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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Love Begins
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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

ellievsbear
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
noise dept.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

#extradirty
ojovivo
will byers stan first human second
Jules of Nature
RMH
Misplaced Lens Cap
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
sheepfilms
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@spectral-noise
Just as his asking to do hoodrat shit was equivalent to a ‘date’ for Skyn, he’d since gathered that being invited to one of Nova’s events was Nova’s way of doing the same. The two were never direct with things like that— too afraid of falling out of their cool facades.
"Sure. I can take twenty minutes out of my night, I guess." A pause. "Is only the beer a nickel? Because ya know how much I love my rum n’ cola." He cut a forkful of lukewarm omelette and raised it to Nova’s lips.
His answer was satisfactory for the brunet, who leaned forward to take the fork into his mouth and consume the cut of egg, perfect teeth crushing it with thoughtful chews. All in all, not bad. "Well," he said in reply, swallowing so Skyn wouldn't be forced to see chewed up bits of food. "It's just beer, but- stay a little longer and we'll see about me treating you to a round at the bar,"
Skyn sat himself back on the floor, right in front of the tube, and he lifted his omelette plate back into his lap before turning to look back at Nova.
"I’ll have ya know plenty of people would love to fuck me," He said, sounding quite sure of that statement. He wasn’t wrong in any case, though he had definitely slowed down with all his sleeping around since he’d started bedding Nova.
"I don’t know, what are the odds of you coming to do hoodrat shit with me after I feed it to you?"
Nova lifted his head for the exact purpose of rolling his eyes at him."'Hoodrat shit?"he scoffed. That was as close to a date as he'd get with Skyn he figured, so he let the issue drop, The brunet propped his head up on one of hands, talking up as if his busy schedule wold miraculously have found its way up there.
"Prrretty likely, I think, considering my schedule is completely free until Nickle Beer Night tonight- but that's not until nine, meaning I'd have to get ready at eight-" He paused and gave Skyn a little nudge. "You should swing by. Come see me, y'know?" Then, as if attempting to distract from the subject-
"So are you feeding me or what?"
Skyn let one of his lazy smiles take him and he stepped aside so that Nova could come in.
"Babe, ya know I would never cheat on ya," He gushed, clearly being fake and sarcastic. He was happy to take his mail and start thumbing through it, blade tucked between his ring finger and pinky. He glanced up from the stack as though briefly recalling something.
"Do ya want the other half of my deflated omelette? It’s kinda room temp, but still breakfast." Nova was one of the few people he actually let over; he’d known him since he was awkward and not quite grown into himself yet and it was only natural that Skyn would trust him in the barest meaning of the word.
It didn’t hurt that Skyn also thought he was very pretty.
He walked in as soon as the other allowed him to, casting a flirtatious smile over his shoulder (not like he used any other sorts of smiles when it came to Skyn.) "Oh, really now? Well, I guess I expected as much." His grin grew a bit smug as he added, "No one else would put up with all the shit you pull in bed besides me,"
Nova threw himself face first onto his couch, legs stretched out as far as they could reach to the opposite side. He was content to stay in that position, not even moving when he heard the other speak again.
"Depends. What are the odds of you feeding it to me?" Nova could care less for the actual state of the omelette, as long as it was extra cheesy and being fed to him in a loving manner while he simultaneously received a back rub. A man could dream, couldn't he?
SkynWalker wasn’t particularly productive during the week aside from the music making process. In fact, he was usually so strung out he didn’t even leave the apartment and usually sought refuge curled up in his bathtub with all his clothes on— occasionally he’d switch it up and have his head in the toilet bowl instead. But those were days when he was particularly hung over, and for once this was not one of those days.
The silverette was trying his hand at being a normal human being and had made himself a sad looking omelette and gulped down half a bottle of cough syrup just to keep himself on the sane side.
That was about as normal and put together as he could get, all things considered. Until a knock worried at his door, which made him flinch and jump—only a little, mind you—at his spot on the floor of his living room. He had to wonder who in the world could be coming to see him; it wasn’t as though he freely handed out his address. Feeling a little paranoid, he grabbed one of his smaller blades and concealed it in his fist as he came to the door, hiding it from sight with his boxer-clad behind as he opened up with the screech of a squeaky hinge.
"—What?" He didn’t sound happy to be bothered and he doubted he looked all that happy either.
Who else should he have been expecting besides the (totally cute) neighborhood promoter? Nova rolled his eyes in dismissal at the DJs grumpy attitude.
"Great to see you, too."
he said with after a soft snort. Holding up his hand for the other to see, he started waving a sizable stack of envelopes back and forth in front of him. "Picked up your mail for you again. Open up the door, jackass," A teasing grin lifted his full lips, eyebrow arching as he added,"Or do you have someone over you don't want me see?"
“Dude, what? Did someone fall down a well? Little Tommy fell down a well?” He drops his banana on the floor and puts his own hands on Ant’s shoulders. “Huh, boy? Tommy is in trouble? Tommy is in the wrong neighborhood? Got cornered by the Crips? Got his shoes stolen?”
Anthony's eyes fell to look in disgust at the discarded half-eaten banana on the floor. "Disgusting. Anyways, no, none of that happened- or at least, not that I'm aware." He gave his shoulders a gentle shake to get him to focus. "But that's not what I wanted to tell you."
”Good,” he says as his hand reaches between his legs to readjust his dick because—yeah, that’s a little embarrassing and he doesn’t need Ant to use that against him just now. Oh well, humiliation is a little hot sometimes. “You should feel bad. That was nerdy as hell.”
And he takes note of the intimacy, letting himself be propped up and moved by the other because the fatigue really doesn’t leave much room for resistance. He sees the bare outline of Ant’s face, the glow from his electronics shadowing it slightly and making him look way more appealing—it’s unfair. He’s getting distracted.
Quentin really wants to make out but the question tumbles out before he can stop it. ”Where have you been?”
A swift sigh resonated almost immediately. Not wanting to seem annoyed, he was quick to follow it up with a soft smile. The question wasn't unfair, and it was certainly expected; that didn't mean Anthony was any more eager to answer it.
"Well, let's see..." he began, glancing up at the ceiling.
"The first month I traveled all the way to the west coast. Couldn't handle this polar vortex, and you know it's like, 80 degrees warmer in California? Anyway, after that I spent time hitchhiking back here. Stopped for a few weeks in Michigan to help a guy do some work when I was really strapped for cash, which is why I took so long this time... and that was pretty much it."
A few minute details here and there were missing, but that was more than Ant usually liked to divulge. Progress was coming in baby steps.
”No, don’t grow a beard,” Quentin snorts, leaning up slightly to reach Ant’s kisses, smiling between each. He was in such a daze—stuck on the odd drift he felt between himself and Ant and wanting to forget about it and relish in whatever time he had with him. His hands trailed up to touch his jaw just to make sure he hadn’t been well on his way on growing facial hair because…well it probably wouldn’t look right. Just imagine Quentin with a fucking beard. It’d be weird.
Then he noticed the periodic movements coming from the other. Like he was lifting himself away only to drag himself down in a perfect form. ”Ant, what the fuck are you doin’?” The broker asked carefully before laughing out loud, snorts coming in between shrill laughter. “Oh, you’re so strong and buff, baby.” He even squeezed Ant’s bicep for added effect—oh crap, he did have some muscle. Alright. Cool.
At the sound of his (absurd) laughter, his own awkward titter started to bubble up."Wh-! I can't believe you're me laughing at me!"Ant rolled from on top of him and flopped at his side, propping his head up to look over at Quentin.
"Here I am, ready to make out with you 'til you're blue in the faceand the face and your dick is pressed rather noticeably against my thigh-- and you're laughing at me. I'm hurt, I really am,"
He looked over at Quentin with a small grin. Then, with as much aggression as he usually handled the broker, he reached out and grabbed the wrist of the hand that had previously been feeling at slight stubble. With a quick tug, rolled Quentin onto his side so that they were now face to face. Maybe it was the fact their separation had been longer than usual, or maybe he wanted to get back to touching- either way, the delinquent was being oddly intimate.
mobile is the struggle but I am here for a bit before bed
also he has tats but the only one I can remember rn is the one on his left arm of his mom praying as an angel. I'd have to get my notebook to tell you the rest.
“He’s a bearded dude with a lot of toys,” he answers as he lazily drags the covers off his face to get a full view of Anthony as he made his way to the bed. “Hell yeah I’m eager.”
Quentin is hyper aware of his warmth, tired eyes roaming over the shadowed face that looms over him. He’s the first to reach up and touch his abdomen. He feels weird. Bitter and a little annoyed that he wants to make out with this little shit so bad.
”Nah, not really,” he answers after some time, warm hand resting on Ant’s sensitive side but making no move to tickle him. “Okay, maybe a little. A little."
Anthony smiled at the answer he received to his Santa question; it was so simple-- so Quentin, rather, and it was refreshing to hear. Let Ant know that nothing had changed at all about Quentin during the long while he was gone.
"So beards are your thing, huh? If it wouldn't take from my boyish charm, I'd give growing one a shot."
As if in slow motion, the brunette bent his elbows and lowered himself enough to briefly meet his lips with Quentin's. Once. Twice. Then he lifted himself again, looking down with the same probing look in his eyes he seemed to reserve especially for making Quentin say what he wanted to hear.
"I think you missed me more than that-- but given that you're being ridiculously coy and it's working in your favor, I think. I'll let. It slide," Each pause after favor was another push up and therefore another kiss. This newfound technique was part of Ant's not-so subtle desire to show off his body. His latest adventure had required a lot of lifting and running, and his body had definitely benefitted from it.