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Just Another Day OffIt was a day off for the pair of investigators and they were spending it in companionable silence. Hanna idly folded paper cranes while his partner read.
"Hey Saladin?" Hanna was stretched across the mattress, arms crossed under his
head and eyes on the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Yes?" Saladin, for the moment at least, looked up and focused his gaze on Hanna.
He leaned sideways slightly to get a better look at the smaller man from his position next to the mattress.
Hanna propped himself up on his elbows and placed a chaste kiss on his lips and grinned. "Love you."
He couldn't help but smile back. "I love you too, Hanna."
They settled back and spent the rest of the day like that. Nothing else needed to be said.
LeatherHow did I end up here?
That's the million dollar question. Connie has never felt very comfortable with sex. Penises always weirded her out, really badly too. And just men, in general seemed... unclean? Sweaty? And God forbid she think about the female anatomy in that way. Even in art school, when experimentation was probably a required course, she stayed away from parties and "study" groups.
And now, here Connie was, standing in a fetish shop, looking at leather wear. She wants to die. Stupid Worth and her stupid fetishes. Connie desperately wants to kick something. She vaguely wonders if Worth likes handcuffs. Then shakes her head. No, Connie is not going to give into Worth's demands! Except a little part of Connie's brain is actually getting a little turned on. But she is going to give that part of her brain a very stern talking to when she gets home. Hell, she's start giving that part of her brain a talking to right now.
It doesn't go as planned. Connie walk
Advice"Hey Connie!" Conrad looks up and rolls his eyes as Hanna bounds over to him. The red head slips into the seat across from Conrad. "Man, this place makes great hot chocolate!" Hanna takes a slurp from the cup and grins at Conrad.
"Where's your, uh," Conrad gestures vaguely to the place above Hanna's right shoulder where the boy's zombie companion usually is.
"Oh, Dominic? He had to go food shopping. He told me not to wait for him," Hanna says, wiping the steam off his glasses.
"He went food shopping at nine in the evening?" Conrad raises an eyebrow. Hanna just nods eagerly. A silence settles over the two men, Conrad working on his laptop and Hanna sipping his hot chocolate. The silence isn't uncomfortable, much to Conrad's surprise. The vampire finds himself very comfortable with the red head sitting across from him. Suffice to say, Conrad feels a lot more comfortable around Hanna than he does around Veser. The red head is so uncharacteristically quiet, that Conrad forgets that
Conrad, you were such jailbaitConrad can remember his first kiss. It was at summer art classes, between tenth and eleventh grade. His first kiss was his art instructor. An older man, in his late twenties, early thirties. Conrad hadn't thought much of the man, but when the teacher spoke, it was like everything stopped and listened and Conrad became enamored. He stayed late everyday and worked with more zeal on his projects almost like he wanted to show the teacher that he was capable of greatness or that he was dedicated as an artist. Once, the teacher had glanced at the clock and offered to take Conrad for dinner, and Conrad had accepted. He forced himself to eat the meal that he ordered for himself (though the neurotic nag in his brain was screeching the likelihood of e.coli at him) and focused on answering the teacher's questions.
He remembers the last day of classes. Everyone had gone home, but Conrad naturally lingered. The teacher walked over to him. "Listen, Conrad, I know how you feel about me," Conrad's hea
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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