Saturday Snark: Just Beat It

Violetta Vane's and my latest WIP is a little bit more tear-jerky than our usual, but it has its moments. So this Saturday Snark have some army barracks hijinks!

Any man past the age of ten would know that sound anywhere. Ori stared up at the shadowy frame of the metal bunk above him and sighed. He’d had a good day today -- passed his final test, a non-assisted parachute jump, with perfect marks -- and this was not how he wanted to celebrate: trapped underneath a Texas good ole boy with a masturbation technique as noisy as a rusty oil-well pumpjack.

Slap-slap-wheeze-flop-slap-slap. Ori felt like offering to help... not out of any sexual attraction, just to shut the guy up.

Someone else had noticed, singing out in a falsetto, “just beat it, beeeaaaat it, no one wants to be defeated!” The guy above him groaned in embarrassment as other voices picked up the chorus.

God. Army life. They might as well all be fifteen.

Don't forget to visit the other participants using the widget below and leave lots of nice comments. (Everybody loves comments!)

Remembrance Day

No blame. Anyone who wrote Howl and Kaddish
earned the right to make any possible mistake
for the rest of his life.
I just wish I hadn't made this mistake with him.
It was during the Vietnam war
and he was giving a great protest reading
in Washington Square Park
and nobody wanted to leave.
So Ginsberg got the idea, "I'm going to shout
"the war is over" as loud as I can," he said
"and all of you run over the city
in different directions
yelling the war is over, shout it in offices,
shops, everywhere and when enough people
believe the war is over
why, not even the politicians
will be able to keep it going."
I thought it was a great idea at the time
a truly poetic idea.
So when Ginsberg yelled I ran down the street
and leaned in the doorway
of the sort of respectable down on its luck cafeteria
where librarians and minor clerks have lunch
and I yelled "the war is over."
And a little old lady looked up
from her cottage cheese and fruit salad.
She was so ordinary she would have been invisible
except for the terrible light
filling her face as she whispered
"My son. My son is coming home."
I got myself out of there and was sick in some bushes.
That was the first time I believed there was a war.

"Ginsberg"

Julia Vinograd

Grandpa and Great-Uncle, beefcakes (top L, bottom R)

My grandfather, child of the Blitz, joined up after WWII

WIP Wednesday: Playing Tricks

I am so psyched to be writing this next story with my partner in crime (and fellow TARDIS aficionado) Violetta Vane. I'm hoping to eventually do a joint post with her about our co-writing process and how we come up with ideas, but in the meantime I'll just say both of us had a hankering to write a story set in Hawaii and thus our latest novella was born.

The moist island air curling into his lungs felt sweet and medicinal after the dryness of desert and mainland, not to mention the recycled pressurized air of his hours spent sitting in coach. He had the sudden desire to check how pale he’d gotten, buried like a grub in prison. A quick check of his forearms confirmed he was still darker than the tourists, at least. And he’d kept in shape. One of the only things that kept him sane, in fact: that he could rely on his body, on the ache of his straining muscles, even when his mind played tricks on him.

Like right now.

He bent to snatch his suitcase off the conveyor belt, and when he straightened again, Kalani stood on the other side of the carousel, wearing that worn ringer t-shirt that Ori had given him as a hand-me-down nearly five years ago, now -- still so tight on his big body -- and his dark hair shaved close to his scalp just like Ori remembered him. Haloed by light from the huge glass doors to the terrace garden. Bright, green, alive, and Ori had to shut his eyes.

You wanted him to welcome you home, and here he is, Ori accused himself. Kalani, as strong and shining with life as ever. He’d reach out to Ori with a confident grin and fold him in his arms, one of those hugs that Ori wanted to believe were too long to be just between friends or even brothers. And then he’d headbutt him and clap him hard on the back and --

And nothing. Ori opened his eyes to the same door, the same garden, the same warm, sparkling light... and a pair of overweight mainlanders taking a photo of their equally overweight kid. Because he’s not here.

Also, if you're into mancandy, you should check out +Violetta Vane because she's been posting pictures of the various Hawaiian and Filipino men we found on our search to get a mental image for Ori and Kalani.

Hotties! Hotties everywhere!

Monday Music: Bow Chicka Wow Wow (aka sex music)

This tumblr is awesome, just by the by.

I'm one of those writers who sometimes needs just the right music to get in the mood for porn or sex scenes. Now of course, what music is most helpful depends on the tone of the scene. The following songs probably won't work for a bittersweet goodbye or the gentle lovemaking of two men who just realized they belong together.

However, it's great if you're like me and love to write filthy debased dirty-talk-filled sex scenes! (A sample of which you may see if you stop by for WIP Wednesday this week! Or if you follow my twitter.)

And so, without further adieu, a sampling of music from my "Porn Grooves" playlist (yes it is seriously called that).

Saturday Snark: Happy Birthday

So Marie Sexton at MarieSexton.net has been doing this rather amusing blog hop that I've been quietly lurking on (like you do) and I thought that this week I'd give it a go, too! The basics are, visit Marie Sexton's blog on Saturday, where you'll find a snarky dialogue snippet from her characters followed by links to fellow authors who have also shared some snark. It's a whole bunch of witty dialogue, all in one place, and a great way to find new authors to read, especially if you're like me and need to gel with an author's sense of humour in order to really appreciate their work.

Be sure to stop by MarieSexton.net for more snark. Read and comment! (I will be breaking my lurking habit today, as well, so if you're shy we'll be making the jump together!)

From me, have a snippet from my goodreads m/m contemporary freebie Ulterior Motives, where new boyfriends Sean and Cormac tell each other about losing their respective virginities.

“I wish. Afterwards, I wanted to just jerk him off, maybe, or try to suck him too, even though I didn’t know if I’d be any good at it. But he got it in his head he was going to fuck me. It was an unmitigated disaster. I was willing, sure, but neither of us had any idea what we were doing.” He laughed, remembering. The angle’d been all wrong. It felt like they had everything all tangled. There was so much they didn’t realize about mechanics.

“That’s a surprise, to be honest...” Sean said, mostly to himself.

“Thinking of me not knowing what I was doing?” Cormac asked.

“Thinking of you on the receiving end.”

Cormac flashed him a scandalized look, and then cracked a guilty smile. “It’s not that I won’t, exactly. I just... have to like and trust a man a lot more than the usual. Kind of hypocritical, isn’t it, that I’d ask that of another man but not be willing to give it myself.”

Sean shrugged, rubbing the soles of his feet against Cormac’s ankles in thought. “I always did think you were kind of a dick.” He looked up at Cormac, completely serious, and Cormac smiled sheepishly back.

“Here,” he offered, “I’ll make it up to you, right? I’ll let you fuck me.”

“When?”

“On your birthday.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “How generous.”

Go! Read!

Friday's Gay Video: Show Me Your Teeth

It legitimately breaks my heart that Lady Gaga didn't release this song as a single, because it's definitely one of my favourites she's ever done. But then, if she tried to make a music video, nothing she did could ever top this, anyway. The dancing's kind of awkward, but the more you watch it, the more amazing it gets. Trust me on this one.

Mmm, suspenders...

Wednesday WIP: "Pretty Little Thing"

Today's WIP is slightly porny, so read with caution! (Although if you're on this blog, hopefully you're prepared for that, right?)

From a PWP deleted scene written with Violetta Vane that fits into our Christmas-in-prison story "The Saturnalia Effect" (currently out on submissions, we'll let you know how that goes!)

“Pretty little thing-- I got a feeling you like taking orders, don’t you? Mm... gonna have some fun with you then.”

Please, Troy thought, too frozen by Daniel’s possessive touch to even breathe, God please, I’ll do anything.

He half-expected Daniel to just throw him onto the bed and take him from behind, condom or no condom, whether it would hurt him or not. That was his right, after all.

But he didn’t. “Stay there,” Daniel said, and moved away. The rustle as he tied a bedsheet to the corner of the wall was a shockingly intimate sound, one of those sensations that would have gone unnoticed on the outside but in prison became charged with auspicious meaning. Here, right here on his knees, Troy reclaimed a measure of freedom. The thought and the sound of the sheet and the ache of his shoulders -- one of them or all of them together, maybe -- made him shiver uncontrollably.

When Daniel turned, his expression softened into something pained, looking at Troy. “You scared?” he asked.

Yes. “No,” Troy said.

Daniel moved behind him, weaving his fingers through Troy’s hair again, pulling his head back a little farther. Troy couldn’t see him now, but he could hear his breathing, heavy but even. Controlled. “It’s okay. I like telling you what to do, but I’m not gonna hurt you.”