storefront windows



god i know i said my anime kylux days were over but after drawing this @kdazrael suggested i watch antique bakery which i DID i marathoned it last night and it spawned this evil hell au you’ll probably be seeing more of

Jason Todd: [smashes through a storefront window and stumbles inside, bleeding from multiple lacerations]

Dick Grayson: [opens the perfectly usable door and steps inside]

Dick Grayson: [to the shopkeeper] It’s okay. He’s a superhero.

Jason Todd: [begins to cut up books on the shelves with a pair of scissors]

Dick Grayson: [nervously, to the general public] Don’t worry about it. He’s a superhero.

already fallen
without thinking ahead,
following impulses instead

keeping the past
tight within your grasp,
you fear replacing 
established romance 

you are a bird, uncaged,
changing direction at
the slightest bought of wind

worry eats you away—
how lonely your mind 
makes love out to be

constant reaffirmation, yet
still you keep craving 
reminders of affection

analyze heartbeats until
you find them to beat out of sync—
more proof of a love gone wrong

unproportionate give and take—
turning a blind eye when
you begin to feel used

awake all night, terrified your
dedication is not reflected,
replaying sleepless nightmares

a world of open doors 
taunts you to enter—
how to stay in place when
there’s so much you might miss?

armored heart,
a metal coating will not melt
until you find some warmth

glancing twice into storefront windows
to assure yourself that two distinct outlines
remain reflected back

vision clouded with selfless love,
you see only the good in everyone
(how far can a person rot before
you see what they’ve become?)

—  Poetry for the Venus Signs // fauxastrology
held on as tightly as you held on me

andreil au in which neil has a nightmare

Sometimes Neil dreams of the past. Sometimes the dreams are so vivid he can smell his mother’s corpse as it burns, so vivid he can hear wit absolute clarity the clang of his father’s ax, so vivid he can see the metal glint off Lola’s knife as she carves his arms to ribbons.

Sometimes he can feel Riko’s knife as it slips beneath his skin, as he hits him until blood fills his mouth, as he makes him run plays until Neil is past the point of pain. It’s like he’s paralyzed, unable to move, unable to fight back.

He doesn’t realize he’s dreaming until his eyes are snapping open, his gaze landing on a hardened face with messy blonde hair, steady hands on his shoulders.

He’s pretty sure someone is screaming, and it takes a moment for him to understand that it’s him, but then Riko’s knife is back, his matches are back, his fists are back, and Neil is powerless beneath him, just as he was the first time, and he can’t stop. He can’t stop his own voice, just as he couldn’t stop Riko’s torture. It lasted so long, god, it lasted so long. Days and days and days and weeks, time running on and slowing down and stretching out.

Then strong arms are wrapping around him, and he’s being pulled against someone’s chest; he knows from the feel of them it isn’t violent, that it’s meant for comfort.

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Madam Puddifoots window display @HarryPotter by LionessLeesha

What’s up, party people? I tell ya’, I always had a hunch Barry saw me as a potential best man – or best mate, as Julian would say – but now it’s official.   When he and Iris tie the knot I’ll be there ready to rock the most epic best man speech ever heard on any Earth! This promises to be some high level adulting and I have to make sure I look the part.  Even though, the couple hasn’t set the date, I found myself looking into the mirror – fantasizing about the occasion – and decided your boy needed to step up his fashion game.  To put it simply, it was time to dress like “a real grown up” as Harry would say. So I cracked open my limited edition Green Arrow piggy bank and hit up the Central City Mall to buy some new threads. 

It’s been a hot minute since I hung around the mall, and I was bombarded by youths, elderly mall walkers (gotta get that heart rate up!), and pushy bargain hunters.  It reminded me of the classic zombie mall sequence from Dawn of the Dead (freak-ay!)  But I then spotted some kids hanging by the food court, goofing off.  They made me nostalgic for my old mallrat days.  Ah, the memories. I resisted the urge to hit up the video game store and headed straight for some upscale clothing shops.  Before I knew it I was in my own Pretty Woman montage of trying on baller outfits.  Slacks and new leather shoes? Check. Check.  Silk buttoned down shirt? For days.  Suave sports coat? You know it.  Suddenly I was strutting the mall, turning heads left and right.  I stopped at a storefront and looked at the fashionable man before me. Turns out I clean up real nice until…

Two kids from the food court ran past me, scuffing my shiny new leather loafers.  I turned to see a security guard chasing after them.  I ducked down a hallway where no one could see and opened a quick breach and popped out right in front of the kids.  I told them to slow their rolls and asked why they were being chased.  The kids looked scared and pleaded that they weren’t doing anything wrong – they were pretending they were Flash and Kid Flash on the hunt for a meta.  I have to say, I was touched, just the security guard caught up to us.  He barked at the kids – “no running allowed!”

When I told the guard they were only emulating the heroics of The Flash and Kid Flash, the security guard softened.  Turns out, he was also a big fan and let the kids off win a warning.  The kids thanked me and said they never expected a grown up to be so cool.  They disappeared into the mall, probably to hit up a Spencer’s Gifts like I did back in the day.

On my way out, I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window.  I saw the reflection of a sharp-dressed, serious man and realized I was kidding myself. This is isn’t me.  I’m fine at being an adult, but in my own way, going by my own rules. So I returned all the clothes and stopped at the food court’s Big Belly Burger for fries and a shake, in my Cisco-approved wardrobe.  And Barry and Iris will be cool with whatever threads I decide to rock on the big day.

A Breach of Trust: Chapter 16

(Act 1: Chapter 1-9 )

(Act 2: Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 15.5 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18)

(Act 3 Chapter 19+)

At 3:30, Reigen was standing tenth in line to check out at the grocery store nearest his apartment. He stared forward, glaze-eyed, through the ceiling-high windows decorating the front of the store. Rain clouds had gathered as a thick and dreary coat. The parking lot adopted their gray tint, and the air had turned dense with the spiking humidity, the crackling electricity. A storm was rolling through.

Not inside though. Inside the store was temperate, dry, perhaps just a bit too cold. Inside was bathed in the whiteness of fluorescent lights, and smothered in a silence broken only by the steady blip of a scanner running across grocery items. It lulled Reigen into a daze. Or maybe it just made him aware of it. If he were being honest with himself, the dazed feeling had been eating his brain for a good number of hours. That was easier than fully understanding the responsibility he had taken on. But it also made his memories of the day feel more like dreams, or plans, or thoughts. What had he done since the morning?

The line moved forward. Reigen shuffled with them.


The morning. …The morning had been quiet. The kind of dense and safe quiet that came with waking before the sun was even up. The kind that came with knowing he was likely the only soul awake in the apartment complex, soft socked feet scuffling across the floor above the heads of the sleeping.

Well one of the only souls, plural. That included Mob.

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Mannequin 4: The Becoming

Summary:  Dean gets hit with a curse and you’re the only person that he can talk to.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas, OC George

Word Count:  2922

Warnings: swearing

A/N:  I wrote this for @wheresthekillswitch and @trexrambling Crack It Baby Challenge.  My prompt was “I’m pretty sure there’s a law against removing your pants in public."  It will be bolded in the fic.

If you’ve never heard of the movie Mannequin please watch this.  And don’t judge me, the eighties were weird, ok?  I actually worked in display and merchandising for years because this movie made hanging out in a department store after hours look like the best time ever.

Thank you to @pinknerdpanda for betaing the beginning of this story and thank you to @hannahindie for polishing it up.  You ladies are wonderful!

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs


You worked on the new mannequin all day.  You were tired of the faceless weirdo ones the store had been using forever so you made a bet with George; if the real looking one got more attention he’d let you make more.  You knew exactly how you wanted him to look; tall, sandy brown hair, full lips and green eyes.  You sigh to yourself as you think of him; the man from ‘that one hot summer’ in college a million years ago.

That night you drive to the store ready to work on the new display with George.

“Here’s the new mannequin,” you say setting it down.

George looks him up and down.  “Mmm, maybe you can make me one.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes.  “I’m gonna start setting up.”

“Ok, I’ll be there in a bit.

You pick it up and walk over to the window, your thoughts occupied with the next display.  You stand the mannequin up looking him over.  He really is perfect, you think to yourself as you pick out a hat to put on him.

“What the hell?”

“Holy fuck, what?!” you scream.

The now-alive mannequin is gripping your shoulders, “Where am I?  How did I get here?” the tall, gorgeous, used-to-be mannequin asks.  “Wait, Y/N?”

“Dean?” you pause, catching your breath.  “I’m hallucinating.  All these late nights have finally made me crazy,” you mumble.  “The most vivid hallucination ever,” you say touching his face.

“Hey,” Dean says touching where your hand just was.

“How are you alive?”

“Uh, what?  I am alive! How did I get here?”

“Dude, I hate to break it to you but you were a mannequin about ten seconds ago.”

“A what?”

“A mannequin, see,” you gesture around you, “storefront window, clothes.”

He looks down at what he’s wearing and a look of disgust and surprise crosses his face.  He starts to undo the button of his pants.

“And, I’m pretty sure there’s a law against removing your pants in public,” you say, holding up your hands.

“Well I’m not wearing these, sweetheart.”

“What? These are great, they’re the latest-”

“They’re shorts.”

“Yeah, it’s summer.”

“I don’t do shorts.”

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Advice for dealing with a creepy patron?

(God I submitted like two or three asks and a submission within the past two months I feel like I’m posting so much here I’m so sorry. D| ) This is gonna be long, and I apologize, but I’ve never dealt with this type of person or situation before and I’m entirely unsure of what to do. tl;dr at the bottom.

I work at a public library. There’s this woman who seems very well put together- dressed fairly well, straight posture, etc., but every single worker here has commented for me to be wary because there’s something “off” about her. I’ll call her M. And it took a while, but boy, did I start to notice it. So far, since I have started at the library, M has…

  • Asked workers and volunteers questions by getting so close you can feel her breath on your face.
  • Gotten angry with the circulation desk workers because we charge $3 for a replacement library card (your first one is free.) because she thought that they could write a new number on the back of her current one (numbers and barcodes are printed directly on the cards). She wanted them to write a new number because her crystals said it wasn’t a good number for her.
  • Sits in one of our armchairs and literally stares at us for at least an hour at a time.
  • Asked my coworker a question. Which was answered, no problem. M started walking to the front doors. Got to the doors. Stopped. Turned around and STORMED back to the reference desk, slammed both her hands on the counter as she leaned in really close, and demanded my coworker tell her exactly “how you got your hair like that!”
  • Tried to come behind the desk to look over our shoulders and see if we were using the right websites to find information for her.
  • We release the printed pages at the desk after people pay for them. They come out face down. M, at the time, had a cast on her arm. She kept looking at the cast and then at us, as if she wanted us to ask what happened. When no one took the bait, she decided to say that we better not look at her printed pages because they’re legal documents about her broken arm and it’s her personal business and she is not legally obligated to show them to anyone and we can be sued for reading them. :|
  • Among various other incidents that weren’t like, “you need to get out of the library” disruptive, but have caused workers to become very uncomfortable.
  • M also likes to try and trap librarians and volunteers into conversations when they are not on the clock.

Incidents that were specific to me include:

  • On Halloween, we are allowed to wear costumes, granted they aren’t skimpy/gory. I wore my unicorn kigurumi to work, and also brought my unicorn head mask in case my boss or our public relations committee wanted pictures for our website (I’m not really a picture person.). I was sitting at the reference/info desk with only the hood to my kigurumi up and we got the same kind of “walk past and then rush back” reaction my coworker got for her hair, only without the slamming of the desk. M asked me if she could take my picture. I said “no.” Had that been the end of it, whatever. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I got everything from “you’re so cute though” to “my sister in law likes unicorns and [insert semi-coherent rambling here].” Finally, my coworker flagged one of our security officers and he started heading over and M left.
  • When M had the cast on her arm, I was covering circulation one day. She asked if we had a bag, and I told her that we sell reusable canvas bags ($2). She asked if she could have one, I got the sheet out of the cash drawer to record the purchase, and she asked what I was doing. Then she said I was discriminating against her by charging her for a bag because “I have a broken arm and I shouldn’t be forced to pay.”
  • Some time ago, on a day I wasn’t scheduled to work, I took the bus into town to stop at the local art store and grab some sushi. Our bus terminal is a quite large building with storefront-styled windows all on the front and most of the way down the side. It is a straight shot from one street to the next. Normally, I cut through the bus terminal. However, when I neared the entrance, I saw M sitting inside and reading a book. She hadn’t seen me, but I still didn’t want to risk it, so I went around the building. Note, I’m wearing my giant-ass bright green headphones, and looking at my phone while replying to an email. As I get about half through the walkway to the next street, I catch M in the corner of my eye. Unsure of if she noticed me, I turned to go to the opposite side, and she actually speeds up and makes a beeline for me, catches up to me, taps me on the shoulder, and starts trying to talk to me as if I’d hear her over my music. Not really sure of what to do as the woman already makes me uneasy, I just point to my headphones and cell phone like I’m on a phone call and walk off quickly.
  • Today I had two incidents with her. I was assisting a student with her resources for a paper. She was having trouble finding non-reference books that she would be able to check out on the subject she needed, so I was discussing the online resources we offer with her. I’m a generally soft spoken person and she was right in front of me, so no problem. We’re quietly discussing them and I show her how to access them and then she leaves. Five minutes later, M comes over from her seat well across the main lobby, slams one of our database brochures and our bookmark that looks like the header of our website on the desks, and demands I tell her about the online resources “you told that girl about.” I’m just sitting here wondering how the hell she even HEARD me. There’s no way, unless she was either using a sound amplifier or she was hyperfocused on our conversation.
  • The second incident today was when I was on my dinner break. I left the library because my grandmother had asked me to see if there were any Peeps on clearance, being the day after Easter and all. I get out of work, get to the local Aite Rid, and grab a few packs for her. Right when I come out of the store- BAM, there’s M, sitting on the bench near the exit and staring in the direction of the store’s doors. Again, I’ve got my headphones on (don’t worry! I wear them around my neck in stores and only put them back on after I’m done buying my things!). She notices me and picks her things up like she’s going to get up to come talk to me, and I just go right in the other direction and cut through a department store to get right back to work. Fortunately, I think she’s gone for the day.

I’m really unsure of what to do. She hasn’t done anything outright ban-worthy in the library. I also don’t want to sound like I’m being an asshole in case she has a mental illness, but she genuinely makes me uncomfortable- especially since I’m unsure of what do do if she approaches me when I’m on the clock. I can’t really say what I wish I could (Which would be: “Please leave me alone, you’re making me uncomfortable.” or something…), and I don’t know if she’s the type to like, come in to the library and try to start something when I AM on the clock. Other workers in both the circulation and reference departments are also creeped out by her and we’re really not sure what to do because she hasn’t done anything that we really needed security for or anything.

Does anyone know how to handle something like this? She seems harmless and all, but you never really know. Anyone can lash out physically. I don’t think she’s targeting me specifically- as other workers have had similar “off the clock” complaints with her.



Patron at my library is massively creepy. Invades personal space WAY too far (we can literally feel her breathing on us if we’re not safely behind a desk), tries to get behind desks, tries to trap us into awkward conversations, approaches us in odd manners when we’re off the clock, has asked to take pictures of me, has also accused me of being discriminatory when I was going to charge her for the bags we sell as one of our ways of funding the library, and various other incidents. I’m unsure of what to do because she legitimately creeps me out and I’m not sure if she would be the type to lash out physically. 

I’m not sure if anyone here would have tips on how to deal with her, other than to stay within sight/earshot of a coworker or even a patron when she’s near. 

Sorry for this being long, but having two incidents with her in one day kind of freaked me out.


IMG_8335 by difficult listening

sugar baby thought

everyone and their mother knows that jeremy is spoiled rotten by 5 dudes and a gal. jeremy doesn’t often think of it as a sugar baby arrangement, but he can’t deny how nice it is to have other people spend money on him and not make him feel like a burden in the process

it comes to a point where jeremy is so spoiled that he’ll make them buy the most mundane things for him. like they could just be out and about at a strip mall and jeremy points to something in a storefront window and says ‘buy it for me?’

and whoever he’s with is just ‘??? you have your own money???’

and jeremy will add the ‘please?? (✿☯‿☯✿)’

and the Fake Of The Day is  ‘(=ಠ ل͟ ಠ=)…. FINE’

and jeremy is completely shameless about playing into the trope

1: bundled up

For my next trick, I will attempt to string a coherent story together from these fun December prompts! I’m a few days behind, but am hoping to catch up by the weekend so that I’ll be posting one a day.

The air was cold, but John walked home at an unhurried pace.

 The streets were busier than usual, bustling with last-minute shoppers and merrymakers. Storefronts and windows were strung with twinkling fairy lights, warm and inviting against the bracing chill.

 He did not wear gloves. The tips of his fingers had gone red, and then white, and he clenched his fists to keep them warm.

 The walk was doing little to clear his head.

 His phone buzzed in his pocket. He did not take it out to look at it.

 He was late, he knew. Not terribly so, not yet, but later than usual. He had not taken the tube. He’d bundled his thick winter coat close and had put his head down and walked. And walked. And walked.

John. Hi! This might seem out of the blue, Sarah’s voice on the phone, a ghost from the past. Her little self-conscious laugh that brought to mind the way she used to look down when she smiled, the way she used to tuck her hair behind her ear.

 It had startled him, badly, that voice. He had not spoken to Sarah in years. Had not thought of her in years. He had been a different person, back then, when he’d known her.

 Sarah, yeah, wow, hi, he’d said. He’d smiled, though he’d been alone in his office. He had mostly finished his paperwork. He’d been finishing his last sip of lukewarm tea and reaching for his coat when the phone had rung. It’s been—um. It’s been a long time.

 They’d exchanged brief, stilted pleasantries. She was married now, she told him. Had two small daughters. She was happy.

 We’ve actually—well, John, it’s why I’m calling, she’d said. Your name came up the other day and I’ve got—well. I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you.

 And he’d sat and he’d listened while she told him about the practice she and her husband had set up in Bristol, and how they’d discussed recruiting a third doctor, and how her thoughts had turned to her old friend John Watson, and she’d wondered how he was doing, if he’d ever consider leaving his insanely adventurous life in London behind in favour of something a bit quieter.

 He’d thought of his little room in Baker Street, cluttered up now with his and Rosie’s things. Thought of Sherlock in his dressing gown, who, just that very morning, had leapt from the kitchen table, seized his violin and engaged in forty-five minutes of the most frantic and unsettling medley of Christmas music John had ever heard.

 Quiet was not something that John had ever wanted. Not really.

 But, then again, he’d proven himself fairly shit at making decisions. And when had getting what he wanted ever brought him anything but trouble in the end?

 So he’d told her he’d think about it. And then he’d rung off and had sat at his desk, staring down at his left hand for a good long while. And then he’d gotten his coat, and he’d bundled up against the cold, and he’d gone outside and he’d walked.

 Baker Street was warm. The hallway smelled of fresh-baked cookies and peppermint. He hung his coat, went up the stairs into the flat.

 Sherlock was sat in his chair, a book in his hand, Rosie in his lap.

 John glanced at the title. “Teaching her about poisons?”

 "How to avoid them,“ Sherlock said. "Two days until Christmas. Do you have any idea how many poisonings occur at holiday parties?” He shut the book, looked up. Frowned at what he saw.

 Rosie reached for John and he took her, lifted her into his arms. She was warm and heavy where she settled against his chest.

 He thought about the little house he’d shared with Mary, with its tasteful color palette and orderly tidiness. Thought about the chaotic cosiness of Baker Street. He knew where he was happiest. The thought was not always comfortable.

 There was Rosie to consider. Rosie who would, eventually, need her own room. Her privacy. Who might benefit from a garden to play in, or sleep that was not periodically interrupted by explosions or masked intruders or a father who ran off to play hero. His lifestyle had already cost her a mother, after all.

 "I sent texts. We have a case,“ Sherlock said. His voice was tentative, questioning. Whatever he’d seen on John’s face had discomfited him. "Mrs Hudson said she’d be happy to take Watson for a few hours.”

 "Not tonight,“ John said, holding Rosie close, bouncing her a bit in his arms. He could not quite bring himself to meet Sherlock’s eyes. He turned away, climbed the stairs to his room.