Best:
1) War & Peace - by Leo Tolstoy. Obvious Reasons (Well written, Classic adventure, yadda yadda)
2) The Dresden Files books. - I'm a sucker for fantasy and mystery.
3) Anything by Roald Dahl. He was my favorite as a kid. The nasty subtleties of his writing make me crack up every time

Worst:
1) The Twilight Saga - It really is like a poorly written work of fanfiction that somehow got published.: No style, little substance, and the characters were fucking psycho.
2) Ender's Game- Actually really well written, but the plot of the story is so fucked up. I mean, child soldiers unknowingly committing genocide? Christ on a Cracker, it made me Cringe. (Haha. I like a lot of alliteration)
3) The Vampire Lestat. - The plot moved really. Fucking. Slow. Also, Lestat was kind of a whiny bitch. It only took me ten days to read War & Peace while also going to high school and a part time job. The Vampire Lestat? Four fucking months, two of which were during the summer.

Halloween because it's pure fun for fun's sake, no fakeness or dress code or financial obligation beyond the purchase of candy.

If by "help" you mean "drive them to the fertility clinic."

Friends don't ask friends for help making babies. The potential repercussions are too extreme.

Title: Superstar
Pairing(s): Chuck/Nate
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Early Season 1, Handmaiden's Tale
Warnings: Slash, fisting, a distinct lack of plot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and other people. I also do not own the Kimberly Cole song for which it is titled. No infringement is intended.

Chuck closed his eyes and leaned into the warm spray of the shower – his second of the day – willing his muscles to unclench and his aches to slip away. Four hours of rough sex was pushing the limits of even the legendary Bass stamina. Suddenly, he felt a blast of cool air parting the steam, licking against his skin, and heard the shower door slam shut.

“Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Chuck sighed and opened his eyes, facing his very pissed off best friend with the most innocent expression he was capable of mustering. (Not very innocent, then. Everything having to do with Chuck Bass is coated in a layer of dirty.)

“Anyone could have walked in and seen me there, Chuck!” Nate's were flushing at the very thought. Oozing with fake sympathy, Chuck ran a hand through Nate's sweat-soaked locks before sliding his hand back to cup the nape of Nate's neck, drawing him forward into the spray of the shower head.

“Give me a little credit, Nathaniel,” Chuck murmured reassuringly. “I'm not going to let just anyone into the suite, and I'm sure as hell not going to let them see what you and I get up to behind closed doors.” He leaned in to whisper in Nate's ear “I'm far too possessive,” hand sliding down Nate's chest in a most distracting manner. His diversion succeeded in softening Nate's expression as Chuck drew back, Nate's indigence morphing into self-indulgence.


“My arms hurt,” Nate pouted, his big blue eyes more pitiful than a lonely puppy's. Chuckling, the sinister brunette slid his arms around the blonde, massaging his shoulders in a rare gesture of sympathy.


“Well,” Chuck's voice dripped with amusement as he spoke silkily in Nate's ear. “Maybe now you've learned to behave while we play.” Nate sighed and dropped his head to rest on Chuck's shoulder, pressing his hips into Chuck's with a soft whimper.


Seriously? No, that's impossible – Again??? Chuck silently cursed at the sensation of Nate's now half-hard cock rubbing against his inner thigh. How the hell could Nate still want sex after all they'd done already? It was early evening. They'd been fucking since midday. Truthfully, Chuck was unsure whether he should be proud of Nate's new sexual appetite or afraid of it. Chuck had to wonder if Nate's emo hair had finally infiltrated his mind, but his Upper East Side upbringing had him substituting sex for cutting (razor scars don't accessorize well); or if there'd been Viagra in the petit fours at Eleanor's. Chuck's Id, however, prevented from acting upon these concerns, concluding that if Nate's body was looking to put itself through all of this punishment, then Chuck had might as well oblige.

Which is why Nate was now doubled over against the shower door, which rattled with the force his body shuddering around the four fingers currently rooting around in his ass. Chuck curled his fingers to swipe Nate's prostate again and again, driving Nate to the brink, until, bastard that Chuck was, he spun the faucet, switching the water rapidly from hot to ice cold, the pure shock ripping Nate's orgasm out of him, a tiny stream of cum dribbling weakly from his rapidly flagging erection as his now-empty sac seized with the throes of climax.

Exhausted, Nate slumped forward in a heap, held up only by Chuck's arm about his waist, looking thoroughly debauched. (Which, by now, he really should've been. Not even Superman himself could get fucked up the ass that many times and not let it show.) With a great heave, Chuck pulled his loopy friend upward, holding him back-to-chest as they stood under the still-cold spray, wiping him down with his left hand as he kept Nate firmly secured to him with his right.

Nate whimpered in chilly protest as he batted dazedly at the faucet handle, trying (and failing) to warm the punishing streams as Chuck shoved his head under, scrubbing efficiently at Nate's hair with his now-soapy left hand. However, the blonde's suffering ended as soon as the water ran clear, and the sleepy boy was dragged from the little glass room to find himself bombarded by fluffy white monster's that yanked at his hair and ran themselves suggestively over his skin with remarkable efficiency before shoving him (naked) into Chuck's room.

Sliding between the sheets, Nate was too tired to be amused when Chuck, cloaked once again in a towel, tucked him in with a kiss to his forehead. Nate's final sight before he fell asleep was of Chuck, standing before his wardrobe in the exact pose he'd held when Nate had arrived that day.

Author's Note: Comment, Please.

Calorie free ice cream

Abso-fucking-lutely.

I'd switch from steamed tofu to fried, and actually try the non-yogurt version of Cherry Garcia.

I'm a believer. In fact, I own a copy of the Encyclopedia of UFO sightings. It's a piece of shit, really, but it's the street cred that I'm going for here

Spanx. Under dress pants.

Nuclear weapons. Duh.

Lois from Malcolm in the Middle

Slither
Kingdom of Heaven (Director's Cut)
Pineapple Express
Hot Fuzz
Ella Enchanted

My iPod speakers: Small, collapsable, 75% off the sticker price

Chuck & Nate - Gossip Girl.

Dylan Hunt & Telemachus Rhade - Andromeda

Logan Cale & "Alec" - Dark Angel

Title: The Joker
Pairing(s): Chuck/Nate, mentions Nate/Blair
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Early Season 1, Hand Maiden’s Tale
Warnings: Slashy smut, food kink
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and other people. The song for which this is titled belongs to The Steve Miller Band, or whoever.


The Joker

It's a fact: Basses Don't Suck Cock.

And they certainly don't deep throat teenaged cocks sheathed in grape-flavored latex.

Or, that's what Chuck was letting everyone think. Because people wouldn't be able to handle the truth.

They'd stare blankly in response to tales of Chuck pinning another boy's legs to the floor with his own torso.

They'd scoff at the idea of Chuck's throat wrapped tightly around his writhing best friend.

They'd dismiss the idea of him enjoying it all together.

Because no child of Bart Bass could ever do that sort of thing.

And Yet....

Nate Archibald had never gotten such a good look at his own eyebrows before. There wasn't much to see, to be quite honest, but it's not like he had much of a choice in the matter.

His eyes refused to stop rolling up. His hips wanted to join them, but unfortunately, Chuck's weight was relentlessly unyielding. Chuck had been sucking Nate off for at least an hour now, and Nate still hadn't come yet; every time he got [shiveringly] close, Chuck pulled back, let Nate's cock droop to half-mast before continuing. It was really aggravating.

Nate arched his back as Chuck's mouth once again sucked with amazingly strong force. Nate squirmed, his wrists straining against his bonds, but to no avail.

With a moan of defeat, Nate let his shoulders hit the floor. Chuck, noticing, went down hard, and swallowed.

Again... and again... and again.

The coil of lust that had been tightening ever so drastically within Nate sprung loose, and he came with a girly scream. (Which Chuck was nice enough to forget hearing.)

When Nate regained control of his senses, he opened his eyes to find that Chuck (and his glorious mouth) were gone.

But Nate was still tied up on the floor.

XD.

Review, Please.
Interlude: Superstar

WARNING: I MAKE NO APOLOGIES FOR MY OPINIONS.

This statement still holds true today.

Look at The Evolution/Creationism/"Intelligent Design" Debate.

Evolution is a theory. A theory that is well supported to the point where the majority of the world concludes that it is fact, but the first rule of science is that Nothing is Proven, Only Supported, so it's perfectly plausible that some may find flaw in evolution.

Creationism is derived from an ancient book that has been written and rewritten so many times that no one knows what the original truly said. It holds little credibility among the reasonably minded.

"Intelligent Design" is sheer idiocy, and was born of idiocy. Some "scientists," funded primarily by far-right extremists, came up with this pseudo-science in an attempt to combat the validity of evolution. So obsessed with asserting their religious dominance, these quacks broke the most important rule of scientific ethics: Don't make shit up.

Thus, religion is the opium of the masses. And many are still hooked.

Title: Outrageous
Pairing(s): Chuck/Nate, mentions Nate/Blair
Rating: 16+
Spoilers: Early Season 1, Hand Maiden’s Tale
Warnings: Slashy smut, food kink
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, or any of its characters. They belong to the CW and other people. The song for which this is titled belongs to Britney Spears, or whoever controls Britney now that she’s lost it. No infringement is intended.

“Wow,” Nate intoned as he stared at the apparatus on Chuck’s bar. “This is bordering on creepy.”

“Well, I’m hungry and you’re horny,” Chuck explained as he poured himself a Gin & Tonic. “So we’re meeting halfway.” Nate laughed, and shook his head when Chuck offered him a G&T as well.

“A chocolate fondue is your idea of meeting halfway?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not really,” Nate admitted, popping a marshmallow into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment.
“Kind of curious as to how you plan on pulling this off.”

“Meaning?”

“Well,” Nate grabbed a melon ball. “The bed’s over there.”

“Uh huh.”

“And the food’s over here,” Nate finished.

“Your powers of observation astound me, Nathaniel,” Chuck said dryly. “Amazing, really.”

“I know.”

Chuck laughed, speared a strawberry on a fondue fork and dunked it in the molten confection, twirling it for an even coating. He extended the fork to Nate, who made a show of biting into it slowly, eyes constantly on Chuck. When Chuck pulled the fork back, he saw that a dollop of chocolate had dripped onto Nate’s chin. Unable to resist, Chuck leaned in and licked it off, savoring his bit of Chocolate-Covered Nate, nipping Nate’s chin gently when he’d finished. Pulling back, Chuck saw the reawakening of the manic lust in Nate’s eyes.

Apparently, it was time for their games to begin again.

OoO /Let’s cut straight to the kink./ OoO

Nate strained against his bonds as Chuck’s tongue scraped over his inner thighs. Nate was not happy. The floor was not comfortable, and being zip-tied, shirtless, to one of Chuck’s barstools was not helping any. Chuck Bass had no sense of humor. Honestly, Nate ‘accidentally’ getting chocolate in Chuck’s hair did not necessitate bondage. But try telling Chuck that.

“Nathaniel, stop squirming,” Chuck ordered. “That’s what led to your current predicament, remember?”

Nate pouted. Chuck rolled his eyes and ambled up Nate’s body until they were face to face, their breath mingling. Nate put on his most maudlin puppy-dog face, but Chuck was having none of it.

“Give it up Nathaniel,” Chuck leaned in to murmur into Nate’s ear. “You know you like it.”

To emphasize this point, Chuck traced along the underside of Nate’s erection with his index finger, making Nate shudder and let out a strangled whimper/moan. Chuck smirked and gave Nate’s earlobe a gentle nip before pulling back.

Nate flinched at the sensation of Chuck’s chocolate-covered finger tracing a gooey trail up his chest, Chuck’s tongue quick to follow it. Chuck’s mouth lingered on Nate’s Adam’s Apple. (Chuck secretly delighted in making Nate giggle like a school girl.) Nate squirmed, protesting breathlessly, until Chuck’s mouth was sealed to his, and his senses were overwhelmed by the taste of Chocolate, his own sweat, and something that is distinctly Chuck.

(AN: Chuck-olate)

Once they parted, Nate found Chuck’s hand, dripping chocolate, offering up a grape, hovering mere inches from his mouth. Nate accepted said grape, and took Chuck’s hand while he was at it, sucking each finger clean, eyes on Chuck the entire time.

Chuck’s relished the warm, wet feel of Nate’s mouth, and wouldn’t have minded letting Nate go on like that for a while longer. But this was the first time Nate had let Chuck put him in such a vulnerable position, and Chuck was determined to take full advantage while he could. So he removed his fingers from Nate’s mouth with an obscene *pop.* Nate pouted prettily, missing his tasty treat, but Chuck ignored him, opting instead to coat all of the sensitive spots on Nate’s chest with melted chocolate.

Nate wriggled, his body unsure if the confection was too hot. Chuck blew on the puddles of brown, willing them to cool and harden. His hands traced Nate’s hips as he did so, fingers feather-light. Nate, frustrated by this torturous lack of coital progress, bucked his hips, seeking friction, Chuck’s attention, anything. Chuck laughed, his hands going from feathery to vice-like on Nate’s hips, pinning them down.

“Behave, Nathaniel.”

“Make Me.”

Chuck’s eyes glinted mischievously; it was making Nate equally nervous and horny. Chuck slowly undid the knot keeping his robe closed, eyes on Nate’s, always. He slid it off his shoulders, and threw it in the same general direction he’d tossed Nate’s nearly half an hour earlier. But instead of leaning in closer, Chuck rose, picking his cell phone up off the bar.

“What are you doing?” Nate’s panicked at the sight of the phone.

“Checking my messages and ignoring you,” Chuck lied. In reality, he was taking a picture; forever recording the image of Nate, boxer-clad and eyes horny, bound by his wrists, milky skin decorated with hickeys from Chuck’s mouth, lips bruised from Chuck’s lips. Nate was a work of art, and it was only by the cruelty of the universe that Howard and Anne Archibald were his parents.

Pretending to respond to a text message, Chuck sent the photo to his own e-mail before deleting it. (One could never be too careful with Gossip Girl around.) He put his phone back on the bar and grabbed the condoms. He then kneeled, straddling Nate’s squirming hips as he inspected his handiwork up-close.

The chocolate, as intended, had hardened on Nate’s skin. Chuck now set about the task of scraping it off with his teeth, making Nate wriggle and moan beneath him. When Nate managed to crash their hips together, Chuck’s teeth sank into Nate’s left nipple in warning, and a chocolate-drenched marshmallow was shoved between his lips to stifle the begging-moaning-sobbing. Chuck was not going to rush this - not until it suited him.

When all traces of chocolate had been expunged from Nate’s skin, Chuck and Nate shared an erotic marshmallow: tongues dueling, teeth clashing, breath mingling. In a (most likely nonexistent) word: mouthfucking. Nate writhed beneath Chuck, arching his back and moaning like a whore from Chelsea. Chuck, for his part, managed to keep his noises to a minimum; however Nate’s reactions raged a fire within Chuck that burned through Chuck’s mile thick patience at record speed.

Needless to say, those flavored condoms were quickly put to good use.

Author’s Note: Remember, friends. You share love, I share love. Review to read about yet another Chuck/Nate BJ.

Are you kidding?

Why would I EVER have let my parents know what I was reading?

They might have tried to {[(*Shivers*)]} talk to me about it.

Blech.

print news in intensely important to me, and i hope it never dies.

Instituted a paper-recycling program @ school.

First Question I ask: Are they Animal Friendly?

Second Question I Ask: What are their charitable affiliates?

Third Question I Ask: Will buying this product contribute (in any way) to the violation of Human Rights in any part of the World?

Fourth Question I ask: What is the effect of this brand on the environment?

Fifth Question I ask: Is it American Made?