The problem with Kiran’s fantasies isn’t that they are too vivid. No, he can always tell when he’s day-dreaming (or, in some cases, night-dreaming); the problem is that his fantasies are entire fucking worlds, and he’s always much happier there than he could ever be in real life.
Micah could cope with random guys spending the night. It wasn’t like he liked it, but it wasn’t like his roommate wanted to date him so he didn’t really have much choice (it was only a small comfort that Trev didn’t seem to want to date, period. He just wanted to fuck).
What he couldn’t cope with was coming home to Trev and some Asian guy making out on the sofa. Trev didn’t even seem fazed by the interruption, he just smiled brightly–a little too brightly, actually–and said, “Micah! Shen brought us some drugs.”
“Go to China!” his father said. “See the world!” his mother added. (“Use all those seemingly useless ‘dialects’ you learned in college!” his own brain chimed in, treacherously.)
Somehow, Roger was fairly sure that this was not what his parents had meant: a sleeper car on a zhida train– overnight direct express– from Wuhan to Shanghai.
It wasn’t actually horrible, despite Roger’s initial misgivings about being a foreigner sharing a car with three curious Chinese. They asked questions only at the beginning of the trip, before the train departed, and Roger answered them easily: no, he wasn’t here to teach English; he had an internship at a brokerage in Shanghai waiting for him, thanks to his father; he looked forward to sleeping the entire way.
Fern earns his Name the winter before the Pow-wow. It is late for it, but he is late for everything; he is at least glad he’ll be able to Dance the Sun Dance this year. Even his younger brother, Fox Hide, has Danced– Fern is the last in his age group to do so.
Whatever Chasing Badger might say it’s not Fern’s fault that the old shaman of their tribe, Snake Bite, purposefully held him away from leading a Hunt, the one thing every boy must do before he can Dance and be declared a man. In the end, it is his lack of a father or uncle that facilitates Fern’s Hunt, his successful Hunt, and earns him his first feather and his new name.
Chocolate Raspberry Brownies
“I’m so drunk,” Ross says, a smile spreading across his thin lips at the same speed at which his orange-yellow eyes are sliding shut. They’re nearly amber, but I think they’re too saturated with color for that. I only manage to look away once those eyes are pleasantly closed, focusing my gaze on the floor between my feet.
When I was fourteen we moved to the middle of nowhere, Maryland. My mother committed suicide about a year earlier; I was the one to find her. Add in my affinity with ghosts… I couldn’t stay there. I took to spending more nights at friends’ houses than at my own by the time we moved.
Nick learned this pretty quickly, dating Jamie. It was like his best friend had turned into a completely different creature. And it wasn’t Jamie’s fault entirely, not with–well, if he was going to tell the story, starting at the beginning was probably a better way to do things. Things always made a lot more sense with back story, right? Right.
It had started, as far as Nick could remember, when he was some-possibly-preteen-years-old and had discovered jacking off. He, being the fabulous and benevolent friend that he was, had decided that he had to demonstrate this remarkable wonder to his best friend in the world: Jamie.
illustrated by Nanashi
The first time was after soccer practice.
Jamie had to stay downstairs a couple minutes, talking to his mom, and ended up walking in on Nick spread out across Jamie’s bed with his hand down his soccer shorts and his eyes half-closed.
illustrated by newbabyfly
“Tell me, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” Clement asked, as he pressed his chest against Jean-Laurent’s back and waved the rag dangerously close to the scientist’s face. Normally flirting was not well-tolerated, especially given that Clement was a lab boy and Jean-Laurent was senior scientist, but it was after-hours.
Whenever they had to stay after-hours, there was absolutely nothing to do except hurry up and wait for the experiment that they were working on to produce some results. The lab was on the second round of tests for Dihydro-something-or-other and if it acted the same way it did last time (and they hoped it would; nothing pivotal in the formula had been changed) they’d be idle another hour before there was anything for Clement to document.