"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."

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! =]

I'm pretty sure the stories are supposed to be "terrible" story-wise, not SPaG-wise.

((Good to see you back. Welcome to the madness.))

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

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!

I shouldn't encourage the perception of myself as a tsundere -- oh wait, yes I should. Carry on.

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.))

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!

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.

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.

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...?"

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

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.

110 kg, 178 cm.

Black hair, eyes, whitish-brown skin. Wears sarong and T-shirt.

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 ]]

What do you do?

*contemplates single point trapeze induced aching hands*
(Yeah, I take aerial classes.)

-Aila

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. [=))

... 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

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

(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.)

(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."

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.

High school girl with long, frizzy-curly brown hair, blue-green glasses, and a penchant for wearing ankle-length skirts and cloaks.

(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!”

... 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

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.