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The sound of singing drew Matt's attention as he wandered the halls of HQ. Tracking the music to its source, he very carefully listened at Oregon's door before pushing it open soundlessly, standing in the doorway and watching the spectacle. Ethan was oblivious to his observer, throwing himself into his song. He'd cranked the track up as high as it would go, and was dancing around in an unbuttoned black dress shirt, black boxer-briefs, and white cotton socks. He sang happily into his hairbrush, gesturing whenever it seemed appropriate. "They say I need some Rogaine to put in my hair! Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear~" He boogied

How can I hold the part of me that only you can carry? It needs a strength I haven't found... ~Toad the Wet Sprocket ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Though we use the terms interchangeably, there are differences between bad dreams and nightmares. Bad dreams are the ones that come from stress or illness or just indigestion. They tend to be stories, where you're being chased through the woods by something unseen, or maybe falling off a cliff. You wake from them with a jolt and a shudder, breathing hard. In the morning, they melt like spun sugar, vanishing into the realm of memory... or, if you're lucky, they're completely gone, a blank p

They say you always remember your first kiss. The first time you trust someone enough to let them touch one of the most sensitive parts of your body with theirs. The first meeting of lips, hesitant or sure, sweet or scary, beautiful or horrific. It's one of the biggest milestones in your life, along with the first time you drive a car, the first sip of alcohol, and the first time you sleep with someone. You never forget. My first kiss... well, it wasn't anything special. I was maybe ten. I've forgotten the girl's name long ago. Mina or Mary or something like that. She didn't mean anything to me, and neither did that kiss. It's something best

Nicolas D. Wolfwood murmured the appropriate things as the matron behind the wooden lattice confessed her sins. His mind was elsewhere, though. Not for the first time, he wondered what right he had to offer absolution to his congregation when he had so many sins weighing heavily on his own soul. But to whom did a priest confess his sins? "What should my penance be, Father?" The slightly querulous voice shocked him back into reality, and he shook his head. "Um... say ten Hail Marys, and your sins will be absolved, my child." There was a soft shush as the door of the confessional opened, and for a moment, the priest imagined he felt the last r