ditto
still kicking :)
LINDSAY MORGAN KAY
do it, no balls
Lin’s face was set in determination. His hands grasped either side of the drinking fountain. His shoulders heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He stared down the reflection of his blue eyes in the gleaming metal of the drinking fountain’s drain.
This was his last run, and he was gonna do this thing. He was Lindsay emm-effing Kay, and it was a slicey-slice of cakey-cake for that guy, luhmao.
Running a hand through his hair and giving the drinking fountain’s button a solid wham!— ya know, like football dudes did to each others’ butts— Lin turned his gaze to the end of the hall and set his feet shoulder width apart. He dropped his hands to his sides, then curled his fingers into a fist and clutched his hands to his chest.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, grinning at the black screen for a moment before pulling up his timer app. On the screen were his other attempts— not failures ‘cuz Lin never failed, but just not-good-enoughs— and he snickered.
He took a final sip from the water fountain, filling his mouth up with water and puffing his cheeks out to hold it. He wiped his lips with the back of the hand that held his phone, and then he held the phone out in front of his chest.
“Hhh-wee…,” he started in a gurgle, and he hunched his back, scooting his left heel back.
“Hh-wooo…” He lowered his brows further and pointed his right toes. “Hhhhhhhh-nn…” A mischievous, confident grin, sans the toothiness thanks to the mouthful of water, snaked its way onto his face
“Nn-guh!” he yelled to complete his countdown, jabbing his finger into the start timer button— and he dashed off down the hallway, cheeks puffed out like a fish and a look of determination set in his brows.
His bare feet, ridden of their socks and shoes, slammed against the ground, his heels hitting the polished school floors with loud, rapid thudthudthuds. His left hand tightly grasped his phone so that it wouldn’t fly out and hit one of the bystanders— though, luhmao, that would’ve been funny as hell, tee-bee-aych. He rounded the corners without so much as a skipped step. His excited snickering threatened to make the water fall down his throat, but he was determined to accomplish his goal before he even thought about swallowing it.
He could feel eyes following him, even though he was too zoomy-zoomy for them to actually see more than a blur, and it made his snickering intensify, to the point that some of his water dribbled out of either side of his mouth.
Finally, as he rounded the corner and came to the lockers, he felt his goal finally be accomplished, and he immediately pressed stop on his watch. He skidded to a halt just in front of the water fountain, and he looked back at his completed goal.
There, on the floor, lay the yellow letterman jacket that he’d had tied to his neck, laid out like a rug— all untied and everything.
Victoriously, Lin opened his mouth to let out a whoop— before he realized that he had a mouthful of water, luhmao, so it was just an intense gurgle. With a loud laugh, Lin swallowed his water and wiped what had spilled out with the back of his hand.
“Hell yeah!” he yelled now that he had an empty mouth, and he pounded his fist into his chest. “Woooo! Fuck yeaaaah!” Lin put his hands on his knees, and he accented each syllable of his next sentence with shakes of his butt. “Miss-ee-un uh-com-poh-liiiished!” He struck a disco pose, cackling happily, and then he walked over to his jacket, clutching his stomach.
As he picked his jacket up and slung it over his shoulder, he held his phone out to check his time. “Forty-fiiiiive!” he read, and then he let out another whoop: “Woooo!” He raised a fist in the air, shaking it triumphantly. He dropped his phone into his pocket, and he dropped his fist to do the running man. “Go Lindsay, it’s yo birthday,” he muttered to himself, and then he laughed again. “Wooo!”
(And here, in the wild, we see Lindsay Kay, in his natural habitat, exhibiting one of his characterizing behaviors: “mmmmmmblockin’ out the haters” and acting like none of that shit that happened back there had ever happened via a dumb bet— that happened to be with himself this time…and last time…and the time before it.)
(Yes, Lin had been occupying and distracting himself via various self-bets for the paaast…uhhh…half hour now? Yeaaah, sounded about right.)
He looked up from his celebration, looking for eyewitnesses to his fucking amazing victory back there.
Bee-eye-enn-gee-oooooh, and bingo was his fuckin’ name-oooo!
“Stellaaa!” Lin greeted cheerfully, coming up to his potential witness. “Yo, bro— did you see that? Luhmao, I just took off my jacket without even touching it— how fuckin’ dope, riiiiiiihhhhwait.”
He interrupted the programming of that thought with a special announcement from “Look At Them Feetziez.Com”.
“Brooooooooooo,” he said, his face ridden with surprise as his eyes trailed up to Stella's. A wide, excited grin came on his face. “Bomb ass skates!” He held up two shaka brah hands, giving them a couple of waves, and then he gave a gasp as he had an idea. “Wooooah, wait.”
He grinned again, this time a lot slower and more mischievously, and he jutted out his elbow to prod Stella’s arm with it. “Heeeeeey…," he said slowly, and then then he repeated it a few more times. "Hey, hey, heyyyy.” He glanced down at her skates, then back up at her. His grin spread wider, and his eyes were gleaming with that excited look that could only mean one thing:
A bet was coming.
“Me on Dick, you on them skates...we should race each other, luhmao," Lin drawled, prodding Stella with his elbow again as his grin grew toothier. He drew his shoulders up to give a dramatic shrug with an impish cackle. "Unless you're afraid of getting your ass beaten, luhmao."
This was his last run, and he was gonna do this thing. He was Lindsay emm-effing Kay, and it was a slicey-slice of cakey-cake for that guy, luhmao.
Running a hand through his hair and giving the drinking fountain’s button a solid wham!— ya know, like football dudes did to each others’ butts— Lin turned his gaze to the end of the hall and set his feet shoulder width apart. He dropped his hands to his sides, then curled his fingers into a fist and clutched his hands to his chest.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, grinning at the black screen for a moment before pulling up his timer app. On the screen were his other attempts— not failures ‘cuz Lin never failed, but just not-good-enoughs— and he snickered.
He took a final sip from the water fountain, filling his mouth up with water and puffing his cheeks out to hold it. He wiped his lips with the back of the hand that held his phone, and then he held the phone out in front of his chest.
“Hhh-wee…,” he started in a gurgle, and he hunched his back, scooting his left heel back.
“Hh-wooo…” He lowered his brows further and pointed his right toes. “Hhhhhhhh-nn…” A mischievous, confident grin, sans the toothiness thanks to the mouthful of water, snaked its way onto his face
“Nn-guh!” he yelled to complete his countdown, jabbing his finger into the start timer button— and he dashed off down the hallway, cheeks puffed out like a fish and a look of determination set in his brows.
His bare feet, ridden of their socks and shoes, slammed against the ground, his heels hitting the polished school floors with loud, rapid thudthudthuds. His left hand tightly grasped his phone so that it wouldn’t fly out and hit one of the bystanders— though, luhmao, that would’ve been funny as hell, tee-bee-aych. He rounded the corners without so much as a skipped step. His excited snickering threatened to make the water fall down his throat, but he was determined to accomplish his goal before he even thought about swallowing it.
He could feel eyes following him, even though he was too zoomy-zoomy for them to actually see more than a blur, and it made his snickering intensify, to the point that some of his water dribbled out of either side of his mouth.
Finally, as he rounded the corner and came to the lockers, he felt his goal finally be accomplished, and he immediately pressed stop on his watch. He skidded to a halt just in front of the water fountain, and he looked back at his completed goal.
There, on the floor, lay the yellow letterman jacket that he’d had tied to his neck, laid out like a rug— all untied and everything.
Victoriously, Lin opened his mouth to let out a whoop— before he realized that he had a mouthful of water, luhmao, so it was just an intense gurgle. With a loud laugh, Lin swallowed his water and wiped what had spilled out with the back of his hand.
“Hell yeah!” he yelled now that he had an empty mouth, and he pounded his fist into his chest. “Woooo! Fuck yeaaaah!” Lin put his hands on his knees, and he accented each syllable of his next sentence with shakes of his butt. “Miss-ee-un uh-com-poh-liiiished!” He struck a disco pose, cackling happily, and then he walked over to his jacket, clutching his stomach.
As he picked his jacket up and slung it over his shoulder, he held his phone out to check his time. “Forty-fiiiiive!” he read, and then he let out another whoop: “Woooo!” He raised a fist in the air, shaking it triumphantly. He dropped his phone into his pocket, and he dropped his fist to do the running man. “Go Lindsay, it’s yo birthday,” he muttered to himself, and then he laughed again. “Wooo!”
(And here, in the wild, we see Lindsay Kay, in his natural habitat, exhibiting one of his characterizing behaviors: “mmmmmmblockin’ out the haters” and acting like none of that shit that happened back there had ever happened via a dumb bet— that happened to be with himself this time…and last time…and the time before it.)
(Yes, Lin had been occupying and distracting himself via various self-bets for the paaast…uhhh…half hour now? Yeaaah, sounded about right.)
He looked up from his celebration, looking for eyewitnesses to his fucking amazing victory back there.
Bee-eye-enn-gee-oooooh, and bingo was his fuckin’ name-oooo!
“Stellaaa!” Lin greeted cheerfully, coming up to his potential witness. “Yo, bro— did you see that? Luhmao, I just took off my jacket without even touching it— how fuckin’ dope, riiiiiiihhhhwait.”
He interrupted the programming of that thought with a special announcement from “Look At Them Feetziez.Com”.
“Brooooooooooo,” he said, his face ridden with surprise as his eyes trailed up to Stella's. A wide, excited grin came on his face. “Bomb ass skates!” He held up two shaka brah hands, giving them a couple of waves, and then he gave a gasp as he had an idea. “Wooooah, wait.”
He grinned again, this time a lot slower and more mischievously, and he jutted out his elbow to prod Stella’s arm with it. “Heeeeeey…," he said slowly, and then then he repeated it a few more times. "Hey, hey, heyyyy.” He glanced down at her skates, then back up at her. His grin spread wider, and his eyes were gleaming with that excited look that could only mean one thing:
A bet was coming.
“Me on Dick, you on them skates...we should race each other, luhmao," Lin drawled, prodding Stella with his elbow again as his grin grew toothier. He drew his shoulders up to give a dramatic shrug with an impish cackle. "Unless you're afraid of getting your ass beaten, luhmao."
mood
hellllll yeah
location
the school
outfit
lookin fly as always
hellllll yeah
location
the school
outfit
lookin fly as always
playing...
wrecking ball
wrecking ball
by mother mother
mentions
n/a
interactions
stella
tags
Kitsune2202
n/a
interactions
stella
tags
Kitsune2202
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