Shipping VII: Something Squicky, This Way Comes

[cycoris]

Edit: A little fluffy something for y'alls

So Cold (A Letter)
DeeRee/

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I’m sorry, but our relationship just has to end.

I thought you were cute at first. I loved how you humored my brothers – gave them little gifts. They were so excited that morning when you showed up on our doorstep, made everything so pretty for Christmas!

But it’s over now. You cling to me like…well, let’s just say that I can barely breathe from the stifling of it. As soon as I walk out the door you’re THERE and you show up at my tennis practices, too. We’ve even had to go to the gym at the high school instead of a proper practice, just to get away from you. It’s becoming unbearable.

So I’m kicking you out.

Cold weather and I are through.

Awww, go finish making that denim quilt for me, and then you can wrap up in both yours and mine. Now shoo!

...wait, post another chapter of Rock Star first!

Also: DeeRee and Wolfbane? Who ever would have thunk?

[UncleWolf]

Also: DeeRee and Wolfbane? Who ever would have thunk?

Who wouldn't want to be with a nice, fuzzy, and warm Wolf on a cold winter night?

*Rhetorical Question*

[Felixaar]

I agree with Cycoris! More Rockstar!

[TwoBitWriter]

Right then. I blame you two for this idea.

Long Cold Night
DeeRee/Wolfbane

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*Persnippity*

Aww, that was lovely!

*Decides to write another Shipfic featuring DeeRee*

[Felixaar]

I, um, volunteer for inclusion, if you're, um, looking...

[TwoBitWriter]

I, um, volunteer for inclusion, if you're, um, looking...

Hmm... what are your intentions with my daughter, young man?

[Felixaar]

Probably Innocent! and definitely good.

And entirely wracked with nervousness

also: Damn, is it weird to be asked that by a baby avatar.

[Cristo Meyers]

Hmm... what are your intentions with my daughter, young man?

I believe the words "getting bitten" probably appear in the answer somewhere...

[TwoBitWriter]

Probably Innocent! and definitely good.

That's what all the guys say...

And entirely wracked with nervousness

Spoken like a true teenager!

also: Damn, is it weird to be asked that by a baby avatar.

I've been meaning to change that for a while...

@Cristo: I will do my best not to understand what you are getting at... *covers ears, hums softly*

[Felixaar]

I think he's referencing the Vampire avatar, but either way that statement only implies if you put a "not" before it. *points out the gorget around his neck*

And I could break trend by lying and saying mean things if you preferr, but that wouldn't be very honest, now would it?

(also, you should try and get something made for Good/Evil Twin Week! It'd be entertaining.)

[TwoBitWriter]

I think he's referencing the Vampire avatar, but either way that statement only implies if you put a "not" before it. *points out the gorget around his neck*

And I could break trend by lying and saying mean things if you preferr, but that wouldn't be very honest, now would it?

(also, you should try and get something made for Good/Evil Twin Week! It'd be entertaining.)

Ahh, see, my problem is I normally access Giant at work, and I can't see anyone's avatars.

*goes to work, writing*

[Felixaar]

You scoundrel, you

@V *facepalm* Well done sir.

[Cristo Meyers]

I think he's referencing the Vampire avatar, but either way that statement only implies if you put a "not" before it. *points out the gorget around his neck*

Oh good, you brought protection...

[Dragonrider]

People fighting over me?!?! yelp!

Dis one's for Koorli, who's not even around right now. I'll have to PM her.

When You Love a Rock Star

Starring
Dragonrider
CurlyKitGirl
RabbitHoleLost
And three special guests!

Chapter One: Doubts
Chapter Two: Stars
Chapter Three: Uh-Oh
Chapter Four: Stuck
Chapter Five: To Market
Chapter Six: Futures
Chapter Seven: Romance the First

Previously in Rock Star:

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Rabbit, a talented necromancer, and the twins Koorli and DeeRee attempt a dangerous spell—they want to summon simulacrums of their favorite ‘70s rock stars. DeeRee is nervous but they go through with it. The magic goes wrong somehow and they end up in John Lennon’s basement with John himself, plus Cat Stevens and Freddie Mercury. In the middle ages—and, according to Rabbit, there’s no spell that can bring them home, but she’s trying to concoct something anyway. As time drags on, they discuss the 2009 reality of Freddie, John, and Cat—of them, Cat is the only one still living. Rabbit and John, despite the clear futility of any relationship for them, have found themselves together.

Chapter Eight: Romance the Second

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Things had gotten awkward between Freddie and Koorli since Rabbit and John had gotten together. There was attraction between them—they both knew that—but it was difficult to figure out what to do with that attraction.

Koorli was confused about whether Freddie was gay in his universe. She was beginning to suspect that Rabbit’s spell had summoned ideal versions of their rock stars from the other worlds—or as close as it could get. Certainly she’d never imagined that Freddie would be as amazing as he was—or interested in her.

But he was.

She didn’t know if he loved her the way she loved him, but she was aware that he looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see.

And he sang for her. That gorgeous pure tone that sent shivers up her spine.

And when they kissed over their books for the first time, it was over—she completely fell for him.

[Felixaar]

...So, you get these spells from where?

Also, I bet we're all looking forward to Romance the Third

And no, we weren't fighting over you I was just being grilled on my intentions towards you. I know you don't like people fighting. Of course, if you've changed your mind, I could always wrastle with myself

Eh, ehem.

Ohhh, I'm having an identity crisis! Oh, the mental strife! Crunchy, it feels so right, but could it be wrong? Oh, maybe Rissy-Sissy is right, and Smoothliness is next to godliness! Oh, the internal, eternal suffering! Woe is me!

Is that to your liking?

[Dragonrider]

And no, we weren't fighting over you I was just being grilled on my intentions towards you. I know you don't like people fighting. Of course, if you've changed your mind, I could always wrastle with myself

VAMP! EVIL OPPOSITE WEEK! Of course I like fighting!


Edit: But Cat is my one and only love...at least until Rock Star is over...maybe Daddy Tooby should go find out about HIS intentions.

[UncleWolf]

VAMP! EVIL OPPOSITE WEEK! Of course I like fighting!

Yeah, their fighting and struggling against you.

Good ship BTW.

[TwoBitWriter]

Edit: But Cat is my one and only love...at least until Rock Star is over...maybe Daddy Tooby should go find out about HIS intentions.

He's a musician, I'm well aware of his intentions.

[Felixaar]

VAMP! EVIL OPPOSITE WEEK! Of course I like fighting!


Edit: But Cat is my one and only love...at least until Rock Star is over...maybe Daddy Tooby should go find out about HIS intentions.

Oh... I see. *sniffles*

Hey, wait, I'm evil now too! Rar! *booze!*

[Thufir]

I has shipping inc instalment!
Archive quoted for your convenience:

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Shipping/Scourge Inc.
Open collaboration

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Shipping Inc. – RHL/Curly
Shipping Inc.. Takeover
Shipping Inc. Numero Dos
Shipping Inc. New Management
Scourge Inc. (or Shipping Inc. Part the Fourth) – Vespe/Curly
Scourge Inc. - An Epic Floor Romance (Shipping Inc. ‘Part’ Five) – Phoe/Helgraf Author: Curly (offshoot of main plot)
Scourge Inc. Gaiden Author: Vespe (offshoot of main plot)
Shipping Inc. Record Retrieval Part One
Shipping Inc. Record Retrieval Part Two
Shipping Inc. Record Retrieval Part Three
Shipping Inc. Record Retrieval Part Four
Shipping Inc [Interlude]
Shipping Inc.: The Captive - Part One
Shipping Inc.: Captive Studies
Shipping Inc.: Stepping Out
Shipping Inc.: The Captive Part Two
Shipping Inc.: The Captive Part Three
Scourge Inc.: Passing On - Helgraf, RHL, Curly, Phoe
Shipping Inc.: The Captive Part Four
Scourge Inc.: Incentives (Helgraf/RHL)
The Rescue - Part One

And so, while Scourge Inc and ABR make their respective plans, some time is taken out to examine Thufir's mental state:

Psychologist’s Reports – Subject: Thufir

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Saturday, 29th June

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My first meeting with the subject Thufir was confusing, to say the least. At times he seems perfectly coherent, while at others his conversation devolves into babble and pop-culture references.
Subject is uncooperative: he attempted a crude psychological analysis of me rather than even embarking on an ordinary conversation, making my own analysis somewhat more challenging. My initial analysis shows evidence of delusions of grandeur, a superiority or perhaps even god complex. He believes himself, I think, to be the most intelligent person in the world by a wide margin.

So far, this tells us nothing we didn’t already know – Lyinginbedmon.

Sunday, 30th June

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“Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.” Observation of a conversation he had with Mordokai indicates there is definitely some pattern to Thufir’s seemingly random babbling. Naturally when I asked him about it he was silent.
In discussing his own psychological issues, he showed surprising insight – I do not believe he has had any formal training in psychology, however, though some of his comments suggest some degree of familiarity with the apocryphal writings of one Renfield Helgraf, a brilliantly gifted psychologist sadly suspected to have been rather less sane than his patients.

Still little new here, merely confirmation of what we already suspected. Reference to Helgraf intriguing however – a Helgraf has occasionally been mentioned in connection with Shipping/Scourge Inc. Have someone look into this possible connection.

Octeday, 1st Grune

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Thufir today volunteered a topic of conversation – that of reincarnation, or transference of talent at the point of death, etc. Understandable I suppose – he wishes to validate his belief in his own superiority by crediting himself as the reincarnation of some great figure, and perhaps to believe that his ‘great abilities’ will not pass away when he does.
He attempted to analyse my own hypothetical past lives, but having removed my footwear I found the temperature to be intolerably low.
Tomorrow I think I will try hypnotherapy. Hopefully it will yield some answers.

Hopefully indeed. Thus far the most interesting point our psychologist has given us provides no illumination as to Thufir’s psychological state; rather it casts doubt on that of our psychologist himself. Reference to removal of footwear incomprehensible. Additionally he has adopted some unusual calendar for dating his reports.

Moon’s day, 2nd Grune 20X6

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Hypnotherapy was relatively successful. Thufir was rather forthcoming while in the trance. Though to my confusion, after some time, he said, with no prompting from me, “I understand.” When I asked what he understood, he replied, “EVERYTHING. The imago cannot reach me here, my heart, my dreams may be tethered, shackled, but my intellect roams unrestricted through all it finds. What I see, I understand, what I understand, I can repeat.”
I think this is at the centre of his many and varied delusions, however at the time I turned the conversation to more casual subjects – I mentioned an acquaintance of mine, Reinholdt, and suggested he might look rather good in a top hat. Thufir displayed a rather incomprehensible look of triumph at this.

Clearly a significant insight. Why did he turn away from the subject to one so inane. Speaking to him in person has provided no further understanding. Thufir appears to have made something of an impression on our psychologist – clearly he is not to be underestimated, even locked in his cell.

This Day, 14th Messidor, Year of the Anchovy

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My second attempt at hypnotherapy was less successful. Thufir resisted this time, and seemed to mock me by imitating my gestures back at me. My recollections are rather hazy beyond this point for some reason, and my notes shed no light on the situation – they are taken up by crude sketches of a ham and some fried eggs, accompanied by some rather nonsensical scribblings.
The more I study Thufir, the more it seems as though I am insane rather than him… Certainly no-one in this world is 100% sane, but he has opened my mind to more than I thought was there…

Following my meeting with the psychologist, I’m astounded that his report was this coherent. Perhaps this course of action should be reconsider - our psychologist's mental state seems to be deteriorating more rapidly than Thufir's.

Dies Irae

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I - … Thufir - … Compelling… he has shown… I know who I am… Sam I am, heh heh heh…… Boo! He understands, he knows, he sees…

……………………………
……………………………
……………………………

I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrella I’m a blue umbrel

So much for psychology.

Not sure how well I feel it turned out...

[Reinholdt]

Speaking from experience, vampires are overrated.
>>
<<
eat me pwease

@ Dragonrider - Heh. I think when the time comes, they won't be wanting to go back to their own times.

@ Thufir - Hey now! Me looking good in a top hat is far from an inane topic. It's one of great importance. *preens*

Sillyness aside, that was great. Blue Umbrella was awesome.
I'll have to make sure he sees it.

[The Rose Dragon]

Something in "When You Love a Rock Star" caught my attention.

If you wanna attract hot, cute, beautiful and generally awesome chicks (or Queeny), you should become a British musician.

[Dragonrider]

Not just any British musician. An AMAZING British musician.

Also there's something about the 60s/70s.

I love the era.

[The Rose Dragon]

What about the '50s? No one cares about the '50s anymore. Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, The Ink Spots, Billie Holiday... Those were the true amazing musicians.

Hmm... That gives me an idea.

*starts scribbling*

EDIT: I realized that none of them were British. Any famous jazz / blues / swing musicians from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland?

[Dragonrider]

It's the HIPPIES I love, man. The HIPPIES.

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[Fredthefighter]

*Cough* 70's and 80's *Cough*
*Cough* AC/DC and Aerosmith *Cough*
*Jumps into the shadows and hides*

[The Rose Dragon]

We'll have to agree to disagree, then.

Though I once heard Yusuf set out to create Islamic rap. I wonder how that turned out.

[Dragonrider]

We'll have to agree to disagree, then.

Though I once heard Yusuf set out to create Islamic rap. I wonder how that turned out.

I think that's a false rumor.

But he's done a lot of kids' stuff (largely in Arabic). Also he came out with a new pop album (An Other Cup) in 2006. I haz it. but it just ain't the 70s.

[The Rose Dragon]

Isolation -

A one-man, one-act play by Khan -

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I must be awesome.

Really, if you were to stat me out in, say, True20, I'd have to have Hide in Plain Sight, +100 Stealth and an ability that allows me to Take 20 on Stealth checks without even trying all the time.

Of course, that gets into the realm of "blessed with suck" more than anything.

Sometimes, I feel like people are incapable of being aware of me. Not just incapable of seeing me - also hearing me, reading what I write, smelling me or even touching me.

I probably exist. Cogito, ergo sum and all that jazz. I pinched myself a thousand times and it hurt in many of those, so I'm not dreaming or anything. But people won't acknowledge that. They will not acknowledge I exist, I have thoughts (sometimes more valid than their own, sometimes utterly wrong, but they are mine), I have feelings, I bleed, I cry, etc..

They refuse to get close to me. They refuse to even try. I know I haven't been very encouraging, but they should have at least tried. Maybe if they did, I'd have been more willing to show them who I really am.

Would they like me? Probably not.

But honestly, we may never know.

I just wish...

"Hello there."

I fall off my chair.

I turn around to see a tall, thin man with red hair and dark eyes. At this distance, I cannot tell their color, but they are indeed dark. He is wearing a black longcoat, black gloves and black boots. But the man himself is as pale as the night. He has a (silver?) lighter in his hand.

"Fine night, isn't it?"

I haven't crapped myself yet, so at least I have that going for me.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice trembling, as well as my hands.

"I'm a friend of yours, from sometime ago, and your master. I just dropped by to see how you're doing, and whether you're still mine."

He takes a cigarette from his breast pocket. He extends his hand as if he is offering me the fag.

"I don't smoke," I say while slightly shaking my head.

"Suit yourself." He puts the stick between his lips and lights it very carefully. He inhales a single breath from the smoke, and takes the cigarette between his fingers. They are very thin, very delicate. He lets out the smoke in his lungs, and they form a rough image of inverted testicles in the air - most people would call it a heart.

"I've also come to give you advice, if you're willing to take it." He has not the slightest hint of emotion on his face, but his eyes are almost consuming - consuming of hope.

"You walk into my room, unannounced, uninvited and scare me to hell, and want to give me advice?"

"I never said I wanted to give you advice, darling. I just said I've come to do so." He looks at the butt in his hand, as if grieving the loss of a dear friend, and tosses it across the room with a flick of his finger.

"You didn't even smoke the thing yet."

"Not a big fan of smoking, to be honest." His words are clear, but his voice is raspy, like a loud, coarse whisper. "It's the fire I enjoy. I light a fag, I take one breath - that's enough for the whole thing to destroy itself. Inevitable, unless stopped. It's almost poetic."

"That's your advice?"

"No, no. It's just... it's what I do, you see. Consuming things with a single breath. Cigarettes, lives; it doesn't matter much.

"My advice is something else. Stop this foolishness."

I try to make sense of it for a few moments, before I drop my jaw and utter "Huh?".

"It's simple. Stop doing this thing you're doing. Pitying yourself, hating yourself, obsessing about others, wondering why they don't like you. You want to know why? Because you might be like gold, but you're covered in mud, hidden beneath miles of earth and far away on a distant planet. No one cares about something they can't sense, they can't touch, no matter how precious.

"So take a hint: stop caring. You're so lost in self-pitying, wallowing in misery and obsession about the bad, and all because you care too much. So don't do it. Don't complain, don't whine, don't want."

He comes closer and puts one of his hands on my shoulder. I try to muster the energy to say something.

"Have you ever been in love?" I ask.

"I've been married several times, though that's not what you're asking. I created love. And I know what you're going to ask. You're wrong. I did not design it to be cruel. I did not design it to be fair, either, but it is not cruel. The one that is cruel is you. You're cruel to yourself. You're cruel to others. So, you see cruelty too often, and you see love too often, and you sort of associate the two. It's gonna get you in trouble one day."

He takes another fag from his pocket, and holds it in front of my face.

"See this? Hand rolled it myself. Picked and processed the tobacco personally. I know everything that ever happened to it. It is mine, utterly and completely - none else's.

"Yet I could choose to give it to someone else. From then on, it would no longer be my duty. No longer my responsibility. It could be smoked, or it could be preserved. But it would no longer be mine."

I can no longer speak in anything but a whimper. "What's that got to do with me?" I ask, but I can almost not believe he can hear me.

"You're also mine. I had a very large role in creating you, bringing you to where you are. And you will be mine again, one day, when you die. But until that day, I release you from my service. Your misery, your despair, is truly your own now.

"I do hope you can find something better for yourself, darling. And you will, if you listen to my advice. So do listen." He takes his hand off me, and starts walking towards the door, ever so slowly.

"Wait... Who are you?"

But he no longer responds to me. My vision gets blurred, and it becomes white. So white, in fact, it is almost blackened in its brightness.

...

I wake up at my desk. The man is no longer there. The room no longer smells of smoke. It must have been a dream, I think.

Then I notice it. The lighter in the man's hand. Sitting there on my desk, right next to where my head was. I take it in my hand, and light it for a few seconds. Then I close it, extinguishing the flame.

"What the hell," I say. "Ain't no shame in trying."

[The Rose Dragon]

That is, in fact, a ship fic. One of the parties involved is me. The other is intentionally left vague.