Beautiful, intimate artwork.

If anyone ever asked him about it -- which he sincerely, deeply, for his own health and safety hoped they would not -- Chris would tell them that he'd never been planning on sucking Liev's dick, or any dick ever at all. It had just happened. Like things did sometimes, unexpected.

One of those rare pieces of art that just utterly capture my imagination.

Bisexuality, or at least the idea of it, has gotten bizarrely trendy. "I kissed a girl! But I totally married a dude."

"Look at you!" she cried, and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug. It wasn't until she pulled away that I could identify my assailant: Aileen Long (formerly Aileen Delgado), the ninety-eight pounds of terror that had sent out all the near-daily organizational emails over the past six months. "You haven't changed a bit!"

I didn't bother letting her know just yet the extent of her wrongness. "Well, you've just gotten prettier!" I smiled back, as though age hadn't pulled her face taut, like she'd been hooked behind the ears and had it all just yanked backward. Just because I'm not interested in women doesn't mean I can't flatter with the best of them. Besides, you can't hold a body responsible for what time makes happen to it. "How've you been?" Jesus, I could hear my old accent creeping back in with every syllable of small talk; I wanted to run and gargle with Glenlivet and say wicked and Hahvahd until it went away.

Beautiful original artwork for the Shousetsu Bang*Bang Story Archive.

It was risky, sure, but what about this wasn't? Anyway, he'd gotten this far by being careful, and no one had ever so much as batted an eyelash at his peculiarities.

Dave has known Joe since they were eleven and a half.

In the flat below: a girl, white as the empty parchment in front of her, smooth as an egg. She has hollow bones. She is as white as the tip of her quill, made from the clipped flight feathers of her own wings. She can’t fly without them, and she can’t yet write, but she is hopeful nonetheless of a happy ending. She will write a story about the sea, and everyone who reads it will think of her, and their thoughts will lift her up. And anyway, her wings might grow back. She has heard stories.

Ethel wore an extremely large pince-nez kept attached by a chain wrapped round her horn. The first thing she ever said to Alicia was: "Tell me, my dear, have you ever let a prince try to fit his glass slipper on you?"

"Well," Alicia said. "Well, no."

"Glad to hear it. They're all foot fetishists, you know. To a prince."

Conte crayons on white paper.

Thing gets born, and dies, and there's just the two of them in every third shot or so -- one's got his arm around the other's shoulders and they're grinning boyish grins at the camera, and there's no way to see what's really going on.

Non-fannish grungy wallpaper - 5 variations. 1280 x 1024 px.

Boy-kissing, coloured pencils.

Boy porn on a Sunday afternoon... You thought you knew Dave better than you knew yourself. Turns out you didn't even come close to knowing all there was to know about Dave.