Suburban Necromancer

I love that Americans are known for complimenting strangers. I love that we fry everything, and that we do it well. I love 12-foot-high plastic Halloween skeletons in people’s yards and tacky Christmas lights that stay up too long. I love that we are an unabashedly goofy people.

I love bluegrass music. I love stepping. I love that there are always folklorico dancers in my town’s Mardi Gras parade. I love that my town has a Mardi Gras parade, even though most people here aren’t Catholic or French and didn’t grow up with any kind of Carnivale tradition. I love that if "Livin On A Prayer" comes on a pizzeria, at least one person at each table won't be able to stop themselves from singing along. I love that the middle school gym shakes to the rafters when families cheer for THEIR baby finishing eighth grade and that they bring balloons and bouquets and flower garlands to celebrate.

I love the 80 year old couple at our local No Kings protest. I love all the little kids there with their families, too. I love the brass band that always shows up at protests here and plays old union songs and gospel music. I cry like a damn baby every time I hear “Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing.”

Is there something you planned to do before you got trapped in the endless tumblr scroll?

Are you yelling at yourself to get up and do the thing, but you can’t, because you’re trapped in the endless tumblr scroll?

Consider this your save point.

eat breakfast

go to bed

get out of bed

take a shower

write

practice

watch Superman Returns and write a paper on it

retain shreds of sanity

when they’re finally alone after a game (after weeks of anticipation… a fresh haircut, new cologne, tailored jeans that fit just right) and they’re just all over each other. So desperate, like their skin has been on fire for weeks and the other one is the only salve that works.

And it’s all furious energy after the game and the waiting… but as they fall into the bed and it’s happening so quickly and it will be over so quickly….

they both do everything they can to draw it out without the other noticing.

Shane is trying to make his abnormally precise clothes folding seem teasing and tempting instead of a moment to take in Ilya’s presence, his eyes on Shane’s skin.

Just as Shane is about to come Ilya remembers just how short the countdown is between Shane’s orgasm and Shane leaving him alone again. So Ilya edges him to tears, revelling in Shane’s desperation but also just trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

And if Shane just happens to make a mess across both of their stomachs…

And if Ilya just happens to suggest that they shower together again…

And if a shower turns into sleepy third round handjobs and they both just flop onto the hotel bed exhausted to take a nap…

waking up in unfamiliar environments (again)…

bonus:

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