Glancing back at old Blog entries, I happened to notice that on December 23rd of 2012 I had 13,320 words of LSODM written. This was a good thing to notice. It means that, with 18,504 words of Book 9 already spewed forth onto the page/screen, I am well ahead of where I was last year — and I finished LSODM in PLENTY of time, did I not?
Well, actually, no, I didn't. It was pretty much down to the wire, as they say. I couldn't afford to make ANY mistakes with LSODM, because I had no time to do anything resembling a significant rewrite. But at least I know it can be done. At least I know I can do it. Now all I have to do is hope I DO do it.
Pressure pressure pressure... It's everywhere. I don't actually mind pressure. It's a handy tool to make you sit down and write, after all. And I have no one to blame for these onrushing deadlines but me, because I'm the one who agreed to them in the first place. I'm the one who said "Hey, let's collect all the short stories, and I'll write a few more brand new ones, and we can publish in the summer before the final book!" And what a wonderful idea that was. What a magical, wonderful idea, to schedule the writing of short stories at the same time as I've scheduled the writing of a book. How clever that was.
I had wanted to include ten new stories in the collection. I STILL want to do ten — but the fact is, I might not be able to. I may only be able to do five. I want to tell a tale of the Dead Men during the war. I want to tell the tale of Billy-Ray Sanguine and what he did when he was recovering from the sword-wound that Valkyrie inflicted on him in The Faceless Ones. I want to show you how Val met Caelan for the first time. But most of all, I want to go back to Skulduggery and Valkyrie, back before the screaming and the killing and the darkness. I want to see them having fun again, before the death and the destruction and the heartache and the loss. The collection will be out mere months before the final book, after all... I want you to enter into Book 9, fully aware of how good it used to be between them.
And then I want to shatter what remains of your souls.
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«Oldest ‹Older 2201 – 2400 of 4974 Newer› Newest»[hugs Em]
Yeah, for Nightmare Before Christmas. It'll be awesome.
#ChaseForBook9
Kallista's video... Ong
*bounces in*
Only six more deleted videos left! :)
#ChaseForBookNine
@Em: Thank you for that. :)
#ChaseFOrBookNine
I JUST FOUND A MY PLGAUE MIXTURE OF THE ORIGINAL AND THE NEW ABUSE MIX.
OH MY GOSH.
AWESOMENESS.
*would like the New Abuse Mix better if they hadn't taken out some of the best parts*
:)
*is just in heaven here*
#ChaseForBookNine
*PLAGUE
#ChaseForBookNine
Hello Star!
Yay, Star!
#ChaseForBook9
Hey Adra! :) Glad you had fun seeing the chicks. :)
#ChaseForBookNine
WOOOOOOOH 2222!
@Lantern: Yes! :) Thanks. :)
*posts the link on the description of my playlist, because I'd bet most of the videos on it that a lot of other people are of a similar opinion to me*
#ChaseForBookNine
Good morning, afternoon, or evening, Blogland.
I just sung He Watching over Israel without piano....that in itself is an achievement. The soprano part is very difficult.
Hi Sir!
Okay I'm distant... I'm in a weird mix if about to cry/scream in rage
Well, excellent work, Ms. Kerias.
Ms. Dark, dare I ask wherefore?
I don't really want to say..
@Adra: :( *hugs*
Hey, Sir!
#ChaseForBookNine
Greetings, Ms. Inkbright.
If you insist, Ms. Dark.
Ahem
Sorry
I've calmed down now
d(^.^)b
Well, I am certainly glad that you have calmed down. Know that you have my sympathies, no matter what challenge you face.
Er.. Yeah, thank you?
You are entirely welcome.
*quietly steals his hat*
*sighs*
Please, Ms. Dark.
Please what?
Please return my hat to my head, Ms. Dark.
I don't want to
...
Why, exactly, do you feel that you may simply take my hat, and not give it back?
[hugs Adra]
[hums the Imperial March]
[Is very very distant]
#ChaseForBook9
Greetings, Ms. Snakesspeare.
Because- *puts the hat on* It's fetching
*huggles Fabroo*
And I suppose that simply asking for my hat back shall not cause you to acquiesce to my demand?
*pauses*
Er, well...
Well?
Ooooh getting iPhone soon :D
Sorry i will be poofing soon and will be getting my phone so i shall be a tad late coming back...though the place is right down the road....
Congratulations, I suppose, Ms. Kerias.
Ms. Dark, elaborate.
Sorry xD im excited
Maybe I'll give it back...
*wistfully* But it's so fashionable
*quietly puts the hat back on him*
I wouldn't steal it. I know how it's important
Just know that gnomes will try to glaum it
Harrumph. Gnomes.
You wish you were that cool
...
The body temperature of gnomes is almost the same as that of normal beings. I do not understand.
No. *whispers* No you don't..
And I'm sorry, but I will have to leave for about 45 minutes soon
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
I'm SO evil! :D
#ChaseForBook9
Very well, it is entirely understandable, Ms. Dark.
With the natural exception of the part about gnomes.
You are do, Fabi. *bows*
*laughs* Heh. Sir..
*picks up her fox, sighing* *touches his nose with hers*
I still feel loved when I see your face
But all these scars I can't replace
Sorry heart
I'm sorry heart
But we'll have to start again...
Greetings, Ms. Charm.
Ms. Snakesspeare, should I be worried?
[Nods imperiously at Adra]
[hugs Maralieeee]
#ChaseForBook9
If you're reading this, you're utterly unique. You're awesome, you're special, you're radifying, and there's no one like you in the world, ever. Don't forget how amazing you are.
*leaves to go to sleep*
#ChaseForBookNine
Maaaaaybe. Maybe not.
#ChaseForBook9
[hugs Starararararar, because she's exStarordinary]
#ChaseForBook9
Good night, Ms. Inkbright. Sleep well.
Okay.,, MSD in about ten
Bye star!!
(Hello. Would now be a good time to do that solo RP I was planning?)
Greetings, Ms. Barnosky.
I believe I shall leave that decision to your discretion.
(I think I'd prefer until Adra and Zafira have some time to spare, as it is a little bit lengthy and they were responsible for planning it.)
Hullo, Sir.
How are you?
Hi Anni!
Depends on your definition of "a good time"
I mean, I don't see why it wouldn't be one. It certainly isn't a bad time or anything.
[Shrugs]
#ChaseForBook9
Completely understandable, Ms. Barnosky.
I suppose I feel as well as I could be naturally expected to, my good Doctor. More importantly, how are you?
*smiles*
Tired. Very tired, as always. But the day hasn't been a TOTAL loss.
*holds up Mister Ioux's tracker*
I've found a fascinating little gadget here . . .
Ah.
*instinctively takes a half-step back*
Well, that is interesting, but I admit to not being the best when it comes to technology.
I've never been good with this particular sort of technology, either. In my day technology meant a hand-cranked coffee-grinder.
*gingerly holds the tracker at arm's length*
I don't understand any of these buttons. It's a little scary, actually. They all do something different.
*presses blue button*
*tracker bursts into flames*
AH!
*presses button again*
*flames go out*
Phew!
((Ah, yes. The tracker. I would appreciate it if it got back to me at some point, as it is rather vital to the plotline. As a matter of fact, it is the only way to open the box that Ms. Herald and I know of. If you wish, though, you may keep it after the plot has run its course.))
(I assumed I would need to return it, but sadly, I fell through a trapdoor while holding it. If you'd like me to return it, you might have to come get it, as I don't seem to be in the same place as the box anymore . . .
I'm not sure.
Sir, where are we?)
Erm.
*concern flits across his face*
Perhaps it would be best to leave it alone, lest it...
Explode. It would not affect me, but it would be most unfortunate if you lost your hands and/or arms.
I would imagine upon a rather ordinary-looking street, Ms. Barnosky.
((There is no hurry. I am afraid, though, that it is impossible for me to leave the box at present.))
Trackers are replaceable, limbs doubly so. I once knew a fellow who had all his limbs replaced. His face, too! Well, he can't whistle anymore. But he gives it a go! And people clap!
But it's just to be nice.
Empty applause, really.
(I'm sorry, Mister Ioux, it sounds stuffy in there.)
Understandable.
Still, I would have thought you have some sort of attachment to your original limbs. Still, if you believe them replaceable, by all means, experiment with the... Tracker.
*Is still pointing Chelsea at Ioux*
Give me the key. It's in that tracker-thing, isn't it?
(('Course, I don't know that Precocious has it in the actual RP world))
I'm afraid I don't have that at present. It didn't appear with me. Not sure why.
*Is not especially frightened of Liz or Chelsea*
((I appreciate the sentiment, Doctor Precocious, but there is no need to apologize.))
No, I have no attachment to my limbs, other than the fact that they are literally attached to me. My right arm is slightly long than my left one. I still don't know why.
*shrugs*
Still . . .
*slings tracker over her shoulder*
I should probably keep it around (Mister Ioux will likely want it back, you see) but I think it would be unwise to play with it any further . . .
Liar.
*Considers*
Actually, with all the spells you placed on the box, it would make sense, but you're still a liar.
Well, I suppose that is how things are.
Say, where is this Mr. Ioux? And how did you come across his... Tracker?
I met him in a dark and creepy forest. Recall the incident with the Hollow Men and the box?
Then he apparated somewhere, leaving this little beauty behind.
*taps the tracker*
He said I could play with it if he wasn't around, so . . .
...
Ah.
And you are certain that it is not some sort of trap, because...?
*Steps around the shrubbery, towards Liz, who counter-steps back*
You've lied as often as I, if not more, my dear Ms. Herald.
I suppose I could only expect you to do so again, but I shall ask anyway. What is your interest in the box, and why are you so keen to protect it?
Because of SCIENCE, Sir.
*holds up the tracker*
This is a non-lethal device. See here?
*points to a meter*
It's specifically made for tracking magically enhanced Mortal objects. As you can see, it's set to the Magic Green Box setting. This tracker is perfectly harmless, provided it's in the right hands.
*looks down at her hands*
As these are clearly the WRONG hand, though, I say again that I should probably leave it alone.
No matter how cool it may be.
Stars above, Mister Ioux gets all the best toys.
...
Well, that certainly is fascinating.
Now, would you prefer to return the... Tracker, to Mr. Ioux now, or some other time?
((Um, if I may...? The tracker was originally created to track the packing slip of this particular box, which I currently have, and teleport to the general vicinity of it. It won't track just anything. Ioux has some very techno-savvy friends, though. They're all liars, but they're actually pretty smart. Anyway, they installed a lot of...let's say bonus features, for "emergency use only."
I know it's in your hands now and all, but that much at least needs to stick to my original plan for my part plot to work.))
*tracker begins beeping like a fire alarm*
*looks very uncomfortable*
Er . . . I think the sooner I returned this, the better.
*tracker begins flashing green and red*
What? What is it doing?
*presses red button*
*sign pops up on a little window*
Sign: PLEASE DO NOT PRESS THAT BUTTON AGAIN.
Oh dear.
I should really put this thing back where it came from, or so help me . . .
(Don't worry, Liz, I'll be very careful with this precious little techno-gizmo.)
What makes you think you'll get an answer at all, Ioux?
((That's not what I meant...))
(I'll take your words into consideration, but after all, few things are more important than comedic effect!
Can only track the box: Noted, and written in my memoirs.)
((Now now. It would actually be so much better if it could actually track the box itself, wouldn't it? Do what you like with the tracker, Ms. Precocious.))
You mentioned family, Ms. Herald. You've also stated that your entire family is dead. I wonder...
*Surreptitiously draws a syringe from a pocket in his coat*
*sighs*
Well, my good Doctor, I suppose you and I should find this Mr. Ioux, and return his... Tracker.
*Notices Ioux's hand moving and takes careful aim, shooting off the tip of the syringe and the top of his finger*
Don't try anything. Not a thing, you hear me?
((Fine.))
*twiddles a dial on the tracker*
*gets shocked*
OW!
*angrily taps a meter where a red needle is bobbing*
*trackers starts blinking*
Oh, oh, oh it's focusing in on something, it's focusing, IT'S-
*vanishes in a flash fo blood-red light*
*along with Sir*
*and a dead leaf*
*reappears outside the green box with a loud BANG-KASSSSSSSH!*
*of
Ms. Herald, that hurt!
*Tilts head*
Is that fear? Is the great and terrible Liz Herald afraid of an innocent gentleman like myself? How...appropriate.
*Smiles*
*Hand darts out and grabs Liz's wrist, sending Chelsea clattering to the floor.*
I'll give you one more chance, Ms. Herald. Give me your teleportation device.
*Twists out of Ioux's grip and leaps over the shrubbery, ricocheting off the ceiling and landing on the other side of the box*
No. I can't do that.
*clamps his eyes shut as the light flashes*
*very slowly cracks them open, one at a time*
*Picks up Chelsea*
What a beautiful piece of weaponry. Is it valuable to you?
*is too absorbed to hear the noise from outside of the box*
*winces*
Sorry about that . . .
*claps a hand over her mouth*
Teleportation makes me a little queasy . . .
*sways on the spot*
*then composes herself*
. . . phew.
Alright . . .
So dreadfully about that, I should've given you some warning . . .
*Twitches slightly at the BANG-KASSSSSSSH*
*Doesn't answer Ioux*
*Stands up slowly, trying not to wince at the spots where she is definitely bruised*
*Takes Ms. Herald's silence as acknowledgement of the gun's value*
*Grins wider*
Shall I destroy it?
Even better, shall I shoot you with it? I am generally a nonviolent man, Ms. Herald, but you have been extremely anger-provoking.
*shakes his head, slightly disoriented*
No, my good Doctor, I doubt you could know that would happen...
Hrm. So, where are we, then...?
*looks around*
(For reference, just exactly how big is this box? I thought it was the size of a refrigerator, but it seems rather larger.)
*looks around*
We're in a forest . . .
Surrounded by shrubbery . . .
Oh, look!
*points at the abandoned swing set a distance away*
*the one with half a slide*
The abandoned swing set!
Which means . . .
*pulls aside tree branches*
*uncovering the green box*
*with Mihos the fire-breathing duck sitting on it*
Oh . . .
Oh my . . .
((The original box was the size of a refridgerator. The box that Ioux and Liz are now inside (i.e. the one built by the Hollow Men) is considerably larger, about six feet high, and if the shrubbery were square, the box would be about eight inches bigger on each side))
Erm.
*very, very carefully edges towards the box*
Be a good, fire-breathing waterfowl...
Hello again
Hello again
((I shall be distant for perhaps ten minutes, then Ms. Herald and I must disappear for unavoidable reasons, I'm afraid.))
(Thank you very much for the clarification!)
Oh, don't mind him. He doesn't like ducks. But you're a sweet little monster, aren't you!
*cuddles Mihos*
Mihos: QUACK.
Yes you are! Yes you are! Aww, yes you are!
*sighs*
I'm sorry, but you're making Sir uncomfortable, so you simply cannot stay.
*puts Mihos down*
Run along now. Shoo.
Mihos: QUACK?
*looks sad*
Go on. I'm sure you'll find a lovely little pond somewhere.
Mihos: QUACK?
. . .
Don't look at me like that.
I'm not being mean.
Please don't look at me like that!
Mihos: . . . quack?
. . .
*her ice-cold heart melts*
Awww . . .
*awkwardly skinks into her lab, beginning to gather things up*
...
*sighs*
My good Doctor, if you insist, the waterfowl can stay. Though make sure it does not come near me.
Greetings, Ms. Dark.
(Awkwardly skinks?)
((Hello, Ms. Dark))
*Gloats at the fact that Liz is still silent*
If your friend were here, she could save you. She could melt the bullets. It's a shame what happened to her, really.
*picks up bag*
*pauses*
*makes a portal*
*slips through, landing in the infirmary at the rink in Estonia*
*gently picks up Mihos*
Don't worry, little waterfowl, I'll find you a good home. Would you like to go live with my friends Barnum and Bailey?
Mihos: Quack quack!
Awwww, okay. It'll take a little time travel, but I'm happy as long as you find a good home!
Mihos: Quack!
*pulls out a black set of car keys*
*clicks the fob*
*the van stretches and lengthens into a leash*
*hooks up the duck*
There we go. Now you can't wander off, but I don't have to carry you all the time.
Mihos: Quack!
*quietly begins to work with the people she hurt yesterday*
(It grew silent . . .)
*awkwardly silent* *hums a little tune*
(I am watching the original Willy Wonka right now. It is my Happy Place.)
(Cool! I'm uh... About to start homework.
Oh gods I'm screwed)
Ugh trying to get this up
It is an excellent film, Ms. Barnosky.
My good Doctor, perhaps we should investigate the contents of the box itself?
*examines the box*
There don't seem to be any seams or breaks . . .
I suppose our only recourse is to crack it open.
(My dear Adra, if you ever need help with your homework, I am a fount of information. For instance, did you know that the elephant is the only mammal that can't jump?)
((...no offence, but that doesn't help with my Julius Caessr 4-Para essay..))
*begins to work on the woman's broken bone*
(Although, if Ioux/Liz/Fabi has departed, it might be better if we held off on the breaking of boxes.)
(Only four paragraphs?
I don't know what you're complaining about. In my household, anything less than two pages is not considered an essay.)
Ah, Julius Caesar. A very interesting work...
Indeed, Ms. Barnosky.
((fine I'll be the one to ask it.
Is "Doctor" Precocious's title, or is it her actual first name?))
((Each paragraph is about a page))
(It is her actual name.
Precocious, Doctor
She has had many titles over the years. She has been called things such as "Professor" "Lieutenant-Commander" "Supreme Ruler of the Co-co-Knid Tribe" and "That Bitch From New England."
She doesn't go by any of them.)
(She does not have a doctorate, however her name has enabled her to fake it when necessary. She doesn't like to though; although she has had bad experiences with them in the past, she still has a healthy respect for clerics.)
((Ahhhh okay then))
*sings an old Slavic hymn from when she was younger, the infirmary silent*
(I would like to sing a song.
*coughs*
*produces an old-fashioned microphone from the 50's*
Alright . . . mi mi mi! Red feather, yellow feather, red feather, yellow feather . . .
*clears throat*
Alright, what should I sing . . .)
Whatever you choose, Ms. Barnosky.
*finishes wrapping up the woman's limb, feeling more and more guilty by the minute, wondering how many people had been hurt because of her*
Back
Welcome back, Ms. Kerias.
(Lost in the crowd
Alone
And drinkin' my third
I'm hungry for company, but I can't think of the words
Watchin' the boys, my heart in my hands
What a misplaced, pitiful sight!
Just a stiff upper lip
Who'll be knowin' tomorrow
What I shoulda been sayin' tonight!
Wontcha' tell me what's a nice girl like me
Doin' in a place that never closes
I can hardly hear ya' through the noises
Lookin' so sad
Now won't you tell me what's a nice girl like me
Doin' by the dance floor after hours?
Dozin' over rows of whiskey sours
Feelin' so bad
I'm feelin' so bad for me
Watchin' the boys, my heart in my hands
What a misplaced, pitiful sight?
Just a stiff upper lip
Who'll be knowin' tomorrow
What I shoulda been sayin' tonight
And tell me what's a nice girl like me
Doin' in a place that never closes
I can hardly hear ya' through the noises
Lookin' so sad
Now won't you tell me what's a nice kid like me
Doin' by the dance floor after hours
Dozin' over rows of whiskey sours
Feelin' so bad
I'm feelin' so bad for me)
*claps*
*bows*
Thank you, Sir. I've always been fond of that song.
*pauses, finishing up*
*wipes her eyes, sleep-deprived and walks back through her portal and slumps in a chair by the fire*
Well, I suppose I can see why, Ms. Barnosky.
. . . I'm not sure whether or not to take that as a complement, but thank you.
*sits on the edge of the stage*
If I am to admit, I have never been too much of a fan of the musical arts.
Took ages but we set up the phones I now own an iPhone
You have to find the right sort of music. The sort of music that suits you. I, for instance, am particularly fond of smooth jazz.
(Congratulations, Zafira!)
*stretches her legs out, Dimitri hopping up onto her lap and curling up* *she absently puts a hand over him, and is lost by the tongues of the fire*
I suppose so. Art in general escapes me, sadly.
You're more scientifically minded, I suppose? That's odd. I always imagined you would be a connoisseur of the arts in your spare time.
*shrugs*
I myself never had an appreciation for paintings or poetry. I do appreciate cinematography, though.
I was in a movie, once. Of course, this was before they had sound.
Well. I suppose I am not entirely SCIENTIFICALLY minded, but... You hardly wish for me to blather on about myself.
Really? And what movie would this be?
*gets up and rather stoically retreats to her lab*
(((((((((((((( i am bracket obsessed...)))))))))))))))
(( oh, and hi!))
Very... Interesting, Ms. Snow. Greetings.
*blushes*
It's a little embarrassing, actually . . . I was one of the show girls in The Phantom of the Opera . . . 1925.
i'm gonna drop the bracket but i am not RPing as i am trying to work out my plot...
((Hi Snow))
*once there, she closes her lab door, but doesn't lock, in the event she's needed*
*walks further back into a far corner of her lab* *sits in a corner, her forehead to her knees, sitting*
Oh.
*raises his eyebrows, and lowers them just as quickly*
Well, it is an accomplishment. If it is any consolation, I have always been partial to older Western films.
*hums the Phantom of the Opera* great musical... though i have only heard some of the music... *sigh* wish i could see it...
Oh, I love old Westerns.
*sigh*
I was hoping to be in one, but, sadly, I decided to end my brief career with The Phantom of the Opera.
They liked me, though.
I got fan mail.
*smiles wistfully*
It was fun, I suppose. I got to wear feathers.
*shrugs*
But alas, show biz was not for me.
(Well, I am speaking of the silent film, not the internationally-beloved musical.)
Indeed, my good Doctor. Still, that is how events unfold, I suppose.
*shrugs*
*lays in snow* Oh so what do I do!
But enough about me; I talk far too much. WHat about you? Have you ever tried to get into a business you simply weren't cut out for? Opting instead to become . . . become . . .
*raises an eyebrow*
I'm not even certain what it is you do. I hunt monsters, after all, but I've never seen you going about your vocation . . .
Erm. Well, this is a tad awkward, but I fall in the demographic from which men and women such as you make their living.
*looks down*
*feels a little stupid*
I . . . I'm not entirely sure what that means.
Are you a hunter as well?
A hunter of what?
HELLOOOOOOOOO
Greetings, Ms. Glee.
My good Doctor. You are a monster hunter, correct?
I am.
Therefore, men and women like you are likewise monster hunters.
*tucks her head in and allows herself a moment, softly letting her emotions out*
GREETINGS SIR! *supermegatacklehugsofdoom*
very distant. yeah, i know you where talking about the silent film, but...
g2g... maybe... idk...
*gets up and lays head against Ravel* What do we do?
Yes . . . yes that's true.
*looks down*
. . .
. . .
I don't mean to be rude . . .
But . . .
*looks up*
Are you a monster?
Indubitably, my good Doctor.
. . .
. . .
. . .
*looks down again*
I feel . . . rather stupid for not seeing that.
I like to consider myself intelligent. A coward, maybe. A drunk, without a doubt. But intelligent.
*looks up again*
I must say . . . you have a splendid vocabulary for a monster.
If you don't mind being a friend to a lonely monster hunter . . .
. . . then I can promise no other monster hunter will gives you trouble.
*stares at the ground*
I promise.
((Hi Jubi- bye Snow))
*leans up against the wall, allowing her emotions to be dragged down like a weight in the ocean*
*sighs, rather heavily*
My good Doctor, you are really rather intelligent, there is no need to feel ignorant.
*gives her shoulder an awkward pat*
And worry not, I shall remain... A friend to you, there is no need to make any promises.
*withdraws his hand*
((This is funny I'm just figuring out my iPhone but i got it mostly))
Ravel: Hey Zaf c'mon you're okay I have faith
*quiet*
Ravel: *smirks holding close*
HAI ADRA AND ZAF AND ANNKA! *supermegatacklehugsofdoom*
And HAI/BAI SNOW! *supermegagoodbyetacklehugsofdoom*
. . . I must say, I'm surprised that you chose to associate with me. Before, I mean. It's no secret that I'm a monster hunter.
But thank you for remaining my friend. I value my friends. Friends are the most valuable thing in the world, so people who aren't me say.
*gives Sir a sidelong look*
If it isn't too presumptuous . . . or racist, I suppose . . . what kind of monster are you?
Are you a vampire?
A werewolf?
. . . a shark?
((SICTOR!! I SHIP IT!! ))
(That's a bit inappropriate, Snow, don't you think?)
(( sirctor? sictor? dir? *thinks*
oh, i got first... ))
(( not at all... XD ))
*chuckles*
I spent some time as a shark, but...
To be honest?
I have no idea. I haven't exactly taken on any consistent corporeal form, here. Mostly things based on whims.
I'm a bit of an extra-dimensional horror, so I expect that it involves lots of tentacles and beaks and screaming.
SIRCOCIOUS!
Ms. Snow, and Ms. Glee, that would be entirely inappropriate, and I would prefer it if you stopped.
MAYBE...!
XD LOL JUBI!!!
oh, and i have a ded!!
i dedicate this page to the possibility of Sirctor, oc sircocious or whatever their ship name is.
Humph
naaww! we're just kidding, you all inter-dimensional monster you!
*old
WOOHOOO NEW OTP!
*beams*
Fascinating!
I've read some stories about . . . things . . . like you, if what you say is true. Some fellow named . . . Lovewell? Loveton? Loverson? I can't remember.
But I suppose those sorts of stories are detestable to you.
Rather like the way Twilight is regarded amongst vampires.
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