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DesEsseintes

Guest
This lovely place is full of sniping, bitch-fights and tussling over ancient history. And tits and dicks. Which is why we love it, of course. So I thought, since all that stuff is going to happen anyway, why not fictionalize it? We can tell an ongoing story - our own for the egotists, our enemy for the obsessives, a friend for the lovelies, an evil black man/Muslim/Scary Other for the fruitcakes. If someone has done or said something gorgeous - put it in the story. If someone or something has pissed you off, work it into the ongoing narrative. Like a roman a clef, but with added insanity and sex. And with ENDLESS opportunities for fights and alts!

A very few rules are necessary, just to stop it from becoming a failed blurt thread:

1) Please quote the person above you so that in case of simultaneous posting (like it's ever going to be that popular!) we know who/what you are writing about.

2) Twist the story anywhere you want - it will be part of the fun to watch the fights as people try to pull it in different directions. But please show some continuity with the previous post, even if just a 'Meanwhile' for a jump-cut to help people follow. The idea is that this is a continuous narrative, not a blurt thread - a ludicrous concept album, not a snappy pop single.

3) People will be bored with massively long posts (yes, irony, I know), but also with one liners - we can get that elsewhere. Please at least write a couple of sentences for your post.

That's it! I really hope you can have fun with this. I'm going to kick off the tales in the next post with the story of Bluebell and the Duranman. Just because.
 
Once upon a fairy tale, in a land long ago, there was a beautiful twin called Bluebell, who lived in a plastic wood. Every day she would gambol along the concrete paths to the mushroom orchard, to mutilate the mushroom trees with her trusty spanner. When she had whipped them up good and proper, the mushrooms would fall, protesting in their tiny fungal voices, into her tin basket, which she would ride away before selling her wares, and sometimes a mushroom or two, in the marketplace.

One day, however, as she skipped up the twisty lane to her work, she saw a funny little man dressed all in green, gnashing his beard and pulling his stumpy little teeth. He had an axe in his right hand, which he was attempting to sharpen on a old tree stump. When he heard her whistling, he stopped his axe-grinding momentarily, looked up, and attempted a rusty smile. Bluebell immediately wished he hadn't.

'Duranman at your service, my lady!' he said, with a low bow which grazed his ruddy face against the gravel. 'What brings you here?'

Bluebell didn't like the look of the stumpy man. He smelt of wee, and looked ill-loved and unkempt, as if it had been many years since his last popular hit. So she aimed a merry rock at his funny head, and was rewarded with the dull 'thut, thut' of blood gushing from his temples. Poor Duranman! But she didn't let herself be sad for too long, and skipped merrily on her way.

Duranman was furious. He found some nettles with which to patch his wound, and continued to grind his axe, lonely and small and full of rage and some leftover poo.
 
DesEsseintes said:
Once upon a fairy tale, in a land long ago, there was a beautiful twin called Bluebell, who lived in a plastic wood. Every day she would gambol along the concrete paths to the mushroom orchard, to mutilate the mushroom trees with her trusty spanner. When she had whipped them up good and proper, the mushrooms would fall, protesting in their tiny fungal voices, into her tin basket, which she would ride away before selling her wares, and sometimes a mushroom or two, in the marketplace.

One day, however, as she skipped up the twisty lane to her work, she saw a funny little man dressed all in green, gnashing his beard and pulling his stumpy little teeth. He had an axe in his right hand, which he was attempting to sharpen on a old tree stump. When he heard her whistling, he stopped his axe-grinding momentarily, looked up, and attempted a rusty smile. Bluebell immediately wished he hadn't.

'Duranman at your service, my lady!' he said, with a low bow which grazed his ruddy face against the gravel. 'What brings you here?'

Bluebell didn't like the look of the stumpy man. He smelt of wee, and looked ill-loved and unkempt, as if it had been many years since his last popular hit. So she aimed a merry rock at his funny head, and was rewarded with the dull 'thut, thut' of blood gushing from his temples. Poor Duranman! But she didn't let herself be sad for too long, and skipped merrily on her way.

Duranman was furious. He found some nettles with which to patch his wound, and continued to grind his axe, lonely and small and full of rage and some leftover poo.
Click to expand...

Unbeknownst to the frustrated troll Duranman due to the din and clangor of his fervent metal-grinding toil, another gnomelike creature espied his and Bluebell's interactions from behind a nearby thicket with rheumy eyes. Its gnarled, wart-ridden hand stuffed deep into the crotch of its breeches, yanking furiously on a piteous, unresponsive worm-length organ, trying to get a rise out of it.

"FUCK...my...my...cock...gottDAMN IT..." the creature screeched and spat, training its beady orbs on Bluebell's sashaying bottom, which was quickly disappearing from sight.

"WHY?" it moaned. "Why won't it ever WORK..."

As it crumpled down to the ground with its breeches bunched around its spindly legs, it began weeping pathetically. Enough so that it didn't sense the two bodies approaching it from behind before it was too late.

It spun its bulbous head around and gasped loudly before a fist enclosed around its neck, lifting it up off the ground with an ease as a giant would a mouse by the tail. As it strained to speak through crushed vocal cords, its eyes bulged at the sight of the two men grinning at it devilishly.

"Weeelll now...what do we have here, Zumi?" the man on the left spoke.

The man to his right, the one holding the creature by the neck chuckled merrily. "Ah do believe we have us here one of the BusyBody Folk, Renaud ol' chap."

"The BusyBody Folk?" the one named Renaud replied. "Aren't they some mystical magical faeries of legends olde or something? Like a genie that'll grant you wishes, but without all that bottle-rubbing nonsense?"

The BusyBody creature struggled in Zumi's grasp vainly, attempting to squeak. "LET me GO, you stupid fucking mooseslime nig-"

Zumi's fist contracted further, sealing off the imp's windpipe completely, obstructing all sound and air passage. After a few seconds of the strangulation, the creature's head seemingly began to expand.

"Yeah, these little shitstains are magic alright," Zumi replied, "but there's a catch. If you let it keep on talking, that magic is naught but an ill wind that does you no good. Brings upon you much calamity. All types of nasty shit."

"Ah that sucks, we definitely can't let it do that." Renaud acquiesced. His eyes narrowed and he pointed at the creature's dangling penis. "Hey...was this thing...masturbating in the bushes earlier?"

"Ugh, let's not think about that too deeply," Zumi replied. "We don't want to lose the proper mood for the ladies at the bar later."

"You're right. Whatta buzzkill that would've been."

"Let's end this on an up-note." Zumi smiled. "I'm going to show you something lovely and amazing. Watch."

Zumi's fist pointed the BusyBody creature's head, which was now grossly inflated and ripened to the point of bursting, towards the sky.

"My goodman neighbor Ulaven showed me this one day," Zumi began. "He caught this one rather surly BusyBody Folk imp who called itself JimmyB pissing in his vegetable garden. Found out by accident. Seems to work on all of them."

The helpless creature managed to weakly lift its noodle-like arm and flip a bony finger towards the two men before its head exploded in a cloud of greenish-blue fireworks that spiraled high into the atmosphere, bouncing to and fro in a madcap manner before dissipating downward in smallish sparkles and flares.

"WHOA." Renaud gasped. "Oh my stars and garters. That's just...amazing."

"Ha ha haaaa!" Zumi laughed. "Told ya it'd be sweet!"

Renaud shook his head. "All that chromatic beauty from something so...ugly and unsavory...it's unbelievable."

Zumi nonchalantly tossed the now headless carcass of the BusyBody Folk into the brush and clapped his hands clean. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, my friend. Now, let's get a move on to that bar. I know another mysterious way that the Lord works and it's concerning the magnificent bosoms and gorgeous gams of the gals working there."

"Ha! You never think of anything else! I got dibs on the Lady Lori, though!"

"Why you - not before my hand embraces that bottom, you won't!"

The two men broke into a brisk, playful jaunt down the road leading to the bar, laughing their cares to the wind, leaving behind them a greyish steam slowly wafting from the dissolving cadaver of a eldritch creature best forgotten to all pleasant peoples of the world.
 
Last edited:
DesEsseintes said:
This lovely place is full of sniping, bitch-fights and tussling over ancient history. And tits and dicks. Which is why we love it, of course. So I thought, since all that stuff is going to happen anyway, why not fictionalize it? We can tell an ongoing story - our own for the egotists, our enemy for the obsessives, a friend for the lovelies, an evil black man/Muslim/Scary Other for the fruitcakes. If someone has done or said something gorgeous - put it in the story. If someone or something has pissed you off, work it into the ongoing narrative. Like a roman a clef, but with added insanity and sex. And with ENDLESS opportunities for fights and alts!

A very few rules are necessary, just to stop it from becoming a failed blurt thread:

1) Please quote the person above you so that in case of simultaneous posting (like it's ever going to be that popular!) we know who/what you are writing about.

2) Twist the story anywhere you want - it will be part of the fun to watch the fights as people try to pull it in different directions. But please show some continuity with the previous post, even if just a 'Meanwhile' for a jump-cut to help people follow. The idea is that this is a continuous narrative, not a blurt thread - a ludicrous concept album, not a snappy pop single.

3) People will be bored with massively long posts (yes, irony, I know), but also with one liners - we can get that elsewhere. Please at least write a couple of sentences for your post.

That's it! I really hope you can have fun with this. I'm going to kick off the tales in the next post with the story of Bluebell and the Duranman. Just because.
Click to expand...

#playgrounder
#wannabe
 
snugglestruggle said:
Been done before, maybe you should make the setting in England? You know, for a change of pace.
Click to expand...

Well met, madam, and at your service. Everywhere I write about is England, my only Muse. But it is not my story, and I hope the next entry will be in England, or a black hole, or inside the nasal membrane of a wildebeest. So long as it's massively libellous, I don't care. And if it dies a painful death that's fine too.

My last sentence obviously applies to eyer, too.
 
IrezumiKiss said:
Unbeknownst to the frustrated troll Duranman due to the din and clangor of his fervent metal-grinding toil, another gnomelike creature espied his and Bluebell's interactions from behind a nearby thicket with rheumy eyes. Its gnarled, wart-ridden hand stuffed deep into the crotch of its breeches, yanking furiously on a piteous, unresponsive worm-length organ, trying to get a rise out of it.

"FUCK...my...my...cock...gottDAMN IT..." the creature screeched and spat, training its beady orbs on Bluebell's sashaying bottom, which was quickly disappearing from sight.

"WHY?" it moaned. "Why won't it ever WORK..."

As it crumpled down to the ground with its breeches bunched around its spindly legs, it began weeping pathetically. Enough so that it didn't sense the two bodies approaching it from behind before it was too late.

It spun its bulbous head around and gasped loudly before a fist enclosed around its neck, lifting it up off the ground with an ease as a giant would a mouse by the tail. As it strained to speak through crushed vocal cords, its eyes bulged at the sight of the two men grinning at it devilishly.

"Weeelll now...what do we have here, Zumi?" the man on the left spoke.

The man to his right, the one holding the creature by the neck chuckled merrily. "Ah do believe we have us here one of the BusyBody Folk, Renaud ol' chap."

"The BusyBody Folk?" the one named Renaud replied. "Aren't they some mystical magical faeries of legends olde or something? Like a genie that'll grant you wishes, but without all that bottle-rubbing nonsense?"

The BusyBody creature struggled in Zumi's grasp vainly, attempting to squeak. "LET me GO, you stupid fucking mooseslime nig-"

Zumi's fist contracted further, sealing off the imp's windpipe completely, obstructing all sound and air passage. After a few seconds of the strangulation, the creature's head seemingly began to expand.

"Yeah, these little shitstains are magic alright," Zumi replied, "but there's a catch. If you let it keep on talking, that magic is naught but an ill wind that does you no good. Brings upon you much calamity. All types of nasty shit."

"Ah that sucks, we definitely can't let it do that." Renaud acquiesced. His eyes narrowed and he pointed at the creature's dangling penis. "Hey...was this thing...masturbating in the bushes earlier?"

"Ugh, let's not think about that too deeply," Zumi replied. "We don't want to lose the proper mood for the ladies at the bar later."

"You're right. Whatta buzzkill that would've been."

"Let's end this on an up-note." Zumi smiled. "I'm going to show you something lovely and amazing. Watch."

Zumi's fist pointed the BusyBody creature's head, which was now grossly inflated and ripened to the point of bursting, towards the sky.

"My goodman neighbor Ulaven showed me this one day," Zumi began. "He caught this one rather surly BusyBody Folk imp who called itself JimmyB pissing in his vegetable garden. Found out by accident. Seems to work on all of them."

The helpless creature managed to weakly lift its noodle-like arm and flip a bony finger towards the two men before its head exploded in a cloud of greenish-blue fireworks that spiraled high into the atmosphere, bouncing to and fro in a madcap manner before dissipating downward in smallish sparkles and flares.

"WHOA." Renaud gasped. "Oh my stars and garters. That's just...amazing."

"Ha ha haaaa!" Zumi laughed. "Told ya it'd be sweet!"

Renaud shook his head. "All that chromatic beauty from something so...ugly and unsavory...it's unbelievable."

Zumi nonchalantly tossed the now headless carcass of the BusyBody Folk into the brush and clapped his hands clean. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, my friend. Now, let's get a move on to that bar. I know another mysterious way that the Lord works and it's concerning the magnificent bosoms and gorgeous gams of the gals working there."

"Ha! You never think of anything else! I got dibs on the Lady Lori, though!"

"Why you - not before my hand embraces that bottom, you won't!"

The two men broke into a brisk, playful jaunt down the road leading to the bar, laughing their cares to the wind, leaving behind them a greyish steam slowly wafting from the dissolving cadaver of a eldritch creature best forgotten to all pleasant peoples of the world.
Click to expand...

High above this cheery scene coasting on her broomstick turbo, Glynndah the Good Little Witch coughed and tried (in vain) to avoid inhaling the foul breeze emerging from the greenish-blue tinged cloud that had suddenly appeared in her flight-path. Today's plans for her usual mode of transport, (the far more civilized sparkly bubble), had been jettisoned that morning upon her discovery that she had completely run out of magic fairy dust, the element necessary for powering her gigantic, buoyant orbs.

It was odd, very odd for Glynndah to run out of fairy dust. Normally, her cottage garden was bursting with the stuff, delivered atop her flower buds every morning by the Lit pixies. But not this morning. Today the flower buds hung bare and dry with barely a glimmer. If she were given to panic, Glynndah might be more alarmed, but ever practical she dusted off the old broomstick, (lent to her once by the witch kbate but, shamefully, never returned), and was on her way to visit the wizard Manu for an explanation and perhaps a solution.

She sneezed, accidentally inhaled the putrid essence of troll and nearly fell off of her broomstick, but soldiered through the haze towards the tavern that the wizard Manu was known to frequent. She silently added "air pollution in the LitLund Forest" to the list of concerns she intended to present to Manu.
 
Last edited:
DesEsseintes said:
This lovely place is full of sniping, bitch-fights and tussling over ancient history. And tits and dicks. Which is why we love it, of course. So I thought, since all that stuff is going to happen anyway, why not fictionalize it?
Click to expand...

Wait. You don't think most of the stuff here is fictionalized already?
 
evesdream said:
High above this cheery scene coasting on her broomstick turbo, Glynndah the Good Little Witch coughed and tried (in vain) to avoid inhaling the foul breeze emerging from the greenish-blue tinged cloud that had suddenly appeared in her flight-path. Today's plans for her usual mode of transport, (the far more civilized sparkly bubble), had been jettisoned that morning upon her discovery that she had completely run out of magic fairy dust, the element necessary for powering her gigantic, buoyant orbs.

It was odd, very odd for Glynndah to run out of fairy dust. Normally, her cottage garden was bursting with the stuff, delivered atop her flower buds every morning by the Lit pixies. But not this morning. Today the flower buds hung bare and dry with barely a glimmer. If she were given to panic, Glynndah might be more alarmed, but ever practical she dusted off the old broomstick, (lent to her once by the witch kbate but, shamefully, never returned), and was on her way to visit the wizard Manu for an explanation and perhaps a solution.

She sneezed, accidentally inhaled the putrid essence of troll and nearly fell off of her broomstick, but soldiered through the haze towards the tavern that the wizard Manu was known to frequent. She silently added "air pollution in the LitLund Forest" to the list of concerns she intended to present to Manu.
Click to expand...

I like your style. I wanna read your work. You either don't have a link in your siggy or I somehow missed it. You write kinda like Susan Albert who I've been devouring lately. Can I have a link?
 
CandiCame said:
I like your style. I wanna read your work. You either don't have a link in your siggy or I somehow missed it. You write kinda like Susan Albert who I've been devouring lately. Can I have a link?
Click to expand...

Well, that's nice of you to say. I removed all of my stories except for one, which was written as a gift for a friend. It's full of references that make sense to him, but hit a flat note for other readers (judging by the 2.75 score they slammed it with.)
 
Manu the Mysterious Barkeep™ was sorely vexed. The delegation from the Island of Lesbos had rented out the majority of the rooms in his Inn of the Speckled Pecker, but they certainly didn't tip well in the common room and sexually harassed the female cleaning staff to tears. He'd have to mention that to Good Queen Kbate should she decide to grace him with her presence downstairs.

He looked up as the door opened and Glynddah glyded up to the bar.

"Ah you look as lovely as always..." he began, and was rewarded with an oh-so-delicate feminine sneeze from Glynndah.

"And you, stout Manu, are the sweetest barkeep in the land, but in truth I am covered with road dust and my monthly visitor is nigh" Glyndah said "I am....bedraggled. I could use a hot bath and a comely stud".

"Alas, fair Glynndah, I've had to furlough most of my man-whores for the time being. We have the entire court of the Isle of Lesbos, from Good Queen Kbate to her loathesome lackwit Girlsmiley here, all seeking an audience with Empress Lauren. If you're seeking a good dicking, I can send a runner to SavageJohnnySavage's manse in the next town".....
 
RobDownSouth said:
"Alas, fair Glynndah, I've had to furlough most of my man-whores for the time being. We have the entire court of the Isle of Lesbos, from Good Queen Kbate to her loathesome lackwit Girlsmiley here, all seeking an audience with Empress Lauren. If you're seeking a good dicking, I can send a runner to SavageJohnnySavage's manse in the next town".....
Click to expand...

somewhere, far far away, on an icy, currently-cheerless island, a blonde with a broad accent pricked up her ears:

"Cunt!'' she cried, and threw her glass slipper at the mirror, entertaining ideas of hot custard smeared all over Glynndah - with mayhap a smidgin of chocolate flakes and nuts and . . . oooh, cheeeeese, and suddenly Fata the Fabulous' temper evaporated and she realised, yet again, how the mention of her object of affection's name made her all . . . "cunt," she whispered.
 
RobDownSouth said:
Manu the Mysterious Barkeep™ was sorely vexed. The delegation from the Island of Lesbos had rented out the majority of the rooms in his Inn of the Speckled Pecker, but they certainly didn't tip well in the common room and sexually harassed the female cleaning staff to tears. He'd have to mention that to Good Queen Kbate should she decide to grace him with her presence downstairs.

He looked up as the door opened and Glynddah glyded up to the bar.

"Ah you look as lovely as always..." he began, and was rewarded with an oh-so-delicate feminine sneeze from Glynndah.

"And you, stout Manu, are the sweetest barkeep in the land, but in truth I am covered with road dust and my monthly visitor is nigh" Glyndah said "I am....bedraggled. I could use a hot bath and a comely stud".

"Alas, fair Glynndah, I've had to furlough most of my man-whores for the time being. We have the entire court of the Isle of Lesbos, from Good Queen Kbate to her loathesome lackwit Girlsmiley here, all seeking an audience with Empress Lauren. If you're seeking a good dicking, I can send a runner to SavageJohnnySavage's manse in the next town".....
Click to expand...

Hey, asshole. I already made kbate a witch. How can she be a Good Queen at the same time?
 
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