#he's gonna be there for a few hours

[cleaner-in-grey]

He's currently on the phone with his parents, talking in English since his dad was on the line, having a bit more accent in his voice as well.

"Yeah, things have been going alright, dad. Work's been good... Yes, I've been sleeping lately. Hey, did Johnny ever call Mutti? Her birthday's today, yeah?...Oh! I'm glad she got the flowers and she likes them...Lilies have always been her favorite. I had them done by a local florist and sent over, so no, I didn't send them all the way from the states...... Hey, did she get the shawl yet? I sent that a few weeks ago, so it'd arrive more on time...Oh! She just got it! Good good. Well, you know, if Johnny doesn't call, I'll nag on him." He chuckled, leaning against the wall.

"I should have Rico meet you two sometime. He's a good guy, dad...." He snorts, "Dad! I promise he's not some "bloody bogan" like the last one...His name was John.....Yeah yeah, I know you didn't have a good feeling about him when he had a limp handshake that was more like holding a dead fish than a proper man's hand... I don't like talking about him, dad...This one's actually good to me, dad. I think you'd both like him. He's such a sweetheart, very handsome too, doesn't try to go out of his way to kill me or anything like the last one...We were on opposite sides of a war, and we could come back with respawn...... I love you too, dad, it-it means a lot to hear that. I know....I know....Daaad, nooooo you cannot wrestle this one upon meeting him!! Remember when you nearly broke John's back? I swear..." He started to laugh. "It was wonderful talking to you too... Yes, we'll be over for Christmas. Yes, my license is still good over there, so I can still drive. I'll just rent a car. Dad, if we keep talking, Mutti won't have a turn. I love you too....Talk to you later..."

He chuckles softly and switches to speaking in German since his mother was on the phone and she didn't know a lot of English. He was so glad that he had his own phone because his mother liked to talk and talk.

"Hallo, Mutti!"he chirped, "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag!"

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[oodlesodoodles]

Harry squeezes a local Club manager to let them have a swim in the fancy ass pool in return for keeping a drugging/poisoning case quiet

[evildolokhoded]

being subjected to the things dan and phil tweeted at/about each other back in the early days feels like having to witness that one couple in high school that was full making out in the hallways at 8 am while you were running on two hours of sleep and half a ham sandwich for the next six hours.

[couch-house]

hes just as upset about dying repeatedly in these levels as I am

[thechibilitwick]

one thing that constantly plagues my mind is this single milgram timeline interaction between shidou and kazui on kazui's birthday

like not only is it extremely gay but i've recently realized the fact that kazui mentions it's his birthday has certain implications. milgram is pretty thoughtfully written, which would lead me to believe that they wouldn't disregard things that have been said in the past no matter how long ago.

meaning the things kazui said on his first birthday is still just as relevant even now.

this would imply that kazui bringing up the fact it was his birthday was just an excuse to get shidou to spend some time with him.

why would he go out of his way to mention something he claims he doesn’t care much about if not as an excuse to get shidou to actually spend time with him? either it's just his crippling loneliness or he actually does have a thing for shidou, especially with the way his development is going and how his feelings and desires are being affirmed. plus every milgram interaction has some form of significance to the characters' development.

i do still feel like it's kind of a reach to make this assumption and i'm probably reading into it way too much, cuz it really could just be kazui being nice, but, y'know, why place so much emphasis on it? and also a SHOULDER MASSAGE being offered by the guy who craves physical touch? the closet is not even glass atp it’s been disassembled and returned to ikea

anyways 0507 is real

[souredfigs]

Nienna feeling the grief and torment of the faithful under her shrine and Ulmo feeling their blood bleeding into his waters... I am not gonna survive to watch the fall actually

[m00ngbin]

I'm losing my shit rn why didn't they add this in the anime

HES LIKE THE ONLY ESPER WE KNOW THAT CAN HOLD A BARRIER AND ATTACK AT THE SAME TIME AND THEY DIDNT THINK TO ADD THAT??

[eijiroukiriot]

i spent all day yesterday drawing lesbians. crucially chappell roan doesn’t exist in bnha canon. lesbians can just do that

[firehose118]

“We’re just helping each other out on a long shift. It’s not gay,” Sal says into the air of the empty station bathroom as he wraps a hand around Tommy’s dick, and then in the same breath, “No one can ever know.”

Tommy nods, too far gone in the fantasy-come-to-life of what’s happening to dwell on the irony there. He’ll pick that apart later. For now, he has what he’s craved for so long within his grasp, he just has to reach out and take it.

He gets his hand on Sal’s dick in return and revels in the way it twitches under his touch. Tommy wants to moan with how good it feels to touch another man like this, to be touched by one. But he has to pretend this is friend stuff—normal straight guy shit, not the stuff of waking wet dreams—or else it will be taken away from him.

{finish on ao3 or continue below}

Tommy tries to match Sal’s pace: hard, fast, efficient. He thumbs through the liquid gathering at the head, twists his hand on the upstroke, but doesn’t let himself linger—even as his body is screaming for him to slow down and savor it. This might be his first and last chance to have this.

The way Sal is looking right at him is unexpected. He’d thought Sal would look away, pick a tile on the wall and stare at it, pretend this isn’t happening, but no: Sal is in it, studying Tommy’s face in that passive slack-jawed way of his. Tommy keeps his expression carefully neutral but he’s worried even that will give him away.

Sal’s mouth drops open on a silent moan when Tommy’s thumb drags along the vein on the underside just right, so Tommy does it again harder. He wants Sal to like this. He wants Sal to want to do this again.

Tommy is losing focus quickly. Sal isn’t working as hard to impress him, isn’t pulling out different moves to see what he likes, but his hand is big and warm and calloused and masculine around Tommy’s dick and it really doesn’t need to do anything else to have him panting and leaking.

He’s thought about this so many times and the reality of it is even better than he could have imagined. Every bit of energy he’s not using to give Sal the handjob of his life he’s putting into not whining and humping Sal’s hand like a dog.

He takes half a step forward before he can stop himself; needing to be closer. Sal huffs but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t step back.

They’re so close to each other now that Tommy could wrap his hand around both of their dicks and jerk them off like that. He knows it would feel good, wants it more than anything in this moment, but it would be a definitive step over the ‘not gay’ line into territory he’s not sure Sal will follow him willingly. It’s this or nothing, so Tommy chooses this.

“You close?” Tommy asks. He is. He can already feel it rising in his stomach, his balls, licking along his spine. He wants Sal to come first, to hide whatever his own orgasm is going to look like in the mists of Sal’s pleasure.

Sal nods. His face is inches away from Tommy’s and he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

When it happens, Tommy feels it. He doesn’t know why he didn’t expect to—he always feels the pulsing of his own dick as he comes—but to feel another man’s dick twitch and spasm as it shoots warm into his hand has Tommy biting back a moan so quickly he chokes on it.

Sal comes with a low groan and Tommy is helpless to follow. For as long as he’s wanted this—wanted Sal—he thinks he could’ve come from that sound alone, but the way Sal’s big hand tightens on the next few strokes is the last thing he needs to send him hurtling over the edge.

Tommy’s forehead drops to Sal’s shoulder without permission and he keens high in his throat as the pleasure rips through him. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s had in years and he’s instantly terrified of what that means.

He shoves it down. Later. He’ll think about that later.

Tommy pants, coming back to himself, and he gives himself two more seconds of physical contact with Sal before he pulls back completely.

They both lean against the hard tile wall of the bathroom and catch their breaths.

“Good?” Tommy asks, giving a joking half-smile. He knows the answer but it seems like a safe enough way to start talking again.

“Jesus, kid,” Sal laughs. “Yeah. It was good. Where the fuck’d you learn how to do that?”

He grabs some paper towels to wipe his hand off, then gives them to Tommy to do the same.

“Lonely childhood,” Tommy says. It’s true but it’s not the answer. “Dad had a lot of porn mags he’d leave around. I spent a lot of time jerking off. Figured yours doesn’t work too differently from mine.”

That look is back in Sal’s eyes like he wants to say something, but he stays quiet again. He just shakes his head and laughs.

Sal walks towards the door but stops before he opens it. “Give it a few,” he says. He doesn’t look back at Tommy but he has a small smile on his lips still. Tommy takes that as a win.

Sal leaves and Tommy is left alone with the enormity of what just happened. It was good. It was hot. Sal clearly doesn’t hate him, isn’t disgusted by him. He seemed almost… intrigued.

Tommy will sort out the shame and elation he feels swirling inside of himself like oil and water later.

For now, he washes his hands, splashes some water on his face, and gets back to work.

[yesokayiknow]

okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face

he needs to change. obviously

and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes

he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?

(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)

he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?

actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm

why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left

it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant

he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands

(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)

everything goes wrong. his fault, like always

(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)

you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh

no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?

like he knows. like they've ever-

she dies.

she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it

we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver

well, she never was subtle, his donna

the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe

unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact

the last wardrobe is open. and empty

he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors

and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders

after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.

he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room

the last wardrobe is empty

he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[boba-beom]

good lord and the heavens above,,,,, that is where I am not going after the thoughts that are being thunk once looking at these photos and videos 😵‍💫

YEONJUN X FRED JEWELRY

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

a really pukey, burpy, feverish aiden w oliver and issac as caretakers?

This one took forever😭

!TW! emeto

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Too fucking early,” Aiden grumbled at the sound of some Tears For Fears song Spirit helped him set as his ringtone. Lying on his stomach, face smushed against his pillow, he began reaching out blindly to his ringing phone. He grabbed it and tuned his head, having to squint hard since he wasn’t wearing his glasses and the screen was bright. ‘Dad ;)’ was the name displayed on the screen.

He yawned as he answered the call and put it on speaker. “Hey, pops. Whassup?”

“Are you still sleeping, son??” his dad asked, waaaaay too loud and energetic. Aiden winced and turned the volume down a bit.

“Mm-hmmm,” he hummed in response. “So what? It’s so early.”

“It’s past noon,” his dad told him. “Are you okay?”

Aiden groaned. “It is not past noon, dad. It’s. . .” he squinted harder at the corner of his screen trying to read the tiny numbers. When the fuzziness cleared up a bit, his eyes widened. “Shit, it’s 12:57?!” The surprise startled him so much that he tangled up in his blankets and lost his balance as he tried to sit up, only to yelp as he tumbled off the side of his bed. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, earning a hearty laugh from his dad’s end of the call.

“I’ll let ya go, Aiden,” his dad said. “Don’t go back to sleep, please. And your mom wants you to come over tonight for dinner. Could ya? I know the drive is a pain, but we miss you, kid.”

Aiden used his bed to pull himself up and said, “Yeah yeah, sure. I’ll come, dad. Bye now.”

“Bye, Aiden. Love you.”

”Love you, too.” He ended the call and let out a heavy sigh. He grimaced now that he was awake and aware of the unhappy grumbling in his belly. He’d made the mistake enough times to know exactly what the issue was.

The day before, he’d been too tired from a full day of working out—trying some boxing and fighting classes that Spirit had recommended to him—that he fell asleep as soon as he got home and woke up exhausted and sore and starving. He didn’t give a shit about where he ate dinner. A Ci-Ci’s Pizza was where he found himself eating dinner at nine at night. He must’ve scarfed four slices of pizza, a basket of boneless wings, four of those powdered-sugar-covered brownies, and re-filled his cup 3 times with Pepsi.

He hated eating that unhealthy. Not because he didn’t enjoy the taste, but because of the gross feeling and awful aftermath.

Cramping and hugging his churning gut, Aiden made his way to his bathroom to sit on the toilet. It took at least twenty minutes before he felt empty and a bit lightheaded.

He flushed and immediately got in the shower, using warm water to was the sticky feeling of sweat away. He kept pressing a hand to his stomach and massaging, bringing up belches that did little to ease the tightness in his gut.

He got out of the shower, got dressed into some sweatpants and a loose hoodie, put on his glasses, and slowly made his way to his kitchen to search for Pepto or Tums or something.

He had nothing. No medicine besides cough drops.

He was thankful that there was a grocery store not to far from his apartment. He lazily slipped on some crocs and grabbed his keys and left his place.

It took everything in him to stay focused on the road instead of his stomach. He just wanted to take some medicine, and then go back to sleep.

He parked close to the front of the store and muffled a burp against his fist as he got out. Still, he felt awful. He was eating lettuce and water for the rest of the week, he told himself.

The store was surprisingly empty, which he was glad about because that meant there’d be basically no lines at the checkout area.

Aiden went to the medicine area of the store and began scanning the shelves for Pepto. He got it in tablet and liquid form. Now, all he had to do was get back home, take the nasty medicine, flop on his bed (or the couch cuz it’s closer), and go back to sleep.

He planted a hand on his stomach, biting the inside of his cheek. Maybe he’d visit the grocery store’s bathroom first.

“Aiden? Hey, man.”

The familiar voice snapped Aiden out of his own mind, and he turned his head enough to see Isaac coming down the aisle.

“Hey,” Aiden said, smiling and trying hard not to sound exhausted.

He must have failed because Isaac’s own smile faltered ever so slightly. The blonde noticed the medicine in his hands. “Are you sick?” he asked.

Aiden shrugged. “It’s just a stomachache,” he assured the blonde, lying. Then he couldn’t help but ask, “How’s Spirit?”

“She’s doing great. We’re just picking up some Tylenol and other things for her.”

Aiden raised a brow. “We?”

Isaac seemed like he was about to answer when someone else who wasn’t in the aisle suddenly yelled, “Would Spirit kill us if we brought cucumber Gatorade instead of the lemon-lime one?”

Isaac chuckled, yelling back, “She might kill me. You’re safe, even if it’s your fault.”

“Not my fault. It’s the store’s fault because it’s all they had.” A skinny and short black-haired boy entered the aisle, carrying an armful of cucumber Gatorade bottles. He was reading a small list as he came down the aisle. “Did you find the Tylenol? Because we just need chips, and that’s it. Unless we add something to this list ourselves.” He looked up then, and jumped slightly as he realized Aiden was also there, dropping one of the bottles.

Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle at the guy, and Aiden waved slightly.

“S-sorry,” the black-haired guy said, clearly embarrassed by his own jerkiness.

Isaac managed to stop laughing, but he was still smiling as he picked up the bottle and handed it back to the guy. “Olive, this is Aiden.”

Oliver smiled at him a bit, seeming a little shy. “Hi. I’m Oliver.”

“Nice to meet you.” Aiden put two and two together. “You must be friends with Spirit, too.”

Oliver seemed surprised by the observation. When he looked at Isaac with confusion, the blonde shrugged and stated, “He’s Spirit’s secret ‘friend’.” The way he said friend made Oliver’s eyes widen after a beat.

He looked at Aiden, and then back at Isaac. “Spirit’s dating someone??!!?” he exclaimed. “And you knew???!!!!”

“Well, we’re not ‘dating’ dating,” Aiden said, quite amused by the situation.

Oliver looked at him, still completely flabbergasted. “What does that mean?”

“Well. . . I guess. . .”

“They’re going out, but they’re not ‘official’ yet,” Isaac explained.

That explanation seemed to clear up some of Oliver’s confusion, but he still seemed shocked.

Oliver asked a question, but at that moment Aiden felt his stomach cramp and the felling made him dizzy, causing him to sway a bit. He steadied himself quickly, asking, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I was wondering how long you’ve known Spirit,” Oliver repeated, now studying Aiden’s body language with his eyes. Isaac was doing the same, his smile slightly faltering.

“Oh.” Aiden wanted to get out of there. “Since before summer.” Scratch that. He needed to get out of there.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Isaac asked, noticing the way Aiden’s throat was bobbing.

Aiden nodded, but didn’t dare to open his mouth again. He felt his throat tickle.

That was the moment when Oliver also noticed the Pepto he was holding. “Are you gonna throw up?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned and worried despite having just met him.

Aiden shook his head, jaw tense and willing his stomach to get into check. He brought a fist to his mouth, turning his head away from Isaac and Oliver as he let out a long burp muffled by his fist. He could faintly taste soda at the back of his throat.

His face burned as he lowered his fist, his embarrassment not exactly helping the feeling in his stomach. “Sorry about that. That was gross,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. The store felt colder, somehow. Aiden wondered if this was more than just his stomach being upset over his dinner.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Isaac said, seeming more concerned. “You sure you’re okay? You just went, like, three shades whiter.”

Aiden waved off his concern, shaking his head again, but this time doing so just made his head spin and had black spots appearing in his vision. He felt himself teeter to the side and braced himself against the shelves of medicine, knocking a few bottles and boxes over. Something was wrong.

“Shit,” Isaac cursed, stepping forward and grabbing Aiden’s shoulder. “So, clearly you’re not okay,” he assessed. The blonde’s hand found its way to his nape, and Isaac grimaced at the heat there. “You’re burning up.”

Aiden opened his mouth to say he was fine, but his stomach jolted and he doubled over. All that came out was another sickly burp, but that was warning enough for him to shut his mouth.

Isaac cursed again and started rummaging through his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a wallet. “Olive, c’mere.” Oliver walked over, and Isaac stuck his wallet in the guy’s pocket. He then grabbed a bottle of Tylenol that was right there on the shelf and handed that to Oliver, too. Then he took the Pepto from Aiden as well.

“Hey, what—?” Aiden started, but Isaac just told Oliver, “Go pay for the stuff. I’m gonna get him outside.”

Aiden felt his face burn, and he shook his head. “You don’t have to pay for—”

“It’s fine,” Isaac assured him. “You’re burning up, dude. Really, it’s no problem.” Isaac helped him stand up straight and kept an arm on his shoulder as they made their way to the front of the store.

By the time they got outside, Aiden felt like his head was dethatched from the rest of his body and he was fighting back another belch. Or maybe it was actual puke this time.

At the sidewalk, Aiden stopped and doubled over, letting the floodgates open and projectile vomiting onto the curb while Isaac kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Another large burp came up, followed by more puke. Aiden groaned as spit dangled from his lip. He spat onto the mess, but didn’t stand back up straight. He wasn’t done.

“This is a nasty bug,” Isaac sighed.

Aiden didn’t look up at him as he said, “Thanks for helping.”

Isaac squeezed his shoulder a bit. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m doing this for my own benefit as much as yours. Spirit would probably kill me if she ever found out I just left you to basically die.”

Aiden chuckled. “Mmm’not dying.”

Isaac shrugged. “Considering what I’m looking at right now, agree to disagree.”

Aiden couldn’t help but smirk a bit, but that small smile fell away as his stomach revolted again and another heavy stream of vomit came up, splattering on concrete and the tips of his shoes. Aiden was left breathless afterwards, panting and squeezing his eyes shut as his head spun.

And how the hell had it suddenly gotten colder?!

Aiden had no idea how long he was bent over and heaving, but before long, he heard Oliver’s voice again.

He was too dizzy to listen as Isaac and Oliver exchanged a few words. Aiden heard the jingling of keys, and then Isaac asked him something.

“Hmm?”

“I said, can you give me your keys?” The blonde repeated. “There’s no way you can drive like this.”

Aiden knew he was right, so he reached into his hoodie pocket and handed the keys to Isaac, finally standing up straight but keeping an arm around his gut. He looked at Oliver and put on a queasy grin. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined I’d meet another one of Spirit’s friends.”

Oliver chuckled at that, reaching into one of the bags he was holding and taking out the Pepto. “I’m just glad that I know that Sprit’s dating-not-dating someone,” Oliver shrugged, handing the medicine to Aiden. “I’m gonna bring her this stuff. I’m glad we met.”

Aiden laughed a little as he took the medicine and put it in his pocket. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do,” Oliver said before looking at Isaac. “Just text me your location when you want me to pick you up.”

Isaac nodded, and Oliver walked away.

“Okay, let’s get you home, big guy,” Isaac said, patting Aiden’s back.

Aiden raised a brow. “Big guy?”

“Are you gonna say I’m wrong? You’re, like, ten feet tall.”

Aiden let out a little snort. “I’m only 6’4’’,” he said.

Isaac scoffed. “Only?! You’re a giant. I rest my case, big guy.”

When they found Aiden’s car, Isaac seemed genuinely surprised by the sky-blue BMW. “I honestly pegged you for a pickup-truck or Wrangler kind of guy,” Isaac said as he got into the driver seat.

Aiden chuckled, reaching for his glove compartment and pulling out some grocery bags, causing Isaac to raise a brow at him while pulling out. “You get carsick?”

“No. I’m just still queasy,” Aiden answered, reclining his seat and closing his eyes. “My address is the first one saved in my car’s GPS.

Isaac touched the car screen, and Aiden took deep breaths to push down the nausea.

By the time the car came to a stop at his building, he could feel another bout of sick rising up his throat, and he threw open the car door to puke onto the ground.

“Damn, I’m sorry you’re feeling so crappy,” Isaac said sympathetically, holding Aiden by the shoulder to keep him from falling out.

Aiden gagged a few more times, bringing up little painful burps that made him flush with embarrassment. Then he sat up, undoing his seatbelt. “I’m empty,” he stated.

“Good,” Isaac sighed, sounding relieved.

“Thanks for the help,” Aiden said to Isaac gratefully.

The blonde nodded, getting out of the car with Aiden. “Which floor?”

“The second.”

They made their way up to Aiden’s apartment. Since Isaac still had Aiden’s keys, he unlocked the door so they could both go in.

Aiden grabbed a water bottle from his fridge and went straight to his couch, too exhausted to go all the way to his bedroom. He took the Pepto out of his pocket and started pouring some of the liquid into the cap while Isaac left his keys on the counter before making his way over.

“You gonna be okay if I leave?” Isaac asked. “You’re not gonna die?”

Aiden chuckled before downing the shot of medicine, grimacing at the taste and washing it down with the water. “I’ll be fine,” he assured the blonde. “I just need to sleep this off.”

Isaac nodded. “Okay. I found a marker on your counter and I wrote my number on a napkin, so just text me or something if you need anything. Okay?”

Aiden smiled and nodded. “Okay. Thanks, man.”

Just then, Isaac’s phone chimed in his pocket and he pulled it out. “Oliver’s outside,” he said. “You live surprisingly close to me, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Aiden assured him. “Thanks. And I’ll pay you back for—”

“No, you won’t,” Isaac stated. Then he smiled softer. “Consider it a thanks for being someone Spirit feels comfortable and relaxed with. It’s a bigger deal than you think it is.”

Aiden felt his smile fade a bit, wondering what Isaac meant by that.

“Get better and don’t die!” The blonde said as he left.

Exhausted, Aiden laid on his side on the couch, fishing his phone out of his pocket and texting his parents that he wasn’t feeling well and would come to dinner tomorrow.

As soon as he pressed send, another text came in. . . from Spirit. Two more followed.

He opened her messages and laughed.

Spirit🔥: So, I heard you met Oliver. First things first, he told me that ur sick and Isaac had to take you home??? Are you okay??

Spirit🔥: Second, Isaac is grounded for letting Oliver get me f-ing cucumber Gatorade.🤮🥒.

Spirit🔥: Third, call me if you’re up to it. I hope you feel better.

Aiden smiled at her messages, sending back a quick, ‘I’ll feel better after I take a nap. We can call later, I promise.’

He was almost about to also type ‘I love you’, but he stopped himself. He knew neither he nor Spirit were ready for that just yet.

Instead, he just texted, ‘Can’t wait to chat after my hibernation’ and put his phone away so he could go back to sleep.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

I know in the grand scheme of things that this is by no means a lot, but it doesn't stop me from being FLOORED by the reception of my Rayllum Month stuff?!?! Like these PROPORTIONS are NUTS to me and I'm just over here in my bedroom sobbing my eyes out that my stuff (apparently) resonates with people the way I really want it to.

(^ the proportions in question)

Like, out of 895 people, and SO FAST (6 days, as of my posting this), 15 subscribed and I've got 79 kudos?! And 16 bookmarks?! AND 17 PEOPLE CARED ENOUGH TO COMMENT WHAT THE HECK?!?!?! I'm an emotional mess you guys and ik it's not a lot but it means EVERYTHING to me that people like my writing and I just CAN'T-