-draining intersexed shapeshifting albino when, after the Necromancer found out that she wasn't happy with the whole "kill your sugar daddy and force you to join my supervillain team" by way of ratting him out to the cops, she was enrolled in the same school for gifted youngsters that the kids who repeatedly beat the crap out of her go to. Fun times, right?
Let's blow this joint
Itâs about damned TIME! I mean, Iâd been their good little mole inside the Necromancerâs moronic âChildren of the Nightâ (you can tell that heâs soft between the ears, just by that name!), Iâd set the senile bastard up three times for them, Iâd risked more than my life more times that I really wanted to count, and Iâd even bagged Nightgaunt all by myself for them. And what did I get for it? Chucked into âprotective custodyâ for weeks. Well, âprotective custodyâ looks a lot like jail, let me tell you. But at least they let me keep my stuff, and I had my own TV (itâs been weeks, Iâm starting to worry that Iâm getting addicted to All My Children, but for the life of me, I still donât get Oprah Winfrey), and, huzzah, huzzah, Iâm finally getting OUT of here! Theyâre sending me up to some laâdeâdah boarding school out in the wilds of Vermont or somewhere.But todayâs my last day in the Ironbar Hilton, and Iâm having that quintessentially female problem: what am I going to wear? Okay, itâs the middle of February in Boston after the coldest and snowiest winter in memory, God alone knows what itâs like up in Vermont or wherever it is. So, obviously itâs not miniskirt weather. Still, I DO have to make that allâimportant, statusâdefining first impression, so itâs the glove leather jeans. Ah, leather pants, they make even my scrawny butt look sexy. Black? No. Red? YES! And the matching red leather bolero jacket, of course. The black lace top? No, not in February. Black turtleneck sweater, definitely. And the wideâbrimmed hat in almost the same shade as the sweater, to complete the ensemble. Of course, all this screams out for a pair of black stilettoâheeled pumps, but again, Vermont in February; Feragammo didnât create those heels to go tripping through three feet of snow and slush. And the long black parka to fend off the actual cold, and provide the curtain for the reveal.
That decided, I set about making up my face. When you have thin little whiteâgirl lips like I do, you really do need lipstick, just so that people actually know when youâre smiling. Oh well, maybe the boobie fairy will bring lips too, when she finally gets around to showing up. That done, I worked on my hair for a bit. Oh well, at least long and straight works well with bone white, and my eyes are red, thank you very much, not that washed out pink that most albinos have. It freaks some people right out, but I think that itâs beautiful and the contrast with my white hair is killer.
When that was done, I smiled at myself in the mirror.
YES, I DO have a reflection in the mirror.
We'll always have Boston, Sky-Schmuck
Doherty showed what he was made of, first by making me load my own stuff in the trunk of the car, and then snapping on a pair of inchâthick by four inchesâwide Messingite© shackles on my wrists. âGee,â I sneered, âI can just feel the loveâŠâDoherty took the cigarette out of his mouth and was about to open up with some snarky comment or another when a shadow appeared over us. We both paused, but relaxed when a studly figure in a royal blue outfit with a hawkâs head cowl and wingâcape landed near us. âOh, wonderful, another freak,â Doherty muttered.
I put on my âtragic noble captive princessâ act and made the most of the shackles. âSo. Skyhawk. Youâve come to gloat over your victoryâŠâ
Doherty palmed his face, but Skyhawk didnât get the joke. âNo, Alex,â he stepped up, totally buying into the script, âIâve come to tell you that this is a second chance for you. You can leave your old mistakes behind and start a new life, a better life.â Yes, he SAID that. Honest. I swear, I canât make up hokey drivel like that UP!
I looked up into his eyes, and said, âWell, I guess that youâre happy to see the last of me⊠And we never really had a chanceâŠâ I faltered, lip trembling. Actually, I wasnât that heartbroken to put Boston behind me, but I was a little curious to see how sharp my claws still were. He looked at me intensely for a moment, and pulled me to his big manly chest. I snuggled into those rockâhard pecs and enjoyed. Oh yeah, anytime I wanted, and he was MINE!
Then Doherty let out a loud, obvious âahem!â and said in that nasal Shanty Irish tone, âAh, unless yer waitinâ fer Gay Pride day, I gotta get that BOY up to that school theyâre sendinâ him to on the Stateâs dime.â
Skyhawk broke the clench and said, âBe good, Alex. I will be watching.â
âOh, Iâm sure you will,â I drawled roguishly.
Doherty made a disgusted sound as Skyhawk lifted off with that âeagle screamâ sound effect of his. âWhat was THAT all about?â he asked.
âA sixâpack that could play front four for the New England Pats,â I said in a low, gloating tone. I favored Doherty with a bright smile. âWhy, Doherty! Are you jealous?â
Don't call it that, even if it is...
âYes, well, still you ARE exactly the sort of student that Whateley was created to help in the first place.ââWow! You mean this is an entire school full of gorgeous bilateral hermaphrodites? OoohhâŠâ I popped my eyes wide open, as if enraptured by the possibility.
âNO, itâs an entire school full of adolescent mutants, brought here in the hopes of teaching them how to use their powers responsibly, without having to resort to crime to survive.â
âSo, this is a school for superheroes,â I said in disbelief. âDoes Marvel Comics know about this place?â
Hello, Nurse!
âAh! Hereâs your student guide. Sheâll show you to your cottage. And out of my hair.â Wow, my luck IS taking a turn for the better!Then she picked up my luggage. ALL of my luggage. Like it was nothing. Okay, I can lift all my luggage, but it takes some effort. She handled the entire luggage rack like it was a purse. âOkay, letâs get to Poe before class lets out,â she said and crooked a finger for me to follow her. With an ass like that? HELL YEAH, Iâd follow her!
When we were out of the building, I asked, âPoe?â
âYeah, we use the âCottageâ system here. Each of the dorms is a separate building with its own special little thing about it, and theyâre each named after a great American author â which bugs the Europeans that go to school here all to hell. By the way, my name is Zoe, and my handle is âZenithâ.â She paused and looked around, and then closed her eyes and touched her forehead significantly. âOkay, weâre clear. Now, the fact that theyâve placed you in Poe, and that Iâm your student guide, tells me that you were born a boy, werenât you?â
I looked at her suspiciously. âHowâd you know that?â
âBecause, every kid in Poe is either gay, lesbian, very bisexual, orâŠâ she paused and copped a pose, âthey changed sex due to some kink in their mutant traits.â
I paused and looked at her, agog. Okay, her hair was a little short, kind of shaggy, and she wasnât wearing any makeup â like she NEEDED it! â and there wasnât much very femme about her clothes, but⊠âYOU? Were born a BOY?â
âYep. We got a couple of Female to Males running around, but it does tend to be weighted towards the MtF. And thereâs been a real bumper crop of us this year.â
âThereâs an entire DORM full of genderâbenders?â I asked, agog.
âNo, we share it with gays and lesbians and bis, like I said.â
âAnd the Straights are cool with this?â
âThe other cottages donât know anything about it, and we make damned sure that they donât,â Zoe said severely. âThere are one or two people in the cott who are open about their sexuality, but Poe has built up this rep as the ânutcase houseâ, so we get to slide on that. Mind you, some of the kids weâve got this year really do go out of their way to prop up that coverâŠâ
I mulled this over as we walked.
YOU!?!?!?!
âOkaayyy⊠lemme see if I got this straight⊠theyâre a gadgeteer if their dingus works, no matter who builds it, but theyâre a devisor if only THEY can build it, but if theyâre a devisor, the dingus can do stuff thatâs impossibleâŠâ I looked at Mrs. Horton with a touch of panic. âAnd Iâm gonna havta share a ROOM with oneâa these whackos?ââNo, youâll share a room with another, ah, âchangelingâ is the current euphemism, but the only sexâchange devisor weâve got now is a year ahead of you, and rooms on the floor above. Now, I have to warn you, the current crop of âchangelingsâ have acquired reputations for being both very tough and not very diplomatic. Theyâve gotten into more fights, both on and off campus, than the rest of the freshman class put together.â
âSo⊠youâre saying that Iâm getting stuck with the local bulliesâŠâ
Mrs. Horton screwed up her face and made an uncomfortable noise. âNot so much âbulliesâ as âtrouble magnetsâ. The Japanese have a saying, âthe nail that sticks out gets hammered downâ, or words to that effect. They insist on sticking out, and wonât be hammered down. On one level, you have to admire them their grit, their determination and their loyalty to each other; yet, none of that makes them any less an annoyance.â Then there was some noise out in the common room and she said, âAnd speaking of whichâŠâ
Mrs. Horton went out and asked a girl to get âPhaseâ. Then a short â even shorter than me, and Iâm no basketball player â girl with short black spiky hair walked to her office and Horton said, âPhase? This is our new stââ
âVAMP?!?â she gasped, gaping at me with poppedâwide weird green eyes. Ah⊠Fame⊠she must be a fanâŠ
Mrs. Horton frowned, âI take it you know of her.â
âKnow of her?â she growled, going from awestruck fangirl to petite pitbull. âI fought her. So did Châ Bladedancer. And Carmilla. Sheâs one of the Children of the Night! Sheâs a wanted criminal!â
I didnât like the way that this was going. âYeah, I was in the Children of the Night â as an undercover mole for the Boston DAâs office. Which is why Iâm HERE, those yutzes couldnât catch a tuna in a fish market! I set up olâ Coffinâbreath for them THREE TIMES, and he still got away! And he KNOWS that I set him up!â I stopped my rant and gave this âPhaseâ a sharp look. âAnd what do you mean, you fought me? When? Third grade or sumâthinâ? âcause I am seriously NOT pegging you, and I got a real good memoryâŠâ
Miss Thing cleared her throat and gave me this sexy purr, âHey cutie, I know games that are lots more fun than playing whackâaâmoleâŠâ
Then it clicked. She was that boyâgirl in the white outfit that dropped Matterhorn on top of me! âThat was you? Shit!â Mrs. Horton frowned at me, âAlex, language please.â
I gave shortâstuff the snub that she deserved, âWell I stillâd rather shown around that redhead who was goinâ at it hammer and tongs with Darrow. She was hawt.â
Miss Thing copped a pose and smirked, âNext door.â
âWhaddaya mean next door? Next door where?â
She explained, âNext door to my room. Fey and Chaka â the black girl who kicked Lycanthrosâ furry butt â are in the next room. Generator â the girl who took out Ironhawk â is down the hall rooming with Tennyo â thatâs the Ryoko lookâalike who shredded the ArchâFiend. Lancer â the one who punched Matterhorn and clobbered the AntiâPaladin â is down the hall the other way. And Bladedancer, the Asian girl you slammed facefirst into that car â is my roommate. Sheâll be just down the hall, and SO happy to see you again. Plus, Carmilla, whoâs Darrowâs niece â believe me, thatâs one creepy family â is downstairs some of the time, and in a neighboring dorm some of the time.â
âHuh? She gets two separate rooms?â
âOh, itâs way weirder than that.â
âAyla, since youâre so ready to impart your knowledge, perhaps you could show Alex around the campus for her official tour. Then have her over to her meeting at one this afternoon. Chou should have moved her things out by then. Weâre putting Miss OâBrian in with you.
âWHAT?â
âReally, itâs for the best, Ayla. After all, Chou is a girl and she does need to learn how to be a girl. If anything, I think you might be confusing her unnecessarily. On the other hand, Alex here â by the way, dear, would you be calling yourself âAlexandraâ or âAlexisâ orâŠâ
âJust Alex,â I assured her. âAnd WHY would she be a better⊠OH!â Then I remembered the little surprise that âsheâ had played on me, just before she dropped three tons of overpaid asshole on top of me. âOh yes, we DO have something in common⊠This should be interestingâŠâ I ended with a sly grin in âPhaseâsâ direction.
âItâs not gonna be THAT interesting,â she snarled back at me. âIâve GOT a girlfriend.â
âWant a boyfriend?â I leered.
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A bit more from the same story, after Phase recovers from the news about his new roommate and they have returned from the campus tour. Since it's just the one section, no details markup for this one.
I was just about to start on the delicate topic of who got what bunk, and closet space, when I looked up and spotted Goodthing sort of silently talking to herself, with a finger pressed to one side of her jaw. Okay, I just gotta know. Through puckered lips, I asked in my sister Emâs best âpesky little sisterâ singâsong, âWhaâcha deeewwwinâ?â
Goodthing snarled, âGetting the team together so you wonât be disintegrated or turned into a slug the first time you walk down the hall to use the bathroom.â
âAnd whoâs gonna be pulling something like thâ Oh fuck!â Now, youâd think that having a tongueâdragging redheaded vision of beauty walking through the door would be a good thing; but not when she comes floating in â literally floating â crackling with energy and looking like something out of Aunt Maureenâs old Irish stories about the Sidhe (the ones that Aunt Doris, being a good churchâgoing Catholic woman wouldnât let her tell while she was around; you know, the really nasty ones) and giving me the âYOU HAVE TRIFLED IN AFFAIRS THAT DO YOU CONCERN YOU, MORTAL!â look.
As I was striving mightily to keep my bowels in check, another six kids, five girls and one really cute guy, all came in, singly and three who came in as a group.
Seven cute chicks (okay, the kid is a little young, but sheâs still cute) and a really cute guy, and theyâre all giving me their undivided attention. I should be digging on it, big time. But not with the look that they were giving me, like theyâd caught me trying to break into their upsideâdown rocket clubhouse. Even the cute little one was giving me looks that were giving me the creeps! I tried to cut the tension with a joke: âSOâŠAnyone up for some strip poker?â
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@Yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@ScholRLEA Indeed! That comic I think is like 80% responsible for my secret love of furry porn
Pervert.
Just kidding, we all have our kinks. :)
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@ScholRLEA said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I mentioned Peter is the Wolf in my first post, but I never really made it clear just how much of a guilty pleasure it is.
Bypassing internal proxy. Commencing read!
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@Yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@Polygeekery said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Pervert.
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@Yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@Polygeekery said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Pervert.
The MewTwo Trilogy?
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Because we've already determined that this is another of my guilty pleasures.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Jo7XogdX_w
Not sure why the pilots at 2m55s are doing a Thach Weave in a tunnel under Los Santos (assuming I've identified the game correctly), but it does look awesome.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNlqXElPqLA
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Why does it seem like everything in this thread is not SFW?
Get off my lawn, etc etc
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My Internet guilty pleasure:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Tc7MH5ZXbg
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More Whateley Academy, this time from "The Bad Seeds", the Bad Seeds being the club/mutual protection group for kids whose parents are supervillains:
What are we going to do tonight, Brain?
âOkay, first off, Iâd like it if there was some way to keep everyone from thinking that Iâm some sort of carbon-copy of my father, you know?â She said it half-humorously, be she was staring intently at her brother as she spoke.
âHear hear!â âYou said it!â âI wish!â
âAnd number two, I wish there was some way to get my roommate to just chill, you know?â
âWant me to hit on her?â Nephandus asked.
âWhat, assassinate her? Are you nuts? I just want her to chill out.â
âWhat he means,â Rosethorn explained, âis, should he ask her for a date? That threat might be enough to force her into line.â
âYeah!â Nephandus agreed. âWait, threat? You meant ârewardâ didnât you?â
âWhatâs the problem?â Lindsey Fellows, a.k.a. Dragonrider, leaned forward, the cat-sized dragon on her shoulder duplicating the movement.
She-beast sighed. âIâm rooming with another groupie. Vipra has the idea that if I could just introduce her to Dad, heâd instantly see her magnificent qualities and take her on as his chief lieutenant and enforcer.â
âReally?â Jobe said. âI was under the impression that the good Dr. Diabolik usually operated with a fairly minimal staff, working through contractors and cutouts whenever possible.â
She nodded. âHe does, except for the last minute when something big is about to go down, like that whole stupid âconquer Torontoâ thing.â
âMy father employs a large staff, Sheebs,â Jobe pointed out. âYou could send her over to me.â
Jadis sighed, as if trying to gather her patience. âI want her to chill out, not get mutated into some sort of slug-thing. She is not to be considered a subject for experimentation, you hear me?â
Jobe tried to mask his irritation. âWhat about a cat-girl?â he begged. âEveryone loves cat-girls.â
âNo! If thereâs one thing this campus doesnât need, itâs another cat-girl! Besides, sheâs allergic to cats. Sheâd never forgive me.â
âSpoilsport.â
âOkay,â Jadis summarized. âWeâre the kids of some of the biggest villains in the world. Wealth and power undreamt of by mortal man. And so far our ambitions include solving roommate problems, patent development, the possible destruction of the world, and covering the campus in concrete to turn it into a giant skate park.â She sighed. âNext?â
The Elf, Herself
âI have a ⊠project,â Jobe revealed, âthat requires elven genetics. To do that, I have to isolate and identify the genes specific to the elvish condition.â
âAnd what exactly is this project?â
Jobe sighed with the put-upon theatrics of someone who has been dragged into talking about his favorite obsession. âWell, if you must knowâŠâ He handed a small memory card over to Techno-Devil, who was still jacked in. âMalachai, if you would?â
The miniature medieval war in the center of their circle vanished. A moment later, A life-sized girl appeared, naked except for digital fog added in at chest and hips. She was black. Not the black of a typical African-American. Not even the deep purple-black of an Ethiopian. She was pure black, like coal or ink, a color not seen in any human race. In contrast, her hair was stark white, as were her eyebrows and eyelashes. Her lips were hot pink. Her eyes were over-sized, and of an elvish cast, and her ears were pointed. Her figure, plainly visible, was a bit beyond âsuperbâ and edged a little toward what the female audience would have called âcartoony.â
âFuckinâ aye!â Render called out. âA drow! Hell of a looker, too. Iâd do her in a second.â
âA whole second?â Jobe asked, with a sneer in his voice. âOh, thatâll leave her satisfied. But Iâll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when youâre speaking of my wife!â
âNot this again,â Jadis complained. But apparently no one heard her.
As the suspended image rotated, DNA spirals and gene sequences appeared in the air beside the woman. Info boxes began to appear, with detail zoom-ins pointing out features and design details all over the subject. They began highlighting aspects of the womanâs eyes, and ears, and something inside her mouth. More details began flashing about her skin, fingertips, and private areas.
âYou designed a wife?â Winter asked, in disbelief.
âAnd why not? Can you think of what better wedding present I might offer than enhanced senses and strength, eternal life, eternal beauty, and a capacity for intimate sensation that would make all the rest of us seem like half-dead zombies? Why shouldnât my wife be the best?â
âI see.â Privately, Winter was impressed. The very idea had more than a touch of the Mad Scientist to it, but the offer was an interesting one. âAnd who, exactly, will the lucky woman be?â
âAh!â Jobe spoke with the confidence of the truly ignorant. âThatâs Phase II, once I finish the design. Iâll need to weed through volunteers. I expect a considerable list of applicants, once I announce the pay-off.â
âHow are you going to transform the winner?â Malachai wondered. âFull-body nano transforms are still pretty dicey.â
Jobe made a rude sound. âPthht! Nanotech is so crude. Oh, Iâll admit, itâs nice for cellular surgery, maybe a little chromosome alteration, but full-body reconstruction? Thereâs lots better ways, biologically.â
âWhat? Cloning, and memory transfer?â
âNo!â Jobe ranted. âA transform in place, with regenerator cells! I inject her with stem-spores, and nature does the rest!â
âAwful high chance of brain-wipe.â
âThat just means that Iâll need more volunteers!â
(A much longer - and less objective - version of this conversation also appears in "The Book of Jobe".)
Way to keep it classy, Jean-Armand
While Jobe and Malachai exchanged technical details, Lindsey leaned forward, the dragon on her shoulder echoing the movement.
âUm,â she began, âso I guess that most of you, sort of, knew what kind of business your parents were in, right? I mean, ever since you were little?â
âYeah,â Jadis admitted. âWe, Malachai and I, were raised in an apartment just off Central Park. Nannies and governesses, mostly. But ever since we were old enough to keep a secret, we knew who Dad was and what he did. Mal and I used to love seeing him on TV.â
âI grew up in the Secret City,â Hua Chu Lan admitted, âwhere my father is worshipped like a god. I was trained from birth by the masters of arts so secret that westerners have never even heard of them.â
âJobeâs dad is the Emperor of a little island in the Caribbean,â Jadis admitted. âWeasel boy grew up thinking he was a princeââ
âI am a prince!â Jobe said, breaking momentarily away from his technical discussion.
ââso whenever heâd visit us up in New York, or whenever Mal and I went down to Karedonia, Mal took it as his solemn duty to acquaint Jobe with his common roots. Usually through some sort of blunt object applied to the head, if I recall.â
Techno-Devil shrugged. âHey, Jobeâs a friend, but I defy anyone to spend more than five minutes with him, without wanting to bash him over the head.â
âSee, the thing is,â Lindsey continued, âI didnât know. Not until two years ago.â
âYou donât have to talk about it, if you donât want to,â Jadis told the younger girl.
âNo, I want to, I think. I need to talk about it to someone, and you guys seem bestâŠâ
Nephandus, sitting next to her, reached out to gently take her hand. âThere, there. I know these things can be harsh, but we know where youâre coming from here. You can trust us not to judge you by your past. Besides, a cute young thing like you should never be under such a burden. So tell us about it.â
Lindsey looked questioningly at her hand, then at Nephandus, who was still holding it. Finally, she looked toward her friend Jadis, who was motioning with a finger down her throat.
âWellâŠâ She left her hand in the boyâs grasp. ââŠDad was always just this eccentric college professor, you know? He teaches at ⊠Iâm not sure how this works. Maybe I shouldnât say. We had a pretty quiet life. But⊠I think I was in seventh grade. My little brother â can I tell his name? â my brother Buster got one of Dadâs âHollow Boxesâ. That wasnât exactly what Dad called them, but itâs what Buster had been calling them ever since I can remember. So Dad would go on these business trips for the college, every couple of months. And when heâd come back, heâd sometimes bring these little box things back, and other stuff too. But we were never supposed to touch them. Dad kept them locked up, and told us they were very expensive, and some of them had old germs and stuff on them.
âBut anyway, Buster got one, and opened it somehow, and this⊠thing came out. And it was huge! Bigger than a man, from that little box. And it had claws, and fangs â we had to replace the carpet, from where it dripped on them, and it saw BusterâŠâ
Without realizing it, Nephandus had pulled his hands back. âYour father is Devilmaster?â he squeaked in alarm.
âUm, yeah.â She looked at her abandoned hand and sighed. âAnyway, he appeared in full regalia, and sent the thing back into the box. Buster was okay. And Daddy said he loved us, and hadnât wanted to bother us with it, but ⊠well⊠you only had to see this thing to know that Daddy has been calling up the powers of Hell for years! Maybe since before I was born! He said that nothing had changed, and he was still our same daddy, butâŠâ She trailed off.
âDevilmaster? Shit! You never cross that guy! Heâll have things tracking you down for the rest of your god-damned life, always following, always waiting in the dark!â
âThank you so much for those comforting words of support, Nephandus,â Jadis said, with a double-helping of scorn.
Karedonian Standoff
âSo youâre about Cheese and yogurt and stuff? Hard to see how thatâs so evil. Or powerful. Or anything. Even if you can pick pockets.â
âNo, no, no!â Jobe yelled. âDonât you get it? His codename is a joke! Heâs got a different explanation every single time! And if there was some truth behind it, you can bet it would be far beyond the capacity of anyone like you to understand.â
âWatch your mouth, lab boy,â Render said, half rising from his chair. ââRound here, stupid little freshmen donât talk to juniors like that.â
Render paused to chug down his drink, then slashed his finger down the glass. With a brittle ting! sound, the glass split into two clean halves with razor-sharp edges. He picked up one half and crushed it into sharp fragments in his left hand. In his right hand, he held the other half while it melted into molten glass, then spilled it out onto the floor, where it splashed and solidified.
âYou should know who youâre talking to, unless you want to get Rendered down, understand?â
With no expression on his face, Jobe reached into an inside pocket of his lab coat. When his hand emerged, he was holding a shiny, platinum-silver object that everyone recognized immediately: an American Express card!
âAnd you should know who youâre talking to. I could buy you, your father, and your entire family out of petty change and still have enough left over to pay for shipping up Dadâs private army. Unless you think that Emperor Wilkins hasnât come up with ways of dealing with TK-superman types.â
âBig threats, kid. You willing to back it up with an offer of lifetime employment, a pension plan, and a guarantee that Iâll see plenty of action?â
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@remi said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@chozang said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
I have an HTML file of all of the bookmarks I've made since I first got the internet in 1998. I also have a bookmarklet, "Go to Random Link". I like to go to my bookmarks file, and click on a random link.
Fun idea, but how often does it end on a page that doesn't exist anymore?
Fairly often. Then I know to delete the bookmark. Not a big enough problem to be a killjoy. If it's one I valued, I look it up on archive.org and bookmark that.
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Here's a quick glimpse into the Blue And Orange Morality that drives Jobe Wilkins:
Why, that's not a self-serving claim at all
âPoint of order,â Jobe said, raising his hand again. âIâm not a âbad guy.â In fact, Iâve probably already performed more good than every cape this school will ever graduate.â
âHow exactly do you figure that?â Winter asked, obviously curious.
âLast year I created a more effective dysentery vaccine. Donated it to the Gates Foundation. Itâs projected to save about 700,000 people a year. Admittedly, I developed it as a project using Karedonian convicts, but still, thatâs a lot of lives.â
Reaction to that was powerful: âYou? Donated it?â âInvoluntary human testing?â âWhat, do you think the ends justify the means?â
Jobe sighed. âLook, in order. Itâs not like a dysentery vaccine is worth anything to first-world countries, so itâs not like there was a real profit to lose. Second, you donât get many volunteers for dysentery testing. You gotta know, human test subjects really speed up the research. And third, if your ends donât justify the means, youâre working on the wrong project.â
Jadis appeared to be about to lay into Jobe about something, but with an obvious effort she closed her mouth and sat back down in her seat. âNot worth it,â she muttered. âNot going to say a thing.â
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OK, I'm still on my WA kick, and specifically with Jobe. I'll add one more, with a bit of explanation for the 99.9% of you who didn't look at the rest of it (and probably won't look at this, either). I'd give a spoiler warning, but... I think that goes without saying.
Anyway, teen mutant mad biologist Jobe manages to perfect his highly infectious spore-cell serum, which is capable of turning any human being into a female Drow elf, with ink-black skin, pure white hair, enhanced strength and senses, inhumanly good looks, impressive regenerative powers, and (due to genes spliced from the various Sidhe on campus) immunity to aging after early adulthood. Oh, and possibly some magic affinity, too.
Of course, this is Whateley Academy, where gender bending is Queen. I don't need to draw a map to explain what happens as soon as the formula is ready, do I?
So, flash forward past a month or so of slow changes, the cloning of a duplicate Drow by a rival Devisor called Belphegor (who then accidentally transfers his own memories into it instead of those of his 'patient'), and a some foolhardy dabbling in demonology (with the half-demon girl Jobe has been feuding with for three months... brillant move there), leaving the now female Jobe and the clone Belphoebe in desperate need of clothes which fit. This is a problem, since they are now faerie, meaning they can only wear all-natural fibers - synthetics give them a painful rash.
Money is no object for a princess, but Whateley is in the middle of nowhere, and even the local super-tailor Cecelia Rogers can only do so much. They arrange a weekend trip to New York City, with a senior as chaperone (Gloriana, who is also one of the leaders of the Future Superheroes of America... not like the school admin doesn't trust the kids of supervillains or anything, of course...) and Jadis Diabolik providing lodgings at her Manhattan townhouse. Tagging along are Hazard (Amelia, one of the school bookies and a member of the Masterminds, whom Jadis wants around for her danger sense powers), Superchick (Misty, Jadis' roommate), and Sizzle (Darcy, a speedster/fire manifestor, who is a sharp-tongued fashionista and Jobe's current bed-warmer).
All this leads to Jobe expositioning her ass off about her father:
Chekhov's Gun - ENGAGE!
God bless her, as the rest of us were gob-smacked with revulsion, Misty reached into her bag and pulled out a classic distraction. âUhm, skuze me? But Jobe, thereâs something I been wondering about â your daddy, Giztronic is king of this island down in the Caribbean, right?â
âHis supervillain name was Gizmatic, and heâs the Emperor, but otherwise correct. And?â
âOkaaayyy⊠Gizmatic⊠okay, but how did he pull it off? I mean, that Lord Parachute-â
âParamount.â
âRight. Heâs got his own country too, but thatâs way off in Eastern Europe somewhere. But Kardona-â
âKaredonia.â
âRight. Karedonia. Anyway, howcum the US didnât send in troops, after your daddy kicked out the old government and took over? I mean, he was like a big name supervillain, right? Whyâd they let him take over like that?â
Gloriana sat up straight and raised her eyebrows. âShe does have a point there, Jobe. I always did rather wonder why the American Government let your father set up shop in Uncle Samâs wading pool.â
Jobe puffed up, and before she could bury us in a layer of Karedonian propaganda, I cut in, âGizmatic got away with it because he did his homework. Before he moved in and took over, Karedonia was Sao Monica, this dinky little revenue black hole that even Venezuela didnât want, with no resources worth mentioning, and they didnât even have a tourist industry! Think about it! A Caribbean island without a tourist industry! The local leadership- for want of a better word â would have lost in a military (or political) fight with a Chicago street gang. Also, Gizmatic timed it so that he hit when the US was already militarily committed overseas. He hit with overwhelming force right after a big blowout at the âPresidential Palaceâ, and the old President woke up with a bad hangover in the lockup. Even so, Champion, who has a long history with Gizmatic-â
âOr, at least, Champion-3,â Jobe cut in rudely. âThey went to Whateley together, and letâs just say that Champ-3 wasnât quite as heroic as his estate would like people to think. Dad and C-3 went at it pretty regularly, but after C-3 went down, Dad didnât see any point in continuing the matter with C-4. Of course, that didnât stop C-4 from flying down to Sao Monica and rescuing El Presidente and his cabinet. Still, I will give C-4 credit. He got one whiff of El Presidente and his hoods and saw them for what they were. He dropped them off in Trinidad and flew off in disgust.â
âBy the time that the State Department had figured out what had happened,â I took over again, âGizmatic had passed a raft of banking laws and established customs protocols that virtually ensured that if anyone tried anything against him, a big chunk of the International Banking Community was raise a scream that would wake up Elvis. But then he did something really clever, something that gave Sao Monica, now Karedonia, both a real industry with real income, and ensured that nobody would fuck with him. Yâsee one of the reasons that GizKing chose Sao Monica was, aside from the fact that nobody else worth mentioning wanted the dump, it was close to several hydrothermal vents.
âHydrothermal vents are these underwater cracks in the Earthâs crust, where very cold seawater mixes with very hot and mineral rich magma. The seawater boils and becomes super-saturated with various minerals, which it sheds when it cools. Gizmatic exploited the magma pockets to create a âbubbleâ of magma that slowly raised a large part of the seabed adjacent to Karedonia. It took five years, but when he was done, heâd quintupled the size of the island, provided a source of nearly free electricity and fresh water, and created a mining industry.â
âCurrently, Karedonia is the worldâs fifth largest exporter of Cobalt, Manganese, Osmium, Scandium and Palladium, and the ninth largest exporter of various sulfides,â Jobe said proudly.
âYes,â Gloriana drawled disapprovingly. âAnd itâs the worldâs largest Tax Evasion haven, money-laundry, illegal weapons warehouse, open-air black market, stolen goods bazaar, and illegal drugs refinery.â
âYouâre forgetting about our local annual Native Culture festival,â Jobe reminded her.
I tried to defuse the brewing nastiness. âAnd on top of that, Gizmatic had the good financial sense â and money â to clean the place up and create several Five-going-on-Six star resorts tailored for the Uber-rich. It was a little iffy at first, but people have a tendency to want to come and check on their money first-hand, and Gizmatic made sure that they had an absolutely wonderful time doing it, and they told their friends and so on and so on. And, give them their due, even the Goodkinds would have a hard time finding anything wrong with either the North Palace or the Sunset Palace. Top Drawer all the way.â
âThank you, Beast,â Jobe glowed with proprietary pride.
âThennn⊠howcum no other supervillain has tried to take it away from him?â Misty asked. âI mean, it sounds like a GREAT racket! And when one crookâs got a great racket going for him, the first thing that happens is that some bigger crook comes along and tries to muscle it out from under him, right?â
Jobe gave out a prideful chuckle. âOh, they try, every so often. But Dadâs still in charge.â
âGizmaticâs got a three-layered defense mechanism going,â I said. âFirst, he has a PRIMO cybernetic defense array established, and heâs constantly changing and improving it.â
âCybernetic defense array?â Misty asked, clearly out of her depth.
âCombat robots, drone attack helicopters that could go toe-to-toe with Apaches, RC combat laser-armed Great White Sharks, 150 Exxo-Watt particle accelerator emplacements â stuff like that,â Hazard explained.
âReally?â Belphy said, her eyes a-sparkle with techno-greed. âI wonder if I couldnât get a tour, when we go âhomeââŠâ
âHardwareâŠâ Jobe muttered. âGlobulon would have been so much more effective, but nooo⊠âNever deploy what you canât remotely auto-destructâ⊠sheeesh⊠like Globulon would ever turn on MEâŠâ
âThatâs the first, most obvious level of defense,â I explained. âThe second, more subtle level of defense is that at any given time, there are anywhere from 25 to a hundred B-list supervillains, most of them with big chunks of their support organizations -with hardware â on hand, either at the resorts or in time-share lair-estates. ALL of whom have a vested interest in seeing that Joe Wilkins stays in charge of the country. Give him his due, Gizmatic is an excellent manager and administrator.â
âOh?â Gloriana said snarkily, âFrom what I hear, he just spends most of his time in his lab, tinkering with the next generation of killing machine, and lets his support staff handle everything.â
âGloriana?â Kate said dryly. âThat IS the definition of an excellent manager and administrator.â
âBut the final, last-ditch defense measure is Gizmaticâs stroke of genius; remember that âbubbleâ of magma that four-fifths of Karedonia sits on?â
âSorta,â Misty admitted.
âWell, that bubble isnât exactly stable. From what Iâve heard, about three-eighths of the electricity generated by the steam from that thing is earmarked for keeping the magma bubble stable. If the mechanism that kept the magma bubble both liquid and stable were ever to failâŠâ
âThe whole island would blow up?â Sizzle gleeped.
âWell, not the whole island,â I hedged, âand even thatâs not the real point. The real point is that the ânew landâ is roughly the size of Trinidad, which is just shy of two thousand square miles. I think that Karedonia is â what, sixteen hundred and change? â square miles, high and wide, and the highest point-â
âMount Wilkins,â Jobe provided. âItâs six thousand, four hundred feet high, more than twice the height of Mt. Aripo on Trinidad, and the highest point in the Caribbean.â
âNo, that would be Pico Duarte, in the Dominican Republic. Weâve HAD this conversation before, Jobe.â
âOkay, okay â the highest point in the Lesser AntillesâŠâ
âAnyway! All of that is held up by the magma bubble. If the bubble ever bursts, all of that, all 16 hundred MILLION TONS -and change- of it will drop more than a hundred feet into the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean, causing a massive 360 degree mega-tsunami, one which would dwarf the wave that hit Indonesia in 2004. The Lesser Antilles would be swamped and the southern coasts of the Greater Antilles would be trashed. Venezuela would be a disaster area, as would the Gulf locks of the Panama Canal, the Gulf coasts of Central America, Mexico, Texas and Louisiana. And it wonât do Africa, Spain, England or Ireland a bit of good, either.
âGizmaticâs the only person who really understands how the Magma Management device works-â
âOh, I understand how it works,â Jobe said. âI just donât really CARE.â
âAnd if that device ever stops working â or if Gizmatic ever pushes that button everyone knows heâs got â SPLOOSH! Not only is Karedonia gone, but so are a few million people elsewhere. Itâs cold, itâs mass murder, itâs heartless, itâs unnecessary, itâs effective â itâs⊠GizmaticâŠâ
Naturally, while in the Big Apple, they get attacked by one of Gizmatic's former agents, who is looking to kidnap her and... uh, use that to get back into Emperor Joe's good graces? What can I say, the guy is an idiot.
"Ah well, itâs âsecret originsâ time."
âAs Iâm sure youâre aware, my father was the arch-nemesis of the third Champion, Steve Briggs-â
âYou know his name, his secret identity?â Hazard asked.
âOf COURSE I know his name! He and Dad went to Whateley together! As a matter of fact, thatâs how the feud between them started. As Iâve said before, letâs just say that Briggs, or âBlue Blazeâ as he was known at school-â
ââBlue Blazeâ?â Sizzle asked, curling her lip.
âIt was the Sixties. Letâs just say that Blue Blaze was the sort who would have hung out with Bloodwolf, and Dad was his favorite chew toy. Anyway, GizDad conceived a passion to somehow obtain a sample of the Champion Force, to study and see if he couldnât synthesize it somehow. And when he learned that âBlue Blazeâ had been chosen as the new custodian of the Champion Force, he decided that he had a heaven-sent opportunity to kill two birds (or buttheads) with one stone, and that he had a duty to protect Chicago from its protector. They went at it a bunch of times, and Dad almost got him a couple of times, but he could never quite get Briggs down for the count.â
âExcuse me, this is all terribly fascinating, but what does it have to do with that prat in the cape back there?â Belphy asked, keeping her eyes on the prize.
âIâm getting there, Iâm getting there! And pay attention, this is part of your family history Iâm passing along. Now, one of Dadâs less attractive qualities-â groans all around â-is that heâs got this weird, twisted obsession with imprinting âbackupâ templates of his personality into clones, âjust in case something goes wrongâ. Heâs always at me to update my template. He even wants me to download myself into a cloned body, and download a âperfect girlfriendâ into this body.â
âSoooâŠâ Belphy said inquiringly. âEmperor Daddy thinks of clones with downloaded personas as peopleâŠâ
âNot the point, Starscream,â Jobe snarled. âThe point here is that GizDad was experimenting with it on a volunteer, a total minion reject named Philo Finderbinder, who thought that Dad was going to give him superpowers or something. As if you could just walk in and order a set of superpowers, like a McRonalds. âOh, Iâll have a strawberry milkshake, invulnerability, an apple pie, laser eyes, and tornado speed.â âYou want a Fries with that?â Anyway, just as GizDad is downloading the template of someone competent â I think that it was one of those Shattenherren Nazi âtheme agentsâ whoâd gone senile by then â when Philo had a Batson Event, right there on the slab.â
âA WHAT event?â Misty asked, completely confused. Not that Sizzle or Hazard looked any more clued in.
âThe Batson Factor,â I explained, âis one of the theories that tries to explain how some non-mutant people get super powers, the ones they call âoriginsâ. Yâknow, the people who somehow survive something that should have killed them, like getting struck by lightning or being bitten by a radioactive gerbil, but instead of dying they get weird powers? Itâs more of a rubber stamp than a real scientific theory, but there are still hundreds of mad scientist types trying to figure out how it works. Jobe, youâre telling me that your father has an actual Batson Factor triggering event on record, under close scrutiny?â
âYep!â
âMeh,â I said, unimpressed. âIâll lay you odds that it was probably something in the Personality Overlay, something left over from the old Nazi theme agent treatment. What did he do with the data?â
âOh, like everybody else, he fiddled with it for a while, and tried to figure out how to mass-produce the effect. But he couldnât get anywhere with it, so he traded that information, along with a bunch of other super-science crap that heâd given up on, to the US State Department in exchange for a little breathing room, while he got Karedonia up and running.â
âYour tax dollars at work,â Sizzle grumped.
âWell, it WAS the Reagan administration,â Jobe allowed. âWhere were we?â
âYour dad had this Philo guy in that personality thing, and he had a Batson Event,â Misty prompted.
âOh! Right! Anyway, Philoâs reacting to it and going berserk and tearing up the lab, and the whole âmad science experiment gone wrongâ shtick. So, GizDad, all grace under fire, goes âHUZZAH! The experiment is a SUCCESS!ââ
âAnd Philo was chump enough to believe that?â Hazard asked with an amazed expression on her face.
âOH YEAH. Anyway, the next thing you know, âItâs a worm! Itâs a pain! No, itâs ANTI-CHAMPION!â Yes, Anti-Champion, strange visitor from Loserville, who, despite all the gadgets and bionic implants and special gear that GizDad could give him, couldnât beat Champion, not even ONCE. And his track record against other superheroes wasnât a lot better. Every so often, Philo would go off on his own, claiming that he didnât need Dad anymore, but he always came crawling back, whining that he needed this doo-hickey or that upgrade to make him anything besides a world-grade wimp. After Champion-3 died, Champ-4 turned out to be a decent kid, he saved Dadâs life once, and well, GizDad just didnât have the heart to keep up the feud.â
âYes, well, you never really get over your first Nemesis,â Kate allowed.
âDonât worry, Kate,â I patted her hand. âSomeday, that special hero will come along, someone you can really HATE.â
âWell, thatâs all very interesting, Jobe dear,â Gloriana said. âBut I still donât see why Anti-Champion back there was trying to kidnap you.â
âWell, Philo is one of those whining non-entities who simply doesnât get the whole idea that you have to bear down and MAKE things go right for you. No, on some deep level, he really does still want daddy to come and make everything right. So, despite the fact that heâs actually quite powerful in his own right, and the gear that heâs already GOT makes him even more formidable, Philo thinks that he needs something to make him competent, a gadget or a gizmo that will suddenly make him a winner. AS IF. And heâs fixated on GizDad, being the one who gave him those powers in the first place. Heâs kind of like a hypochondriac; he thinks that he always needs to be fixed, or up-graded or something, and that GizDad is the one to do it. Emperor Dad has moved on to bigger and better things, but Philo hasnât. Or canât.â
âSo⊠Chumpion back there thinks that if he kidnaps you, your father will give him a pair of magical ruby slippers?â Sizzle asked.
âYeah, thatâs what passes for strategic thinking with Philo,â Jobe said.
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From earlier in that story ("Saks and Violence", if you need to know):
In which Pretty Evil Boy gets mocked... again
February 28, 2007
âJadis, may I ask you a question?â
âYes, Jay-Arm, you may, and the answer is: yes, that frock coat and lace jabot DO make you look like a total gaylord.â
Nephandus must really have been tied up in knots; he didnât even give me his usual panicked denial. Hey, itâs his own fault; any boy with features that delicate and pretty has NO BUSINESS wearing his hair in a long braid. âYouâve sort of become friends with that drow-clone that Jobe and Belphegor whipped up between them, right?â
âBelphoebe? Well, yeah, sort of. She kinda hangs out with me and Misty. But hey, look at the alternative: staying in that room, with Momma Jobe trying to pound âthe Gospel According to Gizmaticâ into her head. Why do you wanna know, Jay-Arm?â
Jay-Arm looked uncharacteristically uncertain. Usually Jay-Arm just charges in and lets the chips fall where they may. I mean, look at what happened with that âAngel of Hellâs Kitchenâ chick, right after Christmas break. âSo⊠sheâs a girl⊠but sheâs really a boy inside her head? Where it really counts? Sheâs really⊠Belphegor?â
Okay, I could actually empathize with that. For all that we twit him about being a nancy-boy and let on that heâs gay, Jay-Arm regards chasing pretty girls as something between a sport and a religious devotion. Heâs nowhere as good at it as, oh say, Romeo is, but Romeo takes his girlfriends seriously. But still, Jay-Arm is pretty damn straight for a guy who spends an hour every night taking care of his hair. And even if he werenât, the image of Belphegor in a dress would put even the most diehard homosexual right off his feed. âNaaawwwtt really, Jay-Arm.â I spelled out how Belfuckup had âscannedâ his mind into the brain of the clone that we now called âBelphoebeâ, and how superficial the imprint was. Just like the rest of him. âAnyway, Belfyâs had a few major personal identity breakthroughs since then. While sheâs still a little glitchy here and there, Iâd say that sheâs pretty much her own person by now.â
Nephandus relaxed and brightened. âOh! Well! That changes everything! So, Jadis, would you be a dear and do two people who were obviously-â
âNot a chance in Hell, nancy-boy.â
âWhy not? The girl could do a lot worse!â
âJay-Arm, even IF I were in the habit of pimping out my friends â which Iâm not â I still wouldnât hook Belfy up with YOU!â
âWhy not? Am I not handsome? Am I not charming? Am I not dashing? Am I not-â
âYes, you are not ALL those things!â
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@ben_lubar said in Top places women have fantasies about having sex:
@Karla said in Top places women have fantasies about having sex:
That's hot!
In honor of Ben's post, here's something from Whateley Academy on the subject of feeling the earth move, as explained in an in-universe sex manual for mutants. Superpowers apparently give new meaning to what counts as 'safe sex'.
X of steel, Y of Kleenex
On the surface, the average Exemplar is what everyone aspires to be: strong, fast, tough, and drop-dead sexy; plus you get all of that without even trying. What most Exemplars donât see is the hidden cost of all that ability, at least until itâs too late. All too often their power goes to their heads and they forget the responsibility that comes with it. Nowhere is this more dangerous than in sexual relations.It was said in Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex and it still holds true: the raw power available at the fingertips of even low level Exemplars can be dangerous to a lover with a normal constitution. You may be able, like a tiger matron with cubs, to pick a baby up with tender hands and leave him unharmed, or to use chopsticks with flair. But in these tasks you merely have to exert a modicum of self control.
Sex isnât about being in control. On the edge of orgasm, we leave rational thought behind and nothing remains but instinct. It doesnât help that, thanks to the improvements to their bodies, Exemplars often feel sexual stimulus more keenly than others. If a norm feels the earth move, the Exemplar is at ground zero of the erupting volcano.
The phenomenon of Exemplar-induced sexual injury is so well documented that law enforcement agencies look for certain symptoms during the examination of rape victims to tell if the perpetrator was actually a mutant. A crushed pelvis, broken wrists or hands, fractured thighbones, deep lacerations across the back, and the tearing of various bodily orifices are good examples of injuries that may be inflicted by amorous Exemplars. Of particular note is the so-called âSuperHickeyâ, which involves small areas that have sustained such pressure that blood vessels have burst or cells ruptured. This injury can be particularly dangerous; there have been incidents which caused massive internal bleeding, as veins or even arteries were torn open without breaking the skin.
Due to all these issues, statistics show that the majority of Exemplars prefer partners with powers that allow them to let go without fear. Other Exemplars, other types of Bricks, and Regenerators are particularly common Exemplar partners.
General Tips
- Avoiding injuring your partner is your top priority. Fortunately, several sexual aids are available for Exemplars so they can really let loose. First and foremost is the Brick Condom, made for both sexes. Highly durable, these Condoms are made from a patented ârubberâ that can absorb a significant amount of kinetic energy, and are coated with a high-slip surface that reduces friction. The same company that makes these gadgets has links with several space exploration programs. These are a must-have item for any Exemplar, even if you donât plan on having sex in the foreseeable future. It is recommended that you keep at least one on your person at all times. Another extremely useful gadget is Exemplar Handles. The majority of sexual injuries caused by Exemplars involve the hands. Using these bars as grips, usually affixed to a strong surface, prevents incidental clawing, scratching and pummelling assuming that they are used correctly. Be sure to use Handles appropriate to your Exemplar level.
- Avoid sucking when you kiss. Pressure-based injuries can be serious and life threatening to the victim. The SuperHickey is also very painful; there are few other things that will kill your chances faster with your lover.
- Establish limits early in any relationship. If you donât have access to any of the equipment presented in tip one, you are well advised to do nothing more than some heavy petting and cuddling. Learn your partnerâs thresholds as well as your own, and resist the temptation to go too fast. The life you save may be your loverâs.
- If your lover is a Regenerator, you may be tempted to cut loose and let go of that iron self-control that youâre so proud of. This is NOT a good idea. Regenerators may be able to survive injuries that would kill any normal person, but they feel the pain just like everyone else. Unless they are also masochists, the pain will turn them off, and youâll have ruined what could otherwise have been a pleasant evening with the one you love.
- Beware of friction burns; again try to take things as slowly as possible until you learn your partnerâs limits.
Tips for Exemplar Females
- Be aware that the Exemplar body generally has a higher rate of fertility than normal females, and can possess a marked resistance to contraceptives. Be sure to use contraceptives appropriate to your Exemplar level.
- Your nails might be perfectly manicured, but in your hands they are lethal little daggers. Be aware of your extremities at all times, particularly around people and furniture. If you must clutch something, make sure itâs inanimate and non-sentient before you start.
- So youâre an Exemplar. Youâre stronger than a normal man. Like generations of men before you, you must learn that this does NOT give you the right to force yourself on a lover. And no, he doesnât want it because âmen all want itâ any more than âgirls all want itâ. A surprising number of Exemplar women fall prey to their newfound strength and ability to resolve situations by force. Endeavour not to be one of them.
Tips for Normal Females
- Be extra cautious. Always insist on a reinforced brick condom. The morning after pillâs effectiveness is also severely decreased when dealing with a pregnancy caused by an Exemplar, so be sure to take preventative chemical contraception correctly before engaging in any sexual activity.
- Exemplar men tend to be quite virile; incidences of multiple births are slightly higher when an Exemplar male is involved and the chance of pregnancy is also higher than normal.
- Exemplars are abnormally attractive to the opposite sex. Imagine the hottest guy you can think of. Now imagine someone hotter than that. NOW imagine that guyâs effect on your hormonal balance, and youâll have some idea of the effect that an Exemplar can have on a normal person. Be aware that around an Exemplar youâre not going to be yourself, and try to curb the baser instincts that may emerge. You havenât experienced being âguy crazyâ until youâve experienced the Exemplarâs particular brand.
Tips for Exemplar Men
- One of the most common changes seen in the before/after scenario in the transformation from a normal male to an Exemplar male is the enlargement of their penis to truly epic proportions. This is to be expected due to the nature of the transformation and the nature of men, but be aware that your enlargement may be as much of a curse as it is a boon. Just as the penis differs in size and shape between individuals, so does the vagina. Some are smaller and some are more accommodating. Some women may take one look at your elephantine asset and turn you down flat. Those that donât may be overestimating their capacity, which can be dangerous and may end in injury. You yourself may not have the breadth of experience with your new equipment that you may have had with the old model, so again, take things slowly until you learn the limits of your partner.
Tips for Normal Men
- What goes for normal women going guy crazy over a male Exemplar goes the same for guys over female Exemplars. Remember to think with the thing on your shoulders.
- Throw your conceptions of gender roles out the window. Your girlfriend can probably bench press you and the building youâre standing in, and shrug off bullets at close range, before discovering the cure for cancer during her day off. Some guys simply canât take being physically weaker than their partner, thanks to millennia of cultural bias. Exemplar women also tend to be more aggressive than you might be used to. Take this into account before you get involved with them and be prepared to have a more equal or even traditionally feminine relationship with them. Every couple must adapt to each otherâs strengths and weaknesses, and make sacrifices and compromises; this may be the sacrifice that youâll have to accept if you want a successful relationship.
- In vulgar circles, thereâs a certain injury sustained by normal men during intercourse with Exemplar women that they call the âc**t crushâ. Involuntary spasms of the vagina and legs during coitus can severely injure a manâs genitals, pelvic region and back when using certain sexual positions. Again, always insist on a reinforced brick condom, and avoid the missionary position. If you must, a special girdle can be purchased that will take the sting out.
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Wat?
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"Ten days from now (going backwards)"
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Posted in Discussion of NodeBB Updates.
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If anyone decides they want some context for the 'femur' quote (which was from the Whateley Academy forum) after all, go for it:
Asshole Werewolf is an Asshole
Dinner was short, and Razorback was fed again and happy, the small group of mutants and weres wandered through the woods near the Weretown community. Jericho was keeping an eye on things while Eloise and Ben talked to Sara Waite, who'd come along looking to talk to Eloise about the Voodoo-wolves. Carl, Sara's errant werewolf âmate,â whom was annoying, obnoxious and a general pain in the ass was tagging along ostensibly to provide âsecurity.â This was his word for harassing Razorback to the point where the lizard-kid was stalking in a foul mood, growling unconsciously, with the red nictitating membranes half-slid across his eyes. The rigidly erect spines on his body gave testament to the fact that he was seriously debating injuring Carl, possibly eating him, if the posture and sign language were any indication.
âRelax Razor, come over here for a minute while Sara and the weres talk. We'll do a bit of recon for a few.â Jericho said mildly. Normally Razorback would blow off the kind of mockery and taunting Carl was laying on pretty thick, but he was verging on a full-out frenzy. Not a good thing.
-I can take that shit from ignorant pinky bipeds but I'll be DAMNED if I'll take it from people who KNOW.- Razor's signing was jerky, agitated, but he came over and started walking. His growling became louder as Carl started following.
âHey Carl, stay here and keep an eye on Eloise and Sara, just in case.â
âShit, they don't need me to...â He was interrupted as Jericho took the safety off his shock rifle and aimed at the were's torso. Carl had seen what crazy devisor-tech weapons could do and halted.
Jericho smiled in a way that could only be described as evil. âActually, I insist. Wait here and we'll give you a milk-bone later when we get back.â
Carl's eyes narrowed and Jericho's face grew hard. âMe and my boy gonna talk about private shit. You're disinvited. So stay here and wait or we're gonna make you sit, Carl.â
Let's see if Shithead can learn from his mistakes...
âYou want the stick, boy?â Carl waved the stick at Razorback, who was hopping back and forth, following the stick like an enthused dog. When Carl whipped the stick off into the darkness, and yelled, âGo get it boy!â Razorback tore off into the woods at full speed, barely a blur to anyone's vision.
âStupid fucking lizard.â Carl said cheerfully.
âCarl, if we trained you better, could you be more of a fucking asshole?â Ben snarled at the pup that stood there with an unapologetic look on his face.
Eloise looked about ready to start yelling when a distant crash sounded, followed by the sound of tearing metal, another crash, more tearing metal, and several metallic crunches.
Sara looked off into the woods. âI think Razorback found the stick.â
Sure enough a rapidly-moving speedster lizard skidded to a halt in front of Carl, spraying him with a small shower of dirt and leaves. In his mouth he held a truck axle, dragging one wheel along the ground. The other wheel spun slowly in the air with a tic tic tic tic tic noise. Razor dropped it on Carl's feet, ignoring the yelp of pain and wagging his tail on all fours. The look was predatory, and to Jericho's lack of eyes, and Sara's perceptions, his posture promised further pain.
Eloise looked at Carl, annoyed. âFirst it's you getting mixed up with demon-girl, then you aggravate Merry, and now you can't leave the giant clawed, spined mutant kid who tears the demons apart like a wolf in a chicken hatchery alone? When will you learn?â
Jericho sighed, as Carl's jaw worked up and down like a beached fish. âYou just had to encourage him, didn't you?â
Carl didn't hear him, he was instead staring at the expensive hubcaps on the wheel that he, himself had bought with his own ready cash a few months back. âMy truck! You wrecked my truck you dirty, stinking scaled...â The stream of invective continued for several minutes while Razorback happily bathed in Carl's frustrations. The poor idiot was too stunned to even get angry.
âDon't worry, Carl, walking is good for you.â Sara snickered as she wandered over to stand by Jericho.
Eloise and Ben were trying desperately not to burst out laughing at Carl's stupidity, and Razor's puppylike revenge.
-Consider yourself lucky. Next time I'm fetching your femur.-
Carl proves just how stupid he is - again
Carl fixed Razorback with a look of pure disgust and hate. âWhat did the stupid lizard just say to me?â
Jericho gave a pleasant smile and said, âHe said, and I quote.... Arf, arf arf, arfarfarf, arf.â
Ben and Eloise actually started snickering.
âHe just bet me a million dollars that you won't have the guts to throw the stick again.â Sara pretended to examine her claws as she talked. âI've seen his investment portfolio too. You're on Razorback.â
âIs that right?â Carl picked up another stick and lobbed it into the woods again, showing his typical lack of common sense.
Jericho just sighed again, and Eloise looked at Carl like she was debating killing him herself.
âHope you like the money, honey.â Carl smirked at Sara.
âHere we go again.â Jericho turned to Sara, pretending not to watch.
Eloise started moving forward, irritation writ plain on her face, with Ben flanking, face like a thunder cloud. They never got close.
Razorback let out an oddly quizzical chirp, then whipped the cricket bat off his back and attacked, showing just how fast a speedster going full-throttle could hit someone, repeatedly. Carl found his knees slammed out from under him, his torso and spine struck about four times apiece as Razorback whipped the bat around him, then ended up slammed to the ground by a shot to the face. Razor backed up as Carl whimpered and howled in pain, trying to stand, then ripped forward and proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of the cocky werewolf with the bat in the span of a human breath.
Sara sighed as Jericho watched the spectacle with an immense amount of satisfaction. âTestosterone, the curse of modern man.â
Jericho smirked, âAre you sure about a bet for money, Sara? I thought he said that he was betting your boy here wouldn't be able to stand for the next ten minutes when he got done with him.â
âWell, he did mention something about femurs...â she stopped when the sound of claws tearing flesh sounded out and Carl screamed over a loud, wet, cracking noise. âOh, there it is.â
Fetch this, dickweed
Razorback was waving the offending bone above the whining, pained werewolf in near-exact mimicry of the asshole's previous behavior.
Don't worry, Carl's a werewolf, so it will grow back. Just in time for him to piss off yet another person vastly more powerful than him, no doubt.
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I mentioned the web comic Skin Horse the other day, might as well put it here, too:
I probably should bring up Shaenon's earlier series, Narbonic, while I am at it. As you will see, her art improved a lot as the series progressed.
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I'm kinda overdoing it with the web comics stuff, aren't I? Well, here's some more. I know I've posted about this series in a failed thread previously, but why the hell not.
http://img3.smackjeeves.com/images/uploaded/comics/2/6/8/268xcr4j1GQWw.png
http://img3.smackjeeves.com/images/uploaded/comics/x/m/6/xm66457vy0PCr.png
http://www.smackjeeves.com/images/uploaded/comics/2/m/2/2m2dyt42zfkVvg.png
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As some of you could have already guessed, my post in the Quotes Out Of Context today is related to Whateley Academy, specifically part 6 of the story "Call the Thunder". The setup here is that it is the end of the Fall semester, and all of the freshman students are required to get a Mutant Identification Card from the oft-unsavory Mutant Commission Office. Since mutants are required to have a MID in order to board a plane or an international vessel, every year the school arranges for an MCO officer to come to the school to prepare one for anyone who hasn't gotten one yet.
However, this specific corrupt MCO officer didn't count on Eldritch, who while a student, and according to her legal documentation a teenager, is actually an adult who experienced a late-life manifestation (rather than at puberty as usual, and unlike most in that situation, she survived - albeit changed in precisely the way one would expect from this series) whom the school is helping keep a low profile. She has a history with the MCO, and knows where several of their bodies are buried (literally).
If the forge is a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'
Caitlin tried to ignore the knocking on the door to her room, desperately trying to find some moment of mental quiet. Maybe if she could find a moment of internal peace, sleep would come. The knocking continued, an annoyingly staccato sound, ramming against her eardrums in the perfect quiet of her room when she finally rolled out of bed for the eighth time that night. She should have been tired, damn near dead to the world, as this was her fourth night in a row without sleep, but she was as alert and aware as she would have been at noon with a pot of coffee on a normal work day.
âItâs Six-thirty in the morning, somebody had better be dead!â Shouting felt good, it helped her forget briefly that she should be going bugnuts crazy from sleep deprivation.
The door clicked and Elyzia Grimesâ face poked in. The face got a panicked look and the woman began frantically waving and talking. âCait, itâs me, Jimmy-T. I woke up like this, sorry, but I was told to come get you!â
The words came through, and jarred her to the realization that she was growling - loudly - and her corona had erupted in a hellish, yellow, arcing glow that illuminated the room. She forced her temper back in the box she kept it in, and growled something as the surging energy subsided.
âSorry, what?â
âOut!â She managed not to yell, or shriek somehow, âI need to get dressed.â
âRight. Iâll be right outside.â The head popped back out into the hallway.
Caitlin swore under her breath as she began searching for her clothing, a task made more difficult by the suppression runes cut into the walls of her new room. It caused the currents and energy to swirl around like a cyclone, partially obscuring what she was looking at. Normally she could separate things out easily, but in here, where everything was contained, absorbed and shunted, vision required one to open the door at least once an hour to let the excess backwash out. Jimmy had only partially cleared the room by cracking the door.
Once she was dressed, she opened the door, and felt and saw the cyclonic rush, causing her skin to spark wildly as she looked in the hallway for her unwanted interruption. In Elyzia Grimesâ place was the thin, wiry form of Deadeye.
âBetter Jimmy, not by much, but better.â
The shapeshifter grinned in response. âNot a fan of military madness?â
âI have enough madness in my life.â
âOuch. I would strongly suggest an alternative school then. Whateley has nothing but madness, and itâs not getting any thinner.â
âYay, I can look forward to chronic dementia in my old age.â
Jimmy grinned. âThatâs the spirit.â
âYouâre fired.â
âSo I was told to come get you for the MID session for you and the other Johnny-come-latelies.â
âOh, perfect, just what I always wanted, a morning bull session from the Mutant Control Office, or the Mutant Commission Gestapo, whichever you prefer.â
âAh, reasons to be unfond much?â
âMaybe someday Iâll tell you about it.â
Jimmy smirked. âWeâll call it a date for later then. But for now, we have been awakened at this repulsively early hour for the purpose of paying homage to the Law Gods.â
âI suppose this canât be any worse than the medical examination.â
âIf youâre lucky.â
hard ball
âThe file given me by the school here says you are a WIZ, a Devisor, an Exemplar and an Esper. May I ask why the Wiz and Devisor ratings donât have classification numbers?â
Caitlin nodded. âIâm unclassed there because we canât get a solid read on it due to this delightful little lightshow. Thereâs been a lot of speculation, but until I can consciously focus even a little bit or direct it, not a damn thing can be done because the whole magic thing fluctuates from harmless, to obnoxious, to painful, and then up to very-likely-lethal, depending on how fast and hard Iâm moving. The Devisor slant seems interlocked, so no oneâs really sure what the hell I can do.â
âSo you have absolutely zero control over who it affects or how?â
âMore or less. Itâs one of the many reasons I dislike getting physically approached. I donât want someone else being injured by accident.â
âWhat about by intent?â
âWhat about it?â
âCan you harm someone with it intentionally?â
âCan a spork actually be used as a deadly weapon?â Caitlinâs return question was entirely facetious. Sheâd seen Prison Bitch gouge out someoneâs jugular vein with a spork once.
âWhy are you being uncooperative?â
âIâll be cooperative the instant you stop trying to shimmy around U.S. Law and quit asking me inane and pointless questions that would only be incriminating in the future if the MCO decides it doesnât like me.â
Ohnoesudidnt
Collins nodded and began typing data before going into his file sets and began copying information. Caitlin surreptitiously craned her neck and looked at it, seeing what he was looking at. What little she saw made her blood boil rather abruptly. It took every ounce of self-control sheâd developed since High School, the first time, to keep from going absolutely psychotic.
When Collins finished he printed out her card and handed it to her. Where heâd gotten the photo⊠She was going to have a chat with someone about that. Government-issue I.D.âs were required to take photo on-site as the card was being made. But what really burned her ass, beyond a lot of data that the MCO should not know was the little warning statement in fire-engine red lettering.
She set the card down and gave Collins the gimlet eye, the runes in her irises were already heating to molten as she pointed at the red letters. âTake⊠that⊠off.â
âNo.â
âThe MCO is not allowed to issue DFAâs to U.S. Citizens, and doing so with a minor is a double-shot federal violation.â
âTake it to Court then. Itâs not my problem.â
âAnd where, did you get the idea that I had all of this training the card says I have?â
âIâm not at liberty to discuss that.â
Caitlinâs dark mood twisted and warped into a sickeningly delicious feeling of vindication and she gave the MCO agent the first Godâs-Honest smile sheâd given him all day. âVery well, you want to play? We will play. Iâm going to burn down the house that Jack built.â
âIs that a threat young lady?â
âHope youâve got a good lawyer, fucktard. Youâre gonna be needing him in about three months.â
Collins snorted. Heâd won the round, and in every single case where a U.S. Citizen had fought the DFA warning in court it had gone nowhere and bogged down in proceedings.
Caitlin was grinning evilly as she stormed out. She was thinking the same thing, only she knew for a fact that none of the DFAâs being fought were held by persons under the age of eighteen. She had to restrain herself from practically skipping to Carsonâs office to see the Wicked Bitch of Silicon. If there was one thing Hartford and Caitlin as Mahren agreed upon, this little Death threat from the MCO was one of them.
You dun fucked up!
âWhat is it Caitlin? I believe I was rather clear about how you should expect to approach this office.â
âAnd Iâm in full agreement, Amelia.â Caitlinâs voice changed ever-so-slightly, rather like Mahrenâs did when heâd needed to talk about something that needed done, all antagonism aside. âThey finally did it.â
âDid what?â
Caitlin carefully slid out the MID card and handed it to the most reviled woman on campus. âThereâs a bunch of shit on there the MCO should have no reference for, and they have officially given a DFA to a minor.â
Hartford scanned the card carefully, scowling. The only way that anyone could have found a record of Caitlinâs combat and weapons expertise would have been from Delaroseâs personal files that heâd culled and modified to account for the new student. When her eyes reached the red lettering Caitlin imagined she could see Ameliaâs blood pressure spike to lethal levels.
WARNING!
Combat experienced. Source of training, unknown
Deadly Force Pre-Authorized
See also: Dx-211-23-DS-FoxtrotâWhat the bloody, fucking hell? Has the MCO lost their goddamned minds?â Hartford stared at the little piece of plastic incredulously. âAnd what is this file reference?â
âThat is a file tagged in Delaroseâs records that he is only authorized to access in the event that Corporal Erik Andrew Mahren were to act in an aggressive fashion against Whateley Academy. Itâs tagged eyes-only, and the MCO should not even know about the filing number, much less whatâs inside.â
âCan they access it?â
Caitlin snorted. âFuck no they canât. Iâll give Pearson one thing, she may be a cunt, but sheâs dead-on about never sharing information with the MCO. Delarose would have to, in person, ask for a military courier to deliver said file.â
Hartford nodded. âIâll decline my curiosity and forget I saw that. But the Deadly-Force marker, on a minor?â
âIâve seen them do worse, Hartford.â Caitlin growled. âBut thatâs neither here nor there. The thing I was going to ask, is there anything you can do to fuck them? Fifty bucks says Iâm not the only student theyâve tipped a DFA to, and the whole thing skips the constitutional right to due process. The MCO is explicitly forbidden from pulling this shit on any US citizen, overseas or not.â
âYes, but all of the court cases being pursued are being bogged down by MCO lawyers and Goodkind money.â
Caitlin grinned. âYeah, but the courts have never had a case where the subject in question is not only a US citizen, but a minor with no criminal history.â
Hartford blinked. âOh my God.â
âYup. Iâd prefer you use OTHER kids as your crusade point, but if the MCO neglected to do this to any other kids Iâll play the part of scared kid whoâs been issued a death warrant by the man.â Caitlin got a wild-eyed look. âI canât leave campus because the MCO guys can shoot me for jaywalking!â her voice sounded sufficiently panicked.
Hartford considered, and then got the most patently evil grin sheâd ever displayed. âThank you Caitlin. Youâve just given me the opportunity to pay back a lot of wrongs. This will not stand, not with children.â
Caitlin nodded. âHave a fucking party Hartford, bring booze and snacks. While youâre having fun at the Jackbootsâ expense, Iâm gonna call out the dogs.â
Hartford looked at Caitlin. âJust how many dogs do you have under your belt?â
Caitlin just smiled in a happy way that Hartford knew boded ill for anyone who crossed her path.
And because I can't stop beating a dead horse, here's The Rest Of The Story.
Letâs Play a Game
Wake-Up Call
All's Fair In Fun and Chaos
The Beatings will Continue Until Morale Improves!
Idiots 'R Us
There is no Homework, Only Zuul!
Screw this melancholy crap!Filed Under: I wonder if there actually are any regulars here who haven't already set this thread to ignore...
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You know what? here's more Caitlin. Why do I keep this crap up?
from "Parkour Jam Hooligans":
Rage
âNow, for those of you who are curious, I served with M-SOC Marine Pacific. This is the Unit organization specifically composed primarily of mutant combatant personnel in the Marine Corps and their support staff. I have a unique understanding of Mutant potential in combat arms operations and in lethal situations. I have served with, and under, some of the finest men and women who have ever carried a Mutant Military I.D. card and can tell you, with utter certainty, that you are not invulnerable.â
Erik noted grimly that some of the students openly scoffed at his last pronouncement, but the open statement of his credentials got the attention of every single new face in the room. âLadies and gentlemen, I am not here to teach you military application, nor am I a recruiter. I am your reality check. Our subject matter I am showing you today I only show once every four years so pay attention. You are about to see the footage released by various media approximately eight years ago in Darwin, Australia. Itâs a little known incident that did not receive the media attention that it otherwise might have.â
âLadies and Gentlemen, you are going to watch the birth of the Bogeyman. This is where the stories of the so-called Dragonslayers of urban and terroristic legend were first concocted, the footage that started the conspiracy theory.â Erik looked at the kids and willed his bearing not to break at all. He despised that this was part of the Whateley curriculum at all, even if he was aware of the necessity. âThe footage quality is shitty, but this is very likely to be the most graphic thing many of you have ever seen. If at any point during the presentation you feel the need to leave the room, make sure that one of us sees you do so, it will not affect your grade, but hopefully it will make you understand that if you choose a combative path you are playing with fire.â
Erikâs voice had carried to the back of the room, but didnât have its usual, hard-edged psychotic tone. âLadies and gentlemen, please be silent until the film has ended. And if you feel the need to make smartass comments keep it to yourself and show a little respect for the dead.â
As the lights dimmed and the projector began rolling, showing a panicked Australian News Anchor delivering a frantic special update, Erik walked to the back of the lecture hall silently but rapidly and did not stop until he was outside the building. He went along the wall to the back exit of the building, rarely used by anyone, when the shakes started.
He didnât need to see the footage, didnât want to. Just thinking about it brought the whole sordid mess to his mind. He knew the score, a mutant kid had finally cracked. No one was sure what the hell had started it. The stories conflicted horrifically. Erik personally believed that it had been a couple kids picking on the boy that blew the rager trigger. There was no official power classification known, but Erik put the kid at Exemplar 3, with a regen 3. Put him at a Class 3 rager, and the boyâs capabilities had spiked somewhere towards Exemplar 5, maybe six, with a proportional increase in his healing.
The boyâs mother had been the fourth person to die, body shattered nearly in half by a backhand that could have sent a compact car onto its back. Eight police and sixty bystanders had already been killed or crippled when the City officials hit the panic button. Darwin hadnât had a local hero team, or even any notable hero types to divert or stop the kid. Their military forces were on the weekend, many at home, celebrating Christmas with their families. The only combat-ready force nearby besides the cityâs SWAT team was the Marine Expeditionary Unit in the process of disembarking and enjoying a much-needed liberty call in the Australian port.
Erik got tapped, and when the offer to help was made to the Australians, the mixed squad of Recon and Weapons designated âEqualizerâ was tapped to respond to the problem and do everything to halt the rager or divert him from populated areas. Equalizerâs successes catching a couple Terrorist-linked mutants in the open and killing them put them in the hotseat.
It took fifteen minutes, the locals werenât wanting to allow US action on their soil, which wasnât something the US commanders were willing to argue with an ally. When the Australian Government figured out what the response time would be for their few units or Super-Powered teams, they gave the Colonel commanding the battalion on-site the green light.
He remembered the panicked ride in the five-ton truck between two Hummers, desperately trying to link belts of ammunition together and helping Heckel and Jeckel situate their gear as well. Worm and his recon boys were silent, white as sheets, and knowing that if the shit went south they would be the first casualties. Blackjack and Coppertop checked and re-checked their M-16âs and made sure their grenades were ready, sweating bullets and shaking already. PFC Colton was the only man on the team without a radio call sign, having been tapped from the battalion to replace Wicked, who was recovering from extreme burns heâd gotten in their last oh-shit maneuver. He hadnât lived long enough for his buddies to get back to Camp Pendleton and run to Bethesda Naval Hospital to visit him.
Colton was the only one who wasnât praying to God that the nightmare would be over before they arrived, that some local cop would get a lucky shot and put the kid down. No one had told them they were going in to stop a child.
from "Call the Thunder", part 7:
Defiance
âI hate this.â She turned and saw three bodies walking cockily towards her. Her eyes narrowed, and she recognized three of her least favorite children on campus.
It was a stark revelation that hit her mind. This little farce Carson had her playing would fail miserably if they let it go on. She couldnât let go of the fact that there were three children coming to annoy her. She knew there was more to Imperious than a seventeen-year old body could hide. She also knew that for all his power and the experience he and his brothers tried to hide, when it came to the real world, they were children. She marched forward to meet the ones who would imagine themselves her masters. Caitlin Bardue wasnât playing. Erik Mahren was sick of the bullshit.
No more playing games.
âGet on your knees Galatea.â Imperious simply spoke as she got close enough, and the raw force of his personality hit her like a jackhammer. Her knees went out from under her as she dropped, head bowed slightly as part of her simply caved, while part of her screamed in the back of her mind.
âYou have no idea how hard it was to figure out how to get you alone.â Imperious slowly circled like a hunting hawk, his blonde hair and electric blue eyes seeming to transfix her. The boy reached down and a finger tilted her chin up.
âYou thought you were going to fight didnât you?â His voice penetrated her defenses like a hypnotic wave. âYou canât. The Artificer was created for one purpose, to serve those like me, and anyone who can influence the minds of others will find yours infinitely pliable.â
She wanted to talk, scream, cry as her very body and mind betrayed her, sitting compliant as the New Olympian leader stalked his prize. This wasnât supposed to happen, she was able to fight back Feyâs glamour and force of presence. Upon realizing that thought it hit her. Nicole Reilly hadnât been trying to force her to obey.
âNow little Galatea, itâs time to make ready for your new place in life.â Imperious, Stygian and Counterpoint were so intent on their prize that they failed to notice the quiet arrival of three Outcasts, two Fury Twins, Jimmy Trauger, a Kimba and Bladedancer all arraying themselves in a semicircle. When he did, he smiled cruelly. âTell your friends to go away Galatea. This is our little show.â
âGo on guys, Iâll handle this.â Her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion as she spoke, not particularly loud.
Razorback shrieked violently in response. Jericho tapped something under his clothes, and the same shock rifle sheâd evaluated for Flashbang and Tinkertrain appeared in his hands. Diamondback had settled defiantly on her coiled body, shuffling her tarot deck sheâd used to decimate Hekate. The Fury twinsâ hands blazed an unholy red color, and they were the most visible focal point of rage, unable to fully contain the cold fury of their emotions. Bladedancer, JT and Lancer stood less sure of violence, but wary.
Counterpoint grinned when the Outcasts and their attendant buddies rocked back as Imperious flashed the world with the force of his presence again. Caitlin wanted them to leave, honestly wanted them to go as he spoke again
âThis is none of your business.â The New Olympian leader smirked as the three non-Outcasts or Fury Twins took an involuntary step back. âThis is between us and Galatea.â He knew he had an angle. Bladedancer was tapping something and finding nothing to aid her in return. JT had fought the Olympians and lost horridly in the past. Lancer was desperately trying to figure things out.
But the Monsters of the Outcasts had spent too long exposed to the overloading presence of Phobos and Deimos to give Imperiousâ command much thought. âCounterpoint, give them a reason to back off. Titans my ass.â
Caitlin felt Counterpointâs hand fall on her shoulder, his sword crossing her throat, lightly touching her neck and making the point. The raging voice went silent as she contemplated the eyes of the kids whoâd come to her aid. Jericho was yelling something, she couldnât tell what. The only thing reverberating in her skull was that Counterpoint was touching her and she would not tolerate that. A thousand things flashed through her mind, and she discarded them as fast as they came to her. Years of skill honed by shocking violence told her what she could and couldnât do to make him let go. If she made one mistake, she was dead. The only person sheâd ever even heard of taking down Counterpoint in a straight fight was Liz Carson when the maniac had gone too far once. He was one of the students she despised, and she made her displeasure known with neither warning, nor mercy.
Imperious stopped mid-threat as he heard a triple pop and a shriek of pain from Counterpoint. He turned and saw the Artificer had impossibly dislocated his arm at the wrist, elbow and shoulder without warning. Ares was unaccustomed to pain, so he wasnât able to react in time to keep her from spinning him, grabbing his other arm, and kicking his ribs in perfect mimicry of her maneuver on Lancer. Counterpointâs other shoulder came out of joint before the Artificer slammed the boy into â and through â a nearby tree.
âStygian, deal with her.â Imperious directed his erstwhile âbrotherâ as he turned to face the Outcasts and friends. What he saw was no longer them ready to fight. They were watching, with a determined, expectant air. Something was hanging over them, something fragile, but he saw it. One wrong move and whatever was keeping them from attacking would shatter.
âI would turn around asshole. Youâre about to be in for the fight of your life.â Diamondback spoke as the three empaths of the group went cold. He could feel them mirror the brutal calm that he was unaccustomed to from human children. Even Jericho and Razorback were nearly vibrating with anticipation.
Chou was desperately trying to find the Tao, a frustrating experience for once. Normally grasping the balance point of creation brought a stark clarity. This time it brought uncertainty, as though it didnât know where to go, the tapestry revolving around the gaping wound represented by the Artificer. Until that wound was healed, there would be no certainty where she was concerned, if there ever could be. Trying to follow the threads opened a maddening, painful plethora of possibility.
Imperious saw Chouâs hesitation and dismissed her as irrelevant, concentrating on the real mutants arrayed against him, glancing back and stopping. Everyone was watching Caitlin facing Stygian. His hand was up and he radiated power, they knew what he was doing, and morbid curiosity won out over all else as impossibly, the Artificer snapped to attention, stepping forward once, then twice. She snapped a perfect salute, then stepped forward again, walking through a parade of specters from her past that only she could see.
Caitlin simply moved past the ghosts, some she recognized, some she didnât. She knew who they were, people whoâd died by her hand or those of her unit. She knew enough about Stygian to know that he could not control what she saw. The maddened chattering voices of men and women from foreign lands were ignored, the languages were not part of her memory. Stygianâs power had very little hold on one who was fully understanding and accepting of her own nature and failings.
She stepped forward once, twice, and saluted the officers of the men she couldnât have saved. They saluted back and stepped away. She shouldered aside Ravager and Bingo, two of the first mutants to fall at the hands of the unit sheâd been part of. Stygian could not know that sheâd reconciled each of these deaths a long time ago. She saw them in her dreams, but she would not allow them to rule her life. Coppertop and Blackjack stood aside. Pittman and Psyker nodded and moved away with all of the fresh-faced dead of the Dragonslayers. Sheâd done everything she could to prepare them to battle the impossible, and theyâd still died. The parade continued with each step. Dead friends, dead squadmates, dead enemies. These were no mere shades of what might have been, they were the ones sheâd felt the vibration of a gun both trying to kill and trying to save, some poor ones whoâd simply been caught in the chaos and crossfire. They were mercifully silent.
The last face nearly broke her. The open wound causing tears to fall as she just stood before the spectral image of the woman she couldnât protect, burning bright even in death. The apparition placed a hand on her cheek, and leaned in, the ghostly touch not registering. âIâll be patient and wait for you. Keep going.â
Caitlin couldnât stop the wracking sob as she took the last step and put herself in front of Stygian, mustering her will. âGo away Stygian. Iâm not going to end you, no matter how hard you try.â Her voice was shaky, but she spit it out as she turned from the boy and faced Imperious and let the rage build. âYou, on the other hand...â
âYou get back on your knees, Galatea.â He slammed her with the force of his presence, and impossibly he watched her stop, make an expression of pure fury, and continue her actions.
âFuck you, you over-privileged little punkass.â She started stalking forward. â...Time for hand to hand combat, basic course, asskicking edition.â The pure, bloody-minded fury was building again in the back of Caitlinâs mind. Every part of her mind screamed at her to kill. She chose to force her thoughts into a different path. She was not going to kill Imperious, she was going to break him.
Imperious had quite enough of this game, his hand crackling as he fired lightning into the chest of the angry woman coming at him, the witnesses forming a circle around the two. She kept coming, the lightning bolt seemingly ignored by her near-ivory white skin even as it charred her clothing, causing the crackling corona surrounding her to erupt more wildly.
âLesson one, know your opponentâs weaknesses.â Caitlin stepped the last yard and slammed her fist at Imperiousâ chest. He managed to deflect the impact to his shoulder and rocked back. It hurt worse than a shot from Kodiak. Caitlinâs attack wasnât stronger, but her attack had overtones of actual, serious hand to hand training and intent to cause massive bodily harm.
âLesson two, donât skimp out on Itoâs martial arts classes because you think youâre such a badass that you donât need it. Most real opponents arenât impressed. Training trumps power, you overconfident jackass.â
âShut up.â Imperious launched a haymaker at Eldritchâs face as her skin crackled with energy. In his mind, even Kodiak or Hippolyta would have had a hard time stopping the speed and power of such a strike. The woman in front of him slapped his hand aside and snapped an elbow forward, cracking his jaw with the force of a bus impact. Her style wasnât flashy, it wasnât particularly inspired, but it was brutally simple in its intent to cause harm.
âLesson three, blocking. Your form sucks, you have no experience, and you fight like an amateur school bully. You have no capacity to fight without your cronies.â She grabbed his incoming leg and twisted hard, forcing him to spin, lest his leg break in two as she slapped her palm to his back, driving him facefirst into the snow.
Imperious was getting angry. He was up and darting at her only to eat a blast of chaotic energy that ripped across his body, causing short-lived but painful alterations of his form seemingly at random. Animal shapes of limbs intermixed with human deformity for a brief six seconds before his natural shape imposed itself and the pain stopped.
Caitlin looked at him contemptuously. âBig bad New Olympian, stopped by a mere Exemplar four. Hereâs a newsflash as to why.â Caitlin darted forward and kicked the Exemplar 5 Imperiousâ legs out from under him, driving him to his knees as she grabbed his long white hair and ripped his head back.
âYour body as powerful as it is, is still recovering from puberty. Youâre off-balance, your reflexes are off, and you donât know just how strong you actually are.â She lifted her hand and drove it down once with each following word. âI. DO. NOT. SUFFER. FROM. THIS. PROBLEM!â She threw him to the ground, and backed up. âDo we have any further lessons we wish to learn today?â
Imperious came to his knees, wobbling, pointing at the first thing he saw: Jerichoâs form coalesced in his eyes. âTouch me again, he fries.â His fingers began to crackle with electricity.The Outcasts were ready to surge forward as Caitlin whipped out a chromed .45 automatic with ivory handgrips from its place at her back. The gun was cocked and pointed at Imperiousâ head, and his eyes twitched with a look of sudden worry. âLast lesson. If you try to harm one of my friends, I will shoot you where you stand, and I will not stop until your ass goes into a casket. Do you understand me, Jason?â
Imperious debated, then finally let his arm drop. Caitlin stepped forward and kicked him rather ungently, facefirst into the snow. She dropped her knee into the base of his spine and he howled in agony as he felt something cold and round pressed to where his neck joined his skull.
âUnderstand one thing Imperious. I have... No, you donât need to know that.â Her voice didnât carry to the others, save Razorback, who took an involuntary step back as he processed the words coming out of his friendâs mouth. âIf you ever come at me to enslave me I wonât be shoving your face in a toilet like I did Nephandus. I will kill you, and your spirit wonât be coming back from what I do to it.â She jerked his head back and painfully arched his spine. âDo you fucking understand me you fucking cockbite? Iâll make you my personal exception to my rule of doing no harm on this campus.â Imperious frantically tried to nod, then found his face slammed back into the ground, hard, felt his nose break. âClass dismissed.â
Caitlin spun, and saw the air itself in front of her warp and twist, peeling away from the form of Circe. The woman looked at her, âDonât you have a riddle to solve? I would suggest taking your friends with you. They have important insight to the solution. Lancer and Bladedancer can stay to with me to help clean up the mess here.â
Caitlin looked at the woman incredulously and then nodded, stepping with a relieved sigh towards the people whoâd come to her defense. As she was walking away she could clearly hear the old witch chewing Imperious out in ancient Greek, and the meaning was as clear as the new-fallen snow to her.
âI told you that you were biting off more than you could chew, you ignorant child. If I hadnât bespelled the Outcasts, you wouldnât have achieved a lesson. You, all of you would be dead, ripped apart by the monsters you think they are... you blisteringly stupid boy...â
Caitlin smiled as she walked away, catching herself up with her friends. âLetâs go to the tunnels, I need to talk to you all.â
The Outcasts, Phobos and Deimos left the three New Olympians to the tender mercies of Circe, and to Hank Declan and Chou Lee, who were popping knuckles in anticipation of the cleanup.
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Still going... and going... and...
from "The Book of Darwin", part 1:
History
âModern popular culture calls this the dreamtime, accurate and not, but it is so much more. Coming here physically is impossible without oneâs essence being ignited and lit like a beacon. Even among the spiritual elders, very few could muster the spark needed. You have enough for both of us.â
âShould I be worried here?â
âNo,â the man shook his head. âThis place is safe, sacred. Dark things do not come here. The only thing which scars the land here is a place carved from the dream when courts of things greater than men ruled this world.â
âFive-Fold Court.â Caitlin muttered ruefully. âIâm familiar. There.â She held a hand and the ever-shifting landscape around Uluru froze in place, then pulled back until the building came into focus. The great edifice looked as much cathedral as bunker, a place of burning heat and slagged metal. âIâm not an expert, but this doesnât strike me as something that belongs here.â
âThe Dream contains all that is, was and will be. But that is not natural to it. Someone or something carved that from the dream. It drains the essence of the world slowly, and gives nothing back. The spirits are choked off, and have difficulty coexisting with it, so they hide elsewhen.â
âSon of a bitch, thatâs an Artificer Forge.â
âA what?â
Caitlin took a breath, mostly to school the bitterness from her voice. âI donât know the whole story, or even all of the details, but the Courts you spoke of were presented with a gift. Four wondersmiths that would be granted to them, one for the Sidhe, one to the Undine, one to the Efreet, one for the Earthen Court, whom I donât know much about. Two male, two female. One of the courts got left out of the gifting, so I imagine that caused some friction. This was a Forge that housed one of the smiths while they worked.â
âAll this for one person?â
âSeems like a waste to me too.â Caitlin walked straight to the gate, then turned to the side, following the great, stone walls while her mind filled with the details of the edifice. It was forged from dreams, the stone and metal construction cut from the endless wash of possibility itself, a great rent in the fabric of the world. It was anchored from within, the essence-forge drawing power. So long as the flame burned hot, the forge would burn on.
Caitlin stopped at a piece of blank wall, then traced a spiral pattern on the wall, and the stone drew back on seams cut into the stone that were too fine for human eyes to see. âCome on, I know how to remove this thing.â
âWhat is it?â
âOne of the places where some of the greatest artifacts, recovered from the past, were forged.â She looked around at the edifice, a monument to creatures too powerful for the world to fully contain, and saw the many forms of Gaiaâs daughters, for the first time, cut into statuary and murals in the walls of the massive edifice.
They were beautiful, they were terrible, they were literal monsters and gods all at once. Each one of the cathedral walls, ceiling and floor told the tale of one of the four great beings who ruled the Center Court in their Motherâs stead. The scenes on the wall changed and shifted with each glance, each told a different story of the lives of the four great beings, and in the end, how they were murdered for their power.
âWho were they?â Kuparr was almost reverent.
âTerra-Valeria, Firstborn.â Caitlin easily read the long-dead script on the wall as she pointed to the wall on the left side of the corridor. âMother of the Mind, giver of life, the aspect of the Court from whom all natural life came.â
Caitlin looked at the right, âTerra-Verdanis, Secondborn, the shaper of the world, mother of the plants and the natural order of the world.â
Underfoot was the odd one. âTerra-Kashaly, Thirdborn, the aspect of force, she was the glue that held the court together, representing the forces that held the world itself together.â
âTerra-Nocturne, Fourthborn.â Caitlin looked at the alternating figure of light and darkness. âShe seems to be the light and dark, good and evil, idealism and pragmatism, like a coin flipped. She represents duality.â
âI have never heard of them.â
âNeither have I, and I have memories going back to the Five-Fold Court that I canât always filter out. I can just read the script. Whatever killed them, it looks like it did the job very, very thoroughly.â Caitlin looked at the end and saw the pendant, the crystal, the seed, and the fawn each of their remaining power and spirits had been bound to.
âHow powerful were they?â
âFrom the looks of things? Powerful enough that no one likely wants to see them return.â
âThat is a sobering thought.â
Caitlin shook her head. âThe Five-Fold Court is dead. I wish people would quit trying to dredge up the corpse and revive it.â She led on into the great Forge shop, past the entrance.
It was beyond massive, seemingly containing enough space to fill several aircraft hangars, and carrying more imagery of the four daughters. Great beasts of all kinds decorated the walls, the servitors of the earth court were ancient, primal. The statue of Terra-Kashaly in one corner showed a woman with many arms, caressing two raptor-like beasts as though they were favored pets. The deadly beasts lacked the spines and spikes that Razorback had, but they looked like him.
âThis place gives me the Heebie-Jeebies.â Caitlin shuddered at the memories of uncountable hours laboring at that which the Nine Queens commanded. The forges were just similar enough to trigger the memories.
âWould it be right to destroy this?â
âThis was a place to hold a favored slave.â Caitlin spoke firmly, and bluntly. âThis place is a strategic location and your people will lose Uluru if anyone finds out about this place and how to access it. This is a supernatural ICBM factory that was used to build weapons of war to battle things few people can stand up to without going mad at the very sight.â
âWe cannot have that. What will you do?â
âLet me see if thereâs anything useful in here that my guys can use at school, or you all can use to keep Uluru protected. I intend to burn the rest.â
âHow much damage will that do?â
âTo Uluru? Should just cause this place to wither and fade away like a popped pimple.â
âI think we can live with that.â
It took Caitlin less than two hours to find everything useful in the place. This Forge had largely been wasted on the four sisters, who could do most of what they needed without artifice. An armband shaped like a black-metal serpent with Orichalcum eyes, a smoky, black octagon of seeming obsidian and a small box from whence came a haunting voice, singing a lullaby that calmed even Caitlinâs emotions, were what she stuffed into a pouch and strapped to her back.
âWhy those things?â Kuparr asked. âFrom what you told me of the rest, those are the least-valuable.â
âMy friend Joe built armor to save lives. The adamant Octagon would let him shield wounded people better, and not break. The serpent is an unbonded familiar spirit, in a physical form, intended to advise and guide a child into their full powers, and I think Sandra could use an advisor who didnât judge her on her appearance. The music box may help Razor keep his temper when he needs it.â
âNothing for you?â
âI donât want anything from this place. If I need something, Iâll make it myself.â
âThen as far as the councils are concerned I saw you bring those three things in yourself.â
âThanks. I didnât give you a few items because⊠the time for such things has passed. Or thereâs no possible way we could argue they were âcultural artifactsâ that your people could simply claim. The stylings are all wrong.â
âOur culture is not about things you hold in hand, though I thank you for the ones that might help us keep Uluru safe.â
Caitlin nodded, then picked up a massive Orichalcum sledgehammer and pointed. âKeep the door open. Iâll be out in a moment.â
âAs you say.â
Caitlin went to the four pillars, each bearing a face and form of the Sisters, then in reverse-order of their birth, shattered the base of the pillars before tossing the incalculably valuable hammer aside to vanish when the edifice was reclaimed and annihilated by the surrounding dream. She walked to the forge-fire and reached into the naked flame with a bare hand and closed her fist, snuffing it like a candle.
Caitlin turned to the door, picked up her three prizes, and left the Forge to die.
Remorse
âAre you going to be alright, Cait?â She saw concern writ large on his face, as âCrazy Joeâ Turner dropped the clown act so he could be there for a friend in need.âI honestly donât know.â She shook her head, ruefully. âEight years and I still have nightmares about that street, canât forget what happened there.â
âSandra was worried, she thinks you are blaming yourself for that kidâs death.â
Caitlin opened her mouth, and nothing came out for a moment. She was mentally exhausted, stressed, and just now realizing that she had never really learned to cope with her own demons. Sheâd never spoken to anyone about what had happened in Darwin, none of them had. Connor Edwards was the nightmare Erik Mahren had prayed would be a delusional nightmare and heâd wake up not feeling like a murderer.
She wanted to say that she couldnât talk, that she couldnât violate security, but it was just an excuse to keep from having to think about it for too long. Erik Mahren was officially dead, and nothing could really stop her.
âI wish I could say I wasnât responsible for that kidâs death.â Caitlin leaned against a thin, odd tree and wished that just once she would be able to let go. âEight, nine years ago, I was here on a deployment, on my way home when the ship pulled into port. Me and a few others on the ship had survived some hairy shit by the skin of our ass and the dumbest luck anyone could have.â
She closed her eyes and remembered the excitement for being off the boat after too damn long, looking forward to a landfall that wasnât to go hunt for death incarnate with six others who had gotten too close to the reaper a few too many times.
For his part, Joe just listened silently, letting her compose herself, find words and leaving his normal smartass commentary at the door.
âWhile everyone was prepping to debark for some drinking and partying the shit hit the fan and people started dying. Me and my crew were pulled up on deck by the colonel and told to grab our shit and get ready to go.â She relived the feeling of going from elated, to terrified in seconds as the situation was laid out.
âDarwin had no native supers teams, and no paranormal cops who could go toe to toe with a Class Three rager. The closest team that might have taken Connor down was over an hour away. The local military forces were mostly at home with family for the holidays, and they couldnât pull a react team fast enough to matter. We got the green light.â
âThey didnât tell you it was a kid, did they?â
âThey didnât know it was a kid, no one had enough information to tell what the fuck was going on. By the time me and my guys were engaged fully, Connor had killed a Hummvee full of Marines who tried to distract him long enough for us to get fully in play. All we knew was we had a screaming body that was literally pulling people apart like a kid dismembering insects.â
âWhat happened?â
âWe fought, he killed two of my Marines in close Combat. Between him and the havoc, me and the other two gunners missed the car coming into the intersection with two people who made the wrong turn at the wrong time. We didnât even realize what had happened until the vehicle got painted red from the inside. We turned their car into swiss cheese and killed them without ever intending to.â
Caitlin tried to stop her hands from shaking, but it wasnât really working. Her voice was more than a little hollow, as Joe watched her relive Ragerâs night in her mindâs eye as she talked. âConnor almost killed me, and I survived by popping a satchel charge on a city bus at near-suicide range. I shellshocked myself pretty bad, and all I saw was the guy who almost killed me standing, looking around.â
âI stumbled out of the store front, moved right up to him as he dropped to his knees, drew my sidearm, and I put a bullet between his eyes at point-blank range.â Her voice cracked. âIt never even occurred to me that heâd stopped, snapped out of it, and it made sense in the moment. But my mind replayed it back and I saw his eyes. He was awake, staring at the mayhem and wondering what the hell happened, then he saw me, and it was over. Then I realized Iâd just executed a fucking teenager!â
Joe was silent for a moment, then put his hand on Caitlinâs shoulder and seemingly stared into her eyes, her soul. ââHow many people have you talked about this with Cait?â
âYouâre the first. I thought I could handle this, thought maybe I could make peaceâŠâ
âMaybe you can. Youâre not just another killer. Did you go in wanting to kill him?â
âI remember wanting to live, praying to god someone else would solve it before I ever had to click off my safety.â
âSo you were responding to a shit situation, and you had to fight or die.â
Caitlin nodded. âHe was out of the rage when I killed him, walked up, pop. No thought, just execution.â
âHow much do you know about Connor Edwards, Caitlin?â
âNot much, just that he was a soccer enthusiast, he manifested and was a known rager, and some idiot shitlords decided to go pick a fight with him to protect humanity or some other bullshit.â
Jericho nodded. âConnor Edwards wasnât a blackout rager. They tested him when he first popped a gasket and ripped a car to pieces. I looked up the bio on the kid before we went, then read it again after we lost you. Connor told the docs that he felt like his body was possessed, and he couldnât do anything to control it. He was a passenger.â
âOh sweet Jesus he would have rememberedâŠâ
âHe would have remembered tearing up those H1s, he would remember killing the kids, the bystanders, everyone who got in his way. He would have seen their faces in his nightmares the same way you see his. He killed his own mother when she tried to stop him from going ballistic.â
Caitlinâs shaky knees finally gave and she hit the ground next to the tree, silently for a minute. âTo this day, I could swear I thought I saw relief in his eyes when he realized I was going to kill him. I thought it was my brain making shit up, trying to protect me, find a way to make me feel better about what I did, to justify what Iâd done. I still have a hard time believing that I wasnât grasping at straws to find a reason why I didnât deserve to be dead next to that kid.â
âConnorâs greatest fear, according to the bio posted alongside the laws protecting ragers, was that one day he would find himself hurting people he cared about, people who didnât deserve to suffer, and he wouldnât be able to stop himself.â Joe knelt next to Caitlin. âThereâs a police record, and a recording of a kid with far more self-awareness than anyone our age has a right to be. He told the local cops if he raged out, and he started hurting people, shoot to kill.â
Caitlin started crying again, and Joe let her head rest on his shoulder as she finally let go and simply mourned the boy she had killed eight years before.
from "The Book of Darwin, part 2":
Terror
-Can we go into town now?-
âWhy do you want to go into town, Jack?â Diamond was perfectly comfortable chilling at the Carlyle house, talking to the odd, intelligent construct on her arm, or BSing with her buddies.
-Iâm going stir-crazy sitting at home. I wanna get out and see a movie or something.-
âIâm with him. Movie?â Joe grinned.
âMovie.â Caitlin nodded and stood up. âIâll get the tickets. Joe, Jack grab your brothers, you know theyâre going to want to come.â
The two boys, far from wanting to exclude their brothers, bolted out to retrieve them.
âNight at the Museum?â Cait asked
âSounds like a plan,â Diamond grinned a bit. Iâll go see if someone can give us a ride.â
Thirty minutes later, Debra Carlyle was driving through the streets of Darwin with two boys and four mutants in the bed of the family pickup. Two hours and thirty minutes after that, when they were all fed and happy from watching a T-Rex skeleton play fetch, the truck wouldnât start, and the radio played a digitized static broadcast interspersed with bits of human voice.
âAny of you kids good at figuring out how to fix a truck?â Debra wasnât too concerned. It wasnât the first time the truck had broken down, and most certainly wouldnât be the last.
Caitlin and Jericho immediately began looking at the vehicle. âThereâs nothing wrong with it, should start right up.â Caitlinâs words trailed a bit as they looked around and realized that all of the traffic was at a dead stop. Several people had their hoods open, trying to get their vehicles to cooperate. Not one single car was working.
static ...win...regret...to save our future, all of you have to die. People of Darwin, it is with a heavy heart that I must bring you these tidings. The future of mankind is at stake⊠The radio started a repeating message interspersed with static, and Caitlin jerked away from the truck like sheâd been burned, looking upward, scanning the sky for something she prayed wouldnât be there.
âNo, no no no noâŠâ Caitlin saw an almost digital flicker, points of light like LED pixels trying to sync up to the vision of a mad God began to flicker slowly across the skyline, and two pinpoints of light, one burning white, one burning black started shining less than three hundred feet off the ground. âFuck too late. Everybody run!â
Dozens of people looked at the oddly tattooed girl, and the Outcasts looked at Caitlin as she put on her comms bead and started looking around, slamming the truck hood. âWe gotta go! Round up everyone, we have five minutes to be gone or everyone hereâs dead!â
"Caitlin what the hell is going on?" Jericho was worried, heâd never seen Cait freaking out before.
âDoctor Reaperâs coming. We have to get everyone moving and gone now!â
The outcasts all stared at her like sheâd gone insane, and then they moved. Jericho immediately called up his Rafe Armor, freshly connected to the new shield hanging off of its left arm, then engaged another trigger. Slapdashâs anti-tank Core-Ejector materialized in his right hand as he began calling the CB emergency Band. âEmergency, Darwin is under attack, I repeat Darwin is under attack. Dr. Reaper is materializing killbots over downtown.â
âSay again, there is noâŠâ
âShut up and get the word out, four minutes, tops and weâre going to have people dying. Get the Overwatch Defense team and every fucking soldier you can mobilized now!â
The digital distortion in the sky was getting worse.
Caitlin and Diamondback got together and the pair were frantically pulling out their wallets, scanning the notes they had made before coming to Australia.
âNevakah!â Diamond shrieked as Caitlin hastily drew a perfect circle in front of them with chalk and then grabbed the serpentine girl and focused all of her essence into Diamond so she could do something normally beyond her capacity, causing both girlsâ and Razorbackâs emergency bags they had left safely at Whateley Academy to appear in front of them.
âWhatâs going on?â Debra was frightened, and rapidly became moreso as Diamondback began donning her various essence-crystal jewelry and sorted her Tarot deck.
Her eyes grew, and everyone nearby started freaking out, as Caitlin began assembling a four-foot long, heavily modified gun, and donning black Range REACT armor unique to Whateley Academy.
Jericho flashed the lightbars and sirens on his armor and turned on the PA. âThis is an emergency, everyone, get to us now. This is an evacuation order! Everyone needs to get out of Darwin now. We will clear a path and protect you!â
Almost as soon as Jericho finished, all of the car radios playing Reaperâs melancholy message of extermination were overridden on all channels.
This is an emergency broadcast. Darwin is hereby ordered evacuated. I repeat, Darwin is to be evacuated. Leave immediately. Take nothing with you save your family and neighbors. All vehicles have been disabled, watch the skies. Do not try to hide. Evacuate the city with all haste.
As if to punctuate the severity of the moment, Sandra caught sight of a passenger plane tumbling from the sky, on the outskirts of the city, near the harbor. âOh no. No no no no no.â
The explosion and pressure wave as the bird impacted the harbor could be felt clearly as more planes flew into the Darwin interdiction zone, and simply began falling from the sky.
âDiamond Iâll keep you juiced. Joe we gotta go!â
âEveryone, letâs go, this is your one chance to get out of here! We need to move!â Jerichoâs PA system tied into local electronics as he broadcast. âGet to my location, we are leaving in thirty seconds! Anyone not here will have to catch up!â
Alliances
A power armored suit tore its way through a shattered wall, and the underslung minigun began to sing the song of destruction as the kids recognized Dr. Diabolikâs trademarked battle armor. For once he seemed to be helping people as he swept his guns across Gogg and Magogg, firing mini-missiles at each in agonizing swarms.
âRemember me you energy-sucking shits?â Jadisâ infamous âDr. Dadâ laid in hard, shutting down the barrel of the cheery-red minigun for a moment as the cooling systems pumped away the heat.
Jericho and Caitlin answered for the two things, laying in with the Core-Ejector and another rocket. âHey Doc, ainât you supposed to be hanging out with Jadis and Mal right now?â Jericho patched the supervillain into the Outcast comms.
âWho is this, and how do you know aboutâŠâ
âWe go to school with âem Doc, weâre trying to get the civvies past the kill zone, those things are in our way!â
Caitlin looked back and cursed. âMore incoming from the rear!â
The artificer went into a dead run, charging as fast as she could towards Diamond and the beleaguered people bringing up the back end of the human wave they were trying to lead to safety. Too many people had already died.
âAll right, if youâre from Whateley, letâs do this. That your Raptor?â
âHis name is Razorback.â
âThe detention king?â Diabolik spoke easily even as he grabbed an empty compact car and slapped something to it. He threw the car across two city blocks, making Razor and Jericho stop, realizing just why Diabolik was a household name.
Flippance
âHello?â The phone clicked and she heard Carsonâs voice on the comms.
âBet youâre getting tired of hearing my fucking voice whenever I take people on a field trip.â Caitlin continued firing for a second as Diabolik added his own particle blasts to the mix. âGuess where I am?â
âEldritch, where are the Outcasts and Koala?â
âFuck, warn me before you ram a wall, dick!â Caitlin ducked in time to avoid getting pasted with large chunks of rubble as the supervillain she was riding ran straight for the heart of the ongoing, city-wide battle. âOutcasts and Koala are having an Alamo moment, get the coordinates from Doc Diabolik. Meân She-Beastâs dad are moving to engage Reaper.â
âCaitlin, you canât fight ReapâŠâ
âNot asking your permission Carson, and Iâm not letting the others die if I can help it. The Outcasts are defending a civil defense shelter full of civvies. Hundreds, including members of Jericho and Razorbackâs families. Find a way to get them the fuck out, all of them.â
âWhat do you intend to do?â
âSame thing I do every night Carson, try and find new and interesting ways to kill people more powerful than me.â Caitlin paused, dropping the flippant manner for a second. âWhen the Outcasts get home, Carson, they need to see Bellows. Not when itâs scheduled. They need to see him as soon as theyâre off the fucking plane. This is worse than anything they saw on Halloween. Razor helped Diabolik take down GoggMagogg, Jerichoâs been making decisions that have saved a lot of people, but he wasnât ready to lead a war. Diamondbackâs gotten fucked up nonstop since we came to Oz.â
âWeâll get them out Caitlin. Weâll come for you.â
âNo you wonât. Reaper dies or I die. No compromise. Eldritch out.â
âI sent Carson the coordinates. Interesting conversation. Care to explain?â
âYou care to explain to me how you got into Camp Pendletonâs Deep Vault where the M-SOC gadgeteers keep the big guns?â
âNot really.â
âThereâs your answer.â
The war heated up as Diabolik smashed through the last cordon of robots, and the Tiger Guards, keeping the Hunter-Killer robots off of the remains of the Overwatch Defense team, ceased fire long enough to let the two lunatics through.
Caitlin could see Reaper four-hundred meters down a street of annihilated store fronts. Bodies littered the ground where he, or his machines, had murdered people casually and without mercy. âGet me to three hundred and holy fuck, stop!â
The distortion bubble they almost ran through popped as a lone figure erupted from nothing. The massive power frame skidded to a halt as the odd man with chiseled features and sad, old eyes turned to look at them.
He wore a Waffen S.S. uniform, stripped completely of decorations, insignia and identifying markers. He looked like he had absolutely no fear, whatsoever, and he raised a hand as Diabolik cut in the PA system. âIâm not your enemy today, Konrad. Iâm here for the Reaperâs head.â
Unverziehen, "Unforgiven" in German, considered for a moment, then nodded once. Caitlin prepped and laid in the gun. âIâll get his attention, you two go for the kill.â
âI donât thinkâŠâ
âYou two have the chops to wipe him out, I donât. Let me do my thing, you do yours!â
Unverziehen simply nodded and flickered out of existence, then the explosions, around where Reaper was, began anew, and in earnest.
Guilt
Unverziehen was an enigma to most people, the insanely potent warper had been a member of the combat arm of the German SS, and had not been privy to the war crimes of Auschwitz, Dachau, Sobibor and other places. The man and Caitlin shared something similar: guilt. He felt responsible for what his country did during the war, and though her crimes paled in comparison to what the Nazis had done during that war, the A-List hero, who still could not forgive himself, hadnât physically committed any of the crimes he bore the shame of.
A Victory, of sorts
Contrary to what people expected of Hollywood, real small-scale fights to the death were rarely minutes, or hours-long epics of endurance or skill. They are brutal, bloody affairs that are decided in seconds. When Unverziehen and Diabolik entered the battle together, the clock started ticking. When Caitlin stole the Scythe, the clock ticked faster.When Reaper let himself be distracted by the opportunity to finish off one of the longest-surviving âheroesâ of the twentieth century, Caitlin Bardue came up behind him and completely abandoned all pretense of honorable combat. She reared back behind the armored man and slashed Reaperâs own Scythe through his knees, dropping him to the ground, on stumps, as Diabolik moved in for the kill. Caitlin helpfully kicked the shocked man in the spine, knocking him on his face.
A massive, armored foot slammed down on Reaperâs back, and thighs, pinning him to his own divot in the concrete. Jadisâ father pressed the particle cannon on his left arm to the back of Reaperâs head and fired right into the back of the monsterâs head, again and again and again, until the worldâs most hated supervillain succumbed, and seemed to dissolve into pixelated nothing, while every killer robot heâd brought with him suffered the same fate.
Caitlin leaned on the scythe, looking at the mess, and breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, she was alive. âIâve heard it thirty-nine times now, Doc. Doesnât anyone ever get tired of being wrong?â
Dr Diabolik let loose a shuddering breath he hadnât been aware he was holding, laughing suddenly, painfully at the absurdity of the Whateley studentâs statement. When he recovered he looked at her. âWhy didnât the Scythe go with him?â
Caitlin grinned and pulled out a small, mangled piece of metal with odd circuitry and held it up. âI tore this out of it before I offered him a place to lie down. Itâs whatever he needed to recall it and everything else. Do me a favor, see what you can do to figure out where he keeps vanishing to. Iâm sure he would love to entertain houseguests.â Her last words were delivered with such cold-blooded ferocity that Dr. Diabolik had to wonder what kind of kids Whateley was training now.
-
Last one for now, I promise.
From "Siblings and Savages", part 1
Heat
There wasnât silence in the forge under Kirby Hall, but there was heat. The roar of elemental fire washed away sound as the Artificer, Caitlin âEldritchâ Bardue, reached the crescendo of her month-long summer ordeal. She hadnât really noticed the time in her trance-like state, pouring enough heat and fire that even the wards keeping the building standing in the wake of her efforts were starting to flicker.
Nothing could survive in the unholy furnace where she stood naked, channeling pure, conceptual fire from the raging elemental bound to her will upon a tall crucible, superheating the minerals contained within to the point where even stone went molten. It had taken a month to prepare, and a full week of burning inferno to melt the materials to the desired consistency. The heat and flames burned around her in a wild lightshow of fury as she stepped to the crucible and began chanting, instinctively focusing her will as she began forging the first item on her list.
Working with Silverâs Mithril was easy, fast and relatively painless. Adamant required quite a lot more preparation. The obsidian was easy enough to find, and cheap to gain in bulk. The raw diamonds had been harvested from the devisor labs, from the bucket of gems made by the carbon press for laser focusing crystals.
Earth Mother had pitched a fit when she found out Caitlinâs source, and the lecture about how only diamonds mined from the earth were suitable had gone on long enough that Caitlin had actually fallen asleep. A diamond was a diamond was a diamond. Caitlin was too pragmatic to give much care to the origin of her materials. What would work, would work, despite all claims to the contrary.
She stood before the crucible and held her hand out at chest level as her will focused. Molten, crystal alloy seemed to bulge, then a long rod of material rose from the molten soup, followed by a sideways cross-handle, and another, much longer length of rod as runes matching her tattoos sliced themselves into the still-soft material. As she grasped the odd weaponâs cross-hilt, the heat failed to burn her skin.
As the rapidly cooling materiel cooled slightly it took on a glassy, opaque, black color. Even in the burning heat, the Adamant cooled once it was formed, and it would never be reshaped, in any way, ever again. The Magic Department would surely disapprove of the focusing rod Caitlin had forged: a simple, tonfa-style police nightstick with personalized runes cut in was set aside.
When she was done, the crucible was empty, and the Fire elemental dismissed to the place of its origin. On the floor lay fifty-three thin wands, and another fifty-three essence crystals. Adamant could never break, was mystically neutral, and would neither amplify, nor would it dampen magics focused through it.
Humor
She hooked the nightstick to her belt after inspecting the work. Six rows of descending runes traced down the nightstick, each row, twenty runes each row. Two rows of runes were filled with Mithril, to help jolt out more power, but not to the obnoxious level of Malachimâs Feather. Two rows were filled with the odd, red, life-draining steel that she bled when cut, an experience she knew she would repeat, though not eagerly. The last was filled with the odd, crystalline focusing substance unique to Artificers that would channel the shocks.
The weapon was inspired by a former student, a Maori kid who went by the handle: Haka. He was well-known for his loud, Maori tribal dances that involved loud yelling, rage-filled faces and intimidation. Haka had caused shockwaves and earthquakes when he channeled the Haka dances that were his namesake.
It was in a language dead to time that the Nightstick had the words Foundation Breaker inscribed six times with shock runes in a language long dead and forgotten. Caitlin intended to shake the ground.
She passed by Schuster hall, and gave a sharp whistle. Elyzia grimes turned, annoyed until the Cobalt-blue-tattooed artificer pushed a rattling backpack into her hands. âWhatâs this Caitlin?â She was curious, and when she unzipped the bag, her eyes went wide as dinner plates and she gasped.
âThat would be my tuition for the next hundred years.â Caitlin was in a good mood, so she let her voice carry her amusement. âOr it might be my thanks to the Magic Department for doing everything they could to cover my ass last year.â
Petty revenge
Elyzia Grimes seemed to appear out of nowhere at the Outcast table at dinner. She looked battered and singed, her hair was frazzled and frayed and the umbrella she carried looked like it had seen much better days. Her expression matched the stormcloud that was following her and raining tiny drops on her head, likely having put out whatever fire she had caught herself in.
âHoly crap what happened?â Diamondbackâs eyes went wide.
Five sets of eyes locked on Grimes, then followed the path of her glare to the Outcast who was keeping her head down, and looking a bit sheepish.
âWhy?â grimes finally let out. âWhy would you do something as irresponsible as giving those three Adamant essence tools?â
Caitlin lifted her head up, and slowly turned her head to Grimes and let the words âHollow Manâ roll off her tongue.
Grimes lost it. âOf all the irresponsible, malicious, dangerous things!â She was roaring and whacking Caitlin, who was giggling madly and unable to really defend herself as the outraged magic teacher pummelled the stone-bodied girl with her umbrella in impotent fury while the Outcasts looked on.
When, after a minute of ranting and whacking her, Grimes finally let up, Caitlin popped up with an impish grin. âFeel better?â
âMuch. You do realize you are going to take those back, right?â
âLike hell. Clover got me out of a Foolâs Circle set by someone who shall remain nameless before I knew what to look for and before I got my tattoos, right toilet-boy?â She raised her voice and leaned her head over her shoulder at the offender.
Grimes looked over and noted Nephandus ducking his head down, pretending to be more interested in his food. âI see.â She glowered at Caitlin. âI had just gotten the three to light their wells after great difficulty andâŠâ
âIâll talk to them about how to use them without lighting the teachers on fire.â
âPlease do.â Grimes finally mustered her dignity and headed to the teacherâs lounge.
âDid she just get done hitting a student?â Anomalyâs mouth was agape as the spectacle ended.
âOh donât worry, I deserved that one and more.â Caitlin grinned.
âIâd have opened the conversation by blasting you, actually,â Diamondback said mildly. âYou gave the Three little pests adamant essence tools? Are you insane?â
Cait looked at her serpentine buddy with a slow, creeping grin.
âYes sheâs insane,â Deimos poked Sandra. âShe makes the rest of us look positively stable and well-grounded in reality.â
-
@scholrlea I thoroughly enjoyed this one (just finished binging), got any more like it?
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@yamikuronue said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
@scholrlea I thoroughly enjoyed this one (just finished binging), got any more like it?
Hmmn, I mentioned Venus Envy the other day, maybe that would fit the bill? It's been a long time since it was updated, and a lot longer since it was updated regularly, but the archive is still there.
I was reading Computer Love for a time but the author seems to have lost her muse for it, and the URL is now a dead link. Too bad, it wasn't great but it was getting better over time.
I don't know if Poly in Pictures would be your thing, it isn't a story-focused series and has more in common with XKCD or Dinosaur Comics than anything - stick figures talking about gender dysphoria, autism, and polyamory. Also, the update schedule... isn't one.
Leaving those topics for a bit, I've wanted to get back to Schlock Mercenary for some while now, but it has been about ten years and archive panic sets in every time I try to read it again. OTOH, Howard Taylor's release scheduling has been rock solid for over fifteen years, and he mixes hard science with comedy like no one else.
Let's see... oh, definitely try Grrl Power if you like superhero comedy. Sydney is a rather improbable heroine, to put it mildly. Which also reminds me that I keep meaning to look at Spinnerette, though I doubt I'll ever get to it.
If you don't know Dumbing of Age... well, how did you miss it? David Willis has been drawing web comics since the 1990s, going back to the original Roomies. That's like missing El Goonish Shive, almost. Speaking of which...
You do you, Tedd.
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And just to be eeeeevil, I should mention some 'adult' series. Just to make it clear, NSFW covers all of these to some degree or another.
I've already brought up Peter is the Wolf, but, hmmn, Sexy Losers, maybe? Don't forget to bring brain bleach.
Ghastly's Ghastly Comic (NSFW doesn't even begin to cover it), though that has been hiatus longer than most webcomics are active. Let's just say it's very funny and very, very dirty. The original tagline was "Tentacle monsters and the women who love them", though that barely scratches the surface.
Eerie Cuties and it's spin-off Dangerously Chloe manage to have a lot of sex humor along side a teen drama. Menage a 3, also by Gisele Lagace, does much the same with twentysomething loser types.
For something less humor oriented and more of the 'sex-positive outlook', or just if you are into kinky, there's Collar Sixxx.
One waaay older series would be Exploitation Now!, but it was more 'naughty' than 'sexy', and followed the call of the Earth Pig towards the end of the run. And yes, Bimbo is her actual given name.
And, well, I've mentioned Kit 'n Kay Boodle before, but that one, well, I think I'd rather not get lynched for linking to it here, thank you very much. Suffice it to say, it's funny-animal furry sex comedy which takes 'sex positive' too far for even my tastes.
Finally, Oh, Wicked Wanda! wasn't a web comic, having been originally published in Penthouse during the 1970s as a counterpoint to Playboy's long-runnning Little Annie Fanny, but the author has, ah, thoughtfully posted the entire series online. Lots of weird sex humor and topical period references.
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Ooh, I forgot to mention that the entire ElfQuest series is online now, and (most of it?) is available for free.
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Apparently, I lied about that being the last of the Eldritch stuff for a while (though I guess three hours does count...)
Cait meets the Fury Twins
âHeads up guys, Pretty at three o'clock, coming our way like she wants something.â the tricloptian redhead mumbled.
Everyone snaked a glance over and the three Outcasts started chuckling.
âChill ladies, thatâs just Caitlin,â Diamondback smiled. âShe got here while you two were at that funeral your family pulled you for. Trust me, she's cool.â
âIf you say so.â Phobos and Deimos did the particular creepy twin trick of saying the exact same thing, at the exact same time, in the same tone.
Razor gave out a barking screech and pumped a fist in the air at the chrome-haired girl burning with insane energies, and she visibly smiled. âHey Razor, how's it hanging?â
-Down, a little to the left and hard to carry.- Being mute never stopped Razor from being a smartass since he knew sign language.
Jericho and Diamond both started snickering while Phobos and Deimos watched Caitlin with leery eyes.
âThat one's a storm,â Deimos muttered. âI can feel her from here. Cheerful on the surface, cold-blooded fury and frustration in the middle. And fear, but not from us.â Her sister nodded slowly. âNone of it's directed at us.â
âThat's normal for her.â Diamondback nodded toward the newcomer.
âYeah, and that aura she's porting's weird. She rips up reality just by being in it.â Jericho's expression went from thoughtful to gleeful as Cait got to the table. âIt's just fucking cool to watch.â
Caitlin dropped her tray unceremoniously, as usual, next to Razorback and slid in next to the dinosaur-like rager. âCan someone translate what he said?â She jerked her thumb at him.
âRazor says hi.â Jericho grinned wider.
-No I didn't you prankaholic nerdboy. I said my balls were lopsided. Get it straight.-
âAnd he's jealous that you can wear that halter so well. Something about getting himself fitted for panties and a dress.â Razor hit Jericho between the eyes with an egg in response.
Mouseketeer Roll Call!
âEveryone here?â Noms asked.
âI think so,â Ayla said. âUnless you wanted all of the people on our floor.â
âNope!â Monica slammed the door shut and activated the maglock. âAhhh, finally, we can quit tiptoeing through the fucking tulips with each other! Sandra, do you have anything to say?â
âUhhhh, about what?â Sandra looked genuinely confused as her sister looked absolutely predatory.
âAnomaly here said you would share why you clobbered Sharisha last year before Christmas break,â Nikki said, curiously. âI kinda wondered myself. You took that whole situation rather⊠smoothly.â
Jericho summed up the Outcast knowledge of the incident with a very eloquent⊠âHurrr? Uh Sandra, whoâs Sharisha, and why did you clobber her?â
âTempest, the girl I got into it with in Arena â77?â
âYeah what was that shit about?â Caitlin asked.
âNOMS! Thatâs not my secret to tell!â Sandra yelled at her sister.
Monica, for her part, just grinned. âI know something none of you knowâŠâ
âSpit it out!â Lancer rolled his eyes at Anomaly.
Caitlin was looking at everyone, then counted off heads, remembered where they were fromâŠ
âOh for fuckâs sake,â the tattooed Artificer grumbled as she picked up what was going on. âHey Outcasts, everyone who is the same gender as they were before they started puberty raise your hand.â
Deimos and Jerichoâs hands went up. Anomaly raised an elbow. âWhat? Iâm still halfway there!â
âEveryone who actually gives a fuck what that gender was and is creeped out by it, keep your hands up.â Caitlin was rather dispassionately setting up two massive, Bass drums, and the Kimbas realized she hadnât raised her hand either.
Jericho and Deimosâ hands dropped without hesitation at Caitlinâs second statement. The rest of the group, however was still more than a little thunderstruck.
Tennyo actually spoke up first in her harsh Drill-Sergeant voice. âWell that was blunt.â
-And yet weâre all still somehow more normal than Jericho.- Razorbackâs vodor intoned solemnly.
âHEY! I resemble that remark, spine-butt.â Jericho stood and looked at the still-shocked Kimbas. âMeân the twins here,â he pointed at Monica and Sandra, âhave been tight since we were in diapers. After fifteen years of being my best buds, they both came down with a bad case of boobs ân GSD. Theyâre still my best buds. Donât matter who you were, just who you are.â
âRazorback used to be a girl?â Jade blinked. âI would never have guessed.â
-I got better. Try not to hold it against me.- Jack signed and his vodor deadpanned his comment for him. -I know that all of you must be jealous of my sheer awesomeness, but I ask that you try and contain your jealousy.-
-
@scholrlea said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Leaving those topics for a bit, I've wanted to get back to Schlock Mercenary for some while now, but it has been about ten years and archive panic sets in every time I try to read it again. OTOH, Howard Taylor's release scheduling has been rock solid for over fifteen years, and he mixes hard science with comedy like no one else.
That's on my list, but I haven't binged for the same reason >.>
@scholrlea said in Post Your (SFW) Internet Guilty Pleasures Here thread:
Ghastly's Ghastly Comic (NSFW doesn't even begin to cover it), though that has been hiatus longer than most webcomics are active. Let's just say it's very funny and very, very dirty. The original tagline was "Tentacle monsters and the women who love them", though that barely scratches the surface.
I loved the everloving fuck out of that comic.
