FF8: Not Another Bloody Conspiracy!

Aww, thanks :slight_smile:

ahhh, we’re all good here, unlike ffnet.

Another one for you.

AUs which are blatent Quall vehicles.
7th Child of Fate who is a Mary Sue.
Mysterious person who appears from nowhere and proceeds to beat up everyone perfectly. ALso MS

Noted, noted and noted :o Thanks for the input.

Yay, more conspiracies! I ah… mainly focus on Mary Sues on this part ^^;;

“Alright then, better find Quistis then,” the cowboy said, “do you think she’s brooding in her loneliness in her room or the secret area?”
“Let’s check her room,” Zell said with a slight grimace, “if she’s in the secret area she’s probably in the middle of a hot scene with an author’s avatar character, and that’s one thing I can live without seeing.”
He shuddered violently.
“Been in those a few times too many meself…”
“Oh please, don’t talk about things like that,” Irvine said, his face turning a slight shade of green, “I just had lunch!”
Zell nodded, apologetically.
“Sorry. Wait…”
His disgusted look melted into one of complete euphoria.
“Lunch?” he purred, starting down the stairs.
Irvine cursed and ran after the martial artist, leaping from the middle of the stair to tackle Zell just as he reached the floor.
The traditional scene with Dr. Kadowaki’s wrapping up and nagging about being more careful later – <I>after</I> she had spent half an hour being mystified about the cause of the broken bones and found out that Irvine was carrying around a deadly disease that would kill anyone eating oranges of course – the two SeeD’s were heading towards the dormitories.
“Why did you have to do that?” Zell grumpily asked, cracking his shoulders, “you broke my neck, man!”
“We have no time for hotdogs, we have to save the existence of mankind from being sucked into a black hole of eternal void and stuff!” Irvine snapped, adjusting the sling for his broken arm.
“But… hotdogs…”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, man!”
“I can hear them calling me from in there,” Zell sighed and threw a longing glance at the cafeteria doors, “they are all alone…”
Irvine stared at his friend, grabbing the blond SeeD’s shoulder with his good hand.
“Zell! Snap out of it! You’re hypnotized for Hyne’s sake! Listen to yourself, completely lost! Think of Pigtail/Wendy/Lisa/Jessica/Feena/Dagger/Tifa/Terra/whatever her name is today!”
The martial artist blinked a few times. Slowly he raised a pointing finger from a fist.
“Yes?” the sharpshooter worriedly said, one inch from dragging Zell back to the infirmary in his toenails if needed.
“Me. Hotdogs. Cliché.”
Irvine paused. After a moment his hand fell.
“Oh, sorry.”
“’S’okay,” Zell brightly said, “now, let’s grab some hotdogs!”
Irvine sighed, took a hold of his friend’s collar and dragged him ahead down the hall despite the kicking and screaming.
“We’re not here to grab hotdogs, Zell,” the cowboy patiently sighed, “we’re going to grab Quistis and go with her to Galbadia so that she can get it on with Seifer. And then we might rescue Rinoa if we’re lucky.”
Zell fell silent for a few seconds, thinking the middle sentence over while Irvine did the same.
“Well…” the martial artist finally nodded approvingly, “I guess that fills a bit of your dirty jokes quota.”
Irvine muttered something under his breath. It sounded like “So much time, so little new ideas…”
Finally they reached the girls’ dormitories. And, since there had to be a lot of elbow room for D-rated lemon/porno fics, for some reason the two SeeDs found themselves unable to remember which room that belonged to Quistis. Of the same reason they settled for the idea to check a few random rooms – without knocking of course, since that would ruin the already questionable plots completely – to see if they could find their whip-wielding ally.
They walked in on seven Mary Sues in the shower – which was peculiar since not even the SeeD rooms had their own bathrooms – and five other of the same kind in the middle of questionable activities of which one involved Xu and the others various male and female heroes from animes, games and fantasy epics turned into movies.
After spending several hours working their way through the so called “stories” since no author character ever lets a hero escape if he’s within his/her wide reach, Irvine and Zell crawled up to Quistis’ door.

lol! Great stuff!

Mwehehehe… Very cool. Very cool

I R t3h inzane! :o

(translation: Thanks guys ^_^)

s0|/|3 l33t //r1=1||g skillz* there Weiila

Capital talent, what ho! twirls moustache

Heck, I’m on a roll! Funny that since I’ve got a cold :stuck_out_tongue: One of Those Days II, here I come… but first, more satire!

After spending several hours working their way through the so called “stories” since no author character ever lets a hero escape if he’s within his/her reach, Irvine and Zell crawled up to Quistis’ door. 

“We’re… not talking… about it… ever…” Zell rasped in a weak voice.
Irvine shook his head without any force.
“Never… as… usual…”
They fought their way back onto their feet, rapping at Quistis’ door.
There was no reply.
The two men exchanged hesitant glances.
Irvine reached out his good arm and tried the handle, very carefully.
The door was unlocked, sliding up without the slightest effort.
“Quis?” the sharpshooter said, frowning.
No reply.
Slowly Irvine pushed the door open, revealing a darkened room. The blinds locked out the sunlight and the wind from the moving gate caused thin paper shreds to fleet across the dark floor. There wasn’t a living thing inside the room.
Irvine turned on the light and sucked in his breath.
Zell cautiously peeked under the sharpshooter’s arm – since he was too short to peek over the high shoulder – and sighed.
“Aw, man…” the martial artist groaned, “I hate this stuff. So damn messy.”
Quistis had been murdered. Very murdered.
Heaving a deep sigh Irvine entered the room, carefully stepping over the pools of blood, torn diary pages and shattered vine bottles. He gently reached out and stroke the blond locks that laid sprawled over the silky pillow of his friend’s bed.
At least she was still dressed this time, though the wound through her chest looked no less icky.
Irvine took out a small tape recorder and pushed the red button.
“The time is 04.37 PM,” the cowboy announced, checking his watch, “former instructor Quistis Trepe, SeeD rank A found dead by Irvine Kinneas and Zell Dincht. Reason of death; one hella big hole in her chest. No weapon in sight, room is a mess. Signs of struggle proven by last sentence. We will now proceed with the investigation.”
He turned the recorder off and banished it back to a hidden pocket in his jacket. Then he took off his hat and scratched his hair.
“Okay…” he muttered, “what’s the next step again?”
“I guess we call the doctor and Squall, and then we start watching security tapes,” Zell winced, “boring…”
Irvine looked thoughtful for a moment.
“But wait, wasn’t Quistis supposed to fall for Seifer in this story?” he said, frowning.
“She’s better off this way,” the tattooed fellow forcefully stated, “though, that does screw up the plot. Unless…”
They exchanged glances and turned around, walked out and closed the door. Setting off down the hall again while staying as far away from all dorms as possible, the two SeeDs kept all senses open.
Just by the exit they met a pale and haggard Quistis, heavily leaning against the wall with a confused expression.
“Yep, it’s a hero-proclaimed-dead-found-alive-with-amnesia story,” Zell concluded and watched the blond woman with compassion, “I guess it’s also one of those really sappy love-of-my-life-nurses-me-back-to-health. Ick, man! It’s <I>Seifer</I> for all meat products’ sake!”
“Well, at least it’s not Zone or Wedge,” Irvine grunted.
“Nah, even they would be better. Though they are even worse loosers than him…”
Quistis looked up as the two men walked closer, staring at them as she tried to fight her way through the thick mist in her mind. All she remembered was a feeling of loss and sudden pain…
“Hey Quis, no time to explain, we’re going to Galbadia to fix you up and save a friend along with the world,” Irvine briefly informed, hooking up his arm with Quistis’ weak one and dragging her along.
“Who are you? Who am I?” she mumbled in a confused, slurring voice but didn’t protest as she was more or less carried away by to her complete strangers.
As his three warriors set off towards the greatest adventure of their lives according to this html file, Squall was still in his office and checking off another cliché while he waited for news. Once again the phone was being screamed at, though the poor little thing had done nothing wrong.
“I hate you! You are a <I>horrible</I> father! You just left me and sis to rot there in that orphanage, you didn’t care one bit! And you know what, you suck too! Go get a leg cramp or something!”
“Uh, Squall,” the voice on the other side said, “it’s me, Kiros.”
“Oh,” the commander said in a calm voice, “sorry.”
“It’s okay. Here, I’ll let you talk to Laguna now.”
“I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
A couple of seconds later another voice spoke on the other end of the line.
“Hey son, I just wanted to tell you that I love you more than anything else in the whole world,” Laguna said in a puppy eyes voice.
“I hate you, dad!” Squall screamed.
He continued to rant about how much he hated the president of Esthar for ten minutes.
As his son finally paused for breath, Laguna felt a tap on the arm and turned to Ward. The mute giant nodded and held up a cluttered schedule for his friend and boss to see. Laguna read the tiny text that was pointed out and sighed.
“Sorry son, I have to cut it short,” he said to the phone, “I’m scheduled to hold a speech and get assassinated with tomato darts at five o’clock, so we’ll have to finish this later.”
“And you favor your job over me all the time!” Squall snarled.
“Yeah, I wish I didn’t have to do that as well,” Laguna apologized, “I’ll call you tomorrow, promise. Oh, and take some aspirin, you know that Elle will send you to the dream world in a few minutes or so, unless she gets assassinated too.”
“Fine! And don’t ever call me again!”
“Good, talk to you tomorrow.”
Squall slammed down the phone. He then proceeded to pour up a glass of water from the jug on the corner of his desk. After this ritual was done he pulled out a bottle of aspirin from one of the drawers and freed a couple from their tiny prison.
When he had swallowed the painkillers with a few gulps of water he leaned back in his chair and counted.
“Five… four… three… two… one…”
The all too familiar, shrill beep tore through his mind, forcing him to press his hands against his skull. Violently rocking back and forth a few times he finally lost the hopeless battle and slid out of his chair to the floor, fleeting off by the power of his and the rest of the gang’s sis.
He was dragged through vision after vision of Laguna’s life through the eyes of the bumbling soldier, listening to long discussions with Kiros, Ward, random bartenders and overly beautiful lost loves with a “M.S” stamp on their foreheads. Pain roared through Squall’s soul as he watched his father’s vision turn blurry with tears that were stroked away by old friends or various bypassers – a lot of them with the other hand on a keyboard.
After a while, Squall simply fell asleep out of sheer boredom.
In his dream, he wandered down a great hall, each step echoing in the darkness surrounding him. Candles floated into existence on his sides and his boots began to meet a darkly blue carpet instead of cold stone.
Pictures of women in strange outfits, horrible makeup and peculiar eye color haunted the other side of the burning candles, flicking in and out of existence while calling out in despair. Their cries were distant and muffled, hardly more than breezes though their expressions spoke volumes.
Squall sadly watched his beloved Matron pass by for a few moments, closely followed by a vision of Adel – at this point the commander looked the other way in pure disgust, with more enthusiasm regarding a vision of a happily waving and badly dressed Kefka (for reasons unknown, perhaps he was selling makeup designs…) – who was replaced by Ultimecia. The sorceress of the future reached out for the wandering SeeD with a desperate expression. For a moment her eyes looked eerily familiar, and her flooding hair fell around her shoulders to become a silky, raven-black veil.
“Squall…” the blood-red lips formed in a silent scream, melting into a more natural color as well.
The commander watched Ultimecia’s transformation into Rinoa go back and forth a couple of times before she melted away.
“Warning acknowledged,” he murmured with a sigh at the repetition and walked onwards.
Finally he reached the end of the carpet and candles, finding a pool of darkness by his feet. But not for long. As Squall stopped the magical veil fell away to reveal a broken body sprawled on the floor.
Raven hair fell over a heaven-blue, stitched jacket adorned with a pair of white angel wings, mostly bare legs shining against the chilly, dark floor.
Squall dove onto his knees and tore Rinoa into his arms, with little surprise finding that she wasn’t breathing. Her face was pale, the once vivid eyes closed in the peace of death.
“And so it will be,” a half-female, half-male voice said from above.
With a growl Squall looked up, meeting the silvery eyes of the widely feared – at least since the start of the story – bishounen sorcerer, leader of the purple-green-blue carnivore cannibalistic aliens from outer space. His(?) long ocean-green hair gently flapped around his pale, striped and spotted face like the waves of the ocean. Silky, frightfully translucent pink robes moved with the hair.
“I take it that you have decided to make me your knight?” Squall asked.
The sorcerer nodded with a cruel snicker.
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“And you’ll make my life living hell when I refuse?”
“According to the manual yes, and gladly so. I’m a sadist, you see,” the new greatest evil of all time happily informed.
“Been there, done that.”
With a grunt Squall stood, still carrying the life-less Rinoa in his arms despite protests from his back that he had not lifted her with his spine held straight, which had strained the bones more than needed.
“But I assure you,” the commander bravely challenged, “that after all I have been through with insane fanfic authors, there is nothing…”
He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and he turned. Ruby eyes glared straight back from a deathly pale face surrounded by a thin flow of blue hair. A leather plate adorned a muscular chest, but most of the stranger was shrouded in his crimson ocean of a cloak.
“You have much to learn, boy,” the dimension-crossing guest grimly said in a cold voice, “but despite myself I will offer you some advice. Never, ever say that you have been through the worst that anyone can think of, that only invokes their inspiration. Got that, youngster?”
He waited for Squall to nod since there was nothing else to do.
“Good,” the stranger said, “then I’ll just resume die trying to find my sister. Good day.”
And with that, the strange visitor opened a flashing, dark hole in the chilly air and leaped through with snake-alike movements. The rift in time and space neatly closed.
“Whatever,” Squall muttered, a bit hesitantly though.
He looked up at the master of the purple-green-blue carnivore cannibalistic aliens from outer space.
“Can I go now?” he wondered, “I have reports to read and more plot to take care of.”
“Sure,” the bishounen said, leaning his cheek in his hand with a seductive smile, “but rest assured that we will meet again.”
Squall faded back to the waking world with a sigh of relief.

Still great, still true, still cliched. :o

Lookin forward to the next installment. ^_-

I don’t know whether this has been posted yet.

Squall/Seifer/Rinoa’s older sister/brother comes to visit. Proceeds to have all men/women/both fall madly in love with them.


Student comes ot Garden, is way more powerful than most SeeDs, and always has a name with the words Moon, Sun, Sparkle, etc in it.

All that, and a quick, subtle stab at yourself, too, with the blue haired cameo.


Very nice. [And while I haven’t yet officially committed the “Squall is mad at Laguna for abandoning him” cliche, I’m about to. Kinda trippy to see it pop up just as I was thinking about it…]

So is Mary Sue a common code / euphemism for the fan-characters I was talking about, or something?

That Mary Sue is what the author characters are called is what I’ve understood, but that’s since I haven’t found any other label for them. They are only the “perfect” ones though, the beautiful and clever ladies and men who can do nothing wrong and charms everyone around them.

And thanks guys :slight_smile:

I am quite frightened…

And yet strangely intrigued…

By what? Mary Sues (Or Marty Stu’s)? Be so. They’re just excuses for stupid fan boys and fangirls to live out their own little fantasies, with little or no sotyr behind them.

Oh, and another cliche for you.

Tne entire setting of FFVIII is transported to an American High School so that MS’ers can insert themselves slightly less obviously.

Not really very relevant here, but that type of fic really pisses me off…

Yeah, AU’s can be fun, but… I’ll find a way to include that too.
pauses and remembers the summary “Flea is an exchange student at a highschool in Texas who finds himself bullied for being what he is. Until the cold-hearted Magus steps into the picture…” BRRRRR…!

It sounds vaguely familiar.:wink:

pats Magus hair as he’s leaning on her shoulder, crying There, there, baby, I won’t let 'em do it again, at least not around here…

Anyway… I’ll try to come up with more stuff soon :o

Advert in a shop window for characters

Strong but silent hero wanted! Must be able to carry on conversations with a vocabulary of words with one syllable only and be able to fall in love with first vaguely attractive girl he meets. Supply your own sword/gun. Apply within.

Good one, Pierson :slight_smile: