Shipping itP II: Scourge of the Seven Seas

[Kaelaroth]

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

Sweety, your part's been decided. Fear not.

[CurlyKitGirl]

I think the following is the strangest ship ever to be requested. Ever. Seriously. Direct from the GtKaP thread:

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? And would it be worth a drabble?

Twelve times. And here goes:

(Miss) Wood/Wydechuck (Woodchuck):
The Dance Floor

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I bet you look good on the dance floor . . . She was a wonderful dancer, he just loved to stand there, on the periphery of the surging bodies, watching her dance there proud and solo. Around her the mass of poorly coordinated dancers awed, had left her her own space to dance in perfect rhythm and freedom.
And God, she was like a butterfly, flitting from form to form; no, as graceful as a dolphin playing in the sunset. No, more. Like a young willow bending and swaying to the wind that is the heartbeat of the earth.
He had to dance with her.
He pushed his way through the tumult to her; reigning supreme and asked her for this one dance. Heart quivering a tremulous counterbeat to the music waited, poised for the rebuttal. And when she agreed, a wonderful glow to her face making her more than a goddess, his heart thrummed into perfect synchrony with hers and the beat of the music.
Afterwards he could never recall if their hearts were the music they danced to, or if the music had, for one glorious song, become their very souls and the beat to which the universe danced. He remembered the throws. Throwing her up into the air, or spinning around like a true ballroom dancer, but wilder. Twelve. Yes, twelve moments where a human flew under her own power.
When the song ended the applause they got shocked them out of their world. And they did not part ways. They had touched the soul of the other and had found their dancing mate. Always they would be together. Always dancing to songs that only they could hear.

How's that? And it's so going in the Shipping thread. Heh, shipping an inanimate object and a bird? from a tonguetwister.

[Gem Flower]

*wanders in* Shipping? Oh yeah, those short stories about Playgrounders. Can I join?

[wadledo]

There's a permission thread somewhere, but nobody ever bothers with it.
Just ask somebody to do a shipping of you with somebody, and since you're female, it'll be done before you can calculate the square root of -1.

[Gem Flower]

I meant can I write something?

[wadledo]

Why are you asking me?
Write then!
Write like there's no tomorrow!

[Gem Flower]

Yay! *leaves to find someone to write about*

[happyturtle]

There are no restrictions about who can write. The only guidelines are that it fit in with the forum guidelines and that if you write about real people, that they've given permission. So have fun! The more writers the better!

[Moff Chumley]

A second terrible song fic. 'Zira/Jibar to the tune of "The Way I Feel Inside" by The Zombies.

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Should I try to hide
The way I feel inside
'Zira had, of course, been with the shipping thread almost from the start.
My heart for you?
Would you say that you
Would try to love me too?
And in all that time, there was one person to whom he hung on to every word.
In your mind could you ever be
Really close to me?
But, needless to say, he wasn't about to let Jibar know of his of newfound obsession.
I can tell the way you smile
Something told 'Zira that Jibar didn't want to go beyond shipping icebergs and fell horrors, anyway.
If I feel that I could be certain then
I would say the things
I want to say tonight
But how on earth was 'Zira supposed to be able to fathom the thoughts of someone as delightfully wacky as Jibar?

But till I can see
That you'd really care for me
It would be so easy to just mimic that loser Chumley. Just toss everything out, let everything go.
I will dream that someday you'll be
Really close to me
How sincere would that be, though?
I can tell the way you smile
Jibar probably wouldn't have a high opinion of it.
If I feel that I could be certain then
I would say the things
I want to say tonight
But who knows what goes on in the mid of a catmuffin?

But till I can see
That you'd really care for me
I'll keep trying to hide
The way I feel inside
No one, thats who. And that's why 'Zira loved her.

(@ Kael: I'll leave you alone about that. I pwomise.)

[happyturtle]

Ship Wars
The Empire Ships Back, part 4

Starring:

Calamity as Calthreepio
Cobra_Ikari as Darth Cobra
Collin152 as Emperor Collpatine
CurlyKitGirl as Curly Jade
Dihan as Artoodihan
Dr Bath as Bath Vader (formerly Sink Skywalker)
FF Fanboy as Fanboy Skywalker
Freshmeat as Fresho
Happyturtle as Happyturtle the Handmaiden
Haruki-kun as Haruki-Kun Kenobi
Jibar as Princess Catmuffin
Kaeleroth as Kaeleroth, a traitor
Lex-Kat as Lex-Kat the Pixie
Lord Fullbladder as Bladder the Hutt
Lyinginbedmon as Ly-Mon Jinn
Mauve Shirt as Mauve Skywalker
Midnight Son as Midnight Son, a war orphan
Phase as Phase the Death Moon
Rabbit Hole Lost as Queen Padme Rabbitala
Raistlin1040 as Raistlin the musician
Randman22222 as Rando Calrissian
Rubakhin as Rubakha
Terraoblivion as Terra Oblivion, a war refugee
Thanatos5150 as Than Tolo
The Rose Dragon as The Rose Dragon, a war orphan
TheCountAlucard as Alu Fett

Episode IV: A New Ship: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Episode V: The Empire Ships Back: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Echoes of the Past: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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"I came to say goodbye," Catmuffin said to Than. He wa working on the hyperdrive, unable to figure out what was wrong with it. He hadn't heard her enter, so he kept his head stuck in the engines, so she wouldn't see how her voice affected him.

"You didn't need to bother, Your Grace. Lucky Penny isn't going anywhere until I can figure out this damned hyperdrive. Guess you're stuck with me a little while longer."

"I'm sorry you're still having difficulties," she said. "But I'm the one leaving. There's been word of some vessels that escaped Alderan before..." she swallowed hard. "They're my people. I need to be with them."

Than felt like a complete ass. He backed out of the access tube and picked her up. "I'm sorry, Catmuffin. I hope you find someone you know."

She smiled bitterly. "Even if I do, I'll probably just find that I don't know them that well after all."

She turned to go. And he wanted to say, I'll go with you. Let me be your pilot. Your bodyguard. I'll take you wherever you want to go, anywhere in the galaxy. I'll protect you from every danger...

But he could only protect her by keeping far far away from her. So he didn't say anything.

And then the alarms sounded.

***

When the alarms sounded in the dead of night, Artoodihan and Calthreepio were together in the armoury, where they had locked themselves in for some hot android nookie.

"It's probably a false alarm," Calthreepio said. "Can you shut it off?"

Artoodihan plugged into the nearest terminal, only to begin cursing fluently in binary. "F**k! Not a drill!" he said, lurching away to pull on his outer panels. "The Death Moon is here! You've got to get to the Princess!"

"Me? What about you?" Calthreepio said, also hurriedly reattaching panels.

"I've got to get to the Lucky Penny. If Than tries to take off, he'll never reach hyperspace. I've got to fix what I broke."

"I'll go with you."

"No! You've got to get to Catmuffin and get her on one of the transports."

"Fanboy can do that," Calthreepio insisted.

"He'll be leading the defense," Artoodihan said. "Listen, who knows these caves better than the two of us? Nobody. You can get her to safety faster than anyone else can except me, and I've got to make sure Than and Rubakhin make it out safely."

"We'll be separated!"

Artoodihan grabbed Calthreepio in a fierce kiss. "We'll meet at the rendezvous point. I swear, I'll find you. And when I do, no more secrecy--no matter what."

To be continued....

Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I keep writing short scenes and procrastinating about putting them up because I wanted to get further along. In this case, I wanted to actually get as far as the battle and evacuation. But I finally decided I'd rather just toss it out there where it could get some fresh air instead of sitting in my notebook making me feel guilty.

(And yes, this means the abominable snowman scene was cut. I just couldn't think of anything interesting to say about it.)

[Moff Chumley]

Very nice, as per usual, Turtle.
Am I sensing an upcoming appearance, perhaps?

[Cristo Meyers]

Very nice, as per usual, Turtle.
Am I sensing an upcoming appearance, perhaps?

I'm more surprised that you haven't made an appearance yet. She doesn't even have to change your name...

Like I should talk...

[Helgraf]

Ship Wars
The Empire Ships Back, part 4

Starring:

Calamity as Calthreepio
Cobra_Ikari as Darth Cobra
Collin152 as Emperor Collpatine
CurlyKitGirl as Curly Jade
Dihan as Artoodihan
Dr Bath as Bath Vader (formerly Sink Skywalker)
FF Fanboy as Fanboy Skywalker
Freshmeat as Fresho
Happyturtle as Happyturtle the Handmaiden
Haruki-kun as Haruki-Kun Kenobi
Jibar as Princess Catmuffin
Kaeleroth as Kaeleroth, a traitor
Lex-Kat as Lex-Kat the Pixie
Lord Fullbladder as Bladder the Hutt
Lyinginbedmon as Ly-Mon Jinn
Mauve Shirt as Mauve Skywalker
Midnight Son as Midnight Son, a war orphan
Phase as Phase the Death Moon
Rabbit Hole Lost as Queen Padme Rabbitala
Raistlin1040 as Raistlin the musician
Randman22222 as Rando Calrissian
Rubakhin as Rubakha
Terraoblivion as Terra Oblivion, a war refugee
Thanatos5150 as Than Tolo
The Rose Dragon as The Rose Dragon, a war orphan
TheCountAlucard as Alu Fett

*mega-snip of rest*

:: makes puppy eyes :: I can has part soon?

[Dallas-Dakota]

Gem, feel free to write about me 'n you.

*mega-snip of rest*

:: makes puppy eyes :: I can has part soon?

*seconds*
Just for me then. Ofcourse.

[turkishproverb]

Ship Wars
The Empire Ships Back, part 4

Starring:

Calamity as Calthreepio
Cobra_Ikari as Darth Cobra
Collin152 as Emperor Collpatine
CurlyKitGirl as Curly Jade
Dihan as Artoodihan
Dr Bath as Bath Vader (formerly Sink Skywalker)
FF Fanboy as Fanboy Skywalker
Freshmeat as Fresho
Happyturtle as Happyturtle the Handmaiden
Haruki-kun as Haruki-Kun Kenobi
Jibar as Princess Catmuffin
Kaeleroth as Kaeleroth, a traitor
Lex-Kat as Lex-Kat the Pixie
Lord Fullbladder as Bladder the Hutt
Lyinginbedmon as Ly-Mon Jinn
Mauve Shirt as Mauve Skywalker
Midnight Son as Midnight Son, a war orphan
Phase as Phase the Death Moon
Rabbit Hole Lost as Queen Padme Rabbitala
Raistlin1040 as Raistlin the musician
Randman22222 as Rando Calrissian
Rubakhin as Rubakha
Terraoblivion as Terra Oblivion, a war refugee
Thanatos5150 as Than Tolo
The Rose Dragon as The Rose Dragon, a war orphan
TheCountAlucard as Alu Fett

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"I came to say goodbye," Catmuffin said to Than. He wa working on the hyperdrive, unable to figure out what was wrong with it. He hadn't heard her enter, so he kept his head stuck in the engines, so she wouldn't see how her voice affected him.

"You didn't need to bother, Your Grace. Lucky Penny isn't going anywhere until I can figure out this damned hyperdrive. Guess you're stuck with me a little while longer."

"I'm sorry you're still having difficulties," she said. "But I'm the one leaving. There's been word of some vessels that escaped Alderan before..." she swallowed hard. "They're my people. I need to be with them."

Than felt like a complete ass. He backed out of the access tube and picked her up. "I'm sorry, Catmuffin. I hope you find someone you know."

She smiled bitterly. "Even if I do, I'll probably just find that I don't know them that well after all."

She turned to go. And he wanted to say, I'll go with you. Let me be your pilot. Your bodyguard. I'll take you wherever you want to go, anywhere in the galaxy. I'll protect you from every danger...

But he could only protect her by keeping far far away from her. So he didn't say anything.

And then the alarms sounded.

***

When the alarms sounded in the dead of night, Artoodihan and Calthreepio were together in the armoury, where they had locked themselves in for some hot android nookie.

"It's probably a false alarm," Calthreepio said. "Can you shut it off?"

Artoodihan plugged into the nearest terminal, only to begin cursing fluently in binary. "F**k! Not a drill!" he said, lurching away to pull on his outer panels. "The Death Moon is here! You've got to get to the Princess!"

"Me? What about you?" Calthreepio said, also hurriedly reattaching panels.

"I've got to get to the Lucky Penny. If Than tries to take off, he'll never reach hyperspace. I've got to fix what I broke."

"I'll go with you."

"No! You've got to get to Catmuffin and get her on one of the transports."

"Fanboy can do that," Calthreepio insisted.

"He'll be leading the defense," Artoodihan said. "Listen, who knows these caves better than the two of us? Nobody. You can get her to safety faster than anyone else can except me, and I've got to make sure Than and Rubakhin make it out safely."

"We'll be separated!"

Artoodihan grabbed Calthreepio in a fierce kiss. "We'll meet at the rendezvous point. I swear, I'll find you. And when I do, no more secrecy--no matter what."

To be continued....

Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I keep writing short scenes and procrastinating about putting them up because I wanted to get further along. In this case, I wanted to actually get as far as the battle and evacuation. But I finally decided I'd rather just toss it out there where it could get some fresh air instead of sitting in my notebook making me feel guilty.

(And yes, this means the abominable snowman scene was cut. I just couldn't think of anything interesting to say about it.)

......

I scared now....

[Cobra_Ikari]

Yay! *leaves to find someone to write about*

RHL / Cobra please? *puppy eyes*

[Dallas-Dakota]

See Gem, you'l find some beggars in this thread also who have way to much fun reading them.


Almost as much as we have writing and reading them....

Again, Gem/DD? (Because you know we both crush upon eachother, might as well do something with it.)

[Kneenibble]

I'm posting this before giving it enough time for a really scrupulous editing, but here it is, anyways.

Snakebite
By Kneenibble

Starring (obliquely):
RabbitHoleLost
Cobra Ikari

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“Yes, forsooth. I wish you the joy o’the worm.”

Tittering to himself and wringing his hands, one wrinkled, bony appendage wrecked by labours and disease over another, the old beggar goes. His feet, bare, knobby, blackened, profane the sacred white marble of the palace. With him goes the reek of ripe Nile marshes but not of blood. That smell rises sharp and coppery from the slick pool of it before the throne’s dais to prickle in the sacred nostrils of the Queen.

She stands before the throne, her head raised proudly, her gaze cast down across the bridge of her exquisitely offended nose at the corpse of her lover. He lays face-up, the Roman red of his official garments wet and shiny. The handle of his short stabbing sword sticks up at an angle from his ribs, transfixing the lion’s heart that once thundered Martian there, its fiery essence spilt and spent. Even in death his face, shaved smooth and scrubbed, is proudly set. The black eyes glare up to the home of his warlike Roman gods and fulminous Jupiter their king.

The queen’s tears have started to smear the bold kohl on her eyelids as they trickle down her nobly fixed face. They run, but she does not sob. Not yet.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me: now no more the juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip: -- yare, yare, good Iras; quick.” Her voice fills up the vast marble chamber richly. It is an eloquent polished voice, steady and confident, schooled in regal proclamation. A tear drips from her chin and splatters at her feet, petal-smooth. She lifts her flawless, sculpted arms.

The bidden handmaid approaches. Iras – Iras from most southern Africa, slender, black and hard as ebony, with eyes blacker still, lays a robe of purest white linen over the Queen’s perfect royal shoulders: purest white linen, heavy and soft, trimmed with cloth-of-gold. Opposite her, Charmian, plump and round and white as milk, hair yellow like honey, eyes water-coloured and wide – Charmian from most northern Gaul – steps up to the dais with a woven reed basket held against her breast. A basket which was the base old beggar’s tribute.

Iras smooths the cloth around her Queen’s body and lays a mirror-bright ring of gold over her brow and shaven head. Her eyes, black as obsidian, also run with tears, and her black body wracks with clenched sobs of sorrow and dread even as she works.

The Queen’s unblemished cheeks blanch: her breath heaves with a rising terror. Her eyes flare and she speaks in an intense whisper that slithers and hisses around the sacred marble chamber.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.”

And as she speaks so, the Queen’s eyes dry, and the sea-like heaving of her ribs calms and stills. She lowers her arms, turns, and lays her perfect dainty hands upon the black shoulders of her handmaid.

“So,—have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;—Iras, long farewell.”

The Queen slides her hands around the wood-hard body of Iras and draws her warmly close. The Queen presses her lips, lips which have named countless men for death; for changes of fortune; for glittering prizes; lips which have tasted all the rarest meats of Africa, the cool perfumes of Arabia, the strange spices of far India; lips which knew until now only pleasures and powers, when the bitterness of death and the cruelty of the gods crept on them like wormwood and venom – these Queenly lips, she presses against the full, purplish mouth of her handmaid, and Iras responds and shudders with a tearful sigh. Their tongues meet and run over one another and their bodies flush.

The kiss ends at last, and Iras stands with her eyes closed, the wracking of her sorrow soothed.

The Queen turns to white Charmian and draws her soft, round body against her own. She puts her Queenly lips upon the small, pink mouth of her handmaid, and Charmian melts into the kiss. They taste one another’s wet, smooth pleasure. Charmian, too, is quieted as the Queen draws away, savouring the taste of her handmaids commingled on her tongue which is like some nameless resin.

Beside her, without a sound, Iras falls limply to the ground, her black almond eyes shut fast. The Queen addresses the lifeless vessel in a low, soft voice.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thus thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world it is not worth leave-taking.”

Charmian beside her begins to weep violently, squeezing the reed basket against her full breast, and cries, “Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say the gods themselves do weep!”

The Queen turns to her. Once again, an almost hysterical passion ascends from her viscera and sets her ribs to pump and gasp. She speaks with a contained urgency as she feels the round breast of her handmaid, and lifts the woven lid from the basket pressed against it. “This proves me base: if she first meet the curled Antony, he'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss which is my heaven to have.”

In one perfect, smooth hand, she handles the glossy black snake inside as carefully as cut crystal. With the other perfect, smooth hand, she pulls her purest white linen robe away from her own delicate breast. Glass-clear brine twinkles down her face. Holding it by its calm, triangular head, she looks into the snake’s inscrutable eyes as bright as gems.

“Come, thou mortal wretch,” she says to it, as tenderly as to a wordless babe, “with thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, be angry and despatch. O couldst thou speak, that I might hear thee call great Caesar ass unpolicied!” And she holds that calm, triangular head to the bared smooth roundness of her breast. Its teeth pierce the silken skin. The hard scaled lips press around her skin and with a tenderness that approaches love, pulse and dribble their gift inwards.

“O eastern star!” whispers Charmian aghast, a white hand upon her small pink mouth.

The Queen’s bitterly throbbing passions are quelled and sucked free by the serpent’s loving kiss. With eyes still dripping, but a smile on her exquisite Queenly face, she looks to her afflicted handmaid and admonishes her softly. “Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast that sucks the nurse asleep?”

Stepping backwards, the Queen lowers herself with absolute poise, stroking the calm triangular head latched unmoving on her breast, lowers herself into the marble throne which is hers. She looks down into the gem-like eyes and her face falls peaceful as a lamb’s.

Charmian exercises all of her will to plant her feet, and her upper body and her plump white arms surge forward with the impulse to intervene. “O, break! O, break!” she cries, weeping without shame or reserve.

The Queen is nonplussed. The serpent’s piercing kiss is all. Her fingers run over its glossy smooth body like a lover’s. Her voice comes lilting and breathy and her painted eyelids droop, and Charmian strains to hear. “As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle: -- Antony!”

Then, as light fades and a sourceless breeze tickles her skin,the Queen hears herself say, barely above a whisper, “What should I stay,—“ The sacred marble chamber disappears, and only a red bloom and a smooth, stern face remain, and Queenly eyes glance upwards with it's to the gods.

[Thufir]

I finally finished writing my second fic! It took me less than a month!
First a brief explanation: You may recall my first fic. If not, it's here. Now, I really liked the idea of the jazz band, but couldn't think of a way to put them in another fic without just making it essentially the same thing with a different person. Unless...

Player Zero/Thufir's stalking jazz band
The Dance of Chaos

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Finally, the streets had emptied, and Player Zero felt he could venture outside onto the streets. He revelled in his freedom and solitude, randomly singing and quoting, and beginning to dance frenziedly, his feet imitating the chaos of his mind. At this, he stopped his singing, as no music he knew could match such movement.
Although, something started to come to mind… nothing he’d ever heard before, but just something in his head, pure improvisation from many instruments along with his own dancing, all fitting together, against all probability.
Wait… it wasn’t just in his head! He spun around and saw a jazz band behind him. So startled at this intrusion, he turned again and fled, limbs flailing wildly, and didn’t stop until he had left the musicians far behind. Distrusting the apparent solitude of the night, he retreated once more into his house. However his paranoia would not rest; he looked at everything with suspicion, and sure enough, on his bed was a mobile phone which had definitely not been there when he left. As he noticed it, it began to vibrate, the screen saying ‘Thufir calling’. Taking a moment to secure the windows and door, Player Zero answered the call.
“…Hello?” He could hear faint music coming down the phone.
“You know, I think you hurt their feelings. I mean, it’s hard to tell since they never put their instruments down long enough to speak, but they certainly look a little dejected.”
“How did this phone get in here?”
“They’re surprisingly capable when it comes to stealth. As far as I can tell, they manage it by playing suspenseful James Bond music. For some reason it works.”
“What do they want with me anyway?”
“You’re just so impressively chaotic. It gives them something to play music to.”
“I are teh chaos’est. But I likes me my solitude.”
“Be seeing you.”
Player Zero switched off the phone and went to bed, not knowing what to make of any of this.

Some days later, he was in town book-shopping. The maths section of each and every bookshop he browsed was sadly lacking, however. In the last bookshop, he was grumbling about this when Thufir arrived unexpectedly behind him.
“Yeah, it’s disappointing. I’m really at a loss for how to get the books on my module reading lists short of ordering them over the internet. What is it you’re looking for?”
In response PZ proffered a reading list and pointed to one of the titles on it.
“That one sounded kind of interesting.”
“Yeah, pity. I’ve never seen it anywhere.”
As they exited the store a huge chord resounded from all directions. People looked around in confusion. Then, just as suddenly it stopped. Player Zero quickly recovered from his shock, but was surprised to find himself holding a book. In fact, the very book he had been looking for.
“They’re fast. Fast like feegles, it would seem. Enjoy that book.”
And at that, Player Zero danced off, to the accompaniment of jazz music exuding from all over, miraculously keeping up with him.

Later that night, PZ was really getting into the maths. But he yearned for something more complex, more taxing, and started looking at 2nd year reading lists.
“Hmm… How about Advanced Engineering Mathematics, Erwin Kreyszig?”
He waited expectantly for a while, but to no avail. To be sure, he switched the phone back on, and it immediately vibrated.
“Hello?”
“Some might consider that exploitative.”
“Scientific experiment. Besides, it didn’t work.”
“The gap on my bookshelf says differently. I’ll be wanting that back, if you don’t mind.”
“But I-oh.”
“Just arrived, has it? I told you they were stealthy. Anyhow, you’re still just using them to get what you want.”
“But I must achieve my goals! Follow my dreams! I AM THE MAN WHO WILL BECOME THE PIRATE KING!”
“… Oh, I’ll love to see what they make of that…”

Some time later, PZ was bored of his family’s seaside holiday. He slipped away to solitude, and danced once more until he reached the docks. There he saw to his amazement, an old fashioned wooden ship, with huge sails. Looking around, there was no-one to be seen. Some things are irresistible. He gleefully leapt forwards to the accompaniment of a full brass section.
“I don’t know how they do it. I can only assume they perpetrated an act of Pied Piper-esque piracy. Captain.”
“You mean-“
“Sir- Sire!” the beautiful woman at Thufir’s side, who PZ recognised as one of the leaders of the band, apparently without her instrument for once, knelt before him. As did the rest, though they continued playing all the while.
“Now, you’d better take good care of them, you hear? See that, Mr. Pirate King?” Thufir pointed to the shining crown the band leader was now proffering to Player Zero, “She melted down her trumpet to make that. Not a sacrifice you should take lightly.”
Entranced, Player Zero reached down slowly to take the crown, then flicked it high into the air, so that it came down on his head at a jaunty yet rakish angle. Taking the hand of the band leader he strode to the centre of the ship.
“Make ready to set sail! Coming, Thufir?”
“Not this time, I have things to be doing on land. Be seeing you.”
“Seeing me when, do you think?”
“How should I know? You have a prediction horizon of a couple of seconds at best.”
“Haha, quite right! Now to sail to that horizon! Set sail… that way!”
The band merely looked at him expectantly, not making a sound.
“They’re waiting for a beat, Zero. They’re waiting for you to dance.”
Looking again to the leader by his side, Player Zero took her hand… and leapt into the self-same dancing frenzy as on the first night they met. The band started playing again, and the ship set sail - it rocked more than looked sensible, as the captain careered across the deck, tossing instruments around whenever he felt like changing his dancing partner – but nevertheless it sailed, amidst the craziest music you ever heard, ever towards the horizon.
Thufir watched with a smile from the shore.

Next, I have a songfic in mind. This one shouldn't take so long, since I pretty much wrote it in my head while trying to get to sleep last night.

[randman22222]

Oooh, I liked the last two.
And Kneen's new avatar.

EDIT: Oooh, sweet! More Ship Wars.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Oooh, I liked the last two.
And Kneen's new avatar.

EDIT: Oooh, sweet! More Ship Wars.

Not really new I think....

[Thufir]

And sure enough, here it is. Somewhat less cheerful than my last two fics.

Note: though I have given a pairing, they had no bearing on the writing of the fic, they just seemed to fit the fic I was going to write anyway, based on the song.

RHL/Mordokai
The Queen And The Soldier

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The Soldier came knocking upon the Queen’s door
He said “I am not fighting for you any more,”
The Queen knew she’d seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

More handsome and charismatic than the average soldier, and bold enough to defy his Queen. What am I to do with this one?

He said “I’ve watched your palace up here on the hill
And I’ve wondered who’s the woman for whom we all kill?
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why?”

She is not as I expected. Though I would not admit it to myself, I partly thought to perhaps kill the Queen and end the death and suffering, but now I see her…

Down the long narrow hall he was led
Into her room with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
And she asked him there to sit down.

I shall impress upon him my authority. I cannot let him think- any of my subjects! I cannot let any of my subjects think they can defy me. There is nothing at all special about this one. And afterwards I expect I shall have him killed. Or not. Why do I question that?

Can this truly be she who is the cause of all the pain down on the battlefield? She seems so innocent.

He said, “I see you now, and you are so very young
But I’ve seen more battles lost, than I have battles won
And I’ve got this intuition that says it’s all for your fun
So now will you tell me why?”

I feel heartless asking such a question of such a one as this; but I cannot live with the doubt.

He has not the vision to see past my youthful appearance. Few do, but nevertheless I find that somehow disappointing.

The young Queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said “You won’t understand, and you may as well not try,”
But her face was a child’s and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

She is cold and cruel. Now I see a hint of the Queen I expected. Yet she looks now more tearful…

He looked so hurt at my refusal. I have every right to cause him pain, and yet I find I cannot. And he seems concerned. Surely I can find a lie to set his mind at rest?

And she said “I’ve swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I’ve bled,”
And he laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

I should have him executed for presuming to touch me! And yet…

I do not understand what she tells me, but truly she is not evil as I thought. Rather I feel more pity now for her than for my fallen comrades and enemies. Looking into her eyes now I feel my resolve shake – but not change.

“So tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel,
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed,
But I won’t march again on your battlefield.”
And he took her to the window to see.

By showing to her the world, surely I will awaken her compassion and she will see what is right and wrong, and she will change.

In me he sees something to be cared for. This stirs uneasy thoughts within me, I do not understand this, what is it I am feeling?

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was grey,
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

I have never felt this before… is this love? And why should it come for such a one as this? He can never understand me; he would not abide the battle. This can never be, and so I must strengthen myself against it.

Why does she turn away? Is she perhaps doubting herself? Or me? I must make my feelings known to her, to bolster her change of heart, for such this must surely be.

And he said, “I want to live as an honest man,
To get all I deserve, and to give all I can,
And to love a young woman who I don’t understand.
Your highness, your ways are very strange.”

I need not understand you to love you. You have enchanted me. I wish to give all I can – all I have – to you.

His words fascinate me. This purity of spirit, this faith he holds so close. Perhaps I might allow myself to…

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she might break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached,
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait,
She would only be a moment inside.

I would wait an eternity if you asked me to, my Queen.

No. He would weaken me, and that I cannot abide. He must go. Yet if I allow him to leave, he will be hurt, and he will ever live in doubt. I would not wish that on him. If I can, I would take that pain and doubt from him, keep him happy, faithful and trusting as he is now, my Soldier.

Out in the distance, her order was heard,
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the Queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on…

[Cobra_Ikari]

I'm posting this before giving it enough time for a really scrupulous editing, but here it is, anyways.

Snakebite
By Kneenibble

Starring (obliquely):
RabbitHoleLost
Cobra Ikari

Spoiler

Show

“Yes, forsooth. I wish you the joy o’the worm.”

Tittering to himself and wringing his hands, one wrinkled, bony appendage wrecked by labours and disease over another, the old beggar goes. His feet, bare, knobby, blackened, profane the sacred white marble of the palace. With him goes the reek of ripe Nile marshes but not of blood. That smell rises sharp and coppery from the slick pool of it before the throne’s dais to prickle in the sacred nostrils of the Queen.

She stands before the throne, her head raised proudly, her gaze cast down across the bridge of her exquisitely offended nose at the corpse of her lover. He lays face-up, the Roman red of his official garments wet and shiny. The handle of his short stabbing sword sticks up at an angle from his ribs, transfixing the lion’s heart that once thundered Martian there, its fiery essence spilt and spent. Even in death his face, shaved smooth and scrubbed, is proudly set. The black eyes glare up to the home of his warlike Roman gods and fulminous Jupiter their king.

The queen’s tears have started to smear the bold kohl on her eyelids as they trickle down her nobly fixed face. They run, but she does not sob. Not yet.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me: now no more the juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip: -- yare, yare, good Iras; quick.” Her voice fills up the vast marble chamber richly. It is an eloquent polished voice, steady and confident, schooled in regal proclamation. A tear drips from her chin and splatters at her feet, petal-smooth. She lifts her flawless, sculpted arms.

The bidden handmaid approaches. Iras – Iras from most southern Africa, slender, black and hard as ebony, with eyes blacker still, lays a robe of purest white linen over the Queen’s perfect royal shoulders: purest white linen, heavy and soft, trimmed with cloth-of-gold. Opposite her, Charmian, plump and round and white as milk, hair yellow like honey, eyes water-coloured and wide – Charmian from most northern Gaul – steps up to the dais with a woven reed basket held against her breast. A basket which was the base old beggar’s tribute.

Iras smooths the cloth around her Queen’s body and lays a mirror-bright ring of gold over her brow and shaven head. Her eyes, black as obsidian, also run with tears, and her black body wracks with clenched sobs of sorrow and dread even as she works.

The Queen’s unblemished cheeks blanch: her breath heaves with a rising terror. Her eyes flare and she speaks in an intense whisper that slithers and hisses around the sacred marble chamber.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.”

And as she speaks so, the Queen’s eyes dry, and the sea-like heaving of her ribs calms and stills. She lowers her arms, turns, and lays her perfect dainty hands upon the black shoulders of her handmaid.

“So,—have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;—Iras, long farewell.”

The Queen slides her hands around the wood-hard body of Iras and draws her warmly close. The Queen presses her lips, lips which have named countless men for death; for changes of fortune; for glittering prizes; lips which have tasted all the rarest meats of Africa, the cool perfumes of Arabia, the strange spices of far India; lips which knew until now only pleasures and powers, when the bitterness of death and the cruelty of the gods crept on them like wormwood and venom – these Queenly lips, she presses against the full, purplish mouth of her handmaid, and Iras responds and shudders with a tearful sigh. Their tongues meet and run over one another and their bodies flush.

The kiss ends at last, and Iras stands with her eyes closed, the wracking of her sorrow soothed.

The Queen turns to white Charmian and draws her soft, round body against her own. She puts her Queenly lips upon the small, pink mouth of her handmaid, and Charmian melts into the kiss. They taste one another’s wet, smooth pleasure. Charmian, too, is quieted as the Queen draws away, savouring the taste of her handmaids commingled on her tongue which is like some nameless resin.

Beside her, without a sound, Iras falls limply to the ground, her black almond eyes shut fast. The Queen addresses the lifeless vessel in a low, soft voice.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thus thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world it is not worth leave-taking.”

Charmian beside her begins to weep violently, squeezing the reed basket against her full breast, and cries, “Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say the gods themselves do weep!”

The Queen turns to her. Once again, an almost hysterical passion ascends from her viscera and sets her ribs to pump and gasp. She speaks with a contained urgency as she feels the round breast of her handmaid, and lifts the woven lid from the basket pressed against it. “This proves me base: if she first meet the curled Antony, he'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss which is my heaven to have.”

In one perfect, smooth hand, she handles the glossy black snake inside as carefully as cut crystal. With the other perfect, smooth hand, she pulls her purest white linen robe away from her own delicate breast. Glass-clear brine twinkles down her face. Holding it by its calm, triangular head, she looks into the snake’s inscrutable eyes as bright as gems.

“Come, thou mortal wretch,” she says to it, as tenderly as to a wordless babe, “with thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, be angry and despatch. O couldst thou speak, that I might hear thee call great Caesar ass unpolicied!” And she holds that calm, triangular head to the bared smooth roundness of her breast. Its teeth pierce the silken skin. The hard scaled lips press around her skin and with a tenderness that approaches love, pulse and dribble their gift inwards.

“O eastern star!” whispers Charmian aghast, a white hand upon her small pink mouth.

The Queen’s bitterly throbbing passions are quelled and sucked free by the serpent’s loving kiss. With eyes still dripping, but a smile on her exquisite Queenly face, she looks to her afflicted handmaid and admonishes her softly. “Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast that sucks the nurse asleep?”

Stepping backwards, the Queen lowers herself with absolute poise, stroking the calm triangular head latched unmoving on her breast, lowers herself into the marble throne which is hers. She looks down into the gem-like eyes and her face falls peaceful as a lamb’s.

Charmian exercises all of her will to plant her feet, and her upper body and her plump white arms surge forward with the impulse to intervene. “O, break! O, break!” she cries, weeping without shame or reserve.

The Queen is nonplussed. The serpent’s piercing kiss is all. Her fingers run over its glossy smooth body like a lover’s. Her voice comes lilting and breathy and her painted eyelids droop, and Charmian strains to hear. “As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle: -- Antony!”

Then, as light fades and a sourceless breeze tickles her skin,the Queen hears herself say, barely above a whisper, “What should I stay,—“ The sacred marble chamber disappears, and only a red bloom and a smooth, stern face remain, and Queenly eyes glance upwards with it's to the gods.

*snuggles*...aww, thank you, Kneenibble! =3

[Dallas-Dakota]

And sure enough, here it is. Somewhat less cheerful than my last two fics.

Note: though I have given a pairing, they had no bearing on the writing of the fic, they just seemed to fit the fic I was going to write anyway, based on the song.

RHL/Mordokai
The Queen And The Soldier

Spoiler

Show

The Soldier came knocking upon the Queen’s door
He said “I am not fighting for you any more,”
The Queen knew she’d seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

More handsome and charismatic than the average soldier, and bold enough to defy his Queen. What am I to do with this one?

He said “I’ve watched your palace up here on the hill
And I’ve wondered who’s the woman for whom we all kill?
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why?”

She is not as I expected. Though I would not admit it to myself, I partly thought to perhaps kill the Queen and end the death and suffering, but now I see her…

Down the long narrow hall he was led
Into her room with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
And she asked him there to sit down.

I shall impress upon him my authority. I cannot let him think- any of my subjects! I cannot let any of my subjects think they can defy me. There is nothing at all special about this one. And afterwards I expect I shall have him killed. Or not. Why do I question that?

Can this truly be she who is the cause of all the pain down on the battlefield? She seems so innocent.

He said, “I see you now, and you are so very young
But I’ve seen more battles lost, than I have battles won
And I’ve got this intuition that says it’s all for your fun
So now will you tell me why?”

I feel heartless asking such a question of such a one as this; but I cannot live with the doubt.

He has not the vision to see past my youthful appearance. Few do, but nevertheless I find that somehow disappointing.

The young Queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said “You won’t understand, and you may as well not try,”
But her face was a child’s and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

She is cold and cruel. Now I see a hint of the Queen I expected. Yet she looks now more tearful…

He looked so hurt at my refusal. I have every right to cause him pain, and yet I find I cannot. And he seems concerned. Surely I can find a lie to set his mind at rest?

And she said “I’ve swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I’ve bled,”
And he laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

I should have him executed for presuming to touch me! And yet…

I do not understand what she tells me, but truly she is not evil as I thought. Rather I feel more pity now for her than for my fallen comrades and enemies. Looking into her eyes now I feel my resolve shake – but not change.

“So tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel,
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed,
But I won’t march again on your battlefield.”
And he took her to the window to see.

By showing to her the world, surely I will awaken her compassion and she will see what is right and wrong, and she will change.

In me he sees something to be cared for. This stirs uneasy thoughts within me, I do not understand this, what is it I am feeling?

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was grey,
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

I have never felt this before… is this love? And why should it come for such a one as this? He can never understand me; he would not abide the battle. This can never be, and so I must strengthen myself against it.

Why does she turn away? Is she perhaps doubting herself? Or me? I must make my feelings known to her, to bolster her change of heart, for such this must surely be.

And he said, “I want to live as an honest man,
To get all I deserve, and to give all I can,
And to love a young woman who I don’t understand.
Your highness, your ways are very strange.”

I need not understand you to love you. You have enchanted me. I wish to give all I can – all I have – to you.

His words fascinate me. This purity of spirit, this faith he holds so close. Perhaps I might allow myself to…

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she might break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached,
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait,
She would only be a moment inside.

I would wait an eternity if you asked me to, my Queen.

No. He would weaken me, and that I cannot abide. He must go. Yet if I allow him to leave, he will be hurt, and he will ever live in doubt. I would not wish that on him. If I can, I would take that pain and doubt from him, keep him happy, faithful and trusting as he is now, my Soldier.

Out in the distance, her order was heard,
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the Queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on…

That was quite beautifull.

[CurlyKitGirl]

I'm posting this before giving it enough time for a really scrupulous editing, but here it is, anyways.

Snakebite
By Kneenibble

Starring (obliquely):
RabbitHoleLost
Cobra Ikari

Spoiler

Show

“Yes, forsooth. I wish you the joy o’the worm.”

Tittering to himself and wringing his hands, one wrinkled, bony appendage wrecked by labours and disease over another, the old beggar goes. His feet, bare, knobby, blackened, profane the sacred white marble of the palace. With him goes the reek of ripe Nile marshes but not of blood. That smell rises sharp and coppery from the slick pool of it before the throne’s dais to prickle in the sacred nostrils of the Queen.

She stands before the throne, her head raised proudly, her gaze cast down across the bridge of her exquisitely offended nose at the corpse of her lover. He lays face-up, the Roman red of his official garments wet and shiny. The handle of his short stabbing sword sticks up at an angle from his ribs, transfixing the lion’s heart that once thundered Martian there, its fiery essence spilt and spent. Even in death his face, shaved smooth and scrubbed, is proudly set. The black eyes glare up to the home of his warlike Roman gods and fulminous Jupiter their king.

The queen’s tears have started to smear the bold kohl on her eyelids as they trickle down her nobly fixed face. They run, but she does not sob. Not yet.

“Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me: now no more the juice of Egypt’s grape shall moist this lip: -- yare, yare, good Iras; quick.” Her voice fills up the vast marble chamber richly. It is an eloquent polished voice, steady and confident, schooled in regal proclamation. A tear drips from her chin and splatters at her feet, petal-smooth. She lifts her flawless, sculpted arms.

The bidden handmaid approaches. Iras – Iras from most southern Africa, slender, black and hard as ebony, with eyes blacker still, lays a robe of purest white linen over the Queen’s perfect royal shoulders: purest white linen, heavy and soft, trimmed with cloth-of-gold. Opposite her, Charmian, plump and round and white as milk, hair yellow like honey, eyes water-coloured and wide – Charmian from most northern Gaul – steps up to the dais with a woven reed basket held against her breast. A basket which was the base old beggar’s tribute.

Iras smooths the cloth around her Queen’s body and lays a mirror-bright ring of gold over her brow and shaven head. Her eyes, black as obsidian, also run with tears, and her black body wracks with clenched sobs of sorrow and dread even as she works.

The Queen’s unblemished cheeks blanch: her breath heaves with a rising terror. Her eyes flare and she speaks in an intense whisper that slithers and hisses around the sacred marble chamber.

“Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life.”

And as she speaks so, the Queen’s eyes dry, and the sea-like heaving of her ribs calms and stills. She lowers her arms, turns, and lays her perfect dainty hands upon the black shoulders of her handmaid.

“So,—have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian;—Iras, long farewell.”

The Queen slides her hands around the wood-hard body of Iras and draws her warmly close. The Queen presses her lips, lips which have named countless men for death; for changes of fortune; for glittering prizes; lips which have tasted all the rarest meats of Africa, the cool perfumes of Arabia, the strange spices of far India; lips which knew until now only pleasures and powers, when the bitterness of death and the cruelty of the gods crept on them like wormwood and venom – these Queenly lips, she presses against the full, purplish mouth of her handmaid, and Iras responds and shudders with a tearful sigh. Their tongues meet and run over one another and their bodies flush.

The kiss ends at last, and Iras stands with her eyes closed, the wracking of her sorrow soothed.

The Queen turns to white Charmian and draws her soft, round body against her own. She puts her Queenly lips upon the small, pink mouth of her handmaid, and Charmian melts into the kiss. They taste one another’s wet, smooth pleasure. Charmian, too, is quieted as the Queen draws away, savouring the taste of her handmaids commingled on her tongue which is like some nameless resin.

Beside her, without a sound, Iras falls limply to the ground, her black almond eyes shut fast. The Queen addresses the lifeless vessel in a low, soft voice.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thus thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world it is not worth leave-taking.”

Charmian beside her begins to weep violently, squeezing the reed basket against her full breast, and cries, “Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say the gods themselves do weep!”

The Queen turns to her. Once again, an almost hysterical passion ascends from her viscera and sets her ribs to pump and gasp. She speaks with a contained urgency as she feels the round breast of her handmaid, and lifts the woven lid from the basket pressed against it. “This proves me base: if she first meet the curled Antony, he'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss which is my heaven to have.”

In one perfect, smooth hand, she handles the glossy black snake inside as carefully as cut crystal. With the other perfect, smooth hand, she pulls her purest white linen robe away from her own delicate breast. Glass-clear brine twinkles down her face. Holding it by its calm, triangular head, she looks into the snake’s inscrutable eyes as bright as gems.

“Come, thou mortal wretch,” she says to it, as tenderly as to a wordless babe, “with thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, be angry and despatch. O couldst thou speak, that I might hear thee call great Caesar ass unpolicied!” And she holds that calm, triangular head to the bared smooth roundness of her breast. Its teeth pierce the silken skin. The hard scaled lips press around her skin and with a tenderness that approaches love, pulse and dribble their gift inwards.

“O eastern star!” whispers Charmian aghast, a white hand upon her small pink mouth.

The Queen’s bitterly throbbing passions are quelled and sucked free by the serpent’s loving kiss. With eyes still dripping, but a smile on her exquisite Queenly face, she looks to her afflicted handmaid and admonishes her softly. “Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast that sucks the nurse asleep?”

Stepping backwards, the Queen lowers herself with absolute poise, stroking the calm triangular head latched unmoving on her breast, lowers herself into the marble throne which is hers. She looks down into the gem-like eyes and her face falls peaceful as a lamb’s.

Charmian exercises all of her will to plant her feet, and her upper body and her plump white arms surge forward with the impulse to intervene. “O, break! O, break!” she cries, weeping without shame or reserve.

The Queen is nonplussed. The serpent’s piercing kiss is all. Her fingers run over its glossy smooth body like a lover’s. Her voice comes lilting and breathy and her painted eyelids droop, and Charmian strains to hear. “As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle: -- Antony!”

Then, as light fades and a sourceless breeze tickles her skin,the Queen hears herself say, barely above a whisper, “What should I stay,—“ The sacred marble chamber disappears, and only a red bloom and a smooth, stern face remain, and Queenly eyes glance upwards with it's to the gods.

Shakespeare in a ship. Love you. Anthony and Cleopatra right?

@happy: you win this thread for three words: "hot android nookie".

[Dallas-Dakota]

Shakespeare in a ship. Love you. Anthony and Cleopatra right?

@happy: you win this thread for three words: "hot android ncookie".

[Jibar]

Hmmm...

I'm here to change expectations. Raise, lower, dash to Hell, I don't care really.

Here's a fun game. An identified partner for ya'll to place yourself within the story and find out what it's like to be wooed by Jibar!

Spoiler

Show

"Jibar?"
"Yes?"
"I thought you said you were taking me somewhere romantic."
"This is romantic."
Clover shredded another building with his powerful foreclaws. All around them were screams and cries of agony of the populous. Parsites dropped from his underbelly and launched themselves at the crowds of panicing people. The city burnt around them, the smoke blotting out the stars.
"Giant monsters aren't romantic Jibar."
"Oh like you didn't cry at King Kong."
"It's a giant monkey! That's not romantic at all!"
"Ape. Not monkey."
"Raaaaawwwwrrrrrggg!"
Tanks were driving towards them now, and planes could be spotted in the distance. Gun fire filled the air as soldiers bravely attempted to fight against the hoards of parasites. You could feel the fear in the air. Jibar's date looked over the edge of Clover's back tentatively to see one soldier stop and stare at her quizicly before a parasite latched onto his throat.
"...I would like to get down now."
"Oh you can't. Clover will eat you if you do, and if you somehow escape him, the parasites will get you."
"...I'm being kidnapped aren't I?"
"Just enjoy the atmosphere."

Gasp! Twist ending below!

Spoiler

Show

"Clover! You're the one who iced Iceburg!"
"Raaaawrg!"

And the moral of the story is: Jibar will never write anything without some reference to giant monsters.
Oh when will my dream to destroy Tokyo be fulfilled!?

[Moff Chumley]

Hmmm...

I'm here to change expectations. Raise, lower, dash to Hell, I don't care really.

Here's a fun game. An identified partner for ya'll to place yourself within the story and find out what it's like to be wooed by Jibar!

Spoiler

Show

"Jibar?"
"Yes?"
"I thought you said you were taking me somewhere romantic."
"This is romantic."
Clover shredded another building with his powerful foreclaws. All around them were screams and cries of agony of the populous. Parsites dropped from his underbelly and launched themselves at the crowds of panicing people. The city burnt around them, the smoke blotting out the stars.
"Giant monsters aren't romantic Jibar."
"Oh like you didn't cry at King Kong."
"It's a giant monkey! That's not romantic at all!"
"Ape. Not monkey."
"Raaaaawwwwrrrrrggg!"
Tanks were driving towards them now, and planes could be spotted in the distance. Gun fire filled the air as soldiers bravely attempted to fight against the hoards of parasites. You could feel the fear in the air. Jibar's date looked over the edge of Clover's back tentatively to see one soldier stop and stare at her quizicly before a parasite latched onto his throat.
"...I would like to get down now."
"Oh you can't. Clover will eat you if you do, and if you somehow escape him, the parasites will get you."
"...I'm being kidnapped aren't I?"
"Just enjoy the atmosphere."

Gasp! Twist ending below!

Spoiler

Show

"Clover! You're the one who iced Iceburg!"
"Raaaawrg!"

And the moral of the story is: Jibar will never write anything without some reference to giant monsters.
Oh when will my dream to destroy Tokyo be fulfilled!?

Jibar, you win. Like, this entire thread. Seriously.

(No criticism for my fics? Or should I interpret the lack of comments as "they're crap" which is quite honestly what I expected.)

[Lyinginbedmon]

Here's a fun game. An identified partner for ya'll to place yourself within the story and find out what it's like to be wooed by Jibar!

Spoiler

Show

"Jibar?"
"Yes?"
"I thought you said you were taking me somewhere romantic."
"This is romantic."
Clover shredded another building with his powerful foreclaws. All around them were screams and cries of agony of the populous. Parsites dropped from his underbelly and launched themselves at the crowds of panicing people. The city burnt around them, the smoke blotting out the stars.
"Giant monsters aren't romantic Jibar."
"Oh like you didn't cry at King Kong."
"It's a giant monkey! That's not romantic at all!"
"Ape. Not monkey."
"Raaaaawwwwrrrrrggg!"
Tanks were driving towards them now, and planes could be spotted in the distance. Gun fire filled the air as soldiers bravely attempted to fight against the hoards of parasites. You could feel the fear in the air. Jibar's date looked over the edge of Clover's back tentatively to see one soldier stop and stare at her quizicly before a parasite latched onto his throat.
"...I would like to get down now."
"Oh you can't. Clover will eat you if you do, and if you somehow escape him, the parasites will get you."
"...I'm being kidnapped aren't I?"
"Just enjoy the atmosphere."

It helps if you know that the monster from Cloverfield was named "Clover" during development.

[Bitzeralisis]

The Legend of the Cartographer's Pen
Book I: Like a Seesaw
Chapter 1, Part 1/2
By Bitzeralisis

Starring (currently):
Thanantos5150 as Thanantos
Raistlin1040 as Raistlin
And many, many others...

Note: There is no *real* shipping yet (if you even count friendship as shipping). That'll be in Part 2, and even then it'll be subtle. Part 1 is mostly flavor text. Part 2 should be up pretty soon, and it even introduces a new character!

Spoiler

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The boy walked. One foot in front of the other; left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. With arms swinging in perfect rhythm, shoulders slacked and relaxed, and head bobbing just slightly. Eyes straight forward, and a ghost of a smile on his lips; this was what he called the Perfect Walk. Girls turned in his direction, whispering to each other fantasies of Raistlin. Their eyes twinkled, and Raistlin’s posture slackened. He already had their attention; and besides, he didn’t want to overwhelm them. He liked them peeking glances and smiling smiles. They weren’t interested after they did that “faint” of theirs.

Thanantos looked on with a smile. How his friend was capable of such charm was a mystery. When Raistlin was safely out of the girls’ range, Thanantos walked up to him.

“Hey, Raist, what’s up?”

“I don’t know you,” whispered Raistlin obliviously, pushing Thanantos aside. He turned, burst a smile, and waved a flirtatious girl shouting at him from across the courtyard. The girl instantly turned back to her friends, who laughed and ran.

“I’ll never understand why they do that,” mumbled Raistlin, turning back to Trevor.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, you know that project we have together? Well, I figured out the perfect way to—“

“Do you have a trail mix bar?” asked Raistlin.
“What?”

“Nothing.” Raistlin’s mouth twitched into a smile for just a microsecond, and that was it.

“Anyways,” said Thanantos, “I was just about to say that… um…”
“Yes?” implored Raistlin.

“I forgot,” admitted Thanantos. “But that’s not the point,” he added. “We should get to class before Miss Jibs goes crazy again.”

“Yes, very,” said Raistlin. He smiled. Once again, he had prevented yet another one of Thanantos’ tangents.

Heading to homeroom in the bleak, autumn day, Raistlin looked around admiringly at the Renaissance-style buildings. Most of Playgroundus was made of stone buildings; cobbled roads crisscrossed the city like webs in a spider’s nest. Aside from the usual stone and brick buildings, the rich lived in marble and the poor in wood and thatched straw. Sidewalks were abundant, lining almost every major district road in the city-state. At night, the mage-crafted streetstars would light up within their high, metal lampposts, illuminating the streets. The city was really quite wealthy; monuments dotted its being, and town squares could be found every fifteen blocks. There was even a plumbing system. Only the farmers were exempt from these luxuries, living in wooden homes far from the walls of the city; and yet, they strived, taking advantage of the main populace’s wealth.

Even with the magnificence of the city, the Castle stood out — yes, it was floating, but that was aside the point. What seemed to be the once-stone castle looks as if it were devoured by marble and crystal, creating an overall lustrous and complex effect. Silver and gold lined the doors and windows of the castle; the Mage’s Conservatory, a huge, glowing tower of crystal, revolved around its base.

The city really was at its grandest at springtime; the trees would blossom, the skies would be clear and sunny, rays of light gleaming throughout the city; airships would dot the sky, the still air modestly temperate in the blazing sun. Flowers blossoming among venues and merchants arriving from all lands gave the Trade District an overall medieval effect. The streets would be periodically sprayed with crystal water by the mages for cleaning and effect. Everywhere you went, stores would be open, offering products and goods for whoever dared enter. Merchants would offer cabbages and carrots and whatnot from their carts of theirs, and not even one robbery or holdup would occur. Playgroundus was a Utopian haven of sorts; crime level was non-existent.

Nighttime in Playgroundus was romantic: the cast Playroundus Park was green and grassy, full of trees and springs; and at the Lake, secluded from all else by a circumference of tall, lush, evergreen trees, its crystal clear waters, reflecting the colossal image of the moon, the still, cool, air, and the twinkling stars, gleaming above all in the great heaven s beyond, the perfect atmosphere was created, and the Lake became the default choice of place for couples looking for a romantic evening. And yet, by some mysterious force, no two couples ever clashed at the Lake; only peace and love flowing through the air. The place was blessed...