Stick Person Novels & Stories

If she didn't hear from me soon, she was supposed to hurry to the engineering department. Suddenly, the guy stopped scrolling through his phone, and I realized that he was sucking on the lollipop. I watched as he took it out of his mouth and held it up, offering it to me. He glanced up at me, and I couldn't help but notice how golden his hair was. He wore his long hair tied back in a ponytail, and he sprouted a small goatee. His golden eyes were sharp and piercing, making me feel uneasy. He was wearing a basketball outfit, and I could see that he had an athletic build.

He is seen smiling. Heh, just watch you, Mas! Feel my revenge after this! ***

The ground was broken, and below were people made of thin lines—similar to sticks. "Stickmen." I raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t expect that I have any talents when it comes to this. As you can see, I'm well prepared.” I actually thought I would see something unique or what. I’m not belittling her but she was gravely painting earlier so I really thought she put such effort into her illustration. I just sighed after I facepalmed while Redo Fierro was holding back a laugh.

But how will I deal with all my problems ? Out of nowhere an idea pops into my mind. I suddenly pluck out one of the candles from the table. It won't be that bad. Let me see whether this can help me. I stretch my right arm and tilt the candle slowly. I wince and fist my palm as the candle wax falls on the warm skin of my arm, causing a stinging sensation in the area. Tears start to form in my eyes as memories of my high school life flash through my mind. People calling me stutter boy, nerd, worthless, stupid, disgusting. I hear it every day. And I know it's true. I'm worthless and disgusting.

Group hug it is. Finally !

"This is not the time." "It's actually a great time. We've got an audience." He gestured at the filling bleachers, where students were beginning to notice the exchange in the gradual way crowds noticed things, attention turning like a slow current toward a disturbance in still water. "Tell them about the time you made the entire squad redo the opening formation eleven times because someone's arm angle was off by what, two degrees?" Ava felt her face go very still.

Stowaway Chapter twenty-seven Aiden's point of view. I can't believe I've just had phone sex locked in a toilet in a busy airport. Damn this woman of mine has me acting like a hormonal teenager. I grin as I clean myself off. So fucking worth it though…… I fasten my pants ups before I run back through the airport, to where my team is waiting to board. Grit looks at me as he asks. "You feeling okay now." "Yeah, must have been something I ate."

He removed his now slick fingers from her nub, watching his glossy fingers. She exhaled, letting her shaky breathe out, thinking for a brief moment that it was finally over. Only that it wasn't. His hand came briskly back to land a hard slap on her already sensitive flesh. She immediately closed her thighs as a scream left her mouth, her head fell back to absorb the immeasurable pleasure pulsing across her body in the most painful way possible.

On the way back to the village, he had just been thinking of the freedom they were going to get, only for this to happen. “How dare you talk to me like that…” Dark Shura smiled menacingly. “You!” Sticks growled through gritted teeth. Aware that every single person in his village had been killed by this very man standing right in front of him, Sticks charged toward Dark Shura in immense rage. Bam! “Puny humans.” Dark Shura slammed his palm right at Sticks’ chest. The young man opened his eyes wide, took a few steps back, and collapsed into the snow. Dented with a slap mark, blood flowed out of Sticks’ orifices, turning the snow around him into a sea of red.

She was gone. Didn't want him anymore. Vincent charged it, ripped it down, smashed it to the floor. He punched his own smiling face, over and over. Even when the glass sliced deep and blood dripped, he didn't stop. Like breaking it could undo everything. Only when it was unrecognizable did he finally quit. He staggered toward the living room—then froze. Next to the trash, something caught his eye. He knelt, picked up a few torn scraps. And then he saw it—two words that knocked the air out of him: