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The dame came into the office wearing red, so I couldn't look her in the eye It was tuesday and I had just eaten eleven and a half chicken nuggets which were cooked at 425 degrees fahrenheit
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May 21, 2014 00:13
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| # ¿ May 22, 2024 17:04 |
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Two mooks had been tailing me all across town to the local manga haunts where I purchased the weekly lolicon releases. They seemed hesitant to approach me though I made no attempt to lose them. I tried to tell them it was ephebophelia. They wouldn't listen.
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May 21, 2014 00:23
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I knew she had a voice like velvet even though we could only communicate throught email because of my crippling social anxiety The sound of the episode of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic was almost -almost - drowned out by the email alert, and I crinkled the corners of my mouth in as close an approximation to a smile as I could muster having no concept of human cocepts like emotions The bitcoin transfer was complete
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May 21, 2014 05:17
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Liquid Dinosaur posted:This specificity with exact quantities and temperatures isn't good writing. Autists like routines, but you guys seem to be confusing autism with OCD. He said, not noticing that he had left an additional space between ''specificity'' and ''with,'' which would make him look extremely foolish in certain literary circles, like one might find on a forum for trains
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May 21, 2014 06:50
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for noticing and pointing it out.
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The dame laughed like I had told a joke, which confused me as I didn't think I had and now the preprogrammed conversation routine I had in my head wouldn't work I began to emit a loud whining noise from my booth in the Golden Corral
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May 21, 2014 14:42
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The female parted wreaths of ecig vapor as she entered the office. She was only an HB8, hardly worth the time, though she was prettier in the dim light. Sam tipped back his fedora (certainly not to be confused with a trilby or porkpie) and looked appraisingly, smirking ''nice shoes, my grandmother wore a similar pair.'' With another sick neg or two, the female would be putty in his hands.
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May 22, 2014 04:52
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The pounding rain stopped; a fine mist hung in the air and gave my crippling fear of water a pass. I pulled the brim of my hat down and the neck of my trenchcoat up, just like same Sam Spade, Dan Steel, Tracey Brick, Adam Ransall, Brett Wolf, Rick Irons, Frank Stallion, Mick Cudgel, Robert Salome, Artie Fincher, Robbie MacArthur, Sal Bergman, Mack Bellamy and Patrick ''Pat'' Hammer must have before me. The list of fictional detectives went on and on but before I could leave I had to recite it out loud. The rain had started again, and I froze.
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May 22, 2014 16:21
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I was in the local public library researching the latest case, but all of the elements caused my already fragile mind to recoil in horror. The fluids exchanged, the close -impossibly close- contact the two suspects endured, how could it have happened? I was close to something, the illustrations were slowly spelling it out. I knit my eyebrows together and began to breath heavily, spittle flying from my lips. The librarian approached my desk, asking if I needed help. ''HOW IS BABBY FORMED?,'' I bellowed. This case would be a tough nut to crack.
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May 23, 2014 22:11
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Sam plodded through the crowd. It was difficult for him to be so close to so many people, but the case demanded he be vigilant. Sweat poured from beneath the brim of his fedora and pooled under the arms of his trenchcoat and he supposed the smell might be worsening, but he kept on. He needed to follow up on the lead, no matter how scant his intel. ''EXCUSE ME PLEASE, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WAIFU?'' ''EXCUSE ME PLEASE, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WAIFU?'' The looks some of these nonbinaries gave him might have put a lesser man off, but Sam would find his mark. It was all just a matter of time. ''EXCUSE ME PLEASE, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WAIFU?''
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May 24, 2014 21:28
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| # ¿ May 22, 2024 17:04 |
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The dame opened her son's bedroom door, and a rich, familiar odor of musk laced with dried moutain dew filled my nostrils. If I could have smiled to show my joy at such a kindred spirit I would have but such things as expression are base, and beneath me. Lolicon memorabilia was plastered onto every surface and I admired the son's taste in body pillows and wall scrolls. So many depictions of warm, tender childhood romances, the closest approximation to emotion as I was able to process. The dame kept asking questions but I quickly decided she had nothing of value to tell me. I knew everything I needed to know. The buzzing of her voice in my ears began to irritate me. ''THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR SON LADY IT'S CALLED EPHEBOPHILIA'' I left the house and stepped out into the street, my leather trenchcoat flapping in the cold autumn air. females, I thought as I pulled my hat down low
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Sep 6, 2014 05:04
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