Watch this space! I'll be doing a Human AU - if that's not all right with you, I'll move it to Anything Goes instead, but totally filling this. WRRRRRY LISA WRRRRRRRY
Narrator: My name is Torgo. I take care of the place while the Master is- Narrator II: WRONG FUCKING MOVIE, IVAN!
***
"Babe, I have something for yooooou!" Arty Kirkland shouted, coming through the door in his best refurbished-mop-wig, caveman make-up, and grimy suit. No respectable banker would wear anything elss!
"What is it?" Francis Bonnefoy - the incredibly sexy, the debonair, the sultry, the decadent, the [insert Kink Meme description here] - asked, lounging around sexily on the couch. He arched one perfectly-plucked eyebrow as Arty advanced upon him, like King Kong lumbering towards Fay Wray. Only with less chemistry.
"Just a little something," Arty declared, whipping out a fire-engine-red mankini from behind his back. Autographed by Borat, no less!
"Oh, Arty, it is... beautiful," Francis said carefully, his perfectly-plucked eyebrow twitching as he looked around the apartment for an escape. "Th...ank you. I'll just go... try it on..."
"Mm-hmm," Arty grunted in his finest unwashed-caveman mode.
"Yes... wait... right here..."
"Mm," Arty grunted, continuing to block the escape route to the entrance, and, in despair, Francis realized there was no escape. Using his magical French Sexy-Powers Transformation, he managed to stuff himself into the mankini in the Name of the Moon... er, the Louvre... er, the Eiffel Tower... Oh, never mind, the point is that he managed to make the mankini look reasonably sexy and dignified. Though, with the room's standard for attractiveness set by a greasy British revenant, that wasn't terribly hard.
"Wow, you look so sexy, Francis," said greasy revenant deadpanned, his beetle-browed eyes narrowing with lust. Smiling and nodding, the mankini'd Frenchman prayed that no one else came in and saw this.
"Oh, hey, guys~"
"Oh hai Feli!" the happy couple exclaimed in unison.
"Oh, wow, look at you, Francis~" Feli exclaimed, gesturing to the poor sap in question. "You look tastier than an entire bowl of pasta~"
"Anything for my prince!" Arty declared, chuckling like a laugh track gone cancerous. Malignantly so.
"How much was it~?" Feli asked, and Francis frowned.
"Feli, don't ask a question like that."
"Nice to see you, Feli," Arty said obliviously in his accent that was supposedly British, but made most people think more of an escaped sentient computer that could pass the Turing Test (if barely) but hadn't quite got the hang of realistic enunciation. "I'm going to take a nap."
"Can I go upstairs, too~?"
"Ahahahaha," Arty chuckled.
"Feli, I think I'm going to join him," Francis said in a sultry voice as the local British revenant continued to provide his own laugh track.
As they ascended the Staircase of Lurrrve, Feli took a big bite out of an apple-shaped piece of pasta. Because, dear viewers, the scene just wouldn't be complete without it.
***
As Arty and Francis threw pillows at each other, Feli threw himself on them, giggling like a maniac.
"Feli, don't you have something better to be doing right now?" Arty asked.
"I just like to watch you guys~" Feli said innocently, his erogenous zone curling into a large heart. Francis sighed and tried to repair a snapped string of his mankini.
"Oh, Feli, Feli boy," he said soothingly, patting the teenager on his cowlick (BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH! BAD FRANCIS, BAD!), "then we'd get complaints for an unwarned-for threesome, and fandom takes its pairings very seriously."
"Feli, two's great, but three's a crowd," Arty explained in a way more suited to Feli's mental capacity, and the Italian nodded brightly.
"I get it, you two want to be alone~"
"That's the idea!" Arty said in a patented Catchphrase Moment(c) as Francis smiled lovingly and motioned him hastily off the bed.
"Fine, I have homework to do anyway~" the teen said, by which he meant a fill for a Spain/Italies/Killer Tomatoes Pasta-Bondage Omegaverse prompt on the Kink Meme. Which you know will imminently pop into existence courtesy of Rule 34. "Bye, lovebirds~"
As soon as he left the room, the cheesy R&B soundtrack kicked in, and it was time for a stunningly erotic sex scene to unfold. You know it's erotic, because there were rose petals fucking everywhere, and also two weirdoes of dubious attractiveness fucking somewhere. Try to not look at them too closely, please.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, unnnnnnnnnnngh, Francis," Arty groaned, his putty-like back jiggling furiously as he thrust away at his nubile lover, whose attempts to lie back and think of England were catastrophically failing. After all, in some universe or other, the caveman Anglo-Saxon lich above him was England.
"Thiiiiiiis is the worrrrrst fuckiiiiiing sex I have ever haaaaad, mon Diiiiiieu," Francis groaned, but unfortunately Arty heard him over the faux-romantic music.
"Whyyyyy! Is it because I'm nooooot gooood enoooough for yooou, you French sluuuut who neeeever looooved meeee?" Arty wept in a way appropriate to your favorite melodramatic FrUK-infidelity fic, but maintained his steady pace of pounding his lover's tight, hot hole despite his inner anguish and searing pain of betrayal. A thousand tiny violins played in the background, though they couldn't be distinguished with the soundtrack still blaring.
"NO! IIIIIIIIIT'S BECAUSE YOUUUUU ARE FUCKIIIIING MY FUUUUUUCKING NAAAAAVEL, YOU UNEDUCATED ENGLISH PIG!"
The R&B music screeched to an abrupt halt. Arty looked down, frowning, then shrugged. "Oh, well, it's part of keeping our R-rating." And with that, he resumed furiously thrusting in and out of Francis's bellybutton.
No jury would convict me, Francis thought, planning out his imminent infidelity. People's legs had experienced more sexually fulfilling relationships with small, yappy dogs.
***
Arty rolled out of bed at 6:28, his lumpy buttocks jiggling before the viewers' eyes like a sack of overcooked spaghetti. But this was a sack of spaghetti not even Feli would bite into.
Once he had gotten dressed, he returned to the prone Francis, who had artistically draped a rose over his stomach to protect his abused bellybutton, and bent down to kiss him. "Did you like last night?" Arty asked.
"Particularly ze part where eet stopped, mon cher," Francis breathed, getting in his quota of gratuitous French for the chapter.
Arty chuckled ominously.
"Can I get you anything?" Francis added in a French and sultry voice, and also a sultry and French voice, and possibly a French, sultry voice. Did the narration mention he was sultry? And also French?
"Mm, mmm. I have to go now."
"Okay."
"Okay, bai."
"Bye."
"Bai."
"Bye."
"Bai the way, don't you think this is great, naturalistic dialogue? I'm an a-maaaazing director. Ahahahaha."
"Your vocabulary includes five-syllable words?"
***
Next time: "I definitely have manboob cancer", oh hai Matt, and more!
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Ensemble- The Room
(Anonymous) 2013-11-18 01:39 am (UTC)(link)the more dramatic or weird is a big plus
OP, I LOVE YOU
(Anonymous) 2013-11-24 06:25 am (UTC)(link)Oh Hai, Ensemble [1/?] (intentional badfic, UK!Johnny, Fr!Lisa, Ita!Denny, etc.)
(Anonymous) 2013-11-24 09:10 am (UTC)(link)Narrator: My name is Torgo. I take care of the place while the Master is-
Narrator II: WRONG FUCKING MOVIE, IVAN!
"Babe, I have something for yooooou!" Arty Kirkland shouted, coming through the door in his best refurbished-mop-wig, caveman make-up, and grimy suit. No respectable banker would wear anything elss!
"What is it?" Francis Bonnefoy - the incredibly sexy, the debonair, the sultry, the decadent, the [insert Kink Meme description here] - asked, lounging around sexily on the couch. He arched one perfectly-plucked eyebrow as Arty advanced upon him, like King Kong lumbering towards Fay Wray. Only with less chemistry.
"Just a little something," Arty declared, whipping out a fire-engine-red mankini from behind his back. Autographed by Borat, no less!
"Oh, Arty, it is... beautiful," Francis said carefully, his perfectly-plucked eyebrow twitching as he looked around the apartment for an escape. "Th...ank you. I'll just go... try it on..."
"Mm-hmm," Arty grunted in his finest unwashed-caveman mode.
"Yes... wait... right here..."
"Mm," Arty grunted, continuing to block the escape route to the entrance, and, in despair, Francis realized there was no escape. Using his magical French Sexy-Powers Transformation, he managed to stuff himself into the mankini in the Name of the Moon... er, the Louvre... er, the Eiffel Tower... Oh, never mind, the point is that he managed to make the mankini look reasonably sexy and dignified. Though, with the room's standard for attractiveness set by a greasy British revenant, that wasn't terribly hard.
"Wow, you look so sexy, Francis," said greasy revenant deadpanned, his beetle-browed eyes narrowing with lust. Smiling and nodding, the mankini'd Frenchman prayed that no one else came in and saw this.
"Oh, hey, guys~"
"Oh hai Feli!" the happy couple exclaimed in unison.
"Oh, wow, look at you, Francis~" Feli exclaimed, gesturing to the poor sap in question. "You look tastier than an entire bowl of pasta~"
"Anything for my prince!" Arty declared, chuckling like a laugh track gone cancerous. Malignantly so.
"How much was it~?" Feli asked, and Francis frowned.
"Feli, don't ask a question like that."
"Nice to see you, Feli," Arty said obliviously in his accent that was supposedly British, but made most people think more of an escaped sentient computer that could pass the Turing Test (if barely) but hadn't quite got the hang of realistic enunciation. "I'm going to take a nap."
"Can I go upstairs, too~?"
"Ahahahaha," Arty chuckled.
"Feli, I think I'm going to join him," Francis said in a sultry voice as the local British revenant continued to provide his own laugh track.
As they ascended the Staircase of Lurrrve, Feli took a big bite out of an apple-shaped piece of pasta. Because, dear viewers, the scene just wouldn't be complete without it.
As Arty and Francis threw pillows at each other, Feli threw himself on them, giggling like a maniac.
"Feli, don't you have something better to be doing right now?" Arty asked.
"I just like to watch you guys~" Feli said innocently, his erogenous zone curling into a large heart. Francis sighed and tried to repair a snapped string of his mankini.
"Oh, Feli, Feli boy," he said soothingly, patting the teenager on his cowlick (BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH! BAD FRANCIS, BAD!), "then we'd get complaints for an unwarned-for threesome, and fandom takes its pairings very seriously."
"Feli, two's great, but three's a crowd," Arty explained in a way more suited to Feli's mental capacity, and the Italian nodded brightly.
"I get it, you two want to be alone~"
"That's the idea!" Arty said in a patented Catchphrase Moment(c) as Francis smiled lovingly and motioned him hastily off the bed.
"Fine, I have homework to do anyway~" the teen said, by which he meant a fill for a Spain/Italies/Killer Tomatoes Pasta-Bondage Omegaverse prompt on the Kink Meme. Which you know will imminently pop into existence courtesy of Rule 34. "Bye, lovebirds~"
As soon as he left the room, the cheesy R&B soundtrack kicked in, and it was time for a stunningly erotic sex scene to unfold. You know it's erotic, because there were rose petals fucking everywhere, and also two weirdoes of dubious attractiveness fucking somewhere. Try to not look at them too closely, please.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, unnnnnnnnnnngh, Francis," Arty groaned, his putty-like back jiggling furiously as he thrust away at his nubile lover, whose attempts to lie back and think of England were catastrophically failing. After all, in some universe or other, the caveman Anglo-Saxon lich above him was England.
"Thiiiiiiis is the worrrrrst fuckiiiiiing sex I have ever haaaaad, mon Diiiiiieu," Francis groaned, but unfortunately Arty heard him over the faux-romantic music.
"Whyyyyy! Is it because I'm nooooot gooood enoooough for yooou, you French sluuuut who neeeever looooved meeee?" Arty wept in a way appropriate to your favorite melodramatic FrUK-infidelity fic, but maintained his steady pace of pounding his lover's tight, hot hole despite his inner anguish and searing pain of betrayal. A thousand tiny violins played in the background, though they couldn't be distinguished with the soundtrack still blaring.
"NO! IIIIIIIIIT'S BECAUSE YOUUUUU ARE FUCKIIIIING MY FUUUUUUCKING NAAAAAVEL, YOU UNEDUCATED ENGLISH PIG!"
The R&B music screeched to an abrupt halt. Arty looked down, frowning, then shrugged. "Oh, well, it's part of keeping our R-rating." And with that, he resumed furiously thrusting in and out of Francis's bellybutton.
No jury would convict me, Francis thought, planning out his imminent infidelity. People's legs had experienced more sexually fulfilling relationships with small, yappy dogs.
Arty rolled out of bed at 6:28, his lumpy buttocks jiggling before the viewers' eyes like a sack of overcooked spaghetti. But this was a sack of spaghetti not even Feli would bite into.
Once he had gotten dressed, he returned to the prone Francis, who had artistically draped a rose over his stomach to protect his abused bellybutton, and bent down to kiss him. "Did you like last night?" Arty asked.
"Particularly ze part where eet stopped, mon cher," Francis breathed, getting in his quota of gratuitous French for the chapter.
Arty chuckled ominously.
"Can I get you anything?" Francis added in a French and sultry voice, and also a sultry and French voice, and possibly a French, sultry voice. Did the narration mention he was sultry? And also French?
"Mm, mmm. I have to go now."
"Okay."
"Okay, bai."
"Bye."
"Bai."
"Bye."
"Bai the way, don't you think this is great, naturalistic dialogue? I'm an a-maaaazing director. Ahahahaha."
"Your vocabulary includes five-syllable words?"
Next time: "I definitely have manboob cancer", oh hai Matt, and more!
oh hai author
(Anonymous) 2013-11-27 05:51 am (UTC)(link)you are so beautiful
I want to buy you all the dresses and a doggie to pet
but really this is glorious
oh hai OP
(Anonymous) 2013-11-27 06:45 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Oh Hai, Ensemble [1/?] (intentional badfic, UK!Johnny, Fr!Lisa, Ita!Denny, etc.)
(Anonymous) 2013-11-28 02:05 pm (UTC)(link)OMG I LOVE YOU
(Also, I'm getting the impression that you know Rifftrax too, but anyway)
This fic is a riot! I especially love how sarcastic and meta this is, both of The Room and the Hetalia fandom/kinkmeme. Please do continue! :D