ZBB member photos, part 5. (Something for the weekend, sir?)

[rickardspaghetti]

Ers Höghet. *bows*

[Astraios]

If anything he looks very French.

That I have heard before.

Ers Höghet. *bows*

Va? Varför bockar du dig? Vad gjorde jag? D:

[rickardspaghetti]

Ers Höghet. *bows*

Va? Varför bockar du dig? Vad gjorde jag? D:

You looked like prince Carl Philip.

[Astraios]

Noo, you found my hiding place. And it's "Ers Kunglig Höghet", if you please.

[rickardspaghetti]

And it's "Ers Kungliga Höghet", if you please.

[Astraios]

Swedish Wikipedia is wrong?

Tilltalsform: Ers (Eders) Kunglig Höghet

[rickardspaghetti]

Swedish adjectives take a different form when after a determiner.

[Astraios]

Of course I knew that, being a Swedish prince an' all.

[The Count]

Förolämpa nu inte stackars Astraios.

[Ossicone]

*messes with your hair* Just too adorable

Bitch, don't mess it even more, I'll have to use a rake on it.

Sorry, but messing with the hair is the best!

[*Ceresz]

Ers Höghet. *bows*

Va? Varför bockar du dig? Vad gjorde jag? D:

You looked like prince Carl Philip.

Nu fick du mig att småflina lite, Rickard .

[Astraios]

Fiiiiinnee, you can mess with it. But you're putting it back nicely afterwards!

[----]

People mess with my hair all the time when it gets longer and it's so annoying because my hair is hard to fix back the way it was. It messes up really easily, but putting it the way I want it is soooo difficult.

[Nannalu]

[jal]

I think Astraios looks a lot like this:


And who is Nannalu, and why is he in drag?


JAL

[Astraios]

Well, that's better than calling me a half-starved drug addict, as you did once.

[Lithray]

Astraios, You could easily be in the top balcony of a theater watching the Opera. Outside the booth are two giant bald Slavic suits. They bent to obey your every word and clean the pond scum that is your competition off your heel. A woman (Swedish) sits close to the railing. Her dress red. Diamond earrings, necklace and bracelet. No rings. You are in a dashing black and white suit, gold band on your left hand. You sit back near the shadows, your hand holding champagne. Another man's hand in your left.

As you walk out of the stone building the woman in your arms. Her cuffs and collar are lynx. A Rolls Royce pulls to the steps. A man gets out of the car and hands the other man walking slowly behind you. A hint of annoyance leaks from his face. The valet jogs away. The man hands the keys to the woman and then takes her place. You bath get into the back. Your two giants survey the area and the get into two cars of there own. They follow you through the European streets back to your mansion.

[Astraios]

I want.

[Lithray]

I knew you would. I hope the woman didn't offend you?

[Astraios]

Offend...? Unless you meant her as a cover for my gaynosity, because I wouldn't hide it. I am capable of having female friends, you know.

[Lithray]

Well it seemed that if you were an international arms/drug dealer and/or a foreign dignitary from Argentina; it seemed quite prudent to cover that little fact. Muslims wouldn't buy, neither would North Korea. Republican presidents would declare war on you and your private Island. Though if you went into either you could use conlangs for code talk. 0.o

Edit: Let's not forget crack heads could be stupid enough to wonder if the gay drug lord put stuff in it that would turn them gay. But then again, do they really know were what they get comes from? And what are they doing thinking their brain is fried. Crack is crack.

[Io]

Nannalu, like all boys I think you'd be prettier as a boy and not a girl.

[Astraios]

But Lithray, why would I let my clients know that I even exist? That would be extremely foolhardy...

[Lithray]

Hmm. That is why I don't rule the world yet. That and my lack of funding for copper wire. Who would you have as a swarthy salesman? Would he be a figure head? I know a lot of movies that I can't name were client always talks to the owner of the company face to face.

[Astraios]

Real life is not like movies. I would be on top, but no one would know who I am. I'd be seen at the opera and the like, but thanks to my hunky bodyguards no one gets close, so nobody knows just how many pies I've got my fingers into, or how many pie shops I've annihilated along the way.

All the people who appear to be at the head of those businesses are in fact just my pawns, and even they don't actually know who it is that they're owned by, because in public I pretend to be one of them.