#anti air fresheners

[redreadretale]

If the ingredients aren’t listed…….. what aren’t they telling you?

Check ingredients on your products on the EWG list.

(Environmental Working Group)

Even if its fragranced things you don’t spray in the air, its putting VOCs (Volatile Organic compounds).

Fresh Air is feasible.

Air is life.

Breathing is not overrated!

[mokshalifestyleinternational]

GERANIUM HYDROSOL

Geranium hydrosol provides all of the advantages of essential oils without intense intensity. Geranium Hydrosol has a calming and pleasant perfume that is reminiscent of roses. It is utilized in a variety of goods, including diffusers, air fresheners, and other fragrances. It has the ability to boost mood and promote hormonal balance. It is used in skin care products due to its anti-aging and cleaning properties. It is used to enhance the nourishing and fragrant properties of bathing goods such as soaps, body washes, cleansers, and others. It also has several hair advantages, such as hydrating the scalp and encouraging hair growth. Geranium hydrosol contains antibacterial and antimicrobial characteristics that aid in skin protection and infection prevention.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny held up a large sign from the background like a man at an airport as thier leader, Robin, gave his report to this "Justice League". The first sign said, "Help! I'm surrounded by daddy issues!" Earning a laugh from someone off camera. He then pulled the next card out from behind the first one.

"Can you send air fresheners? It smells like teen angst in here"

This one got a cackle from someone on the Justice League side of things. Score. No one here really wants to laugh. They're all edgelords and Danny is suffering. He didn't really want to be here, but things in Amity had ended in a way he never expected.

Both he and his parents had been arrested.

Not by his worlds government, mind you, but by the government of another Earth. This Earth that he was currently on to be more accurate. Who knew that so much of the stuff he and his parents had been doing was super illegal and wouldn't ya know it? He was in the middle of doing something really sketchy looking in his parents lab when the feds busted in.

Thankfully, the Justice League presented him with a deal: they take him out of Juvie and the reformation program he was in, and in return, he joins a team of former teen/child villains and anti-heros.

Figuring he had nothing to lose at this point he agreed.

He was not expecting to be surrounded by angry angsty teens. His fault really. He should have known better. Thankfully it seems like nobody knows about Phantom and he'd like to keep it that way.

Psaro was his calm in the storm. The other boy was proud and almost as arrogant as Robin, but he had been proven to be very kind and reliable. If Danny ever needed advice or if Robin was getting a bit too much, he could just knock of Psaros door.

The last time Robin had a fit and was starting a fight with someone, Mr. Pointy ears stepped up and told Robin that his outburst was undignified, especially for someone of a higher class like Robin seems to be presenting himself as. He also said something about there being a big difference between a king and a tyrant, but Danny had been trying to rush Robin's victim to the medway and didn't hear all of the convo.

Psaro was some kind of half demon prince who was also from another world. He didn't have a superhero name yet, but the program was brand new, and to be fair, Danny didn't officially have one either.

Some lady called Raven was supposed to be coming in to help Psaro and convince him to embrace his human half and help him with magic and...something about a curse? What did Danny get himself into???

[enigmatech1]

[firefly--bright]

ur so pretty.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; jean liked to drive alone, to sit in his thoughts for a while. it's getting harder to think when he can't stop himself from thinking about you, though.

warnings ; jean is canonically left handed (yes this is a warning)

taglist ; @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @berrijam , @jeanscremebrulee , @kivernova , @imgayandshesanime , @potaho3frog , @katestrophes , @cherrypieyourface , @xakilicious , @moonmalice shoot me and ask or fill the linked form to join!

�� masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ requests are open! ✿

middle tile art creds - @nahoiya on instagram!

✿

jean liked to drive alone.

even before he got his driver's license, he'd made a plan of being the designated driver, researching different car models and gushing over the sleek designs, shiny coloured metal, and all of the features they had to offer. of course, he'd never actually buy the more expensive ones no matter how attached he was to them when he was a young teenager.

no, instead he drove comfortably in his mother's sedan that had gone through too much. there was a particularly harsh dent on the passenger side - the paint slightly chipped from when some asshole tried to park dangerously close to his car.

regardless, his first addition to the car was now long weathered under the uncontrollable temperatures - a bumper sticker he had bought when he first got his learners license, reading "LEFT-HANDERS HAVE RIGHTS TOO!"

not his wisest decision. Connie never let him live it down. speaking of, his friend also gave him a car hanger he had made himself, consisting of a lego version of jean that was messily glued onto a hoodie string. marco commemorated jean getting a drivers license by getting him a keychain of a mini lucky 8 ball, and Sasha had presented him with what he was sure was a lifetime supply of the little tree air fresheners.

despite all the years jean had put that poor car through, it drove as good as new - something you always praised him for.

getting into the driver's seat, he strapped on his seatbelt, turning the keys. the car started with a tremble, and jean threw his bag on the backseat before taking off to marco and his shared apartment just a little ways off-campus, providing for a nice, quiet ride that jean preferred after a long day. he liked to think about the day, mentally note everything down before having to open the door to his house again.

he bopped his head to the tune of the song you had introduced to him, thinking about how you had called him in the middle of the day after your classes had ended, in disbelief of how incompetent your classmates were.

"i mean, I'm not doing all the work, and I'm not going to take credit for it either, but I'm just annoyed that no-one even tried to participate. we're all doing this for a grade, at least act like you deserve one!" you rambled, and jean could hear you speed-walking through campus, your voice being carried away by the wind. he could hear each huff you took, and tried not to smile to himself as he sat back in the library, getting comfortable.

he hummed. "who are these people?"

you breathed out an annoyed laugh, "I'm sure you know them. this guy named Floch and this girl named Virginia?"

jean cringed, "I hate people that name their kids after states. be more creative-"

"exactly!" you said, and jean swore he saw the way you were smiling, a mental picture of your eyes bright and the apples of your cheeks pressed up against the corner of your eyes, smiling widely.

jean stopped at the red light, the song playing through his car, and he tried not to think about how you had come to him one night, almost in tears about it, claiming you put too much baking powder in your cinnamon rolls to the point where they had a "weird pineappley bite-back kinda taste," in your words, which he surprisingly understood. and then, how when it was just the two of you later that night, you admitted how much you missed cooking for Sasha after she had moved, and jean took you in his arms.

"wanna shit-talk about niccolo?" he had asked with a grin, resting his cheek on your head with one arm around your shoulders. he could feel them move as you laughed.

"no, I'm good. I'm glad he gets her," you said.

he paused to let you complete your thought, but your voice never presented itself. "but?" he pushed, knowing there was an answer.

he tried not to think about how well he knew you altogether, as he accelerated, his hands on the steering wheel. but he couldn't help himself and his mind seemed to like how hot his cheeks grew when he thought back on it.

"but...I don't know, I guess...I feel kind of lonely? i mean, I love sash-"

"mhm"

"and I'm very happy for her-"

"of course."

"i just, feel like the place is too empty and I'm just reminded that I'm alone."

he pauses again. "you're not alone, though." you lift your head from his shoulder, resting it on the back of the couch, your eyes looking at his and he feels himself shudder under the warmth of it all. youre looking for an answer in him and he gives it to you without even having to think about it, and he tries not to think about how he'd give you all the answers to all the questions there are to ask if you were the one to ask them. he tries not to think about how you wouldnt ask him, though, because he knows you too well to know that you wouldn't ask much of him other than that he should be himself.

"you're...well, you have me. can't get rid of that."

you laugh, settling back into his arm, and jean tried not to think about how your hair smells like vanilla. "i don't want to get rid of you," you admit, shrugging, like it's an easy thing for you to say.

no matter how hard jean tries not to think about it, he can't stop. he can't stop thinking about you and how his ears went red over when you gave him coffee from your own mug and he thinks about how even then, he had tried not to think. not to think that you had drank the same coffee from the same cup and your lipstick stained the rim of it and how his own lips grazed it as well and then, before he could stop himself, he thinks about kissing you.

another red light and another shift in the music, playing the soft tunes that he now knew by heart. he shifted in his seat, trying to get more comfortable, and his thoughts went back to you.

he tried getting them not to, though. he tried thinking about how he'd have to call his mother tonight because he hadn't done so since the night before, and then he though about how marco had told him that groceries needed to be bought, and then he thought about how you had said you liked those off-brand marshmallows and he had made fun of you for liking them.

but you defended them with your life and he ultimately gave in, buying you a pack, and tried not to think about how you got excited over it.

dammit. he turned the familiar left, switching his indications on and off, checking his rearview. he cleared his throat when he tried not to think about how you had used the mirror to apply some lipstick on your lips before heading into the party Reiner was throwing for his birthday. he tried not to think about the domesticity of it all - marco, Connie and sasha had already piled out and you wanted to help jean park into a tough spot. after parking, however, you climbed back into your seat and fixed your hair in the mirror as jean turned his keys to the side, removing his seatbelt and grabbing his phone from the dashboard fully prepared to get out the moment you were done.

he looked at you. he tried not to, but he couldn't help it - the tip of your ring fingers wiped off the excess lipstick from the corner of your lips, and then you leaned back, making no attempts to move.

jean had cleared his throat, trying to get your attention.

"y'know," you started, still seated comfortably in your seat that he was sure you had claimed since the beginning of college, "when I was small, I would always get motion sick in the car on roadtrips. it was uncomfortable, and most of the times I had to sit and try not to complain to much about my mom's driving," you said, breathing out a laugh.

jean blinked, confused. "do- do you feel sick right now? i have a bag, i think, you can th-"

"no, no, I'm fine. I'm okay. i was trying to say that you make me feel comfortable. comfortable enough to complain and take my time, ask for help if I ever need any." you say. he tried not to think about the way your words shape him, about how if he could give anyone the power to build himself back up again should he melt under your gaze - it would be you.

and then you got out of the car before jean could open the door for you, and he was left in his seat, with a storm in his heart as you opened the door for him, nodding your head for him to get out with a smile.

and jean tried not think about how his hands are shaking slightly as he pulls into a familiar street lined with familiar apartment buildings and neon orange street lights as he stops infront of an all the more familiar gate. he stops only for a minute before his hand is reaching for his phone and he doesn't think - this he can do because his mind shuts off when he hears your voice, your smile, your-

"hey, jean."

the way your say his name makes his shoulders relax. "hey. I'm downstairs."

it's familiar. all of it - the way you smile and open your curtains a little to take a peak of his car, turning around and saying "I'll be there," into the phone before keeping it, how jean's heartbeat lulls to a softer version of itself, relaxing completely as he waits for your company to climb down the stairs. the only thing he can think about is you.

maybe this is what his mother meant when she told him stories about love, about how when she met his now step-father, she never felt like she had to keep an act up. about when sasha told him how niccolo made her feel like she could act without permission, without limits as herself. and then he thinks about himself, and how thats all he's ever felt with you, because thinking about you comes so naturally to him and being around you makes him feel more familiar to himself than he's ever felt before.

and before he can stop himself - not that he'd want to - he thinks, hes in love with you.

three familiar knocks find their way to his ears and he looks at where you're bending down to meet the window of the passenger seat. if he wasn't so busy thinking about you, he'd have opened the door for you, but your smile is so blinding that all he can do is open the door from the inside with a smile of his own.

it's too familiar, he thinks, as you slide into your designated seat again, strapping yourself in and turning your head to him.

and he doesn't stop himself when he says, "I love you." out loud into the silence of his familiar car.

your smile turns softer and jean notices everything about you, really, but in this moment notes how your shoulders also relax, how you breathe out softly and rest your head on the seat.

"i love you too."

[shuadotcom]

Take Me Higher | CHS (M)

🍃Summary: Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

🍃Pairing: Stoner!Vernon x Stoner!Afab Reader

🍃Genres & AUs: Smut, a dash of fluff, friends to lovers au, pwp

🍃Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🍃Content/Warnings: Marijuana usage, mention of alcohol, profanity, protective sex, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, bathroom sex, sex while high (they’re both faded but they like each other and are consenting), multiple orgasms, dry-humping, allusion to big dick!vernon, reader has boobs and a vagina but no gendered terms are used for y/n

🍃Words: 6.1k

🍃Note: As a cannabis connoisseur myself, I love stoner!vernon fics and will read any and every single one so it was only a matter of time before I wrote my own. Truly it was a mighty need - especially blue hoodie Vernon because that's my favorite shoot of his. This is based off of a slightly true story of my first adult party years ago. Y/n has a much better partner and time than I did though 😂

I also listened to Rihanna's Anti album (aka the last album she'll give us 😭) a lot when writing this for whatever reason.

Thank you bestie @the-boy-meets-evil for being my beta!🫶🏽

Tagging the lovely @kthpurplesyou 😘

🍃Net Tag: @kflixnet

Tonight was turning out to be different than you ever thought it’d be. It’s your first-ever real party and it was turning out to be much less notable than you’d have imagined. Growing up, you had been a typical wallflower with a tiny group of friends that were as introverted as you, so you never knew people who threw parties, and you sure as hell weren’t “important enough” to get invited to them. Nothing much had changed from middle school and even through college.

It’s not until you’re well into your young adulthood that you receive your first party invitation. It comes from your oldest friend, Joshua, whom you recently reconnected with. You had practically grown up with him and when he and his family moved away, your communication eventually lessened with life and timezones in the way. It isn’t until you just so happen to move near him after college that you start hanging out again. He sends you an Instagram message after happening to see a location close to him that you tagged in a post.

You and Joshua easily pick your long-dormant friendship back up, getting along as perfectly as you had years ago. Your closeness and trust are quickly restored in him the more time you spend together. It’s why when he invites you to a party a friend of his is throwing, you jump at the chance.

Having never been to a party, you only had the tv shows and movies you watched to go off of as to what the atmosphere would be like. You imagine loud, deafening music, drunk people spread all over the poorly lit house, the air reeking of alcohol, and too many people.

In reality, the lights are on around the house as expected and the music that plays over a speaker in the living room is loud enough to get lost in while dancing but not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation. Instead of smelling like nothing but alcohol, the air only smelt of pizza and an artificial air freshener, with a hint of beer.

There are only a few handfuls of people milling about, most of whom Joshua and Jeonghan - his other close friend who came with the two of you - had long since introduced you to. 

One of whom you’ve spent the most time with when you hang out with Joshua and his friends and are the most familiar with. You have a ton in common and always feel comfortable around him. 

He also happens to be the friend that you have an embarrassingly huge crush on. 

“Hey, Vernon!” Joshua calls his name as the three of you file down the basement stairs where it looks like most of the guests are. 

Vernon turns from his conversation to find you three and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his smile widened when he made eye contact with you. 

He says something to the guy he’s talking to before approaching you all.

“Hey, Josh, Jeonghan. Hi, Y/n. Thanks for coming.” 

“Obviously we’d show up! I don’t think anyone has thrown a party just for fun in months. And I knew you wouldn’t mind if I brought Y/n. It’s baby’s first party!” Joshua throws his arm around your shoulders, bringing you forward from your spot nearly hiding behind him. You’re not too flustered that you can’t pinch him in the side for exposing you so willingly.

“Of course, I don’t mind!” Vernon rushes out, maybe even a little too loud. He clears his throat, breathing out an awkward laugh. “Anyway yeah, Seungkwan and Chan were feeling particularly social this weekend so I didn’t have much of a say but it’s cool.” Vernon scans the room, pointing out his two roommates across the room as he says their names. “Tonight won’t be anything crazy so don’t worry.” He says the last part to you, a sweet smile on his pretty lips.

As if they could tell they were being talked about, Seungkwan and Chan spot the group of you and are over in an instant, thanking you for coming and guiding you over to where all the snacks and drinks are while Vernon trails behind.

Truth be told, the whole party feels as if it’s a normal hang-out session with everyone. Sure some people get a little more drunk than usual and there’s more dancing and obnoxious singing than there typically is on any other Saturday night, but overall it’s nothing like the parties in movies. No one is swinging from the ceiling naked and drunk off their asses (unless you count Soonyoung shirtless and screaming at the top of his lungs to the karaoke song he’s doing, but no one is too concerned).

You’re even more grateful that you decided on jeans and a nicer shirt after agonizing over what to wear for days. Everyone was in the most normal clothes which took a lot of the pressure you had initially felt off of you. This includes Vernon, who was in jeans and an oversized, cozy-looking hoodie in the prettiest shade of baby blue. You could barely keep your eyes off of him, not that you really tried. He didn’t make it any easier, seeing how he hasn’t moved from your general vicinity all night. 

Whether it was near the snack table, upstairs for a little while, or standing near Joshua and Jeonghan as they played beer pong, Vernon hasn’t been far, mostly talking to the two men or any other people around you, occasionally trying to bring you into the conversation. You’ve been doing your best to contribute, but your nerves about not knowing what to do with yourself, paired with the butterflies in your stomach that erupt whenever Vernon so much as looks at you, have you feeling a little out of your element.

At some point in the night, Jeonghan wanders off and Vernon disappears for a bit. You and Joshua are standing near the drinks, trying a few different shots and you hate them all. You nearly forgot how much you dislike the taste of most alcohol.

“So when are you going to tell Vernon you’re into him?” Joshua’s question is abrupt and he knows it. It’s why he snickers, watching your face contort as you choke on the shot of Patron you just knocked back, which you instantly regret. 

“When am I going to what?!”

Joshua shrugs, taking a shot himself, his eyebrows only knitting a little. 

“You heard me. And don’t act so surprised. Watching the two of you steal glances at each other all night and then act all shy as if you weren’t doing that was cute for the first five minutes, but enough is enough!” Joshua reaches for another shot, but you smack his hand, demanding why he thinks you like his friend. You haven’t told a soul about your crush on Vernon.

He’s about to say something else, but then Vernon shows up and your attention locks onto him.

“Hey guys, I’m heading outside if you want to come.” His eyes linger on yours and you momentarily forget how to speak so Joshua answers for you, letting him know that you’ll both be joining him.

It’s late and you’re not sure what time it is, but the sky is full of tiny stars, providing faint light to the group of people sitting outside. The small circle of people is sitting on lawn chairs surrounding a brightly shining lantern and a bong as they take turns passing it around. The three of you take the spots still open with you between Joshua and Vernon. 

You didn’t forget what Joshua said inside, but put your interrogation on the back burner.

You’ve smoked weed before, in fact, you do so multiple days of the week. It’d been your chosen way to destress with friends before you moved and even more so now as you quickly learned that Vernon was the stoner friend in this group. If everyone was going to be hanging out and Vernon was there, there’d inevitably be edibles or a joint passed around. In your mind, you were practically perfect for each other.

The other partygoers greet you, and Vernon immediately takes the bong from the person next to him. Joshua falls into conversation with Wonwoo on his other side which gives you time to study Vernon.

He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, his forearms on full display. His movements are effortless as he leans forward to grab a pinch of weed from the grinder tin on the small table in front of you. His fingers, always looking so long, nimbly pack the bowl of the bong. He uses his middle finger to gently press it down as his eyebrows knit in concentration and his lips purse just a tiny bit. 

Your eyes never leave him as he places his lips into the mouthpiece and uses his free hand to grab a lighter on the table. Vernon lights the bowl with skilled fingers, inhaling gently but confidently, then removes it. His eyelids flutter closed, as he inhales steadily, the smoke in the bong swirling as it fills his lungs. 

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls the bong away, holding the smoke in his chest for a few seconds before his red lips part, the smoke seeping out of his mouth in rings and drifting up to the dark sky. A dopey smile plays on his lips as his eyes open again, meeting yours. 

The entire act has you clenching as you watch him work, so in his element and looking absolutely breathtaking while doing so. But the look he’s giving you now has an undeniable effect on you and the want you so often feel for him.

Vernon tips the bong lightly in your direction, asking if you want a hit and you accept it. Instead of handing it to you, he holds the mouthpiece out to you, keeping it in his grasp as you lean forward and place your mouth on it. Vernon lights the bowl for you, holding eye contact as you start to let the smoke billow into your mouth, your chest already feeling warm as it fills you. He waits until your eyes close to remove the bowl, and you inhale sharply, your head already feeling lighter.

The bong is pulled away and you tip your head back, the smoke swirling inside of you before your lungs begin to burn and you open your mouth, releasing the smoke. You watch it float up and dissipate and don’t notice Vernon’s gaze still glued to you.

When you meet his eyes, neither of you moves, almost waiting to see what the other will say or do.

Joshua is the one to interrupt the moment, yelling at the two of you for not sharing. Vernon leans over you to pass the bong to Joshua’s waiting hands and he’s the closest to you he has been all evening. The smell of his sweet shampoo hits you first before the woodsy scent of his cologne follows, topped off with the faint smell of weed. It takes everything in you not to kiss him, but you hold it together until he sits back in his chair. He slouches into the uncomfortable fold-out chair, his legs spread wide in his worn jeans, practically begging you to crawl into his lap. Again, you don’t, but dear god how you want to.

Time ticks by as your small group stays outside, passing the bong around the circle every few minutes. You’ve quickly lost the conversation being held by the whole group since you and Vernon spend most of your time talking amongst yourselves. You don’t discuss anything in particular, just movies you’ve seen lately, new restaurants you’ve tried, and some of your favorite new musical releases. Conversation with Vernon always flows so naturally and easily. The two of you rarely broach awkward topics which is a miracle in itself.

At one point, the conversation shifts to you and your lack of experience in the party department.

“So, you’ve never been to any party ever? Like not even a birthday party?”

“Do birthday parties at laser tag places count when I was like ten?” Both of you giggle at that, feeling so much more at ease than you did earlier.

“I don’t think so. I mean like, in high school, you never even went to like a small house party?”

You shake your head as you sip on the soda you had dragged yourself back into the house to get earlier. “Nah. I wasn’t really popular in high school and my friends and I were all too nerdy to throw parties. We had anime-watch nights, but that’s about it.” Waving your hands dismissively you chuckle, but Vernon just shakes his head.

“I can’t believe that.”

“What, that I’m a massive nerd? I wouldn’t think that’d be a surprise since Joshua and I literally got into an argument about Full Metal Alchemist last weekend at Seungcheol’s.” A snort leaves Vernon when he laughs and you can’t help but notice how endearing it is.

“No, we already know you and Shua are weebs!” He keeps laughing even when you lightly push him at his teasing. “What I mean is, I can’t believe that you weren’t popular. I mean, look at you!” He gestures wildly to you, his eyes sweeping over you from head to toe.

“Oh, come on.”

“No, for real! You’re so damn funny and so fun to be around. You’re super sweet and kind and you’re always taking care of us. Plus you’re the hottest person I’ve ever met so like, how the fuck weren’t people all over you? You’re basically fucking perfect!” His words make you feel fuzzy all over, and you know it’s not just the weed.

“Thank you, Vernon,” you whisper, averting your attention to your drink. Hearing Vernon call you hot and “fucking perfect” makes you squeeze your thighs together. Something about him complimenting you so blatantly has you weak in the knees. With your earlier stress gone and feeling a little more carefree, you decide it’s now or never. “I think all of that about you too,” you mumble under your breath.

At first, you’re not sure if he hears you so you dart your eyes over to him. Vernon is staring at you, blinking slowly and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Oh wow,” he finally breathes out. “Really?”

Oh. He did hear you.

“Yeah.” You admit. It’s already out there so you may as well just stand by it.

Vernon’s brain looks as though it’s working overtime as he stares at you blankly. Your stomach does the most violent of flips as you wait for what comes next, unsure of what you should say. 

Thankfully, Joshua barges into the conversation, disrupting the tension that hung between you and Vernon.

“Hey, Y/n, I’m tired. I’m gonna find Jeonghan and head home. You wanna share an Uber? Jeonghan’ll probably crash at my place and you can too. Or we’ll put your address in as a stop.”

“Uh…” Do you want to leave now? You just kind-of, sort-of, maybe confessed your feelings to Vernon. But, he also kind-of, sort-of maybe did the same. 

If you leave now, will he pretend none of this happened the next time you see him again? Will he blame the weed for his words that he possibly didn’t mean? Does he want you to stay and decide what to do next together?

“Y/n mentioned staying behind for a while longer. Right?” Vernon decides for you, tilting his head and looking back at you, unmoving as he waits for you to verify.

“Oh, yeah I’m gonna stay a little longer.”

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, scanning your face for something that may contradict your words. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good here with Vernon.” Joshua seems to inspect you both, the seconds dragging on before he finally decides that he accepts what you’re saying.

“Okay, but I better get a text from you later when you’re going home and when you get there. Got it?”

“Promise!” 

Joshua throws another look at Vernon. “Everybody better stay safe.” There’s something else behind Joshua’s demand and you’re not sure how exactly to take it.

You and Vernon watch him go before the earlier silence you shared is back. It hangs in the air for what feels to you like an eternity but is more likely only a few seconds.

“You wanna, uh, go upstairs?”

“Yes!” Vernon stumbles over his words when he asks you, but you don’t when you answer him. He’s barely able to get the last word out before you’re accepting his offer. You don’t care where he wants to take you because you’ll go wherever with him.

Vernon slowly stands, reaching for your hand which you give him without a second thought. He leads you back inside the house, upstairs, and to one of the bathrooms in the hall.

“Um, my room’s not clean. I didn’t really expect anyone would be in my room besides me so…” Vernon confesses rather sheepishly when the door is shut behind you. “But, Seungkwan made us clean all the common areas so I promise this room is clean.” A nervous chuckle leaves him, averting his eyes from you.

“That’s okay,” you admit. And it is. Your romantic feelings for Vernon aside (and yes it is a lot of feelings), you want him so badly. You yearn to kiss him, touch him, and let him fuck you, no matter where it happens. Knowing that maybe your feelings aren’t unrequited only makes you want him even more. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Vernon smiles at you, his mouth taking the shape of a heart that has your actual heart beating wildly. He approaches you almost cautiously, pressing you against the bathroom door.

“Are you sure you want this?” His question is a whisper as he’s practically nose to nose with you.

“Of course.”

“We can stop whenever you want to. If you get uncomfortable or change your mind about me or anything like that just say the word.”

“Vernon, I want to be here, I promise. Now kiss me, please.” 

And kiss you he does. Vernon dips his head to close the gap between you. His lips are a little chapped as they move against yours, but you don’t mind at all. Your hands ball themselves in the front of his hoodie while he cups your face and kisses you hard. His tongue prods at your lips and you open immediately, moaning as the muscle slips inside your mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, suckling at it and pulling another desperate sound from you. The urgency behind his movements is evident, as his hips meet yours, his body flush against you. 

It’s shallow at first and barely noticeable but when you do feel it - Vernon grinding against you - you instantly react, meeting his small thrusts.

When his clothed erection, already hard and straining through his jeans, presses against your pelvis, he makes a deep, pleased hum in his throat. Even through his clothes, you can feel just how big Vernon is. More wetness pools between your legs, already making your underwear feel uncomfortable and sticky. 

Vernon continues to hump against you, his kisses becoming more frantic and his hands have long since started wandering on you. His big hands cradle your hips, sliding down the tops of your thighs, then around you to grab a handful of your ass. He yanks you into him, his hips continuing to rut against you.

The sheer act of Vernon dry-humping you like a man truly crazy with lust only makes you want him more. You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of Vernon’s hard-on nudging so close to where you need him the most. He has to pull away from your mouth finally, gasping for air, but his hips don’t falter. 

“Vernon…please, I need more.”

“M-more?” 

“More. Need more.” Your words come out as more of a whine when he squeezes your ass again.

“More of me?”

“Please!”

“Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

He looks genuinely forlorn at the thought of stopping his movements, but he does, lightly panting from his exertion.

Your hands leave the crumpled fabric of his hoodie and snake down to his waist, slipping your hands under the hem. Vernon lets you undress him and then he does the same to you, pulling off piece by piece, tossing each article away without so much as a second thought and drinking in the sight of one another as you go. 

Vernon is back on you once you’re both naked, shoving your bodies together as he kisses you again. He cups your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles over your pert nipples. You moan into Vernon’s mouth, letting him work your sensitive buds, the sensation making you rub your thighs together. When your knee brushes Vernon’s hard cock, he nearly chokes. His hands knead at your plush skin as his lips trace their way from your lips to your neck.

Vernon’s teeth nip at your skin and your hands float up to grab at his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, keeping him at your most sensitive spot. Your knees nearly buckle when he starts to suck harshly and his hands continue their work on your tits.

Before you know what’s next, one of Vernon’s hands is inching down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. With a step out to the side, you spread your thighs to give him access. A single, long digit swipes at your already sopping folds. 

He eases his finger into your hole, your warmth greedily sucking him. Vernon begins pumping his finger in and out of you as he continues marking your neck, mumbling about how warm you are and how wet you feel. Your mind starts to turn to mush, your hands scrambling to grasp onto any part of Vernon you can. It happens to be his biceps - those of which are surprisingly firm. You’ve never seen him go to the gym or talk about working out, but clearly he’s doing something. The muscles ripple as he pistons his finger in and out, soon adding a second which slides in with no resistance.

His hot, rock-hard length brushes against your thigh and you reach down with the hand not clutching his arm for dear life, and wrap your fingers around his cock.

Vernon jumps, hissing through his teeth as you slowly jerk him off. Your thumb rubs over his tip, the precum oozing out and helping your hand glide over him.

His lips find yours again, the kiss bruising and messy as he finger fucks you faster and the squelching sounds you make around him echo off of the tile. His fingers scissor in you, working you open for him and when he grazes that soft, spongy spot inside of you, your legs nearly give out. 

He manages to keep you upright with his other arm locked around your waist. “You okay?” His voice is gruff, much deeper than it was earlier and you can feel more wetness seep out and around his fingers. 

“I’m s-so close, Vern, fuck.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

The sentence is so simple but it has you clenching around his digits so hard that you hold your breath.

“Mmhmm!” you can’t manage words, only sounds, but he doesn’t ask again, instead quickening his pace. Doing your best to match his speed, you twist your wrist, letting Vernon cant his hips forward and fuck into your hand. You whimper into each other’s mouths, the only focus is each other. The only thing either of you see and think about is the other.

Vernon eventually breaks the kiss and bends down to draw one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the bud before sucking on it hard enough to hurt in the best way. The twinge of pain shoots straight to your belly, the tension finally snapping.

When you cum, you throw your head back, hitting the bathroom door with a loud ‘thunk!’ and your eyes squeeze shut so tightly that stars swim in the darkness of your closed lids “Fuck!” You choke out, your knees finally giving up on keeping you upright as you let go of Vernon’s cock to grab a hold of his other arm.

Your body sags against his bare chest. He has to prop you back against the door while he helps you ride out your orgasm. The image of you like this, naked and sweaty and crying out for him on his fingers will live in his mind rent-free until the day he dies.

When he finally slips out of you, he can’t help but stare in awe at your juices that drip down his fingers. His first impulse is to shove them into his mouth which he does eagerly, sucking and savoring the flavor of you.

Vernon’s eyes roll back and you watch the entire thing, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Can I eat you out? If that’s okay with you of course.” Vernon’s eyes are wide as he meets yours, half-afraid that you’ll say no. He’ll respect you of course, but he’ll also daydream forever about the way just the small sampling of you tasted on his tongue.

Luckily, for both of you, you want nothing more than to feel Vernon’s kiss-swollen lips on your cunt.

“Please!” You shamelessly beg, droopy eyes widening at his request.

He leads you to the bathroom counter and helps you clumsily clamber up onto it. Both of you are wobbly and clumsy from the weed, but you make it without injury. Vernon’s on his knees instantly, wide hands prying your legs open, pussy on full display. 

“Holy shit, you’re so wet!”

“Vernon!” You cover your face in embarrassment, feeling self-conscious.

“Like, your pussy is fucking shimmering in the light, baby.” His face is right in front of your heat, the proximity making your hole flutter right in front of his eyes. “Fucking hell I just watched your pussy squeeze. I’m going to pass out.”

“Vernon, fucking touch me already, please! I need you so bad!” His heavy eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Much like earlier, he didn’t need you to tell him again as his eyes focus on you and he dips his head between your legs. 

Vernon’s tongue immediately finds your clit, the muscle flicking forcefully, sending a jolt through you. Shaky fingers rake through Vernon’s hair and grip the brunette locks for support as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it in the way you need.

“Fuck! Vernon, yes!” Your hips start to buck up into his face when he changes direction and dips his tongue into your pussy, groaning low in his throat as he does.

“Mmph! So good.” Vernon drawls, his words muffled as he tongue fucks you, slurping your wetness as he does.

His tongue darts in and out of you, his nose brushing your clit every time you lift your hips. Vernon makes out with your cunt, the lewd sounds alone are enough to have you hurdling to your end and Vernon’s grunt reverberating through your body is what ultimately has you cumming. 

“Vernon!” His name erupts from your mouth in a shriek, your thighs clamping around his head. Your whole body feels as if it’s on fire, as you arch almost painfully into him. You stay that way for what feels like minutes, hips still pushed towards him as you gasp and Vernon continues to lazily lick at you.

The world could crumble around you at this very moment and you don’t think you’d care. 

That was undisputedly the best head you’ve ever gotten.

Vernon chuckles from between your thighs, finally coming up for air.

“Best head ever huh?” His nose all the way to his chin shines with your juices as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

You hadn’t even realized you said your last thoughts out loud. Only a small part of you feels embarrassed. The rest of you only focuses on Vernon as he stands up, his cock red and angry as it rests against his stomach.

“Can - can we do it on the floor? My legs feel like cooked pasta right now and I can’t stay upright.” His expression is sullen as he says this, but you can only giggle at how cute he looks, pouting at you, cradling his very thick, very distracting dick.

“You can fuck me wherever you want as long as you do it.”

Vernon’s eyes widen, blinking a few times as if your words fluster him, but he quickly snaps out of it, helping you off the counter. He grabs a bath towel hanging on the rack nearby and spreads it out on the floor before helping lay you on it. He promises that it’s clean, but you shrug his worries away. Towel or not, at this very moment all you want is Vernon to fuck you even more stupid than the weed has made you, and you don’t care what he does it on.

With fumbling hands, Vernon reaches for his pants and digs his wallet out in search of a condom. When he finds it, he opens and rolls the rubber on, hands trembling as he goes. 

He scurries back over to you, easily taking his place between your legs. He momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he catches sight of your still-sopping folds and you have to call his name to get his attention. His eyes dart up to look at you, fixating on your heaving chest and bottom lip pulled tight between your teeth, hair sprawled out around your head, eyes red and shiny, staring right back at him. 

You look straight out of all of the late-night fantasies he’s had about you and you don’t even know it.

Vernon’s cock feels as big as it looks when he finally eases inside of you, your legs quivering along the way. His hands hook under your knees, keeping you open until he buries himself balls-deep into your pussy.

The two of you share a moan, your voices harmonizing in pleasure at finally filling you and being full by him. He takes a moment before he thrusts forward, gauging your reaction. A scrunch of your brow and a nod to him lets him know to move and he anchors himself by gripping your thighs as he starts to snap his hips.

A high-pitched yelp leaves you, echoing in the room along with the wet sounds of your arousal, the sound only intensifying as Vernon starts to fuck you with more urgency. 

“Holy shit, Y/n. You feel fucking incredible.” He pants out as he drives his hips into yours, sweat already beading at his hairline.

Your shaky hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer. “S-so do you…” Vernon stumbles, but catches himself, planting his hands on the sides of your head. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you do your best to lift your hips with each thrust, meeting Vernon’s momentum as he fucks into you.

Through the condom, you can still feel the most prominent veins on his cock, the friction gliding against your walls, your eyes crossing at the pleasure. The bathroom floor isn’t where you imagined your first time with him being, although you never thought that your first time with him would even happen. Your crush on him was one you kept close to you and in your mind, it wouldn’t be reciprocated. 

That thought was obviously cast aside if the way his soft brown eyes, rimmed with scarlet, are looking down at you, even as his lips press together in concentration with each drive of his body jolting yours and almost pushing you across the floor.

Even with THC coursing through his system and making every other movement so slow, Vernon is quick and determined as he rocks into you, your soft, gummy walls squeezing him harder the faster he fucks into you at a bruising pace. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Vernon rasps out between grunts. 

“You’re f-fucking the last of my brain cells out of m-me and you wanna be romantic?” You manage a laugh, even if it gets cut off with a sob as soon as Vernon’s cockhead bumps into your g-spot. 

“I can’t help it. You make me wanna be romantic.” His words are accentuated with a breathy groan - the sentence a stark contrast to the way he pummels your cunt.

Tears well in your eyes, and you blame the weed for bringing emotions out of you. Raising your head as best as you can, you meet his lips in what is meant to be a sweet kiss, even if it’s more teeth than anything, but neither of you minds.

You lay back and settle when you can’t keep yourself up anymore and Vernon stays close to your face as he pivots his hips, shoving his hand between your bodies. It takes him a second, but he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a shriek from you.

The pace that Vernon finds with both his hips and his fingers has your orgasm right on the cusp, your body already sensitive from earlier. 

“V-Vernon!”

“Say my real name,” he wheezes desperately. 

“Hansol! Fuck, so good. ‘M gonna cum! So close…” His real name rolls off of your tongue just as easily as his nickname does, if not easier.

His fingers pinch at your clit between pressing against it as his other hand supports most of his weight, his sweaty forehead resting against yours. 

“Cum for me again, baby. Wanna see you cum just for me.” His voice is like honey, dripping all over you, and setting your heart and body ablaze.

You reach your high then, a needy cry of his name exploding from you, your body going stiff. Wave after wave rushes through you like an inferno, your blood rushing to your head. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear Hansol actually growl from above you, your name, and a string of curses sounding like a chant coming from him.

His mouth hangs open again as his hips stutter, riding out his orgasm until he lets out a loud huff. Instinctively, you reach your hand up, running it through Hansol’s damp strands. His eyes slip close, pushing his head into your hand more, relishing in the way your nails graze his scalp.

The air is calm and full of so much adoration even as you both harshly huff and puff, catching your breath. You relish this moment with Hansol, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with him.

The sound of his stomach grumbling cuts through the moment. “Sorry,” he snorts, causing both of you to break into a fit of laughter.

“Wanna go back downstairs and get some pizza?” You ask him as he finally moves off of you and you peel yourself up from the floor. Vernon has to help you stand, but to be fair, both of you are unsteady as you stand again.

“Hell yeah. Would you wanna bring it back up to my room? I can clean up really quickly and you can stay over. I have a bowl if you wanna smoke more. But only if you want to! You can say no and I can stay with you until a rideshare gets here.” The nervousness in his question is obvious as he pulls his clothes back on, having to concentrate on getting both legs in his jeans without falling over.

“Of course, I’ll stay over. And don’t worry about the mess. As long as there’s room in the bed for us, the food, and to smoke it doesn’t matter to me, Hansol.” You smile to yourself once you’re dressed, loving the way his real name sounds to your ears. You want to only call him Hansol from here on out.

His head snaps up and he fixes you with a wide-eyed look once his hoodie is back on. “Really?”

You nod at him, laughing at his expression - the same incredulous look he’s given you all night. Closing the small distance between the two of you, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, enjoying the way he instantly melts into you.

Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

Seventeen masterlist | All Masterlists

[lightgriffinsect]

muslim things we need more of in media

teenage Muslim guys. we've all seen teenage/adolescent Muslim girls in media, how about more guys? give me a Muslim boy in high school who plays cricket and likes Atif Aslam. idk

Muslim parents and parent figures who are chill and not overly strict. half the time the "strict Muslim parents" are not even behaving in an Islamic way.

Muslims who aren't anti-feminist. Islam is a feminist religion. Women are highly encouraged to pursue jobs and higher education. Show more Muslim women in well-paying jobs in STEM and business fields.

Muslims who don't make up restrictions out of thin air. it makes no sense for a Muslim woman to go "oh i can't do [mildly secular thing], I'm a Muslim" BEHAN THERE IS NOTHING IN ISLAM THAT SAYS YOU CAN'T.

Muslim girls who keep their hijab on in front of non-mahram people at all times. yes, this post is about Samirah al-Abbasi and Ms. Marvel. can we get Muslim girls who actually take pride in their hijab and don't take it off for non-mahram men or insist that it's okay because "you're LIKE family to me"

accurate depictions of gatherings, especially weddings, in Islam. This may differ depending on nationality of the characters.

Accurate depictions of Muslims in relationships. Samirah al-Abbas from Magnus Chase is a horrible representation of this. The vast majority of Muslim girls do not get engaged at the age of 12. Most of us do not get engaged or married until we're in our 20s.

Muslims who don't get engaged to or marry their cousins.

adding onto that, Muslims who don't have boyfriends or girlfriends or romanticize the idea of having one.

Muslim women who don't have children and don't regret it.

Muslims who don't get engaged or married at all! It's Sunnah to get married, but it is not mandatory. You can still be a devout Muslim without getting married or having children.

Muslim MEN AND BOYS WHO FOLLOW THE HIJAB. the hijab is NOT just a head covering, it is a WAY OF LIFE that ALL MUSLIMS must follow. it is about MODESTY for both the sexes. Muslim men ALSO need to cover themselves to an extent. yes, the rules differ slightly from male to female Muslims, but they STILL EXIST FOR BOTH. I suggest reading up more on this topic if you don't know much about the hijab.

Muslims who are actively working to get closer to Allah and trying to stop any non-Islamic habits. Muslims who smoke, drink, eat non-halal food but are aware that this is haram and are actively trying to stop. Muslims who show that you don't have to be perfect, you just have to try to be better than you were yesterday. Muslims who are real in their struggles. No one criticizes Christians for being secular or not following their faith perfectly, why are Muslims subjected to so much scrutiny?

Muslims who are shown practicing their faith onscreen. Praying, making du'a, fasting, going to Umrah, even.

Add little bits of the Muslim faith in their everyday life. Instead of air freshener hangings in their cars, my parents have hangings with Islamic calligraphy and the du'a for traveling. We have a stack of prayer mats sitting in a corner of the living room. We have a bookshelf where the entire top shelf is copies of the Quran and other Islamic books. We always say the designated du'a before doing anything such as eating a meal, starting a trip, or even going to sleep.

AN ACCURATE DEPICTION OF ISLAMIC JIHAD. WESTERN PROPAGANDA HAS MADE USE OF YOUR IGNORANCE TO FEED YOU LIES AND DISTORT THE MEANING OF JIHAD.

There are three types of jihad: jihad of the heart, jihad of the mind, and physical jihad.

Jihad of the heart is the Muslim's internal struggle to be faithful and practice their religion wholeheartedly. It is the struggle against temptations of evil, of haram actions. It is the most important form of jihad and one that every Muslim partakes in every day.

Jihad of the mind is the struggle against misinformation about Islam. It is spreading education and information about the principles of Islam. It condemns forcing people to accept Islam. People are meant to be guided. They are meant to find their own path to Islam with the help of knowledge and resources to learn. this form of jihad is important as it keeps Muslims and non-Muslims informed about Islam.

Physical Jihad is an absolute last resort that a Muslim nation must partake in when there is a threat of war from another nation. Islam condemns violence and murder and always pushes its followers to resolve matters peacefully. In a situation where this is impossible, only then is physical jihad permissible. and it has strict rules about who the Muslims can fight. It is haram to kill anyone who is not actively fighting from the opposing army. It is haram to kill women, children, elderly people, and any civilians. It is haram to kill animals except for food. It is haram even to take from the land or damage it in any way. If an army calling itself Islamic is not following these rules, it is not partaking in Jihad. it is partaking in unnecessary slaughter and bloodshed. there you go.

sorry i went on a rant about jihad for a minute there lol, i've been meaning to do that though anyway.

please depict Muslims in media more. please depict us with respect, and with the proper amount of research and effort needed for accuracy. thanks. Ramadan Mubarak, free Palestine <3

[dwaekkicidal]

Helloooo:3 i want to know if you can write how would hyunjin react when finding out that reader who is his gf smokes??? Like they been dating for some time and he jst now realize she smokes?? Cuz im currently 21 but i been smoking since i was 12 (ik its early:3) feel free to ignore it! I was just curious:3

hii <3 i'm not sure exactly what you meant by smoking so I did this about both vapes and weed (cause im not comfy with cigarettes, sry if that’s what you wanted!) hope u enjoy :3

warnings: mentions of vapes and that good good aka weed (pls have your first time with somebody you trust in a safe environment 💜)

notes: I know in Korea weed isn't legal recreationally and vapes are also supposedly not legal so just read this as if you're both living in another country or just completely ignore the laws for delulu sake

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Vapes:

Would only notice if he sees you taking a hit. Won’t notice otherwise, especially if whatever flavor(s) you use can come off as perfume or air freshener. (paboracha leader wont ask what that chilly gust of wind was or ask why the living room suddenly smells like grapes)

I think it would bug him for like a week and ONLY because “how did i not notice before..”

Eventually won’t care at all but it will make him nervous for the first few weeks

Begs Asks you to wean off to non-nicotine vapes if you aren't already using them just because he wants nothing but the best for his lover

If you introduce him to the idea of those anti-anxiety or melatonin vapes, he’d be curious and will want to try it eventually! (but will be shy about it when he comes to you to ask for help hehe ☺️)

Weed:

Would smell it before he sees you smoke it and would confuse the fuck out of him if he isn’t aware what weed smells like 😭

Paces around for 30 minutes like a lunatic, whispering under his breath “What is that smell. Where is it coming from.” over and over again until you fess up

Probably freaks him out him at first. Weed was just legalized in Korea for medical reasons in like 2018(?) (& only for very very few diagnoses) so if he hasn't been exposed to it then the idea might spook him

Will be anxious about it affecting your health, but with enough reassurance and enough time, he'll relax

That being said!! Eventually he wouldn't bat an eye. Worst case scenario might get annoyed about the smell and ask you to air out before he’s home

Might want to try it himself! especially when he finds out that it can help with stress/anxiety

Will try smoking at least once, but I can see him getting into edibles instead if he can’t get used to the lung burning or the smell but still wants the effects

Plan out an entire night and go the full mile with food delivery + snacks + drinks and cuddles with pretty rgb lighting for when he finally agrees to try getting high? He’s RUNNING to the nearest engagement ring store. The thought of you going out of the way for his first time will melt him into a puddle

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld

[philtstone]

I know I already sent a Put Em In A Situation ask, but an alternate option to mix things up: Juliet + Gus, forced to lie about something

Summary: The zombie apocalypse comes to Santa Barbara and turns Juliet into a liar.

Stranger things haven't happened, thank you Gus, but that's not to say there isn't always still time for it.

Y'ALL!!!! i did it. i caved. i wrote a zombie apocalypse au. i feel like the reasons why all of these idiots would effortlessly survive the end of the world are pretty self evident. anyway, gus and juliet my beloveds, and i'm really quite proud of this one ... enjoy!

"The fact that I still have to get my period in the middle of the freaking zombie apocalypse is the height of twenty-first century sexism," Juliet declares angrily, as she makes an emphatic beeline toward Shawn and his armful of stolen Wal-Mart items anyway. "What's the point of scientific progress if birth control can't survive the collapse of civilization? You know who doesn't have to worry about this? Men! Unfair! Anti-feminist, frankly!"

"I'll make sure to tell the zombies that next time we see them," Shawn says, helping her spread the bags out on the ground and handing her the one she's looking for. She digs into it to find Kotex – he sprung for the good stuff, she thinks with a surge of affection, Juliet would've just grabbed the first thing off the shelf – and sniffs a little bit when he pats her gently on the shoulder. Then she tears into the little cardboard box with more vigor than it objectively deserves and stalks off to face the indignity of squatting behind the Blueberry's cracked back bumper while Shawn and Gus graciously direct their focus to the rest of their haul. "Wait," Shawn adds. "I got us air-freshener, too."

"You got us air freshener?" she hears Gus ask skeptically. "You couldn't even remember to do that when it wasn't the end of the world, and you get us air freshener in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?"

"We don't know if zombies can smell blood!" Shawn protests, and Juliet lets out a miserable groan.

Anti. Feminist.

She hadn’t loved the idea of splitting up – or of sending Shawn and Gus off on their own into an abandoned big box store – but someone had to guard the car, and this area is pretty abandoned, anyway. Not even in an eerie way. Just a sad, end-of-the-world one. Besides, the boys have been nothing but competent and reliable and ever-so-useful in a crisis since this whole mess started. Somehow, as the days have gone by, Juliet’s anxiety has only grown anyway. 

“What if they can smell air freshener, Shawn?”

“You know what? No. They can’t smell both at the same time. I don’t care that real life doesn’t operate by a constrained set of rules like every zombie movie we’ve ever seen. There have to be limits to this!”

The limit, Juliet supposes, is that Gus can almost always smell the zombies coming before the zombies can smell them. 

read the rest on ao3!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting our office to smell bad?

For the record I don't think my office mate is an asshole and completely understand if I'm the asshole here, and am open to suggestions on how NOT to be an asshole about this. We (30s, f) have a small office that we share together. We are in a position where people throughout the facility need to poke their heads in and have small meetings, gather things, verify things, etc. We work nine hour shifts with a one hour lunch in the middle. Our office is beside a rec room, which can get noisy due to the frequent activity, and can be distracting so we sometimes have to shut the door to our office. Also our office does not have windows. We each work five days a week. I work Tuesday - Saturday, she works Monday - Friday. My office mate was very straight forward with me that she has a very sensitive nose. She is self diagnosed either autistic or ADHD or both, she isn't sure, but due to these factors she cannot handle perfumes, colognes, air fresheners, or deodorants. I'm sure you can see where this is heading.

I know that she bathes/showers regularly because she never smells at the beginning of our shift (we work 8 - 5) but by lunch, her BO is kicking in, and by early afternoon it is pungent. I know she is sensitive about it because she's told me several times that her family sweats a lot. I, too, sweat throughout the day, and I know I am not helping matters any. I've tried using all natural deodorants, but each time I have she's politely reminded me her nose cannot handle deodorants. I've even tried unscented anti perspiration sticks and she still reminds me that I can't be wearing it due to her sensitive nose. Same thing with this unscented malodor remover spray I bought that I used once on a Saturday, and on Tuesday she reminded me not to use any sprays on the weekend because it literally causes physical pain for her nose. She has even asked custodial services not to use their cleaning agents because the smells upset her. (I can verify she cleans the office herself, though.) We often have to close our door during crunch time otherwise we get distracted by the rec room by wanting to join or chitchat with people in there, but the BO is just as distracting. If we open the door sometimes other people will make gentle, but pointed, jokes about BO.

Several people have pulled me aside and asked if there is anything I can do. They all know the situation because she's let everyone in the building know that they cannot wear deoderants or perfumes/colognes, although because they don't share her office they continue to do so and HR has told her they can't really do anything about them wearing it since they don't work in her office. On Saturdays I admit I do wear perfume and deodorant and leave the door open to air it out, although I can't use anything on the room (sprays, cleaners) due to it hurting her nose.

Recently she called in on a Monday and I covered her shift, and even still, on Monday, first thing I walk in the door, I can smell the remnants of BO. During lunch I was in the rec room but left my office door open and someone asked if I was airing [Name's] BO out and I felt absolutely terrible but I said that I was. He suggested I talk to HR, then added that I wouldn't be the only person who has, but since I am her office mate, HR might listen to me. I honestly don't know if that's the right thing because I know she takes care of her personal hygiene otherwise, it genuinely is just her BO, but I also know her autism or ADHD or both causes scents to physically hurt her nose.

I sprayed that unscented spray again, but Tuesday she politely reminded me that it hurts her nose. I suggested flowers, since they're all natural, and she said it isn't chemicals, but scent in general, and that BO is a natural occurrence that companies invented an unneeded cure for. I did tell her that something needs to be done, though, and she just reminded me that it physically hurts her nose again. She hasn't spoken to me since. Please help.

What are these acronyms?

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Guys, I was just reminded of this story again:

https://the-bjd-community-confess.tumblr.com/post/660443955665731584/i-got-reminded-of-this-thanks-to-a-confession-i

If you haven't read it... I mean don't bc it's gross, but it's fucking hilarious. (I'll Copy paste it, so if you have time and a strong stomach.)

-

I got reminded of this thanks to a confession.

I shall set the scene. I once visited a doll friend, and it was the first time being over. Spent almost an entire day there. At natures call, they show me their bathroom, to be specific it wasn’t even really a bathroom, just a small toilet room, with a sink, and a tiny milk glass window. They had a doll sitting in the bathroom on a one of those long and thing cabinets. Almost as long as the rooms height, one section almost at the top of this cabinet, was open with no doors, that’s where it sat, dressed in something reminiscent of what old Porcelain, dolls wear, with long flowing locks, and little beret: A BJD. I still curse my curiosity, and lack of impulse control, because I took down the doll after finishing my business, and washing my hands, for I care about hygiene, for a closer look. Folks it was like me touching this doll released years of toiletry torment from the dolls immortal body. It was like walking into a hot Sauna filled with farts, and decay. The unholy smell that came from this doll had me weeping, and I could feel my soul burning as it left my body. I was almost convinced something had crawled inside this doll, and died, and no one found out. 

A public autobahn toilet that hasn’t been cleaned in 20 years would have been a walk in a flowery meadow. I was wondering if maybe this was an unwashed antique toilet brush used through generations of their family dressed in some fineries, but no, this was indeed a BJD, in all her porous resin glory, having turned into the Anti-thesis of an air freshener. I felt disgusting, and with all the care a Biohazard such as this deserved, I simply placed her back on her high seat, to continue being the silent and tortured watcher of this porcelain throne. I gave her some mental apologies for her fate, and sent some prayers to whatever deity might be out there listening, opened the window, washed my hands three times more with extra soap, and simply left, not looking back, never looking back. Moral of the story: Resin, wigs and fabrics take on the smells of whatever they come into contact with, cigarette smoke, perfumes, deodorants, and apparently also really farty assgass. So now I beg of you, please don’t do this to your dolls.

~Anonymous

[tearfulangel]

I'm sorry to ask: how did you get your hair that long like how often do you wash it, what shampoo do you use etc? Sending you lots of love xx

hiiii no need to be sorry at all! 🫶🏻 I think the main part was just not seeing a hair dresser for 2 years (i should def be going more often for freshening of my ends but it feels like a luxury expense)

i do have a very dedicated hair routine, something i’ve been following for about 4 years now, and i have noticed amazing differences in my hair growth.

i only wash my hair once a week maximum (& the nights before/day of events i want nice hair for heh)

i try use “natural” shampoo & conditioner products, (sometimes budget means i need to opt for worse cheaper products) but i try to use brands that don’t have sulphates (your hair won’t get as bubbly during a wash with sulphate free products, but it’s still cleaning it!)

the brands i favour that i can get here in australia are Thank You, Sukin, & My Soda.

i will sometimes use Dermal Therapy scalp care shampoos or a Teatree Shampoo, usually during warmer months when i deal with more buildup on my scalp & sensitivity.

don’t forgot that conditioner is your best friend! squeeze excess water from your hair and coat the lengths in conditioner, avoid the roots and scalp to prevent buildup. Leave in for a few minutes and rinse. hair that’s been wet neeeeeds conditioner, it helps lock in moisture etc!

when i shower daily, if it’s not a day to wash my hair i won’t get it wet. if i do ever get my hair wet i will wash it, or at the very least put conditioner in it.

after washing i use a low heat setting on my hair dryer to make sure my roots & scalp are dry (removing the dampness and warmth of washed hair and making sure it’s completely dry at the roots and scalp helps prevent bacteria etc and will keep your hair feeling and looking cleaner for longer!)

i will usually just towel/air dry the lengths of my hair, (don’t rub the towel on it, try squeezing the water out of the hair tightly but gently into the towel, this will prevent breakage) if it’s close to bed time then i will ensure it’s all completely dry because sleeping with wet hair isn’t very good for it.

i brush my hair multiple times a day (im lucky to have straight hair that can handle this) removing tangles before they’re too intense and will cause more breaking during brushing and styling is essential. i use a rosehip & wheat protein detangle spray when needed

i use a hair brush that is anti-tangle, and also a “wet hair” brush. these are life changing and if you’re going to be brushing your hair while it’s wet, one of these is essential to preventing breakage and promoting scalp circulation!

i sleep with my hair plaited or braided, and secure the plait up into a bun with soft scrunchies. i use soft hair ties as well. plaits at night help keep long hair out of your face and stop it getting knotted!

sorry this is long! it’s basically everything i can think of at the moment! sending love 🫶🏻🩷

[mokshalifestyleinternational]

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[harveybwabbit92]

[Spark doll AU: Set in the early days before Belial could grow human size.]

Belial, in his doll form holding a red apple shaped ball over his head: What's this apple thing I found in the bathroom. *sniffs* An air freshener?

R/n:Ah, It's a bath bomb.

[Belial looks between the Ball and R/n baffled.]

Belial: You.... bathe with explosives?

R/n: It's not a real bomb, it's a bath product I toss it into the tub it dissolves, and I soak in it for a bit it makes my skin softer and smell nice...like apple cider and honey.

Belial: ...Show me.

R/n:...................Fine.

{Cut to R/n in a bikini dropping the bath bomb into tub dyeing the water a blood red color as the scent of warm apple cider filled the bathroom, R/n climbed into the tub so it wouldn't go to waste but she was startled when Belial hopped in, unfortunately for him being a doll meant he wasn't able to stay buoyant for long so he took a seat right between R/n's breast as she looked down at him flatly.]

R/n: Feeling comfy there, Bel?

Belial, leans back content: Hm..

[A few years later 80 would point out how odd it was that R/n enjoys taking hot baths but can't stand hot weather. She later explained it was kind tradition for frost giant youths to test their endurance by soaking in the hot springs of Jotunnheim and a lot idiots (R/n included) would give themselves heatstroke cos they were too stubborn to get out... But on the upside it heightened her heat resistance so she doesn't have to rely on anti-heat patches as much.]

R/n: Shame there aren't any Hot Springs that measure up to the heat of Jotunnheim's springs, there are few in Iceland that come close. but nothing beats the warmth of home...

Belial: The warmth of home nearly burnt my legs off...

R/n: That was your own fault I told you not to go pass the barrier.

[il-predestinato]

Hi! Can we have some context (and a lil' snippet of course 😉) of the evolutionary theory of attraction? Thank you ❤️

Oh yes, absolutely! It's inspired by this sequence from the Imperfects, a Netflix show where one of the characters' superpower is emitting very powerful pheromones. So everyone in her vicinity develops an unstoppable attraction/obsession with her. Specifically, I was inspired by the scene where she sprays a bottle of air freshener at her pursuers to break the pheromone smell and run away. 🤣 Well, I was thinking - our little Monegasque croissant already has VERY. DEVOTED. OBSESSIVE. FANS. What if we just turned that up a notch?

(Also to everyone else, I see your requests in my inbox! Have to bolt after this one but I will get back to you! 🥰)

title: the evolutionary theory of attraction (aka. Charles Leclerc and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Race Weekend)

summary: Of course, it would be typical Charles Leclerc luck that his body would pick the 2022 Monza race weekend to start uncontrollably emitting pheromones. And of course the only person immune to his scent is his very secret crush rival Max Verstappen.

Later, upon reflection - after he prevented a near apocalyptic event on planet Earth, and that was hardly a hyperbole - he would say that it all went to shit in the media pen after free practice. The week had started brightly enough, and Charles at the very least thought he could hold onto some measure of hope until Sunday - as history would suggest for this calendar year, but it seemed like his race weekend took its usual plunge much earlier.

To his best recollection, it started with an innocuous moment with Max Verstappen (typical, as far as unforeseen important events in his life went). Not that Charles willed it or anything, but the contact was initiated by the Dutchman, who brushed an arm against his in the “zoo.” (A term for the media pen that Alex coined affectionately in the drivers’ WhatsApp group, comparing them to animals to be gawked at, poked, and prodded for commercial gain. Albeit, very privileged and pampered animals, as Guanyu pointed out.)

An accidental touch, of course. Out of politeness alone (Max later insisted, while Charles rolled his eyes), the Red Bull driver paused beside him, which was not usual, and Charles waited patiently to receive his usual smile and greeting, but Max didn’t do either. Instead, he scrunched his nose - still slightly sunburned from the summer break - and sniffed twice at the air around Charles, which was unquestionably unusual.

Frowning and suddenly self-conscious, Charles looked down at his slightly sweaty team polo and gave a tentative sniff of his own. Sure, he was a little sweaty, but he didn’t notice any scent other than his usual anti-perspirant.

Max blinked once, twice, and then broke out in a wide smile. The one that scrunched the corners of both of his eyes, which was not something that Charles would ever admit to noticing, but nevertheless had the resulting effect of Charles forgetting whatever thoughts had preceded that moment.

“New body spray?” teased Max. “It’s not bad.”

Charles shook his head. “Flirt,” he muttered under his breath, after making sure the nearest microphone was well out of pick up range, earning both a soft chuckle and even deeper eye crinkles from his rival. If his heart thumped a little loudly, well - he would deny it with his dying breath.

Before either of them could get another word in, Max was promptly whisked away by his press officer to attend his next interview.

Ignoring his poorly disguised disappointment, his own press officer, Mia, beckoned him from a few metres away, directing him towards Ted Kravitz from SkySports. “Last one.”

Plastering a smile to his face, Charles made his way obediently towards Ted, who started off predictably with a question about Ferrari’s recent troubles. He was about halfway through his rehearsed answer about the team working hard to fix their setup issues when it happened again.

Ted, eyes almost half glazed over with a bead of sweat forming on his hairline, turned his head back and forth and… sniffed the air.

Charles was now really starting to feel self-conscious. Faltering mid-sentence, he glanced towards Mia, wondering if she should maybe call for medical assistance for poor Ted, or at the very least give Charles an excuse to leave and take a shower. But she too scrunched her nose and stared at Charles with a half-blank expression.

Ted broke the silence first. “You smell amazing!” exclaimed the reporter.

“Uh, thanks -” he stuttered, bewildered, but Ted cut him off swiftly.

“Charles, how does it feel to be the most handsome driver in the whole paddock?” Without waiting for a response, Ted leaned in - close enough that Charles could smell the other man’s… shampoo? Hair spray? He really didn’t want to know. It took every bit of his media training to not recoil dramatically at the sudden invasion of his personal space. But the SkySports reporter was undaunted, and added, “We must get a drink together after this.”

Deciding that he no longer cared if Head of Communications Silvia Hoffer Frangipane (Mattia may be the Team Principal but Sivia is - well, the boss) showed up in the zoo herself and strangled him then and there, Charles took two stumbling steps backwards and tried to unlock his half-open jaw. Then he tried pinching his arm to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. All that accomplished was a sore arm and a wave of disappointment at the realization that he was very much awake.

Fortunately, Mia intervened. “That’s an inappropriate question -” But Charles’s relief was short-lived. “What you should be asking Charles is how it feels to be the most handsome man in the whole world.”

Charles gaped at her. Either Andrea put hallucinogens instead of vitamins into his breakfast juice, or Twitter was correct and this season has caused him to lose his last shred of sanity.

“Of course,” snapped Ted, clearly annoyed by her interjection. “Charles, I will tell you how handsome you are over dinner. And then we can go back to my hotel room.”

“Over my dead body!” screeched Mia, lunging at the reporter. “I work with Charles. I love him! I have always been in love with him.”

Charles laughed - a hollow, humourless, desperate sound - as he started backing away in earnest.

Noticing his sudden movement, Mia and Ted advanced in his direction, still clawing at each other, and he was suddenly reminded of a scene from a zombie film he dearly regretted watching. Half of the people in the media pen, drivers and reporters alike, had paused their own interviews to stare at him.

Before he could lose his nerve, Charles decided to make a run for it. Ferrari can afford paying the fine.

Predictably, with his lack of luck this season, he managed to barrel straight into Max in his haste, almost knocking both of them to the ground.

“Charles?” He sounded concerned, not grumpy, despite Charles’s best attempt at bowling. “What’s wrong?”

Charles could hear his own rapid breathing and was all too aware of how close Max’s face was to his own. The blue eyes that stared back at him were confused but not unfocused, and the warm hand on Charles’s arm made his skin tingle.

“There’s something going on -” he started, but a new unwelcome touch on his cheek caused him to flinch.

Max’s press officer was no longer next to her charge, but pressed against Charles. “Oh my darling,” she tittered at Charles. “Are you hurt?” She nuzzled - actually nuzzled - his cheek, and Charles nearly swallowed a strand of her hair. “Show me where,” she cooed, unperturbed. “I’ll kiss it better.”

“Okay, what the fuck -” cursed the Red Bull driver, eyes wide in disbelief.

Wrenching his arm out of Max’s grasp, Charles bolted.

[firefly--bright]

unearthed.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u., buzzfeed unsolved a.u.

summary ; you dont know just how many watchful souls listen to you and jean speak, waiting, watching. maybe it's just you, but the prison air feels warmer. warnings ; mentions of violence, a little horror (? literally just the tiniest bit), talks of death. cringe humor. a/n ; happy halloween my beloveds. crazy that halloween and diwali were on the same day. kinda poetic lowkey. im DEAD TIRED so ykw that means! happy fireflyfic day! (and happy diwali to those who celebrate :)) taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable , @zombiefiedskeivy

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

The prison wasnt eerie, which should’ve struck you as concerning. 

No, rather, the opposite, the fact that it was a little too comfortable, a little too lived-in to be considered ghostly was what you found…weird. Or maybe it was jean’s presence next to yours, the coldness of the air masked by his warmth and stolen jacket perched over your shoulders that made the air feel a little more breathable.

Connie and marco are huddled over the camera, speaking in hushed whispers - some technical jargon that your brain is too tired to recognize. 

Jean shifted from beside you, adjusting his own coat - not stolen - and thumbed the straps over his chest that snuggly held a smaller camera so it fit better over him. He cleared his throat when he caught you zoning out, “know your lines?” he asked, a prompt for you to speak your mind. 

You smiled cheekily, looking at him under the dim, sole flashlight. “By heart. Scared, jean-boy?” 

“Dont call me that on camera, please,” he says, eyes screwing shut when you shine your light straight into them. 

“Have i ever embarrassed you? You do that to yourself more than i do,” “okay that’s…intentional. It helps with the character im going for.” you snort. “Damsel in distress?” he scoffs, “i had to save you last time, remember?” “that was just an excuse for you to hold my hand, you can admit it. The cameras arent rolling yet,” you tease, bumping your shoe with his worn-out converses. He lets you. There isnt much he doesnt let you do to him. 

“Alright, cameras are gonna start in three…two.. One!” marco’s voice is characteristically calming, even at a higher pitch.

 

Your shoulders stand straighter as you look into the lens, placing the flashlight right under your chin. “hello, watchers! Welcome back to another episode of Unearth - a series where we try to gather evidence of the paranormal to see who wins - a believer,” you say, pointing the light under jeans chin briefly before settling it back under yours, “or a skeptic.” “it’s not a competition,” “right. Of course not.” you say, winking into the camera. Its jean’s turn to speak, his voice a low baritone, and you can see his breath becoming foggy into the now november air. “We are here today at the Marley Prison, rumored to be the host of seventy percent of the state’s most wanted criminals since the early eighteen hundred's. And we’re standing infront of it now and it’s fucking creepy,” “right, and it was also incredibly overcrowded, so-” “-so just, a terrible place to live in.” “yeah, but they killed people,” “...right. Most of them.” “i’ve heard it smells like shit,” you say, almost forgetting that this might get broadcasted, but jean’s eyes on you seemed to have that effect. forgetting the size of your own beating hear, forgetting where you were, melting away any proof of life except his.

He smirks, looking straight at the camera once more. “Right, that’s why i have-” he pulls out a small spray bottle. From what you could read, the text flashed, “FLOWER POWER!” and your smile turned into a laugh. “- this air freshener right here.” “right. That’ll protect us.” “if i get possessed i’d want.. It to smell, like-” “-like flower power-” “right.” now the both of you are laughing, shoulders shaking.

“Great. Let’s head inside, guys,” marco says, smile on his face, and eren puts the camera down to view what he had gathered. 

“After you,” jean says, his shoes scruffing against the harsh stones underneath, spreading his arm infront of you as a guide.

“Pussy,” you muttered, making him sputter.

-

“Alright,” you say, settling on the cold hard ground. Cell number 509, holding the last inmate of the entire prison who passed away in the very same, cramped room. Only a mattress and a sink to keep him company, a small, hand-sized window on the wall opposite to the door, meant to be locked at all times. 

“Dangerous people in this place,” you say, mostly to yourself. Your partner was on the ground floor of the vicinity, in another building entirely, investigating by himself. You decided to split up to see if that might spite any spirits to act, planning on asking questions to the different people that were barely alive, living in the space so freely disturbed. The camera crew were also downstairs, waiting on the two of you to be done. All you had was an old walkie-talkie that connected to jean’s. 

“You there?” his voice - filled with static and concern - reaches the confines of the prison cell. “Yep. where are you?” you ask, sitting in the middle of the floor, pulling your knees up to your chest, your flashlight flickering. “Im at the uh… that punishment place.” “ah. Im in Dean Cooper’s cell.” “oh,” he says. “Why dont we just use our phones for this part?” he asks, a beep following him. You smile. “I dont know, actually. Do you- should we?” “yeah that’d be.. I mean, better communication. Audio..quality - there are so many bugs here,” he speaks as you switch your phone on, dialing his number. He picks up not even a second in.

“Okay, can you hear me better?” he asks, and you rest your back against the thick wall. The door - heavy and cold - is fully closed so you could get a better experience, the full creeps. You nod, knowing he cant see it. “yep. Its crazy that people had to live like this,” you speak, holding the microphone part of your device close to your mouth, his voice on speaker. Something alive to fill the walls, more than your own presence. “Yeah. well it’s crazy that they committed so many crimes, honestly,” “i know.” 

You’re supposed to be filming. Your camera is rolling already and youre supposed to be speaking to a presumed dead person but a holy one is roaming downstairs without you and all you have is his voice as proof. “Hey,” jean calls out, and you thank good network reception and technology to have his voice be so clear, without cuts, real against your hand. “Im at the uh… what’s it called? The place where they could talk to their loved ones right now.” “ah,” “it feels weird.” a beat of silence. “Weird how?” you ask, your voice quiet. 

“Like-” theres a shifting sound at the end of the line, followed by a slight creak. “- weird in the sense that… i dont know, like, people still loved and cared for quote-unquote bad people,” 

You hum. Your head now also rests against the wall, too unaware to keep it up, too comfortable to find your own muscles. “I dont know. You’re always better with the words and shit.” he says, and you give him a small laugh. “Words and shit?” “yeah like, you know what to say.” “i mean, these people are dead, jean, theres a real small chance they can even hear us.” “i know, but like, even to alive people.” its almost 3 am, your phone says, and your heart increases in size, a little too comfortable against your ribcage. 

Have you ever felt that before? the muscle that’s supposed to be contained in a confined space now opens itself up and you have no choice but to let it. It grows, bigger, until youre body is tattered and all that remains as proof is your heart, big and timid, still beating, waiting for jean’s eyes to look at it. You havent. You wonder if any of the people half-alive in this place have. 

“I mean, love is alot of patience,” you start, your fingers fiddling with the end of your jacket. A stray piece of thread. You hear him humming in agreement and continue, “maybe they just… couldnt say it. How many times have you been able to not say that you love someone, y’know? And then you get the chance to but then it gets lost in all the other unimportant things and maybe that… maybe that’s love. The unimportant things.” you say. Your fingers feel funny, tingly, hearing his voice saying something at the end of your sentence. Youre too caught up to say something important as a reply.

So you settle. Listen. “Like, imagining this place alive… y’know. Like not in a creepy way but in like… it’s - like so much time passed, and so much was said here.” he says. His voice holds importance in your hands, and you trace shapes into the side of your phone with your thumb as if its the back of his hand and you’ve taken it in yours, cold and patient, unimportant. Tracing shapes that cant be seen. He hears them though. It’s in every pause he takes, every breath he hears on your end of the line and he wonders if you know how your alive-ness makes him braver than the night. Brave enough to know that speaking is something to be accomplished, that you’re listening.

 

He stares at the glass window in front of him, sitting on the chairs that prisoners used to sit on with hope in their eyes. At least, that’s how he imagines it. Theres a small hole in the window, enough only to catch a couple breaths and silenced sentences and he can only imagine how the other person mightve felt, seeing their loved one behind a blurry and unkept screen.

“Im not going to empathize with them, obviously, but, i feel like… i mean, obviously this place was built to be inhumane. The fact that they even included that section of the prison, though.. I dont know. it's kinda nice.” you say, and he closes his eyes to pretend youre in front of him. Its not that hard, in all honesty, because your voice fills his ears and he’d rather listen to proof of the living - with her shoe kicking his, with her voice teasing his shrieks - rather than the minute but present proof of the dead. He knew someone - barely alive souls, watching - had to be listening to your conversation but he also knew that he was listening to it too and he’d rather commit to the cold of your familiar hands than the unfortunately lived-in warmth of this place.

“It is.” he agrees, his chin tilting up, his shoulders relaxing. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone, microphone to his lips with the speaker on. He wasnt alone. His phone’s screen is blurry and unkept, but he wasnt alone. 

“Y’know that’s what i find kind of… i dont know, comforting? About like, something this hopeless. That, like.. There’s a recreational room that they had. Like the option was there for them to sit down there and talk, maybe. I dont know how that wouldve gone-” you say, voice ending in a self-aware laugh, making him smile, “-but it was there, right. Same with this communication room…thingie. Like the option of loving is there.” 

Your voice floats against the walls of the room, touches the glasses separating him and the world, before coming back to him. His chest feels funny, more aware that it’s there. Not just as an organ and something trivial that helps him breathe but now as something larger than himself. Something less candid, hidden under layers of clothing and skin built to be thick, raised to be soft, and it almost lays there, in front of him, inhaling the sound of your voice like it’s a new source of oxygen. And it grows. Alive.

“Option of loving,” he echoes, eyes now fluttering open and looking at the expanse of the tattered ceiling above him, spotting shapes. Option of loving. “Like even now there’s like.. Im sitting here, and there’s notches on the wall. Like the… four standing lines and then a slash through them. Like the hope of getting out isnt gone. Its… cool how humans just do that.” you say. He clings onto every word, his own little prayer against the dark, unsaid but important. Option of loving.

He looks back infront of him, staring at the glass window again. Theres gunk in the corners of it and spiderwebs claiming it as their home in a place as haunted as this. “And even if i dont… believe in ghosts it’s like…cool to think about in the sense that, i dont know, everything is a proof of life. Y’know?” you ask, ready for confirmation knowing that he’d provide it to you. Anything you’d ask.

“Thats… i didnt see it like that,” he admits, “i mean i just saw it as like… confirmation that dead people are dead and that if there’s an afterlife we have to chose a right way to live, something we’re proud of, so that we dont regret it when we’re… dead and roaming the halls, waiting to be found, yknow?” “like grief.” you answer, and he shifts in his seat, getting a bit more comfortable. He nods, knowing you wont see it. “Yeah. kind of.” “that’s…poetic. We should start a podcast-” “-shut up,” and both your voices are broken up by laughs, short and warm and proof of being alive and roaming the halls, waiting to be found.

There’s a dog howling in the distance. No light in the room that you’re in, barely any air, coolness of november flush against your skin despite your layers. His voice holds you, a little blanket, cocooning you around yourself. “Hey, you’re supposed to come find me,” you say, reminding him of his task of peering into the halls, asking ghosts and bugs to come closer to him. Whatever’s alive or half-dead or half-alive or half-already-living. “And you’re supposed to play twenty questions with your hot date,” “i think he’s pretty cold, actually,” you say, he laughs. Another shift in fabric, another creak - he’s gotten up from his place on the chair, now warmed, soon to be claimed by the prison’s musty air, but for now it’s there. Fully alive. 

“My battery’s gonna die.” he says, voice a little solemn, his footsteps squeaking against the floor, rubber on hard cement. “We have walkie-talkies,” you provide, your voice full around it’s edges with your own smile and jean almost asks why youre smiling, but refrains. He’ll ask when he finds you. Or maybe he’ll tell you he’s in love with you. Or maybe the words will get lost under all the other unimportant things that he has to say to you. 

Or maybe that’s just what love is. The unimportant things, layered, hidden, chest and heart, large, warm, growing.