WHO ELSE HAS WRITER'S BLOCK ON THE FIRST FRIGGIN' DAY OF NANOWRIMO???????????
><
OMG
*stabsself*
><
OMG
*stabsself*
15 years ago
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
NaNo WriMo
Okay, this year I am doing NaNo WriMo. It is my first month, so yay for me. It'll be really personal. I didn't want to do a personal one, I was still searching for a plot and setting and everything, but idk- I can't do anything but what's in my head. I am ABSOLUTELY terrified, but maybe it'll help me. We'll see. Maybe it won't turn out personal, who knows. But I think that a lot of the hell my main will go through will be feelings that have completely engulfed me before. We shall see. I'll make updates when I add more story to my live journal. *pointstosidebar* Wish me luck, all! Also, check it out for yourselves- it's a flybytheseatofyourpants challenge, and all ready I'm itching to begin writing. I keep seeing whole sections in my mind and I want to write them down but then I also don't want to cheat. So we shall see. Let me know if you're doing it too, and what type of novel and everything!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
A Note About the Selection Below ...
This is something I wrote randomly. I rarely write in first person. The characters are Vincent and Tierney- the first of whom is a vampire. These are highly developed characters. I play Tierney and a friend of mine plays Vincent on a site where you can write together. I may post further excerpts from our threads, we will have to see. This one is unedited, I haven't changed anything that I wrote. It is purely exercise.
...............................................................
Lie back...
His rosy lips moved slowly uttering the words as if breathing alone were as pleasurable as what he was about to do. Vincent did not look away, his gaze did not fall from mine. His hand cupped my head as I lay back slowly, sure of his strength to keep me from falling back too fast. My brazen curls met the soft sheets first, then my skull, and my head lolled a bit as I looked up at him. He leaned over me, his body coupled against mine, and I could feel our skin flushing with heat.
Vincent moved to cover me, his chest against mine. He embraced me, one hand hooking my leg higher while the other cupped my face, his slender fingers stroking at the curve of my jaw. It seemed like forever passed as he stared into my eyes, yet we still had forever ahead of us. I caught a flash of mischief behind his carefully controlled expression, then he leaned down, his lips pursing against my neck.
It was different from the last time. Last time, I'd had to convince him, nearly trick him, into feeding from me. It had been all or nothing. This time didn't take anywhere near as much convincing, and he seemed almost glad to sink his teeth into my hot flesh and drink the dark, sweet blood my body had to offer. He wasn't hesitant this time.
I could feel the pin points break my skin, and the searing began. This was familiar, this pain that raked my body, flooding through me as his teeth sank in. This was different too, though. Somehow, despite the sheer panic that was set upon my system, there was also great hints of pleasure hitting at various points and curves. The good was everywhere behind the bad, but it broke through in places, causing me to arch and squirm in Vincent's embrace.
I didn't know if he thought that my movements were from pain or pleasure, but to be honest it didn't cross my mind to wonder. I was too caught up in the feelings. At first, the pain was too much, but after enduring it for just a while, or maybe it was years- I didn't know, it became a good sort of pain. This was foreign to me- how could such sheer pain be something so terribly good? I was confounded, but so was I unable to reign in my speech.
I was sure I was making all sorts of unintelligible cries, maybe moans and groans and the like. Maybe I was silent. I'd prayed I'd be silent. But then, I didn't know exactly what it would be like. Mind you, I had an idea. I remembered the extreme pain that made me cry out and fight his grip, and at times I'd laid in bed at night, idling between wakefulness and sleep, my head full of the transition to the greatest pleasure I'd experienced in all my short years.
It was this pleasure that made me burn in Vincent's presence, that made me crave for him to hold me and take from me once more. Crazily enough, it was also the pain. I wanted all of it, even if I had the choice between one, the other, or both. I couldn't have just one. It was like they said- to have good at all, evil must be present also. But the pain was good too. Thus, I needed both- the pain and the pleasure, and most of all I wanted Vincent to be the one to inflict each upon me.
With that said, I felt almost embarrassed admitting this to him. I had always been the good girl, the innocent one, the angel. It felt dirty to want both. Even so, it did not occur to me at the time to act the opposite. I did not pretend hesitancy or dread at the thought of the pain, and I did not feign humility in my need for the pleasure that such an act would give. I could not be sure if Vincent was surprised at this, or if he'd somehow expected it. I had a feeling that it was both.
A soft, cold presence battled at the core of the heat that spread over my skin. Vincent's lips were like ice against my increasingly fiery flesh, and I could not tell the difference between the teeth that were embedded in my skin. After less than a second, I ceased to pay attention to my neck, and my mind wandered. The pain was piercing, little jolts of electricity pricked against the walls of my veins, and my very muscles grew sore and began to ache. But it felt good.
I do not know how to communicate to you how the pain could be good, but I can try. An ant bites you- remember the horrible itching that covers the area as the poison spreads? You can only endure so much. But then, you take the edge of your nail and press it into the bite, and in a way it is cold and the pressure is too much, but at the same time it feels good. The relief of itch and a new feeling is what makes it feel good. A vampire's bite is better. The raw itch is what Vincent gave me the first time. And now, he was giving me his nail, relieving the pressure.
If it were not for the pleasurable aspect of it, the pain would not have been bearable a second time. But then, I would not have asked for it a second time. Instead, I had dreamt of the possibility of someday having the chance for Vincent to feed from me once more. Whether it was in the safety of my bedroom or during a lecture, the thought was constantly on my mind. The need was strongest when I was near my love, though. It taunted me, the idea that the one person who could quell the craving was standing right next to me, yet I could not have it. Ironic- in making him able to be more comfortable around me, I'd made myself less comfortable around him.
This is something I wrote randomly. I rarely write in first person. The characters are Vincent and Tierney- the first of whom is a vampire. These are highly developed characters. I play Tierney and a friend of mine plays Vincent on a site where you can write together. I may post further excerpts from our threads, we will have to see. This one is unedited, I haven't changed anything that I wrote. It is purely exercise.
...............................................................
Lie back...
His rosy lips moved slowly uttering the words as if breathing alone were as pleasurable as what he was about to do. Vincent did not look away, his gaze did not fall from mine. His hand cupped my head as I lay back slowly, sure of his strength to keep me from falling back too fast. My brazen curls met the soft sheets first, then my skull, and my head lolled a bit as I looked up at him. He leaned over me, his body coupled against mine, and I could feel our skin flushing with heat.
Vincent moved to cover me, his chest against mine. He embraced me, one hand hooking my leg higher while the other cupped my face, his slender fingers stroking at the curve of my jaw. It seemed like forever passed as he stared into my eyes, yet we still had forever ahead of us. I caught a flash of mischief behind his carefully controlled expression, then he leaned down, his lips pursing against my neck.
It was different from the last time. Last time, I'd had to convince him, nearly trick him, into feeding from me. It had been all or nothing. This time didn't take anywhere near as much convincing, and he seemed almost glad to sink his teeth into my hot flesh and drink the dark, sweet blood my body had to offer. He wasn't hesitant this time.
I could feel the pin points break my skin, and the searing began. This was familiar, this pain that raked my body, flooding through me as his teeth sank in. This was different too, though. Somehow, despite the sheer panic that was set upon my system, there was also great hints of pleasure hitting at various points and curves. The good was everywhere behind the bad, but it broke through in places, causing me to arch and squirm in Vincent's embrace.
I didn't know if he thought that my movements were from pain or pleasure, but to be honest it didn't cross my mind to wonder. I was too caught up in the feelings. At first, the pain was too much, but after enduring it for just a while, or maybe it was years- I didn't know, it became a good sort of pain. This was foreign to me- how could such sheer pain be something so terribly good? I was confounded, but so was I unable to reign in my speech.
I was sure I was making all sorts of unintelligible cries, maybe moans and groans and the like. Maybe I was silent. I'd prayed I'd be silent. But then, I didn't know exactly what it would be like. Mind you, I had an idea. I remembered the extreme pain that made me cry out and fight his grip, and at times I'd laid in bed at night, idling between wakefulness and sleep, my head full of the transition to the greatest pleasure I'd experienced in all my short years.
It was this pleasure that made me burn in Vincent's presence, that made me crave for him to hold me and take from me once more. Crazily enough, it was also the pain. I wanted all of it, even if I had the choice between one, the other, or both. I couldn't have just one. It was like they said- to have good at all, evil must be present also. But the pain was good too. Thus, I needed both- the pain and the pleasure, and most of all I wanted Vincent to be the one to inflict each upon me.
With that said, I felt almost embarrassed admitting this to him. I had always been the good girl, the innocent one, the angel. It felt dirty to want both. Even so, it did not occur to me at the time to act the opposite. I did not pretend hesitancy or dread at the thought of the pain, and I did not feign humility in my need for the pleasure that such an act would give. I could not be sure if Vincent was surprised at this, or if he'd somehow expected it. I had a feeling that it was both.
A soft, cold presence battled at the core of the heat that spread over my skin. Vincent's lips were like ice against my increasingly fiery flesh, and I could not tell the difference between the teeth that were embedded in my skin. After less than a second, I ceased to pay attention to my neck, and my mind wandered. The pain was piercing, little jolts of electricity pricked against the walls of my veins, and my very muscles grew sore and began to ache. But it felt good.
I do not know how to communicate to you how the pain could be good, but I can try. An ant bites you- remember the horrible itching that covers the area as the poison spreads? You can only endure so much. But then, you take the edge of your nail and press it into the bite, and in a way it is cold and the pressure is too much, but at the same time it feels good. The relief of itch and a new feeling is what makes it feel good. A vampire's bite is better. The raw itch is what Vincent gave me the first time. And now, he was giving me his nail, relieving the pressure.
If it were not for the pleasurable aspect of it, the pain would not have been bearable a second time. But then, I would not have asked for it a second time. Instead, I had dreamt of the possibility of someday having the chance for Vincent to feed from me once more. Whether it was in the safety of my bedroom or during a lecture, the thought was constantly on my mind. The need was strongest when I was near my love, though. It taunted me, the idea that the one person who could quell the craving was standing right next to me, yet I could not have it. Ironic- in making him able to be more comfortable around me, I'd made myself less comfortable around him.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
classical nude
This is the picture that I used for my avatar. It is called Classical Nude, from Seredin on deviantArt. I just thought it was so beautiful, and a wonderful take on the classical nude.
good hard fuck
There's this site I am on, where one of the vets is a cold hard bitch. Seriously. She's sweet to who she wants to be sweet to, but she basically guilts people into not talking to those she hates. She is absolutely horrid, and drives me insane. In this case, I've pretty much never made an effort to talk to her- not really anyway.
I was talking to a few friends from the site about her, and one of them said- 'You know what she needs? A good hard fuck." None of us had ever heard this particular girl say that, though it wasn't the first time she shocked us. We laughed about it, and all agreed this was true.
What is it that makes us say that people need a good hard fuck? And why is it that that is so pleasing to say? Just the words, good hard fuck, feel great to say, and after uttering them you feel you've accomplished something.
I think they should start doling out 'good hard fuck's in psychiatric centres or something. It seems like a lot of our society could go for one these days. I know I could. Speaking of...
I was talking to a few friends from the site about her, and one of them said- 'You know what she needs? A good hard fuck." None of us had ever heard this particular girl say that, though it wasn't the first time she shocked us. We laughed about it, and all agreed this was true.
What is it that makes us say that people need a good hard fuck? And why is it that that is so pleasing to say? Just the words, good hard fuck, feel great to say, and after uttering them you feel you've accomplished something.
I think they should start doling out 'good hard fuck's in psychiatric centres or something. It seems like a lot of our society could go for one these days. I know I could. Speaking of...
*pulls boyfriend to bed*
XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Vellie and Claire
Trevelyan woke slowly. He had trouble focusing and trouble remembering where he was. For a moment he thought he was again in Pesha and that the canopy over head was Nyssa's bed.
But as he turned his head and saw the stone wallls and the heavy oak of the bed – no gilding – he remembered it all. For all that he had trouble remembering where he was, he knew that his head rested upon a firm, female breast. He turned to look up to see Claire holding him against her ample bosom, and he could feel his body between her legs. She was sleeping, but at his movement, she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
And as naturally as day follows night, he put his hand on her breast and kissed her neck.
Claire closed her eyes for a moment, feeling his lips on her neck. Without having any idea what she was doing, she moved her legs and Trevelyan rolled on top of her. She could feel the hard maleness of him on her body. He had changed from a sick child to a hungry man in an instant.
His lilps moved up her neck to her ear. He took the lobe between his teeth and Claire arched her neck as his hand caressed and massaged her breast.
His hand moved down her side to her waist, over her hip, to her thigh.
Then suddenly, his hand came up again. He roughly took her chin in his hand and turned her to look at him. It was as though he were demanding that she know who he was, that she see him not as a friend, not as a sick child, but as Trevelyan.
That, my dears, is the first thing I ever read that made me feel flustered and heady and wanting for something I'd never dreamed of. I was out in the garage one day, searching through boxes and chests to see what I could find, as I often did. I found a paperback, edges frayed and papers stained, looked over the description on the back, and tucked it under my arm so I'd be sure to take it inside. Never did I imagine what its pages could contain.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
apologies
To those of you who once read my blog, I am sorry. I ducked out, and haven't been back since. I've missed blogging, though. So here I am again.
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