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Frightful Festivities 2009!
Come in, sit down, pull up a constellation!
I'm happy to be hosting this again after not being able to do so last year. Thus I resume a tradition and break a few others. For instance, you might notice that it isn't yet Halloween. This is because I will be insanely busy Saturday. But I will be tricking and treating for as long as folks stick around.
Also this year, for the first time since starting this, I am not an LotR monster, instead... I AM THE MOON. The main moon. The full moon. The vanilla rapist.
And the moon is crap at spelling!
I hope you will join me! And bring something or someone along, real or imagined. As always, there will be door prizes in the form of bad poetry, prose, and most of all, cheap graphics. :) But to earn your treat you must come in costume! Photos of costumes, real or virtual, are encouraged!
Most of all, mingle! And enjoy tasty moon rocks. Or some of that crunchy ice cream the astronauts eat!
For the sake of atmostphere, I would like to keep the festivities in one place, over at LJ, but feel free to reply where you're most comfortable.
PS: I will be out for a bit but back soon!
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Are you wearing Vamp!Viggo this year? Not a bad thing to have on. :D
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daleks!
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Wonder if our host will be waxing or waning when she gets back. That's one of those things I've always been curious about. Why waning? Why not rewaxing?
*twirls moustache to fake-y Charlie Chaplin costume, twiddles cane*
I've brought some licorice to share. And some jelly babies.
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Treat to come as soon as I've recovered a bit! Thanks for stopping by. :D
Treat! (Ridiculously belated)
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At times, when he thinks of his brother, he is drawn to the bastion, where he had sometimes stood with Boromir in ceremony, in play, in quiet conversation meant only for two, as if the pale stone may hold some comfort memory alone cannot offer.
Yet it is not his brother who calls to him this night, treads invisible the cold path to the keel, laughing mad on the wind. He follows the empty sound, fearful, obedient, nearer the ledge that divides the darkened Pelennor like a bone-white dagger.
A gust from behind urges him on, hot as a pyre.
Re: Treat! (Ridiculously belated)
Re: Treat! (Ridiculously belated)
Re: Treat! (Ridiculously belated)
Re: Treat! (Ridiculously belated)
Re: Treat! (Ridiculously belated)