Love meme! If you haven't already added your name, you should definitely do that so I can love you up. Seriously, do it. Or you'll ruin Christmas. >:(

Anyone who hasn't filled out the Christmas card poll, you should definitely do that, too. I have way more Christmas cards than I know what to do with. Seriously, whether we talk on a regular basis or haven't talked once since we added each other, I like sending out cards, so go fill it out.

One last time, if you've posted a holiday wishlist, and don't see your name here, please link me to yours! New people, especially, since I probably didn't see yours if you posted it early.

citibyrd, guess what? ILU! FOB concert call! \O/ Thank you so much, bb. ♥

Does anyone know of any good BDSM resource sites? Just good overviews, step-by-steps, dos and don'ts, that kind of thing. I know for a fact my flist is better than Google about this kind of stuff.

Here, have some Greta/Vicky-T! Pretty porny toward the end, so skip it if that's not your style. AND I KNOW HOW MOST OF YOU AREN'T INTO THE PORN, SO.



the prompt was 'Five times Greta Salpeter questions her straightness'
~1300 words
Vicky-T/Greta, R

Greta is eleven years old, and her class is taking a vote on whether they're too old to pass out Valentine's Day cards. All of the boys already have their hands stretched so far up they're basically lifting themselves out of their desks, enthusiastically voting yes, and a little less than half the girls have their hands up. A couple more girls timidly put their hands up when they see how adamant the boys are, and Greta scoffs silently. Everyone knows boys have dumb ideas most of the time anyway, but even if they didn't, she's not about to make her decision based on what they have to say about it.

Her own hands are folded in her lap, and she tries to look very thoughtful, like she's taking her time debating the merits of both sides of the issue, like her dad's taught her to do. Really though, she's watching Sarah Perkins out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach feels funny under her sweater, like there's something moving around in there, and her cheeks feel like they're on fire. If Sarah votes against exchanging cards, the big homemade one Greta made for her will completely go to waste. She'd spent hours on it, cutting the edges just right and plucking off any stray pieces of glitter, and for two weeks all she'd thought about was handing Sarah that card and knowing that after that, she and Sarah would be best friends forever. She just had to make Sarah see how much Greta liked her, more than anyone else in class. Sarah was funny and smart and nice and always smelled like cookies, and every time she smiled Greta felt like she was either going to die of happiness or throw up all over her shoes.

Slowly, Sarah's hand creeps up into the air, and for the first time in her life, Greta thinks she can feel her heart shattering in her chest.

--

She knew it was going to be like this, but even knowing didn't quite prepare her for the sheer incessant pressure of the high school dating scene. Suddenly all her girl friends are oh my god, so pathetic if they don't have a boyfriend, and all her boy friends are trying to get her to set them up with her girl friends, and it's just. Tiring.

She dates a couple guys herself, more to keep her friends happy than anything, because it's not like she has much time to be interested in anything other than music. The band's really starting to sound like an actual band, and not just some high schoolers tooling around in the garage. Between that and homework, she's got her hands full. That's why she politely declines the two invitations she gets to homecoming, and the one to prom. That's the only reason. Definitely just a time issue.

She tries not to pay attention when someone mentions that Melissa Gold is going with Andy Whiteside, and definitely doesn't pay attention to the little disappointed flop her stomach does. If she does pay attention, it's only to tell her stomach that being jealous that Melissa has time to go to prom is not healthy, and stop flopping at me, that can't be healthy either.

--

The first time a fan hits on her, she blushes so fiercely that her face throbs. She's still so boggled by the fact that anyone's coming to see them play, to see her play that the added attention is enough to make her head spin.

Pete says she'll get used to it. She hopes not. She likes Pete and all, but he is way too jaded for a dude not even thirty years old.

The first time a female fan hits on her, she starts throbbing somewhere else.

--

Patrick tells her once that Victoria Asher has been known to turn gay men straight and straight women gay. He's joking, it's an exaggerated way of singing her praises, but Greta holds onto that assessment with everything she's got once she actually meets Vicky-T.

Because it's not that Greta wants to date her or anything, or kiss her, or put her lips on that pale, gorgeous skin, it's not anything like that, it's just that Victoria is so. Everything. So funny, and so talented, and so beautiful, and so friendly. She introduces Greta to everyone, keeps her company at the parties full of people she doesn't know, talks to her about music like her opinion means something.

So Greta holds onto that assessment and uses it as an excuse every time Vicky-T does something that makes Greta want to say I am in love with this woman! She ends up using it as an excuse a lot.

--

Vicky-T's tongue rolls in lazy circles against Greta's clit, pushing just hard enough to keep the blood flowing but not hard enough to make her come. Greta begs, please, Victoria, please, hands tangled in Vicky-T's dark hair. She grinds her hips up and Vicky-T just laughs, low and throaty and dark, and slides two fingers into Greta, thumb taking the place of her tongue.

Greta digs her heels into the mattress, uses it as leverage as her back arches up off the bed and she bears down on Vicky-T's fingers. She wants to pant harder, more, faster, fuck me, please but she's new at this. It's not like she went looking to sleep with a girl, but Vicky-T had been warm and soft and inviting, all curled up on the sofa at yet another Fueled By Ramen party, and Greta had had just enough to drink that maybe it wasn't so weird that she wanted to do a lot more with Vicky-T than go shoe shopping.

Victoria tasted like peach schnapps when Greta kissed her, almost sickly sweet, almost too much. Vicky-T didn't mind that Greta couldn't figure out where to put her hands - should she put them around her neck like she would with a guy? on her hips like a guy would her? should she touch her breasts, or was that moving too fast? - she'd just leaned in, kissing Greta down toward the mattress in the empty bedroom. She'd put a knee between Greta's thighs, rocked against her for a while until Greta got the hint and ground down. Then Vicky-T had pulled down the straps of the flowery yellow dress Greta had worn to the party, inched them down until just the tips of Greta's nipples were peeking out over top, and then she'd leaned in more and put that sweet mouth over one of them.

Sometime after that she'd moved her mouth down - Greta distinctly remembers a mouth at her belly button, soft and teasing - helped Greta take her panties off, and then licked a wide stripe over Greta's cunt and up to her clit. Greta had come apart, shaking and sobbing through it. Vicky-T'd just held on, locked hands with her, and waited.

Now she's twisting her fingers deep inside, crooked and making shallow, slow thrusts. Her thumb's pressed up tight against Greta's clit, coaxing another orgasm out of her. This one's slow to build, all the heat building low in her back and curling around to settle in her stomach until Greta can't stand it, can't stand the wait anymore and wraps her legs around Vicky-T's back, holding her in place while Greta grinds down against her hand and her cunt clenches around Victoria's fingers. She comes hard, a whine low in her throat the only noise she can make with the tiny amount of air she remembers to suck in, and when she opens her eyes, Vicky-T's nose-to-nose with her, kissing the air back into her lungs. She tastes like Greta, lips slick and sweet and easy.

She's not as drunk as she thought she was, but when when Vicky-T asks her if she's still questioning her sexual preferences, it's easy to say not in the slightest, but maybe you should do that again just to be sure.