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.
gayshaved asked:
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 ;)
Anonymous asked:
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