cris moor


No more drinking. You can’t just stop… I can. For you, I can. I will. You know, when I was, a little boy I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. Adults always ask little kids that. You know? I never had a good answer. Not until…not until I was 28. Till the day that I met you. That’s when I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be the man that made you happy. You make me happy. Not always. Not lately. From here on out, I’m gonna be an 11 for you, baby. No…Screw that, I’m gonna be a 12 for you, from here out. I’ll be an 11 for the kids, but you get a 12

favourite books published in 2015 [7/?]

Willful Machines by Tim Floreen
“This stranger who could do handstands and quote Shakespeare from memory, this goof with the huge grin and inappropriately loud but nevertheless charming laugh: how like an angel, how like a god.
Me, a dud of a First Son with a robot obsession, poor social skills, and enough baggage to sink a freighter: how like a loser, how like a freak.”


Garrison shakes his head, and soflty, he mutters, “I can’t forgive myself.” He holds my gaze. “You shouldn’t be around me, and I don’t think I can the better person and walk away from you, so you gotta do it to me. You have to tell me to stay away from you. You have to tell me to never come back here.”

It’s my turn. I shake my head vigorously. “No. I won’t do that.

His eyes well. “Willow — ” 

Think of Sam Winchester, when everything is done and over with, going to Heaven and seeing Jessica there. He’s shocked, there’s tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He walks on unsteady feet towards her, loops his arms around her, buries his face into the crook of her neck and just cries.