Over the last week I thought I should start a book club. But then I realized the only books I want to read are the weird rare stuff I collect and the odds of getting enough copies for a group of people is not good. So I’m starting a book club of one.
This weeks reading is Sudden Storm: A Wendigo Reader. Anyone with a copy of this spendy book is welcome to join in. >_>
Took two weeks of vacation but I might finally feel some creative magic.
Now I just have to figure out how to get out of the snow to the ferry to get off the island…
I feel like I should know what this is referring to but it’s not clicking in my head
Where can I buy Elliot from Girl Asleep? :p
There was another hidden opposite the bar. He stood suddenly with the same wild-eyed look Turner sported moments before.
“What did you–?!” The man sputtered, unable to finish his sentence as the crowd backed away from him.
Turner recognized the man. He’d ordered the mocha. His cock hug semi-flaccid through the fly of his pants, cum and saliva dribbling from its length.
Cum?
He was at work. The remains of the tan-soy-mocha-latte-with-whip were dripping over the counter-top, pooling on the floor.
Turner nervously fumbled for his trousers and hiked them up. His cock was rigid. It was also dripping cum.
He stepped back from the bar. Something really fucking weird was going on.
The slam of the back door made the youth spin on his heel. It opened a second time and Turner was able to spot a third man running towards the door, his hands at the waist of his pants, trying to keep them up, the belt and zipper obviously undone
“OOOOOOOSHIT!” Turner ejaculated.
His eyes burst wide open awakened from a sudden nightmare. Confusion rather than comfort followed.
Cellphone in the hands of shop patrons greeted him. Some folk wore expressions of mirthless humor and others of disgust. All of them stared. At him.
He was bent forward over the bar, looking out towards the store’s doors, bottles of flavored shots scattered about him in a halo of glass and syrup. His apron and shirt were pulled up over his head. His pants and briefs crumpled down around his ankles.
“Whathefuck.”
Turner’s sphincter twitched with fear. It felt stretched. And sticky. The inside of his thighs were sticky. His hands felt sticky. Hell, even his face felt caked with…
A majority of the books sold these days are romance.
I need to get on this cash cow and start milking!
I did not like the new Lego Batman movie.
I did like the approval-hungry, wide-eyed teen Robin in a thong… Now if only it existed in a not-Lego version.
When you find a complete Lovejoy collection for super cheap it is a good Friday.
Is spanking still a sexy thing? I have wallowed in extremes for so long I’m jaded on sexy things :S
victorblinkenstein replied to your post: ralziel replied to your photo “Character sketch…
I actually thought he looked like the retired porn actor Danny Wylde.
I’ve want to do legit fanart of both Danny Wylde and Kade for ages >_>
I’m seeing Marilyn Manson.
You wouldn’t be far wrong ;)
How did I miss that there was a new Blackfield mini-album out?!
I blame you.
Always intrigued when people assume I have any sex drive or orientation.
I’m milquetoast
Does my tumblrs navigation not show up on the app? Well that’s useless…
Now it does.
Does my tumblrs navigation not show up on the app? Well that’s useless…
That ended up feeling very uninspired
Anyways. I’m taking request ideas until midnight Friday. The more unique the better.
And “draw me” is not a good request. Nor is “draw me any way you see fit.” :p
I mentally answered this question and realized afterward that doesn’t count XD
It was indeed the Sappy Songs performance, but since we a special New Years Eve performance we got some extra songs including the requisite auld lang syne.
And since it was off season for The Good Wife he’d grown his hair back out which meant he could play with it during songs :3
It was a very good performance.
That ended up feeling very uninspired
Anyways. I’m taking request ideas until midnight Friday. The more unique the better.
impioussaint replied to your photoset: Hey look, a finished picture :D (Before you ask,…
Um… why does he have a hearing aid?
Because the person it is based on has one :)
If I were honest, I’d leave my boyfriend for Cate Blanchett too…
This is a reference to the movie Carol and not to my actual person life. :p
After I finish this pic I’m going to attempt to open a single request slot.
It will not be first-come first-served.
It will just be best suggestion within 24 hours.
If I were honest, I’d leave my boyfriend for Cate Blanchett too…
Just finished book 2 in the Twelve-Fingered Boy series, The Shibboleth. It was good in a very guilty-pleasure sort of way. If I ever commit to a drawing mood, I’m going to draw Shreve.
I do all my drawing on my computer. I use an application called Manga Studio. I’ve tried Photoshop, Painter, and two or three other apps over the years and this one is working best for me.
I don’t really have a guide or tutorial. I’m a big supporter of using reference. Its helped me figure out human anatomy. Plus its an excuse to see nekkid people ;)
This was exactly the sort of evil I had in mind :D
Spotify’s recent personal recommendations for me are doubling down on their certitude that I am a goth.
There were two ways I was going to approach that story. They’re kind of mutually exclusive.
1) Rear Window style mystery where the invalid realizes that his neighbor is keeping a boy prisoner as a sex slave. The invalid has to combat his growing arousal at watching their interactions vs morality
2) The invalid witnesses the boy across the way committing a crime and proceeds to blackmail him into escalating exhibitions (bonus points if the boy still lives at home with his folks)
I’m not a voyeur. I’m not a private detective or a spy or NSA either. I don’t get paid to watch people. If anything, I hate acknowledging that other humans even exist most of the time.
But while I was laid up last summer that changed.
You can only watch TV for so long before it all starts to bleed together. Whodunit of the week, “we can’t let anyone know about our relationship,” shows with no point other than the “to be continued” message at the end.
Reading was out of the question too. My arm didn’t work so I could not hold a book. I’m a Luddite and can’t read on a tablet either.
So it was inevitable that between the many pain-medication induced naps that I’d start people watching. Looking out the window of my top floor apartment I could see the park below, the walkers. Distantly I could see the mist-shrouded mounted. And, lastly, I could look into the windows of the apartment building directly across from me.
The majority of it was mundane. I’ll bore you with that later. The part you care about, and the point of this story, was the guy in room 612 and the thing he did and the things I made him do in front of that window.
Random Rear Window-ish story musings.
2017 goal: learn to put on a pretentious transatlantic accent from watching a lot of William F. Buckley Jr