Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

[RabbitHoleLost]

WARNING: This thread contains romance between forum members. While kept within the PG rating of this thread, it may still disturb anyone who reads it. Brain Acid lake is down the street to the right, but it is shared with AMEN. Best to bring your own.

Rules:
Keep it forum friendly.
No overly sexual stuff.
Each pairing must have at least one forum member.
When posting a fic please state above the story who you're shipping.
Only post fic about people who have given their permission in this thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=86308) or after making sure they've given permission somewhere.


Helpful stuffs:
Definition of Shipping (no, it is not to package things and send them...atleast, not in this context) (http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shipping)
Previous Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=86244)

The next post is reserved for the index, which will be completed when I get the time to do it...

[RabbitHoleLost]

Author/Artists
Aziraphale
Ships to Sail- Aziraphale/Curly (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616621&postcount=36)
Porecelain -Curly/Dr. Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616041&postcount=8)
Wedding- Curly/Dr. Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4619658&postcount=149)
Happyturtle/Dr. Horrible (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4649318&postcount=584)
Jibar/Serp (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4619658&postcount=149)

Callos_DeTerran

Callos/EE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617489&postcount=66)
Phoekun/Sweetrein (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4620508&postcount=194)
Phoekun/Sweetrein 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4636779&postcount=443)

Cristo Meyers
Mi'ir(Cristo Meyers)/Mordokai (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4758078&postcount=1231)
Mordokai/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4790023&postcount=1470)
CurlyKitGirl
Musical Insanity- Amotis/Player_Zero (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4638902&postcount=458)
Swans- Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4650092&postcount=599)
A Simu-Crush -Aziraphale/Dr. Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616482&postcount=28)
Wonderwall- Aziraphale/Kaelaroth (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4678402&postcount=832)
A Discussion on Hats- Aziraphale/Rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4628848&postcount=357)
Cats and Their Curiosity- B-Man/Sweetrein (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4638902&postcount=458)
United by Music- Banjo1985/Elan (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621374&postcount=208)
So Would This Be An Extra-Religio Affair?- Banjo1985/Haley (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627139&postcount=307)
College Buses- Calamity/Dihan (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4655507&postcount=661)
Don't Stop Me Now- Calamity/Dihan (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4689879&postcount=984)
Ill Met By Moonlight- Calamity/Haley (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623254&postcount=271)
Random Encounters- Callos/Lexkat (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623254&postcount=271)
Basking in the Sun- Cobra_Ikari/Serpentine (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621625&postcount=229)
Spread Your Wings- Cristo Meyers/happyturtle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4675381&postcount=801)
Bad Bard!-Cristo Meyers/Mordokai (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4644731&postcount=511)
Lets Keep This Short And Sweet- Curly/Dallas-Dakota (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627421&postcount=317)
A Shared Passion- Curly/DRider (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627139&postcount=307)
Her Hair. Its Soft Like Feathers- Curly/DRider (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4666921&postcount=743)
A Hidden Truth- Curly/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617030&postcount=48)
Who Wants to Live Forever?- Curly/Radikalskippy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4684673&postcount=918)
Brand New Morning- Dallas-Dakota/DRider (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4634829&postcount=431)
A Heart As Soft as Dough- Dihan/Jibar (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616763&postcount=40)
Artists Block- Dr.Bath/Sneak (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616482&postcount=28)
Cleanliness is Next to Godliness- Dr.Bath/Radikalskippy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4661329&postcount=701)
Judging- Ego Slayer/Serpentine (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621625&postcount=229)
Caught on the Wing- Haruki-Kun/Phoekun (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4628848&postcount=357)
A Shop in Mexico- Haruki-Kun/radikalskippy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617393&postcount=63)
Wings- Haruki-kun/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623254&postcount=271)
Dreamers- Helgraf/Shadow (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4696944&postcount=1033)
Champagne Supernova- Kaelaroth/rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4678402&postcount=832)
Close Encounters- Kneenibble/Player_Zero (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617393&postcount=63)
Bohemian Rhapsody- Kneenibble/Rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4673366&postcount=772)
Killer Queen- Lissou/Zar Peter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4674879&postcount=789)
The Show Must Go On- Lord Magtok/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4675123&postcount=793)
Enemy Mine- Lord Magtok/Saurous (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621374&postcount=208)
A Shade of Blue Begins, the New Dawn- Mauve Shirt/Purple Cloak (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623254&postcount=271)
I Love Rock And Roll- Moff Chumley/Raistlin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4690224&postcount=995)
Never Getting Closer- Phase/Zar Peter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623397&postcount=276)
Indigo Light- Player_Zero/Purple Cloak (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623254&postcount=271)
Anotherone Bites the Dust-RHL/Randman (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4674325&postcount=785)
Mazed- RHL/Jareth (Labyrinth) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621853&postcount=238)
What Did I...?- RHL/Saurous (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623301&postcount=273)
Forgiveness- RHL/Saurous (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4661329&postcount=701)
Tiffany's- The Rose Dragon/Auderey Hepburn (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4650289&postcount=609)
Letters I (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4662278&postcount=706)
Letters II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4662514&postcount=712)
Letters III (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4673366&postcount=772)
Letters IV (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4721867&postcount=1072)
Dallas-dakota
Ego Slayer/Cobra_Ikari (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4622994&postcount=260)
DragonRider
Bookshop Banter- Curly/DRider (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627231&postcount=309)
Rocky Road- DRider/TheRoseDragon (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4690224&postcount=995)
Ethrael
An Angel in Full Glory- Haruki-kun/Kaelaroth (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4650817&postcount=618)
Happyturtle
The Hat- Aziraphale/Calamity (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4644109&postcount=503)
Aboard Hinjo's Junk- Happyturtle/Hinjo (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627547&postcount=325)
Good and Evil- Mordokai/Happyturtle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4761979&postcount=1250)
Faith- Mordokai/Happyturtle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4776834&postcount=1332)
A Bird in the Hand- Kneenibble (Genderbent)/Rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4643354&postcount=491)
A First Date- Lord Fullbladder/Shadow (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4642531&postcount=488)
A Rainy Night- Randman22222/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4639886&postcount=474)
Ship Wars (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4679925&postcount=852)
Helgraf
Helgraf/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4775152&postcount=1320)
A Counterpoint- Helgraf/Shadow (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4739341&postcount=1142)
Kaelaroth
Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera, Part One: The Dramatists- Aziraphale/Kneenibble (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4786080&postcount=1435)
A Tale of Two Cities, With Two Angels, And Things Between- Aziraphale/Phoekun (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4657016&postcount=672)
The Ballad of Ruby and Jet- Aziraphale/Randman22222 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4648433&postcount=562)
Running For Raspberries- Calamity/Dihan (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4678162&postcount=823)
A Mere Conversation- Curly/Dr. Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4662345&postcount=708)
Meetings- Curly/Dr.Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4669436&postcount=748)
The Siren's Call, and He Who Came Running; A Tale of Mordokai, and CurlyKitGirl- Curly/Mordokai (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4654527&postcount=649)
Robots- Dr.Bath/Jibar (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4705112&postcount=1042)
Two Lonely Girls, After a Night Out- Dr.Bath/Jibar (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4750504&postcount=1190)
Frolicking- Freshmeat/Mordokai (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4680338&postcount=862)
Singin' Her Way Through The Oldest Profession;A tale of subterfuge, of Jibar, and Avril Lavigne- Jibar/Avril Lavigne (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4651368&postcount=623)
Casablancas- Player_Zero/SurlySeraph (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4735112&postcount=1124)
Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town- RHL/Raistlin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4741207&postcount=1163)
Claptrap and Cutlery- RHL/Raistlin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4758842&postcount=1239)
Steel and Sugar- TheRoseDragon/Thes Hunter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4680502&postcount=864)
Kneenibble
Appointment- Admiral Walrus/Dr. Bath (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4635905&postcount=438)
Teashades I- Mordokai/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4640324&postcount=475)
Teashades II- Mordokai/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4640677&postcount=478)
Teashades III- Mordokai/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4647070&postcount=556)
Teashades IV- Mordokai/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4740284&postcount=1157)
Kyrian
A Different Kind of Love- Kyrian/RHL (Hitomi) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4790268&postcount=1480)
Lex-Kat
Callos/Dallas-Dakota (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617485&postcount=65)
Lexkat/Serpentine (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4631222&postcount=392)
Phoekun

Beatrice and the Green Phoe(Part I-A)- Lykan/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4659406&postcount=676)
Beatrice and the Green Phoe(Part I-B)- Lykan/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4659407&postcount=677)
Beatrice and the Green Phoe(Part II-A)- Lykan/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4665250&postcount=735)
Beatrice and the Green Phoe(Part II-B)-Lykan/Smee (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4665254&postcount=736)
Beatrice and the Green Phoe(Part III-A)- Lykan/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4677705&postcount=816)
RabbitHoleLost
Who's Next? -Banjo1985/Zar Peter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4621448&postcount=216)
Cobra_Ikari/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617418&postcount=64)
Swing Life Away- Cobra_Ikari/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4693798&postcount=1020)
Curly/Dallas-Dakota (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623872&postcount=291)
Love-Goo Clean Up On Aisle Four- Curly/Dallas-Dakota (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4627329&postcount=314)
Breakthru- Curly/Freddie Mercury(Queen) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4644974&postcount=524)
Curly/Haruki (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617874&postcount=100)
Revealing- Curly/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4693798&postcount=1020)
Forever Falling (Short)- Ganurath/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4775033&postcount=1319)
Ganurath(FemmeHuman)/RHL(Drow) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4786162&postcount=1437)
I Will Possess Your Heart- Happyturtle/Mordokai (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4785405&postcount=1425)
When Undead Attack Love- Happyturtle/YPU (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4629034&postcount=359)
The Grocery Sales Associate an the Cat-Muffin- Jibar/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4753997&postcount=1199)
Children's Games- Kaelaroth/RHL, Kaelaroth/FF Fanboy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4771135&postcount=1304)
Good Enough- Midnight Son/ Amy Lee (Evanescence) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4655074&postcount=658)
For Eternity- Player_Zero/YPU (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4616352&postcount=24)
L'Angelo Misterioso- Raistlin1040/ George Harrison (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4663864&postcount=731)
Its Still Rock and Roll To Me- Raistlin1040/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4644393&postcount=509)
A Thousand Years- Randman22222/RHL (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4649931&postcount=590)
For You- RHL/Saurous (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4623088&postcount=265)
Violent Indigo- RHL/TheRoseDragon (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4721519&postcount=1068)

Raistlin1040

Don't Stop- Curly/Lord Magtok (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4684389&postcount=914)
Haruki-kun/Raistlin1040 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4624092&postcount=294)
Heroes- RHL/Raistlin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4721008&postcount=1066)
Randman22222
A Bright, Cold Day in April- Dallas-Dakota/DRider (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4644367&postcount=508)
The Sands of Time- Gemflower/randman (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4689558&postcount=979)
One More Cup Of Coffee- Phoekun/TheRoseDragon (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4674251&postcount=783)
Shape of a Heart- RHL/Sting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4648527&postcount=563)
SMEE
Late Night Server Troubles- Midnight Son/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4649703&postcount=587)
Sands of Time- Phoekun/SMEE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4657140&postcount=673)
Tengu

EE/Nerd-O-Rama (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4617502&postcount=67)

Thufir
Aziraphale/Thufir (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4622815&postcount=255)
Aziraphale and Curly
The Playground Princess Bride
First Part (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4629542&postcount=374)
Second Part (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4633675&postcount=421)
Part Three (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4638163&postcount=455)
Part Four (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4643978&postcount=498)

[Moff Chumley]

I have to wonder, what's with the title? :smallconfused:

Also, dibs on Grand Admiral Chumley.

[Sneak]

*slowly creeps back up to thread*

Let's see if I can keep up this time...

[RabbitHoleLost]

I have to wonder, what's with the title? :smallconfused:

Also, dibs on Grand Admiral Chumley.

Pun on ships. Pirate ships, scourge of the seven seas...
Was it really that bad?

[Moff Chumley]

Ouch. :smallyuk: Yes it was. :smalltongue: I mean, seriously though... What?

[Kaelaroth]

Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Two: The Cheerleaders
Starring SMEE, and Ego Slayer
See Earlier Parts Here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4786080&postcount=1435)
Ego swigged from the bottle, retching almost immediately. The burning liquid surged down her throat, and she coughed, her pretty eyes reddening as she tried to force it out of her. Beside her, the cheerleaders laughed, a pack of jackals. Really hot, perky jackals. Ego dropped the bottle, and watched from the bench as it, and its contents, spilled acoss the linoleum gymnasium floor, scarlet, blood-like.

Bitch! The head of the team shrieked, her porcelain skin tinted with a rosey pink, her perfect blue eyes aflame. Daddy brought that back from Sigil, you little witch! I know you're new to the whole communal school thing, but have a mind for other people's things, k, sweetness? Ego felt her cheek connect, briefly, with the other girl's pedicured nails, and felt the blood burn, and her body limply falling to the wet ground. And clean it up! The doll spat, turning to go, her flock of prim, yet tipsy, drones following her, going away, to hunt more prey. Ego started to cry, tears burning her eyes, and bloody cheeks.

Hey! A voice said, causing Ego to turn, panicked. What if it was a teacher? She hadn't got a punishment yet, and her parents would kill her... What's wrong? Said a gorgeous girl coming towards her, dressed in funky lilacs and gold. Her face, a tanned visage, fell, seeing the licquor. You the new cheerleader, then? Ego nodded, her eyes wet. I'll help you get rid of this mess. Trust me, I know it sucks now, but it'll get better. She plonked down on the floor beside the weeping girl, and pulled out a wad of pads. These absorb, right? She smiled at Ego, as she started to clean up. I'm SMEE, by the by. Seeing Ego's worried face, she laid a comforting hand on her uniform emblazoned shoulder. Seriously. It'll be OK. :smallsmile:

[Moff Chumley]

/applause. :smallsmile:
Kael, you are seriously awesome. Also, can we get a banner for shipping itp?

[happyturtle]

Oh totally! A ship on a sea of acid!

[Cristo Meyers]

D'awww.
Both ships that include me (or my character) are super sweet.
Now I have to write something not sweet to counter-balance it :smalltongue:

Oh, and...
New Thread! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=89112)

You're going to have to? What about me? I've got a reputation to maintain, dammit! People'll start to think I've gone soft and actually start being nice...

[Moff Chumley]

You could write a mean fic about me... (jeez, this thread is making me a narcissist. :smalleek:)

[RabbitHoleLost]

You're going to have to? What about me? I've got a reputation to maintain, dammit! People'll start to think I've gone soft and actually start being nice...
Well, you see, I prefer darker fics.
Had I the patience to write one including both Mordy and I, it would most certainly be a melancholic thing.
...
Jeez, now I need to write it.
...After I finish this one for Helgraf
>>
<<

[RabbitHoleLost]

Mad Season
CurlyKitGirl/Helgraf (Renfield)

Dr. Curly sat directly across from her patient, and, though he was her first, and though he was about as sane as a water pistol is a weapon of mass destruction, she felt completely content.
This was not because he was straight jacketed and grommeted to the lounging couch, no, not at all. Curly was certain that if Renfield had the urge to remove himself from his constraints, the guards would not be able to move fast enough through the door to keep him from leaping at her, or whatever else he might decide to do.
And, still, Curly had no worry. Not a single anxiety floated through her mind as she smiled at him from across her desk.

He had come to the asylum some years back, though Curly could not remember the exact date. She could recall, however, the hushed whispers in the hallways and the frantic resignations from her coworkers after a single session with him.
Incurable. Unresponsive. Manic. And the worst...
Patient cannot possibly be human. Curly shuddered as she recalled looking over their notes for the first time, a grim smile playing over her lips. She was fresh out of school, a degree so recently put in her hands the paper might have well still been warm from the printer. She was eager and willing to work and so naive in her anticipations for her career; Curly would get through to this immovable stone of an insane patient, and the book she would write about it would make her famous.
Renfield had quickly put an end to that nonsense; oh, he was fascinating, indeed, but the conversations held on those quiet afternoons in that cramped, too bright, too warm room became more about herself than it was about him.
Always, he listened, that falsely meek smile twitching upon his lips, and, while he spoke infrequently, the words that fell from his lips were mystifying, seemingly random dribble that was too erratic, too patternless to be meaningless. Jarbled poetry, others had called it. Curly knew it was beautifully sculpted, purposefully done.
And the more she saw him, twice a week at three o'clock in the afternoon, the more she knew he wasn't insane; the world had simply failed him.

So she sat across from him, smiling as she spoke of her day, and what he had had for lunch in the cafeteria (under strict surveillance), and she smiled, plotting the day she would help him escape from that awful prison with the perfectly white walls.
...I feel like the past few things I've written have just been rambles =/
Ah, well. Two and a half more ideas underway for Helgraf, one not-so-happy Mordy/RHL coming up, and then I'll maybe finally finish the Randy/RHL sequel...

[Helgraf]

Mad Season
CurlyKitGirl/Helgraf

Dr. Curly sat directly across from her patient, and, though he was her first, and though he was about as sane as a water pistol is a weapon of mass destruction, she felt completely content.
This was not because he was straight jacketed and grommeted to the lounging couch, no, not at all. Curly was certain that if Helgraf had the urge to remove himself from his constraints, the guards would not be able to move fast enough through the door to keep him from leaping at her, or whatever else he might decide to do.
And, still, Curly had no worry. Not a single anxiety floated through her mind as she smiled at him from across her desk.

He had come to the asylum some years back, though Curly could not remember the exact date. She could recall, however, the hushed whispers in the hallways and the frantic resignations from her coworkers after a single session with him.
Incurable. Unresponsive. Manic. And the worst...
Patient cannot possibly human. Curly shuddered as she recalled looking over their notes for the first time, a grim smile playing over her lips. She was fresh out of school, a degree so recently put in her hands the paper might have well still been warm from the printer. She was eager and willing to work and so naive in her anticipations for her career; Curly would get through to this immovable stone of an insane patient, and the book she would write about it would make her famous.
Helgraf had quickly put an end to that nonsense; oh, he was fascinating, indeed, but the conversations held on those quiet afternoons in that cramped, too bright, too warm room became more about herself than it was about him.
Always, he listened, that falsely meek smile twitching upon his lips, and, while he spoke infrequently, the words that fell from his lips were mystifying, seemingly random dribble that was too erratic, too patternless to be meaningless. Jarbled poetry, others had called it. Curly knew it was beautifuly sculpted, purposefully done.
And the more she saw him, twice a week at three o'clock in the afternoon, the more she knew he wasn't insane; the world had simply failed him.

So she sat across from him, smiling as she spoke of her day, and what he had had for lunch in the cafeteria (under strict surveillance), and she smiled, plotting the day she would help him escape from that awful prison with the perfectly white walls.
...I feel like the past few things I've written have just been rambles =/
Ah, well. Two and a half more ideas underway for Helgraf, one not-so-happy Mordy/RHL coming up, and then I'll maybe finally finish the Randy/RHL sequel...

You've given poor Renfield a very ... Hannibal feel. Not the cannibalism bit, but the whole capture of the lucidity inside the madness - that fleeting feeling that there is something very aware and very very dangerous. And watching our psychiatrist (psychologist? clinical?) drawn into that abyss.

Very very interesting work. I am almost _compelled_ to write a sequel / continuance or reprisal of scene from the other point of view. Kudos.

[RabbitHoleLost]

You've given poor Renfield a very ... Hannibal feel. Not the cannibalism bit, but the whole capture of the lucidity inside the madness - that fleeting feeling that there is something very aware and very very dangerous. And watching our psychiatrist (psychologist? clinical?) drawn into that abyss.

Very very interesting work. I am almost _compelled_ to write a sequel / continuance or reprisal of scene from the other point of view. Kudos.

Hehe. Ah, yes. You recognized one of my current fandoms I'm drawing much of my inspiration from. The other...well, if the other isn't obvious, I'm not going to give it away :smallwink:

I'm glad you approve. It means quite a bit to me.

[Helgraf]

Hehe. Ah, yes. You recognized one of my current fandoms I'm drawing much of my inspiration from. The other...well, if the other isn't obvious, I'm not going to give it away :smallwink:

I'm glad you approve. It means quite a bit to me.

Just one question - one that's probably rhetorical, but I prefer to err to caution.
I already feel a followup piece to yours brewing in my head, but it may turn quite black. Nothing that would go past the board thread limits, obviously, but the way Renfield is whispering in my brain right now...

To the point of the matter - is this alright with you? If not, I can can it.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Just one question - one that's probably rhetorical, but I prefer to err to caution.
I already feel a followup piece to yours brewing in my head, but it may turn quite black. Nothing that would go past the board thread limits, obviously, but the way Renfield is whispering in my brain right now...

To the point of the matter - is this alright with you? If not, I can can it.

Anything is fine with me ( I happen to be a fan of the darker side of things, anyhow). However, if its much too 'black'..you might want to ask dear Curly her permission.

[Helgraf]

Ahh, my brain. Yes, of course. I should check with Curly as she's the other character that was in the fic.

Curly? Read up a couple of posts, tell me what you think? PM if more comfortable that way.

[Mordokai]

You're going to have to? What about me? I've got a reputation to maintain, dammit! People'll start to think I've gone soft and actually start being nice...

Heavens forbid! Where would that lead us? :smallsmile:


Well, you see, I prefer darker fics.
Had I the patience to write one including both Mordy and I, it would most certainly be a melancholic thing.
...
Jeez, now I need to write it.

Aw come on, happy thoughts? :smallbiggrin: I'm all in for melancholy, but I have it enough in RL already :smallsmile: But sure, go ahead with it, it should be fun to read nontheless.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Aw come on, happy thoughts? :smallbiggrin: I'm all in for melancholy, but I have it enough in RL already :smallsmile: But sure, go ahead with it, it should be fun to read nontheless.

Ah, Mordy, not even in fiction could our forbidden love end happily :smallwink:

[Helgraf]

:types furiously, hopes CKC does not black flag him:

[Mordokai]

Ah, Mordy, not even in fiction could our forbidden love end happily :smallwink:

Give it a shot :smalltongue: Who knows, you may end up liking it :smallbiggrin:

[Helgraf]

Actually, I've just realized - Part 1 of the ship consuming my brain doesn't involve Curly; it's centered on Renfield (Helgraf), with a very brief cameo by Vlad Dracul (Shadow), and some minor characters who are not associated with playgrounders.

I'd still like to get the okay from Curly before I go to part 2, but part 1 (which prequels RHL's ship of Curly and myself) is workable in its own right.

I will warn you, not for the squeamish or easily disturbed.

Discernment [A prequel to Mad Season]

The room was quiet. The lounging couch was empty, saving for a small leatherbound book that lay splayed, pages down and bent, spine broken.

The problem was, she'd been so very boring. So plain, buttoned up, constrained.

The short, somewhat hunched fellow whistled oddly to himself as he pulled himself off of the remains.

Professional. No spark. No ... investment. Useless.

He could hear the orderlies coming up the hall with sweet merciful oblivion clutched in their hands. Oh, they'd not let him out again. His outsides would once more resemble his insides - stark, with oily whispers.

A whisper, a knowing glance. Anything to prove that inside that too perfect shirt and blouse there was a spark ... of interest, of passion, of thrice damned curiosity.

At the last, he'd opened her up to look inside. Disappointment; little more than crude little machine of wants, but Master made him an artist, and so he played her. She cried out, at the last, hard shuddering breaths before silence. Before he leaned ever so close, watching her eyes bulge from fear ... and something else as she bled silently; whispered, "Little humanimal ... you'll never be so free again," he murmured, gurgling in his throat as the door was thrown open and he was seized. Several sharp slivers of purity blossomed in him, their black blossoms blooming. Fading ... falling... the sound of wracking sobbing lulling him along the dragon's road to oblivion once more.

...

Renfield... You've been naughty, Renfield. What did you hope to learn, poppet? Death is my gift to give.

Only a little death, master...

Without permission, Renfield. I shall meditate on the appropriate punishment for a cur who cannot follow orders. In the meantime, you are more useful to me elsewhere.

And ... your promise ... Master?

When you can keep your word, Renfield, I shall surely keep mine. Rise now once more into your dreams.

...

Darkness. Human reek; the feel of straw slipping through the fabric and pricking his flesh. But no black blossoms. No more touch of the Master against his clammy, sweat-soaked skin. No, he was dreaming again; ever lucid dreams. Pale moonlight slipped through metal bars to cast light on the heavy metal restraints that held him to the walls. Floor, walls, ceiling, all were metal. A cage to keep the animals at bay. A woman's face, shattered, lips opening on an 'O', then impossibly moreso, falling away into a formless tongue. The horses spoke of servitude and willing devotion to the brush-men and the feeders.

Tempestous teapot trawling terror.
Monsterous man made mother
Shape, stroke, stored storming
Depth desired darkling dreaming


He rambled on quietly, a sort of giddy expression stealing over his features; his back arched upward suddenly, until it met the length of the chain and giant shackle that encircled his waist; like a cat arching its back, but in reverse, such that his belly formed the crown of the arch, and backwards hands and feet made mount of the base. And the metal murmured secrets that only he could hear.

And he laughed.

Soon ... soon Master.

[randman22222]

RHL and Helgraf? Those pieces were awesomesauce. :smallbiggrin:
And I've got some free time today- well, a lot of free time, so I'm working on the Kneen/Jibar fic.

[Dallas-Dakota]

*kidnaps Jibar*
*Forces Jibar to boogie bless this thread*
Yay.

*go´s back to installing the brain acid pool in the backyard*

[Jibar]

I wasn't aware that I Boogie Blessed other threads. You can have a

*Boogie To Be Decided Upon At A Later Date!*

though.

[Dhavaer]

Boogie blessing is still around? Nice. :smallwink:

[Cristo Meyers]

Heavens forbid! Where would that lead us? :smallsmile:


Quiet you....you...err...

GAH! Insult protocols corrupted...fuzzy feelings imminent...error...error...REBOOTREBOOTREBOOT*cras h*


Give it a shot Who knows, you may end up liking it

*bites tongue*

[SMEE]

Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Two: The Cheerleaders
Starring SMEE, and Ego Slayer
*snip*


o.o;

I'm a cheerleader? And I'm hitting on Ego? >.>
Fun... fun... fun... <.<

[Jibar]

Boogie blessing is still around? Nice. :smallwink:

Oh yeah. It's a non-stop dance party round here.

[Mordokai]

Quiet you....you...err...

GAH! Insult protocols corrupted...fuzzy feelings imminent...error...error...REBOOTREBOOTREBOOT*cras h*

Oh dear, what have I done now? Now, how are we going to fix you? I don't think smiting will be of much use here...

*lightbulb appears over the head*

I know! We can start training you to be genuinely nice! :smallbiggrin:


*bites tongue*

Awwww, you poor thing! Want me to lay hands on that? :smallwink:

[Dallas-Dakota]

*re-boots Cristo with a fresh dose of evil*

[Lyinginbedmon]

Or we could install Linux first :belkar:

[Ethrael]

Nice ships so far people, all three have been great. I'll try and keep up with the thread this time too...

Also, I'm taking out the restrictions of any shipping of me, maybe that'll encourage people to write about me... :smallconfused:

[EvilElitest]

i wonder, if in this thread i'll be pared up with anyone other than Rutee or callos? not that i mind through
from
EE

[PhoeKun]

Wow, I go away for a little while, and when I come back, there's a second thread. I am le impressed.

I think I'm also ready to get back into this. *somewhere in the distance, trumpets weakly sound* Anyone miss me?

[Cristo Meyers]

Yeah...we got a little prolific. Even dragged me into it...(blame Mordokai, I always do)

Just wasn't the same without you around, though.

[Mordokai]

Blame the paladin, blame the paladin, blame the paladin...

You sound like a broken radio, always repeating the same thing over and over again :smallannoyed:

[Cristo Meyers]

You sound like a broken radio, always repeating the same thing over and over again :smallannoyed:

Pot. Kettle. Black.

[PhoeKun]

Pot. Kettle. Black.

I hear this a lot, but I don't think I've ever seen a black kettle. :smallconfused:

[Kaelaroth]

I hear this a lot, but I don't think I've ever seen a black kettle. :smallconfused:

I reckon the phrase derives from a time when kettles were made of cast back iron to retain heat.

[PhoeKun]

I reckon the phrase derives from a time when kettles were made of cast back iron to retain heat.

I would imagine so, but haven't you ever felt a little bit jarred by outdated colloquialisms?

This is perhaps a bad quirk for someone like me to have. Ah well.

[Lyinginbedmon]

Perhaps "sea calling the sky blue" is a suitable replacement?

[CurlyKitGirl]

Ahh, my brain. Yes, of course. I should check with Curly as she's the other character that was in the fic.

Curly? Read up a couple of posts, tell me what you think? PM if more comfortable that way.

Black as hell mate. Make it black as black as black you can. I highly endorse shattering little Miss Optimistic Curly and having her dragged down the slope of madness.
In other words: write away, write away and listen to Renfield.
Also, why are your sentences double or triple spaced? Curiosity is plaguing the cat.

@Phoe: I've been eagerly awaiting your return. Was the move okay? Have your inspirational juices been stewing away?

[PhoeKun]

Perhaps "sea calling the sky blue" is a suitable replacement?

Well, it's an intriguing and suitably timeless replacement, but something about it seems more romantic and playful than cynical. I don't know if it's the things being personified or just that blue is a more soothing color than black, but hearing that, I get more of a sense of lovers complimenting each other on a best feature they happen to share. *shrugs*

@Curly: The move went about as well as I could hope for. The US is entirely to large for it's own good. Although I'm starting to think I might have been pushing myself too hard lately. I seem to be getting sick...

Still, I feel a need to get back to writing. I absolutely need to finish my story, if only to make it something I've seen through to the end.

[Moff Chumley]

((If I acted passive aggressive to RHL's ship, would someone interpret that as sexual tension and write a ship about it? Would it be worth being a jerk to do it? Is the meta humor here getting to a point where nobody is going to take this seriously anyway, and out of disgust, ignore this post? Yes, they probably will. Which means...))

RHL, I LOVE YOU!

((I'm glad everyone ignored that...))

:confused:

[Moff Chumley]

Ya know, I had a feeling that post would freeze the thread...

[Kneenibble]

*de-awkwardizes Mr. Chumley*

I would like to point out that the pot-kettle business is not a colloquialism. -- as much as it is a maxim, or an adage: which to me at least, seem the more wise and mysterious because they are often a bit outdated.

It may also be, not necessarily that they are made from black cast iron, but perhaps tin which gets very sooty used (as it would be) on a fire instead of an electric element. So the blackness is not only colour but filth that rubs off on non-filthy things.

Anyhow. I defend the phrase's validity so.

I do agree that the sea-sky suggestion is quite pretty and sentimental and doesn't work the same way.

But apropos shipping,

RHL and Helgraf -- I like the exchange you had. I like the possibility it has for Dr. Curly, in a Dana Scully-like way, to be introduced against her academic ambitions to the vampire world that made Renfield crazy.

Kaelaroth -- once again, deliciously nasty and sentimental at once: high school is visceral that way. I wonder if you plan to continue with disparate episodes or to wrap them up and together somehow towards the end.

Who knew what fun this would be!
But what rough beast slouches, &c...

[Moff Chumley]

Now that the thread has been de-awkardized...

Helgraf, that was a pretty phenomenal fic. :smalleek::smallsmile:

[EvilElitest]

let the shipping beging skipper
from
EE

[Helgraf]

Wow, I go away for a little while, and when I come back, there's a second thread. I am le impressed.

I think I'm also ready to get back into this. *somewhere in the distance, trumpets weakly sound* Anyone miss me?

With every bullet so far.


Just kidding. ;)

[RabbitHoleLost]

With every bullet so far.


Just kidding. ;)

Sir, when my little forum thread watcher thingie dinged and alerted me that you had posted in this thread, I had become incredibly excited.
Only to see that I shall have to be patient for a bit longer.
:: reins her fangirly-ness in::

[Helgraf]

Black as hell mate. Make it black as black as black you can. I highly endorse shattering little Miss Optimistic Curly and having her dragged down the slope of madness.
In other words: write away, write away and listen to Renfield.

:bows: By your command, imperious leader.
Hey, Muse! The shackles are off!!
:cackles madly:



Also, why are your sentences double or triple spaced? Curiosity is plaguing the cat.

Hmmm, to be honest, it's a bit of an oddity. Probably has to do with direct pasting from WordPad.


Now that the thread has been de-awkardized...

Helgraf, that was a pretty phenomenal fic. :smalleek::smallsmile:

Now ... I just need to live up to my opening salvo.

[Cristo Meyers]

Now ... I just need to live up to my opening salvo.

Ya didn't win "Best Narrator" for nothing...

[YPU]

Aww, no shipping’s for the permission keeper?

[Player_Zero]

I remember the good ol' days when I was included in more ships. Oh how I wish for those good ol' days... :smalltongue:

Also, a prize for anyone who includes me in a ship!

...The prize is wub.

[Dallas-Dakota]

I remember the good ol' days when I was included in more ships. Oh how I wish for those good ol' days... :smalltongue:

Also, a prize for anyone who includes me in a ship!

...The prize is wub.
Seconded.

Those good old days..........

*wanted to write phoe/sweetrein but figured that sweetrein hasn´t actually given her permission, so I PM´ed her and is currently waiting for a response*
_____________

I just find the idea of various playgrounders making their way into my head and messing around entertaining. It could be the Playground's strangest shipfic.
Inspired by several pages of RB(in mah thread!:smalltongue:).

Anybody up for it?

[CurlyKitGirl]

Well.
I received a PM from someone asking for a ship. A ship containing the following people, set within the following parameters:


Bath and Curly are at the same college (so it's uni then), they meet at a special party or occasion at Christmas. And what follows follows. Can you do it?

I agreed to, and to my surprise my twisted imagination supplied me with something, do you have any idea how awkward it is to dream of a request? Really awkward. That something has been posted below.

Bath/Curly

Theft

Bath grumbled to himself as he fiddled with his bow tie. Shooting at glare at his reflection garbed in black and white. "I look like a penguin. A horribly posh one." Giving up, he left his bow tie crooked and tried to make his watch chain hang in a smooth curve against his waistcoat. "At least I've got a spiffy top hat that fits now." Slapping it on his head at a jaunty angle he added the last touch: the monocle. "Perfect."
"Oi, m'Lord Bath, you've spent more time primping than a girl. You ready yet?" asked Kaela as he stuck his head around the door. Bath stared at Kaela in the mirror, "And m'Lord has been waiting how long? Thirty seconds?"
"Touche. Well, will we make it to the Toffs' Ball before it finishes or not?"
"Hint received Kaela ole chap. Let's be off then." As the two friends left their dorm a keen observer of the normal British uni would have noted that almost every person was attired in exceedingly formal and old fashioned attire; the same observer would then realise almost immediately that the scene was almost a Dickensian Christmas as it was snowing gently and Oxford being Oxford it created a rather charming picture.
As the flow of students entered Merton Hall Bath noticed that the students stalled just before entering and walked through the main doors one by one. However, he failed to try to find the reason for their sudden reticence. Neither did a female student dressed slightly uncomfortably in a formal gown and heeled shoes. "Stupid shoes, stupid dress. Why'm I here again?" The preoccupied pair walked through the doors together and were accosted by jeers and jubilant cries from the students who'd spotted the trap.
Pinned to the top of the door was mistletoe. A huge bunch of the pale plant hung there, seemingly happy in the embarrassment it caused.
"Oooh Bath and Curly're going to kiss." crowed Kaela from his refuge on the steps outside. "Give him a kiss then m'Lady." shouted Phoe.
The caught pair looked around, grinning in joint embarrassment and they stepped closer. Thanks to their remarkable height difference Curly had to stand on her tiptoes and Bath had to bend down slightly to actually kiss.
After the kiss a slightly flushed Curly grinned up at Bath and said, "You'd better treasure that as you just stole my first kiss." A grinning Bath looked down at her and replied, "In that case you'd best treasure mine as well." He offered her his arm, "Shall we go in m'Lady?" And Curly took his arm.
Behind them Kaela, Phoe and the watching students were left jostling to be the next pair to enter the ballroom.

[YPU]

Ego Zero shipping with a guest role for Calamity.


It had all started as a small game to pas the time, Player_Zero, Ego slayer and Calamity had decided to pull out the scrabble board and play a bit to keep away the boredom. But the game had soon intensified into a flurry of bibliomantic prows and dare do linguistic skill. As the game continued it became more and more clear that Cal was no match for the combined competitive spelling of ego and zero. Heaving a deep sigh Cal tipped the metaphorical King over. “im of, I have to go anyway.” “Oh ho” Zero laughed “your just afraid you cant win and are running away.” I do not, I just have to go.” Cal retorted, irritated by Zero’s attitude. “Yes you are, im simply much better” zero said with a big grin. From across the board Ego observed the two with a amused smile. They were always like this, those two. “anyhow, have a good game you two.” He waved a hand and left for whatever business he had dealings with to do.”
Zero and Ego’s eyes met over the board. “So, back to you loosing the game.” Ego gave a sly smile. “I most definitely will not.” Zero grinned back. Deeper and deeper into the night did they play. With every now and then a “ha” of triumph or a “oh” of surprise escaping the two players. Then finally ego played the last tile. “there I won, didn’t I tell you?” zero called out. Ego’s grin broadened, no you didn’t, see there I also spelled ‘love’ with it. Zero’s smile dropped into a face of disbelieve, how could he have missed such a simple word being created. “so that give me what, one, no two more points then you. I win” ego smiled. “and remeber we played for a favour from the loser for the winner.
Zero kept ogling the playing board, how could he the zeroth player have lost at such a game. “ok, what must I do for you?” he said with a sigh. Ego giggled. “well, you could start with giving me a kiss.”


So, yay, I did my first shipping. I feel dirty now, and i blame you guys.

[Almighty Salmon]

So, nobody has shipped me yet. I feel horribly insulted. Nobody wants to write about me and another playgrounder falling in love and whatnot? I know I do it about all of you, all of you. Every night in my bedroom while i'm alone. So very alone.

*Cradles shipping stories*

[Calamity]

So, nobody has shipped me yet. I feel horribly insulted. Nobody wants to write about me and another playgrounder falling in love and whatnot? I know I do it about all of you, all of you. Every night in my bedroom while i'm alone. So very alone.

*Cradles shipping stories*

Actually, I do want to ship you. Just that Threeshades hasn't given his/her permission and s/he is currently away. >.>

[CurlyKitGirl]

Weeeeell, Curly's cat/Salmon would end messy. Very messy.

[Almighty Salmon]

Fish/Cat or Drow Moonelf. Awesome.

This is why I love you guys.

[Dallas-Dakota]

I know I do it about all of you, all of you. Every night in my bedroom while i'm alone.
Now just post them....

Also, fics about me are desired.

I'm doing a phoe/sweetrein one as soon as Reina returns the PM I have send her, if shes agrees and gives permission that is.

[zeratul]

So, nobody has shipped me yet. I feel horribly insulted. Nobody wants to write about me and another playgrounder falling in love and whatnot? I know I do it about all of you, all of you. Every night in my bedroom while i'm alone. So very alone.

*Cradles shipping stories*

O_o Isn't that more creepy than depressing fishboy?

[Almighty Salmon]

O_o Isn't that more creepy than depressing fishboy?

I would ask that you don't judge me, Mr. McJudger.

GOD! Some people, eh?! :smalltongue:

[Cristo Meyers]

Ok, this idea came out of that mass of...wierdness a earlier today in the RB thread, all the talk of dreams and whatnot: a Being John Malkovich parody using my head. Various Playgrounders find a door that leads inside my head. I figure this is the closest thread for this idea.

I'd do it myself, but I've done enough self-ego stroking in the past few days. If someone wants it, pick it up, if not, let it sit. Though I'd really like to see what could be done with it.

[PhoeKun]

I'm doing a phoe/sweetrein one as soon as Reina returns the PM I have send her, if shes agrees and gives permission that is.

I'm speaking a little out of turn, but she did give permission, if not in the Permission thread itself. I dunno if there are rules about that sort of thing here, but she definitely posted a request in the original shipping thread that if she were to be shipped, to use her more recognizable catgirl avatar instead of the catworld. Where that post is, exactly, I'm not sure. But it exists.

If you can trust anyone on the matter, wouldn't it be her fiancée?

[Dr. Bath]

I would ask that you don't judge me, Mr. McJudger.

GOD! Some people, eh?! :smalltongue:

JEEZ. What are they on? :smalltongue:

Salmon/Moff Chumley

Their eyes meet across the tank. Moff couldn't takes his eyes off Salmon's beautiful pink scales, the way they glinted in the tanks fluorescent lighting, their mesmerising hue a deep pink reminiscent of the most enchanting of roses. And the salmon stared back, lost in Moff's wondrous eyes, there was a hidden sadness in there, behind the cavalier glint. It was a shared moment that lasted for what seemed like days.

"That one, please, Garçon. Well done."

It was the most delectable fish Moff had ever tasted.

There you go.

[Calamity]

Fish/Cat or Drow Moonelf. Awesome.

This is why I love you guys.

We wubs you too. :smalltongue:

[CurlyKitGirl]

JEEZ. What are they on? :smalltongue:

Salmon/Moff Chumley

Their eyes meet across the tank. Moff couldn't takes his eyes off Salmon's beautiful pink scales, the way they glinted in the tanks fluorescent lighting, their mesmerising hue a deep pink reminiscent of the most enchanting of roses. And the salmon stared back, lost in Moff's wondrous eyes, there was a hidden sadness in there, behind the cavalier glint. It was a shared moment that lasted for what seemed like days.

"That one, please, Garçon. Well done."

It was the most delectable fish Moff had ever tasted.

There you go.

:smallbiggrin:
Salmon: 0
Everyone else: 1
's'verra good though. I insist you dabble further into the art that dissolves your brain while making you exercise it.

[Moff Chumley]

JEEZ. What are they on? :smalltongue:

Salmon/Moff Chumley

Their eyes meet across the tank. Moff couldn't takes his eyes off Salmon's beautiful pink scales, the way they glinted in the tanks fluorescent lighting, their mesmerising hue a deep pink reminiscent of the most enchanting of roses. And the salmon stared back, lost in Moff's wondrous eyes, there was a hidden sadness in there, behind the cavalier glint. It was a shared moment that lasted for what seemed like days.

"That one, please, Garçon. Well done."

It was the most delectable fish Moff had ever tasted.

There you go.

There will be sushi in UG Land tonight! Mwahaha! :biggrin:

I'm happy now. I'll leave you guys alone.

[JasonDoomsblade]

JEEZ. What are they on? :smalltongue:

Salmon/Moff Chumley

Their eyes meet across the tank. Moff couldn't takes his eyes off Salmon's beautiful pink scales, the way they glinted in the tanks fluorescent lighting, their mesmerising hue a deep pink reminiscent of the most enchanting of roses. And the salmon stared back, lost in Moff's wondrous eyes, there was a hidden sadness in there, behind the cavalier glint. It was a shared moment that lasted for what seemed like days.

"That one, please, Garçon. Well done."

It was the most delectable fish Moff had ever tasted.

There you go.

That was the seventh most funniest thing I've ever read. :smalltongue:

[Almighty Salmon]

JEEZ. What are they on? :smalltongue:

Salmon/Moff Chumley

Their eyes meet across the tank. Moff couldn't takes his eyes off Salmon's beautiful pink scales, the way they glinted in the tanks fluorescent lighting, their mesmerising hue a deep pink reminiscent of the most enchanting of roses. And the salmon stared back, lost in Moff's wondrous eyes, there was a hidden sadness in there, behind the cavalier glint. It was a shared moment that lasted for what seemed like days.

"That one, please, Garçon. Well done."

It was the most delectable fish Moff had ever tasted.

There you go.

Wow.

That brought tears to my eyes, man. Tears to my eyes.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Tears of pain? Tears that your one twue wuv et you?
Or tears of joy that you became so close?

[Moff Chumley]

Wow.

That brought tears to my eyes, man. Tears to my eyes.

Don't be a poor sport. You know this how UG II ended for you, just as well as I do. :smallbiggrin:

[Almighty Salmon]

Tears of pain? Tears that your one twue wuv et you?
Or tears of joy that you became so close?

A little of all three, I think.


Don't be a poor sport. You know this how UG II ended for you, just as well as I do. :smallbiggrin:

I was a great Duke, man! A great Duke! I still can't believe what you did to me! :smallfrown:

[RabbitHoleLost]

Llama has given permission!
=O
Whoever ships Llama first gets a free request from RHL!
GOOOOO~

[Cobra_Ikari]

Llama has given permission!
=O
Whoever ships Llama first gets a free request from RHL!
GOOOOO~

...I keep thinking of a Logan / LLama at petting zoo. >.>

...not that I could write such a thing, though. *nuzzles*

[Player_Zero]

Ego Zero shipping with a guest role for Calamity.


It had all started as a small game to pas the time, Player_Zero, Ego slayer and Calamity had decided to pull out the scrabble board and play a bit to keep away the boredom. But the game had soon intensified into a flurry of bibliomantic prows and dare do linguistic skill. As the game continued it became more and more clear that Cal was no match for the combined competitive spelling of ego and zero. Heaving a deep sigh Cal tipped the metaphorical King over. “im of, I have to go anyway.” “Oh ho” Zero laughed “your just afraid you cant win and are running away.” I do not, I just have to go.” Cal retorted, irritated by Zero’s attitude. “Yes you are, im simply much better” zero said with a big grin. From across the board Ego observed the two with a amused smile. They were always like this, those two. “anyhow, have a good game you two.” He waved a hand and left for whatever business he had dealings with to do.”
Zero and Ego’s eyes met over the board. “So, back to you loosing the game.” Ego gave a sly smile. “I most definitely will not.” Zero grinned back. Deeper and deeper into the night did they play. With every now and then a “ha” of triumph or a “oh” of surprise escaping the two players. Then finally ego played the last tile. “there I won, didn’t I tell you?” zero called out. Ego’s grin broadened, no you didn’t, see there I also spelled ‘love’ with it. Zero’s smile dropped into a face of disbelieve, how could he have missed such a simple word being created. “so that give me what, one, no two more points then you. I win” ego smiled. “and remeber we played for a favour from the loser for the winner.
Zero kept ogling the playing board, how could he the zeroth player have lost at such a game. “ok, what must I do for you?” he said with a sigh. Ego giggled. “well, you could start with giving me a kiss.”


So, yay, I did my first shipping. I feel dirty now, and i blame you guys.

D'awwww...

[Moff Chumley]

I was a great Duke, man! A great Duke! I still can't believe what you did to me! :smallfrown:

I know. Neither can I. :smallbiggrin:

[Raistlin1040]

Who Are You: Llama/RHL


It was night time, and RabbitHoleLost was walking home from work. She'd had to stay late, because one of her coworkers had caught the flu and she'd had to cover his shift. Unfortunatly, this meant she couldn't get a ride home from another coworker like usual, and the buses didn't run at this hour. But that was fine, she didn't mind walking, and it wasn't that far anyway.

She crossed the street at a crosswalk and was about to turn the corner to get to her house when something in an alley caught her eye. Curious as ever, she took a few steps into the dark lane to see what it was that she had noticed. After a moment of looking around, she decided to was too dark to see anything, and she turned around to continue on her way.

However, she quickly found herself being pulled back, and a hand being clamped over her mouth. Pulled into the back alley, she found herself surrounded by three large men, one of whom was restraining her. One of the other man grabbed her bag and began picking through it.

Mmmph! RabbitHoleLost tried to say, though her words were lost in the man's hand. Angrily, she bit down.

"Yow! She bit me!" He exclaimed, shaking his hand in pain. "Aw, damn, I think it's bleeding."

"Stop being a baby." Said the third man, who walked up to her, intending to take the first man's place. He got a well-placed kick in the stomach. "Ugh." He grunted as he caught his breath. "That's it missy, we've tried to be nice, now it's going to have to be hard." He pulled a knife from his back pocket, and then man with the bloody hand did so as well, though the man with her bag continued to look through it.

RabbitHoleLost considered her options as the two men advanced on her. She could try and run, but there wasn't really anywhere to go. She could scream, but most likely everyone was asleep. As she tried to think of something else, the man at the bag cried out in pain and slumped to the ground.

"What the hell?" Said one of the other two men, turning to look. He promptly fell to the ground as well. RabbitHoleLost turned, and saw a llama wearing a black Zorro-esque mask standing, one hoof raised in a sort of makeshift combat position.

The last man raised his knife and charged at the quadruped, only to be smacked by a pair of hooves to the face, knocking him unconcious. The llama walked over to her bag, picked up the few things that had fallen out with his mouth and put them back in, and then picked up the bag and walked over to RabbitHoleLost, laying it at her feet.

She was stunned. He was a llama. But, some sort of crimefighting llama. Um...thank you. She said, still confused. The llama bleated in welcome and turned to go. Wait! She called after him. Who are you? The llama turned back and put his head to the ground, pulling off his mask, and nodding first at her and then the mask, motioning for her to take it. She did, and turned it over, where it read "Atreyu-The Masked Llama".

She smiled slightly at the llama and petted his head. He nuzzled her arm, making her giggle with the fuzziness of his fur, before turning away and running off into the night. She smiled and watched him go, tucking the mask into her pocket and continuing to walk home with a grin.

It wasn't until the next morning that she began to wonder why a llama needed a secret identity anyway.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Who Are You: Llama/RHL


It was night time, and RabbitHoleLost was walking home from work. She'd had to stay late, because one of her coworkers had caught the flu and she'd had to cover his shift. Unfortunatly, this meant she couldn't get a ride home from another coworker like usual, and the buses didn't run at this hour. But that was fine, she didn't mind walking, and it wasn't that far anyway.

She crossed the street at a crosswalk and was about to turn the corner to get to her house when something in an alley caught her eye. Curious as ever, she took a few steps into the dark lane to see what it was that she had noticed. After a moment of looking around, she decided to was too dark to see anything, and she turned around to continue on her way.

However, she quickly found herself being pulled back, and a hand being clamped over her mouth. Pulled into the back alley, she found herself surrounded by three large men, one of whom was restraining her. One of the other man grabbed her bag and began picking through it.

Mmmph! RabbitHoleLost tried to say, though her words were lost in the man's hand. Angrily, she bit down.

"Yow! She bit me!" He exclaimed, shaking his hand in pain. "Aw, damn, I think it's bleeding."

"Stop being a baby." Said the third man, who walked up to her, intending to take the first man's place. He got a well-placed kick in the stomach. "Ugh." He grunted as he caught his breath. "That's it missy, we've tried to be nice, now it's going to have to be hard." He pulled a knife from his back pocket, and then man with the bloody hand did so as well, though the man with her bag continued to look through it.

RabbitHoleLost considered her options as the two men advanced on her. She could try and run, but there wasn't really anywhere to go. She could scream, but most likely everyone was asleep. As she tried to think of something else, the man at the bag cried out in pain and slumped to the ground.

"What the hell?" Said one of the other two men, turning to look. He promptly fell to the ground as well. RabbitHoleLost turned, and saw a llama wearing a black Zorro-esque mask standing, one hoof raised in a sort of makeshift combat position.

The last man raised his knife and charged at the quadruped, only to be smacked by a pair of hooves to the face, knocking him unconcious. The llama walked over to her bag, picked up the few things that had fallen out with his mouth and put them back in, and then picked up the bag and walked over to RabbitHoleLost, laying it at her feet.

She was stunned. He was a llama. But, some sort of crimefighting llama. Um...thank you. She said, still confused. The llama bleated in welcome and turned to go. Wait! She called after him. Who are you? The llama turned back and put his head to the ground, pulling off his mask, and nodding first at her and then the mask, motioning for her to take it. She did, and turned it over, where it read "Atreyu-The Masked Llama".

She smiled slightly at the llama and petted his head. He nuzzled her arm, making her giggle with the fuzziness of his fur, before turning away and running off into the night. She smiled and watched him go, tucking the mask into her pocket and continuing to walk home with a grin.

It wasn't until the next morning that she began to wonder why a llama needed a secret identity anyway.


Best ship EVAR.
Whaddya want? I'll get to work on it as soon as I post the RHL/Mordy one.

[Helgraf]

Bestial Natures Part 1? LLama / Renfield (Helgraf)


The saddled llama walked slowly under the burden of the three children on its back. His strength was flagging, and the enthusiasm that he started the day with was waning. He sighed with relief as he finished the circuit, the dull drab figure eight with hardly anything to distract or draw the attention of the riders - or to draw his own thoughts away from the aches in his legs, the soreness of the flanks from children who played at spurring him - smaller ones who knew no better, and slightly larger ones who did it with clear malice in their piping commanding voices.

At last, the pit boss called that the show was over and the wondrous llamabible snow-horse had to go feed on naughty children. This brought some shrieks and cries from the younger, impressionable children as it always did, and the crowd dispersed.

LLama trudged forlornly to the 'stable'. Here, among the other unfortunates of the 'exotic bestiary', he half collapsed forward, head splashing into the water trough, drinking reflexively without any enjoyment. He lived from night to night now, for that time between time when he could ride freely, without weights or burdens. He gave a soft contented sound as he fell into reverie, imagining a coat of fur thick and soft.

As the animals slipped into oblivion from exhaustion or simple imperative of nature, something else waddled into the stall. It moved the 'dragon-bird' (a drake mallard with unusual colouring and oddly pebbled feet) from where it collapsed into a small nest. It shifted the 'horns' on the 'basilisk' so the scales beneath wouldn't chafe and wear. Then, reaching to the rat's nest that perched upon its dome, it pulled out a brush; it was a simple bone brush, woven with stiff bristles, and he cautiously approached the 'llamable snowbeast' When no sign of alarm was forthcoming, he stealthfully began to stroke the creature's fur, letting the brush stroke lightly at first, cringing back as he drew in a long, slow breath, flanks fluttering as the breath was released.

Slowly, gently, the visitor groomed the llama, stroking out the fur, pulling loose bits of twig and clumps of dirt that had settled in during the long hours of servitude. The tender, reverant motions of the squat, hunched figure took on an almost religious ardour, as he slowly groomed the magnificent ... slave.

His lips pursed into a broken frown, the skin of his lower lip splitting, a spatter of crimson slowly rising to fill the crack. He deserved freedom ... but how would he get by ... without someone to care and feed him? And only the Master had the keys ... and the feed.

He shook his head silently, reaching out a calloused, mangled hand to pat the poor creature's flank softly.

"Pass quietly ... time will yet find a way," he murmured. A lone teardrop slid down his furrowed cheek, fell, plummeted ... striking a furless spot. The llama shifted, making a faint sound - and the broken man startled, fleeing the 'stable'.

...

[Helgraf]

Damn, beat me by 7 minutes...

[RabbitHoleLost]

You can have one, too, Helgraf. If there's anything in particular that you want...
If not, I can use the other ideas I had for Helgraf-Renfield..
I wonder if you'd pick one I have in mind...
That ship was incredibly sweet...

Edit: Heh. Rai has told me over messenger something I interpret to mean that he wants another RHL/Rai fic.
I feel incredibly popular :smalltongue:

[Fan]

HYour just now ctaching on to that RHL? you've been opular as long as I've been a board member. :p
Also may start writing ship fics of my own, will proly have gramatical errors in them, but this thread NEEDS more writers.

[RabbitHoleLost]

HYour just now ctaching on to that RHL? you've been opular as long as I've been a board member. :p
Also may start writing ship fics of my own, will proly have gramatical errors in them, but this thread NEEDS more writers.

You know (and this is partially due to my really down mood, and partially due in part to my paranoid..and also because there seems to be evidence behind it), my popularity has only really sprung up within the past two or three months. I'm awfully suspicious that this may be only because of my relationship with Cobra_Ikari <<

And, yes. We do need more writers.

[Fan]

Since I'm always stuck on choosing a topic to start with, Ithink I'll just be a request writer. *goes to review thread*

[Cobra_Ikari]

You know (and this is partially due to my really down mood, and partially due in part to my paranoid..and also because there seems to be evidence behind it), my popularity has only really sprung up within the past two or three months. I'm awfully suspicious that this may be only because of my relationship with Cobra_Ikari <<

And, yes. We do need more writers.

...I'd like to point out that no one here knew me until I met you, love. =P

...and speaking of relationships... >.>

Cobra wants a fic! *puppy eyes*

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

Neat!! That wasn't so bad, kinda fun actually. *wags happily*

Why does a llama need a secret identity

Off to DragonCon. Bye everybody.

[Helgraf]

Just realized technically part II doesn't involve Curly yet either - but we're almost there...

Prelude - Discernment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4797207&postcount=23)

Prelude - Interstices (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4811580&postcount=92)

Part 1 (by RHL) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4795843&postcount=13)


Mad Season - Interstices

The wagon-cage that kept the world at bay rolled up to a large building, severe of shape and resolute of purpose. Sages and songbirds who'd lost their wings were housed there, where they might, like mightly gladiators, wield fierce axioms of thought and music against one another under the consuming eye, and under the soothing eye, might crawl about, drawing sustainence from one another like a colony of spiders, all feeding on each other for a lack of flies.

With a mighty straining against the iron chains, he rose, rattling the whole of the cage so as to scare off any outside who might think to slip in and steal him. Saliva glistened on his lower lip and chin, dripped to quench the hungry dust. Under the furnace, he could not see the singer whose soft lullabies spoke daintily and happily of the joys of rending down a man for tallow. But he was made an artist, and so he sang back.



'Tallow man, his glory hands
find no swift surcease
When burning orb in duplicate
nubs upon his feast

Winsome maid of coupling
A charming virginal whore
Crimson stain, crying refrain
As he crosses her door

An empty nest, egg'd on
Serpent took his feast
Shells broken, babies gone
Man, it was, or beast?'

He continued to elucidate darkly, spinning each verse as a reply to a voice it seemed only he could hear. It was with no small relief that the coachman and his guards approached the structure. They opened the back of the cart, halberds levelled at the madman as one of their number slowly undid the locks that bound his chains to the cage. These chains were then bound to one another tightly, until he squealed like a sow impaled, a wretched, horripilating sound made all the worse for the undisputable fact that each present could not discern if it was of pain or some terrible pleasure.

Yet, as the oversized, iron-banded and reinforced doors began to open, Renfield fell of a sudden quiet, seemed to collapse inside of himself, til his posture resembled little more than a boy who'd just been caught in the cookie jar.

"This is the patient," the tall, severely dressed man in dark colours inquired of the guards.

They nodded grimly. "Ay', 'e's the lunatic right well enou'. Damn near killed th' girl," the one on the right began, but the other man cut him off.

"You will not refer to him by that word, not while he is in my care gentlemen. This is a place of healing, not of savage ignorance. What is his name?"

"Renfield, d'Champs m'lord," the chained figure replied, executing a dancer's bow that caused the discomforting sound of a bone popping out of joint in conjunction with the clang of metal striking metal as the chains that draped his arms clanged against the cuffs on his ankles.

The other man's expression betrayed just a hint of surprise. "Come then, Mister ... Renfield," he murmured, gesturing toward the inside of the building, where white paint had been obsessively layered to create a bland sameness, deemed 'less likely to disrupt the minds of the guests'. Renfield, for his part, nodded congenially, causing another, quieter rattle of chains, then began warbling once more as he switched between dragging his chains and making small jumps and hops.


'A coat of white
Won't hide the night
Won't keep the moon at bay

A coat of white
A brilliant sight
To hide the stains away'


A long peal of laughter erupted from froth-flecked lips...

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

Ooooh, poor spot check. Sorry about that.

Awwww, I liked that one, too. Poor llama, poor Renfield. One day, they shall be free!!

Thanks, Hitomi. Thanks Helgraf.

[RabbitHoleLost]

::blinks:: Did you just delete the original post of your last ship and repost it, Helgraf, or am I going insane?
Also, Llama, Rairai wrote that one :smallwink:
Have fun at DragonCon. Take lots of pictures!

[Helgraf]

::blinks:: Did you just delete the original post of your last ship and repost it, Helgraf, or am I going insane?

Yes. Take your pick.

[RabbitHoleLost]

This I Do For You
Mordokai/RHL
Note: Inspired heavily by my current mood and this song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STd_ReduHMw)
"So, er, tell me again why I'm here?" Mordokai sat almost comfortably across from the brunette, her top hat sitting at an awkward angle on her head. The 'almost' was due to the countless zombies and skeletons ambling through the house, silently sweeping the floor, or periodically popping up to pour Rabbit her tea, or Mordokai his wine.
And the fact that she had tried, and failed, to kill him on multiple occasions.
"Now, Mordy..." She smiled, oddly without the typical malice to be found, stirring something into her tea from a perfectly white porcelain bottle. It dripped sluggishly, like molasses, except that its color was perfectly clear. "Couldn't the reason possibly be that I enjoy the company of my favorite Paladin?"
Mordokai grinned his boyish grin, and, in response, Rabbit blushed slightly and lifted her gloved hand to pull the brim of her hat down, partially obscuring her face.
"And this wine isn't poisoned?" He gestured to the crystal goblet, filled with a dark crimson zinfandel that vaguely resembled... blood. The paladin couldn't help but shudder, having heard the rumors that the hatter across from him partook in human blood on occasion, though, as far as he knew, she was no vampire.
"I'd never hurt you, Mordokai." And though he would have liked to snort, as the evidence in the past had pointed to the opposite, the sincerity in her voice convinced him that, atleast this once, the necromancer did not wish him harm.
His smile gave him away, and Rabbit breathed out in relief..only to take a deep inhalation of air, trapping it within her lungs along with visible tension.
"So, maybe there was a reason for me asking you here."
"Oh?" His smile shifted slightly to a knowing grin, and he wondered over what exactly she had in mind. Perhaps a new temptation for his falling, or a threat for the "conversion" of her sister. The necromantic hatter remained silent for a few minutes, taking a large gulp of her tea, which had, by now, cooled to some degree.
"Mordokai, aside from our alignments, you and I aren't so different, you know. Love, passion... these are things I believe in, as well. Though, I hold them on high because I believe in them myself, not because of a goddess." He opened his mouth to object, but she held her hand, with its dainty fingers wrapped in white silk, up to silence him.
He obliged, still smiling pleasantly. It amused him that, living in a world such as they did, Rabbit could still claim to be an agnost. There was so much evidence everywhere...
"Its knowing this, Mordokai, that I believe you'll understand when I say I love you." He had no time for a reaction, as unexpected as that turn of events was, she continued on, her pale face flushing a vivid pink, her words tumbling faster from her mouth.
"Most ardently. The way you give so completely, the way you speak, your kindness, your faith. Damn, I even love the way you gaze so affectionately at that blasted dryad of yours." Her eyes flashed with envy at the thought of the other female, oddly absent that night.
"Then, redemption-"
"Let me finish, Paladin. I've thought over this long and hard, and, if I were to assume you would accept me, I have but two options. As you have already suggested, redemption; atone for my past sins.If you know me half as well as any stranger would, you know I am set in my ways. I change for no one, not even for love." Mordokai remained silent, though he frowned, his blond eyebrows furrowing together.
"My second choice is to live without you. No, not without you; to kill you or be killed by you."
"But-" he sat up, anxious. Had she not promised him safety, atleast for this night? And how could he kill her, now, what with that confession of just a few minutes past?
"Will you just shut up and listen?!" Rabbit's face contorted in frustration as she hissed, leaning over the table. For the first time that evening, Mordokai could remember her as the villain she supposedly was to his hero in shining armor. He vowed to keep himself silent until she had said her piece.
"I could not kill you. Therefore, that leaves me one final option."She took another big gulp of her tea, possibly to calm her nerves as she snapped a finger. Shambling over, a half-rotted zombie carried an elegant box, the outside lined in oriental silks. Rabbit smiled up to her dead companion before handing the box to her Paladin counterpart, who accepted it with an expression of puzzlement.
It was heavy, indeed, and as Mordokai flipped the top open...he gasped. Inside, laying on a bed of black satin, was an ornamental silver dagger, the edged sharpened. As he glanced up to ask Rabbit what the meaning of the gift was, he noted she was no longer in her seat across from him, but kneeling by his feet.
"Kill me, Mordokai." The blond gaped, holding the box with shaking hands as he stared down into her hazel eyes, aghast. It seemed like centuries before he shoved the weapon away, shaking his head.
"No. I won't do it. I think I'll keep you around anyways, even if you are evil."
And then she laughed, her head falling back with the strength of it so that her silk black top hat clattered to the floor, her body soon following.
Blood dripped from her lips.
"I had a feeling you would refuse." She stared up at him, adoration evident in her face."So I took the liberty of poisoning my tea. For you, my dear Paladin, so that you may live."

[Cobra_Ikari]

This I Do For You
Mordokai/RHL
Note: Inspired heavily by my current mood and this song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STd_ReduHMw)
"So, er, tell me again why I'm here?" Mordokai sat almost comfortably across from the brunette, her top hat sitting at an awkward angle on her head. The 'almost' was due to the countless zombies and skeletons ambling through the house, silently sweeping the floor, or periodically popping up to pour Rabbit her tea, or Mordokai his wine.
And the fact that she had tried, and failed, to kill him on multiple occasions.
"Now, Mordy..." She smiled, oddly without the typical malice to be found, stirring something into her tea from a perfectly white porcelain bottle. It dripped sluggishly, like molasses, except that its color was perfectly clear. "Couldn't the reason possibly be that I enjoy the company of my favorite Paladin?"
Mordokai grinned his boyish grin, and, in response, Rabbit blushed slightly and lifted her gloved hand to pull the brim of her hat down, partially obscuring her face.
"And this wine isn't poisoned?" He gestured to the crystal goblet, filled with a dark crimson zinfandel that vaguely resembled... blood. The paladin couldn't help but shudder, having heard the rumors that the hatter across from him partook in human blood on occasion, though, as far as he knew, she was no vampire.
"I'd never hurt you, Mordokai." And though he would have liked to snort, as the evidence in the past had pointed to the opposite, the sincerity in her voice convinced him that, atleast this once, the necromancer did not wish him harm.
His smile gave him away, and Rabbit breathed out in relief..only to take a deep inhalation of air, trapping it within her lungs along with visible tension.
"So, maybe there was a reason for me asking you here."
"Oh?" His smile shifted slightly to a knowing grin, and he wondered over what exactly she had in mind. Perhaps a new temptation for his falling, or a threat for the "conversion" of her sister. The necromantic hatter remained silent for a few minutes, taking a large gulp of her tea, which had, by now, cooled to some degree.
"Mordokai, aside from our alignments, you and I aren't so different, you know. Love, passion... these are things I believe in, as well. Though, I hold them on high because I believe in them myself, not because of a goddess." He opened his mouth to object, but she held her hand, with its dainty fingers wrapped in white silk, up to silence him.
He obliged, still smiling pleasantly. It amused him that, living in a world such as they did, Rabbit could still claim to be an agnost. There was so much evidence everywhere...
"Its knowing this, Mordokai, that I believe you'll understand when I say I love you." He had no time for a reaction, as unexpected as that turn of events was, she continued on, her pale face flushing a vivid pink, her words tumbling faster from her mouth.
"Most ardently. The way you give so completely, the way you speak, your kindness, your faith. Damn, I even love the way you gaze so affectionately at that blasted dryad of yours." Her eyes flashed with envy at the thought of the other female, oddly absent that night.
"Then, redemption-"
"Let me finish, Paladin. I've thought over this long and hard, and, if I were to assume you would accept me, I have but two options. As you have already suggested, redemption; atone for my past sins.If you know me half as well as any stranger would, you know I am set in my ways. I change for no one, not even for love." Mordokai remained silent, though he frowned, his blond eyebrows furrowing together.
"My second choice is to live without you. No, not without you; to kill you or be killed by you."
"But-" he sat up, anxious. Had she not promised him safety, atleast for this night? And how could he kill her, now, what with that confession of just a few minutes past?
"Will you just shut up and listen?!" Rabbit's face contorted in frustration as she hissed, leaning over the table. For the first time that evening, Mordokai could remember her as the villain she supposedly was to his hero in shining armor. He vowed to keep himself silent until she had said her piece.
"I could not kill you. Therefore, that leaves me one final option."She took another big gulp of her tea, possibly to calm her nerves as she snapped a finger. Shambling over, a half-rotted zombie carried an elegant box, the outside lined in oriental silks. Rabbit smiled up to her dead companion before handing the box to her Paladin counterpart, who accepted it with an expression of puzzlement.
It was heavy, indeed, and as Mordokai flipped the top open...he gasped. Inside, laying on a bed of black satin, was an ornamental silver dagger, the edged sharpened. As he glanced up to ask Rabbit what the meaning of the gift was, he noted she was no longer in her seat across from him, but kneeling by his feet.
"Kill me, Mordokai." The blond gaped, holding the box with shaking hands as he stared down into her hazel eyes, aghast. It seemed like centuries before he shoved the weapon away, shaking his head.
"No. I won't do it. I think I'll keep you around anyways, even if you are evil."
And then she laughed, her head falling back with the strength of it so that her silk black top hat clattered to the floor, her body soon following.
Blood dripped from her lips.
"I had a feeling you would refuse." She stared up at him, adoration evident in her face."So I took the liberty of poisoning my tea. For you, my dear Paladin, so that you may live."

=\

*snuggles tight and holds back a sniffle*

...no die, please?

[Dallas-Dakota]

Cobra, writing something for you now.


Cobra/RHL coming up sometime today/

[Ganurath]

=\

*snuggles tight and holds back a sniffle*

...no die, please?Nobody who's good friends with a necromancer stays dead long, Cobra. She'll be fine.

[randman22222]

Wow. String of excellent shipfics.

Namely, Salmon/Moff, both of Helgraf's, and RHL's (as usual, dark, and awesome).

Man... I should really get some work in on mine. I've got all the ideas in it I want, I just need to write it. :smallsigh:

[CurlyKitGirl]

Parts 1 - 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4643978&postcount=498)
Part 5 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4688017&postcount=955)

Scene the Sixth: And the Narrative Picks Up Where It Left Off; More Or Less
The Impwessive Clergyman continued with his long, highly ceremonious speech and, slowly, people to nod off. Even the bootiful bride and her soon - to - be - husband - if - the - plot - doesn't - move - on - soon swayed sleepily back and forth.
Standing (actually they're fairly tired so they're more leaning on each other) proudly behind their son stand Queen Rabbit of Hearts and King Rand of Diamonds, somewhat uneasy as their genre savvy state (also known as being older than dirt (but far prettier or handsomer)) knows of their canon and fanon pairings, and also because they know the plot (something neither narrative voices know, we're just reading the script).
And far at the back of the cathedral lurk the uninvited Queen SMEE of Spades, her pet Salmon, the (also) uninvited King Llama of Clubs and his pet Renfield. Let us tangent once more and enter a small flashback:

"Bunny dearest, you won't believ what that cad Llama's done to your Rose Garden! He's let his pet loose in it and it's eaten all your roses."
"OFF WITH HIS HEAD! This is the seventh time in four state visits he's let that thing ravage my gardens. And his wife's no better. She puts that pink pet of hers in the Fish Pond and then throws a screaming wobbly when she sees her pet served to Lord Bath for the formal banquet. And we kindly resurrect that Salmon of hers each time she does the same fool thing again."
"Rabbit!" shouts the Queen of Spades as she throws open the doors in yet another dramatic entrance, "How dare you serve me my darling pet for brunch?! It' absolutely abominable." Behind her her sheepish (llamaish?) husband trotted through the doors hauling his madman with him. As the Queens enter their famous screaming match the Kings sidle over to one another and make their customary apologies before going on to talking (somehow) about sensible topics. "That lunatic your husband calls a pet ate all my red roses again! I will not tolerate this. You, your husband and your pets are barred from our son's wedding to the bootiful Lady Serpentine. Now get out or I'll have the whole bally lot of you beheaded. And if you come to my son's wedding I'll behead all of you and never speak to you again."

And so the other King and Queen of Cards lurk with the huddled masses instead of assuming their customary places with the bejewelled and betired nobles.
Two hours after the Imwessive Clergyman began his speech Dragonrider woke up with a start. "I can't be having with this." Igonring 'zira's desparate hands a clear, authoratitive (and not unnattractive, if you're into that sort of thing) voice rang out from the shadows (where the mysterious group are, in case you'd not been reading the earlier installments), as Serpentine's true love emerged from the shadows, proudly brandishing her blade.
She was immediately joined by Curly and 'Zira, the latter covering his eyes with one hand and muttering
"Wait for the line. Those were my only instructions, wait for the line! grah!"
The eyes of the assembled playgrounders turned towards them, and guards readied weapons. Curly readied two books, holding them live bizarre, oblong throwing knives. 'Zira simply looked around nervously, before adopting more of a stoop, and affecting the voice of a harmless old man.
"Lawks, I appear to be lost, gentlemen. My eyesight's not what it was, you know, not since that incident in the cherry orchard", followed by more nervous glancing.
The sleeping guards woke up only to be knocked into back unconciousness by words (printed this time) or insulted so hard they either curled up in a ball and sobbed like babies or ran home to thier mummies (unless they'd eaten them, Banjo, we're looking at you) while Dragonrider fiddled with a little Acme device.
Hitting the Dramatic Entrance Variation Seven (shadowy stairwells) button she strode dramatically to the top of the stairs just as she and her companions were lit up by the Dramatic LightTM. She cried out her immortal line "Wait right there sir!" (we never said why it was immortal). The bride swung her head in the direction of the stairwell and a smile more fitting the the renowned face of beauty graced those delicate features.
As all freeze for the customary freeze frame (with dramatic music) the Imwessive Clergyman scweams in fwustwation and throws his script in the air, totally ruining the artistic mood, but making it really rather funny. And the recap is complete, joining scenes and sets the stage (or screen) for the new and unseen action to follow.

I'd also like to apologise for the lengthy gap in between chapters/scenes. Sowwy.
And request a fic based on Nightmare Before Christmas to star anyone. Because I love that film.

[randman22222]

Parts 1 - 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4643978&postcount=498)
Part 5 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4688017&postcount=955)

Scene the Sixth: And the Narrative Picks Up Where It Left Off; More Or Less
The Impwessive Clergyman continued with his long, highly ceremonious speech and, slowly, people to nod off. Even the bootiful bride and her soon - to - be - husband - if - the - plot - doesn't - move - on - soon swayed sleepily back and forth.
Standing (actually they're fairly tired so they're more leaning on each other) proudly behind their son stand Queen Rabbit of Hearts and King Rand of Diamonds, somewhat uneasy as their genre savvy state (also known as being older than dirt (but far prettier or handsomer)) knows of their canon and fanon pairings, and also because they know the plot (something neither narrative voices know, we're just reading the script).
And far at the back of the cathedral lurk the uninvited Queen SMEE of Spades, her pet Salmon, the (also) uninvited King Llama of Clubs and his pet Renfield. Let us tangent once more and enter a small flashback:

"Bunny dearest, you won't believ what that cad Llama's done to your Rose Garden! He's let his pet loose in it and it's eaten all your roses."
"OFF WITH HIS HEAD! This is the seventh time in four state visits he's let that thing ravage my gardens. And his wife's no better. She puts that pink pet of hers in the Fish Pond and then throws a screaming wobbly when she sees her pet served to Lord Bath for the formal banquet. And we kindly resurrect that Salmon of hers each time she does the same fool thing again."
"Rabbit!" shouts the Queen of Spades as she throws open the doors in yet another dramatic entrance, "How dare you serve me my darling pet for brunch?! It' absolutely abominable." Behind her her sheepish (llamaish?) husband trotted through the doors hauling his madman with him. As the Queens enter their famous screaming match the Kings sidle over to one another and make their customary apologies before going on to talking (somehow) about sensible topics. "That lunatic your husband calls a pet ate all my red roses again! I will not tolerate this. You, your husband and your pets are barred from our son's wedding to the bootiful Lady Serpentine. Now get out or I'll have the whole bally lot of you beheaded. And if you come to my son's wedding I'll behead all of you and never speak to you again."

And so the other King and Queen of Cards lurk with the huddled masses instead of assuming their customary places with the bejewelled and betired nobles.
Two hours after the Imwessive Clergyman began his speech Dragonrider woke up with a start. "I can't be having with this." Igonring 'zira's desparate hands a clear, authoratitive (and not unnattractive, if you're into that sort of thing) voice rang out from the shadows (where the mysterious group are, in case you'd not been reading the earlier installments), as Serpentine's true love emerged from the shadows, proudly brandishing her blade.
She was immediately joined by Curly and 'Zira, the latter covering his eyes with one hand and muttering
"Wait for the line. Those were my only instructions, wait for the line! grah!"
The eyes of the assembled playgrounders turned towards them, and guards readied weapons. Curly readied two books, holding them live bizarre, oblong throwing knives. 'Zira simply looked around nervously, before adopting more of a stoop, and affecting the voice of a harmless old man.
"Lawks, I appear to be lost, gentlemen. My eyesight's not what it was, you know, not since that incident in the cherry orchard", followed by more nervous glancing.
The sleeping guards woke up only to be knocked into back unconciousness by words (printed this time) or insulted so hard they either curled up in a ball and sobbed like babies or ran home to thier mummies (unless they'd eaten them, Banjo, we're looking at you) while Dragonrider fiddled with a little Acme device.
Hitting the Dramatic Entrance Variation Seven (shadowy stairwells) button she strode dramatically to the top of the stairs just as she and her companions were lit up by the Dramatic LightTM. She cried out her immortal line "Wait right there sir!" (we never said why it was immortal). The bride swung her head in the direction of the stairwell and a smile more fitting the the renowned face of beauty graced those delicate features.
As all freeze for the customary freeze frame (with dramatic music) the Imwessive Clergyman scweams in fwustwation and throws his script in the air, totally ruining the artistic mood, but making it really rather funny. And the recap is complete, joining scenes and sets the stage (or screen) for the new and unseen action to follow.

I'd also like to apologise for the lengthy gap in between chapters/scenes. Sowwy.
And request a fic based on Nightmare Before Christmas to star anyone. Because I love that film.

Eeeee. That made me smile. :smallsmile:
Approval from me, although... The fourth wall breaking got a bit suffocating...

[Dallas-Dakota]

Curly was in a inspirative drought period, thus she stole my supply of inspiration which was supposed to be for an entire week. So blame her, not me for writing such a awesome story which I should have done but then Cobra/RHL...

Sowwy....

[Cobra_Ikari]

Is ok, DD. *snuggles*

...Cobra just wishes was as popular to write about with his love as she is with other people, that's all.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Being ill does things to your brain. Or it may possibly be the lack of, then sudden overeating of food. Or maybe it was just me being spoony. And now for another one of the

Letters

Seven times seven hundred days have I stayed by your side. I found you that long ago and made my choice to remain with you; hoping. But you will not hunt for me.
I never thought it so hard to keep faith. Through slander and insults, through your rages and your shivering fears I stayed. I stayed. I want to tell you but I have not the strength of character to bare feeling to one who doesn't acknowledge me for me.
I think I'm slipping from you. I wait by your side, a weapon against that which attacks you. I can save you.
I have chosen you but now I don't know if I chose right. One day you'll find that I have slipped away from you. I don't know why you keep me (for you have often said I am worthless to you); I don't know why I stay. Maybe it's just a bond forged long ago by yourself that keeps me here with you.
I don't know why I haven't gone. Maybe you can love me if you see me. I know there is a kindness in you that you show to noone, a gentleness you try to banish. Your glare makes all the struggling, dying souls you've saved silent about thier rescuer. I smile when I see that glare, you're embarrassed by your kindness.
A solitary, unwilling paladin.
I was angry when you got injured. I could have saved you then; I had the ability to save you, but you damned me so often, refused my pleas to aid you so I let you get hurt.
I shamed us both.
My pride and anger nearly got you killed. Would have got you killed if I had not acted at the last second; and I almost missed it. Sheer luck saved you then. And left you broken on a forest floor, pride and body injured.
I do want to remain with you forever, but I find myself slipping. That incident was me slipping away from you. If you would let me help you, love you, we woul both be saved.
But you will not hunt for me and I find my voice doesn't reach you. I will leave you soon, slipping from you as you fly on sift feet to your next battle. And you will not miss me.
And I will miss you, though I am unwanted and unsought.

[Moff Chumley]

Curly, you've truly reminded us of why you're the queen of shipping! :smallbiggrin:

[Cristo Meyers]

Being ill does things to your brain. Or it may possibly be the lack of, then sudden overeating of food. Or maybe it was just me being spoony. And now for another one of the

Letters

Seven times seven hundred days have I stayed by your side. I found you that long ago and made my choice to remain with you; hoping. But you will not hunt for me.
I never thought it so hard to keep faith. Through slander and insults, through your rages and your shivering fears I stayed. I stayed. I want to tell you but I have not the strength of character to bare feeling to one who doesn't acknowledge me for me.
I think I'm slipping from you. I wait by your side, a weapon against that which attacks you. I can save you.
I have chosen you but now I don't know if I chose right. One day you'll find that I have slipped away from you. I don't know why you keep me (for you have often said I am worthless to you); I don't know why I stay. Maybe it's just a bond forged long ago by yourself that keeps me here with you.
I don't know why I haven't gone. Maybe you can love me if you see me. I know there is a kindness in you that you show to noone, a gentleness you try to banish. Your glare makes all the struggling, dying souls you've saved silent about thier rescuer. I smile when I see that glare, you're embarrassed by your kindness.
A solitary, unwilling paladin.
I was angry when you got injured. I could have saved you then; I had the ability to save you, but you damned me so often, refused my pleas to aid you so I let you get hurt.
I shamed us both.
My pride and anger nearly got you killed. Would have got you killed if I had not acted at the last second; and I almost missed it. Sheer luck saved you then. And left you broken on a forest floor, pride and body injured.
I do want to remain with you forever, but I find myself slipping. That incident was me slipping away from you. If you would let me help you, love you, we woul both be saved.
But you will not hunt for me and I find my voice doesn't reach you. I will leave you soon, slipping from you as you fly on sift feet to your next battle. And you will not miss me.
And I will miss you, though I am unwanted and unsought.

awww...

wait, am I supposed to be the other in this little fic?

[EvilElitest]

and yet, i haven't been shipped yet. Hmmmmm
from
EE

[Mordokai]

awww...

wait, am I supposed to be the other in this little fic?

Are you? I'm a little confused myself.

And yes, good stuff there.

[randman22222]

Being ill does things to your brain. Or it may possibly be the lack of, then sudden overeating of food. Or maybe it was just me being spoony. And now for another one of the

Letters

Seven times seven hundred days have I stayed by your side. I found you that long ago and made my choice to remain with you; hoping. But you will not hunt for me.
I never thought it so hard to keep faith. Through slander and insults, through your rages and your shivering fears I stayed. I stayed. I want to tell you but I have not the strength of character to bare feeling to one who doesn't acknowledge me for me.
I think I'm slipping from you. I wait by your side, a weapon against that which attacks you. I can save you.
I have chosen you but now I don't know if I chose right. One day you'll find that I have slipped away from you. I don't know why you keep me (for you have often said I am worthless to you); I don't know why I stay. Maybe it's just a bond forged long ago by yourself that keeps me here with you.
I don't know why I haven't gone. Maybe you can love me if you see me. I know there is a kindness in you that you show to noone, a gentleness you try to banish. Your glare makes all the struggling, dying souls you've saved silent about thier rescuer. I smile when I see that glare, you're embarrassed by your kindness.
A solitary, unwilling paladin.
I was angry when you got injured. I could have saved you then; I had the ability to save you, but you damned me so often, refused my pleas to aid you so I let you get hurt.
I shamed us both.
My pride and anger nearly got you killed. Would have got you killed if I had not acted at the last second; and I almost missed it. Sheer luck saved you then. And left you broken on a forest floor, pride and body injured.
I do want to remain with you forever, but I find myself slipping. That incident was me slipping away from you. If you would let me help you, love you, we woul both be saved.
But you will not hunt for me and I find my voice doesn't reach you. I will leave you soon, slipping from you as you fly on sift feet to your next battle. And you will not miss me.
And I will miss you, though I am unwanted and unsought.

More approvable content from Miss Curly. :smallsmile:
I woulda just ditched the guy... :smallconfused:

[Mordokai]

Are you? I'm a little confused myself.

After reading it for a second time(and with a clear head this time), I'm not so confused anymore.

...

Come on, I'm not that bad. Am I?

[CurlyKitGirl]

When I first started writing the Letters I did say that I'd either name only one person and leave the other ambiguous, or imply one. I think the only one where the two involved were easy to pick out was the two-for involving Calamity and Dihan.
This one implies rather than names and leaves people to draw their own conclusions as to who's involved.
But I guess you all drew conclusions from the 'paladin' line right? I actually based it off a POV from a fic I read that night. however, in this case, I will admit I was leaning to the whole Mi'ir/Mordokai thing.
But neither of you are that bad. I just based the whole incident and POV off the fic.
You're not bad.

Oh, and I do have another Mi'ir/Mordokai one (yep, a Pythony one) coming soon.

[Cristo Meyers]

More approvable content from Miss Curly. :smallsmile:
I woulda just ditched the guy... :smallconfused:

*sigh*

I would, but he's just so fun.

[Helgraf]

Alright, next installment he _will_ meet Curly, one way or another. This story keeps growing on me, keep needing to flesh out details.

What has come before and alongside...

Prelude - Discernment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4797207&postcount=23)

Prelude - Interstices (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4811580&postcount=92)

Prelude - Hunter's Green (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4819531&postcount=114)

Part 1 (by RHL) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4795843&postcount=13)

Mad Season - Hunter's Green

"Dark and dreary, this somnomantic structure, in which Renfield dreams when the Master does not call him; a cage that keeps the masses out, holds at bay their banal minds and insipid faces. So many, so much, so meaningless. Here in the provincial palace intersomnial were the rare exhibits, kept in princely extravagance. Behold, thereby, the walls; left bare, that the mind might exercise upon them its will, that the will and the way and the warping shall, upon their majestic canvas, erect such Art as cannot be seen without weeping; cannot be felt without crying out, without the exultation of the soul in the presence of something so near to God that the merely mortal cannot discriminate it.

Thus do I regard my walls, and thus have I put my mind upon them, and by comparision to theme, these restraints, these muted ugly things of blackness, these I banish! Yea, I cast them into the Out!"

And with that exhultation, he swung his forearms in a manner most frightful, the iron cuffs tearing skin, forcing fingers to crush one another, rending flesh, exposing muscle inflamed and raw. Blood-slick cuffs fell to the stone floor with only a dull thud. He hung there, stoop-shouldered, breathing deep and ragged as he stared silently at the formerly perfect white walls, and the images that danced upon them, nodding to an imperceptable tempo. The door proved an obstacle for only a little longer, and then he was loose and roaming down the halls, greeting his fellow guests as he meandered by their estates, leaving a trail of slow-oozing crimson spatters behind as he went.

The walls spoke to him, guided him onward, inward, deeper toward the womb, where the birthing chambers lay, more perfect white that whispered of secrets and bore the scent of coerced intimacy. He pulled out a few hairs, twisted them, anointed with blood to harden them up, and, so prepared for the night's dalliances, proceeded to coerce the metallic inner folds of each birthing chamber, slowly but with artful cunning inserting his tool and exploring til they yielded up their secrets with soft sighs of shifting innards; with each conquest he made a sort of mumbling moan, arcing and twisting in place before slipping through.

The wombs, stark white as the rest of the building, yet each was, to his eyes, unique; upon the walls, vivid unique visions unfolded; in minute details they surrendered secrets about those being birthed within and the parents who coaxed them, whose words alternately called them or cut them, pushed them back or lured them closer.

And he knew that he, too, would be expected, like a bird in an iron shell, to be molded and guided by exploring fingers, to break the shell or be broken against it. Now ... now, at the last, he understood his Master's will. Here would lay the greatest challenge he had yet faced. Standing, twisted, amidst the visions of his dreams, the dark epiphany embraced him, and his body trembled fiercely. Here, he would be the sculptor, seeking the finest veins of material to fashion forth a climactic work ... a masterpiece worthy of his Master's consummation. Quietly, he slipped, spent, from the canal that led to the birthing chambers, returning to his palace to contemplate this newest ... resolution.

[randman22222]

Alright, next installment he _will_ meet Curly, one way or another. This story keeps growing on me, keep needing to flesh out details.

What has come before and alongside...

Prelude - Discernment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4797207&postcount=23)

Prelude - Interstices (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4811580&postcount=92)

Prelude - Hunter's Green (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4819531&postcount=114)

Part 1 (by RHL) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4795843&postcount=13)

Mad Season - Hunter's Green

"Dark and dreary, this somnomantic structure, in which Renfield dreams when the Master does not call him; a cage that keeps the masses out, holds at bay their banal minds and insipid faces. So many, so much, so meaningless. Here in the provincial palace intersomnial were the rare exhibits, kept in princely extravagance. Behold, thereby, the walls; left bare, that the mind might exercise upon them its will, that the will and the way and the warping shall, upon their majestic canvas, erect such Art as cannot be seen without weeping; cannot be felt without crying out, without the exultation of the soul in the presence of something so near to God that the merely mortal cannot discriminate it.

Thus do I regard my walls, and thus have I put my mind upon them, and by comparision to theme, these restraints, these muted ugly things of blackness, these I banish! Yea, I cast them into the Out!"

And with that exhultation, he swung his forearms in a manner most frightful, the iron cuffs tearing skin, forcing fingers to crush one another, rending flesh, exposing muscle inflamed and raw. Blood-slick cuffs fell to the stone floor with only a dull thud. He hung there, stoop-shouldered, breathing deep and ragged as he stared silently at the formerly perfect white walls, and the images that danced upon them, nodding to an imperceptable tempo. The door proved an obstacle for only a little longer, and then he was loose and roaming down the halls, greeting his fellow guests as he meandered by their estates, leaving a trail of slow-oozing crimson spatters behind as he went.

The walls spoke to him, guided him onward, inward, deeper toward the womb, where the birthing chambers lay, more perfect white that whispered of secrets and bore the scent of coerced intimacy. He pulled out a few hairs, twisted them, anointed with blood to harden them up, and, so prepared for the night's dalliances, proceeded to coerce the metallic inner folds of each birthing chamber, slowly but with artful cunning inserting his tool and exploring til they yielded up their secrets with soft sighs of shifting innards; with each conquest he made a sort of mumbling moan, arcing and twisting in place before slipping through.

The wombs, stark white as the rest of the building, yet each was, to his eyes, unique; upon the walls, vivid unique visions unfolded; in minute details they surrendered secrets about those being birthed within and the parents who coaxed them, whose words alternately called them or cut them, pushed them back or lured them closer.

And he knew that he, too, would be expected, like a bird in an iron shell, to be molded and guided by exploring fingers, to break the shell or be broken against it. Now ... now, at the last, he understood his Master's will. Here would lay the greatest challenge he had yet faced. Standing, twisted, amidst the visions of his dreams, the dark epiphany embraced him, and his body trembled fiercely. Here, he would be the sculptor, seeking the finest veins of material to fashion forth a climactic work ... a masterpiece worthy of his Master's consummation. Quietly, he slipped, spent, from the canal that led to the birthing chambers, returning to his palace to contemplate this newest ... resolution.


That was beautifully penned, and foreboding. Massive approval. :smallsmile:

[Cristo Meyers]

Wow, I say it again, you didn't win Best Narrator for nothing.

It's writing like that makes it when people compliment my writing, I just point at yours and go "No, he's good, I'm just an imitator."

[Mordokai]

When I first started writing the Letters I did say that I'd either name only one person and leave the other ambiguous, or imply one. I think the only one where the two involved were easy to pick out was the two-for involving Calamity and Dihan.
This one implies rather than names and leaves people to draw their own conclusions as to who's involved.
But I guess you all drew conclusions from the 'paladin' line right? I actually based it off a POV from a fic I read that night. however, in this case, I will admit I was leaning to the whole Mi'ir/Mordokai thing.
But neither of you are that bad. I just based the whole incident and POV off the fic.
You're not bad.

Oh, and I do have another Mi'ir/Mordokai one (yep, a Pythony one) coming soon.

And I love what you have done. Really, it's a great work and one I read with most enjoyment. Interesting perspective for sure. Haven't all the other shippings been so great, I'd say this was one of the best ones. As it is, it is really, really great. Kudos to you Curly!

And while I am looking forward to another Mi'ir/Mordokai shipping, I'm also afraid I won't quite get this one. Looks like I'll really have to look some Monty Phyton stuff up.

[Helgraf]

Wow, I say it again, you didn't win Best Narrator for nothing.

It's writing like that makes it when people compliment my writing, I just point at yours and go "No, he's good, I'm just an imitator."

Cristo, you are good. Don't disregard that or convince yourself otherwise, regardless of whatever talent I may or may not possess.

[Kneenibble]

I'd like some advice please.

Has anybody read "The Maltese Falcon" by Dashiel Hammett? I am writing a shiptastic tribute to this book and the gumshoe mystery genre overall and I need somebody to put in a role not unlike the character Joel Cairo. Can anybody familiar with the novel (or the movie, I suppose, where he is played by the great Peter Lorre) please make a suggestion?

He is an affeminate, dandy fellow (but not in a particularly campy way) who is also suggested to be gay (published in 1930, so suggestions are all that could be published), and very much a greedy and evil crook.

Anyways, most of my other characters are chosen, and it's going to be a more modern spin on the whole affair - but I am taking my time with it, because of perfectionism and my being otherwise quite busy.

[Lyesmith]

Kneen, I might be able to pull that off. I think i fit the first part, and as for the greedy, evil crook - I'm English!:smallwink:

[Kaelaroth]

Kneenibble, I highly suggest the wonderfully talented Aziraphale.

[Kneenibble]

It shall be done.

Actually I was considering you for that part already, Azzy-o, and now it is sealed.


Cairo, speaking with difficulty because of the fingers on his throat, said: "This is the second time you've put your hands on me." His eyes, though the throttling pressure on his throat made them bulge, were cold and menacing.

"Yes," Spade growled. "And when you're slapped you'll take it and like it." He released Cairo's wrist and with a thick open hand struck the side of his face three times, savagely.

Cairo tried to spit in Spade's face, but the dryness of the Levantine's mouth made it only an angry gesture. Spade slapped the mouth, cutting the lower lip.

It was just that I had trouble picturing you as that hateful, and hated, but I suppose your quirky cheer will add an interesting dimension to the character.

*the clackity clack clack of keys resumes*

Meanwhile, Kaelaroth, your role in this project was an immediate no-brainer. *wicked grin*
(It's not Spade.) :smallamused:

[CurlyKitGirl]

. . .
Kneen; I nominate you for Vice High Generallissimo of Book Based Fics.
I want more of this fic already. And when I read the description for the guy you were looking for 'zira popped into my head as well. Funny how certain people fit certain roles.

Speaking of you 'zira; how's Shipadder going?

[Lyinginbedmon]

...and as for the greedy, evil crook - I'm English!:smallwink:

:annoyed:

If you'd said Lawyer, that would have made more sense.

[Lyesmith]

But everyone from england is evil!

And, yes. Shipadder! Back to typing.
*clackaclackaclack*

[Kaelaroth]

Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Three: The Cadets
Starring Dr. Bath, and Freshmeat
See Earlier Part's here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4794431&postcount=7)
The coach, smelly, boyish, a haven of ancient relics (year-old chewing gum, stuck to seats, and the like), pulled up into the clearing, surrounded by trees, big, impersonal. One by one, the men (on the young side), marched out, in camouflage, their eyes bright, some with anticipation, some excitement, some mischief, few menace. Before them strolled the officer, inspecting, the crate of live rounds behind them, tantalising. Two boys, one older, more weary, weathered, said to the pretty lad beside him Are you new? The other lad nodded, his curls bouncing in the sweet woodland breeze. I moved, he whispers, from the Navy training group. I got sick of watching Zira make out whoever was on his boat. The other boy looks disgusted There's nothing wrong with that! And the younger one shook his head, worried, not wanting to offend on his first day (he's heard the tales, see. Bullets go astray on these trips. It wouldn't be the first time) No! No! His outburst earns him an aggrieved look from the sergeant (he's new to this job, normally he just teaches Maths, with some tea, and a nice biscuit), but he carries on. It's just... He never made out with me. There was silence, as the teacher, who missed his pi and treacle sorely, walked past, checking boots, and, the games began.

Bath ducked, as a paint grenade went off a few feet behind him, tinting everything red, turning the world upside down. Three boys, moaning in pain, fled the arena, the CCF leaders giggling in adult mirth, but Bath knew he wouldn't be laughed at. He'd learnt some tricks on the water, and dropped - and rolled as a smoke bomb smashed down next to him, releasing noxious fumes into the air, followed by a swift round of vicious bullets. Swearing, the ex-Navy lad (only in training, admittedly), thrust himself into a trench. To be greeted by a round of white bullets, which, slammed, painfully, onto his helmetted foreheard, and his wiry chest. Before him, the boy from earlier stood, slightly bloody, his meat fresh in the raw air. I win. Now. No-one'll be here for a while. Shall we take that helmet off..? And, as the two paints mixed, and the older teen walked nearer, Bath's vision was tinted pink.

[Ethrael]

@^ Awesomely nice. Makes you want to read it again and again. It's got a sort of sweetness to it. Almost like a charm... :smallsmile:

@V Be happy your were put in something. :smallamused:

[Moff Chumley]

I'm still waiting for my part... :smallannoyed: (I'm actually IN high school, you'd think it wouldn't be that hard!) :smalltongue:

That was pretty great, though. Keep up the good work!

[EvilElitest]

Kneen, I might be able to pull that off. I think i fit the first part, and as for the greedy, evil crook - I'm English!:smallwink:

down with your merchant Island


Oh me? I'm a french hobbit
from
EE

[Moff Chumley]

So, I still don't know if I get to be Baldrick or not... :smallfrown:

[Kneenibble]

The title is bound to change, but here's Chapter 1.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 1: The Sky is Falling
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy



Randman Deuce lets a little Canadian Club splash into the juice glass on his desk from a mickey. He leans back in his ergonomic office chair and observes it against the late morning sun. The little glass is fashioned to mimic cut crystal but a hundred tiny scratches and nicks make it dull and dusty-looking. A few storeys down outside on the street there is a honk and a screech. Randman lifts his head, poised, waiting for a crunch. Nothing. The rye goes down in a gulp and a breath, sweetly awful.

He’s a tall, well-made man: some would call a pretty man: golden hair and blue eyes and the pink lips of an aesthete, features at odd with the ascetic pinched eyebrows and the lean figure. His suit is a little too large and a little too brown and makes his body look shapeless except at the shoulders, which are handsome, if unassumingly rounded forwards.

The oak floorboards creak all the way to the window. They were nice, once. Randman twists the string to flip open the venetians. The convex side of the slats is grimy gray with dust. Between them through old warped glass, the sunlight comes uncomfortably hot. Randman puts the end of his finger on one and draws it down to peer outside. He sees nothing worth seeing. He lets the slat go with a snap and returns to his desk, rubbing the grime from his finger onto his shirt. His head swims a little: his stomach is empty and that was not the morning’s first slug.

His partner, slouching in a chair at a desk across the room, looks up at him blankly. There is a dirty magazine resting on his crossed legs and a cup of bad coffee nearby. Nibs has a tired, boyish face with a ruffled mop of unremarkably coloured hair. His suit is blue and wrinkled and his coat is in a ball beside his coffee on the desk. They exchange a wordless glance, and look away: Nibs back to his magazine, digging in his ear with a pinky, Randman to his meditative scrutiny of the emptied juice glass. The air is close and thick.

A knock at the door raises both men’s eyes. Their secretary leans in without letting go of the knob, her perfume effusing the stale room at once. The thick implacable scent does not cut the dusty air so much as coat it and flatter it. She has a natural buoyancy that floats even in the tired office.

“There’s a case here for you,” she says. “Careful with this one.” Her smile is a taunt.

“Sure, Turtle,” says Randman. He throws the mickey of rye in a drawer and slams it shut. Nibs doesn’t look up from his magazine, and puts his feet up on his desk crossed at the ankles.

“You got it. Come on in, miss.” Turtle holds the door open for the case, all five feet of it plus heels, and closes it behind, returning to her desk outside.

The case stands with his hands on his purse, looking lost. The sunlight, even filtered through bubbly glass and cut into strips by dirty blinds, is enough to make his liquor-brown eyes look wet. Nibs’ eyes lift first, then open a little wider; and then his feet hit the ground and he sits up straight, sneaking his magazine out of sight.

Randman watches him levelly.

“Well?” the case asks finally, in a quiet, pleading voice. “Are you Randman the private investigator or aren’t you?” He steps forwards, once, his soles angled obtusely to the floor in steep shoes. His gown is silk brocade, an oriental style.

“Yes, miss, that’s me.” He gets to his feet with a sigh and motions to a plain chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’m Randman Deuce, this is my partner Nibs.”

“Pleased to meet you,” says Nibs across the office, eyes glued on the case, smiling somewhat too politely. He folds his hands on the back of his head and watches like a man at a movie.

“Yes, pleased to meet you,” says the young case graciously, and flings himself forward to the chair beside Randman’s desk. He sits on its edge, his hands gripping each other on the desk like a petitioner. His eyes are large and pathetic, and the beginning of a hysteria is working his ribs. “Oh, can’t you please help me? I think I might be in a lot of trouble.” His nostrils flare, and he shoots a plaintive silent glance at the empty juice glass.

Randman blinks and hesitates. “Oh, of course, miss, yes,” he says, turning to fish the mickey and a second glass out of the drawer, and candidly testing his breath under his hand as he does so. “And what’s bothering you, miss – ah –“ he splashes the gold-coloured poison into each glass, and offers the fresh one over – “actually, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”

“My name is Caelo Ruto. It’s... Italian.” Unconsciously, he runs a hand through his black curls, and then takes the rye, draining it with one cough. He puts his hands in his lap and looks at them, taking several long breaths as the drink does its work. A car honks outside, and angry voices exchange invectives, but still no crunch. Nibs stands, crosses the creaky floorboards, and leans backwards against Randman’s desk, folding his arms and looking down at Caelo with a raven-like sympathy.

“Go on then, Miss Ruto,” Nibs says softly.

Caelo swallows, dabs the corner of his mouth with a fingertip, draws a final fortifying lungful, and looks up at Randman. “There’s a man following me,” he says in a near-whisper. “A dangerous man. I don’t know what he wants anymore, but I met him in Beijing. I’ve been there for some time, but with the Olympics it all got to be too much, especially after...” He stops, and leans back all the way into the chair, seeming more at ease with every word. “We met in a café last year. He called himself a fanboy of some kind and I had assumed he was a tourist for the games. At first he was very sweet and charming and mysterious. And vigorous.” Wrestling with a smile, Caelo puts a dainty manicured hand over the top of his ribcage as if to push down a strong feeling. “But as you well know, Mr. Deuce, men are rarely what they seem at first.”

“Some of us are okay,” Nibs says again, as softly, fishing a bent cigarette from his shirt pocket and putting it between his lips without lighting it. “Some of us.”

Randman shoots a look at his partner, and then takes his drink in two mouthfuls. “What about the fanboy, Miss Ruto? You’re having a problem with him?”

“Oh, yes,” Caelo says emphatically, looking up with eyes wide and wet again. “Yes, when I tried to break things off he started to follow me and leave flowers and poetry for me at the hotel. I’m terribly sorry to say I can have that effect on men, Mr. Deuce...” He presses his lips together and looks at his knees. “I thought I’d lost him for good, finally, but I’ve seen him watching me in the hotel lobby and in the street at night, too. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not afraid to say that he has most certainly killed before and could again.” His eyes spill over without a sob, and he leans forwards over the desk with hands outstretched. “Can you – can you, Mr. Deuce...”

Randman, again, shoots a look at his partner, steepling his fingers and giving a single, ambiguous move of his head. The silence lays heavy as Caelo looks across at him with dribbling eyes. Smirking, Nibs puts fire to his cigarette, starts to smoke, and looks away from Caelo towards the dusty, bubbled window.

At last some message gets conveyed and Caelo reaches into his butter-soft leather handbag with a slightly embarrassed “Oh!” He hands over two colourful bills with a couple of zeroes on each. Randman takes the money with a smile and makes it disappear very quickly, and Nibs watches the gesture over his shoulder. The sweetish smell of his cigarette is actually something of an improvement over old dust and Canadian Club.

“That’s a start,” Randman says.

Nibs gives his cigarette a flick and lets the ash drift to the floor. “What hotel are you staying at, Miss Ruto?”

“The Fort Garry, downtown,” he says, dabbing his eyes with the exquisitely embroidered sleeve of his gown. His body moves as if a painful knot had just been undone, looser and freer. He puts the strap of his handbag over his shoulder, and lifts the emptied glass to his tastefully painted mouth, tilting out the last few drops from the bottom.

“Classy place – good taste, miss. I’ll be in the lobby this evening after sundown. Don’t pay me any notice except if you see the fanboy around, then you catch my eye and nod him out for me. Then head into the bar – stay around people or head up to your room. We’ll take it from there, not to worry.” Nibs draws from his cigarette, and blows smoke from a slightly predatory grin.

“Oh, please be careful,” Caelo says, and meets Nibs eyes for the first time. “He could be capable of anything. You’ll know him at once, he wears only black and he is quite pale. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight, I’m sure.” The glance becomes a look, which hangs on a silence, until Randman breaks it.

“What’s the fanboy’s name, Miss Ruto?”

“Oh... well, as for that, he went by a handle in Beijing.” He looks away from Nibs to the empty glass in his hands, turning it over in his fingers, speaking shyly. “His initials are F.F. That’s all I know.”

“You spent the whole year with him without knowing his real name?” Randman asks – straight-up, without judgement. Caelo’s eyes lift from under his eyelashes, and fall again.

“As I said, he was quite mysterious.”

“Well, never mind that,” says Nibs, dropping his cigarette straight on the floor and stepping on it. He walks across the room and puts his hand on the dulled brass doorknob. “You go back to the Fort Garry and wait for us. Helluva high tea in the dining room there, I hear.” He turns the knob and holds opens the door. Turtle’s keyboard clacks in the empty waiting room outside.

Caelo stands, looking dry-eyed and pacified, and says a genuine, “thank you both very much.” He sweeps with stiletto-heeled grace and without another word first out the office, and then out the waiting room, leaving the faintest whiff of jasmine on his way.

Turtle leans her head to look into the office from her desk, waggling her eyebrows teasingly, just before Nibs shuts the door and straightens his necktie.

“Jesus, what a knockout,” he says, a tastelessly boyish grin breaking out on his tired face, going back to his desk to sip the crappy tepid coffee beside his balled-up coat. “No work for weeks, and then this! And six hundred for a down payment?” He whistles, and drinks more coffee.

“Just keep your gun in your holster, buddy,” Randman says, wagging a finger and moving the two glasses to the corner of his desk. “This is business.” He finds a cigarette for himself and starts to smoke with a couple of itchy coughs.

Nibs, standing beside his desk with the coffee cup, indicates himself innocently. “Me? I never let pleasure get in the way of business. Or vice versa. Hey, careful you don’t set your breath on fire there, pal.”

Randman sniffs a laugh out his nose and stands, taking his hat and coat off the coat tree and donning them on his way towards the door. He tosses one of the bills on Nibs’ desk in the same gesture as he grabs the brass doorknob. “I’m going to get some lunch. See you back here later, Nibs.” Nibs nods his acknowledgement with a friendly “heh” and returns to his dirty magazine.

“Figure you’ll be able to pay me this week now, Mr. Deuce?” Turtle says, looking up from the message boards on her laptop screen with a smile. The two exchange a knowing and playful look.

“Sure, if it means you’ll start doing some work, Turtle. I’m off for lunch, leave my messages on my desk.” He gives his hat a courteous tilt and opens the door to the hall.

“What a looker, huh?” Turtle calls.

“Tell me about it,” Randman says over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.



Feedback, complimentary or critical, is always welcome.

[Fan]

The title is bound to change, but here's Chapter 1.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 1: The Sky is Falling
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy



Randman Deuce lets a little Canadian Club splash into the juice glass on his desk from a mickey. He leans back in his ergonomic office chair and observes it against the late morning sun. The little glass is fashioned to mimic cut crystal but a hundred tiny scratches and nicks make it dull and dusty-looking. A few storeys down outside on the street there is a honk and a screech. Randman lifts his head, poised, waiting for a crunch. Nothing. The rye goes down in a gulp and a breath, sweetly awful.

He’s a tall, well-made man: some would call a pretty man: golden hair and blue eyes and the pink lips of an aesthete, features at odd with the ascetic pinched eyebrows and the lean figure. His suit is a little too large and a little too brown and makes his body look shapeless except at the shoulders, which are handsome, if unassumingly rounded forwards.

The oak floorboards creak all the way to the window. They were nice, once. Randman twists the string to flip open the venetians. The convex side of the slats is grimy gray with dust. Between them through old warped glass, the sunlight comes uncomfortably hot. Randman puts the end of his finger on one and draws it down to peer outside. He sees nothing worth seeing. He lets the slat go with a snap and returns to his desk, rubbing the grime from his finger onto his shirt. His head swims a little: his stomach is empty and that was not the morning’s first slug.

His partner, slouching in a chair at a desk across the room, looks up at him blankly. There is a dirty magazine resting on his crossed legs and a cup of bad coffee nearby. Nibs has a tired, boyish face with a ruffled mop of unremarkably coloured hair. His suit is blue and wrinkled and his coat is in a ball beside his coffee on the desk. They exchange a wordless glance, and look away: Nibs back to his magazine, digging in his ear with a pinky, Randman to his meditative scrutiny of the emptied juice glass. The air is close and thick.

A knock at the door raises both men’s eyes. Their secretary leans in without letting go of the knob, her perfume effusing the stale room at once. The thick implacable scent does not cut the dusty air so much as coat it and flatter it. She has a natural buoyancy that floats even in the tired office.

“There’s a case here for you,” she says. “Careful with this one.” Her smile is a taunt.

“Sure, Turtle,” says Randman. He throws the mickey of rye in a drawer and slams it shut. Nibs doesn’t look up from his magazine, and puts his feet up on his desk crossed at the ankles.

“You got it. Come on in, miss.” Turtle holds the door open for the case, all five feet of it plus heels, and closes it behind, returning to her desk outside.

The case stands with his hands on his purse, looking lost. The sunlight, even filtered through bubbly glass and cut into strips by dirty blinds, is enough to make his liquor-brown eyes look wet. Nibs’ eyes lift first, then open a little wider; and then his feet hit the ground and he sits up straight, sneaking his magazine out of sight.

Randman watches him levelly.

“Well?” the case asks finally, in a quiet, pleading voice. “Are you Randman the private investigator or aren’t you?” He steps forwards, once, his soles angled obtusely to the floor in steep shoes. His gown is silk brocade, an oriental style.

“Yes, miss, that’s me.” He gets to his feet with a sigh and motions to a plain chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’m Randman Deuce, this is my partner Nibs.”

“Pleased to meet you,” says Nibs across the office, eyes glued on the case, smiling somewhat too politely. He folds his hands on the back of his head and watches like a man at a movie.

“Yes, pleased to meet you,” says the young case graciously, and flings himself forward to the chair beside Randman’s desk. He sits on its edge, his hands gripping each other on the desk like a petitioner. His eyes are large and pathetic, and the beginning of a hysteria is working his ribs. “Oh, can’t you please help me? I think I might be in a lot of trouble.” His nostrils flare, and he shoots a plaintive silent glance at the empty juice glass.

Randman blinks and hesitates. “Oh, of course, miss, yes,” he says, turning to fish the mickey and a second glass out of the drawer, and candidly testing his breath under his hand as he does so. “And what’s bothering you, miss – ah –“ he splashes the gold-coloured poison into each glass, and offers the fresh one over – “actually, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”

“My name is Caelo Ruto. It’s... Italian.” Unconsciously, he runs a hand through his black curls, and then takes the rye, draining it with one cough. He puts his hands in his lap and looks at them, taking several long breaths as the drink does its work. A car honks outside, and angry voices exchange invectives, but still no crunch. Nibs stands, crosses the creaky floorboards, and leans backwards against Randman’s desk, folding his arms and looking down at Caelo with a raven-like sympathy.

“Go on then, Miss Ruto,” Nibs says softly.

Caelo swallows, dabs the corner of his mouth with a fingertip, draws a final fortifying lungful, and looks up at Randman. “There’s a man following me,” he says in a near-whisper. “A dangerous man. I don’t know what he wants anymore, but I met him in Beijing. I’ve been there for some time, but with the Olympics it all got to be too much, especially after...” He stops, and leans back all the way into the chair, seeming more at ease with every word. “We met in a café last year. He called himself a fanboy of some kind and I had assumed he was a tourist for the games. At first he was very sweet and charming and mysterious. And vigorous.” Wrestling with a smile, Caelo puts a dainty manicured hand over the top of his ribcage as if to push down a strong feeling. “But as you well know, Mr. Deuce, men are rarely what they seem at first.”

“Some of us are okay,” Nibs says again, as softly, fishing a bent cigarette from his shirt pocket and putting it between his lips without lighting it. “Some of us.”

Randman shoots a look at his partner, and then takes his drink in two mouthfuls. “What about the fanboy, Miss Ruto? You’re having a problem with him?”

“Oh, yes,” Caelo says emphatically, looking up with eyes wide and wet again. “Yes, when I tried to break things off he started to follow me and leave flowers and poetry for me at the hotel. I’m terribly sorry to say I can have that effect on men, Mr. Deuce...” He presses his lips together and looks at his knees. “I thought I’d lost him for good, finally, but I’ve seen him watching me in the hotel lobby and in the street at night, too. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not afraid to say that he has most certainly killed before and could again.” His eyes spill over without a sob, and he leans forwards over the desk with hands outstretched. “Can you – can you, Mr. Deuce...”

Randman, again, shoots a look at his partner, steepling his fingers and giving a single, ambiguous move of his head. The silence lays heavy as Caelo looks across at him with dribbling eyes. Smirking, Nibs puts fire to his cigarette, starts to smoke, and looks away from Caelo towards the dusty, bubbled window.

At last some message gets conveyed and Caelo reaches into his butter-soft leather handbag with a slightly embarrassed “Oh!” He hands over two colourful bills with a couple of zeroes on each. Randman takes the money with a smile and makes it disappear very quickly, and Nibs watches the gesture over his shoulder. The sweetish smell of his cigarette is actually something of an improvement over old dust and Canadian Club.

“That’s a start,” Randman says.

Nibs gives his cigarette a flick and lets the ash drift to the floor. “What hotel are you staying at, Miss Ruto?”

“The Fort Garry, downtown,” she says, dabbing his eyes with the exquisitely embroidered sleeve of his gown. His body moves as if a painful knot had just been undone, looser and freer. He puts the strap of his handbag over his shoulder, and lifts the emptied glass to his tastefully painted mouth, tilting out the last few drops from the bottom.

“Classy place – good taste, miss. I’ll be in the lobby this evening after sundown. Don’t pay me any notice except if you see the fanboy around, then you catch my eye and nod him out for me. Then head into the bar – stay around people or head up to your room. We’ll take it from there, not to worry.” Nibs draws from his cigarette, and blows smoke from a slightly predatory grin.

“Oh, please be careful,” Caelo says, and meets Nibs eyes for the first time. “He could be capable of anything. You’ll know him at once, he wears only black and he is quite pale. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight, I’m sure.” The glance becomes a look, which hangs on a silence, until Randman breaks it.

“What’s the fanboy’s name, Miss Ruto?”

“Oh... well, as for that, he went by a handle in Beijing.” He looks away from Nibs to the empty glass in his hands, turning it over in his fingers, speaking shyly. “His initials are F.F. That’s all I know.”

“You spent the whole year with him without knowing his real name?” Randman asks – straight-up, without judgement. Caelo’s eyes lift from under his eyelashes, and fall again.

“As I said, he was quite mysterious.”

“Well, never mind that,” says Nibs, dropping his cigarette straight on the floor and stepping on it. He walks across the room and puts his hand on the dulled brass doorknob. “You go back to the Fort Garry and wait for us. Helluva high tea in the dining room there, I hear.” He turns the knob and holds opens the door. Turtle’s keyboard clacks in the empty waiting room outside.

Caelo stands, looking dry-eyed and pacified, and says a genuine, “thank you both very much.” He sweeps with stiletto-heeled grace and without another word first out the office, and then out the waiting room, leaving the faintest whiff of jasmine on his way.

Turtle leans her head to look into the office from her desk, waggling her eyebrows teasingly, just before Nibs shuts the door and straightens his necktie.

“Jesus, what a knockout,” he says, a tastelessly boyish grin breaking out on his tired face, going back to his desk to sip the crappy tepid coffee beside his balled-up coat. “No work for weeks, and then this! And six hundred for a down payment?” He whistles, and drinks more coffee.

“Just keep your gun in your holster, buddy,” Randman says, wagging a finger and moving the two glasses to the corner of his desk. “This is business.” He finds a cigarette for himself and starts to smoke with a couple of itchy coughs.

Nibs, standing beside his desk with the coffee cup, indicates himself innocently. “Me? I never let pleasure get in the way of business. Or vice versa. Hey, careful you don’t set your breath on fire there, Deuce.”

Randman sniffs a laugh out his nose and stands, taking his hat and coat off the coat tree and donning them on his way towards the door. He tosses one of the bills on Nibs’ desk in the same gesture as he grabs the brass doorknob. “I’m going to get some lunch. See you back here later, Nibs.” Nibs nods his acknowledgement with a friendly “heh” and returns to his dirty magazine.

“Figure you’ll be able to pay me this week now, Mr. Deuce?” Turtle says, looking up from the message boards on her laptop screen with a smile. The two exchange a knowing and playful look.

“Sure, if it means you’ll start doing some work, Turtle. I’m off for lunch, leave my messages on my desk.” He gives his hat a courteous tilt and opens the door to the hall.

“What a looker, huh?” Turtle calls.

“Tell me about it,” Randman says over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.



Feedback, complimentary or critical, is always welcome.

FTW Kneenibble, an excellent fic as usual.:smallbiggrin: Although you always refered to the client as both male, adn female simulatinously.

[Kneenibble]

Thanks, Mr. FFF, I think you'll be pleased with your role as the story goes on.

But as for what you mention, let me know if it's confusing - do notice, though, that in spite of what other characters call him, the narrative only uses masculine pronouns. My madness yet has method in't.

[Fan]

Thanks, Mr. FFF, I think you'll be pleased with your role as the story goes on.

But as for what you mention, let me know if it's confusing - do notice, though, that in spite of what other characters call him, the narrative only uses masculine pronouns. My madness yet has method in't.

That combines wiht your new avvy both scares me, and excites me at the smae time.:smalleek:

[Kaelaroth]

The title is bound to change, but here's Chapter 1.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 1: The Sky is Falling
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy



Randman Deuce lets a little Canadian Club splash into the juice glass on his desk from a mickey. He leans back in his ergonomic office chair and observes it against the late morning sun. The little glass is fashioned to mimic cut crystal but a hundred tiny scratches and nicks make it dull and dusty-looking. A few storeys down outside on the street there is a honk and a screech. Randman lifts his head, poised, waiting for a crunch. Nothing. The rye goes down in a gulp and a breath, sweetly awful.

He’s a tall, well-made man: some would call a pretty man: golden hair and blue eyes and the pink lips of an aesthete, features at odd with the ascetic pinched eyebrows and the lean figure. His suit is a little too large and a little too brown and makes his body look shapeless except at the shoulders, which are handsome, if unassumingly rounded forwards.

The oak floorboards creak all the way to the window. They were nice, once. Randman twists the string to flip open the venetians. The convex side of the slats is grimy gray with dust. Between them through old warped glass, the sunlight comes uncomfortably hot. Randman puts the end of his finger on one and draws it down to peer outside. He sees nothing worth seeing. He lets the slat go with a snap and returns to his desk, rubbing the grime from his finger onto his shirt. His head swims a little: his stomach is empty and that was not the morning’s first slug.

His partner, slouching in a chair at a desk across the room, looks up at him blankly. There is a dirty magazine resting on his crossed legs and a cup of bad coffee nearby. Nibs has a tired, boyish face with a ruffled mop of unremarkably coloured hair. His suit is blue and wrinkled and his coat is in a ball beside his coffee on the desk. They exchange a wordless glance, and look away: Nibs back to his magazine, digging in his ear with a pinky, Randman to his meditative scrutiny of the emptied juice glass. The air is close and thick.

A knock at the door raises both men’s eyes. Their secretary leans in without letting go of the knob, her perfume effusing the stale room at once. The thick implacable scent does not cut the dusty air so much as coat it and flatter it. She has a natural buoyancy that floats even in the tired office.

“There’s a case here for you,” she says. “Careful with this one.” Her smile is a taunt.

“Sure, Turtle,” says Randman. He throws the mickey of rye in a drawer and slams it shut. Nibs doesn’t look up from his magazine, and puts his feet up on his desk crossed at the ankles.

“You got it. Come on in, miss.” Turtle holds the door open for the case, all five feet of it plus heels, and closes it behind, returning to her desk outside.

The case stands with his hands on his purse, looking lost. The sunlight, even filtered through bubbly glass and cut into strips by dirty blinds, is enough to make his liquor-brown eyes look wet. Nibs’ eyes lift first, then open a little wider; and then his feet hit the ground and he sits up straight, sneaking his magazine out of sight.

Randman watches him levelly.

“Well?” the case asks finally, in a quiet, pleading voice. “Are you Randman the private investigator or aren’t you?” He steps forwards, once, his soles angled obtusely to the floor in steep shoes. His gown is silk brocade, an oriental style.

“Yes, miss, that’s me.” He gets to his feet with a sigh and motions to a plain chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’m Randman Deuce, this is my partner Nibs.”

“Pleased to meet you,” says Nibs across the office, eyes glued on the case, smiling somewhat too politely. He folds his hands on the back of his head and watches like a man at a movie.

“Yes, pleased to meet you,” says the young case graciously, and flings himself forward to the chair beside Randman’s desk. He sits on its edge, his hands gripping each other on the desk like a petitioner. His eyes are large and pathetic, and the beginning of a hysteria is working his ribs. “Oh, can’t you please help me? I think I might be in a lot of trouble.” His nostrils flare, and he shoots a plaintive silent glance at the empty juice glass.

Randman blinks and hesitates. “Oh, of course, miss, yes,” he says, turning to fish the mickey and a second glass out of the drawer, and candidly testing his breath under his hand as he does so. “And what’s bothering you, miss – ah –“ he splashes the gold-coloured poison into each glass, and offers the fresh one over – “actually, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”

“My name is Caelo Ruto. It’s... Italian.” Unconsciously, he runs a hand through his black curls, and then takes the rye, draining it with one cough. He puts his hands in his lap and looks at them, taking several long breaths as the drink does its work. A car honks outside, and angry voices exchange invectives, but still no crunch. Nibs stands, crosses the creaky floorboards, and leans backwards against Randman’s desk, folding his arms and looking down at Caelo with a raven-like sympathy.

“Go on then, Miss Ruto,” Nibs says softly.

Caelo swallows, dabs the corner of his mouth with a fingertip, draws a final fortifying lungful, and looks up at Randman. “There’s a man following me,” he says in a near-whisper. “A dangerous man. I don’t know what he wants anymore, but I met him in Beijing. I’ve been there for some time, but with the Olympics it all got to be too much, especially after...” He stops, and leans back all the way into the chair, seeming more at ease with every word. “We met in a café last year. He called himself a fanboy of some kind and I had assumed he was a tourist for the games. At first he was very sweet and charming and mysterious. And vigorous.” Wrestling with a smile, Caelo puts a dainty manicured hand over the top of his ribcage as if to push down a strong feeling. “But as you well know, Mr. Deuce, men are rarely what they seem at first.”

“Some of us are okay,” Nibs says again, as softly, fishing a bent cigarette from his shirt pocket and putting it between his lips without lighting it. “Some of us.”

Randman shoots a look at his partner, and then takes his drink in two mouthfuls. “What about the fanboy, Miss Ruto? You’re having a problem with him?”

“Oh, yes,” Caelo says emphatically, looking up with eyes wide and wet again. “Yes, when I tried to break things off he started to follow me and leave flowers and poetry for me at the hotel. I’m terribly sorry to say I can have that effect on men, Mr. Deuce...” He presses his lips together and looks at his knees. “I thought I’d lost him for good, finally, but I’ve seen him watching me in the hotel lobby and in the street at night, too. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not afraid to say that he has most certainly killed before and could again.” His eyes spill over without a sob, and he leans forwards over the desk with hands outstretched. “Can you – can you, Mr. Deuce...”

Randman, again, shoots a look at his partner, steepling his fingers and giving a single, ambiguous move of his head. The silence lays heavy as Caelo looks across at him with dribbling eyes. Smirking, Nibs puts fire to his cigarette, starts to smoke, and looks away from Caelo towards the dusty, bubbled window.

At last some message gets conveyed and Caelo reaches into his butter-soft leather handbag with a slightly embarrassed “Oh!” He hands over two colourful bills with a couple of zeroes on each. Randman takes the money with a smile and makes it disappear very quickly, and Nibs watches the gesture over his shoulder. The sweetish smell of his cigarette is actually something of an improvement over old dust and Canadian Club.

“That’s a start,” Randman says.

Nibs gives his cigarette a flick and lets the ash drift to the floor. “What hotel are you staying at, Miss Ruto?”

“The Fort Garry, downtown,” she says, dabbing his eyes with the exquisitely embroidered sleeve of his gown. His body moves as if a painful knot had just been undone, looser and freer. He puts the strap of his handbag over his shoulder, and lifts the emptied glass to his tastefully painted mouth, tilting out the last few drops from the bottom.

“Classy place – good taste, miss. I’ll be in the lobby this evening after sundown. Don’t pay me any notice except if you see the fanboy around, then you catch my eye and nod him out for me. Then head into the bar – stay around people or head up to your room. We’ll take it from there, not to worry.” Nibs draws from his cigarette, and blows smoke from a slightly predatory grin.

“Oh, please be careful,” Caelo says, and meets Nibs eyes for the first time. “He could be capable of anything. You’ll know him at once, he wears only black and he is quite pale. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight, I’m sure.” The glance becomes a look, which hangs on a silence, until Randman breaks it.

“What’s the fanboy’s name, Miss Ruto?”

“Oh... well, as for that, he went by a handle in Beijing.” He looks away from Nibs to the empty glass in his hands, turning it over in his fingers, speaking shyly. “His initials are F.F. That’s all I know.”

“You spent the whole year with him without knowing his real name?” Randman asks – straight-up, without judgement. Caelo’s eyes lift from under his eyelashes, and fall again.

“As I said, he was quite mysterious.”

“Well, never mind that,” says Nibs, dropping his cigarette straight on the floor and stepping on it. He walks across the room and puts his hand on the dulled brass doorknob. “You go back to the Fort Garry and wait for us. Helluva high tea in the dining room there, I hear.” He turns the knob and holds opens the door. Turtle’s keyboard clacks in the empty waiting room outside.

Caelo stands, looking dry-eyed and pacified, and says a genuine, “thank you both very much.” He sweeps with stiletto-heeled grace and without another word first out the office, and then out the waiting room, leaving the faintest whiff of jasmine on his way.

Turtle leans her head to look into the office from her desk, waggling her eyebrows teasingly, just before Nibs shuts the door and straightens his necktie.

“Jesus, what a knockout,” he says, a tastelessly boyish grin breaking out on his tired face, going back to his desk to sip the crappy tepid coffee beside his balled-up coat. “No work for weeks, and then this! And six hundred for a down payment?” He whistles, and drinks more coffee.

“Just keep your gun in your holster, buddy,” Randman says, wagging a finger and moving the two glasses to the corner of his desk. “This is business.” He finds a cigarette for himself and starts to smoke with a couple of itchy coughs.

Nibs, standing beside his desk with the coffee cup, indicates himself innocently. “Me? I never let pleasure get in the way of business. Or vice versa. Hey, careful you don’t set your breath on fire there, Deuce.”

Randman sniffs a laugh out his nose and stands, taking his hat and coat off the coat tree and donning them on his way towards the door. He tosses one of the bills on Nibs’ desk in the same gesture as he grabs the brass doorknob. “I’m going to get some lunch. See you back here later, Nibs.” Nibs nods his acknowledgement with a friendly “heh” and returns to his dirty magazine.

“Figure you’ll be able to pay me this week now, Mr. Deuce?” Turtle says, looking up from the message boards on her laptop screen with a smile. The two exchange a knowing and playful look.

“Sure, if it means you’ll start doing some work, Turtle. I’m off for lunch, leave my messages on my desk.” He gives his hat a courteous tilt and opens the door to the hall.

“What a looker, huh?” Turtle calls.

“Tell me about it,” Randman says over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.



Feedback, complimentary or critical, is always welcome.

Love it. :smallbiggrin:

[randman22222]

The title is bound to change, but here's Chapter 1.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 1: The Sky is Falling
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy



Randman Deuce lets a little Canadian Club splash into the juice glass on his desk from a mickey. He leans back in his ergonomic office chair and observes it against the late morning sun. The little glass is fashioned to mimic cut crystal but a hundred tiny scratches and nicks make it dull and dusty-looking. A few storeys down outside on the street there is a honk and a screech. Randman lifts his head, poised, waiting for a crunch. Nothing. The rye goes down in a gulp and a breath, sweetly awful.

He’s a tall, well-made man: some would call a pretty man: golden hair and blue eyes and the pink lips of an aesthete, features at odd with the ascetic pinched eyebrows and the lean figure. His suit is a little too large and a little too brown and makes his body look shapeless except at the shoulders, which are handsome, if unassumingly rounded forwards.

The oak floorboards creak all the way to the window. They were nice, once. Randman twists the string to flip open the venetians. The convex side of the slats is grimy gray with dust. Between them through old warped glass, the sunlight comes uncomfortably hot. Randman puts the end of his finger on one and draws it down to peer outside. He sees nothing worth seeing. He lets the slat go with a snap and returns to his desk, rubbing the grime from his finger onto his shirt. His head swims a little: his stomach is empty and that was not the morning’s first slug.

His partner, slouching in a chair at a desk across the room, looks up at him blankly. There is a dirty magazine resting on his crossed legs and a cup of bad coffee nearby. Nibs has a tired, boyish face with a ruffled mop of unremarkably coloured hair. His suit is blue and wrinkled and his coat is in a ball beside his coffee on the desk. They exchange a wordless glance, and look away: Nibs back to his magazine, digging in his ear with a pinky, Randman to his meditative scrutiny of the emptied juice glass. The air is close and thick.

A knock at the door raises both men’s eyes. Their secretary leans in without letting go of the knob, her perfume effusing the stale room at once. The thick implacable scent does not cut the dusty air so much as coat it and flatter it. She has a natural buoyancy that floats even in the tired office.

“There’s a case here for you,” she says. “Careful with this one.” Her smile is a taunt.

“Sure, Turtle,” says Randman. He throws the mickey of rye in a drawer and slams it shut. Nibs doesn’t look up from his magazine, and puts his feet up on his desk crossed at the ankles.

“You got it. Come on in, miss.” Turtle holds the door open for the case, all five feet of it plus heels, and closes it behind, returning to her desk outside.

The case stands with his hands on his purse, looking lost. The sunlight, even filtered through bubbly glass and cut into strips by dirty blinds, is enough to make his liquor-brown eyes look wet. Nibs’ eyes lift first, then open a little wider; and then his feet hit the ground and he sits up straight, sneaking his magazine out of sight.

Randman watches him levelly.

“Well?” the case asks finally, in a quiet, pleading voice. “Are you Randman the private investigator or aren’t you?” He steps forwards, once, his soles angled obtusely to the floor in steep shoes. His gown is silk brocade, an oriental style.

“Yes, miss, that’s me.” He gets to his feet with a sigh and motions to a plain chair beside his desk. “Have a seat. I’m Randman Deuce, this is my partner Nibs.”

“Pleased to meet you,” says Nibs across the office, eyes glued on the case, smiling somewhat too politely. He folds his hands on the back of his head and watches like a man at a movie.

“Yes, pleased to meet you,” says the young case graciously, and flings himself forward to the chair beside Randman’s desk. He sits on its edge, his hands gripping each other on the desk like a petitioner. His eyes are large and pathetic, and the beginning of a hysteria is working his ribs. “Oh, can’t you please help me? I think I might be in a lot of trouble.” His nostrils flare, and he shoots a plaintive silent glance at the empty juice glass.

Randman blinks and hesitates. “Oh, of course, miss, yes,” he says, turning to fish the mickey and a second glass out of the drawer, and candidly testing his breath under his hand as he does so. “And what’s bothering you, miss – ah –“ he splashes the gold-coloured poison into each glass, and offers the fresh one over – “actually, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”

“My name is Caelo Ruto. It’s... Italian.” Unconsciously, he runs a hand through his black curls, and then takes the rye, draining it with one cough. He puts his hands in his lap and looks at them, taking several long breaths as the drink does its work. A car honks outside, and angry voices exchange invectives, but still no crunch. Nibs stands, crosses the creaky floorboards, and leans backwards against Randman’s desk, folding his arms and looking down at Caelo with a raven-like sympathy.

“Go on then, Miss Ruto,” Nibs says softly.

Caelo swallows, dabs the corner of his mouth with a fingertip, draws a final fortifying lungful, and looks up at Randman. “There’s a man following me,” he says in a near-whisper. “A dangerous man. I don’t know what he wants anymore, but I met him in Beijing. I’ve been there for some time, but with the Olympics it all got to be too much, especially after...” He stops, and leans back all the way into the chair, seeming more at ease with every word. “We met in a café last year. He called himself a fanboy of some kind and I had assumed he was a tourist for the games. At first he was very sweet and charming and mysterious. And vigorous.” Wrestling with a smile, Caelo puts a dainty manicured hand over the top of his ribcage as if to push down a strong feeling. “But as you well know, Mr. Deuce, men are rarely what they seem at first.”

“Some of us are okay,” Nibs says again, as softly, fishing a bent cigarette from his shirt pocket and putting it between his lips without lighting it. “Some of us.”

Randman shoots a look at his partner, and then takes his drink in two mouthfuls. “What about the fanboy, Miss Ruto? You’re having a problem with him?”

“Oh, yes,” Caelo says emphatically, looking up with eyes wide and wet again. “Yes, when I tried to break things off he started to follow me and leave flowers and poetry for me at the hotel. I’m terribly sorry to say I can have that effect on men, Mr. Deuce...” He presses his lips together and looks at his knees. “I thought I’d lost him for good, finally, but I’ve seen him watching me in the hotel lobby and in the street at night, too. I don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t know what he wants, but I’m not afraid to say that he has most certainly killed before and could again.” His eyes spill over without a sob, and he leans forwards over the desk with hands outstretched. “Can you – can you, Mr. Deuce...”

Randman, again, shoots a look at his partner, steepling his fingers and giving a single, ambiguous move of his head. The silence lays heavy as Caelo looks across at him with dribbling eyes. Smirking, Nibs puts fire to his cigarette, starts to smoke, and looks away from Caelo towards the dusty, bubbled window.

At last some message gets conveyed and Caelo reaches into his butter-soft leather handbag with a slightly embarrassed “Oh!” He hands over two colourful bills with a couple of zeroes on each. Randman takes the money with a smile and makes it disappear very quickly, and Nibs watches the gesture over his shoulder. The sweetish smell of his cigarette is actually something of an improvement over old dust and Canadian Club.

“That’s a start,” Randman says.

Nibs gives his cigarette a flick and lets the ash drift to the floor. “What hotel are you staying at, Miss Ruto?”

“The Fort Garry, downtown,” she says, dabbing his eyes with the exquisitely embroidered sleeve of his gown. His body moves as if a painful knot had just been undone, looser and freer. He puts the strap of his handbag over his shoulder, and lifts the emptied glass to his tastefully painted mouth, tilting out the last few drops from the bottom.

“Classy place – good taste, miss. I’ll be in the lobby this evening after sundown. Don’t pay me any notice except if you see the fanboy around, then you catch my eye and nod him out for me. Then head into the bar – stay around people or head up to your room. We’ll take it from there, not to worry.” Nibs draws from his cigarette, and blows smoke from a slightly predatory grin.

“Oh, please be careful,” Caelo says, and meets Nibs eyes for the first time. “He could be capable of anything. You’ll know him at once, he wears only black and he is quite pale. I’m sure he’ll be there tonight, I’m sure.” The glance becomes a look, which hangs on a silence, until Randman breaks it.

“What’s the fanboy’s name, Miss Ruto?”

“Oh... well, as for that, he went by a handle in Beijing.” He looks away from Nibs to the empty glass in his hands, turning it over in his fingers, speaking shyly. “His initials are F.F. That’s all I know.”

“You spent the whole year with him without knowing his real name?” Randman asks – straight-up, without judgement. Caelo’s eyes lift from under his eyelashes, and fall again.

“As I said, he was quite mysterious.”

“Well, never mind that,” says Nibs, dropping his cigarette straight on the floor and stepping on it. He walks across the room and puts his hand on the dulled brass doorknob. “You go back to the Fort Garry and wait for us. Helluva high tea in the dining room there, I hear.” He turns the knob and holds opens the door. Turtle’s keyboard clacks in the empty waiting room outside.

Caelo stands, looking dry-eyed and pacified, and says a genuine, “thank you both very much.” He sweeps with stiletto-heeled grace and without another word first out the office, and then out the waiting room, leaving the faintest whiff of jasmine on his way.

Turtle leans her head to look into the office from her desk, waggling her eyebrows teasingly, just before Nibs shuts the door and straightens his necktie.

“Jesus, what a knockout,” he says, a tastelessly boyish grin breaking out on his tired face, going back to his desk to sip the crappy tepid coffee beside his balled-up coat. “No work for weeks, and then this! And six hundred for a down payment?” He whistles, and drinks more coffee.

“Just keep your gun in your holster, buddy,” Randman says, wagging a finger and moving the two glasses to the corner of his desk. “This is business.” He finds a cigarette for himself and starts to smoke with a couple of itchy coughs.

Nibs, standing beside his desk with the coffee cup, indicates himself innocently. “Me? I never let pleasure get in the way of business. Or vice versa. Hey, careful you don’t set your breath on fire there, Deuce.”

Randman sniffs a laugh out his nose and stands, taking his hat and coat off the coat tree and donning them on his way towards the door. He tosses one of the bills on Nibs’ desk in the same gesture as he grabs the brass doorknob. “I’m going to get some lunch. See you back here later, Nibs.” Nibs nods his acknowledgement with a friendly “heh” and returns to his dirty magazine.

“Figure you’ll be able to pay me this week now, Mr. Deuce?” Turtle says, looking up from the message boards on her laptop screen with a smile. The two exchange a knowing and playful look.

“Sure, if it means you’ll start doing some work, Turtle. I’m off for lunch, leave my messages on my desk.” He gives his hat a courteous tilt and opens the door to the hall.

“What a looker, huh?” Turtle calls.

“Tell me about it,” Randman says over his shoulder, and closes the door behind him.



Feedback, complimentary or critical, is always welcome.

Epic. :smallbiggrin:
I much approve of it, but why do I get the feeling Randman is gonna die first? (And wouldn't it flow better to call him Randy?)

[Ethrael]

Wow, it's one of the best ships I've read. You're very talented Knee. And about the gender issue, I got the message that she was a transvestite. :smalltongue: I need to pay way more attention next time...

Oh and Turtle was on GITP!!!

[Moff Chumley]

Wow, that was pretty amazing.
CHUMLEY SEAL OF APPROVAL.

It's not as cool as Tengu's, I know, but it's all I have.

[Fan]

*rips off the chumley seal* I* think it needs this *puts a newberry award on it in its place*

[EvilElitest]

So, I still don't know if I get to be Baldrick or not... :smallfrown:

Shod off Baldrick
from
EE

[Moff Chumley]

Is ^ good or bad, though? :smallconfused:

[Kneenibble]

Thanks for reading and giving feedback! I appreciate it.
randman22222 - no, Randy is no good. Your character is Randman. That's important.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 2: Death Underground
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy
and now, dallas-dakota



Randman is sitting in the small kitchen of his bachelor apartment. There is a mickey of rye and a tumbler of ice beside his hand on the laminate kitchen table. He is undressed to his boxer shorts and undershirt.

It’s late. The window is open but the draft is not fresh.

Nibs will be tailing the fanboy now, he thinks numbly. His cellphone is across the table at the opposite setting. Nibs had agreed to call him if anything went fishy, which they had both concluded, back at the office after lunch, was a serious possibility. The fridge motor starts up noisily and Randman thinks, for a moment, it is the phone vibrating. No dice. He fumbles for it and lets it fall onto the linoleum patterned like a 5-pin bowling ball. The ice jingles as a fresh splash of Canadian Club buoys it up, and jingles again as the drink slides awfully down Randman’s throat. He sucks a morsel of ice into his mouth and crunches it up. The cold hurts his teeth. It’s enough drink. He screws the lid back on the mickey and stands up, the narrow kitchen with its white plaster walls starting to whirl. He takes the cigarette stuck behind his ear and lights it on the stove element, and goes to the other room to smoke it.

He sits on his bed, which dominates the small studio apartment, hunched forwards, ashing into a dirty mug on the nightstand. He had a decent dinner for the first time in a while and going to bed without an empty stomach feels unusual. He sticks the cigarette into the mug and lays on his back on top of the covers, staring at the stippled ceiling. The smoke works with the drink to set the room spinning wildly and he lets it happen, plummeting into a dreamless anesthesia.

Somewhere in that cottony darkness, there is a sound that seems like it should be important.

Randman wakes up before his eyes open. He feels a bad case of the spins, a clenched pain in the middle of his brain, and a rising sour wetness from somewhere in his innards. The apartment is still dark, although the dreamlike orange of streetlights shines through the flimsy drapes. Somewhere outside the packing fluff in his skull, there is a sense of something happening.

He jerks upright in a spasm and thrashes to his feet. It’s not the fridge motor this time, his cellphone is really ringing across the apartment in the kitchen. The digital clock on the nightstand reads “3:14,” stabbingly bright.

As he steps into the kitchen he kicks the cellphone under the table with his toe. It continues to ring. He gets to his knees and fumbles for it, working hard not to vomit; with his eyelids tightly squished together, and after several deep breaths, he flips it open and holds it against his face.

“Nibs?” he says hoarsely.

“Uh, Randman Deuce?” says an unfamiliar voice.

“Uh, yeah, -- yeah that’s me.”

“Randman Deuce the private investigator?” says the voice.

“The one and only, buddy, who is this?” He puts his free hand on the edge of the table and, taking care not to bonk his skull, drags himself up into the chair, nearly sweeping off the finger-stained tumbler with the dregs of molten ice.

“This is Officer Dallas Dakota? With the police? I’m sorry to get you out of bed this late, sir, but, well...”

“Oh. Yeah, wassit?” Randman puts his elbow on the table, and holds his forehead, trying to rub the mess out from behind it.

“Mister Deuce – your business partner, Kenny Nibbles? Well... he’s dead.”

Randman sniffs in a sharp breath, and mashes his eyeballs against his palm. “What?”

“Your – sir? There’s been a murder, and the fellow had a business card with your and his name on it, and his ID matched. Kenny Nibbles?”

“Nibs? Jesus.” There is a long pause. Randman sits with his hand across his eyes, trying hard to think. “How?”

“Do you want to come down and see this, Mr. Deuce?”

Randman jots down the address: a parking garage two or three blocks from the Fort Garry. Then he snaps the phone shut, stands, walks to the sink, and dry-heaves for seven minutes. At last, sweating coldly, he brings up a puddle of bitter green foam, rinses it away, and sets about refreshing his person.

A young cop meets him as he steps out of the cab downtown in a spotless, crisp blue uniform that looks newly stitched: a young cop with a bright, scrubbed face, yellow hair under his cap, and shiny blue eyes. The orange street light washes out his colour with a sickly pall. He is smiling and munching a large oatmeal cookie studded with chocolate chips, and he sticks out a stiff hand for shaking as the cab drives away.

“Hi there, good morning, Mr. Deuce, I’m officer Dallas Dakota,” he says chipperly. “We spoke on the phone? Sorry to get you up out of bed at this hour. Why don’t you come on inside with me? The photographers are just finishing up now and the coroner will be a little while yet.” Still smiling, hand still extended, he bites off another mouthful of the great cookie and chews it. A car roars past behind them on the empty street, subwoofers thumping a violent beat.

Randman looks at the hand, up at the scrubbed smiling face, and rubs a bloodshot eye with his fist. “Time of death?”

The young officer’s smile shines on, although he lowers his hand, and he turns to lead Randman around the lowered yellow toll gate and into the underground garage. “About midnight, we figure, or shortly after, Mr. Deuce, although a lot attendant only gave us the call about an hour ago. We’ll know more exactly once the coroner takes a look. Ah, around here, please.” They navigate the low concrete labyrinth and approach a group of uniformed officers in a dark corner, one working with a fancy digital camera. They surround a body in a blue suit lying belly-up in a slick of blood with something metal sticking up out of the chest.

“This Deuce, Dakota?” one of the other officers grunts.

“Yeah, I’m Deuce,” Randman answers before officer Dakota swallows his latest mouthful of cookie, and walks past him towards the body, nostrils flaring with the sharp smell of the blood.

“Let’s see your PI’s license, Mr. Deuce,” the gruff officer says, stepping in front of him. Randman flips open a leather wallet from inside his coat and waves the officer out of his way with the license. Hands in his pockets, he stands over Nibs’ bloody corpse, the tired boyish face looking unusually rested, eyes half-shut, mouth slack. His shirt is wet and red and a razor sharp shuriken is buried deeply in his heart. Randman takes a long, deep breath.

“Is that a positive I.D. then, Mr. Deuce?” officer Dakota pipes up behind him finally, followed by a quiet crunching sound.

Randman lifts his hat up, runs his hand over his hair, and pushes it back on. “Yeah, that’s Nibs alright. Looks like he’s finally getting some sleep.” He looks over his shoulder with the corner of his eye. The gruff officer is busy with the photographer and Dakota is directly behind him munching. He squats down, and reaches inside Nib’s coat, careful to avoid the bloodstains, and discretely fishes out the bill from Caelo. He slips it secretly into his shirt sleeve while tapping one of the shuriken’s edges with his fingernail. The throwing-star is deeply imbedded and does not wobble. Both moves go unnoticed. He stands and turns and tugs his lapels straight.

“Any suspects? The lot attendant?”

“No, no, Mr. Deuce,” officer Dakota replies, gesturing with the last corner of his cookie and shaking crumbs around. “No, her alibi is tight. We’re hoping the weapon will give us something to go on. Good shot, huh? Jeepers! What an arm the guy must have! It saves us some work, though, in narrowing down the search. What is that thing, Japanese? ”

“Yeah,” Randman says under his breath, taking a cigarette from his pocket and letting the bill fall in from his sleeve as he does. “Or Chinese, maybe.” He lights the cigarette and starts to smoke.

Officer Dakota hesitates as he chews down the end of his cookie, his smooth pink forehead all crinkled up under the brim of his blue officer’s cap. Swallowing, he says, “Say, Mr. Deuce, was your partner working on a case tonight?”

“Yes,” Randman shoots back noncommittally, narrowing his eyes as he smokes and fighting back another ugly sourness creeping up the back of his throat. Officer Dakota looks at him, seeming to expect more.

When more does not come, he puts in gingerly, his smile wilting away: “Anything you can tell us would be a big he – “

“My client has rights to privacy,” Randman cuts in. “Thanks for the call, pal. Let me know if the coroner turns up anything interesting.”

Officer Dakota’s smile pops back on like a light bulb. “Yeah, sure thing, Mr. Deuce. I’ll let you know right away!”

Randman smirks in spite of himself, and as he throws his cigarette away, gives officer Dakota a clap on the shoulder. “Thanks, guy. Good work.” He throws a stiff nod at the gruff officer and photographer and, fussing with his hat, heads back up to the world.

“Jeepers,” says officer Dakota, blushing. He takes another cookie out of his pocket and bites off a mouthful.

[Helgraf]

Ah, well. Two and a half more ideas underway for Helgraf, one not-so-happy Mordy/RHL coming up, and then I'll maybe finally finish the Randy/RHL sequel...

More Mad Season (err, my take on it) soon.

Also, two and a half more ideas? :curious:

And a free ship. Oh ... hmmm ...

HappyTurtle / Helgraf.

What can I say? I like to see people's interpretations of me - and how they might relate that to others. :smallredface:

[Fan]

Thanks for reading and giving feedback! I appreciate it.
randman22222 - no, Randy is no good. Your character is Randman. That's important.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 2: Death Underground
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy
and now, dallas-dakota



It’s late. Randman is sitting in the small kitchen of his bachelor apartment. There is a mickey of rye and a tumbler of ice beside his hand on the laminate kitchen table. He is undressed to his boxer shorts and undershirt, sticky and sluggish with the damp summer heat. The window is open but the draft is not fresh.

Nibs will be tailing the fanboy now, he thinks numbly. His cellphone is across the table at the opposite setting. Nibs had agreed to call him if anything went fishy, which they had both concluded, back at the office after lunch, was a serious possibility. The fridge motor starts up noisily and Randman thinks, for a moment, it is the phone vibrating. No dice. He fumbles for it and lets it fall onto the linoleum patterned like a 5-pin bowling ball. The ice jingles as a fresh splash of Canadian Club buoys it up, and jingles again as the drink slides awfully down Randman’s throat. He sucks a morsel of ice into his mouth and crunches it up. The cold hurts his teeth. It’s enough drink. He screws the lid back on the mickey and stands up, the narrow kitchen with its white plaster walls starting to whirl. He takes the cigarette stuck behind his ear and lights it on the stove element, and goes to the other room to smoke it.

He sits on his bed, which dominates the small studio apartment, hunched forwards, ashing into a dirty mug on the nightstand. He had a decent dinner for the first time in a while and going to bed without an empty stomach feels unusual. He sticks the cigarette into the mug and lays on his back on top of the covers, staring at the stippled ceiling. The smoke works with the drink to set the room spinning wildly and he lets it happen, plummeting into a dreamless anesthesia.

Somewhere in that cottony darkness, there is a sound that seems like it should be important.

Randman wakes up before his eyes open. He feels a bad case of the spins, a clenched pain in the middle of his brain, and a rising sour wetness from somewhere in his innards. The apartment is still dark, although the dreamlike orange of streetlights shines through the flimsy drapes. Somewhere outside the packing fluff in his skull, there is a sense of something happening.

He jerks upright in a spasm and thrashes to his feet. It’s not the fridge motor this time, his cellphone is really ringing across the apartment in the kitchen. The digital clock on the nightstand reads “3:14,” stabbingly bright.

As he steps into the kitchen he kicks the cellphone under the table with his toe. It continues to ring. He gets to his knees and fumbles for it, working hard not to vomit; with his eyelids tightly squished together, and after several deep breaths, he flips it open and holds it against his face.

“Nibs?” he says hoarsely.

“Uh, Randman Deuce?” says an unfamiliar voice.

“Uh, yeah, -- yeah that’s me.”

“Randman Deuce the private investigator?” says the voice.

“The one and only, buddy, who is this?” He puts his free hand on the edge of the table and, taking care not to bonk his skull, drags himself up into the chair, nearly sweeping off the finger-stained tumbler with the dregs of molten ice.

“This is Officer Dallas Dakota? With the police? I’m sorry to get you out of bed this late, sir, but, well...”

“Oh. Yeah, wassit?” Randman puts his elbow on the table, and holds his forehead, trying to rub the mess out from behind it.

“Mister Deuce – your business partner, Kenny Nibbles? Well... he’s dead.”

Randman sniffs in a sharp breath, and mashes his eyeballs against his palm. “What?”

“Your – sir? There’s been a murder, and the fellow had a business card with your and his name on it, and his ID matched. Kenny Nibbles?”

“Nibs? Jesus.” There is a long pause. Randman sits with his hand across his eyes, trying hard to think. “How?”

“Do you want to come down and see this, Mr. Deuce?”

Randman jots down the address: a parking garage two or three blocks from the Fort Garry. Then he snaps the phone shut, stands, walks to the sink, and dry-heaves for seven minutes. At last, sweating coldly, he brings up a puddle of bitter green foam, rinses it away, and sets about refreshing his person.

A young cop meets him as he steps out of the cab downtown in a spotless, crisp blue uniform that looks newly stitched: a young cop with a bright, scrubbed face, yellow hair under his cap, and shiny blue eyes. The orange street light washes out his colour with a sickly pall. He is smiling and munching a large oatmeal cookie studded with chocolate chips, and he sticks out a stiff hand for shaking as the cab drives away.

“Hi there, good morning, Mr. Deuce, I’m officer Dallas Dakota,” he says chipperly. “We spoke on the phone? Sorry to get you up out of bed at this hour. Why don’t you come on inside with me? The photographers are just finishing up now and the coroner will be a little while yet.” Still smiling, hand still extended, he bites off another mouthful of the great cookie and chews it. A car roars past behind them on the empty street, subwoofers thumping a violent beat.

Randman looks at the hand, up at the scrubbed smiling face, and rubs a bloodshot eye with his fist. “Time of death?”

The young officer’s smile shines on, although he lowers his hand, and he turns to lead Randman around the lowered yellow toll gate and into the underground garage. “About midnight, we figure, or shortly after, Mr. Deuce, although a lot attendant only gave us the call about an hour ago. We’ll know more exactly once the coroner takes a look. Ah, around here, please.” They navigate the low concrete labyrinth and approach a group of uniformed officers in a dark corner, one working with a fancy digital camera. They surround a body in a blue suit lying belly-up in a slick of blood with something metal sticking up out of the chest.

“This Deuce, Dakota?” one of the other officers grunts.

“Yeah, I’m Deuce,” Randman answers before officer Dakota swallows his latest mouthful of cookie, and walks past him towards the body, nostrils flaring with the sharp smell of the blood.

“Let’s see your PI’s license, Mr. Deuce,” the gruff officer says, stepping in front of him. Randman flips open a leather wallet from inside his coat and waves the officer out of his way with the license. Hands in his pockets, he stands over Nibs’ bloody corpse, the tired boyish face looking unusually rested, eyes half-shut, mouth slack. His shirt is wet and red and a razor sharp shuriken is buried deeply in his heart. Randman takes a long, deep breath.

“Is that a positive I.D. then, Mr. Deuce?” officer Dakota pipes up behind him finally, followed by a quiet crunching sound.

Randman lifts his hat up, runs his hand over his hair, and pushes it back on. “Yeah, that’s Nibs alright. Looks like he’s finally getting some sleep.” He looks over his shoulder with the corner of his eye. The gruff officer is busy with the photographer and Dakota is directly behind him munching. He squats down, and reaches inside Nib’s coat, careful to avoid the bloodstains, and discretely fishes out the bill from Caelo. He slips it secretly into his shirt sleeve while tapping one of the shuriken’s edges with his fingernail. The throwing-star is deeply imbedded and does not wobble. Both moves go unnoticed. He stands and turns and tugs his lapels straight.

“Any suspects? The lot attendant?”

“No, no, Mr. Deuce,” officer Dakota replies, gesturing with the last corner of his cookie and shaking crumbs around. “No, her alibi is tight. We’re hoping the weapon will give us something to go on. Good shot, huh? Jeepers! What an arm the guy must have! It saves us some work, though, in narrowing down the search. What is that thing, Japanese? ”

“Yeah,” Randman says under his breath, taking a cigarette from his pocket and letting the bill fall in from his sleeve as he does. “Or Chinese, maybe.” He lights the cigarette and starts to smoke.

Officer Dakota hesitates as he chews down the end of his cookie, his smooth pink forehead all crinkled up under the brim of his blue officer’s cap. Swallowing, he says, “Say, Mr. Deuce, was your partner working on a case tonight?”

“Yes,” Randman shoots back noncommittally, narrowing his eyes as he smokes and fighting back another ugly sourness creeping up the back of his throat. Officer Dakota looks at him, seeming to expect more.

When more does not come, he puts in gingerly, his smile wilting away: “Anything you can tell us would be a big he – “

“My client has rights to privacy,” Randman cuts in. “Thanks for the call, pal. Let me know if the coroner turns up anything interesting.”

Officer Dakota’s smile pops back on like a light bulb. “Yeah, sure thing, Mr. Deuce. I’ll let you know right away!”

Randman smirks in spite of himself, and as he throws his cigarette away, gives officer Dakota a clap on the shoulder. “Thanks, guy. Good work.” He throws a stiff nod at the gruff officer and photographer and, fussing with his hat, heads back up to the world.

“Jeepers,” says officer Dakota, blushing. He takes another cookie out of his pocket and bites off a mouthful.



Wow, this is the ONLY ship EVER that has made me go through most of the emoticons in one read. GREAT work Knee GREAT work man.

[randman22222]

Thanks for reading and giving feedback! I appreciate it.
randman22222 - no, Randy is no good. Your character is Randman. That's important.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 2: Death Underground
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy
and now, dallas-dakota



It’s late. Randman is sitting in the small kitchen of his bachelor apartment. There is a mickey of rye and a tumbler of ice beside his hand on the laminate kitchen table. He is undressed to his boxer shorts and undershirt, sticky and sluggish with the damp summer heat. The window is open but the draft is not fresh.

Nibs will be tailing the fanboy now, he thinks numbly. His cellphone is across the table at the opposite setting. Nibs had agreed to call him if anything went fishy, which they had both concluded, back at the office after lunch, was a serious possibility. The fridge motor starts up noisily and Randman thinks, for a moment, it is the phone vibrating. No dice. He fumbles for it and lets it fall onto the linoleum patterned like a 5-pin bowling ball. The ice jingles as a fresh splash of Canadian Club buoys it up, and jingles again as the drink slides awfully down Randman’s throat. He sucks a morsel of ice into his mouth and crunches it up. The cold hurts his teeth. It’s enough drink. He screws the lid back on the mickey and stands up, the narrow kitchen with its white plaster walls starting to whirl. He takes the cigarette stuck behind his ear and lights it on the stove element, and goes to the other room to smoke it.

He sits on his bed, which dominates the small studio apartment, hunched forwards, ashing into a dirty mug on the nightstand. He had a decent dinner for the first time in a while and going to bed without an empty stomach feels unusual. He sticks the cigarette into the mug and lays on his back on top of the covers, staring at the stippled ceiling. The smoke works with the drink to set the room spinning wildly and he lets it happen, plummeting into a dreamless anesthesia.

Somewhere in that cottony darkness, there is a sound that seems like it should be important.

Randman wakes up before his eyes open. He feels a bad case of the spins, a clenched pain in the middle of his brain, and a rising sour wetness from somewhere in his innards. The apartment is still dark, although the dreamlike orange of streetlights shines through the flimsy drapes. Somewhere outside the packing fluff in his skull, there is a sense of something happening.

He jerks upright in a spasm and thrashes to his feet. It’s not the fridge motor this time, his cellphone is really ringing across the apartment in the kitchen. The digital clock on the nightstand reads “3:14,” stabbingly bright.

As he steps into the kitchen he kicks the cellphone under the table with his toe. It continues to ring. He gets to his knees and fumbles for it, working hard not to vomit; with his eyelids tightly squished together, and after several deep breaths, he flips it open and holds it against his face.

“Nibs?” he says hoarsely.

“Uh, Randman Deuce?” says an unfamiliar voice.

“Uh, yeah, -- yeah that’s me.”

“Randman Deuce the private investigator?” says the voice.

“The one and only, buddy, who is this?” He puts his free hand on the edge of the table and, taking care not to bonk his skull, drags himself up into the chair, nearly sweeping off the finger-stained tumbler with the dregs of molten ice.

“This is Officer Dallas Dakota? With the police? I’m sorry to get you out of bed this late, sir, but, well...”

“Oh. Yeah, wassit?” Randman puts his elbow on the table, and holds his forehead, trying to rub the mess out from behind it.

“Mister Deuce – your business partner, Kenny Nibbles? Well... he’s dead.”

Randman sniffs in a sharp breath, and mashes his eyeballs against his palm. “What?”

“Your – sir? There’s been a murder, and the fellow had a business card with your and his name on it, and his ID matched. Kenny Nibbles?”

“Nibs? Jesus.” There is a long pause. Randman sits with his hand across his eyes, trying hard to think. “How?”

“Do you want to come down and see this, Mr. Deuce?”

Randman jots down the address: a parking garage two or three blocks from the Fort Garry. Then he snaps the phone shut, stands, walks to the sink, and dry-heaves for seven minutes. At last, sweating coldly, he brings up a puddle of bitter green foam, rinses it away, and sets about refreshing his person.

A young cop meets him as he steps out of the cab downtown in a spotless, crisp blue uniform that looks newly stitched: a young cop with a bright, scrubbed face, yellow hair under his cap, and shiny blue eyes. The orange street light washes out his colour with a sickly pall. He is smiling and munching a large oatmeal cookie studded with chocolate chips, and he sticks out a stiff hand for shaking as the cab drives away.

“Hi there, good morning, Mr. Deuce, I’m officer Dallas Dakota,” he says chipperly. “We spoke on the phone? Sorry to get you up out of bed at this hour. Why don’t you come on inside with me? The photographers are just finishing up now and the coroner will be a little while yet.” Still smiling, hand still extended, he bites off another mouthful of the great cookie and chews it. A car roars past behind them on the empty street, subwoofers thumping a violent beat.

Randman looks at the hand, up at the scrubbed smiling face, and rubs a bloodshot eye with his fist. “Time of death?”

The young officer’s smile shines on, although he lowers his hand, and he turns to lead Randman around the lowered yellow toll gate and into the underground garage. “About midnight, we figure, or shortly after, Mr. Deuce, although a lot attendant only gave us the call about an hour ago. We’ll know more exactly once the coroner takes a look. Ah, around here, please.” They navigate the low concrete labyrinth and approach a group of uniformed officers in a dark corner, one working with a fancy digital camera. They surround a body in a blue suit lying belly-up in a slick of blood with something metal sticking up out of the chest.

“This Deuce, Dakota?” one of the other officers grunts.

“Yeah, I’m Deuce,” Randman answers before officer Dakota swallows his latest mouthful of cookie, and walks past him towards the body, nostrils flaring with the sharp smell of the blood.

“Let’s see your PI’s license, Mr. Deuce,” the gruff officer says, stepping in front of him. Randman flips open a leather wallet from inside his coat and waves the officer out of his way with the license. Hands in his pockets, he stands over Nibs’ bloody corpse, the tired boyish face looking unusually rested, eyes half-shut, mouth slack. His shirt is wet and red and a razor sharp shuriken is buried deeply in his heart. Randman takes a long, deep breath.

“Is that a positive I.D. then, Mr. Deuce?” officer Dakota pipes up behind him finally, followed by a quiet crunching sound.

Randman lifts his hat up, runs his hand over his hair, and pushes it back on. “Yeah, that’s Nibs alright. Looks like he’s finally getting some sleep.” He looks over his shoulder with the corner of his eye. The gruff officer is busy with the photographer and Dakota is directly behind him munching. He squats down, and reaches inside Nib’s coat, careful to avoid the bloodstains, and discretely fishes out the bill from Caelo. He slips it secretly into his shirt sleeve while tapping one of the shuriken’s edges with his fingernail. The throwing-star is deeply imbedded and does not wobble. Both moves go unnoticed. He stands and turns and tugs his lapels straight.

“Any suspects? The lot attendant?”

“No, no, Mr. Deuce,” officer Dakota replies, gesturing with the last corner of his cookie and shaking crumbs around. “No, her alibi is tight. We’re hoping the weapon will give us something to go on. Good shot, huh? Jeepers! What an arm the guy must have! It saves us some work, though, in narrowing down the search. What is that thing, Japanese? ”

“Yeah,” Randman says under his breath, taking a cigarette from his pocket and letting the bill fall in from his sleeve as he does. “Or Chinese, maybe.” He lights the cigarette and starts to smoke.

Officer Dakota hesitates as he chews down the end of his cookie, his smooth pink forehead all crinkled up under the brim of his blue officer’s cap. Swallowing, he says, “Say, Mr. Deuce, was your partner working on a case tonight?”

“Yes,” Randman shoots back noncommittally, narrowing his eyes as he smokes and fighting back another ugly sourness creeping up the back of his throat. Officer Dakota looks at him, seeming to expect more.

When more does not come, he puts in gingerly, his smile wilting away: “Anything you can tell us would be a big he – “

“My client has rights to privacy,” Randman cuts in. “Thanks for the call, pal. Let me know if the coroner turns up anything interesting.”

Officer Dakota’s smile pops back on like a light bulb. “Yeah, sure thing, Mr. Deuce. I’ll let you know right away!”

Randman smirks in spite of himself, and as he throws his cigarette away, gives officer Dakota a clap on the shoulder. “Thanks, guy. Good work.” He throws a stiff nod at the gruff officer and photographer and, fussing with his hat, heads back up to the world.

“Jeepers,” says officer Dakota, blushing. He takes another cookie out of his pocket and bites off a mouthful.



More approvability. :smallbiggrin:
Now I'm gonna go into a slight critique mode...

The first paragraph? Should stick with three sentences detailing the setting. More than that, and the amount of detail overwhelms the clarity of the said detail.
Just one thing I noticed.

Also, err... The coroner has to pronounce death and time of death before the investigators begin snapping away and such. No one would be allowed in the scene between the time the first officer on the scene proclaimed the scene safe, and the time when the coroner pronounced the body was dead.

Sorry about the nitpicking...

EDIT: Heyyyy... I didn't die first.
But now I think Fanboy is non-existent, or is another personality of Caelo's. Like in Psycho. :smalltongue:

[Ethrael]

I loved this one two. Building up the tension really steadily and I'm loving the atmosphere you're making, I've got a lovelyly vivid picture in my mind of the world. Oh and Fanboy, I'm scared of you now.

*dons shuriken-proof vest*
*hides in corner*

I'm remaking the request people, could I be in the next one by any chance..? :smalltongue: Pwetty pwease? I was going to ship myself with someone out of the Playground but I thought that desperate, vain, boring and pointless. I couldn't even think of what to write for it...

[RabbitHoleLost]

If this thread died while I am sans a computer, I will be a sad rabbit ::pouts::

[Helgraf]

Probability highly unlikely.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Very nice fic.

Even though I don't blush.:smallannoyed: I just don't.


And I have never seen myself in the police....Just...Not me.

But very nice fic.

Looking forward to more.

[Moff Chumley]

Stop whinning, DD. :smallyuk:

Yet again, Kneen, amazing.

[Callos_DeTerran]

*Yawns* Man it's been awhile since I've been in the shipping thread...which grew large enough it folded in upon itself and became an entirely new thread! Anywho, what's new and exciting in the world of GiantITP shipping? Have I or EE popped up any were?

[Kneenibble]

Very nice fic.

Even though I don't blush.:smallannoyed: I just don't.


And I have never seen myself in the police....Just...Not me.

But very nice fic.

Looking forward to more.

Well thank you. If you're not satisfied with my portrayal of you, remember that I've never met you and have only the most superficial of qualities to work from, and that it's very much just for fun. If you're really not satisfied, I can rearrange the story. - words being voluble as they are.

randman22222 - thank you for your nitpicks, I will edit the original post when I look at that paragraph, and please check your PM for a question about the other thing. Unfortunately everything I know about police procedure is from the X-Files so that area might have to remain a bit sketchy (it's funny, by contrast, how spot-on I can write being vomitously drunk. Write what you know they say?).
And pshaw, you're the main character, of course you don't die.

And thank you to others also: Ethrael, I will try to think of a role for you in China Gold, but in the meantime, I have noticed that people who write ships tend to get shipped themselves. *poke*

[RabbitHoleLost]

While I have my families computer under my capable hands, I have decided to turn out a few short fics.
Here they be.
Also: those who beg for fics will get short, horribly written ships with me.

Aggression
Moff Chumley/ RHL
"RHL, I LOVE YOU!" He had screamed at the top of his lungs without even thinking. The room silenced, all eyes turning to him.
And suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper arced through the air, hitting him successfully in the eye.
In a messy hand, there was a message scribbled.

I know, now shut up.
You're embarrassing.
...I love you, too


Bedside Companion
Almighty Salmon/RHL
Note: Really, its drabble. Not quite anything to be proud of...just an idea that didn;t get finished.
They had mislabled him, somehow.
Honestly, how anyone could confuse a baby salmon with a goldfish, Rabbit didn't know. It didn't matter to her.
She had found him at a Pet Smart and had thought him beautiful, so much so that she purchased him and a gallon tank (large accommodations for what she thought was a single goldfish) and took him home, placing him on her bedside table, where she smiled at him every morning, and kissed the glass of his tank every night.
He quickly outgrew the small tank, and she had installed a larger aquarium, filled with charming plastic plants and ceramic pirate ships, which she watched him dance through late at night, as she dozed off, dreaming of bubbling tanks.

[Ethrael]

I've written a fic! It was terrible, long ago and really kinda dumb but stil!! It still counts. :smallbiggrin:

All right, I'll try and think of some more ships, and thanks for trying to include me in China Gold.

@ RHL: I actually liked those. Short, snappy and vivid.

[randman22222]

While I have my families computer under my capable hands, I have decided to turn out a few short fics.
Here they be.
Also: those who beg for fics will get short, horribly written ships with me.

Aggression
Moff Chumley/ RHL
"RHL, I LOVE YOU!" He had screamed at the top of his lungs without even thinking. The room silenced, all eyes turning to him.
And suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper arced through the air, hitting him successfully in the eye.
In a messy hand, there was a message scribbled.

I know, now shut up.
You're embarrassing.
...I love you, too


Bedside Companion
Almighty Salmon/RHL
Note: Really, its drabble. Not quite anything to be proud of...just an idea that didn;t get finished.
They had mislabled him, somehow.
Honestly, how anyone could confuse a baby salmon with a goldfish, Rabbit didn't know. It didn't matter to her.
She had found him at a Pet Smart and had thought him beautiful, so much so that she purchased him and a gallon tank (large accommodations for what she thought was a single goldfish) and took him home, placing him on her bedside table, where she smiled at him every morning, and kissed the glass of his tank every night.
He quickly outgrew the small tank, and she had installed a larger aquarium, filled with charming plastic plants and ceramic pirate ships, which she watched him dance through late at night, as she dozed off, dreaming of bubbling tanks.

Those were awesome. The first one made me laugh. :smalltongue: And I didn't think shorter fics were capable of being that decent before. :smalltongue:

[Lyinginbedmon]

Here's an idea to try: Nameless & Lyinginbedmon.

Heck knows they have chemistry :smalltongue:

[Dallas-Dakota]

Well thank you. If you're not satisfied with my portrayal of you, remember that I've never met you and have only the most superficial of qualities to work from, and that it's very much just for fun. If you're really not satisfied, I can rearrange the story. - words being voluble as they are.
It's great, I'm sorry. *is sick-y, stressed and needs sleep*. Sorry again, I love the way you wrote that.

RHL, the first made me laugh and the second was the best drabble I have ever read.

[EvilElitest]

*Yawns* Man it's been awhile since I've been in the shipping thread...which grew large enough it folded in upon itself and became an entirely new thread! Anywho, what's new and exciting in the world of GiantITP shipping? Have I or EE popped up any were?

not yet, but we can still hope

Come on shippers, you know you want to.....
from
EE

[Fan]

sure is slow today.

[Player_Zero]

Not to be an impatient whatsit, but how's the index coming? ...

[TRM]

sure is slow today.
Your wish is my command, though I sure you'd prefer someone else.

This one really came out of an idea for the last line, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone has done something similar already.
Top Secret Chambers — RHL/Dr. Bath

Rabbit slipped into the steamy room and leaned against the door, exhausted. All day she had been chased after by sycophantic courtiers, but now she had finally escaped to the privacy of her own bath and she was prepared to make the most of her rare break. Finally a chance to do everything herself; no one was in her bath waiting on her hand and foot.

She loosed the buttons on her gown, and sighed with happiness as the outer robe fell to the floor and the warm steam coiled around her. A voice interrupted her pleasant revere. “Please keep those clothes on, miss.” Rabbit looked around in alarm, had an attendant somehow managed to infiltrate the top-secret sauna? What was a parrot doing perched on the edge of the tub?

“Excuse me? But, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my private chambers!” The queen’s pent up anger spilled out at this unknown parrot and soon she was yelling at the top of her lungs. “Miss,” Came the voice. “Lower your voice miss, lower your voice!” It rang with authority and made Rabbit pause; she had never been spoken to that way.

“Why should I take orders from a parrot?” It sounded petulant, even to her. She was overwhelmed; everything was coming out wrong. She was surprised to realize that she wanted this strange parrot to like her, to respect her. “I’m sorry, that was childish. I apologize. I’m just so confused, what is a parrot doing in my very private bath?”

“He’s mine.” Said the voice. “And I accept your apology.” Rabbit had to look around again. “Who?” She asked. “Mine,” Replied the voice gently. “The bath’s.” Rabbit cocked her extravagant eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?” Her heart was beating faster, why was it beating faster? What was going on?

“I do, miss.” Two golden orbs suddenly appeared at the top of the tub, golden eyes looking out at her. The most beautiful eyes in the world. Rabbit shook her head—what had come over her? —And looked away from the deep penetrating eyes.

“Ah, yes,” She stammered. “Now, this will sound awkward, but I really need a bath; would you mind if…” She tapered off. She was being too forward; he would reject her and… then what? “I mean, only if it isn’t awkward, of course,” “I wouldn’t mind at all.” Said the bath. “In fact, I would be honored for a queen to bathe in me.”

Rabbit smiled with joy and let her inner robes drop to the floor as she eased into the perfect, gently steaming water.

@V Fixed!

[randman22222]

Your wish is my command, though I sure you'd prefer someone else.

This one really came out of an idea for the last line, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone has done something similar already.
Top Secret Chambers — RHL/Dr. Bath

Rabbit slipped into the steamy room and leaned against the door, exhausted. All day she had been chased after by sycophantic courtiers, but now she had finally escaped to the privacy of her own bath and she was prepared to make the most of her rare break. Finally a chance to do everything herself; no one was in her bath waiting on her hand and foot.

She loosed the buttons on her gown, and sighed with happiness as the outer robe fell to the floor and the warm steam coiled around her. A voice interrupted her pleasant revere. “Please keep those clothes on, miss.” Rabbit looked around in alarm, had an attendant somehow managed to infiltrate the top-secret sauna? What was a parrot doing perched on the edge of the tub?

“Excuse me? But, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing in my private chambers!” The queen’s pent up anger spilled out at this unknown parrot and soon she was yelling at the top of her lungs. “Miss,” Came the voice. “Lower your voice miss, lower your voice!” It rang with authority and made Rabbit pause; she had never been spoken to that way.

“Why should I take orders from a parrot?” It sounded petulant, even to her. She was overwhelmed; everything was coming out wrong. She was surprised to realize that she wanted this strange parrot to like her, to respect her. “I’m sorry, that was childish. I apologize. I’m just so confused, what is a parrot doing in my very private bath?”

“He’s mine.” Said the voice. “And I accept your apology.” Rabbit had to look around again. “Who?” She asked. “Mine,” Replied the voice gently. “The bath’s.” Rabbit cocked her extravagant eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?” Her heart was beating faster, why was it beating faster? What was going on?

“I do, miss.” Two golden orbs suddenly appeared at the top of the tub, golden eyes looking out at her. The most beautiful eyes in the world. Rabbit shook her head—what had come over her? —And looked away from the deep penetrating eyes.

“Ah, yes,” She stammered. “Now, this will sound awkward, but I really need a bath; would you mind if…” She tapered off. She was being to forward; he would reject her and… then what? “I mean, only if it isn’t awkward, of course,” “I wouldn’t mind at all.” Said the bath. “In fact, I would be honored for a queen to bath in me.”

Rabbit smiled with joy and let her inner robes drop to the floor as she eased into the perfect, gently steaming water.

That was amusing. :smallbiggrin:
But... *Nitpick mode, activate!*
The last 'bath' should be 'bathe'.

[RabbitHoleLost]

Not to be an impatient whatsit, but how's the index coming? ...

Its not. As my laptop is dead, I'm reduced to posting with my Wii.

Also, an interesting take. Oddly, Bath hasn't really been a traditional bath tub before, methinks.

[TwoBitWriter]

I... uh.... I've been terrified to start chatting on this thread...

Well... hello...

A lot of the shipping has been very good. I wish I could write such things myself. I would make a fortune!

I think I should stick to epic adventure...

[randman22222]

Hey, we won't bite you or anything, TBW. In fact, if you write a good shipfic, we'll stamp your forehead in bright, red ink, that says,

Approvable Content

[happyturtle]

I wish I could write such things myself. I would make a fortune!

What? There's a fortune to be had?

Why has no one advised me of this? :smallannoyed:

Where do I sign up for my fortune? Details please!

[RabbitHoleLost]

Hey, we won't bite you
Except for me. I do, infact, bite.

[TwoBitWriter]

Except for me. I do, infact, bite.

I don't mind a little biting...

But as for the fortune (because I don't know yet how to quote multiple people in the same post) you would be surprised the kind of things that people will publish and read. If you can imagine it, there is probably a market for it somewhere.

And now someone will probably write a bit about RHL biting me. Like Quest for the Holy Grail.

[randman22222]

Oh well. She'll bite you.
I'll stamp you.

And I could actually publish these stories somewhere? :smallconfused:

[RabbitHoleLost]

... Completely derailing for a moment...
Hey, you live in Norman! I'm in Tulsa! =O

[Cobra_Ikari]

Mmm. I would try to post a shipfic, except I feel really uncomfortable trying to write someone else. Unless there is anyone who really wants me to write them...I'll think about it.

[randman22222]

TBW?

Lock your doors. NOW.

(:smalltongue:)

[TwoBitWriter]

I think I could do a decent shipfic, I just haven't gotten to know enough people here well enough yet... I'm working on that though!

I consider myself a pretty decent writer, after all.

[happyturtle]

I didn't know anyone when I started, and now I've shipped half the playground. So... just start. :smallbiggrin: The more you write, the easier it gets.

((Says the person who hasn't posted anything new in over a week... but it's only because I've been sick...))

[randman22222]

What? You're sick as well? Bugs are going around IRL and itP. :smallconfused:

[RabbitHoleLost]

What? You're sick as well? Bugs are going around IRL and itP. :smallconfused:

Internet Transmitted Diseases. Figures the Ship thread woul get hit.

[Mordokai]

Its not. As my laptop is dead, I'm reduced to posting with my Wii.

Also, an interesting take. Oddly, Bath hasn't really been a traditional bath tub before, methinks.

My offer still holds true. I am incredibly lazy and everything but if you decide to take me up on it, let me know.


I didn't know anyone when I started, and now I've shipped half the playground. So... just start. :smallbiggrin: The more you write, the easier it gets.

((Says the person who hasn't posted anything new in over a week... but it's only because I've been sick...))

Aw, you poor thing.

...

Want me to lay my hands on you? :smallbiggrin:

[happyturtle]

No bugs. No contagion. It's the accursed migraines that I've had nearly every frickin day for the past month.

But I see my doctor on Monday, and I'll be requesting a referral to a specialist. So hopefully I will get some answers soon. :smallsmile:

@^: Anytime, babe! :smallwink:

[randman22222]

Oh jeeze... That's a good deal worse... :smalleek:

[TwoBitWriter]

I didn't know anyone when I started, and now I've shipped half the playground. So... just start. :smallbiggrin: The more you write, the easier it gets.

((Says the person who hasn't posted anything new in over a week... but it's only because I've been sick...))

I'll take that as a hint I should start with you... paired with whom... thats the only real question.

[Cristo Meyers]

...

Want me to lay my hands on you? :smallbiggrin:

Now you're just trying to make me jealous...

[happyturtle]

I've been shipped around quite a bit (er... that sounds bad...:smalleek:) so no need to choose me unless you really want to. But if you are looking for ideas, I think me and Lord Fullbladder would make an awesome couple. :smallbiggrin:

[TwoBitWriter]

I've been shipped around quite a bit (er... that sounds bad...:smalleek:) so no need to choose me unless you really want to. But if you are looking for ideas, I think me and Lord Fullbladder would make an awesome couple. :smallbiggrin:

Right now I am studying previous shipfics to get an idea of what I should do... I am working on one. It will likely be slow going though, since I really only play around on GitP at work, and I have PBP games to update too. But I have a couple of ideas to throw around already...

[Kaelaroth]

After a somewhat troubling school-induced hiatus, Schoolyard Song returns, angrier, and fluffier than ever! [/blurble].

Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Four: The Linguists
Starring CurlyKitGirl, and Ethrael
See Earlier Part's here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4827936&postcount=126)
Back from a long, and summery summer holiday, Curly shuddered, as she stood by one of the many dark cast-iron radiators of the language department, trying to glean as much warmth as she could from the old-fashioned contraption. Above her, dull green light filtered down from the scaffolding that lined the building, giving the healthy girl a sickly pallour, though she didn't mind. Contagion kept people away. Something she liked. Behind her (by a few metres, no-one talked to Curly), the rest of the class giggled, like schoolchildren, nerds as yet untainted by the throes of growing up, their lives still circled around the dice rolls and character sheets that made living worthwhile. In front of her (further still) were the obssessive, their eyes hooded, books in their hands as they crammed, crammed, crammed. Curly shivered. With the alienation, and the now-wintry weather, and the dull light, she seemed colder still - like ice. Yet, soon, the teacher arrived, a flat-chested woman, with hips like rhinos, and steely insectoid spectacles, which glistened with unearthly intent. She barked, in her simpering, sorrowful voice, a comman to enter, and the class filed in, one by one. Cramming, cramming, cramming.

Inside the room, the students crammed, crammed, crammed, at least when the teacher wasn't looking, not hard, really, as the bespectacled eyes of Sauron were more pre-occupied with locating "that damn pen", which Curly noted one of her acquiantances was now annotating his work with. Shuddering, she pulled herself back into the realms of the strong aorist, cuddling up to the verbs, their intricate, delicate lettering shielding her from the world outside, the dull room, filled with desks, and doom, the loose wires patrolling the cracked ceiling, and the drops of mildewy rain that had fought their way through the bulding works, and ancient ceiling, to plunge onto the lap of her neighbours, who wailed as his yuppie-Prada was destroyed. Yes - Curly was an introvert girl. And no-one minded. No-one cared. Yet.

Eventually, her reverie was shattered, her sweet little accusatives squealing in pain as they were smashed back into the book, wailing all the way. Looking up, Curly looked to see what kerfuffling commotion as going on this time. Another Zira make-out fest just outside? Or was it that scrawny little drama boy, who'd thrown up once too many times (again) outside, again? No, 'twasn't. The teacher was snarling in rage, as she tried to get the "damn stupid piece of technology" to work, the SmartBoard, it's shiny surface reflecting the dismal light of the room back with a vengeance. Eventually, giving up, an order was issued, with sibillant menace, and Curly watched as a boy got up to help. Curly watched, as he bent down, showing off his muscles as he rolled up his sleeves to dig in the wires, showing off his ink-stained fingers as they danced about the circuits, his womanly eyelashes as they fluttered in frustration at the work taking place.

Some time later, the job abandoned, the teacher angry, writing words on the board, for a test. Curly, putting down her book, put her pen to paper. Everywhere, anywhere, there was the sound of scribbling, as the cramming came into result, tests completing themselves. Yet she could write nothing. All she could thing about was one thing. A cure for her contagion. Taking a deep breath, she writes three words on her paper, and as the praying mantis of a scholar isn't looking, tosses it to her muse on the other side of the room, a paper aeroplane (would you beleive), and waits for him to read it, hoping.

On the floor, the little image of Eros of the front of her book smiles, job well done.

[Mordokai]

Now you're just trying to make me jealous...

Am I at least succeding?

[Cristo Meyers]

I'm green with envy :smalltongue:

Nice work Kaela, I may have to go back and check the others out now...

[Mordokai]

You sure it ain't just food poisoning? :smallbiggrin:

[Dallas-Dakota]

Mmm. I would try to post a shipfic, except I feel really uncomfortable trying to write someone else. Unless there is anyone who really wants me to write them...I'll think about it.
Write meee!
What? You asked for it...

I sure wouldn't mind and it would cheer me up among my deep and dreary current state.

[Fan]

Write meee!
What? You asked for it...

I sure wouldn't mind and it would cheer me up among my deep and dreary current state.

I have one written up, that is Dallas/Mauve Shirt/ The Q, I just need to know if Q has given premission.

[Ethrael]

*inhale* YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY *gasp*

Thank ye Kaela! I loved it, even if I only had a mini cameo, I loved it! Loved the rl references too :P

[Fan]

:smallsigh: Q has in fact NOT given premission, I will PM him, and ask, but otherwise my enitre 4 pages of writing are out the window.

[Jibar]

...

"Rooooooaaaaar!"
His tail came crashing around, smashing the lower half of the building into pieces. As what was left came tumbling down it crushed those buildings that still stood around it.
"Rooooooooaaaaaar!"
His foot came thundering down, crushing the car beneath it almost flat. It's alarm blared for one brief second before cruelly silenced. The driver had no chance.
"Rooooooaaaaaaar!"
He poured his heart into it all. The cities must pay! They must pay for their evil and their appalling colour schemes! All who dwell within must die! And who would argue with him? Who could? Here he stood, Lord of all he surveyed. Unchallengeable, undefeated, unstoppable. He was Godzilla, and he was King!
"Rooooooooaaaaaar!"
"Raaaaaaawwwrrrr!"
"Rooooaaaaar?"
That roar... so beautiful...
He ripped the bus he held in half and stomped into the distance. He did not have to go far, for there she was, chewing on a train. Similar to him with her impenetrable scales, powerful fangs and decorative bone plates forming a ridge along her backs. What stunned him most was her colouring. A bright pink. It was mesmerising. She stopped all of a sudden and dropped her train.
"Raaawwr?"
"Roooaaar?"
"Raaawwr rawr raaawwwr rawrrrr!"
Everything about her was wonderful it seemed. He stared at the floor, unable to meet those dazzling yellow eyes. She blushed, the pigmention of her cheeks changing to a red similar to that of a London bus. They each stood there for a moment, silence prevailing save for the screaming of the people around them and the rumble of tanks being deployed.
"Rooooaarrrr... roaar roar rooaaaarr?"
"Rawr?"
His phrase misinterpreted, he sought quickly for another solution. He ducked behind the skyscraper roofs for just a second and emerged with a beautiful blue bus in his hands.
"Raaaawwwrrr!"
He held it before him in offering. She took it gladly, sniffed it up and down and then gleefully chomped down upon it. When she was done, she looked up at... nothing. He was gone. There was nothing but a trail of destruction left to indicate he had ever been here.

Godzilla stood in silent contemplation. Mt Fuji was a short walk away, and it's majestic peak was framed by the setting sun. Suddenly, something had hold of his claw! He turned, atomic breath ready, to stare into the eyes of Godzilli. In one moment of unembarassed romance they brought their snouts together and, claw in claw, wandered out to sea.

...I just wanted to contribute.

[PhoeKun]

I want two things: to get back to writing, and to start appearing in stories again.

I have control over one of these, but I can't remember which...

edit: Jibar, that is... it's... very you.

[Ethrael]

That is possibly one of the cutest things I have ever read, Jibar. It was so awesome I'm making a leeettle tiny cult to worship it now. :smallbiggrin:

[TRM]

Aw, you poor thing.

...

Want me to lay my hands on you? :smallbiggrin:

I'm good at commanding wishes. That made no sense...

Lay On Hands — Mordokai/happyturtle

happyturtle tried in vain to suppress yet another hacking cough, turning it into a simple dry wretch. Her entire torso shook with the effort of holding it in. She let out a groan of misery and pulled her coat tighter against the chill; flakes of snow continued to pile up on her already white hair. Why did she always take sick on Christmas Eve? Her raging fever did little to hold back the cold, and she still had dozens of presents to buy and wrap before the evening was over. She would never get it all done in time.

The next cough ripped through her throat like a sandpaper train, leaving her gasping and distraught. “I’ll never finish, there’s no point in trying.” She sobbed to herself. “I might as well just go home.” She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and looked around. “Are you all right, milady?” Asked the dark-haired man behind her. “You seem to be affected by some terrible malady.” happyturtle blushed and brushed a lock of snow-covered hair out of her face. “Oh, really it’s nothing; I’m sorry to have disturbed you—just a little cough.”

He grinned down at her, a happy grin, devoid of malice or scorn. “It didn’t sound like a ‘little cough’ milady. It sounded a good deal worse than that. The name’s Mordokai by the way.” He offered his hand, brown and callused from smiting. She took it shyly and smiled back at him. To happyturtle, his hand felt softer than silk. “Well, I suppose it is more than a ‘little cough.’ But there’s not really anything anyone can do about it is there? It’s not as if we have a cure for the common cold yet.”

Mordokai squeezed her hand a last time before releasing it. “There is something I can do about it, I’m a paladin. If you would permit it, milady, I could cure you with no more than a touch.” happyturtle gasped. “Could you? Would you? Please, that would be wonderful!” “Of course.” Replied Mordokai. And, before she could react, happyturtle was swept up into a passionate embrace, feeling every trace of sickness flee from her body at the paladin’s touch.

[Mordokai]

I'm blond.

That's the only complain I have in regard to this shipping :smallsmile: Otherwise, great work.

[happyturtle]

Is that four ships for us now, Mordokai? Mr. Happyturtle might get jealous! :smallwink:

[Mordokai]

My charisma got the better of me again :smalltongue:

And you too :smallbiggrin:

[Cristo Meyers]

why do I get the feeling that several people are staring in my direction, waiting for me to say something?

[Moff Chumley]

They aren't. Everyone is paying attention to ME, goddamit. :smallannoyed::smallamused:

[TRM]

I'm blond.

That's the only complain I have in regard to this shipping :smallsmile: Otherwise, great work.
I was halfway basing the description off of your current avatar, but it was still my mistake. Ooopsy.

Edit: And apparently I got happyturtle's hair color wrong a well. I could have sworn it was completely white... *sigh*

[Cobra_Ikari]

Aww...Rairai so sweet. *snuggles*

[RabbitHoleLost]

:smallannoyed:And yet I find myself a little pissed off. There was a reason I didn't accept help. I had an idea to make it more efficient
You also listed several of Curly's fics under my name

[Raistlin1040]

Well fine then. I'll just delete it. :smallannoyed:

*Is up past his bedtime, and cranky*

*Is also having bad week*

[RabbitHoleLost]

Don't bother. You might as well finish it.

[EvilElitest]

some day, i shall write my own fict. And it will be amazing

....but for not i'm laz
from
EE

[Inigo Montoya]

Err...This is just a little story I wrote, based on HALO and AMEN. Inigo is my character (obviously) and Hitomi belongs to RHL.


An interrogation.- Inigo/Hitomi
Inigo walked into the room. It looked like an average police interrogation room. There was a one way window, and a table. Inigo sat in the chair nearest to him, and looked at the woman sitting across from him. She had green hair, and ram's horns. Her eyes were closed at the moment, but he knew that they were blue, a blue the world had never seen before. There was something missing though...That was it. Her wings were gone. She was as still beautiful though. As Inigo stared at Hitomi, she opened her eyes.
"Hello Inigo." She said softly.
"Hello Hitomi. Got rid of the wings I see. I scar them up to much?" Inigo smiled.
"Yes. I'm better off without them." She put both her hands on the table, and leaned forward. "I'm not going to beat around the bush. Turn."
"No. How about you kill those guards behind the door, escape with me, and we can get Izzy."
Hitomi pounded her fists on the table, making Inigo jump slightly. "You know me better then that. Why won't you turn?""Because I happen to like being good. And the only reason you want me to turn is so that you can keep me as a pet."
Hitomi smiled coldly. Then she had Inigo by the throat. He gagged, feeling bile rise up into his throat. "What's stopping me..." she said softly, "from ripping your throat out right now, and sucking you dry? Or making you my "pet" right now?"Inigo squirmed under her grasp. She smiled again, and slammed him back into his seat. He gasped, and rubbed at his neck. "Answer the questions Inigo."
Inigo had several different answers to those questions, each one more crude then the last, but he decided on the more honest one. "You won't do it because it would not be as fun. It's more fun to make me turn willing. For me to put the collar on myself so to speak." Before she could say anything else, he continued. "We had something good Hitomi. Those few weeks with Izzy..." He does not finish. Those few weeks with Izzy before everything had gone to hell. Hitomi seemed to be following his train of thought, and was nodding.
"Yes, it was nice. And I'm going to tell you a secret. You lasted longer then any other of my lovers. Most of them...are not the same afterward. And there was Izzy. We could have that again you know...If you would turn. We could have all the time in the world, with Izzy even, if you would turn."
Inigo thought about that. Everything he really could ever want. A family, a daughter that loved him...He shook his head. "As tempting as that is Hitomi..." He swallowed. "I can't do that."
Hitomi's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Inigo thought she would kill him, and this time, she would make sure she finished the job. But she sat there. "Guards!" she called out "Take the prisoner back to his cell." She addressed Inigo this time "If you change your mind, all you have to do is say so. I can wait." Inigo smiled at her as the guards take him away.
"We'll see."

[randman22222]

This one I did like, Kael. However, sometimes you put too much detail into one sentence, and the detail becomes less clear because there's too much to interpret. Seen that in a few fics here, not just yours.

And Jibar, that was awesome. :smallbiggrin:

I also did find Inigo's most approvable. :smallsmile:

Now, after I finish my homework and guitar lessons, I'll prolly finish my shipfic up.

[Fan]

Okay, I have recieved approval from Q to write this.
And just to prove it.
http://i38.tinypic.com/2ch5aa0.png

anyway now for the fic!


The Omega Failsafe
Starring: The not quite redshirt Q
Mauve Shirt
Captian Dallas Dakota



Capitan Dallas dakota, and his small commando group delved deep into the tunnels beneath the complex their feet, and the majority of their bodies now throughly soaked by the water that was raising slowly beneath them. The small group of commandos had arrived at this complex 3 hours ago with one specific mission in mind. Plant the omega failsafe device, and get OUT. From there they would use the ships transmitter to send the activation signal, and wipe out half the sector. The group ascended a ladder into the main complex, and stealth phased a couple guards who happened to be near the man hole at the time. For a little while the mission actually went smoothly, and the had only experienced minimal resistance. That was odd, considering this was one of the few major Borg ground complexes. The group shrugged these thoughts off, and continued their stealth mission from hell. Eventually they reached the main room, and things didn't look good. "Sir the Borg seemed to have amassed in the generator room, and I think they have a high designation Borg with them."
Capitan Dalla thought of this for a moment."God damnit failure is NOT an option here, I don't wish to risk my mens lives by putting them into a situation of certain doom, yet I CAN NOT abandon this mission." as he was thinking one of the lower designation members by the code name of Mauve shirt. "I'll do it, I'll go in, and activate the omega failsafe.It....." then almost unexpectedly Q cut her off before she could finish the rest of what she was about to say.
"No, I'll go I don't know what I would do without you Mauve. I think it would be better if I went in." Mauve was about to protest this when she suddenly found herself in a loving embrace.
"Now you get back to the sip, I'll handle things here." Q said with conviction as he stared at the remainder of the group.
Dallas then approached the not quite red shirt known as Q, and said.
"Your a good man Q, and your sacrifice will not be forgotten." with that the group disported out, and Q pulled out one of his VERY few non wet cigars, and lit one up as he chuckled softly to himself."This is for you Mauve baby, I hope you like it." then he activated the omega failsafe, and a beautiful blue white inferno enveloped him spreading quickly through out the complex, and slowly over the rest of that half of the planet. Mauve watched this with tear filled eyes, and wept openly as she saw the inferno claim her love. Death had taken from her the only thing worth living for, and in her mind what she was about to do was right, and she went to her quarters with a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of sleeping pills intending to join Q in his eternal slumber.
\
this is my first ship so please dotn be to harsh on me.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Okay, I have recieved approval from Q to write this.
And just to prove it.
http://i38.tinypic.com/2ch5aa0.png

anyway now for the fic!


The Omega Failsafe
Starring: The not quite redshirt Q
Mauve Shirt
Captian Dallas Dakota



Captian Dallas dakota, and his small commaando group delved deep into the tunnels beneath the complex their feet, and the majority of their bodies now throughly soaked by the water that was rasing slowly beneath them. The small group of commandos had arrived at this complex 3 hours ago with one specfic mission in mind. Plant the omega failsafe device, and get OUT. From there they would use the ships transmitter to send the activation signal, and wipe out half the sector. The group acsended a ladder into the main complex, and stelath phased a couple gaurds who happened to be near the man hole at the time. For a little while the mission actually went smoothly, and the had only experianced minimal resistance. That was odd, consdering this was one of the few major Borg ground complexs. The group shrugged these thoughyts off, and continued their stealth mission from hell. Eventualy they reached the main room, and things didn't look good. "Sir the borg seemed to have ammased in the genrator room, and I think they have a high designation borg with them."
Captian Dalla thought of this for a moment."God damnit failure is NOT an option here, I dont wish to risk my mens lives by putting them into a situation of certain doom, yet I CAN NOT abandon this mission." as he was thinking one of the lower designation members by the code name of Mauve shirt. "I'll do it, I'll go in, and activate the omega failsafe.It....." then almost unexpectedly Q cut her off before she could finish the rest of what she was about to say.
"No, I'll go I dont know what I would do without you Muave. I think it would be better if I went in." Mauve was about to protest this when she suddenly found herself in a loving embrace.
"Now you get back to the sip, I'll handle things here." Q said with convviction as he stared at the remainder of the group.
Dallas then approache the not quite red shirt known as Q, and said.
"Your a good man Q, and your sacrfice will not be forgotten." with that the group teleported out, and Q pulled out one of his VERY few non wet cigars, and lit one up as he chuckled softly to himself."This is for you Mauve baby, I hope you like it." then he activated the omega failsafe, and a beautfiul blue white inferno eveloped him spreading quickly through out the complex, and slowly over the rest of that half of the planet. Mauve watched this with tear filled eyes, and wept openly as she saw the inferno claim her love. Death had taken from her the only thing worth living for, and in her mind what she was about to do was right, and she went to her quaters with a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of sleeping pills intending to join Q in his eternal slumber.
\
this is my first ship so please dotn be to harsh on me.
It's... Nice.
The spelling might be improved(But that's just the grammar nazi inside of me speaking), the plot was very nice, but overal it just felt more like a Q/Mauve ship also starring me.

And don't you know that the captain will never let one of his men go on a suicide mission on his own, unless majorly convinced by his crew. T'is the rule of startrek lad.:smalltongue:

Good fic.

[Fan]

It's... Nice.
The spelling might be improved(But that's just the grammar nazi inside of me speaking), the plot was very nice, but overal it just felt more like a Q/Mauve ship also starring me.

And don't you know that the captain will never let one of his men go on a suicide mission on his own, unless majorly convinced by his crew. T'is the rule of startrek lad.:smalltongue:

Good fic.
Well i had actually planeed for this to be a MAuve/ You fic based aroudn the song "I'm Blue.", but I got extremly bored, and it turned into Q (a tottaly random choice.)/ Mauve shirt ship, and i felt like i still wanted to include you for soem reason. But I do see your point I should have given you a comforting role to cancel out the suicide, and give you a larger purpose in the story.

[Ethrael]

Does anyone else want to be fitted into a ship of mine? I only promise it'll be better than my meh one before. It's a group one and possibly a bit special, Me, Kaelaroth and Calamity are hopefully in it.

[randman22222]

You can use me if you don't get anyone else. Up to you. :smallsmile:

[Fan]

Does anyone else want to be fitted into a ship of mine? I only promise it'll be better than my meh one before. It's a group one and possibly a bit special, Me, Kaelaroth and Calamity are hopefully in it.

I'm open for use if you think that would fit. But I think I'll let Randy have priority.:smallwink:

[Ethrael]

Ok, great, got you two. Now to write it...

[CurlyKitGirl]

@Kaela: D'awwww, sweet. And introverted me-centric. Koorly approves.
@Jib: funny! Keep writing.

Advised: after Ethrael's comment below (which I approve) listening to this song (http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xSPFNq2KsFE), while not necessary, does add some atmosphere to the fic below.

Bilingual Bonus
A Letter

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle
My ethereal wraith, spinning and shaping graceful forms in the air above the surging sea.
At first I thought you a nymph of the sea, your slim form slipped in and out of the upthrown spray that seemed to reach in longing to the benevolent goddess of the night sky.
Une déesse de la mer et la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion.
And these wings that seemed at time to be moonbeams given form were bedecked with spray that became pearls and luminescent rainbows. And your face. It was euphoric and peaceful.
But I came too close and you sensed my gaze. Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. My heart ached to see you seal away all expression. Your once dancing eyes barricaded behind a wall so thick it was like looking at nothing. What damage was done to hurt mon ange so terribly that you veiled everything behind that impenetrable barrier?
Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? I want you to be able to dance under the moon you gaze at every night. There's no shame in revelling in the elements little one.
Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime Phoe.

And translations in the spoiler below:

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle. - It was a beautiful moonlit night when I saw you. A supernatural beauty.

Une déesse de la mer and la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion. - A goddess of the sea and the night. But a cold perfection. Your wings shone the colour of molten silver.

Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. - Your face became emotionless, and wary.

mon ange - my angel

Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? - I want to help you. Please?

Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime - I love you my angel. I love you

Apologies for any grammatical errors or inconsistencies, but I've been three months without writing, speaking or reading any French and only started A Level French two days ago. Any native speakers who see ny major errors please let me know.

[randman22222]

@Kaela: D'awwww, sweet. And introverted me-centric. Koorly approves.
@Jib: funny! Keep writing.

Bilingual Bonus
A Letter

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle
My ethereal wraith, spinning and shaping graceful forms in the air above the surging sea.
At first I thought you a nymph of the sea, your slim form slipped in and out of the upthrown spray that seemed to reach in longing to the benevolent goddess of the night sky.
Une déesse de la mer and la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion.
And these wings that seemed at time to be moonbeams given form were bedecked with spray that became pearls and luminescent rainbows. And your face. It was euphoric and peaceful.
But I came too close and you sensed my gaze. Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. My heart ached to see you seal away all expression. Your once dancing eyes barricaded behind a wall so thick it was like looking at nothing. What damage was done to hurt mon ange so terribly that you veiled everything behind that impenetrable barrier?
Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? I want you to be able to dance under the moon you gaze at every night. There's no shame in revelling in the elements little one.
Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime Phoe.

And translations in the spoiler below:

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle. - It was a beautiful moonlit night when I saw you. A supernatural beauty.

Une déesse de la mer and la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion. - A goddess of the sea and the night. But a cold perfection. Your wings shone the colour of molten silver.

Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. - Your face became emotionless, and wary.

mon ange - my angel

Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? - I want to help you. Please?

Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime - I love you my angel. I love you

Apologies for any grammatical errors or inconsistencies, but I've been three months without writing, speaking or reading any French and only started A Level French two days ago. Any native speakers who see ny major errors please let me know.

Adding language into a shipfic?
A plus. :smallbiggrin:

Much approvable. :smallsmile:

The sea imagery is just awesome...

[Ethrael]

I was listening to Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xSPFNq2KsFE) when reading the sea imagery and it was just too awesomely combined...

[Kaelaroth]

@Kaela: D'awwww, sweet. And introverted me-centric. Koorly approves.

Thankee!


Bilingual Bonus
A Letter

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle
My ethereal wraith, spinning and shaping graceful forms in the air above the surging sea.
At first I thought you a nymph of the sea, your slim form slipped in and out of the upthrown spray that seemed to reach in longing to the benevolent goddess of the night sky.
Une déesse de la mer and la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion.
And these wings that seemed at time to be moonbeams given form were bedecked with spray that became pearls and luminescent rainbows. And your face. It was euphoric and peaceful.
But I came too close and you sensed my gaze. Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. My heart ached to see you seal away all expression. Your once dancing eyes barricaded behind a wall so thick it was like looking at nothing. What damage was done to hurt mon ange so terribly that you veiled everything behind that impenetrable barrier?
Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? I want you to be able to dance under the moon you gaze at every night. There's no shame in revelling in the elements little one.
Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime Phoe.

I likes it. :smallwink: Phoe will always be a angel.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Merci beaucoup mes amis. J'ai pensé c'était bien. Et maintenant:

The Rose Dragon/Mauve "Red" Shirt:

The Lady in Red (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcWspfgk9c8)

We were just work colleagues; working in the same room with half a score of people, pecking forever away at the keyboards and shuffling the mountainous heaps of paper that threatened our workstations. And when the time for the company's ball came around you walked in.
I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
I must confess that hot jealousy blossomed in my heart. You were, and still are, my companion. My Mauve. Those other grasping men wanted you for your uncommon and strong beauty; not you, ignoring the woman I know. Your dry humour, your irrational fear of escalators and the labyrinthine intricacies that make you my Venus. I walked up to you, held out my hand, and asked you if you wanted to dance. And that smile you gave me was perfect. Slightly crooked and I could see you heart in it. Is it wrong that I hoped you came to this ball just for me?
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I've never seen your beauty until tonight, and for that I apologise. The lights, dimmed now, catch the glossy ravens' iridescence in your hair, I swear, it's like a rainbow shimmering under these lights. I have to resist stroking it. It must be silky soft. I've found another layer to you, my heart. Again you surprise me, just when I think I know you better than anyone you show me another secret.
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight
I've always loved you, but not until this blessed night. You shine out like the morning star, constant and beautiful. I have been blind. As the dance ended you smiled at me again. And this one showed even more love than the last, and my heart swelled with so much love I felt like it'd overflow.
The lady in red
My lady in red (I love you.)

Sorry it took so long Rose. Hope it satisfies you though.

[randman22222]

Merci beaucoup mes amis. J'ai pensé c'était bien. Et maintenant:

The Rose Dragon/Mauve "Red" Shirt:

The Lady in Red (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcWspfgk9c8)

We were just work colleagues; working in the same room with half a score of people, pecking forever away at the keyboards and shuffling the mountainous heaps of paper that threatened our workstations. And when the time for the company's ball came around you walked in.
I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
I must confess that hot jealousy blossomed in my heart. You were, and still are, my companion. My Mauve. Those other grasping men wanted you for your uncommon and strong beauty; not you, ignoring the woman I know. Your dry humour, your irrational fear of escalators and the labyrithine intricacies that make you my Venus. I walked up to you, held out my hand, and asked you if you wanted to dance. And that smile you gave me was perfect. Slightly crooked and I could see you heart in it. Is it wrong that I hoped you came to this ball just for me?
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I've never seen your beauty until tonight, and for that I apologise. The lights, dimmed now, catch the glossy ravens iridescence in your hair, I swear, it's like a rainbow shimmering under these lights. I have to resist stroking it. It must be silky soft. I've found another layer to you, my heart. Again you surprise me, just when I think I know you better than anyone you show me another secret.
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight
I've always loved you, but not until the blessed night. You shine out like the morning star, constant and beautiful. I have been blind. As the dance ended you smiled at me again. And this one showed even more love than the last, and my heart swelled with so much love I felt like it'd overflow.
The lady in red
My lady in red (I love you.)

Sorry it took so long Rose. Hope it satisfies you though.

My heart just beat! That doesn't happen often. :smalleek:
Seriously, that was so sweet. :smallredface:

[Dallas-Dakota]

Darn ya Curly, I thought I got rid of french in school, now you faced me with it again.:smallannoyed:(My brains hate french) but its a good one.


The Rose Dragon/Mauve "Red" Shirt:

The Lady in Red (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcWspfgk9c8)

We were just work colleagues; working in the same room with half a score of people, pecking forever away at the keyboards and shuffling the mountainous heaps of paper that threatened our workstations. And when the time for the company's ball came around you walked in.
I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
I must confess that hot jealousy blossomed in my heart. You were, and still are, my companion. My Mauve. Those other grasping men wanted you for your uncommon and strong beauty; not you, ignoring the woman I know. Your dry humour, your irrational fear of escalators and the labyrithine intricacies that make you my Venus. I walked up to you, held out my hand, and asked you if you wanted to dance. And that smile you gave me was perfect. Slightly crooked and I could see you heart in it. Is it wrong that I hoped you came to this ball just for me?
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I've never seen your beauty until tonight, and for that I apologise. The lights, dimmed now, catch the glossy ravens iridescence in your hair, I swear, it's like a rainbow shimmering under these lights. I have to resist stroking it. It must be silky soft. I've found another layer to you, my heart. Again you surprise me, just when I think I know you better than anyone you show me another secret.
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight
I've always loved you, but not until the blessed night. You shine out like the morning star, constant and beautiful. I have been blind. As the dance ended you smiled at me again. And this one showed even more love than the last, and my heart swelled with so much love I felt like it'd overflow.
The lady in red
My lady in red (I love you.)

Wow.....Simply wow.....
*is stunned*

[Ethrael]

Ok, after much ado, gender-bending and head-scratching, I present my quite pathetic attempt at a second fic. As most of you know, I'm a great X-men fan. Yep, I shipped playgrounders with the X-men. This is the prologue. Less touchy-feely than the sequels but it sets up the story. :smallsmile:


Escapees

An Ethrael & Co. Production

Prologue

Starring:


randman22222 as Cyclops/Randy Summers
Kaelaroth as Marvel Girl/Kael Grey-Summers
Calamity as Nightcrawler/Cal Wagner
FF Fanboy as Shadowcat/Stefania "Fan" Pryde
Haruki-kun as Archangel/Warkun Worthington
Ethrael as Storm/Ethrael Munroe
dallas-dakota as Beast/Dr. Dak McCoy
Lykan as Wolverine/James "Lykan" Howlett

Silence.

Deafening, ringing, reverberating silence echoed throughout the cave. Insects, birds and animals all shunned it for its silence drove even the loneliest wolves insane. The lake was stiller than its frozen counterpart above. The trees wouldn’t sway in a hurricane. The waterfalls touched down softly, afraid of waking the sleeping nature.

So much silence all round. Silence above. Silence in front. Silence behind. Silence.

Silence was the only thing Cal could utter.

Checking all round the entrance and the depths of the cave, he turned and-

BAMF

The purple smoke lingered for a few seconds in the air, then dissipated almost decisively, until only the memory of the rocks gave evidence to its existence.

BAMF

Cal placed Ethrael softly onto the ground, then turned to watch the wall of rock at the furthest part of the cave, waiting for the others to get through.

It began to glow with a red aura, followed by a thin beam of bright red light. The light cut through the rock cleanly. It moved right a little, then straight down. It retraced its path and came down on the other side. Scuffling was heard on the other side and Cal’s eyes widened.

“Schei-“

A door-shaped, 5-foot thick chunk of rock flew out from the rock wall. Cal managed to duck just as it skimmed his head and flung himself on Ethrael.

Kael walked out, and stood, surveying the scene, delicate, soft hands on perfectly shaped hips. “Cal?”

“Mein Gott, Kael! Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful?!” he coughed, getting up from Ethrael’s body. “She’s incapacitated and you threw a rock at us!” Through the settling dust, Cal could see Randy walking through the door. His blond hair casually swept back even in this most dire of situations, he walked purposefully and yet carefully, unsure of any other insecurities in the cave system.

“Nightcrawler, report!”
“Vere’s Fan? Vy didn’t she just phase you through?”
“She’s bringing the others now. Nightcrawler, what’s Storm’s status?”
“Vat do you think? She still has come back from the panic attack.”
“Crap. Kael, detecting anything?”
“No living beings for three miles. We seem to have outrun them-“

She was interrupted by four bodies rising out of the ground. One, tall elegant, with enormous wings folded behind: Archangel; One stout, hulking body, blue even in the dark of the cave: Beast; One stooped, stout, overly built up body with claws already out: Wolverine; and in the middle, the shortest of them all. A delicate girl, barely over twenty, clasping the shoulders of her two neighbours desperately: Shadowcat. They stopped rising, and she began falling. Retracting his claws just in time, Lykan caught her as she dropped.

“You made it. Good.” Kael said, her voice darker than ever now that the situation had become more ominous. “Storm’s still out.”
“Damn.” growled Lykan. “I thought she was stronger than that.”
“So did I, about her,” said Warkun, nodding towards Fan.
“We have no time to chat,” announced Randy loudly, “We may have escaped the mansion safely, but we don’t know what else they’ve got. They got the whole support of the people and probably the government by now. We can’t rely on the Professor to change its mind. Getting to the sub-base is first priority, ok?”

Cal was about to nod an affirmative when from all around, the great silence was smashed on the floor and trampled on a dozen times over. The air vibrated with their presence, the roar of humanities great weapons deafened the trees, rocks and water. Planes.

“****”
“Crap”
“Damn”
“****”
“Oh, God”
“Scheiße”

Silence in the cave. Uproar in the skies.

“We have to leave. Split up, whatever, we have to get out of here.”
“How did they find us?”
“There are a few possible ways. None that I thought they’d have access to.” answered Dak wisely, bending down to stand on all fours and looking up at the rocky roof, calculating, thinking, determining constantly.
“Like what? We need to know what they could have had access to.”
“Telepaths, for one. Advanced heat sensing or other tracking wouldn’t fit on planes capable of reaching these speeds…”
“But I put up shields, so did the Professor.”
“I know, which leads me to believe in the possibility of magic. Scrying possibly. I’m a scientist, not a wizard, my knowledge leaves me here.
“I agree with Archangel, we have to leave. We’ll split up into pairs, traveling together would be too hard. The lake is the main obstacle, but there are ways round.”
“I vill go vith Fan, we’ll go through the forest on the left.” said Cal, scuttling over to her lying body and starting to try and wake her.
“Lykan and I should take the cliffs on the right, we’ll climb more easily. Agreed, Lykan?”
Lykan growled, then mumbled as he made for the entrance after Dak McCoy “Wolverines weren’t made to climb but I guess it beats the forest…”

Purple smoke once again filled the cave as Nightcrawler began to make it through the forest with Shadowcat. Once again, it dissipated. When it did, Warkun spoke up.“I’ll carry Ethrael, we’ll take the skies.”
“That’s too dangerous, you’ll have to go over the lake.”
“I won’t feel comfortable there, it’s too exposed. We’ll go into the cloud cover. Eth will wake up soon anyway.”
“All right then, good luck.” Kael smiled sadly as she watched him pick up Storm and walk towards the entrance, bend, then kick off and soar upwards. She sighed, turned to her husband and offered him her arm. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” He smiled weakly. Grasping her arm firmly he began walking towards the entrance to take on the lake.

I know comic-wise this is all wrong as hardly any of these guys crossed over, but still.

If anyone's interested to have a role in the next parts, PM me or post here. :smallbiggrin:

Comment away!

[randman22222]

Ok, after much ado, gender-bending and head-scratching, I present my quite pathetic attempt at a second fic. As most of you know, I'm a great X-men fan. Yep, I shipped playgrounders with the X-men. This is the prologue. Less touchy-feely than the sequels but it sets up the story. :smallsmile:


Escapees

An Ethrael & Co. Production

Prologue

Starring:


randman22222 as Cyclops/Randy Summers
Kaelaroth as Marvel Girl/Kael Grey-Summers
Calamity as Nightcrawler/Cal Wagner
FF Fanboy as Shadowcat/Stefania "Fan" Pryde
Haruki-kun as Archangel/Warkun Worthington
Ethrael as Storm/Ethrael Munroe
dallas-dakota as Beast/Dr. Dak McCoy
Lykan as Wolverine/James "Lykan" Howlett

Silence.

Deafening, ringing, reverberating silence echoed throughout the cave. Insects, birds and animals all shunned it for its silence drove even the loneliest wolves insane. The lake was stiller than its frozen counterpart above. The trees wouldn’t sway in a hurricane. The waterfalls touched down softly, afraid of waking the sleeping nature.

So much silence all round. Silence above. Silence in front. Silence behind. Silence.

Silence was the only thing Cal could utter.

Checking all round the entrance and the depths of the cave, he turned and-

BAMF

The purple smoke lingered for a few seconds in the air, then dissipated almost decisively, until only the memory of the rocks gave evidence to its existence.

BAMF

Cal placed Ethrael softly onto the ground, then turned to watch the wall of rock at the furthest part of the cave, waiting for the others to get through.

It began to glow with a red aura, followed by a thin beam of bright red light. The light cut through the rock cleanly. It moved right a little, then straight down. It retraced its path and came down on the other side. Scuffling was heard on the other side and Cal’s eyes widened.

“Schei-“

A door-shaped, 5-foot thick chunk of rock flew out from the rock wall. Cal managed to duck just as it skimmed his head and flung himself on Ethrael.

Kael walked out, and stood, surveying the scene, delicate, soft hands on perfectly shaped hips. “Cal?”

“Mein Gott, Kael! Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful?!” he coughed, getting up from Ethrael’s body. “She’s incapacitated and you threw a rock at us!” Through the settling dust, Cal could see Randy walking through the door. His blond hair casually swept back even in this most dire of situations, he walked purposefully and yet carefully, unsure of any other insecurities in the cave system.

“Nightcrawler, report!”
“Vere’s Fan? Vy didn’t she just phase you through?”
“She’s bringing the others now. Nightcrawler, what’s Storm’s status?”
“Vat do you think? She still has come back from the panic attack.”
“Crap. Kael, detecting anything?”
“No living beings for three miles. We seem to have outrun them-“

She was interrupted by four bodies rising out of the ground. One, tall elegant, with enormous wings folded behind: Archangel; One stout, hulking body, blue even in the dark of the cave: Beast; One stooped, stout, overly built up body with claws already out: Wolverine; and in the middle, the shortest of them all. A delicate girl, barely over twenty, clasping the shoulders of her two neighbours desperately: Shadowcat. They stopped rising, and she began falling. Retracting his claws just in time, Lykan caught her as she dropped.

“You made it. Good.” Kael said, her voice darker than ever now that the situation had become more ominous. “Storm’s still out.”
“Damn.” growled Lykan. “I thought she was stronger than that.”
“So did I, about her,” said Warkun, nodding towards Fan.
“We have no time to chat,” announced Randy loudly, “We may have escaped the mansion safely, but we don’t know what else they’ve got. They got the whole support of the people and probably the government by now. We can’t rely on the Professor to change its mind. Getting to the sub-base is first priority, ok?”

Cal was about to nod an affirmative when from all around, the great silence was smashed on the floor and trampled on a dozen times over. The air vibrated with their presence, the roar of humanities great weapons deafened the trees, rocks and water. Planes.

“****”
“Crap”
“Damn”
“****”
“Oh, God”
“Scheiße”

Silence in the cave. Uproar in the skies.

“We have to leave. Split up, whatever, we have to get out of here.”
“How did they find us?”
“There are a few possible ways. None that I thought they’d have access to.” answered Dak wisely, bending down to stand on all fours and looking up at the rocky roof, calculating, thinking, determining constantly.
“Like what? We need to know what they could have had access to.”
“Telepaths, for one. Advanced heat sensing or other tracking wouldn’t fit on planes capable of reaching these speeds…”
“But I put up shields, so did the Professor.”
“I know, which leads me to believe in the possibility of magic. Scrying possibly. I’m a scientist, not a wizard, my knowledge leaves me here.
“I agree with Archangel, we have to leave. We’ll split up into pairs, traveling together would be too hard. The lake is the main obstacle, but there are ways round.”
“I vill go vith Fan, we’ll go through the forest on the left.” said Cal, scuttling over to her lying body and starting to try and wake her.
“Lykan and I should take the cliffs on the right, we’ll climb more easily. Agreed, Lykan?”
Lykan growled, then mumbled as he made for the entrance after Dak McCoy “Wolverines weren’t made to climb but I guess it beats the forest…”

Purple smoke once again filled the cave as Nightcrawler began to make it through the forest with Shadowcat. Once again, it dissipated. When it did, Warkun spoke up.“I’ll carry Ethrael, we’ll take the skies.”
“That’s too dangerous, you’ll have to go over the lake.”
“I won’t feel comfortable there, it’s too exposed. We’ll go into the cloud cover. Eth will wake up soon anyway.”
“All right then, good luck.” Kael smiled sadly as she watched him pick up Storm and walk towards the entrance, bend, then kick off and soar upwards. She sighed, turned to her husband and offered him her arm. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” He smiled weakly. Grasping her arm firmly he began walking towards the entrance to take on the lake.

I know comic-wise this is all wrong as hardly any of these guys crossed over, but still.

If anyone's interested to have a role in the next parts, PM me or post here. :smallbiggrin:

Comment away!

Flipping awesome! :smallbiggrin:

[Calamity]

Nicely done, Ethrael!

...Not that I can imagine myself with a German accent, mind. :smalltongue:

[randman22222]

<accent=german>But... zese are your browniez, Calamity! :smallfrown:</accent>

[Dallas-Dakota]

Ok, after much ado, gender-bending and head-scratching, I present my quite pathetic attempt at a second fic. As most of you know, I'm a great X-men fan. Yep, I shipped playgrounders with the X-men. This is the prologue. Less touchy-feely than the sequels but it sets up the story. :smallsmile:


Escapees

An Ethrael & Co. Production

Prologue

Starring:


randman22222 as Cyclops/Randy Summers
Kaelaroth as Marvel Girl/Kael Grey-Summers
Calamity as Nightcrawler/Cal Wagner
FF Fanboy as Shadowcat/Stefania "Fan" Pryde
Haruki-kun as Archangel/Warkun Worthington
Ethrael as Storm/Ethrael Munroe
dallas-dakota as Beast/Dr. Dak McCoy
Lykan as Wolverine/James "Lykan" Howlett

Silence.

Deafening, ringing, reverberating silence echoed throughout the cave. Insects, birds and animals all shunned it for its silence drove even the loneliest wolves insane. The lake was stiller than its frozen counterpart above. The trees wouldn’t sway in a hurricane. The waterfalls touched down softly, afraid of waking the sleeping nature.

So much silence all round. Silence above. Silence in front. Silence behind. Silence.

Silence was the only thing Cal could utter.

Checking all round the entrance and the depths of the cave, he turned and-

BAMF

The purple smoke lingered for a few seconds in the air, then dissipated almost decisively, until only the memory of the rocks gave evidence to its existence.

BAMF

Cal placed Ethrael softly onto the ground, then turned to watch the wall of rock at the furthest part of the cave, waiting for the others to get through.

It began to glow with a red aura, followed by a thin beam of bright red light. The light cut through the rock cleanly. It moved right a little, then straight down. It retraced its path and came down on the other side. Scuffling was heard on the other side and Cal’s eyes widened.

“Schei-“

A door-shaped, 5-foot thick chunk of rock flew out from the rock wall. Cal managed to duck just as it skimmed his head and flung himself on Ethrael.

Kael walked out, and stood, surveying the scene, delicate, soft hands on perfectly shaped hips. “Cal?”

“Mein Gott, Kael! Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful?!” he coughed, getting up from Ethrael’s body. “She’s incapacitated and you threw a rock at us!” Through the settling dust, Cal could see Randy walking through the door. His blond hair casually swept back even in this most dire of situations, he walked purposefully and yet carefully, unsure of any other insecurities in the cave system.

“Nightcrawler, report!”
“Vere’s Fan? Vy didn’t she just phase you through?”
“She’s bringing the others now. Nightcrawler, what’s Storm’s status?”
“Vat do you think? She still has come back from the panic attack.”
“Crap. Kael, detecting anything?”
“No living beings for three miles. We seem to have outrun them-“

She was interrupted by four bodies rising out of the ground. One, tall elegant, with enormous wings folded behind: Archangel; One stout, hulking body, blue even in the dark of the cave: Beast; One stooped, stout, overly built up body with claws already out: Wolverine; and in the middle, the shortest of them all. A delicate girl, barely over twenty, clasping the shoulders of her two neighbours desperately: Shadowcat. They stopped rising, and she began falling. Retracting his claws just in time, Lykan caught her as she dropped.

“You made it. Good.” Kael said, her voice darker than ever now that the situation had become more ominous. “Storm’s still out.”
“Damn.” growled Lykan. “I thought she was stronger than that.”
“So did I, about her,” said Warkun, nodding towards Fan.
“We have no time to chat,” announced Randy loudly, “We may have escaped the mansion safely, but we don’t know what else they’ve got. They got the whole support of the people and probably the government by now. We can’t rely on the Professor to change its mind. Getting to the sub-base is first priority, ok?”

Cal was about to nod an affirmative when from all around, the great silence was smashed on the floor and trampled on a dozen times over. The air vibrated with their presence, the roar of humanities great weapons deafened the trees, rocks and water. Planes.

“****”
“Crap”
“Damn”
“****”
“Oh, God”
“Scheiße”

Silence in the cave. Uproar in the skies.

“We have to leave. Split up, whatever, we have to get out of here.”
“How did they find us?”
“There are a few possible ways. None that I thought they’d have access to.” answered Dak wisely, bending down to stand on all fours and looking up at the rocky roof, calculating, thinking, determining constantly.
“Like what? We need to know what they could have had access to.”
“Telepaths, for one. Advanced heat sensing or other tracking wouldn’t fit on planes capable of reaching these speeds…”
“But I put up shields, so did the Professor.”
“I know, which leads me to believe in the possibility of magic. Scrying possibly. I’m a scientist, not a wizard, my knowledge leaves me here.
“I agree with Archangel, we have to leave. We’ll split up into pairs, traveling together would be too hard. The lake is the main obstacle, but there are ways round.”
“I vill go vith Fan, we’ll go through the forest on the left.” said Cal, scuttling over to her lying body and starting to try and wake her.
“Lykan and I should take the cliffs on the right, we’ll climb more easily. Agreed, Lykan?”
Lykan growled, then mumbled as he made for the entrance after Dak McCoy “Wolverines weren’t made to climb but I guess it beats the forest…”

Purple smoke once again filled the cave as Nightcrawler began to make it through the forest with Shadowcat. Once again, it dissipated. When it did, Warkun spoke up.“I’ll carry Ethrael, we’ll take the skies.”
“That’s too dangerous, you’ll have to go over the lake.”
“I won’t feel comfortable there, it’s too exposed. We’ll go into the cloud cover. Eth will wake up soon anyway.”
“All right then, good luck.” Kael smiled sadly as she watched him pick up Storm and walk towards the entrance, bend, then kick off and soar upwards. She sighed, turned to her husband and offered him her arm. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” He smiled weakly. Grasping her arm firmly he began walking towards the entrance to take on the lake.

I know comic-wise this is all wrong as hardly any of these guys crossed over, but still.

If anyone's interested to have a role in the next parts, PM me or post here. :smallbiggrin:

Comment away!
Awesome, very much looking forward to a sequel.
Me likey very much, I also like how I'm written there.

[Haruki-kun]

Nice one, Ethrael! :smallsmile:

[Lyinginbedmon]

Could I possibly be suited for Professor L? :smallsmile:

[Ethrael]

Thanks for all the comments everyone, I'll get started on the sequel then.

I have too much time free this weekend... :smallredface:

Oh and I think Professor L will be possible. Any other requests for future parts? There are baddies too. And innocent civilians of the lake. :smallbiggrin:

@V Whoa...moody! Nice, was a bit unclear when you were thinking and when you were speaking, just a technical thing. No aesthetic problems.

[Lyesmith]

The many moods of Mister Aziraphale. Another day.
It goes on forever. Sure, summer is nice enough, but it never lasts.
It's raining outside. It always is. Some pupils are hiding out in the library. My library. They're listening to music, some of them. Music! Not even proper music. Just over indulged middle-class kids who wear stupid clothes and don't cut their hair, whining about how terrible life is. Huh. The sound is all tinny, you know. I can hear it from here.

Buck up. They'll be gone soon, then it'll be nice and quiet again. The way it should be, if you ask me.

But whatever.

Bell's gone. Back to my book.

Ugh, gods. Art students. And the head of art. Put on a brave face, 'Zira. You can probably just look busy, quick, grab that book and pretend to be looking for damage or somethi-

Oh, Arse. Here he comes.

' 'Ziraa! How marvellous to see you again!'

"Yeah. Likewise." You're not making yourself clear. Get that tooth seen to, as well.

"So, how's tricks in the library? We miss you in the staff room, you know. It's just not the same without you, you know."
Oh they do now, do they? Perfect. Time to get a little payback. This is for the London trip, you, you, you...you ponce.
"They're good, thanks. Why are you here, anywhere? I think it might be a little high-brow for you, I gave all the picture books to the Infants. But if you'd like me to order something in...?"
Sarky. Payback for London, huh? But no, I wanted to know if you could temp for me on Monday, first lesson?
"No. No chance at all. I guess that sinks your plans with the drama department, huh?" Hah. "Listen, you can do me a favour right now, though. Look after Comrade and the library for a bit, I fancy a coffee"

Leave no time for objections. Leave the bat on the desk and run.
Nice one. Take those steps, two at a time, stop for no-one.
Good. Room 16, just opposite the staff room. I can smell the hot coffee from here. I like my coffee like my women, and i'm quite happy to tell you that no drink in the world beats Iced tea.

Dodge past the troubled kids at the council office, slip past the head of food Tech (just, the fat old baggage), and...

Score. Straight to the comfy seats.

This just sort of happened. It's an idea, but i've not developed it yet. Not properly, anyway.

[DoomITP]

The many moods of Mister Aziraphale. Another day.
It goes on forever. Sure, summer is nice enough, but it never lasts.
It's raining outside. It always is. Some pupils are hiding out in the library. My library. They're listening to music, some of them. Music! Not even proper music. Just over indulged middle-class kids who wear stupid clothes and don't cut their hair, whining about how terrible life is. Huh. The sound is all tinny, you know. I can hear it from here.

Buck up. They'll be gone soon, then it'll be nice and quiet again. The way it should be, if you ask me.

But whatever.

Bell's gone. Back to my book.

Ugh, gods. Art students. And the head of art. Put on a brave face, 'Zira. You can probably just look busy, quick, grab that book and pretend to be looking for damage or somethi-

Oh, Arse. Here he comes.

' 'Ziraa! How marvellous to see you again!'

"Yeah. Likewise." You're not making yourself clear. Get that tooth seen to, as well.

"So, how's tricks in the library? We miss you in the staff room, you know. It's just not the same without you, you know."
Oh they do now, do they? Perfect. Time to get a little payback. This is for the London trip, you, you, you...you ponce.
"They're good, thanks. Why are you here, anywhere? I think it might be a little high-brow for you, I gave all the picture books to the Infants. But if you'd like me to order something in...?"
Sarky. Payback for London, huh? But no, I wanted to know if you could temp for me on Monday, first lesson?
"No. No chance at all. I guess that sinks your plans with the drama department, huh?" Hah. "Listen, you can do me a favour right now, though. Look after Comrade and the library for a bit, I fancy a coffee"

Leave no time for objections. Leave the bat on the desk and run.
Nice one. Take those steps, two at a time, stop for no-one.
Good. Room 16, just opposite the staff room. I can smell the hot coffee from here. I like my coffee like my women, and i'm quite happy to tell you that no drink in the world beats Iced tea.

Dodge past the troubled kids at the council office, slip past the head of food Tech (just, the fat old baggage), and...

Score. Straight to the comfy seats.

This just sort of happened. It's an idea, but i've not developed it yet. Not properly, anyway.

that was actually funny :smallbiggrin:

[randman22222]

The many moods of Mister Aziraphale. Another day.
It goes on forever. Sure, summer is nice enough, but it never lasts.
It's raining outside. It always is. Some pupils are hiding out in the library. My library. They're listening to music, some of them. Music! Not even proper music. Just over indulged middle-class kids who wear stupid clothes and don't cut their hair, whining about how terrible life is. Huh. The sound is all tinny, you know. I can hear it from here.

Buck up. They'll be gone soon, then it'll be nice and quiet again. The way it should be, if you ask me.

But whatever.

Bell's gone. Back to my book.

Ugh, gods. Art students. And the head of art. Put on a brave face, 'Zira. You can probably just look busy, quick, grab that book and pretend to be looking for damage or somethi-

Oh, Arse. Here he comes.

' 'Ziraa! How marvellous to see you again!'

"Yeah. Likewise." You're not making yourself clear. Get that tooth seen to, as well.

"So, how's tricks in the library? We miss you in the staff room, you know. It's just not the same without you, you know."
Oh they do now, do they? Perfect. Time to get a little payback. This is for the London trip, you, you, you...you ponce.
"They're good, thanks. Why are you here, anywhere? I think it might be a little high-brow for you, I gave all the picture books to the Infants. But if you'd like me to order something in...?"
Sarky. Payback for London, huh? But no, I wanted to know if you could temp for me on Monday, first lesson?
"No. No chance at all. I guess that sinks your plans with the drama department, huh?" Hah. "Listen, you can do me a favour right now, though. Look after Comrade and the library for a bit, I fancy a coffee"

Leave no time for objections. Leave the bat on the desk and run.
Nice one. Take those steps, two at a time, stop for no-one.
Good. Room 16, just opposite the staff room. I can smell the hot coffee from here. I like my coffee like my women, and i'm quite happy to tell you that no drink in the world beats Iced tea.

Dodge past the troubled kids at the council office, slip past the head of food Tech (just, the fat old baggage), and...

Score. Straight to the comfy seats.

This just sort of happened. It's an idea, but i've not developed it yet. Not properly, anyway.

I just love this piece. The cynicism and style of relaying the character's thoughts especially. :smallbiggrin:

[CurlyKitGirl]

Not exactly shipping, more 'fan'fiction than anything.
Disclaimer: the characters are real, however, their actions and moods are shaped to fit the circumstances.
Depending on, I may or may not continue this.


Characters:
Mordokai
Cristo
Thes
Shadow
Sundry others

Tears of the Innocent

It was nearing noon, the time of safety. Bandits and monsters never attacked then, it was as if an unspoken rule of truce existed where none would fight from mid - morning to afternoon; and all were lulled peacefully in calm.
That was why Thes, Hunter of the Gilded Rayth, leader of her own brigand band was just a few short minutes away from a village. Quite an unremarkable one really - small, unassuming, but slightly too close to the tree line while possessing one unique thing: an artefact crafted of a rich, unknown metal that was gilded in gold and electrum. It was worth far more than a pretty sum. It was worth a stunningly beautiful sum. And the Hunter of the Guilded Rayth wanted it.
So she was going to take it.
She and her band of men and women were small but far more trained than the normal bands that littered the lands like a disease. But then, what could one expect when the leader was once the General of the Eastern Quarter?
The sun was high overhead when she led the attack. It was merciless, "Kill anyone, if you see something you want take it. No burnings." None of her lot knew why she was adamant for there to be no burnings, however, such a small restriction was no matter. They attacked.

Mordokai felt a tic develop in his eye. For ages nor that accursed Mi'ir had been travelling with him , but just last month he'd picked up a kid from somewhere. By All That Was Good Mi'ir swon that he was his cousin, "And seventeen too." even though he and the brat, what was his name now . . . Shadow? Something ridiculous like that, looked absolutely nothing alike. The kid did however, look the age he claimed to be. But the incessant chatter, singing, arguments and lack of morals those two displayed had the knight wishing he could kill them. Would be fun.
The group were walking their steady way through a wood and Mordokai found his mind dwelling on the best way to remove the irksome pair from his life forever. He was pulled from one particularly delightful death scenario by the brats' sensitive ears. "There's something happening out there." he called before running like the truly naive idiot that he was towards the fields that lay beyond the safety of the woods. That idiot bard followed him. He was tempted to walk on, leave the two to their fate, but he wanted to see how they'd get themselves killed. He hoped they'd do something blessfully moronic.
Instead the brat was just standing there, lurking terrified in the last shadows that hid him from sight with the innocence ripped from his face; the bard pulled desparately at his arms so he could hide the awful massacre from the child's eyes but Shadow was unmoving. Mi'ir was panicking and as Mordokai approached, mild curiousity showing on his face Shadow finally looked away. Horror in his deadened eyes he merely looked at the knight, his face asking the question he couldn't speak. "It's bandits brat, best to keep on moving. Nothing we can do anyway." He moved away from the pair and tried to walk away. The bard had left the kid and had seized onto his arm. "Help them! Somehow! You can't just leave these people to be killed."
"There's nothing to be done for them. Noone will survive. It's none of my concern." he said leadenly. Screams and tears trickled up from the village and the kid winced as the high pitched screams of children added a petrifying harmony to the murderous orchestra. Inwardly the knight winced. Mi'ir had a soft spot for children. The bards eyes shone with unshed tears and he stepped away from him. He drew his seldom used sword and began the inexorable walk to the village and death. Silently the kid fell in, awkwardly drawing out the sword he'd drawn only a few score times before in practice. The words the bard spoke in a harsh voice so unlike his normal one made the knight wince openly, shock on his face "They can't be ignored! Those tears are the tears of the innocent!"

[PhoeKun]

Advised: after Ethrael's comment below (which I approve) listening to this song (http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xSPFNq2KsFE), while not necessary, does add some atmosphere to the fic below.

Bilingual Bonus
A Letter

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle
My ethereal wraith, spinning and shaping graceful forms in the air above the surging sea.
At first I thought you a nymph of the sea, your slim form slipped in and out of the upthrown spray that seemed to reach in longing to the benevolent goddess of the night sky.
Une déesse de la mer et la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion.
And these wings that seemed at time to be moonbeams given form were bedecked with spray that became pearls and luminescent rainbows. And your face. It was euphoric and peaceful.
But I came too close and you sensed my gaze. Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. My heart ached to see you seal away all expression. Your once dancing eyes barricaded behind a wall so thick it was like looking at nothing. What damage was done to hurt mon ange so terribly that you veiled everything behind that impenetrable barrier?
Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? I want you to be able to dance under the moon you gaze at every night. There's no shame in revelling in the elements little one.
Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime Phoe.

And translations in the spoiler below:

C'était une belle nuit de lune quand je t'ai vu. Une beauté surnaturelle. - It was a beautiful moonlit night when I saw you. A supernatural beauty.

Une déesse de la mer and la nuit. Mais une perfection froide. Vos ailes brillé la couleur d'argent en fusion. - A goddess of the sea and the night. But a cold perfection. Your wings shone the colour of molten silver.

Ton visage devenu sans émotion, et prudent. - Your face became emotionless, and wary.

mon ange - my angel

Je veux t'aider. S'il te plaît? - I want to help you. Please?

Je t'aime mon ange. Je t'aime - I love you my angel. I love you

Apologies for any grammatical errors or inconsistencies, but I've been three months without writing, speaking or reading any French and only started A Level French two days ago. Any native speakers who see ny major errors please let me know.

Two things:

1) I love this. I've always loved your letters, and this one doesn't disappoint. Especially as I love French. It doesn't hurt that I enjoy being called an angel, either... :smallredface:

2) Your French is obviously better than mine. I kind of destroyed my ability to speak it when I tried to learn Japanese at the same time (my brain only has so much room for languages! :smalleek:). But I'm happy to say I've held on to my comprehension skills, and as far as my skill allows me to tell, you're golden. It certainly flowed when I read it aloud, at least.

@'Zira: ha! Wonderful piece of writing. I particularly like the assumption the story makes that the reader doesn't really need to know any of the history and details. Wonderfully cynical.

[Cristo Meyers]

Not exactly shipping, more 'fan'fiction than anything.
Disclaimer: the characters are real, however, their actions and moods are shaped to fit the circumstances.
Depending on, I may or may not continue this.


Characters:
Mordokai
Cristo
Thes
Shadow
Sundry others

Tears of the Innocent

It was nearing noon, the time of safety. Bandits and monsters never attacked then, it was as if an unspoken rule of truce existed where none would fight from mid - morning to afternoon; and all were lulled peacefully in calm.
That was why Thes, Hunter of the Gilded Rayth, leader of her own brigand band was just a few short minutes away from a village. Quite an unremarkable one really - small, unassuming, but slightly too close to the tree line while possessing one unique thing: an artefact crafted of a rich, unknown metal that was gilded in gold and electrum. It was worth far more than a pretty sum. It was worth a stunningly beautiful sum. And the Hunter of the Guilded Rayth wanted it.
So she was going to take it.
She and her band of men and women were small but far more trained than the normal bands that littered the lands like a disease. But then, what could one expect when the leader was once the General of the Eastern Quarter?
The sun was high overhead when she led the attack. It was merciless, "Kill anyone, if you see something you want take it. No burnings." None of her lot knew why she was adamant for there to be no burnings, however, such a small restriction was no matter. They attacked.

Mordokai felt a tic develop in his eye. For ages nor that accursed Mi'ir had been travelling with him , but just last month he'd picked up a kid from somewhere. By All That Was Good Mi'ir swon that he was his cousin, "And seventeen too." even though he and the brat, what was his name now . . . Shadow? Something ridiculous like that, looked absolutely nothing alike. The kid did however, look the age he claimed to be. But the incessant chatter, singing, arguments and lack of morals those two displayed had the knight wishing he could kill them. Would be fun.
The group were walking their steady way through a wood and Mordokai found his mind dwelling on the best way to remove the irksome pair from his life forever. He was pulled from one particularly delightful death scenario by the brats' sensitive ears. "There's something happening out there." he called before running like the truly naive idiot that he was towards the fields that lay beyond the safety of the woods. That idiot bard followed him. He was tempted to walk on, leave the two to their fate, but he wanted to see how they'd get themselves killed. He hoped they'd do something blessfully moronic.
Instead the brat was just standing there, lurking terrified in the last shadows that hid him from sight with the innocence ripped from his face; the bard pulled desparately at his arms so he could hide the awful massacre from the child's eyes but Shadow was unmoving. Mi'ir was panicking and as Mordokai approached, mild curiousity showing on his face Shadow finally looked away. Horror in his deadened eyes he merely looked at the knight, his face asking the question he couldn't speak. "It's bandits brat, best to keep on moving. Nothing we can do anyway." He moved away from the pair and tried to walk away. The bard had left the kid and had seized onto his arm. "Help them! Somehow! You can't just leave these people to be killed."
"There's nothing to be done for them. Noone will survive. It's none of my concern." he said leadenly. Screams and tears trickled up from the village and the kid winced as the high pitched screams of children added a petrifying harmony to the murderous orchestra. Inwardly the knight winced. Mi'ir had a soft spot for children. The bards eyes shone with unshed tears and he stepped away from him. He drew his seldom used sword and began the inexorable walk to the village and death. Silently the kid fell in, awkwardly drawing out the sword he'd drawn only a few score times before in practice. The words the bard spoke in a harsh voice so unlike his normal one made the knight wince openly, shock on his face "They can't be ignored! Those tears are the tears of the innocent!"

Wow...when Mi'ir is acting as your moral compass you know you've got a problem...

:smallbiggrin:

It'd probably be more in character if the roles were switched, Mordokai wanting to go haring off to the rescue and Mi'ir not caring, but hey, it's your 'verse, I just enjoy reading it. :smallwink:

[randman22222]

Not exactly shipping, more 'fan'fiction than anything.
Disclaimer: the characters are real, however, their actions and moods are shaped to fit the circumstances.
Depending on, I may or may not continue this.


Characters:
Mordokai
Cristo
Thes
Shadow
Sundry others

Tears of the Innocent

It was nearing noon, the time of safety. Bandits and monsters never attacked then, it was as if an unspoken rule of truce existed where none would fight from mid - morning to afternoon; and all were lulled peacefully in calm.
That was why Thes, Hunter of the Gilded Rayth, leader of her own brigand band was just a few short minutes away from a village. Quite an unremarkable one really - small, unassuming, but slightly too close to the tree line while possessing one unique thing: an artefact crafted of a rich, unknown metal that was gilded in gold and electrum. It was worth far more than a pretty sum. It was worth a stunningly beautiful sum. And the Hunter of the Guilded Rayth wanted it.
So she was going to take it.
She and her band of men and women were small but far more trained than the normal bands that littered the lands like a disease. But then, what could one expect when the leader was once the General of the Eastern Quarter?
The sun was high overhead when she led the attack. It was merciless, "Kill anyone, if you see something you want take it. No burnings." None of her lot knew why she was adamant for there to be no burnings, however, such a small restriction was no matter. They attacked.

Mordokai felt a tic develop in his eye. For ages nor that accursed Mi'ir had been travelling with him , but just last month he'd picked up a kid from somewhere. By All That Was Good Mi'ir swon that he was his cousin, "And seventeen too." even though he and the brat, what was his name now . . . Shadow? Something ridiculous like that, looked absolutely nothing alike. The kid did however, look the age he claimed to be. But the incessant chatter, singing, arguments and lack of morals those two displayed had the knight wishing he could kill them. Would be fun.
The group were walking their steady way through a wood and Mordokai found his mind dwelling on the best way to remove the irksome pair from his life forever. He was pulled from one particularly delightful death scenario by the brats' sensitive ears. "There's something happening out there." he called before running like the truly naive idiot that he was towards the fields that lay beyond the safety of the woods. That idiot bard followed him. He was tempted to walk on, leave the two to their fate, but he wanted to see how they'd get themselves killed. He hoped they'd do something blessfully moronic.
Instead the brat was just standing there, lurking terrified in the last shadows that hid him from sight with the innocence ripped from his face; the bard pulled desparately at his arms so he could hide the awful massacre from the child's eyes but Shadow was unmoving. Mi'ir was panicking and as Mordokai approached, mild curiousity showing on his face Shadow finally looked away. Horror in his deadened eyes he merely looked at the knight, his face asking the question he couldn't speak. "It's bandits brat, best to keep on moving. Nothing we can do anyway." He moved away from the pair and tried to walk away. The bard had left the kid and had seized onto his arm. "Help them! Somehow! You can't just leave these people to be killed."
"There's nothing to be done for them. Noone will survive. It's none of my concern." he said leadenly. Screams and tears trickled up from the village and the kid winced as the high pitched screams of children added a petrifying harmony to the murderous orchestra. Inwardly the knight winced. Mi'ir had a soft spot for children. The bards eyes shone with unshed tears and he stepped away from him. He drew his seldom used sword and began the inexorable walk to the village and death. Silently the kid fell in, awkwardly drawing out the sword he'd drawn only a few score times before in practice. The words the bard spoke in a harsh voice so unlike his normal one made the knight wince openly, shock on his face "They can't be ignored! Those tears are the tears of the innocent!"

Depending on what? :smallconfused: Please do continue this. You do write well. :smallsmile:

[Mordokai]

Wow...when Mi'ir is acting as your moral compass you know you've got a problem...

:smallbiggrin:

It'd probably be more in character if the roles were switched, Mordokai wanting to go haring off to the rescue and Mi'ir not caring, but hey, it's your 'verse, I just enjoy reading it. :smallwink:

What, bard being greater hero than paladin? By all that is holy, we simply cannot have this! :smalltongue:

I'd be interested in seeing where this progresses. Do continue Curly, I like how this started very much.

But why do I get the idea you don't like paladins very much? :smallsmile:

[Lyesmith]

*bows*
I'm glad people enjoyed it!
I might do another bit - the original plan was it set in a school, with some playgrounders as staff.

For now - A letter (Which may not be as good as Curly's, but I'll try)


Listen. It's not that I wanted to do this. I tought it could work, I really, really did.
But it couldn't happen between us. I'm sorry, okay? Well, no.
Not really. Better end this now, than suffer unduly later on. You'll understand.
This was for your own good, you understand? Yours, as well as mine.
I can't go through that again, all right? I can't.
It's too soon.
I don't want this to be like it was with Kneenibble.

P.S - I took back my books. You can keep whatever I've left. Some of it was yours anyway.

Unapolagetically, Zira.

[Jibar]

Letters are something to share now?

Hmm...

Hi.
This is really hard for me to write, but you have to stop. Really. I appreciate the calls and the chants but this... fanboyism, it's just got to stop now. Nothing good will come from it. Trust me.
You should also know, you're not the first to try. Really. There have been plenty before you, and none of them have succeeded either.
So... please, stop it. It's for your own good.
Signed,
C'thulhu.

[CurlyKitGirl]

@Phoe: Technically I've been learning French since I was sevenish, but only really started properly in Y10, so about three 'professional' years based on my 'basic' years.
Thanks for the compliment, I'm glad the French works. Now oddly enough, I actually had deja vu during this because I remember a few months ago I had a dream where I was looking up the French for 'ethereal beauty' before typing it into the GitP post thingy. 'Twas fated. Besides, French does has a smooth, romantic feel if you use the right phrases.

@all: I switched roles. All the characters for now will operate at roughly 90 - 180 degrees away from the norm.

@rand specifically: I'd already decided to do a serial about a minute after finishing the story because I now know exactly how to end this little story. However, the story is nameless, these are just chapter titles.
Maybe people can suggest titles for the piece and get rewarded with a wee cameo or something.

@'zira: nice and bitter. Abcesses annoying you that much?

I'm on a creative roll. Three (?) stories in less than seven hours and all quite good and definitely varied. One romantic Letter, a songfic and an adventure story with possibly romance later.
Oooh, which reminds me! *runs off to PM someone*

[Dallas-Dakota]

For now - A letter (Which may not be as good as Curly's, but I'll try)


Listen. It's not that I wanted to do this. I tought it could work, I really, really did.
But it couldn't happen between us. I'm sorry, okay? Well, no.
Not really. Better end this now, than suffer unduly later on. You'll understand.
This was for your own good, you understand? Yours, as well as mine.
I can't go through that again, all right? I can't.
It's too soon.
I don't want this to be like it was with Kneenibble.

P.S - I took back my books. You can keep whatever I've left. Some of it was yours anyway.

Unapolagetically, Zira.

That was Zira/Curly I assume?

[Lyesmith]

Nah, abcess is painless. Just annoying. And i fancied writing something more in line with the story. Poor bitter librarian.

Another letter!
You'll never read this, probably. I'll be so close to giving it to you, maybe leave it somewhere you'll find it.

But ten minutes will pass and i'll fret, and take it back.
I'm in love with you. We joke and we laugh, sure. But I still love you. You know it, too, to a certan extent. You were flattered, and... And that made it worse, somehow. I doubt the feeling will become mutual.

Maybe one day. But i doubt it. I'm smitten, and you're not. You like me as a freind. I'm happy enough for that, I am. Don't think i'm ungrateful.

None of that will change the fact I imagine your body next to mine, and it comforts me. I worry and fret, but i've passed that off as "Just me being irrational - I do it about everyone". I felt so guilty, saying that. I couldn't give a toss about most people. But I worry about you, and I care about you.

It hurts.
I wish I knew how to quit you.
And each day, I hear more about this other person. You ask me for advice! Me! It's flattering, but I'm clueless. I still help, though. Even though it hurts.

I'm a fool for love.

[Kneenibble]

Hey, no hard feelings, DD, either way. Sorry if I sounded bitchy, it wasn't my intent at all.

I've tried to be quite meticulous about my editing in this story, because it strikes me that Randman is what they call a Sharp Cookie for details. He's well-cast in this, it seems.


China Gold
By Kneenibble

Chapter 3: Truth for Sale
Including so far, in order of mention:
randman22222
Kneenibble
happyturtle
Kaelaroth
FF fanboy
dallas-dakota
and now, Ethrael



The streets are empty, and the bluish presage of dawn lays delicately on the grimy cement. Randman sniffs up the heavy humid air. The morning is neither fresh nor crisp and it turns inside his empty stomach like gooey undercooked bread.

The fact of death sits heavy on his mind. It is not grief, exactly: an indifferent weight unembodied by concept. He loosens his necktie and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt and carries his hat in his hand. The few blocks to the Fort Garry disappear silently behind his shoes.

It’s a turn-of-the-century hotel, ornate masonry with green copper roofs peaked like a Victorian mansion: the oldest and one of the biggest in the city. Nibs hadn’t been lying when he said it was good taste. Uniformed valets open the polished brass doors for Randman and the air-conditioning washes over him sweetly.

Randman crosses the old-fashioned carpet in the lobby, which is rich with greenery and furnishings if mostly empty of people, to the lavatories. He runs the tap until the water turns cold then gulps down mouthfuls from his hands and splashes it on his face and hair. He turns off the tap and stares in the mirror. His face is slightly greenish; his eyes are slightly reddish; there is a glitter of yellow fuzz on his cheeks and chin. It is not a pretty picture. He washes his face again and drinks more water and then dries himself with a plush white towel from a basket beside the sink. It’s an improvement.

He stands with his hands on the edge of the sink, glaring at his reflection. The very last of the rye has gone and left a pricking sharp awareness behind. One of the light fixtures above an adjacent sink flickers and starts to hum stridently. Randman flips his investigator’s ID out of his coat and inspects it. Randman Deuce, Private Investigator it says, in a font like on a list of characters at the beginning of a script. For a moment it looks like it belongs to somebody else, or perhaps to the coat. He replaces it in its inner pocket and looks up at a haggard stranger above the sink. Then again, everybody looks like **** in public washrooms. It’s the fluorescent lights.

The incandescent light of the lobby, most of it from a massive crystal chandelier, feels gentler, mixed with the gathering gold of dawn. Randman looks across to the front desk, where polished clerks in smart uniforms try to look busy. Nearby a bellhop passes him in the same sort of outfit with an empty luggage cart, moving without much hurry.

“Excuse me,” Randman calls, approaching him, one hand in a pocket. The bellhop – a young guy with an easy-to-like face and dark, friendly eyes – stops and leans against the brass rails of the luggage cart, crossing his arms and lifting his eyebrows. There’s a toothpick sticking out between his lips, which he is chewing slowly.

“How ya doin’ there –“ he looks at the embossed nametag “—Ethrael? Nice pl –“

“It’s pronounced Ethrael, actually, sir,” says the bellhop helpfully.

“What is that, French?”

The bellhop smiles very pleasantly. “No, it’s Enochian. I’m an angel.”

Randman smiles himself, breathes a sibilant laugh, and eyes the tailored uniform from cap to shoes and back. “Yes, I can believe that.”

“What can I help you with, sir?” says the bellhop.

Randman gives the brim of his hat a tug, finding himself unable to stop smiling. “I’m looking for someone,” he says, and a bubble of laughter rises from inside him and bursts. Ethrael watches him patiently.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine. She is staying in this hotel, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her and I don’t know what room she’s staying in. I need to leave her a message to call me.” He puts both hands in his pockets. “Soon.”

“Who’s your friend, sir?” the bellhop asks.

“Miss Caelo Ruto,” Randman says, and at the mention of the name, Ethrael touches his cheek with three fingertips together as it turns pink very quickly. Aside from this gesture, he offers no reaction. “You know her? If you’ve seen her, you’d know her. Fancy Chinese silks, high heels, black curls, eyes a man could kill for – a real lady.”

Ethrael lowers his hand and refolds his arms, looking Randman in the eye without saying a word. Randman lifts his eyebrows. The silence stretches until the message gets across. He fishes a ten dollar bill out of his coat and pushes it down neatly into the front pocket of the bellhop’s uniform, and then puts a cigarette in his mouth.

“Miss Ruto is in room 448, sir, but you sure didn’t hear it from me.” As Randman starts to search his various pockets for his cigarette lighter, the bellhop raises his clenched fist into the air between them. “Ah ah, allow me, sir.” He opens his hand and a small tongue of fire flickers in the centre of his palm.

Randman hesitates only a moment before sticking the end of his cigarette into it and takes a drag, deliberately nonplussed. “Nice trick. How do you manage that?”

“No tricks, sir,” Ethrael replies, smiling helpfully, and quickly closes and opens his fist again. This time a tiny wisp of smoke drifts up from his palm, flameless. He crosses his arms.

Randman blinks, chuckles, and bows his head. “Have it your way. Hey, good not to have met you, Ethrael.”

Ethrael says, “You too, sir,” and pushes his luggage cart towards the service elevators. Randman approaches the front desk and leaves a message for Miss Caelo Ruto to call Mr. Randman Deuce, and his cellphone number – making no mention of rooms. The clerk takes the message neutrally, consults a computer, and then promises its delivery. Randman leaves his cigarette in the front desk ashtray and catches a cab back to his apartment. The sun is up by the time he locks the door and draws the flimsy drapes. In the kitchen, he considers the mickey of rye and the print-smeared tumbler, but heads directly for bed instead.

He sleeps until noon, showers in ice-cold water, shaves, and dresses in the same brown suit. He has a good meal and walks down to his office. The old floors creak as he enters, and Turtle is at the desk with her laptop open, cheerful and smelling of her implacable perfume.

“Hello, hello! How did things work out last night with the fanboy, Mr. Deuce? Nibs hasn’t been in today.”

Randman takes off his hat.

Turtle starts to cry by the time Randman finishes the story and her impeccably applied mascara stains her eyelids. “It was quick and painless, at least,” he says, deadpan. “Right in the heart. Deep. Ah, don’t cry, Turtle. At least he’s getting some rest.”

“You be careful, Randman. You be careful. You drop the case if you have to. You think the fanboy did it, then? If there’s any danger to you, you drop the case, Randman Deuce.” She takes a long sniff and wipes her eyes with tissue.

“We need the money, Turtle,” he returns, deadpan. “We need the money. And we can’t afford to go dropping a case at the first sign of danger, either. Are there any messages?”

“No,” she says, stilling herself with a deep breath. “None.”

Randman’s cellphone goes off. He goes into the office and shuts the door as the clacking of keys starts up from behind him. He flips the phone open and answers it. The floor creaks as he paces from desk to desk.

“Mr. Deuce?” says a smooth, elegant voice.

“Good afternoon, Miss Ruto. Did you meet up with my partner last night?”

The voice offers answer without hesitation. “Yes, of course. I waited in the lobby after dark like he said. Oh, the fanboy was there, Mr. Deuce! He was there watching, from the corner of the lobby! I nodded him out to your partner like he said, secretly, and then went straight up to my room and locked the door. I was terrified. But I got your message, Mr. Deuce, only just now. Can you give me some good news? Am I safe now, Mr. Deuce?”

Randman clears his throat, and answers, deadpan. “My partner is dead, Miss Ruto.”

There is a very long silence over the phone. They hear each other breathing. Randman finally breaks it. His voice comes out harder than he intends. “How soon can you get down to my office, Miss Ruto?”

Caelo answers softly and distant. “I’ll take a cab right away. Right away.”

Randman snaps the phone shut and drops it in his coat pocket, then hangs it up with his hat on the coat tree and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. He walks creakingly to the window with its grimy blinds flipped open and twists them shut. Ash and a cigarette butt are mashed against the floor nearby from the day before. He kicks the butt into the corner and sits at his desk. He splashes a little rye into his scratched-up juice glass and throws it back, then pours another. He stares at it in the half-darkness without drinking. The gold-coloured poison glows in the shadowless light.

He puts the glass down with a hard tap, stands, and crosses the room again to Nibs’ desk. His coffee cup has a viscous black puddle in the bottom, only a mouthful. It tastes bitter and oily. The drawn blinds dull the street noise. He hears Turtle’s keyboard faintly outside. He returns to his own desk, sits, leans back, and starts to smoke.

In thirty-five minutes, Turtle knocks. Her perfume fills up the room. Her cheer is only slightly dampened but she avoids Randman’s eye. Caelo Ruto sweeps in past her in stilettos, his curls artfully arranged, his liquor-brown eyes large and wet. Turtle closes the door behind him, saying nothing.

They face each other in the gloom. “Mr. Deuce,” he says with a quiet respect for the office’s mourning atmosphere, “I am sincerely sorry for your partner. He seemed like a good man.” His eyebrows slant towards his ears and he tilts his head, clutching his handbag against his diaphragm which had begun to heave. He stays by the office door.

“Then you didn’t know him very well,” Randman says very calmly, and motions to the chair near his desk. “Sit and talk, Miss Ruto. Nibs was found in a pool of blood with a shuriken buried in his heart.” He watches Caelo’s reactions very closely, who sits and listens, eyes on the edge of overflowing. “Now save your condolences, Nibs and I both accepted certain risks when we got into this profession. I want to know about that shuriken. What about the fanboy? Would he use a weapon like that?”

“Yes,” Caelo answers, breathing deeply, and drying his eyes with a lacy handkerchief. They remain dry. His nails are painted incarnadine. He looks at his handbag in his lap. “Most certainly he would. That was one of the reasons I understood he was in Beijing. I’m sorry, Mr. Deuce: when I said he was dangerous, I should have been more specific. I strongly believe he was a part of the Hu Lang underworld working and training as a – well, a –“

“Right,” says Randman. “You consort with that sort often, Miss Ruto?”

“I didn’t know at first. I only found out later. Why do you think I tried to break things off?” Outside on the street, slightly muffled by the blinds, there is a screech and a series of car horns honking. Both Randman and Caelo lift their heads, waiting for a crunch.

Nothing. Somebody shouts. Then silence.

When Randman turns his head back to Caelo, a delicate, manicured hand is extending a colourful bill with a couple of zeroes on it towards him, smiling with the innocence of a lamb.

“Good,” Randman says, taking the bill and putting it in his coat. “You could have told us more in the first place, although let’s say you paid us enough not to ask too many questions. But the game has changed a little now, Miss Ruto. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that’s actually your name but it’s time for you to fill in some details or I’m turning it over to the police. What’s your real business with the fanboy? What were you doing in China?”

Caelo draws another deep breath, squares his slender shoulders and meets Randman’s blue eyes directly. “Alright. You have a right to ask now. I was in Beijing on business as well as pleasure. Sometimes I have trouble keeping the two separate, you see.” He puts one of his polished hands on the desk and leans forwards emphatically. His tastefully painted lips curve. “I am an entrepreneuse. I deal in artefacts and antiques, mostly, especially in Asia. Some of my business is done over the internet now, but most of it must still be conducted in person. China is a gold mine right now. The iron curtain is full of holes and they’ll lift it for anybody who can tuck money in the right pockets. And they’re very busy with the Olympics right now.”

“Are you implying some kind of illegal –“

“Illegal?” Caelo steamrolls over Randman with a slightly frenzied passion. “The law is a different creature altogether in China, Mr. Deuce. Altogether different! I couldn’t explain it to you exactly. Resourcefulness legally overrides the laws in China. Knowledge, connections – money. Power. Power is the law in China, and serves those who can wield it.” He leans back and daintily fixes his black curls, dropping his voice. “The fanboy and I met for business – although I swear I didn’t know about his Hu Lang connections until after! – but stuck together afterwards. For pleasure.” He tilts his head, and again, smiles. “Can you blame a lady for it?”

Randman averts his eyes from the smile, which makes him slightly giddy. He looks at the slug of rye, still sitting undrunk nearby on his desk. “What kind of business?”

“He was helping me with a transaction. I was tracking down a very valuable Chinese artefact for a client. An ancient bottle made from emerald jade, still sealed. I don’t know what it was supposed to contain. Once I procured it, and got it somewhere safe, is when the fanboy turned on me.” Caelo’s eyes fall back to his handbag, and the storm of his passion leaves him. He looks spent. "The rest is all true. Omissions, not lies."

For several minutes, they sit listening only to the faint click of keys from the waiting room. Randman’s eyebrows crinkle up in thought, damned glad he hadn’t taken the second slug. He drops his latest cigarette into the glass with a hiss.

Without looking up, Caelo adds at a near whisper, “Please take care of me, Mr. Deuce.”

Randman gets up and goes into the waiting room, closing the door. Turtle looks up at him, and her cheerful smile drops off instantly into a startled, worried expression as she sees his face.

“I need you to look after Caelo tonight, Turtle,” Randman says. “She can’t go back to her hotel just yet. She needs to spend the night with you. Get her out of here in a minute and take a cab home. Don’t be seen. Call me here on the land line when you’re safe.”

Turtle only nods sincerely, and shuts her laptop. “Thanks, Turtle. You’re a doll.”

Caelo stands, smoothing his exquisite silk gown over his waist, as Randman tells him the plan. He breathes a deep sigh into the bottom of his ribs and smiles. His liquor-brown eyes soften with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Deuce. Really. Thank you so very much. Please be careful.” Randman’s nose fills deliciously with jasmine as Caelo steps close to him. Reaching up even in his stilettos, he presses a tender kiss on the corner of Randman’s smoothly shaven cheek, touches his shoulder, silently repeats the thanks with his eyes, and goes out into the waiting room.

Randman touches his cheek with three fingertips together, which flushes slightly pink. He listens for the waiting room door to click shut and then creaks over to the window. He opens the blinds and stands, staring out the old window at nothing, his mind spinning.



There's been so many ships that I can't respond specifically to all of them, but there's some really fun work happening in this thread which pleases me greatly. I loved your Tears, Curly, and Aziraphale, it's nice to see something more raw and heartfelt from you.

[rubakhin]

I loved the French. :smallsmile:

[alexeduardo]

Okay, here's my first Ship


The Death of The Crimson Mage

Starring
MasatoHyuga
and
Thanatos

It was a dark and stormy night. As it had been for a thousand years now.
Everyone knew why, it was because the earth was still mourning Masato.

Masato had been a hero of the Wizard Revolution. He had taken the command of the Revolutionary Armies after Merlin was captured and oh so brutally executed, and for that, everyone admired him.
It hadn't been easy, taking the first post as general of The Armies, especially when you consider the Wizards were outnumbered 4 to 1 on every battlefield.
But Masato son of Hyuga had done it, and he had been bave enough to challenge his elders and call for the Psion College's help. Now, you must remember than back then psionics were shunned and feared as demons. It was very bold of Masato to even adress them in a non-confidential manner.

In the end, it proved to be a very smart choice. The dwarven armies had been trained for years in deflecting and countering magic attacks, but they had never expected a Psion betrayal. The Dwarven capital of Moria fell within the week.
After that, the continent fell into chaos. As many revolutionaries, Masato had not planned ahead of victory. Some sources even say he never expected one. And when the time finally came to make a new goverment, he left the desicion to his wizard elders.
This was not done out of foolishness or cowardice, it was a rather thought-out manouver to convince the Loyalist wizards that he wasn't entirely out of touch with his origins.

But, as history shows us, it proved to be a mistake. The elders did not care for fairness and order, they only joined the revolution to have a chance to govern the world. And they now had it.
The first order thay gave was to kill all the psionics. Most wizards questioned and even refused to carry out the order, something that filled the elders with frustration. In their anger, they captured seven Young Women and held them hostage. The ransom: Thanthos' head.

Now, history books will tell you thanthos was a villian. That is because it is wizards who write hose books. But I'm no wizard, so I can tell you with total security that Thanathos was a hero.
And a Hero of The Revolution at that.
He had fought bravely by Masato's side, he had been the very first important psionic figure to fully accept the Wizards' proposal of an alliance. He had been head of Covert Operations for the whole week the Psions played a part on the revolution, and his actions had been critical to the Wizard/Psion victory.
Like that time he had risked everything to infiltrate The Dark Fort and defeat Lord Dambdun. Or that heroic stunt he pulled by literally jumping from one dirigible to the other, which didn't accomplish much on its own but bettered the troops' morale considerably.
The Wizards have made sure his heroics be silenced and cutted off the history books, but he is a hero. I know it.

Anyway, the thing is, when Thanathos heard of the Hostage Situation he couldn't help but embark on a journey to save the Women. He infiltrated the castle at night and fought heroically (as always) against insurmountable odds. The elders, upon hearing of this, sent a bat to alert Masato that the palae was under attack. They didn't tell him by whom.

Masato got on his Hummingbird and flew to the palace as fast as he could. When he arrived he made his way to the elders' chambers. and then he saw it: Thanatos, with a sword on his hand, standing next to the chopped bodies of the elders. Masato did not understand it, Thanatos was his friend.
But Thanatos did not see a friend on that doorway, he saw a rat that had betrayed him and the whole psionic suborder. He saw the Wizard ideology incarnate. He saw Arcane magic with a sword, and wasn't about to fall by it.

So they engaged in a duel. Not only of magic but of swords and minds.
An epic battle that played out all across the Palace. Many psions and wizards joined in and it turned into a true bloodshed.

to be continued....

PEACH....now!

[alexeduardo]

The Death of The Crimson Mage, part 2

Starring
MasatoHyuga
and
Thanatos

As the battle raged on, Thantos burned flags high in the sky.
This alerted civilians of the danger, and gave them time to run.ç
This too was silenced by the Wizards.

The battle lasted for a complete day, until both sides' soldiers were too tired to fight. They both retreated to their respective sides of town, scarred by the deaths they had seen that night, and never to forgive again.

to be continued...

[The Rose Dragon]

Merci beaucoup mes amis. J'ai pensé c'était bien. Et maintenant:

The Rose Dragon/Mauve "Red" Shirt:

The Lady in Red (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcWspfgk9c8)

We were just work colleagues; working in the same room with half a score of people, pecking forever away at the keyboards and shuffling the mountainous heaps of paper that threatened our workstations. And when the time for the company's ball came around you walked in.
I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
I must confess that hot jealousy blossomed in my heart. You were, and still are, my companion. My Mauve. Those other grasping men wanted you for your uncommon and strong beauty; not you, ignoring the woman I know. Your dry humour, your irrational fear of escalators and the labyrinthine intricacies that make you my Venus. I walked up to you, held out my hand, and asked you if you wanted to dance. And that smile you gave me was perfect. Slightly crooked and I could see you heart in it. Is it wrong that I hoped you came to this ball just for me?
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I've never seen your beauty until tonight, and for that I apologise. The lights, dimmed now, catch the glossy ravens' iridescence in your hair, I swear, it's like a rainbow shimmering under these lights. I have to resist stroking it. It must be silky soft. I've found another layer to you, my heart. Again you surprise me, just when I think I know you better than anyone you show me another secret.
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight
I've always loved you, but not until this blessed night. You shine out like the morning star, constant and beautiful. I have been blind. As the dance ended you smiled at me again. And this one showed even more love than the last, and my heart swelled with so much love I felt like it'd overflow.
The lady in red
My lady in red (I love you.)

Sorry it took so long Rose. Hope it satisfies you though.

You know how you can never seem to find something when you're looking for it?

I couldn't find it before the PM. :smallbiggrin:

It's sweet.

[Kaelaroth]

Schoolyard Song: A Playground Spanning Opera
Part Five: The Talent Show
See Earlier Part's here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4862360&postcount=184)
Mr. Morgernstern pulled his large, priapic stomach out over his belt, and sighed a sigh of relief, releif washing over him, him being thankful, thankful that at least one thing was over for now, for now, however, he had more to deal with. Grumbling, he strode (more of a waddle really, not that he'd admit it) into the main hall, his shoes squeaking loudly on the lacquered panelled flooring, where a thousand or more students, energetic little things, danced, and sung, and spoke, hopeful, eager, waiting. For him. Smiling, he shouted, dramatically (for, really, that's what he was), Let the Gaaames BEGIN! As the hush of students fell, falling from above was the gaze of Zira, who smirked, and pressed a button, the curtains on stage opening to reveal the first act.

The first memorable act was a singer, Raistlin was his name. He had dark hair, which flowed over one eye, unintentionally perhaps. His voice was like chocolate, and it flowed across the halls, in sticky clumps of ecstasy, making Mr. Morgerstern moans with delight.

Another was Kneenibble, a delicate lad from the drama studio. He'd been Gaius in the last play, and he read a similar speech. Challenging, but not controversial. Well-spoken, but not exceptional. His voice was like an choirboy's, and it sang out across the room, in high, chidlike notes, causing Mr. Morgernstern to smile with a patronising sneer.

Finally, came a blond boy, who read a speech, his voice courageous, like a shining light, which lit the hall with his glow. The very words made Mr. Morgernstern's stomach rumble, and he looked, briefly, up at the misty figure of Zira, shadowed in the technical box above.

Veeery Well Done, Everyone! The Prize will be awarded in assembly. Mr. Morgernstern boomed, before getting up, stuffing a free eclair into his mouth, as he strode out, riddling the floor with heavy booms, as out he strode.

And, dear, dear readers (should any of you actually exist), it's up to you. Whichever of those three you'd like to win will win. And star in the next Schoolyard Song. Will it be Raistlin, the already met Kneenibble, or our mysterious blond?

[Kneenibble]

And, dear, dear readers (should any of you actually exist), it's up to you. Whichever of those three you'd like to win will win. And star in the next Schoolyard Song. Will it be Raistlin, the already met Kneenibble, or our mysterious blond?

I'd vote for myself, but I clearly suck (:smallfrown:); and as much as "sticky clumps of ecstacy" tickles me, I throw in with the mystery blond boy.