#hooligans.

[ryan-the-pc-guy]

fucking shithell christ i just saw a 'vintage fandom terms' post where half of them were about two years old and the rest were just wrong. how goddamn old am i. get the hell off my lawn you newagers i dont have time for this.

[dimenovelhero]

@viiiorica @but-no-cigar

Big Brother is not amused.

[dimenovelhero]

@viiiorica and but-no-cigar--Just so you two hooligans are aware, I literally had to shout "JACK LOOK A BUFFALO!" to distract Jack before he saw your conversation. ...He fell for it. If there's really a bison on the streets of New York, that kid is gonna find it.

[octopluss]

There's a soccer game on tv and one of the teams has a uniform that has Aoba's color scheme Spoiler alert: they're winning

[imabaldwin]

You went out to the middle of the Mediterranean Sea huddled together in an old man's fishing boat. Everyone at the docks only spoke Italian but you knocked your shoulder into his and said "fuck it, let's go-- let's just go." When the salt water sprayed your faces you felt like you'd been crying; you thought about windshield wipers and your parents laughing-- yours and his! All four together because you were meant to be there, meant to be together before you ever even saw his face! You thought about fogged-up windows on a dark night in the center of the Midwest, blaring horns and flashing headlights before you parents, yours and his, yours together, all buckled with seatbelts and steel. You thought about them laughing.

You thought about kissing him, then, while the salt clung to his eyelashes and the sun freckled the back of his neck. You caught yourself staring, again, catching like sea spray in the curve of his lips, the curl of his hair against his forehead. He already had tiny crows' feet growing at the corners of his eyes then, but it only made you love him more, because your grandmother taught you all about wrinkles, guided your fingers to the ones you gave her from worrying, lead your eyes to the ones you gave her from laughter.

In the middle of the Mediterranean, he kissed you first. He paid no mind to the old man at the steering wheel and took a handful of your collar in each set of five fingers and then he pressed his mouth up to yours. For a second, for that moment, you shared two sets of lungs. "I love you," he said, and you felt yourself staring again, and you kept your eyes on his mouth while you said, "God, I hope so. I really hope so."

Actually, it wasn't the Mediterranean but your own smaller version of Lake Michigan, and the boat wasn't a fisherman's but your cousins'. Your grandmother always warned you that those kinds of daydreams were dangerous. "Let's go, let's just go," you still said, and she pretended not to hear you laughing when he tripped over a muddy shoelace in the middle of the night, trying to help you load a stolen ship into the back of his pickup truck. "Shut up," he hissed, but he was laughing too, and it all just spilled out of you as the two of you sped away.

You were sixteen and you managed to sneak him away from his girlfriend, but she was still real whether you wanted to believe in her or not. So it was that he did not tuck himself beside you, did not sit close enough that you could count the constellations on the back of his neck, did not hold your hand beneath a borrowed blanket. Instead he sat across from you, knees knocking into yours, pant loop catching on a nail in the wooden seat. "It's handmade, really chic--" you started to say, and he just laughed and told you to get rowing. You did it that time because he had the time before, and the time before that, and maybe a few times even earlier. It was only fair.

The breeze picked up the black water around you and so you thought the same kind of thoughts. Only you never knew what happened to your parents, never heard anything about car crashes or rainy nights, and he never liked to talk about his. You were afraid of the pollution; your people never knew how to take care of their waters and you thought maybe the spray would hurt more than salt and wind. Still, you thought, when you stopped in the middle of the lake, maybe you were meant to be together anyway.

You caught yourself staring and you thought about kissing him then, not in the Mediterranean but in the middle of your own tiny Lake Michigan, not with the sun burning your scalp but surrounded by two versions of the same starry sky, above and below and all around you. Just this once you let yourself be still and watched the moon shine dimly off his fingernails, spread on the bench beside him, and you heard both of your lungs inflating in tandem.

In the middle of the Midwest he was the first to break the silence. "Hey Pip?" he said, and you let yourself look up to his eyes, his eyes with their tiny crow feet, and you thought about kissing him, and he asked, "Do you think we'll be best friends forever?"

"God," you said, "I hope so. I really hope so." And alone with him and the stars as your witness, you weren't lying.

In the middle of the Mediterranean with him the waves rocked you back and forth and you turned pale and felt your stomach fall away from you. In the middle of the Midwest it was no different; both times he put a hand on your back, both times he got you both back to shore. Both places he drove you home with one hand and talked with the other; both times you could hardly speak but you could not stop laughing.

Afterwards you laid next to him in your own bed-- it all happened before he left you-- staring at the ceiling, thinking to yourself, wishing that you were no one else in the world, that you could stand next to him one way or another, that you could stay like that forever.

[imabaldwin]

LAUGHS

Phillip Price, a spirited youth with a man's voice and jaw, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the turquoise water with his resolute cinnamon depths. His tawny hair rustled lightly in the ocean breeze. He tried to keep still despite his impatient excitement as he hummed "Iris" to himself. The sun glinted off of his milky, tinted with russet, shoulders and cerulean shorts that looked comfortable and easy to wear. His flaxen mane brushed against his earlobes,complementing his audacious pastel-flushed pale visage. A prominent scar stood out on his healthily color-touched pale skin. He stood, awaiting his love. 

Phillip Price's cocoa globes spotted Jonah Davis further down on the beach, closer to the roaring sea. His lovely coffee strands was attractive as ever. His crystals were turned toward the ocean, hidden from Phillip Price's sight, but he knew and loved their innocent amber hue. He was dressed in his usual everyday clothes. His skin was healthily color-touched fair and his form was slight. A cocoa growth of hair adorned his chin. As Phillip Price drew nearer, he caught a note of Jonah Davis's familiar scent, a mixture of earthiness and sourness that was uniquely his. He smiled to himself. It always reminded him of the time they shared. "Jonah," he called, walking towards him.  He stood at attention. "Phillip Price! I'm glad."  Phillip Price smirked. "Good to see you. C'mon." They began their leisurely walk along the ocean's edge. "You know, Jonah," Phillip Price began, "it's great having days off like this. You should loosen up more often."  Jonah Davis frowned a little. "Pip... diligence is an important virtue ."  "Yeah? You keep telling me that." Phillip Price crossed his arms behind his head. "But I think you're being too hard on yourself."  Jonah Davis lapsed into a momentary silence, contemplating Phillip Price's words. "Perhaps... but, to tell you the truth, I often think... that you are too negligent, Phillip Price."  "Negligent? Ouch. What a sick burn. Someone, toss me an elixir." Jonah Davis rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jonah. Don't you love me as I am?" 

"Well..." Jonah Davis replied, his voice trailing off.  That did in secret wound Phillip Price's energetic heart. But he was careful to show no sign of it. "Heh. Don't feel obligated to stay with me, or anything. I do it because I love you. I don't want you to feel any differently."  "Phillip Price!" he exclaimed, openly hurt. "It's not that! I love you. I just wish... I just wish you'd listen. That's all."  "Jonah Davis." Phillip Price's voice had gone equally serious. "Do you really worry about that?" Jonah Davis dipped his head down, spheres glistening with unshed tears. "... Look. I know I'm a rascal. But when it comes to you, I'll always look out for you. I know I haven't given you much reason to, but... trust me. All right?"  Jonah Davis murmured something too quiet to hear.  "You say something?"  "Jonah Davis... you're right. And I... I do trust you," Jonah Davis whispered.  Phillip Price laid a peck on his hair. "You're lovely. Thanks. ... It means a lot." They joined hands as they continued to walk along the beach. 

As they walked, they came across a part of the sea that looked darker than the rest.  "What's that?" Jonah Davis asked.  "The locals say the lair of a sea monster lies in that ravine," Phillip Price said. Just as he finished talking, a roar pierced the air. "Watch out!"  The teal waves swelled and surged, and Phillip Price ran up the sea shore with Jonah Davis's hand in his. From the frothing lily-white foam emerged the head of a killer whale, which let out a screech that rent the sky. It bared its glinting sharp canines at them.  "Do you think it wants to... eat... us?" Jonah Davis whispered. "It's not going to eat us!" Phillip Price said firmly. Ever prepared, he whipped out his weapon. "Go! I'll protect you. I'll make sure of it!" 

"Wait! Phillip Price! I... I want to help!" Jonah Davis, too, was prepared.  "Jonah Davis..." Phillip Price started to say, but there was no time to argue -- the whale lunged for him, and he jumped away, the whale's teeth burying itself in the sand. Then they launched a counter-strike: Phillip Price struck a blow first, along the beast's back, and then Jonah Davis second, along the whale's exposed underside. The monster roared in outrage before slipping back into the sea.  Panting for breath, Phillip Price asked, "Are you hurt?"  Jonah Davis shook his head. "I'm fine."  "That was more trouble than I bargained for." Phillip Price offered Jonah Davis Phillip Price's hand. "Stick tight. You never know what else might spring out of the sea."  Jonah Davis clung his hand as the radiant flaming sunset began to fill the sky. 

"The sunset is so beautiful, isn't it?"  Phillip Price lifted his head at Jonah Davis's words to behold the dying sun's carrot-colored radiance. "It's nice."  After a moment of silence, Jonah Davis took Phillip Price's hands in his and said quietly and seriously, "Phillip Price... I need to tell you how much you mean to me. How special you are to me. Without you, I would be the sea without the moon -- the moon without the sun -- You are irreplaceable to me."  "Jonah Davis," he intoned in response. "I can't believe you'd say something so syrupy. For me. But... if I had to tell the truth... I feel the same way about you."  "Pip... Let's be together forever, then." Jonah Davis squeezed Phillip Price's hand and sidled closer.  Phillip Price sighed with contentment and brought Jonah Davis closer. He gazed at the beautifulblonde rays of the falling sun, thinking about everything that had transpired on this day and all that would pass between them.  "You'll hurt your eyes doing that," Jonah Davis whispered.  "Oh never mind my eyes," Phillip Price sighed, kissing Jonah Davis to shut him up. When they parted, he murmured, "I love you, Jonah Davis."  "I love you too, Phillip Price."  Their lips met, and sunny strands met auburn ones, aflame in the dying light. The sand was their witness and the rumbling ocean their approving audience, and Jonah Davis, his eternally faithful lover. Phillip Price thought to himself that nothing could be more perfect in the world. 

[imabaldwin]