Subject: Don't worry, Cheerfulbear.
Author:
Posted on: 2014-03-07 13:01:00 UTC
No one expected you to have full knowledge of HTML. Is the game me teaching you about it? Because if so, it's not going to be a very long game. Most of the answers are right here.
Yes, it's that time of year again: time for the terrifyingly hilarious Shipficfest, where we all write awful stories shipping each other with... each other. The rules... are simple:
-Reply in this thread to say if you're willing to be shipped. If someone doesn't say they're okay with it, don't write anything with them in it.
--With the list of ships we already have, it'd be helpful if everyone mentioned posted to say whether they were or weren't okay with having stories about them.
-Suggest any ships you want to. Revenge shipping is absolutely okay (and, indeed, encouraged).
-Write terrible stories! As this example from the first Shipfest shows, the goal is absolutely not to accurately portray other Boarders - it's to make a ludicrous parody of them. Obviously, you should only write about people who've said it's okay, and should respect any other requests they've made (example: sonofheaven176 says he does not want to be shipped with other men).
Some notes:
-This is for Boarders (or community members in general), not agents.
-Keep the ratings down! PG-13, please - this is supposed to amuse, not disturb.
-It's a bit creepy to create a ship of yourself with another person - but writing one that someone else came up with is fine.
And, just to lend a little encouragement... in the spirit of the first few Shipfests, I will be writing a story with every single ship of me that comes up (and is allowed by the other participants). Make of that what you will.
(Also, obvious fact: Kaitlyn and I are both available for shipping)
I'll see what you guys can do with only the minimal information about me.
"Oh no--!"
"-- I'm late!"
Two human bodies collided - male and female, black hair and brown. They went down hard, and only the thickness of the carpet prevented any bruising. The girl ended up on top, and had to brush her errant hair away from her freckled face.
"Sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't see you! I was late for--"
"-- the shipfest?" the guy finished. "Me too. I'm Khroma."
"KittyEden," the girl provided. "So you're here for the shipping?"
"Mais oui," Khroma agreed, and KittyEden swooned.
"You speak French! That's so romantic! The only way you could be more romantic is if you had a rose between your teeth!"
Khroma winced. "Tried that once," he said. "It's... not as good as it sounds."
On the thick carpet, footsteps made no sound; the pair didn't even realise someone had joined them until he spoke. "This must be the place, then."
KittyEden turned her head, and Khroma peered past her at the tall man looming over them. "That is a very impressive beard," he said.
"Thank you," the newcomer said, smiling. "I'm Elcalion. And this must be the shipfest."
"What?" "No..."
Elcalion raised an eyebrow. "No? What are you doing, then?"
KittyEden looked down, realising that she was still on top of Khroma. "Falling over?" she offered.
"Looks more comfortable than I remember," Elcalion chuckled. "So you're not here for the shipping?"
"We are," Khroma said, "but we can't find it."
Elcalion shook his head. "You don't find it," he told them, "it finds you. You trip over a sexy woman, or a hot man, and just... go with it."
Khroma and KittyEden looked at each other. "Well, we got the first part done," Khroma said slowly.
The running figure caught them all by surprise, ploughing into Elcalion and knocking him down on top of the other two. The newcomer, wearing a badge proclaiming "Hi my name is y2k890!", was caught in the collapse. "Oh no! Now I'll never make it to the shipfest!"
"My dear y2k890," Elcalion said, wrapping one arm around KittyEden, the other around y2k890, "the shipfest, for us, is right here."
OOF. This one hurt. I can't tell you how many times I had to keep backspacing because I accidentally typed the right word. And it was way too short, but I just couldn't take it any more.
Seyshels tipped his head back so he could see wobble's face better. He was pretty tall but wobbles made him feel small.
wobbles face was covered in clown makeup (whats that still called agan?) but it could'nt hide her beautifull smile. "I love you Seyshels" she said. "I love you to" Seyshels responded.
They're hott romance woud last for eternaty.
Once I've stopped laughing, that is. Ahem:-
---
Iximaz couldn't really hear anything in the room, but she still knew something was there.
It only made itself known occasionally, but it was definitely present. Ever since she'd been thrown in the dungeon by the legions of the Dread Clown, she'd felt wind where there should be none and touches across her shoulder when nothing else was here. It was just her, all alone, exactly the way her nemesis wanted it, the presence of the entity notwithstanding.
Her eyes were unused to the pitch darkness of the cell, for there were no windows or torches left. Navigating by touch, she crawled to the wall and stayed there, venturing into the corner at a snail's pace once her hands found the boundary of her prison. She stayed there for a while, until she felt a hand upon her shoulder.
She couldn't help it. She screamed, scrambled to her feet, tripped forward, fell, screamed again as those hands brushed over her again, but now they gripped hard, hauling her to her feet and dragging her back against the wall from behind, but her hands and body felt only the damp stone beneath the castles and-
And then she remembered, as cold, earthy-smelling breath washed over her cheek from behind her and made her gag. She remembered where she had to be, what her mission had been, why the Dread Clown had built her fortress here...
On Mahe, the largest of the Seychelles.
---
Have fun! =]
Okay that was both awesome and totally creepy, FYI for further references I am female.
But no matter! I'm still learning, so it's all good. ...and I was kind of laughing. Like, really, really hard.
I'm going to definitely get you and World-Jumper up next. He and I are already planning to PPC a fic, and you're next in line. It only makes sense.
I'm pretty sure the stories are supposed to be "terrible" story-wise, not SPaG-wise.
It's an easy mistake to make, I expect, considering we also have the Badfic Game (which is basically when we all write horrible PPC badfic and shipfic--for the agents, I mean--while pretending to be badfic authors, at least for the most part.)
...those pages really need a bit of an update. At the very least, the PPC Badfic page should get a mention of Fanfic World, and there should maybe be a slightly more in depth explanation of the Badfic Game (or at least a clearer mention of its existence...)
~DF
Yes, I want to be shipped. Why? I think it will be interesting.
Also, I will only write ships in revenge. I'd feel uncomfortable otherwise.
So yeah. I'm usually depicted as a tabby cat, or a girl with brown hair and freckles.
~Kitty
but I'm fine to take part.
I'm male, 5'11", brown-haired and eyed and as of recently sporting a magnificent beard.
Yo, I wouldn't mind being shipped (again.) I'm still a short-ish guy with messy black hair. Fight over me again B) (I swear I'm cool sometimes) Oh yeah, and I speak french and spanish, that's attractive, right? *puts a rose in mouth* ow
((Good to see you back. Welcome to the madness.))
There aren't nearly as many shipfics as I thought there would be.
I'll have to fics that. (hurr get it fics/fix)
I'm not allowed on the computer anymore for the day- it's nine o'clock p.m. where I am- but I will definitely post some tomorrow. First up: wobblestheclown/Seychelles. Muahahaha.
Basically, since it was decided that shipping people without their permission was no longer acceptable, the vast bulk of the thread has turned into 'fine with me!' posts. That means it's harder to spot the shipfics when they show up.
That said, there are actually a fair number of them. I count at least 21, and that's without paying too much attention.
hS
Yes, it's here - the ultimate in megaships[Citation needed].
In which I take every ship with my name in it (or Kaitlyn's!) and write the whole bloomin' lot of them. And it is nothing like you're expecting.
Huinesoron's Very Tedious Day
hS
This story has me horribly out of character! You forgot the space between the = and ) in my smiley! Also, I use proper em dashes, not those silly hyphens with spaces around them! I am appalled!
Oh, and I'm not much for romance novels, either. But I probably would cut one up for a good cause, so I'll let that slide.
But I'm watching you.
~Neshomeh
(Is it weird that this reminds me of old times and gives me warm nostalgia fuzzies? That has to be weird... ^_~ )
I loved it! (And the puns. So many puns!)
...That was for the Permission Giver joke I made, wasn't it? Well played, bird man, well played.
Now, if you excuse me, I have to prepare for the, ah, party later. Seems like we will only have ten guests instead of the planned eleven. Oh well, more than enough Jumper to go around.
But that's okay. ;) I was laughing so hard while reading this; I'm sure my family thinks I've gone nuts. Awesome work, hS!
So she's in the 'unlisted' category, along with Araeph and AW.
hS
Outhra woke up confused. First he was confused at the army jacket and white beret the he hadn't been wearing before, then at the short, very angry Asian girl with the circular hat and the oversized green shirt. "Hello?" he said to the girl carefully. She turn on him with an angry glare. He couldn't help but notice she looked kinda pretty that way. It didn't last long though as her faced grew calmer. Now she looked even prettier. "I'm Lily, sorry if I scared you, its just some people should know better then to combine ships" she said sweetly. There was a thump, and sounds of scuffling. The girl-Lily turned away from him " Excuse me I have to go teach Seychelles a lesson" She turned away from him cracking her knuckles as she advanced down the hall. Yup, Outhra thought to himself. He was in love.
I shouldn't encourage the perception of myself as a tsundere -- oh wait, yes I should. Carry on.
I'm somewhere around 5'2" (on a good day), ridiculously pale skin, light brown hair (shoulder-length+bangs), blue-green-gray eyes (feel free to Sue me if you feel like it), and...that's pretty much it? Yeah, I think that's it. Oh, wait--glasses. I wear glasses. And nowadays I wear a silver ring on my left forefinger, because of reasons which any ship-writers can feel free to make up (as long as you don't mind that I'll be laughing my head off if they're really far off).
(I'm a bit busy with essays and so on right now, but when that's over ((or I get a little time to spare))--just you wait. :D)
~DF
It was a lovely day in the cold, cold winter wonderland called Canada. DawnFire woke up to the smell of pancakes and maple syrup smothered in poutine, and hopped delightfully out of bed. "Today is going to be a good day, eh!" she said, and the birds outside chirped their assent to that. After all, everyone knew Canadians had speshul sweetness powers that made things like moose and beavers flock to them in droves.
"Bonjour!" said the Time Engineer as he entered her room with a nice breakfast in bed, because Canadians were nice like that. "I made you maple leaf pancakes and poutine, eh, and afterwards we can go play hockey!"
"Do you wanna build a snowman, eh?" warbled Dawn as she accepted the breakfast (and a kiss on both cheeks because obviously since Canada was half-French they had to have French greetings too). "We should go out and play with all the woodland animals!"
"That is a good idea, eh," said Time Engineer. "We can build an entire army of snowmen and use them to attack Justin Bieber!"
And so after breakfast they went outside and simply let it go. The End.
((I apologise for the excessive Canadian stereotypes, eh.))
Please?
That was so much fun to read
---
It was a lovely day in the cold, cold winter wonderland called Canada. DawnFire woke up to the smell of pancakes and maple syrup smothered in poutine, and hopped delightfully out of bed. "Today is going to be a good day, eh!" she said, and the birds outside chirped their assent to that. After all, everyone knew Canadians had speshul sweetness powers that made things like moose and beavers flock to them in droves.
"Bonjour!" said the Time Engineer as he entered her room with a nice breakfast in bed, because Canadians were nice like that. "I made you maple leaf pancakes and poutine, eh, and afterwards we can go play hockey!"
"... Wait a minute." Dawn looked at the Engineer with a slightly puzzled expression, one that slowly twisted into horror. "I remember this. I remember it happening before."
"Don't be silly, that's just a bit of deja vu. C'mon, eat your pancakes, eh."
---
It was a lovely day in the cold, cold winter wonderland called Canada. DawnFire woke up to the smell of pancakes and maple syrup smothered in poutine, and hopped delightfully out of bed. "Today is going to be a good day, eh!" she said, and the birds outside chirped their assent to that. After all, everyone knew Canadians had speshul sweetness powers that made things like moose and beavers flock to them in droves.
"Bonjour!" said the Time Engineer as he entered her room with a nice breakfast in bed, because Canadians were nice like that. "I made you-"
"All that's really nice of you, eh," said Dawn politely (on account of her Canadicitousness), "but... you've made me breakfast before. You made maple leaf pancakes and poutine, right, eh?"
"I-"
"And my haircut's really kinda bad, eh? And my nails aren't the length I usually trim them to. They're longer. A lot longer."
"I... Dawn, please-"
"No. You're a Time Engineer. You're making me live out the same day over and over again. Why?"
"Because I wanted to spend a perfect day with you. Over and over again."
"Not good enough, eh. I wanna go home n-"
The neuralyser built into the breakfast tray flashed, and the Time Engineer left the room.
---
It was a lovely day in the cold, cold winter wonderland called Canada. DawnFire woke up to the smell of pancakes and maple syrup smothered in poutine, and hopped delightfully out of bed. "Today is going to be a good day, eh!" she said, and the birds outside chirped their assent to that. After all, everyone knew Canadians had speshul sweetness powers that made things like moose and beavers flock to them in droves.
"Bonjour!" said the Time Engineer as he entered her room with a nice breakfast in bed, because Canadians were nice like that. "I made you maple leaf pancakes and poutine, eh, and afterwards we can go play hockey!"
"Do you wanna build a snowman, eh?" warbled Dawn as she accepted the breakfast (and a kiss on both cheeks because obviously since Canada was half-French they had to have French greetings too). "We should go out and play with all the woodland animals!"
"That is a good idea, eh," said Time Engineer. "We can build an entire army of snowmen and use them to attack Justin Bieber!"
And so after breakfast they went outside and simply let it go. The End.
---
With apologies to Time Engineer and DF. I just wanted to write a shipfic that was outright creepy. =]
/sideways look at TE/ Never do that, by the way, but it was a fun read :D
I kind of want to do a Supernatural-inspired version, now...well, maybe without the constant death scenes. What would the reset be, I wonder...
("Every single day you make me maple leaf pancakes with poutine, and suddenly you've switched to maple syrup?"
("Hey, it's a free country. Man can't change his own recipe, eh? What have we become?"
(/cue suspicious looks/)
~DF
So I'm not allowed to make a time loop by forcing my worldline into a self sustaining, repetitive feynman curve?
There goes my plans for next week, then :D
:D Oh well. I suppose you'll just have to find something else to invent.
~DF
I was trying to do bold
I have no idea why you decided to try putting h1 in the code, but bold is made with, funnily enough, a b--like so: text (only without the spaces.)
...note to self: h1 in the coding makes giant text...
The thing is, I didn't see heading code on the list of webapps approved html, so I thought it would do something else. Marqee just disappears.
Out of curiosity, when did you learn HTML coding?
Where did I learn html coding? When I wanted to do fancy things on the Board and several kind people told me how. And also when I wanted to do fancy things on the Wiki, but I think that's a different set of coding, for the most part.
Basically, I asked, people answered, and I don't actually have much memorized beyond bold, italics, strikethrough, links, and, now, giant text (because that's what I generally use). I should memorize the color-changing one, though, that sounds like fun...
~DF
It's not actually correct HTML to use headers such as <h1></h1> just to make the font bigger. Headers are block-level tags, like paragraphs (<p></p>), and are used to distinguish structural parts of a document. Changing the appearance of the document, such as the font size and color, is properly done with CSS (which you can learn lots about here, if you really want to).
~Neshomeh, who finally taught herself CSS to upgrade her website.
... but don't tell them that; CSS interprets colours differently. ;)
hS
whatever words you want in color
Oddly, the phrase "color hex code" implanted into the color hex code function also produces a color, which I found out when I forgot to put in the spaces. This shade of red, to be precise. I wonder if other phrases can do that.
Ten minutes later, it looks like "robot mountain lion" produces flat green, "rocket clown" produces a light blue, "unregistered catapult" produces a somewhat darker shade, and "dropped moose" makes magenta, but any of the other multi-word phrases that I tried just left the HTML code throwing up its hands in frustration or repeating one of the previous colors. Maybe there's a character limit. A lot of the phrases that didn't take were longer than five words. I also ran some Boaders' names through, and the only ones that took were yours, Trojanhorse's, Neshomeh's, and Huinesoron's; yours was the same red as "color hex code", Neshomeh's was catapult blue, Trojie's was mountain lion green, and Huinesoron's was a particular shade of green that I didn't see anywhere else.
This information comes from this article, and I've just tested it.
First key point, and one that's not mentioned in the article: capitals don't matter. F and f are equally valid numbers.
Second key point: if you have spaces, and don't surround your phrase with quotes ('single' or "double"), only the first word will be counted. Checking the source, Outhra didn't use quotes, so your color hex code was simply color; this is what "color hex code" looks like.
Third key point: the parser flat-out ignores any symbols in your sentence which aren't hexidecimal values. Since no-one's using digits, that means the only letters, punctuation, or spaces that count are abcdef. And, in fact, only a maximum of six of them.
The method for finding the colour value of a (more than six letter) phrase goes like this:
-Write down the string.
-Replace everything that isn't 0123456789abcdef - yes, replace the spaces too - with a 0. So "Huinesoron" becomes simply "0000e00000".
--That step is why a lot of names come out as fairly bold colours, and indeed identical ones: a lot of the used symbols will be 0s.
-Add 0s to the end of the string to the nearest multiple of three - in this case, "Huinesoron" was 10 letters, so I add 2 more to make "0000e0000000".
-Split the string into three equal parts: "0000 e000 0000".
-If the parts are over 8 letters each, trim each part from the left until they're exactly 8. This doesn't apply here, but 123456789 would become 23456789.
-If/once they're 8 or under, trim from the right until you have 2 letters per part. So in my case, that's "00 e0 00".
-That's a hex value, and will give the exact same colour as my name if you HTML it as [font color="#00e000"].
For comparison:
"Huinesoron"
"#00e000"
Of course, you can reverse this... if you wanted, for instance, to make a phrase come out in a nice medium grey - let's say #a0a0a0, you'd have the following options, where ~ indicates any letter, number, punctuation or space, = indicates anything except the valid hex values (though it can be 0), and (=) and (~) indicate any of those or nothing:
/a=a=a(=) - so "anamal" works.
/a=~a=~a(=)(~) - so "an ansa" works.
/a=a=a=(~)(~) - the final = has to exist, or else it would be a 9-item string. "all are anna" works, and is sort of a working sentence.
/a=~a=~a=~(~)(~) - so "amanda is awful" is our first valid sentence.
You can sort of see how this is going, can't you?
And just for giggles: other phrases that match me exactly (with quotes):
00e000
oliver twist
Ho, me shipmate
!!!!!!e!!!!!!!!!
hS (which is two letters, and thus uses slightly different rules - but since neither is a hex value, is just black anyway)
If I do my real name, I get this shade of light brown. Somehow, it seems to come out the same with just my first name and with my full married name. Maybe it means my marriage was meant to be!
My full maiden name gives me this bright red color. So does first and last maiden name and first and last married name, so maybe that destiny thing was a bit silly.
Phobos' first name does this. It's a pure red, unlike the above color, which has some green in it.
His full name is purple. Fun!
"Phobos," naturally, is just black. It fits.
I like Neshomeh Blue, though. The hex code is nicely symmetrical.
~Neshomeh
P.S. If you try this with your real name, make sure to work out the hex code and only use that when you post. Wouldn't want people to be able to find your real name by looking at the source code. {= )
Interesting. I was wondering why I had such trouble finding variants. Also, an unexpected blast of knowledge in how hex codes work! Hooray! ...What? Why am I the only one cheering?
Yeah, I usually just use quotation marks to separate what I was referring to from the rest of the sentence. I didn't realize that might be throwing anyone off. Sorry.
-appen.
It's the ship of lengthy explanations!
Apart from that, what I've understood so far is fascinating, and I'm sure the rest will be once I can make my eyes focus on it. (That's what I get for reading ancient Hebrew and Aramaic for the past hour or so; there are no capital letters, so eventually you end up with a headache...well, if it's on a screen and you're not that used to it, anyway.) Ta!
~DF
PS: Yup, 'ta' seems to be my word of the day. Fun, innit?
PPS: Disclaimer: DawnFire has no British citizenship of any sort, is unaware of any British blood in her family tree, and, in fact, has very, very few British connections outside of fiction. Therefore, she is not liable for any misunderstandings that may occur due to her occasional use of decidedly British phrases and/or (horrible) attempts to write British accents (as seen below in the Desdendelle/Tea shipfic). Thank you for your time.
That's a bit disappointing, I was kind of hoping for a friendlier-looking color. On the other hand, I apparently have a twin! Named...color hex code. Hm.
...how, may I ask, did you come up with those phrases? I mean, they're not exactly the most usual things that would come to mind, are they?
(By the way, "supercallifragilisticexpialidocious" makes the same color as "unregistered catapult". And yes, of course I had to try that.)
~DF
This is 'captainamerica'.
This is 'captainkirk'.
This is 'drmccoy'.
This is 'beammeupscotty'.
This is 'intelligentairhead'.
This is 'sherlockholmes'.
This is 'livelongandprosper'.
This is 'lilywinterwood'.
This is 'uhura'.
This is 'doctornotanescalator'.
That's awesome. :D
~DF
Which I actually have done in the past, but thats another story.
This is hilarious! Thank you so much Lily.
If you're ever in Toronto, I'll take you out for vegetarian Poutine.
Actually, if you want to we could go there sometime, Dawn. I think they've got it at the pizza place.
Not entirely sure I want to try poutine, even vegetarian poutine, but now I'm curious. :)
~DF
Tov Li.
They've got it and its not too bad either.
Or, if you want to make some (thing similar, but not quite accurate) yourself, take some french fries, put tomato sauce and then cheese on top, and stick it in the microwave for a little while. It tastes heavenly
Also sauce and cheese. I could try that in the toaster...
~DF
It works best with fries.
Perhaps when I'm in for purim I can bring some over. I don't think I'll try making parve gravy again. It didn't turn out too well last time
Am I going to need to start shipping DawnFirexTime EngineerxTalking About Food? Because it will be really awkward, and probably an embarrassment for all three of us! I know you don't want that, do you? Do you?
Well, maybe. Perhaps. Possibly. You know.
...y'know, we've baked pies together...not that I mean that as encouragement! No, certainly not. But there was some discussion involved there. And just recently, we were talking about gefilte fish! --mind you, that one...ended up a bit weird. Hilarious, but weird. Adapting Les Mis songs to put the fish in there weird.
Anyway, this was totally on topic! Didn't you see the mention of poutine in Lily's shipfic? We're just following up on that!
~DF
You people and your fics, you're going to kill me. I'll die from too much laughter.
--which is supposed to be healthy, actually, laughing, I mean, so...belay that.
I'm a vegetarian, so no poutine for me, but eh, maybe it's vegetarian poutine. Or fake poutine. And I have met people in Quebec who are my age and use the kiss on both cheeks (although they were Spanish speakers) (and I also know such people from Ontario, but they're older than I am), so there's that. (And I could so hear HIMYM throughout that first bit ahahahahaha...)
Thank you :D This has been absolutely lovely, eh! /hands out maple candies/
~DF
...someone *please* write a shipfic where for some reason I'm a Sue with a 21st Ring of Power, that would be hilarious.
~DF
PS: Second answer: /wide eyes/ But that would be *cheating*! :D
Poss. misremembered.
Anywho, Sue!DF/Legolas/... well, let's leave it a surprise.
---
"so you will be weeded to me for ever and ever and ever?" asked Dawn, her wilver hair flicking in a non-existent breeze. Since her last lover had given her the Other One Ring, her hair had inexorably lightened as the corruption took hold. Previously a brunette, she now wasn't so much platinum blonde as plutonium. She wished it would stop singing Evanescence songs of its own accord and glowing in the dark, but it was a small price to pay.
"Yes, my love," said Legolas. His voice was bland and his expression was similar to a concussed weasel.
"woot! lemme get that sweet elfy pants-noodle!"
"Ah, my love, your eyes are so beautiful in the moonlight, so similar in hue and brightness."
"talk later, now make with the crotch-carrot!"
"I feel blessed that my body may sully such full, cherry-red lips."
"mmfl."
"OKAY, THAT'S IT! EVERYBODY OUT OF THE POOL!" The door burst open to reveal a looming figure. He was male. Extremely male, if the shadow was anything to go by.
"mmfwah? huh? whats going on?"
"Dawn, we've talked about this. No mind controlling fictional characters and turning them into sex slaves. You know what happened when the police broke up your last play party. For God's sake, Hermione nearly died!"
"I... I think..." Legolas's expression cleared a little, and his eyes seemed less dim. "I do not know this place. Where are the halls of Rivendell? Why is my portrait on that long cushion? What is this-"
"oh no ya don't. someone needs his boosters." Dawn raised her hand and the Other One Ring flashed. She looked back at her flatmate. "now can ya leave? we were kind of in the middle of something, weren't we, snookums?"
"He said Rivendell."
"uh yeah-" A light bulb pinged on in Dawn's mind. "uh-oh. oh shoot. dont be mad-"
"He has leaf-shaped ears."
"youre doing the thing dude. youre doing the getting mad thing."
"We had a deal, damn it! You leave Middle-Earth alone or I leave and take your brain bling to the authorities!"
"not gonna happen."
"Then he leaves. Now."
"not gonna happen either."
"Then-"
"third option."
"What-"
Dawn's ring glittered, and the sparkles rose from it and settled on the man's eyes like scales on a dragon's back.
"third. option. legolas, lookit that, you got yourself a playmate!"
Legolas turned, his movements stiff. "Hail, friend of my queen. What do your lovers call you?"
The man's eyes were spinning up in their sockets and blood was rushing away from his head, but he still managed one word before the madness took him.
"Huinesoron."
Curse that Other One Ring! This is almost as bad as the time I was the mpreg child of Gwaihir and Legolas...
hS
That was one of the funniest endings I've ever seen. XD
Wobbles, I'm currently laughing so hard I can barely breathe I just can't what oh no you broke me,
You really broke me.
I'm only just now starting to stop laughing my goodness
That's it, I love you forever and ever, you write the most hilarious things ahahahahaha
/tries to catch breath/ Nope, still laughing...
XD
~DF
PS: ...wait...exactly who was Sue!me's last lover? I can't help but be, um, morbidly curious.
Any newbies wondering why... let's just say ignorance is bliss and move on. =]
ABORT! ABORT! /runs/
...look, as long as it's not that Celebrian, and Elrond...and Galadriel...and Celeborn...and Elladan...and Elrohir...aren't trying to kill me...yeah, okay.
(Ignorance is such bliss argh.)
~DF
I don't think you ever actually told me the reason, so it would still be a guess.
I wonder what the 21st ring would do. The main part of the rings power was to preserve the domains of their wielders, so maybe it would keep a SueFic from being fixed so easily?
...I AM THE KEEPER OF THE CANON. ALL SUES SHALL FEAR ME AND DESPAIR.
...wait, that's backwards. PPC AGENTS SHALL FEAR ME AND DESPAIR (OF DEFEATING ME).
Yes, that works quite well :D
~DF
I have no issues about being shipped with anybody, lady ot laddie. :D
Okay then, since everyone else has.
I am roughly 5 foot something, have little visible muscle, have brown eyes, have straight short dark brown hair in a middle part. I'm clean shaven and my skin is beige. I wear a black and white horizontal lined tshirt, blue chinos, sailing boots and a large forest green coat with a large hood.
The Emperor Protects!
Cisgendered female, 5'7", short brown hair that I can never get to lie flat, caucasian, hazel eyes, large hands and feet, almost always wearing a jean jacket with a bunch of random crap in the pockets, almost seventeen years old.
She said, and I quote, "Sure, go ahead".
(What is this?! I turn my back on the Board for like, a second, and suddenly this?)
IntelligentAirhead would have gasped as she ran, if she had not had a piece of toast in her mouth. She finally slowed when she saw Lily Winterwood standing underneath a cherry blossom tree, which was dropping enough petals onto her to have formed a small pile atop her head.
"Lily-senpai!" cried Intel as she ran up. She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but abruptly began coughing when a dozen petals fell into her mouth.
"Oh my god, are you OK, Intel?" Asked Lily as the petal drifts climbed up to their ankles.
Intel coughed. "I'm - I'm ok - um, Lily, would you -" she took a deep breath " - write Star Trek fanfiction with me?"
Lily gasped. "Oh Intel, I thought you'd never ask! Though we should probably get out from under this tree. This isn't even cherry blossom season."
"Yeah, and this is a really ridiculous amount of blossoms for a tree of this size, especially when there's barely any wind."
The two looked at each other for a second before running off as fast as they could.
"So you ship Kirk/Spock, right?" yelled Intel.
"Of course, it's my OTP!" Replied Lily.
And then they wrote fanfic.
(Is it revengshipping if we agreed to this beforehand?)
T'Intel and T'Firemagic were on the surface of an unexplored planet, scanning the area for signs of life. There was nothing there except for a couple flowers. However when they got closer to the flowers they found themselves walking through a haze of pollen. T'Intel sneezed, which was kinda un-Vulcan of her.
"Are you hurt?" asked T'Firemagic.
"The pollen is affecting my nervous and endocrine systems." said T'Intel.
"How is it affecting your endocrine syetem?" asked T'Firemagic curiously.
"It is making me want to have sex."
T'Firemagic realised then that the pollen they had inhaled was sex pollen. The other members of the away team had already succumbed to the temptation.
"We must control these urges," said T'Firemagic.
"Indeed," agreed T'Intel. "But could I at least have a hug?"
"Okay," said T'Firemagic, so the two Vulcans hugged.
"We should move away from the flowers and the rest of the away team," said T'Intel.
"Good idea," said T'Firemagic.
"And maybe we could touch each other's fingers," added T'Intel.
"Of course," said T'Firemagic.
"Perhaps a mind meld?" wondered T'Intel once they had sequestered themselves into a cave far away from the sex pollen and the, ahem, busy away team.
"If you want," agreed T'Firemagic.
"Very well," said T'Intel, and they melded.
END.
I had figured that I should verify so that all formalities can be resolved.
I'm a short (5'6") Asian-American girl with glasses, shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes, and an eclectic collection of nerdy t-shirts.
Intel is an equally-short (5'3") girl with grey eyes, long light brown hair, and skin so pale her features disappear when people take pictures of her with flash on.
My mom is 5'2"- that's short.
But I'm 5'7", so nyah. :P
Ergo, I consider myself short.
I'm a 6'4 male who is too long for my bed (I like sleeping fairly straight), and if the technology were available I would have given DawnFire about 3 inches from my legs and back.
The other alternative is sawing off the end of my bed, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.
Whatever your self image is, it's better than what that tends to look like. =oD
And here I was enjoying a whole inch of height over Lily. Bah.
Did you ever go to clown college? Because I have a friend whose parents met at clown college, no joke.
It's just one I prefer to use on the internet as part of a one-woman battle to make people realise CLOWNS ARE NOT INHERENTLY SCARY.
Sorry, that's a reflex.
Please ignore all the spiders.
Namely, is the entire description just for this Shipfest, or are you indeed a 6'1" trans?
Genderfluid's the more accurate term, but it tends to annoy people and it means I have to talk about it more than I like to. I rarely dress as a clown, though. Wouldn't do to wear myself out. =]
The rest is as follows:-
Hair colour: Dead mouse, styled after a nuclear haystack.
Eye colour: Sort of blue-green with hazel flecks, because apparently I'm descended from a Sue of some description.
Build: Resembles a poorly-inflated balloon tied halfway up a rose trellis.
Demeanour: Nervous.
Angry: Constantly.
Sexual preferences: Anyone and everyone, as long as they're of legal age and can fit into a walrus costume made of purple latex.
'Gender fluid'!
(You didn't honestly think you were going to escape this thread without a horribly bad Chemistry joke, did you?)
(Hmm, I wonder if hydrogen-type bonds would form between the >s and the +s... dangit, auto-nerdsniped!)
hS
I'm afraid that's an uphill battle.
A brief primer:
THE ENTIRE REASON SO MANY "SCARY" THINGS/PEOPLE/ENTITIES IN MODERN POPULAR CULTURE ARE CLASSIFIED AS SCARY IS BECAUSE OF WRITERS USING THINGS THAT ARE NOT SCARY AND TWISTING THE INTENT INTO SOMETHING DARK AND SINISTER WHY DO PEOPLE NOT GET THIS I MEAN IT'S AN OBVIOUS TRICK TO GET PEOPLE TO BE SCARED OF SOMETHING EVIDENTLY IT WORKED TOO WELL THOUGH AND NOW WE'RE STUCK WITH PILES OF FESTERING HORSE BOLLOCKS LIKE GAMZEE MAKARA AND PENNYWISE AND EVERY MEATHEAD IN A DEAD KENNEDYS SHIRT ON THE BLOODY INTERNET WHO THINKS GIVING RONALD MCDONALD FANGS AND A BLOODSTAINED MEAT CLEAVER IS EDGY AND COOL AND DEEP SOD THIS TREND SOD EVERYTHING ABOUT IT WE OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD BE ABLE TO RECOGNISE THIS IN FICTION BECAUSE ANALYSING FICTION IS WHAT WE BLOODY DO I SWEAR TO WHICHEVER GODS ARE CLOSEST-
Sorry. Bit of a button for me.
I didn't realize it until a while into the movie, but my younger (ten-ish) brother had snuck up and was also watching from around the corner.
The way I discovered he was there is that I heard him giggling.
He pretty much laughed through the whole movie. (Although I don't think he stayed to the spider* part at the end.)
So I guess it kind of supports your argument; my brother had never been given reason to fear clowns, and wasn't frightened of a clown doing overtly scary things. Then again, movie!It got pretty hokey at times.
*Not a spider, but the closest thing the minds of the characters could process It's true form as in this reality. My Stephen King fanboyism wouldn't let that one go.
My eyes, they water.
I see you have introduced another rank into the clown hierarchy. Now, in addition to the whiteface clown, instigator of comedy, the auguste clown, recipient of slapstick, and the other third one I can never remember, there is now the shouty clown, who peppers their circus act with unprompted rage.
doo-doo-DOO doo-doo-doo-DOO doo-doo-DOO IF YOU KIDS CAME HERE EXPECTING NOT TO SEE ME JUGGLE BALLOON ANIMALS, YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING!
DOO doo-Doo-doo DOO-doo-doo doo LOOK HOW WHIMSICAL I AM! IF YOU AREN'T OVERJOYED BY THIS INCREDIBLE DISPLAY OF MIRTH, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU!
I'm with you on Pennywise being a poor indicator of the average clown, though. The guy just wanders around laughing awkwardly in public places, obsessing over balloons and other things that float, growing sharp teeth for no reason, and occasionally turning into a giant spider. He's not funny, the way most clowns are, and he's not scary, which is what he was intended to be. He is kind of a mess all around. Do people really see him as the prime example of clownhood?
Who's about as funny as the bullet to the brain he'll likely inflict upon you whenever it's most convenient.
Also, yes, I tend to overreact when faced with the whole "Ooh clowns are scary" thing. This is because I hate and despise it. I'm sure there are things you hate and despise too.
The Joker's current persona wasn't created for him. It was inspired by Frank Gorshin's performance of the Riddler in the Batman 1966 TV show. The Joker used to be very different. His plans during the 50s and 60s were more often comprised of nonsense and pranks that he thought would be fun at any given moment, basically like Gotham's version of Discord. He was still a dangerous killer in his first few appearances, but back then he hadn't really been developed and was originally intended as one of Batman's many villains-of-the-week.
Personally, I think unpredictable and dangerous fits better on the Riddler. The guy's been given a bad reputation in the pantheon of Batman villains that he really doesn't deserve, sort of like the evil counterpart to Aquaman, and that's probably because the self-styled Clown Prince of Crime took most of his distinctive personality traits. That and the Super Friends TV show, which is another low point that he shares with Aquaman.
I nearly screamed my head off today in writing class because someone thought you actually needed to pop a female-bodied person's cherry. THERE IS NO CHERRY. THE CHERRY IS A LIE.
I get where you're coming from. They're not inherently scary, but our media loves making them scary, so people get scared.
Still, try telling that to someone with coulrophobia.
I cannot begrudge anyone with coulrophobia, however mild. It's for much the same reasons I hope people do not begrudge my own phobia. Cynophobia, FYI. I cannot handle dogs at all under any circumstances.
I have not been bitten by a dog. Nor have I been attacked by a dog in any way. I still pretty much freeze up whenever dogs come near me and I've suffered panic attacks when dragged to the vet by my parents when I was younger. Why did I go? My parents being the sort of people who regard phobic reactions as non-existent unless they're prefixed with homo- or xeno-, at which point they agree with them and consider writing another letter to the Daily Mail and I'm getting really off topic and Freud would probably have an absolute field day with this.
I imagine it is largely the same for people with coulrophobia, arachnophobia, nyctophobia, or any of the other phobias. Phobic reactions are irrational. I cannot in good conscience attack someone for a medical condition that is not their fault.
I can and will attack people for going "Ew clowns are creepy I never want one near my children" when you need more extensive and strenuous background checks to be a children's entertainer in the UK than you do to own a high-powered assault rifle in the US. I will attack the media for pushing the image of the Monster Clown without showing the good side. I will attack the media for having the last real popular image of clowns that aren't axe murderers or paedophiles-in-waiting be one designed to sell dangerously-produced boxed helpings of cowpat flambée to impressionable children. THINGS SHOULD NOT BE AS THEY ARE.
Perhaps there are more worthwhile causes. Actually, scratch that, of course there are more worthwhile causes. But this one I can actually do something about besides middle-class slacktivist hand-wringing and the occasional bin liner full of old clothes to whichever charity shop's got the proprietor with the sanest expression. I can change people's experiences of clowns. I can change people's minds. I can get them to accept that the clown is, essentially, a positive force.
The clown is your friend, because the clown is everyone's friend. The clown might be silly and goofy and prone to acts of pratfalling clumsiness that border on self-harm - seriously, ask Ailavyn and Techno-Dann how much pain you go through as a trapeze artist and imagine doing it in bouncy trousers and shoes the size of a small South American country - but it's to make you laugh and smile. This is the best thing. This is the only thing worth doing, to me at least. Making someone's life better, even if they only feel better, is the best thing to do with your life, and the best part of that is how many forms it can take! If you're a doctor you're doing it, if you're a binman you're doing it, even if you're a politician you're probably doing it for a certain amount of people (mostly the ones that funded your election campaign and very occasionally one of the cleaner voters): it's all worth it if it makes someone else smile. At least to me.
That's what the clown is to me. Not a monster under the bed, but the person who makes it go away.
:o)
-Phobos
i REALLY HAD NO IDEA, THAT WOBBLES HAD SUCH STRONG OPINIONS ON CLOWNS,
aND i, UHH,,, YEAH, UM, THAT'S PRETTY MUCH IT,
sORRY FOR THAT,
}:)
It Does Not Appear That Offense Was Meant After All
She Does Not Seem Like The Sort Of Person Who Would Take Offense At The Actions Of Someone Who Has Apologized For Their Role In Any Potential Transgressions At Least From My Experiences Regarding Her Which Admittedly Are Limited
Because I Am Not Always Certain When She Is Displaying Verisimilitude Or When Her Emotions Are Being Veiled By Sarcasm But That Is A Problem That I Have With A Variety Of Others So It Is Not Specifically Anyones Fault
Except For The Emotions Regarding Clowns Those Are Very Clear
Oh My I Appear To Have Lost The Trail Of This Topic I Will Stop Now Before I Embarrass Either Of Us Further
That Is Probably For The Best
D--> However, it 100ks as though we are getting off topic. I STRONGLY suggest we get back to shipping before someone takes e%ception to our nonsense.
"Seriously, guys? Seriously?" DawnFire glared up at Outhra and Phobos. "Guess off-topicness is in this year, huh? Or do you have a reason for your nonsense?"
Phobos shrugged easily. "Nonsense is nonsense. It doesn't generally require a reason."
"Agreed," Outhra put in. "Actually, the word nonsense can be used to refer to--"
"Not now," DawnFire said, and sighed. "Do either of you want to explain the colored text, please? And the, I don't even know, the chatspeak? Netspeak? Something?"
Phobos and Outhra exchanged looks. "I have an explanation," Outhra said finally. "But I don't think you'll be too happy with it."
DawnFire raised both eyebrows. "Why not?"
"It's composed entirely of technobabble and references to two animes, three messageboards, and a cheetah."
There was silence. Eventually, Phobos broke it.
"Well, in light of that--LOOK, A CLOWN ARMY!"
"What?" DawnFire turned to look. Behind her, Phobos grabbed Outhra's hand, and they ran for it. By the time the female Boarder turned back, they were...well, only about ten feet away, really, but they kept running. DawnFire rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," she muttered. "Better get back to Canada, I'm missing some maple-leaf shaped pancakes..."
~
"Nonsense is fun," Outhra said, panting, as they finally came to a half. "We've lost her, right?"
Phobos checked. "Yes," he said. "Actually, I'm not quite sure where we are anymore. We seem to have lost ourselves."
They considered this.
"Well," Outhra said at last, "at least we're still together."
Phobos nodded slowly. "That's true."
"And," Outhra added, "there's no one around."
Phobos nodded again, less slowly. "I'm aware of that, yes. Why--?"
Outhra shrugged, moving closer. "No interruptions. We could have a great discussion..."
Phobos started to grin, nodding. "A discussion. With no one to stop us or curb our details. That sounds wonderful."
And with that, both Boarders leaned in...
--
And, there you have it. My first completed shipfic, although technically not the first I've written (but that's still in the works at the moment).
Apologies, of course. Sort of. This did rather sound like an open invitation, though, so how could I resist? :D
~DF
DawnFire had just sat down to her meal of maple-leaf shaped pancakes when there was a knock on her door. She let out an exasperated sigh and pushed herself away from the table. As she walked sullenly to the door she muttered under her breath about being interrupted and things she might do with a hockey-stick to whoever this was.
The knock came again. "I'm coming!" she called, wondering why her dining room was so far from the front door. "Hold your horses." She reached the door and opened it.
Outside, there was a man in a dress. He had gray paint and dark green lipstick on his face. The most striking thing about him, though, were the papier-mâché, orange horns on his head. "Hello," he said. "You Remember Me, Of Course."
"I can't say that I do," said DF. "Why are you speaking so oddly and why is there a pony on my lawn?"
"I Am Outhra And That Is Maplehoof. I Felt It Might Be Appropriate To Bring Her Along, Considering The Predisposition Of People From Canada To Enjoy Maple Themed Things. Also, I Am Not Speaking Oddly. I Am Merely Portraying The Particular Accent Of One Kanaya Maryam, Who Happens To Speak With A Certain Formalness And Green Color. It Is A Very Interesting Topic And, In Fact, The Reason I Am Here In The First Place. You See, It Occurred To Me Earlier That I Should Probably Enlighten You As To What You Are Missing Out On. Therefore, Let Me Tell You About Homestuck!"
DF was left confused by all of this. "You're speaking in green. How are you speaking in green? No, wait. Better question. How am I hearing you speak in green?" She put her hand over her eyes and hung her head. "You know what, I don't even care. Let's make a deal. If you stop talking like that, you can share in my ridiculously-stereotypically-Canadian, but also very tasty, pancakes and maybe we can have some ridiculously-stereotypically-Canadian sex."
Outhra thought about that for a moment. "I'm not really sure what that last bit is all about, but I'm in." He took his horns off and went into the house.
"Well, it's just like regular sex, but more polite and with a little more maple syrup." The door closed behind them, leaving Maplehoof chomping grass on the front lawn.
[[ Revenge-shipping? From me? Never. -Phobos ]]
(general applause between bouts of laughter)
I wonder how Time Engineer will react now that my cosplaying counterpart has breached his vault of Canadian sterotypes and Groundhog Day parodies.
And poor Maplehoof, left out on DawnFire's lawn, within the range of Time Engineer's nefarious temporal loop but not nearly close enough to partake in the eating of delicious poutine, the watching of hockey, and other things that happen inside Canadian houses, forced to relive the same moments again and again and again but not intelligent enough to realize what is going on. I will save her some maple syrup. Syrup's non-toxic to horses, right?
Look, I've been looking for a revenge ship...and here one is. Sort of.
--
"You're really quite a nice horse, aren't you?" Alice neighed amusedly. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm celebrating spring, eh!" Maplehoof replied happily. She pranced around in a circle. "Came here with some guy, eh! But he's busy now, eh, so I'm just..." Her head went down with a sigh. "Just left standing here." She looked up through her eyelashes. "I don't suppose you've got any ideas you could share with me, eh?"
Alice sidled several steps closer. "Well, we could get out of here and go to this great place I know..."
Maplehoof nickered happily. "Lead the way, please!"
And with that, the two horses went somewhere else, and...indulged in drinking the sap of maple trees, because Maplehoof's cool like that.
--
Does this actually count as a revenge ship...?
~DF
Hey, for future reference, when an explanation for anything requires a link to Urban Dictionary, it is most likely not something that needs explaining.
It's Homestuck.
With that said... What? A half where no one can curb my details? Where is this half, DawnFire? What is it a half of? This is important! For once I find the other half, I shall be able to circumvent the Board's wordcount limit! My walls of text shall go on... forever! (high-pitched mad scientist's laugh)
That's what I get for writing so late at night. It was meant to be a halt, not a half...although I suppose it could be a half of a protective shield of some sort? Or half of a magical cookie that grants shielding from interruptions...and the other half can circumvent wordcount limits...bah, I need that second half for Tumblr askboxes.
Also, of course it's Homestuck. Isn't everything, sooner or later?
~DF
No ropeburn here, unfortunately, just gallons of caffeine and stacks of books and reams of newspapers. I'll certainly get around to posting some ships soon!
Techno-Dan tried on his best glower. "I'm going to have ropeburn in the morning."
"Good. That means I'm doing my job properly," VixenMage said. Smiling sweetly, she tugged the knots tighter.
Techno-Dann winced as his arms jolted in their sockets. "Really, I don't think it has to be that tight."
"Look, whose idea was this, anyway?"
"Er... yours?"
"Oh, really?" VixenMage frowned. "Well... exactly! So stop complaining."
"No, listen, that didn't even make-"
VixenMage pulled on another rope - the one that fed through a system of pulleys, then down again to the barrel that Techno-Dann was tied tightly over. The barrel rose ponderously into the air until it was at VixenMage's eye level. She nodded in satisfaction and tied the rope off, then turned and gave the barrel a shove.
The cask swung in the air, slowly at first, but speeding up as VixenMage continued to push. It developed a gentle spin, and Techno-Dann's face obtained a greenish tinge.
"I don't even understand," he complained as he and the barrel swung back and forth in front of VixenMage's face. "Why is this supposed to be sexy?"
"I haven't a clue," VixenMage admitted. "Maybe you're supposed to take your clothes off first...?"
Not quite sure what it would entail, but feel free to add be to anything you want.
Ok, didn't know that.
I'm a Caucasian male who is 6 foot 4 inches tall (I know its high, my bed isn't long enough). My hair is somewhere between blond and brown, and is really thick and curly. Think jew-fro and you're not far off.
Thats it, I guess
Because if so I'm cool with it as long as there's no sex for me. I'm tall with short light brown hair, and am usually wearing a jean jacket and boots. I am not going to list my sexuality because I'm not sure.
It took me a while before I figured stuff out. It's actually kind of funny because my mom was- still is, to be honest- incredibly confused when I told her and dad that I like girls, too. She's always saying stuff like, "You never acted like it before!" And she also can't seem to grasp that there's more to sexuality than just gay, straight, bi, and asexual. (For the record, I prefer the term 'heteroflexible'.)
...My family is really liberal, but we happen to live in a rather homophobic community, and I don't think they'd care that I dated the same guy for almost two years. Then he moved to Florida. >_>
Also, that's kind of funny that you wear a jean jacket a lot. Guess who else does?
As to shipping you... I'm thinking you/Phobos (HMS Xenophobos). I'll have to write the ship later. Muahahaha.
I usually go for the opposite sex but, lately theirs been a certain someone on my mind. Don't know if I'm serious of if it's just a phase
But this year, we should technically get David Bowie's permission before he gets shipped with me again. Or not. We'll see what happens.
110 kg, 178 cm.
Black hair, eyes, whitish-brown skin. Wears sarong and T-shirt.
Now with extra endurance and occasional ropeburn because I've been taking classes at the local circus school. :3
Seriously? You do? Like, trapeze classes?
*glances at her riding breeches*
Now I suddenly feel so lame by comparison. Still, riding a galloping horse and sailing over a jump is an awesome feeling, so I'll take it... besides, I love the horse I ride, even if he is a jerk.
"Right!" shouted wobblestheclown, marching back and forth in front of her students with a rubber chicken under her arm. "Welcome to circus school! We will teach you everything you need to know to be down with the clown and perform at your peak! Any questions?"
"Um...yes," said Techno-Dann. "Why is it necessary for us to be naked and covered in grease paint?"
"Very important, that," explained wobbles. She gestured with the rubber chicken as she continued. "You need to get in touch with your inner clown, and the best way to do that is to get in touch with your outer clown."
Ailavyn raised her hand. "So, why are you naked, then?"
"Well," said wobbles, a mischievous glint in her eye, "sometimes the best way to get in touch with your inner clown is to get in touch with someone else's outer clown. Now, if that is all the questions..."
[[ I regret nothing. -Phobos ]]
"All shall bow before me! None may dispute my might!"
A deafening silence burned through the Hall of Kings as the nobles and slaves cowered together. Dread Emperor Phobos reached down slowly to lift the crown from the fallen king's brow, and raised it over his own head.
There was a knock at the door.
Phobos froze in place, crown mere inches from his hair. "Er... is anyone going to get that?" he bellowed.
There was no reply. The nobles all averted their gazes from him.
There was another knock at the door.
"Oh, fine." Grasping the crown in one hand, the Dread Emperor Phobos stalked across the Hall of Kings and wrenched the door open. Outside stood a diminutive man dressed in immaculately-tailored black velvet suit, hand raised to knock a third time.
"Oh thanks," the man said, stepping under the Dread Emperor's outstretched arm, into the hall. "It's awful weather out there, and you know how orcs get when they're out in the rain. Awful, simply awful." The small man registered the sight in the hall, and beamed. "Oh, is all this for me? Very kind of you, but you don't have to. I just want to sell clothes, really. But I suppose I'll rule you if I have to." He reached for the crown in Phobos' hand.
The Dread Emperor drew his hand back as if burned. "You do not rule here!" he declared. "I am the Dread Emperor Phobos! I have slain the king, and none may challenge my right to his domains!"
"Oh, really, that's a shame, actually," said the little man, "because I'm actually a Dark Lord myself, you know? I don't like to go on about it, I'm more interested in the clothes, but I do happen to be darklordaakmal - a little problem with the scribes way back when, you see - and I-"
"Cease your prattling!" the Dread Emperor Phobos boomed. "I shall crush you like a watermelon!"
"A watermelon? Really? That's what you're going with?" the diminutive Dark Lord shook his head sadly. "And I just had this suit made, too. Although... there is an alternative."
"I care not for alternatives!" Phobos proclaimed, then frowned. "Probably," he amended. "What is it?"
"Well, it's in the rules, you know? Two Dark Lords, or Dread Emperors as it may be, who both claim the same kingdom, can decide the matter in a duel."
"I... but... that's what I said."
"Yes, but no." Darklordaakmal glanced at the crown, then looked back at Phobos. "This isn't a duel of weapons or strength, but a duel of lust."
Phobos blinked once, then again, and then a third time before saying, "You mean... who can sleep with the most women, that sort of thing?"
"Ah. No." Darklordaakmal beamed up at the Dread Emperor. "Tell me - are you familiar with the term 'slash'?"
Although I may not be able to burden my orcs with artistic loomwork for a few days. They must be muttering curses under their breath for the colds I brought them.
You can't fool me, Anonymous. I know you're secretly Phobos, or perhaps Neshomeh, or perhaps a servant of one of those two, planting the seeds in the Board collective mentality for Phobos to rise up and overthrow the other Barons/Permission Givers! But your plan was imperfect! I figured you out, and I am usually terrible at figuring out plans!
Unless... you intended for someone to figure you out. Unless this entire charade was a red herring! But that's even less likely than me stumbling onto a villainous plot all by myself, so it's not really worth considering. Unless that very act of not being considerable makes this the rare and elusive red herring²! Truly, Phobos, your plots stretch within plots.
No one expected you to have full knowledge of HTML. Is the game me teaching you about it? Because if so, it's not going to be a very long game. Most of the answers are right here.
Oh anon!sc, how I missed you and your ever-disappearing name! Say, where's your sister, KittyNoodles? I finally finished my first mission, and seeing she was the one to get me interested in the PPC, I just thought she should read it.
…You're not SC at all, are you?
The one who asked "Who am I" was 99Hedgehog, though. That IP matches the one from this post farther down the page. I'm still not able to get a match for the "I want to play a game" anon.
I am laughing so hard right now.
-Aila
What do you do?
*contemplates single point trapeze induced aching hands*
(Yeah, I take aerial classes.)
-Aila
I've been doing mixed aerials for eight-ish months. Still working on the basics... Straddle climb, pull-overs, and starting into double foot-knot stuff. All very fun, still very painful.
That will never, ever change. (Unfortunately for my hands. And my stomach. And my--)
Anyways, I've been doing this stuff for...four-and-a-halfish years now, actually. And my splits have finally gotten better! *rejoices* I am not naturally flexible.
The basics are always good. Currently, I'm working on an act on the single-point trapeze (aka spinning trapeze or dance trapeze), which is pretty much my one true love when it comes to apparatuses (apparati?).
Still, just wait till you get to drops, and swinging, and other insanely exhilarating things. It is FUN. (Also painful, but when isn't it?
-Aila
I just got back from class, and we totally learned the front salto today! Very fun, and surprisingly hard to let go of the rope.
That's the first drop I ever learned, despite everyone else learning either star or slack drop first. I love it so much. (And that love is definitely exacerbated by the relatively low fear factor.)
I myself actually just came back from this really amazing show the Kinetic Arts (another Bay Area circus school) youth troupe put togther. Everyone there is so good it's not even funny. I mean, us at Circus Center have Morgan and Mikayla to idolise, but how is everyone there so much better than me? *motivation*
(Also, tissu hurts less than rope. I prefer it and avoid rope whenever possible.)
-Aila
I'm torn between the two... You're right, fabric hurts a lot less. On the other hand, there are things that can be done on the rope that just look straight-up impossible - the Russian climb variation for rope, toe climb (I think that's what it's called?), and so on...
And yes. I continue to be amazed by classmates and other classes. They make it look like gravity is really just a suggestion.
A couple weeks ago, there were a couple little kids in the waiting area during my class. I was doing Catcher's Sequence -> Peter Pan -> Candlestick on the rope, and they were staring with wide eyes and open mouths. For a moment there, I felt like a real aerialist! And then I got to the big sit-up at the end of Candlestick and was quietly muttering profanities. But the point is that you are entirely capable of amazing people, regardless of how long you have or haven't studied.
Have you ever seen a really, really skilled person on silks? Or even just someone who has their splits? *watches them float* Although I do agree with you in that rope is basically pure strength, and you can see that when someone's performing. There is nothing quite like a professional rope act. (Well, maybe a straps act. Anyone who does straps as their primary apparatus earns my instant respect.) Maybe it's because the rope is so stark and simple that it feels like the performer isn't hiding anything, whereas tissu is sort of made for grace and flowiness and really pretty lines and look at Anna and Ava's amazing doubles tissu act that I somehow got grafted onto for the library show--
*ahem* Right. Yeah. Sorry, sort of got carried away there.
(And I hate toe climb with a burning passion. It hurts, and I can never coordinate my hands and my feet anyways. I'm not very good at really any of the fancy climbs, unless it's straddle climb, and even then I've not been doing much rope or tissu lately so I think my straddle-ups are suffering.)
"Gravity just a suggestion..." Oh, yes. Have you ever seen a cloudswing act? One of the teachers I've had, Eve, did cloudswing, and the one time I saw her in a show... wow. It's called cloudswing for a reason. (And yes, there's probably an infinite number of apparatuses.)
I literally do not know any of the tricks you just mentioned because literally everything has about a million names (well, except star drop), and that only gets worse when certain enterprising people such as myself make up names for tricks they, well, don't know the names for or have just improvised. Although I've taken to calling tricks I've made up names more along the lines of "that twirly thing from fish that's sort of like an opposite unicorn" than anything coherent, so I'm probably not the best example.
But yes, that feeling! When you get down, and people are clapping, and it was a good run for once, and you hurt, but there is an audience clapping for you, for you! and you're actually satisfied with how you did, and you finally remembered to smile--
Really, if you do circus, you're gonna want to show off. That's just the way things go.
-Aila
Of the three of us, the one who's only likely to step into a circus school while prodded in the back with a shotgun is the only one who's actually got clown in their name. Ho hum. There's always children's parties. =]
I like this idea. I guess a brief description of me is:
Roughly 160 cm tall, slim, athletic figure, black hair and brown eyes (I am of Vietnamese origin).
And I guess for fun, allergic/oblivious to love.
A few basic details: tall, glasses, brown hair, goatee.
Let loose the armadas!
6'1", brown hair, blue eyes. Ship me with whomever you please~
I didn't want to participate in the last one, because I was only a few Board days old when it rolled around, but I'm up for being shipped if anyone wants to!
I'd write for one of the pairings, too, but I tried earlier today and I found out that most of my attempts wind up incredibly out-of-place and sort of uncomfortable, so I'm opting out of that portion. I will need to work on that in the future.
Oh, by the way, before potential problems arise, I'm male, not female. I have found that my screen name was the cause of some confusion in the past.
Sorry folks, shipping isn't really my scene.
That being said, I will enjoy reading the stuff that pops up about other people. Double standards are fun!
I got this one from hS's list of ships; I would never have come up with this idea in a million years. And yeah, I kind of twisted the whole 'ship' thing, but I thought it was funny. So... yeah. Enjoy!
The sickly sweet smell of puréed watermelon was what finally woke Desdendelle. He groaned and opened his eyes, blinking owlishly as he tried to make out his surroundings. The floor beneath him seemed to be moving, which, coupled with the watermelon smell, didn't exactly do wonders for his stomach.
"Oh, good, you're awake," a girl said. Des looked around for the speaker. A lanky girl who looked to be about his age was sitting on what looked to be a horse-print Japanese body pillow, fiddling with a small painted wooden duck.
"What- who-?"
"Oh, sorry, I guess I should have introduced myself." The girl tossed the duck over her shoulder and moved from the pillow to sit next to Des; he realized that, for whatever reason, he was lying in a pile of fluffy plush penguins. The girl gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm Iximaz. My friend Randa's around here somewhere, and that's Bernard in the corner, and the lady you're sitting on is Neshomeh."
Des jumped almost a foot when the mound of penguins shifted, revealing a woman dressed in a penguin suit. "What even-?"
"Someone say my name?" penguin!Neshomeh asked, yawning. She focused on Des. "Oh, hello."
"Uh... hi?"
Neshomeh smiled vaguely and buried herself back under the penguins. A moment later, a faint snoring could be heard issuing from the mound.
Des shook himself and stood- rather, he tried to stand. The floor pitched, throwing him off his feet and into a small stack of books titled Zambezi Mod for Civilisation V. An indignant squawk from the unlucky penguin he'd landed on echoed through the room.
Iximaz held out a hand and pulled Des off the poor bird. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he replied, swatting a sticky electric toothbrush off his pants. Where the heck had that come from? And was that penguin wearing bikini mail? What the-?
"Uh, I guess you want to know what's going on," Iximaz said, leading Des over to a wall and sitting down. Des hesitated, but when the floor rocked again, he decided he'd rather sit than risk falling on another aquatic bird.
"An explanation would be nice," he said.
Iximaz grimaced apologetically. "Well, it wasn't my idea, but someone thought it would be funny to... well..." She trailed off, biting her lip.
"What is going on?"
She reached up and flipped open a circular window covering to reveal an endless plain of gray-blue waves. Des stared at the ocean, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.
He'd been shipped.
That was lovely. It was an interesting take on shipping.
Heeeeeeeeeee, shipped...
A clown doubled up with unnatural laughter. Madness was spreading, entropy gaining ground. Her goals were about to be achieved. Her triumph was imminent.
She snapped her fingers to summon one of her retinue. "The soldier is waking from the nightmare. Another vat of watermelon ought to do the trick."
"What of Bernard," asked the cowering aide, lips twisting into a terrified grimace behind a thick greasepaint smile.
"Bernard... shall be first."
((Translation: I came up with this for my own nefarious purposes. [=))
...who sold my grandma to the cactus factory!
Yeah, I don't know. But what was the watermelon for?
I mean, come on, haven't you ever abducted someone and kept them in a drug-induced coma so that your infernal masters will begin their inexorable return to the world of man before?
Either your resources or the quality of your summoned creatures may be a little lacking. A true dark wizard is capable of shaping forms for his selected ones from the very earth, or the living matter surrounding the site of the dread beings' entry upon the world! Or at least that's what I've heard from those who've managed it. I've been thinking about trying, but I can never find the right equipment to isolate a single extraplanar entity, and they get a little grumpy when they need to share a body. It's best to have proper preparations in place before trying that sort of thing, you know. Nobody wants an unscheduled apocalypse.
Because what I and my Fell Brothers working with involves an extremely protracted blood sacrifice and about a month of solid chanting. The coterie's got to do it in shifts and I'm on my twelfth, by the Unspeakable One! We ran a few tests using the usual derelicts and it transpires that neither watermelon nor the sedatives affect the outcome of minor versions of this ritual; it just meant the bonds were slightly less stable than we'd have preferred. Why d'you think that chap ate someone's face a few years back?
In other words, shipping me is fine. {= )
~Neshomeh
Anyone who wishes to ship me, feel free. I am a high school junior with really fluffy-curly brown hair and glasses, so there's your description if you need it.
Ship away!
We're writing fanfic about each other? What is going on here? And it looks like a yearly thing. Clearly I underestimated the strangeness of the internet
... well, theoretically explained in the post, but if you don't get it clearly I failed. ;) The 'authorised' explanation is here.
Basically, yes, we're writing bad, shippy (as in 'relationship') fanfic about each other. For fun and... fun!
hS
Heteroflexible-leaning-straight high school girl. Go nuts.
Also, hS, do we get e-cookies if we write an as-accurately-as-we-can ship of you and Kaitlyn? ;)
We'd be interested to see how 'well' that works out...
hS
PS: I should've said this in the post, but: more than one person is allowed to write any given ship. Just in case someone asks. ~hS
Good to know in advance, but I think it's just going to be me for the shipfest. But aww, you really do care!
And I was just kidding about the hS/Kaitlyn thing. I doubt I'd be able to do it justice... Especially after seeing the example you included in the first post.
I'll be very disappointed if tea isn't mentioned.
Very short physical description: about 170cm tall, rather thin, sandy hair. Black-rimmed, rectangular glasses, tends to grow a messy goatee when able. Also a soldier.
(Apologies about the exclusionary language used in the title.)
The doorbell rang. DawnFire set down her book and ran downstairs to answer the door, wondering if it was the package delivery guy who forgot to get her signature the last time she purchased a giant statue of Jack Harkness for her backyard (said statue was, naturally, naked).
To her surprise, however, when she opened the door she saw a lanky sandy-haired soldier on her doorstep with a cup of tea in his hands. He blinked at her from behind his glasses. She stared back.
After a moment, she said, "I thought you were being deployed, Desdendelle."
"I had to come back for you," he said. "I couldn't stand going off into battle without telling you goodbye."
"Or without your tea, evidently," she added, nodding at his teacup.
"Yeah," agreed Desdendelle.
"Care for a cuppa?" Dawn asked. There was a pause. "I mean, another cuppa, once you're done with --"
Desdendelle had stopped her mid-sentence with his hand against the side of her face. Dawn blinked again.
"Or that," she added. "I think the bed's still warm."
"Good," replied Desdendelle as Dawn led him over the threshold.
(..........this didn't turn out as goofy as I had hoped. Grr.)
I can't help it, this won't go away. Sorry, Des?
--
Many--okay, fine, several--years ago:
I--I can't believe you're breaking up with me!
Desdendelle sighed, patting the box gently. "You know it's not personal, Orange Pekoe. You're just...not quite caffeinated enough for me right now, you know? It's not you, it's just--I'm in my last year of high school, and the Bagruyot*, and--well, I just need a bit more caffeine these days, you know? I love you, Orange. It's just that my lifestyle is changing, and, well...you don't quite fit into it anymore."
The box of Orange Pekoe tea managed to convey a sniffle. Desdendelle patted it again.
"I'll call you, yeah? Maybe we can still get together on weekends..."
Don't touch me!
Present day:
"You're the only tea for me, Earl Grey," Desdendelle said happily, smiling sweetly at his teacup--or rather, at its contents.
Steam wafted fondly towards him. Keep talkin', luv...
The soldier--he was now in the army--took a sip before he complied. "You're wonderful. So caffeinated...you get me up the morning, and cuddle with me at night--"
Traitor! sobbed the half-empty box of Orange Pekoe. You once told me that I was your one and only!
Well, this is awkward, innit... Earl Grey murmured. Hm...Orangey, howsabout you join us?
"What?" Desdendelle said, and What? Orange Pekoe demanded.
Come join us. Two teas're better than one, Des luv, you know that...
Desdendelle looked at the Orange Pekoe for a long moment, before he nodded. "That sounds...wonderful. Let's mix up a cup of tea we'll never forget!"
~
*Yes, yes, I know, I'm writing a shipfic with footnotes. Point is, the Bagruyot are a test that Israelis take at the end of high school. They're apparently difficult, and resemble the SATs. At least, that's what I've gathered. Anyone who's taken them can feel free to correct me or provide more detail...
--
I'd like to disclaim that I don't know anything about Desdendelle's preference--or lack thereof--for Orange Pekoe tea. Nor do I mean to suggest that Orange Pekoe tea goes well mixed with Earl Grey. I don't even claim to know what Orange Pekoe tea tastes like...but I do claim the knowledge that Des likes Earl Grey tea! /runs away/
(And yes, I had to. Did anyone do this last year? I'm fairly sure it was suggested, but...)
~DF
(Sorry, couldn't resist.)
Yes, someone shipped me with tea. And Nesh.
Also, awesome, I was already laughing when I read the title.
A few nitpicks, though: Orange Pekoe is a category of tea (the Western equivalent of the Chinese Mao Feng), which signifies that only the top two leaves of the plant and the bud between them were used in the preparation of the tea - id est, it's rather high quality. It follows that it cannot stand by itself - you can have Orange Pekoe Earl Grey, Orange Pekoe Lady Grey, Orange Pekoe Count Grey but not Orange Pekoe tea.
BTW... there's an anime character that uses Orange Pekoe as a nom de guerre. Unintentional hilarity +20%.
You know what this means, right? Fic!you just invented Orange Pekoe Earl Grey tea (I know, I know, just run with it).
Heh. My mistake; suppose I should have followed through with the Google search instead of exiting as soon as I'd double-checked the spelling...
Huh, an anime character. Unintentional hilarity is always good... :D
(Since when did the entire Grey family get teas named for them?? And what's the difference?)
~DF
...I don't know, Lily, I'm not seeing too many statues in my backyard. Unless they've gone to my other backyard.
...that other backyard must be getting pretty crowded, if there are so many statues in it...
(Also, good on you with the tea exchange, that was fun. OH! I'VE CRACKED THE CODE! This is BRITISH me! No wonder I'm not seeing any statues in my backyard--they're all in England!)
Also, I hear revenge-shipping is in these days...
--
"I'm out of tea." Desdendelle waved his empty cup around for emphasis. "This can't go on. Lily, this is an outrage, I need more tea!"
"Um," Lily said. She thought for a minute. "We could go crash the Boston Tea Party?"
Desdendelle groaned and lay back on the couch, cradling his empty teacup to his chest. "I'll never have another cuppa, will I..."
"Ooorrrrr..." Lily walked over, straddled him neatly, and leaned in. "We could always raid John Watson's stash." She smiled.
The soldier met her eyes, and smiled back. "That's acceptable. He does have Earl Grey, doesn't he?"
"What sort of Brit doesn't?" Lily murmured. She leaned in further, until their lips brushed. "We'll get you more tea, Des...in a minute..."
--
...I do believe that's the first revenge-ship I've written that really feels like revenge. Awesome!
~DF
Ship me with whomever you want!
You can use "Hermione" as an abbreviation. Currently, my top two fandoms are Star Trek and Avengers.
As for writing,I'll see if a plot bunny hits me.
(okay yes I know the list only has you shipped with Dawn, but I've been writing too many Dawn-centric shipfics already)
"Where are we?"
IntelligentAirhead consulted the tricorder. "The planet Bored XI in Delta Quadrant, Captain."
Hermione pursed her lips and considered it. "Okay, let's go look for signs of life, then."
"There aren't any."
"No? Dang. I thought there'd be some nice aliens to meet."
Intel raised an eyebrow. "Was the entire purpose of this away mission for you to meet an alien? Really?"
"What? I'm sorry if I'm attracted to emotionally unavailable non-human hotties, okay?"
"You've conveniently forgotten, then, that I am a DRN-model android. I was built to feel. And right now the emotion I am feeling is jealousy."
Hermione paused, and looked back at Intel. "Oh," she said after a long awkward pause. "Do DRNs have sex drives?"
Intel considered it. "I can tell you that I am fully functional and anatomically correct," she said.
Hermione grinned wickedly. "Excellent."
*doubles over laughing*
Lily, I'm just...that's awesome. It made my day. No, my whole weekend.
The best part is that that's actually really in character for me. My Tumblr is clearly an accurate reflection of my personality, or at least my romantic preferences. In fact, I might steal the phrase "emotionally unavailable non-human hotties" for something.
Oh gods, I'm going to keep this bookmarked for whenever I need a laugh.
5'5" female, shoulder length curly brown hair usually clipped at the side or pushed back in a headband, brown eyes, purple framed glasses. Favorite color is purple.
Ship me if you so desire!
-Aila
High school girl with long, frizzy-curly brown hair, blue-green glasses, and a penchant for wearing ankle-length skirts and cloaks.
22 years old straight male. Ship to your heart's content.
(This is totally a bad idea.)
“I knew this was a bad idea...” Des muttered to himself. He gave his friend Sergio a Moemura costume as a joke, and the Italian man summarily caught their American friend Firemagic and made her wear it.
“See? Now you're all cute and moe!” Sergio was saying.
“B-b-but I don't w-wan't to wear this!” Firemagic answered.
“He's right, you know,” Des commented from the bed he sat on.
Sergio turned to look at the messy-haired teenager. His face brightened and he ran out of the room.
Des turned to Firemagic with a questioning look, and she shrugged.
While he was looking at her and wondering how Sergio made her hair that straight, he felt something descending on his head, and everything went black. When he woke up, he found himself sitting next to Firemagic. Looking down, he saw he was wearing a similar costume to Firemagic's -- a black skirt, a white shirt with puffy sleeves and a red tie. He even had purple ribbons glued to his head.
“Now you're both mine!” said Sergio, who towered over the sitting pair. “MINE! BWAHAHA!”
I am, as always, free to be shipped.
-Phobos
If so... Deshomeh!
=PAUSE O MEN FOR THE VIRGIN=
The creaking noise from upstairs was beginning to get on the clown's nerves.
Why had she introduced them? Well, she knew the answer; they were both alone and lonely, both adrift in a universe that didn't really care for its inhabitants all that much, and her self-imposed mission was to spread joy and laughter among her friends. She wasn't entirely certain what she'd made the two upstairs spread, but she could make a decent guess. The creaking was only getting worse.
Their courtship was something of a whirlwind romance, in that there had been loud noises and a staggering amount of property damage. Each of the pair had taken an almost instant dislike to the other that matured into mutual, staggeringly powerful hatred as time wore on. Hate, of course, is just love with a goatee glued on, so the clown didn't think it was surprising that they were now making, ahem... creaking noises. Damn her if they weren't grating on the ears, though.
Eventually, the clown admitted defeat and switched on her stereo. Deafening circus music expelled the creaking noises from her brain and she relaxed into a state of bliss. Upstairs, the pair began to match their pace with the disembodied oompah band.
Several hours later, the two looked each other in the eye.
"D'you think we ought to tone it down a bit?" asked Neshomeh.
"Nah," said Desdenelle, "this is revenge for the last time Sergio came over. I can still hear the squeaking from those balloons."
"Oh, yeah, that... happened." Neshomeh shuddered. "Ready for round," she glanced at the chart on the wall, "tilt?"
"Aw, we broke the counter again. That does explain why I could smell smoke about an hour ago."
"I thought it was you trying to use the microwave again."
"I - that thing is not a microwave. It is a portal into Hell. Shaped like a microwave."
"Well, yeah, but it reminds me of home."
"Half-succubus-half-angel-half-elf-half-dwarf=half-halfling-half-kitsune-half-dimensional-shambler-half-weasels. Who'd date 'em?"
"Halfwits."
"Touché."
"Don't mind if I do!"
The next morning, they found Wobbles cowering in the corner with eighteen pairs of earmuffs and a bucket on her head.
... you shouldn't write stories for people until/unless they've said it's okay. The presence of a 'ship on the list doesn't mean you can write it.
Des, Nesh, if you're okay with this, please say. If you want it redacted, I'm sure the Nameless Admin will take it down.
hS
See my post up there. ^
Let the insanity begin now!
Yes, I am! Sorry, I forgot to mention that... Hehe...
Wozzecktheclown
"My tanks turn to the left and cut across your flank!"
"Ach, nein! All ist lost! But vait! I haf mines planted in zat area."
wobblestheclown scowled, and plucked one of the tanks from the gameboard. "The Hun has foiled us again, boys. But fret not! I have a cunning plan."
Herr Wozzeck glanced up. "You're using the Blackadder Gambit?" he asked, his accent dropping in surprise. "But that's-"
"Reckless? Dangerous? Almost impossible to pull off?" wobblestheclown picked up an infantry unit and pushed it forward, then grinned widely. "That's why I'm doing it. Over the top."
"Machine guns!" Herr Wozzeck cried. "Vere are my machine guns?"
"Out of position," wobblestheclown gloated. "Come on, chaps! Jerry's on the run!"
"..." Herr Wozzeck reached out and tipped over his own flag. "The field is yours, English pigdog. Though your uniform is stupid-looking."
"At least it's period appropriate," wobblestheclown sniffed. "I mean, really? A Prussian helmet? Take it off, Herr, really."
"You only noticed the helmet?" Herr Wozzeck stood abruptly, gesturing down at himself. "This is a complete, authentic Prussian uniform."
wobblestheclown rose in response. "Authentic to the wrong war! Take it all off!"
"Only if you do, too!"
"... yeah, all right."
Yeah, my fake German accent probably would be that terrible. But hilariously, it's fun that you got me to wear the most anachronistic uniform possible, and I love that it's a Prussian uniform. (Fun fact, kiddies: Georg Büchner wrote the original Woyzeck in 1837. Its association with WWI only came out 'cause it was premiered in 1913. Let's just say that Woyzeck was WAY ahead of its time, as evidenced by Alban Berg and friends.)
But yeah, this was hilarious!
Ooh, that's the one I suggested! :D
So, are they playing Risk or something similar, or just doing a reenactment of some battle?
Anyway, cute and ridiculous. I like it. ;)
Also, there's now a Mini-Boarder loose on the board (someone forgot the 'e' at the end of Storme in the 11 person ship).
Because other people have been putting ones in. I'm a six foot six, brown haired, hazel eyed male with glasses.
Storme Hawk sat in his lofty eyrie, pondering the currents and winds of the air, when he heard a sound behind him. Not a rustling breeze, or a crack of thunder, or even a shower of rain - this was more of a squeaking grunt, and could best be written as, "Eee?"
Storme Hawk turned to see a furry... thing. It was about waist-high, and looked like nothing more than a feathered teddy-bear. "What," he said, then had to start over. "What are you?"
"Eee," the feathered bear said firmly, pointing at Storme Hawk.
"... me?" Storme Hawk shook his head. "You're certainly not me."
"Eee," the creature insisted. It pointed at Storme Hawk again, then held out a hand (paw?), palm down, and slowly lowered it.
"... mini me?" Storme Hawk studied the creature dubiously. It certainly didn't look like him. Okay, there was something around the ears, and maybe the colour of its eyes - and, of course, the feathers - but overall, it wasn't much of a copy.
"Eee! Eee." The creature was getting restless. Storme Hawk shrugged. No harm could come from humouring it, surely?
"All right... mini me. What brings you here?"
"Eee! Eee eee, eee eee. Eee?" This time, the creature's gestures were unambiguous, and even more unprintable than gestures normally are. Storme Hawk swallowed hard.
"Really? But you're a... whatever you are, and I'm-"
"Eee." Never before had so much emotion been poured into a single squeak.
"... oh, all right, then." Storme Hawk stood up and led the way to the bedroom. "What harm can come from this, after all?"
Two mispellings in one post. That 'e' is bouncing all over the place.