Nothing But Stubs

I need to make this intro quick, for as we speak, radioactive deer with luscious lashes are defying the laws of science. 

As some of you maaay know (though it's not important that you know everything about my life, you creepers), I recently joined aquote/sleeingdog's RP group Vicis Sator.  

www.unowen.net/tegaki/uentries.php

lol, Tegaki groups...

Anyway, because I've never done this RP shit before, and my definition of "Original Character" is basically "a person or animal I draw frequently over a short span of time", I have no idea how to deal with attatching personalities or backstories to my mind people.  So I'm reaching out to you, dear bitch-moths, to dump your inspirational finger words into my inbox.  Tell me what your basic impression of him is.  Anything would help.  What you think his personality would be, how he would smell, things he would say or do, which color sequined top he would wear... whatever.  

So here he be.  







His name is James, and his horned monkey companion is named Cernunnos, after the Celtic god associated with horned creatures (SEE HOW CLEVER I AM).  

Anyway, this would help me out a lot, so thanks for whatever time you donate to this cause.  

So my 36-inch dick Batman comic was a featured image over at the rule34 gallery a few weeks ago.  Needless to say, my life's goals have pretty much been fulfilled now.  

http://rule34.paheal.net/post/view/250620?search=DC

Now that I've gotten that EXTREMELY INTERESTING bit of news out of the way, here is a bit of what I created this shithole waste of bandwidth for:

( MUHFUKKIN' ART )

Gather 'round, bitches and bitchettes.  I am here to quell your lustful yearning for information about my life.

Actually, no, I'm not.  My life is boring and all I do is sit around playing Ocarina of Time and drawing.  So, instead, I offer you three story stubs (which are basically three snippets of stories that I may or may not continue), and a song.  I was going to post art, but my scanner decided to brutally rape and murder the watercolor sketches I asked it to insert into the internet box.

First, the song, as an incentive to read on. 

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Bubblin in the Cut - Boreta</div>


Now story stubs.  You will recognize one. 

           

The green-tiled room was, and always had been, cold.  It was kept at that pervasive, frustrating temperature lingering a few degrees below comfortable, affecting only frail human extremities attached to stagnant bodies.  James sat in the center of the room, his naked body quivering a bit more violently than usual.  About him were scattered shards of ceramic tile; their harsh white bone glistening angrily in the fluorescent light.  The white screamed at James’s eyes; he longed to close them-- but any escape from the green was welcome. 

James fixed his eyes on one of the unbroken tiles still clinging to the wall.  He imagined that, trapped within its caulked confines, was another man; cold, impotent, and consumed by green.  Immediately, the walls morphed into a kaleidoscopic grid of suffering.  James buried his head in his frail arms and felt the men around him do the same.  Hallucination.  He sank further into the ground, rolling his legs up to meet his chest, and dragging his hands across the jagged carpet of tile scattering the floor.  He hissed as the shards caught in his flesh.     

The fluorescent light overhead flickered, and then went out.  Black overtook green.  Sleep.

James opened his eyes to the familiar blinding fluorescence and sickly green.  He moaned softly and brought a hand to his eyes. 

------


Sarah had made more than her share of mistakes in her life.  She fucked one too many guys in college; drunken one night stands that resulted in a slew of terminated pregnancies and diseases.  Her family had severed all ties with her after she had dragged her languid frame to their door, begging for money to feed her heroin addiction; her friends abandoned her when what remained of the drugs and money dried up.  All they left behind in her lonely, peeling apartment was a box of used syringes and a partially burned, urine-stained couch.  Her last pair of clothes clung sickly to her back, aided by months of unwashed sweat and alcohol.  Sarah sat among these remnants of what had once been an exciting life, clutching her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth. 

The thick summer heat seeped in through the window, bypassing the closed blinds—enveloping her.  “I have come to keep you company”, it whispered as it began to fill the dark, un-air conditioned apartment; “I have come to coax the sweat out of your pores, and grant sensation to your deadened skin.” 

------



Hello there, friend. I am the happiest person in the world.  It may be difficult for you to believe this, I know, but it is true.  My optimism is surpassed only by my idealism.  Contrary to popular belief, I achieved this not through hard work or excessive studying;   quite the opposite, actually.  I’ve led my life adhering to a strict policy of ignorance, blind worship, and, when necessary, binge drinking. 

Fill your mind with lies and your belly with alcohol. 
This is the key to eternal happiness, my friend. 



That is really all I have to say.  My life at the moment is one dull occurrence after another, so there isn't much to share.  I hope you all are leading rich, fulfilling, explosion-filled lives.

For I now have a Livejournal.  I believe the Earth just began to rotate a bit faster.  You may have to set your clocks accordingly.