A quiz result and a hot, hot story that was written for me: enjoy!

Love Calculator by EbonyScythe
1st Person Name
2nd Person Name
1st Person Gender
2nd Person Gender
Compatibility Percent	56
Time Together	Forever
Quiz created with MemeGen!

My life is complete now. Huzzah!


And a short, unfinished work by the immortal genius of B.B.Shih

In short:

Now is the winter of our discontent. Lo’ look yonder at the dismal dawn breaking o’er the wintry fields. And yet there is hope for some. Not most. Only a few, really. But some, nonetheless. One of these lucky (but what is luck really? To be allowed to continue living in a deadened world that no longer cares?) few is our heroine (but what is a hero, really? Someone who manages to dig their nails in and hold on to what meager existence they have left?) Lauren Hafford.

Lauren Melynn Hafford. Cool, calm, collected, and let’s face it, a little bit insane. On this particularly bleak morning our heroine is digging for worms (read: breakfast) in the cold hard ground. She is not appropriately dressed. At all.

In the vicinity is her “home”. A dark spiraling mess of wires and brick, held together by iron and hate – and on the crumbling façade, what remains of a sign that has seen better days denoting what this infernal structure was once called. Residence Hall. It is not possible to describe the sheer terror that these words inspire for her. Would that she could escape from its tendrils of agony to somewhere else, but she knows that she couldn’t survive for a day away from the soulless shelter it provides. It is a blight upon the surface of the earth; a putrid protrusion of man-made hate that seeks to corrupt anything and everything near it. It is her home.

She is startled by a screech in the distance. This is surprising, not because of the particular sound, but because it has managed to overpower the constant drone the residence hall emits. She would love to run out to greet whatever thing has stumbled into the area, but she knows that this would mean death. The great overlords high up within the building have excellent surveillance, and it is a particularly bright (it’s all relative, really) day. She can imagine the consequences. The robotron-dogs, perpetually kept in a state of abhorrent hunger, frothing at their capacitor lined mouths, lurching forward at a demonic lilt, hunting her for food, and yet… seemingly also for pleasure.

Lauren feels a fire welling within her. She’s a bit unsure if this is the gnawing hunger inside – a womb-laden hellspawn seeking to wreak it’s unholy plans upon her gastrointestinal system – or possibly her latent sexuality telling her that the lightpole to her left is looking “mighty fine” today. Let’s hope it’s the first.