sticksandbones | The Equivalent of a Stick Bones Wrong Number Fiasco

The Equivalent of a Stick Bones Wrong Number Fiasco

[Some time in the early evening hours, those close to their netbooks might notice some writing appearing in their netbooks. The penmanship is elegant, if a bit rushed. As for the words themselves, well.]

[it certainly seems a little suggestive?]

Something coiled beneath P's skin — something beyond the heat of the baths. As the chorus of their his heavy breath entwined with M's, he could not help but feel like he was a live wire, on the verge of unleashing something that he could not name.

His lips part, then slam shut before they can form around the other man's name. He will not grant M the satisfaction, not like this.

[Hopefully someone deigns to write something in the margins before things get too out of hand?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Oh oh oh oh Ain loves this part of the day—

He scrawls in the margins with an arrow pointing to the paragraphs:]

Could you possibly describe more about the position they're in? Also could you add P clawing up M's back? I think that would be delicious~

[Part of the way down the page, a sudden blot of ink appears, as if a quill had been pressed too hard against the page. Abruptly, that line shoots upward in an attempt to cross the words out.]

NO NO NO NO NO WAIT I'M READING THAT

Please do not! It was private! I was writing in the wrong notebook.

Please do not tell anyone what you read!

Okayyy I won't tell anyone :O

Are you a published author and do you regularly write gay novels because I would buy them :OOO

I...
Have spent some time working on a number of novels, yes, but they remain unpublished.

Not that any of my other work is like... that. I was working on a horror novel before I arrived here...

I like horror too ^^ People are so creative :O I can't really write creatively. Or technically.

Do you like movies :O Or TV shows? Humans turn books into these but they usually aren't as good, but if you like romance I have a GREAT show we should watch on Mr. Jellyfish's TV ^^

[Well, now that she's distracted from the horrors...]

Really? You seem as if you have a lot of character in your regular communications! I bet with practice, you could create some very vivid stories. You should give yourself time.

Um... I enjoy plays. Does that help? Sometimes sweeping epics are adapted into those. I do have to ask, though: Who is Mr. Jellyfish?

M can't help but smirk at P's reaction — he was always so easy to read, at least to M after so many years of heated rivalry between the two. He could tell that P was holding back, and what was that if not a challenge? Oh how the two loved to challenge each other, and he always aimed to be the one on top in the end.

He would *make* P say his name.

[Nope, nope, nope, she can't do it. Castorice gives up on crossing out the lines and instead spills her ink across the page. Then, she flips to a new page as if nothing happened.]

Oh, did someone say something? I fear something terrible happened to the books and I can no longer read.

[Unbeknownst to her, it only adds a pleasant little grey shadow for everyone else. Cyrene's words remain in full view.]

Aww, is my writing really that bad? I was auditioning to be your co-author~ ♡

No, your prose is gorgeous! I truly aspire to write like you but -

... Um.

Actually.

Did you really want to...?

It would be soooo fun to write a story with you, Castorice!!

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

（；´д｀）ゞ

[And to all of the netbook, Castorice leaves it at that. However, a short while later, a note slips under Cyrene's door.]

Through all the years, P liked to think he had developed a certain sense for M's demeanor. It comes as no surprise to him, the way he picks up a new edge in his form. He seems to shake with the unspoken challenge, a desire to be the one victorious in this challenge.

Well, P was not going to have it end that way. Not this time, at least.

His hand lifts, demanding hotter water to be poured. His skin might scald, and his lungs might be thick with steam, but he would not be the one to break today.

? ? ?

[Castorice's writing loses its elegant edge, becoming far more harried and shaky, as if written with a trembling hand.]

Please! Ignore it!

There is nothing here, see!

I am so sorry!

[You truly have never seen a more confused man.]

of course. I see nothing

[Thank god she can't actually see him, she would explode. Thankfully, she's never leaving her room again ever!]

Ah, good! That's good.
Thank you!
Or. Sorry? Again?