by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) and Tobias Stout illustrated by beili Lieutenant Treng is about to prove correct several stereotypes about soldiers, which are as follows: One: It’s frowned upon to sleep with fellow grunts on a starship, so by the time leave rolls around they’re absolutely desperate for anything besides their own hand. Two: […]
by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) and Tobias Stout All Tamish temples, no matter how humble, have at least one room resplendent with lush places to sit, devotional art to contemplate, scripture and holy poetry to meditate upon, and an altar to each of the Four Gods. These altars are scattered with candles and incense […]
by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) “And if you enjoyed this video, remember to like and subscribe! I’ll be back next week with a special episode of Decolonizing your Food with Dr. Boyfriend.” Ravi winked at the camera as he wrapped up his filming. It was still a shock, sometimes, to look at the view counts and […]
by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/351484.html) “I will serve the people and the land and uphold my bonds to the kingdom in the names of our gods.” Alain’s voice echoed through the temple, loud and clear. There was no tremor in his voice, no quiver, nor uncertainty. His face was calm, broad features composed […]
by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/313645.html) “According to Tumblr, today’s random holiday is International Fisting Day.” I looked over at Harper, to find him with his head cocked at his computer screen, a wicked gleam in his eyes, and a smirk that meant trouble on his lips. I arched a brow as I looked […]
by Matsuoka Haruka (松岡春香) (in memoriam) and Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) illustrated by beili (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/303421.html) It took Elena almost fifteen minutes to hit ‘send’ after dialing Cal’s number into her cellphone. She had three false starts, saying “hi” between rings, and she was on the edge of hanging up when she finally got through. […]
It was a cold Monday morning somewhere in the middle of Michigan. We’d crossed over the Canadian border the night before on our way from Vermont to Chicago. It was something like ten hours from home and five hours to our destination, but my eyes hadn’t wanted to stay open any longer and Elliot couldn’t drive. I’d found a rest stop that didn’t look terrifying and parked my twenty-year-old Astro Van (named Francis) away from the building so we could nap. He and I had huddled up together after pushing the bench seat flat, nesting under an old sleeping bag.
I think we were somewhere outside Flint, but the only thing I knew about Flint was that it was once on the FBI’s most dangerous cities list. I assumed Elliot didn’t know that, or maybe didn’t know where we were, or I doubted he would be sleeping. I was too tired to be anxious. I guess that didn’t really matter. No one had broken into the car and murdered us for the six hours we’d been parked.
by Kimyō Tabibito (奇妙 旅人) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/298395.html) A fire crackled away in the hearth as Dylan dragged the futon from the frame down to the scuffed hardwood floor. Tonight, his goal for the evening was to be as close to the fireplace as possible without setting anyone on fire, which he figured was romantic. Okay, […]
Let me tell you, it is godsdamn boring being a seal. Oh, all right, technically I’m not a seal, I’m a selkie. But really, once you’re in the water, there isn’t a big difference between selkies and seals.
We don’t have movies, there aren’t any milkshakes, it’s hard to use a computer when you live in and around the water. It goes without saying that we don’t have anything like Grindr or Manhunt. It’s full of fish. And seaweed. And males fighting each other for harems. And honestly, I’m not remotely interested in fighting to fuck anyone, even if I wasn’t as queer as a three dollar bill. Also, seaweed makes for shit decoration. And I hate fish.
Yeah, you heard me. I’m a selkie, and I hate fish. Give me a big greasy hamburger and waffle fries smothered in cheese any day of the week. And if you really want to make me happy, a extremely thick milkshake that you have to eat off a spoon — preferably chocolate, but I’ve developed a fondness for the banana smoothies sold from a little stand on the beach.
Even though that fondness stems from tasting the smoothie on the lips of the guy who works there in the mornings. He’d take one to go after every shift and we’d share it, trading sips, kissing and licking tastes from each others’ mouths. We didn’t bother exchanging names, only small talk. More often than not, this was a prelude to slipping into the alley for a handjob or a quick frot up against the wall. Sometimes he’d go down on me – his mouth still cold – and suck me until I came over his tongue. I always dragged him up for another taste, salty and slightly bitter now, but I thought it was perfect.
Sometimes we’d part ways without another word, but when I had money, I could always coax him into getting a hamburger or to catch a movie. Which would lead to another quickie in the bathroom of the theater before he went off to wherever it was he lived, and I went back to the sea.
“It feels like another world up here.” Geoff looked out the window at the trees blurring past as they drove, scattered with twisted, spindly pines and white flashes of birch. Even the soil had changed, sandy and pale.
“It’s kinda magic,” Brannon looked over at Geoff for just a moment, before maneuvering the car off I-75 onto an empty exit headed east. The sun set in a riot of red-oranges behind them, giving the illusion of truth to Brannon’s words. “It’s why I own a house up here and rent a place in Detroit. Everything falls away when I drive up North and see the landscape shift, and it’s just…magic,” he repeated, voice falling soft.
“It just makes sense.” Geoff reached across the console and laid a hand on Brannon’s thigh; when Brannon dropped his hand to cover it, Geoff lifted Brannon’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm, lips lingering against warm skin.
“That’s distracting when I’m driving.” Brannon’s hand jerked back to the wheel, but his face was hot with pleasure.
“Fair enough.” Geoff smiled as he eyed his…significant other? Boyfriend? Lover? All the terms seemed either too clinical or relied on language he wasn’t comfortable using. Relationship and sexual labels had never been Geoff’s friend, but Brannon loved them.
Gay. Kinky. Submissive.
Eris Manzana started to unravel around the edges as soon as she hit the door to her house. I watched, fascinated, as the wig came off, then the falsies. I trailed after her and helped with zippers, seeing Harper start to emerge out of the sequins.
“It’s like a reverse magical girl transformation,” I laughed as he tackled his makeup. He had laid out an arsenal of bottles and makeup wipes before he’d ever left the house, the arrangement meticulous. The way he went about destroying it, not so much.
I always found it disappointing, on a Sunday morning, to roll over to the empty spot Keith had left behind. I should have been somewhat used to it; he had a disgusting habit of getting up at early hours to run when sleeping was a better option.
I wrapped my arms around his pillow instead of moping about it and must have fallen back asleep. The next thing I was consciously aware of was the smell of coffee and the faint clink of plates, which was weird, because I was sure I hadn’t fallen asleep in the kitchen. Forcing my eyes open I looked over to see Keith on his knees beside the bed, breakfast laid out on the night stand.