Someone's getting impatient (*cough*Nick*cough*) since I'm not updating, but I'm not feeling great at the moment, so I'll instead post some of my old fanfiction on here.
The reason I'm not just giving out the link to my fanfiction.net account is that there's somet things I'm not proud of on there, both the plot and writing are horrible, but I just can't bring myself to delete it. However, I do promise it's my work and that I haven't stolen it.
First up we got a thing with the Weasley Twins (Gred and Forge) after one of them lost an ear and their big brother is getting married and there's a frickin' war going on and life is slightly chaotic all over.
Holey spot
George shifted in his bed for probably the hundred time in half an hour. The bloody hole in his head wouldn't leave him alone, shifting on a dull beating and a searing pain. Now it was just changing again, building up to searing.
"You all right over there?" Fred said sleepy when hearing his twin turn around yet again and give a heavy moan.
"Splendid," George retorted with a groan. "My head hurts like a fucking train have been driven into it." The next groan was closer to a growl and he sat up, burying his face in his hands. The extra flow of blood as he leaned forward seemed to help a little.
"That bad?" Fred said as he too sat up and swung his feet down on the floor.
"Worse," George muttered and pressed his hands to his ear and where the other had been a few days previous.
"Want something for it?" Fred asked and yawned.
"Yes, I fucking want something to make it stop and I've already emptied all we have of pain-potions," George answered as Fred came to sit beside him.
"I know," he said calmly. "I meant something a little stronger."
"Like what?" George slumped back against the wall and regretted it as he banged the back of his head.
"If I remember correctly, it's still quite a batch of Firewhisky downstairs." Fred grinned. George groaned, but managed a small smile.
"So what are we still doing here?" he said and raised his throbbing head a bit.
"You tell me," Fred answered and got to his feet. George followed, but his balance seemed to be a bit off and he put a hand to Fred's shoulders. "Good?"
"No, terrible," George answered lightly. They went out the door and down the stairs as quietly as possible with the house full of potential fun-killers, now sleeping soundly.
"Shit, I forgot Mum and Dad were sleeping down here," Fred whispered when they entered the sitting-room. With a shrug Fred still manoeuvred around their parents' makeshift bed and over to the cabinet. Opening it, he took out two bottles and examined them in the light of his wand, nodded, and went back to George.
"Nauseating, isn't it?" George commented and inclined his head towards Molly and Arthur, embracing each other even in sleep.
"Quite," Fred agreed and went back to the kitchen. George rubbed the side of his head while following him, the pain was reaching a peak. Fred had taken out two big glasses and filled them almost to the brim.
"Cheers," George said and raised one of them before taking half of the content in one gulp.
"Cheers to you too," Fred answered and sat down before taking a sip. "Bad time to remember painkilling-potions and booze mix badly."
"I don't give a flying fuck," George answered and took another big swallow. "I want to sleep!"
"Keep it down, imagine Mum's reaction if she found us here drinking," Fred told him. George gave a dry laughter before covering the side of his head with his palm and groaned. "Your holey spot's giving you a rough time?"
"Holey spot? Yeah, you could say." George refilled his glass and lighted the candle on the table. "Was worse yesterday, but then I had more to ease it with."
"Should buy more of that strong stuff. What was it called?" Fred drank the whisky slowly, but George threw down as much as possible to get relaxed enough to sleep.
"Don't remember. The bottle still stands there, so..." George belched. "Say, where would dear Charles hide his cigarettes?"
"Probably his coat-pocket," Fred said before getting up and out in the entrance hall. Searching in the dark wasn't easy, but the smell of dragon and burn combined with the feeling of leather sat him on track pretty fast. "Here." He threw the pack on the table and George helped himself.
"Hangover at wedding, big hit," George muttered as he lighted the smoke.
"You won't be the only one, since they're throwing his bachelor party tonight," Fred commented as he too took a cigarette. "And it's probably boring as hell, since we're stuck here." Bill had told them they were too young and he didn't want them there, still Charlie had been allowed.
"You know, we should turn his clothes pink or something for that," George said.
"In the middle of the ceremony. 'William, do you take this foxy lady to be your bed-mate for eternity." Fred had lowered his voice to a dull speech. "Zap! 'What the hell!'" George cracked up as the last was a good imitation of their oldest brother. "Fleur would declare it magnificent and snog him on the spot."
"And Mum would spank us into the next century." George looked down in his glass to find it almost empty.
"She haven't done that in years," Fred reminded him as he filled their glasses again. "When we set off all those fireworks." Both twins got a rather dreamy expression.
"That was good," George recalled. "But not as good as when she dragged us off to visit Muriel." He did a face of disgust, tugging at the muscles and set off his holey spot again.
"Mum knew we would do something, even at our 'best behaviour.'" Fred shook his head slowly. "But that old bat sure know how to slap. Hopefully she won't repeat that tomorrow."
"You think that hurt? I'm starting to see why people go mad from the Crucio," George snapped back and massaged the dully throbbing spot before draining his glass.
"I'd take it for you, if it was any way," Fred said quietly.
"I wouldn't let you," George told him. "Share it, yes, gladly, but not take it all. At least it gives me an excuse to be moody."
"Help any?" Fred pointed to the glass.
"Not much," George groaned. "And I don't see what Charlie sees in these, it's disgusting." He glared at the cigarette as Fred summoned a small plate for them to use as an ashtray.
"Then why are you smoking it?" Fred asked and tried blowing a ring.
"Merlin knows." George rubbed his face with one hand, wishing the pain would just stop, just for long enough to get some proper sleep.
"You know, Fleur probably got a whole load of cousins," Fred remarked. George just stared at him. "Quarter-Veela cousins. Single, gullible and dying to know all about the British way of life."
"And we should be no less than willing to teach them some of that," George finished and grinned. "If I survive tonight." He pressed his hand to the most painful spot and winced on purpose.
"Hey, nothing can kill you," Fred said. "Except maybe Mum. And Fleur, if you happen to hurl on her dress. And your own guilt if I get all the sexy Veelas."
"Fine, I'll survive tonight if you insist," George mock-sighed. "Bed's starting to sound better again." His head was either hurting less or he was getting better at ignoring it.
"Remind me again, why are we sleeping here at all?" Fred said as he drained his glass.
"I would, but I think I'm too pissed," George retorted.
"That's good, at least. Oh yeah, we were stupid enough to promise helping in the morning," Fred said as he stood up.
"You mean, you promised helping when Fleur batted her eyelashes and showed an inch of cleavage," George said and yawned.
"Because you were too busy drooling," Fred retorted. "Come on, matey." Fred placed an arm around George's back and together they got up the stairs and to the camp-beds set up in their father's office.
"And for further occasions, I was not drooling," George said as he fell over on his bed and pressed his palms to the sides of his head.
"You need to get laid," Fred muttered as he levitated his own bed closer to his twin's.
"What's this about?" George asked as their beds now made one big and Fred scootched in beside him.
"Just thought it'll be nice," Fred said innocently and placed his own hands to where George's had been a moment earlier. "Now, take a deep breath and relax."
"Yes, Mum!" George still obeyed and realised how tired he was. "And I'll get laid tomorrow, so don't worry."
"And how will you manage that?" Fred snickered and laid closed so he didn't need to strain his arms.
"Simple, play the victim. They get one look at that bleeding hole in my head, I use my wonderful puppy-dog eyes and voíla, one shag guaranteed." George yawned again.
"You don't have puppy-dog eyes. Ginny have, Bill too if he really wants to, but not you," Fred whispered.
"Then neither do you," George retorted.
"Don't need them, I have two ears to show off."
"But you can't play victim, you haven't lost as much as a toe-nail."
"I almost lost you," Fred said very quietly.
"Yeah, but you didn't, so stop wallowing in self-pity." George grinned to him through the dark.
"Fine, if that's the way you want it," Fred said pretend-hurt and turned around.
"Thanks," George whispered and slid his arm around Fred's chest. If it was the alcohol, potions or lack of sleep making the pain ease, it didn't matter and he relaxed against his twin's chest, happy he was there.
"Any time, little brother," Fred retorted, but George had already started snoring.
Okay, on second thought, this might be a bit questionable and not that great, and I'm only posting half of it, since the rest is even more questionable. But there you are. I'll see if I can write something new soon instead of posting old nerdy things.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Who said you can't change the world from your couch?
I promised myself I wouldn't put any unnecessary sappy blogging on here, but nonetheless, I need to get this out and this seems like a nice place. Plus, I'm lacking inspiration and I'm a bit tipsy. Which is probably why I'm sappy and emotional and stuff.
Anyway, I've found that I can change the world from the comfort of my own couch. At least a small bit of it, I like to believe.
Today a girl I only know online and have only known for a few weeks... heck, I don't even know her, or know if it is a her, since it's an RPG site! Anyway, we've been roleplaying quite a bit the last few weeks and today she told me she got happy just when she saw I was logged on, and that she was suicidal. I didn't quite know what to say, but at least I've made her somewhat happy and I like to think that means something and may make a difference in whether she keeps being suicidal or not.
I also like to think I've made an impact on some of the people on DBPB, several have told me they like my sense of humour or that I'm one of their favourite commenters or things like that. Some of them email me and I like to think it matters what I say. And of course I hope someone gets some enjoyment one way or another out of these little stories I post here. Because, to be honest, I doubt I can change the entire world, but if I can just put a smile on a persons face a time or two, I think that's making an impact and a change on the world nonetheless.
Fine, I'll stop patting myself on the back now, but I think it's pretty damn awesome that I actually do matter (somewhat) and that I have made (somewhat) of a change in the world. Chances are, so have you.
Anyway, I've found that I can change the world from the comfort of my own couch. At least a small bit of it, I like to believe.
Today a girl I only know online and have only known for a few weeks... heck, I don't even know her, or know if it is a her, since it's an RPG site! Anyway, we've been roleplaying quite a bit the last few weeks and today she told me she got happy just when she saw I was logged on, and that she was suicidal. I didn't quite know what to say, but at least I've made her somewhat happy and I like to think that means something and may make a difference in whether she keeps being suicidal or not.
I also like to think I've made an impact on some of the people on DBPB, several have told me they like my sense of humour or that I'm one of their favourite commenters or things like that. Some of them email me and I like to think it matters what I say. And of course I hope someone gets some enjoyment one way or another out of these little stories I post here. Because, to be honest, I doubt I can change the entire world, but if I can just put a smile on a persons face a time or two, I think that's making an impact and a change on the world nonetheless.
Fine, I'll stop patting myself on the back now, but I think it's pretty damn awesome that I actually do matter (somewhat) and that I have made (somewhat) of a change in the world. Chances are, so have you.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Dancing in the kitchen
Dear world,
Yes, I dance around in my kitchen while baking... I can't be the only one.
Sincerely, can I?
Let's find out.
Maria stopped the mixer with a sigh and stuck her finger down in the sugar and egg mix before slowly licking it clean. She giggled and looked over at Joan who were sitting by the kitchen table, reading a magazine.
"Come and taste this," she said with a grin and dipped her finger. J0an looked up with an expression telling Maria she hadn't heard what she had said. Instead she took matters into her own hands, went over to her girlfriend and painted her lips with the mix. Joan smiled faintly and licked it off before pulling Maria down on her lap and kissing her.
"Would you believe this, Kim Kardashian's marriage is over already," she said in what Maria knew to be her I-pretend-to-be-serious-but-really-I-couldn't-care-if-I-tried voice and pointed at the magazine.
"Really?" Maria replied in a very fake surprised voice and tried getting up again, but she was held back. "Come on, I want to get this cake done." She leaned in towards Joan and put her forehead towards the other girl's.
"But I want you more than the cake," Joan said with a grin and kissed the smaller girl again before letting her go. Maria grinned back, went back to the kitchen counter and turned up the radio.
"I love this song!" Maria exclaimed as Ricky Martin's Livin' la Vida Loca started blasting from the speakers of the small stereo beside her and she turned up the volume further before her body began dancing almost on its own accord. Joan looked up from the magazine again and smiled as Maria was rolling her hips, shoulders, head and about everything else that could be rolled while she was using the spatula as a microphone. She wasn't singing aloud, just mouthing the words, but Joan couldn't help but be fascinated at the way her lips also rolled sensually around the silent words.
"Her lips are devil red," Joan mouthed back as she got up and put her arms around Maria, who in no sense stopped dancing as her neck was kissed. Joan didn't even make an attempt at dancing with her, compared to the smaller darkhaired vixen she was stiff as a board and could barely do the robot. What she could do was caress the tan skin with her tongue and get batter in her hair as Maria tried embracing her back and smashed the spatula in her head. Both girls giggled before resuming their activities, Maria dancing around on the kitchen floor and dragging Joan with her as the latter licked her way down to the collar bone, humming slightly and sending tingling vibrations through most of Maria's body.
Maria tried to do another hip-thrust and was surprised to find Joan's hands in the way and a second later to find herself pressed against the wall as Vengaboys' Boom Boom Boom took over for Ricky Martin on the radio. Joan's lips showed a small smirk as she looked down on the buttons on Maria's blue shirt and slowly began opening them. Maria laughed and kissed the blonde's chin before she continued her dancing pressed against her and the wall.
Joan took her time getting the buttons open and stopped to admire the view of the maroon bra cupping the breasts that seemed almost just a tad too big on the curvy, but petit girl. Her finger traced the edge of the fabric several times before her finger slipped inside and teased the nipple. Maria arched her back as part of her dancing and managed to smack Joan on the head with the spatula again.
"Give me that," Joan said mock-sternly and removed her hand from the bra to grab the spatula and smacked Maria on the nose with it. Maria grabbed it back and slapped Joan lightly on the cheek with it before she laughed. Joan laughed herself before leaning in and licking the batter from her nose, earning a strange purring from Maria before she returned the favour.
"Not a bad batter," she concluded before she freed herself and went over to the counter again. Joan followed her and embraced her from behind as she got a new spatula and poured the batter into the cake tin.
"You're a good cook, you know," Joan said and began rocking her hips slowly from side to side against Maria's backside as the radio began playing Britney Spears' Crazy. "What's up with the radio today?"
"God knows, but you like it," Maria said and freed herself again long enough to put the cake in the oven and turn on the timer before turning back to Joan and getting captured between the counter and the blonde.
"I do not like Britney Spears," Joan said firmly. "You might, but you got a few screws loose."
"That's because you drive me crazy," Maria said with a grin and thrust her hips towards Joan and licked her lips. Joan groaned at the stupid joke before putting her elbows over Maria's shoulders and following it up with combing her fingers through the thick locks of hair. Maria smiled and put her hands on the counter and easily jumped up before kissing Joan's lips slowly and throughoutly. Joan leaned in and put her hands on the other girl's, and soon enough her lips were travelling south, over her chin and towards the breasts.
"You're impossible," Maria laughed, but arched her back to allowed Joan to slip her shirt over her fingers and unclasp the bra before cupping her hands around the breasts. They were lifted enough to form an impressive cleavage Joan's tongue could dip in and out of, sending shudders through Maria. Joan looked up from her from the cleavage and blew a raspberry down in it, making both girls collaps in laugher a second later.
"Fine, I am impossible," Joan confessed when their laughter roars had faded to the occasional giggle and she pulled herself from lying on top of Maria on the counter. Maria smiled back and sat back up, discovering she had put her elbow in the emptry batter bowl, but it had still got pretty sticky. She held it out in front of Joan, made puppy eyes and for extra good measure straightened her back to show off her bust. Joan rolled her eyes before putting one hand under the brunette's underarm, tickling the soft skin slightly as she let her tongue explorer the unfamiliar texture of the elbow. "You, on the other hand, are evil, crazy and absolutely to eat up," she said in between licks and ended it with a little bite.
"Yes, do eat me," Maria said dryly and made an unsuccessful attempt at either looking at her elbow or licking it herself. Joan quirked an eyebrow at her before opening the button on her jeans. Maria gave her a scandalised look and tried pushing her away, but Joan was both bigger and more determined and after under a minute of struggling Maria lifted her bottom from the counter and let both jeans and underwear be removed. "This is very unhygenic," she noted as Joan got down on her knees.
"It's also very fun," Joan replied and placed Maria's legs over her shoulders before kissing the inside of her thigh. Maria purred again and Joan wondered briefly how she managed to make that sound and how it always made Joan's blood boil in her veins before she closed her teeth on the firm and tense muscle, tasting the new-washed, warm skin and feeling a hand grab at her hair and pull her inwards. She didn't resist and her nose brushed against the short line of pubic hair just as the timer went off.
"Just a minute," Maria said, pushed Joan away again and jumped off the counter. She retracted and stood up, she could wait a minutes if she got to see her stark naked girlfriend take a cake out of the oven and hearing her gasp as the warm air enclosed her sensitive skin in that minute.
It's done, it's at least twice as long as the last time we met Joan and Maria, it's not beta-read (I might do it myself this time), I have a feeling it's not very good and I'll be happy to hear some critisism one way or another.
Yes, I dance around in my kitchen while baking... I can't be the only one.
Sincerely, can I?
Let's find out.
Maria stopped the mixer with a sigh and stuck her finger down in the sugar and egg mix before slowly licking it clean. She giggled and looked over at Joan who were sitting by the kitchen table, reading a magazine.
"Come and taste this," she said with a grin and dipped her finger. J0an looked up with an expression telling Maria she hadn't heard what she had said. Instead she took matters into her own hands, went over to her girlfriend and painted her lips with the mix. Joan smiled faintly and licked it off before pulling Maria down on her lap and kissing her.
"Would you believe this, Kim Kardashian's marriage is over already," she said in what Maria knew to be her I-pretend-to-be-serious-but-really-I-couldn't-care-if-I-tried voice and pointed at the magazine.
"Really?" Maria replied in a very fake surprised voice and tried getting up again, but she was held back. "Come on, I want to get this cake done." She leaned in towards Joan and put her forehead towards the other girl's.
"But I want you more than the cake," Joan said with a grin and kissed the smaller girl again before letting her go. Maria grinned back, went back to the kitchen counter and turned up the radio.
"I love this song!" Maria exclaimed as Ricky Martin's Livin' la Vida Loca started blasting from the speakers of the small stereo beside her and she turned up the volume further before her body began dancing almost on its own accord. Joan looked up from the magazine again and smiled as Maria was rolling her hips, shoulders, head and about everything else that could be rolled while she was using the spatula as a microphone. She wasn't singing aloud, just mouthing the words, but Joan couldn't help but be fascinated at the way her lips also rolled sensually around the silent words.
"Her lips are devil red," Joan mouthed back as she got up and put her arms around Maria, who in no sense stopped dancing as her neck was kissed. Joan didn't even make an attempt at dancing with her, compared to the smaller darkhaired vixen she was stiff as a board and could barely do the robot. What she could do was caress the tan skin with her tongue and get batter in her hair as Maria tried embracing her back and smashed the spatula in her head. Both girls giggled before resuming their activities, Maria dancing around on the kitchen floor and dragging Joan with her as the latter licked her way down to the collar bone, humming slightly and sending tingling vibrations through most of Maria's body.
Maria tried to do another hip-thrust and was surprised to find Joan's hands in the way and a second later to find herself pressed against the wall as Vengaboys' Boom Boom Boom took over for Ricky Martin on the radio. Joan's lips showed a small smirk as she looked down on the buttons on Maria's blue shirt and slowly began opening them. Maria laughed and kissed the blonde's chin before she continued her dancing pressed against her and the wall.
Joan took her time getting the buttons open and stopped to admire the view of the maroon bra cupping the breasts that seemed almost just a tad too big on the curvy, but petit girl. Her finger traced the edge of the fabric several times before her finger slipped inside and teased the nipple. Maria arched her back as part of her dancing and managed to smack Joan on the head with the spatula again.
"Give me that," Joan said mock-sternly and removed her hand from the bra to grab the spatula and smacked Maria on the nose with it. Maria grabbed it back and slapped Joan lightly on the cheek with it before she laughed. Joan laughed herself before leaning in and licking the batter from her nose, earning a strange purring from Maria before she returned the favour.
"Not a bad batter," she concluded before she freed herself and went over to the counter again. Joan followed her and embraced her from behind as she got a new spatula and poured the batter into the cake tin.
"You're a good cook, you know," Joan said and began rocking her hips slowly from side to side against Maria's backside as the radio began playing Britney Spears' Crazy. "What's up with the radio today?"
"God knows, but you like it," Maria said and freed herself again long enough to put the cake in the oven and turn on the timer before turning back to Joan and getting captured between the counter and the blonde.
"I do not like Britney Spears," Joan said firmly. "You might, but you got a few screws loose."
"That's because you drive me crazy," Maria said with a grin and thrust her hips towards Joan and licked her lips. Joan groaned at the stupid joke before putting her elbows over Maria's shoulders and following it up with combing her fingers through the thick locks of hair. Maria smiled and put her hands on the counter and easily jumped up before kissing Joan's lips slowly and throughoutly. Joan leaned in and put her hands on the other girl's, and soon enough her lips were travelling south, over her chin and towards the breasts.
"You're impossible," Maria laughed, but arched her back to allowed Joan to slip her shirt over her fingers and unclasp the bra before cupping her hands around the breasts. They were lifted enough to form an impressive cleavage Joan's tongue could dip in and out of, sending shudders through Maria. Joan looked up from her from the cleavage and blew a raspberry down in it, making both girls collaps in laugher a second later.
"Fine, I am impossible," Joan confessed when their laughter roars had faded to the occasional giggle and she pulled herself from lying on top of Maria on the counter. Maria smiled back and sat back up, discovering she had put her elbow in the emptry batter bowl, but it had still got pretty sticky. She held it out in front of Joan, made puppy eyes and for extra good measure straightened her back to show off her bust. Joan rolled her eyes before putting one hand under the brunette's underarm, tickling the soft skin slightly as she let her tongue explorer the unfamiliar texture of the elbow. "You, on the other hand, are evil, crazy and absolutely to eat up," she said in between licks and ended it with a little bite.
"Yes, do eat me," Maria said dryly and made an unsuccessful attempt at either looking at her elbow or licking it herself. Joan quirked an eyebrow at her before opening the button on her jeans. Maria gave her a scandalised look and tried pushing her away, but Joan was both bigger and more determined and after under a minute of struggling Maria lifted her bottom from the counter and let both jeans and underwear be removed. "This is very unhygenic," she noted as Joan got down on her knees.
"It's also very fun," Joan replied and placed Maria's legs over her shoulders before kissing the inside of her thigh. Maria purred again and Joan wondered briefly how she managed to make that sound and how it always made Joan's blood boil in her veins before she closed her teeth on the firm and tense muscle, tasting the new-washed, warm skin and feeling a hand grab at her hair and pull her inwards. She didn't resist and her nose brushed against the short line of pubic hair just as the timer went off.
"Just a minute," Maria said, pushed Joan away again and jumped off the counter. She retracted and stood up, she could wait a minutes if she got to see her stark naked girlfriend take a cake out of the oven and hearing her gasp as the warm air enclosed her sensitive skin in that minute.
It's done, it's at least twice as long as the last time we met Joan and Maria, it's not beta-read (I might do it myself this time), I have a feeling it's not very good and I'll be happy to hear some critisism one way or another.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Ten years and three months
This story isn't accompanied by any DBPB post, it was just something that popped into my head as I was trying to sleep, and demanded to be written. I felt it was too good to pass up, even though it might not make much sense to other people.
"And he's going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks!" the ten year old boy finished his story eagerly with.
"Just say hell. You're allowed to say hell," his mother said with a half-tired, half-amused smile where she was standing by the stove, smoking a cigarette. "Actually, don't say hell, they'll think I'm a bad influence on you. Say go where the pepper grows or where no man wants to set foot."
"A room full of prementstrual women," his father answered as he came into the kitchen, straightening his tie. "That's where no man wants to set foot." He smiled at his wife and gave her a quick kiss.
"I think that's the general defenition of hell anyway," she said and rolled off some ash on the glow of her cigarette in the ashtray.
"Might be. We better get going," he said and put a hand on the boy's back and led him out in the hall to get dressed.
She knew she looked tired. She felt tired. Dead tired. The ash-blonde hair hung lifeless around a long, worn and tired face and she felt more like she had lived thirty-six lifetimes than thirty-six years. It had been that way for most of her life and although no one else blamed her for not working she blamed herself. She had brains and she had knowledge, just no diploma to show she had either. And she didn't have energy. At least not enough to get a diploma or a full-time job. A part-time job was out out of the question anyway, she thought way too much to work as a cashier at the grocery store or something equally meaningless.
She heard her son and husband joke around as they got their coats and shoes and left, and realised it was exactly because she thought so much she couldn't have a steady job. She had tried several times, but her head could never rest, her subconsion was always working away at something, consuming her energy. It was hardly a new discovery, she just saw it in a bit different light now and then even if she was painfully aware of it all the time.
You got a lot of time to think when all you did was do some laudry and plan the dinner in the course of the day. The house wasn't big and she didn't have a small child to look after any more. In many aspects she was glad for that, it gave her more time to discover her own little world, even if it cut her off from the rest of the world in many aspects. She had no problem listening or discussing stories her husband and son brought back from their day out in the world, meeting people and learning new things, but it was still as if it was a wall between them. She felt it especially between her and her husband. Sometimes she said silly things in the greatest solemnty and he just laughed at it and made a joke himself. She didn't blame him, because he didn't see where that thought had come from. He couldn't see it. Just as her energy was consumed by all the little things going on in her head, his energy was consumed by solving the problem right in front of his eyes.
It might soon cost them their marriage. Not because she had any intention of leaving him or stop loving him, but because she saw he had noticed she lived in a world of her own and he wanted her by his side in his world. But his world was cold and hard and run by facts, something she wasn't made for. She was meant to be in a flowing world of half-finished thoughts and hidden ideas. Sometimes these ideas briefly showed themselves for her like the spark from a match, but they soon left only the smell of burnt wood. Not that the smell was a bad thing, it might mean an old memory would pop up and soon enough light another match, but it was never good to tell when it would happen. It could be the smell of newly-washed jeans, in which case the memory came before the idea, or it could be that her son decided to get rid of an old toy and thereby showing he was growing up. It felt like both an eternity and just a second since she was nursing him by her breast, and both were just as right. Nothing was linear or straight when it came to her world.
She put out the cigarette, sat down by the table and cradled the cup of cold coffee in her hands. Sometimes she thought it sounded wonderful to live in a world where things simply was the way it was. Two times three was six, the drycleaning had to be picked up on Thursday and her son was exactly ten years and three months today. Of course that was also true in her world, but her son's ten years and three months was composed of endlessly many moments, each one might affect the next one, but even ten years and three months wasn't even worth noticing in the long run of the history of the universe. The universe couldn't care less that he scraped his knee playing soccer last week, but at that moment and for her son and her, that was all that mattered.
The world where ten years and three months simply was ten years and three months sounded wonderful and uncomplicated -- but also extremely dull. She liked to think of it as the mathematical world, because two times three was six and no one could change that. No one could change that the drycleaning had to be picked up on Thursday, but they hardly thought about what could happen on the way to the drycleaner's. Or on the way to Thursday. Or why it happened to be Thursday in the end. It might as well have been called Gorsday, but it wasn't, it was called Thursday.
She smiled faintly. That was exactly the thing she could rant to her husband about: why was Thurday called Thursday. He would in the end put his arms around her and either say it just was or simply kiss her. Because what else could he do? He didn't care why Thursday was called Thursday as long as the drycleaning was picked up on that day. And to be fair, that was the least she could do for him: make sure the household ran more or less smoothly. Because he was out there in the dull, mathematical and logical world punching numbers and making money, while she was sitting at home wondering why she was the only one who saw that ten years and three months was a rather pitiful representation of her son's life on earth.
She got up again and poured the coffee down the drain before making a cup of tea. The closest her husband had ever come to seeing her world was to compare her with tea and him with coffee: while she could see the bottom of the cup through the murky liquid, maybe the answers to the mysteries in the world, or at least what the mysteries were, he couldn't see other than the brim. That was years ago and although it wasn't a half-bad comparison, she knew he had stopped even trying to see the bottom of the cup, he was happy staring at the brim in his mathematical and logical world.
She took the tea into the living room and sunk down in her chair in front of the TV, but didn't turn it on. People thought she was bitter. Maybe she was. People thought she was deranged, and maybe she was that, too. Mostly, people thought she was too happy doing nothing to contribute to society and being a modern woman. She was too cozy with having everything provided for her by her husband she refused to take those opportunities women had been fighting for for centuries. They couldn't be more wrong, because she wasn't a woman, she was a human, a thinking being, and if men had prevented women from doing what they wanted for hundred of years, she wasn't about to let women preventing her from discovering all of her own little world. It wasn't just what she wanted to do, it was what she was good at and what she was born to do.
"And he's going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks!" the ten year old boy finished his story eagerly with.
"Just say hell. You're allowed to say hell," his mother said with a half-tired, half-amused smile where she was standing by the stove, smoking a cigarette. "Actually, don't say hell, they'll think I'm a bad influence on you. Say go where the pepper grows or where no man wants to set foot."
"A room full of prementstrual women," his father answered as he came into the kitchen, straightening his tie. "That's where no man wants to set foot." He smiled at his wife and gave her a quick kiss.
"I think that's the general defenition of hell anyway," she said and rolled off some ash on the glow of her cigarette in the ashtray.
"Might be. We better get going," he said and put a hand on the boy's back and led him out in the hall to get dressed.
She knew she looked tired. She felt tired. Dead tired. The ash-blonde hair hung lifeless around a long, worn and tired face and she felt more like she had lived thirty-six lifetimes than thirty-six years. It had been that way for most of her life and although no one else blamed her for not working she blamed herself. She had brains and she had knowledge, just no diploma to show she had either. And she didn't have energy. At least not enough to get a diploma or a full-time job. A part-time job was out out of the question anyway, she thought way too much to work as a cashier at the grocery store or something equally meaningless.
She heard her son and husband joke around as they got their coats and shoes and left, and realised it was exactly because she thought so much she couldn't have a steady job. She had tried several times, but her head could never rest, her subconsion was always working away at something, consuming her energy. It was hardly a new discovery, she just saw it in a bit different light now and then even if she was painfully aware of it all the time.
You got a lot of time to think when all you did was do some laudry and plan the dinner in the course of the day. The house wasn't big and she didn't have a small child to look after any more. In many aspects she was glad for that, it gave her more time to discover her own little world, even if it cut her off from the rest of the world in many aspects. She had no problem listening or discussing stories her husband and son brought back from their day out in the world, meeting people and learning new things, but it was still as if it was a wall between them. She felt it especially between her and her husband. Sometimes she said silly things in the greatest solemnty and he just laughed at it and made a joke himself. She didn't blame him, because he didn't see where that thought had come from. He couldn't see it. Just as her energy was consumed by all the little things going on in her head, his energy was consumed by solving the problem right in front of his eyes.
It might soon cost them their marriage. Not because she had any intention of leaving him or stop loving him, but because she saw he had noticed she lived in a world of her own and he wanted her by his side in his world. But his world was cold and hard and run by facts, something she wasn't made for. She was meant to be in a flowing world of half-finished thoughts and hidden ideas. Sometimes these ideas briefly showed themselves for her like the spark from a match, but they soon left only the smell of burnt wood. Not that the smell was a bad thing, it might mean an old memory would pop up and soon enough light another match, but it was never good to tell when it would happen. It could be the smell of newly-washed jeans, in which case the memory came before the idea, or it could be that her son decided to get rid of an old toy and thereby showing he was growing up. It felt like both an eternity and just a second since she was nursing him by her breast, and both were just as right. Nothing was linear or straight when it came to her world.
She put out the cigarette, sat down by the table and cradled the cup of cold coffee in her hands. Sometimes she thought it sounded wonderful to live in a world where things simply was the way it was. Two times three was six, the drycleaning had to be picked up on Thursday and her son was exactly ten years and three months today. Of course that was also true in her world, but her son's ten years and three months was composed of endlessly many moments, each one might affect the next one, but even ten years and three months wasn't even worth noticing in the long run of the history of the universe. The universe couldn't care less that he scraped his knee playing soccer last week, but at that moment and for her son and her, that was all that mattered.
The world where ten years and three months simply was ten years and three months sounded wonderful and uncomplicated -- but also extremely dull. She liked to think of it as the mathematical world, because two times three was six and no one could change that. No one could change that the drycleaning had to be picked up on Thursday, but they hardly thought about what could happen on the way to the drycleaner's. Or on the way to Thursday. Or why it happened to be Thursday in the end. It might as well have been called Gorsday, but it wasn't, it was called Thursday.
She smiled faintly. That was exactly the thing she could rant to her husband about: why was Thurday called Thursday. He would in the end put his arms around her and either say it just was or simply kiss her. Because what else could he do? He didn't care why Thursday was called Thursday as long as the drycleaning was picked up on that day. And to be fair, that was the least she could do for him: make sure the household ran more or less smoothly. Because he was out there in the dull, mathematical and logical world punching numbers and making money, while she was sitting at home wondering why she was the only one who saw that ten years and three months was a rather pitiful representation of her son's life on earth.
She got up again and poured the coffee down the drain before making a cup of tea. The closest her husband had ever come to seeing her world was to compare her with tea and him with coffee: while she could see the bottom of the cup through the murky liquid, maybe the answers to the mysteries in the world, or at least what the mysteries were, he couldn't see other than the brim. That was years ago and although it wasn't a half-bad comparison, she knew he had stopped even trying to see the bottom of the cup, he was happy staring at the brim in his mathematical and logical world.
She took the tea into the living room and sunk down in her chair in front of the TV, but didn't turn it on. People thought she was bitter. Maybe she was. People thought she was deranged, and maybe she was that, too. Mostly, people thought she was too happy doing nothing to contribute to society and being a modern woman. She was too cozy with having everything provided for her by her husband she refused to take those opportunities women had been fighting for for centuries. They couldn't be more wrong, because she wasn't a woman, she was a human, a thinking being, and if men had prevented women from doing what they wanted for hundred of years, she wasn't about to let women preventing her from discovering all of her own little world. It wasn't just what she wanted to do, it was what she was good at and what she was born to do.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Joan and Maria
Requested by Nick, a story to this:
Dear friends picking on the new lesbian girl,
Well this is going to be an awkward "out-of-the-closet" speech. Sincerely, meet my new girlfriend...
"I don't know why they have to be so small-minded," Maria muttered to Joan as they lay on the latter's bed, watching a sitcom on the small TV."Don't listen to your stupid friends," Joan mumled back before reaching around to hug her whilst laughing faintly at something on the TV. "I love your laugh." Maria turned around on the bed and looked solemnly into her girlfriend's grey eyes."No, you don't," Joan replied and laughed again. "You like my laugh, you love me." She kissed the other girl on the nose and Maria had to laugh herself."Fine, I like your laugh," she agreed and let her lips swiftly touch Joan's lips with her own. "I also like these," she added quietly and cupped Joan's breasts."I've noticed," Joan whispered and leaned over Maria to envelope her in a passionate kiss while running her hand through the rich, brown locks of her lover's hair. Maria sighed and put her hands on Joan's slender hips, but they soon found their way under the blue sweater and up to the firm breasts again. "You're naughty!""You like me naughty," Maria replied and grinned before beginning to take off Joan's sweater. The other girl laughed before giving her a hand. "Very naughty..." The dark-haired girl leaned over the blonde and began to slowly suck her neck, tasting the traces of soap, perfume and salt. She slowly worked her way along her shoulder before moving back to her throat. Hearing her giggle, she looked up for a moment and smiled slyly. She put her plump lips on the pale skin again and nibbled carefully before she ran her tongue down to between the plump breasts.Joan laughed faintly again and buried her hand in Maria's hair with a sigh as the latter slipped the straps of the bra over her shoulders and released her breasts before putting her index fingers on the nipples. Slowly she began tracing circles around then with her nails and the pink pegs raised to attention."You're evil," Joan whispered and arched her back slightly before tilting Maria's head to look her in the eyes. "You evil little thing. But you're my little evil thing, so it's okay." The other girl only smiled slightly and freed her head to suck the left nipple slowly, earning a moan.Joan softly stroked Maria's suntanned shoulders as the other girl moved over to the other nipple, feeling the small shots of joy shoot through her body as it was played with and nibbled at, the tongue circling it for a while until the teeth gently fastened on the flesh beside it."You need me to be evil," Maria answered at length and laid her cheek down between Joan's breasts, letting her hand travel featherlight up and down her side and feeling the tiny down-hairs there. Joan put both her hands on Maria's head and breathed slowly while the other traced her way up to the collar bone again with her fingers, then down to the nipple in front of her eyes and pressed it inwards. Joan gasped slightly and the darker girl sat up abruptly to get her jeans off. She didn't resist, only lifted her hips and gasped again as her crotch was cupped through thin underwear."I need you to be something else, too," Joan said and sat up enough to kiss her fiercly, digging her hands into her hair and holding her in place as her tongue and lips ravaged Maria's. Her breasts was cupped hard with a hand that was a bit too small and they both panted in anticipation when the shrill ring of a phone was heard and the moment was broken.
At least it's finished, that's about all I can say for it right now. And it's been beta-read by Aashymma, thanks for that.
Dear friends picking on the new lesbian girl,
Well this is going to be an awkward "out-of-the-closet" speech. Sincerely, meet my new girlfriend...
"I don't know why they have to be so small-minded," Maria muttered to Joan as they lay on the latter's bed, watching a sitcom on the small TV."Don't listen to your stupid friends," Joan mumled back before reaching around to hug her whilst laughing faintly at something on the TV. "I love your laugh." Maria turned around on the bed and looked solemnly into her girlfriend's grey eyes."No, you don't," Joan replied and laughed again. "You like my laugh, you love me." She kissed the other girl on the nose and Maria had to laugh herself."Fine, I like your laugh," she agreed and let her lips swiftly touch Joan's lips with her own. "I also like these," she added quietly and cupped Joan's breasts."I've noticed," Joan whispered and leaned over Maria to envelope her in a passionate kiss while running her hand through the rich, brown locks of her lover's hair. Maria sighed and put her hands on Joan's slender hips, but they soon found their way under the blue sweater and up to the firm breasts again. "You're naughty!""You like me naughty," Maria replied and grinned before beginning to take off Joan's sweater. The other girl laughed before giving her a hand. "Very naughty..." The dark-haired girl leaned over the blonde and began to slowly suck her neck, tasting the traces of soap, perfume and salt. She slowly worked her way along her shoulder before moving back to her throat. Hearing her giggle, she looked up for a moment and smiled slyly. She put her plump lips on the pale skin again and nibbled carefully before she ran her tongue down to between the plump breasts.Joan laughed faintly again and buried her hand in Maria's hair with a sigh as the latter slipped the straps of the bra over her shoulders and released her breasts before putting her index fingers on the nipples. Slowly she began tracing circles around then with her nails and the pink pegs raised to attention."You're evil," Joan whispered and arched her back slightly before tilting Maria's head to look her in the eyes. "You evil little thing. But you're my little evil thing, so it's okay." The other girl only smiled slightly and freed her head to suck the left nipple slowly, earning a moan.Joan softly stroked Maria's suntanned shoulders as the other girl moved over to the other nipple, feeling the small shots of joy shoot through her body as it was played with and nibbled at, the tongue circling it for a while until the teeth gently fastened on the flesh beside it."You need me to be evil," Maria answered at length and laid her cheek down between Joan's breasts, letting her hand travel featherlight up and down her side and feeling the tiny down-hairs there. Joan put both her hands on Maria's head and breathed slowly while the other traced her way up to the collar bone again with her fingers, then down to the nipple in front of her eyes and pressed it inwards. Joan gasped slightly and the darker girl sat up abruptly to get her jeans off. She didn't resist, only lifted her hips and gasped again as her crotch was cupped through thin underwear."I need you to be something else, too," Joan said and sat up enough to kiss her fiercly, digging her hands into her hair and holding her in place as her tongue and lips ravaged Maria's. Her breasts was cupped hard with a hand that was a bit too small and they both panted in anticipation when the shrill ring of a phone was heard and the moment was broken.
At least it's finished, that's about all I can say for it right now. And it's been beta-read by Aashymma, thanks for that.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
More info
Just a quick update to pat myself on the shoulder for managing to install DISQUS here (which has to be some tribal slang for headache...) after Pennylessnick said I should do so. It was a good idea, it's not like I'm a push-over...
After a bit of headache and using two browsers and having to make a proper DISQUS profile (Charlie's Dragon Admin) and realising I now have three profiles which I comment with, it's the middle of the night, I've stopped making sense long ago and I'll hopefully finish the Batman thing tomorrow because I'm sort of looking forward to the ending I've got planned (you should, too!) and I've got a book to read and it's amazing how little you get done when you have a lot of time on your hands and I'm soon gonna find my bed.
Also, I was just supposed to check Facebook before this whole thing happened. Which I still haven't done.
After a bit of headache and using two browsers and having to make a proper DISQUS profile (Charlie's Dragon Admin) and realising I now have three profiles which I comment with, it's the middle of the night, I've stopped making sense long ago and I'll hopefully finish the Batman thing tomorrow because I'm sort of looking forward to the ending I've got planned (you should, too!) and I've got a book to read and it's amazing how little you get done when you have a lot of time on your hands and I'm soon gonna find my bed.
Also, I was just supposed to check Facebook before this whole thing happened. Which I still haven't done.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
BatGirl and BatMan
A response to
Dear "best guy friend",
I sit at your soccer games in the pouring rain without an umbrella, go to the sketchy comic book store with you, and am willing the be the BatGirl to your BatMan so I can pass out candy with you on Halloween.
Sincerely, are you really that oblivious?!
She was definitively ready. She had never been more ready in her life as she carefully adjusted the cleavage on the tight leather costume and rung the doorbell, shooting a look on the jack-o-lantern next to her stiletto heel. This was the night she was getting her man, her Batman. The door opened a few seconds later and she barged in with her hand on his chest, pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall with a small thump.
"Your Batgirl is here," she purred in his ear and pressed her firm breasts agaist him. Not much was visible of his face, but what little was showed absolute surprise. "Don't look so suprised," she purred and kissed him, taking time to nibble at his lower lip before kneeling down and unbuckling his belt slowly, running her hands up his stomach and down his muscular thighs several times before cupping his crotch. He tried jumping back but only met the wall and she smiled slyly up at him before putting her mouth slowly to the growing buldge and blowing her warm breath through the layers of fabric. He moaned and grabbed for her hair, dislocating her mask in the process, but she simply took it off and laid it beside her on the floor.
"You like that, don't you?" she whispered before removing the trousers of the costume and stroke her finger down the length of the cock still trapped in the boxershorts. It twitched slightly as she snuck her hand down and around the balls while taking hold of the hem of the underwear and pulled it out before helping to get it off with her hands. "A big boy, aren't you?"
She grinned as she slowly leaned in and put her lips to the tip of the cock, looked innocently up at him and heard him groan
Aaand because I'm about to fall asleep at the keyboard I'm leaving you with that cliffhanger. Right in the middle of a sentence. I'll hopefully feel better after a cup of tea.
Dear "best guy friend",
I sit at your soccer games in the pouring rain without an umbrella, go to the sketchy comic book store with you, and am willing the be the BatGirl to your BatMan so I can pass out candy with you on Halloween.
Sincerely, are you really that oblivious?!
She was definitively ready. She had never been more ready in her life as she carefully adjusted the cleavage on the tight leather costume and rung the doorbell, shooting a look on the jack-o-lantern next to her stiletto heel. This was the night she was getting her man, her Batman. The door opened a few seconds later and she barged in with her hand on his chest, pushing him backwards until his back hit the wall with a small thump.
"Your Batgirl is here," she purred in his ear and pressed her firm breasts agaist him. Not much was visible of his face, but what little was showed absolute surprise. "Don't look so suprised," she purred and kissed him, taking time to nibble at his lower lip before kneeling down and unbuckling his belt slowly, running her hands up his stomach and down his muscular thighs several times before cupping his crotch. He tried jumping back but only met the wall and she smiled slyly up at him before putting her mouth slowly to the growing buldge and blowing her warm breath through the layers of fabric. He moaned and grabbed for her hair, dislocating her mask in the process, but she simply took it off and laid it beside her on the floor.
"You like that, don't you?" she whispered before removing the trousers of the costume and stroke her finger down the length of the cock still trapped in the boxershorts. It twitched slightly as she snuck her hand down and around the balls while taking hold of the hem of the underwear and pulled it out before helping to get it off with her hands. "A big boy, aren't you?"
She grinned as she slowly leaned in and put her lips to the tip of the cock, looked innocently up at him and heard him groan
Aaand because I'm about to fall asleep at the keyboard I'm leaving you with that cliffhanger. Right in the middle of a sentence. I'll hopefully feel better after a cup of tea.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Dracula and Tinkerbell
A response to
Dear Dracula,
Remember that night 9 months ago? Yeah... well we have a son. His name is Edward.
Sincerely, Tinkerbell.
You already got the sex implied, I might as well use it...
It was a rather cold and stormy night in the dark pub and most of the guests sat bent over their cups of warm drink with various alcohol content without even looking up to see how close the clock was to midnight or if it had already tipped over. This was not the most respectable assemble of fictional characters, seeing as they were more than happy to cuddle together in the alcoves of Prince Charming's castle at the ball Cinderella was having. No, this were the characters of fiction that wouldn't be caught dead at a ball. Not all of them were technically alive, but that didn't mean they wanted to go to a stupid ball any more.
In one corner Bellatrix Lestrange was having a muttered conversation with the Wicked Witch of the West and from the tone of voice it seemed the latter would rather be left alone. In another the White Witch was sending ugly looks to the Queen of Hearts, but she seemed unwilling to take the challenge. Hans Gruber and the Sheriff of Nottingham seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly with copious amounts of sherry and some dirty songs, while Judge Turpin sat bent over some papers a few tables down in the light of a single candle.
A cloaked and dark figure could barely be distinguished from the tar-smeared wall behind him, the only thing that gave him away was the pale chin and lips that reflected the light of the lamp in an eerie way. He could have been a wax figure if it wasn't for the fact that the lips curled slightly in a smile when he spotted the tiny figure sitting a few feet down from him with a shot glass of rum sprawled between her legs, her finger slowly dipping into the glass, then into her mouth and back into the glass.
"You're far too pretty to be sitting here," the wax figure said and directed his smile at the fairy. "You should be at the ball." Tinkerbell looked up at him for a moment with angry eyes and flung her arm towards him to make the few drops of rum on her finger hit him, but he barely reacted.
"You're not one for balls either?" he said slowly and looked down in his glass before taking a slow sip of it. She snorted and scooped up a handfull of her rum and sucked it into her mouth before giving him a sly smile, got up and walked slowly with all the hip movement possible without falling over in her intoxicated state, placed her hand carefully on his arm and blinked seductively up at him with her green eyes. He raised one eyebrow in mild curiosity and she started pouting.
"Listen miss, you're far too small for me," he said and gave her a push in the direction she came from. She stumbled a few steps and turned to him with blazing cheeks and her hands on her well-formed hips before she thought better of it, turned back to her glass and bent over the rim, her backside strutting towards him as she slowly scooped up another handful of rum and lapped it from her hand.
"Fairy dust, Dracula," she mouthed as she turned back and continued slowly licking the rum off her hand.
He raised both eyebrows before he nodded slowly and chuckled. Slowly he reached out a hand to snap up the key the bartender had silently provided in the meantime and held out his arm to her. "Allow me," he said in a silky voice and she smiled innocently to her before scrambling up on his sleeve and made herself comfortable with her arms behind her head in the crook of his elbow before they departed to the room above the pub.
Yes, we got three Alan Rickman characters in the same room, how is the universe not blowing up from the awesomeness?
There's no actual porn in this post, unless I feel like writing more later today, and I guess Tinkerbell isn't at the ball because Wendy is there. I've got nothing against either characters, but I don't think they would go to the same ball if it could be helped.
Dear Dracula,
Remember that night 9 months ago? Yeah... well we have a son. His name is Edward.
Sincerely, Tinkerbell.
You already got the sex implied, I might as well use it...
It was a rather cold and stormy night in the dark pub and most of the guests sat bent over their cups of warm drink with various alcohol content without even looking up to see how close the clock was to midnight or if it had already tipped over. This was not the most respectable assemble of fictional characters, seeing as they were more than happy to cuddle together in the alcoves of Prince Charming's castle at the ball Cinderella was having. No, this were the characters of fiction that wouldn't be caught dead at a ball. Not all of them were technically alive, but that didn't mean they wanted to go to a stupid ball any more.
In one corner Bellatrix Lestrange was having a muttered conversation with the Wicked Witch of the West and from the tone of voice it seemed the latter would rather be left alone. In another the White Witch was sending ugly looks to the Queen of Hearts, but she seemed unwilling to take the challenge. Hans Gruber and the Sheriff of Nottingham seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly with copious amounts of sherry and some dirty songs, while Judge Turpin sat bent over some papers a few tables down in the light of a single candle.
A cloaked and dark figure could barely be distinguished from the tar-smeared wall behind him, the only thing that gave him away was the pale chin and lips that reflected the light of the lamp in an eerie way. He could have been a wax figure if it wasn't for the fact that the lips curled slightly in a smile when he spotted the tiny figure sitting a few feet down from him with a shot glass of rum sprawled between her legs, her finger slowly dipping into the glass, then into her mouth and back into the glass.
"You're far too pretty to be sitting here," the wax figure said and directed his smile at the fairy. "You should be at the ball." Tinkerbell looked up at him for a moment with angry eyes and flung her arm towards him to make the few drops of rum on her finger hit him, but he barely reacted.
"You're not one for balls either?" he said slowly and looked down in his glass before taking a slow sip of it. She snorted and scooped up a handfull of her rum and sucked it into her mouth before giving him a sly smile, got up and walked slowly with all the hip movement possible without falling over in her intoxicated state, placed her hand carefully on his arm and blinked seductively up at him with her green eyes. He raised one eyebrow in mild curiosity and she started pouting.
"Listen miss, you're far too small for me," he said and gave her a push in the direction she came from. She stumbled a few steps and turned to him with blazing cheeks and her hands on her well-formed hips before she thought better of it, turned back to her glass and bent over the rim, her backside strutting towards him as she slowly scooped up another handful of rum and lapped it from her hand.
"Fairy dust, Dracula," she mouthed as she turned back and continued slowly licking the rum off her hand.
He raised both eyebrows before he nodded slowly and chuckled. Slowly he reached out a hand to snap up the key the bartender had silently provided in the meantime and held out his arm to her. "Allow me," he said in a silky voice and she smiled innocently to her before scrambling up on his sleeve and made herself comfortable with her arms behind her head in the crook of his elbow before they departed to the room above the pub.
Yes, we got three Alan Rickman characters in the same room, how is the universe not blowing up from the awesomeness?
There's no actual porn in this post, unless I feel like writing more later today, and I guess Tinkerbell isn't at the ball because Wendy is there. I've got nothing against either characters, but I don't think they would go to the same ball if it could be helped.
The Peppermint Patty
This is the thing that started it all (well, the blog at least) and is an actual comment I left on DBPB on this post and after receiving forty likes for that long a comment I like to think people would see more of it. I'm allowed to dream, aren't I?
It was certainly not the peppermint that got her turned on, her pupils to dilated, her nipples to strut and her neither regions to throb almost more than her heart. As good as the peppermint no doubt was, it was the little pulsating knob on the inside of her underwear lying so close to her knob that made her sweat and moan, wanting more, more, more!
She sat on the edge of the table, the peppermint patties by her side, her long, soft brown hair spilling down her back, her muscular legs pushing the high heels of her shoes down in the carpet as her hips rolled lightly, her teeth biting gently into her plump lower lip, and the buttons on her shirts barely holding back her round breasts as electric shocks shot through her.
The exstacy build up to almost unbearable strength, pulsing through her, threatening to split her open, to burst every atom in her body to all that was left was the purest joy.
The one knob kept working on the other, making her arch her back, scream out, hold onto the fabric of her skirt just to stay together, not to split open, but the sensation was too much, the knob worked too hard, too intense, and with a loud and final scream her body seized up in the most complete of joys, her hips thrust desperately, her nipples poked through the thin shirt she was wearing ands she collapsed moaning on the floor, the rest of the peppermints forgotten.
It's pretty long for DBPB at least... on here it doesn't look like much. But it's a start!
It was certainly not the peppermint that got her turned on, her pupils to dilated, her nipples to strut and her neither regions to throb almost more than her heart. As good as the peppermint no doubt was, it was the little pulsating knob on the inside of her underwear lying so close to her knob that made her sweat and moan, wanting more, more, more!
She sat on the edge of the table, the peppermint patties by her side, her long, soft brown hair spilling down her back, her muscular legs pushing the high heels of her shoes down in the carpet as her hips rolled lightly, her teeth biting gently into her plump lower lip, and the buttons on her shirts barely holding back her round breasts as electric shocks shot through her.
The exstacy build up to almost unbearable strength, pulsing through her, threatening to split her open, to burst every atom in her body to all that was left was the purest joy.
The one knob kept working on the other, making her arch her back, scream out, hold onto the fabric of her skirt just to stay together, not to split open, but the sensation was too much, the knob worked too hard, too intense, and with a loud and final scream her body seized up in the most complete of joys, her hips thrust desperately, her nipples poked through the thin shirt she was wearing ands she collapsed moaning on the floor, the rest of the peppermints forgotten.
It's pretty long for DBPB at least... on here it doesn't look like much. But it's a start!
First post with information
First I would like to make it clear that I have nothing to do with DearBlankPleaseBlank.com other than that I am a commenter, and should probably kiss up to the amazing makers of the site, Jared and Hans, a bit. Well, there's that out of the way.
Over there I'm known as Charlie's Dragon, a bit of a drama queen, I like to think I'm funny, and I get too caught up in some of the flame wars, which have led me to break my own laptop and I'm now borrowing a rather crappy one. From this you can understand I'm not completely sane. If you know me from DBPB, you already know this to be true.
The purpose of this blog is simply to take a few DBPB posts whenever I feel like and turn them into wet dreams solely for the entertainment of myself (and hopefully for some other lost souls). I might also add a few of my own dreams (less wet, more crazy) now and again to make it a confusing mix of a dream diary and porn site.
I'd be surprising myself if I kept this up for more than a fortnight, so there's no need to hold your breath between posts here.
Over there I'm known as Charlie's Dragon, a bit of a drama queen, I like to think I'm funny, and I get too caught up in some of the flame wars, which have led me to break my own laptop and I'm now borrowing a rather crappy one. From this you can understand I'm not completely sane. If you know me from DBPB, you already know this to be true.
The purpose of this blog is simply to take a few DBPB posts whenever I feel like and turn them into wet dreams solely for the entertainment of myself (and hopefully for some other lost souls). I might also add a few of my own dreams (less wet, more crazy) now and again to make it a confusing mix of a dream diary and porn site.
I'd be surprising myself if I kept this up for more than a fortnight, so there's no need to hold your breath between posts here.
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