"The spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it represents a great
triumph over Christianity. Another triumph is our spiritualization of
hostility. It consists in a profound appreciation of the value of having
enemies: in short, it means acting and thinking in the opposite way from
that which has been the rule. The church always wanted the destruction of
its enemies; we, we immoralists and Antichristians, find our advantage in
this, that the church exists."
--Neitzsche, "Twilight of the Idols, or How One Philosophizes with a Hammer" Part Five: Morality as Anti-Nature
*-*-*-*-*-*
"Philosophers of Maybe"
a murder by numbers fic by SchizoAuthoress
Justin managed to fend of Richard's insistent advances by parking outside of a Starbucks and cheerfully informing the redhead that he was going inside.
"Why?" Richard asked.
"I'm going inside to buy a grande triple-shot hazelnut latte to dump on your lap if you don't stop trying to cop a feel."
That went over well.
"You're no fun," Richard pouted childishly, glaring at Justin with pretended injury. So Justin leaned over and kissed him, sucking gently on his prominent lower lip, coaxing him out of his snit.
"I'll show you fun," Justin whispered throatily, "but later, okay?"
"Promise?" Richard asked hopefully.
"Promise."
****
The Nile was a small nightclub with a maximum occupancy of 200. On average, about 500 people were packed in there, some at the bar and some in the front room where passed-out ravers were dumped to recover. The Nile was infamous for the prolific use of psychedelic drugs and the number of sexual assaults that took place there.
-No wonder Richard wanted to come here,- Justin thought, leaning back against his car's trunk, watching Richard pal around with a couple of his buddies from school. Mostly, the guys Richard was talking to were skaters, with a jock or two also present. Definitely not the type that Justin voluntarily associated with.
"Hey, Rich," Todd Fritz, Jefferson High tight end, was saying, "who's the freak?" And he pointed to Justin.
"That's Justin."
"Justin?" Mike Mierr repeated. Tugging restlessly on his wallet chain, the spiky-haired skater asked, "Wasn't that your biology tutor's name?"
"Same guy." Richard answered. As explanation, he continued, "Justin drove me here."
"Richard!" Justin called, and they all---like lemmings---turned toward him. "It was your idea to come here; you going to stand outside the place all night?"
Night was the correct term; at 1:45 in the morning, it was still pitch- dark. Richard shrugged and left the group, making sure that they saw him put an arm around Justin's waist when he got to the car. Mike yelled,
"Hey, you two have fun now!" and grinned conspiratorially at Richard.
Justin barely turned his head to look at Richard and raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"
"Oh, Mike's a good friend," Richard replied cryptically as they entered the Nile.
****
It was almost four o'clock when Justin dragged Richard out of the Nile, with some help from Richard's friend Mike Mierr. Literally. Neither young man was especially strong, and the redhead was very out of it.
"Ecstasy," Mike pronounced as he propped Richard up by Justin's car, "not a lot, but I've seen him use it before. He'll be pretty much hung over tomorrow, then he'll be fine."
"Thanks. . ."Justin fumbled for a name.
"Mike," the brunet said with a smile, offering his hand. They shook, and Justin smiled tentatively. The guy was nice, and an admitted good friend of Richard's.
"I guess I'll see you later," Justin said, although he knew he most likely wouldn't, "and thanks again."
"No problem," was the last he heard from Mike, because by the time he had convinced his drugged-out boyfriend into the car, Mike had disappeared back inside.
****
Justin got on the freeway, driving south to San Luis Obispo, where they would get on I-5 and go north. Sacramento, Eureka, Portland, Spokane, Seattle. . . all were up that way, and when Richard regained his lucidity, they'd choose.
He glanced over at Richard and smiled tenderly. The redhead had the seat all the way back and was curled up, sleeping fitfully. Justin smoothed back his hair with a gentle hand and murmured softly,
"Sleep well."
END PART FOUR
--Neitzsche, "Twilight of the Idols, or How One Philosophizes with a Hammer" Part Five: Morality as Anti-Nature
*-*-*-*-*-*
"Philosophers of Maybe"
a murder by numbers fic by SchizoAuthoress
Justin managed to fend of Richard's insistent advances by parking outside of a Starbucks and cheerfully informing the redhead that he was going inside.
"Why?" Richard asked.
"I'm going inside to buy a grande triple-shot hazelnut latte to dump on your lap if you don't stop trying to cop a feel."
That went over well.
"You're no fun," Richard pouted childishly, glaring at Justin with pretended injury. So Justin leaned over and kissed him, sucking gently on his prominent lower lip, coaxing him out of his snit.
"I'll show you fun," Justin whispered throatily, "but later, okay?"
"Promise?" Richard asked hopefully.
"Promise."
****
The Nile was a small nightclub with a maximum occupancy of 200. On average, about 500 people were packed in there, some at the bar and some in the front room where passed-out ravers were dumped to recover. The Nile was infamous for the prolific use of psychedelic drugs and the number of sexual assaults that took place there.
-No wonder Richard wanted to come here,- Justin thought, leaning back against his car's trunk, watching Richard pal around with a couple of his buddies from school. Mostly, the guys Richard was talking to were skaters, with a jock or two also present. Definitely not the type that Justin voluntarily associated with.
"Hey, Rich," Todd Fritz, Jefferson High tight end, was saying, "who's the freak?" And he pointed to Justin.
"That's Justin."
"Justin?" Mike Mierr repeated. Tugging restlessly on his wallet chain, the spiky-haired skater asked, "Wasn't that your biology tutor's name?"
"Same guy." Richard answered. As explanation, he continued, "Justin drove me here."
"Richard!" Justin called, and they all---like lemmings---turned toward him. "It was your idea to come here; you going to stand outside the place all night?"
Night was the correct term; at 1:45 in the morning, it was still pitch- dark. Richard shrugged and left the group, making sure that they saw him put an arm around Justin's waist when he got to the car. Mike yelled,
"Hey, you two have fun now!" and grinned conspiratorially at Richard.
Justin barely turned his head to look at Richard and raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?"
"Oh, Mike's a good friend," Richard replied cryptically as they entered the Nile.
****
It was almost four o'clock when Justin dragged Richard out of the Nile, with some help from Richard's friend Mike Mierr. Literally. Neither young man was especially strong, and the redhead was very out of it.
"Ecstasy," Mike pronounced as he propped Richard up by Justin's car, "not a lot, but I've seen him use it before. He'll be pretty much hung over tomorrow, then he'll be fine."
"Thanks. . ."Justin fumbled for a name.
"Mike," the brunet said with a smile, offering his hand. They shook, and Justin smiled tentatively. The guy was nice, and an admitted good friend of Richard's.
"I guess I'll see you later," Justin said, although he knew he most likely wouldn't, "and thanks again."
"No problem," was the last he heard from Mike, because by the time he had convinced his drugged-out boyfriend into the car, Mike had disappeared back inside.
****
Justin got on the freeway, driving south to San Luis Obispo, where they would get on I-5 and go north. Sacramento, Eureka, Portland, Spokane, Seattle. . . all were up that way, and when Richard regained his lucidity, they'd choose.
He glanced over at Richard and smiled tenderly. The redhead had the seat all the way back and was curled up, sleeping fitfully. Justin smoothed back his hair with a gentle hand and murmured softly,
"Sleep well."
END PART FOUR
