Here's the Thread that Started it All. Complete with Highlights
If You Have Set Foot in the ED you Have the Shouts of Rage Echoing Down the Halls as Octane threatens to Save Gunsmith from Her Ways and Gunsmith Spouts Prophecies Of Damnation Down Upon Octane and His Trolly Brethren.
But As I Stand Back and Watch the Fighting I Have Been Forced to Ask Myself a Very Serious Question.
Do They Really Hate Each other?
On the Surface ti Would Certainly Seem So, But Let Us Take another Look.
They Don't Go Out of Their Way to Avoid Each Other. Gunsmith has Not Blocked Octane and Will Respond to Him, and Octane Seems to Go Out of His Way to Speak with Gunsmith Kitty. Most of The ED Trolls, After Being Told to Go Die in Whatever Way We Wish as Long as We Do So Soon, Are Her Ignore List. Yet Octane Does Not Seem to Be.
And Really, How Far Is Love from Hate, Rage from Burning Passion? Is This Really a Hate fest, Or Is it Perhaps a Relationship Based on Patching Things Up?
Which Only Leads to More Questions.
So Ed, I'll Ask You.
Are they Really In A Relationship? Is the Hate a Cover or Is it For Fabulous Make Up Sex? Is The Lesbian Thing a Cover, or Is It the Homophobia? Is It Just Them or Is Gunsmith's Girlfriend involved? Is it S&M? Roleplay? And More Importantly, What Would Resulting Offspring Be Like?
Responses:
Octane lifted Gunsmith's extremely lesbian chin, pulling her magical, color-changing orbs to meet his gaze.
"I hate homosexuals." He purred, feeling the soft skin in his hands shudder. "I hate them, and blame them for the moral decay in America."
"You should be sterilized." He whispered, nearly breathless. "Or lined up and shot, along with your brothers." She felt something hard push against her inner thigh, and knew it would be a long night.
Each was trying to turn the other - which was what drove the passion and kept the fire alight within both their hearts - hoping against hope that the other would one day realise the error of their ways. Neither would admit that it was their differences that brought them together.
Her deep-fried, classic southern food knocked down the Tough Brooklyn Guy facade. His intense Asian-ness and interest in cars really pulled at the weeaboo butch in her, until the two found themselves sprawled across a bearskin rug, bodies and hearts entwined in hateful, threatening lust.
"Ban me," he whispered, "Ban me in a way that no Mod ever could." And she melted inside.
When their lust was spent, Octane lazily held the chicken leg from his meal, gazing at it in wonder at all the new uses found for it that night. As his tongue rolled around the tip of it, memories of what just transpired sent twitches through his body. Kitten rolled her eyes, grabbed her whip and snarled "Do you need another lesson again, pond scum?"
He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
Gunsmith heaved her immense feminism onto Octane's lap, letting the troll's hatred of homosexuals slip inside. "Think you're a man?" She teased, grabbing the barrel of his gun.
"I'm all man, and not in a homo erotic manner in any way whatsoever." He pulled at her feminism roughly, gay hate forcing its way further in.
Gunsmith gasped sharply, her (what I imagine to be) massive breasts with machine gun jubblies heaved into his face. "Let me show you how to use that gun."
Octane laid bound and gagged on the floor, and all her could here was Gunsmith's heavy breathing like a broken record player. He had made a bet with her: Who ever could win in a fight could have their way with the other. He thought is was going to be easy, he thought wrong. Then he heard Gunsmith speak at least.
"If I'm going to have my way with you, I'm going to enjoy it!" She said with a wry giggle. She reached under the bed and pulled out a vibrator. It must have been 10 inches long, and 5 inches in circumference. It had The Stallion written in calligraphy. She then pulled the biggest can of crisco he's ever seen, and dipped it in. After she pulled it out she flipped a switch. When she turned it on he felt the room shake. She walked to him in determination, pulled down his pants, and shoved.
