play with me

[oiran]

A round of ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies...

Seen everywhere, but most recently in tynantblue0162's journal*: Invent a memory of me and post it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it's something that's never happened. Then, of course, post this to your journal and see what people would like to remember of you, only the universe failed to cooperate in making it happen so they had to make it up instead.

Or, you know, a real memory would be okay, too. It would be interesting to see which looked more improbable, the real or the imagined.

Or, as seen in rivier's journal: Invent a fanfiction I wrote and post about it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it is something that I never wrote. Give me feedback! Mention your favourite quote! Flame me! Illustrate it! You know you want to.

Fun. You play, and I'll play back. Make stuff up. Or not.

* where we are continuing to fight about what to name the kids

Comments

[justblue0162.livejournal.com]

Oh, Jed, I'm speechless over here. I just finished your absolutely *breathtaking* Lex/Pete/Martha story, Lemon Pledge, and I just have to tell you how much I loved it. I've been a closet Plexer for a while now, so I was completely overjoyed to see that you'd written them together. They were so sweet!! Pete's confession scene had me in tears. And the first time they made love, after Lex had gone through so much to return the creamed corn factory to Pete's family, it was so beautiful for them to lose their virginity to each other right there on top of the stainless steel vat of corn. *swoon*

And then!! You rip my heart out when Martha finds them. You did such a fabulous job builing up the Martha/Pete relationship, even though I knew she was just a substitute for Lex, it was so cute the way they bonded over household detergents! But poor Martha. When they have that final threesome on Clark's bed, I was so sad for her, even with the strap-on. She knew Pete really didn't love her, so she gave him to Lex. So beautiful!!

:) It really is a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it with us!

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. I really, really mean that. I love all of my fans.

And the first time they made love, after Lex had gone through so much to return the creamed corn factory to Pete's family

I'm so glad you realized they were "making love" and not just having sex. Admittedly, I did have Pete hollering, "You're making love to me!!! You're making love to me with your velvet-skinned rod!!!" while writhing on top of the vat, but some people might not have understood the subtleties of my prose style. Because it wasn't just sex for them. It was a symbolic shedding of the animosities between their respective Heartland dynasties and I think it hurt a little, you know? Hurting while it healed. That scene was my nod to the BDSM community, btw. I have received dozens of e-mails thanking me for explaining the BDSM lifestyle to fandom in a cohesive, concise, and caring way. Personally, I'm not into that shit, but I'm just that good of a writer that I can believably tell stories about things completely outside my range of interests and accomplishments. You deserve a lot of credit for being one of the people who realizes that about me :)

knew she was just a substitute for Lex, it was so cute the way they bonded over household detergents!

Well, only Pete really understands (and respects) Martha's struggles with her OCD/drunken cleaning frenzies. I think the scene where they embrace on the wet, soapy bathroom tile and he lovingly brushes her hair with her scrub brush and then comforts her with a hot beef injection is one of the most emotionally sensitive passages I've ever written.

When they have that final threesome on Clark's bed, I was so sad for her, even with the strap-on. She knew Pete really didn't love her, so she gave him to Lex.

I expected the scene where they sign paperwork transferring ownership of Pete from Martha to Lex would be controversial, but none of those "special interest groups" have come after me yet.

I'm thinking about writing a sequel where Clark smells the scent of passionate lovemaking on his sheets and realizes that Martha is a woman first, his adoptive mother second. They're not really related, you know. And Clark looks way older than 17.

[stone-princess.livejournal.com]

I expected the scene where they sign paperwork transferring ownership of Pete from Martha to Lex would be controversial, but none of those "special interest groups" have come after me yet.

Funniest non-PC sidelong comment ever.

I'm thinking about writing a sequel where Clark smells the scent of passionate lovemaking on his sheets and realizes that Martha is a woman first, his adoptive mother second. They're not really related, you know. And Clark looks way older than 17.

And now the funny has been replaced with the disturbing in a totally non-hot way.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

Funniest non-PC sidelong comment ever.

What are you insinuating? You're one of those dirty special-interest-group lovers, aren't you?

And now the funny has been replaced with the disturbing in a totally non-hot way.

Hmm...well, try picturing it with Pete in there, too. Is that any better?

[stone-princess.livejournal.com]

Hmm...well, try picturing it with Pete in there, too. Is that any better?

Oh look! My lunch just met the floor!

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

Does the idea of three people having sex together upset you that much?

Your conventional notions of what constitutes a relationship are probably getting in the way of your happiness.

[stone-princess.livejournal.com]

I love you. I haven't laughed so hard days. Weeks maybe.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

I love you, too.

And since you didn't give me a memory, I'll give you one:

When I was so drunk I couldn't walk, you convinced me to take off my high heels and lean on your arm, and you practically carried me away from the bar. The sidewalk was cold, and I stepped on broken glass and sat down on the curb to look at the sole of my foot. You were talking to me for a long time before I realized that the noises were words. You said, "...too much vodka and not enough bacon. You need balance in your life." I pulled myself upright on a parking meter and made these pawing motions in the air that you understood meant I wanted you to help me keep moving. We walked along the sidewalk and I left these bloody half-footprints behind for a couple of blocks. I was going to remember to go back and take a picture of them in the morning, but then I forgot.

that could have happened, don't you think?

[stone-princess.livejournal.com]

I was thinking of memories, but I couldn't think of real one's that weren't inappropriate and I got distracted from fun fictional ones by trying defend my own ranting in my own LJ.

Yes, that totally could have happened. Wait! Didn't that happen? *looks confused*

[porntestpilot.livejournal.com]

Remember when we went to that psychic who said you were a dolphin in your past life and to celebrate we got all the dolphins drunk at Sea World on raspberry schnapps and became the only people to be banned from every Sea World in the country after they threw up on that trainer bitch named Heather? Good Times. You really were communicating with them, I don't care what the police claimed.

Oh and the fic you wrote about Lex falling in love with his Clark plushie? That was inspired. I didn't know you could have threesomes with a stuffed animal and waffles. I didn't understand why Jonathon Kent had to be the one to film it though. I think Lionel would have had more fun. Sometimes you're a mystery.

*Emma. Always a good name.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

All I can say about the dolphins is: Dude, animals love me, whether real or stuffed. I'm like the woman in that story that Jenny on The L Word was writing, who spoke the language of the manatees, except they were filming beluga whales for the scene where Jenny's, like, communing with them in the aquarium. Except she's totally not. Those beluga whales didn't like her--I could tell. They wanted to kick her fucking ass.

As for getting kicked out, I don't want to go back there anyway. Sea World can't reject me if I reject it first.

Well, now that I've come out of the closet as a plush lover with SPH* and SPA* lovers (because I'm biplushual), I thought it was only right to "out" Lex, too. Because, as a foremost writer of Lex (one might say I am Lex, I think), I do believe I know his kinks more intimately than some of those other "writers" might. And who doesn't love waffles? You put a bunch of butter and syrup on them, and they just glide.

The choice of Jonathan was controversial, perhaps. I capitulated to the powerful Jonathan lobby in fandom because they bought me ice cream and the Lionel people didn't do shit.

* Strategically Placed HOLE and Strategically Placed APPENDAGE

[porntestpilot.livejournal.com]

They wanted to kick her fucking ass.

Yeah, them, me, everyone on earth.

Well, Lionel's minions normally don't do much, they figure they can slide by on threats.

I'd joke about Lex, but right now, I'm too OMC!poor poor Lex to do so.

[suzycat.livejournal.com]

I'm in a quandary. See, I really h8 that fic you wrote where Lex has thick red body hair all over his legs and balls and back and stomach. It's SO OBVIOUS that Lex is hairless. In fact, I know this to be true because there is a deleted scene from S1 where Victoria talks about Lex's hairless balls. Just because you LOVE the idea of Lex all hairy doesn't mean you should force the rest of us to read such filth. You SUCK!

OTOH, I *heart* *heart* *heart* that story where Lex and Clark get married and have that surrogate baby with Lana and Chloe (who are also married). You know, the one where you went into such loving detail about their beautiful commitment ceremony where Jonathan gave Lex away because Lionel was dead, and they wore matching pearl grey suits, and were wed before all their friends under a bower of orchids *sigh*. And Lex took Clark's name because he's girlish like that. He so IS! And their baby OMG it is so cute and realistic with its precocious yet adorably lisping speech patterns! I especially love the episode you wrote where Lana and Chloe came to dinner with Lex and Clark and they had roast duckling and talked about how well the Talon was going. *sigh*

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

Everyone knows Lex is covered with ruddy fur redolent of manly musk underneath his clothing. Everyone. You foreigners should just watch your own shows and leave us alone. Go USA!!!!!!

However, I am always happy to hear praise, so thank you for your kind words about Love at the End of the Rainbow. Did you like the part where Lex coyly pulled up his pantleg at the reception so that Clark could remove his lavender garter? I thought I really got to the essence of Lex with that scene. Well, the essence of Lex would, naturally, be Drakkar Noir, but the other kind of essence, I mean.

Their iddle widdle girlikins, Miss Madysen Kent, is my favorite OC I've ever written. She's exactly the kind of child I think everyone wants to see in fic, dominating every scene and spouting precocious bits of wisdom while prancing about in rainbow-colored organic cotton outfits from Baby Gap.

Don't tell anyone, but there's going to be a sequel where it turns out that duckling was one of the ducks from Tony Soprano's S1 swimming pool, and so the Talon gets blown up by the mob. I thought I could somehow make that a gay-bashing storyline. What do you think?

[suzycat.livejournal.com]

Oh, the garter was priceless. Especially Martha's bashful expression as she watched and realised her boy was about to stick his velvet rod into Lex's nethers soon. BUt I liked best the bit afterwards where they lost their virginity to each other on a bed scattered with lavender and red rose petals, while talking about how great it is that gay marriage is legal. I like how you skilfully wove in the political dimension.

I don't know if I can deal with the drama of the Sopranos crossover! Nobody would get hurt, would they? That would be terrible!

I would much prefer a world where there is no gay bashing ever.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

BUt I liked best the bit afterwards where they lost their virginity to each other on a bed scattered with lavender and red rose petals, while talking about how great it is that gay marriage is legal.

It makes me so crazy when people write Lex as this sexually experienced monster. I know he got married twice, but the first one was annulled (so therefore there was no consummation, right?) and the second one ended midair and fully clothed so, obviously, there was no sex that time, either. Clark is Lex's True Love, and I know they were both glad they waited until it was legal and MORAL to ass-fuck each other senseless. As a devout Christian, I feel it's vital for me to set an example for young people with my fanfiction. It is my dream that my Bible story with Lex as Mary Magdalene/John (Jesus' favorite) and Clark as Christ might one day be used as a Sunday school text. I think the young people would really relate to the pop culture references.

I would much prefer a world where there is no gay bashing ever.


Well, I prefer a world without gay bashing, either. Which is why after the Mob blows up the Talon, Clark and Lex meet with Tony Soprano and Johnny Sack and convince them to settle their differences and help stop gay bashing--by force, if necessary. And Martha makes pies for everyone and trades recipes with Carmela. And Lex gets fake nails and bling just like Adrianna.

[emungere.livejournal.com]

Your Lana/Helen of Troy reincarnation story was one of the first SV fics I read and is still one of my favorites. I thought the flashbacks to Andromache's son being thrown from the walls while Helen and Lana (then handmaiden Ashtara) watched and mocked Hector's inevitable downfall were particularly effective. There was something almost sublime about the totality of their shallowness and self absorption.

And, of course, the best part was where Ashtara was impaled on Agamemnon's loom and died in Helen's arms, just as Kassandra had prophesied. It made their reunion in modern times all the more poignant.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

Well, you know...there's Helen, and then there's Lana:Inanna:Astarte:Ashtara. It's, like, obvious. It's pretty clear to me when a couple are mint2B, and Helen/Lana is definitely my OTP. I think my best stories are the femslash epics, but it's only the most astute readers who really get that. The hoi polloi are just baying for cock, you know?

And since I am the reincarnation of Melusina, I have an affinity for telling the stories of other reincarnates. It's just one of those natural gifts that I'm blessed with.

[emungere.livejournal.com]

Too many people focus on Clark and Lex when the writers have shown us over and over that Lana is the real focus of the show. It's my theory that they're deceiving us all and that Lana will return from France with a sex change and that it's her who will grow up to be Superman. Clearly Clark is psychic (see the flashback-to-the-fifties episode for evidence) and is having Lana's memories. That's why she's so upset by his refusal to share his secret with her. They're her memories, after all!!1!

The hoi polloi are just baying for cock, you know?

bwahhhhh

Hmph. Well, I'm sure I don't know why. There's nothing hot about Clark and Lex naked together, Clark's hands sliding over Lex's smooth skin as their cocks rub together... Ahem. Nothing hot AT ALL.

Pardon my language. False memory

[mz-bstone.livejournal.com]

You flicked the crop down on the desktop, and it sounded sweet and sharp against the wood. You peered at us over your cat's eye glasses with eyes at absolute zero and your cherry-ripe mouth curled in a moue of distaste.

"This is what they send me, to win a war?" You moved out from behind the desk, five-inch stillettos a brisk tattoo on the stone floor. You looked at the blonde boy at the end to my left, trailed the crop over the edges of his ridged stomach. "My squad gets messy. Dirty. Nasty. My squad are the lovers and mistresses and cocksuckers that get into the most forbidden places. My squad are smart and skilled and fast and they get out alive. You're just pretty children with an aptitude for fucking around." You moved down the line of us, barking rapid fire questions on everything from astronomy to zen, from carnal knowledge to untraceable poisons.

When you got to me I got the answer right. You petted my cheek with the crop and said, "Good girl."

It was then I knew I'd live for you.

B

a bit of melodrama of the she-wolf sort...

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

The rest of the squad were fools, dilettantes, a passel of whores who thought a clever tongue would serve them in any tight situation. But you knew better. Your eyes spoke of hard-won knowledge, though your lips stayed pursed in obedient silence. In those first moments, I was already proud of you.

Once, I had been like you. However, I refused to become sentimental or play favorites. I didn't have to. Time and time again, when I had to decide between saving you or another, I always chose the other...and you'd save yourself.

In Buenos Aires, I saw you from across the ballroom, your smooth, white shoulders dappled with candlelight, and I was overcome by unbearable sadness. You were surrounded by suitors who had no idea you could kill them with your bare, beautiful hands; I hated that I had sent one such as you to live amongst unappreciative dullards.

That night, you put those beautiful hands to use. You did me proud.

After years of clandestine treachery, at the height of our respective powers, we finally "met." You were brought to my office in restraints, your clothing in tatters. My "comrades" had discovered that you were using false papers, that you were not what you seemed. I came around the desk and sat on the edge, my arms crossed beneath my breasts, and I sneered at you. You smiled at me, and your teeth were bloody. I crossed my legs with a rasp of stockings and you looked down at my shoes. You always coveted my shoes, didn't you?

I've always wondered where you managed to hide that blade. I knew I could depend upon you for an honest fight, and you made me proud again. It didn't upset me to lose the eye; the patch is rather dashing, I think. As for the scar (I consider it a form of schmiss), it gives tedious people something to remark upon. When you were subdued, I stood over you, blood pouring from my cheek and my boot on your throat, and I felt you swallow hard. Feigning disinterest, I let my guards take you away, and I am confident you did not spare me so much as a backward glance.

Ever since that day, I've been searching for you. I'm certain you're still alive, that you're living. For me. You'd do that; you're a good girl.

Re: a bit of melodrama of the she-wolf sort...

[mz-bstone.livejournal.com]

I spent far too long one winter in the Republic of Georgia. I drank just gas-light liquor and knew only hands that left bruises. American agents were always the dirtiest, the nastiest. A host of greedy little men who would be kings in the backwaters of the thinly civilised world. I lost two teeth there, and my voice dropped half an octave deeper, because of a man who tried to choke me to death. I put his eyes out with my thumbs and took his lying tongue. When I speak now it is slightly rough, as though I smoke good cigarettes and drink straight whiskey.

Which I do, on occasion.

I remember seeing you there, from a distance.

I wanted to give you a gift, something fine and lovely. Maybe the cracked ivory of my teeth to wear like jewels. So you understood. So you knew.

But you already did.

Because you let me break teeth and bleed in backrooms and the assingments kept coming and you believed.

I went to Brussels after that and bought a scant handful of silk and lace that skimmed and shimmered and shifted and promised everything. And then, on impulse, I bought a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps. Black silk crepe. I took a room in the Chateau Du Lac and didn't take them off when I lay down on the soft, pale sheets.

A week later in Budapest I took a lover who was silent and sharp as glass. He wore my lingerie beneath his vested suits to work, where he sold weapons of mass destruction to angry men. He sat cool and collected around a table where he bartered souls and damnation and all the while my damp silk and lace was bunched between his thighs.

When they found his body, years later, and opened his lungs they found fragments of fine Belgian lace within the rotting tissue.

I lost the shoes a month later, after a security sweep in unfriendly territory sent me into hiding.

I like to pretend they were turned over to you, and that later, alone, you wore them against fine pale sheets.

[kallipoe.livejournal.com]

you remember when we went to that pansy division show, and afterwards we had mojitos at the dive bar that made them with fresh mint? and those girls with the acrylic nails were giving you shit for playing "coal miner's daughter" on the jukebox, and you told them their rhinestone navel rings were fucking tacky and if they were going to order shit like pina coladas they should at least tip the bartender, if not the rest of us for putting up with their shrieking jimmy buffett choruses and falling off their stools? and the one with the dolphin-shaped mood ring slapped you and cut your lip? and you spit blood on her shoe and the bartender made them leave because she wouldn't stop screaming about imitation suede and the gay boys with the mod haircuts paid our tab? we should do that again.

[velvetglove.livejournal.com]

I think it might be a truism: The only good mixed drinks are Latin drinks or sailor drinks. Anything else is for people who really don't like the taste of liquor.

Any bitch who won't at least listen to Loretta Lynn with a modicum of respect doesn't deserve to call herself a woman.

I let those gay boys keep the napkin that was bloody from my lip as a souvenir and thank-you. But I kept the ring that you made me from the silver paper from your pack of cigarettes.

I probably shouldn't admit it, but When I had to stop to pee in the alley and you held my hand so that I wouldn't fall over, I tried to pull my clothes back in order with just the one hand because I didn't want to let go.

It's no big deal, really. It's just that I've had a crush on you ever since you taught me how to make a jailhouse tattoo with a sewing needle, a wrap of thread, and a bottle of ink. Except it doesn't really work, and it hurts like hell. It leaves a scab, and inky fingerprints, but ultimately there's no lasting mark.

Yeah. We should totally do that again.

guess which one's which.

[selfinduced.livejournal.com]

and that one time, in band slash camp, when you drew those charcoal portraits of Lex and Clark and i decided to tape more paper on to it and add the rest of their very anatomically correct bodies, and then that one fic happened? that's totally, like, the coolest thing i remember about you. [/valley girl]

i think the first time i heard of you was through someone's pimping out the cover to Interstitial, which was one of the fics that got me into the SV fandom. she called you 'jed,' but the username was 'velvetglove' and i remember thinking of all the sensual connotations of that name. it still makes me think of porn, in a way. mmm. [/confession]

i *so* loved that fic you did about Clark with his fifth superpower being the ability to rip shirts? and Lex with purple wings singing Prince songs? and *Chloe*, omg, her characterization was *so* on, not to mention Lex. it's even cooler now that pete+chloeis*canon*omg!!1<33!!eleven! [/bounce]

um. yeah.