Ari Bach's Blog, page 38
February 8, 2020
Weird thing-Movies can cost several hundred million dollars to make, sometimes requiring a crew of...
Weird thing-
Movies can cost several hundred million dollars to make, sometimes requiring a crew of thousands.
Books are generally made by one person for no cost beyond the tools used to write them.
But people are always saying, “The book was better.”
February 6, 2020
Veikko: Skadi, I feel like I’m going to die.
Skadi: We’re all gonna die, Veikko.
Veikko: I meant soon.
Skadi: So did I.
January 29, 2020
garbashians:
jerseydevilslesbianlover:
pidge-gunson:
neko-crim...
what the actual fuck
Men don’t know women can pee
ive been sitting on the toilet for 20 minutes trying to piss but the pee keeps getting lost in my confusing Woman Body
i haven’t peed in 16 days… my pee keeps running into the minotaur in the labyrinth that is my Womanly Excretory System
from The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike
January 28, 2020
booksbymiranda:
the-walrus-squad:
booksbymiranda:
The strip club was called Celestial Bodies.
As...
The strip club was called Celestial Bodies.
As the name suggested, it had a space theme. Everything from the decor to the happy hour cocktails to the dancers’ costumes–before they got out of them, anyway–was tailored to suit the aesthetic.
Zvander didn’t often go to strip clubs. The environment was just too desperate. Though the patrons hid their shame under so many layers of inebriation and chest-thumping, the truth was that being at a place like this was one of the most emasculating things possible. It meant you couldn’t get the merchandise for free, that you had to hand over your hard earned money to do so, and even then, you could only look. Such auto-castration was far beneath Zvander. If anyone else had asked him to come along, he would have answered with a hearty hell no, but Dingo was his best friend, and it was his bachelor party. So, there he was.
When their group arrived, a dancer uncreatively named Uranus was just leaving the stage. The following act was a woman the announcer presented as NASA, but the way he dragged the vowels out made it clear the pun was supposed to be N-ass-a. A strange choice, thought Zvander, considering she had no ass to speak of, and not enough jiggle anywhere else to make up for it. Despite what the posters outside claimed, he doubted very much that he would have an “out of this world” experience.
By the time No-Assa stepped offstage, Zvander was three drinks in and thoroughly bored. The announcer asked the audience to welcome the next performer, Planetary Albeatoff, and the sheer terribleness of that name had Zvander considering what excuse he could make to leave early. But before he could escape, Miss Planetary Albeatoff took the stage.
The other dancers were old hands at this, and though they hid their boredom with plastic, overly-lipsticked smiles, the dead expression in their eyes gave away the game. Sometimes, like with No-Assa, Zvander found himself wishing they would just put their clothes back on. That was not the case with this woman. For Miss Planetary Albeatoff, wearing clothes at all should have been a felony offense.
From her toes to the crest of her bright, silvery-blonde hair, she exuded pure sexuality and delight. At first she wore a sheer silver nightie with black lace trim, but it barely covered anything to begin with and she removed it before he had to call law enforcement.
Her body had its own gravitational pull. Like a hapless trans-neptunian object he found himself stranded in her orbit. The changing colors from the stage lights cast her sinewy form in an ethereal, pulsating glow like that of a comet, reflecting most strongly from the twin plutoids that were her breasts. And suddenly Zvander understood her stage name, a pun on the measurement of light reflected from celestial objects. Truly, the albedo of her cleavage rivaled that of even Venus. Zvander felt his telescope angling to observe more of this spectacular astronomical anomaly. His Big Bang was fast approaching.
Jennifer sauntered sexily into the room, swaying her spine back and forth enticingly and demanding the attention of every man in the room. Her feminine chest protuberances pendulated within the chasm of her decolletage. Though her dress obscured her innermost treasures, its hemline ended the tyranny of her wardrobe just above her delicate popliteal. Her all-too-smooth knee inevitably gave way to her silken shins, freshly waxed and tender all the way down to her prominent condyle, where her fetish-inspiring foot began before hiding its sexy bulk within her vertiginously high heeled shoe, a shoe designed purely for the pleasure of the man whose fortune it was to look upon the maiden who filled it. Her shoes clickity-clacked on the tile floor, which reflected her from bottom to top such that two women were present in the room that day, perhaps a daylight woman who knew she was there, and her nightside twin, upside down beneath the floor, who showed ever so slightly more up her dress, tantalizing the maleness within every man present.
ITT: Badly Written Character IntroductionsArtemesia was like a forbidden dessert–one that invited you to taste it, to swipe your finger through the cream and bring it to your tongue while nobody was looking. Her skin was white and soft as powdered sugar, and offset the rich, dark chocolate color of her hair and eyes, while her lips were red, the cherry on top of this decadent pastry of a woman. But no one could live off dessert alone, and though she was sweet in small amounts, anyone who over-indulged in Artemesia was bound to end up with a cavity.
It was then that he saw Melody, and with Melody, her butternut squash shaped body. To say she rivaled Helen of Troy in beauty would do her a disservice, for as Helen launched a thousand ships with her face, Melody’s hips could launch a thousand armadas. Indeed her ilia curved outward like stressed struts supporting a heavy cruiser in dry dock, curved like parenthesis around the exposed sweet center of her midriff: Her deep, tight belly button.
It was only after a minute’s gaze that he came to her face, and only then after making way beyond her perilous thorax, where he knew not to look lest his eyes fall into her cleavage and never make their way out. Her twin satchels of sweet-rendered fat were a truly wily trap for all men, always on prominent display under her modest taunting V-neck shirt. That collar dip, only two inches from her neck, hinted tantalizingly at the marvels within, those two sloping mounds that, free from her bra at night, would quiver and sway uncontrolled beneath the apex nipples that the Lord had so kindly bestowed her with, seemingly purely for the pleasure of the man who would someday unleash them.
Pushing thoughts of her body to the back of his cerebrum, he strained to make direct eye contact with her as he shook her dainty, well fingered hand. But those eyes too were gravity wells that sucked him in, tugging at his heart like that one black hole from Interstellar such that time dilated and spent an eternity in those few seconds of ocular recognition. Their color was emerald green, with all the smaragdine shimmer- His birthstone for May. She had dared to hide them behind mascara and eyeliner, which being a good man he disdained- Knowing that true beauty came from a woman unrestricted by makeup.
The rest of her stunning face, for he was literally stunned by its nose, its mouth, its cheeks- Was a sumptuous symphony of components, each in perfect proportion. Her nose, not too beaky nor too piggish, her lips, round and curved like a rotifer amid the cilia of her peach fuzz, guarding her teeth and tongue within. And then it happened: She licked her lips, revealing the papillae of her gustatory organ. He almost fainted. He struggled to speak.
Thaddicus was not like other men. He had a secret, one that both shamed him and brought him pleasure, for he knew no man on earth could claim the things he could about his genitals.
Never in medical history had there been so bounteous a ballsack. His balls hung low. They wobbled to and fro. He could have tied them in a knot, or tied them in a bow. He could have thrown them over his shoulder like a continental soldier. Lord, did his nuts hang low.
And his penis stood high. It reached up to the sky. It drooped when it was wet, and stiffened when ‘twas dry. He could wave it at his neighor with an element of flavor, for his dick stood high.
Needless to say, with all this going on, he couldn’t walk very well. Thoughts and prayers for Thaddicus.
It was then that Fawn came into my life. I met her at night, her type being a night breed. The type of woman who slinks around in the shadows like a cat. A nocturnal owl of a woman.
It wasn’t just her dark-coated nature that compelled me. Like a dolphin she was smart. I never met a girl so smart as Fawn, so erudite in diction, so controlled in contrast to her wild, animalistic gender. She sat beside me in the bar, the sides of her gluteus pancaking out ever so slightly upon the leather barstool like the skin of a flying squirrel.
I couldn’t help but admire her in her tight leopard skin skirt, her bestial daring to present herself like prey to a predator, like a mouse to an anaconda. She shook her mane of hair, wet from the rain, like a dog shakes its fur. I tried to strike up a conversation but she was a stubborn as a mule, and like Poe’s raven wouldn’t speak more than a single word in negative response.
We butted heads like rams for a few spiny seconds, bristling at one another, me like a man possessed, her like a porcupine, quills out. She recoiled into her armor like an armadillo in a Texas dust storm.
Still though, with my masculine charm it wasn’t long before I could amuse her and she was laughing like a hyena at my jokes and kindness toward her. She complimented me on my way with women, revealing the unspoken truth about how women must be treated to offer up their love: Above all- You must treat them as I do, like human beings.
booksbymiranda:
The strip club was called Celestial Bodies.
As the name suggested, it had a space...
The strip club was called Celestial Bodies.
As the name suggested, it had a space theme. Everything from the decor to the happy hour cocktails to the dancers’ costumes–before they got out of them, anyway–was tailored to suit the aesthetic.
Zvander didn’t often go to strip clubs. The environment was just too desperate. Though the patrons hid their shame under so many layers of inebriation and chest-thumping, the truth was that being at a place like this was one of the most emasculating things possible. It meant you couldn’t get the merchandise for free, that you had to hand over your hard earned money to do so, and even then, you could only look. Such auto-castration was far beneath Zvander. If anyone else had asked him to come along, he would have answered with a hearty hell no, but Dingo was his best friend, and it was his bachelor party. So, there he was.
When their group arrived, a dancer uncreatively named Uranus was just leaving the stage. The following act was a woman the announcer presented as NASA, but the way he dragged the vowels out made it clear the pun was supposed to be N-ass-a. A strange choice, thought Zvander, considering she had no ass to speak of, and not enough jiggle anywhere else to make up for it. Despite what the posters outside claimed, he doubted very much that he would have an “out of this world” experience.
By the time No-Assa stepped offstage, Zvander was three drinks in and thoroughly bored. The announcer asked the audience to welcome the next performer, Planetary Albeatoff, and the sheer terribleness of that name had Zvander considering what excuse he could make to leave early. But before he could escape, Miss Planetary Albeatoff took the stage.
The other dancers were old hands at this, and though they hid their boredom with plastic, overly-lipsticked smiles, the dead expression in their eyes gave away the game. Sometimes, like with No-Assa, Zvander found himself wishing they would just put their clothes back on. That was not the case with this woman. For Miss Planetary Albeatoff, wearing clothes at all should have been a felony offense.
From her toes to the crest of her bright, silvery-blonde hair, she exuded pure sexuality and delight. At first she wore a sheer silver nightie with black lace trim, but it barely covered anything to begin with and she removed it before he had to call law enforcement.
Her body had its own gravitational pull. Like a hapless trans-neptunian object he found himself stranded in her orbit. The changing colors from the stage lights cast her sinewy form in an ethereal, pulsating glow like that of a comet, reflecting most strongly from the twin plutoids that were her breasts. And suddenly Zvander understood her stage name, a pun on the measurement of light reflected from celestial objects. Truly, the albedo of her cleavage rivaled that of even Venus. Zvander felt his telescope angling to observe more of this spectacular astronomical anomaly. His Big Bang was fast approaching.
Jennifer sauntered sexily into the room, swaying her spine back and forth enticingly and demanding the attention of every man in the room. Her feminine chest protuberances pendulated within the chasm of her decolletage. Though her dress obscured her innermost treasures, its hemline ended the tyranny of her wardrobe just above her delicate popliteal. Her all-too-smooth knee inevitably gave way to her silken shins, freshly waxed and tender all the way down to her prominent condyle, where her fetish-inspiring foot began before hiding its sexy bulk within her vertiginously high heeled shoe, a shoe designed purely for the pleasure of the man whose fortune it was to look upon the maiden who filled it. Her shoes clickity-clacked on the tile floor, which reflected her from bottom to top such that two women were present in the room that day, perhaps a daylight woman who knew she was there, and her nightside twin, upside down beneath the floor, who showed ever so slightly more up her dress, tantalizing the maleness within every man present.
ITT: Badly Written Character IntroductionsArtemesia was like a forbidden dessert–one that invited you to taste it, to swipe your finger through the cream and bring it to your tongue while nobody was looking. Her skin was white and soft as powdered sugar, and offset the rich, dark chocolate color of her hair and eyes, while her lips were red, the cherry on top of this decadent pastry of a woman. But no one could live off dessert alone, and though she was sweet in small amounts, anyone who over-indulged in Artemesia was bound to end up with a cavity.
It was then that he saw Melody, and with Melody, her butternut squash shaped body. To say she rivaled Helen of Troy in beauty would do her a disservice, for as Helen launched a thousand ships with her face, Melody’s hips could launch a thousand armadas. Indeed her ilia curved outward like stressed struts supporting a heavy cruiser in dry dock, curved like parenthesis around the exposed sweet center of her midriff: Her deep, tight belly button.
It was only after a minute’s gaze that he came to her face, and only then after making way beyond her perilous thorax, where he knew not to look lest his eyes fall into her cleavage and never make their way out. Her twin satchels of sweet-rendered fat were a truly wily trap for all men, always on prominent display under her modest taunting V-neck shirt. That collar dip, only two inches from her neck, hinted tantalizingly at the marvels within, those two sloping mounds that, free from her bra at night, would quiver and sway uncontrolled beneath the apex nipples that the Lord had so kindly bestowed her with, seemingly purely for the pleasure of the man who would someday unleash them.
Pushing thoughts of her body to the back of his cerebrum, he strained to make direct eye contact with her as he shook her dainty, well fingered hand. But those eyes too were gravity wells that sucked him in, tugging at his heart like that one black hole from Interstellar such that time dilated and spent an eternity in those few seconds of ocular recognition. Their color was emerald green, with all the smaragdine shimmer- His birthstone for May. She had dared to hide them behind mascara and eyeliner, which being a good man he disdained- Knowing that true beauty came from a woman unrestricted by makeup.
The rest of her stunning face, for he was literally stunned by its nose, its mouth, its cheeks- Was a sumptuous symphony of components, each in perfect proportion. Her nose, not too beaky nor too piggish, her lips, round and curved like a rotifer amid the cilia of her peach fuzz, guarding her teeth and tongue within. And then it happened: She licked her lips, revealing the papillae of her gustatory organ. He almost fainted. He struggled to speak.
booksbymiranda:ITT: Badly Written Character IntroductionsArtemesia was like a forbidden...
ITT: Badly Written Character IntroductionsArtemesia was like a forbidden dessert–one that invited you to taste it, to swipe your finger through the cream and bring it to your tongue while nobody was looking. Her skin was white and soft as powdered sugar, and offset the rich, dark chocolate color of her hair and eyes, while her lips were red, the cherry on top of this decadent pastry of a woman. But no one could live off dessert alone, and though she was sweet in small amounts, anyone who over-indulged in Artemesia was bound to end up with a cavity.
Jennifer sauntered sexily into the room, swaying her spine back and forth enticingly and demanding the attention of every man in the room. Her feminine chest protuberances pendulated within the chasm of her decolletage. Though her dress obscured her innermost treasures, its hemline ended the tyranny of her wardrobe just above her delicate popliteal. Her all-too-smooth knee inevitably gave way to her silken shins, freshly waxed and tender all the way down to her prominent condyle, where her fetish-inspiring foot began before hiding its sexy bulk within her vertiginously high heeled shoe, a shoe designed purely for the pleasure of the man whose fortune it was to look upon the maiden who filled it. Her shoes clickity-clacked on the tile floor, which reflected her from bottom to top such that two women were present in the room that day, perhaps a daylight woman who knew she was there, and her nightside twin, upside down beneath the floor, who showed ever so slightly more up her dress, tantalizing the maleness within every man present.
January 24, 2020
qinterwatcher:
https://discord.gg/VRSkE2B
valhalla by ari bach fans i made a server because my...
valhalla by ari bach fans i made a server because my autism surpassed my impulse control. anyway get in i just talk about how much i care veikko
I’m not really familiar with discord but for those who are ↑
January 20, 2020
Don’t make me say it, partner.Anyhow, I’m opening up a RedBubble...
Don’t make me say it, partner.
Anyhow, I’m opening up a RedBubble store.
Might be some Valhalla stuff there, too…
