ways_back_room | (no subject)

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...yet ANOTHER summary. At least this one's short. I'm going to start having nightmares about html tags.

Hob, Paul, and Anthy from last night, here.

Paul and Anthy talk in a cryptic manner involving animal noises. Anthy asks Paul what Hob's name is. Paul informs her that it is Fluffy.

Anthy and Hob have an equally cryptic conversation in which Anthy keeps touching Hob and asking him if he would hurt her (and if so, how). There are some none-too-cheery fireworks when Anthy insists on calling Hob Fluffy.

Hob and Paul sit and play with matches and snark in a way that leads to Hob politely requesting that Paul take his bloody hospital & self out of Hob's head kthx? Which Paul does, presenting Hob with the rather horrifying spectacle of Paul dying in front of him. Hob freaks out (I really just need a keystroke for that phrase) and pleads with Paul not to die. Paul is, as you might imagine, more than happy to oblige, and it all sounds rather explicitly sexual until Paul vanishes inside Hob's head.

Technically I suppose the Hob/Anthy thread is still running, since it went silent when Anthy's puppetteer and I realized we were actually dying of lack of sleep.

Questions? Comments? Rude statements?

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Dear god, you people are champions of the monster threads. And I loff you all.

I know. Dear God, how do they get so long?

Believe me, at this point I think the love is largely what's sustaining us. I know I, for one, barely get sleep!

I just seem to get caught in the wordy threads. Some of them turn into Threadzillae in terms of comment count, but the ones that don't, make up for it in terms of sheer length of response. Or else they're mad heavy on canon. *headdesk*

I feel you on the sleep. Past few nights have been me falling asleep at the computer without warning, usually around 8 am, only to wake up again around noon. I'm amazed I'm coherent.

*rereads*

*is creeped out* O_o

Poor ~~Fluffy~~ Hob.

The creeper-outter is creeped out?

Creepy.

Oh, by the way, what is going on with Hob? He's scaring Anthy. :-(

Not sure which bit you're referring to. Of course, everything from 2 am onwards is rather hazy. If you're talking about the obvious difference between almost-nice-Hob-talking-to-Anthy and normal Hob, it's because for some reason Anthy sort of puts Hob at ease. It doesn't seem like she has ulterior motives. When she shows said motives, it freaks him out.

And, he's scaring Anthy?

:-) I'd be conversing in the bar, but I won't be around for very long.

Well, yeah. Or -- not-angry zen Hob.

*g*

or not-stayingincharacter sleepy Artemisia

Come closer, young grasshopper, and learn the Way of the Snarky Immortal.

But it was interesting!

It's probably creepy now because I was so half-asleep when RPing it.

Well, I did come up with a way to justify it, at least.

Yeah. Honestly, there have been mornings where my reaction to rereading stuff has been: *blink* Wow, that's a terribly profound statement on the nature of humanity. I wish I knew who had written it, CAUSE I SURE DON'T REMEMBER DOING IT.

It's kind of fun, though. You are communing with your dream-self. Or something.

Making up for the severe lack of other REM activity we're getting these days.

*is disturbed by her dream self*

Swedenborgian!

It's like our subconscious, but more poorly lit! And with earthquakes!

And matches. That was very pretty imagery, by the way. I liked it.

The difficulty of having to come up with new and more sullen ways to make an entrance each time forces me to dig deep into the mossy half-collapsed well of my imagination.

Hee!

Mine, on the other hand, is being heavily saturated with roses and fairy tales and coffins and stuff like this icon.

That icon's going to give me nightmares.

As well it should.

That has to go on a t-shirt:

Milliways--where everything sounds rather explicitly sexual!

Hob/Paul is such a sick relationship. It's as if the Marquis de Sade had got involved with Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I really should not pity Hob at this point, as he's asked for it. In spades. But I do.

He didn't asked to be called Fluffy!

nor to have his fingers nipped at affectionately by vampire fangs.

You realize you're going to have to write me some Sade/Masoch now, right? : )

But Fluffy suits him so well somehow!

It totally does.

Fluffy O'Cuddlekins. McWoobie. Smoosh.

Next time I'm at McDonald's, I shall order a McWoobie.

But will you get one?

No. They don't use real Hob-meat, just some sort of cheap imitation drowned in grease.

*blinks*

Y'all are. So. Insane.

(*brain explodes trying to imagine what a McWoobie would be, exactly*)

Hob's heart inna bun?

Twoferadollar?

But you're cutting yer own hand off.

Self-serf.

*squick*

I doubt CMOT Dibbler would appreciate the competition.

But one could only really eat one, couldn't one?

More of a delicacy than anything else, then.

How much would it cost?

It would be bid upon. In silent auction.

And who would win?

The highest bidders would be selected to compete in single combat. No rules. Just mincing knives.

Sadly, dead crack rats would not be considered acceptable barter.

A duel!

Imagine the surprised winner when he gets, not Anthy and her magic sword, but Hob's bloody heart in some Wonderbread.

Which Paul does, presenting Hob with the rather horrifying spectacle of Paul dying in front of him.

Hob really needs to remember that Paul is already dead.

And if Paul had ever gone up against Niccolo Machiavelli, I would feel very very very sorry for the poor naive man.

*shrug* Well, as Paul would probably say, "for a given value of dead, of course."

Dead, but not gone...

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