Signe

cheese

wish

let's see. although I was never a bachelor, being female, I did live alone for a decent while and was very lazy since it sucks cooking for one. some of the things I did: pizza bagels 1 bag of bagels tomato sauce ham mushrooms cheese (or whatever you like on your pizza) cut bagels open, spread with sauce, toss on toppings, bake. I would make six bagels worth, or 12 pizzas, and eat them for every meal until I ran out. poor man's beef stroganoff ground meat condensed mushroom soup veggies egg noodles brown meat, boil noodles, thaw veggies if frozen, combine and eat. reheats great. If you make it with tuna instead, use macaronis and bake it with cheese on top. a little more work than some of the above, and a little more expensive than others, but actually edible. ;o)

aww... but it would be fun to see it done a different way!

Signe as a nun has been done, kinda. ;o) by Gyrfalcon, as part of the I Dare You! thread a few years ago. but sadly, she didn't stay long!

I'm up for this as well! Signe's fun to write, I think.

I don't think it needs the addendum at all - I liked it better without, personally. the second part feels related but really not part of the whole, and it's not as strong.

Stick slowly becomes aware that while the audience is completely riveted, the glazed eyes, gaping jaws and tented pants probably don't have anything to do with his jokes. His suspicion is confirmed when one of Signe's handmaidens, dressed in the skimpiest tuxedo he's ever seen, gently takes him by the hand and draws him to to stage left. Two others, dressed identically, are stage right helping Wyvern to his swaying feet, one of them holding a cold compress to the back of his head. At centre stage, eclipsing even the gravity-defying attributes of the handmaidens and object of the fascinated audience's attention poses Signe. Her costume consists of a tall black top hat with a veil tipped rakishly over one eye, and a dress that covers a surprising amount of skin. At least, the fact that she is covered from neck to wrist to toe WOULD be surprising, if the fabric weren't translucent, the reflections from the stagelights the only things maintaining her dubious modesty. "Boys boys boys...." even without a mic her throaty voice carries through the silent theatre. "you've both been taking my name in vain! but that's all right. I'm a generous s- soul." Her demonic mouth chokes on the last word, and it seems to take more than the usual amount of tongue to pronounce. "I've decided there's a way you can both make it up to me!" her eyes caress each in turn. "and if you're VERY good... I might have a VERY special prize for the winner." Signe gestures, and both Stick and Wyvern are suddenly drenched with Signe's private reserve massage oil. It has been stored in casks in a warm damp place for months after being sluiced over her naked body, and the theatre is suddenly filled with the aroma of happy succubus. "And now, for the pleasure of the pen, I present - a wrestling match!" Signe smiles, and awaits the beginning of the combat.

I really like this! It paints a very vivid picture, both literally and figuratively. I think there might be a word missing in the second part (I had but to leap?) to make it scan better and be easier to make sense of. well done!

Raising one eyebrow, Signe watches his hasty retreat. Leisurely, she inspects a bloodred fingernail, and considers her options. Obviously, she hasn't just been spurned, but Racouol's journey to a secluded corner of the Cabaret is unmistakeable. Only one reason possible- he's gone to pull a chair out for her, and in his rush he forgot to bring her! Inhaling deeply to resettle her cleavage to advantage, Signe follows at a leisurely pace, only to fall flat on her face as she trips over a drooling Wyvern.

Signe considers taking up the Pointy One's challenge, briefly, before her attention is captured by the admiring gaze of the well-travelled stranger. She perches on the edge of a barstool as she watches him approach, and as he gets closer she pours herself off the stool, taking one hipswinging step towards him so that instead of standing at a socially-appropriate distance there is barely enough room between them for her to place one soft hand on his, arranged to be kissed rather than shaken. "Why, hello Racouol. I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance." Signe smiles, her lips curving into a shape suggestive of very, very good times.

I am really, REALLY loving this. I can just see it! it's very changeling - like a travelling under-the-hill that sweeps you away and then you find out a hundred years has passed. SO cool.

Skirla comes to the end of the shelf and saunters over to perch on the edge of the detenshun table, toying with a rusty shackle as she crosses her legs, swinging them idly. "I'm so glad your homework went well Dawgrim." Signe stays carefully in character, gazing up at him with her shyest expression, long braids of black hair falling over her shoulder. "Do you think there'll be a pop quiz on erections today? Is that why you're in the library, to study... erections?" the succubus uncrosses her legs, her schoolgirl costume barely covering the tops of her thighs. "Ahhh....." Dawgrim is momentarily paralyzed, until the sexy librarian scoops the doctored sunglasses off Blarr's face and shoves them onto Wyvern's. Recoiling slightly from the image of the trog suddenly shoved between him and Skirla, Dawgrim manages to respond "ah, no Skirla, that's not why I'm here. ahem. Skirla. I am here because Home Hogswill is coming up and I'm hoping that you would like to go. Err, with me." Dawgrim peeks over the sunglasses to see Skirla's reaction. "Oh, Dawgrim," she replies breathlessly, her eyes wide. "I didn't expect you to ask, I mean, you're so popular and you have such nice hair, and me, I'm -" Here Signe pauses to check the script taped to the side of a nearby bookcase. "I'm so plain and unpopular, and I know you could find someone sexier than me?" Skirla's voice is doubtful, but she shrugs and continues anyway. "And I can't go... you know no one who's failing a class is allowed to go, and I just know I'm going to fail sex ed! Instructor Ashur just hates me." Skirla crosses her legs again, looking down sadly. "if I can't pass the next tests, on foreplay and lingerie, I won't be able to come with you!"

I think that we use all sorts of terms to describe things. Some kisses are French. Some waffles are Belgian. That isn't going to change, and certainly won't because such a small population wants it to. I think that it should only matter if it's a really offensive connection (I doubt the people we call gypsies are flattered when people use the term "gyp" to describe cheating someone out of something). I would only be offended if it were a euphemism for something I found offensive. If Canadian were a euphemism for polite, I would be amused. it might occasionally provoke misunderstanding, but the english language is full of that. I don't find the idea of women loving each other offensive, so I find their argument silly.

more! ;o)

wow, you really went back into history! Thank you.

I really like the melody, and I agree that it picks up pleasingly towards the end, though the mic could barely handle it! Growing up listening to my stepdad writing music and then later hearing it performed I can imagine how much more impact it would have with more support. For ME, the lyrics were the weakest part. There are lines I really like (you steal my secret wish) and others maybe I didn't get or wasn't able to appreciate as much (closure of the cleanest tomb?) and with such a compressed lyric, I would want every line to feel absolutely critical to the overall song. perhaps some way of weaving "tell me nothing beats the best" earlier on? Please disregard any of this that doesn't suit, my critical skills are rusty when it comes to more abstract writings, but I did want to give some feedback.

With Dawgrim's back turned, he fails to see Blarr, looking up from his script, slowly keel over and land with a series of muffled thuds. Nor does he notice the slight, intriguingly-scented haze that presages the entrance of one Skirla Innosensual. Accompanied by her handmaidens, each dressed like jailbait, Signe sways into view. The source of the haze appears to be the combined effect of the talcum powder turning her black wings white and the smoke curling slowly from her cleavage, nestled into which is a crucifix. The faint scent of scorched succubus adds a piquant note to her naturally spicy scent. Looking unnaturally demure, Skirla, New Girl In School, is wearing a catholic school girl uniform, obviously shortened and tightened for it's current occupant. The red plaid skirt barely covers her perky bottom, and the white blouse strains at the seams to contain her demonically globular breasts. Her sleek black hair is trapped in two braids that hang down between her powdered wings, though the front has been teased up into something resembling the dreaded california wave in an attempt to conceal her horns. Undulating slowly to a position just behind Dawgrim and glancing quickly at the Sex Ed. textbook she's carrying, the front of which has her script taped to it, Skirla ignores Blarr's panting as her progress gives him a view directly up her skirt. Moistening her cherry flavoured pink lips with the tip of her tongue, she murmurs just loudly enough to be picked up by the boom mic that hovers attentively over her head. "excuse me, are you Dawgrim?" A look of concentration passes over her face before - yes, there it is - a faint blush stains the succubus' cheeks a rosy pink.

Signe strides swiftly to the middle of the room, her handmaidens scurrying behind her. Striking a regal pose and taking a deep breath, she beams at the assembled Pennites and others. "I just want to thank each and every one of you for coming out to vote for me today. As Queen of the Collective Universes, I vow that-" the succubus' speech is interrupted by one of her handmaidens. A brief whispered conference ensues, ending with Signe exclaiming "What? Queen of the Collective Universes isn't an elected post? oh! Well, in that case..." "Ahem. As I was saying. As Queen of the Collective Universes, I want to thank you for coming out to vote today. I'm sure you'll select a very good consort for me, someone who will take me more than a night or two to brea - oh what now!" Her handmaiden has been trying to find something to tug on that won't make this thread fit for the Scarlett Pen. Having found a loose thread on Signe's purple leather corset, and successfully gotten the succubus' attention, she again whispers in her ear. "They're voting on WHAT? But who could possibly care about THA - oh, whatever!" Annoyed, the succubus grabs two innocent bystanders and vanishes into a polling station. The curtains shake and shimmy wildly for a moment or two, then stop. A moment later the succubus exits, grabbing an "I Voted!" sticker from the hand of a paralysed volunteer and striding out, her handmaidens in quick pursuit.

Inaction is paralysis; Action is release.

The succubus admires her handiwork, bending over the sprawled almost draconic figure of one of her favourite pets to tweak the bow slightly. Straightening, she exclaims delightedly "Peredhil!" and blows him a kiss that lands with an audible wet smack! on his cheek, staining sheer red lipmarks where it lands. "It's been far too long. Someone really should have woken me." She yawns, stretching her arms prettily above her head. "Now..." she murmers "I wonder what trouble I can get into..."

Signe smiles leisurely, one blood red fingernail tapping gently against her hip. "why, no, Wyvvie-dear - though that IS an impressive collection - have you been foraging in my toybox again? anyway, no.... I think something... special is called for. Don't you?" Her words elicit a small almost-draconic response - a head that bobs up and down in time with the tapping fingernail. A deep, thoughtful breath threatens to release the succubus' cleavage from it's restraints, and the wyvern's eyeballs from their sockets. "yes." The succubus leans forward and ties a very worn, very loved birthday ribbon around the wyvern's neck. "yes, I think this will be just the thing."

a long, long black fishnet-clad leg slides slowly around the doorway, followed by long red fingernails and the tip of a red tail. Slowly the rest of the succubus oozes into view, looking rested and rejuvenated. "why, hello, boys and girls." she yawns, and stretches. "what a pleasant nap. Wonderful dreams." her lazy smile evokes all sorts of things, none of them suitable for family viewing. "Now... I had a leash around here somewhere...?"

(totally out of character but... thanks you guys. http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif) a year and a half late, but thanks. http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif) I feel all warm and happy inside!)

*the Succubus sends her 6 handmaidens to Wyvern, each with a birthday message to whisper in his ear. Her eyes sparkle gleefully as she imagines the red face her friend will soon have!* Happy Birthday! Many happy returns.