I’m Just Going To Put This Here… (that’s what he said)

When Alas first launched this blog back in August, I thought it was a really fun idea. She totally cracked me up with the little steamy snippets and the Twilight parody. But with the preparation for pandas and losing a week of her life in September when some weirdo invaded and crashed at her house (it was me), things slowed down around here. I believe when she began this blog she was hoping other bloggers would like to contribute and make this a little multi-author fun spot. Unfortunately for Alas, I’m the only one who took the bait.

If any of you are familiar with me and the pretend writing I used to do here or the sarcastic comedy I punish Alas with on her own blog, you’ll recognize that my style of writing is not the same as Alas’ style. Whereas she really could write for Harlequin, I just can’t stop myself from inserting humor everywhere. No pun intended with “inserting”. Or maybe there was.

Either way, here’s a tiny bit of WoW themed steam from me. You may see more from me here, you have been warned.

The streets of Old Town were eerily quiet at this early hour; the fog not yet lifted from the dew-dampened cobblestones. Erika shifted the basket she was holding and quickened her step as the tavern came into view. She couldn’t even be sure Stephen was at work yet, but she grew anxious nonetheless. As she rounded the corner of the alley and approached the back door of the kitchen, she was greeted by the aroma of fresh baked breads and fried meats that always made her think of him. She paused before opening the door and adjusted her hair and dress.

“Good morning, Mr. Rybeck,” she called as she made her way into the kitchen and set her basket on the counter. She had tried to say it casually, but her voice betrayed how nervous she was.

“Oh, are we pretending to be formal this morning, Miss Tate?” he turned and gave her a sly smile. Striding quickly across the room he gracefully took the basket from her hands and set it down on the nearby table before roughly pulling her to him. “I was hoping we could actually be a bit informal this morning. We were certainly informal last night.”

Erika blushed and lowered her chin but did not attempt to pull away from him. She may be slightly embarrassed at how boldly Stephen was talking, but she was also energized by the nearness of him.

He held her tight for a few seconds longer before gently bending down to kiss her forehead. Stepping back, he gave her a knowing wink and turned his attention to the oven.

“If we’re not careful, my bread will harden,” he said over his shoulder.

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Posted by on September 26, 2012 in Smut


Dire Maul Drabble, Part I

The sky over Feralas was a misty grey, laden with swollen clouds that threatened another rain. It was often damp in this corner of Kalimdor, the landscape fecund with new life bursting forth from every crack and crevice.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Tinky joked, the nervousness in her voice disguised by the natural squeakiness that was the trademark of a Gnome’s speech.

“No one will ever think to look for us at Dire Maul,” her companion returned, looking over his shoulder and giving her a knowing wink. “Especially not your father.”

Tinky blushed, the red of her cheeks nearly matching the pink of her hair. “If he were to find out about this,” she exclaimed, not bothering to finish the thought. The very idea of what her father might say or do if he knew about this little tryst didn’t bear thinking on for very long.

“Exactly,” Coulter returned. He stepped up onto the white slab of some long-ruined structure and looked around with an appraising eye. The roof was still somewhat intact, providing a bit of shelter for when it did start raining again, and the floor was mostly clear of debris. Turning back, he gave a hand to Tinky who was finding the combination of the large step up and her hampering robes to be a trial.

Warmth flooded through her whole body at the contact, even though they both wore gloves. It could possibly be attributed to his size – his hand engulfed hers completely making her feel somehow protected and safe – or perhaps it was just his kindness and the illicitness of their actions. Whatever it was, a thrill shot through her and she blushed again.

“Will this do?” Coulter inquired, his dark eyes warm upon her face as she took in their surroundings. His voice had gone husky, as though he were also suppressing some deep emotion from showing too visibly.

Tinky swallowed hard but gave him her most dazzling smile in reply. “Oh, I think this will do very nicely for our purposes.”

“Well then, let’s get down to business.”

“Oh yes,” she breathed. “Let’s.”

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Posted by on August 21, 2012 in Smut


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Twilight Cult: Chapter One

My mother accompanied me to the Gryphon Master on horseback. It was seventy-five degrees in Silithus, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt – red linen; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. When I got to where I was going, I would be handed a Twilight Cultist’s Robe.

In the northern climes of the Eastern Kingdoms, there was a dominance labeled on all the maps as Twilight Highlands. It was from the gloomy dungeon of Grim Batol that my mother had escaped with me when I was only a few years old. My father still resided there, studying the teachings of Cho’gall and campaigning against the forces of Mount Hyjal.

My time growing up had been spent with my mother, who had never been fond of the chill dank of the caves and fortresses that most of the Cult called home. She was a creature of the sun and had removed to the desert of Sithilus in order to escape the gloomy environs that most of the Cult lived in.

The gryphon ride to the seaport was a long one and the crossing over from Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms even longer. Upon arrival, I made passage in the air via gryphon once more until I had at least arrived in the Twilight Highlands.

My father, Char’lee, met me at the flight point and we traded awkward smiles and nods of greeting. Members of the Twilight Cult weren’t affectionate much in private and certainly never were in public. We did, after all, have a certain standard to maintain and project.

He had brought his Mechano hog and sidecar and I looked dubiously at this travel arrangement. It wouldn’t be ideal to be forever folded up into the sidecar whenever I wanted to get anywhere. I would have to get something of my own, and as soon as possible.

Char’lee caught my glance and interpreted it correctly, for he gave me another awkward smile and cleared his throat. “Sorry about the sidecar, Mary Sue. I got something that I thought would do for you to get around in, but it’s still with the goblins, having a few repairs done for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mumbled, trying to force a smile onto my own face. “How much will it cost me?”

“Consider it a present,” he replied. “A sort of welcome home.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” I told him, secretly pleased that my small stash of gold would remain untouched for the time being. “I was going to buy myself a horse.”

He waved this off, and then we were getting situated in the chopper and travel made any further conversation impossible. I watched the landscape as it blurred past, my eyes taking in all the unfamiliar green of the terrain. Silithus was sunny, but it was also rather monotonous with its shades of brown and red. I wasn’t certain I would thrive any better surrounded by greens and greys and the foreboding shadows of Grim Batol, but it was my duty to walk the path of an initiate and so I must try to adjust.

We arrived at the fortress and stood awkwardly by for a moment until Char’lee’s face brightened. “Do you want to see your ride?”

“Sure,” I replied swiftly, grateful for the question and the distraction from what might come next. I was dubious about his use of the word ‘ride’ – it seemed to me that Char’lee was being somewhat dodgy about exactly what sort of transportation he had acquired for me. Still, it was free, and I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

A it turned out, I was soon looking a gift mechanostrider in the beak.

“This is what I’m to get around on?” I asked, trying to keep tones of disbelief from my voice. The thing was a faded red and looked as though it had been wrecked more than once before. No wonder Char’lee hadn’t wanted to say what it was. I would look beyond ridiculous perched on top of it; though I wasn’t extraordinarily tall, I was at least taller than your average gnome or even dwarf.

“Yes,” Char’lee confirmed with a proud grin. He ran his hand over the head of the thing in a fond manner and I realized then that I should have guessed that he would see this strider as a rescued treasure. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it has been modified to run quickly, and it’s small enough that you should be able to get just about anywhere on it easily.”

He looked at me then, a touch of anxiousness in his brown eyes.

I forced a grin, hoping it seemed genuine. “Thank you. I’m sure it will be great.”

The moment passed, fading into a silence that might have been awkward had Char’lee seemed even the least bit inclined to keep talking. Instead, he gave the Mechanostrider another gentle pat and then offered to show me to my quarters. I trailed willingly along behind him, neither of us saying anything as he led the way.

Once he was certain that I was settled and knew when and where I was next expected to be, he left me to unpack my few personal items and settle in for some rest. I was tired, feeling emotionally bruised from all the jarring changes life had brought me. As I settled into my cot, I allowed my tears to come at last, sobbing myself into a deep sleep.



The next morning, I got ready for my day and tried to ignore the curiously hollow feeling in my chest and stomach. The robes, when I slipped them on, had the feeling of a shroud. But I was grateful for them when I stepped outside and discovered it was raining. I pulled my cowl down closely over my dark brown hair and sloshed my way through the wet highlands.

Getting to the training grounds was easy enough. The Mechanostrider was indeed capable of a decent rate of speed, although I didn’t think it could outpace the horse I had left with my mother back in Silithus. The rain pelting against my hands and face was unwelcome, but it would have been the same even on horseback, so I didn’t grumble about that.

Once at the training grounds, I checked in with a florid woman whose name I didn’t care to catch and listened quietly as she rattled off the instructors I was to see and when I was to see them. Once she had finished, I made my escape only to find myself washed up in a sea of my fellow initiates. Here, I didn’t stand out at all; we were all clad in the same robes and cowls and the only thing to differentiate between anyone was their height or weight.

Still, several people seemed to be able to identify me as being new somehow. I was briefly accosted by a boy with oily hair and squinty eyes. He offered to help me get from place to place in case I should get lost, but I thanked him absently for his concern and insisted that I would fare perfectly well all on my own. He ignored this and fell into step beside me.

“So,” he ventured, “I hear you’re from Silithus.”

“I am,” I answered.

“What is that like?”


He wrinkled his nose at me. “You don’t look very tan.”

“My mother is part albino.”

He didn’t laugh.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar fashion. I felt very vague, as though the boundaries of my body were somehow not able to be defined through the curtains of pouring rain, and as if every one of my features had been already smoothed into blank nothingness by the constant wear.

It was at lunch that someone finally made an impression on me. There was a group of initiates who were huddled off together in a group. The other initiates seemed to be going to great pains to avoid them, not only giving them a buffer of several yards, but also pointedly not looking in their direction. I peered over in interest, wondering who in the Cult might be eschewed by the other members.

There were five of them, three males and two females. One of the males was large, imposing even from a distance. The other two were more average in size and weight, although one of them had the most striking purple hair I had ever seen. It was formed into a dozen or so spikes, protruding stiffly in every direction. His eyes glowed yellow in a smooth, green-tinged face.

All of their eyes glowed yellow, I realized. And their skin was all chalky white with some hint of color that spoke of morbid decay. They were strikingly beautiful and I found myself unable to look away from any of them.

“Who are they?” I found myself asking of no one in particular.

Me nearest neighbor caught the question however, and followed my gaze to the separate group. She smirked knowingly at me.

“That’s Deadward and Urdead Cutlet,” she informed me, indicating the beautiful purple-haired man and the giant hulking man in turn. The third man proved to be named Jester, while the tall woman was named Rosily and the shorter was named Allice. “They’re Forsaken,” she added on, as though this was of no consequence.

“Oh,” I breathed, still unable to tear my eyes away from their inhuman beauty. The knowledge made several things come sharply into focus for me. They were eating their lunch after all, crouched on the ground over some sort of corpse I couldn’t see. It wasn’t fare that many in this place would be interested in consuming, but it would make sense that these five would band together over the meal.

As I shamelessly ogled them, I could see now that the most beautiful one, Deadward, had paused mid-chew to stare back in my direction. I could only surmise that he had caught the sensation of my eyes on him, and I lowered my lashes in embarrassment at having been caught out, blushing red in mortification.

His jaw hung crookedly open, as though he were perhaps unable to close it. I peeked and peeked again, until

Oh, Deadward, you’re so DREAMY!

at last their lunch was over and they had gone, leaving behind a heap of bones and offal.

I didn’t have long to wait before I spotted one of them again, though. And it seemed that all the Old Gods were smiling on me, for at my next training station – Vivisection of Sacrifices – I found myself standing right next to Deadward.

Since I seemed helpless to do anything other than stare at him, I noticed when he gave me a cold look out of those brilliantly glowing yellow eyes and turned deliberately away from me as though offended.

Stupid Mary Sue, I chastised myself. He probably thinks you’re staring at him in disgust! 

And since I could think of no way to tell him that I found him strangely wonderful, I trained my eyes forward for the rest of the training session and tried not to let it bother me when we were dismissed and he darted away as quickly as he possibly could.

So the whole day was not as bad as I had feared, I considered as I made my way back to my Mechanostrider later that day. As I left the training grounds to head back towards Grim Batol, I sensed more than saw the shadow of something large pass by me overhead. Looking up reflexively, I saw the outline of a flying mount dart swiftly away and although I couldn’t be completely certain, I thought I saw the glow of yellow eyes flash from where the rider perched on its back.

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Posted by on August 16, 2012 in Smut


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Consider the plot… still NOT advancing

We’ve all read A Steamy Romance Novel or two… Admit it. They’re fun, they’re smoldering, they’re something to do while waiting for the rest of your raid team to log on.

Unfortunately, there’s not much to them. The text can be read in a minute or less.

As Nahni glided up, the grizzled warrior gave her a hard stare.  “I suppose you’re here to collect the reward for killing those murlocs?”

Her eyes wandered down to the glowing broadsword at his side.  “That depends on what the reward is, Marcus.”  She twirled her hair playfully, pretending not to notice how he shifted uncomfortably in her presence.  “I may not want it.”

Marcus stepped toward her, bristling with a mixture of fear and anger. “The reward is not negotiable!”  He paused for a moment while gathering his nerve, and pressed himself against her diminutive form.  Their lips met hotly, melting her frost armor spell in a torrent of sweltering vapor.

“So, is there another step to this quest?” she teased, her eyes glittering with excitement.

<This goes on for several hundred more pages, without advancing the plot.>

Ladies and gentlemen, let’s advance the plot. Or not. Let’s just settle in and write about love and lust in Azeroth. Who’s with me?

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Posted by on August 16, 2012 in Smut


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