About fuzzyblue


I like stories.

I like mapmakers, dreamers, cyclists, musicians, magicians, linguists, gardeners, schemers, protesters, sculptors, painters, adventurers, writers and readers.
Favorite Books:
Breakfast at Tiffanys. Jude the Obscure. Lolita. The Secret History. Bleak House. Kidnapped. The Cone-Gatherers. 84 Charing Cross Road. Dr Jeckyll and Mr Hyde. In Cold Blood. Frankenstein. Music for Chameleons. Grapes of Wrath. Daisy Miller. Persuasion. Democracy. The Bell Jar. The Girls of Slender Means. Hotel du Lac. The Sun Also Rises. Why Scots Should Rule Scotland.
Favorite Authors:
Truman Capote & Philip Larkin & John Betjeman & Robin Jenkins & WB Yeats & Joan Didion & Muriel Spark & Dorothy Parker & Jane Austen & Donna Tartt & Sylvia Plath & Zadie Smith. Stephen King too.
Favorite Movies:
Adam's Rib, The Woman in the Window, Double Indemnity, It's a Wonderful Life, Roman Holiday.
Favourite TV Shows:
Favorite Music:
Wolf Alice, Churches, Alvvays, The Vaccines, Amy Winehouse


Date Joined:
10 Sep 2017
Last Visit:
23 Jan 2019
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Topic: Reader's, Do you like long stories or short?
Posted: 08 Dec 2018 13:14

I'd still want to cut it and if you can't get cut it below 9,000 words then it must be so good, so readable, that it would be criminal to split it too.

Either way, you have a solution :)

Topic: Reader's, Do you like long stories or short?
Posted: 08 Dec 2018 12:18

My current story is heading north of 8000 words and I'm starting to wonder if I should split it even though I don't think I'll hit the magic 10K. It doesn't really lend itself to it (it's pretty seamless, though it stretches over a weekend so there must be a way I can reasonably break it at the end of one of the days). The reason for my thinking is that someone on the blue site pointed out recently in a similar discussion that they find 5000 words is about the maximum they can handle given how stories are formatted on here and there.

I wouldn't split it. I'd cut it, though.

Topic: Put one of yours here...
Posted: 06 Dec 2018 12:49

I wrote this at Christmas:

I’m thinking of last night and this
in particular: that kiss
under thread-swinging mistletoe
just after you were the last to say you had to go.
Our lips touched and held
a second too long, I felt. Lips unpursed I could tell
this meant more. I drowned in the smell
of your mulled breath and the wet taste
of sugar-sweet on your lips. Haste
forgotten in the perfume of that embrace.

It hurts the day after. Where do we go from here
if anywhere at all? It’s less clear
if you felt the same thrill
I did when my tongue touched yours; or if you still
will soldier on as that sympathetic friend.
Too late now, in one sense. You’ve gone away, to spend
the holiday at home. But will you send
some sort of sign? Let me know
where I stand? As for last night, all I have to show
for it is the raw, primal torture of a day spent aglow.

Topic: Please do not contact us about "low" votes on your stories / poems
Posted: 05 Dec 2018 00:54

I went through a few concise and brutal comments or personal messages and I learned from some of them. It was when I started getting two or three '1' scores for every story that I started losing confidence. They were so consistent that I convinced myself it must be personal which was worse. I tried removing scoring, then comments, but eventually I deactivated then deleted my account. And it was a tiny minority of readers who made that happen. But you don't notice that when you're down about things.

I'm more experienced now; more confident about why I write. I don't look at scores on my stories, or on any others; and when I look to read, I'll go on author, recommended read badge, interesting title, word count or simply what's there in front of me on the home page.

Our behaviour in scoring and reacting is emotional. Like or Reaction buttons won't change that. People will always find a way to tell you they like a story. A few will always find a way to be harsh and some people will always have difficulty coping with that harshness.

Topic: Cum and Came
Posted: 01 Dec 2018 01:15

Just a quick note. Cum is what comes out of the dick, cock or whatever you call it. To come is the act of having an orgasm. Please make sure you use the right word.

Cum is a verb that apologises for itself; it is abbreviated and harsh, yet too weak-willed to say what it really is. It's as emotionless as swiping right. It is so abrupt it doesn't have a past tense. It is a verb so artificial I bet it's trademarked somewhere. It smells of plastic, of railway stations, of spilt milk. When men cum they do it remorsefully. It ends up as the gunk at the end of a condom or stuck between the pages of a magazine.

Come is sensous. It is two people, or maybe more, wanting the other to join them. It is creamy, fertile strings or dissipated sighs. It glistens when you say it. It is confident. It knows exactly where it is going.

I didn't realise I felt so strongly about this. I feel quite light-headed.

Topic: Put one of yours here...
Posted: 18 Nov 2018 13:35

I thought I'd lost this

Across my path last night you flew:
A cocksure, giggling, half-drunk mess
The smokescreen of a hidden you,
unstable in your awkwardness
I grimaced as you spilled your drink –
and played the slack-jawed sort of bloke
Who likes to say, but never thinks
and jabs his way through punchless jokes

I know your sort; perhaps that’s why
I’ve stuck to bookish types who read
– No. I mean that’s what I’ve tried ,
but never managed to succeed.
The ones I go for wear a love
of arcane writers on their sleeve.
I'm sure we’ll fit like hand in glove.
We never do. I always leave.

The trouble is, to those who deal
in ordered words and pretty prose,
the everyday can seem unreal
– a blurry world beyond their nose.
Potential swims against the fact:
the promise of a well-read man
(no matter how that still attracts)
rarely goes the way I plan.

What virtue would I stand to lose
to value men as I do books?
Not be so shallow as to choose
them by their cover – or their looks?
Everybody looks to hide
our worst from others. It’s because
we can’t risk showing what’s inside:
the most repugnant of our flaws.

I might as well give you a chance
as drunkards might as well with me;
the gamble of a mating dance
where no-one’s as they seem to be
So send your beer-stained look my way
and watch me primly waiting here,
crafting something smart to say
to rid myself of sober fear.

I’ll fight the urge in me to ask
you as you greet me with a grin:
‘What lies behind your lager mask –
does something graceful live within?’
Who cares? Come here and kiss my lips.
Seduce me with a dirty offer.
Lick my neck and grab my hips
– then tell me of your favourite author.

Topic: Put one of yours here...
Posted: 18 Nov 2018 13:33


Topic: Put one of yours here...
Posted: 08 Nov 2018 00:11

O gosh here's another

The sheets.
Underneath, us.
In darkness, face-blind,
skin breathing on heated skin,
limbs arguing.
Listening to our hearts calling each other
from lonely chambers
– that joyous, beating echo
that keeps me alive
in this safe place. You, here
the sheets

Topic: Put one of yours here...
Posted: 04 Nov 2018 10:16

I wrote this months ago:

Glassed streets shine like jewelled stone
beneath a flooding, ceaseless rain
Hooded humans hurry home
Autumn shakes the window pane

‘A dirty night,’ you say to me
‘I’m glad we’re inside where it’s warm.’
And yes, we’re safe, though you can’t see
the first waves of an inner storm

It rages when you use your touch
to end resistance, strip me bare
The feel of you; your breath is such
a warm wind on me everywhere

Later, bedlocked, when we kiss
I hope I am at one with you
‘I always want to be like this,’
I tell myself, to make it true

Ten-thirty – by the bedside light –
you’re spent. Across my belly lie
small beads of passion, glossy white.
You softening against my thigh

Like wind through eaves, I'd heard you moan
Our half-lit bodies shone with sweat
But afterwards I feel alone
and wonder if you love me yet

Topic: What Well-Known Books Could You Not Finish?
Posted: 24 Oct 2018 09:18

I can't remember the last book I didn't finish (some kind of silly obligation I feel to authors), but I've had a few where my eyes have had to be marched at gunpoint over the final pages. For example:

Reservoir 13, Jon McGregor. I kept reading because I assumed something would happen. But nothing did, which is probably why it's critically acclaimed.
The God of Small Things , Arundhati Roy. I wish God had made this book smaller.
Brooklyn , Colm Toibin. I just expected it to be better.
Twenty-Four Hours in the Life of a Woman, Stefan Zweig. Should have added 'B ut Feels Like a Lot Longer ' to the title.

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Stories Published By fuzzyblue All Stories »

Editor's Pick Beating the Skin

Everyone on the island called her Sìneadh, though it was not the name she was born with. In the Gaelic, sìneadh means to lengthen, and the boys called her that because she was tall before them. Also, it was said, because her mind was up there in the clouds. The name stuck, by way of familiarity more than teasing. That she was still there to be called Sìneadh surprised everyone. She had...

Added 29 Dec 2018 | Category Lesbian | Votes 33 | Avg Score 5 | Views 2,632 | 29 Comments

Recommended Read Sunny

Sweat glued strands of her red hair to her neck and crept down her alabaster skin like a hundred tiny snakes. It collected at the base of her spine and soaked through to the chair. It gathered on the underside of her thigh where she could even hear it; a drop falling every few seconds onto the linoleum floor. Kate couldn’t have done much more to cool herself. Pretty much all she was wearing...

Added 21 Oct 2018 | Category Straight Sex | Votes 10 | Avg Score 5 | Views 1,876 | 8 Comments

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I see Ewan in the street, just before he nearly dies. He sees me at the same moment. He shouts across and staggers, as if the shouting unbalances him. Fighting to right himself he topples forward. His cheek smacks the wet pavement. So many people hear, so many look round. I sprint to him, but someone’s already easing him up. Ewan’s eyes are swimming. ‘I’m with him,’ I say. But the guy...

Added 11 Oct 2018 | Category Straight Sex | Votes 17 | Avg Score 4.94 | Views 2,790 | 17 Comments

Recommended Read Boy

A photographer hired for the event takes a picture of each guest as they enter the ballroom. Later, looking back at his night’s work, he'll skim through two hundred thumbnail previews. He’ll pause at one, beguiled by the apparent poise of its subject, and tap it open. The photo will show Sadie, the upper part of her face obscured by a black Colombina mask. The photographer will zoom in to...

Added 17 Jun 2018 | Category Straight Sex | Votes 22 | Avg Score 5 | Views 4,920 | 16 Comments

You Took My Clothes Off

You took my clothes off, years ago and lay beside me on the bed Though I, being shy (you'd always said), demurely turned the lights down low I wanted you. But still I was embarrassed by the feral wet between my legs; the dewy sweat that wrapped me in its liquid gauze My first touch was devoid of grace: the cloddish way I stroked your dick – all bark-hard menace, yet so slick my...

Added 13 Mar 2018 | Category Erotic Poems | Votes 33 | Avg Score 4.9 | Views 1,056 | 33 Comments

Recommended Read The Trouble With Me Is You

I realise on my third, or maybe fourth, glass of wine, at the very moment Eda dabs a napkin against her lips. I realise this: I have had sexual intercourse with her. There’s more: I’ve had sex with everyone around this dining table. Stop, you say. Hold on. How can it take until the middle of the fish course to work out you’ve fucked someone? Did it not cross your mind before? I...

Added 16 Feb 2018 | Category Lesbian | Votes 22 | Avg Score 4.9 | Views 5,172 | 18 Comments

Recommended Read This is How it Starts

It starts like this. Worse for wear again, but worser. Morning – or light enough to make out shapes at any rate. But silent, until a slap of metal on metal. An eye appears at a tiny, blinding window. ‘How’d a slip of a thing like you end up here?’ says the eye. ‘Don't know,’ I says. On my life that’s true. My hand aches, the knuckles tender, but the rest’s a blur. Don’t matter. This...

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Recommended Read seamonsters

Translated, the hotel’s name was ‘Sea View’. Or ‘View of the Sea,’ Steve said. ‘Technically.’ He’d picked it for their honeymoon, knowing Jenny would love its balconied rooms, its secluded breakfast patio and its swimming pool at the rear. And she’d adore how beyond, down a calcified path, lay a private beach and the sea. He was right. Jenny loved all that, though she loved the view most....

Added 12 Dec 2017 | Category Exhibitionism | Votes 38 | Avg Score 5 | Views 7,383 | 23 Comments

Recommended Read "Some Kiss You Gave Me"

She had changed. That was to be expected, but her muteness on the journey home from hospital still worried him. She’d been like that too long. He tried his best: said he’d missed her and it would be good to have her back. Said too that his parents would drop in that evening. Would that be ok? He glanced over to see her nod, but her expression tore at him in a way he couldn’t explain. She...

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Editor's Pick The Library is Closing Now

The article about the library shutting its doors appeared in that day’s newspaper. When Tom had read it – it was a short piece – he folded the paper and leaned back in his chair. After a minute he rose, shuffled to the sideboard and in an orderly way pulled out its drawers and placed them next to each other on the floor of his kitchen-diner. He searched through them in turn, like a fox...

Added 18 Sep 2017 | Category Straight Sex | Votes 44 | Avg Score 5 | Views 24,431 | 33 Comments

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