- Location
- New Jersey, USA
They do it when you aren't polite.
With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Twelve)
- Thread starter Mr Zoat
- Start date
- Status
They do it when you aren't polite.
- Location
- australia
not that bad???
he literally washed his feet in a toilet bowl every day, and by the time he died, haddent bathed in years (NOT hyperbole) >.< (he was convinced a frutarian diet would magically remove his body odour). *coughs* wait, we talking about eccentricities, or screwing over his coworkers/employees?
- Location
- Somewhere out there
Should be a full stop like Avernus said, or should lowercase the o.
I'm American and the word "frown" evokes primarily forehead imagery to me. I mean, yes, if someone asks me what a frown looks like I'm going to draw " : ( " but that's a stereotype more than how I actually think about it.
Talking about his effectiveness as a businessman and as an industry trendsetter. I never denied he had issues.
Of course we do. We have to share a continent with Americans after all.
(jk we love you guys even though you are hugely exasperating)
- Location
- Hampden Park
Thank you, corrected.
Not really, I'm a brit and I think that line looks weird as hell. Like it's implying that his mouth is on his forehead.
Your lips might twist into a frown, or a scowl, or a grimace.
A frown might appear on your face.
You're brow might furrow when you frown.
The frown itself has no place being on your forehead though. Not unless he's a really weird looking alien.
rkyeun
Cabbitus Maximus
- Location
- ◕ ‿‿ ◕
Soylent Red is (gasp) vegan!
SaltyWaffles
I am dissapoint, son
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yes, this. A frown is a movement of the mouth. While one's forehead probably moves significantly in addition to that, it's the secondary aspect of the expression. Case in point, if someone is wearing a helmet (thus obscuring the forehead), you can still perfectly see someone frowning, and it's not weird. But if he's wearing some kind of partial facemask obscuring his mouth, you can't tell the difference between a frown and someone just creasing his forehead.
I mean, there's a reason "
" is called a "frowny-face" even though it doesn't even imply a forehead. The key part is the mouth, just like with a smile, its opposite. Same with the phrase "turn that frown upside down"--it's all about the mouth movement.
spencer1519
(Verified Heretic)
- Location
- Oregon, USA
Prince Charon
Just zis guy, you know?
Zoat does not see the world the way most people do, I guess.Yes, this. A frown is a movement of the mouth. While one's forehead probably moves significantly in addition to that, it's the secondary aspect of the expression. Case in point, if someone is wearing a helmet (thus obscuring the forehead), you can still perfectly see someone frowning, and it's not weird. But if he's wearing some kind of partial facemask obscuring his mouth, you can't tell the difference between a frown and someone just creasing his forehead.
I mean, there's a reason "
- Location
- Somewhere out there
If someone's mouth were neutral but their brow were furrowed, I would consider them to be frowning. Not frowning sadly, perhaps, but "frowning in thought" is a description I might use.
As mentioned, the notion that the frown is defined by the mouth is chiefly American.
- Location
- Tulsa, Oklahoma
I checked the wiki and it says his sector is 1287 and his planet's full name is J586. Have you changed it for the story Mr.Zoat? Or is the wiki wrong?
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ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
Funny you should say that, because the continent is the true meaning of "America". The USA is just one part of the northern half of America. So, Canada is American too
.- Location
- New Jersey, USA
Funny you should say that, because the continent is the true meaning of "America". The USA is just one part of the northern half of America. So, Canada is American too
They know, they just prefer not to think of it
The South Americans, the South NorthAmericans, and even the North NorthAmericans are all crazy and frustrating in their own unique ways.Funny you should say that, because the continent is the true meaning of "America". The USA is just one part of the northern half of America. So, Canada is American too
- Location
- Hampden Park
- Location
- Tulsa, Oklahoma
Nope. Just saw that while looking at the picture of Medphyll to get a better mental image of him frowning and thought you messed up with the planet name becoming the sector.
My B. Seems the Green Lantern Wikia needs to be fixed.
- Location
- texas
1287 is the sector of the puffball collective, and if the billions of puffballs have a partner its the most bored lantern in the corps, I'm sure.
Stop: DON'T EVEN SUGGEST IT
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
don't even suggest it
'Easily doxxable' or not, it's a Rule 1 violation. Don't even suggest it, hint it, or go near it. 50 points and three day threadban. Don't do this again. Rule 1 violations are the fast track to permabans.
Headhunted (part 8)
- Location
- Hampden Park
4th August
09:57 GMT
The planet Cairn reminds me of Rashash-
I duck my head back as a chunk of concrete comes flying past.
-oon, in that it's a-
I raise a shield-shaped personal force field to soak a couple of misdirected plasma pulses.
-hangout for violent criminals and mercenaries. The difference is that rather than being a state that has socially reengineered itself to cater for mercenaries, it's a failed state that is gradually being overtaken by them. Where it isn't being overtaken by drug lords or other brands of criminals. It's all.. so… Inefficient. Barely any order, limited capacity due to everything and everyone being unreliable-. Hellhole, that's what this planet reminds me of. Lantern Chance would feel right at home here.
"AAArrraaaaaagh!"
A four armed and shell-covered alien stagger-charges towards me, the green drool dripping from.. his..?
Subject is most likely neutral gender.
His four-pronged beak-mouth suggesting either mental decay or an addiction to one of this planet's main exports: highly addictive designer narcotics. I don't actually recognise the species-
Subject is Brogian.
-but they don't appear to have more than muscular strength. I lunge, covering the distance between us faster than he can react and striking him between the eyes with my right fist. His feet shoot out from under him and he lands hard on his back.
Ring, how much electricity is appropriate to stun one of these?
Calibrating taser.
"Dah!"
The Brogian shakes, then lies still.
Thank you.
A couple of Khundian soldiers guarding the shop I'm heading towards regard the scene not so much with interest as with bored disinterest in everything else. The manner of their dress implies that they're irregulars; the fact that they held discipline when people near them fought strongly suggests that I'm in the right place.
I straighten, pulling my cloak around my light armour as I do so. The Khundians should see me as a well-equipped professional mercenary, but not.. exceptional. Heavy power armour such as I usually wear in combat would stand out too much in these parts. No Psion-equivalent around here to hand out ultra-tech to the local hard cases.
Well. The scan I made from outside the atmosphere suggested that someone with a yellow power ring had been through here at some point, but I'm not seeing any Qwardian technology around her-.
"That's far enough."
The Khundian closest to me has his right arm out slightly. He's not exactly blocking my path, but it's clear that he can at very short notice. He's only got a few centimetres on me in height but is far broader. Again, Khundians aren't super strong but they can arm wrestle Okaarans at no disadvantage.
"What you doing here, little man?"
"I'm here to talk to Mister Kharhi."
I don't make eye contact, instead keeping my gaze focused on the door in front of me. Poking around the periphery of Dominion space is a risky prospect, and I'd rather not start a fight with anyone else. At least, not until it's essential to do so and I have an overwhelming advantage. I'd much rather just purchase examples of Dominator technology from a licensed vendor. The Khundians have an… Understanding with the Dominators and are known to use their technology upon occasion.
"And what makes you think he wants to talk to you?"
"Makes it rather hard to sell things if he won't talk to customers."
"Mister Kharhi isn't your type of two-bit gunrunner. Go hit up a boomshack on northside if you want a new popgun, fool."
"Is this some sort of test? A hazing? Because I think I'm going to get annoyed with it rather fast."
"No." He leans closer. "This is me telling you go get lost."
His colleague cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Or we help you get lost."
Weak body armour, weak personal force fields, reasonably tough physiology but nothing special. So many ways…
I manifest a railgun under my coat and fire a hard foam round at the closest before back-pedalling. He snarls and starts to come at me as the stuff coats him and his colleague, hardening enough to bring him to a halt. I then step around to his right side and strap a bomb to his forehead, pressing the activator switch in the centre to make it give a worrisome beep. The second Khundian is even more enveloped, eyes glaring at me defiantly as I apply a bomb directly to his forehead as well.
"Mediocre."
I step away as the Khundian who did most of the talking goes cross-eyed trying to look at the bomb. Not all that hard to get off, if you've got fingers far smaller than he has. Right, door. The relatively unimpressive shop façade does a little to disguise the fact that the exterior is actually quite well armoured. The door mechanism… Scan. Armed, but a simple electromagnetic burst takes care of that and a crumbler round takes care of the lock. I shove the door open and take a scan of the interior. A short corridor going… Ah. I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me.
"Mister Kharhi, this is not good customer service."
"I have no interest in dealing with the weak." No obvious source for the voice. Sound induction, probably. "Are you armed?"
"Yes."
"Good." A section of floor shimmers and vanishes, revealing a stairway down into the ground. "So are we."
"So noted." I make a show of looking around while keeping my hands from pointing at anything. "Are we trading today?"
"Get down here and we'll talk about it."
I flex my hands, then start down the steps. According to Amalak's contacts, Kharhi is a pretty well connected fellow. If the Dominator computer parts I want can be bought, he should be able to supply them.
"Do I have to jump through any more hoops?"
"You better have something worth trading, but you seem to know your business."
The door at the bottom of the steps is a fortified bulkhead protected with two layers of force field. I wait for them to be deactivated, and then the door bolts clunk free and the door swings open. Another similarly fortified door inside. Fair enough. I make a point of activating my personal force field and them step through. The door clunks shut behind me, and I hear a faint hum as the shields reactivate. Then-.
Heh.
"An environmental purification system? Really?"
"There is honour in being slain by a skilled warrior. There is none in choking up one's own lungs while they watch your struggles like a callous, disinterested vivisectionist."
I nod. "My people forbid the use of gas weapons in war. I hadn't realised that Khundians have a similar restriction."
"We don't. Honour is for Khundians. We're perfectly happy to gas the rest of you." The purification system stops and the inner door clanks open. "Come in, alien, and make me an offer."
I take a step forward. "Just so we're clear, I'm wearing my purification system."
09:57 GMT
The planet Cairn reminds me of Rashash-
I duck my head back as a chunk of concrete comes flying past.
-oon, in that it's a-
I raise a shield-shaped personal force field to soak a couple of misdirected plasma pulses.
-hangout for violent criminals and mercenaries. The difference is that rather than being a state that has socially reengineered itself to cater for mercenaries, it's a failed state that is gradually being overtaken by them. Where it isn't being overtaken by drug lords or other brands of criminals. It's all.. so… Inefficient. Barely any order, limited capacity due to everything and everyone being unreliable-. Hellhole, that's what this planet reminds me of. Lantern Chance would feel right at home here.
"AAArrraaaaaagh!"
A four armed and shell-covered alien stagger-charges towards me, the green drool dripping from.. his..?
Subject is most likely neutral gender.
His four-pronged beak-mouth suggesting either mental decay or an addiction to one of this planet's main exports: highly addictive designer narcotics. I don't actually recognise the species-
Subject is Brogian.
-but they don't appear to have more than muscular strength. I lunge, covering the distance between us faster than he can react and striking him between the eyes with my right fist. His feet shoot out from under him and he lands hard on his back.
Ring, how much electricity is appropriate to stun one of these?
Calibrating taser.
"Dah!"
The Brogian shakes, then lies still.
Thank you.
A couple of Khundian soldiers guarding the shop I'm heading towards regard the scene not so much with interest as with bored disinterest in everything else. The manner of their dress implies that they're irregulars; the fact that they held discipline when people near them fought strongly suggests that I'm in the right place.
I straighten, pulling my cloak around my light armour as I do so. The Khundians should see me as a well-equipped professional mercenary, but not.. exceptional. Heavy power armour such as I usually wear in combat would stand out too much in these parts. No Psion-equivalent around here to hand out ultra-tech to the local hard cases.
Well. The scan I made from outside the atmosphere suggested that someone with a yellow power ring had been through here at some point, but I'm not seeing any Qwardian technology around her-.
"That's far enough."
The Khundian closest to me has his right arm out slightly. He's not exactly blocking my path, but it's clear that he can at very short notice. He's only got a few centimetres on me in height but is far broader. Again, Khundians aren't super strong but they can arm wrestle Okaarans at no disadvantage.
"What you doing here, little man?"
"I'm here to talk to Mister Kharhi."
I don't make eye contact, instead keeping my gaze focused on the door in front of me. Poking around the periphery of Dominion space is a risky prospect, and I'd rather not start a fight with anyone else. At least, not until it's essential to do so and I have an overwhelming advantage. I'd much rather just purchase examples of Dominator technology from a licensed vendor. The Khundians have an… Understanding with the Dominators and are known to use their technology upon occasion.
"And what makes you think he wants to talk to you?"
"Makes it rather hard to sell things if he won't talk to customers."
"Mister Kharhi isn't your type of two-bit gunrunner. Go hit up a boomshack on northside if you want a new popgun, fool."
"Is this some sort of test? A hazing? Because I think I'm going to get annoyed with it rather fast."
"No." He leans closer. "This is me telling you go get lost."
His colleague cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Or we help you get lost."
Weak body armour, weak personal force fields, reasonably tough physiology but nothing special. So many ways…
I manifest a railgun under my coat and fire a hard foam round at the closest before back-pedalling. He snarls and starts to come at me as the stuff coats him and his colleague, hardening enough to bring him to a halt. I then step around to his right side and strap a bomb to his forehead, pressing the activator switch in the centre to make it give a worrisome beep. The second Khundian is even more enveloped, eyes glaring at me defiantly as I apply a bomb directly to his forehead as well.
"Mediocre."
I step away as the Khundian who did most of the talking goes cross-eyed trying to look at the bomb. Not all that hard to get off, if you've got fingers far smaller than he has. Right, door. The relatively unimpressive shop façade does a little to disguise the fact that the exterior is actually quite well armoured. The door mechanism… Scan. Armed, but a simple electromagnetic burst takes care of that and a crumbler round takes care of the lock. I shove the door open and take a scan of the interior. A short corridor going… Ah. I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me.
"Mister Kharhi, this is not good customer service."
"I have no interest in dealing with the weak." No obvious source for the voice. Sound induction, probably. "Are you armed?"
"Yes."
"Good." A section of floor shimmers and vanishes, revealing a stairway down into the ground. "So are we."
"So noted." I make a show of looking around while keeping my hands from pointing at anything. "Are we trading today?"
"Get down here and we'll talk about it."
I flex my hands, then start down the steps. According to Amalak's contacts, Kharhi is a pretty well connected fellow. If the Dominator computer parts I want can be bought, he should be able to supply them.
"Do I have to jump through any more hoops?"
"You better have something worth trading, but you seem to know your business."
The door at the bottom of the steps is a fortified bulkhead protected with two layers of force field. I wait for them to be deactivated, and then the door bolts clunk free and the door swings open. Another similarly fortified door inside. Fair enough. I make a point of activating my personal force field and them step through. The door clunks shut behind me, and I hear a faint hum as the shields reactivate. Then-.
Heh.
"An environmental purification system? Really?"
"There is honour in being slain by a skilled warrior. There is none in choking up one's own lungs while they watch your struggles like a callous, disinterested vivisectionist."
I nod. "My people forbid the use of gas weapons in war. I hadn't realised that Khundians have a similar restriction."
"We don't. Honour is for Khundians. We're perfectly happy to gas the rest of you." The purification system stops and the inner door clanks open. "Come in, alien, and make me an offer."
I take a step forward. "Just so we're clear, I'm wearing my purification system."
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- Pronouns
- She/It/They
I love it when Paragon decides to go all badass.
StitchLips
Cannot be killed in any way that matters
- Location
- Around
This is familiar to me but I dont know why
- Location
- Australia
- Status