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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 12:53:01 GMT -5
# OT Challenge---Sue't Yourself — GreyLadyBast, Sun Nov 30 9:19am Ok, here's the twisted and horrible idea from the Brain of Bast(tm). I want to see you guys write a descriptive paragraph (or three) of yourselves as Self-Insert Mary Sue, preferrably as seen from the POV of a canon character. But wait! To ensure that these are not just any crappy toss-offs, there a few rules:
1) By "yourself" I mean YOURSELF! Not an elf, not a hobbit, not an Ent----you, as you usually are. The clothes your Sue wears must be clothes you actually own. The hair must be your own, though a few liberties may be taken. For example, if you just cut your hair but you miss it long and think of yourself with it long, then write it long. If you recently started dying it blonde, but aren't sure if you like yourself blonde, then keep it the pre-dye color. Alternatively, if you bought the bottle of dye but have not worked up the courage to apply it to your hair yet, then feel free to use the new color. My point is that your Sue's hair MUST be of a style, color, and texture that you have been known to wear your hair. Eyes, height, build, same deal. If you're overweight and wear glasses, then find some way to mention those facts. If you're one of those tiny girls with fast metabolisms and no curves, then by all means make free usage of the adjective "boyish". If your eyes really do change color with your mood, then put that in. But make it REAL.
2) That said, feel free to "spin" your description any way you want. Flaws can be glossed over, though they should be mentioned. For example, "fat" can become "well-fed" or "healthy" or "curvy". Or see the "boyish" of the previous rule.
3) USE PROPER SPELLING AND GRAMMAR!!! The point of this exercise is NOT to show how horrible something looks in .txt, or with horrendous spelling or lousy grammar. We all know that already. Thus, you can make your prose as purple as you like, but make it readable. Grammar flaws for creative licence will be allowed, but there had better be a d**ned good reason.
4) Feel free to provide a bit of background situation and setting, if your description cannot really stand alone without them. Try to make that a quick sum-up, though, as the focus here isn't on the backstory, but on the Suvian description.
5) Remember what I said about making this from the POV of a canon character? Please bear that in mind while writing. Try to get your head around how someone else would see you, especially someone who's never met you before in their life. Go ahead and put in any reasonable conclusions the Canons could go leaping to, given your appearance and their experience.
That's all the guidelines I can think of for now. At this point, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm daft enough to suggest this. Well, I suppose I'm trying to show that ANYONE can be "Sue'd", just as they are, and that not all descriptions of OFC's automatically equal Mary Sue. Even over-the-top ones. I guess what I'm really trying to get at is that the line between "self-insert" and "Mary Sue" is surprisingly thin.
Bast, in a strange mood.
P.S--I'll offer my own example up in another post, as this one is too long already. ============================ Marty Stu — Jon, Mon Dec 1 9:30pm From Treebeard's point of view. It's not as much of a Stu as it could be, really, but... *shrugs*
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Treebeard gazed down at the creature below him. The Ent was studying it closely, for it was clearly different from any creature it had seen before. Not an orc, this much he knew. It also did not have the grace of the elves; indeed, it had already proven itself quite gawky.
Perhaps this was a son of Men? It looked to be male, and after much deliberation, decided that it must be a Man. The tall adolescent was dressed in an pair of gray pants, a dark green shirt with a high collar, and an light jacket of an (it hardly seemed possible) darker shade of green. His head was adorned with a flowing mass of blond hair, which was parted to the left. The Ent stared intently at a strange band on the Man-thing's right wrist, before looking to his face. A long, close looked showed the ponderous being that the boy had pale green eyes, which blinked rapidly, and a faint line beneath his left eye marred his handsome face. The lean boy was walking slowly, and his entire being seemed to exude lethargy.
The boy straightened, uttering an nearly inaudible, "Huh?" Treebeard watched him approach a nearby tree, pulling a branch down to carefully pluck a leaf. Suddenly alert, he took a closer look at the leaf, and the handsome face looked, first, confused, then twisted to a mixture of fear and anger as he began to shout words in a language Treebeard has never heard before.
"There are no trees like this in my area! Where the he-"
He got no further. In a rare moment of brash decision making, Treebeard concluded that this boy was a friend of Saruman, and fearing that he was beginning a spell, crushed him like a bug.
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I thought about doing it from Bombadillo's point of veiw, and doing a poem, but I decided not to. Mostly because it would've taken to long. ================================ Here goes nothin'... — WindWaker, Mon Dec 1 5:39pm I feel pretty silly, I'm not the best of writers, and this is right off the top of my mind without much preparation, so please forgive me. This one is from Haldir's POV.
*~A loud splash issued from the direction of the Nimrodel, startling Haldir. He wondered what it could possibly be, then the thought of orcs from Moria angered him. He, with a small band of elves in pursuit, ran silently toward the Nimrodel to discard whatever orc had dared defile its clean waters.
Haldir stopped near the edge of the river, still keeping to the trees so as not to alert the enemy to his presence. He was stunned to see a girl sputtering and scrambling out of the cold water. The golden hair with a little brown in it looked almost like the hair of a maiden of Rohan. Her sodden clothes clung to the curves of her slightly overweight bod, and her broad shoulders trembled as she shivered and hugged herself.Her clothes consisted of a thin white tunic with short sleeves which he could see through to a long-sleeved white shirt underneath. Her pants were made of a thin velvet material striped in different shades of pink, and they flared out over unclad feet.
Once Haldir had gotten over his shock, he signaled to the other elves to prepare to shoot their arrows if he gave the sign, then left the cover of the trees to speak with the girl. Her back was turned to him as she surveyed her surroundings and he could see a dragon resting on the letters Af, which were in the shape of some kind of horn, on the back of her shirt. She was not aware of the elf moving up behind her, but her shoulders tensed as though she felt someone watching her. He tapped her shoulder, causing an immediate response. She jumped and whirled, striking his hand away, then overbalanced and fell on her backside right back into the river. She scramled away, splashing noisily to the other side of the river.
"Go no further!" Haldir said. She stopped and slowly turned to face him. He could clearly see confusion on her oval face. "I can have you killed now, but that is not my wish. Please come with me and I will show you to the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien."
Haldir watched as realization cleared away confusion in the girl's grayish-blue eyes. A smile came to her face, showing two thin wires across her teeth which looped up and behind her canine teeth. She didn't seem to notice Haldir's eyes widen at this. "Haldir!" she squealed and rushed at him. Haldir started, and the other elves lowered their bows in wonder.~*
*fidgets uneasily* How's that?
WindWaker, who is unsure if her little story is really the way she wants it
=============================== Nerdanel as a Denethor Sue — Nerdanel, Mon Dec 1 9:49am (This is from the point of view of youngish Denethor.)
Denethor gazed upon the strange intruder who had appeared next to the dead White Tree in a flash of bright, rainbow-colored light. He wondered if the maiden could be a servant of the Enemy, but the normally-suspicious Steward could not bring himself to believe it.
Perhaps the Valar beyound the world had sent a final gift for the troubled people's of Middle-earth, or maybe there were things in the world beyond the knowledge of even the Elves.
The maiden was tall, almost like one of the women of the Dúnedain, and her hair was a mass of thick and luxurious light brown hair that reached just past her shoulders. Her eyes could have been either stormy blue or mysterious green depending on the lighting, but now they were soft gray like a forest dove's breat feather, covered by unusual transparent glass disks whose occasional glimmerings of reflection spoke of ancient Elven mysteries. And if her alabaster skin had a few pimples they served only to accentuate her other charms.
Denethor's eyes wandered around the maiden's slim black-clad body held motionless between two guards. She was wearing a shirt of unfamiliar cut made of an even more unfamiliar shining black material, and black manly trousers that revealed the curve of her legs. On her feet she had sturdy black leather boots. The effect was quite unlike anything Denethor had ever experienced. The maiden awakened in her feelings that had lain buried since Finduilas's death a year ago.
"Let go of her," Denethor told the guards. "I am sure she means no harm."
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:02:26 GMT -5
Leonora-Sue. Right. Here goes. — Leonora, Mon Dec 1 9:01am This is probably rather too long for anyone's good, least of all mine, but eh. *g*
It had to be a loremaster, but I wasn't game to write Elrond, soooo... I picked a rather more obscure character. ;o)
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Pengolodh, lambengolmo of the Havens of Sirion, stopped short at the entrance to his study. There was someone in there, a strange girl, leaning over a manuscript on his desk and chewing absently at a fingernail. Occasionally, she would raise her other hand and sketch a sign (or several) in the air, murmuring to herself. It took him a moment to realise she was deciphering the document tengwa by tengwa, as a child might.
Her stature and colouring immediately marked her as a mortal of a lesser house: no willowy, pale-skinned, raven-haired adaneth this.
Indeed, she was solidly built, and would not have been considered tall by any standard (unless it were that of the Naugrim), and was in addition rather plump for her height. Her skin, though not dark, was swarthier than the norm, and had a sallow tone to it that bespoke much time spent indoors. Her hair was strangest of all; it appeared to be a darkish brown where it grew from the scalp, but fell from there in two braids that lightened gradually to a faded copper tone at their ends, halfway down her back.
If her hair was odd, her manner of dress was positively outlandish. She wore faded grey-green breeches that fell loosely to her ankles, and a strange dark-blue upper garment of an unknown ribbed material, long-sleeved and reaching only to the hip. It was open at the front, with unusual round silver toggles down one side, and underneath it she wore a snug black tunic of a similar truncated length. Her shoes were of a curious sort, a thick sole bound to the foot by several dark leather straps, but otherwise left open. He could see her toes curled in upon themselves; today was not one of Sirion's warmer days.
Suddenly, she winced and pulled her hand from her mouth. The lambengolmo's eyes narrowed as he saw the blood blooming along the nail's ragged edge. He had been planning to slip away, and find some more martial type to support him in confronting her; she seemed harmless enough, but the servants of evil were not always identifiable as such at first glance. Now, however, he reconsidered. Whoever she was, and whyever she was here, if she got so much as a drop of blood on his precious manuscripts…
But she was already backing away from the desk, sucking the offending finger in an attempt to stop the bleeding. A moment later, she saw him, and her eyes went very wide.
Save for the deep shadows beneath them, they were pretty eyes, a pale olive green ringed in dark grey and streaked with brown and gold, so that they would appear hazel from a distance. They were fringed with sparse dark lashes and set deeply under low brows, also dark.
Her nose was unremarkable, straight and slightly up-turned, pointing to a small mouth of solemn cast, an effect accentuated by the long down-turning line of feathery dark hair along her upper lip. All these features were set in a broad, round face, which was marred by numerous small scars and scabs, clustered especially around the forehead and chin. Pengolodh wondered if she were, or had been, ill.
Meanwhile, the girl had gone very still, watching him warily. She seemed disinclined to speak; the first move would appear to be his.
"Come with me, young one. We will find someone who knows what to do with you. Do you understand?" She opened her mouth hesitantly; after looking at the floor for a moment, she spoke.
"Und-… I understand. Tiny."
After a moment, he realised she was not referring to him, or herself, or to something he had said, but meant that she had understood a little.
"Good. You will come, then?"
She nodded, and preceded him docilely out of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lambengolmo - 'master of tongues'. tengwa - 'letter', especially in reference to the single symbols of the Fëanorian writing system known as the tengwar. adaneth - 'mortal woman', especially (I *think*, memory may be faulty) in reference to a woman of the Three Houses of the Edain. Naugrim - Elven term for the Dwarves, who I imagine to be about 5'0"-5'2" at their tallest. I'm 5'3".
"Und-… I understand. Tiny." - My attempt at transcribing in English what I would probably (try to) say in Sindarin. And no, I wouldn't actually be able to understand that document at the start, but I don't understand Russian either, and I do it with Russian texts all the time.
Letter by letter. *g*
~Leonora Aww, Pengolodh — Hellga, Mon Dec 1 5:57pm Very respectable Elf, wasn't he?
BTW, Russian letter are quite similar to English
Hellga the Crazy Russian :-) — Leonora, Mon Dec 1 8:28pm BTW, Russian letter are quite similar to English
Heh, I know, it's the ones that *aren't* that I have trouble with. ;o) I'm trying to learn them because I'm taking Russian next year.
~Leonora
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:04:49 GMT -5
Never done this before! — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 3:50am Glorfindel heard a small thump and paused in the hallway outside Lord Elrond's library. Sticking his head around the corner, he was greeted with a sight that could only be the new visitor he had heard everyone talking about. A young woman was standing in front of one of the larger bookshelves, head bent over a book, entirely absorbed in it and completely detached from the rest of the world. Her long, wavy red hair glowed like fire in the sun from the window. It fell halfway down her back, thick and curly, held back by braids above each ear that were joined at her neck by a piece of striped blue cloth. Glorfindel smiled. Red hair was, sadly, a rarety among Elves.
He watched as she turned a page and frowned as he noticed her fiddling with the corner of it. *Snap snap snap* went the corner of the paper against her fingers. Oblivious to the harm she was doing the paper, the woman shifted her weight and leaned up against the bookshelf. Her new position gave Glorfindel a better view of her clothing, which was simple but slightly odd. Her upper body was clad in a tunic of pale blue that ended just below the shoulders. He wondered if she had lost the arms of her blouse somehow, or if all her people showed their arms like this. Perhaps she was from a country of the south, where it was always warm. But no man he had seen from the south had skin this light. On her left arm she wore a thin leather band set with a circle of gold and white, and on her middle finger a small silver ring. She wore breeches, as if she had just come in from a journey on horseback, but they were clean and of a strange cut. They were dark blue, tightly fitted, with orange devices embroidered upon the seat. Glorfindel quickly averted his eyes and glanced at her feet, which were shod in dirty white shoes that seemed much too large for the feet he would have expected on someone her size. He checked her height again--no, she only came up to the fourth shelf from the floor. She would not even reach his shoulder.
He watched her for a few more moments, wondering that she did not seem to notice his presence. Any Elf would have seen him by now, and most Men. Perhaps she was simply a very studious scholar. He glanced at the book she was reading with such intensity and let out a sharp laugh. She was reading it upside down!
The woman jumped at the sound and gasped, uttering an unintelligible oath and knocking some papers off the shelf in her haste.
"Omigosh!" she exlaimed. "Legolas! I didn't hear you come in!" Her cheeks flushed red and she ducked to pick up the papers, scrambling about on the floor. "I'm sorry, I was just--"
"I am Glorfindel," said Glorfindel. The simple words had a remarkable affect on the kneeling woman. Her head snapped up and she stared at him wide-eyed through the wire circles surrounding her eyes. Her jaw dropped open and she gaped like a fish out of water, and her hands, full of papers, stilled.
"Oh, my God," she said quietly. "Holy cow. No way. Nofrigginway." Her voice rose in volume. "Oh my God, you're just as gorgeous as they said. I mean, you're really rather--I'm mean I've--I've imagined meeting you so many times and--" She suddenly flushed a deeper red,
and rushed to her feet. Grabbing a coat of dark leather from a table, she dashed for the door. She tripped, righted herself, and squeezed past Glorfindel and ran down the hall.
Surprised by her outburst, Glorfindel turned to watch her exit. Before she had gone more than a few meters down the hall, however, she dropped the coat she was carrying, whirled around, ran back to him and enveloped him in a large hug, burying her face in his chest. Then she turned, ducked her head and ran off down the hallway and out of sight.
Glorfindel shook his head and stared curiously after her. What a strange creature.
---Nenya, being Suvian and glomping Glori whilst wearing bluejeans (you know, with the orange sewing on?), a blue tshirt, a watch and ring, and running shoes. — Rose, Mon Dec 1 3:54am Oh, dear. I needed that after having to write a two-page essay on Lutheran theology (in German). +You a Glori luster? — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:02am I think my streak of longwindedness is holding out quite well. That's almost as long as the review!
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:08:37 GMT -5
Vana the Sue — Vana, Mon Dec 1 1:31am ((By Vana, I mean myself, not the Valie Vana. Just so everyone's clear on that))
Legolas sat in a relaxed pose in the Hall of Fire. He was wintering with Elrond's family, and he was worn out from a long day of snowball fighting, sledding and acting otherwise childish.
His sharp ears picked up the sound of someone else quietly entering the Hall, and he turned his head to look at the newcomer.
He saw a short young mortal woman, taller than a dwarf, but shorter than his friend Aragorn. Sandy blonde hair shining with half-melted snowflakes brushed aganist her shoulder blades as she turned to say something to a companion out of Legolas' line of vision. As she turned back, hazel green eyes caught and held Legolas' fasinated stare. A faint blush covered her high cheekbones, and she looked away.
As she turned away, the firelight caught in several scars, one stretching across her cheek and three on her forehead.
"My lady," Legolas called softly. "Will you come sit by me?"
The young woman inclinded her head, then nodded slightly and headed for his seating spot. On the way, Legolas' eyes swept briefly over her body. She was well-curved, and the tunic and leggings she wore complimented her slender figure very nicely. She didn't move with an incredible amount of grace, but the way she carried herself suggested a dangerous edge. She settled herself by him, hands resting calmly in her lap. "What is your name, my lady?" Legolas asked, his eyes meeting her shy ones again.
"Vana, my lord." Her voice was soft and mellow, almost musical in tone. "If I may ask, what is yours?"
"My name is Legolas." The words seemed to stick in Legolas' throat. Before the befuddled elf prince could say much more, a soft harp began playing in the corner. "Will you sing for me, my lady?" The words seemed to come from nowhere, but Legolas meant them.
A blush covered Vana's cheeks again, but she tilted her head and listened to the music. After a moment of listening, she opened her mouth and began to sing. Able to critically judge her voice, Legolas had to admit that, while her voice was not as pure as an elf's, she held the tune well and her voice was beautiful for a human's.
((That was fun...and far too easy. Just goes to show, there's a Sue in us all, waiting to be released.))
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Finrod ponders a chattery chick in red-checked pants... — Katharine & Co., Mon Dec 1 1:17am Finrod Felagund watched the girl with much interest as she chattered on about her many journeys. Her appearance was rather simple, in many ways; fine hair the color of sun-browned leaves fell in long, straight lines to her waist, with a great host of errant wisps ever dancing about her face. She was was fair to look upon, for her skin was pale and smooth, without noticeable blemishes--save for a pair of tiny, barely-visible scars riding low upon her right cheek. Her nose was straight, her lips were slender, and her chin was small and undented. Most curious, though, were the girl's eyes. They were a deep wood hue, like that of newly-turned earth, but a scattering of peculiar green and gold flecks swam throughout the twin orbs. When she turned her face to the sun, in fact, Finrod could have sworn that her eyes flashed a marvelous gold, much like the eyes of a great cat.
As the girl continued speaking, she punctuated her words with a great many gestures and hand-flutterings, as though she were literally weaving the story in the empty air before her. Her expression was mercurial, as well, conveying a level of vigor and spirit that Finrod rarely saw when dealing with the Younger Children. Her eyes flashed with emotion, hiding nothing of what she felt, and ever-present good humor pulled upward at her lips. The girl seemed to be an honest soul, Finrod mused, if a *bit* talkative. To her credit, however, her turn of phrase was as unpredictable as her gesturing--no matter how many times she spoke of a particular subject, she almost never used the same words twice. In point of fact, she seemed to delight in using unusual combinations of words. Thus, though Finrod was aware that his guest was chattering far more than would normally be tolerable, he didn't much mind.
One thing that he *did* wonder about, though, was the girl's manner of dress. Her figure was somewhat hidden by her loose, short-sleeved blue tunic, but Finrod could tell that she was at least well-proportioned, if not overly *endowed,* so to speak. A pair of loose red-checkered pants and two worn blue sandals completed the outfit. *Perhaps she is part of a wandering company of vagabonds,* Finrod thought bemusedly. *It would explain her utter lack of good taste.*
On the whole, despite the girl's rambling and her garish clothing, Finrod found himself enjoying her company. Her youthful energy and expressive manner were a far cry from, say, Lady Andreth's despairing, distrustful words. He doubted his young companion even knew the meaning of despair or hate--she seemed the type to find the laughter in any situation, thereby thwarting all but the most potent anger and sorrow.
*If only the sons of a certain jewelsmith could learn such a talent,* Finrod thought distantly. *We all might be spared much grief...*
[End of Sueing]
I'll swear by everything I've written.
Would Finrod actually like me? Who knows? I'd like to think so, though; the guy is so HOT you could fry eggs 'n bacon on his bicep...
^_^
*YAWN* Sorry if this isn't the best; it's late/early, I'm tired, and I'm feeling like an ego boost...
~Kate & Co.
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:11:03 GMT -5
I'm sorta already doing this but... — Kippur, Sun Nov 30 11:41pm In my story I'm doing... can't remember the title but anyway... THis is from it.
She was missing. The funny acting human that Legolas had found and brought in. Elrohir left the kitchen where he had last seen her and started wandering around trying to figure out where she could have gone to. He walked up and down the hallways, poking his head in doorways hoping to see her.
After a few mintues he didn't find her but he did find his brother. "Elladan! I'm glad to see you. I seem to have miss placed a guest."
His brother stopped and raised an eyebrow at this. "How did you do this?"
"I left her in the kitchens for a minute and she wandered off. I really need to find her because she's hurt herself iin the head or something like that." He gave his twin a wistful "won't you help me" look. Elladan sighed.
"Very well, what did she look like?"
"Well," he got a thoughtful look on his face, "She really short, not hobbit hight perhaps dwarf height, and a little plump around the edges. She's got nut brown hair with blond streaks in it tied back in a pony tail, gray-blue eyes and spots on her face. She was wearing a long sleeved short tunic with stripes on it and blue pants with laced shoes."
Elladan nodded, "Shouldn't be too hard to find."
"Well she did have a tendancy to wander off in the most random directions as well."
"Wonderful."
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Nu? One sued me. I would have said I was wearing glasses but I tend to wear contacts more nowadays. ========================== Sue'd, my way — TZA, Sun Nov 30 11:27pm ~Okay, me as a ‘Sue. I used (and abused) the Canon from my original fiction. I’m now going to sue Bast for the emotional pain and suffering writing a ‘Sue caused me to endure. Drew says she's going to join me in this. ~
“But…but… Kyle! How-when-why?†I backed away from the man who had been one of my best friends for years, who was happy with his girlfriend of two years. Or so I’d thought, until 10 minutes ago. He closed the distance between us and took my hands in his. “Last month, when we were out for coffee. You smiled, and I saw you in a whole new way. Your eyes were shining like well-polished jade behind your glasses, and your hair looked like a field of wheat before harvest.†“But I’m flat and overweight. You like women with big breasts.†“You’re not fat. You’re very huggable. And I realized that big breasts just get in the way.†“You’re either gay or tripping on some very strange drugs, Kyle.†Which would explain his sudden explosion of passion for me. Straight guys that were sober just did not say that they didn’t care about a woman’s chest side. Especially not a guy who, until very recently, professed to find great delight in enjoying well-endowed women. “Just love for you.†He pulled me close to him and kissed me deeply. “Those black boots you always wear really turn me on.†“The knee-high ones?†“Yes.†He kissed me again. “And that babydoll tee you have that says something about messing with a cat. Very sexy. Accentuates your chest.†“You just said you don’t care if I’m flat.†“I don’t. I just like seeing what you have.†“Oh.†He was definitely tripping on something. “I promised Erin I’d meet her outside the Majestic at one, and it’s nearly twelve-thirty now. I need to go.†I jerked my hands out of his and did fancy footwork to maneuver around him and towards the door. “Call me later.†“I’ll walk with you.†“No. Really, that’s okay. Maria’s meeting me at the corner. Safety in numbers and all that.†I laughed nervously and hoped he didn’t see through all my lies. I wasn’t good at making up plausible stories on the spur of the moment. His face fell. “I suppose. You’ll be at Brian’s later?†“Should be. Try after seven.†That should be plenty of time to tell Brian what was going on and find a way to smuggle me out of New York City without Kyle catching on. I unlocked the door and opened it. “Later!†“I love you, my darling!†“Right.†I pulled the door shut behind me and bolted for the stairs. Why did I always seem to find the wackos? *snerk* now, if only MY Mary Sue would cooperate! (nm) — Drew, Sun Nov 30 11:29pm
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:13:40 GMT -5
Here... — Rose, Sun Nov 30 10:17pm Technically, this is a description of my "self-insert," Victoria de St. Louis, and so the sweatshirt is not one I own. Vikki isn't really me anymore, but we look the same. And I've actually thought about using this (or something like it) in "The Sword of the Lord and of Aragorn"--hope you find Legolas' reaction suitably amusing. The "silvery metal" is white gold; dunno if that alloy would be known in M-E. (Oh, and brownies for anyone who figures out the "Mister Dillon" joke.) If you want a better description, I can send you a link to my first fic involving Vikki and/or some descriptions of "me" in a round robin from a few years back. They're not LOTR, though. Legolas watched her incredulously as she jauntily walked away with Pippin on her shoulders. She was moderately tall for a mortal—roughly two feet taller than her hobbit friend—and though her large, heavy tunic masked the slenderness of her upper body, her blue breeches showcased her long legs and made her look slightly boyish. The tunic was white and bore lettering—neither Tengwar nor Cirth—across the front; Glorfindel informed him that it read “Anachronism and Proud of It.†Her skin was pale; her hair, blonde with hints of red and brown, fell in ringlets to the bottom of her shoulder blades. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth behind a metal-and-glass contraption that Glorfindel called “spectacles.†As her long, slender hands wrapped around Pippin’s shins, Legolas caught a glimpse of the rings she wore—one on each hand, the left of pure silver, the right of a silvery metal in which a blue stone was set.
Glorfindel briefly told Legolas what little they knew about this unusual girl, how she had come from another world to aid the Ring-bearer on his quest. His explanation was interrupted by a whoop as another hobbit came barreling out of the house and latched onto the strange woman’s leg.
“ACK! Merry!! Whoa! Hang on, Pip... ready? Mistur Diyullon....â€
“All the same,†said Legolas as she hobbled away with Merry still attached to her leg, “I find it very difficult to take her seriously.â€
Well... — Rose, Mon Dec 1 12:15am Since other people are doing non-LOTR, here's my first description of Vikki. The Canon is Micky Dolenz of the Monkees when he was still Micky Braddock of Circus Boy. mffc.bravepages.com/boymeets.htm
And here's the round robin description--I DO own this outfit:
Micky and Rose finished their highly technical discussion, reaching the conclusion that one of the chemical bottles must have been mislabeled, and looked in the back windows. Desy and Mike were obviously having an animated discussion about music, Peter and Tippy were talking about something serious, and Davy and Jean... well, they couldn’t quite tell what was going on there. They were sitting on the bottom step of the staircase with their backs to the porch. “Wanna go for a walk on the beach?†Micky suggested. “Since everyone else is getting to know each other...†“Sure, why not?†Rose set down the chemistry book. “So where do you guys come from, Rose?†Micky asked as they pounded down the stairs to the beach. “Well, that’s kind of a complicated matter.†“After that discussion of chemistry, where you come from is complicated?†Micky laughed. “Oh, it’s WAY more complicated than chemistry. Seriously.†“Well, go ahead and tell me anyway.†“Okay, but I’m not sure how much of this the others are gonna tell the rest of the guys.†“Why?†“Let me tell you first. Maybe you’ll understand better.†“Shoot.†Rose took a deep breath. “We come, originally, from several different parts of the country. We met through something called the Internet, and we had gotten together to see you in concert at the Wisconsin State Fair.†Micky frowned. “We’ve never gotten any gigs there.†“It was just you. This was in the year 2000.†Micky stopped, stunned. “The... the... what?†Rose nodded. “I know I don’t look it,†she glanced down at her T-shirt tie-dyed in the shape of a cross, bellbottoms, beads, and large wooden cross, “but that’s the truth.†“So I’m talking to a chick from the future?†“I’m not a chick, Micky. I’m a young lady. Where I come from, there’s a BIG difference.†“Oh. Sorry.†Micky shook his head as if to clear it. “Any other bombshells you need to drop before we continue this walk?†“Only one. Where we come from, this...†she indicated the Pad with a wave of her hand, “exists only in a TV show. There’s really a band called the Monkees, but they’re actors as well as singers, and they don’t live in a totally groovy house on the beach.†“So your being here is like Davy showing up in a place where I Dream Of Jeannie is reality?†Rose had to smile at the comparison Tippy had used in one of her fics. “Yeah, basically. What happened was that an alien robot tried to spy on us while we were waiting for some friends before the concert, and when we found it out, it self-destructed and we found ourselves under y’all’s kitchen table.†Micky paused a moment to let it all sink in. Then, recovering his composure, he grinned, “No wonder that one girl fainted!†Rose laughed. “That’s Nancy. She’s a huge fan of yours.†“Really?†“Yep. So is Jean, although I think her ‘ooh, Davy’ stage may be coming back. She’s my cyber-twin. And I’m a fan of yours, too. Desy says she’s impartial and doesn’t have a fave, which I’m not sure I believe, and Tippy is a big fan of Peter’s.†“Really? I didn’t know we had that many fans.†“Oh, yeah. You may never make it big here, but where we live, Monkeemania is so widespread it’s not even funny.†Micky grinned. “That’s cool.†He slipped his hand around hers and squeezed it. Rose couldn’t stop her heart from racing. Then he felt something metallic on her ring finger. “What’s this ring?†he asked, holding her hand out to look at. “It’s my ‘True Love Waits’ ring.†“What?†“It’s to remind me of a pledge I made to save myself until marriage. Not only does that keep me safe from emotional damage, diseases, and unwanted pregnancy, but it’s also what God commands. And I want to please Him more than anything.†Micky nodded, pondering. “I see.†Here I am talking to a Jesus freak from the future, he thought. A tall, blonde, blue-eyed, chemistry-loving Jesus freak who loves our music. This is wild. I wonder what’s gonna happen next? Rose’s stomach suddenly growled. “Uh-oh…†“What?†Micky asked, noticing that Rose’s hand had begun to move. “Your hand is shaking.†“Is there a hot dog stand nearby? I’ve got to eat something, and fast.†In response, Micky scooped her up and sprinted down the beach to the nearest hot dog stand. With the dollar bill she handed him, he was able to buy her two hot dogs and a glass of lemonade, which got the shakes under control. “Thanks, Mick,†she sighed, leaning on him for support as they headed back toward the Pad. “What causes that?†he asked. “It’s called Gilbert’s disease. Basically, what happens is that if I don’t eat enough, my liver can’t make enough enzymes to process biliruben and my energy level bottoms out.†“Oh. We better be careful to keep enough food in the house, then.†Rose chuckled. “We’ll probably have to find our own place unless we can find a way to get home in the next day or two.†“Ah, what’s the hurry?†“I’m sure some of the others are asking that, too!†They laughed, then walked in silence for a way, both thinking of how much one explosion had changed their lives. “Know what, Micky?†“What’s that, Rose?†“You remind me of a friend of mine from college. He’s kinda my adopted big brother, looks after me like you did back there. And I was wondering...†“If I’d be you big brother for a while?†“Yeah.†Micky moved his arm around her shoulders. “I’d love to.†“Thanks.†They visited a little more until they were nearly home. “Know what, Rose?†“What’s that, Mick?†“I think I’m gonna like having you girls here.†“Know what else?†“What?†“I think we’re gonna like it, too.†Micky grinned and carried her up the back steps.
Not too purple, I hope...
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:51:20 GMT -5
Did you notice how many of us wear glasses? (nm) — Kai, Sun Nov 30 9:56pm Not surprised... — Rose, Sun Nov 30 11:18pm ... but it's still interesting to note. Although it's not as coincidental as all the oldbies having bad eyes and bad ankles, which is the case on the Yahoo Group where Jean and I met. (We figure we must all be cyber-sisters somehow.) I forgot to add descriptions about glasses on my sue! (nm) — Erhothwen, Sun Nov 30 10:24pm
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Hee! You asked for it! — Kai, Sun Nov 30 9:30pm Elladan looked down at the petite woman. She was hardly taller than a hobbit, but she was certainly human. She wore her shoulder-blade length slightly wavy auburn hair down and chocolate brown eyes. Her skin was a little coarse, but she had a finely shaped face, and a delicate nose. She had a boyish figure, and her indecently bare arms were lightly muscled. Her heart-stopping eyes were surrounded by a curious wire and glass contraption, of the likes Elladan had never seen before. She was wearing an ankle length, but indecently tight skirt of some material that resembled doe skin dyed brown, (but was too light to be so) and a sleevless blouse of goldenrod colored cotton with matching lace around the armholes. Her feet were bare of shoes, but had some thin flesh colored stockings on them. She obviously wasn't a local, but Elladan had no idea where she came from. Err... — Kai, Sun Nov 30 9:42pm That should be had chocolate brown eyes, and too light weight to be so.
And ODE! Did I really write that?!?!?!
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Rian the Sue, according to Legolas. — Rian Silverleaf, Sun Nov 30 9:08pm Why? Because it had to be Legolas. After all, I am a sue. ^_^
"Very well then, I shall speak to you again tommorow." Legolas said. The elf he'd been speaking to bowed and turned away. Legolas contined up the street of Minas Tirith. The reconstruction of the city was well under way, and the elves under his command were making good progress in restoring the city's gardens. As he walked twoards the second level of the city, Legolas noticed a young lady in outlandish clothing huddled in a corner of the street. Her hair was so short that at first he though she was a lad, but her clothing - though so high-necked that he thought it might strangle her - was tight enough to show a feminine figure. She wore a shirt of heavy material that was dyed a dark red even the elves had trouble creating, and it clung to her slim, gracefull figure in a way that was flattering but modest. Legolas supposed that her neck would be as gracefull as the rest of her, but the shirt's ridiculously high collar hid it from sight. Her breeches, though, were far too tight for modesty. No lady, human or not, should dress in such a manner. Modesty aside, though, the lady had clearly met with trouble. Her clothing was torn in a few places (but nowhere was it torn enough to look bad) and a scrape marred her fair cheek. Moved by concern for this innocent maiden, Legolas approached her. "My lady? Are you well?" She startled girlishly and looked up in fright. "I'm fine." "You are bruised and bleeding. I doubt that you are 'fine'." Now that the lady was looking at him, Legolas could see that her eyes were a striking combination of green and blue, mixed with the gray so common among the eldar. Her attractively-shaped face was framed by sun-kissed brown hair, but it was so short that Legolas wondered if her attackers had cut it to spite her. Surely it would be beautiful if it was of a proper length - perhaps jealousy had inspired the attack? Legolas helped the lady - little more than a girl, really - to her feet. Her movements were stiff, as would be expected after a fight, but she was steady and moved with the power of a trained fighter. Her slender form had more strength than was apparent at first glance.
Gyah. I think I just got possessed by a sue. Sorry about the beaten up bit - is that allowed? She is an angst sue, after all. I'm not beaten up at the moment, and I don't think I ever have been. Oh, and I do have hazel eyes, but the combination of colors just makes them look dull. I dress modestly, I just don't think elves would think modern-day jeans are modest. *shakes self, hard* Out, sue. ~Rian the un-sued
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Hmm… — wingnut, Sun Nov 30 7:47pm Random scene which I shall *not* work into a CT fic:
The three were struggling through the raging snow (four if you counted the doll Marle was dragging along with her). Admittedly, it was better than what they'd experienced on the first rise to get up the d**n mountain, but still…
"It's cold!" Marle complained, shivering.
The blue-haired warlock looked at Lucca and raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd be complaining about the cold," he remarked.
"Magus, if you're going to be patronising, shut up," the purple-haired scientist replied tiredly. She looked up at the sky. "It's getting a bit dark, tho- ARCK!"
Magus looked at the sprawling figure of the purple-haired scientist and raised the eyebrow that had fallen after being raised before. "Has it ever struck you to take out a clumsy policy?" he drawled.
Lucca raised her head out of the snow and glared at him. "Who are you calling clumsy!?" she snarled.
"Hey, what's this?" Marle wondered, kneeling down to poke at something purple near where Lucca had tripped.
"Don't. Touch. That!"
With surprising speed, someone leapt down from a rock above them, landed and attempted to race through while picking the purple object up. However, racing through while bending to pick something up is not an easy task, particularly if you've never tried it before, so the stranger ended up tripping and landed facedown in the snow. "AAHH! Goddammit!"
Marle blinked. "Are you all right?"
"Bleh… stupid snow…" the stranger complained, getting up. "Oh, yes, perfectly fine, I go snowdiving everyday… d**n, my nose!"
Immediately, Marle went into helpful mode. "Would you like a bandage, I think I packed some, or would you prefer an ice pack…"
Astonished, the stranger turned around, and the three saw that she- for indeed it was a she- was wearing a loose purple shirt with short sleeves, blue jeans, oval glasses behind which blinked hazel eyes and ankle length boots with navy socks peeping out over the top. Over her boyishly cut brown hair she wore a bandana. None of this exactly prepared you for climbing up Death Peak, but Marle couldn't really talk either. The girl didn't look all that much older than her, either… "An ice pack!? We're in the middle of a BLOODY SNOWSTORM, in case you hadn't noticed!" she shouted.
"What are you doing here?" Lucca asked, stepping forward.
The girl blinked. "Um, ah…" She looked extremely nervous. "I came up here to… draw. Yeah."
The three exchanged glances. Clearly, she wasn't telling the truth, or at least, not all of it.
***
Yeah. Scene on Death Peak. And really… have you *seen* what Marle wears?
On another note, I do actually like wearing purple bandanas. ^^;;
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A sued up Nathonea — Nathonea, Sun Nov 30 7:37pm Oooh boy, this one should be tough. I'm not even remotely sue-ish.
****
Aragorn swung down from his horse, intent on seeing what made it balk so oddly. He peered into the bushes, and was surprised to find a small woman sitting in a pile of branches, looking politely perplexed. She was wiry thin, with thin shoulders that held very few muscles and were barely wide enough to not make her look starved. Her face was thin and chistled, and her cheekbones had an elegant pronounce to them. Her face still held some of the characteristic blemishes of adolecence, but they were small, and faded. Her eyes were a light brown color, yet they shined with golden tones. They were wide, and they peered innocently up at Aragorn through a odd glass contraption. Her hair was short, but not short enough to avoid a ragged appearance. It was golden, yet it had streaks of light brown. Aragorn frowned at her, confounded over her appearance.
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:57:24 GMT -5
O-okay, here's my 'Sued self... — Cerberus Dis, Sun Nov 30 7:35pm Here we go!
She ran through the forest in blind terror. There was a wild look in the blue eyes that peered out behind strange frames of blue-gray metal wire and glass. Her clothes were unlike anything he had ever seen before. The shirt she wore was black with striped sleeves, made of a thin, flimsy fabric, and it was torn from brambles and branches. Her pants were scarcely in better condition. The black pants with strange silver fabric attached was nearly as fragile, and nearly as torn as the shirt. A black gemstone pendant hung from her neck. A sturdy blue overcoat dangled off of one shoulder, forgotten, and then was snatched away by a stray branch. Her short, mouse-brown hair with streaks of copper red flew into those crazed blue eyes as she ran. He followed, uncertain of what should be done. Then, she stopped, and leaned against a tree wearily. Her broad shoulders shook, and her breath came in shallow gasps. Strong arms wrapped themselves around the trunk, petite hands dug themselves into the bark as the girl tried to keep herself standing. She was young, very young- fifteen, sixteen years at the most. He finally reached his decision. She could not be allowed to run towards the darkness any longer. Swiftly, quietly, he stepped out from behind the tree which he had been hiding. Her eyes widened in shock and terror, and she stepped backwards. She tripped over a root, and balanced for a brief moment on the edge of a low cliff. He reached out swiftly, and grabbed wildly to stop her from falling. But, she fell, down into the murmuring darkness. From the darkness there came mutterings of anger and hunger, and there was a short, strangled scream, and then... nothing. Legolas left quietly, somberly from the edge of the darkness in Fangorn. Ahh, tragic!Sue? — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:06am I like how you have him leaving quietly and somberly at the end. And what was she et by, or do we want to know? Well... — Cerberus Dis, Mon Dec 1 3:08pm I had thought that she was et by the Huorns deep in Fangorn. ^-^ I like Huorns. They're uber-spiffy. Cheers! -Cerby ================================== Hmm...let's see here... — Jo, Sun Nov 30 7:16pm
Okay, here goes. Jo the Sue.
She was tall, he noted as she struggled to her feet. Tall and rather lanky, not quite sure what to do with her hands. She waved them about nervously before shoving them into the pockets of her tight blue trousers. With the frantic hands out of the way, he could see her bodice -- a very strange one, white with red trim, strange symbols scrawled across the breast. He squinted at the picture below the symbols -- were those stockings? Very odd, indeed.
His attention moved to her face. It was a young face -- perhaps no older than seventeen. Her sking was pale, rather fair, with only a few blemishes to mar it. Her eyes, wide with fright, were the color of the sea after a storm. Long, wavy hair, identical to old, golded thread, fell down her back and blew into her face. She brushed it away from her soft red mouth as she spoke strange syllables. "Where the heck am I, and who are you? I want to go home."
Before he could attempt a reply, an arrow flew through the air and struck her down. As she sprawled on the ground, quite dead, a fellow elf came up behind him. "Did I get it, Russandol? What was it?"
"I am not sure, Fingon," Maedhros answered, "Not sure at all."
Well, that was fun. Very purple prose, but then, that was intentional. And since it was hardly obvious, the 'bodice' was the Red Sox
T-shirt I'm wearing at the moment. *sigh* — Jo, Sun Nov 30 7:20pm Skin! Not sking! And what the hey is 'golded thread'? Metaphor was pretty awful, even without the typo. Oh, well. ================================== Me...the Sue. ^^ — Flamingo Feathers, Sun Nov 30 6:55pm
Sam stared at the human girl in front of him, moving slightly in front of Mr. Frodo in case she proved a threat. She took a moment to compose herself from her fall, attempting to straigthen her golden hair. It put him in mind of a field of wheat, shining in the bright sun. Her eyes, on the other hand, were not as clearly defined. From one angle, they were as blue as the sea, but when she tilted her head, they were an ordinary hazel.
Although he could not tell her age by the human reckoning, in hobbit years she appeared to be young, only in her mid-tweens. Despite this, her body was not lacking in feminine shape, though still slender.
The oddest things about the girl, to his mind, were the clothes she wore. Her legs were covered with a deep blueish material that seemed quite stiff and tight, yet moved easily. It looked as if it would be very difficult to stain or tear the fabric. Her shirt, however, did not look as durable. Made of thin white cotton, it left her arms exposed except for a small scrap of sleeve on the shoulder. On the front was a picture
in bright colors, labeled with strange writing in a language he could not read.
Her skin, offset by the white shirt, was tanned, almost too dark for her golden hair. She looked as if she spent much time in the sun. He wondered if she came from the south.
She smiled warmly at him, and he yelled and jumped back, careful to stay between her and Mr. Frodo. Her teeth were made of metal! It glinted in the sun, and made her mouth look strange and menacing to him, despite the smile. Wait...her teeth were not metal. There was metal on her teeth. A thin blue line of some unknown material was strung across the device, making her mouth seem even more alien.
Why would someone stick metal in their mouth?
Her smile faded at his reaction, snd she stood self-consciously, looking down on the two hobbits. She crossed her arms, apparently at a loss as to where she was and why she was there. Sam felt sorry for the strange girl, and smiled back. At this, she grinned even wider, and squealed “Sam! Frodo! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!â€
There were no mini-balrogs to stop her from tackle-glomping the two hobbits... =============================== Luhtarian the Sue... as seen by Maglor. — Luhtarian, Sun Nov 30 6:53pm Oo-kay. Here goes:
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Maglor stood on the shore, gazing East without touching his harp. Someone was approaching. A daughter of Men stepped lightly across the sands toward him. She wore a silken tunic, the most delicate of blues, deepening to the grey of twilight as it brushed her bare feet. It
was bound by a girdle of black cord. Her hair was light brown, falling in waves below her shoulders and around green eyes. As the sun set a beam of light struck her hair, awakening gold in it, and with that light her eyes shifted and became grey.
In her hands was a flute of silver, and as she lifted it to her lips to play a gust of wind off the Sea caught her garments and they clung to her body, revealing a slender, youthful form. She was young, so young, yet her eyes held wisdom that seemed greater than her years.
The music she spun on her flute rang in Maglor's heart. He lifted his harp and they spun music together, a great music beyond what he created alone.
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Well, there you have it. I made a pretty good Sue, I think. My eyes change color, and I am one of those really skinny girl. I suppose I was talking liberties with the 'wisdom beyond my years'- I'm smarter than average, and more concious of what's going on in the world than my peers, so I suppose that could be called wise. I do play the flute.
That was fun. I see why they write Sues now. Yes. Suvianizing *is* a lot of fun, ain't it? (nm) — NenayQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:18am Gyah... ignore that one; this one's better. — Luhtarian, Sun Nov 30 6:59pm I used 'spun music' twice in the same paragraph. Edited version follows:
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Maglor stood on the shore, gazing East without touching his harp. Someone was approaching. A daughter of Men stepped lightly across the sands toward him. She wore a silken tunic, the most delicate of blues, deepening to the grey of twilight as it brushed her bare feet. It was bound by a girdle of black cord. Her hair was light brown, falling in waves below her shoulders and around green eyes. As the sun set a beam of light struck her hair, awakening gold in it, and with that light her eyes shifted and became grey.
In her hands was a flute of silver, and as she lifted it to her lips to play a gust of wind off the Sea caught her garments and they clung to her body, revealing a slender, youthful form. She was young, so young, yet her eyes held wisdom that seemed greater than her years.
The music she spun on her flute rang in Maglor's heart. He lifted his harp and they spun music together, a great music beyond what he created alone.
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Well, there you have it. I made a pretty good Sue, I think. My eyes change color, and I am one of those really skinny girl. I suppose I was talking liberties with the 'wisdom beyond my years'- I'm smarter than average, and more concious of what's going on in the world than my peers, so I suppose that could be called wise. I do play the flute.
That was fun. I see why they write Sues now. What is the matter with me today? — Luhtarian, Sun Nov 30 7:03pm The A/N sort of thing at the end was filled with typos. Gyah. Forgive me, grammar addicts.
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:58:54 GMT -5
Rillaeo the 'Sue — rillaeo, Sun Nov 30 6:43pm My, isn't she a strange sight? Humans always are, of course, but this one is by far the strangest I've seen in all my unnumbered years.
Her hair is relatively normal; long, straight, and blonde. Her eyes are grey, like mine, but there seems to be some strange object on her face. Some of it is metal, but another part is glass. Strange. Very strange. She's a bit chubby, I'd say, but not overly so. Not so much as the periannath, anyway.
A small number of red spots marr the pale skin on her face; dear Eru, I hope it's not contagious (I say this for the other humans' sake). She is wearing some strange garment; the fabric is grey, and a hood hangs off the back, yet it ends at her waist. She is wearing a pair of (loose?!) breeches, tan in color.
Her expression and posture tells of boredom and impatience, yet she smiles whenever one of our kind approach her. Her smile is strange indeed; it's rather crooked, and silly-looking. She seems to harbor some adoration for elves, for she is happiest around us. Yes, she is strange. Very strange.
Teehee!
This was done from Glorfindel's POV. Oooh, nice. — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:13am 'Nother Glorfindel! I was going to try for "awed by the Elves" in mine, but ended up just being a Glori Glomper. Ahh, well. =========================== I don't Sue up so well... — Randomelf, Sun Nov 30 5:34pm Because I'm used to using myself as a basis for some characters, I'm in the habit of being very self-deprecating so as not to attract a Sue label. Oh, well...
All in all, she was an odd-looking girl. Couldn't have been more than nineteen years old, but somehow managed to seem younger by dint of a cheerful, babbling voice and wide-eyed, innocent smile. She couldn't possibly be called delicate. Altough she was small, she had just a hint of curves that bordered on plumpness. She moved in a sort of energetic bounce that was not completely without grace, but had enough energy to be lacking in smoothness. For the rest of her, it was unremarkable. Pretty enough, but nothing to take one's breath away. A sweet, round face, with a mouth slightly too small for the jaw, remedied by her cheerful grin. Her skin was white, but had a fading tan that suggested that the pallor was a temporary winter thing. Her eyes were probably the most striking thing about her. They were solid grey, framed by long, thick lashes, sparkling with tired good humour. The sort of eyes you could meet without fear. Her hair was plain brown, of the sort of texture that couldn't quite decide whether to be curly or straight, and so settled on a sort of good-natured fluffiness that encouraged comparisons to bunny rabbits. Pratchettlike, especially the bunnies. (nm) — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:14am================================ Vemi Sue — Vemi, Sun Nov 30 4:56pm
Damrod, ranger of Ithilien, looked at the strange girl in front of him in awe. She was smaller than he was, with long, golden brown hair that flowed down her back. Around her head was wrapped a piece of black cloth with strange white runes across it. She wore large, black trousers and a black, short sleeved blouse with pearly looking buttons down the front. Damrod noticed that was quite petite, with few natural curves, but the way she stood made her seem more curvey than she really was. His roving eyes took in the many braclets and rings she wore, and the many colours they were. When he realised the young girl was clearly no threat, the awe-struck ranger lowered his bow and looked in to her dark brown eyes. She had one or two spots, but the girl had managed to hide them behind a layer of her flowing hair. Her pale pink lips curled upwards in to a smile, making his heart flutter. As he watched, Damrod noticed her cheeks change from almost white to a rosy pink blush.
Then she glomped him.
~Vemi Now, now, Vemi. — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:01am What did we say about not making Nenya choke when she reads the endings of your stories?
*grin* Very funny!
--Nenya, refusing to point out that *this* 'Sued Vemi is much better than the one *she* wrote about....
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 13:59:27 GMT -5
Hee, fun — oracle, Sun Nov 30 4:47pm Galadriel stared at her mirror. The form she saw in it was not familiar, but looked as if she hailed from far off, perhaps even another world.
The human girl was tall, taller than the average, and her long legs were clad in leggings of some sort of thick black cloth, and her shirt was a vivid orange, like the sun setting in wrath over the mountains. The sleeves were short, coming to just below her shoulders.
Her hair tumbled down her back, like a rapid river of honey, and it was tied loosely at the neck with a tie of dark purple. Some strands of hair covered a cool forehead, looking like a fringe. Her deep blue eyes were covered by some strange form of wire and glass, with faint lines going across them. Her nose was turned up at the end, lending a pleasing sense of mischief to her already innocent and open-featured face. Her complexion was radiant, dusted across the cheeks with faint freckles.
***
That's all I've got, and, horribly, that was fun. Oh dear. ODE... — oracle, Sun Nov 30 5:07pm
Did I really describe my hair as a rapid river of honey?
Just think how sticky! Re: ODE... — Rian Silverleaf, Sun Nov 30 10:17pm Call me really naieve, but I don't know what ODE stands for. Unless it's Oh Dear Eru. If it's 'printable', could you fill me in? ~Rian the very sheltered Yep, you're right. 'Tis Oh Dear Eru. (nm) — oracle, Sun Nov 30 10:26pm
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Re: OT Challenge---Sue't Yourself — Anonymous, Sun Nov 30 4:33pm
Hmm... What POV to use... I know, i'll stick to an old favourite.
Boromir of Gondor paused in the road, hearing a strange nose, almost like a woman screaming. Suddenly, his horse shied away from the left as the screaming became louder, and a woman plummeted from the sky and into the lake upon his left. Boromir managed to quiet his horse and tie it to a handy tree and then went to see if he could help this woman against all his better instincts. By the time he got to the lake she was climbing out. From the sounds which filled the air she did not seem happy nor peaceful, Boromir did not know her language but was willing to bet they were words to make his younger brother blush. She appeared to be a few years younger than him, on the edge of young womanhood, but the expression from her large deep brown and slightly unfocused eyes looked older than that. "May I help you my lady?" Boromir enquired, his chivilry kicking in. The young woman jumped, and polished some wire and glasses contraption with her skirt before placing them upon her face. He recognised them to be the same as he had seen Gondorian scholars wear, but this woman looked nothing like any Gondorian scholar he had seen. She had a darker complexion that he was used to seeing, as if she came from the far south. Her hair was wet and plastered to her head, but also long and it swept down to her waist in smooth dark waves. She was much shorter than him (but I'm not short hS! 5ft4 is not short!) and had a very curvaceous and womanly figure. This femininity was not matched by her behavour, she looked at him, taking in his dark clothing and the sword and horn he constantly wore at his side, and then started shreiking and yelling at the sky, complete with throwing things into the lake. She wore a dark red skirt, which seemed to be made of a soft and fleecey materical. She wore what looked like a short red tunic upon her upper half, her generous endowments accentuated by what appeared to be no less than 3 necklaces. She must be a wealthy lady in her own place, wherever that was judging by the amount of jewellry she wore, opals and garnets in her ears, gold around her neck and a jade bangle showing from the sleeve of her long cloak-like black leather jacket. She must be a powerful lady where she comes from too, thought Boromir as the unknown woman came walking across to him, red boots thudding on the turf. She looked angry, and would have been an imposing sight were it not for the stray pondweed draped over one ear and resting on her shouder.
That's me sue-ified!
~Raven. Oops... That's me, btw. (nm) — Raven Firedragon, Sun Nov 30 4:34pm
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 14:01:22 GMT -5
Here goes... — Techno-Dann, Sun Nov 30 4:25pm Glorfindel was traveling on a scout mission from Rivendell into the northern mountains. Several leagues from Rivendell, he came across a band of orcs attacking a young, strangely-dressed man. His hair was around four inches long, and a dark brown in color. His blue-grey eyes flashed defiance at the orcs. He was wearing a sky-blue tunic, with an odd flap of cloth around the neck. The tunic was tucked into a pair of dark trousers, made out of a black cloth that had faded to silver over the knees. In hs hand, he held a pole made out of some smooth white substance. He was battling with the orcs, and, as Glorfindel watched, the man's staff was broken in two. The man whipped around and kicked the orc hard in the side of the head. The orc fell to the ground and didn't move.
Gyah. There you have it. I just got my hair cut, so it's not quite that long anymore. I really do have a white pole, it's PVC pipe. I'm going to pad it so I can smack my little brother with it PVC pipe! Hee. (nm) — NenyaQuende, Mon Dec 1 4:23am================ This is kinda fun, isn't it? — GreyLadyBast, Sun Nov 30 3:56pm And, on the whole, I'd have to say the descriptions have been pretty good. Not necessarily something I'd like to trip over in a story, but definitely up to that old high school creative writing challenge of the Descriptive Paragraph.
Still, now it's easy to see why Suvians get so carried away with the descriptions, isn't it?
Bast, smirking madly I dunno... — Rose, Sun Nov 30 11:07pm I generally paint my characters with broad strokes initially and let the details come out as they will in the course of the story. I mean, if "tall lanky Texan whose raven hair was partially hidden by his green wool hat" doesn't conjure up an image of Mike Nesmith, it'll get you close enough without bogging you down in details....
But yes, these have been well done. Actually, no, I still don't get it — Hellga, Sun Nov 30 9:20pm I bored myself to death even before I got to my thin-boned hands (which I consider the most beautiful part of me - and I tend to be attracted to men with nice hands and nice voice - I notice that before noticing anything else). I can't understand unnecessarily long
descriptions. I couldn't do it! — Mercuria, Sun Nov 30 8:07pm I tried, honestly I did ... but I couldn't make myself pack all that description into a paragraph with no narration or dialogue at all! *sigh*
Description is my weak point, anyway (what, there's only one?) ... stupid descriptions. Actually... — Vemi, Sun Nov 30 5:00pm I found the descriptions quite difficult. Even though that was the whole point of the thing.
I find it easier describing landscapes. ========================= Ooh, Fun! — Catherine, Sun Nov 30 3:47pm (Yay, taking form of random Gondorian ranger here...)
Sulum narrowed his eyes as he quietly edged around the undergrowth, not a sound eminating from his movements. He had heard a crash moments before, and the cries of what seemed to be a girl, yet the words she spoke were those he had never heard in all his years of scouting. He peered around a well gnarled beech and his dark eyes grew wide as he saw the person in question. She was barely clothed for any decent woman- a mottled gray tunic with sleeves that only came down to her elbows. The girl shifted to reveal an odd sort of lettering upon the front in blue, and a severely distorted image of a hornet. She rubbed her head and mumbled something in her strange tongue, and Sulum saw a strange item gracing her face. It was formed out of metal and glass, and sparkled in the sunlight broken through the leaves. Her eyes were a steel blue, with oddly heavy, yet becoming, eyebrows. He watched the girl shift herself so that she was sitting, her nose without a freckle, yet its fair share of spots. In Sulum's gaze, they gave her character. "She must not be no more than a child." he thought,as the figure brushed her hand over her hair pulled back in a braid, though wisps were fluttering in the breeze. Her figure was that of an average girl, but Sulum gasped as he saw what the stranger wore upon her waist. They were breeches of a dark gray, but higher than her knees! A blanket of some kind was wrapped around her waist- here she moved upon her knees and fixed it tighter, revealing a single silver ring upon her finger. The girl stood barefoot upon the forest floor and blinked, spoke a few words that sounded like a question, and focused upon Sulum. He had been found out.
(Yes, that's it. I and my terrible eyebrows..haven't been focusing on them in a while, and so they grew back...XD)
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 14:03:16 GMT -5
Yick, Elena the Sue. — Elena, Sun Nov 30 3:38pm The Scene: Rivendell, the Hall of Fire
Lindir studied the young girl standing in the doorway intently. She was no more than fifteen, but carried herself with a stately elegance, bordering on arrogance, that was far beyond her years. She was tall for her age, long-legged and slender. Lindir could tell by looking at her graceful hands that she played music just as he did.
Her face was nothing special to look upon; indeed Lindir felt that if she wished she could remain unnoticed in a crowd. The girl’s skin was pale, suggesting that she spent little time outside. A scholar, perhaps, one who preferred her own company to that of others. Her head was crowned with shoulder-length curls and waves the hue of chocolate, giving the impression that she had not brushed her hair in a few days, but on her it did not look ill. Lindir wondered at the shortness of the girl's hair, as the elven women of Imladris kept their hair long and shining smooth.
The girl’s deep brown eyes were magnified by the clear lenses of glass she wore across them. To protect those beautiful eyes, Lindir supposed. She gazed levelly at Lindir, her eyes calm, but holding a ever-present hint of distrust and fear.
Her clothes were strange in Lindir’s eyes. On her head she wore a knitted hat in shades of grass green, deep purple, soft white, and bright orange. Her woolen brown jacket hung open, and underneath she wore a tight grey shirt. Instead of a more proper skirt, she wore faded blue pants that almost covered her white shoes. Around her slim neck was a multicolored scarf that looked hand knitted.
Blah. That wasn't as good as it could have been. Yes, I know my hat sounds ugly, but it looks much better in real life. And I made my hair sound much prettier than it really is.
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Me, Erhothwen, getting SUED! (No, not "financially" sued) — Erhothwen, Sun Nov 30 3:24pm Here's me: Priscilla the Mary-Sue!
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Finarfin stood tall in the bleak, grassy clearing, his saddened eyes surveying the lifeless bodies so carelessly strewn about. There were men, women, children, and orcs...their corpses all littering the ground where blood and dirt became one.
None were left alive.
It was then he heard a noise, a peculiar wheezing sound from beside a skewered orc. Rushing over at once, the golden-haired Elf knelt down to find a female adolescent, no more the age than fourteen at the most. She slowly propped herself up and peered into the son of
Finwë’s soft eyes. Finarfin said nothing at first as he found it hard to look deeply in the mellow brown eyes, sphinx-like they were and the color of pure honey.
Suddenly she fell backwards with a cough and she peered from under soft lashes before her eyelids fluttered shut. She spoke aloud in a youth filled voice in some strange tongue he could not understand. When she said no more and her heavy breathing came to a halt,
Finarfin knew her lingering soul had finally left her mortal body.
Finarfin took up the petite hand that held an orkish sword, letting the weapon fall from her grasp. She was long-fingered and her hand was shaped artistically, narrow versus broad. Finarfin imagined her to be more suited to writing poetry or drawing rather than wielding a sword. Sure enough, he gently placed his finger on a callous that protruded out slightly from her middle finger, a writing bump he guessed. Turning her hand over, he was surprised to find her hand calloused. Tracing the calluses, he counted them: One, two, three, four, and five....
Finarfin’s attention wandered from of her hand to her strangely held up hair. He fingered a lock of straight, black hair that had fallen from her untidy and loose confinements, like a looped bun he noticed.
From what Finarfin could tell under the dirt that sullied her oval face, her skin was tan, sun-kissed you could even say. He noted for no apparent reason that one eyebrow was more strangely shaped than the other, perking up before curving down.
Her form was lithely straight without curves of feminism and she was not great in height, though she did not appear to be unhealthy.
What Finarfin found strange though was the clothing she wore, which rapidly caught his attention. Her shirt was black and made out of an unknown material. There were silver drawings on her shirt, but he did not know what to make out of them. A form of writing seemed to be imprinted on her shirt, but he could not decipher what it said for it seemed to be written in some cryptogram.
Her pants were long and flared at the ankles—how blue they were, but how uncomfortable they must have been as Finarfin discovered the material to be rough and textured. Her shoes were also blue, though of another shade, with white laces. The soles of her shoes had a bizarre pattern and were hardly caked, like brand new he presumed. The Elf had never seen such foot apparel before! He did however notice the lettering on her footwear—this was ridiculously driving him mad. What was this? Another form of Common Speech?
Standing up to suit his attention elsewhere, Finarfin noticed one last thing. Her ears, which he amusingly found to be not identical to each other, seemed to have flower-shaped studs attached to them. How odd.
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Yes, I killed myself off—and I gave no details about the orc squirmish, as in Mary-Sue fashion. Poor Finarfin is having a hard time grasping the concept of English.
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 16:49:17 GMT -5
Hawkelf the Sue! Oy! This was too easy. — Hawkelf, Sun Nov 30 3:23pm Hmm… who to use? I know, Elladan! Hee hee. This is going to be odd. Oh, and my hair really was like that about a month or two ago. That was before I accidentally burned most of that lock off… Anyway, you may notice my obsession with commas and ‘howevers’, however (see?) I’m trying to fix that.
Elladan eyed the girl before him curiously. She was quite obviously not from anywhere near here. Her brown hair was short, being only chin length with the exception of one lock on the left side of her head that flowed down to her waist. Over her green eyes she wore an odd contraption made of metal and glass. Her mouth was hanging open as she stared around her, and he caught the glint of metal there as well. (My attempt to describe glasses, braces, and tongue crib.)
Taking a closer look at the rest of her, Elladan saw that though she could not be considered fat she was not skinny either. Instead, she was slightly muscled and stood in the stance of a trained fighter, though she still seemed in shock from her sudden arrival. This did not surprise Elladan as much as her attire, however. She wore an over large tunic of a strange black material that read ‘‘What part of ‘thou shalt not’ didn’t you understand? – God.” An odd thing this was indeed. Her pants were scarce any stranger, for they too were baggy and they were made of a heavy blue material. Slightly less odd was the fact that she wore no shoes. It did not seem that she needed them, however, as there were thick calluses on her feet.
It seemed as if the girl, who he judged to be around 15 years of age, had regained her senses while he observed her as she suddenly spoke rapidly, “I’m Hawkelf. You’re an elf-person. Whadda heck is going on?” After a short pause she continued with, “I was SO right! HaHa! I knew it! I knew it! This cricket is a lucky one!” Another pause was followed quickly by, “Now where the heck was that from?”<br> Yes, this girl was very odd indeed. I have that Shirt! I love it! How many of them do you have? (nm — EruDaughter, Sun Nov 30 6:18pm The only one of that series I like is — GreyLadyBast, Sun Nov 30 7:12pm "Don't make me come down there!"----God.
Bast, godlike.
Actually, on second thought, that's not quite true. I'm also fond of the "That 'Love Thy Neighbor' thing? I meant that."----God.
I have the 'Big Bang Theory, you've got to be kidding.' o — Jo, Sun Nov 30 6:55pm Fun shirt. Not 'o', 'one'. But I'm sure you figured that. (nm) — Jo, Sun Nov 30 7:21pm Alas, only one. — Hawkelf, Sun Nov 30 6:28pm I wish I had more.
That reminds me, was anything ever decided on the PPC store? Hehehe... — MarySue!LeoD, Sun Nov 30 3:23pm Haldir tread as quietly as was possible so as not to disturb the lady's rest. Looking down upon her strange thoughts entered his mind. No, she was not beautiful, but there was a certain alluring... aura about her that made him look more closely. She had tanned skin and small freckles dotted on the bridge of her nose that weren't recognizable unless one looked closely. Her hair was thick and lustrous, shining waves of light brown, with hues of blonde and dark brown. The multicolor effect fascinated Haldir. Dark eyebrows contrasted with the light hair. A few moments passed and the maiden stirred, opening her eyes to reveal light brown irises. Unnoticing of Haldir's presense, she pushed herself upwards and stretched before getting to her feet. She was short, but very muscular and curvy. Groggily she rubbed her eyelashes in an attempt to awake further, then gracefully turned to Haldir. If she was surprised she did not show it; instead she stared past him and gave a vague half-smile, revealing dimples and casting a glow over her face.
(Yeah, I took some liberty with my hair... it's actually rather dull and frizzy and not particularly pretty... and the graceful part too *snickers*)
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 16:50:27 GMT -5
Ah well, why not have a try. Sounds fun. — Anchusa, Sun Nov 30 3:23pm So, here's me as a 'Sue'.
In between his erands for the Healers, Bergil had taken up exploring the Houses as boys his age were want to do. Most of the rooms he'd come across held patients still unconcious, including the Steward and a beautiful Rohirric lady. Yet neither of these were the most memorable of the people he'd seen there.
A girl, older than himself by many a year although certainly not full grown as yet, was the one that would forever stay in his mind. To him, she looked far too healthy to be in the Houses, but then again sometimes those that looked the most well were those who died soonest; Bergil was no Healer so how could he tell what was wrong.
To him, she was one of the plainest girls he had ever seen, flat brown hair and and sickly, pale skin marked her out as someone rather high up on the social ladder; she had none of the marks of a worker, for a start she had far more weight on her than the lower class girls normally did. However her clothes marked her out, they were nothing like anything he had ever laid eyes on before. A finely embroidered top and black trousers! certainly weren't the work of a local, perhaps the work of Sauron? No, she was far too... normal for that, never mind that the guards wouldn't have let her in the city if she were an enemy.
At that point she woke, watery-blue eyes stared at him in curiousity and she smiled strangely as if the action didn't come naturally to her. The garbled noises that came out of her mouth next shocked him a little and he excused himself, shutting her door behind him.
As he walked away, he heard the gibberish once more and he shook his head. He knew what was wrong now; she was insane. Hee hee — UnDeadGoat, Sun Nov 30 3:34pm I like Gerbil....I mean Bergil. Because he name sounds like a rodent. *looks at what just typed* OK, then. nvm *blinks* Okay... (nm) — Anchusa, Sun Nov 30 3:46pm I think I enjoyed this too much. — Andy, Sun Nov 30 2:50pm he had been drawn to the party when she wandered into Hobbiton, which was unsurprising, as the rest of the town was mostly deserted. Nearly everyone was attending the festivities, so all she had to do was follow the sound of laughter and music. She was nearly two feet taller than the average full grown male hobbit and was clearly one of the Big People. However she was clearly a young lass, possibly between 25 and 30, by hobbit-reckoning. A few of the party-goers paused from their ale to stare at her, and when she returned their looks with a frank and curious stare of her own, most of the hobbits waited until she had walked on to continue watching.
The hobbits saw men enough not to worry themselves if they should see one walk through the Shire. But a lone lass, now that was a bit unusual. And this was a particularly unusual lass.
She was, of course, tall (as far as the hobbits were concerned). Her complexion was unusually smooth and clear, apart from a pox scar on her forehead and a few blemishes at her hairline. She had thick, dark eyebrows which, had the hobbits looked close enough to see, extended in a sparse group of long hairs between each other, forming a slight unibrow. Her eyes were a deep grayish blue. Her face had not lost its adolescent roundness, giving her features a soft, gentle look. Her slender figure contrasted greatly with the round hobbits, and her long, sleeveless blue dress was quickly pronounced inappropriate, especially for a party at night. She showed far too much arm, and she was chaffing them rapidly to hold off the chilly night air. The ruffly blue and white patterned skirt and sleeveless "shirt" constructed of a widely-spaced ropelike netting which she wore over her dress were purely for aesthetics rather than warmth, and made her appear all the more strange to the hobbits.
And her hair! The hobbits had never seen such hair on a human. It was dark brown, and shone brightly in the firelight. It was clean and straight, something not generally achieved by the humans that hobbits generally encountered. And it was incredibly long. It flew across her face as she danced happily with the hobbits, and she was frequently required to brush it back. Hair like that, however lovely it was, could be nothing but a bother in the life of a busy human or hobbit, but it seemed to be a hassle she was used to.
The only part of her face that was not primarily unblemished was her lips, which were mottled with blue and purple scarring and dead white chapping. She frequently picked at the scars with her fingernails, revealing how her lips had come to be in such a condition. Apart from that, she had none of the facial scars or weathering that was commonly attributed to working-class humans, and a few of the younger party-goes had wondered if she might be an elf. Oh, she was pretty, but nowhere near as breathtaking as the hobbits who had seen elves declared them to be. Eventually it was decided that she must be a noblewoman visiting from a far-off land, where people dressed oddly and did not speak Westron. For whenever the lass tried to speak to one of the hobbits, it was in a language that was completely unfamiliar to them.
The night went on, and though she had obviously not been invited to the party, the lass stayed - which was all right, as she seemed to be enjoying herself without harming anyone, and half of the hobbit guests hadn't been invited either. Using excited gestures, she had conveyed to one of the musicians that she wished to examine his instrument. With an expression of curious delight she plucked at the strings, listening to the tuning, and struck a few chords before she handed it back, smiling. The hobbit smiled back, a little nervously, as she held out a fist with her thumb sticking up in what he hoped was a gesture of appreciation and struck up a merry tune, which she began dancing to again. A few hobbit children grasped at the beads decorating her "blouse", and though she was quite clearly taken with each one of them, they held back slightly, shy of the unusual-looking stranger in their midst. At one point, she even danced with young master Baggins, and could be seen watching him appreciatively afterwards, her blue eyes slightly glazed.
Eventually she dropped down at the foot of a tree, exhausted and out of breath. She rubbed her eyes and reached into a pocket. As she pulled out a pair of spectacles, she parted her scarred lips and spoke in a language none of the hobbits understood.
"Oh, well, now I have to throw these contacts out."
I think that’s thoroughly described enough. I didn't even have to bother guessing ... — Saphie, Sun Nov 30 7:46pm ..what canon it would be.
XD Yes, well, neither did I. *grin* (nm) — Andy, Sun Nov 30 10:08pm
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Post by Kaltia on Dec 2, 2003 16:53:51 GMT -5
Me, the Sue. — UnDeadGoat, Sun Nov 30 2:06pm This is a bit more......honest, shall we say, than most self-insert/Sue descriptions. Oh, and I will be having my canon character mysteriously know what things that don't exist in Middle-earth are. Like nail polish and blue jeans.
Pippin saw the girl enter the room. She seemed tall to a hobbit, though to Men she would probably seem on the shortish side of average, though that would depend on where the Men were from. Her long brunette hair had auburn highlights, and was golden-brown (almost blond) at the tips from the sun, though when she stood in the sun, her hair seemed to take on a reddish cast. It hung down past her shoulder blades in radiant waves. Her face was pretty, dark eyebrows arching across the tan skin of her lower forehead. Though her skin was not the clearest ever, the beautiful, slightly rounded cheeks surely made up for that. Her pink lips were full, pouty, and, to Pippin's mind, kissable-looking. Her eyes were surrounded by a halo of think, long, dark, smoky lashes. Her eyes were hazel -- if hazel was the word. They were a sort of leafish green, with a darker rim around the outside and a golden-brown star around the pupils, but there was green right next to the pupils. Here ears were peirced, and she wore earrings that looked like little blue shoes.
She had broad shoulders and strong-looking arms. Her fingers were beautifully short. All the nails on her left hand were painted sparkly purple, except for one, which had a band-aid around it. The nails on her right hand, though longer than the others, were unpainted. Her shirt was gray and had a picture on the back that looked like a map with words on it. There was an odd design on the front as well. It was a little tight over her chest, though looser over the middle part of her slightly hourglass figure. Her boobs were medium-sized, about a 36B, though that would depend on the brand. Her dark blue jeans were held up with a belt. They hugged her large butt and wide hips, and though they were loose the rest of the way down, he could tell that she had very curvaceous legs. A pair of beat-up canvas sneakers peaked out from the hem of her pants. They had probably once been white, though it was hard to tell. A sock with monkeys and a sock with elephants peeked out through the holes that the duct tape was coming off of. Her feet were short and wide, about a 7 D. Altogether, he thought she might be as cute as adolescent Luthien, though he'd never met Luthien, so he couldn't be sure.
"I hate shoes," she muttered. She kicked off her sneakers, pulled off her socks, and put on a pair of blue-and-turquoise flip-flops. Therte was purple writing on them. On the outsides they said "I Lived," and on the insides they said "VIVÍ." (Viví means I lived in Spanish.) Her toenails were painted copper.
I wasn't gonna do the last paragraph, but then I decided I had to do the flip-flops. And the toenails. And I know that this should probably be more paragraphs, but oh well. And the in-text translation's part of the whole effect, savvy?
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