(no subject)

I'm actually getting used to this thing.

Anyway.

I woke up this morning to a notification in my inbox about my Amazon order having shipped. (Hey! Dragon knows what Amazon is.) At first I was all bouncy about it being my headset, and then I actually took a look at it. No, actually, books. Specifically, the Dexter book, the fairy porn, and the Swordspoint sequel. Well, my headset's holding out for at least a little while longer. So it's not the end of the world.

Actually, now that I think about it, I have a lot of stuff coming this week. I have that makeup coming that I totally blame Bria for, a pair of cute little earrings, books, and, um. Something. Maybe my arm warmers? Oh yeah, well, those, and that belly dancing jewelry I ordered off eBay. Which is actually for a fairy costume. And why Dragon didn't immediately think "fairy costume" I'll never know. Bad Dragon.

Off to work today. I'm still hoping that my wrist is just a result of maybe sleeping on it funny, or something. I'm also kind of hoping that two weeks or so with Dragon (except when I'm at work, obviously) will make it stop hurting. The whole two fingers hurting as well thing probably makes it more likely that it's a result of typing too much than sleeping on it funny. On the other hand, the fact that I actually have to sit up when I dictate otherwise my words come out weird means I might actually develop good posture.

And, while I'm listing off weird side effects, it's actually helping me write more. It might even be, dare I say it, faster than typing. Also, did I mention, learning program? While it may still garble some things I say, the actual things I said are popping up in the quick corrections menu more and more often.

Yeah, I got nothing else.

The Kinks

This is entirely LonelyWalker's fault.

So, she posted a picture and a somewhat elaborate description of what she finds sexy. Which made me think about what I find sexy. And also about the prospects of dictating porn with Dragon. Frankly, the idea of dictating porn makes me burst into hysterical giggles.

But, I'm procrastinating writing short stories, and this is as good way to do it as any. So, what you find kinky? What turns you on in fiction?

( Read more... )

I'm sure I'll come up with something else later. But there's a short list for now, just to get it out there.

Also. Clearly I need an icon of porn.

[Fic] Informed Consent

Title: Informed Consent
Fandom: Hellblazer
Characters: John Constantine, Zatanna
Rating: PG-13 for John's potty mouth
Word Count: 814
Summary: John Constantine has a crisis of conscience, in his own inimitable way. Set immediately after the events of The Books of Magic #1 to #4



John Constantine was not a happy man.

Not that John Constantine was often what one could call a happy man. In fact, it could be said that he reveled in being miserable. Or at least in being somewhat cranky. Usual quirks aside, though, today was particularly bad.

As nasty a person as he could be, and he would've been the first to admit that he was a right bastard, there were certain things he didn't like doing. Taxes were one thing. Dishes were another. And getting young children involved in a world that could quite possibly kill them before they reached adulthood was definitely on the list.

( Read more... )

[original] Customers Suck, or I Can Has Dragon

Title: Customers Suck, or I Can Has Dragon
Subset: none
Word Count: 560
Rating: G
Summary: There's something wrong with the dragon.

"I want to return this dragon."

It was only a baby dragon, so he was able to plop it down on the counter without much harm to either his shoulders or the wood surface. The dragon barked, hiccuped a little belch of flame, and scratched itself behind the ear with one hind claw.

The old man behind the counter looked at it, looked at the customer, and back at the baby dragon. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course there's something wrong! I wouldn't be returning a dragon if there weren't something wrong." The customer, a young noble of clearly more money than sense, gave the old man a scathing look. "It's incapable of human speech!"

"I hope you weren't expecting sonnets." There was a definite tone to the old man's voice, as he opened the dragon's mouth with care and a pair of forceps, peering from a distance down the belly of the beast. "It's only a baby, after all. It can't manage anything more complex than a limerick at this point."

"Of course I wasn't expecting sonnets," he snapped, "But I was at least expecting something resembling the Queen's English."

The old man and caretaker of dragons refrained from commenting that his customer's English was, at best, bastardized English. Instead he pointedly ignored the man while he examined the baby dragon's mouth, stroked its throat, and urged it to say a little something. It belched another lick of flame or two, opened its mouth, and declaimed:

"Oh what can ail thee, knight at arms
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge withered on the lake,
And no birds sing."

The customer stared, gape-mouthed and in evident shock, before sputtering back to life again. "He didn't... I mean, he wasn't... but you..."

"Clearly, I was mistaken," the old man said, whisking the dragon away underneath the counter and giving his would-be customer a stern look. "A dragon is not for you. We have a number of enchanted frogs, if you would be interested. Or perhaps something along the lines of a Blackberry Cat..."

"Now see here, my good man," the customer began, regaining some of his confidence and leaning across the counter as though he could intimidate the older man into giving him the dragon back. "I know how you sellers of magical pets are. You try to get my money, sell me a trained pet, and then fool me into believing it's defective so I'll drag it back to you and you will be oh so sorry, but all sales are final, and then when I throw it out because I can't stand to have it in the house, it will come running back to you..."

"Here's your money." The old man plopped down a bag, heavy with coin. "Now you've got your money back, and I've got my dragon back, and you can leave my shop now."

"I will not be spoken to...!"

"Now."

When the customer had gone, still sputtering about speaking to the Master of the Market, the old man picked the baby dragon back up and out from under the counter. "Now, let's see what all the fuss is about, hmm? Just what did you do to get that stupid man so riled up?"

The dragon opened its mouth, belched a little tongue of innocent flame, and spoke proudly: "I can has play tiem nao?"