Over the Hills and Behind the Tents--
Right, so a couple days ago I was chatting with the lovely cinzia, and the rather real possibility of a new Sharpe movie came up in conversation, and was followed, as these things usually are, with Sharpe/Harper talk. Including, of course, my favourite SHarper scene from Siege. I made some offhand silly remarks, and after some poking, decided to expand them a little...
Presented here, for your edification, the Sharpe's Siege "OMG, they're SO married!" scene(s), as performed by the LJ players.
[Scene: Lord Wellington's mobile headquarters, somewhere in the Ukraine Portugal. Probably near a convenient set of hills the Pyrenees, given that's where the lads are headed this episode.]
ENTER RICHARD SHARPE, youngish dashing member of the Captain Tightpants Club (*nods to Han and Mal*), and PATRICK HARPER, his ever-present not-so-secret gay lover Sergeant.
HARPER paws at Sharpe his mouth. SHARPE gestures excitedly.
SHARPE: OMG! NO!!! STAY HERE! No coming with unless you get rid of teh tooth of future plot twists DooOOOOooooOOOOOooooM!
HARPER: OMGWTFBBQ, NO!!11111 ...K. Bye. XD
SHARPE: Kthxbye.
EXEUNT.
[Scene: Random darkened camp a foot from the catering tents in the Pyrenees. HARRIS, my favourite non-having-sex-with-Sharpe Chosen Man a down-on-his-luck gambler, wastrel, and ex-schoolteacher, HAGMAN, a man with a voice like an angel a down-on-his-luck, soulful ex-poacher, and probably some other CHOSEN MEN I've forgotten about because I'd have to fuck around with the DVD player that hates me to check, lounge around a campfire. Just for conversation's sake, we'll call them all men down-on-their-luck. Because they are. Dude.]
ENTER SHARPE. He regards the scene before him.
SHARPE: OMG, guys, why didn't you do stuff for meeee?? If Harper was here, he totally would have.
CHOSEN MEN: Pfft. STFU, N00b.
SHARPE stomps off to see his fellow officers, HORACE "Not My Fault" BAMFYLDE, and COMPTE DE "I'm Totally Going To Betray You" MAQUERRE. As he arrives, SHARPE spies HARPER brewing and serving tea.
SHARPE: OMG! OMG! H0R!!!
SHARPE gestures excitedly again. HARPER turns to address BAMFYLDE.
HARPER: He's meeeeeeeeeeen to me. He doesn't leik meeeeee. BTW, u r totally hott. Drinkie???
HARPER leaves with a good fifth of scotch "for his tooth."
SHARPE: *defriendz*
BAMFYLDE: Dude, I'm all for paring down your Flist, but seriously. Chill, or we'll all end up on LJDrama.
SHARPE growls, silently creates filter, filters out BAMFYLDE.
[Scene: Later that evening, SHARPE, still steaming, returns to his campsite. The CHOSEN MEN have gone to do naughty things to each other sleep. Sleep, I said. Battle tomorrow. Only makes sense, right? Christ, you people. His literal tent is pitched, his bedroll is unrolled, and there is hot tea brewing over the fire.]
SHARPE sits down.
SHARPE: :D Thx. *refriendz*
HARPER appears from wherever he was lurking.
HARPER: NP. ;D
SHARPE: <333
HARPER: <333333
SHARPE and HARPER pitch some more tents spend the night in companionable silence or something. Eventually they go off and have Teh Gay Secs.
There are BATTLES and some PLOT, and somebody loses an eye a tooth. Everything is resolved satisfactorily, except for that poppy-seed-still-stuck-in-the-gums, JANE, but we'll ignore her in favour of the...
...Gratuitous tight pants arse shot.
Music swells. Other things swell. CHOSEN MEN look tactfully away.
FINIS.
Presented here, for your edification, the Sharpe's Siege "OMG, they're SO married!" scene(s), as performed by the LJ players.
[Scene: Lord Wellington's mobile headquarters, somewhere in the Ukraine Portugal. Probably near a convenient set of hills the Pyrenees, given that's where the lads are headed this episode.]
ENTER RICHARD SHARPE, youngish dashing member of the Captain Tightpants Club (*nods to Han and Mal*), and PATRICK HARPER, his ever-present not-so-secret gay lover Sergeant.
HARPER paws at Sharpe his mouth. SHARPE gestures excitedly.
SHARPE: OMG! NO!!! STAY HERE! No coming with unless you get rid of teh tooth of future plot twists DooOOOOooooOOOOOooooM!
HARPER: OMGWTFBBQ, NO!!11111 ...K. Bye. XD
SHARPE: Kthxbye.
EXEUNT.
[Scene: Random darkened camp a foot from the catering tents in the Pyrenees. HARRIS, my favourite non-having-sex-with-Sharpe Chosen Man a down-on-his-luck gambler, wastrel, and ex-schoolteacher, HAGMAN, a man with a voice like an angel a down-on-his-luck, soulful ex-poacher, and probably some other CHOSEN MEN I've forgotten about because I'd have to fuck around with the DVD player that hates me to check, lounge around a campfire. Just for conversation's sake, we'll call them all men down-on-their-luck. Because they are. Dude.]
ENTER SHARPE. He regards the scene before him.
SHARPE: OMG, guys, why didn't you do stuff for meeee?? If Harper was here, he totally would have.
CHOSEN MEN: Pfft. STFU, N00b.
SHARPE stomps off to see his fellow officers, HORACE "Not My Fault" BAMFYLDE, and COMPTE DE "I'm Totally Going To Betray You" MAQUERRE. As he arrives, SHARPE spies HARPER brewing and serving tea.
SHARPE: OMG! OMG! H0R!!!
SHARPE gestures excitedly again. HARPER turns to address BAMFYLDE.
HARPER: He's meeeeeeeeeeen to me. He doesn't leik meeeeee. BTW, u r totally hott. Drinkie???
HARPER leaves with a good fifth of scotch "for his tooth."
SHARPE: *defriendz*
BAMFYLDE: Dude, I'm all for paring down your Flist, but seriously. Chill, or we'll all end up on LJDrama.
SHARPE growls, silently creates filter, filters out BAMFYLDE.
[Scene: Later that evening, SHARPE, still steaming, returns to his campsite. The CHOSEN MEN have gone to do naughty things to each other sleep. Sleep, I said. Battle tomorrow. Only makes sense, right? Christ, you people. His literal tent is pitched, his bedroll is unrolled, and there is hot tea brewing over the fire.]
SHARPE sits down.
SHARPE: :D Thx. *refriendz*
HARPER appears from wherever he was lurking.
HARPER: NP. ;D
SHARPE: <333
HARPER: <333333
SHARPE and HARPER pitch some more tents spend the night in companionable silence or something. Eventually they go off and have Teh Gay Secs.
There are BATTLES and some PLOT, and somebody loses an eye a tooth. Everything is resolved satisfactorily, except for that poppy-seed-still-stuck-in-the-gums, JANE, but we'll ignore her in favour of the...
...Gratuitous tight pants arse shot.
Music swells. Other things swell. CHOSEN MEN look tactfully away.
FINIS.