#Guy Mills

[downthetubes]

Carol Day Story Books and Riverside Racket in the works

The Slingsby Bros Ink! team behind the stunning Carol Day newspaper strip collections have announced that, now Jack Slingsby is in the hands of readers, they are now working on a range of "story books"

[too-deviant]

mdni 🃏

being taken from the streets by a fellow demigod except they don’t take you to camp half blood, they take you to this cushy cruise ship called the princess andromeda.

they introduce you to their leader, luke castellan, who smirks cheekily at you and tells you all about his movement against the gods.

“i have a feeling that you’re going to fit in here.”

going on little missions for him, moving up in his ranks until you’re practically his second in command.

finding him in the state room one day, and he’s fuming.

i’m talking a jawbone clenching, chest heaving sort of anger.

maybe percy thwarted him again. maybe kronos was giving him attitude. that didn’t matter.

what mattered was that at least you were there — his second in command, ready to do whatever he wanted to help him relax. you would listen to him always.

and so when he tells you in that authoritative, leader of an army voice to take off your shirt, you do. when he tells you to take off your pants — ah, ah, slowly — you do.

and when he bounds over, wraps his hands around your thighs and hitches you up onto the nearest desk, you are more than ready to meet his lips with yours. your moan is a weak whisper in his ear when he pulls you by your asscheeks and presses his crotch against the thin fabric of your panties. it breaks into something louder when he bites down on your collarbone, and then the space between your neck and shoulder.

you sigh when his fingers run gently over the lacy edges of your underwear before pulling them to the side and letting the air reach your already wet pussy.

“always ready for me, huh?”

then he’s messily taking his own jeans off, unzipping them halfway before he looses patience and yanks them down to his thighs, pulling his cock out of his underwear — the red tip leaking precum and making your mouth water.

his thrusts are angry, his huffs and groans echoing around the room. you’re sure the guards at the door can hear you, but neither of you care.

you come once, twice — before he is tightening his grip and finishing inside you. he cleans you up, pulls you down, and sends you off with a smack to the ass and a chuckle.

“thanks for that, sweets.”

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant having the time of his life on the set of the Doctor Who 60th Anniversary Specials

[yellowbugifs]

220/365 days of regina mills

[fizzytoo]

the next location on the sibling-bonding roadtrip takes us to an airbnb campsite in plumbite cove, copperdale!

[sadsongsandwaltzes]

“Dont buy a Hamilton beach slow cooker, it’s toxic!” Bro people are making homemade food, encourage this

“Those eggs aren’t organic” bro people are eating eggs instead of lucky charms for breakfast, encourage this

“That flour is bad for you” bro people are making bread at home without a bajillion additives, encourage this

“Don’t use plastic containers!” Again I say: bro people are making homemade food… and need a place to store it and this is what they have, encourage this

“Your shampoo smells” bro this person just stopped wearing perfume, encourage this

Etc,,,,,

[sariphantom]

Rise August Day 2: Disaster Twins

They're not called the DISASTER Twins for nothing, y'know. 😆

Totally worth being WAY behind on the challenge, but I'm NEVER doing that again for the rest of the challenge (we'll see how long that'll last). Based on the "Salt and Pepper Diner" skit, except replace the song "What's New Pussycat" with "Surfin' Bird", and not included in the picture is Hueso having a heart attack. Thanks, Family Guy.

Oh and someone set the jukebox on fire.

[wigglebox]

Get well soon! 💙💚🍜

[crowhoonter]

Cauldron's big whopping mistake

I'm just saying, Cauldron could have really done something brilliant with Eden. Not to say the vials weren't a smart thing, they definitely were, but where was the pizzaz? The showmanship? If I had stumbled into the unknowable vast corpse of an alien god, you know what I would've done? Make a fucking restaurant.

You see, they were blessed with the first truly new meat to have come to earth in a very long time. Alien meat and crystal body structures. Imagine the crazy dishes they could have made. Like fuck dude I'd eat an alien if someone gave me the chance. They could have even kept the whole giving people powers schtick with it.

Breaker biscuits with shard dust in the flour they used, Tinker Truffles, Master Muffins, Brute Borscht, Stranger Schnitzel, the possibilities were goddamn endless. Make it a restaurant at the end of the universe type deal where it isn't in the universe proper like the actual Cauldron compound so they still only get the super rich patrons.

Number Man could handle the finances (obviously) and I do believe he would also be a good greeter and waiter, polite but never too friendly. Contessa in the kitchen making the food, Doctor Mother is that lady who asks how everything is going and you don't really know what her actual job is at the restaurant but it is clear she does something important, Custodian would buss the dishes, and Slug would be there too.

They could have had the best gimmick of any cape organization, but no. They just had to make entity girl corpse water in nerdy little vials. For all of that power, all of that planning, Cauldron lacked the vision to properly do something with it.

[foolsocracy]

Now having watched Frankenstein (1931) I find this really interesting. I didn't really expect the writers themselves to have watched the film; I assumed they saw it was a horror film released in Pete's time and included it with the bonus that the audience would know the story because its Frankenstein. It really aligns with the themes of spider noir though, so I'm second guessing myself.

I read Frankenstein a while back so I'm not as familiar with it as I once was, but I'd say its generous to say the movie is based off of the original novel. It hits some of the points but it really is different. I mean, in the film its Henry Frankenstein, not even Victor.

In the film, the monster is played almost-infantile. He reaches out towards light as if he could grab it. He plays with a little girl by a lake, throwing in flowers to watch them float like boats. When he kills her, it's an accident. How could he have known that she wouldn't float along with the flowers? Its Frankenstein and his assistant who are portrayed as monstrous. They lock him in the dark for three days. The intimidate him with fire and whips and fists.

Despite this, its Frankenstein who gets the 'good end,' while the monster is left to burn alive, pinned inside a wooden mill set alight by the townspeople.

Pete could have gotten nightmares from a number of scenes. Although I wouldn't personally say this is a scary film, there are definitely unnerving parts. There was also a different standard in 1931 for what was scary in film, plus Pete was already living a hard life at such a young age when he saw it.

Based on the panels themselves it is clear that Pete was scared of the monster itself (which is fair, the make up and costuming wanted him to be frightening). "I expected him to tell me there's no such thing as monsters," because no one in real life is a resurrected, looming... once-man-now-creature. (Just you wait, Peter). It's a more juvenile read of the film but Pete is a kid. Ben though, is a veteran, a socialist, has been around the block. He has the sense to analyze the film and interpret it differently. It is the men who find themselves with a capacity for senseless cruelty that are the monsters. That is exactly what the noir comics are about.

I really like that it's clear that Uncle Ben knows what Peter is about to learn. It also shows how much Pete has changed, just within the 1-2 years since he'd seen Frankenstein.

[bonesdontmelt]

Fandom taste testing deadpan and sarcastic characters like fine wine

"Dry and... fruity"

[downthetubes]

Preorders open for “David Wright's Carol Day: Jack Slingsby”

Specialist publisher Slingsby Bros, Ink! has opened preorders for David Wright’s Carol Day: Jack Slingsby, solely through The Book Palace, based in the UK. Edited by Roger Clark, Chris Killackey and Guy Mills, Jack Slingsby is a companion volume to the first, huge Carol Day book, Lance Hallam, released earlier this year. Carol Day is a fashion model, elegant and sophisticated in a world of…

[ricciardo133]

July 2018

maxiel, Daniel genderswap, pining, drunken hook-up alluded to

-

Max wakes up slowly, feeling a girl cling to his side in the hotel bed. He can't remember Daniel and him inviting girls over to their shared room to unwind after Silverstone, but they did drink an inadvisable amount. Daniel had drank some noxiously sweet wine that some fan had gifted him. Idiotic, Max had thought. Max stuck to gin, a drink that normally doesn't leave him feeling this discombobulated. He feels wrecked, sore, and achy. He doesn't even feel ready to open his eyes.

The woman beside him stretches and sighs. "Rough night, eh, Maxy?" she says in a familiar Australian lit.

They both freeze.

Max sits up, slapping around the hotel lamp until he finds the switch. He stares wide-eyed at the woman lying beside him, her mass of dark curls against tan skin. Her wide, familiar eyes with that distinctive nose set between. Her hands are flung over her mouth, but Max can still see the right tattoos in the right places, only against different curves.

He glances down at perky, bare tits and soft, wide hips, and then back up in embarrassed shock.

"Daniel?"

"Yeah."

"You're a girl."

"So I've noticed."

Max gets up, starkly aware of his own nudity. He fumbles in the morning light for clothes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants.

He's still quite himself, but the hickeys are new. He didn't know his face could feel this hot. He mentally feels memories from last night brush against his psyche in frustratingly fleeting snippets. Biting down on soft thighs. Warmth and tightness. Hard nipples in his mouth. God, he thinks, we finally did it and I can't fucking remember shit.

He looks back, seeing Daniel is gone. He panics and hustles to the bathroom where not-Daniel-but-still-Daniel stands and assess his body.

"Wow, kinda thought girl-me would have a bigger rack."

"You're taking this well."

"Well, obviously, we're dreaming."

"Hm."

Daniel twists in his spot, watching his reflection as he gives his ass a smack. Max is immediately hard.

"Daniel."

"Max," he echoes with faux shock. "Relax, this is, like, a seriously vivid dream. A horny one at that. I think we boned last night."

Max can't utter a word. He just watches as Daniel feels up his own body, smaller hands drifting over smooth skin. His nails skate along his thigh's tattoos, upwards to drift along fine hair between his legs. Max squirms and feels anything but asleep.

"So real," Daniel whispers.

"Can you maybe put something on?" Max begs. Daniel cocks an eyebrow and smirks. Max feels unnerved seeing his expressions in a feminine font. Daniel's refreshing confidence always made Max feel... too much. Like if he wasn't careful, he could spill over with it all. Watching Daniel now fondle his chest, pressing the small mounds together as he assessed himself in the mirror, Max felt ready to burst.

And they fucked. He turns and heads out to the hotel room.

Life is cruel and this dream sucks and he wishes he could remember.

"Hey, Max, hey," Daniel soothes, coming up behind him and blessedly covered in a hotel towel. "I seriously think this can't be real. Just like...what's that DiCaprio film?"

"Huh? Inception?"

"Yeah, that one. Just a really, really good...weird dream."

"Okay, then hit me." Max walks up to Daniel. He's not used to being this much taller. He feels dizzy again with need, wanting nothing more than to pin the older Aussie down on the bed. To hike his soft yet strong legs over his shoulders. Maybe it'd be fine if they did it again, since it maybe is an impossible dream and Daniel's not a boy right now. Not that it mattered normally. Max didn't care, he just wanted to feel him all over again.

"What?" Daniel smiles, eyebrows knit in confusion.

"In dreams, that's how you wake up. Like, a kick to jolt you awake, right?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, we should wake up."

Max leans closer and turns his cheek.

"I'm not smacking you, Max. Here," Daniel takes Max's hand in his. All Max wants was to knit their fingers together, to feel the way his palm is finally bigger than Daniel's. "We'll do it to ourselves, okay?"

Daniel places Max's hand against his own cheek. He watches the gorgeous woman in front of him mirrors him, hand raised gently, fingertips against the curls that fall so, so long down to the middle of Daniel's back. He'd look so good with hair like that even as a boy. Max thinks to tell him this and stops himself.

"On three, yeah?"

"Okay."

Daniel counts down, in that singsong voice that's his but not his pitch. Max tries to commit it to memory as he gives himself a just-too-painful slap.

And nothing changes. The only thing that changes is now Daniel panics.

"Holy fucking shit, Max."

"Daniel-"

"This is real."

"We'll fix this," Max tries as Daniel starts tearing apart the hotel room. Max glances at the clock on the nightstand while Daniel goes on a heated search for something. "We don't have to leave for the flight for two hours."

Christ. He pictures telling their team anything. Daniel can still race, of course, Max thinks. He'll just need a new suit that fits better. And some adjustments to the car's seat fit. And a good PR statement that, yes, something impossible happened overnight but no worries we'll be set for Hockenheim so don't worry about how this happened.

"This!" Daniel says, leaping up to Max and putting a small card in his hand. "This is why! Read it. It came with the wine that hot girl gave me."

Max rolls his eyes and reads it. He narrows his gaze. "A change, temporary, good for two? What's that mean?"

"Beats me, but read it again. Temporary." He sighs, letting his head knock back. Max stares at the line of hickeys down Daniel's thinner neck, too faint. "I do kinda miss my dick."

"How does it feel?" Max asks despite himself. "To be a girl?"

"Good, I guess." Does Daniel press his thighs together reflexively, Max wonders. He feels pent up and horny again. "Like, I don't mind it, but it'll be hell to buy a whole new wardrobe," he attempts to joke through shaky laughs.

"Maybe that note meant 'two' like in two times," Max says, voice quiet.

All he can hear for a moment is the whirl of the hotel aircon. He watches Daniel's feminine frame, his big eyes and wet lips.

"Can you remember any of it?" Daniel asks, voice barely registering above the whirl.

"Not much."

"And it kinda doesn't count, right? Because I'm not really me right now, so its okay? And you don't mind?"

It can count, Max wants to beg. It can. It can be okay after, too. It can be okay all the time.

"I don't mind. You're hot as a girl." The last three words feel too final. Daniel's shoulders fall as he nods.

"Yeah, a stunner, huh? So, well, we'll take her for one last ride."

Finally, Daniel walks up and pushes Max onto the hotel bed. Max's mind reels as Daniel lets the towel drop. Two breasts in Max's face as he feels thighs straddle his waist. His hands fly up to trace eager lines up Daniel's spine and rake gentle tracks back down with his nails. They both shudder.

"Last time, right?" Daniel says between kisses down Max's neck. Max feels his eyes water. It doesn't have to be. But he doesn't say anything. He flips Daniel over on the bed, body tenting over the smaller frame. And this time, he focuses. He wants to make Daniel feel good. He wants to come inside. He wants to etch every moment deep in his mind, so he'll remember every gasp, every touch, every sigh.

[feetmanyes]

[yellowbugifs]

9/365 days of regina mills

[denim-bias]