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Ultimate Word Tournament!
Round 1
discombobulate
preantepenultimate
discombobulate (English, Confusion Dialect) [ˌdɪs.kəmˈbɒb.jəˌleɪt] to confuse or disconcert; confound; bewilder (One of the submitters tried to discombobulate me, saying this word was from French, meaning "Nice to meet you." I can assure you, it is not a French word.)
preantepenultimate (English) [ˌpɹiˌæntipəˈnʌltɪmət] (often of syllables) fourth from last.
I really do love the way humans make and use language but today I read the word ‘pre-antepenultimate’ and sometimes I have to wonder if we’re doing this communication thing right
16 17 19 bc yes
16:I’ll love you if
you’re nice/we have the same taste in music
17:Someone you miss
Emma (friend from church, but I rarely go to church so I never see her and it sucks)
19:A fact about your personality
it sucks
preantepenultimate replied to your post “preantepenultimate replied to your post: IM WRITING SOMETHING FOR...”
yes smooth move you manga trash (I'm allowed to call you that because I am also manga trash but I belong in a worse trash can)
LOL it's ok. i am big pile of weaboo trash. i don't even deserve a fancy title like : supreme overlord weaboo trash. i'm just pure and simple weaboo trash.
preantepenultimate replied to your post: IM WRITING SOMETHING FOR SCHOOL. AND I...
idk it doesn’t really have a sound the way I think of it. its sort of like when you go to concerts, and you feel thAt thumping in your heart? it’s soundless but it’s still there
idek i need to include onomatopoeia and a loud thumping heart fit and stuff. I went with ba-bum, ba-bum thanks to a friend. but JEEZ I CANT BELIEVE I WROTE DOKI-DOKI WITHOUT EVEN QUESTIONING ANYTHING.
Ultimate... Penultimate...
ULTIMATE: The last thing.
Good, important word.
PENULTIMATE: The first to last thing.
Sometimes useful. Fancy.
ANTEPENULTIMATE: The second to last thing.
Was this really necessary?
PREANTEPENULTIMATE: The third to last thing.
...
You've got to be kidding me.
...
I love it.
Preantepenultimate
I couldn't see for the darkness that obscured all but the slow moving shadows on either side. I knew I was fourth in line. The line we made on the cold, hard floor, our noses pressed against the crumbling concrete.
We heard the footsteps, heavy and solid, coming down the rickety steps. And what was that, a chain link? My heart raced. A girl next to me let out a whimper. I tried to nudge her with my elbow, get her to stop, to remain silent so we wouldn't instill his wrath again, but because my hands were bound behind my back, my elbow couldn't reach her ribs. I prayed to a God I didn't believe in anymore that she would shut up.
The footsteps stopped at the base of the stairs, where the concrete floor began. I imagined him surveying us, making sure we had not moved, making sure we had been good children. Perhaps fourth in line was far enough down that he'd bore of the beatings. There was hope that I could be spared, at least this time. There was only hope. It's what I imagined as I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to block out his slow, precise footsteps closing in.
