#and it's been sitting on my shelf untouched since

[barbsart]

Started reading a new jeff vandermeer story (a strange bird!!) on my train ride earlier today and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.. I’m like 20 pages in and I can already feel it altering my brain chemistry

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

One piece modern au, Mama Rouge :)

Happy Mother’s Day :)

Here’s some mama Rouge for the occasion!

Additional info about her 👇(there's a lot.)

Rouge is a bit sickly. Throughout Ace’s formative years, she was in a hospital, sick. Its honestly a miracle she got through child birth alive, but she’s a very very strong woman.

Garp was there when Ace was born because I like to imagine that Garp was Gol D. Roger’s Parole Officer, and so of course he became a family friend. But since he was there for Ace's birth, he was also there when Rouge held her newborn and cried because she knew she couldn't take care of him in her condition.

And look, I don't know how child handling works, but I think it would be really funny if Garp was like "you're okay, girlie, I got the perfect idea." And then he held out a sheet of paper with all the people on his parole list and said like "pick one, this could be part of their community service sentence."

And Rouge was like "might as well, I guess, I don't want to put him in an adoption center or foster home so I guess I'm doing this". Then she picked out Dadan because 'dad' is already in her name, and she's not really given anymore qualifications other than that, so Dadan it is.

Plot twist though because all these convicts just all live with each other so it really wouldn't have mattered, it just meant that now Dadan would be the main guardian of Ace.

-------------

Because she was in the hospital for so long when ace was growing up, she’s a bit of a mystery to him. Sometimes (like 3 times a year) she would come to visit him at The House Of Dadan and bring homemade large stuffed animals for him made with Ace's old clothes she's patched together. Ace loves them and they're on a high up shelf in his room, practically untouched in fears of potentially breaking them.

Whenever Ace has a day with Rouge, it's usually a bit awkward. Like Ace doesn't know how to have a mother and Rouge doesn't know how to have a son, but she is trying her best to have fun with him whenever she gets the chance to.

I kinda envision these vibes. Not exactly but adjacent.

Very like "what do you wanna do, sweetie :)"

Ace never gets to visit her at the hospital because Rouge doesn't want him to see her in that kind of setting. He tried to once when he became an adult but he was turned away at the door. He may or may not have tried to then find her through the outside of the building through windows and he may or may not have been kicked off the premises by security.

---------

The first day on the job after Ace completes his tattoo artist apprenticeship, he gets a customer who called the day before requesting him specifically, which is a little weird since he had just started that day, normal patrons wouldn't know him.

When it's time for the appointment, he goes to the floor from the back of the shop, and the person sitting in his appointment seat,

Is.. is his mom.

Shes talking to his coworkers and laughing with them! Ahh no nononono. His mom is not supposed to see this part of his life. What is she doing here????

He rushes over to her and asks her what she's doing here for??

"I'm getting a tattoo from my son :) can I get this flower please? :)"

So he starts the tattoo process and Rouge is very cooperative and receptive to when he needs her to move or anything like that.

He's.. he's never actually been this close to her for so long...

He glances up one and he sees her smiling so softly at him.

Ace looks away quickly, hoping she doesn't see him blushing.

For all wondering, the tattoo that she has is very much on her ass and it is very much Roger's name.

That's all I got. I got a couple of people asking about Ace's family situation, so here ya go :)

Oh additionally, Roger died before Ace's birth from Cancer

Thanks for reading if you got this far :)

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 1 ◇ Part 2 ◇ Part 3

Warnings: none

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt/comfort

A/n: Guess the Song of Achilles reference! :)

It has been around three weeks since you last saw Osamu that day: you took your chance to scurry away when he went back into the kitchen briefly, leaving your payment to Tsumoto.

The memory of his embrace with another woman still lingered in your mind, but you were able to distract yourself with the hundreds of books on your shelf and the dogs in the shelter.

You took this time to explore other places in the city, from the cozy Indian restaurant near your workplace, where the taste of salty chapati mixed with matar paneer melted in your mouth like butter, to the Mexican fast food spot at the corner of the library, where you savoured the taste of chiles en nogada followed by elotes. Yet,  nothing compared to Osamu’s handmade onigiris, the taste of his love surpassed any food you’ve ever tried.

You don’t believe he didn’t notice your absence, but it wouldn’t bother him that much, you assume, since you’re nothing more than a friendly regular. 

Or at least, you used to be a regular.

Now you are just a girl who spends her days between work and shelter,  occasionally going out to drink with the few friends you have. You know it’s wrong to use alcohol to dull the suffering, but sometimes it’s the only way to remind yourself that life still holds meaning, and that happiness, however fleeting, can be found.

But not going to Osamu’s restaurant has its consequences, like going to the grocery store to buy all the necessities to make a healthy meal and right now you are not exactly having fun doing all this.

When you were a child, your mother always told you to learn how to cook and clean because “someday you’ll have to do it for your future husband”, so, as an act of rebellion, you refused to learn anything other than the most basic dishes of your culture; this act of rebellion ended up biting your ass now because you are tired of eating the same basic things over and over again and you miss Osamu’s food.

You wander through the aisles, searching for the ingredients of the recipe you want to try.

it has been at least half an hour now and you’re meticulously selecting each item, trying to get the correct amount of food. You always tend to buy more than necessary, which ends up with you never using that specific product again and making it go to waste—like the honey syrup you bought for your pre-made pancakes that now sits untouched. You don’t even have time to eat breakfast most of the time. 

You are trying to understand which vegetables are less decayed than others when someone approaches you slowly. 

“That one will go bad in like 2 days.” 

You startle at first, but you freeze completely the second you meet his eyes.

“Hey.” he smiles.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god, please why did he have to come here out of all the grocery stores in the city?

You tried to forget about him like an unwanted pest, avoiding all the places he could be at, you even chose a longer path home so you wouldn’t bump into him while he closed the restaurant. You are old and tired and so is your heart, it can scarcely bear the burden of yet another heartbreak.

You drew in a slow, steadying breath before replying.

“Hi Osamu, long time no see.” you try your best to beam at him, like nothing has touched you, like you don’t want to run away this instant, like you don’t want to scream at him and hurl all these vegetables at him because you hate him for shattering the last remnants of hope you had left in you.

Like you don’t love him at all.

You tend to buy more than necessary, just like you tend to let your feelings grow more than necessary, and then, then they stay there, growing and decaying at the same time, festering with pests and resentment.

“Yeah, because someone hasn’t been coming to my restaurant lately.” He remarked with a petty edge to his voice.

Well, you jumped into that one.

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, “I was just … busy. We got a few more dogs in the shelter and it’s been a little hectic.” your voice is barely a whisper, laden with the weight of your lies.

Coward, liar, ugly.

He nods in quiet understanding, picking a zucchini with a pristine surface, a stark contrast to your rotten life. “Take this one. What’re ya making?.”

You take the vegetable from his hands and place it in your bag, his kindness pressing against the walls you've erected around your fragile heart “I don’t know,” you sigh, “I'm trying to make some vegetarian lasagna, but I already know it's going to suck. I’m a terrible cook.”

“You can always learn, you know.” he counters, a playful smirk gracing his lips “I wasn’t born with a knife in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your cart forward. “I’m lazy. And I don’t have anyone to teach me in a fun way.”

“I could teach you. Although I'm not sure if I can do it ‘in a fun way’” he signs with his fingers, “you won't die of boredom, I guess?”

“I’m always having fun with you, Osamu.”  And it’s true.

“That’s crazy considering that you haven’t come to meet me in three weeks.”

“Oh god, you’re so petty!” 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

You stare at each other before bursting into loud giggles; his eyes crinkle as he looks at you and you try so hard to ignore the warmth of your cheeks.

(and the warmth in your chest).

You are not used to being loved but you are used to love, and you can’t help wanting to stay around those you love, can’t ignore the tugs of your heartstrings. You know it will only end up in heartache and you are already regretting what’s coming out of your mouth, but you can’t stop it.

“Well? Will you teach me then?”

He smiles, and his face is like the sun.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tag: @lees-chaotic-brain

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #4

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. hypotheticals by lake street drive ♫

https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

I didn’t bother looking at my watch during our session and somehow I noticed the sun was nearly gone. A fist tightened in my stomach when I realized how long she had been in my presence without me being aware of the fact. I can’t remember a time when my social battery grew instead of depleting. 

Technically, I should be tired since I stayed up filtering through applications and cleaning my entire place simultaneously. But it was something about her that energized me. Even motivated me and made me excited about this project. She gave me a sense of agency, which I haven't felt in the last decade.

“You built these bookshelves, didn't you?” She snorted in disbelief as we traveled to the living room before her departure. 

“I did,” I said, in the kitchen as I fetched myself a beer, feeling proud at the recognition. 

I followed her manicured finger trace at the edge of the panels. She twisted her head sideways to read the dusty titles on the shelf. Even though I only saw her back, I knew her mouth was open in astonishment at my first edition copies of classic books, something I’ve been cultivating for twenty years. I bring the tinted bottle to my lips and stand with my free hand on my chin. 

She tucked her index into an original print of The Well of Loneliness. She looked over her shoulder quickly to check if I was watching her, which I was. I quickly diverted my gaze towards the floor and sipped. “I’ve had that book for a while,” I say. 

“Is it okay if I…” 

Her voice became silent, almost a whisper as if she’d be in trouble if she muttered a word about the novel. 

“Of course. Please.” 

I gesture towards the couch and she pulls the untouched book from the shelf as if it were delicate china and sits on my worn sofa. I bit the corner of my mouth as I saw her sit right where I lay my head and I took a seat on the farthest end away from her. She crossed her legs and brought the grey-shaded book onto her lap. The pages were stale and yellow-ish, almost crumbling under her careful touch. She followed the inside of the spine with her thumb, straightening the first page and a shiver traveled down my spine to my toes. 

“From the library of Abigail Anderson.” Her voice drops an octave, loose and saturated in a sexy chuckle. I wanted her to repeat my name just like that until her voice was hoarse.

I knew my cheeks grew bright red and I had the inclination to press the bottle to my face to cool my embarrassment. The embosser was a gift from an ex-girlfriend and she took the liberty of pressing it into every book I owned, even my most valuable ones. 

“You like that?” I smile, concealing my trembling lip with the neck of the bottle and thumb. 

“I wish I had one but my books aren’t special enough.” 

“What do you like to read?” 

“Same stuff you do.” 

That stuff is novels that exclusively includes women.

Her eyes linger with a glint that can only be described as fervor like she never met someone who read lesbian fiction. I didn’t break eye contact like I had been for the last three hours. I took another sip to hold back a large, toothy grin. Her phone vibrated with another ricochet of text messages, which she continuously ignored. But soon she broke our quiet pact by reading the messages and excusing herself to the next room. Her voice has a quiver in it although hushed. 

“Ellie. I’m sorry I just—okay. Okay. I know I am sorry. It just… Of course, I love you are you—alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

She comes back into the living room without moving back to her original spot. Her face was thick with an emotion I knew all too well. Dread. Maybe she needed an excuse to stay longer and I felt okay with that.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry or anything—” / “I’m gonna go—”. 

The jumble of words flusters us both and her grip tightens around her phone. The sight makes me think she could snap it in half right there. Ellie, her girlfriend, definitely gave her a stern talking to. The little cat-like girl I met on the street couldn't have made her feel so small. She brushes a stray hair from her face that wasn’t there. Instead of confidence, I saw her shrink down twice in size. 

“Oh, yea of course,” I rub my hot neck.

Her eyes dart towards the copy of The Well of Loneliness. 

“You can borrow it if you want to.” 

Instead of traveling around the couch, she let her body swipe past me as I rose from the couch. Our clothes mingled in a private dance just before she slipped on her shoes and fiddled with the door. With the book pressed to her chest, she turned to me, a mere two feet away, and thanked me. A silence fell between us. It wasn't awkward, but comfortable. I felt comfortable.

“Anytime, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

What I wanted to come out as a statement became a question and I resented myself for it. I wanted her to know that I was going to see her.

“Hopefully. ‘Night Ms. Anderson.” 

“Drive safe, sweetheart.” 

A soft I will left her solemn lips and I watched the twinkle of her headlights illuminate my body. I raise my hand to wave her off but she turns her head before I can. I quickly tucked it away in my back pocket. My throat hardened seeing her car drive away.

As I closed the door, the lingering silence of the house struck me strongly. The missing book from the shelf made me feel hollow in a way. I was glad that she took it but I wish... I don't know. I finish my last sip of beer and toss the bottle out. I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

The water offered me a clarity the cool breeze outside could not. I was relishing in a former life that I wish I had done differently. Craving someone who truly understood me and appreciated who I was. I never got that. My heart pumped with anxiety-ridden blood. Painful memories that I shoved away threatened to —

My hands are on the sparkling tiles, spread with 2 inches in between. I press my eyes shut and try to understand where I stand. It feels like the calm beads of water transformed into pebbles. Hitting my skin with an angry vengeance I could not place. The steam inhibits me from getting a deep inhale. I can't move. I open my eyes and soften my knees. I find the strength to reach for the knob and draw my body onto the floor. My knees come to my chest and I count until the water turns cold.

I opened the windows in my bedroom and listened to the chirping of cicadas. I close my eyes and walk backward onto the perfectly made bed. Instantly, my back melted. Why was I denying myself this? I lay with my feet dangling and was disrupted from the lingering sleep by my phone in the living room.

7:30 PM: What have you gotten me into Ms. Anderson?

She sat with the book in her lap, the only blankets around being a plum-colored top sheet. Her legs held the book and a small light illuminated the first page. Her thumb held the right page and her index and middle in the crease. I could imagine how she rubbed them against the paper like earlier. I stared at the photo and fell deeper into the elements of it.

7:35 PM: 400 pages is nothing, You'll do fine.

A bubble appears and vanishes.

7:36 PM: It's actually 448 pages, thank you very much.

7:37 PM: My apologies. 48 extra pages won't kill you.

7:38 PM: You don't know that...

7:40 PM: I think I do.

7:41 PM: Well, we can discuss what you think you know tomorrow...

My fingers twitched to reply but it was clear that she desired to be left alone. I couldn't determine why these casual conversations left my face aching, but they did. I reflected on how long it's been since I went on a date. The number enters my mind and burns slowly like a forest fire. The sides of my head throb as I slip under the blankets.

to be continued...

[hearts4hughes]

hits different | trevor zegras

(trevor zegras x fem! reader)

a/n: i’ve had this idea in my notes forever, and i’ve just managed to finish it😭 it took wayyyy too long, but i’m proud of this!

warnings: intoxication, alcohol, angst, light swearing

the pulsating bass reverberates through your body as you stand at the bar, drink in hand, trying to wash your hands of the memories of a love gone wrong. your mind drifts to the mess that trevor made of you and the hurtful images that linger in your thoughts.

you wondered if he had already moved on. if he was cooking for another girl at his apartment, or if he had strolled through the streets of anaheim with her hand in hand. had he forgotten about you? three years of love washed down the drain like dirt and filth as he confided in another woman with his love. just the mere thought sends waves of nausea through your body.

it didn’t make sense. you thought breaking up with him was the right decision, but since then, all you’ve felt was pure heartbreak.

it all started with the duck’s bad season. he was frustrated and stressed. he thought he was the problem- even though he wasn’t- and he went into an emotional hole. at the time, you didn’t understand what was happening. you thought he fell out of love with you, so as hard as it was, you broke up with him. the second the words flew off your tongue, he broke down- sobbing, yelling, begging, anything that would help you stay.

you can't help but reflect on how you used to move on so easily, like switching out partners and escaping town, but everything feels different now. the bars you visit play songs that remind you of what once was, and it hurts like nothing you've experienced before.

“y/n,” julia calls out, snapping you back into reality, “you have to stop thinking of him, it’s not going to help.” her hand rubs comfortingly up and down your back. you look at her, your face completely blank of emotion. it’s easier said than done to forget about someone who preoccupied so much of your time, and the alcohol in your system isn’t helping.

“i know, i just,” you stammer, “i just can’t escape him. it’s like he’s haunting me. everywhere i look i’m reminded of the memories we made.” she looks at you with pity.

“love is a lie, babe. you know this already.” she says- the same thing she’s been telling you since forever. “remember when you broke up with aaron?” she asks and you nod in response. “you thought he was the one and that you’d never ever move on, but after a little bit you did. you just need to give it time and you’ll get over him.”

whining, you grab your shot, throwing your head back and downing it. your nose scrunched as the alcohol burned down your throat. “but what if i don’t want to get over him, jul? i don’t want to forget about him. i just want to be with him, i just want trevor.” your words were slurred- almost incoherent.

people around you began to stare and watch the unfolding scene. protectively, julia brought you into a hug, shielding your face from everyone before they saw your tears. “let’s get you home, honey.” she cooed, wrapping her arm around your waist and helping you out of your seat.

-

julia brought you home, making sure you got into your house safely before driving away. you swung the front door open and stumbled into your apartment. the digital clock on the wall read 2:20am. you ripped off your heels, discarding them somewhere in your living room, and walking into your bedroom. your hair was a frizzy mess, lipstick smudged, mascara smeared everywhere, but you could care less.

you find yourself alone in your room, surrounded by memories of the past, with one particular item catching your eye- trevor’s hat. it sits on a shelf, seemingly untouched since the day you parted ways. the sight of it evokes a rush of bittersweet emotions, and you can't help but pick it up, feeling its fabric against your fingertips. the hat holds a piece of him, a piece of the love you once shared, and the weight of the memories is overwhelming.

as you hold the hat in your hands, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. memories of your time together flood your mind – the laughter, the inside jokes, the intimate moments shared under that very hat. you miss him, and the feeling intensifies with each passing day. the warmth and comfort that his presence once brought into your life are now a distant memory.

you bring the hat close to your chest, hugging it tightly as if it was him. the scent of his cologne, faint but still lingering, brings you back to those tender moments when he would embrace you, and your heart aches.

with each tear that falls, you let yourself feel the grief, the longing, and the emptiness that comes with a wound that hasn’t completely healed. you find yourself whispering his name into the fabric, wishing he were there, holding you.

suddenly, you hear a key turning in the door down the hallway. is it him? is it trevor? or has julia come to take you away from your apartment and the suffocating reminders of him?

the door closes and you hear footsteps approaching your room. the footsteps become louder as the mystery person gets closer. you close your eyes, not bothered to know who it is; however, a small part of you hopes, even wishes that it’s him.

“love?” he calls out, causing your eyes to shoot open. you see him standing in the doorway- a blurry version of him due to the alcohol and crying. a frown adorns his lips as he looks down at you. your tear stained face and bloodshot eyes give him a hint of what you were just doing. “oh y/n,” he coos, making his way over to you and repositioning you into his lap.

his arms snake around your body, pulling you close to his chest. you open your mouth to say something, but the words get caught in your throat. he presses reassuring kisses to the top of your head as you cry into his embrace.

"i’m so sorry, y/n," he whispers, his voice filled with remorse. "i messed up, and i’ve been a mess ever since you left." you try to find the right words to say, but your emotions are too overwhelming, your heart too raw. instead, you bury your face in his chest, holding on to him as if he might slip away again.

"fuck, i thought you moved on," you manage to say through your tears, your voice shaking. "all i could imagine was you with another girl, trev.”

he sights, gently rubbing your back. "no, love, there hasn't been anyone else. i’ve been miserable without you. you were always the one."

“i thought you had fallen out of love with me, that’s why i broke up with you.” your voice trembles with hurt as he feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

his expression softens, his eyes searching yours for understanding. "i was going through a rough time, and I didn't know how to handle it. i thought i was the problem, and i didn't want to bother you with my struggles. i never meant to hurt you." you move your head away from his body, staring deeply into his eyes. he’s been crying too. in that moment, you realize that he's hurting too, and maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing and forgiveness.

"i miss you, trevor," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "my friends try to take me out to have fun and get drunk, but i always end up slurring your name until someone puts me in a car. they’re going to stop inviting me soon.” you joke- a coping mechanism you’ve had since you were young.

he lets out a small laugh, bringing his hand up to wipe away stray tears, “i’m here now," he replies, "and i want to try again, to make things right. i love you, and my life is a fucking wreck without you."

“i love you too,” your voice is soft and sincere. a smile graces his lips and for the first time since forever, your lips connect with his, reviving what you thought was gone.

[espresso-lessdepresso]

i8

fluff

t/w: Distrust/Suspension, descriptive kiss and make out.

a/n:....so im alive and my exams didn't kill me ^^. but it did take me half a month to actually post something soooo~ anyways, I hope everyone is doing well and enjoy! This has been sitting in my drafts since November I feel like it could still be better but i don't know how T-T

Away from the chaos and social ramble of the Christmas gathering, Schlatt escaped into a faraway room on the second floor which happened to look like a small study. The walls adjacent to the door were lined with ceiling-length bookshelves, deep mahogany in colour, and in between one of the shelves was a fireplace. Dividing the room into two, there was an area for sitting, with a couch and coffee table in front of the fireplace, and there was an area for writing which had a large desk opposite to the couches. The balcony was visible through the sliding glass doors, it had upon it a thick layer of untouched snow.

It was easily brought to Schlatt's attention that even this room was not safe from holiday decoration; garlands lined the tops of the bookcases and alternating green and red stockings hung on the deck of the fireplace. The centre coffee table was decorated with for-show gift boxes wrapped in various colours. Even the scent of sugary Christmas treats and savoury snacks managed to sneak into the room. 

Quietness filled the room, for the most part, Schlatt could only hear the low chatter of everyone speaking downstairs since most of it was drowned.

Though the holiday season was joyous and everyone gathered happily to mingle with one another, Schlatt found himself standing alone in the room farthest from everyone. There seemed to be a recurrence of Schlatt's tight-lipped frown and furrowed brows. 

Standing turned into pacing.

And with pacing followed the feeling of uneasiness and doubt.

Schlatt was thinking, once again for the nth time this month, about you. 

Your sly flirting and paying special attention towards Schlatt had not gone unnoticed. Your attempts had planted a seed of curiosity in him which slowly but surely blossomed into fondness. He himself was pleasantly surprised by this. Flattered even to the point of catching himself smiling like an idiot at the prospect of what could happen and where it could lead. 

But these thoughts were short-lived as his mind too quickly was plagued with distrust.

Schlatt was deep in thought, trying to detangle his pasts from his present while staring out into the heavy snowfall. The wind carried the snow in fluffy white swirls. The door handle turned and he wasn't sure if you were the last person he wanted to see or the first. His thoughts were like a ball of yarn that fell prey to Jambo's paws. 

"Hey." 

Schlatt only nodded back at you, taking notice of the two mugs that you were holding and carefully walked in with. 

"Not liking the party?" You asked, handing him a red mug of hot chocolate. The mug was piled with marshmallows and he distinctly remembered that there was a shortage of marshmallows in the kitchen. You must've saved some for him or gone to the extent of going out and buying some. Schlatt's fingers ever so slightly grazed yours and you wanted to make it last as long as you could, taking a step towards him... but within a split second, he retrieved his hand back awkwardly. He averted his attention to the books on the shelf.  

Schlatt was wearing his usual clothes; a black sweatshirt with beige pants and white sneakers. He looked the furthest from having a festive spirit. His chestnut hair never failed to look soft, even when going through another phase of change.

Your gaze on him was gentle, done without realising it. Every time you looked at him, his features would captivate your attention; the way he’d fold his arms, furrowed his brows or the way his bottom lip would pout sometimes. Though it is impossible, you would admire him for hours if you could. Schlatt had somehow gotten used to it, the feeling of your eyes trained on him. He could almost always tell whenever you were looking at him. "What are you trying to do?" he asked, breaking the quiet.

Giving him a questioning look, your brows knit as you slightly shook your head. "What am I trying to do?" 

"You know," Schlatt turned, "Your advances. Your sudden change in behaviour and your particular attention to me." 

"Are they… unwelcomed?" 

His face felt warm at the question. Schlatt huffed out in what seemed to be annoyance, "And that. All that endless teasing or whatever it is."

"I thought I was a bit more subtle with it but I guess..." You said more to yourself than him, shrugging in slight embarrassment. You placed your mug of hot chocolate down on the table and took a step closer to him. With the balcony to your side, you felt the slight chill of the weather passing through the glass doors. "So? Are you going to do anything with that information?" 

The small curl of your lips made Schlatt's eyes narrow. The gaze they held- or rather the glare, was broken for a split second, looking away from you to the side. When his eyes drew back, you first thought that you saw anger in them but you quickly found it to be frustration. Indecisiveness even. "A fling? Like, is that what you're looking for?

"I'm actually not." You said, taken aback by his words. But not shaken. Have your actions not written everything out by now? You leaned on the glass door with your shoulder, the cold pressing through your sweater. "You think I'm a fling type of person?" 

Schlatt again looked at you, between your eyes from left to right and back. Really searching for something. "I'm just...being careful." 

"I'm looking for a lot more than just a fling." Sighing, you felt dejected. "I was." You tried to approach him slowly and revealed your likeness by one small fraction at a time. But for whatever reason, his walls seemed to only stand taller and guarded heavily. Looking down, your hope was slipping. With now a cold shoulder, you leaned off of the door to leave the room as well as Schlatt. 

But catching you by surprise, Schlatt stepped in front of you. Not only did he block your path to the door but he had you standing between the glass door and himself, leaving as little as a few inches between you two. Schlatt raised one hand towards you and instinctively you took another step back and bumped into the glass. His fingers brushed against your hair as he plucked something out of it.

The absolute closeness and the tension of it had your nerves. Be it the way he looked at you or the pent-up longing you had harboured for him, words escaped your lips before you could stop them. "My feelings for you are genuine Schlatt. They," Your heart was beating up your throat "... are as exactly as I've shown them." 

Held between his index finger and thumb was a red berry. You get caught off guard by it. Schlatt looked up and you followed his gaze. There were green branches, adorning long thin leaves and ruby red berries. Tied to the frame of the balcony door by a shimmering red ribbon was a small bouquet of mistletoe.

Without taking your eyes away from the berry caught between his fingers, you spoke, "Do I still have to say more?"

Your anticipation silenced and the distance between the two of you finally closed. His lips on yours were gentle. They barely even pressed down on yours. The timidness showed through as his hands remained where they were, even though they wanted to lace with yours or hang around your waist. It was as though he was testing the waters- making sure you were okay with this. Making sure he was okay with this. Schlatt looked for signs of discomfort, whether you wanted to stop, step back, or perhaps rethink your likeness of him. But you didn't. Eyes closed and hand moving to his chest on its own accord. You kissed him back, just as gently as he did.

Soft.

His lips were unusually soft. Yes you had imagined that they would be so but to actually feel them for the first time, your mind had stopped working. All you would focus on was the pressure of him on you. 

Schlatt, having initiated the kiss first, was also the first to pull away. His habit of staring at you- into you, did not seem to cease. Looking into your eyes, looking for something- anything that could possibly hint or prove his suspicions to be true. But staring back at him was just you. You and your dilated pupils drawn on him showed only trust and honest intentions. 

“If you try anything-” Schatt started.

“-Nothing you wouldn’t like.” your small voice retorted before he could finish. Your teasing once again brought out the redness of his face, along with your own this time. In a swift motion, Schlatt’s hand moved to flatten against the door with a thud. With his hand right next to your head, you felt even more enclosed than before. You had a way of getting on his nerves, without even trying

There was another beat of silence that filled the room. Schlatt remained in the same position, and so did you. Standing in each other's space, you were almost sharing the same breath. You had not realised but this single small kiss made your chest heave. You continued to heaven as you stared into Schlatt’s eyes. With such closeness, you swore they were a type of brown you had never seen. Unique and so deep, you felt being pulled into them.

Just then, slicing into the thick silence, a voice called out from you. One of your friends was looking for you and you could hear their footsteps in the hallway from inside the room. They were looking for you to help them with something.

Your attention diverted, you were about to call back to the voice, saying that you’ll be there just in a minute. But before you could do so, your lips were drawn and sealed with Schlatt’s. Again. What was different this time was that he did not hold back. That timidness he showed before had gone… It was replaced with some sort of fire.

The voice drifted away.

Schlatt pulled at you. Your voice of surprise was muffled by the way he kissed you. Your noses pressed into each other's faces. Taking another step forward, Schlatt had your back pressed on the glass. A shiver crawled up your back and you pushed away from it, in turn pressing into Schlatt’s broad figure. The hand beside your head cupped your face and his other hand finally got to hang on your waist. Your own hands were sitting on his shoulder and the nape of his neck. The way he led the kiss showed no signs of timidness. He led it with intention, lacking no passion.

A sort of fire kindled within him. 

The heavy snowfall settled and the wind ceased to howl. Outside, past the glass doors of the balcony, the night sky was sprinkled with stars and the ground below, a blanket of white snow layed untouched. The weather would continue to be crisp and cold, but with what you ignited within Schlatt, you would be kept warm throughout your winter.

++++++

Engage and let me know if/how you like the writing. Reblogging/Sharing is much appreciated.

masterlist

[scionshtola]

from the kiss prompts :> 9. to shut them up 💗

ty azia!! this was a lot of fun to write 😌

kiss prompt 9. to shut them up || Corisande x Y'shtola || 794 words || divider credit

Y’shtola’s childhood bedroom had changed little since she last called Matoya’s cave home. The same books lined the shelves, the same quilt spread across the bed, the same quill and ink sat on the desk. Though the room had obviously been kept free of dust by Matoya’s enchanted brooms, they had seemingly left everything else untouched since her last visit. The only additions were done so by herself: new books stacked in front of the old ones, her notes scattered haphazardly across the desk, and Corisande standing in front of the bookshelves, studying the spines. 

They pulled a book from the shelf, idly flipping through its pages before setting it back in its place and pulling another. After a few more books, their soft hum of amusement made Y’shtola’s ears perk in their direction.

“Is there something amiss?” she asked archly, glancing at them from where she was perched at the end of the bed. 

“All of your childhood books are quite…academic.” They turned a few more pages in the book they were holding, and Y’shtola could hear the grin in their voice when they added, “‘Tis exactly as I expected.”

She pursed her lips, feigning indignation as they sat cross-legged on the rug, the book held open in their lap. “You were a scholar of the arcane arts in your childhood, were you not? Was your own library not similarly curated?”

“I was hardly so difficult to please as you,” Corisande teased. “My library was not a curated collection so much as a hoard of every book I could get my hands on. At least, as many as we had room for.”

Corisande tilted her head back, looking up at the shelves that stretched high along the wall. “Though I would have loved to have a collection such as this—mayhap with a few adventurer novels thrown in the mix.”

A soft ache thrummed quietly in Y’shtola’s chest for that younger Corisande. She remembered the way Corisande had devoured each book she’d recommended to them from the library at the Waking Sands. After so many years spent teaching themself all they could about arcanum, they had been so eager to discuss their readings with Y’shtola and Urianger, both of whom happily obliged.

Y’shtola may not have had peers her own age, but she had always had Matoya to learn from. She always had the cave to which she could return.

She rose from the bed and knelt next to Corisande, her shoulder brushing theirs. “Had we known each other then, I would have been only too pleased to share my library with you.”

Corisande turned her head in Y’shtola’s direction, a soft smile gracing her lips. She started to lean in, her fingers twining with Y’shtola’s, but at the last moment she veered sharply to the right. Y’shtola pulled back, watching as she stretched across the floor and reached her hand under the bed.

Y’shtola’s stomach dropped—how could she have forgotten? But it was too late to stop Corisande now. 

“What is this we have here?” Corisande said, rising back into a sitting position. She held aloft a plush creature, exhumed from its tomb beneath Y’shtola’s bed. “Evidence that a child once resided in this room after all?” 

“‘Tis only a plush paissa,” Y’shtola muttered. She could not make out the features well, but she recognized the malleable roundness between Corisande’s hands. “A poro roggo brought him to the cave for me when I was young.”

“Does he have a name?” Corisande asked, a gentle fondness in her tone that softened the teasing.

“No,” Y’shtola said pointedly, ignoring the growing warmth in her cheeks. “He does not.”

Corisande’s smile only grew wider. “Shall I guess then? Given your history of creative spellwriting, I imagine ‘tis something special. Let’s see…mayhap—”

Before Corisande could finish her sentence, Y’shtola leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Corisande leaned closer, her smile giving way to parted lips for a brief moment before she pulled back, evidently undeterred.

“No guessing then. Mayhap the poro roggo will tell me.” She fell silent as Y’shtola kissed her again, but pulled back to add, in a tone far too delighted for Y’shtola’s liking, “Or mayhap I ought to ask Master Matoya herself.”

“I assure you Matoya is not inclined to such conversations.” Y’shtola slipped her fingers into Corisande’s hair, tilting their head back as she leaned over them. She kissed them again, deeper this time, until she felt one of their hands find purchase on her waist. “Nor would she be so kind as I in her discouragement of the subject.”

Corisande laughed against her lips, and settled her other hand on Y'shtola's waist as well. Y’shtola, pleased by the acquiescence, set about ensuring the subject would not rise again.

[poppyseed1031]

Call For Attention

Jake Sully x Fem reader

"phone" sex ( the throat coms lol) Smut, slight degradation, Tinnnny bit of edging if you squint a bit lol

I sat curled up in the plush mountain of woven and animal pelt blankets that covered the large sleeping mat in my mate and I's shared hut, weaving him a new arm band, when the dimming light casting over the floor and my working hands pulled away my attention. A frown etched on my face as I looked up and saw that eclipse had come and Jake, my mate, was still not home from yet another war party meeting. I tossed the weaving to the side and plopped back on the mat with an annoyed huff as my eyes roamed our home. It was full of us, of him. Pictures of us together that we took with the strange sky people contraption that Jake called a "camera" were hung everywhere, our song cords were hanging together from a notched shelf he had built when we first mated. His dinner that I had prepared was still sitting at the table he carved, untouched as usual. Since the Sky people had returned he was drowned in duties, planning raids and war parties, protecting the people and keeping the clan hidden from the demons invading our land. I know he had the world on his shoulders, but it had been so long. So long since he had been around for a meal, or a date night, or any kind of time spent together as mates, let alone any kind of physical attention. As much as I tried to stay awake most nights, I always fell under the spell of sleep before he made his way home. The physical and emotional neglect was really starting to get to me, and I know its selfish, but I just can't help it when I have been denied of the person I love for so long. I trailed my hands over the throat com he had given my for emergencies, and decided to do something about being lonely as I pushed down on the button. 

"Jake?" I asked tentatively.

"Babe? You okay?" His answer was immediate, and hushed, so he must still be in the meeting. Just the sound of his rough voice sent warmth pooling in my core. 

"No I'm not okay." I breathed, slowly snaking my hand down my stomach and under my loincloth,

 'What is it? What's wrong?!" He whispered, now in a slight panic.

"I miss you." I mumbled as I slid my fingers through my folds, collecting my slick on my fingers;

He let out a gruff sigh on the other end, "That is not an emergency Y/N." His voice was firm, edged in irritation that made me bare my teeth slightly, how dare he be irritated with me? 

"It is when you haven't touched me in weeks and I'm forced to do it myself." I moaned, making sure to be extra loud, as I slid two fingers inside myself. There was silence for a few minutes, and then static crackled followed by a low growl;

"Oh I see. Is my girl feeling neglected? Such a dirty little slut you have to touch yourself to my voice while I'm in a meeting?" I whimpered at his words, my fingers barely grazing over my sweet spot as I curled them, they weren't nearly as long and pleasurable as Jake's, but they would have to do. 

"Yes, I-I need you, my Jake." I whined in frustration, thrusting into myself harder, I could feel my slick starting to drip out of my pussy and down my thighs as I pictured him on top of me, imagining it was his cock slamming inside of me instead. 

"Fuck, just your noises are making me hard. I had to step out so I wouldn't get caught, you dirty little minx." His growl was edged with desire now and the sound made my toes curl,

"good, good, need to cum, please." Keeping my free fingers pressed onto the button on the com was getting slightly difficult, my hands and legs shaking from the impending orgasms building inside me, a coil starting to tighten.

"Fuck. I can hear how wet you are." he huffed; all I could respond with was a series of pathetic whimpers as squelching sounds from my pulsing cunt filled the space of the hut.

"Making me touch myself like a horny teen baby. Fuck. Move to your clit, you little fucking slut." I followed his orders immediately and slid my fingers out of my aching whole that was begging to be filled, hissing at the loss, and slid them up to the little bundle of nerves, applying pressure and drawing tight circles that head my back arching. 

"J-jake, So clo-close." I babbled, picking up the speed on my clit as my orgasm raced to a peak. I heard a few deep grunts from him before he answered in a breathy rumble. 

"Jake? Oh sweet thing, is that what you're supposed to call me? You better behave, and ask permission before you cum. Or I'll have to punish you when I get home." I keened at his words as tears blurred the corner of my vision,

"Please! Pl-p-please Sir, can I cum?" I begged, clenching around nothing as I desperately tried to keep my orgasm at bay. All he did was let out a rough chuckle, not giving me an answer.

"Sir, please I'll be so good, such a good girl for you, need to cum, can't hold it, please!" I babbled as I rubbed rapid circles on my clit with two fingers, teetering right one the edge, 

"There's my good girl. Cum for me, pretty." He cooed, sending me spiraling. I chocked on a moan, my back arching and legs tensing as they clamped around my hand as an intense high washed over me, my other hand falling from the comm button and gripping the blankets on the sleeping mat. 

"No> Finger on button now. Let me here." He hissed and I frantically reached up and pressed it again, chanting his name over and over until the last waves of my climax washed through me. 

I tilted my head back, panting and trying to catch my breath, letting out little moans as my heat pulsed between my legs, begging to be filled by him. 

"Jake-" 

"I know, I'm ending the meeting and coming home. Be spread and ready baby girl." He cut off my feeble whimper and the static on his end died down, signaling he let go of his button. I grinned to myself and nestled deeper into the comfortable mat and let my legs fall farther apart, sliding my hand back down and inserting my fingers back inside myself with a whine as I waited for my mate. 

[thesassywitchofthenortheast]

Six Sentence Saturday

I was only going to give you one fic, but why do that when I can give you three! So enjoy the super sneak peek!

Rekindled Flames, Ch 5

She pulls the pieces from the back of her drawer, dark green lace with the tags still attached. Lucy had bought it excitedly for a special occasion, knowing the emerald shade was Tim’s favorite color on her, but it had gone untouched. Unappreciated.

As Tim had broken up with her just a few weeks before what would have been their one year anniversary. At the time, she’d shoved the expensive lingerie in the back of the dresser, despondent and heartbroken, knowing she’d never be able to wear it for anyone else.

But now, Lucy had Tim back and tonight, what will be their first time again, felt like the perfect opportunity to finally wear the set.

My Beloved Ghost and Me

It’s late afternoon when Angela returns, she sits beside Lucy’s hip on her bed, rubbing her back.

“Lucy.”

“I’m not hungry, Angela. Just leave me be.”

“Lucy —“

“Stop trying to help.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “It’s my fault.”

“What?”

Untitled fic/prompt request

(A belated b-day present for @makeitastrength)

He stumbles out of Lucy’s room, the apartment still bathed in the early morning light. He’s a man on a mission, start coffee, make a cup for them both and then get back to a very sleepy, yet very naked Lucy still snuggled in the blankets of her bed.

While it may be his first time back since their break up a few months prior, Tim still knows where everything is and moves around her kitchen with ease. He pours the coffee grinds into her machine and pulls two mugs off her shelf.

While the coffee brews, Tim looks down at his attire. He probably should have put on more than just pajama pants, given Lucy has a roommate, but this early he figured Tamara would still be sleeping and he can get coffee and back to Lucy before anyone notices. Besides, it’s not like he was planning to stay clothed for much longer — they had the day off and it’s been months of pain and sorrow and Tim knows neither he nor Lucy have any plans of being away from each other today.

[ineffable-5sos]

My Angel

It's been three weeks since Aziraphale left, and Crowley still misses him just as much.

Crowley sat in Aziraphale’s usual chair by the window. The bookshop was quieter than it used to be. Crowley was used to the quiet – he lived on his own, after all, and he wasn’t all that loud. Aziraphale wasn’t loud in an obnoxious way – and, even if he was, Crowley loved him too much to be too bothered by it. No, Aziraphale was loud in a way that felt like home.

Crowley glanced at the gramophone seated across from him, set precariously on a small wooden table. Crowley remembered when Aziraphale first got the table. He was quite excited about it. He came into the bookshop, nearly bursting with joy, and proudly displayed the table to Crowley.

“What’s this, Angel?” Crowley had asked, his voice almost patronizing, as though speaking to a child.

“It’s our new table! I’m going to set the gramophone on it!” Aziraphale answered.

“Angel, this table is way too small to hold a gramophone. Especially the one you have,” the amusement in Crowley's voice was obvious, even to Aziraphale.

“Oh, come on Crowley! I’m sure it will work just fine!” Crowley only sighed. He knew there was nothing that would change Aziraphale’s mind.

The gramophone had sat on the table for nearly 60 years now. Surprisingly, it had not yet fallen over, but Crowley had come into many close calls.

Aziraphale always had a record playing. Some of Crowley’s fondest moments have been sitting in the chair just next to Aziraphale’s and watching as Aziraphale danced around the bookshop, dusting and humming softly to the music. Crowley always found it particularly endearing when Aziraphale would move his hands as though conducting the symphony.  

The gramophone, much like it had been for the past three weeks, was untouched, a light layer of dust gathering on the top. Aziraphale’s record collection, now at a grand total of 78, sat in a shelf next to the table, just as untouched as the gramophone.

Crowley pushed himself out of Aziraphale’s chair and crossed the room in three long strides. He bent down and flicked his fingers through the record collection, before choosing Crowley's favourite. Sliding it out of the sleeve, Crowley placed it on the gramophone, and gently set the needle upon it.

The soft melody floated through the air. Crowley closed his eyes, and for a moment allowed himself to imagine. Just barely, in the back of his mind, he could see Aziraphale. He was dancing across the floor, softly humming, eyes closed, and conducting the orchestra. With a soft sigh, he opened his eyes, and his face softened upon seeing Crowley. He walked across the room and grabbed Crowley's hands, before gently pulling him against him. He began to dance. Crowley was not much one for dancing, but he figured he’d do anything to see Aziraphale this happy.

Crowley opened his eyes. The room was just as empty as it was before. Once comforting, the soft sounds of the record now felt taunting to Crowley. He removed the needle and carefully placed the record back onto the shelf. He took a step backwards, letting the tears that had been threatening to fall for two weeks finally roll down his cheeks.

“Come back to me, my Angel,” Crowley whispered. “I miss you.”

[not-alien-girl-v]

love your work! can u write a kai anderson x reader smut with him as an elf on a shelf????

absolutely yes!!!!

warning: elf!kai, smut, lowk being attracted to an inanimate object, unprotected sex, size kink, he’s an elf so whatever kink that is, watersports, dirty talk, use of a different hole in the female body, ready has to lick her own pee, elf!kai licks readers eye, gets sealed in her wall

note: not my best work but that’s ok. JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES I SWEAR GUYS IM NOT CRAZY. tbh this isn’t that good but it’s comedic and that’s all that matters to me, also it’s not x reader it’s x claire sorry not sorry

she couldn’t believe her eyes. he looked just like him.

it has been a full year now since kai’s untimely demise, and sometimes she felt as though his face was everywhere. in the passing of strangers, in the clouds in the sky, the paint imperfections on her ceiling as she layed awake at night.

but here he was. his stern face magically before her, his greasy blue hair, his dark eyes. all fit compactly onto the small face of the elf on the shelf she stared at in the store.

how had the makers of this doll gotten every single feature correct about him? all down to the single freckle at the tip of his nose.

claire was supposed to be moving on. claire had moved on. hadn’t she? as she grabbed the doll and stuffed it into her basket, heading to the checkout lanes.

___

she thought about it all night. the way she delicately unpackaged the doll, set him carefully up above the mantle, a place where Kai and her used to sit, cuddled up before the fire, now much duller and more empty once he’d left.

the elf sat there like a reminder, of him, of who she used to be, what they once had. she had to avert her eyes before she teared up too much.

claire wasn’t really sure what she was expecting the first night she took him home, but when the elf remained there, untouched, unmoved, looking still, identical to her beloved but in the sense that it, too, was lifeless and cold.

though, it’s not like she could just throw it away. throw him away. so she left him there. sure, it hurt to see him like this, but it hurt more to have to say goodbye for a second time. moving one is for chumps, right?

the second night was different, however. firstly, claire had taken a shower at 10, finding that none of her clothes were clean, she was left to shut down the house for sleep completely naked. it was no big deal. she lived alone now, and she kept her windows closed most of the time.

she locked the door and tidied up the house, turning off the lights of the well decorated tree in her living room. as she practically danced around the house wearing nothing, she was completely unaware of the tent slowly growing in the groin of the elf, carefully watching the show. it wasn’t something she’d concern herself with, given that elves don’t have genitalia, or so she was led to believe, but something about this elf was different.

he wasn’t like other elves. perhaps he was special enough to cure her lovesickness.

after taking care of all that needed to be done, she layed down in her empty bed once again, as she had done for an entire year now, day after day, and it didn’t ever get easier, she just got used to it.

that’s when she heard it. thump thump thump

‘what the fuck?’ she thought to herself. she would have said it out loud, but she had two reasons not to: one being that she promised herself she wouldn’t allow herself to go crazy in such a way and another being that if an intruder had entered, they would surely hear her.

she didn’t dare move, her breaths shallow and quick as she waited to hear if she truly had gone crazy yet.

thump thump thump

she lived alone. of this she was sure. no doubt in her mind, nothing in her house was supposed to make any noise after she had retired to her bedroom. unless…

no, it couldn’t be. sure, she had dreamt of it almost every night, no, every single night since she had lost him, but there was no way he could walk back through that door. magical things don’t happen in the real world, as much as you hope and pray.

she crawled out of bed and crept down to the floor by her bedroom door, trying to make out a shadow of what might be out there. the hall light was on, something she definitely was not responsible, and her stomach dropped.

the more she thought about it, the more the most dangerous part of her brain took over. what did she have to lose? she had no family, aside from kai, no friends, aside from kai’s friends, though she hadn’t talked to them since, and was working a minimum wage job in a fast food restaurant.

she could storm out of the room and confront her attacker with nothing but her bare fists and let god be her witness as no one else sure would be.

with no second thought, that’s what she did. she swung open the door.

in this world, there were a few things she had to be sure about, with each passing day, the threat of losing her sanity became more apparent.

1. magical things don’t happen in the real world

2. she truly was alone in this world, in every type of way

3. kai anderson, the love of her life, bane of her existence, and the only thing that ever kept her tethered to the earth, was dead

though, as the elf, also known as kai, stood before her in the doorway, menacing as ever, almost as much as when he was alive, with a boner in his silly little red footie pajamas.

it was erotic in nature to claire, being so sexually aroused by an elf doll, but she found it hard to be ashamed as he resembled her beloved so closely.

“kai?” she gasped out loud and fell to her knees, still not even eye level with the elf.

“claire…” the elf spoke lowly and claire expected some type of comfort, jesus, he had been gone a year now, how much more can she take, but he stepped forward and continued, “you’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?”

she picked her head up from her hands. “wha- i don’t understand?” she spoke through sobs.

“you heard me. loud and clear. you’ve been naughty. i’ll tell santa if you don’t obey me.”

“what do you want, divine ruler?” she looked down at him with dark eyes.

“lay down on the bed, you dirty little slut.”

she felt her arousal grow with every squeaky word he spoke. something about being an elf, in such a small body caused his voice to sound something like a chipmunk, but she found it erotic, regardless.

she lay down on the bed, legs spread, ready for whatever may happen. he climbed on top of her, straddling her face with his doll legs, and he let his micro erection spring free. “suck, bitch.”

she gulped. “how exactly do i-“ she started but he shoved his length into her mouth before she could finish. it was almost like a single french fry, warm, salty, and small on her tongue, but she worked her best to please him in any way he desired.

“good girl,” he moaned out to her, and attempted to smack her face with the sewn in white gloves he wore, but he could merely caress her cheek limply with every attempt. he sighed and didn’t try again.

his moans got higher in pitch as he got closer to his release, and she was worried he was getting so high in pitch that only dogs would hear him soon.

“fuck baby, i’m gonna-“ he didn’t end his sentence as his hot load shot into her mouth, being about a single drop on her tongue, but once again, she didn’t mind. anything for her master, even if he was an elf.

he removed himself from her mouth the moment he felt her swallow, and moved down to abruptly stick his length into her leaking cunt.

she moaned loudly, out of pity for his small size and in some odd way, immense pleasure, as she found his micro penis much more arousing than she expected.

he groaned in annoyance. “fuck, i can’t feel you at all,” just as claire was about to reach her breaking point, he pulled out, and developed a sinister look on his face. “i know what will work.”

she aimed to raise her head to look at the elf working on her but her body went stiff when she felt his dick slide into her urethra.

“what the fuck are you doing?” she whined out in pain but he continued his attack on her smallest hole, the exact right size for his less than average manhood, or elfhood, as it would now seem to be.

“fuck, you feel so good you little whore. you’re still daddy’s princess, aren’t you?”

she hardly felt any pleasure anymore, mostly just an odd pain, but it was enough knowing it would please her master.

“yes daddy. i’m your princess daddy. i love you daddy,” she moaned. “oh shit,” her voice dropped an octave as panic began to swim around her leaking body. “fuck, daddy, i’m gonna-“

before she could finish her sentence, a powerful stream of piss shot out of her, through the hole the little elf man had claimed, pushing him out of her, and with that, given his now minimum body weight, catapulted his entire body away from her, thwapping him against the wall with a loud smack before he could register what was happening.

he sat up and observed the mess she had made. “lick it up, bitch.”

“what?” she sat up in shock to look at him.

“i said lick it up. since you’re daddy’s princess, you have to do what daddy says.”

though he was just an elf, he was still scary, intimidating and had a murderous gleam in his plastic eyes, something that claire didn’t want to explore, given her reoccurring nightmare of being murdered in her sleep by a doll.

on her hands and knees now, she licked the trail of piss with her tongue off the carpet, attracting all types of gunk left in the carpet from her lack of vacuuming, before she was met face to face with the elf again.

she expected him to leave her a kiss, something she hadn’t had in ages, even in the time leading up to his death. she’d be lying if she said that what she had with kai was perfect, or anywhere near it, and as the last few months went by, the two hardly ever spoke.

instead, he leaned in, slow and carefully, noticing her wide eyes gazing back at him, and licked her eyeball. she flew back in surprise, clutching her teary eye with both hands. “what the fuck?” she cursed, screaming and sobbing in pain.

“i always wanted to try that when i was alive, baby. thanks for giving me the chance to live out my wildest fantasies.”

but the clock struck midnight. with a panicked look on kai’s elfy face, he scrambled to speak one last word, “wait!”

it was too late. his sopping, putrid, soggy elf body was lifeless on the floor, just as he had began. claire picked him up and chucked him at the wall again.

“fuck you!” she screamed as she beat him against the wall, over, and over, and over, until a big whole was left in the wall.

she stuffed him inside of it, and with a plaster repair kit she had been smart enough to purchase a few months back, she sealed him in there. she hoped she would never have to see his handsome, elf face ever again, no matter how much it pained her greatly.

moving on wasn’t for chumps. it was for survivors, and that’s who she was.

[shadowbrightshine]

Oh man I just found the little device that opened the doors to all of my modern day life.

This baby. For a long time it had no way to connect to the internet and was locked down. It was the white play phone. A mini tablet for games.

One day I tried youtube and it worked.

Then one day I used data from my grandma in the car on a trip and discovered rainamator and his minecraft animations. Found a new band.

From there I watched Kelly royal family rp. I watched gacha life. I stumbled upon cinemaresins and the brony fandom.

I also lied to my parents about it sometimes. Every night I would hide my phone on a shelf and stay up watching YouTube. I watched fnaf minecraft rp, I watched mlp analysis, I watched so much gacha life, I watched a ton of stuff.

And I found creepypasta. I watched gacha life creepypasta, I watched speed paint stories. I watched comic dubs.

And I started writing, I wrote mlp fanfiction about derpy and my half reformed changling oc who fed on positive emotions. They were on the big mail trip, a multi week mail route across equestria and beyond. I wrote my first original story called Cake.

I wrote scripts for gacha life videos I wasn't allowed to make.

I stayed up late every night watching YouTube on my secret internet phone.

I found fanfiction and learned to read tags because of one that still haunts me like a traumatic memory.

This thing was falling apart. It was too old, the buttons fell out and I desperately taped them back on multiple times.

It was cracked from falling from my loft bed.

It could barely turn on.

It was my portal to the world beyond my town. White phone was my window into the internet soul. My secret guilt of lying to my parents. A constant little weight in my mind, even though it's so light to hold. It showed me the worst of what can be (that isn't like live leak gore) and what the best of a friendship can lead to.

It's why I'm here right now.

I haven't used it since I was 14.

It's been sitting, untouched but not thrown away, from bin to bin and closet to shelf for 5 years.

I don't know why no one tossed it yet.

Thank you, White Phone, for giving me the world.

[another-corpo-rat]

and the wheel keeps turning

told myself i was gonna sit and get at least the beats for Victoria's storyline in place. instead i wrote what could ultimately be its epilogue \o/

Adam Smasher/OC Summary: With Yorinobu’s blood on her hands, there’s a significant target on Victoria’s back. Michiko has a solution.

.

“Power suits you,” Victoria offers in greeting. It’s not a lie this time – there’s something to the set of Michiko’s shoulders, a tightness in her core that straightens her spine and pulls her chin up into the slightest tilt. The image is no doubt helped by Smasher’s lingering just by the doorway, an obsidian sentinel against the brighter golds and blues of their new CEO.

But it’s ruined, partially, by that serene and genuine smile that softens the woman’s features; warming her into a real person and not an untouchable empress.

“I find it quite ill fitting. It’s been tailored to my grandfather and uncle.” And then ruined entirely as she fidgets, picking at where chrome gives way to flesh on one of her hands. Victoria has to give her some credit; even that is a gracefully subtle motion. “I’m almost drowning in it.”

There’s an opportunity here to be sharp again. To drive a knife, metaphorically this time, into her confidence, or to gently pry and twist, coaxing her focus from the throne Victoria had a hand in setting her on.

The netrunner considers it while looking over the woman in front of her, pointedly ignoring the cyborg’s presence and how his attention hasn’t slipped from her since the moment he entered.

“Then cut off what you don’t need. Or, restyle it – you have the means to do whatever you chose now.”

“I do.” The fidgeting stops with a practiced intake. One that strikes her as too purposeful and has a tension roll down her own spine. “But…”

Victoria’s own calming breath is much subtler as white eyes focus on her. Searching for…something. “That’s talk for another time.”

“And perhaps with a better choice of conversational partner.”

“I’m certain Hanako would agree with you there.”

“Mhm, I’ll have to retract that statement then,” she says, baring her teeth in a smile, “simply to be contrarian.” Michiko’s lips twitch but she foregoes smiling to instead glance about the apartment.

There’s an odd pressure that rises with that, an active fight not to look around her own space with new eyes, noting oddities and imperfections that denote it as lived in. A fight she’s sure she’d lose if she didn’t distract herself with a sip of too-sweet wine.

She knows well what will be seen; the small shelf of physical books – all nonfiction aside from the thinnest, tucked away out of sight, a still smoking cigarette propped against an ashtray on the kitchen counter, the sheer dressing gown she had traded for one that wasn’t see-through the moment her sensors alerted her to a visitor tossed over the back of a chair.

 “How have you been?”

“Fine.” An honest answer, with its wide variety of meanings.

She’s fine, but she’s clawing at the walls. She’s fine, but she hasn’t slept properly since well before the coup. She’s fine, but she’s wary of everyone who steps through her door.

She’s just fine.

And Michiko has been at this for longer than she’s been alive, giving her a scolding look that’s all the worse for how gentle it is. Piercing enough to have her shift in her chair and look away, sorely regretting that she left the cigarette across the room. “All things considered. This…punishment has been rather cosy.”

“It’s not a punishment, Victoria. This is—”

“‘For my safety,’ I’m well aware.” She bares her teeth in tone, the venom spitting before she has a chance to swallow it down. Behind Michiko, Adam shifts ever so slightly and she bites to squeeze the poison from her tongue. Without it she sounds more defeated than intended, tired. Honest. “But it feels like one.”

Her fingers twitch again, but unlike so many times before Michiko doesn’t keep herself from reaching across. Her hand is warm as it takes Victoria’s, firm in its grounding squeeze and fond in how her thumb rubs a comforting circle.

“Then you’ll be happy on several accounts.” She says, soft and warm like honey in its sweet appeal. The sort she wouldn’t mind getting trapped by if she wasn’t caught in it already, reliant in a way she doesn’t have the energy to mind.

When she opens her eyes again, Michiko’s smile meets her, less wolfish than her usual company, crinkling the crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes. “Zaburo has finalized your security, and I’ve taken efforts to ensure they will not be disruptive to your routines.”

“An unnecessary effort. You have enough on your shoulders.”

“I do, and the sooner I have you working the less I’ll have to carry.” Ah. She can’t help but smile at that, and Michiko’s own grin takes on something conspiratorial.  

“Oh, am I getting your cut-offs?”

“I’m sure you’d fashion something suitable with them.” The CEO sits back, her hand slowly trailing away as she does. That searching to her eyes comes back again, the plotting smile still there. “There’s a party in a week’s time and your attendance is mandatory. I expect you to look your best.” Spoken like an order, with no room for argument. A reminder of the cloth this woman was cut from.

“In the meantime,” Michiko glances over her shoulder, smile slipping into a downright devious thing as she motions with two fingers, “I’ll leave you and your new bodyguard to get acquainted.”

She narrows her gaze as Adam steps forward, pressing down on the urge to crane her neck and see if there’s someone standing behind him, if this was all an elaborate joke. A quick jump to a camera with an angle assures her that no, there wasn’t.  Her vision settles back through her eyes, fixed squarely on him until Michiko stands, still smiling as she asks: “I trust you have no objections?”

No, she wants to admit. None. But heaven forbid she makes it easy for anyone, including herself.

“Isn’t he better suited to guarding you? It seems a waste—”

“No.” Spoken sharply to cut through her sentence, not in Michiko’s warm cadence but Adam’s mechanised bass. He’s staring down at her, the weight of his gaze near unbearable. The dressing gown feels too heavy, bare as she is beneath it. “She has Kenny.”

“Kenichi.” Michiko presses, too amused for it the correction to hold any weight.

“Kenny.” He repeats after a brief pause and passing glance at his ex. “And she’s not the one loyalists are gunning for.”

Simplest explanation, but not the right one.

The right one is a messy thing, a labyrinth. As ensnared as she is, longing for his attention and affection no matter how sparsely they’re given, he’s likewise caught in one of her own design.

And neither of them have made any true effort to tear free, instead settling in and becoming familiar with the surrounding walls; knowing it was built for them and finding traces of the other in decorative murals and toothed traps. A terrifying thought, but of everyone that could know her so well she’s glad it’s him.

That in itself is a problem.

“Then I have no other objections. He’s—” a pause as she catches the words between her teeth, dangerous things in their blatancy and apparent expectation as Michiko raises an eyebrow with a too-knowing look. “Suitable. Despite the mar on his record.”

“Excellent.” There’s a soft, pleasant clink as Michiko gently claps her hands together. “Then as I said, I’ll leave you to it.” And she does, with nary a look back and a haste to her step that doesn’t quite hide the self-content bounce.

Girlish, she would’ve called her once, naïve even. She’s since decided that was an unfair assessment; someone naïve and girlish could not have managed a nearly bloodless coup as Michiko did. Whatever joys the woman had she was more than entitled to; and Victoria would protect them, tooth and nail.

“What fucking mar on my record, Blondie?”

Even if she’d rather curse her timing and approach to certain matters at the moment.

“The one left by Yorinobu.” It’s easier to look into the red of the wine than his optics, softer on the eyes. “Or his death, to be more accurate.”

A stain by her own hand, splattered onto his reputation.

A beat of silence answers her. Then another.

And another.

She looks over the wineglass to meet his stare, her lips pulling with a smug smile. Adjusting herself, she lounges into the chair and curls her finger in a ‘come here’ motion. The thrill of his obedience mixes nicely with the familiarity of his looming, with the cool of metal hands against warming skin. “I trust you’ll be more…attentive with me, Smasher.”

“I’ll consider it,” a pause, and she can see the wheels in his head turning just as easily as she sees the pull on his maw, that mockery of a smile he can manage, “cunt.”

“Prick.”

[imbelfoxxyloxxy]

Meow meow meow meow meow ‼️‼️

First doodles in my new sketchbook :)

Its been sitting on my shelf for about about two years now untouched till I got bored at work (it’s been slow since no one knows we’re open yet but that will change next week 😭)

[moongothic]

MCM Shelf Saga

Part 4 - A Shitshow of a Finale

[Part 3]

So, onto the drawers. First, there's a little bit of prep work to do

One of the drawers had not just bad stains on the bottom of it, but the bottom piece had never even been properly inserted into its place. So I did the good ol' trick of removing the whole bottom piece, flipping it around (to use the untouched bottom side as the top) and put it back in its place, this time all the way into the little slot

Worked great

And then I had to deal with the veneer damage I had caused to one of the drawer fronts

Since this was my first time even attempting veneer patching, I figured I should just try to focus on the worst bits of damage instead of trying to address all the damage? Because I was worried I'd just make it worse, so it'd be better to start small?

So I picked the worst parts and very carefully made made the worst chips bigger so I could cut out itty bitty veneer bits to fill them in with (there were a few more but I don't want this post to be a million photos long)

Once I had made sure the pieces would fit in by caaarefully filing them down to the right size, I glued them down, put some painters tape on top (to try to keep the glue from spreading), left something heavy sitting on top and just left them to dry

Once done, I came back to sand down the patches (since the veneer I had was a bit thicker than the original veneer)

And. Yeah. It's not great. Mind you, unlike in North America, I can't just go to a big store and buy whatever veneer my heart desires, the only veneer I could buy (as far as I know) was a set of three different veneer sheets the size of paper sheets. So I didn't have much options with matching the veneer at all. That all aside, it was my first attempt at veneer patching, and considdering that I think I did pretty decent. If anything I regret just not doing all the damaged spots because some of the dents are really bad even if they didn't go through the original veneer

But it is what it is

I decided it was good enough, and proceeded to tape the sides of the drawers for a cleaner(?) finish

And onto the staining

Still looks like shit

I think this was after the first coat??? Honestly it's been so long I can't remember, it must've been just the first coat

But, I kept on building up coats to get a darker and darker color on the drawer fronts

Once I figured it was dark enough I moved onto staining the veneer on the inside of the drawers, mainly in the hopes of hiding the paint stains that the paint remover and sanding failed to remove

It did not work

Fortunately, it's on the inside, ain't nobody gonna see it, it's fine, whatever, this project was going so fucking bad at this point I no longer cared

This was good enough

And it was onto staining the main unit.

Now unfortunately, due the place I was working in being so bloody cramped I couldn't get decent photos of the unit during the waxing process

I did attempt to make the inside of the unit look semi-decent by masking off where I wanted the wax to go, but... This ended up not working to my advantage, as I had taped just a smidge too close to the edges, meaning when I later put the drawers in, you could see small slivers of the raw wood peek out. So I ended up having to do lots of patching on the drawer-side of the unit. But whatever

Think these are photos of the first coat? As usual, looked like absolute shite

But I kept on going, building up more and more layers of wax until I eventually gave up and called it done

But, with the main unit stained, it meant that every piece of the shelf was finished! I could move onto reassembling it!

After some final touches

First, I had to deal with the brass rods that were used to hold up the shelves

Now at first I couldn't even tell for sure if they were brass or not, like considderng the age of the shelf I figured they should be, but when I asked my dad for a second opinion he was convinced they'd be just iron or steel

Regardless, these were original pieces to the shelf so I did want to use them, but as you can see, they were still covered in paint

I attempted removing them with just nail polish remover, since acetone does remove many types of paint, but it wasn't quite as effective as I was hoping it'd be. I also checked online if acetone could damage metals and it could actually stain/damage brass??? So I figured I'd try something else

Some people suggest using boiling water and baking soda to remove paint from metal, and this should be a safe option with brass (if the rods were brass). So I boiled some water, picked a big enough bowl that could handle hot water, put the rods in the bowl, sprinkled a healthy dose of baking sode on top, gently poured the water, sprinkled a bit more baking soda on top, and then left foil over the bowl to try to keep the dish warm for a longer time

And then I just let it sit for almost two hours

After which, I came back and gently rubbed the rods with a sponge and to my pleasant surprise, the paint residue did just slide off with a little effort

So the paint was removed, and the rods were already looking a bit shinier!

Now, I don't know what kind of a trick of light this was, but genuinely, in person at this point the cleanest, shiniest parts of the rods were looking like silver. I was becoming convinced that dad had been right and the rods were actually steel or something, and I had no idea if I could get them to look clean

But to my confusion, my dad was the one who was now convinced that the rods must be brass

I dunno, I was confused, but I figured, I have my brass polish stuff, I could TRY polishing the rods with them and see if they clean up.

They did

Immidiately proving that they were brass

So I just proceeded to polish the rods!

Shiny! Sparkly! I didn't clean them up as well as one could have, but they turned out plenty clean enough, nobody is going to see whatever staining remains on them

But with that done, it was time for assembling!

After getting some missing pieces!

See, when dad helped me disassemble the shelf on our patio, one of the tiny brass dowels that were also used to hold up the shelves had fallen off and under our patio. So that one was a lost cause and needed to be replaced. There was no way to replace it with brass and tbh it was going to be quite hidden anyways, so I asked my dad if he could get a small steel dowel to do the job. And he did, so that was one thing

The other, more important thing was the screws/bolts/nuts/whatever

See the sidepieces of the whole piece were originally attached to the sides of the main unit with bolts, but the right side ones had sunken in so deep into the wood, that the only way to detach the right sidepiece from the unit was by cutting the bolt off. So we were lacking half the hardware for the shelf

So we went and bought new ones, brought the whole thing up to my room and assembled it here. And all was good

Until I realized the top and bottom drawers couldn't go into the unit, because the bolts/nuts were much bigger than the original ones, so they stuck out too much and stopped the drawers from sliding in

Which was a problem

Now dad was able to cut down the ends of the bolts to make them shorter, but the nut was still a problem

But I looked at the sides of the drawers

And the top and bottom drawers both had channels on them right where they would've rubbed against the original nuts

I just had to make the channel bigger

Now the top drawer wasn't even that bad since the nut was at the back of the unit, so the channel I had to carve for it was only like 3 cm long or something

But it still sucked, because the only way I could do it was with a knife. It took hours. And it hurt my wrists so bad

But I managed to get the top drawer done, I could do it with the bottom too. It just had to go all the way across the side of the drawer.

Carving that shit out took me like 5 hours. I can not put into words how bad it hurt my wrists. Genuinely, so painful.

But I got it done.

Now there were a few other things that I didn't bother documenting but I want to note because I had to do those before this project was completed. First, when we brought the main unit to my room the side of it did get a scratch that I had to spend a few days patching. In hindsight I probably would've been fine if I had just brushed some wax over it, but I thought it'd turn out better if I sanded the scratched area first and then waxed it. It ended up being a lot more work than I wanted to, but it got done eventually. Also, as I mentioned before, I had to patch those small parts on the inside of the unit to make sure there wasn't raw wood peeking out from places I didn't want them to show (around the drawers). And, hilariously, the brass rods used to hang the shelves didn't actually want to fit into the holes of the sidepieces. Like I tried even hammering them in and they just did not fit, so I had to file down the specific holes I wanted to use until they were big enough that I could put the rods in and put up the shelves Last but not least, I used some candlewax on the groove of the sliding door and the sides of the drawers to make them slide smoother (worked great, easiest part of the project)

And I want to note that there's some things I could still do to this piece. I could get some fabric or felt to protect the insides of the drawers so they don't get dirty, and I really should get some clear wax or topcoat to patch the finish on the inside of the main unit (when I had to sand down the paint and revealed raw wood). But if I want to do either of these things, I can do them later. For now, this shelf is completed

It looks like shit

An absolute fucking shitshow

Complete and utter trainwreck

The brass turned out nice tho

Moral of the story: Never use any wood product that isn't Osmo ever again. Osmo would not have failed me like this. And I'd still argue it's better than how it started.

Thanks for coming along with me on this trainwreck

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[inky-snowdrop]

'Cause I'm Bored

A Don't Hug Me, I'm Scared One Shot

Pairings: Harry/Robin || Red Guy/Duck (FluffyBird), Paige the Notebook/Tony the Talking Clock

Rating: T (16+)

(references to sexual content, strong language, canon-typical violence)

Originally Written: March 3rd, 2018

Originally Posted on Ao3: May 16th, 2019

Glancing away from his friend, who hadn’t looked over at Robin the entire time he had been talking and instead continued to scan through his phone’s photos, Robin looked at the book he had placed onto the table. It was one of Manny’s favorites and either himself or Harry would read this story to their blue-haired friend before bed even when they were puppets. Sighing gently, Robin got up to place the book next to their laptop, a shiver coursing through him at the suppressed memories of Colin as The Computer singing about God-knows-what.

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

“‘Cause I’m bored,” Robin concluded as he placed his book on the table with a sullen thud. He looked at Harry, his mind swimming with the possible answers his red haired friend might give to his proposition. Would he mock him, say that he was just trying to relieve some tension that had been building up since he had taken Harry and Roy’s acting gig? The last was partially true, he had felt a bit cooped up from only seeing Manny, Harry, and the… um... others for almost two years now. It didn’t help that he had been a duck for half of it, thus reducing his already narrow choices to a big zero. Upon returning to his original human form (with, unfortunately, some unwanted side effects, such as his permanently stained green hair), his prospects had begun to widen as all the other cast members returned as well to their non-puppet selves. Granted, Paige, Tony, Colin, Frank, and Larry were definitely different, to say the least, and Robin did his best to avoid them as much as possible, especially the Kitchen Crew and Frank himself. He hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms with the chef since he had turned Robin into a duck dinner.

“That’s a stupid reason.” Harry spoke, his voice as monotone and emotionless as ever. Robin whipped his head around, dropping the book loudly onto the wooden floor as he met Harry’s red and brown tinged eyes. Harry didn’t seem unnerved. “‘Because your bored’ is a stupid reason. That’s like me asking Manny if he wanted to shoot a gun at little kids because ‘It might be fun,’” he continued as he closed his phone and casually smoothed his hair out of his face. Robin froze, his brain slowly processing what his friend had just said. Was that a no? Was it a yes? What the hell did he mean? Harry rose from his chair and went to the door, looking up and down the hallway leading to the stairs before he continued. “Maybe you should ask Larry for favors instead of me. Or Paige. I hear that she’s active at night.”

Robin looked uncomfortably down at the book on the floor, reading the cover over and over again as his brain rooted around for an excuse. “Well.. uh… I think Paige and Tony are.. you know..” Robin thought in vain for a word to describe the former notepad and clock’s relationship. “..together?” Robin laughed as he bent down to grab the dropped book and placed it carefully onto the shelf where Gilbert used to sit as a Globe. “So, you haven’t really answered my question…” Robin turned to see that Harry was gone, his phone left untouched on his chair. An icy feeling filled his blood and panic quickened his breaths. What if it was Frank? What if he snuck up on Harry, snatched him, and turned him into some sort of human pot roast? What he was out there in the hallway right now, chewing on his bones and coughing up his liver? Robin grabbed the shelf to steady himself and closed his golden eyes to try and calm his racing heart.

After a few moments, Robin ran a hand through his green hair and forced his legs to march to the hallway leading to the bedroom. He carefully peered around the corner, left then right, and quickly moved out of the living room. Forcing himself not to run, Robin looked briefly into the kitchen and, after not seeing any sort of form remotely looking like a human, he continued on to the bedroom. Resting a shaking hand on the doorknob, he adjusted his glasses and pushed the door in. A snore echoed into a hallway, freezing Robin in sheer fear that he would see Frank emerge from the kitchen with a cleaver and fork meant to eat… He shut the thought out as he quickly stepped into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a satisfying click. “Why hello there, friend!” The voice cut right into Robin, forcing a scream out of his lungs as he lunged for the door handle. A applied force pushed him away from the door and onto the floor as the lights turned on, blinding the golden eyed Robin for a moment. Once his vision returned, Robin stood quickly, stumbling as he ran for the bookshelf on his side of the bedroom. There must be a book heavy enough! I can clomber whoever is in my way!

“Robin?” A sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts. The sound of ruffling sheets prompted the former duck to turn around, a heavy novel clenched tightly in his hands. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he saw Manny slowly rise from his bed and walk over to envelop him in a hug. “Are you okay? You seem on edge…” A Ha! left Robin’s lips as he picked Manny up and placed him back into his bed swiftly then went to return the novel back onto his book shelf.

“I was just looking for Harry. I thought he might be in here…” Robin stated simply as he cringed at the lameness of his words. Of course Manny would have heard you scream, you idiot! Just tell him what you heard! But Robin knew he couldn’t. He didn’t want to ruin the precious sleep that Manny got when he didn’t have nightmares. Smiling softly, Robin walked quickly over to Manny and ruffled his hair. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep.”

Manny turned onto his side and mumbled worriedly, “What happens if one of them comes to get me while I sleep?” Robin shhhed him quietly until Manny’s breathing was even and he was asleep, then quickly he stood up, rushed to the door, and yanked it open. Manny’s words repeated in his brain over and over and over as he closed the bedroom door and returned to the living room, glancing briefly back from where he had come to make sure he wasn’t being followed. The fear that the voice had instilled in him was unmistakably Larry’s. He was the only one who would stalk their bedroom like that, which made the possibility of him being in there when he went to sleep all the more real. His breath hitched at the thought and he quickly rounded the corner into the living room, one of the only places in the house that he actually felt safe in.

The red from Harry’s hair was visible from over the top of his chair, to which Robin was grateful and frustrated to see. “Where the hell were you?” Robin stalked over to Harry’s chair and stood directly in front of him as he awaited an answer.

Harry looked up from his phone, then back down as he stated, “I got bored.” The smug tone in his voice was auditable even through its monotone facade.

“That doesn’t even come close to answering that question, jackass.” Robin leaned in closer, expecting for Harry to reiterate his disappearance and apologize profusely for scaring Robin and almost getting him killed in the process of finding him. After all, Robin concluded, they wouldn’t even be human right now if it wasn’t for himself! The least the former mop could do was show some respect for him or maybe some want of him to be there. A faint ticking from the conjoined living room filled the empty space as Harry continued to look through his phone and ignore Robin completely. The former duck ran a hand through his green hair, that was still a bit greasy from not washing it in over a year, and huffed loudly as he straightened to his full height. “You know Harry, you’ve been awfully attached to that phone lately…” With that, Robin ripped Harry”s phone from his grasp and flung it with all of his strength into the hallway, the fragile metal casing shattering upon impact with the wall. A shrill shriek escaped the mangled smart phone that pressed into Robin’s ears with an incredible force, but the former duck couldn’t find it inside of himself to care. His blue eyes had stayed firmly locked on Harry, to make sure he didn’t just suddenly disappear the last time Robin had brought up this topic.

He leaned in close, close enough to know that Harry still smelled like raw chicken even after reverting back to human. Trying not to gag at the smell, Robin stabled himself by putting both of his shaking hands on the armrests of his red haired friend’s chair. “Just for the sake of argument, since I know you like to do that a lot,” Robin began, his voice lowered significantly for his friend only. “Could you explain, in full detail so that I understand what your thought process is, why you do not want to have sex with me? Am I misreading the signs? Did you not know what I was talking about earlier? I don’t know. However, what I DO know is that you are avoiding me and in a house where the only other people to talk to are either asleep or have tried to murder you in the past, you get lonely sometimes!” Robin adjusted his glasses and backed away, bumping into the dining room table in the process, and awaited Harry’s response. As always, his face remained devoid of any emotion though his eyes were squinting as if he was thinking about something deeply. After a minute of waiting for a response, Robin sighed again, his pride hanging in tatters around him, and turned to look out the window. Screw it. It was always difficult do anything in this house other than hunker down and hide, let alone trying to get his technical employer to sleep with him.

A mild shuffling behind him sparked his senses into high alert. Could it be one of them? Could it be Frank? He could be here to eat him! These thoughts clouded his mind and sharpened his fear to a point. Not daring to turn around in fear of what he might see, Robin called in a rasping voice, “...H… Harry? Your still here, right?”

“I’m here.” The emotionless voice of his friend filled him with some ease, but the feeling of being watched still hung over his head annoyingly. The fact that he could see the moon beginning to set in the west also helped Robin calm down. “It’ll be morning soon.” Harry continued slowly as Robin turned to face him, expecting him in his chair, but saw him instead retrieving his phone from the hallway. Seemingly reading Robin’s mind as thoughts of anger grew, Harry continued, “I’ve been using my phone to find out what’s happening in London. So far, nothing except the marriage of Princess Kate and Prince William...” He trailed off, resting the destroyed phone on the dining table. Robin watched as Harry joined him next to the window. Harry seemed to be searching for something in the night sky. “Robin, nobody knows what happened… Not yet anyway.”

Robin felt his stomach drop. Did nobody know what happened to him and Harry and Manny and Paige and Larry and Roy… A realization hit him. “Roy did this to us, right? Of course he would fucking hide it from the press!” Harry only nodded. “There isn’t going to be any justice for us because nobody is coming for us! We’re stuck, WE’RE FUCKING STUCK! I have to get out of here, Harry! I need to! I NEED-” He stopped abruptly and lowered his voice so not to wake Manny. “I don’t think you get how much this house is crushing me. I just want to go home. My REAL home and maybe take a shower. Eat some chicken. I don’t know.” Robin pushed up his glasses and laughed weakly as he turned his attention back outside. “I guess I might be bitching or something, but…”

Harry shook his head slowly, much to Robin’s delight, as he stated simply, “I miss my home too.” Robin felt Harry pull him closer and he wrapped his arms carefully around the former mop’s red sweatshirt and rested his head elegantly against his friend’s shoulder. Harry stayed completely still while rubbing the small of Robin’s back slowly in a reassuring way. Robin chuckled to himself. The warmth of Harry’s chest beat any sort of warmth gained through sex. They swayed together as the moon disappeared behind the horizon completely and the first rays of dawn arose into the sky.

“I was totally betting on that they were going to fuck,” Paige whispered from her spot outside in the hallway as she peered at Harry and Robin in secret.

Tony rolled his eyes and replied with a sneer, “I told they wouldn’t. Not at first and never with a duck.” Paige punched him in his arm, making him wince in pain.

“I set everything up! The timing was perfect! Everything was in place! I don’t understand… What’s with the face?” Paige asked. She crossed her arms and glared at Tony.

Tony grinned toothly and asked, “Would you like to have sex with me?”

Paige looked at Tony with a glint in her eye. “Why, what kind of notebook would I be if I denied such a honest request?” She grabbed Tony by the cuff of his shirt and pulled him back into the kitchen.

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