BronxWench

pittwitch: Thank you! I'm really glad these two can transcend the game setting. It means I'm doing something right! Fairy Slayer: As my favorite paladin keeps telling me, good will always triumph, right? And I'm glad the character growth is working as well. I'm sometimes on shaky ground there, so this is good to hear! Long term is a relative thing for these two. Surviving the Joining means they have about 30 years to live, before they succumb to the taint themselves. Their mastery of it is a temporary thing. But Wraith would be quite happy to spend those 30 years with Alistair, if fate (and an evil author-type wench) permits.

Pen Name: BronxWench Story link: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600086263 Type of fic: Flashfic Rating: Adult Fandom: Dragon Age:Origins Pairing: N/A Warnings: AFFO, ChallengeFic, COMPLETE, M/M, NoSex, OC

For me, and in general, flirting is just really a game you play, using language that's able to be interpreted in a couple of ways. You say something and see how the other person responds. If they pick up on the more suggestive interpretation and respond in the same way, then you have your flirt on. A charmer might use flirting as a way to break the ice, but a charmer relies more, in my opinion, on having the kind of personality that is very magnetic. This is someone who walks into a room and gets noticed, whether because they are physically attractive, or just have that sort of pull that makes people want to know them, or say they are friends with them. They don't need to be rich, or powerful. They just have that something that pulls people to them, and they are often willing to use that to get what they want, as well. Charmers are easily confused when someone is immune to their appeal. They often expect to get things without having to work too hard for them because they are who they are... Playboys are harder without knowing the type of person you are looking to create. Will it be a wealthy person who lives the life of the idle rich, or is it someone whose mission in life is to sleep with a wide variety of people without making a genuine emotional commitment, or is it a combination of both?

This one is courtesy of my daft bugger's gaming clan forum...not mine, but I wish it was! Neighborhood Hazard or Why the Cops Won't Patrol Brice Street Any More Author: Daniel Meyer I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect. I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves! Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the scream was squirrel for, "Bonzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular ... as he shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I did not know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage! Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel. And losing... I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there. It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH! Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung around and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my back and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least. The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very, very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in .. well .. I just plain screamed. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn-t-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle... my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser. About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however. The RPMs on the Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse. Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of ...so to speak. Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car. I heard screams. They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have. Really... Except for two things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car. So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other? Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a patrol car. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his. I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves. And a whole lot of Band-Aids.

And you wonder why you were pink?

I always thought that was one of the better fetishes, nim'ohtar... right up there with condiments.

I would be delighted to defer to the Master of Mystery. I'm always willing to step aside in the face of greatness!

The Naughty Mystery: Come Now its very easy just like the 7! 1.What was the name of the team? 2.Why did only one of the seven get knocked-up? 3.What can the delicious and slick slippery mayonaise be use for in place of------? 1. Minnesota Vikings 2. Only one was female 3. Oh, my dear, haven't we all reached for the mayo when the lube runs out?

Ticker Symbol: DIC Name: Deceptively Innocuous Corp. (Manufactures personal "massage" devices) Price per share: $1 Group: Forum Level of Risk: 10% Limit per user: none Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: WHP Name: Whimsical Harnesses and Prods Price per share: $2 Group: Forum Level of Risk: 20% Limit per user: none Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: SKS Name: Shadowknight shares Price per share: $50 Group: Member Level of Risk: 50% Limit per user: 1 Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: NUT Name: Specialty Underwear Corp. Price per share: $3 Group: Forum Level of Risk: 20% Limit per user: None Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: TIT Name: Creative Bakery, Inc. Price per share: $2 Group: Random Level of Risk: 30% Limit per user: None Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: KLT Name: Kilts For All, Inc. Price per share: $5 Group: Member Level of Risk: 40% Limit per user: 5 Trade: Y Ticker Symbol: CUF Name: Cuffs Are Us Corp. Price per share: $10 Group: Forum Level of Risk: 40% Limit per user: 10 Trade: Y

WHP Whimsical Harnesses and Prods

DIC Deceptively Innocuous Corp. (Manufactures personal "massage" devices)

JayDee: So I'm writing tasteful dramatic erotica, huh? I have to work on that! But, seriously, thank you! I don't think Wraith would mind your scenario one bit. Unfortunately for him, he's set his eye on a sweet young virgin, so... Plan A: deflower Alistair... Depending on how the prompts go (and yes, I am tempting fate here!), I may do some of these as flashbacks to get a little hot sweaty mansex in there. Oh, and I love your reviews!

Pittwitch: Thank you so much! I really appreciate that you can enjoy my little snippets even without knowing the background. It means a lot to me! Apollo: Thank you! The pace is a little slow, but they'll get there! I'm not sticking entirely to a sequential path when it comes to the game timeline, or I'd have no fun at all! FairySlayer: Thank you, m'dear! It is a complicated relationship between Wraith and Alistair, and it's not easy for Wraith to trust, but the demon may have screwed up in reverse here, since Wraith is reaching out instead of turning inward. Stay tuned...

You may be on to something here...

Pen Name: BronxWench Story link: Story: Sand Review Replies: Review Replies - AFF Prompt/Sand - AFF Community Forums Type of fic: FlashFic Rating: Adult Fandom: Dragon Age:Origins Pairing: N/A Warnings: AFFO, Challenge Fic, Complete, NoSex, One-Shot, OC

FairySlayer: Thank you! I figured since Alistair is slow on th euptake, Wraith had to have some action. And gods, a theater playing nothing but Twilight movies? That's hell anywhere!!! Techno-Ninja: Thank you! I'm glad it worked.

Muchrooms: n. slang A term referring to the excessively loose morals of an individual. i.e., She's such a muchrooms! Did you see her with the whole football team last night?

One of my very own, and I very nearly missed it... "He deftly brained her hair..."