Valerie calls her an hour later.
"Sally, what the hell?"
"That bad, huh?"
"Bad? Sally, it's gold. I went from squirming in my seat to crying genuine tears. And that twist, making him a Greek god, it's exactly what we're looking for right now. How soon can you get me the next chapter?"
***
In which Sally Jackson realizes by the time the new baby is eighteen, a semester of college will cost an arm and a leg. And those Fifty Shades of Grey books sure did make a lot of money.
In which Sally Blofis writes a fictionalized romance novel based on her own torrid romance with Poseidon.
It's shockingly sweet for being about a book consciously imitating Fifty Shades of Gray. That moment at the end, where it goes over Sally and Poseidon's final meeting... mmph. That's some good shit.
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I'm reaching out regarding a curious case I encountered in the archives that would have occurred in 0 AFE, roughly speaking. Unfortunately, the dates - along with all other information - are rather scant. All I can find are several references regarding, to my bewilderment, the installation of a life support system that involves a bizarre collection of medical assistance tools.
When a graduate student stumbles across some unusual data in an archive, he's sure it's the key to writing a successful dissertation. Unfortunately for him (and even more unfortunately for the public relations staff of the Grand Imperial Medical Facility), the request sets off an explosive chain reaction that's more than anyone bargained for. Surely a quadruple amputee burn victim isn't really running around in a 200 pound suit amped up on mysterious substances, right?
The answer is yes, my dear doctors, and the aggression is a
plus in his role. Ah, the dawning comprehension that Darth Vader is the one in the abomination against medical ethics...
Overall, though, I'm not sure I like this. The email format is a bit hard to follow thanks to using work-coded addresses, it takes forever to put the pieces together, and in the end it's all shut down. It's good! I'm just thinking it's not to taste.
Yeah, you're not on the list.
Evy could not be certain, but it sounded a great deal like the Ancient Egyptian equivalent of "Oh, no, not again," which struck her as a rather bizarre thing for a newly awakened mummy to say.
Yeah, I'm with Evy: I have no context for what's going on here. I'm sure Stargate fans would get a kick out of this, though.
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Following his victory at the Manalo Conference and becoming Alola's first ever Champion, Ash enters the Champion's chatroom not knowing what to expect. Maybe they'll be serious, high ranked members of society focusing on politics and papers. Maybe they'll be kind and forward thinking with doing what's best for their regions...
Or maybe they'll be a bunch of memers who act just like his other friends do at 3AM in the morning.
A Chatfic inspired by the many gems of Anipoke chatfics with spoilers from SM139
Look, this was funny for a couple of chapters, but then the Kahuna chat showed up and I was just like "I don't care about this, scroll". Also, Ash sounds off, and is it too much to ask for a little dignity?
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Picture, if you will, a shiny new High General Obi-Wan who has just been given control of the GAR on the logic he's the only Jedi with war experience. Except he's never actually organized an army before, and he needs help.
Enter Co-High General Jocasta Nu, who runs the GAR like she would the Archive. Everything organized and cataloged, her precious Collection now expanded to include the entire GAR.
And well, she's a librarian....
The Sith never stood a chance.
In which Jocasta Nu organizes the GAR and saves the galaxy.
Let's talk about the central conceit of this fic, which is that Jocasta treats the clones as... well, books in her library. It's something I think will put off people, especially since it's more than a legal fiction (and yet also a legal fiction at the same time). It's explicitly dehumanizing, and called out as such in-universe. It is explicitly in part a coping mechanism by Jocasta to send men off to their deaths in war. At the same time, it's also her way of declaring "You're mine, I will make you
safe", and the clones themselves find Being a Person exhausting in large doses anyway.
So I like it. Others may not. YMMV. You're on the list.
The replay of the Chancellor's broadcast echoes out in the Council Chamber. Mace sighs, rubbing his forehead.
"They can't do that." Ki-Adi states, as firmly as he can. "We're beholden to the Republic, not the Senate, they can't make us fight their war for them-"
"They can." Madame Nu, who was invited to this meeting as one of their historical experts, cut in. "It's a majority vote from the Senate, which means they can at least try and make us. We can refuse, but the clone army was apparently ordered for the Jedi, which makes it something of a grey area."
--
The Order is being drafted into the Republic's war.
This is considered a state of emergency.
The Order is a very old institution.
They have a lot of back up plans for emergencies.
A headcanon piece where the Jedi Order splits from the Republic - a premise I'm increasingly liking as a way to square the circle between "the Jedi didn't deserve this" and "The Republic is a corrupt institution and arguably a failed state" - based on fridge logic of "Hang on, the Senate can't be
all their funding".
RIP to Sheev's plans. You're on the list.
A new drug has popped up on the streets of Coruscant. One that is smuggled and sold in tea bags of all things.
What happens when Commander Thorn accidentally makes a pot of tea with these drugs for Chancellor Palpatine?
Well, the fate of the galaxy might just change for the better
This fic crashes and burns the minute Palpatine says something more complicated than "Tea!" His voicing is
way off.
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''If you visit Soho, you may come across a shop that looks older than anything else, painted in dark red and pale yellow columns. On top it says ''A. Z. Fell & Co. - Antiquarian and Unsual Books''.
Now, if you're thinking ''Oh, books! I'm gonna buy one!'' you're out of luck. Nobody leaves A. Z. Fell with a book and less money on their wallets. But if you need help with anything else, go in.
Just don't bother the snake. Don't touch it, don't even look at it.''
Noah has a school assignment to do about their favourite place in the city. Each person in class had to pick a place, research it, write about it... all of that. And Noah knew exacly what they wanted to write about.
This fic crashes and burns when it forgets that the main character doesn't know the name Aziraphale and keeps using it in narration.
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The Kalos Crisis, but this time Ash is more serious and prepared.
Kalos learn more about Ash Ketchum, Clemont and Serena reflect, and Lysandre is a bloodthirsty villain.
Lance and Cynthia come, Pikachu is OP, Ash is badass and too tired with the bullshit in his life
This fic crashes and burns when it shows Ash coldly ordering Greninja to kill Lysandre. That's not what I want out of my Pokemon fic. That the writing quality isn't great even before this doesn't help.
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"Arceus can Smite me for all I care" is the name of a relatively normal conspiracy theory server, full of the usual types of citizens you would expect. However, when the Sinnoh Squad plan a world tour, the lives of the server users get entangled with the adventure due to one secretive member who may just happen to be the World Champion.
Oh and that World Champion may just also own one of the most popular trolling accounts on all of Chatter.
The Poké Wide Web was not ready for the bullshit that is Ash Ketchum
Not
terrible, but also not interesting enough for me to stick it out straight to Ash accidentally revealing his trolling to the server.
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Professor Kukui thought Ash was an open book. Truth is, he was. That is if half the pages were burnt and the others covered with blotches of black ink. Realising he didn't know much about the kid under his care, he did what he does best and researched about him instead of just asking. Adulting is difficult sometimes.
Pro tip of the day: get a beta! Someone who can proofread for you, because this is a fucking mess of bad word choices! Arrrrrrgh.
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"Arceus above, that's Tapu Koko!" exclaims Cynthia. Several pairs of eyes turn curiously to her. "Who?"
"Tapu Koko! The island guardian of one of the Alolan islands. It's an electric type legendary. They're known to be very reclusive, and yet the Tapu is battling Ash in a stadium full of people!"
The strongest trainers in the world learn a little (a lot) more than they bargained for about their youngest member.
Pro tip of the day:
separate all dialogue lines into new paragraphs, for the love of God.
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After the events of M17, when the Kalosians ask why Ash and Pikachu aren't concerned about the latter's health, the reply is simple: they've been through worse. What follows is Ash, Pikachu, and later Team Rocket, trying to figure out where Allearth Forest ranks. But the Kantonians know the events intimately enough that they don't have to mention many details, leaving the Kalosians lost as they try to listen in.
This devolves swiftly into a scriptfic. I don't think I need to explain further.
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Tim was turning away from Pikachu — his partner, and the way Pikachu had smiled at him when he said that almost made a grin split his face in response — to ask Mewtwo to fix all the unnaturallities that Howard Clifford had used it to create, that made Tim's stomach clench and twist in instinctive panic, when a blur of motion barreled into Mewtwo, all yellows and blues and reds resolving into a boy.
He was ten, if Tim had to guess, younger than Tim'd been when his mom died, and he had a pikachu on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around Mewtwo with a ferocity that was a little bit terrifying.
Or: Ash and co arrive five minutes late with starbucks to the Detective Pikachu plot, which is basically just in time to give Mewtwo a hug
This
should be a good premise. I loved it when Boldores and Boomsticks referenced the events in Ryme City. But the fic doesn't
do anything with the idea. Tim spends most of the time just standing there doing nothing, the Pokemon names are left uncapitalized, which I hate, and Ash doesn't feel like Ash, even accounting for him being twenty years older.
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Lysandre narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you misunderstand what I am saying."
"Of course I understand!" Ash said. "I was ten the first time I was killed because humans messed with pokémon they had no right to mess with! For six years I've been dealing with people like that!"
Alain choked. There was so much wrong with that statement that he didn't even know where to start deciphering it.
Too short to do anything with the idea, besides Alain angst and that's
very old hat at this point.
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"Thanks, Grant. As you can see, our annual Spring festival is in full swing out here in Pamaring city, and- Oh!"
A pikachu appears on the camera, leaping onto the news anchor's shoulder with an ease that suggests long practice. It's covered in mud and grime, tail thrashing and electricity sparking angrily at its cheeks. For such a small and adorable pokemon, something in the way it glares at the camera sings with intelligence and determination.
A hat- too big and clearly made for humans- sits on its head.
This is not the premise I was expecting. I was
expecting something like Ash and Pikachu constantly photobombing news feeds. Instead I just get Pikachu frantically trying to get attention to his missing trainer, an idea that the fic doesn't go into enough detail to execute on.
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