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"What," Chuuya said, his voice gone dangerous, "is this?" He held up a skimpy nightie, red lace with black trim. Dazai was lying on the futon, head propped on his hand, reading, and he looked up to see Chuuya holding out the offending undergarment with both hands.
This didn't make any sense, Akutagawa thought, distracted, pushing Atsushi's face into the mattress at the same time he shifted his hips, muffling the resulting moan from the were-tiger effectively.

He hadn't been able to figure it out. Atsushi was hardly his first, but - anything else hardl(more)
A few hundred years ago, one in four birds in north america was a passenger pigeon. They were highly social, and nested in great flocks. They numbered in the hundreds of millions.

In reading about the passenger pigeon, stumbled across the concept of predator satiation. The operating principle(more)
Okay, maybe taunting Akutagawa while he was drinking hadn't been the smartest plan around - but it wasn't really taunting, was it, that was something Dazai-san did, this was really nothing more than a gentle ribbing. Yes. A joke between friends.
Lance sat tucked against his right side, draining his drink from a straw in the most irritating fashion. "I think I'm gonna call you stumpy," he said, poking the nub of Shiro's right arm.

Shiro had his eyes closed - he was supposed to be resting still, although(more)
"How is your husband?" Totsuka said when Gotou sat down at his desk, and Gotou's breath caught.

He'd been back for days now, /they'd/ been back, honeymoon over and life resuming around them in the least-fantastical way possible and it honestly hadn't seemed like anything changed. Gotou touched(more)
"So, I was wondering," Atsushi said brightly, "why do you wear a collar, Chuuya-san?"

Akutagawa took a sip of his tea, in no small part impressed by how bluntly the weretiger went straight in for the kill.

Chuuya, for his part, spluttered for only about ten seconds(more)
Atsushi registered the soft brush of fingertips through his matted bangs, although it took a few moments for the rest of his brain to come back online. He was hurt - /everything/ hurt, to be fair - but the thing that his poor, overclocked sensory system kept coming back(more)
Why don't I write any more?

Not enough time? Not enough "inspiration"? It all sounds ridiculous, all of the lame excuses. I used to draw from the people and events around me, and that meant I was living a "literary  life", I told myself. Am I living a lif(more)
"So were you ever going to tell me about this place?" James asked, running his fingers through the dust that had settled on the long counter. "Or were we just going to keep living out of my truck?"

"I didn't know if you'd be comfortable in a Marmora(more)
Atsushi honestly thought he'd gotten off scot-free. He'd made it back to the dorms with just enough time to shower and change his clothes and walked through the door to the office with even a few minutes to spare.

There was only a moment's consideration by Ranpo-san, sitting(more)
Chuuya woke when the breeze shifted the curtains, casting a thin stripe of daylight over the bed. He had been hovering at the brink of wakefulness longer than he'd care to admit, but his cell phone had yet to vibrate and there had been no insistent buzz from any(more)
No one told me when Nando died. Who would have thought to?

"EL GRANDE. DESCANSA EN PAZ," read a caption under the tribute photo I nearly scrolled past. He was onstage when the photo was taken, blacklit by a blue glow. The tragedy in his face wasn't the(more)
He's been off his balance already, spun half around when Akutagawa came flying at him. Atsushi didn't have time to do anything other than react and react he did, using his entire body to slow Akutagawa's momentum, claws dug in and leaving scars in the concrete.
The first time was less of an accident than they made it out to be. There was a level of denial that Atsushi refused to scrape away, to expose the fact that he was just as fumbling and eager to get off, that it had also been his hand(more)