Intermission at the Panversal Seme Seminar '06
Do I need to tell you that this is crack? Possibly also in bad taste ^_^
(No sense of taste, good sense of taste, tastes good?)
CROSSOVER: Everything/ everything else/ yet more things that DO NOT BELONG
This is a loooooooooong overdue present for Piig.
The line jostled and elbowed and glowered. Near the front a tall fellow with violently red hair hollered, "Oy, what's the holdup?" and spat a partially smoked cigarrette onto the floor.
The technician, a bored and asexual grankk, rolled triple eyes and waved an appendage. "Oh, the SEMse-o-matic is buggering up again. The Uke Convention next door picked us for today's prank, and this thing's been dyeing people pink. Won't be but a moment more."
The redhead recoiled and suddenly seemed a little more patient. Cam rolled his eyes and shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as they'd go.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
Manda bounced. "Talked, hell. You lost the bet fair and square and are stuck giving my presentation for me. Bwaha."
Cam glowered at her and wished he'd worn something a little more formal than a white beater and grease-stained cargos. Presentation, hell. Manda'd told him she wanted help with her new motorcycle.
A small, slim girl with long brown hair careened into Cam's back, propelled by the rippling of the growling, stamping, swearing mass. She gave Cam the sweetest, scariest, most serene smile he'd ever seen and apologized. It was a rather long apology, dreadfully polite. Cam raised both eyebrows and eyebrow piercings. "Er, sure thing," he said. There were far too many people here, and there wasn't a mean atmosphere, as such, just the calm and inevitable knowledge that a fight was going to take place at some point. Cam'd never felt anything like it-- not quite the raw crackle of an incipient bar brawl, not quite the low menace of a potential street fight, not quite the easygoin' 'wanna take it a few rounds?' between buddies. Just violence, faint in the air like waiting rain.
The technician finally got the SEMse-o-matic working, and the line began to trickle forward, thankfully without any glitter or pinkness of any sort, though the occassional tone would sound as someone who wasn't quite as seme as they thought they were tried to get in. They were politely invited to leave, and most stomped off glowering, though a few flushed and slunk.
Manda gripped Cam's arm and stood up on her toes. "Oh my God, is that Spock?"
Cam craned his neck. "What? Where?" They had reached the front of the line, though, and Cam was distracted by the little crackles of lightning that raced along the circumference of the scanner.
"It looks like a Stargate!" Cam said, grinning. He passed through without incident, and Manda followed. A large, toothy rock darted across the floor and through the sensor, which began emitting rainbow sparks. The rock barked at the technician and scaled the drapes.
Manda almost ran into someone, as she'd turned to watch. "...A rock?"
"Yes," a tall, leggy, be-tentacled...person said. "The convention upstairs is auctioning off the wild-caught ones and that one must have escaped...someone'll be down for it shortly." The rock on the drapes had made it up onto the curtain-rod and was hissing at anyone who came close.
Cam rolled his eyes and tugged Manda's arm. "C'mon, let's go find seats."
"You might want to find a bathroom whilst you're at it," Manda said, gently easing her arm free and clapping Cam on the shoulder. "Your mohawk is drooping."
"What!" Cam yelped, and ran his hands carefully over the dyed, stiffened crest, purple and yellow at the moment. "It is not!"
Manda crowed with laughter and easily blocked the swat Cam aimed at the back of her head.
The convention center was a high-ceilinged, ornate place, dainty chandeliers near the roof, and rows of plush comfortable chairs in a manly brown were arranged in a broad arc around the stage. Manda examined their invitations-- "We're to the left, near the stage."
Seats were found and claimed. Cam and Manda people-watched as others trickled in and staked out territory.
"Hey, look, over there!" Manda pointed. The writers stuck close together and made sure their Literary Dispensation badges were clearly visible at all times, and had to take turns holding each other back as this or that seme was spotted and coveted. They eventually made it to the roped-off Visitors seating. Something about the nature of writers insured that Cam had no idea how many of them were actually present. Certainly less than five, though at times he wasn't sure.
"I heard they *all* set off the alarm the first time they tried to get in," an urbane fellow seated behind Manda murmured, waving long fingers at the writers. "But then made it through the second time, though one took four tries! Rather endearing, really, they're awfully cute."
A snicker from his companion. "Oh, quite. Like puppies."
"Or unclubbed baby seals?"
Cam shot a glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Watch it," he growled. "They're mine, and this one here" he jerked a thumb at Manda "has claimed them too."
A sardonic eyebrow from the first speaker. His teeth were a little sharper than expected. "Do tell."
A commotion on the stage claimed everyone's attention. An exceedingly short woman with massive round lenses scurried out onto the stage and climbed a set of stairs to reach the podium. She had a thick accent. "There has been a slight change in the schedual. We shall be starting with Miz Deva Marquez, as the Kanzeon Bosatsu has been delayed. By eir soap opera, from what I heard. Please welcome Miz Deva Marquez."
The short mc exited to lukewarm applause, and Deva bounced majestically onstage. She was wearing a strappy little array of leather and silver buckles that had every hormone in the building wolf-whistling. Even Cam was impressed, though he immediately denied it and made a quick mental change of subject. Once the catcalls and leers had died down, Deva drew a laser pointer out of her cleavage and clicked for the first slide of her powerpoint presentation. Slick red letters proclaimed "BOUND AND BEGGING: Three knots every seme should know, and where to put them."
Three slides later, Cam excused himself to get a coffee. Five minutes later Manda joined him in the cafeteria. She looked impressed and vaguely disturbed. They exchanged glances and made an unspoken agreement never to speak of this again. They didn't go back to their seats until the little mc's voice rang over the speakers.
"And now Cameron Dyllon will lecture on the Care and Feeding of Uke's."
Cam rolled his eyes.
---
Cam looked much more relaxed after he'd hopped down off of the stage, completely disregarding the existence of stairs. Manda clapped loudly and butted his knees with hers when he sat. "Thanks."
He gave her a sidelong glare. "Whatever. Don't expect me to do that again!"
The little mc was back, and introduced the next speaker; "Here to lecture about the newly discovered hormones Sem'atonin and Uk'testerone..."
Cam and Manda got sidetracked arguing over whether or not Cam's mohawk was wilting. Cam insisted it wasn't, and finally revealed that he'd cheated with a little Thread Manip that morning. Just then a lean fellow with a craggy face limped onstage with the help of a cane.
"I don't give speeches," he said sourly. "I lost a bet, and was shamlessly blackmailed by a certain someone who unfortunately couldn't be here tonight. Or couldn't get in, take your pick. In any event he's next door lecturing about something or the other..."
The lecture, while interesting to Manda, had Cam rolling his eyes and slouching into the corner of his chair, his leg slung over the chair's arm, booted foot dangling. The next lecture was far more entertaining, someone called Sha Gojyo. He had no powerpoint or even papers, just stood there and spoke. He had an open face and a cocky grin, and he gestured a lot. His topic was 'Switchin' Off: How to maintain a two-seme household, and what to do if you fall for a switch.'
"Wonder who he's with, that he knows?" Manda muttered. Cam snorted.
Intermission at last, and (all?) three of the writers descended on Dr. House with piercing squeals of glee. Security eventually managed to pry them off of him with the help of a few random seme's, and dumped them forcibly back into the Visitors area, with strict orders not to leave except for bathroom breaks. There was a great deal of pouting. The doctor looked slightly rattled.
Cam had been tense in his chair, ready to go over there and stomp security guards in a fit of protective rage, but Manda insisted he relax. "Security is trained to deal with fangirls, they'll be fine!"
Cam wasn't convinced, but he allowed himself to be restrained. She did have a point. Manda hopped to her feet and tugged his arm. "C'mon, I wanna ask Dr. House something."
Cam raised an eyebrow. "Like, what's his room number? I saw that look."
Manda blushed and socked his arm. Cam snickered and followed her over to the doctor, and winced a little at the House's cologne; Eau de Sarcasm, if he wasn't mistaken, though there may have been hints of Disdain and Misanthropy in there too.
They were close enough to eavesdrop in awe as Deva undulated over to House. He broke off the conversation with a short blonde woman and eyed Deva's cleavage. "Hello, ladies." He flicked his gaze up to Deva's face, and smirked. "Those are magnificent. Are you by any chance related to Cuddy?"
Deva planted both hands on her hips and laughed. She bounced when she laughed, which the doctor seemed to appreciate. "Me?" she said. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm from further south. I might have an opening for you though, on my staff."
House waved a hand. "Not interested, thanks. Though if you've got any pictures of yourself in a french maid outfit, that might convince me to think about it..."
Deva looked at him as if he had fireflies crawling out of his ears, an expression that gradually morphed into one that made Cam curse. He grabbed Manda's arm and retreated a bit.
"Oh, this'll be good."
Manda raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "I'm not sure if that was sarcasm or not. Shouldn't we be running?"
Cam shrugged. "They've got a field on this place, so no paranormal activity of any kind. Which means the worst we have to worry about is someone being beaten to death with a cane."
"Which one?"
"I'd say House, but then again, he's either insane or insanely stupid, so he might just have a chance, if he can get her a good one to the head early in the fight."
"House, you three-legged son of a whore!" someone bellowed. "Where are you?"
A thin man clad all in black (and, oddly enough, also walking with the aid of a cane) clomped over. His peculiar glasses (one red lense, one green) caught the light and his bald head was decorated by a spider tattoo. House gave him a whithering look.
"Oh, it's you. What was your name? Arachnid? And where are your keepers?"
A sharp-edged grin. "Spider. Aren't you happy to see me? I'm crushed. Nevertheless, I've got a bone to beat you with." He caught sight of Deva, and made a show of looking her up and down. "Well hello! What's your name?"
Deva licked her teeth and ran one finger along the 'neckline' of her outfit. The fires of Hell were at home in her eyes. Cam grabbed Manda's arm again and all but bolted.
"You know what? Let's get the writers and go find some food."
Manda resisted, but Cam was bigger and had no problems with dragging her. "Where are we going? Cam, leggo!"
"There's going to be a fight, and that little rope isn't going to do a damned thing--"
The writers were doing what they did best, and barely looked up even when a large shoe flew over Cam's head and knocked one of the Visitor's area poles over. True to Cam's prediction, there was a clatter, a thud, and the fellow with the spider tattoo hollered "You cock-juggling thundercunt!", while House swore. Security guards crawled out of the leafy dimension, out from under chairs, and, in one startling instance, out of someone's pocket. There was a great deal of shouting over the speakers, and a minor scuffle or two (minor meaning, 'less than nuclear-holocaust level), but eventually everyone (Cam and Manda included) was convinced to sit and stay, and Deva, as the instigator, was invited to leave.
"Holy shit," Manda said.
Cam nodded. "Do those guards give lessons? Though obviously things would have been different without the field..."
Spider clomped onstage. There were bloody scratches along his scalp. He leaned one elbow on the podium and spoke with the lilting cadence of a shaman, he had the grin of one deranged.
"Storytime, children! Listen to Papa Spider, and I'll tell you a tale that'll flatten your balls and set your tits on fire..."
THE END
(No sense of taste, good sense of taste, tastes good?)
CROSSOVER: Everything/ everything else/ yet more things that DO NOT BELONG
This is a loooooooooong overdue present for Piig.
The line jostled and elbowed and glowered. Near the front a tall fellow with violently red hair hollered, "Oy, what's the holdup?" and spat a partially smoked cigarrette onto the floor.
The technician, a bored and asexual grankk, rolled triple eyes and waved an appendage. "Oh, the SEMse-o-matic is buggering up again. The Uke Convention next door picked us for today's prank, and this thing's been dyeing people pink. Won't be but a moment more."
The redhead recoiled and suddenly seemed a little more patient. Cam rolled his eyes and shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as they'd go.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
Manda bounced. "Talked, hell. You lost the bet fair and square and are stuck giving my presentation for me. Bwaha."
Cam glowered at her and wished he'd worn something a little more formal than a white beater and grease-stained cargos. Presentation, hell. Manda'd told him she wanted help with her new motorcycle.
A small, slim girl with long brown hair careened into Cam's back, propelled by the rippling of the growling, stamping, swearing mass. She gave Cam the sweetest, scariest, most serene smile he'd ever seen and apologized. It was a rather long apology, dreadfully polite. Cam raised both eyebrows and eyebrow piercings. "Er, sure thing," he said. There were far too many people here, and there wasn't a mean atmosphere, as such, just the calm and inevitable knowledge that a fight was going to take place at some point. Cam'd never felt anything like it-- not quite the raw crackle of an incipient bar brawl, not quite the low menace of a potential street fight, not quite the easygoin' 'wanna take it a few rounds?' between buddies. Just violence, faint in the air like waiting rain.
The technician finally got the SEMse-o-matic working, and the line began to trickle forward, thankfully without any glitter or pinkness of any sort, though the occassional tone would sound as someone who wasn't quite as seme as they thought they were tried to get in. They were politely invited to leave, and most stomped off glowering, though a few flushed and slunk.
Manda gripped Cam's arm and stood up on her toes. "Oh my God, is that Spock?"
Cam craned his neck. "What? Where?" They had reached the front of the line, though, and Cam was distracted by the little crackles of lightning that raced along the circumference of the scanner.
"It looks like a Stargate!" Cam said, grinning. He passed through without incident, and Manda followed. A large, toothy rock darted across the floor and through the sensor, which began emitting rainbow sparks. The rock barked at the technician and scaled the drapes.
Manda almost ran into someone, as she'd turned to watch. "...A rock?"
"Yes," a tall, leggy, be-tentacled...person said. "The convention upstairs is auctioning off the wild-caught ones and that one must have escaped...someone'll be down for it shortly." The rock on the drapes had made it up onto the curtain-rod and was hissing at anyone who came close.
Cam rolled his eyes and tugged Manda's arm. "C'mon, let's go find seats."
"You might want to find a bathroom whilst you're at it," Manda said, gently easing her arm free and clapping Cam on the shoulder. "Your mohawk is drooping."
"What!" Cam yelped, and ran his hands carefully over the dyed, stiffened crest, purple and yellow at the moment. "It is not!"
Manda crowed with laughter and easily blocked the swat Cam aimed at the back of her head.
The convention center was a high-ceilinged, ornate place, dainty chandeliers near the roof, and rows of plush comfortable chairs in a manly brown were arranged in a broad arc around the stage. Manda examined their invitations-- "We're to the left, near the stage."
Seats were found and claimed. Cam and Manda people-watched as others trickled in and staked out territory.
"Hey, look, over there!" Manda pointed. The writers stuck close together and made sure their Literary Dispensation badges were clearly visible at all times, and had to take turns holding each other back as this or that seme was spotted and coveted. They eventually made it to the roped-off Visitors seating. Something about the nature of writers insured that Cam had no idea how many of them were actually present. Certainly less than five, though at times he wasn't sure.
"I heard they *all* set off the alarm the first time they tried to get in," an urbane fellow seated behind Manda murmured, waving long fingers at the writers. "But then made it through the second time, though one took four tries! Rather endearing, really, they're awfully cute."
A snicker from his companion. "Oh, quite. Like puppies."
"Or unclubbed baby seals?"
Cam shot a glance over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. "Watch it," he growled. "They're mine, and this one here" he jerked a thumb at Manda "has claimed them too."
A sardonic eyebrow from the first speaker. His teeth were a little sharper than expected. "Do tell."
A commotion on the stage claimed everyone's attention. An exceedingly short woman with massive round lenses scurried out onto the stage and climbed a set of stairs to reach the podium. She had a thick accent. "There has been a slight change in the schedual. We shall be starting with Miz Deva Marquez, as the Kanzeon Bosatsu has been delayed. By eir soap opera, from what I heard. Please welcome Miz Deva Marquez."
The short mc exited to lukewarm applause, and Deva bounced majestically onstage. She was wearing a strappy little array of leather and silver buckles that had every hormone in the building wolf-whistling. Even Cam was impressed, though he immediately denied it and made a quick mental change of subject. Once the catcalls and leers had died down, Deva drew a laser pointer out of her cleavage and clicked for the first slide of her powerpoint presentation. Slick red letters proclaimed "BOUND AND BEGGING: Three knots every seme should know, and where to put them."
Three slides later, Cam excused himself to get a coffee. Five minutes later Manda joined him in the cafeteria. She looked impressed and vaguely disturbed. They exchanged glances and made an unspoken agreement never to speak of this again. They didn't go back to their seats until the little mc's voice rang over the speakers.
"And now Cameron Dyllon will lecture on the Care and Feeding of Uke's."
Cam rolled his eyes.
---
Cam looked much more relaxed after he'd hopped down off of the stage, completely disregarding the existence of stairs. Manda clapped loudly and butted his knees with hers when he sat. "Thanks."
He gave her a sidelong glare. "Whatever. Don't expect me to do that again!"
The little mc was back, and introduced the next speaker; "Here to lecture about the newly discovered hormones Sem'atonin and Uk'testerone..."
Cam and Manda got sidetracked arguing over whether or not Cam's mohawk was wilting. Cam insisted it wasn't, and finally revealed that he'd cheated with a little Thread Manip that morning. Just then a lean fellow with a craggy face limped onstage with the help of a cane.
"I don't give speeches," he said sourly. "I lost a bet, and was shamlessly blackmailed by a certain someone who unfortunately couldn't be here tonight. Or couldn't get in, take your pick. In any event he's next door lecturing about something or the other..."
The lecture, while interesting to Manda, had Cam rolling his eyes and slouching into the corner of his chair, his leg slung over the chair's arm, booted foot dangling. The next lecture was far more entertaining, someone called Sha Gojyo. He had no powerpoint or even papers, just stood there and spoke. He had an open face and a cocky grin, and he gestured a lot. His topic was 'Switchin' Off: How to maintain a two-seme household, and what to do if you fall for a switch.'
"Wonder who he's with, that he knows?" Manda muttered. Cam snorted.
Intermission at last, and (all?) three of the writers descended on Dr. House with piercing squeals of glee. Security eventually managed to pry them off of him with the help of a few random seme's, and dumped them forcibly back into the Visitors area, with strict orders not to leave except for bathroom breaks. There was a great deal of pouting. The doctor looked slightly rattled.
Cam had been tense in his chair, ready to go over there and stomp security guards in a fit of protective rage, but Manda insisted he relax. "Security is trained to deal with fangirls, they'll be fine!"
Cam wasn't convinced, but he allowed himself to be restrained. She did have a point. Manda hopped to her feet and tugged his arm. "C'mon, I wanna ask Dr. House something."
Cam raised an eyebrow. "Like, what's his room number? I saw that look."
Manda blushed and socked his arm. Cam snickered and followed her over to the doctor, and winced a little at the House's cologne; Eau de Sarcasm, if he wasn't mistaken, though there may have been hints of Disdain and Misanthropy in there too.
They were close enough to eavesdrop in awe as Deva undulated over to House. He broke off the conversation with a short blonde woman and eyed Deva's cleavage. "Hello, ladies." He flicked his gaze up to Deva's face, and smirked. "Those are magnificent. Are you by any chance related to Cuddy?"
Deva planted both hands on her hips and laughed. She bounced when she laughed, which the doctor seemed to appreciate. "Me?" she said. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm from further south. I might have an opening for you though, on my staff."
House waved a hand. "Not interested, thanks. Though if you've got any pictures of yourself in a french maid outfit, that might convince me to think about it..."
Deva looked at him as if he had fireflies crawling out of his ears, an expression that gradually morphed into one that made Cam curse. He grabbed Manda's arm and retreated a bit.
"Oh, this'll be good."
Manda raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "I'm not sure if that was sarcasm or not. Shouldn't we be running?"
Cam shrugged. "They've got a field on this place, so no paranormal activity of any kind. Which means the worst we have to worry about is someone being beaten to death with a cane."
"Which one?"
"I'd say House, but then again, he's either insane or insanely stupid, so he might just have a chance, if he can get her a good one to the head early in the fight."
"House, you three-legged son of a whore!" someone bellowed. "Where are you?"
A thin man clad all in black (and, oddly enough, also walking with the aid of a cane) clomped over. His peculiar glasses (one red lense, one green) caught the light and his bald head was decorated by a spider tattoo. House gave him a whithering look.
"Oh, it's you. What was your name? Arachnid? And where are your keepers?"
A sharp-edged grin. "Spider. Aren't you happy to see me? I'm crushed. Nevertheless, I've got a bone to beat you with." He caught sight of Deva, and made a show of looking her up and down. "Well hello! What's your name?"
Deva licked her teeth and ran one finger along the 'neckline' of her outfit. The fires of Hell were at home in her eyes. Cam grabbed Manda's arm again and all but bolted.
"You know what? Let's get the writers and go find some food."
Manda resisted, but Cam was bigger and had no problems with dragging her. "Where are we going? Cam, leggo!"
"There's going to be a fight, and that little rope isn't going to do a damned thing--"
The writers were doing what they did best, and barely looked up even when a large shoe flew over Cam's head and knocked one of the Visitor's area poles over. True to Cam's prediction, there was a clatter, a thud, and the fellow with the spider tattoo hollered "You cock-juggling thundercunt!", while House swore. Security guards crawled out of the leafy dimension, out from under chairs, and, in one startling instance, out of someone's pocket. There was a great deal of shouting over the speakers, and a minor scuffle or two (minor meaning, 'less than nuclear-holocaust level), but eventually everyone (Cam and Manda included) was convinced to sit and stay, and Deva, as the instigator, was invited to leave.
"Holy shit," Manda said.
Cam nodded. "Do those guards give lessons? Though obviously things would have been different without the field..."
Spider clomped onstage. There were bloody scratches along his scalp. He leaned one elbow on the podium and spoke with the lilting cadence of a shaman, he had the grin of one deranged.
"Storytime, children! Listen to Papa Spider, and I'll tell you a tale that'll flatten your balls and set your tits on fire..."
THE END