A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.

Danny Gonzales moves in with his best friend and secret crush Drew gooden after his gf died in afganistan going to war and then one night drew gets drunk and then....find out!!!

"The Cask of Amontillado" (sometimes spelled "The Casque of Amontillado") is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, first published in the November 1846 issue of Godey's Lady's Book. The story, set in an unnamed Italian city at carnival time in an unspecified year, is about a man taking fatal revenge on a friend who, he believes, has insulted him. Like several of Poe's stories, and in keeping with the 19th-century fascination with the subject, the narrative revolves around a person being buried alive - in this case, by immurement. As in "The Black Cat" and "The Tell-Tale Heart", Poe conveys the story from the murderer's perspective. Cover by the lovely @theygotnone

*** I wrote this when I was like..14/15 and personally don't think it's one of the better works I've done but a lot of y'all seem to like it so I'm leaving it up here. *** At Oakwood High School there are two girls with two very different lives. Meet Jessica Night and Kaylee Scott. Jessica, coming from wealth and status and Kaylee, just another student passing in the halls quietly. Something so simple brings them together. A school project. So cliche right? Kaylee has had a HUGE crush on Jessica for quite some time before scratching that idea out. However, try as she might she can't completely rid of the feelings locked away and this project isn't helping at all. Forced to interact but not forced to become friends, follow these two as their lives intertwine. Can they keep their newfound friendship from breaking and maybe become more then just friends or will everything fall to pieces? But watch out for the secrets and lies for they won't stick to the shadows for long.

[COMPLETED] [Warning: Strong language used throughout the book.] He put his hand over my notebook and the other over mine. I glared up at him, his golden brown eyes catching my attention. "I can't write like this," I pointed out. "Is this all you care about?" Ryan asked. I shrugged. "Not this specifically, but yeah, I care about my grades." Ryan smirked. I swallowed nervously but refused to break my stoic expression. He leaned closer to me, my heart pounding so hard against my chest it felt like it might break out and fall on the table between us. His mouth was right by my ear, and I could feel his warm breath when he spoke which sent shivers down my spine. "Well, aren't you a little a scholar?" *** The only things Alex Moris ever cared about were his grades and his sister. However, when the boy his sister likes, Ryan Smithe, makes things complicated and causes him to feel things he's never felt before, Alex realizes that, maybe, there's more important things in life than grades and scholarships. [Word Count: 40,216] [BoyxBoy] ~#14 in the "BoyxBoy" tag on 3/5/2019~ ~#14 in the "love" tag on 12/28/2018~ ~#8 in the "lgbt" and "lgbtq" tags on 1/4/2019~ ~#1 in the "loveislove" tag on 1/12/2019~ ~#31 in the "romance" tag on 2/10/2019~ ~#2 in the "BxB" tag on 3/9/2019~

"We can't do this." I whisper as our lips re-connect, a tingling fire surging through my body as his hands ravage unexplored lands; my innocence dissipating away with every peck he trails down my neck. "I know we can't. That's why it's so exciting." He replies through kisses. His effortless charm intoxicates me; drowning me; hunting me; devouring me. "What if my brother finds out?" The perpetuated patter of the rain unable to subdue my groan as he digs his nails deeper into my skin. "Who cares." ********** Welcome to my story, where an innocent boy finds a not so innocent boy in his bed; where they do not so innocent things. - YOP