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Happy New Year to all my AFF friends and family!

My husband today: “The United States is officially a landfill.” Completely unprompted. I only wish I knew what was going through his head some days.

Happy New Year, everyone. Let’s hope 2022 will be great… in a good way.

Like this FB meme going around. “There are literally NO rules saying your New Year’s resolutions can’t be for evil.”

Happy New Year. May 2022 fare better than 2021.

Like Thundercloud, I may be late. Work at the lab is kind of strained at the moment (sometimes a lot of people call out and those of us who are there end up stretched rather thin). As a result, I haven’t gotten much writing done. I have the 31st off, so I’m going to try and spend most of the day writing, but don’t be surprised if this ends up being one or two days late. I am also struggling a bit with what to include. Don’t want to use all of the kinks, since that’ll make all my sex scenes rather similar. Makes the end result a bit tricky. I try and work around that generally by focusing on the emotional context of a scene like this, which is generally somewhat different from story to story, given what leads up to the sex scene. I do worry, admittedly, that the sex scene in a future story might end up looking familiar, but hopefully the stories as a whole will be distinct enough for audiences.

Winter arrives in about an hour, solstice time!

Let’s all raise a toast to our brilliant @BronxWench on her birthday. Happy birthday, and may they be many more.

That moment when you realize your potter fanfic has more posted words than JKR’s books 1-7. Yeah, I checked--mine’s longer and this Harry’s having a worst time than canon too.

Black’s so overdone as a nefarious color choice. In my current potter fanfic, it’s now canary yellow! Really helps distinguish this group from the others. (The next group in this story will be using bottle green.)

finally got back on after being sick for a week!

Wishing Dirty Angel another happy birthday! (Maybe she’ll bless AFF with a visit?)

As a frequent player of CRPGs in the sword-and-sorcery genre, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say a wine skin would not serve as much of a warning to me. Well, not unless you are looking to warn visitors to the tavern against bringing in their own beverages, which would be completely antithetical to the whole idea of going to a tavern in the first place and would make the tavern owner surly, to say the least. Because I am largely bloodthirsty, I’d say a scalp or perhaps a body part like a hand would serve as a better warning against touching the tavern girls. Anything else just seems to border on farce. “Oohh, see that sock on the wall? Stupid git touched one of the girls, and she walloped him so hard, he lost his sock, he did! So take my word for it, mate, unless you want your sock, or maybe even your breechclout hanging there for everyone to gawk at, no touching!”

Why would that stop us from creating a whole new one? To stay on topic, never got around to writing a holiday fic… heck, still on the Halloween episode to this story I’m working on.

On this forum, there’s probably a dozen old ones that would fit the bill.

Why do I feel that a discussion of sex scenes deserves a whole new topic?

I like to think of it like history itself. scenes should rhyme rather than repeat.

I used to worry about this a lot, and I still worry about it some. But as my friend and beta Jomahawk once pointed out, if readers like your sex scenes, then they don’t really want the scenes to be all that different from one another.

Please include the standard form provided here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/26064-things-to-know-before-you-promote-your-story-standard-form-to-use/ in your post. You can edit your original post to include it. Thank you. Willow Darkling, forum moderator.

From InvidiaRed on December 20, 2021 Thank you! I know it’s a long story, but it needed to be in order to build up to that ending.

An interesting thought… Are we the Fae?

“Naughty and Nice” is posted! Summary: Final story in the trilogy that began with “The Ninth Reindeer” and continued with “Checking It Twice” The mysterious hacker again threatens to ruin Christmas, and this time, Rudy is in no condition to save it.

Happy Birthday, love

Take their aesthetic and go from there. For example, Bob Bob is a necromancer. Fantasy- The man before you clutches a staff made of a spinal column, His robes are black and his jewelry all have bones or skulls he attended by two skeletons one of whom is carrying a silver platter and the other is infront of him protectively Urban Fantasy- This man is unaware of your arrival. His boots are covered in dirt as he toils adding components best left unmentioned as he repairs his skeletal motorcycle from the excavated coffins around him. A despondent moan issues from the coffins as one by one they all uprose. His focus is entirely on his task of repairing his damaged cycle. His chaps and thick black leather jackets makes you think he’s a biker or some sort. He stands up ramrod straight suddenly as his ruby necklace flashes and then he turns. The ruby holding within it a fiery baleful eye. “ You’’ll do nicely.” Cyberpunk- There was crashing on the door as broken servos whirled in futility. “I know you are in there!” You turned frightened as the dead monitors one by flicker on despite being cannibalized for parts. “Do not attempt to adjust your television” The man’s voice snarked. Dead pale hands plunge through the old monitor and clasp the edges of the screen and then something. No! someone came through. A seamless transition of digital to physical. Brilliant white tattoos thrummed with vigor as the man pulled himself free. His skeletal markings pulsing in-time with with your heartbeat. Old jeans ripped and torn expose more of those garishly white bone tattoos. His t-shirt barely showcasing some ancient vintage band “Don’t worry Corpo scum. I’m sure, I’ll find a use for you… One way or another.” Space Fantasy- “Oh thank god.” Came a tired but relieved voice. You stir softly as the cyrogel disperses and is absorbed back into the capsule. You take a moment to look around. This was not the world promised in the brochure. Your capsule slowly opens and the faint stench death assault your lungs. There is a nervous employee with a holographic badge proudly displaying ‘BOB’ With a smiling emoji. “Holy shit, you’re dead!” You gasp in astonishment. “Mostly dead, Also means slightly alive and with the forbidden art the difference in degrees is staunchly important!” You shiver at the corpse, because that’s exactly what he was. Half his face was torn completely off revealing smooth bone and a rictus grin. “Mom always was worried that the cyrogenics capsule wouldn’t work so she fret until I was competent enough to master death. That’s neither here nor there.Right now I need you to vacate to level three if you please!” You look around the generational ship that was deathly quiet. “Where is everyone?” The employee looked agitated. “Okay, brief version and you really need to get to level three. Something hit the ship, everyone on this level is dead except for you… and we’re not alone.” A corpse smashes into your capsule wetly. Midwest/ Antebellum Fantasy- At first you were hesitant about the hired help. Yet, there they were skeletons dutifully holding out your corset, petticoats and even your hoopskirt. The moment you got out of bed and relieved yourself. They diligently helped you into your day clothes with nary a complaint. The dead maybe could be more useful than merely rotting inthe ground. There was a knock at the door and there was your favorite yank. Bob in his dark blues saber and revolver on his hip. You could feel death pulsing off the immaculately groomed pistol. “Time to go Miss!” WW2 – From the constant bombardment, the omnipresence of the artillery and the cries of the wounded and the dying. Winter had come and with it hell itself. They’d understand they all would. You just wanted to visit a random-city in Europe. You look at yourself in the mirror and try to ignore the haggard and haunted look upon your face. Your clothes shredded yet still somehow providing relief from the bitter chill. They all look at you with vacant eyes. You refused to die here… And they were all dead anyway. Just a few more days… Right? Then you could get rations again and then you could stop… You try to rub off the dead blood staining your lips, your cheeks. Tears streamed silently down your reflection and like scavenging wolves they scrambled to hug you. Your emerald ring throbbed and part of you wants to take it off. Death would be quick as you are torn apart yet you don’t. “Just a few more days. Bob!” The dead are not warm and there is no comfort. I look at fashion throughout the ages and try to mix and match. Sometimes it doesn’t work but when it does *chef kiss*

Thanks!