Yeah, alright. You knew I had to follow up that last post with some of the funniest sh*t that came across my dashboard last week.
*I think I might have posted this here before, but I don’t care, its still funny:
You have blond hair, he has brown hair. You always have blond hair, he always has brown hair. You dye your hair brown, but suddenly his hair is blond, and you feel as though maybe you are him, and he is you, and you have blond hair again, and he has brown hair.
His gaze is impossibly fond, his eyes are impossibly blue, he pulls you impossibly closer, your heart beats impossibly fast, the bulge in his pants is impossibly hard, he should maybe get that checked out.
You don’t remember ever working out and yet you look down and see you have a six pack. When you next see yourself in the mirror you have an eight pack. When he takes of your shirt you have ten, twelve abs. You’re scared to look again in case there are more.
His eyes change colour depending on his moods. At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but now you’re not so sure. They switch between blue, green and grey. Once you thought you saw a flicker of red. You make sure to kiss with your eyes closed now.
You’re white, and so is he. Sometimes he’s your enemy, but you still love him, don’t you? Of course, it makes sense. You’re not sure what you like about him, exactly, but there must be something, right? There’s this intangible thing between you, isn’t there? You feel like you may have more chemistry with your non-white friend, but that can’t be right.
You don’t remember taking your clothes off but you’re naked now. Well, all you remember is toeing out of your shoes. You always toe out of them, although you don’t quite know what that means.
Your pronouns mix into a blur and you no longer know where you end and he begins… You reach out your hand to his hand on his arm… your arm… his… You are sitting and he straddles you but is facing away… There are hands everywhere…
THE ACCURACY HURTS.
You smell like sandlewood. You don’t know what sandlewood even IS.
Once your shoes are off, you pad everywhere. You try to walk, but you can’t, your feet don’t comply. Your only option if you want to get from room to room is to pad.
Your tongues battle for dominance. There can be only one victor. One tongue is not walking away from this battle. Will it be yours?
He tastes like smoke and wine, whatever he had for dinner, and something distinctly him. You don’t know what that taste is or where it comes from… only that it is distinctly…him…
Is he The Smaller Man? Or The Larger Man? Are you The Pale Man? Are you The Slender Man? The Blond Man? You no longer have a name… you are just an epithet.
You thought you were about the same size, but, the clothes come off… and he’s The Larger Man. So large. He’s got six inches on you. You can tuck your head under his chin. Ten inches now… is he growing? Are you shrinking?
It’s weeping. OH GOD WHY IS IT WEEPING?
Sometimes one of you is an alien, sometimes both, but that’s okay. Either your species’ reproductive organs are conveniently identical, or one of you has some sort of eldritch, lubricated opening somewhere which makes the whole business a lot less gay. You’re not sure what eldritch means. Whoever the alien is smells of pine needles.
Come to think of it, neither of you are gay. It’s just that you can’t imagine living the rest of your life without doing this four or five times a day, because you love each other so much. In fact, you didn’t even know two men could do this before five minutes ago. Fortunately, even though this is your first attempt at full-on anal, you both perform perfectly.
You’ve both been gay all your lives, but it’s never come up in conversation before, Even though you’re both 35 years old and spend a lot of time together on stakeouts, in the lab, or working out in the starship gym. You know the names of each other’s childhood pets. He drove your mother to the ER that time you were out of town, and she thinks of him as her other son. You once took his sister on a date because she sort of looks like him, but of course it didn’t work out. You can’t remember what sorts of animals the pets were or your mother’s face. He’s never had a sister. You’re glad you saved yourself all these years for him.
You’ve spent the entire night with him, finally able to say confess you mean to one another over two six-packs of beer. Beer be damned, the first time you kiss both of you snap to near-painful attention and you have unceasing marathon sex until four am. You wake him three hours later, sun streaming through the bedroom windows, with bacon, eggs, and toast on a silver tray. You don’t remember being able to cook before this morning and never buy eggs. There are no beer cans on the floor.
- It’s late. You know you should go to sleep, but you still click ‘next chapter’. You won’t stop. You can’t stop.
- ‘I love AUs’, you say, as you open up a story set in high-school. Then one set in a coffee-shop. Soulmate marks. Mermaids. Hogwarts. So many alternate universes; the same characters and situations, repeated over and over. The characters wish they could be free.
- ‘update soon plz’ the reviewer writes. You update as soon as you can. ‘update soon’ they say again. You update in mere minutes. Still; ‘update soon’. It will never be soon enough.
- You’re trying to find stories about your favourite pairing, but they’re not very popular. There are so many other pairings. So many. You don’t think you’ve ever heard of any of them. Have you?
- The characters finally begin to make-out. Their lips touch; their bodies embrace, limbs twisting. You follow the movements. Arms contort, legs bend, spine distorts. Their bodies should be broken, yet somehow, they are not.
- You post a new chapter. There are no comments, no kudoses, no favourites. Yet, your follower count rises. They are watching you.
- ‘Just a little one-shot’, the author’s note says. They have only one shot to get this right.
- You tab into a new fic. It makes no sense; you can’t understand it. It’s written in an old tongue, with grammar that so arcane and ancient that your eyes begin to bleed.