auroraboros



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Please don’t tell me the first person who ever touched your dick was Dr. Robby.”

    “Um.” He coughs.

    “Oh my god I’m gonna fucking die.

    Santos tries to solve Whitaker’s sexual hangups. Whitaker tries to save Robby’s soul. Neither initiative goes exactly to plan.

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    26 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Woah,” Will whispers to himself incredulously, laughing a little under his breath as he shuffles through the pages of the letter again. He can’t help but admire the smooth, off-white stationery, its pleasant weight in his hands. A serious-looking “MJW” watermark adorns the top of each page, totally at odds with the entertaining missive and its author’s garbled cursive. Will laughs quietly to himself again. What sixteen-year-old boy on earth has monogrammed stationery?

    Michael J. Wheeler, apparently. Where did Max find this guy?

    Mike Wheeler is insecure, even by normal teenage standards. So when his friend, Max, connects him with her old friend from California, he's surprised by how easily they get along. But as the weeks wear on, their letters grow increasingly personal, and they make plans to embark on a week-long trip, Mike can't let go of one inconvenient, anxiety-inducing thought: What if he wants to be more than friends?

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    25 Feb 2026

  3. Public Bookmark 72

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    There were many nights Boris remembers that Theo doesn’t--always a gulf between them, these things unacknowledged. Boris would always know more about Potter than Potter would know about him. There would always be the sound of sobs echoing in Boris’s ears, always the vodka-soaked late night admissions, the jumping off the roof, the blood spattering on the tiles. Always the feeling of Potter’s breath hot against his neck as he said “she called me Puppy sometimes” and then, always Boris allowing himself to whisper tsutsenya later when the dust and rubble tore Theo’s mother away in his dreams and brought Potter gasping back to reality in Boris’s arms.

    There would always be the night Potter showed him the painting.

    “You’re a blackout drunk, Potter, you know that?”

     

    or, Boris tries to remember why he took it

    Language:
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    03 Feb 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    In the hotel elevator, he stared at himself in the endless mirror. Thin man (Bob Dylan chords) in black coat, with little white dog. His nose was red from coke. Eyes red from maybe something else.

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    31 Jan 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Blisters have begun to form on my hand from gripping the bag's strap too tightly. The sign is in gold, just four steps in front of me. The hard part should be over- leaving my father, taking the bus, finding my way here- but the stairs leading to the golden letters seem impossible to climb. The concrete below my feet has a magnetic pull, dragging me down into the earth.

    What is he doing in there, so close I feel I’m breathing again into his neck? He could be having a nice night with the old man, one I will undoubtedly ruin. Or perhaps he’s miserable, and the sight of me will set him over the edge. I still see the most likely outcome being the painting promptly ripped out of my hands and a door slamming in my face. I gnaw at my thumbnail, my leg trembling, wanting to bounce up and down in my shoe. Just go in. Just go in.

    Quickly, so I don’t have time to stop myself, I run up the steps and start rapping at the door.

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    Language:
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    30 Jan 2026