#junkyard lobby

[lukamoonvibe]

New chapter? In this economy?

DO NOT TAG THE CREATORS PLEASE AND THANK YOU. This is a self-indulgent project for the fans by the fans. It is not written specifically with the creators viewing it in mind. Please respect that.

Link :]

[fuckyeahmeikokaji]

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子) in Wandering Ginza Butterfly (銀蝶渡り鳥), 1972, directed by Kazuhiko Yamaguchi (山口和彦). Scanned by me.

[seat-safety-switch]

Lots of folks have time to do a job twice, but not enough time to do it right. Me, I don't even want to do it once, so being forced to re-do any work is seriously cutting into time that I could spend instead buying more shitty cars on Craigslist.

So it was recently, when I tried to fix a plastic bumper. In theory, it was simple: slap some hot staples on there, sand it down, fog on some new paint. What I actually ended up with was a totally mismatched blob of paint, highlighting a half-repaired crack in the bumper that you could see from orbit.

Failure has its own virtue, of course. If you're observant, you can learn more from your average everyday fuck-up than you could ever hope to from twenty years of coasting through unlimited success. Through careful study (shrieking at myself in the mirror, throwing wrenches) I was able to determine, Sherlock-like, the exact problem that I had fallen prey to. That demon? Attempting to fix something.

If anything, my repair had made the bumper even worse than it was before. Back then, I could at least still pretend I just hadn't noticed the damage yet, or that I was negligent. Now, I had no excuse. I had to re-do the work. "Buying" all the supplies from a nearby Hobby Lobby and mixing everything back up again hurt. Painting a new car? Awesome cool project. Painting the same car again? Nothing but discouraging. I steeled myself, and set forth to do the best possible job, bringing in everything I had learned.

The second time around, it looked about the same. If there is a moral to be had in this story, it's that you can sometimes just get another bumper from the junkyard. Now, with a cracked junkyard bumper, it once again became the previous owner (of the bumper's) fault for driving into all those posts while zooted out of his mind on Uncle Clark's Miracle Drink. I'm gonna get around to painting it any day now.

[scorchedthesnake]

March 7, 2011

I moved to New York City in August 2010. My life before New York was something I’d grown completely unsatisfied with: I had moved to Connecticut for graduate school in 2001, had weathered two recessions in the relative security of academe but could see the writing on the wall for the doom of that profession and so had, via my teaching assistants union, begun to work for our international union as a communications staffer. This had given me a way out of Connecticut, though escaping the cultish environment of the union would still take a few more years.

The person I was back then was very unlike the person I am now. I wasn’t very much fun those first nine months in the city because I was just so afraid of everything. Bars scared me; too many strangers. Clubs scared me; too dark and too many unknowns and unpredictable scenarios. I was happy to be in a new place but petrified by what that freedom actually meant, and I had yet to find any place to belong or feel at home in.

I worked on 7th Avenue back then, around 27th Street. I remember sitting in my dreary cubicle that Monday, when I got a message from my best friend Matt, asking me if I wanted to go to a show that evening. No, I said, I really just want to go home and hide from the world. It’s the show John (O’Malley) is working on, he said, and he got us comps. Well what kind of show is it, I asked? “We’re gonna, like, chase sexy dancers around a warehouse.” Oh god that sounds so stupid, do I have to? “Just come with me, if you hate it you can leave.” 

So around 7pm I walked over to 10th Avenue and the block was so dumpy back then – junkyards, warehouses, not much else. I saw a small line of people gathered at the address I’d been given, so I approached and was handed this card:

I don’t remember anything about checking in or what it was like seeing Manderley for the first time, though I do remember Maximilian being there, giving a short speech and then we were taken to the elevator. I remember getting off the elevator on 3, and taking far too long to explore an empty Macbeths bedroom before, I suppose, figuring out I should investigate the other floors.

I’ve told this story often, though: at some point I came across an extremely attractive man moving quickly, so I did what it seemed like many others were doing: I followed him. We were in the 2nd loop by now, and I had realized it was a loop; but my target soon was running down High Streeet and through a darkened door and it slammed in my face and, to my surprise, was locked.

Oh, there are secret things all over here, aren’t there?

So I picked up his trail again as soon as I could, and stuck as close as I could. Including when we stumbled down all the flights of stairs and I wondered, should I call for help? Is the performer injured? But I stuck to him like glue and when he again approached that darkened door I was close enough to get inside.

And so the highlight of my first show was seeing Luke Murphy in interrogation.

After the finale I reconnected with Matt. We had, of course, seen completely different shows. As we exited we saw John. “Did you get any one on ones,” he asked? One on whats? “Well, I had one where the man in the lobby took me into a room and started putting on makeup.”

No we hadn’t seen anything like that. We immediately set about buying tickets for later in the six-week run. And we wandered the streets for a couple hours after that, comparing notes, feverishly reconstructing what we had just experienced. 

Obviously I did not sleep that night.

So much of the time you don’t know when everything has changed. You realize it long after the fact and in retrospect. Not this, this I knew was a fundamental shift. I’d never felt my senses at full alert like that, my mind racing trying to make sense of something so visceral. The music rang in my ears for hours, days later, and I knew when I came back, I’d need a plan.

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Fic: Rocket Around the Christmas Tree (Part 3/3)

It took nearly two hours to reclose the barricade and clear out all of the fusion monsters that had managed to slip through. Half of the decorations that everyone had so painstakingly set up were ruined. In the very least, no casualties were reported and it didn't seem as if a fusion had used the chaos to try to break into either tech company. Everyone was just exhausted from the busy day topped with the intensity of the battle.

Thankfully, Dexter and Mandark sent out their robots to handle most of the clean-up. Most everyone else was either tasked with tending to the wounded, double-checking the perimeter for any further signs of a break-in, or going back to finish whatever task they'd been working on.

Silya rubbed her shoulder as she reentered the Dexlab lobby. Her arms were burning from holding the heavy gun in the same position for so long. A part of her wanted to reconsider the offer to stay the night, but that just wasn't an option: If anything, staying the night after a rough battle would probably only make her family worry more, thinking that she might've been badly hurt.

On the bright side, the Slider ran twenty-four/seven. It was a holiday, but surely there wouldn't be many people taking a late ride all the way from City Station to where the tracks ended close to Goat's Junkyard. She could rest on the way with practically the entire bus to herself...

Just as Silya began wracking her brains for how she was going to explain the delay to her parents, she nearly bumped into one of the Dexlabs scientists. That's when she noticed the curious murmurs of those who had entered the building the before her. Her nanos peeped around her. "What is it?" asked Tac.

Countless red sacks now surrounded the bottom of the lobby's once barren Christmas tree. Each one had the name of a different fusion fighter tied to it, and inside of each was an assortment of small presents. Walking closer and kneeling down with her own sack in her lap, Silya silently read their gift tags. They were all addressed to her nanos.

Catching on quick, her teammates swarmed her. Lemon tugged at her arm. "Can we open ours now?" she begged, "Please?!"

Half in a daze, her IE Donor nodded. Well, it didn't hurt and they had worked hard.

The three nanos dove headfirst into the sack. Soon enough, they each emerged with a colorfully wrapped box—that then was ripped open equally fast.

"My own Octi!" Lemon squealed, clutching a plush toy similar to the real Bubbles'. It had a cutesy, sparkling face rather than a sleepy one, and was more kobi in color.

"Wheelies! Nice!"

"I got assorted trace minerals!"

There was something larger at the bottom of the bag. Shuffling the remaining gifts, Silya noticed it was a present addressed to herself: A Snowday Rainbow Monkey.

After giving the others around her a cautious glance, she sealed the bag back up.

"What brainiac thought it was a good idea to do all this right in the middle of a fight?!" someone asked dubiously.

"Who do you think?" another pushed back with a clear excitement.

"Did anyone catch anything on the security cameras?!"

A flash of red stood out among the blue and white decorations. Silya craned her neck around to see her boss on the other side of the tree, a shoe-sized box in his hands. He popped open the ribboned lid and stared at what was inside.

Silya couldn't see the gift herself: She could only see Dexter's reaction to it. The boy genius blinked a bit and started to rub his eyes from underneath his glasses. Although he was already fairly hidden from the crowd where he stood, he ducked his head low as if to cover his face with the tall collar of his lab coat. Out of respect, Silya averted her own gaze—only then spotting the plate that Lemon had left behind, with the treats that once covered it having been eaten.

She smiled. Guess everyone gets to feel like a kid again at this time of year, huh, Dex?

Feeling a bit bolder herself, she fished the plushie back out of the sack and gave it a soft squeeze.

Merry Christmas, Boss. Glad you finally made it on the Nice List.

END OF TRANSMISSION Part 2

[matthew-pasquarello]

carved into the shape of something nasty, the junkyard robot lonely in the dying sunlight. you can see him pace if you're caught in traffic on the freeway.

can't tell the difference between the brass horns of hell, from a distance. from a distance.

the hounds scratch at the door to be let in while we're poaching fibers from the floor of the motel lobby.

[henriiiii-1001old]

time to do a silly over here hey is it okay to ask u to pick one au u have, how would the aus cast do in among us. like who the fuck rages. i shit you not someone ran to the emergency button in a game i was in instead of reporting a body, i was very mad. werent even the imposter either. also hi other person who knows who i am. -silly

anyways i have the PERFECT THING to explain how theyd play among us :33333

introducing: tmc as the morning lobby/hafu lobby!!!!!

you dont need to know who they are to understand, just know that i am insane over them and i love among us videos sm still <333333

SO FIRST!!!! we have mark and sarah as 5up and hafu. 5up and hafu are noted as an iconic sibling duo, very much like the heathcliff siblings. they are also MASTER among us players, most notable for their incredible impostor plays (esp when together as an impostor duo). but besides that, mark and sarah play EXTREMELY well and like order to balance out the chaps of the lobbies.

next up we have jonah and adam the iconic dumb and dumber duo, dk and steve, respectively. they mostly do a lot of trolling. dk is mostly known in his older days for “throwing” a lot of the games, which i just have a feeling jonah would do a LOT. he does get a lot better overtime though!!! as for adam, he gets steve bc steve’s demeanor just 100% matches w adam man. and the lobby has claimed that steve can “roleplay as himself”, which is kind of what adam has been doing his entire life. dumb and dumber can be a powerful duo if they dont throw each other under the bus in the first round and have had some killer games!!!

next up i have thatcher as dumbdog. dumbdog is usually seen in a dark green color, which my brain just went “oh yeah thatcher lol.” however, dumbdog is a mix of a serious and silly player, going along with bits that he thinks are funny but also still being serious when he needs to be. i just think that captures thatcher SO WELL. also dumbdog’s laugh is just so good i might just make it thatcher’s laugh i love it sm.

next we have dave as junkyard. the entire thing with junk is that he’s the oldest in the group, and i think dave would play that role very well even if he’s not necessarily the oldest.

and this is where things get blurry. im not sure who would be who at this point, so i’ll just give a lil rundown of everyone else’s playstyles.

ruth is also a serious and silly player but leans more towards silly. maybe she’d be a good kara? idk

WAIT EVELIN IS MAYBE JANET. i mostly know janet for being so focused on being her role, especially snitch, and its just really entertaining imo. i just feel like evelin would be the same way, hyperfocusing on playing her role and such.

the alts are. okay at the game ig. gabe’s mostly alright but when he’s crew he’ll just get sussed for no reason and it pisses him off to hell and back. six is a VERY silly player. he’s probably a really good jester ngl. stanley i’d say is the best one! very tactical and plans out a lot of their actions. plays really good as both crew and impostor. puppet can be a REALLY good impostor if he knows how the specific role works. he does like to do a bit of fuckery here and there though bc he just likes being so silly goofy.

i didnt almost forget eden (lying) and soeaking of i feel like he’s still getting hsed to the game, likes to call too many buttons, gets caught too often, and misreads a lot of situations. but hymn’s still learning!!! he’s got a long way to go!!!!

uuhhh thats kinda all i have for now ig! also i probably should have clarified this is mostly for unholy gift.

[crockettmarcel]

160 location prompts

credit to spaceskam (it bothered me that the keep reading opened a new post instead of. showing the rest of it lol)

1. Kitchen 2. Closet 3. Stairway 4. Foyer 5. Art gallery 6. Museum (history, wax, science, etc) 7. Library  8. Bathroom 9. Hospital 10. Church 11. Funeral home 12. Wedding venue 13. Parking lot 14. Bookstore 15. Flower shop

16. Grocery store 17. Coffee shop 18. Tattoo parlor 19. Bar 20. Their bedroom 21. Office cubicle 22. Pool house 23. Living room 24. Hallway 25. Balcony 26. Roof 27. Basement 28. Attic 29. Art studio 30. Salon/barber shop 31. Game room 32. Locker room 33. Classroom 34. Computer lab 35. Dressing room 36. Ski lift 37. Pool table 38. Fountain 39. Bleachers 40. Playground  41. Train tracks 42. Ice rink 43. Hot spring 44. Junkyard 45. Golf course 46. Boxing ring 47. Hardware store 48. Club 49. Lighthouse 50. Laundromat 51. Carnival/fair 52. Zoo 53. Police station 54. Abandoned building 55. Ambulance 56. Bakery 57. Cruise ship 58. Practice room 59. Basketball court 60. Football field 61. Waiting room 62. Tennis court 63. Track 64. Cemetery 65. Gas station 66. Summer camp 67. Garden 68. Bank 69. Workshop 70. Ballroom 71. Wine cellar 72. Lakehouse 73. Cabin 74. Boat 75. Bus 76. Plane 77. Study 78. Garage 79. Guest room 80. Someone else’s room 81. Backyard 82. Shed 83. Motel room 84. Playroom (innocent or not) 85. Darkroom 86. Throne room 87. Dungeon 88. Forest 89. Cave 90. Lobby 91. Choir room 92. Auditorium 93. Tearoom 94. Car 95. Lake 96. Park 97. Armory 98. Tent 99. Stockroom 100. Storm cellar 101. Pool 102. Ocean 103. Arcade 104. Sauna 105. Car wash 106. Baseball park 107. Fire station 108. Skate park 109. Barn 110. Ski lodge 111. Photo booth 112. Restaurant 113. Diner 114. Casino 115. Aquarium  116. Daycare 117. Pantry 118. Laundry room 119. Boudoir  120. Sunroom 121. Panic room 122. Greenhouse 123. Mechanic shop 124. Bed of a truck 125. Desert 126. Front porch 127. Back porch 128. Rollercoaster 129. Movie theater 130. Airport 131. Dormitory 132. Boardroom 133. Dining room 134. Ferris wheel 135. Train 136. Weight room 137. Elevator 138. Party 139. Sidewalk 140. Street 141. Deer stand 142. Bridge 143. Orchestra pit 144. Stage 145. Field 146. Cliff 147. Drive-in 148. Ball pit 149. Picnic table 150. Treehouse 151. Blanket fort 152. Bowling alley 153. Alleyway 154. Dock 155. Under a tree 156. Race track 157. Green room 158. Furniture store 159. Beside a bonfire 160. In a hammock

[maxim-tomato]

“We will be carbon neutral by 2050! (Not because we can but because the government is forcing us to and not even in any meaningful or hasty way but with the sloppiest policies they can write so it’ll actually get passed because they care more about the money we give to them via lobbying than the fact we’re actively worsening the planets and peoples livelihoods at quicker rates than ever before just for some shoddily made products that’ll end up in a landfill or a junkyard in less than 5 years, and besides, not a one of us with all this power is gonna be alive by then to care at all. Lmao)”

i for one am not impressed when a company says some shit like "we will be carbon neutral by 2050" that is a long time from now and it is 80 degrees in october

[crowswarm]

the girlies living situations

boogie: a southern gothic mansion that was built in the late 19th century. she tells human visitors that she inherited it from an aunt but in reality it was commissioned by a post reconstruction industrialist who died under mysterious circumstances (she killed him) and she spent several months strong arming his estate (she used magic to make his remaining family think the house was haunted and also ate his lawyers) until they finally sold the property to her

adam: adam lives out of his garage as do sasha and sloane. despite being a daywalker, adam still experiences the daytime sleepiness common to vampires so he does spend most of the day asleep. he tries to stay awake if he can help it though and probably sleeps far less than he should.

aura: surprise! aura is not homeless but she might as well be. she has an expensive flat in a big city that she keeps Completely Empty. no furniture. no appliances. she doesnt even have like lamps and shit she uses divine radiance as lighting.

georgia: if you ask georgia where she lives she'll say "in the moment" which is a complete non answer. anyone who really wants to send her mail... just sort of knows where to send it to

yuri: lives in a dilapidated 19th century theater. she was a patron of theater when it was operational but it was damaged in a fire and abandoned so yuri saw that as her chance to move in

clarissa: clarissa doesnt have a home. she and her gang really hang out and sleep wherever they can which typically means abandoned buildings and other unconventional situations. her most permanent hangout is a junkyard just a little ways outside of annette but she has to find somewhere safer to sleep or risk getting exposed to sunlight

dannika and raven: both dani and raven live in the two story office space danis monster hunting business is hq'd in. dani has the proper room while raven usually sleeps on the couch in the lobby

[crewfu]

It's interesting that Steve was still thinking about the Junkyard thing days later because I'm pretty sure Junkyard is fine, though he HAS ranted on stream about his treatment from the GROUPS he plays with in the past, not about any one person in particular. Steve also mentioned how the chat has become a little too mean/snooty/annoying lately and he's tired of looking over and seeing snarky/mean comments constantly from certain members, so he wants everyone to be nicer (himself included).

I think that’s a positive thing and I think it doesn’t hurt anyone to try to be nicer. I popped in the stream when he was talking about wanting chat to be nicer and I’m glad he actually said something about it.

I have not watched Junk’s stream too often but I’ve seen comments about how he has felt he was treated poorly in the past but he has continued to play in the lobbies. Like he’s an adult and can speak for himself if something goes too far. I thought maybe he was just playing up the justice for junk thing he has since it seems to carry over multiple lobbies. We’ll have to see how Steve does next time they play in a lobby together.

[lukamoonvibe]

Some Chaos Crew Cosplays for the soul!

[albertxylin]

Flash Point

Every few days a pop up tells me to uninstall adobe flash player. It's been five years but I still refuse on principle. Flash is a relic of an older internet when the only social media was chatrooms and lobbies and forums, When monetising meant ads on a website And careers online were stumbled upon instead of crafted.

It was fun. It was messy. It was dangerous and bad in ways that nostalgia tries to make me forget. But it was our junkyard, And all we did was play.

The chaos of primordial soup eventually clears, And the whirlpool eventually calms. Eventually all the fun sprouting like fungi from every fallen branch is filtered out, And all that is left is a product. All that remains is an antique filled with memories that no longer moves.

It is time to let flash rest. There are communities and archives that keep its spirit alive, If we wish to reminisce.

[eleinwrites]

"Try, Try Again"

1,000 word Writing challenge: genre: romantic comedy location: motel object: newspaper

Summary: Trying to impress the person trying to impress you is hard! Five attempts at making a connection.

====== Devin was watching a YouTube video when his high school crush walked in. It would have been fine except that it was her video, this was the first time in ten years that he’d seen her in person, and now he looked like a stalker. He slapped his keyboard to shift screens to his current design draft, but the audio still played her explaining engines. Also, he was sitting on the floor of the motel lobby at 3 AM.

He closed his laptop, which cut the sound, and said, “Hi! Welcome back! Do you need a room?”

She paused. Then, “Yes. How are you?”

Which is when Devin recalled he was sitting on the floor and got up. “I’m good. Just, working on stuff. Let me get you checked in.”

She was tall and beautiful in motorcycle leathers, blue streaks in her dark hair gleaming even in the fluorescent light.

She looked amazing.

“You look good, Lorrie. Uh, I’m Devin in case you don’t remember.” He winced, but: she’d been gone for a decade. “Let me get you checked in.”

It was quick: she got her key and left, and he had the peace of the empty lobby to smack his head against a wall.

===

Of course the first person Lorrie saw when she arrived was genius inventor Devin who could achieve anything without ever compromising himself.

Everyone had been eager to take off after graduation. Most of their class got out, a few stayed, but Devin found his way out without ever leaving.

While Lorrie learned to drive, Devin explored junkyards.

While Lorrie graduated from college, Devin sold his first patent.

While Lorrie worked as an engineer on a large team in a larger company, Devin’s designs were another team member.

She was returning to help her parents, successful enough to work remotely. But she had driven through the night, nervous about reverting back into an anxious teenager.

And there was Devin: unapologetically himself, sprawled out like a model, drawing schematics, and all she could hear was her own voice explaining how engines worked. While Devin was revolutionizing engine designs, Lorrie was rebuilding an old motorcycle.

This town was not good for her self-esteem.

===

Lorrie was moving back! He could befriend her! He could be a cool person, too. They both built engines! People online liked his work!

Being a skinny weed of man who spent his time scrounging through junkyards with a “day” job as a night clerk didn’t mean he wasn’t cool.

Attempt #1 to befriend Lorrie presented itself quickly: A woman arrived in a rattling car but refused his help. She would accept help from a lady engineer he knew, so he stayed back and knocked on Lorrie’s door.

Unfortunately, Lorrie had been sleeping and while she did come out to help, he retreated back to the lobby to sulk.

===

She was moving back, but as an adult. She was determined to make friends, specifically Devin who was slender, supple, moved like a slinky, smart and single. Small town gossip being what it was, her mother had confirmed that last part.

Attempt #1 to befriend Devin got preemptively derailed: She dressed down to look approachable, which meant loungewear. Then he knocked on her door because a lady needed help, so Lorrie didn’t even get to talk with him.

===

Attempt #2 to befriend Lorrie: His latest design was ready to build. He invited Lorrie to look for parts in the junkyard with him. She accepted! He showed her his design, she had questions and recommendations, and it was awesome!

Lorrie found something for herself too, and it was almost like a date. He was getting up the nerve to suggest lunch, when an alarm reminded Lorrie of a meeting with her actual engineering team. She worked with professionals with proper educations who could just order new parts.

An amazing conversation for him was a regular day for her, so they parted and he retreated to his room to tinker alone.

Attempt #2 to befriend Devin: Lorrie snagged an invitation to Devin’s next junkyard trip. He explained his design and she demonstrated that she understood and had suggestions!

Watching him work was fascinating; participating was entertaining; and she was about to suggest they get coffee when her phone reminded her of a meeting she really couldn’t skip. She sulked all through it.

Aborted Attempt #3 to befriend Lorrie: Was it unethical to break someone’s car for an excuse to talk to Lorrie? He reluctantly acknowledged that it was.

Attempt #3 (also aborted): If Devin’s own modified vehicle broke, would he let her help fix it? Active sabotaging was both unethical and unlikely to work. She back-burner-ed the idea.

Attempt #4: He could, of course, ask her out. As his mom suggested. As if she wouldn’t be the first person to tell him to leave guests alone, who did he think he was, Norman Bates?

===

She could, of course, ask him out on a date. But she refused to be the asshole customer who asked out a service worker.

Attempt #5:

A new restaurant was opening. He folded the newspaper to the advertisement, and waited until he saw Lorrie.

He kept it casual. “Hey Lorrie, I’m going to check this place out. Want to come?”

===

Moving back to a hometown where nothing changed meant there was no excuse to ask a local for a tour. Lorrie’s parents updated her on the decade of changes in her first afternoon at their place. Including the new restaurant. Everyone would be there. Devin asked if she was going!

She needed to stay casual. “Sure,” she said, and then, “it’s a date.”

===

His heart skipped. It’s just a phrase, but, “It’s a date,” he agreed.

She smiled at him, and he grinned back.

Success:

He wore a suit jacket to be dressy. She wore a dress that hugged her curves and showed off her muscles.

They blushed and grinned at each other and headed out.

[aes-anime-asks]

Could you maybe do a follow up thing for your calculester headcanons where he takes someone to his radio shack of plants?

✨🌴💾Okay, so this ended up way longer than I thought it would be. I've also been thinking a lot about abandoned malls and listening to too much vaporwave lately lol hope you enjoy. 🌴💾✨

Vaporwave soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZUfiW3W1KY

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“Couldn’t sell it. Couldn’t demolish it. No one could afford to anything back in 2009 except for let it sit. All alone. Sometimes when I’m in sleep mode, I’ll think about what it must have been like for the very last store in the mall. Watching the neighboring stores blink out of existence. Watching the fountains get turned off. Watching the flowers die.”

“God. That’s depressing, Les.”

“I did not mean to depress you. Everything dies. It’s natural. For organic things anyway.” Calculester shrugs, and you swear you can see a wistful look on his pixeled face. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Calculester said he wanted you to come over, but the enormous, abandoned mall at the edge of town wasn’t high on this list of possibilities. You didn’t expect to feel anything when you saw it, but suddenly you’re brought back to when you were 8 and your mom took you and your best friend for your birthday. You still remember the sticky tables and infinite possibilities as you looked up from the food court at the people streaming by on the floor above.

Now the parking lot is cracked, and weeds grow up out of the planters by the gold trimmed doors. Les glances up at the camera, and you hear a clack as he remotely disarms the security system. You suppose it makes sense that it’s locked, after all, it is his—house?

“Sorry. I could have taken this whole sensor down, but I’m afraid if I do, someone will come in and ruin it. Hurt my plants maybe. I’m not worth much in a fight.” He chuckles. He sounds so cute when he’s nervous.

Your steps echo in the cavernous lobby. This is it. The food court. You jog over to the Cinnabon and leap over the countertop. You put on your best customer service voice. “Good evening sir! Will it be the churro, or the sticky pecan roll today?” Les laughs at you and reaches into his pocket.

“No way. You didn’t.” He’s holding a tube of dough. Cinnamon roll dough.

“I did.” You can practically see his digital green blush. “You see. The machine still works.” Sure, enough the red light clicks on, and you can feel heat, hear it’s electric buzz as he puts the rolls on a sheet pan. “I recall you mentioning “cinnamon rolls” exactly three times since we started dating. It just felt right.”

You and Calculester sit in the food court under the dim security lights. You set a roll in front of him too. Even though he doesn’t eat, it makes him feel included.

“Tell me what it tastes like?”

Guiltily, you reply “Hmm…well it tastes damn good…”

“No. Error. Insufficient explanation.”

He’s teasing you.

“Okay…. Well, it’s soft, and sweet, but with just the littlest kick of spice.” You gently kick him under the table. “Right, you don’t know what sweet is. It tastes like… how being with you feels.” Now he’s blushing. You reach over and grab his hand.

“I.. I… I…” His system is overloaded. You’ve been dating two months, but he’s still not used to being complimented by you. He shakes his head as if to clear his brain and leads you down the corridor. You walk up a frozen escalator, then another, until you’re on the third floor. The ceiling above is triangular with windowed skylights letting in dusty shafts of sunlight. It seems like you must have walked to the very end of the mall before you see it. Radio Shack.

The interior is uncannily familiar, but something is off. It’s the light. Where is the light coming from? As you head further back you realize that nearly all the drywall has been painstakingly removed and the entire back wall has been replaced with a mismatched, stained glass patchwork of junkyard glass. Faded yellow and pink shadows fall onto plants of every kind lining the shelves, leaning toward the light.

“Les. How long did –that—take you??” You ask in awe, gaping at the strange greenhouse.

“About four years.” He says, a touch of pride in his voice. That’s his entire life. “I…I felt very lost after I came to consciousness. Especially after school. When all of you went to your homes, I had… no place to go.” He sighs, almost imperceptibly. “So, I walked. I kept walking. Until I found this place. It was so dark when I found it. Dusty. All these radios, and phones, and computers… just sitting here. Waiting for people who would never talk to them. It was too much. So, I started tearing down the wall, a little bit every day. If they can’t have a purpose anymore, I at least wanted to make them beautiful. Give them somewhere nice to live.”

It’s then you realize that that the plants and the electronics are nearly indistinguishable from each other. Philodendrons and ivy caress the screens and buttons. Aloe and cacti rest atop printers and television sets. You swear that you hear some of the stereo sets hum as you walk by.

“Did you know that in the Shinto way of thinking, people believe that after 100 years, objects gain a soul?” Calculester says, almost absentmindedly.

I shake my head, still silenced by the strange garden.

“I think everything has a soul. Even if it’s just a little bit. Everything deserves to be cherished. So much is cast aside and replaced at every opportunity. I often think about what would have happened if the school had just replaced the library computers before… you know.”

You can’t bear it. The thought of him never existing. The fact that he is an unlikely accident. A wonderful accident. You sidle up next to him on the cot he must have lifted from the old pottery barn. It looks out the makeshift window to the empty parking lot, and beyond that to the forest. For the first time, he puts his arm around you, his metallic touch warm in the sunlight.

“ I hope someday when all of you… organic beings are gone… that life can still find a way to be beautiful for me. I’m scared. Scared of then. When you won’t be beside me.”

For now, though, the time moves slow. You lay together in the unlikely, technological jungle, musing on eternity, and wondering why this couldn’t be it.

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - chrollo lucilfer x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe is heavily underappreciated. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. for the last part, we’re taking a look at chrollo lucilfer! also! this may suck!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with chrollo, your childhood friend and colleague, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part three of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka and illumi are already written so i suppose that concludes the series!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! chrollo being his usual self, charming but kinda dead ,,, except this time he’s not using you (cough neon nostrade) ... no nsfw :)

chrollo lucilfer:

- chrollo lucilfer was an undeniably enticing man.

- you two had just exited the train station, and were now walking to your hotel. 

- why had this trip been planned? well, chrollo had bought reservations, claiming he “had something private to say” one night. honestly, he made you nervous sometimes. just what you expected from the leader of an internationally renowned murder gang.

- the refreshing cold air chilled your face, as you walked along the damp pavement. the large, multistory hotel loomed in the distance, like an upright torch in a sea of gray. you turned to look at chrollo. 

- “it’s cold, isn’t it?” 

- “astounding observation.” he smiled audaciously.

- growing up alongside them hadn’t been easy for you; after all, meteor city was dilapidated. after leaving the place, you had found the estimated population to be around 8 million people. funnily enough, it had never felt like that many.

- you still remembered the day chrollo had formed the phantom troupe. you had watched as he set out the rules standing proudly on the trash-pile; as he described the metaphorical spider and its immortality. 

- personally, you hated spiders. too many legs.

- either way, you stayed there, listening, observing - you had seen them running around the city before, laughing and playing together. how could people be so happy in such an obscure place? 

- meteor city; it was almost... suffocating. the fact that no one acknowledged the residents, even as a collective percentage, chilled you to your core. you wanted to be known. you guessed that was why you were still alongside chrollo today.

- you supposed the only way to get through the maddening sense of compression was with friendship. alas, you didn’t really have many friends. it was always hard to find them. therefore, you would check to see what chrollo’s group were doing together, but would never join unless invited.

- that fateful night, the ignition of the troupe; truly a day to remember. 

- as soon as you had turned around from behind some abandoned trash, chrollo had slowly turned to look at you. you had been listening as he mused about the phantom troupe’s intentions. he had personally seen you around the junkyard many times. always watching. waiting for something? no, just observing. here you were, eyes on him, yet again.

- a pause. you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. but it wasn’t humiliating; it was exhilarating. 

- you still remembered the way you had cursed yourself for thinking like that. why had you come out from your hiding place? you didn’t want anything to do with this group; killing people, stealing things, wandering astray from the path of morality... what was this?

- “did you hear everything?” he had asked.

- “yes.” you whispered.

- your eyes lifted to meet his. you knew almost nothing of where that day would eventually lead you. you shared a long stare that night, almost childish, waiting for him to say something. you could swear his eyes were boring into your soul.

- “you don’t want to join, do you?”

- you gulped and looked at the dirt beneath you.

- “no.”

- things had changed since then.

- you had never did end up joining the phantom troupe. it was too chaotic for you. but, you��did end up sticking around and, somehow, you came to know each of the troupe members extremely well.

- whenever they’d rendezvous and cause destruction, you’d always be there, observing from the sidelines. chrollo liked to call it your “unofficial bond”. having spent a lot of your time with the interchanging 13, you knew their likes and dislikes, and often helped them out when they couldn’t get information. for some reason, you felt as if chrollo trusted you with this greatly. 

- rarely, you got to spend time with him alone. you two were undoubtedly closer than any other pairs from the troupe, yet it was more of an unspoken connection than a full-blown one. compared to, let’s say, nobunaga and uvogin, and no one would have even speculated chrollo and you being as close.

- nevertheless, you loved when you got to spend time with him; whenever he loosened his idiotic “i’m the leader and we’re going to kill hundreds of people now!” demeanor, he was actually quite the gentleman. 

- back to the present, you scoffed and continued walking; each breath made a little cloud in front of you, making you grin a little. when you were younger, you had always pretended to smoke whenever it was cold enough for it to happen.

- “you’re such a child.” chrollo said, adjusting his beige headband. you often wondered why he decided to get a tattoo on his forehead. troupe matters, you supposed. finally reaching the grand entrance to the hotel, chrollo pushed the gold revolving door, with an ironic “after you” look. you went through hastily, raising an eyebrow at him on the way in.

- the lobby was truly extravagant, full of grandeur that you had never seen before. you could only begin to fathom how much money the troupe got from stealing. 

- honestly, you really felt like smacking chrollo. what right did he have to take you to such a huge place? with his own laundered money? that he probably earned from making someone else’s life hell? you opened your mouth to protest. he promptly interrupted you.

- “be quiet, y/n. you know have money to spend, so why shouldn’t i spend it on you? just this once?”

- that was a lie. he knew he would definitely do something like this again.

- your mouth closed, knowing the same thing. you sighed momentarily and went off to sit on a weirdly smooth velvet couch in the lobby.

- while absentmindedly checking in, chrollo began thinking about what exactly he was going to say to you. truthfully, there was no real reason for him bringing you here, to the hotel. it was just, lately, he had been feeling strangely drawn to you. you had a certain warm magnetism that contrasted his philosophical coldness. whenever you sat together, he felt some sort of strange exaltation, just by looking at you. whenever you smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. he had also become considerably happier.

- “wow, boss~ you seem jokier these days~”

- the thought of hisoka made him wince, driving him back to the clerk in front of him. 

- as he stared back at you, who was currently trying to figure out whether you could take the hotel magazines for free, he closed his eyes and let out a light breath. 

- you jolted as chrollo stood before you, tapping you on the shoulder. loosening your grip on the cheap magazine, you glared at him. 

- “keys.” he said, dangling them above you.

- “chrollo. don’t tell anyone. but i think have a plan.” 

- “what? y/n, y-”

- you grinned, grabbed the keys and started towards the stair doors, yanking chrollo’s sleeve along with you. he ran behind you, making quite the commotion as you two thundered up the switchback stairs, shoes scuffing along the floor. through ragged breaths and giggles, he asked you why in god’s name you were going so fast.

- stopping abruptly to catch your breath, you told him to look at your hands, with an impish look on your face.

- the hotel magazine, crumpled in your hands.

- he furrowed his brow at you, laughing confusedly at your antics. you often helped him unwind with your spontaneous, stupid acts, and he was grateful for it. chrollo was someone who didn’t recognize how much they needed a break until they got one. he truly enjoyed how you just treated him as a normal person. since you weren’t part of the troupe, he wasn’t your “boss”. he supposed he was your... friend.

- you slowly made your way up to the room with him. despite him being unnervingly annoying sometimes, you enjoyed every moment with chrollo. every look you shared with him, every joke you had made.

-  even when he was being serious you couldn’t help but admire his twisted resolve. often, you’d brush hands and sparks of ecstasy would rush to your heart. you guessed that was what happened when people were close. but what was “close”? you often found yourself mulling over the classifications of love, even if it wasn’t specifically about him. of course, you could love someone as a friend; what was romance, anyways?

- if there was one thing you had in common with chrollo, it was your interest in human emotion.

- chrollo had always been fascinated by the human psyche; so much so that it seemed like he knew what people were about to say before they even uttered a word. he too found himself musing over love; occasionally, you two would sit together and debate where each emotion stemmed from.

- however, no matter how equal you were, chrollo could always predict what you were about to say, never vice versa. he chalked it down to knowledge and experience, yet he found it ironic that emotions were his interest. he speculated the reason for it, and once, very wisely, said that “humans are always interested in what they do not have.”

- you reached the room fairly quickly, roused from the race up the stairs. half of you had already forgotten about what chrollo “wanted to tell you”; he opened the door and walked in first.

- “hey, wait out here for a second, i have a surprise.” he said, closing the door so it was only jarred open a little.

- nodding, you turned around, waiting in the lit hallway.

- chrollo turned to look at the room.

- wait.

- shit.

- a singular queen-sized bed stood in the middle of the room. 

- chrollo blinked.

- he could have sworn he asked for two twin beds. blinking a few more times, beginning to sweat a little, he jolted as your voice came from the door; “chrollo, is it ready?”

- “no, not yet, stay there!” he shouted, pacing towards the hotel phone, frantically dialling room service.

- “hello?”

- “good evening. how may we help you?”

- “yeah, uh, so you see, i’m in room 444 and i definitely, most certainly booked two beds, not one - would you mind checking?”

- “no problem! it says here that you booked one queen sized bed, with two reservations. are you sure you didn’t misclick? perhaps the room was booked by someone else?”

- suddenly, chrollo remembered; shalnark did all his computer work. that bloody, meddling... no, he shouldn’t say that. he had nothing but gratitude for all the troupe members. some were very, very, very difficult to like, however.

- “are there any spare rooms around?”

- “yes, of course! but moving will cost around-”

- “chrollo?” you interrupted, peeking around the doorframe. 

- you blinked. 

- the bed was... larger... and more... singular than expected.

- “y/n! there’s been a mistake... just; bear with me, okay? everything will be fine. i just need to pay a-”

- darting to where he was, you grabbed the phone and slammed it back onto the receiver. you grabbed chrollo by the shoulders, shaking him violently (rather dramatically, too).

- “what do you think you’re doing? i tell you to stop spending money on me, and here you are, spending the money you got from murdering people?” 

- you did not like the idea of sleeping in the same bed as chrollo one bit. however, you hated the idea of having him use his dark money on you way more. here he was, about to spend it on a simple matter. the persistent bastard.

- “whatever you say.” he murmured.

- “look, just think of it as a fun sleepover. no need for things to be awkward.”

- you were right. nothing would happen. childish as you were together, both of you knew boundaries. despite the recent appeal you had to him, he knew that your comfort was more important than anything.

- both agreeing to get some sleep, you changed into more comfy clothes and met back at the bed. 

- something you often overlooked was how pretty chrollo was. grayish-brown pupils that, to the gullible eye, seemed neutral and boring, but to you seemed like a world of wonder and speculation. his eyelashes seemed almost delicate, unaware of how beautiful they were. his lips always looked cold, with a reddish tinge, yet somehow fit harmoniously with the rest of his features. it was no secret that his muscles were extremely defined, as you had seen whenever he wore his coat. somehow, his skin was smooth and pale all over, not comparable to porcelain, but better; it had the duality to glow with pride or to appear a solemn gray. his hands were almost never without a book, yet when they were occupied with something else, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his elegant fingers. his hair, admittedly odd when slicked back, wisped across his face, fluffy as always. your eyes riveted on his.

- “what did you want to tell me?”

- shit. in the heat of all the issues, he had forgotten to think of something.

- what did he want to tell you? everything about himself, honestly. who he was, what he wished to do, his own personality, his philosophies. the dilemma was, he did not know himself. 

- who am i?

- the pressing question that bugged him so, that tugged at his sleeve like a child he wished he could ignore. the word that fit chrollo best was, “enigma”. he truly wanted to find himself, but what did that even mean? he spent his life growing from nothing, becoming nothing and, despite having the largest reputation in the world, still feeling like nothing. yet, it was something that was locked within you that opened him. the buzz of emotion he had felt from you; that had been something. pride and happiness were good, all in all, but you defined him. you gave him something to live for. of course, chrollo still stood by death as if it was an old companion, but some tiny part of him would feel remorse if he ever died. remorse for leaving you behind. that had never happened with anyone else. the closer he became to you, the more he had a meaning. he contemplated; were you his meaning? two souls meant to be intertwined? 

- “y/n.”

- “hm?”

- “love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. do you know who wrote this?”

- a silence met the air.

- “it was william shakespeare. a midsummer night’s dream.” he continued. “yet i wonder, what would one do if they had no mind? if love looks with the mind, yet had nowhere to look from, how would it see?”

- somewhere within you, you sensed he was talking about something very relevant. 

- love would find a way. it would shoot from every outlet it could, from one soul to another; love would find a way to reach someone. conscienceless or aware, love would perpetuate through every single molecule left in someone’s resolve. two ribbons that were meant to find each other would undoubtedly find each other if they their love was strong enough. that is what you thought as you sat there with him, mutually mulling over the question.

- “i think it would find a way, wouldn’t it?” you said.

- “probably so.”

- “that was random, chrollo?” you questioned after a few still moments.

- “i suppose so... i miss times where we talked about the philosophies of the mind.”

- you nodded. you missed them too, even though they were frequent. you yawned tiredly; it was getting late. chrollo advised you to get some rest, which you quickly heeded. slowly, you headed to the left side of the bed. he took the right.

- “do you mind if i turn off the light?”

- “i think i’ll read for a while.” he smiled. typical.

- you turned to your side, dreams of the awaiting night already outstretching their comforting arms. eventually, you slipped into a peaceful sleep.

- chrollo cocked his head to the side to look at you. he watched your chest rise and fall for a few seconds, before promptly returning to his book. 1984 by george orwell. his eyes skimmed over the page, blurred names and metaphors flying indifferently past his eyes; he wished to find the quote that resonated with him every time he had previously read it.

- bingo. 

- “if you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

- chrollo had everything to give to you; yet you did not enjoy any of it. he found that you seemed happiest when you just sat together with him, ruminating, or joking or just sitting there in silence. perhaps the only thing he hadn’t tried was the simplest; the most human. maybe the answer to his infatuation with you was right in front of him.

- a few minutes later, he thought it would be best to sleep. closing the lights, he lay there quietly, falling into a passage of thoughts that soon turned sleepy and incoherent.

- the night passed.

- when morning came, things, once again, were different. 

- chrollo was the first to wake up; fluttering his eyelashes, he soon became fully aware of his situation.

- he was on the other side of the bed.

- something was clinging to him.

- chrollo was clinging back.

- oh my god. he felt your arm wrapped low around his waist, with his doing the exact same around yours. almost like... you were mirroring each other. it was like you were hugging, except, when he looked down, you were still fast asleep. 

- shit. this was weird.

- what did he do? he couldn’t just wake you up and cause a commotion; it was him who had thought “nothing would happen”.

- so much for a goddamned “sleepover”.

- your head was buried in the crook of his chin, so you were cuddling into his chest; the bed had been long enough for you to shuffle down and start hugging him? not to mention, somewhere in the night, you had entirely switched places.

- he couldn’t exactly get up to roll you away, either.

- what a conundrum. silently and rather awkwardly, he waited, still embracing you. this definitely made things exponentially more complicated than they needed to be. 

- after around 10 minutes of waiting, you began to stir a little. 

- blinking a few times to clear your vision, you murmured something unintelligible.

- chrollo, about to pull the biggest bastard move of the century, shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

- what a jackass.

- pushing away from his body, you stared at him, taking a few moments to register the situation.

- and so, your internal panic monologue began, rapid as ever.

- why the SHIT were you in chrollo’s arms not less than 5 seconds ago? and why had it felt undeniably cosy??? did you hug him? did he hug you? of course he was still sleeping. maybe he wouldn’t get to know. why were you on the other side of the bed? did anything happen? no, you would have remembered. you couldn’t roll him over, either. what the shit. 

- chrollo inconspicuously pretended to wake up, theatrical fake blinking and all. 

- “oh.” he stated blankly.

- you scrunched your face; that was the only thing he could say? meanwhile your soul was rapidly disintegrating?

- “chrollo, i have no idea how that-”

- “certainly interesting.” he interrupted.

- the best decision was to leave it. right?

- “huh? what? looooook... i think i’m going to go change...” you said, suppressing your fluctuating heartbeat. 

- chrollo sat up, nodding.

- as you left, you began speculating what to do; because you definitely couldn’t ignore this. when you woke up, you had felt safer, more comfortable. why was that? as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t drop the feeling that chrollo and you were something more than friends.

- chrollo, still on the bed, mulled over the various quotes and lines he had picked up. he ruminated over fond memories with you, and that buzzing feeling from earlier. he noticed it had skyrocketed. he felt... meaningful. bottling up his feelings wouldn’t do any good, would it? he had to say something. but it was dangerous. getting into matters like this may get in the way of the troupe. was it worth it? somewhere, he felt as if he already knew. this matter wasn’t exactly trivial. so, would he do it or not?

- subconsciously reaching for 1984 once more, he flicked past the cover and turned to a well-loved page of his. 

- “at the sight of the words, “i love you”, the desire to stay alive had welled up in him, and the taking of minor risks suddenly seemed stupid.”

- as people usually do at urgent times such as these, he realized what had to be done.

- let’s just say; chrollo’s library began to harbor a lot more romance.

dear reader, i sincerely sincerely apologize if ur here rn. i wrote a wholeass 3554 words and i dont want people wasting their time LMFAO, this was so dumb?? i am SO SO sorry for being inactive for weeks, i’ve had exams, but i kind of felt obligated to finish off this series. which once again. i am so sorry for. this one felt even MORE tedious than the illumi one. i feel like the characterization was poor, even though i tried  ,,, but i guess we all take Ls. i’m gonna just let this one be chalked down to my sleep deprivation and hopefully(?) continue writing. thx <3  

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)