Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

[Rawhide]

...maybe later.

It would certainly be taking it to the logical extreme. I wonder if anyone will write the tragic love story of Titanic and the iceberg, a forbidden love affair that could never last.

[randman22222]

Kneen, this was awesome as well.
*Nitpick, activate.*
The sentences on a whole were excellent, what with the exquisite level of description you put in, but the sentence beginnings were not very varied. Many many many of them started with "Randman <verb>", or "<Gender-specific pronoun> <verb>". So maybe mix up the sentence beginnings (just don't go into passive voice ).
Also, try throwing in some more advanced literary devices. You can describe a setting pretty damned well, so it's the next logical step. I noticed that there were some decent metaphors in the dialogue, so maybe try and throw them into the description and such. Also, try playing with 'sound' as well. Assonance, etc.

And Helgraf, that storyline you have there is creepy. Beautifully written, but creepy.

With all this awesome stuff being written out, I think I ought to finish my shipfic up soon. Hopefully it won't detract from the awesomeness.

EDIT: And I vote the mysterious blonde.
EDIT2: Do I overuse smilies?

[Dallas-Dakota]

It would certainly be taking it to the logical extreme. I wonder if anyone will write the tragic love story of Titanic and the iceberg, a forbidden love affair that could never last.

He was ice cold...But she loved him....And he loved her....But she had to go on...Her duty...Her task.... She had to go on.. Mad with the breaking of his icy heart, he collided with her, sinking her into the ever icy depths........

[Jibar]

Hmmm...

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"Morning Fuji"
"Mornin' Everest. What have we got?"
"Ya classic Romeo and Juliet scenario. Murder suicide."
"Murder what? That wasn't in Romeo and Juliet."
"Wasn't it?"
"No. They both killed themselves because they thought the other was dead."
"Oh... were they?"
"Huh?"
"Dead, were they both dead."
"Well Juliet wasn't. Romeo was. Some versions have him still alive when Juliet wakes up and then die in her arms."
"That's real sweet."
"Yuh huh... sure Everest."
They both stood in silent contemplation.
"That conversation had nothing to do with the case."
"Not one thing."
"So what is the case?"
"1 mountain. Apparantly was something of a name out on the streets, hanging out with lots of glaciers and the like. Went by the name of Iceberg."
"Huh. Who's the broad with him then?"
"1 ship. We've identified her as Titanic."
"You mentioned Romeo and Juliet. The two were involved?"
"Yup. Inter-racial. From our preliminary investigations, nobody was really happy about the whole thing. The parents weren't happy at all, and Iceberg's 'posse' were very pushy in trying to make him break up with her."
"We've talked with the posse?"
"Yup. There were found by one of them. Chap called... Vanilla. He's down at the station being questioned."
"What about Titanic?"
"Comes from the West side. Very wealthy apparantly. Parents big socialities or something of the kind. Unfortunately they went missing sometime last night. We've sent people to their home and their place of work, but they can't be found."
"Hmm... so the posse and the girl's parents are our major suspects?"
"Correct. Where we go from here is up to you."
"Let's go chat with Vanilla. Maybe he'll know more."
They turned to leave and were halfway out the door when Fuji stopped.
"Something up Fuji?"
"Hold up."
He leant down next to Iceberg, peering keenly at the body. He rubbed at it.
"Is that...?"
"A real good disguise. Our boy Iceberg is really a glacier."
"Someone disguised him as a mountain. Why?"
"I don't know Everest. But this case is more complicated than it seemed."
"THEN LET'S ROCK!"
And Fuji broke out a guitar and played some killer rifts as they left.

...someday I'll stop anthropomorphising things that were never meant to be anthropomorphised.

[randman22222]

Hmmm...

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"Morning Fuji"
"Mornin' Everest. What have we got?"
"Ya classic Romeo and Juliet scenario. Murder suicide."
"Murder what? That wasn't in Romeo and Juliet."
"Wasn't it?"
"No. They both killed themselves because they thought the other was dead."
"Oh... were they?"
"Huh?"
"Dead, were they both dead."
"Well Juliet wasn't. Romeo was. Some versions have him still alive when Juliet wakes up and then die in her arms."
"That's real sweet."
"Yuh huh... sure Everest."
They both stood in silent contemplation.
"That conversation had nothing to do with the case."
"Not one thing."
"So what is the case?"
"1 mountain. Apparantly was something of a name out on the streets, hanging out with lots of glaciers and the like. Went by the name of Iceberg."
"Huh. Who's the broad with him then?"
"1 ship. We've identified her as Titanic."
"You mentioned Romeo and Juliet. The two were involved?"
"Yup. Inter-racial. From our preliminary investigations, nobody was really happy about the whole thing. The parents weren't happy at all, and Iceberg's 'posse' were very pushy in trying to make him break up with her."
"We've talked with the posse?"
"Yup. There were found by one of them. Chap called... Vanilla. He's down at the station being questioned."
"What about Titanic?"
"Comes from the West side. Very wealthy apparantly. Parents big socialities or something of the kind. Unfortunately they went missing sometime last night. We've sent people to their home and their place of work, but they can't be found."
"Hmm... so the posse and the girl's parents are our major suspects?"
"Correct. Where we go from here is up to you."
"Let's go chat with Vanilla. Maybe he'll know more."
They turned to leave and were halfway out the door when Fuji stopped.
"Something up Fuji?"
"Hold up."
He leant down next to Iceberg, peering keenly at the body. He rubbed at it.
"Is that...?"
"A real good disguise. Our boy Iceberg is really a glacier."
"Someone disguised him as a mountain. Why?"
"I don't know Everest. But this case is more complicated than it seemed."
"THEN LET'S ROCK!"
And Fuji broke out a guitar and played some killer rifts as they left.

...someday I'll stop anthropomorphising things that were never meant to be anthropomorphised.

That was strange. Not much more to say.

[Calamity]

And just when you think it can't get any weirder around here....

Good job, Jibs.

[Ethrael]

Hilarious and sweet. I loved it yet again. I think you should continue the anthropomorphizing.

Oh and rand, I didn't find Knee's passage to start sentences too often too similarly, I thought it was healthily varied. There was a feeling of slightly rushed narrative of actions but I don't think that was the cause of it. Something else maybe, but not the beginnings of sentences...

[Dallas-Dakota]

The Shipping thread, we even shipped the Titanic.


Sorry for the sucky pun.

[zeratul]

The Shipping thread, we even shipped the Titanic.


Sorry for the sucky pun.

That pun doesn't even make sense! >_<

[Dr. Bath]

This shipping thread needs better puns or we're sunk!

>_>
<_<

And a new plateau of odd for you, Jibar.

[Mordokai]

Don't throw stones in the sinking boat, you accursed bathing tub

This shipping thing is harder than it looks. Hopefully, my first ship will be ended and presented by the end of the week. Then we'll see how good of a pirate I am

[Helgraf]

And Helgraf, that storyline you have there is creepy. Beautifully written, but creepy.

I daresay, if it's not creepy, then I'm doing it entirely wrong. I did promise this was going to be a black ship, once I'd secured permission from Curly. Thank you for the praise.

[SurlySeraph]

Not to state the obvious, but you people are crazy. Keep it up.

[Fan]

I've never seen the shipping thread get this low on the first page.

[Cobra_Ikari]

The shipping thread is sinking? Oh noes! =O

Quick! Someone make some romance!

[randman22222]

Err yeah. I'll finish mine today...

And prolly not help at all to keep it from sinking. See, if I think it won't be any good, I'll just write for the sake of writing, to please myself. And that way, it'll mayhaps turn out good. :)

EDIT: ARGH! Didn't finish.

[Kaelaroth]

Right. Mystery boy fic will come soon, when I have more time and energy on my inky sleepy hands.

For now:
Letter

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Looking back, from now to when, or then, whichever, I see the situation differently. Back then, it was warm, and nice, a simple word for simple times, and I loved the summer of our love, your smiling face the sun.
Now it's cold, dark winter. And the snow obscures you face, letting me look down to see her in the cold, bright ice.

I never want to see you again.

[Ethrael]

Installment 2 of the Escapees series will almost certainly be ready by tomorrow unless anything comes up. If there's anyone else wishing to be in it or any other ones drop me a pm or sumthing like that.

@^ Very potent, the cold, hard imagery enforces it and accentuates it. Very nice.

[CurlyKitGirl]

What has come before and alongside...

Prelude - Discernment

Prelude - Interstices

Prelude - Hunter's Green

Part 1 (by RHL)

Mad Season - Adaptation

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Mad Season - Adaptation
Bubbles. They floated by him, distorted faces screaming silently. Occasionally he would reach out and pop one with a twisted fingernail. Rainbow-hued film clung to the jagged nail, and he stared at it for a time, watching the colours shift as he twisted and turned his hand thither and yon. It was calming, after the frustration he'd experienced.

Wholly unsuitable. He'd been wholly unsuitable for the project; clay glazed with its flaws still sealed within. The flaws went too deep. The scalpel was too superficial, and Master had forbade him to kill. But the artist inside demanded release, railed once more against the uselessness of painting on soiled canvas.

So he composed. An ode to indifference, sung in the key of cerulean dreams, murmured and mangled, he recited, point to counterpoint, each drabble, each dribble, each pearl before the swine uniquely formed to take the flaws of the man and transform them into a beautiful sineous serpent that laid a crystal egg inside the walls, a limbless lizard within to match the man without.

Haunting words, half-said, half-sad. Within the walls of the womb-forge where he was to be reborn, he planted his seed, nursed it and watered it. Watched it put down roots and draw sustenance and grow. It was most beautiful to watch as the man's hubris slowly shifted to the fore, almost intoxicating for Renfield to watch his creation slowly reason himself into the abyss. The very set nature of his character ensured he would be unable to adapt.

All it took was two lunar cycles. Disappointing. He tore at his hair and his arms in a rage at his failure. He did not even realize that two orderlies had attempted to take hold of him until he felt the metallic sliver; felt the familiar black blossoming that unfurled through his body, opening like the lotus of enlightenment to cradle him.

...

Bright flashes. Portraits of ruin, spinning slowly into oblivion. And behind it all, two eyes watching. Always watching.

"Why?!"

"Why won't you speak to me?"

"Rise, Renfield"

...

Words sailed like ships on an ocean of liquid obsidian.

"He's been like this for three days."

The patient voice of the Keeper cut in smoothly. "He will rise soon. Make sure food and water are available. Soft, simple foods."

"Who will take his docket?"

"Wiggins, I think. He's shown a flair for dealing with ... special cases."

Once more he slipped beneath the surface.

...

"You test your limits, Renfield. Know they will be tested further."

Bubbles, like black tar, oozed up all around, bursting, spattering his flesh, sending burning heat rushing through him.

"Enough, Renfield! You will learn to come and go when I call you, or I shall simply stop calling. Rise once again into your dreams.

Screaming voiceless, he fell into the void

...

The walls came back first; as eyes opened, mouth dry and ragged, lips parting on the scream that woke him. The door was next, firm and resolute, seperating him from the rats who ran the maze. Still hazy, it was some time before he could will his limbs into solidity, crawling awkwardly toward the bowl whose contents he could smell more than see and thrusting his face into it, hardly feeling the warmth of the broth as he drank it down, whuffling like a pig at trough, and as neatly.

For a moment, he blew bubbles in the broth, but the rainbows refused to dance for him today. It hardly mattered - he was dreaming, and in time, the dream would dance with him.

...

The frustration returned all too soon. The master had been correct. Time and again and again, he'd been correct. This Wiggins was too soft; he could not be shaped. Alabaster was as pointless as his namesake, and Hemaphile was too engrossed in the plumbing to come up for air. And that was the best of the lot. The bubbles popped in silent screams, leaving behind only a sticky film with a sour taste. Four times they pulled him out of the womb. Four times they inserted him again. He bubbled and seethed with the indignity of his situation, until, like a teapot he began to boil over.

And then he would **** his ear to one side or the other, as if listening to something from afar, and he would, of a sudden, be seized by a calmness that was, if anything, even more disturbing than his ravings and mumblings. At these times he was heard to mutter under his breath.

"No death. Not even la petite mort, d'champs."

This odd little mantra was quickly written off as one more example of his 'warped poetry', added to the file, along with the letters of transfer and resignation, and a series of newsprint stills, of scandals and suicides of prominent members of society. Very carefully made investments, coupled with the public's general aversion to even thinking about asylums were all that had kept the name of the asylum itself out of these pieces.

It was enough to drive one mad, the Warder noted with grim irony as he reviewed the file once more before replacing it.

...

It was summer outside the asylum. A woman approached the doors; she was carefully but attractively dressed, in an outfit that suited her figure but did not emphasize it. She walked with an energy and a verve that the madman in the window had never observed before in this place. He immediately moved toward the door of his palace, which gave way to him, and crept into the hallways, moving with a spider-like grace, leaning forward, at times leaning upon his hands as he loped. Turn, turn, turn, there and there. The high man guarded the treasured chamber. He knew how to handle that. Hard and fast, like a bandage. His hand raised up, fingers curled like claws ... and then he fell to the ground, weeping, whispering. "No... no death, d'champs, sworn, swear, Master."

The high man pushed him away a bit as he whimpered, and behind, in the framework of the now open way, she stood, and regarded the mewling thing on the floor. Their eyes met for a moment and the madman's wretched sounds fell silent.

The Warden's voice slid into the silence. "Ahh. Mister Renfield. How apropros to the moment. I would like you to meet Doctor Curly. She'll be starting with us soon..."

Lovely. Just wonderful; some of the imagery is, well let's be frank, distubing which fits Renfield perfectly. His ruminations hint at the story more than tell it so it leaves you wondering just how Renfield came to be forged in the flames of madness. Ah cliches, nothing like them eh?
I await this eagerly.

Bilingual Bonus
Another Letter

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Aujordhui, je meurs. Tu parts, et il n'y a pas un soleil dans le ciel.
How could you leave me? Like that? My heart is dying, suffocating under the dank earth, crushing, crushing, always crushing.
The earth does not care for love. It harbours only death.
Seulement la morte. La morte est patient et si terrible. Ce n'est pas comme sommeil. It is a fear, one so buried deep down in ourselves we never even recall our dreams of it for if we to acknowledge it in our life we would surely break.
Oui, cassé en mille morceaux. Ce blessé.
I can't see the sun any more for the death - seeking earth pressing into my starved eyes. It has only been a day, yet I can't recall colour. What does green look like?
Vert. Les arbres, ils étaient verts. J'éspere. J'ai aimé les arbres. Yes, trees are green. The sound of whispers in the threading through their hair. They knew of your betrayal before I did.
Perhaps it's best to linger in the dark. No. A swift death would bring me peace. Death on swift wings come to me and relieve me of this fist clenching so tight around my heart it feels as though it would split in two.
Je veux reposer en paix . . .

Translations:

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Aujordhui, je meurs. Tu parts, et il n'y a pas un soleil dans le ciel. - Today I die. You leave and there's no sun in the sky.

Seulement la morte. La morte est patient et si terrible. Ce n'est pas comme sommeil. - Only death. Death is patient and so terrible. It is not like sleep.

Oui, cassé en mille morceaux. Ce blessé. - Yes, broken into one thousand pieces. It hurts.

[/I]Vert. Les arbres, ils étaient verts. J'éspere. J'ai aimé les arbres.[/I] - Green. The trees, they were green. I hope. I liked the trees.

Je veux reposer en paix. - I want to rest in peace . . .

This letter is not affiliated with the other Bilingual Bonus in any way. Once again, apologies if I spelt any French words wrong, used the wrong tense or verbs agreements etc. I'm still only learning.

[Vespe Ratavo]

This thread has a distressing lack of things written by me.

As such, I present the following.

Curly/?????
Call Collect

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The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all of it's contents...not bad, she thought. It had been an ordinary day thus far, a good one, perhaps, but normal, and at the moment Curly was where she usually was: in the library, her nose in a book.

Meanwhile, outside, a child bawled in fear and sprinted for his life. A creeping, shapeless darkness crept through the winding streets, searching. The door opened. Oh no...he's here. Eep. Curly pressed the book against her face, peeking over the top.

The blackness found its way within, and began to take an unspeakable physical form, that of a mockery of human, octopus, and a dragon, its flesh a sickening greenish color colour, its hideous tentacles sprawling through the building, destroying shelves and rending its occupants in twain. It let loose a roar that set the city ablaze, causing its inhabitants to curse the heavens as their beating hearts burst, their very souls ripped from their bodies and sucked into the all-consuming madness.

Oh...hey, Cthulhu. Look casual... She ran a hand through her hair.

It whispered a thousand eldritch secrets in its own tongue, every one of which would drive a mortal man mad.

Oh...um... she blushed. How about...seven?

It seemingly struggled for a moment, attempting to lower one of its mouths to speak in human tongue. O...k. It vanished into a swirling vortex, filled with the screaming souls of the dead.

Curly blushed. I think he likes me! She smiled, and skipped through the wreckage towards her home.

Some day, I hope to hire a psychiatrist and have him find out what's wrong with me. The first one to say I got a detail wrong will be smacked.

[happyturtle]

This thread has a distressing lack of things written by me.

As such, I present the following.

Curly/?????
Call Collect

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The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all of it's contents...not bad, she thought. It had been an ordinary day thus far, a good one, perhaps, but normal, and at the moment Curly was where she usually was: in the library, her nose in a book.

Meanwhile, outside, a child bawled in fear and sprinted for his life. A creeping, shapeless darkness crept through the winding streets, searching. The door opened. Oh no...he's here. Eep. Curly pressed the book against her face, peeking over the top.

The blackness found its way within, and began to take an unspeakable physical form, that of a mockery of human, octopus, and a dragon, its flesh a sickening greenish color colour, its hideous tentacles sprawling through the building, destroying shelves and rending its occupants in twain. It let loose a roar that set the city ablaze, causing its inhabitants to curse the heavens as their beating hearts burst, their very souls ripped from their bodies and sucked into the all-consuming madness.

Oh...hey, Cthulhu. Look casual... She ran a hand through her hair.

It whispered a thousand eldritch secrets in its own tongue, every one of which would drive a mortal man mad.

Oh...um... she blushed. How about...seven?

It seemingly struggled for a moment, attempting to lower one of its mouths to speak in human tongue. O...k. It vanished into a swirling vortex, filled with the screaming souls of the dead.

Curly blushed. I think he likes me! She smiled, and skipped through the wreckage towards her home.

Some day, I hope to hire a psychiatrist and have him find out what's wrong with me. The first one to say I got a detail wrong will be smacked.

Okay, you win the thread! *hands over trophy*

[CurlyKitGirl]

Squick much? It's a good fic, but the pairing. I can say that I've never been paired with something like that before.
And now if you pardon me I must go. Go quickly before I lose sanity.

[Vespe Ratavo]

Squick much? It's a good fic, but the pairing. I can say that I've never been paired with something like that before.
And now if you pardon me I must go. Go quickly before I lose sanity.

That was the response I was hoping for.

I might do something less squicky soon, though.

Okay, you win the thread! *hands over trophy*

Yay! *takes trophy*
*bows* Thank you, thank you, you're too kind.

[CurlyKitGirl]

YOu do realise you'll never be able to leave again right? Never, this insidous little thread is more addicting than a . . . really very addicting thing. And you'll want to write more, and more and more.

[Moff Chumley]

Kael, I'm forced to assume rockers such as myself would never take part in something as crass as a talent show, right? Right?

[Helgraf]

Lovely. Just wonderful; some of the imagery is, well let's be frank, distubing which fits Renfield perfectly. His ruminations hint at the story more than tell it so it leaves you wondering just how Renfield came to be forged in the flames of madness. Ah cliches, nothing like them eh?
I await this eagerly.

Mmm, yes. I have been deliberately playing with the amount of details I release in each part of the story, and also deliberately setting certain scenes so that what occured could be interpreted in multiple fashions. The very first scene (in Discernment) for example, has at least three broad possibilities for what happened with that woman, each supported by different parts of the story.

[Moff Chumley]

This fic started as just something to Joe Jackson's It's Different For Girls, but then became a really personal, corny affair. Anyway, for a first fic, I don't think it's too bad.

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What the hell is wrong with you tonight?
I can't seem to say or do the right thing
Chumley began the fifth draft of his fic. He had to wonder, what made it so easy for Kael, or Kneen, or Curley?
Wanted to be sure you're feeling right
Wanted to be sure we want the same thing
Did they even want him in the shipping thread? Everyone in the playground was of course to polite to order him out, but how was he supposed to know what to do?

She said, I can't believe it
You can't, possibly mean it
Regardless of writing the ship in the first place, who was he supposed to ship himself with?
Don't we, all want the same thing
Does it even matter? Would Curly like a ship more than RHL, for instance?
Don't we
Well, who said anything about love?
RHL's ship about Chumley; what did it even mean? Was it a message, 'get out of our thread', or did she actually find Chumley's attempts at humor funny?

No, not love she said
Nope. Couldn't be that. Nobody really likes metahumor.
Don't you know that it's different for girls?
How do they manage, so effortlessly, to be funny?

No, not love she said
Chumley supposed that in that way, real life was much like the internet.
Don't you know that it's different for girls?
For some people, being funny and popular is easy. Not so, sadly, for Chumley.
You're all the same
Insecurity is so arrogant. Of course everyone thinks like that, sometimes.
You're all the same
Right?

[EvilElitest]

ten pages and still unshipped. Not even with callos NOOOOOO
from
EE

[Helgraf]

ten pages and still unshipped. Not even with callos NOOOOOO
from
EE

So write one yourself.

[Dallas-Dakota]

This fic started as just something to Joe Jackson's It's Different For Girls, but then became a really personal, corny affair. Anyway, for a first fic, I don't think it's too bad.

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What the hell is wrong with you tonight?
I can't seem to say or do the right thing
Chumley began the fifth draft of his fic. He had to wonder, what made it so easy for Kael, or Kneen, or Curley?
Wanted to be sure you're feeling right
Wanted to be sure we want the same thing
Did they even want him in the shipping thread? Everyone in the playground was of course to polite to order him out, but how was he supposed to know what to do?

She said, I can't believe it
You can't, possibly mean it
Regardless of writing the ship in the first place, who was he supposed to ship himself with?
Don't we, all want the same thing
Does it even matter? Would Curly like a ship more than RHL, for instance?
Don't we
Well, who said anything about love?
RHL's ship about Chumley; what did it even mean? Was it a message, 'get out of our thread', or did she actually find Chumley's attempts at humor funny?

No, not love she said
Nope. Couldn't be that. Nobody really likes metahumor.
Don't you know that it's different for girls?
How do they manage, so effortlessly, to be funny?

No, not love she said
Chumley supposed that in that way, real life was much like the internet.
Don't you know that it's different for girls?
For some people, being funny and popular is easy. Not so, sadly, for Chumley.
You're all the same
Insecurity is so arrogant. Of course everyone thinks like that, sometimes.
You're all the same
Right?

Meh, you write better fics then I do.
Or atleast I think so, but I'm a lowly and humble writer with only something like two fics in the previous thread and none in the current.

I was a bit sad, so I read through the first twenty pages of the first thread, now I'm happy again!