Reblog for a larger sample size, if possible.

sweet dreams

Yohji Yamamoto: Bat Sweater A/W 2008

*places spamton in a pillow fort* soft and warm, as deserved

he probably needs the sleep anyways

*laughs until I wheeze*

Where's the option for "I own a bookshop"?

Happy Independent Bookstore Day.

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Happy Independent Bookstore Day!

Life-sized Peacock Sculpture made of spoons and other metal found objects 

by Liddlenomnom

Rereading this for the [mumblemumble]nth time.

Rendered extra poignant by the recent death of Mike Pinder, the last original member of The Moody Blues.

I've already written one story, "Starmeadow", set in the TDoPverse.

I may need to write another to pipe Mister Pinder to his home among the stars.

Daily Fic Highlight: The Doors of Perception

Today's winner of the kudos email is:

The Doors of Perception is a Pitch/Sandy human AU which begins in San Francisco in the 1960s. Perhaps my summary from Ao3 helps introduce it best:

It is the spring of 1967. Sandy is twenty years old, and he would be a sophomore at Berkeley if he was still attending classes. Instead, he is living in an old house in the Haight-Ashbury. He likes it there. He’s found something he’s good at, that people love him for. Sandy is the best trip guide in San Francisco, and everyone who’s turned on knows it.

Kozzy (human Pitch) meets Sandy because he's looking for a trip guide, and thus begins a decades-long romance with more than its fair share of trouble on its way to the HEA. 43,892 words, M, M/M and F/M (Jack/Tooth).

This fic had a few surprising responses to me when it first came out; namely, that some people were wary of reading it because of the drug use. And privately I was like, ? It's psychedelics, that's just good fun and opening your mind, this isn't some sordid DARE scare-piece. But not everyone has 60s counterculture or psychedelics as research interests, right, right.

One of the other surprising responses, which I will be vague about for privacy reasons, was in reply to one certain incident in the story, where I wrote it thinking, "maybe this is unrealistic," and later a reader told me that something very similar had happened to them IRL.

So, I think I did the best I could writing about a lot of years, places, and experiences that aren't directly mine.

Sample:

A couple months ago, rumors had started going around about a new rich kid who had run away to the Haight-Ashbury. He was from old east coast money, they said. Said his last name was Black, but he slipped up once after a few bong hits and turned out it was really Pitchiner. Everyone knew what that meant. Politics. Media conglomerates. Real estate. The people that made The System. So wasn’t it sort of fair, you know, that he just didn’t seem to fit in? The guy didn’t even own a pair of jeans! Black wool pants, black turtleneck, did he think they were all still beatniks? Still, it wasn’t as though no one would let him stay with them. They’d share their space, their food, their acid. Then again, the first time they had done that, it had turned out to be an utter disaster. Pitchiner had freaked out in a major way (“I’m not me anymore! Don’t let me let the black shadows out!”), which had caused everyone else to freak out, and the house he was staying at had used up all the thorazine they had thought they would need for the entire year in order to calm everyone down. This doesn’t deter him, however, from trying again. And again. And again. Eventually someone tells him to go see Sandy if he’s going to be so pigheaded about becoming a psychonaut when it doesn’t even make him feel good, and eventually someone tells Sandy about a guy even he might not even be able to bring to enlightenment.

Posting the final chapter of a fic is always a mixture of sadness that it’s over but also pride that you made it. You wrote a thing nobody else in the world has written ever

And now it fits into CALL SIGNS as well.

So we went to the department store where they had these horse sweaters and I thought ‘yeah Pitch would totally wear that’ sweater is from there

This is just so perfect! Thank you so much.

#Mike is such a creep I love how the description was as slimey as elias bouchard LMAO

I ugly-cackled so hard at this, because it's TRUE. Relistening to THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES right now, and some Elias definitely has found its way into my writing of Mike Cowley, "creator" of The GASTER Project.

Poor Spamton. The price of becoming A Big Shot.

A commission for the lovely @sylphidine for their fic call signs! Thank you so much for commissioning me <33

love people referring to the dracula offseason. i can't stop picturing exchanges like "well, we're in the offseason" "the Superbowl is literally this weekend" "no, not football. dracula"