leather glasses case

Petsmart Drama #1

So I have worked at 3 different Petsmart locations, for a span of collectively 3 years now. I have some insane stories.

1. I was standing at the fish podium, when an older gentleman walked up to the fish wall and began to look at the fish. Taking his glasses out of his super swanky leather glasses case that was a simple piece of leather, folded in half and sewn. I asked if he needed any help, he responded that he was just looking and was ok. I went about my business. About 30 seconds later I heard: “oh! Miss I think I need your help now.” So I looked up and he was standing next to me holding the glasses case out for me to see. A baby Bala Shark had leapt from the top aquarium and magically landed nose first into the poor gentleman’s glasses case. Happily we were able to remove the fish without injuring him.

Klaine one-shot - “Different Kind of Sexy” (Rated PG13)

Kurt and Blaine are studying together in Blaine’s dorm room at Dalton when Kurt finds out a secret about his boyfriend that makes him look at Blaine in a new way. (1125 words)

This is another re-write. Warning for fluff and teenage hormones.

Read on AO3.

Kurt peers at his history book, struggling to read the miniscule writing on a nearly microscopic document pictured in a box on the upper right corner of the page. He stares at it under normal light, then he shoves it underneath the desk lamp, squinting until his brow hurts and his head starts to thump from concentrating too hard.

“Ugh!” he groans, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his crossed eyes. “Why do they make the pictures in this book so small? And if they insist on making them small, why do they require that we read them to answer the questions?”

Blaine raises his eyes from his Calculus homework and scans the page Kurt is struggling to read.

“They do that to torture you. They want to see how dedicated you are to your studies,” he says, his eyes returning to his own assignment.

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Submitted by Cole

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Folie à Deux

Hi. I’m apologizing for this right now. I clearly don’t have two brain cells left to rub together. 3x09 (and beyond) tag fic. Obviously I don’t think this is what will happen … it’s just something I wrote because the muse wanted me to.

Folie à Deux

Spoilers: 3x09 (sort of).

Summary: Her hollowness looks an awful lot like a person.


She exists in hollow spaces, now. The club is full of people and the lair is full of equipment, but both are desolate wastelands to her. Without Oliver’s presence they are empty of the only thing that could truly fill them.

Felicity is empty. Empty and hollow, a living network of shadowed caverns that carry the echo of who she was; who they should have been.

She knows what John has come to tell her before he manages to spit out the words. She knows it by the look on his face and the awful creaking thing in her chest that combusts without warning. Felicity looks at John and feels the grief settle on her shoulders like a mantle.

John holds her while she cries. Felicity doesn’t ask him if he’s sure, or what happened, or why; she doesn’t say anything. She just clings to his shirt while the burning nothingness that is sweeping through her devours everything that once made her Felicity Smoak.

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Here is what I kinda wanted to see on Wednesday...

She finds him sitting up against the wall, glaring at his leathers in their glass case.

“Have you slept?”

He looks up, and for two creepy seconds he seems not to recognize her. “Felicity,” he says at last, and his eyes flick down to the two cups in her hands. “Is that coffee?”

“Tea.” It’s difficult to kneel in front of him in a pencil skirt, but she manages. “Sleep for five consecutive hours, and you’re allowed to have coffee again.”

He closes his eyes and his head falls back against the wall.

“I don’t pretend to understand everything that happened between you and Slade Wilson. Anything that scares you like this must be… bad. Really bad. But we’re all here for you.”

He actually flinches. "I know.”


He finally looks at her. "He’s going to save me for last, Felicity.”

She slides sideways off her heels, sits on the floor. “It won’t come to that.”

“If you stand by me, he’ll mow you down one by one, and once I’ve gotten everyone I love killed, he’ll come for me.” He bows his head, and his voice roughens with fear: “He might even leave me alive.”

“Maybe,” she says, and it’s probably okay to lay her hand on his shoulder, the way he does for her sometimes, right? “But maybe we win.”

He looks up at her from under his bunched eyebrows.

“If that happens, double-tap,” she advises. “We need him verifiably dead. Really, most sincerely dead.”

His mouth twitches.

“Maybe we win,” she whispers.

He doesn’t answer.

swallow my doubt, turn it inside out || Reylo Tattoo Shop AU 

“Excuse me. Do you have any immediate openings available? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Right. Because that was always the perfect time for a tattoo was when you were in a rush. From where she was sitting at the front desk, with her head down, she couldn’t see much more of the man aside from his genuine leather shoes through the glass case showing off the piercings they offered. Feet turned into legs, miles high and encased in well fitting black slacks, then a long torso with a fitted suit jacket, and finally a face framed by long, wavy hair. What in the hell was a man this well dressed doing here?

“What’d you have in mind?” she asked, looking up from her own doodlings to him.

“Nothing too extravagant. Is the artist available?”

Was he shitting her? She crooked a brow and gave him another once over, feeling her fists tighten. “Suppose so, yeah. If by available you mean all she’s been doing is doodling for the past half hour.” She watched his face, saw a flicker of surprise slip through his dark eyes. He opened his mouth–to apologize? to call himself an idiot?–but she stepped away and towards her work room, crooking her fingers for him to follow. He certainly wasn’t the first one to assume that she was only the secretary, that there was a man covered in tattoos waiting just behind the door with a fresh needle and some ink to do them up. He wouldn’t be the last to assume it, either, but it didn’t lower her heartrate any more as she took her seat in her chair and offered one up to him.

“So, what’d you have in mind? Usually we start with a consultation–.”

“Yes, I do apologize.” He didn’t sound it.  His terse attitude made her chomp down on the inside of her cheek. “But I’m willing to pay if you’ll take me on.”

many thanks to @stoptakingmyhandx for taking the other side of this AU and for listening to me and all my mad ramblings when it comes to writing ideas :D