#i just chose a bad fabric and have to live w this mistake...

[clippy]

oh.. apparently I finished Clockboy plush 4 years ago today so here's a side by side of how he looked right after I completed him vs how he looks right now.... This is what 4 years of being a white, homemade plush that gets cuddled every night looks like

here are some bonus WIP photos I took while putting him together:

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

Hi! I see your request is open, can I possibly get m!reader w/any male lead you want—where the reader had a stressful day at work, he gets scolded (but he's a softie), so after coming home he immediately hugs his husband and is softly crying.

Can I also get a scene where his husband jokingly tells the reader that he'll have a fight with his boss? (to lighten up the mood) ^^

— 🪞

MALE READER (FTM SAFE)

GENRE(S): Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Comedy

SETTING(S): Non-Idol House Husband Changbin and Working Male Reader Husband

WARNING(S): Reader needs a hug after getting scolded, Reader is sensitive, Changbin is here to comfort, Worried Changbin, Crying Reader, Changbin ready to fight his lover's boss, Stress Reader

AUTHOR: I needed this fluff request after writing smut. Therapy.

please reblog, like, or/and comment to support me! Thank you!

Things were already going bad as soon as you stepped into your workspace. 

You work as a designer for this popular fashion company. You always dreamed about either becoming a model or just doing fashion design, but you were insecure then, so you just chose to be a fashion designer. 

Being a fashion designer has always been hard since you have to think of at least a unique design and hope it gets accepted by the boss.

Your designs and creativity have been accepted and worn in commercials, music videos, modeling, etc., until some strict requests were made not by the boss but by the boss's friend. 

No one liked her, but everyone chose to keep their mouths shut unless they wanted to lose their dream job. 

Her sense of taste was interesting. 

She knows what she wants, but every time she requests it, she denies it at the last minute. She puts big hopes into your hearts, then shreds them into pieces. So, that’s exactly what was happening.

No one wanted to work with her, even with how much she would pay, but you decided to step in just because money is money. You’ll do it for the money, and if things turn out horrible, then you can just step down and hope someone else takes your spot.

It was already stressful.

Plus, her husband, who somehow has the same personality and taste of fashion as her, even stresses you. Giving you harsh words and telling you the most single things that are missing that you keep on redoing for the past 4 hours.

She keeps on changing her mind at the last minute while her husband keeps commenting on the details as if she knows anything about fashion with his weak attire. 

You were almost at your breaking point until you made a huge mistake on the dress, all because of the stress, causing a huge argument between you and the woman—well, mostly her. 

You were too stressed to even argue; you felt like crying.

She called you words, saying how you even manage to get the job if you can’t do the most simple things correctly, along with commenting about your appearances and skills, which was overdoing.

Just like that, you walked away from her as she continued on sprouting nonsense along with questioning where you were going since you weren’t finished with her request; however, you were finished with her. 

You got home quite early, around 4, which surprised your husband, Changbin, who was working out in the living room with a black tank top and baggy sweatpants.

“Oh, hey, love, you should’ve told me that you were coming home early; I would’ve bought you some food." Changbin gets cut off by you dashing towards him, giving him a big hug while weeping into his chest. 

Changbin quickly hugs you back, caressing your back while whispering in your ear, questioning what happened. 

You tried to explain everything, trying to calm yourself down. While you were explaining, Changbin set you down on the couch as he walked away to grab you a bottle of water and a tissue.

“Why does she keep doing that? I don’t understand what her motives were to just waste fabric and other stuff that she has in design, along with the fact that she has a double who is her husband. Jeez, I would’ve shouted at those two.” Changbin comforts you.

“You did the right thing by walking away from them, but what will she say when she complains about you to your boss? Wouldn’t you get fired? I know you love designing so much; this is your dream. 

Changbin was worried since you always wanted to create clothes for others, including your friends, family, and even your husband, Changbin. He is your number-one model and fan. 

You shrugged. “Well, then I guess I have to deal with another scolding by not only her, maybe her husband, but even my boss as well. I’ll just find another company.” 

You were calmed a bit and, of course, worried about losing your job, but honestly, you feel confident that you can easily find another job because of how well-known your skills are on the internet.

“If it does happen, I’ll come in and fight them!” Changbin smiles at you, flexing his muscles. “They wouldn’t handle me; look at me!” 

You laughed, nodding. 

“They will for sure regret firing me when they see you. Thank you, my love.” You kiss Changbin as he smiles wider, blushing. “Of course, anything for my husband.”

[ladyshiranui]

Shiranui x Chizuru

The blue-haired demon goes for a nightly stroll with a conflicted Chizuru, stopping her from making a big mistake he knows she’ll regret. 

[fluff + comfort...?]

words: 1400

༶•⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧•༶

The streets were quiet as the town welcomed the night. Nothing but the last scuffling footsteps of shop owners and late-night bar-hoppers retiring to the warmth of their abodes could be heard, distant crickets and the occasional blowing trees accompanying the ambience. The silvery stars twinkled against a black blanket of the cloudless sky, watching over the earth.

Despite the tranquility, Chizuru couldn't help not reciprocating the peace. Not for as long as Shiranui Kyo was keeping her company. Her having escaped the watchful eye of the Shinsengumi men on patrol, the bluenette's eye was caught as he saw her walking alone through the streets from a distant Izakaya rooftop. He too had taken the time to escape the too familiar, not-so-welcoming, company of his demon chieftan allies, so it was only natural for their roads to have collided.

"Relax, won't you? I'm not gonna kidnap you," Shiranui said.

Chizuru's shoulders were raised so rigid she was practically a walking mannequin. "But whenever you're around, you're trying to take me away."

"Whenever Kazama is around. Don't lump me with that jerk. I'm just out here doing the same as you."

"You're running away, too?"

He abruplty stopped, dropping his hands from behind his head. "What? That's what you're doing? I thought you were just getting some air or something."

"Not quite..." It was only then that he noticed the subtle mournful look on her face. She looked back to the road she'd just trekked, her eyes following the path to where the headquarters resided behind her.

"Finally realised you're not one of them, did you?" Shiranui sighed. "I tried to tell you. You should've left earlier-- would've been a lot less painful."

"It's like you said," she said as she continued on with heavy feet. "They all hate me. I'm a monster. I could never live a normal life as a human girl. My father is the cause of so much pain, and as his daughter I have no right to be treated with such kindness."

"Gee, doesn't take you long to get so down on yourself." Shiranui was hesitant to follow her, but he chose to anyway. His curiosity was piqued. "So where are you going, then?"

"I don't know. I didn't really think about it."

"And you left just like that? You haven't even brought anything with you."

"I didn't want them to see me."

Shiranui rolled his eyes. The walk was silent for a few passing moments while he tossed some words around in his head. He'd never been in this kind of situation before. God forbid he 'd let her get the idea he felt an inkling of sympathy, but then again he'd noticed a recurring pattern of the girl being embarassingly oblivious to the feelings of others. Recallin this, he didn't feel so on edge anymore.

"I'll give you this; I didn't think you'd be brave enough to go out by yourself at night. There's a lot of dangerous people, especially with this dumb war  waging on. I doubt the enemy'll be kind to you if they find out about your ties with the Shinsengumi."

"I have my kodachi. I've been taught a little bit on how to defend myself with it."

"And what if you run into a Fury? Think your toy will help you then?"

She looked like she was stuck in a nightmare with eyes wide open. The fear of the first night she was welcomed into Kyoto by those blood-thirsty monsters still shook her to the bone. It never got any easier, no matter how many times she'd been exposed to the horrific sight during her time with the Shinsengumi. Thinking of them, how it was Okita and Saito that had come to her rescue that night, Hijikata taking her back to the Mibu Village, soon becoming her home away from home, her melancholy quickly doubled. They'd been so kind, being non-judgemental of her despite her relationship with Kodo, seeing her as their baby sister, her seeing them as a cluster of big brothers she never got to have-- The weight of leaving all that behind in one night swelled heavily in her heart.

"Hey, no, don't do that. Stop it."

"W-What?"

"That look on your face, with the tears and stuff. You're making me feel like a bad guy here."

She pressed her hands against her cheeks, surprised to feel them burning with droplets streaking down. She sheepishly brushed them away with the back of her hand, but only more would replace what was swept away. The embarrassment turned into stress, and stress turned into muffled sobs. Shiranui didn't know what else to do but avert his eyes and look around, almost hoping that an awake passerby would come to his aid. Again, he'd never been in this situation before.

A fleeting gust brushed the demon's well-worn green scarf against his arm. He caught the tip in his fingers, staring at the torn-tipped fabric before staring back at Chizuru. He huffed as he unraveled the scarf around his neck and literally tossed it to the crying girl's face. He instantly felt naked, but his shoulders, not having noticed they were as tense as Chizuru's in the first place, relaxed the more she did.

"Look," he starts, watching her dry her tears, "if you're this bent out of shape about it, just go back."

"I can't," she breathed. "I'm not human, I'm a monster--"

"There's a lot of different things you can call a monster. Furies are monsters, Kodo is a monster, even humans can be monsters if they're bad enough. Calling yourself a monster means calling yourself something as bad as any of those things." Shiranui averts his eyes again, looking straight up at the sky as he said the words that came to him. "If those Shinsengumi guys thought of you that way, you would've been kicked out a long time ago. It's pretty obvious that Harada doesn't see you that way... I think he'd also be pretty torn up about you leaving without telling him. You owe him that much, at least."

Chizuru stood still on the gravel road. She held the green scarf close to her nostrils, relishing in the smell of nature woven into the fibres. Her eyes were transfixed on him, his hair blowing in the wind behind him like dark blue ocean waves. She'd never seen him so... non-threatening. His words touched her as she played them over in her brain, trying to make sense of something she had never thought of before. He was right.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "And, uh... I probably shouldn't have called you a monster back then, too. It's probably my fault you're out here and crying in the first place, so... yeah. Sorry."

Chizuru shook her head. "It's not your fault. You were sad about losing your friend, right?"

It was Shiranui's turn to look glum. His eyes shifted from the stars to the ground, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while the other was on his hip. "Yeah. Takasugi... I guess I was pretty upset then."

Chizuru finished patted down her cheeks, then took the time to fold the scarf in a neat square before holding it out in front of her.

"Keep it," Shiranui waved her off. "It's covered in your sadness. Wash it and give it back when I come with Kazama for his next weekly abduction attempt." He couldn't explain it, let alone comprehend it, but when she giggled at his comment, he felt no weight on his shoulders. It was like her voice carried everything off into the wind. He liked the feeling. He wanted to feel it again. After one dose, it was already addicting.

"I will," she smiled.

"I'm not kidding. He'll raid the headquarters in two days."

"Oh. Okay." Suddenly, she bowed at a perfect angle before him. "Thank you, Shiranui."

"Sure... Now go on, get going."

With a confident nod, a smile plastered on her face with a new determination lit in her eyes, she lightly jogged back the way she came, the green scarf held tightly to her chest like an irreplaceable valuable. Shiranui didn't take his eyes off her until she finally disappeared behind a corner. Only then did he slap a hand onto his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, cringeing like he could disappear into himself.

What the hell did I just say?

༶•⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧•༶

[ghost-gies]

De//rek is an asshole and definitely deserves a wedgie! Maybe even an atomic...

[OwOs loudly] im sorry this,,,,,got Way Too Long and Outta Hand, i love me some country dilfs and wedgie-ing said country dilfs--

also hella unedited skflfgklshd

“I told ya, before, ya son of a bitch, I won that bet fair and square!” Derek yells, practically fuming as Ed crosses his arms, not paying any mind to him. The football game they bet on last night saw Derek as the winner thanks to a technical foul. Ed, however, had another say.

“Oh, ya got lucky! We both know that your team’s been chicken shit all this season. I ain’t paying up.”

“Why not?” Derek follows Ed as he tries to leave the break room. Other egos out and about in the hallway, talking among themselves as their lunch break carried on.

“I just told you, now back up you little brat.”

“Pfft, I see why now,” Derek steps in front of him. Smirking as the Texan stared him down behind dark sunglasses. A stiff glare his way did nothing to deter Derek. “That lil’ old business of yours falling behind, Eddie? Reckon you’ll come working for me now, eh? I knew your bank account must be dry -- my mistake, I shouldn’t have ask--”

The once confident snide smirk on the Southerner’s face quickly fades as Ed overpowers him, pushing him down onto the table in the break room. Pinning him down firmly, one hand holding him at the base of his neck, the other working towards his pants.

“The hell are you doin’?! You lost your goddamn mind?!”

“I’m knocking you and your smart ass down a peg, Derek. Tired of you acting your so much better than us just because you’re new around here.” Ed groans, practically ripping Derek’s belt away, hearing panic rise in Derek’s voice as he worked his pants down.

“W-Wait, Ed, think about what you’re doing--”

“Oh, holy shit,” Ed breaks into laughter, still pinning Derek down as he gets a better look at the view before him. His own off and on again enemy, the same man who paraded himself as the best of them thus far, the same overconfident man who found joy in teasing and mocking him, now exposed in tighty whities with his name written on the waistband. His ass framed nicely in the near sheer fabric, leaving little to Ed’s imagination.

“Ed, goddamn it--”

“Stay right there, briefs boy,” Ed laughs harder, “don’t go around wigglin’, or it’ll make this even more harder to do.”

“This? The hell you mean ‘this’?! You already got me half nude, what else is next?! And stop bein’ so rough!”

Ed chuckles, the once near hysteric laughing calmed down, focusing on the task at hand as he works. One hand gripping the waistband, the other pinning Derek down with less force. His lips curling up into a smirk behind his mustache as he pulls back the tighty whities the Southerner wore. 

“You’re gonna be really happy you chose some stretchy undies to wear today.”

“What the--!”

Derek doesn’t finish his sentence as he feels what Ed’s been leading up to all along. His lip caught in between his teeth as he feels his tighty whities be yanked up his ass. The fabric easily going in between his cheeks, rubbing against his hole, squishing his balls and cock closer to his body, a low groan leaving past his lips as he looks back.

“Ed, I swear to Christ--”

“You know you deserve this for not only being a smart ass,” Ed yanks up higher. Hearing Derek’s groans turn to whimpers as he stays put. His cheeks exposed more as the leg holes of his undies are stretched higher up his back. Even his own name on the waistband stretching as the tighty whities are are wedgied deeper in his ass, “but for wearing tighty little whities at your age.”

“It’s all I had to wear today, ya jackass.”

“Mmh-hmm. Sure it was. Don’t lie to me when I’ve seen those little brief lines when you’d bend over. You may think you’re such hot shit around here, but you ain’t nothing more than a nerd needin’ a nice atomic to set ya straight. Especially when you wear these little nerd handles at your age.”

Derek hates the fact the humiliating words travel to his cock. Biting his lip, bringing his hands up to hide his face. Knowing anyone can walk through the door and see him in such a state...

Ed groans with each tug. Lifting Derek up off his feet as his back arches into the wedgie. Each harsh pull nearly making Derek moan, biting back his noises poorly as he feels the tighty whities reach higher and higher. From his mid back, to the base of his neck, feeling Ed more his hand away as the undies easily give in.

Another groan, and Derek feels it. 

The fabric finally over his head. Messing up his usual slicked hairstyle, shaking as his back stay comfortably arched. Amused, thinking of how...well, well the underwear took the wedgie. Gasping as he reaches his hand back to feel at his head. 

“Don’t go undoing it now.” Ed warns. Derek nodding. Stuck in disbelief and arousal at what Ed’s down. Finally showing him his place, in the most humiliating and somewhat satisfying way.

Ed reaches down to smack Derek’s ass, finally earning a moan. The tighty whities tight up his ass, his cheek jiggling from the smack, left with his pants around his ankles and wedgies up over his head. Derek just couldn’t help the moan slipping out.

“...You enjoyin’ this?”

“I...holy shit, Ed--” is all Derek can get out. Finally at a loss for words for once when dealing with Ed.

“You pull any bullshit like you did today, I’m gonna have to put you in more of these.” Ed warns, helping undo the short lived atomic, “we got a deal?”

Derek finding it...not that bad, even looking forward to, causing much more trouble for the Texan in the future.

“Deal.”

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: Autumn Boy, or The Halloween Special

Summer Boy speculation. 

“Whatever, you’re here now and I get to subject you to an entire Hollywood party.” Julian said turning towards the mirror as Sneakers mewed happily at Dwight’s scritches. “You’re going to freak out so much, Cameron went all out with his costume.” 

 “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here.” Julian said, leaning out over the balcony of his mother’s Hollywood Hills mansion. The night was cool in the October air, but never missing the promise of humidity below the surface that permeated California even on the driest summer days. “What? You were the one who invited me.” Dwight sounded hurt. It shouldn’t surprise him, but surely Dwight should know better by now that Julian did most things not expecting a yes. “You texted me asking if I wanted to come to your Halloween party; and it sounded better than whatever Windsor was thinking up.” “I swore you’d have better things to do. Like I don’t know, make sure the Tweedles don’t contact the wrong spirits with an Ouija board?” Julian suggested. “Hold a séance? Hunt ghosts trapped on the mortal plane?” Dwight shrugged, “If they choose to mess with an Ouija board that’s on them. I leave those tools to Sadie because she’s better at the procedure than I am. If I have to clean up their horror movie later, well it’s better I don’t cringe at their bad execution.” “There’s a procedure?” “Yeah, it’s kind of necessary for any summoning spell.” Dwight didn’t sound surprised he didn’t know that; but unlike a few months back, he wasn’t freaking out that Julian didn’t know what might be fairly standard supernatural knowledge. “You have to cleanse the area before and after, make sure you’re not summoning any malicious spirits, and you need to release the spirits after the encounter or else you trap them in the circle… that is if you even create a circle in the first place. I doubt the twins will do that… I’m just going to prepare for the worst when I get back.” “Which might be a total haunted house?” “There are so many ghosts already in Dalton Academy so having them concentrated might actually make them easier to hunt.” Dwight shrugged, “Besides, Kurt is already cursed so Windsor might be the same when I get back.” “Cursed?” Julian tried to hide him amusement at the description of his frenemy. “I mean I didn’t like the guy but that’s pretty harsh.” “I’ll get Morgan to teach you how to see auras- his is all messed up. I blame that school he used to go to, it’s like on a whole ‘nother dimensional plane of weird. So probably not his fault.” Dwight leant against the railing. “You have a weird aura as well, not cursed but not normal though either.” Julian smirked. “I’m anything but normal Dwight, you should know that by now.” “Yeah.” Dwight smiled indulgently. “Not many people can get me on a plane; let alone to the West Coast. The traffic is horrible by the way, it took me far too long to get here from the airport.” “You say that like you didn’t meant to be late. You just wanted to avoid meeting my mom. That’s so unfair.” Julian pushed himself off the railing, heading back inside to where his costume was hanging over a chair. He’d already gotten his stylist to put something together earlier, and his mother’s makeup artist had already stopped by to help him out before putting his mother into her own Red Riding Hood outfit (she was going to a party at George Clooney’s house, so it wasn’t one for a true horror costume). Dwight followed, looking out of place in the soft greys and whites of the new bedroom that Dolce Larson had set up for her son (before his things arrived from their beach house). Just as out of place as Julian had looked in his he supposed; a dark figure against the fluffy white blanket on the bed, where Sneakers mewed softly up at him. Dwight didn’t seem to have any issues sitting on the edge of the bed, continuing the conversation. “It’s not unfair if it’s an honest mistake.” Dwight let Sneakers climb into his lap, getting white fur all over his black jeans. “Your mom is probably half as chill as mine, and the circumstances are probably much better.” What he doesn’t mention is that Dolce probably would eject him from the house as soon as he squirted her with holy water- which he did to Carlos, the cook hired for the party, and Julian, as he encountered them in that order. Julian, practically used to this by now, had already warned the makeup artist to use her strongest setting agents. The deep red painted down his chin didn’t even smudge. “Whatever, you’re here now and I get to subject you to an entire Hollywood party.” Julian said turning towards the mirror as Sneakers mewed happily at Dwight’s scritches. “You’re going to freak out so much, Cameron went all out with his costume.” “As in he actually made a deal to look like a demon?” Dwight asked. “No, as in he hired a great prosthetics team to make him look like a demon. Which, what’s the difference in this town?” Julian said, touching up the deep red dripping down from the corner of his mouth. There wasn’t much else to the look besides covering up non-existent blemishes but it wouldn’t look the same if he smudged it. “What are you even supposed to be?” Dwight asked, already at the mercy of the small kitten and was laying back across the bed with Sneakers padding all over his chest. “A vampire? I would have thought you’d get fangs in or something.” Julian rummaged through the pockets of the draped burgundy and black fabric over the chair, studded with faux decaying flowers and artfully torn edges before he found what he was looking for. He held the pomegranate up with a smirk, “I thought you’d appreciate it. Dramatic huh?” “Literally?” Dwight rolled his eyes. “Persephone? Why not Hades? I thought you weren’t trying to smack people over the head with your coming out, but ease them into it. It’s not a dress is it?” “Half toga and leather pants, again, I thought you’d appreciate it.” Julian tossed the prop over to have Dwight juggle with that and the demanding kitten on him. “You’re killing me here Larson.” Dwight said as Julian shook out, yep, genuine leather pants, from the pile of clothing. “I thought we were staying friends here.” “It’s up to you how you chose to interpret that.” Julian said. “Besides, I like the revisionist stories that are floating around. I have an idea to use one for an upcoming pitch- young beautiful god stolen away to the underworld, only to find her own power down there and come out more terrifying and strong than ever.” “So you’re going with Persephone, Queen of the Dead interpretation? You could have still done that with Hades, maligned of the three sons of Kronus who chose to rule the worst realm in the best way.” Dwight said, tossing the pomegranate into the air before catching it again. Sneakers batted at his hand and he paused to let the kitten inspect the prop and find it wanting before continuing. “You could still wear leather pants for that if you wanted. Hot modern Hades or something.” “Yeah, but Persephone is hotter.” Julian shrugged, “I also kind of wanted to make a point. I got dragged to hell, but I own it now.” Dwight looked up at the top part of the costume, noting the cluster of decaying flowers were in fact, half dead red roses. He let out a soft ‘oh’ and nodded. “I personally think my stylist went above and beyond for this personally.” Julian continued like he hadn’t brought down the mood a bit. “There’s also a collar involved, and arm bands. Got to make it look more Grecian even if it is a modern twist.” “You’re such a shit. A collar? Really? Do you want the internet to speculate for days? Your twitter mentions are going to be hell until Thanksgiving.” Julian clasped the silver band on anyways and had the distinct pleasure of hearing Dwight protest mostly to himself. “You’re so predictable White Knight.” “Yeah well you’re full of shit Cheshire.” Dwight propped himself up to Sneaker’s loud mewing protest. “Also, speaking of, the twins know.” Julian looked back. Dwight shrugged, already knowing the question Julian was about to ask. “I didn’t tell them. But they did ask me to say hi.” Hmm. Logan must have said something. “Do you mind them knowing?” “Well, they haven’t said anything yet. But I don’t really mind, again, I’m not the one in the closet.” “I’m working on it. It’s a delicate process.” “I know, I know. That wasn’t an attack, just the truth.” Dwight held up his hands. He tossed the prop back to Julian, who placed it on the desk. “What’s your costume anyways?” Julian asked, pulling off his shirt to put the costume on. “If I known you hadn’t brought one, I’d have gotten a Hades thrown together.” Dwight glared at Julian’s wicked grin. “You’re awful. I’m already wearing it, isn’t it obvious?” He picked up Sneakers and plopped him to the side as Julian adjusted the sleeves of his costume shirt. The armbands came next, but he was still paying attention to Dwight’s gesturing at his outfit, long trenchcoat, black everything, maybe a little more steampunk than normal but… pretty par for the course with Dwight. “You’re the Columbine shooter? That’s messed up.” Julian said ignoring Dwight’s swearing protest. “I’m not-“ “I know, I know. But you always wear a trenchcoat, it doesn’t even look like you tried.” Julian fastened the last band around his wrist. Dwight sighed, “Okay, maybe not without the hat, lemme grab it.” He got the hat from the corner of the room, and the dissembled crossbow he’d somehow gotten through security- again, pretty normal for Dwight. He shook his hair out of it’s ponytail and tried his innane gesturing again. “See?” “Nope.” Julian lent against the chair. “Unless you’re a Nice Guy who studies the blade in his mom’s basement.” “Come on! I’m Van Helsing! Even you should know that version of him!” Dwight was genuinely disappointed he hadn’t gotten it. But Julian just snorted. “You’re the living embodiment of Van Helsing day to day, excuse me if I don’t get your shitty movie references.” Julian was smiling though. “Hey, I thought you liked Hugh Jackman.” “It was a shitty movie. Admit it, this is just an excuse to be able to spray people with holy water and say you’re ‘in character’; it’s very method, I approve.” “Your standards for costumes are way too high. This is a new coat.” Dwight crossed his arms, annoyed. “I just have high standards. Luckily for you, you’re pretty.” Julian brushed his hair out of his face, knowing full well he was being a little shit and was completely uncaring about it. “Just friends remember?” Dwight said looking pained. “And friends help friends into their leather pants so they can knock everyone out at their Halloween Party. Sorry I don’t make the rules.” Sneakers wound through Dwight’s legs and mewed, as if agreeing with his owner. Dwight looked down and glared, “sure ‘into’. That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.” “It’s an excuse though.” Julian said, not bothering with subtle as he placed his hands on Dwight’s chest. “Take it or leave it?” “This is really not helping the demon theory.” Dwight said monotone. “You already did the test, you just want plausible deniability for when Sadie asks you what you did when you go back.” Julian let his hands go lower. “Shut up.” And they did. Or at least until Carlos knocked on the door saying the guests were arriving soon, and it probably wouldn’t do to have the host missing… or pantsless with another guest until at least after midnight. Point made.

[deasidarchived]

{ demise | drabble }

He chose his poison. He chose his death.

     O’ lonely, lonely, sad soul. Why do you pretend to smile? There’s no spark in your eyes - scarred and shamed - and the curve of your lips are just a mistake. Whose mask do you wear when you awaken at dawn? As your whispers utter deceased names, nonexistent in your plane, whisked away by a vengeful reaper whose sole wish is to crush every chance of light you had. 

      Do you crave darkness so? Lost in the realm of a starless night, absorbed into a black hole to suffocate until you’ve lost everything but your life? Do you not realize how lucky you are, my dearest, dearest soul: to have found not one love, but two?

     Dear lonely soul, are you not satisfied yet? Why are you taking more than you deserve? 

Why do you not die?

    “Autumn?”

     Blurry. Everything was blurry. Where was he?

     “Hey.” 

      He blinked. She snapped, her fingers flicking together in front of his face. 

      “What’s going on?”

       Blearily, he ceased averting his gaze away from his surroundings and onto the young woman. Brown locks rolling over her shoulders like waves onto the shore and twirling into rings at the end. A brow raised in suspicion, clearly unwarranted and for her own curiosity, as she pursed rogue colored lips together - plump and gnawed. She was a container of bad habits. Studiously, he could see how her indigo colored contacts investigated his person, voiceless in their search of something wrong with him.

       Desperately, he examined, wanting to see that it was worry that consumed her thoughts as she continued. Wanting. Needing. Craving. Interest, he just wanted her interest in him because he was selfish. He took more than he could chew, wanting to drown in the richness of feeling desired. 

      But, lonely soul, why her.

      “I don’t know,” he finally uttered.

      “Do you need to go to a hospital?”

      A blink. Her brow lowered moments ago and now furrowed with the other, not knowing what obscure needs he had hidden away from her gaze. At times like these, he’d send a quip. A joke. A jest to lighten the situation and remind both of them that there was no need to worry about a tool’s well-being. So long as he could fulfill his role for her, then that would make him happy. She inquired on a concerning level as to why he was insistent on protecting her and all he could do in return was shrug. 

      It’s interesting.

      Foolish soul. What heaven do you yearn for when you’ve built a mask of lies? Audaciously screaming for favor and affection to the one you hurt the most with your half-hearted truths as you construct a version of you that has never existed until death cornered you. How do you live when your memory will be tarnished because you’ve left yourself to die for the sake of someone who will NEVER love you back?

      “Autumn?”

       Painful sensation took hold of him, waking him from an abysmal realm of formless voices, wreaking havoc in his mind. Taking hold of his throat, as though its stinging tones could mold into hands, choking him until he submitted to the gloom and doom of his demons. O...lonely soul...why do you not rest with us? He soon found that it was his hand, nails deep through the fabric of his shirt, clutching at an aching heart as he continued staring at the young woman. 

       A little taller, a little stronger, a little tougher...

      She was nothing like his past love.

      “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

      With a force tugging at the corners of his lips, he breathed. In. Out. Clearing away the shadows of what was, of those hazardous echoes of self-loathing, he declared, haughty and presumptuous with the roll of his tongue,

      “What, worried about me? I think I’ll recover as soon as you let me use you as a pillow for tonight.”

      Disgust overwhelmed her features, and he grinned, thankful that there was one thing he could control and understand. However, there was something amiss with the way her expression twisted itself from paranoid to annoyed. A hint of sympathy. A hint of relaxation on her features. A purse of her lips that made him nauseous at what these subtle afflictions on her features meant to him. 

      Did he dare hope for more than what he’d wanted? Or, truly, was he so desperate for another chance that he’s hallucinating all of these changes, projecting his feelings onto a stranger who wanted nothing to do with him?

      “Or not. Miss Employer, you must know that I’m not so low as to ask for something so minor. A kiss would be fine.”

      “I was worried, jackass.” 

      And then it happened. She turned, waves of chestnut brown fluttering behind her, bouncing in its volume upon bare shoulders. The way her hips swayed with every stomp momentarily hypnotized him and he felt his head go light. Throat knotted and tight, he felt fear immediately enclose itself upon his person, claws of irrationality digging its marks at his chest, dragging and searching for blood to spill.

      Lonely soul. Is this how you decided to die?

      “Fuck.”