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Post nut clarity n im disgusted

#i need a priest #maybe an exorcism at this point but i fear i might just enjoy that #wait no dont send the priest i will try to fuck him #back track #thebonesofmymind

BackTrak with Don Cannon In The Mix With My Guy Mars

In this episode of Backtrak: Don Cannon takes us on an in-depth journey through the life and career of renowned LA producer My Guy Mars. Discover his roots in the church, where his passion for music began, and hear stories of his early success and authentic production style that has shaped iconic tracks in contemporary music. Mars discusses the creation of Kanye West’s “Stronger,” Nipsey Hussle’s…

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Longplay of Back Track

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Back Track || LeSton

Days since disaster: 4

At home, Gaston had set up the note on the fridge with the priest - as a joke at first. Though in the end, it didn’t seem all that bad an idea. Mostly to keep track of him, see if anything was changing, getting better. And he’d heard it was. He could go a week now without a memory slip, which gave him time to prepare, at least, for run ins with neighbours and keeping his face almost straight when he heard something weird or unexpected. For the first, second, or even third time. Like the fact that Belle had a little girl. Or the news that he’d lost the £50 bet he’d placed on her and Hades divorcing within a year.

He’d been half way back from the gym, kit slung over his shoulder and spring sun shining in his eyes, when he’d spotted the familiar face his barman exiting the Court. Granted, he hadn’t seen Fabien all week and the two words that sprung to mind when Gaston thought of The Court were ‘gross’ and ‘why’ - something he’d always been very vocal about - there might have been a reason Fabien had to go in.

His violin got dragged in there by rats, for example.

Besides, the man was solid and though Gaston hardly considered him a friend (he didn’t have friends) he certainly didn’t dislike him as much as he could have, when one took things like his face and general aura into consideration.

“If you’re thinking of stripping to pay off your debts, I’d suggest a paper bag and a different bar,” he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder and pulling him away from the entrance. “I mean, sure you have the tiny beady eyes of an old potato someone left in the sun but that place is a step down, even for you. Plus, I’m at least 60% sure you can get herpes just by looking at the floor and I’ll be fucked if you’re treading that shit around the Deer.” He stopped, turning and tilting his head to the smaller man, brow arched. “On which note, when’re you next in?”