AN: This is a Neptunia fic, we think.
(Probably not.)
Featuring things perfect for wholesome, Christian family fun like:
-Political """humor"""
-Jokes about the Cold War
-Archaic memes
-Random references you might need to Google to understand.
-(Random references you might need to Google to understand that will probably make you want to scrub your search history after the fact.)
-Pizza
-Toasters
-(Toaster Strudels)
-Jokes about shitty anime from the 90s.
-Jokes about shitty anime from the 1890s.
-(Jokes about shitty Monopoly games from 1864.)
-Metal Gear
-(REX? You're that ninja...)
-Pink Floyd
-(His custom colors are supposed to be red. It's just an animation error...)
-Communism
If it wasn't apparent already, this is going to be absolute crack in almost every way imaginable,and this only the first chapter of many. We hope you enjoy, and experience minimal loss of brain cells.
Special thanks to my fellow collaborator Gasher3xFaster, the only person I've met who was willing to discuss concepts for this garbage over lunch for the last two months.
(Unfortunately. Abandon all hope, all ye who enter. You have been warned.)
"Hey, Charlie, you home, fam?"
The slender, brown-haired college student opened the dormitory door and was greeted by the usual sights: overturned ramen cups devoid of noodles, empty and crushed Mountain Dew cans, and a massive spider on the floor, stalking prey amongst the graveyard of Doritos and Pocky boxes, with a broken Metal Gear REX plastic model standing vigilant, with one leg, no less, as a monument to the crushed hopes and dreams hidden deep within that corner of the house.
The student blinked once and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of stale air and unwashed loneliness.
All the while smiling.
"...Wow. Home sweet home," he said. "Charlie! I know you're in here."
"Hmm!? WHAT!?" a groggy voice screamed as the closet door burst open, spreading a wave of crusty socks and empty lotion bottles across the littered floor. Atop this wave was another young liability to society, albeit a less pasty one with slightly more muscle tone.
Also, said liability to society was wearing a Bob Ross t-shirt. Belonging to the aforementioned student.
"...Nice shirt, Charlie," the first student said, his tone dripping with bitter sarcasm. "You trying to increase your meme level?"
"...Uh...yeah, that's it," Charles replied, picking himself up off the floor. " Sorry, but I ran outta shirts. How's it hanging, Ray?"
"Great," Raymond said. "Mostly. This house is a fucking war crime, though, and all this shit from your wank closet isn't helping."
"Hey, at least I USE my wank closet."
"What does THAT mean?"
"It means I can hear you spanking the monkey in the bathroom at 4 AM, you prick."
"...Shut up. ANYWAY, we should probably try to tidy up a bi-"
A huge crash interrupted Raymond's suggestion, and a large white object tumbled out of the crusted closet. The two froze, looks of shock upon their faces.
"No." Charlie squeaked. "NO!"
It was a goddamned body pillow. WITH a pillowcase portraying a rather "well-drawn" woman with purple hair and armor which provided no protection whatsoever. Of course, this description could have been applied to approximately 40% of the measureable Gross Waifu Product, the revolutionary new system pioneered by famed economist Donaldó Trümpé for use in measuring the amount of available waifus created by China and their communist menace to destroy our down-home American values.
But, thankfully (?) the pillow named the series from which the grill in question originated in extremely small print, most likely so most people wouldn't read it:
Hyperdimension Neptunia.
"No...dear God, NO!" Raymond shrieked, his glasses clattering to the floor as he stumbled backward. "You CAN'T be one of them!"
"Ray, I can explain!"
"You're…"
"Ray, please."
"YOU'RE-"
"How is this any different from you keeping a Doomguy figure on your bedside table-"
"CHARLIE!" Raymond screamed, "YOU'RE A WEEABOO!"
"B-baka! It's not like I wanted to preorder it!" Charles yelled in response, his metaphorical true colors flying freely. The restraints of societal norms and dignity were shed, and the beginning of the end was near. Raymond cringed and fought off the urge to go fetal and cry in the nearest corner.
He knew he this would end. It was only a matter of time before the infection progressed, causing cancer in every living organism within a 50-meter radius.
Unless…
"CHARLIE!" Raymond yelled as he pulled an archaic 90s PC setup out of absolutely fucking nowhere. "I KNOW HOW TO FIX YOU!"
Moving at blinding speed, the bachelor turned the PC on, causing the title screen of Duke Nukem 3D to pop up on the monitor.
"Play this game, and all your weebiness will disappear," Raymond said, feeling quite proud of this medical breakthrough. "That is, if you haven't reached… the final phase."
Charlie's head shot up. As shameless as he was at this point about owning a body pillow, he could tell that this was going to be one for the books.
It was just a shame that he'd run out of video film the day before. Charlie silently noted that, if he survived this whole ordeal, he needs to go outside for once in his life and go and buy more.
"Charlie," Ray asked. "Have you written any fanfictions at all? Perhaps one with an overtly sarcastic tone that tries and fails to be a funny piece of satire?"
The slightly larger student said nothing except give his friend the biggest shit-eating grin seen on this side of the Earth since the good old days after 9/11.
After one look at Charlie's face, Ray fell to his knees and let out an anguished cry, accepting that nothing could be done. His roommate was doomed, lost forever to a fate that even the Lord of Hell himself would consider to be total overkill: weeaboo trash.
"Not him too. NOT HIM TOO! WHY COULDNT IT HAVE BEEN EBOLA INSTEAD?!"
"FUCKING HELL!" Charlie burst out, dropping his grin almost immediately. "FINE! I'M A FILTHY WEEABOO! DEAL WITH IT, YOU MELODRAMATIC FLAGFUCKER!"
"Okay, jeez," Ray conceded. "Be literal cancer if you want. Just keep it away from my Doomg-"
*BEEP*
The two roommates looked over at the source of the disturbance: Ray's phone.
"30 minutes away! Trust me on this, I timed it. ;) -Mom"
"Oh. Oh...OH FUCK!" Ray screamed, vaulting over the couch. "I TOTALLY FORGOT!"
"YOU FORGOT WHAT!?" Charles asked.
"MY MOM IS COMING TO VISIT TODAY! WE HAVE TO GET THIS SHIT CLEAN!"
"GOD DAMMIT RAY!"
The two testosterone-loaded twats scrambled to conceal the six weeks of trash from plain view. Mountains of ramen were leveled, soggy paper towels were lobbed into the recycling bin, and the air filled with particles of MSG and dead epidermal tissue.
The scene could be best likened to a scene from Twister. Not the fun game that requires you to snap every last one of your cervical vertebrae and tie your limbs around your cousin like a really fucked-up incest pretzel House Lannister would be proud of. No, we're talking the movie from 1996 starring Bill Paxton, that one guy from Aliens and The Terminator that you definitely recognize but whose name you can't remember.
Damn, Aliens was a good film.
(Get back to cleaning, Ray)
"Well, that's a lot better," Charlie said, admiring the duo's handiwork.
"Yeah...except for, y'know, the FUCKING ANIME GRILL BODY PILLOW."
Charlie looked across the living room and immediately saw what Ray was talking about. The two of them had crammed about 500 pounds of trash into every cabinet and closet, leaving no room for his kawaii moe waifu.
"We need to get rid of this thing," Ray said. Charlie charged across the room on all fours, embraced the pillow, and hissed like a vampire in direct sunlight.
The European kind. Not the American ones, thank God.
"No! You won't take Lady Purple Heart!"
"You're calling it by name now!?" Ray asked, unsure of whether or not he was even capable of being stunned anymore. "Okay, what do we do with it?"
"We can take HER to the 2nd and Charles the next town over. We could make it back here in time, and I think they'd keep her safe until your mom decides to GTFO."
"Y'know, I would call you out on this dumb shit, but I don't care about my dignity anymore. Want to take my car?"
"Considering that I don't own a car, yes. Let's do that," Charlie replied, carrying the pillow bridal-style through the door, missing the spider stuck to the goddess's left chest cheek. The two twats moved through their dormitory hall, getting strange looks as they went. A few wasted fraternity members asked to violate "that steaming hot babe," causing Charlie to reply with a double bird, which, sadly, failed to shoot out any lasers, while Ray replied with "¥5000 per hole," which, due to the seemingly large number, scared off all the frat boys except for one, and by the time he'd started to unzip, the unlikely duo (and the pillow!) were already in the elevator.
"Wait, how do you know what yen is?"
"..."
Eventually, they made it to Ray's alleged automobile, loaded Purple Heart into the trunk, spider and all, and climbed in. Ray turned the key, starting the car's engine with a dangerous-sounding sputter.
"That doesn't sound good," Charlie said.
"Eh, it's probably fine," Ray replied, dismissing the fact that he hadn't paid for an oil change in the last three years or so.
The car whined and groaned as the dynamic duo sped out of the parking lot, desperate to win their race against the clock. They drove for miles, the college town scenery giving way to very precarious cliffs that definitely wouldn't be used as plot devices any time soon.
"...It's getting hot in here, Ray."
"Well, it sure as hell isn't me."
"No shit. Can't you turn the air on?"
"Not unless you want it to smell like month-old bread in here."
"You still haven't moved that toaster?"
"The damn thing's melded to the plastic, Charlie."
"Why the hell did you need a day's worth of electricity rerouted to it anyways? "
"How else," the lanky man in the driver's seat said as he reached under his chair and whipped out an old cassette tape, labeled 'SPICY MIX,' "was I supposed to make this? This, the hottest mixtape ever dropped in the history of mankind?"
"With a Walkman or some shit like that. Not a toaster! Anyways, can you turn the damn thing on or-are those mushrooms?"
"Did I say month? I meant year. And if it'll make you shut up, than yes, I can."
"Wait-Ah!" Charlie screamed as the air conditioning blew the mushroom spores situated right in front of the vents through the air. "Great. Probably gonna get violated by those spores so hard I'll get an STD."
"Hey, Charlie, wanna hear some tunes?"
"Sure…? I think?"
"Alright!" Ray exclaimed, sliding the 'SPICY MIXTAPE' into the cassette drive of his car.
"Oh, yeah. That stupid thing. Okay then. I suppose it's my punishment for not having the foresight to bring my Game Boy with me."
"Now," he continued, skipping a magnificent stoner beanie over his shaggy brown hair, "it's time for us to go on a spiritual journey across time and space."
"That's not how music-"Almost instantly, Pink Floyd's hit album, Dark Side Of The Moon, began to play, filling the air with a psychedelic magic that immediately went to work on the two students.
Although that could've been the spores.
Synapses flooded with dopamine and manly tears were shed as the masterful guitar riffs and experimental synth played through the shitty Chinese speakers, and the two began to experience true bliss.
Which also could've been the spores. Maybe both at the same time.
"Woah…" Ray said with glassy eyes, "where's my hands?"
"I-I dunno mane," Charlie replied, also under the influence of these sick tracks. "Oz, maybe. Like...why do we even exist, man?"
"That's deeeep, Jay."
"It's funny cause I'm quoting Jayden Smith, and your name's Ray. Oh, look, not-Jay, a trees!" Charlie slurred, pointing through the windshield.
"Wow! They're getting closer!" Ray laughed. "They sure are fast!"
"Not as fast as we are high!" stumbled out of Charlie's open speech hole.
"WOAAHH-"
The sound of stoners was replaced by the sound of crunching metal as the car slammed into a tree and flew off the cliff, flattening as it hit actual stones. One last intoxicated shriek escaped the two as they both conveniently lost consciousness at the same time, which probably isn't a plot point either.
For most, listening to Pink Floyd and driving like a moron would be a death sentence. But for these two, this was only the front door into the depths of stupidity.
This was only the beginning.
"Ugh…"
Raymond stirred and muttered incoherent nonsense as he came to. His car was even more fucked up than normal, with a completely smashed front end to complement the completely smashed everything else. himself included.
Oh, and it was upside-down. That too.
"Charlie?" Ray asked, glancing over to his still-unconscious friend. The weeb stirred and mumbled something about Rosetta Stone before snapping out of his car-induced coma.
"Wha-?" Charlie asked, obviously concerned by the fact that he was suspended in midair by only a crappy seatbelt keeping him from snapping his neck on the car roof. "Are we dead, Ray?"
"I don't think so," Ray replied. "Unless we're both hallucinating each other as our brains run out of oxygen…"
"Well, if we're not dead, we're probably close to dying. I mean, we're upside down, and I can't see outside of the car. We could be dangling precariously off a ledge, inches away from falling into a pit of razor-sharp death spikes that would make Eggman proud-"
"SHUT UP CHARLIE!" Ray screamed.
"Fine, jeez," his friend replied. "Let's get out and find a payphone or something."
Charlie tapped the door with his foot, snapping the brittle hinges clean off. Raymond followed suit, albeit after a few attempts and possibly a fractured metatarsal or two.
"Holy crap, Ray."
Responding to this observation, Ray poked his head out of the car and immediately saw what Charlie was talking about.
They were in a cave. It wasn't a normal cave, and it wasn't the Rave Cave from that one Matrix sequel.
That movie blows, am I right?
(RAY!)
The two took a look around and examined the surroundings in complete awe. Luminous crystals protruded from the floors and walls, bathing the place in a cyan glow that looked positively stunning. Ray took a breath and exhaled deeply, summing up their surprise and admiration for nature's beauty in four simple yet eloquent words.
"Seriously, what the fuck."
"Well, we're gonna have a great time explaining this one to your mom," Charlie said. "Also, how in the sweet name of fuck did we END UP UNDERGROUND IN A CAVE!?."
"I think we hit the progressive rock too hard, Charlie," Raymond said, adjusting his glasses.
"Wait a second," Charlie said, blinking rapidly as if he was convinced his eyes weren't working properly. "Uh...Ray...you're not gonna like this."
"What? Dude, we crashed my car into a cave, I have no idea where said cave is, and we have no way to call Mom to pick us up. What could possibly fucking faze me-?"
Interrupting the rant, Charlie pulled a rear-view mirror off the ground and turned it to Ray.
The glasses-wearing nerd froze.
He gazed into the looking glass, and a goddamn Japanese-anime-weeaboo-bullshit guy stared back.
"N-no. No! NO NO NO NO NO!"
"Ray, this is a good look for you!" Charlie yelled in futility. Ray was far beyond reassuring; he had become a part of what he had always fought against since he could reach the computer keyboard.
"Mein Gott…" Ray murmured, falling to his knees. "How could this happen to me!?"
"...I've made my mistaakes~" Charlie chimed in.
"SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH CHARLIE!" Ray said, almost in tears at this revelation. "If you didn't have this piece of weeb trash, this wouldn't have happened!"
"Hey, it happened to me too, Ray," the other nerd replied, checking out his reflection. He was admittedly quite impressed by the results; his blond hair was as radiant as ever, and basically every aesthetic flaw the two had was gone.
Thanks, low animation budgets!
"...Okay, maybe there's a cure," Ray began, trying to reassure himself of the fact that he would one day be back to his old, acne-scarred self again.
"We still need to get out of the cave too."
"And we have no food."
"Well...shit."
"We could eat the pillow," Ray suggested.
"NO! I paid good money for that preorder bundle bid, Ray!"
Just then, a realization hit.
"Hey Ray, can you pop the trunk?"
"Dude, the car is fucking flipped over. What do you think?" Ray replied. "Well, we should probably press X and flip this vehicle anyway…"
"Good idea," Charlie said as he got into position. "Ready, Ray?"
"Ready."
The two out-of-shape nerds struggled and strained to get the car to move, but they eventually succeeded after ten long minutes of Speedwagon-tier screaming. Of course, they were nowhere near as manly as Jonathan and his crew (Giorno notwithstanding), but it's the thought that counts. With one last metallic groan, the car finally came to rest upright, allowing the trunk hatch to pop open...revealing the Purple Heart pillow.
"Charlie, I'm not taking this thing with me," Ray said.
"No, that's not what I'm about to suggest," Charlie replied. "Ray, take a look at that succulent art style."
"Looks like a sexualized cartoon."
"Now look at your reflection."
"Also looks like a sexualized cartoon…" Ray thought aloud. "Oh dear...you're not actually thinking that-"
"That we're in Gamindustri?" Charlie asked. "Ray, Pink Floyd does crazy shit to the mind, though, in hindsight, the spores floating in the air might have helped, but the pillow is just too much to be a coincidence."
Ray just stood there, unflinching and unmoving. Charlie was unsure if he was shutting down on a psychological level or was just too shocked to react, but he figured that it probably didn't matter regardless.
"Well, we're fucked."