Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

Oh, Klaushouse already knows about my curious history. Why do you think we yell NO HOMO at each other so much?

...I think I'm just inviting trouble now.

So what I'm going to do is look at the submissions and ensure EVERYBODY has posted. Then I'm going to have to chase up a few people... but in the meantime, I'll start the next round!

...it's going to be an organisational nightmare, but somehow we'll manage. Though Cen is experiencing... technical difficulties... so I kinda have to try and do it on my own...

May the Lord have mercy on us all.

Oh... oh crap... >_>
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RUN AWAY!
(hides away from Cenere and his boyfriend Strop)

You know what's even funnier? Strop loves to make gay jokes at Cenere's expense. Do you remember the part in Welcome, where Cenere is looking at the prompt cards Strop has written for him? Well, I left out a line:

"Ahem." Cenere squinted at the pages. "Before I begin, there is something Strop wishes me to tell you." The next line read: I am gay. Cenere squinted at the pages again, before reddening and turning to look at Strop. "No."

I've seen teh last two parts of this thread and I msut say, what the hell. Just.... just wth. What's with Cen and Strop getting it on?

WHERE IS YOUR FAVORITE THOAD IN THIS MIX, CE-
I mean.

Pie.

Sure.

*glances at thread*

Errr....I know that you didn't actually meet him irl...but maybe Klaus is the guy that you fell in love with before...

DUN DUN DUN~~

Alright, so that makes it a FIVEsome. Why don't we declare this one big org-

Because it's a freakin' PG-13 forum, geez guize D:

Anyway, since Cen's laptop is teh broken, I'm going to go through all the stuff and see if everybody is ready to move on. If they are, WE'RE MOVING ON!

Alright, Gantic, Cholo and Alt, I know you've given me your info via email and it's good to post, so if you could please post at your earliest convenience, we can get going. Thanks.

As for the rest, well, we're following that up.

Alright, so that makes it a FIVEsome. Why don't we declare this one big org-

Errr....I know that you didn't actually meet him irl...but maybe Klaus is the guy that you fell in love with before...

Wait a cotton-pickin minute here, I met Klaus AFTER I joined AG.

This seems like something planned.... Ending up when I am without any internet at home, and limited amount of same elsewhere...

Also, I strongly object to being called "Strop's boytoy", dear Soulhack, for obvious reasons.
But well, it must be hard not to project such strong feelings on someone like me, so I guess you are excused. Instead, you should confess your love, it will make you feel better.

I know. But what if that other person WAS also Klaus...

Trust me, that's almost certainly impossible >

Alright alright, here we go with the next part...

Intermission



"Did you hear what Strop was planning for the first trial?" Nemo scratched at the dirty tiles with his stick.

"Why yes, yes I did," Devoidless murmured, his hulking body curled up on the roof of the cathedral spire. From here, they had a marvellous view of a great portion of the city, blocked only by the ArmorCastle. It was an unusual location to hold a conversation here, but Nemo had his reasons. Namely, there was no way Ubertuna would be able to get up here, or so he thought.

"Well, any ideas?"

Devoidless took a drag of his cigarette, then stuck his head in the spire window and blew large quantities of smoke down the staircase. "Maybe we could tinker with his balls."

Nemo frowned "Like how?"

"I dunno. Spit on them? Puncture them? Grease them up so he won't be able to handle them properly?"

"Nah, that's too...crude." Nemo made a face. "And probably a bit too obvious, too."

They were interrupted by a series of hacking coughs echoing through the spire. Just then, a fin poked out the window.

"Aw man, not again!" Nemo slapped his hand to his forehead.

"You know," Ubertuna huffed, as he clambered onto the roof, "It's rude to go around your friends when you're planning something fun."

"But I'm not-"

"You can thank me later, my good Nemo," Ubertuna simpered before drawing up his faux-villain airs. "For I have a plan that is guaranteed to be, as you say, fun."
_______________________________________________________________

"Just how many rooftops do you plan to cross? This suit is...restrictive."

Strop didn't reply. Perhaps it was because he couldn't hear anything above the clatter of hooves across the tile. Wait- that couldn't be right: hooves or not, Strop was a ninja, and had mastered the art of silent running. Cen's shoes, on the other hand, were really heavy the soles were really hard. And running in them was loud. And painful. Increasingly so.

"Besides, Strop, I don't understand why we have to run on the rooftops, when there's a perfectly good street* below..."

Still no response, for Strop had just leaped into the air, seemingly gliding across the space between the rooftops before landing (again, soundlessly) on the other side and taking off without pause. Cen had just enough time to realise that he was going in the same direction as Strop, and therefore was going to have to jump the same gap or suffer a smearing fate on the walls of the housing commission flats of the low-ranking residential areas of AG.

Without even pausing to consider why he was bothering to follow Strop in this lunacy in the first place, Cen jumped. Arms and legs flailing as he wobbled over the street, a good six storeys below, he suffered a terrible stomach-dropping moment before he landed, face-first, on the roof of the opposite block. His brain couldn't decide which was more remarkable, the pain or the miracle of not dying, so it elected to continue talking:

"And how come I'm the one who has to carry the sack..." Cen shrugged the massive burlap sack off his shoulders. It was surprisingly light and even, perhaps, buoyant, which might have explained how he managed to jump a ten meter gap in suit and dress shoes without dying.

Slowly, Cenere peeled his body off the roof and dusted off his suit. Trying to ignore the Cen-shaped pattern of crushed roof tiles, he scanned the area for Strop, but as usual, the ditz had run off without him. He sighed and rubbed his forehead with the complimentary handkerchief that came with the suit, realising, in the process, just how sweaty he was.

"And my feet are completely covered in blisters, too," he mumbled to himself.

Just then, a bandaged hand clapped down on his shoulder.



*Strop has received the comment "What's wrong with the stairs?" too many times to count.

There is no task just yet! Stay tuned for the next update, coming tomorrow!