Fun Stuff > CHATTER
Slick Likes Mudkips!
calenlass:
Goodness, Lunchy, I can't decide whether your finale for my slashfic is the worst ever or the best. Poor Tommy gets so shut down!
I do quite like the last part, though. That one's quite good.
This is what I had for Part Two originally (before my internet shat out while I was trying to post it and before I couldn't get to a computer because I was moving all day):
"I- I- I- I-" Slick stammered.
"Can I kiss you?" Tommydski said. He glanced away, then back at Slick, his eyes full of hope.
"I- What?"
"Can I kiss you?"
Slick hesitated. He drew back mentally, unsure, but something encouraged him to agree. Somehow he was curious as to what was lurking beneath his fear of shame. Perhaps this evening was fated somehow - had he always wanted this to happen? He leaned forward ever so slightly, and nodded once.
Tommydski scooted forward and ith one hand he reached to place it on the back of Slick's head and gently massage the back of his neck. Then slowly, very slowly, he leaned in to press his lips against Slick's.
A spark went from Tommydski's lips into Slick's and suddenly his body was flooded with heat. He had never felt this fire with anyone else, and with one taste he was hooked. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to let go of his inhibitions. He wanted more. He unconsciously moved his lips ever so slightly and with the very tip of his tongue touched Tommydski's lips.
Tommydski shuddered and opened his eyes. He drew back a fraction of an inch, just enough to meet Slick's dazed gaze. Tommydski smiled. "Oh my. I had hoped it would be like this," he said. Before Slick could reply, Tommydski lunged and knocked him backwards onto the bed. Unable to resist, Slick gave himself up to the passionate embrace. They kissed again, and this time when their tongues met it was as though Slick could hear angels singing.
Every brush of skin against skin drove the temperature of the room higher and higher. And then Tommydski started to trail his lips across Slick's jaw and down his neck, and Slick knew he was completely lost. Every touch burned like a brand and he groaned at the flames that so sweetly tortured his nerves. He dragged his fingertips up Tommydski's naked back and was rewarded with a little shiver. But then Tommydski moved down to his chest and he could do nothing but lie there and let the sensations play across his chest and down each arm and into his hands.
"Oh Tommy-doo-ski..." Slick moaned, then sat upright. "Wait a minute, ok, how the fuck are you supposed to say it?"
"It's, like, Russian or some shit," Tommydski murmered absently, far more interested in the removal of Slick's belt. "Besides, you should just call me Tommy. Everyone else does." He let his tongue play along Slick's abdomen and pushed him gently back down. He sat back and just looked at Slick for a moment, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue.. "Mmm... There are so many things I want to do to you," he murmurred.
Verergoca:
Bwhahehaa!
Also, we have plenty of Ally's or variants of the spelling around here to make things legal somewhere!
bryanthelion:
You guys should seriously consider writing as a career!
Also, who is slick?
öde:
Slick is a nudist. He's never been arrested as he always seems to be standing behind something just at crotch height.
Gabbly:
--- Quote from: Ozymandias on 18 Dec 2007, 21:14 ---Guys, look at where her skin meets her hair.
It's a chop.
--- End quote ---
Good sir, I am afraid I must beg to differ from your stance on this matter. I am myself convinced that this photo is most certainly not fraudulent, and I hope that you might be inclined to agree after listening to my points.
Firstly, should it please you to hear my argument, I would like to draw your attention to the background. Therein, you should be able to notice that there is both shadow and uneven glare, suggesting this was not what we would call a high-quality camera.
Secondly, if you'll draw your attention lower on the photograph, where the blue of her sheets meet the black of her futon, there appears a sort of haze, blurring the line of precise definition between the two. This speaks to me as being indicative of a poor sensor and/or encoder somewhere along the processes that occurred before we saw this picture.
Thirdly, several things about her hair lend themselves to the sincerity of this picture. The first and weakest point is that her hair has been pinned back to show her whole face. Given how the rest of her hair looks, this would seem a most peculiar style for the young lady to have done her hair in, but that is hardly proof in and of itself. If you'll look at the rest of the line of the hair, though, you'll see that the parts of her face where the hair would be least likely to stay static throughout the painting have not, in fact, been painted. Given my history as one of Broadway's lesser know leading ladies, I hope you will trust my word on this when I say that that is most convincing as a limitation of an amateur makeup artist. If you do not trust my opinions as a veteran of many stage productions, I hope that you can at least see that it would have be a lazy 'chopper' indeed who would leave wiggle room around one part of the hairline but not another, and given the quality of the rest of the work, I am assuming this would be no lazy artist's work.
Finally, the keystone to this defense is looking you straight in the face as you look at this picture, such being the abundant radiance of her hair. Doubtless fit for an advert, her hair is aptly reflecting the camera flash at the top of the frame. Accepting the presence of this luminosity, it is not a far leap to surmise that her hair might reflect also the blue light radiating from the face immediately adjacent to it.
I hope you have found my discussion of the points to be compelling, and that you will agree with me in acknowledging the authenticity of this fine image. The young lady ought to feel very proud of herself for her hard work and dedication, and we should, as a whole, commend her for her time and effort expended.
Now, if we are all done discussing mudkips and whatnot, COULD WE PLEASE ALL GET BACK ON GABBLY? IT'S SO VERY COLD AND LONELY HERE, WON'T YOU COME BACK AND LOVE ME AGAIN?
LOVEEEEE MEEEEEEEE.
LOVEEEEEEE ME.
PLEASE.
PLEASE.
LOVE ME.
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