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Fire Emblem 10 - The Most Offensive Story
The Most Offensive Story (Fire Emblem 10, but not really)
Genre: Parody/Drama
Word Count: ~1100
R for graphic everything.
Summary: This free-to-read story will make you angry, or your money back guaranteed.
Notes: If you have any really sensitive triggers, do not read. If you're not offended, you should let me know what offends you so I can fix it.
The truth was that Soren never liked making important decisions. After Ike swept him away from Tellius in a flurry of rose petals – leaving the entirety of the rest of Tellius to rot, including Elincia who promptly dissolved into a sticky puddle of unrequited tender feelings and left Crimea in a state of chaos – after all of that happened, from a storytelling perspective and not a chronological one, Soren clung very close to him one rainy night and made his tearstricken confession.
“The truth is, Ike,” he sobbed, wept, lamented, and gravely intoned, “I think we were wrong.”
“You don't mean –”
“I'm afraid so, Ike,” he lachrymosed. “We're not really friends. We're gay. And I'm the uke.”
“But that can't be,” Ike insisted and declared. “I'm awesome. You know I'm awesome. I used big swords. Ragnell, for fuck's sake.”
“But I feel this way about you, this way that makes my heart go doki doki. So that must mean that –”
“I'm gay. And I'm the seme.”
Soren nodded very seriously.
“I feel like I'm staining my father's memory,” Ike whispered and confessed. “Ashera always did hate fags.”
“We can never be together,” Soren wept, lamented, and sobbed. “All this despite how much I need you here with me.”
“Shh, shh,” Ike whispered, drinking away Soren's crystalline tears. “It'll be okay.”
“You don't understand!” Soren screamed anguishedly. “I have AIDSPTSD!”
Ike recoiled in shock. He knew what Soren was talking about. Everyone knew AIDSPTSD: Acute Inhibitory Dimension Seeing Partnered with Tense Switching Disorder. “No, you don't mean AIDSPTSD? The incurable disease that automatically dooms you to a life of suffering, despair, and meaninglessness?”
“The very one.”
“Soren,” Ike murmured gravely. “Soren,” he repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders, turning him around, and pressing his face into the rain-soaked bedroll.
“Ike!” he exclaimed, wriggling about in Ike's grasp. “But Ike, we didn't warn for this –”
“Shh,” Ike whispered, “that's just your AIDSPTSD leading you astray.”
As Ike rid Soren of all his clothing, Soren tried to buck him off, still screaming protests. “Think of one fourth of the women in the United States! Think of the people you personally know won't like this! Think about me! Think about how gay you're being! Think about – think about Renault!”
“Shh,” Ike whispered, silencing Soren with a kiss. “I don't care about any of that.”
“But he's so deep,” Soren wept, his red eyes growing redder. “Our series – it's so deep. How could you say that?”
“You're just confused,” Ike admonished. “Your AIDSPTSD is acting up. Just give in to this and it'll all be okay.”
“You never listen,” Soren continued to weep, “you never listen to anything I say, you always think you're right – uwaah!”
His scream reverberated through the hills. A flock of birds were startled away from their tree and took off into the sky, shifting the focus from the protagonists into the den of the evil antagonists who suddenly came into existence on this deserted continent.
“Th' n'm's D'rpd'rp,” the first antagonist grunted. He was black, and also a bandit.
“'M H'rrd'rr,” the second antagonist grunted. He was (not coincidentally) also black and a bandit.
“L't's st'l s'm g'ld,” Derpderp grunted.
“Th'n we'll l'st'n t' b'nd't h'p-h'p,” Hurrdurr grunted.
“Y' m'ss'd a v'w'l,” Derpderp grunted, before realizing that he did too. Before Hurrdurr could form a protest, Derpderp knocked him out with a blow to the head, caveman style, and dragged him off to the source of the scream.
Soren was writhing about beneath Ike, his heart battling conflicted feelings. Ike's rapid ramming shot pain through his frail body with each thrust, but deep down inside it tapped a beautiful pool of pleasure, like a natural spring before bottled water companies get to it (vote Green Party or you're going to hell). “Ike,” he gasped, “Ike, stop,” except he didn't actually want Ike to stop. By the strength of their long-lasting bonds, Ike understood what Soren really wanted and drove himself faster.
With one last heave, Ike squirted his seed into Soren's rear and fell on top of him, breathless.
“Ike,” Soren whispered.
“What is it, Soren?”
“I was just thinking, Ike,” he continued to whisper, running his hands over Ike's sweaty skin. “Why aren't there any women in this story?”
“Shh,” Ike whispered. “Don't think about these things now.” He laid a kiss on Soren's brand and held him close. “I'm here.” Soren nestled into Ike's embrace and felt the shackles of his AIDSPTSD drift away, like a shoddy transition from one scene into the next.
An axe thunked into Ike's head, and Soren screamed. “You can't die, Ike! This isn't tragedy! No one said there would be character death! There was no buildup, the atmosphere was wrong! And – and –”
Derpderp pulled his axe from Ike's head with a schlup, and Hurrdurr joined him, one breast poking from tattered generic bandit clothes.
“– And you're a woman!” Soren declared, fervently gesticulating toward Hurrdurr, who throughout this brief battle had done a grand sum of nothing.
“H'rd'rr f'ls l'k a m'n,” Hurrdurr grunted.
Soren curled up into a little ball in his rain and blood soaked bedroll, weeping like he was five and the sage was about to beat him within an inch of his life again and demand that they learn magic anyway the next morning. “I've been,” he sobbed, “I've been so deceived.”
Derpderp and Hurrdurr vanished into the thin air from which they were created, leaving Soren to crawl about in his lover's blood and brains. He tilted Ike's smashed head and felt around in the messy bits of flesh for a pair of lips, then romantically laid one last kiss upon them.
He can feel the AIDSPTSD's grip upon him tightening, stronger than ever. He will look into the horizon, after he looked to the foreground. Slowly he releases his grip on Ike and lets him fall back onto their nest of love and death, and he turned to face you.
Soren leans in very close to you. So close you can still see the tears oozing from his crimson eyes and smell the despair on his breath.
Then he whispers very, very quietly, “Your handcanon is wrong.”
Genre: Parody/Drama
Word Count: ~1100
R for graphic everything.
Summary: This free-to-read story will make you angry, or your money back guaranteed.
Notes: If you have any really sensitive triggers, do not read. If you're not offended, you should let me know what offends you so I can fix it.
The truth was that Soren never liked making important decisions. After Ike swept him away from Tellius in a flurry of rose petals – leaving the entirety of the rest of Tellius to rot, including Elincia who promptly dissolved into a sticky puddle of unrequited tender feelings and left Crimea in a state of chaos – after all of that happened, from a storytelling perspective and not a chronological one, Soren clung very close to him one rainy night and made his tearstricken confession.
“The truth is, Ike,” he sobbed, wept, lamented, and gravely intoned, “I think we were wrong.”
“You don't mean –”
“I'm afraid so, Ike,” he lachrymosed. “We're not really friends. We're gay. And I'm the uke.”
“But that can't be,” Ike insisted and declared. “I'm awesome. You know I'm awesome. I used big swords. Ragnell, for fuck's sake.”
“But I feel this way about you, this way that makes my heart go doki doki. So that must mean that –”
“I'm gay. And I'm the seme.”
Soren nodded very seriously.
“I feel like I'm staining my father's memory,” Ike whispered and confessed. “Ashera always did hate fags.”
“We can never be together,” Soren wept, lamented, and sobbed. “All this despite how much I need you here with me.”
“Shh, shh,” Ike whispered, drinking away Soren's crystalline tears. “It'll be okay.”
“You don't understand!” Soren screamed anguishedly. “I have AIDSPTSD!”
Ike recoiled in shock. He knew what Soren was talking about. Everyone knew AIDSPTSD: Acute Inhibitory Dimension Seeing Partnered with Tense Switching Disorder. “No, you don't mean AIDSPTSD? The incurable disease that automatically dooms you to a life of suffering, despair, and meaninglessness?”
“The very one.”
“Soren,” Ike murmured gravely. “Soren,” he repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders, turning him around, and pressing his face into the rain-soaked bedroll.
“Ike!” he exclaimed, wriggling about in Ike's grasp. “But Ike, we didn't warn for this –”
“Shh,” Ike whispered, “that's just your AIDSPTSD leading you astray.”
As Ike rid Soren of all his clothing, Soren tried to buck him off, still screaming protests. “Think of one fourth of the women in the United States! Think of the people you personally know won't like this! Think about me! Think about how gay you're being! Think about – think about Renault!”
“Shh,” Ike whispered, silencing Soren with a kiss. “I don't care about any of that.”
“But he's so deep,” Soren wept, his red eyes growing redder. “Our series – it's so deep. How could you say that?”
“You're just confused,” Ike admonished. “Your AIDSPTSD is acting up. Just give in to this and it'll all be okay.”
“You never listen,” Soren continued to weep, “you never listen to anything I say, you always think you're right – uwaah!”
His scream reverberated through the hills. A flock of birds were startled away from their tree and took off into the sky, shifting the focus from the protagonists into the den of the evil antagonists who suddenly came into existence on this deserted continent.
“Th' n'm's D'rpd'rp,” the first antagonist grunted. He was black, and also a bandit.
“'M H'rrd'rr,” the second antagonist grunted. He was (not coincidentally) also black and a bandit.
“L't's st'l s'm g'ld,” Derpderp grunted.
“Th'n we'll l'st'n t' b'nd't h'p-h'p,” Hurrdurr grunted.
“Y' m'ss'd a v'w'l,” Derpderp grunted, before realizing that he did too. Before Hurrdurr could form a protest, Derpderp knocked him out with a blow to the head, caveman style, and dragged him off to the source of the scream.
Soren was writhing about beneath Ike, his heart battling conflicted feelings. Ike's rapid ramming shot pain through his frail body with each thrust, but deep down inside it tapped a beautiful pool of pleasure, like a natural spring before bottled water companies get to it (vote Green Party or you're going to hell). “Ike,” he gasped, “Ike, stop,” except he didn't actually want Ike to stop. By the strength of their long-lasting bonds, Ike understood what Soren really wanted and drove himself faster.
With one last heave, Ike squirted his seed into Soren's rear and fell on top of him, breathless.
“Ike,” Soren whispered.
“What is it, Soren?”
“I was just thinking, Ike,” he continued to whisper, running his hands over Ike's sweaty skin. “Why aren't there any women in this story?”
“Shh,” Ike whispered. “Don't think about these things now.” He laid a kiss on Soren's brand and held him close. “I'm here.” Soren nestled into Ike's embrace and felt the shackles of his AIDSPTSD drift away, like a shoddy transition from one scene into the next.
An axe thunked into Ike's head, and Soren screamed. “You can't die, Ike! This isn't tragedy! No one said there would be character death! There was no buildup, the atmosphere was wrong! And – and –”
Derpderp pulled his axe from Ike's head with a schlup, and Hurrdurr joined him, one breast poking from tattered generic bandit clothes.
“– And you're a woman!” Soren declared, fervently gesticulating toward Hurrdurr, who throughout this brief battle had done a grand sum of nothing.
“H'rd'rr f'ls l'k a m'n,” Hurrdurr grunted.
Soren curled up into a little ball in his rain and blood soaked bedroll, weeping like he was five and the sage was about to beat him within an inch of his life again and demand that they learn magic anyway the next morning. “I've been,” he sobbed, “I've been so deceived.”
Derpderp and Hurrdurr vanished into the thin air from which they were created, leaving Soren to crawl about in his lover's blood and brains. He tilted Ike's smashed head and felt around in the messy bits of flesh for a pair of lips, then romantically laid one last kiss upon them.
He can feel the AIDSPTSD's grip upon him tightening, stronger than ever. He will look into the horizon, after he looked to the foreground. Slowly he releases his grip on Ike and lets him fall back onto their nest of love and death, and he turned to face you.
Soren leans in very close to you. So close you can still see the tears oozing from his crimson eyes and smell the despair on his breath.
Then he whispers very, very quietly, “Your handcanon is wrong.”
100% STRAIGHT
(Anonymous) 2011-11-07 11:18 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
JUST
SO
OFFENDED
no subject
no subject
WELL THATS JUST UR HEADCANON
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no subject
no subject
no subject