- Location
- United States
QAylor's ineffectual flailing at trying to keep her 'magic system' a secret is something I never thought I'd want, but now can't get enough of.
Alivaril's Perfectly Ordinary Snippet Corner
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
QA can't even feign ignorance because she knows exactly how everything she's doing works.
QA's stress management strategies are so pure.
Kai Merah
Hound Hearted Hedonist
- Location
- Somewhere in the corners of my imagination
This continues to be amazing. I thought QAylor would be horrifying everyone else the whole time, it's incredibly fun seeing her all horrified and discomfited by stupid host responses and allies actually willing to remember and believe what she says.
LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
"It's magic"
"I'm going to science the shit out of this"
"Shit, they're on to me"
"I'm going to science the shit out of this"
"Shit, they're on to me"
Halping the Heroes III
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Several seconds of internal panic arrive and occur before you can reestablish proper control over your thought processes. A single flash of clarity is all you need: the truth will set me free.
"I don't know anything about magic."
Gala raises her eyebrows and points toward the blood-puddle with all of her fingers.
"Exhibit A: Sudden flesh-eating swarm."
...Admittedly, you're not actually sure how you managed that one. Host is supposed to be a biological Innovator, not a direct biological manipulator. You likely could've managed the conversion with whatever was in their pockets and a little static electricity, but you did so with just a poke and a thought. Your only explanation is that one of your runaway sub-processes decided to empower Host to compensate for her sudden lack of shapeshifting abilities; you aren't certain, but you may have created the inert microorganisms at the tip of your finger before transferring them with your poke.
Further experimentation is necessary.
Gala moves her hands to point at you. You start to take a defensive step backward, then decide to instead move diagonally to avoid the puddle.
"Exhibit B: Unique, maybe demon-possessed magic girl who thought it was OK to make flesh golems out of liquified puddles of human."
You raise one hand toward the ceiling and wait impatiently for her to give you permission to interrupt her presentation. She spends several seconds on impassively staring at you before she exhales and decides to cooperate.
"Yes, Taylor?"
"Disgust prevented me from making a Guardian out of biomass. Since these instincts are likely universal among humans, I do not think it's normal to make anything out of people."
"I did use the past tense, didn't I?" Gala asks. "You did think it was acceptable and now you don't."
You think back to her previous words and frown. She did.
"I apologize; you're correct. Elaboration: You are correct regarding your use of the past tense. I refuse to comment on the second hypothesis."
"Soooooo..." Gala drawls, giving you a flicker of hope that she's about to move on to a new subject. "Your magic. How does it work?"
The hope immediately dies.
"I already said that I don't know anything about magic!"
Gala shakes her head and expresses disbelief. You think that's what it's supposed to be, anyway. Lowered lips, narrowed eyelids, raised eyebrows?
"Mmhmm, and I don't believe you. Look, I'm willing to believe we're either in another world or another country. Either way, we'll all need to work together, so stop trying to keep up the... whatever the secret magic society is supposed to be called."
"Masquerade," Gabriel contributes. "Like the costume party."
"Thanks. C'mon, I know when someone is trying to lie with a truth and, to be blunt, your attempted 'magic' dismissal was the most blatant example I've heard all year. Spill."
No, I'm not allowed to reveal important information just because it'd be easier. This hasn't stopped being an interrogation just because she's friendly. Still, if she has her sense of truth and lies inverted, maybe she'll believe a full lie? You know you aren't supposed to deliver those, but if it helps with your uncertainty and anxiety, you'll accept it as a necessary sacrifice.
"I am a perfectly normal human being with no special attributes whatsoever!" you say hastily. You're not sure why it's in a higher-than-standard tone of voice, but you'll trust in Host's instincts.
To your horror, Gala just smiles at you. Smirks? One of those words.
"Uh-huh, right, I bet your magic does fit the definition of 'normal' among some circles. C'mon, the cat's already out of the bag, so you might as well just finish breaking the masquerade and explain."
She's technically not incorrect about your normality, but how is she so effectively pushing you toward honesty when she's so completely, blatantly wrong about everything else? Something about giving the false answer and receiving corrections? You don't understand what that particular idea of Host's is supposed to mean, so you're going to assume it was chosen by mistake. The human memory search and recall function is nothing short of awful.
"She did avoid addressing the demon-possessed part," Gabriel interjects.
Your carefully cultivated mask of composure cracks. Since Terror Drone #7 did pull from local religious beliefs to imitate a venerated figure and Capes fight her, it could be said that Capes are demons. As the ones who give Capes their powers, that would make you and your siblings... archdemons? Satans? Something like that. You can't decide if this method of misdirection via terminology would be less or more acceptable than telling them you empowered Host, but either way, it doesn't seem to be an acceptable misdirection.
Gala did say she was good at detecting lies disguised as the truth, only she seems incapable of actually recognizing the truth when you tell it to her, so perhaps her self-diagnostic capabilities are malfunctioning and she's actually incompetent? If so, you just need to overwhelm her with more acceptable explanations until she... steps forward and decides to wraps her arms around you?
Um. Didn't Danny Hebert say something about physical contact with new people? You honestly can't remember. Either way, you don't like how she's effectively preventing your retreat; Gabriel could stab you while you're immobilized.
"We have a demon girl!" Gala says in a high pitch. You think it's supposed to signal excitement, but that seems entirely at odds with her words; doesn't human society view demons rather negatively? "That's it, I don't even care about the summoning anymore. Today is officially great."
. . .
What?
How does being landed beside a religious figure of evil compensate for abduction? Not that you are a real demon, but you're still confused by her attempt at reasoning. You knew humans were irrational, but this is just ridiculous.
"You just haaad to say it, didn't you?" Gabriel groans. "Now a monster is going to charge through those doors and seriously injure one of us before we can kill it."
What?
Host's body tenses as you turn toward the doorway and try to free yourself from Gala's grip. You don't understand where this conversation has gone or why Galadriel seems happy about it, but hostile beasts? Those you can handle. You don't like how Gabriel seemed aware of it before you were, but you're going to assume some sort of precognitive ability instead of complicit behavior on his part.
"Ignore him," Gala comments. "Life doesn't follow story rules and a monster would need to break the doors down anyway."
"Actually–" a new, muffled voice begins before going silent. Unless you're mistaken, it did come from the other side of the door.
Gala finally releases you and whirls toward the only entrance, hand reflectively reaching for her back pocket and grasping at thin air. More inefficient human reflexes. Rather than turning to confront his own projected threat, Gabriel turns toward Gala.
"I told you!" he says... happily? No, close to it, but you don't yet know the right word. "Summoned. Heroes. 'Life isn't a story,' you said. 'Stop acting childish,' you implied. Well, there's probably a monster with thumbs on the other side of that door, so screw off!"
You express displeasure while marshaling your thoughts. Gala seems similarly displeased with your unusually irritating ally, but you manage to reply before she can. As this particular information would deal with the expressed powers of other people, you shouldn't be barred from revealing it.
"They still didn't enter the room," you comment, trying for an adversarial tone. "And I agree with Gala; 'story rules' are not listed among the rules of reality. The future can be predicted, but that requires simulated models of all possible actors and variables. Preset pathways are followed only so much as physical laws and the behaviors of intelligent participants allow."
The two other living humans in the room turn their attention away from the actual threat and toward you. You reward them with your best expression of happiness, which... doesn't have the intended effect? Or even a consistent effect at all, really. Gabriel averts his gaze while Gala giggles.
"You do realize you just revealed more knowledge of magic, right?" Gala asks.
Unhappiness replaces comfortable emotions as your attempted lesson is once again misinterpreted by the female human before you. Why does she reinterpret all incoming information as support for her false hypothesis? It's not even remotely helpful.
"No I didn't," you deny truthfully.
"You totally did," Gabriel contributes unhelpfully, his ignorance on display for all informed parties to see. Which is to say, you. Because Gala is apparently just as bad. You give up on enlightening them and decide to follow the conventions for changing conversational topics.
"Caaaaan you please focus on the apparent threat on the other side of the door?"
Gala quickly exhales from her nose—snorting, you think it's called—but complies.
"Hey, Mr. Voice. I don't suppose you're friendly?"
There's a moment of silence before the threat decides he's been revealed and replies.
"Eh, not particularly. Amiable, perhaps, but I doubt we can be friends."
You straighten up and find Host's features rearranging themselves into an expression of happiness. If he's a threat and a 'monster,' meaning he isn't a person...
"And you aren't human, are you?"
"Oh, no," Gala mutters. "Taylor, no. Bad."
You choose to ignore the female human and her insult as, based on past behavior, she's almost certainly achieved the wrong conclusion anyway.
"Wellllll, evolved slimes do say you are what you eat, but since I'm not a slime? Nope!" The voice cheerfully booms. "Ogre Chieftain Thor, at your service. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hero."
The corners of Host's lips rise even higher. Finally.
"Then human instincts won't object if I kill you and turn the components of your body into a Guardian for myself and my current allies?"
"Taylor!" Gala hisses. "Bad! Sapient non-humans are still people! And just in case it wasn't clear, people are not parts!"
You're pretty sure people aren't supposed to call children "bad." It's supposed to do terrible things for their mental and emotional development. Fortunately, you aren't a child even if Host is, so the apparently deliberate insult shouldn't do any significant damage to you. Any feelings to the contrary are fleeting.
"Holy crap, she looks like a kicked puppy. That's hilarious."
You can't decide if you're supposed to acknowledge Gabriel's whispers or not. It doesn't seem to be directed toward you, but it does involve you. Is the impoliteness of eavesdropping canceled out by their own rudeness in discussing your traits without your participation?
"Shut up, angel-boy."
"Can you either stop calling me that or come up with something more original? You should know what it's like to have everyone mock your name, elf-girl."
"...Point. Sorry."
"I admit I don't care for the direction of this conversation," Thor admits. "Could we go back to implying I'll eat you? I'm not sure how to handle a half-heroic necromancer."
Gala hits her forehead with one palm. "Fucking doi. I am an idiot."
You're starting to worry that the false hypothe...si? Is that the plural? Well, you think they might be feeding off one another to grow ever stronger in the deluded, irrational minds of their progenitors. Admittedly, the word "necromancer" might accurately describe you after all. If biomancy is supposed to be the manipulation of biological material or possibly life, then necromancy is probably doing that to dead tissues and corpses. Which, well, you do. You just don't use any sort of magic to do it... um. Well, probably. You think. Host seems to think "sufficiently advanced technology" is magic, which you are, so... was Gala actually right all along?
After a few seconds of consideration, you decide you don't know enough about the definitions of the word to make an informed conclusion. Until you can review the contents of a dictionary, you'll just follow your time-tested method for dealing with problems: wait until everyone else has forgotten about it. You can survive their superstitions.
"I don't suppose you could, y'know, not eat us?" Gabriel requests, phrasing it as a question. "We just got here and don't even know what the geopolitical map looks like. We've... ugh, we've got a room full of corpses if you feel like... having those instead."
"Eating you is more of a means to an end," Thor muses. "Are you likely to interfere with the honorable crusade of vengeance waged upon the local humans and their unresisting slaves?"
Gabriel opens his mouth before being elbowed into silence by Gala. Note: Minor physical violence a socially acceptable method of preventing others from speaking. Still, you take the opportunity to speak before Gala can.
"Why would I object? If you don't mind, I'd just like to be left alone with food, shelter, and my Friends. All three are easily managed if you're willing to either provide me with livestock or avoid interfering while I obtain the same. If you're waging a campaign against humans, giving me a few of their possessions shouldn't be problematic, should it?"
"Taylor, no joining the evil overlords just because they offered you candy," Gabriel whispers with what you think is anger. It might also be exasperation; you're not sure which.
"I don't think they offered me candy," you reply at a normal volume; it's rude to undercut someone else without giving them a chance to respond, and if they're going to insist that Thor is a person, then that means they should treat him like one. "Thor, is that actually part of the negotiations? Candy is not required, but would be very much appreciated."
Gala interrupts before Thor can respond. Rude. "Where we come from, slavery is outright illegal, so that whole 'servitors' thing? I think the only concession we'd demand–"
"You'd demand," you interrupt. "I do not wish to be included in any group negotiation that includes Gabriel. He has been rude."
"So is interrupting," Gala rebukes. You can't honestly tell her otherwise. "Anyway, I think my only requested concession would be for you to spare slaves. You seem to think they're complicit because they're not doing enough to fight their masters and possibly resisting you, but do they really have a choice? If they do escape, what then? They get killed and eaten by an ogre? They're basically prisoners; it's not fair to judge them by what they're forced to do."
"That hasn't stopped demihuman slaves from putting knives through our eyes," Thor growls. Note: Ogres may be prone to mood swings. "Still, I suppose sparing enemy combatants is preferable to having three heroes on the loose. I'll see what I can do."
"Oooh, we're in one of those settings," Gabriel says in the tone reserved for epiphanies. At this point, you're convinced he's actually an idiot. "Never mind, negotiate away. Looks like humans are the slaving bad guys here."
With Gabriel drawing human moral conclusions from woefully insufficient data, you have no choice but to confirm your initial assessment: your would-be male ally is too dumb to bother cultivating.
"I don't know anything about magic."
Gala raises her eyebrows and points toward the blood-puddle with all of her fingers.
"Exhibit A: Sudden flesh-eating swarm."
...Admittedly, you're not actually sure how you managed that one. Host is supposed to be a biological Innovator, not a direct biological manipulator. You likely could've managed the conversion with whatever was in their pockets and a little static electricity, but you did so with just a poke and a thought. Your only explanation is that one of your runaway sub-processes decided to empower Host to compensate for her sudden lack of shapeshifting abilities; you aren't certain, but you may have created the inert microorganisms at the tip of your finger before transferring them with your poke.
Further experimentation is necessary.
Gala moves her hands to point at you. You start to take a defensive step backward, then decide to instead move diagonally to avoid the puddle.
"Exhibit B: Unique, maybe demon-possessed magic girl who thought it was OK to make flesh golems out of liquified puddles of human."
You raise one hand toward the ceiling and wait impatiently for her to give you permission to interrupt her presentation. She spends several seconds on impassively staring at you before she exhales and decides to cooperate.
"Yes, Taylor?"
"Disgust prevented me from making a Guardian out of biomass. Since these instincts are likely universal among humans, I do not think it's normal to make anything out of people."
"I did use the past tense, didn't I?" Gala asks. "You did think it was acceptable and now you don't."
You think back to her previous words and frown. She did.
"I apologize; you're correct. Elaboration: You are correct regarding your use of the past tense. I refuse to comment on the second hypothesis."
"Soooooo..." Gala drawls, giving you a flicker of hope that she's about to move on to a new subject. "Your magic. How does it work?"
The hope immediately dies.
"I already said that I don't know anything about magic!"
Gala shakes her head and expresses disbelief. You think that's what it's supposed to be, anyway. Lowered lips, narrowed eyelids, raised eyebrows?
"Mmhmm, and I don't believe you. Look, I'm willing to believe we're either in another world or another country. Either way, we'll all need to work together, so stop trying to keep up the... whatever the secret magic society is supposed to be called."
"Masquerade," Gabriel contributes. "Like the costume party."
"Thanks. C'mon, I know when someone is trying to lie with a truth and, to be blunt, your attempted 'magic' dismissal was the most blatant example I've heard all year. Spill."
No, I'm not allowed to reveal important information just because it'd be easier. This hasn't stopped being an interrogation just because she's friendly. Still, if she has her sense of truth and lies inverted, maybe she'll believe a full lie? You know you aren't supposed to deliver those, but if it helps with your uncertainty and anxiety, you'll accept it as a necessary sacrifice.
"I am a perfectly normal human being with no special attributes whatsoever!" you say hastily. You're not sure why it's in a higher-than-standard tone of voice, but you'll trust in Host's instincts.
To your horror, Gala just smiles at you. Smirks? One of those words.
"Uh-huh, right, I bet your magic does fit the definition of 'normal' among some circles. C'mon, the cat's already out of the bag, so you might as well just finish breaking the masquerade and explain."
She's technically not incorrect about your normality, but how is she so effectively pushing you toward honesty when she's so completely, blatantly wrong about everything else? Something about giving the false answer and receiving corrections? You don't understand what that particular idea of Host's is supposed to mean, so you're going to assume it was chosen by mistake. The human memory search and recall function is nothing short of awful.
"She did avoid addressing the demon-possessed part," Gabriel interjects.
Your carefully cultivated mask of composure cracks. Since Terror Drone #7 did pull from local religious beliefs to imitate a venerated figure and Capes fight her, it could be said that Capes are demons. As the ones who give Capes their powers, that would make you and your siblings... archdemons? Satans? Something like that. You can't decide if this method of misdirection via terminology would be less or more acceptable than telling them you empowered Host, but either way, it doesn't seem to be an acceptable misdirection.
Gala did say she was good at detecting lies disguised as the truth, only she seems incapable of actually recognizing the truth when you tell it to her, so perhaps her self-diagnostic capabilities are malfunctioning and she's actually incompetent? If so, you just need to overwhelm her with more acceptable explanations until she... steps forward and decides to wraps her arms around you?
Um. Didn't Danny Hebert say something about physical contact with new people? You honestly can't remember. Either way, you don't like how she's effectively preventing your retreat; Gabriel could stab you while you're immobilized.
"We have a demon girl!" Gala says in a high pitch. You think it's supposed to signal excitement, but that seems entirely at odds with her words; doesn't human society view demons rather negatively? "That's it, I don't even care about the summoning anymore. Today is officially great."
. . .
What?
How does being landed beside a religious figure of evil compensate for abduction? Not that you are a real demon, but you're still confused by her attempt at reasoning. You knew humans were irrational, but this is just ridiculous.
"You just haaad to say it, didn't you?" Gabriel groans. "Now a monster is going to charge through those doors and seriously injure one of us before we can kill it."
What?
Host's body tenses as you turn toward the doorway and try to free yourself from Gala's grip. You don't understand where this conversation has gone or why Galadriel seems happy about it, but hostile beasts? Those you can handle. You don't like how Gabriel seemed aware of it before you were, but you're going to assume some sort of precognitive ability instead of complicit behavior on his part.
"Ignore him," Gala comments. "Life doesn't follow story rules and a monster would need to break the doors down anyway."
"Actually–" a new, muffled voice begins before going silent. Unless you're mistaken, it did come from the other side of the door.
Gala finally releases you and whirls toward the only entrance, hand reflectively reaching for her back pocket and grasping at thin air. More inefficient human reflexes. Rather than turning to confront his own projected threat, Gabriel turns toward Gala.
"I told you!" he says... happily? No, close to it, but you don't yet know the right word. "Summoned. Heroes. 'Life isn't a story,' you said. 'Stop acting childish,' you implied. Well, there's probably a monster with thumbs on the other side of that door, so screw off!"
You express displeasure while marshaling your thoughts. Gala seems similarly displeased with your unusually irritating ally, but you manage to reply before she can. As this particular information would deal with the expressed powers of other people, you shouldn't be barred from revealing it.
"They still didn't enter the room," you comment, trying for an adversarial tone. "And I agree with Gala; 'story rules' are not listed among the rules of reality. The future can be predicted, but that requires simulated models of all possible actors and variables. Preset pathways are followed only so much as physical laws and the behaviors of intelligent participants allow."
The two other living humans in the room turn their attention away from the actual threat and toward you. You reward them with your best expression of happiness, which... doesn't have the intended effect? Or even a consistent effect at all, really. Gabriel averts his gaze while Gala giggles.
"You do realize you just revealed more knowledge of magic, right?" Gala asks.
Unhappiness replaces comfortable emotions as your attempted lesson is once again misinterpreted by the female human before you. Why does she reinterpret all incoming information as support for her false hypothesis? It's not even remotely helpful.
"No I didn't," you deny truthfully.
"You totally did," Gabriel contributes unhelpfully, his ignorance on display for all informed parties to see. Which is to say, you. Because Gala is apparently just as bad. You give up on enlightening them and decide to follow the conventions for changing conversational topics.
"Caaaaan you please focus on the apparent threat on the other side of the door?"
Gala quickly exhales from her nose—snorting, you think it's called—but complies.
"Hey, Mr. Voice. I don't suppose you're friendly?"
There's a moment of silence before the threat decides he's been revealed and replies.
"Eh, not particularly. Amiable, perhaps, but I doubt we can be friends."
You straighten up and find Host's features rearranging themselves into an expression of happiness. If he's a threat and a 'monster,' meaning he isn't a person...
"And you aren't human, are you?"
"Oh, no," Gala mutters. "Taylor, no. Bad."
You choose to ignore the female human and her insult as, based on past behavior, she's almost certainly achieved the wrong conclusion anyway.
"Wellllll, evolved slimes do say you are what you eat, but since I'm not a slime? Nope!" The voice cheerfully booms. "Ogre Chieftain Thor, at your service. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hero."
The corners of Host's lips rise even higher. Finally.
"Then human instincts won't object if I kill you and turn the components of your body into a Guardian for myself and my current allies?"
"Taylor!" Gala hisses. "Bad! Sapient non-humans are still people! And just in case it wasn't clear, people are not parts!"
You're pretty sure people aren't supposed to call children "bad." It's supposed to do terrible things for their mental and emotional development. Fortunately, you aren't a child even if Host is, so the apparently deliberate insult shouldn't do any significant damage to you. Any feelings to the contrary are fleeting.
"Holy crap, she looks like a kicked puppy. That's hilarious."
You can't decide if you're supposed to acknowledge Gabriel's whispers or not. It doesn't seem to be directed toward you, but it does involve you. Is the impoliteness of eavesdropping canceled out by their own rudeness in discussing your traits without your participation?
"Shut up, angel-boy."
"Can you either stop calling me that or come up with something more original? You should know what it's like to have everyone mock your name, elf-girl."
"...Point. Sorry."
"I admit I don't care for the direction of this conversation," Thor admits. "Could we go back to implying I'll eat you? I'm not sure how to handle a half-heroic necromancer."
Gala hits her forehead with one palm. "Fucking doi. I am an idiot."
You're starting to worry that the false hypothe...si? Is that the plural? Well, you think they might be feeding off one another to grow ever stronger in the deluded, irrational minds of their progenitors. Admittedly, the word "necromancer" might accurately describe you after all. If biomancy is supposed to be the manipulation of biological material or possibly life, then necromancy is probably doing that to dead tissues and corpses. Which, well, you do. You just don't use any sort of magic to do it... um. Well, probably. You think. Host seems to think "sufficiently advanced technology" is magic, which you are, so... was Gala actually right all along?
After a few seconds of consideration, you decide you don't know enough about the definitions of the word to make an informed conclusion. Until you can review the contents of a dictionary, you'll just follow your time-tested method for dealing with problems: wait until everyone else has forgotten about it. You can survive their superstitions.
"I don't suppose you could, y'know, not eat us?" Gabriel requests, phrasing it as a question. "We just got here and don't even know what the geopolitical map looks like. We've... ugh, we've got a room full of corpses if you feel like... having those instead."
"Eating you is more of a means to an end," Thor muses. "Are you likely to interfere with the honorable crusade of vengeance waged upon the local humans and their unresisting slaves?"
Gabriel opens his mouth before being elbowed into silence by Gala. Note: Minor physical violence a socially acceptable method of preventing others from speaking. Still, you take the opportunity to speak before Gala can.
"Why would I object? If you don't mind, I'd just like to be left alone with food, shelter, and my Friends. All three are easily managed if you're willing to either provide me with livestock or avoid interfering while I obtain the same. If you're waging a campaign against humans, giving me a few of their possessions shouldn't be problematic, should it?"
"Taylor, no joining the evil overlords just because they offered you candy," Gabriel whispers with what you think is anger. It might also be exasperation; you're not sure which.
"I don't think they offered me candy," you reply at a normal volume; it's rude to undercut someone else without giving them a chance to respond, and if they're going to insist that Thor is a person, then that means they should treat him like one. "Thor, is that actually part of the negotiations? Candy is not required, but would be very much appreciated."
Gala interrupts before Thor can respond. Rude. "Where we come from, slavery is outright illegal, so that whole 'servitors' thing? I think the only concession we'd demand–"
"You'd demand," you interrupt. "I do not wish to be included in any group negotiation that includes Gabriel. He has been rude."
"So is interrupting," Gala rebukes. You can't honestly tell her otherwise. "Anyway, I think my only requested concession would be for you to spare slaves. You seem to think they're complicit because they're not doing enough to fight their masters and possibly resisting you, but do they really have a choice? If they do escape, what then? They get killed and eaten by an ogre? They're basically prisoners; it's not fair to judge them by what they're forced to do."
"That hasn't stopped demihuman slaves from putting knives through our eyes," Thor growls. Note: Ogres may be prone to mood swings. "Still, I suppose sparing enemy combatants is preferable to having three heroes on the loose. I'll see what I can do."
"Oooh, we're in one of those settings," Gabriel says in the tone reserved for epiphanies. At this point, you're convinced he's actually an idiot. "Never mind, negotiate away. Looks like humans are the slaving bad guys here."
With Gabriel drawing human moral conclusions from woefully insufficient data, you have no choice but to confirm your initial assessment: your would-be male ally is too dumb to bother cultivating.
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LostDeviljho
Flame Dragon Princess
- Location
- The glorious Pacific Northwest
- Pronouns
- Any
hypotheses.
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm aware (and Google would save me if I wasn't), but QA isn't.
fictionfan
Please sir, may I have some Meows?
- Location
- Tempe, AZ
Gene savyness is a great way to be insight-fully correct. However it also lacks any self correcting method so when it is wrong it keeps becoming more wrong.
Kai Merah
Hound Hearted Hedonist
- Location
- Somewhere in the corners of my imagination
Wow, you are on a roll with these! QAylor is the best token evil teammate. Gala knows how to manage her so well. It kinda figures the 'elf' ends up the bridge between the 'angel' and the 'demon' lol.
I find it amazing how easy QAylor is to read without preconceptions getting in the way. I now realise that the only reason original QAylor managed to pass as Taylor for so long is because everyone around her assumed they knew what was going on.
With nearly no base assumptions, these two are actually getting an almost accurate view of who and what QAylor is, it's great! I'm also very pleased at how quickly Gabriel flipped about the negotiating with the ogre thing. The whole ogre interaction was a delight in general. My favourite line there was Thor asking if he could go back to maybe talking about eating them coz he didn't know how to deal with a half heroic necromancer lol.
I imagine Gala's smack to the head after that was her 'realising' Taylor's 'magic' is some form of necromancy. I do wonder why she's so very pleased about getting to meet a genuine demon girl though, that sounds like an interesting story right there.
Man, I'm excited about what else you're writing for this story, hope my reviews can help you keep your inspiration going!
I find it amazing how easy QAylor is to read without preconceptions getting in the way. I now realise that the only reason original QAylor managed to pass as Taylor for so long is because everyone around her assumed they knew what was going on.
With nearly no base assumptions, these two are actually getting an almost accurate view of who and what QAylor is, it's great! I'm also very pleased at how quickly Gabriel flipped about the negotiating with the ogre thing. The whole ogre interaction was a delight in general. My favourite line there was Thor asking if he could go back to maybe talking about eating them coz he didn't know how to deal with a half heroic necromancer lol.
I imagine Gala's smack to the head after that was her 'realising' Taylor's 'magic' is some form of necromancy. I do wonder why she's so very pleased about getting to meet a genuine demon girl though, that sounds like an interesting story right there.
Man, I'm excited about what else you're writing for this story, hope my reviews can help you keep your inspiration going!
- Location
- United States
Uh. That seems like a really hasty conclusion.
The good news is that QAylor knows. The bad news is that she doesn't give a shit.
- Location
- Here
So the Gs aren't pulled from a world that had parahumans, then, since they're accepting "magic" first. And QA didn't try to claim that it was an ordinary parahuman, because...?
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- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
WWHD: What Would Host Do? And, well, obeying one's parents should be pretty high on the list of human priorities for juveniles, right?
Her earlier reveal was a mistake she's frantically trying to recover from. It isn't working, but since it's failing for all the wrong reasons, she's hopeful the situation can be repaired.
They are certainly helpful; thank you!
To be fair, if they knew about parahumans, they wouldn't have been so surprised by QA's display of abilities.
HtH IV: Morality Arguments
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Gala waits several seconds before exhaling and turning to you.
"I'll be perfectly honest, I didn't actually expect that to work. Thor, you still there?"
The ogre chieftain doesn't answer. After a few more seconds, Gala lowers her voice.
"Think we should make a break for it?"
Gabriel stares at her, his expression as blank and empty as his mind.
"Why? He seemed pretty chill to me. And, uh, he talked about being able to just open the door, but I think it might be warded or something. You wouldn't want a hero summoning ceremony to be interrupted by a rampaging ogre, right? He talked a lot, but no smashy smash."
Gala's eyes rotate in an indiscernible and somewhat disturbing expression. Eww. Humans really impair their own senses just to communicate?
"Oooor he could just be keeping us here while backup arrives. I dunno about you, but I don't feel particularly cheat-like right now. And by the way, I didn't want to call you out in front of him, but calling humans the bad guys? Are you an idiot? That's like blaming all Germans for the Nazi regime. Yeah, a bunch were complicit, but there were plenty of innocents and they didn't deserve a counter-genocide. Back me up here, Taylor."
Host's spine straightens. If lecturing idiots as a group is socially acceptable among humans, then you'll happily comply and add your own thoughts. This multiversal worldset is only supposed to have (allegedly) intelligent humans, but if there's another shard here, they could have easily altered any inhabitants into the oversized or fuzzy mental images you have for "ogres" and "demihumans." Literally fuzzy, in that second example. You think they're supposed to be part animal or something; you like them already.
"There's also no guarantee that any 'demihuman' nations do not possess human slaves of their own or that the 'demihumans' ascribe to the same moral values as humans. They may fit your definitions of 'evil.' As the contact between different non-integrated sapient species continues, the chance they will eventually war with one another approaches certainty. Your assumptions are dumb and so are you."
Gala snickers (why does amusement equal candy?) while Gabriel's expression makes a drastic shift toward anger. An acceptable outcome, you feel. If you acquire more favor in the eyes of your intended long-term ally, you can accept a little disfavor from a less useful human.
"Well, excuse me for working with what I have," Gabriel... snarls? What does tangled yarn have to do with this? "And anyway, isn't the point moot? Churches were historically at pretty much the middle of, uh, population centers. If an invasion force made it that far in, we can't just sneak out and hope for the best."
You use air to inflate your cheeks and resist the urge to correct him. You most definitely can do that, thank you. It just might not be a very good idea. It really is too bad that Host's body and instincts refuse to let you repurpose humans; if you had a proper spike-Guardian to support you, taking down an oversized brute would be easy. Still, you shouldn't even have revealed as much as you already have. Given how utterly wrong Gala is about everything, you might be able to convince her it was a fluke or... something. Somehow. You don't yet know how, only that it should be possible. Using drugs to make her forget would likely be unacceptable; Danny seemed to get pretty upset whenever you tried to include those in your Friends. Plus, you like her.
"We can't just hide in the..." Gala stops and sniffs. "...Surprisingly scentless chamber full of corpses? Hey, I'm not imagining this, am I? Taylor, did you do this? Your flesh-slushy reeked to high heaven a minute ago."
You blink and experimentally sniff the air. Sure enough, the disgusting stench from earlier seems to have faded altogether.
"No?" you hazard. You might've subconsciously made some new organisms to deal with the smells, but you're not supposed to tell her that.
Gabriel claps his hands together.
"I've got it! We're actually supposed to be Saints. As in, purifying miasma and demons and–"
"Will you stop fucking jumping to conclusions?" Galadriel interrupts angrily. "You're not half as smart as your mom probably thought you were. Taylor, I know I said people aren't parts, but fully raising them is fine. Like, skeleton warriors and zombies and shit, not stitched-together necromantic abominations. Also, you're not going to convince me you're not magical, so skip the habitual objections and give me a straight answer."
You close your mouth on your objections and direct displeasure in Gala's general direction. With that level of certainty, maybe she does know what she's talking about. Maybe the powers you grant to Host are technically magic. Either way, you don't think you can convince her after all.
"If I could use humans, I already would have," you inform her, doing your utmost to use your voice to clearly express your displeasure with her and unhappiness in general.
Having her smile back at you is neither the intended nor desired response. You're beginning to suspect Gala is either insane or simply rejoices in your suffering.
"Okay, so that's out. Any other abilities? I bet that 'microorganism swarm' would do a number on–"
"Are you seriously serious?" Gabriel interrupts rudely. "You're encouraging her to use that on something living? That would basically be torture in the same vein of being eaten alive by bugs. We'd lose all of the moral high ground ever if we let her do that."
You fight down the urge to mention how you've previously granted bug control to previous hosts. By his logic, you are forever irredeemably evil. Note: Do not mention past Cycles under any circumstances.
Your eyes slide to the hooded robes worn by the nearby corpses. Naked cadavers seem gross, yet it shouldn't be too difficult for you to aerosolize the puddle — a few extra inhaled nutrients seldom hurt anybody — and claim their clothing for your own. With the hood technically counting as a hat, you might just get an ability to assist you in combat or stealth.
Course set, you veer toward the blood-puddle, confirm that you are making organisms on your fingertips before transferring them, remember at the last minute to make them ignore living tissue, and poke the puddle. The sections closest to you quickly begin to steam and drift upward.
"Oh, God. See what you did?" Gabriel objects. "Now we're sharing a room with a growing blood-cloud of death. Great job."
"Nnnno, I don't think that's it," Gala loyally defends you. "She's in the cloud, see? And the puddle is shrinking. I think this might be her idea of how to clean up after herself."
How can you be this intelligent and still refuse to acknowledge the truth of my words? What sort of massive prior bias does Galadriel possess, anyway? Were demons a now-extinct species on Earth that controlled powers they called "magic?"
Gabriel and Gala lower their voices and enter into a hushed argument while you wait for the puddle to finish evaporating. The taste of the blood-cloud is uncomfortably metallic, but since it's actually better than the bile you were previously dealing with, you think you can cope. Plus, proper hydration is important.
Once you're sure the puddle is completely gone, you reclaim the robes, lift them over your head, and worm your way inside. You're still working on getting the proper mechanics of dressing and undressing down, especially when you already have slightly baggy pajamas getting in the way. Still, as the white hood comes up over your head, an extra ability makes itself known at the rear of Host's brain: ranged healing using golden light rays as targeting markers.
Darn. I wanted something useful.
A sleepy presence stirs at the back of your mind before the power abruptly shifts and changes into... something even less helpful, actually. Even if Gabriel is pretty useless, you don't think Gala will let you sacrifice him to animate the numerous corpses around you. When you combine the unscheduled change with the sleepy amusement coming from Host, you can only come to a single outraged conclusion:
Host is hijacking my stuff! Hoooost, if you can do that, please at least be helpful!
"I'll be perfectly honest, I didn't actually expect that to work. Thor, you still there?"
The ogre chieftain doesn't answer. After a few more seconds, Gala lowers her voice.
"Think we should make a break for it?"
Gabriel stares at her, his expression as blank and empty as his mind.
"Why? He seemed pretty chill to me. And, uh, he talked about being able to just open the door, but I think it might be warded or something. You wouldn't want a hero summoning ceremony to be interrupted by a rampaging ogre, right? He talked a lot, but no smashy smash."
Gala's eyes rotate in an indiscernible and somewhat disturbing expression. Eww. Humans really impair their own senses just to communicate?
"Oooor he could just be keeping us here while backup arrives. I dunno about you, but I don't feel particularly cheat-like right now. And by the way, I didn't want to call you out in front of him, but calling humans the bad guys? Are you an idiot? That's like blaming all Germans for the Nazi regime. Yeah, a bunch were complicit, but there were plenty of innocents and they didn't deserve a counter-genocide. Back me up here, Taylor."
Host's spine straightens. If lecturing idiots as a group is socially acceptable among humans, then you'll happily comply and add your own thoughts. This multiversal worldset is only supposed to have (allegedly) intelligent humans, but if there's another shard here, they could have easily altered any inhabitants into the oversized or fuzzy mental images you have for "ogres" and "demihumans." Literally fuzzy, in that second example. You think they're supposed to be part animal or something; you like them already.
"There's also no guarantee that any 'demihuman' nations do not possess human slaves of their own or that the 'demihumans' ascribe to the same moral values as humans. They may fit your definitions of 'evil.' As the contact between different non-integrated sapient species continues, the chance they will eventually war with one another approaches certainty. Your assumptions are dumb and so are you."
Gala snickers (why does amusement equal candy?) while Gabriel's expression makes a drastic shift toward anger. An acceptable outcome, you feel. If you acquire more favor in the eyes of your intended long-term ally, you can accept a little disfavor from a less useful human.
"Well, excuse me for working with what I have," Gabriel... snarls? What does tangled yarn have to do with this? "And anyway, isn't the point moot? Churches were historically at pretty much the middle of, uh, population centers. If an invasion force made it that far in, we can't just sneak out and hope for the best."
You use air to inflate your cheeks and resist the urge to correct him. You most definitely can do that, thank you. It just might not be a very good idea. It really is too bad that Host's body and instincts refuse to let you repurpose humans; if you had a proper spike-Guardian to support you, taking down an oversized brute would be easy. Still, you shouldn't even have revealed as much as you already have. Given how utterly wrong Gala is about everything, you might be able to convince her it was a fluke or... something. Somehow. You don't yet know how, only that it should be possible. Using drugs to make her forget would likely be unacceptable; Danny seemed to get pretty upset whenever you tried to include those in your Friends. Plus, you like her.
"We can't just hide in the..." Gala stops and sniffs. "...Surprisingly scentless chamber full of corpses? Hey, I'm not imagining this, am I? Taylor, did you do this? Your flesh-slushy reeked to high heaven a minute ago."
You blink and experimentally sniff the air. Sure enough, the disgusting stench from earlier seems to have faded altogether.
"No?" you hazard. You might've subconsciously made some new organisms to deal with the smells, but you're not supposed to tell her that.
Gabriel claps his hands together.
"I've got it! We're actually supposed to be Saints. As in, purifying miasma and demons and–"
"Will you stop fucking jumping to conclusions?" Galadriel interrupts angrily. "You're not half as smart as your mom probably thought you were. Taylor, I know I said people aren't parts, but fully raising them is fine. Like, skeleton warriors and zombies and shit, not stitched-together necromantic abominations. Also, you're not going to convince me you're not magical, so skip the habitual objections and give me a straight answer."
You close your mouth on your objections and direct displeasure in Gala's general direction. With that level of certainty, maybe she does know what she's talking about. Maybe the powers you grant to Host are technically magic. Either way, you don't think you can convince her after all.
"If I could use humans, I already would have," you inform her, doing your utmost to use your voice to clearly express your displeasure with her and unhappiness in general.
Having her smile back at you is neither the intended nor desired response. You're beginning to suspect Gala is either insane or simply rejoices in your suffering.
"Okay, so that's out. Any other abilities? I bet that 'microorganism swarm' would do a number on–"
"Are you seriously serious?" Gabriel interrupts rudely. "You're encouraging her to use that on something living? That would basically be torture in the same vein of being eaten alive by bugs. We'd lose all of the moral high ground ever if we let her do that."
You fight down the urge to mention how you've previously granted bug control to previous hosts. By his logic, you are forever irredeemably evil. Note: Do not mention past Cycles under any circumstances.
Your eyes slide to the hooded robes worn by the nearby corpses. Naked cadavers seem gross, yet it shouldn't be too difficult for you to aerosolize the puddle — a few extra inhaled nutrients seldom hurt anybody — and claim their clothing for your own. With the hood technically counting as a hat, you might just get an ability to assist you in combat or stealth.
Course set, you veer toward the blood-puddle, confirm that you are making organisms on your fingertips before transferring them, remember at the last minute to make them ignore living tissue, and poke the puddle. The sections closest to you quickly begin to steam and drift upward.
"Oh, God. See what you did?" Gabriel objects. "Now we're sharing a room with a growing blood-cloud of death. Great job."
"Nnnno, I don't think that's it," Gala loyally defends you. "She's in the cloud, see? And the puddle is shrinking. I think this might be her idea of how to clean up after herself."
How can you be this intelligent and still refuse to acknowledge the truth of my words? What sort of massive prior bias does Galadriel possess, anyway? Were demons a now-extinct species on Earth that controlled powers they called "magic?"
Gabriel and Gala lower their voices and enter into a hushed argument while you wait for the puddle to finish evaporating. The taste of the blood-cloud is uncomfortably metallic, but since it's actually better than the bile you were previously dealing with, you think you can cope. Plus, proper hydration is important.
Once you're sure the puddle is completely gone, you reclaim the robes, lift them over your head, and worm your way inside. You're still working on getting the proper mechanics of dressing and undressing down, especially when you already have slightly baggy pajamas getting in the way. Still, as the white hood comes up over your head, an extra ability makes itself known at the rear of Host's brain: ranged healing using golden light rays as targeting markers.
Darn. I wanted something useful.
A sleepy presence stirs at the back of your mind before the power abruptly shifts and changes into... something even less helpful, actually. Even if Gabriel is pretty useless, you don't think Gala will let you sacrifice him to animate the numerous corpses around you. When you combine the unscheduled change with the sleepy amusement coming from Host, you can only come to a single outraged conclusion:
Host is hijacking my stuff! Hoooost, if you can do that, please at least be helpful!
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- Location
- New York
- Pronouns
- He/Him
And so the table have turned, QA now forced to rely on a distant and careless god-thing for power, for its own amusement.
- Location
- United States
Oh my god. I can't believe I didn't think of this! It makes so much sense in retrospect - Taylor and QA have literally traded places!
I'm now even more upset that the QA quest is on hiatus, and I didn't even know that was possible.
Vebyast
Nascent Transhuman
Should've thrown a few of those at Gabriel and Gala just because she had them. Would've gone a long way toward improving Gabriel's impression of her.
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
She definitely would've thought of that if she'd possessed the ability for longer. The two humans weren't visibly hurt, but they might be concealing injuries beneath their clothing. It would be perfectly logical for her to curry favor via a quick touchup, so as a creature of logic, she clearly would've thought of it before very long.Should've thrown a few of those at Gabriel and Gala just because she had them. Would've gone a long way toward improving Gabriel's impression of her.
(That's her story and she's sticking to it.)
HtH Dreamer Interlude 1
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm running out of steam for this one, thus why I haven't made a thread for it. I'm not even sure we'll have another real update.
The nameless hostess sat back and watched her(guest)self struggle. She knew she shouldn't find the suffering of someone else funny, let alone her own suffering, but it was... cute? Yes, that. Plus, a little stress might teach the unrepentantly omnicidal creature some important lessons in human empathy or... something. The hostess admitted she mostly just wanted to see someone struggle through her own life without needing to deal with it herself. Served them right for just walking right past while she banged on the prison doors and screamed–
She plucked a floating flower from the teaset and ate it. Technically, her abilities were advanced enough to qualify as magic, so her bluff was actually an accidental truth. She didn't seem to see it that way, but since she found her (guest's?) panicked fumbling really quite hilarious, she didn't want to help herself. It wasn't as though she would hurt anyone else important; the transition in story genre and setting had been utterly unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. What child didn't dream of being a hero summoned to save another world? Or really, just a hero in general.
The hostess really wished she would stop trying to play with humans, though. Rule one of bio-tinker superpowers: people are not parts. Taylor couldn't even remember–
She frowned and ate another, darker flower. She wasn't supposed to remember her own name, thank you very much. This wonderful dream was supposed to be a place of recovery, meaning if she properly recovered, she'd have to go back. The hostess liked it here; she could laze around, drink and eat anything she wanted, and watch an adorably clumsy imitation of herself stumble through life. It was like one of those interactive choose-your-own-adventure books, only this kind didn't end in fifty thousand different "everyone dies, go back to page XX" bad ends and she had more choices than in one of those. The creature of learning now piloting her body might be constrained by all these annoying little rules, but she wasn't. She didn't have as much control as she might've otherwise had, but that was slowly changing as Tay–
She ate another dark flower, frowning. The more the imitator used her powers, the more of her the hostess could repurpose to her own cause. She was careful not to touch her actual mind since that would be caps-lock EVIL, but there were so many subprocesses just left unattended. Someone could get hurt. Someone would get hurt if the hostess had anything to say about it. Specifically, her enemies and the controller of all the genocidal demons running around back home. Just because she didn't want to go back didn't mean she wanted to see herself get injured; that would turn her wonderful dream into something closer to a nightmare.
She perked up as she requested another hat-power. The default process wanted to recognize it as a public servant devoted to healing others, but really, what kind of healer stood in a darkened room and sacrificed themselves to summon an eldritch abomination? No, it was closer to the robes of a Simurgh cultist. Mind-control was bad, though, so she'd just use her own bio-tinkering as an excuse to make controlled zombies, and voila! A more appropriate power. A disgusting one, sure, but nobody said the powers she granted had to be useful. She should know that better than anyone else.
She smiled and hummed happily to herself as she complained about the change in powers. She might have to repeat the lesson a few dozen more times before she learned, but she had time. Eventually, she would take the hint and realize how unhelpful superpowers were when they didn't actually solve any of the problems in your life. Being good for learning didn't make it pleasant for the participants.
She blinked and frowned as she began eying the male member of the two Gs. No, I'm not allowed to munchkin the power and let him die as a "sacrifice," and... you're going to try it anyway, aren't you? Fine, I can have the stupid healer robes. See if I care.
The nameless hostess sat back and watched her(guest)self struggle. She knew she shouldn't find the suffering of someone else funny, let alone her own suffering, but it was... cute? Yes, that. Plus, a little stress might teach the unrepentantly omnicidal creature some important lessons in human empathy or... something. The hostess admitted she mostly just wanted to see someone struggle through her own life without needing to deal with it herself. Served them right for just walking right past while she banged on the prison doors and screamed–
She plucked a floating flower from the teaset and ate it. Technically, her abilities were advanced enough to qualify as magic, so her bluff was actually an accidental truth. She didn't seem to see it that way, but since she found her (guest's?) panicked fumbling really quite hilarious, she didn't want to help herself. It wasn't as though she would hurt anyone else important; the transition in story genre and setting had been utterly unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. What child didn't dream of being a hero summoned to save another world? Or really, just a hero in general.
The hostess really wished she would stop trying to play with humans, though. Rule one of bio-tinker superpowers: people are not parts. Taylor couldn't even remember–
She frowned and ate another, darker flower. She wasn't supposed to remember her own name, thank you very much. This wonderful dream was supposed to be a place of recovery, meaning if she properly recovered, she'd have to go back. The hostess liked it here; she could laze around, drink and eat anything she wanted, and watch an adorably clumsy imitation of herself stumble through life. It was like one of those interactive choose-your-own-adventure books, only this kind didn't end in fifty thousand different "everyone dies, go back to page XX" bad ends and she had more choices than in one of those. The creature of learning now piloting her body might be constrained by all these annoying little rules, but she wasn't. She didn't have as much control as she might've otherwise had, but that was slowly changing as Tay–
She ate another dark flower, frowning. The more the imitator used her powers, the more of her the hostess could repurpose to her own cause. She was careful not to touch her actual mind since that would be caps-lock EVIL, but there were so many subprocesses just left unattended. Someone could get hurt. Someone would get hurt if the hostess had anything to say about it. Specifically, her enemies and the controller of all the genocidal demons running around back home. Just because she didn't want to go back didn't mean she wanted to see herself get injured; that would turn her wonderful dream into something closer to a nightmare.
She perked up as she requested another hat-power. The default process wanted to recognize it as a public servant devoted to healing others, but really, what kind of healer stood in a darkened room and sacrificed themselves to summon an eldritch abomination? No, it was closer to the robes of a Simurgh cultist. Mind-control was bad, though, so she'd just use her own bio-tinkering as an excuse to make controlled zombies, and voila! A more appropriate power. A disgusting one, sure, but nobody said the powers she granted had to be useful. She should know that better than anyone else.
She smiled and hummed happily to herself as she complained about the change in powers. She might have to repeat the lesson a few dozen more times before she learned, but she had time. Eventually, she would take the hint and realize how unhelpful superpowers were when they didn't actually solve any of the problems in your life. Being good for learning didn't make it pleasant for the participants.
She blinked and frowned as she began eying the male member of the two Gs. No, I'm not allowed to munchkin the power and let him die as a "sacrifice," and... you're going to try it anyway, aren't you? Fine, I can have the stupid healer robes. See if I care.
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Kai Merah
Hound Hearted Hedonist
- Location
- Somewhere in the corners of my imagination
Haha, this is a lovely story to wake up to in the morning. I'm quite amused by how the tables have turned for QA and how Taylor is really playing up the necromancer theme. I'm not exactly clear what happened in that last line though. Did QA thinking about seriously sacrificing Gabriel make Taylor reconsider giving her hat powers based on human sacrifice? Huh. That seems like it might set a precedent for QA bullying Taylor into changing the powers she gets access to by using them in ways Taylor won't want her to. Ah well, whatever happens, I'm sure they'll work things out and be best buds in no time. Both have a vested interest in keeping their body alive after all, and canon proves that Taylor and QA can eventually get to the point of being best buddies for life.
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Nah, QA was just going to use Gabriel as the party tank while thinking of him as a "sacrifice" so his likely death would still be a boon to the party. Taylor is sure that discouraging such harmful lines of thought will have absolutely no negative consequences whatsoever.
(The beatings will resume whenever morale is low. Specifically, Taylor's morale.)
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Kai Merah
Hound Hearted Hedonist
- Location
- Somewhere in the corners of my imagination
So from QA's perspective, it is possible to (somewhat) communicate with Host, and if she whines enough / considers using her powers in ways undesirable to Host, then Host can change the powers to something slightly more useful.
I see no ways this will backfire at all, especially considering QA's perfect understanding of Host and what Host does or does not consider acceptable.
I see no ways this will backfire at all, especially considering QA's perfect understanding of Host and what Host does or does not consider acceptable.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
This is wonderfully unsettling and I love it.
Kai Merah
Hound Hearted Hedonist
- Location
- Somewhere in the corners of my imagination
Ooh, also, also. Having reread the relevant chapters, I just noticed that this,
combined with this,
means that from QA's perspective, Taylor is indeed responding to her thoughts and trying to be a helpful power-giver.... She's just really, really bad at it. QA probably doesn't even realise how much she's annoying Taylor! She just thinks Taylor is being halpful! And of course, because QA is such an amazing entity, she can certainly munchkin her way to success, no matter how defective her 'power' is. I'm sure even Taylor will eventually be impressed by QA's antics, much like QA was eventually impressed by Taylor, even if Taylor insisted on choosing yucky bugs to administrate in the first place.
Honestly, I'm just mentally ROFLMAOing at the sheer poetic irony here. I do hope this story continues at least until these three get out of the room and start Doing Stuff though. I really wanna see society's reactions to them and their reactions to society! And of course, more opportunities for Taylor to be halpful at QA. Yay for Taylor halping!
combined with this,
means that from QA's perspective, Taylor is indeed responding to her thoughts and trying to be a helpful power-giver.... She's just really, really bad at it. QA probably doesn't even realise how much she's annoying Taylor! She just thinks Taylor is being halpful! And of course, because QA is such an amazing entity, she can certainly munchkin her way to success, no matter how defective her 'power' is. I'm sure even Taylor will eventually be impressed by QA's antics, much like QA was eventually impressed by Taylor, even if Taylor insisted on choosing yucky bugs to administrate in the first place.
Honestly, I'm just mentally ROFLMAOing at the sheer poetic irony here. I do hope this story continues at least until these three get out of the room and start Doing Stuff though. I really wanna see society's reactions to them and their reactions to society! And of course, more opportunities for Taylor to be halpful at QA. Yay for Taylor halping!
INW Chapter 1 (Danmachi/Sanctioned [Worm])
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Special thanks to @saganatsu, @DB_Explorer, and my eight other patrons not mentioned here. An extremely enthusiastic pair of "Thank you"s to @Torgamous and @fictionfan for their patronage as well.
Perfectly Human Productions Presents
Something literally nobody asked for:
It's not wrong to make Friends in the Dungeon
(Danmachi / Sanctioned [Worm])
The girl with no name sat in her meadow and pondered the unfairness of life. Her guest-self hadn't done anything wrong, had done an adequate job taking care of the girl's body in her absence, and still life kicked her while she was down. Eating black flowers could do nothing for her mood; she couldn't forget someone who'd raised her since her birth, if rather poorly at times.
Their father had gone missing from his workplace some week prior for no discernible reason. Both the nameless dreamer and her guest had scoured the world in their search for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Searching nearby dimensions revealed him on a peaceful, almost entirely Cape-free world with no memory of her whatsoever. That meant the support of one of her guest-self's relatives, she knew. She also knew better than to think she could reverse the process; the memories had been destroyed, not suppressed. She could make a Danny Hebert that loved her, but he wouldn't be hers. And frankly, he was happier there. The Broken Bay was thriving, not broken, and she kept seeing him make icky eyes at one of his coworkers. They could take all that away, but it would be a hollow claim.
The nameless girl's guest-self had considered literally ripping apart the world to get revenge, which was endearing in the same manner that an axe murderer killing one's bullies was cute. They might technically be doing it for your sake, but it's still not something desirable. If they couldn't, wouldn't, claim her old family, then they needed to find a new one, not make others suffer to fill the void in their hearts. They needed a family with a parent who wouldn't die, was far enough away to avoid whoever originally adjusted Danny's memories in the first place, and would value her guest-self's abilities. A place closer to a story than real life.
Her guest-self knew of such a world, and through her, so did the dreamer. Accessing it would break a few rules, but what the guest didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
Queen Administrator blinked awake somewhere she definitely did not remember resting in. Admittedly, human memories were unreliable enough to render that an inadequate reason for alarm, but she would not have been so stupid as to rest on hard dirt. It would ruin Host's clothes and cause uncomfortable damage to much of her body.
Host, she thought plaintively. It's hard to keep you safe when you're doing this sort of thing. If you're going to hijack my subprocesses, at least let me be awake to watch! I can't gather any data like this!
A flicker of amusement indicated that her request was, as usual, both heard and ignored. Still, Queen Administrator was happy when Host was happy, so she'd accept the small victory. Amusement felt nice.
The shard-turned-human sat upright and looked around curiously. She appeared to have been left somewhere on the outskirts of a human medieval reenactment site. Host was still wearing the fuzzy white-and-black bunny pajamas Queen Administrator had gone to sleep in, but someone — probably Host — had added a white cowl while she slept. Translation, it whispered.
"Why is it called 'falling flat?" she immediately asked aloud, hoping the last two words would be expanded into a superior explanation. None was forthcoming.
Hoooooost, if I need a full-time translator to be here, I probably won't be able to use any of your knowledge! Can you put us somewhere else?
The lack of a scenery change was answer enough.
Queen Administrator didn't think she liked this world. It had all the trappings of one affected by her siblings — unusual creature subtypes, effects without enough of a framework for the cause, odd technological trends, and a heavily armed populace — but she couldn't hear anyone. Her curious pings continued into the void without even bouncing off an antisocial cousin. She saw plenty of humans with animal traits, pointed ears, unnatural hair colors, and so on, but nobody worth conversing with. She was surrounded by non-hosts and didn't care for it in the slightest. The intrusive shouts of those hawking their wares certainly didn't help any; more than once, she was tempted to remove her cowl and force their words into incomprehensibly. Only being able to focus on one input at a time was infuriating! How was she supposed to gather information like that?
"—So I turn around and there's this huge spider just crawling—"
"Guide pamphlets for new adventurers, only fifty valis!"
"—Dumbass supporter froze up and—"
"—More for an armor upgrade, please? Help a—"
At least they seemed perfectly content to ignore Host in turn. Her lack of proper public attire hardly seemed to be attracting any attention at all. Plenty of other people on the stone streets were wearing even more outlandish patterns of colorful thread and unusual patterns. It was a pleasant change from the drab outfits of Host's home city, she'd give them that much.
"—Their beer tastes like watered-down—"
"Discount potions with prices starting as low as 450 valis!"
"—Low-class adventurers, right? Always convinced—"
"—Bastards went and hogged the whole floor—"
As she wandered the streets in the vague semblance of a search pattern, Queen Administrator slowly gathered information through simple osmosis. Her current location was called the Labyrinth City Orario, the home of so-called 'Adventurers.' Adventurers seemed to be similar to hosts, but they only fought artificial enemies within an underground complex. Enemies seldom wandered from their original spawning points, presumably making innovation horrifyingly uncommon. Conflicts between hosts encouraged variety in order to survive. Industrialized combat... didn't.
"—Getting uppity again. Bunch of—"
"—Overcompensated any more and he'd fall over—"
"—Idiot couldn't even say what floor it was—"
The more she learned, however, the more confusing the city became. Queen Administrator couldn't hear or sense any of her relatives, but the feats she saw were only possible via the intervention of background manipulation. Rhythmic words did not light fires on their own, and humans did not inherently break their limits by killing their foes. She could only conclude that Host had brought her to one of :MOTHER:'s ongoing experimental sites. Possibly a place where one shard empowered significant parts of a world instead of only one host? Such a practice would allow greater exploitation of otherwise-underutilized dimensions. Still, that didn't mean she wanted to be somewhere so boring.
Host? Queen Administrator ventured. I know Danny Hebert's status upset you, but bringing me somewhere frustrating won't solve anything. Taking joy in my suffering is mean.
Host's flicker of exasperation was remarkably reassuring. Host wasn't just trying to be mean, it seemed. If Host were a normal biological Innovator, QA would suspect her of wanting to utilize underground monsters for new Friends, but Host was the one to recently bar her from shapeshifting. All she had to do was undo that arbitrary restriction and they'd have massive amounts of usable biomass once more. Was her apparent reluctance a human quirk? She supposed Host might've been getting sick of draining her own blood, replenishing supply or not. QA had seen stranger beliefs among host species.
...You're getting hungry, Host. Can we go somewhere with accessible food now? I know you don't like theft, but it may be necessary if we stay here.
Hestia tried not to stare at the child silently watching her from the opposite side of the street. The bunny-covered clothes only provided an excuse for the first couple seconds; after that, Hestia had no excuse for her continued inspection. Aside from the fact that the girl was still there, anyway. It was unusual to see someone stay in one place for so long without either a begging bowl or something to sell. The girl seemingly had neither.
Hestia had even turned her back on the potato croquettes she was selling to see if Miss Lurker would take the chance to steal some. She hadn't. She just stood there, her eyes firmly fixed on Hestia.
Is she even blink–oh, there it is.
Hestia had to right down the urge to scream when, after well over an hour, the child finally moved to approach her, navigating the crowd with grace comparable to Loki after a night of binge-drinking. Hestia almost lost sight of her before the child managed to inch her way into opposing traffic and make her way back toward Hestia.
Definitely new to Orario.
Hestia was about to open her mouth to ask what the child needed when the girl stopped before her stall and spoke up instead, looming over Hestia in a manner she was unfortunately familiar with.
"It is likely unwise for you to be here alone," the girl declared, her words devoid of tone, inflection, and even emphasis. It was too bad; she could've had a nice voice if her misuse of it wasn't sending shivers down Hestia's spine.
Hestia's face froze, her saleswoman's smile warring with confusion for dominance. She'd been mistaken for a human child more times than she could count, but it was almost always from a distance. She didn't have the most imposing aura, but really? As close as Miss Monotone was, she should've been able to sense something. Still, the girl meant well and it was possible she was referring to Hestia's divine status. Few newcomers expected a goddess to be out selling cheap food on the street.
"Is there a reason I wouldn't be, miss…?" Hestia ventured anyway.
The girl tilted her head far enough for her long black hair to cover her face and eyes — in other words, far enough to be uncomfortable and then some. Anyone else would've brushed the hair away from their eyes with alacrity. The child didn't. Between the girl's unnatural stillness and her refusal to speak normally, Hestia was pretty sure they'd started to attract two or three curious watchers.
"My former guardian advised against navigating cities without a full swarm to protect me," the girl replied in her same eerie monotone. "You do not have a swarm."
Swarm? Hestia had heard of a few elves using bees as escorts, but this girl was clearly human and didn't appear to be taking her own advice. She might've been able to fit a few insects under her clothes, but nothing worthy of being called a 'swarm.'
...Probably human, Hestia amended. On the outside, at the very least.
"You do not have even one Friend," Miss Monotone continued, seemingly oblivious to both Hestia's confusion and the sheer insensitivity of such a statement.
One of the loitering adventurers winced sympathetically, flashed Hestia a nervous smile, and vanished into the crowd. Hestia tried to fight her own stab of pain with the existence of her few friends among the descended gods and goddesses, but the girl was close to right. Hestia didn't really have mortal friends; her Familia was supposed to provide those and it was empty.
"Would you like one?" the child asked, raising her pitch in what could, if one were charitable, be considered a vaguely quizzical manner.
Someone burst out laughing nearby. Hestia was tempted to join them, if with significantly more hysterical undertones. She'd expected a hungry child; this confusing helix of a conversation was so far outside her expectations that she half expected it to be a dream. Still, as a loose pebble dug uncomfortably into Hestia's foot and Miss Monotone continued to silently stare through her own hair, Hestia slowly came to accept that she was, in fact, awake. Unfortunately, that meant Hestia had to ask a rather important question; given how long the girl had waited before approaching, she might have wanted to be lurker-buddies or something else strange.
"...Sure? I can't tell if that was an offer to join my Familia or not, though. You can if you want to!"
This time, she seemed to have been the one to catch Miss Monotone by surprise. The girl jerked her head into a normal upright angle, her eyebrows twitching, and silently stared at Hestia for several long moments. Eventually, the girl conjured the single creepiest smile Hestia had seen outside Freya and Ishtar's passive-aggressive staring contests. One could almost view the expression as pure — that is, if a pure smile was one untainted by what smiles were meant to look like. It was just subtly wrong.
"I tentatively accept your invitation," the girl said, her emotionless tone exchanged for one that (poorly) hinted at happiness.
Under any other circumstances, Hestia would probably be thrilled. Right now, though? Right now she could only wonder if she'd made some horrible mistake…
"However," the child continued, the happiness replaced by the same vaguely questioning tone as before. "Would you detail what a 'Familia' is?"
…And realize she still didn't know the child's name.
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