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courtney is a cookie
09 November 2010 @ 07:56 pm
1. I love Amber Watts 2. Dude, I've been writing fan letters. 3. David Tennant has epic eyebrows. 4. David Thewlis has lovely fingers. Very lovely. 5. Watched a new episode of Chuggington today. Wilson and the Paint Wagon. NEW FAVORITE.
Current Location: ntw
Current Mood: annoyedannoyed
courtney is a cookie
Isn't ickle puppet Ron adorable with his freck frecks? Sent off my letter to Karen Gillan this morning. Let's hope it doesn't get lost in the post, yeah? I sang the Chuggington theme song in the shower earlier. I had thought I was the only one upstairs. Well, until Christine yelled at me to SHUT UP. I kept singing anyway. Writing my letter to Margeaux. Meh- I'm always late in my replies. What a fail. Eating a sloppy joe. "Do you know what I am saying?" -Butters" I think I'll get A LITTLE BOX OF BUTTERS for Chrisafoo. Christmas present. I think Mum just called me a FOO. Or maybe it was FOOL. -----
Current Location: meadow rue
Current Mood: workingworking
Current Music: Chuggington- Bang Klang Wilson
courtney is a cookie
06 November 2010 @ 11:48 pm
He reached for the tin--rusted in some places, it had that familiar feeling that Percy craved. Something to keep. Rough around the edges, it reminded him of home. "What's in there anyway?" Oliver asked, only mildly interested this time. He had accepted the fact that Percy was a boy full of secrets.
Current Location: the bed
Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished
Current Music: Lemon Demon- White Bread Boyfriend
courtney is a cookie
06 November 2010 @ 08:14 pm
Slaps on the Wrist
My face scraping against pitiless stone, I bite my lip to keep from screaming out.
Flint grips my hips, in his usual bruising fashion.
Trousers at my ankles, robes pulled up—and Flint is pounding into me, no preparation.
I try to find some sort of pleasure in it, but all I can focus on is the utter indignity of the situation.
I’m sure my face is burning—that damning Weasley blush—and tears are staining flushed cheeks.
He wraps his startlingly pleasant fingers around my erection, stroking—nowhere near in time with his thrusts.
My breath hitches harder, I stifle a moan—my lip is bleeding now.
I try to hang on to myself for just a second longer, but it’s futile. I come—Flint withdraws his hand, tasting his fingers.
I groan; my mouth is a small ‘o’.
He drives into twice more, weaker; nails digging into my flesh.
When he pulls out, he turns me around—my head slams into the wall.
I barely have time to catch my breath; he sucks my lip—tasting blood, and I taste myself in him.
My fingers find their way to his hair, running through languidly.
I laugh—only it comes out sounding forced, insincere.
I murmur, the half-words muffled by his robes.
He fixes me up—makes sure all the snaps and buttons are in place.
Affectionate, warm—he takes his time, fingers tracing random patterns on my skin.

Unfinished, like a lot of my fictions.
So, moving on from the f-fictions and onto...CK's life.
I've bitten off more than I can chew, but that's nothing new.
Funny what a little lithium can do.
Still haven't finished unpacking. I never do.
I have not Snape hair. This is a plus.
I had a blizzard earlier. Banana split. Yummo!
Got a few letters in the mail. No bills. That's always FANTASTIC!
I think I might be....well, becoming addicted (so to speak) to being ADMIN for fb pages. Sounds silly, I know. Heh. I'm the nerd. Always the nerd.
Current Location: meadow rue
Current Mood: guiltyguilty
Current Music: The clacking of fingers hitting keys...
courtney is a cookie
06 November 2010 @ 06:55 pm
I siriusly neglect this thing, don't I?
Well, for NaNo I'm writing a fanfictional novel. It's working title: Teeth
It's Percy-centric.
Cos Percy is.............
......and, yeah.
I've letters to write to: Kelley, Jenny, Margeaux, Karen, Jocelyn, Dani, and Raeann.
Started my Christmas shopping today. I feel accomplished.

<3 CK

P.S. Read some of my old entries. Wow. Just...wow.
I feel disgusted.
I wasn't that great of a person, was I? Why did no one tell me?
Current Location: dining room
Current Mood: creativecreative
Current Music: Doctor Who- The Lodger
courtney is a cookie
08 March 2010 @ 09:34 pm
Oliver’s favorite briefs have an ‘O’ stitched in the elastic.
The shorts are worn, fading, and baby blue.
The tent made of cotton, his erection pressing upward, sends heat pooling in the general vicinity of my y-fronts. Tip slippery, wet and throbbing from superfluous resistance, I graze my teeth against my bottom lip—constrained whimpers ebb at my insides, a rigid receding of reprehensible dins stemming from wanton desire.
Inexpert hands grope. Callused palms brush against sensitive reddened skin. The resonances of confusion and half-sex float in the air like speckles of dust.
Inside of me, initially, Oliver feels like needles—sharp and discomfited. The grating builds tighter and tighter.
Arching to the headboard, he says “I never thought I’d find something better than Quidditch.”
To this remark, I smile nervously, nails digging little half-moons into the sticky flesh of his muscled back.
The hurt is so good; so bloody good.
Lips clamped and pressed, we writhe and flush out as one.
Nails scrape; I can no longer find a separation between us. Distinctions and lines are lost; we are a mess of curves and blood and planes of bone and oxygen.
I come in splatters on his taut stomach.
Our breaths are labored, like heavy heads.
Grips loosen, tighten, loosen, and tighten again—like spasms.
“So tight,” his voice ghosts the words, before release.
Current Location: green chair
Current Mood: satisfiedsatisfied
courtney is a cookie
I had to sit on the stage today.
As a Sno-Daze Queen candidate.
Believe me, it was a surprise.
An embarassing awkward surprise.
As a candidate..event (for lack of better words)..we had to answer some questions.
I opted for a few. Only. Just a few.

Q: Name..
A: Courtney Kier.

Q: If you could be reborn as anything..
A: Hermione's cat.

Q: If you were stranded on an island and could have just one person with..
A: Hitler.

The microphone was scary.
I prefer to be a quiet shadow.
Things are easier that way.
S'pose to be working on the yearbook at the moment, but I've never been one to stay on task for TOO long.
In need of some sort of lip balm.
courtney is a cookie
02 December 2009 @ 09:59 pm
The ill-fitting glasses
the scratchy striped sweater
Phone numbers scrawled on scraps of paper
The faint taste of cigarettes and elixer under the tongue
Itchy nose
Just a spot of dirt
Nothing a napkin can't handle
Stale bread
Bridges that were made to be fixed
A missing tooth
Not-too-tight jeans (Are those Chip and Pepper?)
Orifices crammed to capacity with soil
Plastic spoons
Delicate shadows of trinkets on fingertips
Drain hair
Caffeine spleen
I showed you the forest.
courtney is a cookie
With dry hands and chapped lips, I want to tell you...I do not wish to take any of this for granted.
I carry on..carry on..and carry on.
Running out of distractions.
Summer is less than three months away, but that seems...like ages.
I want to say that I can't wait, because I feel like I'm going to explode.
Left with no other choice, I wait impatiently for summer to return.
Not that I particularly favor summer over autumn (with its beautiful colors and smells and people and...its coolness, you know?)
That would be fabulous! says Wothe.
What is she speaking of? We will not know.
Holding on.
To something.
Intangible. We try.

I want an orange gatorade. Or blue. Blue would work just fine.
Current Location: wothe's
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Current Music: David Bowie...Rock n Roll Suicide
courtney is a cookie
12 March 2009 @ 02:33 pm
Well, it bothers me when I cannot not come up with a 'good' subject line. It makes the entry. Sort of.
I have BIG shades and stupid songs stuck in my head. Like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth. Sticky. Ugly. Can't remember why it seemed so good in the first place.
Unharmed unarmed. Dazed. Leaves me with a bitter aftertaste.
My hair is static. Dancing everywhere. Should stay not still, but remain calm. It will not. I've started using a new shampoo. Lemony. Scented. Paul Mitchell.
I keep hitting spell check every few sentences. So far no mistakes on my part. Sweet. Like sugar. Toothache.I carry a toothbrush and mini tube of toothpaste in my purse. On my person. One never knows what kind of 'emergencies' will crop up.
I need some gatorade.
'The keys are locked.'
That's what Monte said...awhile ago, but still memorable.
Sweet endings, do they exist?
Current Location: wothe's
Current Mood: okayokay
Current Music: Janet's beautiful voice! Talking to not-so-beautiful me!