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Literature
How Fickle Love Is
She was made of circuitry and metal sheets. Each smooth plane of skin marred by the gentle swell and bubble of a weld. Oil glistened between each joint, her arms folded around my neck and she pressed silicone lips against mine. If I ignored the exposed wires on her fingertips sending shocks up my spine, I could pretend she was real. The coolness of her metal skin, coloured like flesh with strips of long-lasting paint, was something I could also ignore.
I wanted to name her, something soft and gentle. Something that would drip from my tongue and trickle down her chest. But I didn’t. She told me she was made to service me, not love me. Her hands dragged electricity down my chest, to the waistband of my pants.
I was looking for love. She wasn’t. I don’t think she understood what love was.
Delilah sounded soft enough for her. It matched her delicate intricacy. Her panels of chipped metal flesh overlapped like petals. As flecks of paint peeled, I could see the thousands of
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Jellyfish by Skull-Killer Jellyfish :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 13 5 Mama's Lullaby by Skull-Killer Mama's Lullaby :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 4 7 Claire's Fairies by Skull-Killer Claire's Fairies :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 4 20 Long Lane by Skull-Killer Long Lane :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 3 2 Lily by Skull-Killer Lily :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 8 9 Without Sand by Skull-Killer Without Sand :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 3 12 Stone by Skull-Killer Stone :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 3 0 Girl by Skull-Killer Girl :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 7 2 Forest by Skull-Killer Forest :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 2 7 Daisies by Skull-Killer Daisies :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 8 2 Little Sunflare by Skull-Killer Little Sunflare :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 4 13 Birdhouse by Skull-Killer Birdhouse :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 7 12 Gnome by Skull-Killer Gnome :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 10 6 Driver by Skull-Killer Driver :iconskull-killer:Skull-Killer 8 12
Literature
Going Back for Winter
    The image wouldn’t leave his head. He couldn’t shake it. A crumpled body twisted around steaming pipes, the smell of burning skin and condensing water. The fog of his goggles had rendered the image as a hazy shadow. A shadow that had danced with life in front of him a moment ago. It had become his obsession ever since. It had been months since he’d left his workshop; days since he last slept. The shatter of bones haunted him. His ears rang sometimes. There was the squeal of the brass giving out, the snap as the mass of pipes fell, the sudden, airy silence as the pressure in the valves leaked and the boy in front of him crumpled.
                He vaguely remembered screaming Winter, as if calling out the name of the dead boy would bring him back. Which it didn’t. There was no bringing Winter back. The boy was dead.
        &
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Activity


Huzzah! New publication to announced! My little sci-fi story, "Glitch", has been featured in Helios Quarterly!

heliosquarterly.com/index.php/…
First story is up on Uprising Review! I'm super ecstatic to see this project working out. 

www.uprisingreview.com/project…
She was made of circuitry and metal sheets. Each smooth plane of skin marred by the gentle swell and bubble of a weld. Oil glistened between each joint, her arms folded around my neck and she pressed silicone lips against mine. If I ignored the exposed wires on her fingertips sending shocks up my spine, I could pretend she was real. The coolness of her metal skin, coloured like flesh with strips of long-lasting paint, was something I could also ignore.

I wanted to name her, something soft and gentle. Something that would drip from my tongue and trickle down her chest. But I didn’t. She told me she was made to service me, not love me. Her hands dragged electricity down my chest, to the waistband of my pants.

I was looking for love. She wasn’t. I don’t think she understood what love was.

Delilah sounded soft enough for her. It matched her delicate intricacy. Her panels of chipped metal flesh overlapped like petals. As flecks of paint peeled, I could see the thousands of colours she had been painted before to match the desires of some John.

But I owned her now. She didn’t need to worry about a thousand paint jobs or unsanitary homes and hands.

“I think I love you.” I whispered against her perfectly dimpled chin. I eased my breath down her neck, felt the rough edges on my tongue.

She laughed, clutched my hair in her fingers and arched her back.

It happened every night, my half admission and her frail refusal. A metallic tinge to my tongue as I wished for more than physical pleasure. But she was a mess of circuits and wires painted like a perfect doll and I was a mass of flesh and blood with thousands of imperfections. I could spend years whispering my love into her molded ear and she would never hear my words.

It just wasn’t meant to be. My wants didn’t matter; my physical needs was the only things she understood. And every night I would hide away my emotions, wrap my arms around her cold, misunderstanding waist, and kiss fake lips with the hope she would understand my frantic passion.

She never did, her back arching in pleasure as my palms traced the welds along her hips and the inside of her thighs. Delilah, a flower sprayed pale pink and speckled with silver underneath all the layers. I traced each inch of her, felt her repeat my motions with her sparking fingertips.

I could pleasure myself with her all I wanted, but it would never be what I needed until she responded to her name and let me love her. I had never been this intimate yet so far away.

She curled against me, cheek against my chest. Her skin cooled my sweat. I brushed a lock of hair back behind a perfectly rounded ear. My delicate flower, one that would rust in the rain and never breathe.

Funny, how fickle love could be.
How Fickle Love Is
I was pretty much too lazy to put this guy in a PDF form. Why? Because I want to have my own photographs as previews and I've never once imagined what I would take for an sexy moment with a robot. So in other words, no preview :') 

Originally appeared on my blog in January: georgespisak.wordpress.com/201…

You can find just my normal blog here: georgespisak.wordpress.com/
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One of my characters is a poet and I haven't written poetry in years. 

Welp, time to relearn I suppose. 
Got another acceptance letter. First sci-fi story of mine to make it to print! It'll be out in June and I'm super stoked. 
Oh jeez, it's seriously been a while since I've appeared on my DA. Apologies, as always, but this time I have a very valid excuse. 

I've officially launched my magazine! Myself and three other co-founders are extremely proud to launch The Uprising Review! It's been a long time coming and a good amount of hard work between the three of us, but we are open to accepting submissions as I type this. Once we've gathered a good amount, we'll be launching with the stories and getting an official readership feel. 

Which brings me to my next point, I'm looking for writers who would love to submit! I cannot guarantee publication with us (we are looking for quality), but I would love to be able to see some of the amazing and talented writers here. 

The Uprising Review has no genre restrictions (besides erotica, which we will not accept). We accept flash fiction up to 1,500 words (anything less than 500 words we won't be able to pay you for but we'll still publish you) and will pay $5 and short stories between 1,501-3,000 words and will pay $10 for. 

We focus on free speech within writing. Creative expression shouldn't be censored and sometimes uncomfortable topics need to be explored in a safe, creative manner in order to understand the perspective of others. 

I'm super excited for this project guys, I honestly cannot wait to read some more fantastic stories (as I've already received a great many few). If you're a writer yourself or know of any writers, feel free to point them in our direction. Guidelines for format can be found under 'submissions' on our site, The Uprising Review

Happy writing my lovelies! 

- Skull 
  • Listening to: Since Last Letters by Levi Patel
  • Reading: Taboo 0

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Skull-Killer
George
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Canada
For those of you who don't know, I aspire to be a published artist (of some sort) and consider myself a dabbler in many trades. I've spent my years picking and choosing what I enjoy and what I hate in regards to creativity. I've found that I enjoy a lot of different things and have currently decided to re-boot my writing process with the hopes of eventual publication of a novel (or a thousand).
In the mean time, I'm currently studying film production and anthropology at university with the intended goal of graduating with my BFA and BA. While working on this goal, I'm writing and planning and expressing myself in many mediums.

You can easily contact me here on DA through notes and comments as well as my YouTube channel or Instagram. DA is where I post production stills and written works while YouTube is where you can catch all of my short films.

www.youtube.com/channel/UCQBG1…
www.instagram.com/g.homster/?h…
Interests

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:iconblu-oltremare:
Blu-Oltremare Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2017   Digital Artist
Thank you for the favourite! =)
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:iconskull-killer:
Skull-Killer Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime :)
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:iconmaxyvert:
maxyvert Featured By Owner Jan 13, 2017  Student Traditional Artist
Thank you for the watch :>
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:iconskull-killer:
Skull-Killer Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime!
Reply
:icontamarandom:
Tamarandom Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for watching :)
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:iconskull-killer:
Skull-Killer Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime!
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:iconkrasblak:
krasblak Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2016  Professional
Thank you so much for the advice during the critique event last night. I appreciate everything you said :D
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:iconskull-killer:
Skull-Killer Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime :) I'm glad I could help!
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:iconshinpersonamaster:
ShinPersonaMaster Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2016  Hobbyist Artist
Happy birthday!
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