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*chews* Yummy! You guys are GREAT!

(Don't tell the students at HFA, though, or those lovely Punctuation Downpours we enjoy watching them suffer through might turn into an imitation of the Wonka Chocolate Factory.)

Lunac nodded. "Thanks Ansela. If anything, they're just a natural weapon. These machines just boost my capabilities by a lot."

Looking over at Riza, Lunac adopted a confused look. "Zanpakuto? Sorry if I did insult him. I'm just not used to many things having psychic capabilities around here. Hell,I don't even have psychic capabilities without these machines." He waved towards the broken device. "It just caught me off guard. I really am sorry."
Getting shakily to his feet, he gave a sigh of relief once he was balanced. "Ok, which RC are we going to? If we can duck in, then we can go check on the cafeteria."

THey propel tornadoes into the centre of star, prompting a nuclear reaction that causes the sun to go supernova, wiping narby planets in that solar system. I'm sure even Sues need sunlight, plants and their Cute Animal Friends to live.
But in the off chance they don't maybe we could use the fortresses to wipe out planets. *Rubs hands together gleefully*

Shiny. I'll remember this.

That...was impressive. A fitting end to Dafydd's truly illustrious career.

And yay, Constance! Orpheus and Luthien pale in comparison when it comes to retrieving lovers from the dead.

(I work Mossflower and the Potterverse, we need no excuse whatever to hold feasts.)

I guess it must be satisfying to have an epic story come to an end like that ... seriously, what's it like? My attention span is so short that I've never experienced that feeling.

*hogs all the punctuation*
Cirichen, I am in your debt. Yummmmm!

I think one of the punctuations should have the flavor of rare lamb with very little mint sauce.

Many happy returns, Dann!

*bestows 24 karat gold spork*

*claps enthusiastically* I just love Daffyd/Constance. And they sooooo deserve that happy ending and...

[/fangirl]

Then any recommendation for an Imperial Navy ship capable of bearing cyclonic torpedoes to add to the PPC for the purposes of destroying non-canon locations and planets in 40k badfic? I already spoke with Abbadon and leased three Blackstone Fortresses to destroy star systems, but sometimes more precision is required.

Wellllll I don't know if it's a "sporking" because I'm still of the mind that the badfic in question, by dint of being intentionally horrible, is perfect [/ego] But clearly it needs some adjustment in conveying intent when its existing sporkers are pretty much just hijacking the horror!lulz that were originally written into the fic, so I hope to accomplish that! :D

Need to distance myself from the mental image of Mary Sue fluids now O_O

Recently, during an RP, Cirichen discovered an amazing thing. Punctuation is edible! She found this out by taking a bite from an exclamation mark smebody dropped.

After an intensive taste-test trial conducted by Trojie, Plat and Cassie, we have discovered the basic flavours of each type of punctuation. The list is as follows:

! chocolate, with a hint of spices
” bacon and eggs
£ sauerkraut
$ buttered potatoes
% curry
^ bouillabaisse
& pistachios
* pizza
( nougat
_ pork sausages
- bagel
+ cheese
= chewing gum
{ fried fish
[ apple sauce
: beef stroganoff with rice
; bananas
@ choc chip biscuit
’ never ending gobstopper, many flavours
~ roast chicken
# broccoli
, caramel
. Cornish pasty
? borscht - an East European beetroot soup
/ enchiladas

Another thing we have discovered is that the font affects the flavour. For example, a % mark, which has the basic flavour of curry, tastes like korma in Arial font, whereas in Times New Roman it could taste of tikka masala.

Anyway. We hope that this information is of use to you all, particularly Agents who land up in a fic with a lot of unnecessary punctuation around and no rations with them. Enjoy!

*leaves a table full of assorted punctuation for everyone to try*

Oh, it is brave of you to spork your own fanfic. Normally people wouldn't want to do that. It still has a little sentimental value, after all.
(but I've MSTed two of mine, so I shouldn't talk)

Anyways, have a graduated cylinder! Not only does it measure fluids, but it also has a Master's degree and a graduation cap to boot. Very handy in scientific "experiments" regarding Mary Sues and such.

*jumps onto the wagon*
Count Agents Christianne and Eledhwen in. We've seen the show and it reeks of Mary Sue-ism.
*Agent Christianne looks through her poison supply*
*Agent Eledhwen sharpens her sword and knives*

This is brilliant. BRILLIANT! I love it!

And I'm... actually all not surprised that Constance had the brass cheek to march into Mandos and demand Dafydd back. It seems like her style.

*pat on the back* Awesome stuff.

I still have my old badfics from...fifth grade. That's how young I was when I started getting into the fandoms.

I've MSTed my own badfics, though. I just take a character from my more recent fics and force him/her to read it. Always fun to do.

Beaver (possessed): What are those two menances that smell like metal and dragons doing here? I'm sure that draconic one is evil. And the metallic one must be an accomplice! I do hope Aslan will sort them out. He did get rid of the Witch.

Beaver (unpossessed): Thank Aslan! These two must have been sent by him. That little blondie menance must go. She is no Pevensie, that's right. She doesn't smell like them. But those two peace-bringers also smell strange...

Agent Eledhwen was happily minding her own buisness strolling down the hallways trying to look innocent and not hurried at all. In reality, she was in a rush and needed to get back to her RC before her partner Christianne realizes that she was gone.
Don't think about RC#L0121F4114C3... she reminded herself every other second. Don't think about the fact that you're in a hurry. She tried to calm herself down as she walked on and on in the endless hallways of gray.
THUMP. THUMP.
Eledhwen nearly jumped three feet in the air. "What was that?" she murmured as she looked around her wildly.
THUMP THUMP THUMPITY THUMP THUMP.
Eledhwen's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. She looked around again, but her elven eyesight revealed nothing.
"It's probably upstairs," the part-time Assassin told herself. "Nothing special. I suppose it's just another two or more Agents getting frisky or something. Christy has often complained about our neighbors..."
She never finished that thought because a whole herd of ram-like creatures suddenly popped out of a random plot hole, thundering down the corridor.
And Eledhwen was in their way.

"Confusticate that elleth!" snarled Christianne. "She must have snuck out while I was taking my nap." The Assassin stormed out the door and down the corridor.
She was in such a rage (Not to mention that she was easily provoked, so a small issue like sneaking out when she was sleeping gets her positively fuming when she finds out.) that she tripped right over something on the ground. Christianne looked down, ready to shoot a stream of expletives at it. She refrained from doing so, however, when she saw who was lying on the ground.
It was Eledhwen. Or rather, Eledhwen run over by a bunch of stampeding Ypurs. Christianne groaned. "It looks like I'm going to have to lug her sorry ass over to Medical, then," she grumbled to herself as she picked up the unconscious elleth and started making her way over to Medical.

Or at least my science teacher does. She was trying to get onto imeen to hear something I emailed her but the school computer blocked it. Bummer.

The something was "For Good" from Wicked, btw.

While the female figure pulls an eviscrator (translator kicking in: twelve-foot chainsaw sword, designed for anti-tank duty) from her localized hammerspace, the male pulls up a convenient chair and a large bottle filled with an unidentifiable liquid.

"Howdy." The figure says, gaining definition by the minute. "I think I'm called Nathan now, but the voices in my head tell me it's only a tentative name-they're not wasting time on my parter at the moment. Fun little critters, those. Remind me of critters from my homeworld. Speaking of which, Catachan whiskey?" The man offers his bottle to the others.

If you don't know what that means, breathe a sigh of relief. It's one of the more unpleasant things to do to people WH40k brings.