#i actually am going to the flea market!

[soft--dogs]

yaaaaay we're going to the flea market today!! (what they tell me when they're tricking me into taking my flea meds)

[homunculus-argument]

I've been confused for my own mother before (buying something with a credit card with my deadname on it, having a doctor's office receptionist double-check that I am the patient and not calling on his behalf because I "sounded more mature" on the phone and parents can't make appointments for adults), but I think the funniest wrong conclusion I've had strangers make about trans things I've had around was this time I was putting my old shit up at a flea market. I was selling stuff at a "this shit's gotta go before I'm about to move and I'm not hauling these back to another city"-price, and this old man who apparently frequented there to find stuff that's actually valuable being sold at such prices came to have a look at the goods while I was setting them up.

He was interested in some of my dishware, and asked politely if he could have a look at them while I was unpacking, and chatting with me while he waited for me to be done since he couldn't buy them before I was done (I let him have dibs, but the cash register wouldn't ring them up before I was all set). He apparently noticed that some of my silverware that I'd gotten as graduation gifts and literally never used had my old name engraved on them, but he didn't say anything about that.

But when I put up my old graduation dress - which wasn't worth much, cheap fake silk but it was a nice cut - he remarked "she must've left in a hurry to leave that behind." Since the finnish language doesn't have gendered pronouns, I didn't immediately make the connection that he was referring to someone female before he gestured at the dress. Once it clicked, I figured the best course of action was to just nod that yeah, she's not coming back for those and I'm not keeping them.

Dude had concluded that my deadname must be an ex that dumped my ass so fucking fast she didn't even pack her silverware or nice clothes.

[hrrtshape]

what’s in my better cr's bag (and i actually packed it!)

i'm on a high since my last shift. let's spill. if you ever see me strutting around my better cr, just know that my coach tote is my ride-or-die, my mobile command centre, my mary poppins bag of shifting essentials. this isn’t some hypothetical, pinterest-board fantasy. this is a real, tactical, battle-tested inventory that i had to pack everyday when going to skewl. let’s unpack the magic.

　　　　　　　　　　　  ⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

　 i , my phone (aka my lifeline) : yes, obviously. but not just any phone. this one is pre-loaded the lifa app (because why not?), and an absurdly well-curated playlist that makes me feel like the main character at all times. the battery was always at 100%, because i am not about to deal with a dead phone in another reality. also, notes app ramblings that make me seem both unhinged and poetic.

　 ii , wallet : my fifth ave life requires a fifth ave budget, and trust me, i came prepared. my wallet has sleek black cards that swipe effortlessly, a few aesthetically crumpled bills (because i’m casually rich, not obnoxiously rich), and my ID. because in this reality, i am effortlessly chic and always prepared. and about 17 random receipts that i swear i’ll throw out but never did.

　 iii , lip products (pls, hydration is sexy) : listen, i refuse to be caught in another reality with crusty lips. my tote always carries a trifecta of essentials: a hydrating lip balm, a perfect nude gloss, and lip liner so powerful it could start wars.

　 iv , sunglasses (for drama and disguise) : sometimes, a girl needs to throw on her oversized shades and pretend she’s too famous for nonsense. essential for avoiding unnecessary interactions or simply adding to the mystique of ‘who is she?’ vibes.

　 v , a notebook (for logs & epiphanies) : i’m a writer, a dreamer, an archivist of my own legendary existence. this notebook is where i jotted down experiences, fleeting genius thoughts, and the occasional dramatic diary entry about the tragedy of my cravings (see: bagel incident). doubles as a coaster, impromptu grocery list, and a place to doodle when i pretended to be deep in thought at the cafeteria and coryo was near me.

　 vi , perfume roller (because scent is a weapon) : smell is memory. my scent game in my dr is lethal. i owned a rose water one that my dad gifted me<3 . one swipe and people remember me for eternity. period. also!!!! necessary for spritzing on my wrists before dramatically running into someone important.

　 vii , snacks (because hunger waits for no one) : a (tasty !!!) protein bar, a tiny tin of fancy european mints, a bag of dried mango that i swore is just for emergencies (but was always mysteriously half-empty), and some rogue chocolate that melted into an unintentional fondue at the bottom of my bag. i’m always prepared for hunger strikes and dramatic rooftop contemplations.

　 viii , a silk scarf :  it’s fashion. it’s function. versatility !!! it’s the thing that turns a ‘meh’ outfit into an ‘are you a film star from the 60s?’ moment. i can tie it around my neck, my bag, or dramatically let it catch the wind while i make an entrance.

　 ix , a book (because duh) : will always have something to read. Usually something pretentious yet gripping. for the first week, i carried around bonjour tristesse and after changed to ulysses. i need my intellectual fix, even in another reality.

　 x , keys (to my dream life, literally) : keys to the penthouse. keys to my porsche (!!!!!!!!). keys to places i haven’t even explored yet (read: gotten at a flea market on a sunday).

　 xi , hand cream : i will not be caught in another reality with dry, cracked hands. my go-to was the l'occitane one!!!

　 xii , a lighter : we smoke in this house. also. it’s about the aesthetic, the casual offering of a flickering flame in dimly lit rooms, the quiet power of being prepared for anything. mhmmm. and i liked clicking it open and closed absentmindedly when i was bored.

　 xiii , wired headphones (for personal 2010s soundtracking) : sometimes, i need to drown out the noise and cue up something cinematic while i strut down the streets. bonus: it was key for ignoring irrelevant conversations.

　 xiv , a macbook (for skewl) : sadly. sadly..........in maths class we weren't allowed to open them?? during history i'd be scrolling on twitter...or the dior website.

anyways....this was my arsenal. it held the tools that make me feel poised and prepared for anything my dr threw at me. so if you see me slinging my coach tote over my shoulder with an air of (feigned) nonchalance, just know.......it’s not just a bag. it’s a statement. and probably at least five crumpled receipts and a lone bobby pin, because realism.

[99woez]

crush ᰔᩚ l.sh

warnings. smut, best friend!sohee, childhood best friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), making out, ethel cain inspired so obviously mentions of cannibalism as a metaphor for love, no actual cannibalism lmao, mentions of poverty. heavily inspired by "crush" by ethel cain. i think that's it but if i missed something please let me know! enjoy <3

part one || part two

wc. 4.4k

summary. the only escape from this deadbeat town is your best friend, lee sohee.

“You know, my brother was the valedictorian.”

“Yeah, your mom yells at you about it all the time,” You deadpan, eyes shut behind your heart-shaped sunglasses as you lay out in Sohee’s backyard. One thing about Sohee’s mother is she didn’t give a damn about who was around; she was going to remind Sohee he should be more like his brother. She was a rough woman, but you figured she had to be with a husband on death row. She raised two boys alone in this good-for-nothing town you so desperately wanted to get out of but were trapped in. Like a fly stuck in the sticky yellow paper curling up in the corners of Sohee’s kitchen, you think with a huff as the sun beats down on your skin, leaving it hot to the touch.

Sohee looks down at you and pushes out a chuckle.

“She does yell about that a lot.” It sounds like he’s never thought about it before. He probably hasn’t. Sohee was an optimist, kind, and smart despite thinking he was not. He could’ve gotten better grades in school if he tried harder––That was his problem. He was a people pleaser and started pleasing the wrong people. His friends moved dope, so Sohee did as well despite never trying a drug in his life, even to this day. 

“You going to the Pecan Festival?” Sohee asks after a passing moment of silence. You open your eyes at the mention of the event. There were very few things to look forward to in this town: The flea market, the Wet Leaf ball you and Sohee were too poor to get invited to, and the Pecan Festival. Everything else fun was a trip out of town on a highway you’ve grown fond of. Still, you love the Peacan Festival. You’ve been going since you were little. Tickets were cheap, the food was greasy, and the rides looked like they failed several safety tests but you loved it. It was one of the few things that kept you here.

Besides Sohee, of course.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at Sohee, tipping your head down so he can see your eyes over the thick red rims of your sunglasses. He smiles softly when he see your eyes, a crooked smile that only he possesses and makes your heart stutter a bit. There’s no one like Sohee, you think as you feel your own lips begin to turn upwards in a smile of their own.

“Of course I am,” You quip, “I was the Pecan Princess, you know?”

Sohee laughs at that, head tipping back as his laughter fills the sky.

“Yeah, when you were, like, ten. You’re too old to be a princess now.”

Your jaw drops in faux offense, putting your hand over your heart.

“Well, if I’m not a princess, what am I, Sohee? An old hag?”

“You’re a queen. Real royalty,” He jokes, making you click your tongue at his poor attempts of flirting, rolling your eyes. Sohee inhales sharply through his teeth, turning his face away from you when he realizes the joke didn’t land like he wanted to, embarrassed chuckles leaving his lips as his cheeks get even more pink.

You still smile at him despite his flubbed joke, reaching out and pinching his warm cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut with a whine but doesn’t move away from your touch, making you coo playfully.

“Come on, jester. You’re going to get a heat stroke,” You tease as you push yourself to your feet with a grunt. Sohee lingers in the dying grass for a moment, looking up at you for a beat too long. You put your hands on your hips, raising your brows at him to silently tell him to hurry his ass up. He takes the silent command with a sigh, pushing himself up to his feet and nodding towards his small house.

“Mama has lemonade in the fridge.” 

“Did she make it, or was it store-bought?”

“Made it, of course. You know she’s scared of artificial sugars,” Sohee reminds you as he opens the screen door that hollers when it’s pulled open, then pulls hard on the actual door into his rickety old house to open it for you. You do a small skip at that news. As crazy as she may be, Sohee’s mom could tear it up in the kitchen if she wanted to. Most of the time, she didn’t want to and left the cooking to Sohee. He’s become a better cook over the years, but there was a time when you were over every night either cooking him dinner or making sure he didn’t burn the house down.

You sip the perfectly tart yet sweet yellow liquid through a red and white striped paper straw, sitting in the corner of the green velvet couch in Sohee’s living room as he begins flipping through the channels from the other side of the couch. The sounds of the channels blend in a dull symphony as you look at the white front door with a slight hum.

“When does your mama come home?” You ask, turning your attention to Sohee’s side profile as he shrugs.

“Late. She has a night shift.”

“Think I can spend the night?” You wonder casually before taking another sip of lemonade. Sleepovers were common between the two of you. You’ve been having them since you were kids though when you were younger, you would sleep in separate sleeping bags in the living room. His sleeping bag was big and green, like a soldier, he would say, and yours purple and had a faded picture of Cinderella on the front. The memories are fond. You always smile when you remember how long Sohee has been in your life.

Sohee shrugs again, turning to look at you as he pauses his channel search. It’s on some local channel; a woman with too much lipstick on talks excitedly to a sunburnt man about the Pecan Festival, but you barely hear her. You’re too busy focusing on Sohee as you wrap your lips around your straw again and sip down the final sips of your drink.

“Don’t see why not,” Sohee says softly, big brown eyes flicking to your lips and then back in your eyes. You watch as he dampens his lips by sticking his tongue out just slightly, causing heat to spread throughout your chest. You have to turn your gaze away from him, watching the TV with a knowing smirk. You shake your cup to jiggle the ice cubes inside it around before reaching in and plopping a cube into your mouth, keeping you preoccupied.

You can feel Sohee’s gaze on your profile for a few moments too long before he turns back towards the TV, awkwardly clearing his throat and shifting in his seat.

“Are we going to-”

“Do what we did last time?” You finish for him, shaking your cup again as you crunch down on the hard ice cube in your mouth, cooling your body down instantly. Sohee’s gaze is back on the side of your face, but it’s more intense now, making your heart beat faster. You play it cool. You always play it cool with Sohee, which isn’t hard to do since Sohee is so easy to please more often than not.

“We can,” You hum, looking at the boy beside you with a sly smirk as he stares at you with the biggest, most desperate eyes you’ve ever seen. You pout playfully at him, reaching out and grazing his cheek with the back of your fingers. “You want me to suck your dick again, pretty boy?” You ask as if you’re asking what he wants for dinner, grabbing his chin gently and shaking his face barely. 

You didn’t mean to suck Sohee off––You swear, it just happened. He was the one to bring up how he still hasn’t fucked anyone, droning on and on about how he craves to be touched by someone, anyone, at this point. You were just doing him a favor. It didn’t mean anything.

But the kiss you shared most certainly did. You haven’t stopped thinking about kissing Sohee since it happened, your gaze lingering on his lips longer than they should during conversations, or your hand working yourself to an orgasm, thinking of how good his soft lips would feel wrapped around your clit. You have to contain yourself to not bite your lip at the thought of leaning in and kissing him right now. You don’t dare look at his lips, knowing you’ll lose self-control if you do.

Sohee inhales deeply through his nose, watching your face closely, eyes trained on your lips as he wets his again. He nods before giving a nonchalant shrug. You notice the tips of his ears are already red. He’s so cute.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind. ‘Totally wouldn’t say no,” He laughs, making you smile and inch towards him. Sohee leans back slightly, making you pull back, but he shakes his head. “I just…You know, that’s not all I care about, right? Like, it’d be cool to do all that with you, but I don't…We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. We’re friends before anything. Always.” 

Then his pinky is out between the two of you. You look down at his hand, chuckling softly before looking back at his face. You never thought otherwise, but you suppose it’s sweet. Sohee wanted to assure you of that. Again, you know Sohee and know yourself at this point, so you didn’t need the assurance that he wasn’t using you as a fleshlight.

You hook your pinky with his, shaking his hand firmly with a smile.

“Always.”

Sohee’s room is such a wreck.

He climbs on his bed, lying across it to push open his window just enough to let some air in. The AC unit in his room blew out about a month ago when the heat started to kick in. It was only a matter of time. The thing had been running since Sohee was three. You’re shocked it lasted this long. You go to the white box fan in the corner of his room, sitting on a chair as you click it onto the highest setting. The hum instantly fills the once-still room, and warm air circulates throughout the stuffy room.

Sohee sits up on his bed, leaning his back against the wall his bed was against with a hand behind his head to act as a cushion. His big brown eyes watch as you go to his dresser, opening it to dig for your favorite shirt of his. You can feel his eyes on your back as you shuffle through his drawer, making you smile faintly. You always liked having Sohee’s attention, but having him look at you like he wanted to eat you whole was a new kind of rush. You craved it more than you had for any other boy in your life.

There were only two before Sohee if you’re being honest. This town didn’t have the best selection of men to pick from. First, there was Wonbin, your first boyfriend. He was beautiful, stunning, striking even, with pretty long black hair and a nose you memorized the shape of a thousand times over. You suppose you loved him and his gentle ways but always wanted more from him. It’s not like it mattered; you two broke up a week after graduation when he was accepted into Yale. You don’t exactly blame him. He was going to fucking Yale, and you were going to the community college in the neighboring town. You hope he’s well.

Then there was Eunseok. You’re shocked you remember his name. After you two met in a bar, he was a hook-up in the back of his car under the underpass. He was driving through on “business,” at least that’s what he told you. Easily, it was the best sex you’d ever had. He was way more experienced than Wonbin had been and rougher. He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. You had to appreciate that about him. Plus, he was gorgeous. You still follow him on Instagram just to never forget what he looked like.

And now, there’s Sohee, and Sohee is so different from the first two. You know it, he knows it, everyone knows it, but no one says it. 

His eyes are still trained on your back, practically burning holes into your skin as you slowly peel your own shirt off and over your head. You let a beat pass to feel his gaze on you a few more seconds before you pull his shirt over your head and let it drape over your frame. You hear him clear his throat, causing you to turn around to face him with a kind smile and tilt of your head. He blinks at you with a crooked smile that seems to keep growing the longer he looks at you before patting the spot next to you excessively.

You skip a bit as a big smile takes your face, rushing over to his bed, jumping onto it, and landing on your knees next to him, bouncing a bit when you land thanks to the springs in the old mattress of Sohee’s bed. You curl your lips in when you look at him, watching his eyes scatter across your face with that same smile on his face. You both can’t seem to stop smiling; both of you are giddy but too unsure to make the first move. You giggle quietly at the silence, leaning closer to him to bump your forehead against the side of his head. 

"Nervous?" you tease, and Sohee chuckles in response - a sound so sweet it makes your heart flutter. His large hand reaches out to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch light and careful. This simple act sends an indescribable shiver down your spine.

"Not nervous. Just…" He hesitates momentarily, glancing away as he searches for the right words. But then he's looking back at you with those warm brown eyes full of nothing but love. "Just wanna make sure this is what you want," he finalizes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

His concern is touching, but also slightly amusing. And it only serves to deepen that heat building up in your chest - this feeling so different from anything you've ever felt. Everything feels new with Sohee but also so familiar.

You take in his worried expression before giving him a reassuring smile, reaching up to cup his face with both hands. "Trust me," you state firmly, pressing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose for emphasis. "This is what I want."

His pretty eyes blink at you once, twice, before his lips stretch into another one of his adorable smiles, crinkling up into crescent moons at the corners. As always, it's contagious, and you can't help but smile back at him.

He leans in first, slow and careful, like he's afraid he might break you. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as your eyes flutter close, the anticipation almost unbearable now.

Then, finally, his lips meet yours softly, gently, almost like a breath against your skin in the beginning. It sets you ablaze. Everywhere. You can feel the heat pooling low in your stomach instantly, spreading through your bloodstream as he leans into you further. His fingers lace with yours, his hand resting on your lower back as he opens himself up to you more, asking you to deepen the kiss. And when you do, it’s perfect.

Soft and slow, his lips pressing against yours in a familiar rhythm. Sohee tastes of sweet lemonade and mint gum as they move against yours. You don’t know how much of it is real life and how much is a dream because Sohee’s lips seem to mold to yours so effortlessly that you forget everything else but his warmth, the smell of his breath on your face, and the taste of his mouth.

You moan softly into his lips, feeling him curve into the touch, nudging closer to you until their bodies are pressed together from shoulder to thigh. Your fingers dig into his arms, not wanting to lose this contact for one second as your free hand lingers at the hem of his t-shirt. You both sigh into each other’s mouths softly before pulling away just enough to suck on his bottom lip softly, feeling him whine in response.

“So cute as always,” You whisper against his lips before pressing them together once more, feeling him moan into your mouth at the mere touch of your lips against his. It still boggles your mind that he’s never done stuff like this before. When you asked him why he never just got on a dating app, he told you he tried, and it wasn’t as easy as it sounded or that none of the people he found on there were his type. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that Sohee never had sex before last weekend. 

Sohee didn’t talk to a lot of girls. He was shy, very sweet, but very shy. It wasn’t that girls didn’t like him. Plenty of them did. He just couldn’t talk to them for long. The longer you thought about it, it was a miracle he had managed to kiss a girl before you blew him. To be fair, they were both drunk, and at a party the cops would end up showing up to. It’s not like it mattered now, but it plagued your thoughts, knowing you’re the only one he’s had like this.

His hand finds its way into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as his other hand traces a slow path down your side. The feel of him, his closeness, and the pure 'Sohee' of him is intoxicating, and you can't get enough. You angle your head slightly to deepen the kiss, feeling his grip on you tighten.

There's a slight rustle of fabric as Sohee shifts closer, and what was sweet and gentle heats up to an intensity that takes your breath away. He pulls back ever so slightly, but before you can protest, he's claiming your lips again with a fervor that makes your heart pound even harder.

You gasp into his kiss, feeling it wash over you like a wave. His hands are on your waist now, pulling you closer as if there's not already enough heat between the two of you. There's a sudden boldness to him that sends a thrill down your spine. This is Sohee - sweet and shy Sohee - who has somehow managed to transform into this passionate, assertive thing that has you pressed into his sheets and kissing you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Suddenly, he pulls away from your lips and starts trailing kisses down your neck. You reach up to his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as he moves further down. His hands roam over your body, tentative but becoming more confident by the second. 

“You okay?” he whispers against your skin. His voice is unsteady, revealing just how much he’s holding back. Your heart tightens at his concern, making you want him even more.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “More than okay.”

That seems to be all the encouragement Sohee needs. He pulls away to tug at your clothes, looking up at you for permission before slipping them off entirely. Now, nothing but bare skin and the dim light that filters through the room.

His eyes never leave yours as he moves lower, pressing a kiss just above your belly button. The anticipation of what’s to come has you trembling. It's as if his shyness is melting away and being replaced with something raw and hungry.

“Sohee…” Your voice is barely a whisper as he hovers above you. His gaze is intense, full of questions that he doesn’t need to ask because, yes, of course, you want this.

His fingers trace over your thighs before spreading them apart gently as if he's afraid you'll break. His eyes flicker up to meet yours once again, and his head dips down.

It's clumsy and awkward at first. Sohee has no idea what he's doing, and it's as clear as day. But something is endearing about his determination to make this good for you: how he tries different movements until he finds one he likes. More so, he likes the reactions you give him.

His lips brush against you, soft and warm, like a feather on your skin. It's electric, and you let out a tiny moan, more surprised than anything. Sohee's fingers curl into your thighs harder, his nose grazing the patch of hair below your navel. That tiny touch sends shivers down your spine. He continues his exploration, kissing and licking upwards until he reaches the sensitive spot between your legs. The feeling is unbearable, and you gasp for air as he finally settles there. His nose moves softly against your folds, taking in your scent. You feel him inhale deeply, almost like he's absorbing you into his system.

"Sohee," you whisper his name against the pillow, unable to form any other words as he parts you with his fingers and dips his head lower, pressing another kiss there before swirling his tongue around your clit. You can feel yourself melting under his touch; it's almost too much. Sohee's hair tickles against your inner thighs as he burrows deeper this time, tasting you properly. Every pulse of pleasure that goes through you spurs him on, making him suck harder on your clit as one hand moves across the sheets to intertwine with yours. You whimper at the feeling of his palm against yours, squeezing tightly as you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

You buckle beneath him, crying out his name, feeling each breath he takes against your skin. His lips dart in and out, tracing circles with his tongue as he grazes over your clit. You grip the sheets tightly, arching your back and moaning into the pillow. Sohee's fingers squeeze your hand while the other hand continues to explore every inch of you he can reach from his position. You can feel every shudder run through him as he takes you into his mouth, tasting you, teasing you mercilessly with gentle sucks against your folds.

You open your eyes to look at him, seeing the concentration on his face as he lavishes attention on you. His free hand traces your inner thigh, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. He licks and teases, sucking softly at your clit as you squirm underneath him. The bed creeks with every move he makes, adding another layer of stimulation as your moans become louder and more desperate for release.

Your hips rise off the bed a little before coming back down hard onto the mattress as you let out a long, low groan. Your fingers dig into his hair as Sohee's tongue darts out to flick across your entrance – a taste test that has your toes curling in response. He hums around you, smiling against your skin as he takes you deeper into his mouth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure through you, making it harder to keep quiet. You bite down on your bottom lip as pleasure builds within you, feeling so close to the edge but not quite there yet.

You feel your walls start to tremble and quake as you near your peak, your hips bucking up and forcing him deeper into your mouth. Soon, he's sucking at just the right rhythm, sending waves of pleasure over you that build and crash with each passing moment. Your fingers dig into his hair, holding on for dear life as he moans around you, encouraging him to continue. He does so, pushing you further and further until your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you in waves. Your body tenses, and your breath quickens as your muscles contract in ecstasy. A tight moan rips from your throat as you reach the peak of pleasure, waves of bliss pulsing through every inch of you.

Sohee doesn't let up, swirling his tongue around your entrance until the last shudder passes through you. Then, he slowly pulls away from you, giving your clit one last lick before looking up at you with those brown eyes that hold nothing but love and adoration. His hands smooth over your stomach before gently kissing the skin, lifting his head, and colliding his full lips with yours. You taste sweet against his lips, moaning against him as your arms drape over his shoulders, grabbing his shirt by the back of the neck and pulling it over his head.

He breaks from the kiss to let you take his shirt off, but he’s dragging himself back to your lips, moaning when he crashes into you. “Always wanted to do that,” Sohee pants against your lips as he ruts his hips against yours, making you whimper up at him as the fabric of his basketball shorts brush against your sensitive folds. 

“You’re-You taste so good. Fuck, every bit of you tastes so good. I just want to eat every part of you.” His breathless confessions make you moan quietly, nodding along in agreement as your breathing begins to pick up again. Your heart is pounding in your throat like you just ran a marathon, your hands scrambling to press against his chest. When your palms press to his chest, you hear his heart pounding against his ribcage.

“I’d let you eat me,” You tell him breathlessly, feeling him smile against your lips. “Want to live inside you forever. ‘Don’t ever want to leave you.” Sohee groans at your dragged-out words, ducking his head into the crook of your neck where his lips attack the skin there, nipping and sucking to leave bruises, marking you as his for everyone to see.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me, baby. Please,” Sohee whispers into your skin, his words sinking into your bones and carving themselves into them. You nod without hesitation, digging your nails into his back. Your brain is too clouded to think rationally, to remember how you hated this town, to remember the dozens of out-of-state college applications you sent out to rid yourself of this place, even to contemplate how you would leave Sohee one day. Not now, it doesn’t matter now.

“I promise. I swear, Sohee,” You whisper, turning your head for your lips to brush against the shell of his ear. He moans, body trembling against you before lifting his lips to collide with yours again.

Beneath the hum of the box fan and squeaks of a mattress with every move you two make, you can hear the cicadas sing.

[spl-central]

rooms that would make sense if the buyer got all of the items at a flea market. separately

… this fellow. 

CLEAN UP your FUCKING ROOM. 

What the hell even is that poster– he has a block with the number 2 on it? TONKA TRUCK? IS THAT A PLANT? CACTOS? WHAT IS THE FUCKING BOATRD? what the fuck is with his lamp– is that the only light source in this room? how does he access the bulletin board does he just stand on his desk

IS THIS WHERE THE ROOM IS IN RELATION TO THE REST OF THE HOUSE? WHERE'S THE OTHER WINDOW– THE OTHER ROOM BY IT(???)

I would say I guess that makes sense but going by that size that would mean it's tiny and for all intents and purposes it looks fairly average sized. 

Anyway first show appearance of Dexter!!1!11!!!!

Again… I do wish there was more… done with Dexter. Not like, oh more depth no I just wish they like– like I said earlier, did more of a bit than just the nerd thing. I think they needed him to be a little more… a little more… 

He needed to be a little more Charlie Day from Always Sunny. i will not elaborate on this,

[winterlico]

SEVEN DAYS WITH A DEMON — SJY

⋆.˚ pairing : demon!Jake x fem!reader | status : on going

Summary : You thought summoning a demon for seven days would be temporary. You were wrong.

⋆.˚ word count : 1.1k

Genre : Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Light Angst, Fluff

⋆.˚ warnings : 18+ joke (implicitly), harsh words, making out, LOTS of teasing (buckle up)

⋆.˚ a/n : English is not my first language and this is the first time i uploaded a fanfic, i'm sorry if there is still a lot missing words.

❛ feedback & reblogs appreciated! ❜

Night One: The Summoning

You didn’t mean to summon a demon.

It was supposed to be a harmless curiosity—a strange, leather-bound book you found at the flea market, with pages so old they crumbled at the edges. You thought it was just another artifact of forgotten lore, something to flip through on a rainy evening when boredom clawed at your thoughts.

But the moment you traced your finger over the peculiar symbols and spoke the words aloud, the air in your room thickened. The temperature plummeted. Your breath came out in a misty wisp.

And then—

A gust of wind tore through your space, rattling the windowpanes. The dim glow of your bedside lamp flickered violently before shattering, plunging the room into near darkness. A faint, sulfuric scent curled in the air, followed by the low, almost amused chuckle of someone who definitely wasn’t there a second ago.

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in all black, the fabric of his coat swaying like it was caught in an unseen breeze. His hair was the color of a burning ember, dark but catching the light just right. And his eyes—God, his eyes—glowed like molten gold, sharp and predatory as they locked onto yours.

“Well, well.” His voice was smooth, laced with something dangerously sweet. “I thought I had the night off.”

You stumble backward, your heart slamming against your ribs. “Who—who the hell are you?”

He tilts his head, looking you over like he finds your question amusing. Then, with an elegant flick of his fingers, a string of crimson energy crackles to life between them, curling like smoke.

“You summoned me, sweetheart. That means you already know the answer.”

Your breath catches.

Demon. He’s a demon.

And you—clumsy, curious, catastrophically unlucky you—had just called him into your bedroom.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

You’re still pressed against the wall, staring at him like he might lunge at you any second, while he stands there, hands in his pockets, completely at ease—like materializing in someone’s bedroom is just another Tuesday night for him.

Finally, after a pause that stretches a little too long, he sighs.

“Okay, let’s make this easier,” he says, stepping closer, his molten eyes locked onto yours. “I’m Jake. Demon of contracts, second-class under Lucifer’s domain, and—at least for the next seven days—your personal servant.”

His lips curl at the last part, like he finds the idea amusing.

Your mouth opens, then closes. “Jake?”

He raises a brow. “What? Were you expecting something more dramatic? Like ‘Azazel the Devourer’ or ‘Lord of the Abyss’?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Jake just sounds so… human.”

He smirks. “Maybe that’s why you don’t seem as scared of me as you should be.”

You bristle at that. “I—I am scared.”

Jake leans in slightly, gaze flicking over your face, as if he can see straight through you. “No, you’re not.”

Your throat goes dry.

He grins.

Then, just as you’re about to retort, he shifts back. “Anyway. Since you didn’t actually read the summoning terms, let me break it down for you.”

Jake stretches, rolling his shoulders. “You get seven days. Seven wishes. Once those are fulfilled, I return to my realm, and this little contract is over.”

You cross your arms. “And what happens if I don’t make any wishes?”

His smirk deepens. “Then I stay here. With you. Forever.”

Your stomach drops.

Jake chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t worry, angel. You don’t have to wish for something crazy—just something. Otherwise, you’ll have me as a permanent roommate.”

“Great,” you mutter. “Because that’s exactly what I wanted—Satan’s little helper haunting my apartment.”

Jake laughs. “Oh, I like you.”

You huff, exasperated. “Fine. Since I have no choice in this, I guess I should introduce myself too.”

He tilts his head, waiting.

You sigh. “I’m . Fifth-semester biotechnology student, struggling to survive exams, caffeine addict, and now, apparently, an accidental demon summoner.”

Jake whistles, leaning against your desk. “Biotechnology, huh? So, what, you make potions?”

You snort. “It’s more about genetics, microbiology, and improving food production. Less ‘magic spells,’ more ‘science and suffering.’”

“Sounds boring,” he says.

You glare. “Sounds like you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it.”

Jake grins, leaning in. “Try me.”

His sudden proximity makes you stiffen. He’s close enough that you can smell him—a strange mix of something dark and intoxicating, like spice, smoke, and danger.

Your eyes flick to his lips before you snap back to reality, heat rushing to your face.

Jake notices.

And he smirks. That bastard.

You step back, clearing your throat. “Ahem. Let’s focus on the contract, shall we?”

Jake doesn’t move. If anything, he steps closer, his body heat pressing into you, golden eyes flickering with interest.

“You know, angel,” he murmurs, voice dropping just a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Most humans who summon demons want one of three things—power, money, or revenge. But you…”

He trails a single finger along your jaw, featherlight. “You don’t seem like the type.”

Your breath catches.

For a second, the air between you crackles.

Then, like nothing happened, he pulls back with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’ll just have to figure you out.”

You exhale sharply, heart pounding.

Oh, he is going to be a problem.

Eventually, after way too much teasing, you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Fine. If I have to make a wish, I’ll start with something simple.”

Jake raises a brow. “Oh? Something like wealth? Power? Eternal youth?”

You shake your head, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“I wish for a cup of hot chocolate.”

Jake stares at you.

Then—

“You’re serious?”

You nod.

For a moment, he just looks at you, as if he’s waiting for the punchline. Then he bursts out laughing—the sound rich, warm, and infuriatingly smug. He snaps his fingers. A steaming cup of cocoa appears in your hands, complete with tiny marshmallows.

But as you take a sip, Jake suddenly leans in behind you, his body brushing lightly against yours as he peers over your shoulder. “Is it good?”

You nearly drop the cup. “Jake—personal space!”

He chuckles, voice way too close to your ear. “What? I just want to make sure my first granted wish meets expectations.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus. The warmth of his breath lingers against your neck, and you hate that your body reacts to it.

It’s going to be a long seven days.

Jake watches you, his smirk softening. “That’s one,” he murmurs.

You swallow. Six more to go. And something tells you—

This week is going to change everything.

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[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Toji gets Hunted

Previous Chapter: Ooga Booga Sukuna gets Reverse Bonked (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery. A/N: BRO. LISTEN. You ever just wake up & think, what if Toji was a little cavewife? What if he was bonked over the head like a prehistoric Looney Tunes character & dragged into domestic life against his will? What if a woman looked at him & went yes, I will be taking this like she was picking out a melon at the market? I am here to answer these questions. This fic is 90% brain damage & 10% actual words. Please enjoy Himbo Toji Arc. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Toji—unfortunately for you. => No suggestive bits in this one. => This is Toji’s chapter, but Gojo, Sukuna & Nanami are also here. Next chapter will be for Suguru, hopefully in a day or two. The other guys are getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices.

Fushiguro Toji is used to chasing.

He chases mammoths.

He chases sabertooths.

He chases Gojo (his natural prey).

He is not used to being chased.

And yet, here he is.

Being hunted.

By you.

It’s been days. Everywhere he goes, you appear.

At first, he thinks he’s imagining things.

Shadows in the trees. Strange footprints in the mud.

A weird feeling of being watched.

But then—

He sees you.

Crouched behind a bush. Unblinking. Staring.

The next day? You are closer.

The next night? He wakes up to find you squatting near his fire.

Watching.

No blink. No sound.

Just raw, feral focus.

Toji feels fear for the first time in his life.

He grunts. (What want?)

You stay unmoving, unanswering.

Toji’s heart stops.

It’s terrifying.

It’s confusing.

It’s starting to do things to him.

(Things he doesn’t want to think about. Things that make him grunt angrily and punch rocks to feel manly again.)

---

At dawn, he sneaks away from the tribe. Takes only his spear.

Travels far.

Through forest. Over rivers. Past rival tribe (he still punches Gojo on way).

At some point in the night, Toji stops to drink water.

Then he hears it.

Twig snap!!!

He looks up.

You.

Squatting. Staring. Again.

Like a cursed cave goblin.

Toji almost chokes on his own spit.

You have been tracking him. Following his scent. Watching him from the trees like some squirrel.

Toji doesn’t know why.

Doesn’t know if you want to mate him or murder him.

(Both are possibilities.)

You grin.

Then you jump.

Toji dodges. Fast. He’s the best hunter in the tribe.

But you’re faster.

Rock swings. Toji barely avoids it.

You grunt. (Tsk. Fast.)

Toji tries to fight back.

Tries to assert dominance.

You only grin wider.

Toji’s heart beats wrong.

Then—

BONK!!!

Rock hits skull.

World goes dark.

---

When he wakes up—head throbbing, vision blurry—he is in a cave.

Not his cave.

Your cave.

He is not tied up, but he might as well be.

You are blocking the exit.

And watching him.

Like a feral animal guarding its prize.

Toji grunts. (Let me go.)

You grunt back. (No.)

Toji try push past.

You grab his jaw. Inspect.

Toji freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

This is how he inspects meat.

You are checking his quality.

Like he is a fucking rabbit.

Toji snarl. (I NOT RABBIT.)

You pat his cheek. (Good strong mate.)

Toji’s instincts scream.

He is prey now.

---

Toji tries to leave.

You drag him back.

Toji refuses to eat food.

You shove it in his mouth.

Toji chokes. Gags. Tries spit it out.

You glare.

Toji chews.

You pat his head. (Good boy.)

Toji stares at wall. Existential crisis.

---

Toji wakes up to the worst thing imaginable.

He is being scrubbed.

Like some mangy, flea-infested stray.

In the river.

By you.

Toji snarls. Fights. Thrashes like a cornered beast.

Bites your arm.

You bonk him.

Toji goes limp.

You do not care.

You hold him down. Scrub harder.

At some point, he stops fighting. Sits there. Pouting.

You click your tongue. (Stinky mate.)

Toji glares. Growls. Does his best to look scary. (He is not scary. He is wet.)

Then—

Laughter.

Toji turns.

Gojo.

That damn bastard is sitting right next to him—also being scrubbed by his own mate.

Grinning at Toji.

Mocking.

Enjoying his suffering.

Toji sees red.

He lunges.

You grab his face.

Shove him back. Push him underwater.

Toji comes up, sputtering. Furious. Drenched.

Gojo?

Cackling.

It is horrible.

It is humiliating.

It is—

Effective.

Because one day?

Toji just... stops fighting.

---

Now, he sits by fire.

Eats willingly.

Watches you.

Eyes narrowed.

You grunt. (Good mate.)

Toji exhales. Defeated.

But when you leave the cave to hunt?

He does not run.

Not because he is weak.

Not because you broke him.

But because...

The food is good.

The furs are warm.

And you are kind of hot.

Oh.

Oh no.

HE LIKES THIS.

Toji sighs. Stares at his hands.

Instead of running—

He sharpens your spear.

---

One day, you return to the cave.

Toji is... rearranging the furs.

You grunt. (What doing?)

He grunts back. (Making cave better. You live like animal.)

You tilt head. (Good mate.)

Toji grumbles.

But does not deny it.

---

Later, he carves mammoth figurine.

Leaves it by your sleeping spot.

You find it. Grin.

Toji pretends not to notice.

That night?

You return from hunt.

Drop fresh kill at his feet.

Toji smirks.

(Good hunter,) he grunts.

You nod.

And just like that—

The best hunter in the tribe becomes the best house-husband in the valley.

---

The next day, Sukuna is also suffering.

He sits by river.

Scowling. Wet.

Across from him, Toji and Gojo. Also wet.

They exchange knowing looks.

They understand now.

There is no escaping this fate.

Sukuna growls. Crosses arms. Refuses to look at his own mate.

She clicks her tongue.

Sukuna bares teeth. Hisses.

She grabs his face. Scrubs harder.

Gojo snickers.

Sukuna swings.

Gets grabbed. Dunked underwater.

Emerges. Coughing. Furious. Betrayed by gods.

Toji shakes head. (Stop fighting. No win.)

Sukuna glares.

Will never stop fighting.

Will never—

---

Later.

Nanami passed by, smugly carring his laughing mate on his back like a monkey.

Sukuna sits by the tribe fire. Pouting.

He has been fed.

Dried.

His hair braided.

His mate hums.

He grumbles.

Sharpens her spear.

Toji and Gojo sigh in solidarity.

They all stare into the flames.

The fire of their lost freedom.

The era of wild, untamed men is over.

Now they are simply... husbands.

---

Toji wakes up to the smell of smoke.

This is not unusual. Caves are smoky. Fire is life.

What is unusual?

He is hanging upside down.

Like a slaughtered deer in a butcher’s hut.

Like some offering to gods.

Like some sacrificial goat.

Feet tied together with vines.

Dangling from a tree branch.

Swaying gently.

Toji blinks.

Toji processes.

Toji sees you.

Crouched by fire.

Sharpening a flint knife. Humming.

Toji’s entire soul malfunctions.

He howls. (What the—)

Thrashes. Swings like an overgrown fruit.

Branch creaks.

You look up. Squint. Grunt. (Squirmy meat.)

Toji freezes.

Meat?

Did you just say meat?

Have you been grunting ‘meat’ instead of ‘mate’ this whole time and it got lost in translation???

NO. NO NO NO.

He needs to leave. Now.

You stand. Walk over.

Sniff him.

You poke his bicep.

Squeeze his asscheeks.

Punch his thigh. (OW.)

You nod. Satisfied.

Give an approving grunt. (Good meat. Strong. Juicy.)

Had you been raring him like cattle this whole time, feeding him, bathing him? Just to cut him down.

Toji’s survival instincts start playing the drums. ( WAIT. STOP. NO MEAT. AM MATE. )

You pause. (Mate?)

(YES. MATE.)

You frown.

(But... meat.)

(NO. MATE.)

You tilt your head, considering.

(Mate... better than meat?)

(YES. MATE BETTER.)

Silence.

You stare at him. Deep in thought.

Too much thought.

Toji doesn't have time for contemplation.

His ass is burning.

His entire back is roasting over the fire.

With a snarl, he flexes, yanks, snaps the branch clean in half, and lands—

Right on his ass.

He groans. Grumbles. Rubs his tailbone.

(Crazy mate,) he grunts.

You squat next to him.

Poke his cheek and grunt.

(Mate strong. Mate fast. Mate... pretty.)

Toji bluescreens. (Pretty???)

You nod. (Pretty.)

Toji stares into the void, grits teeth. Refuses to blush.

Fails.

This is not how he expected his day to go.

---

Now Toji is in charge.

He builds a bigger fire.

Skins the boar.

Roasts the meat perfectly.

You watch.

Silently.

Eyes narrowed.

Toji feels the weight of your stare.

The burning intensity.

Toji has been watched many ways before.

Never like this.

Not with the focused hunger of a woman planning long-term investment.

You grunt. (Good hunter.)

Toji smirks. Hands you food.

You accept.

Chew. Nodding.

You grunt. (Mate strong. Mate smart. Mate... good cook.)

Toji leans closer. (Yes. Good mate.)

Your gaze flicks to his jawline.

To his biceps.

Back to the meat in his hands.

Something about seeing him like this—half-naked, covered in soot, feeding you—

You grunt. (Very pretty mate.)

Toji coughs.

Adjusts his sitting position.

Avoids your very direct gaze.

Keeps his eyes on the fire.

For the first time in his life—

Toji does not know if he is the hunter or the hunted.

---

Toji is happy.

He was hunted. He was bonked. He was stolen.

But now? Now he loves it.

At first, Toji resisted. He was a man of instinct, survival, and brute strength. But then he saw you—wild, unhinged, terrifying. You cracked him over the head with a rock, dragged him back to your cave, and called it mating.

He adapted. Now he thrives.

Because Toji is a smug bastard.

And you? You are insane.

When Toji walks through the tribe, he is unbearable.

Every time some poor excuse of a man dares to look his way, he flashes his big, sharp teeth like a trophy display.

"Yes. My mate chose me."

"Yes. My mate strong."

"Yes. My mate will birth strong cubs."

And if any of those weaklings so much as glance at you for too long?

Toji growls. Deep. Menacing. (She is mine. You weak. I kill you.)

This is a problem.

Not because of the men.

But because of the women.

The first time a woman dared look at Toji for too long, you did not hesitate.

You picked up a rock.

And launched it.

The woman barely dodged. Screamed. Ran.

Toji blinked. Then tilted his head, watching you with interest. Your eyes were wild. He grinned.

This happens again. And again.

Woman look? You grunt. (No.)

You pick rock.

You throw rock.

Woman scream. Dodge. Run.

Toji watches, deeply amused.

He looks at you. Sees the crazy in your eyes.

His grin widens.

It keeps happening.

Woman look? You throw rock.

Woman talk near Toji? You chase with stick.

One woman touches his arm?

Oh.

Oh, you tackle.

You growl. Show teeth.

The woman cries.

Toji loves this.

Whenever you chase women away, he puffs out his chest. Stands taller. Grunts at the other men with smug satisfaction. "My mate insane. Yours could never."

Nanami, watching this unfold daily, finally mutters, “You need to control mate.”

Toji, watching you prepare another rock-throwing attack: “Why would I do that?”

You throw rock at Nanami.

Nanami dodges.

Then notices his mate doing the exact same thing—chasing Toji’s mate around with a burning stick.

Nanami tries to hide his smile.

Fails miserably.

---

Eventually, the chief steps in.

Because too many women have fled.

Because you have almost killed three.

Because everyone is terrified.

The chief grunts. (No more. No more crazy mate.)

Toji grunts back. (Why?)

Chief grunts harder. (Too many women cry.)

Toji, picking his teeth lazily, grunts back. (No.)

The chief’s brow twitches, he howls. (If she does it again, you both leave the tribe.)

Toji shrugs. Looks at you.

You grin.

And throw another rock.

Directly at chief Yaga.

The chief glares.

Picks up his spear to chase you both.

Toji smirks, grabs your waist, lifts you onto his shoulder.

And runs back to your cave with record speed.

And that is how Toji and his insane mate almost got kicked out of the tribe.

Toji, grinning the entire time. (My mate best.)

Toji happy.

---

A/N: Alright, tell me the truth.

Choose wisely. History will judge you. (Drop your answer in the comments or I will throw a rock at you.)

Next Chapter: Ooga Booga Suguwu gets mated to Female Mowgli after Neanderthal BL Betrayal (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[sleepypanda01]

CB theories/thoughts part 5 (Did Prunella's mom actually buy the second key from the flea market?)

After overthinking a bit a thought occurred to me.

Was Goldie indeed the key that we saw at the flea market with Bronze? Was Prunella's mom the one who actually bought the other key? Where am I trying to get at, you may ask. Well, if we take a look at the second key and the key in the craft box of prunella's mom, doesn't the colour seem a bit different? (Or it is just me,I could have sworn they looked a bit different for a second, but it could be the lighting) The second key in the market looks greenish while Goldie looks light brownish when covered in dirt (if you look hard enough? lmao😭)

Also when we take a look at the back of Goldie we see that the dirt is not in the same places as in the key in the market. But what is more is that their keyrings also seem to have a different colour. The keyrings of the keys in the market are dark while the keyring of Goldie is of a lighter colour.

What is weird is that the seller says he doesn't remember who he sold it to, but Prunella's mom has a very unique style. You would think that a woman who dresses as if she came out of a fairy tale would be memorable enough. 

you're telling me he would not remember this woman?

Then when Chase wonders who bought the key we see a bunch of Shadow of people, you could think that it is not important and they are just shadows meant to depict unimportant characters that we will never see again, unless not really. Next to Chase's bubble of asking who bought the other key there is a shadow who kinda looks like one of Chase's friends. 

(It is more believable that the seller forgot who bought they key if it was this dude lol)

Maybe the answer to who bought the key was all along right in front of Chase (or well, behind him at that moment cause his back was turned lol). 

If Goldie and the key in the market are not the one and the same,how did Agatha acquire Goldie? Why is he in her possession? Well the same goes for the market guy, why did he have two keys? In previous parts I theorized about people being connected to Ex Libris but having no memory of it due to someone's involvement. They both seem to be unaware of what is the keys' true worth. Going back to my theory in part 4 where I mention that the old man is missing 4 keys, if we accept the theory of the market key not being Goldie for the sake of theorising, then market key is the fourth missing key. 

If that's true then here are the possible missing keys and their (possible) keyholders:

1) missing key: Bronze ,keyholder : Deacon 

2) missing key : Goldie, keyholder: Prunella

3) missing key: villain key,keyholder: Simon?

4) missing key: unknown identity but since it looks so much like Goldie the metal could be brass, and if we look at the paper with all the key symbols there's a crown near the sun and opposite of the apple which is Bronze’s symbol and he was found in the market with some other key, mind you.

 Deacon also mentioned some key roles when they were trying to figure out what key prunella had and he mentioned the ruler key. 

So if I had to guess which symbol the ruler key has I would say the crown because a crown defines rulers and the role has similarities to the hero whose symbol is close to it. And if I had to guess the keyholder, I would say Chase's friend whose name I am not sure is mentioned.

So to summarize, the missing keys are the following:

Bronze, the helper key

Goldie, the hero key

The villain Key

The ruler key

Bonus detail: in my previous post I said that Simon might have put up the reward poster but it could have been the other friend too since the posters started appearing a few days later after the flea market day. Besides, birds of the feather flock together and either of Chase’s friends could have the same idea as him and put up posters.

Honestly, out of all the theories I have come up with, this is the most insane one, but the keys at the market were turned around so we could not see their symbols and this could have been on purpose, so who knows? 

[oscquinn]

Hi there! How are we doing on this fine sunday? I spent the day at the beach and of course, that gave me some ideas so ahem ahem ✨beach day with carmy bear✨

First let’s talk about the most obvious thing ever but…this man looks HAWT okay?!!? He already does on a daily basis, doing the most regular things ever but at the beach????? 74 dead, 192 injured.

anyway yeah he looks really good but also:

You manage to whisk him away for a few days, just the two of you to relax and you rent a small house by the beach. Your goal is basically to get him to slow down a bit, catch up on some sleep and have fun, you know?That in itself is tough because he!!cannot!!relax!!!!!!!!! But he’s also very very in love so he agrees for a weekend away.

He carries all the bags because he was raised a gentleman and there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?

You insist on putting sunscreen on his back and face and okay maybe it’s just an excuse to give him a nice massage and maybe he knows that but plays along too

But he’s just as protective, always making sure you’re hydrated and you’re wearing your hat if you’re seating in the sun.

i might be almost 21 but playing in the waves!!!!!! and making sand castles!!!!! at first he might think it’s a little silly but not in a mean way, just the kind of thing he doesn’t think of to have fun because he just doesn’t have fun yk? but he helps you and realizes it is actually fun. it definitely turns into a competition btw and you end up both winning and eating ice cream as a reward.

Playing cards too!! i feel like he knows one or two great cars games that he’d teach you, something he got from Mickey or Cousin maybe?

also napping on the beach. he lays his head on your belly while you read and you’re playing with his hair and the weather is nice and it’s actually pretty good to feel the sun on his skin and—when you notice he’s sleeping, you don’t move, just let him take whatever he needs.

you 100% make sure to take a billion pictures of him, of the two of you (you send one of him sleeping to nat <3) and he tries to take aesthetic pictures of you, he snaps a few more just to keep for himself.

a lot of talking too!!! he’s been working a lot, you too, life got in the way so you take the time to catch up—you tell him about the new show you want to start with him, he tells you about a flea market he’d like to check out. It feels nice to catch up and somehow it reassures him? Like his anxiety gets too much and he’s scared you might be unhappy but then you talk and you tell him you love him and you want to do things with him and his chest feels less heavy.

who says day at the beach, says watching the sunset together. of course it’s beautiful but carmy keeps looking at you and the way the light seems to hit your features so perfectly well because he’s a sap.

You get a little cold and he’s instantly handing you his sweater. And I just know his heart melts when you nuzzle closer to him <3

I love to think he’d stay up at night to listen to the ocean. He can’t sleep because his mind is too loud so he goes on the little patio and listens to the sounds of the waves on the shore. Maybe you join him, rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the moment with him. he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-🧸

hey so something you don't know about me is that i love the beach more than literally any other place on earth!!!!! i went to the OBX a lot as a kid and it shaped me into the woman i am today!!!!! i love the beach!!!!!!!!!!!! i even had a finnpoe beach au that was like. god. it was at minimum 10k words and it wasn't even complete yet. i would just work on it when at the beach house my father took me to cause there was no wifi there- but enough ab me!!!!!

i agree that baby boy canNOT relax, poor thing. but you could talk him into it saying he can try all kinds of new restaurants and get some ideas for a seafood course for the bear menu <33 and ughhh i just. staying in a cutie little beach house with him!!! i used to go to the beach every year and when i got old enough to really appreciate the whole day, my fav thing became evening walks and i know those would sooth his soul sooo much

"there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?" i will sob??? i will actually cry and scream and roll around on the floor???? god i just. carmen carrying your bags upstairs to the house while you take stock of all the general beach things available in the shed underneath. yall know how beach houses are on stilts? yeah like that. and placing your shampoo and body wash and things in the outdoor shower so it can be used first thing, because once everything is unloaded all you wanna do is walk down to the ocean and once you're there, well, who isn't gonna jump in!

massaging the sunscreen into his back, the way he would sigh a little, and you can press soft kisses to his cheek as you do so. ugh i looveeeee him!!!! he would be so so protective, making sure there's plenty of snacks, and if you're hungry he'll walk the beach with you until you find a little sandwich shop or taco place for whatever you wanna eat. he's confused at first why you're making a sand castle, preferring to sit and read his book, but suddenly he's finished with a chapter and spending time with his girl seems so much more fun, so before he knows it he's packing wet sand into the mould sitting across from you, sandy shins and messy hair, but he's all smiley too

the poor thing would get so exhausted from playing in the waves, probably bc he's not used to it. swimming in the ocean really takes it out of you!! so when you're laid out under the umbrella reading he grumbles like "babe, lemme... c'mere," and tugs you just a little closer to rest his head on your tummy :((( playing with his curls while they dry from the salt water, forming them into perfect little spirals, putting a little braid here and there

just talking to each other and catching up in such a relaxed setting is so sweet im gonna sob. maybe y'all snagged a beachfront place so you can watch the sun set over the water ((i have never seen this... #eastcoast)) while you're sitting on the rlly comfy deck chairs, he's got a beer and you've got a little cocktail he made you, and you're playing cards and chatting about what's been going on lately. just sitting out there together listening to the waves, wrapped up in his sweater from his culinary school i- i genuinely cannot. i love him and i love the beach. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THE BEACH!!!!!!!

tldr; me and 🧸 love the beach and carmy so much

[blacktofade]

Gemtho Fortnight Day 6

Prompt: Gemtho prompt: RPF, Etho actually gives Gem his address (or a PO box maybe) so she can send him a Christmas gift, they start sending goofy penpal letters and trinkets back and forth, but it soon becomes extremely horny letters and perhaps physical nudes.

cw: rpf

“I went to the post office yesterday,” Etho says instead of hello when Gem answers the Discord call.

His voice is rough and strangely echoed, like he’s halfway to taking a sip of the first coffee of his day.

It’s early for him. Gem doesn’t usually see any sign of him until later in the afternoon, and her stomach jolts with anticipation.

“Get anything good?” she asks, feigning innocence, and Etho grunts.

“You’re the only one with my address.”

It’s not Etho’s address, it’s a PO box in Edmonton he’s kept open for months now.

It had started as a joke with Gem threatening to find him to send him a mic stand, but she’d only brought it up once, and yet a week later, Etho had dropped the address into her DMs. Nothing else, just the address, and Gem had taken it and ran.

She’d sent the mic stand, not that she expected him to use it, but she’d also included a Funko Pop of Kakashi, just because she wasn’t about to miss the opportunity.

Eventually, he’d DMed her a photo of the same desk setup that she’d seen before, but the tissue box was gone, replaced with the stand, and near his monitor was the ridiculous Funko figure.

It had made her feel strangely powerful.

She’d started sending him things regularly, not expecting him to continue paying for the space month after month, but nothing had ever been returned to her. It all made it to him.

She’d sent him Easter candy she’d found in the back of a pharmacy, almost a year out of date. She’d sent him an old Sega game with no label from a flea market. She’d sent him a little piece of her soul in the form of a postcard from Boston, wish you were here scribbled on the back.

Later in the year when she’d got home from Twitch Con, she’d sent him a signed photo of Bdubs. She’d got it from John as a joke after too many drinks in the California sun, when they’d both laughed to the point of tears at the thought of Etho opening it.

And a week later Etho had sent her a photo of it framed and sitting on the shelf behind his desk.

It was around that time she’d realized he was doing it for her — the whole PO box setup, his strangely candid responses. He was letting her sneak her way into his life.

Which leads to now and the reason why her palms are sweating.

“Have you opened it yet?” she asks and she hears a creak, like he’s leaning back in his chair.

“I opened it last night.”

Gem swallows, tugging anxiously at the hem of her sweater. “Am I wildly off-base?”

“Depends what reaction you were expecting from me.”

Gem takes a breath. “What reaction did I get?”

“I'm only human,” Etho tells her and Gem shuts her eyes and thinks she understands.

The envelope she'd mailed him had contained Polaroids. The kind of Polaroids she's never sent anyone else, the kind she's never wanted to take before.

She can imagine him at his desk, tipping out the contents and sitting in stunned silence. She can imagine him holding one of the photos — maybe the one of her topless, one hand resting on her ribs, face turned away from the camera but hair unmistakable — touching himself and knowing they'd be having this conversation later.

“That's the reaction I was hoping for,” Gem admits quietly.

“I'm going to keep the PO box open a little while longer,” Etho tells her, and it feels like an aside until he adds, “if you would like to send more.”

He says it like he's doing her a favor, but Gem feels breathless.

“Yeah,” she says, too quick to be anything but eager. “I can do that.”

“I'm also going to need your address.”

Gem's mouth is suddenly dry.

She can do that, too.

[absoluteocellibehavior]

I have obtained a trenchcoat for an upcoming Arthur Lester cosplay for con next year and I am STOKED. Searched through this entire flea market for one and got an actually pretty nice one.

It is going to get painted on but that is indeed the cosplay life.

[alexjcrowley]

Braddavid/Cookiecash headcanons (I did not invent cookiecash, I took it froma a Tumblr user who took it from a fic on ao3)

-Brad's love languages are acts of service, quality time and gift giving: any kind of gesture that he can later justify saying he did it for his own benefit or amusement. Acts of service? Oh, no, I manipulated you by doing a good thing for you and now you owe me (never going to ask that favour back). Quality time? I enjoy watching you being pathetic, it amuses me. Gift giving? A bit trickier, but "there was a discount at Starbucks if I ordered two drinks/I found this at the flea market/a book, so maybe you'll spend your time reading instead of annoying me/you cannot show up to a meeting with Montreal with that tie, consider this a necessary purchase for the company".

-David's love languages are all of them, but trying a bit too hard. The kind of things that would make anyone go "that's pathetic", except, if you loose the fake coolness for a moment, they're actually very sweet. Lots of compliments. Gifts with a 50/50 rate of success (the successful ones are usually Ducktales themed). Afternoon spent renting a small paddleboat in the park lake (David falls into the water). PDA but someone burst in the office and suddenly it's a very embarassing situation. Cooking dinner but he ends up burning it and they have to resort to take out. David's love language is trying and Brad should find this utterly pathetic and weak, and instead he finds the effort all the more endearing, especially because David never gives up. What has this man done to him.

-Basically every morning, before they start living together, David woke up early to get Brad a mochaccino. Every. Single. Day. Brad had to tell him to stop (because of his ED, he feared gaining weight). David still made a point of bringing Brad coffee every morning. Brad justified to himself accepting David's kindness as taking advantage of a fool. He had the upper hand because David was gifting him coffee, surely no ripercussions, especially emotional ones, would come out that situation. Brad was winning and he had everything under control.

-David is surprisingly self-reliant. Here went Brad thinking he'd have to beat his partner with a stick to let him have some alone time, but David is way less clingy than one could imagine. He has a lot of hobbies (many stereotypical suburban dad hobbies, but still): cycling, barbecue, music (he is still trying to learn to play the guitar), meditation ("It really helps, Brad, you should try it!"), cooking (with...various results), Turkish soap operas ("My wife" "Ex-wife" "used to watch them, so to bring a spark to the relationship I started watching them with her, you know, to spend more time together, and now we're divorced but I am still hooked") and more. If you leave him alone, David will find something to do. David says it has to do with his childhood, only child and all that, he's used to lonely afternoons, he learned how to fill them. The rapidity he takes up hobbies with is frankly impressive. Brad hates to admit it, but sometimes he finds himself to envy how many pasttimes David gets up to. It's incredible for such a lively person full of interests to pass so often as a boring one. Brad will (secretly gladly) hear about David talking about his million hobbies.

-David learns Brad's birthday and never forgets it. He makes a big deal out of it the forst time, organising a surprise birthday party, just like he did when Zack told him it was Brad's birthday. Brad is not at all pleased by the situation, until he remembers birthday parties mean gifts, to him. That's the only reason he's willing to forgive David for making all that fuss.

-It becomes second nature for Brad to buy David's favourite cookies everytime he sees them. At some point they have 5 unopened boxes in the kitchen. Brad is appalled by his own stupidity while David beams with love.

-David speaks a decent (canadian) french, Brad speak a France french and costantly makes fun of David's accent. But they use their knowledge of french to talk shit about people in MQ without them understanding, especially Poppy and Ian.

-They almost stop speaking to eachothers, even before they get together, due to Brad's ED, because it's not something Brad wants to confront, but David can't repress his worry. Brad starts making small steps and David makes sure to be a comforting presence along the way, without being a smothering one. He makes sure Brad eats something everyday, often by having lunch/dinner with him.

-David is a child when it comes to alchohol. Literal child. He pretends to enjoy whisky, because that's what men his age do, but he doesn't. He is a simple red wine/white wine/beer man (that's the only distinction he does, he wouldn't know a pinot grigio from a cabernet), and he doesn't even handle it that well. Brad is an absolute snob when it comes to liquors and his knowledge in alchohol ties directly with the social value it brings in a conversation with rich people. David is an affectionate drunk, which Brad hates in public because how is he supposed to keep his cool when David hugs him and declares his love for him in front of anybody who cares to listen?

-The day David started asking people's opinion on shaving his moustache was the day Brad had to reluctantly and embarrassingly admit he liked David's moustache too much to risk see it gone. David kept the moustache and never let Brad live that down. The endless teasing made Brad reconsider the tragedy of a clean-shaven David, but it was already too late.

-David's obnoxious with petnames, really, Brad can't understand the unironical appeal in being called "baby", "honey", "dear". Well, actually dear is not the worst. The worst was Brad-bear, and, as a matter of a fact, it had never been repeated after it fatally escaped David's mouth and Brad looked at him like he was trying to kill him with mind-powers. It really is a testament to how sloppy Brad has become since he's with David, because it takes him a while to understand that David is trying to be smart, to be subtle, and failing miserably. He is attempting some sort of influence. So one day, after taking the mochaccino David bought for him, Brad goes "Thank you, darling" and David can't help but smile, blabbering something like "I-It's nothing, really". It's the little things, Brad thinks drinking his mochaccino.

-Brad starts using polish petnames for David. Even when David has no idea what they mean, he is incredibly happy to hear them. Only half of them are sort of insults.

-David has secretly started to learn polish, even though it doesn't come so easy to him. He practices it in secret in Sue's office.

-Brad has gifted David a wolf plushie. David loves it.

-David has made Brad several Spotify playlist which Brad refuses to listen to (or so he told David).

-Despite great insistence, David did not manage to get Brad to do a couple costume with him on Halloween. David still showed up with half of the couple costume. Brad tried to convince other people he wasn't David's date, to spare himself the embarrassment. And it was also working with people who didn't know him and David directly if he didn't have a ring on his finger and the words "my husband, David" didn't roll on his tongue so naturally.

-David refuses to admit he found Brad very hot in Everlight when he was fighting with the sword because he is aware, the moment that slips out, Brad will find a way to use a sword again, possibly in public, explicitly to tease him. And David is a man who knows his limits, and knows he couldn't handle it.

-David is somewhat unaware of how much Brad has softened with him, because Brad is still very sharp and sarcastic around him. David doesn't think Brad is cold towards him, but still, he thinks, 80% of the time and always in public, Brad is still pretty much Brad, he just insults him a little less. From an external point of view, anyobody who has ever met Brad can tell he is another person when it comes to David, 200% kinder than usual. When Brad "insults" David is more of a playful jab about his fashion sense or being a pushover, when Brad insults anyone else is a call from Carol in HR for Brad and, for the unlucky soul, new material for the next 5 session with their therapist.

-Contrary to popular belief (at least about Brad), David and Brad are not a very "glamorous" couple. When they first got together, people at MQ thought that David was the boring one and Brad was going to bring excitement and dare into his life. There were a lot of jokes on David not being able to keep up with Brad's lifestyle. Truth is, apart from work related events, Brad doesn't like to go out and mingle too much, unless he has a specific purpose. Outside MQ, they are the most ordinary boring middle-aged queer couple you could ever meet. At least that's the image they project in David's neighbourhood (which is not a cool, fashion neighbourhood like the one in which Brad lives). The neighbours see them at the rare neighbourhood events they attend, and David is your classic "let me work the barbecue, I have expert knowledge in grilling" suburban-dad-looking guy, while Brad only speaks about stocks and cryptocurrency.

-Brad is master at chess (he used to play professionally when he was very young) and every game of cards (he counts them), David sucks at both. Brad refuses to teach him because he likes to win (and he doesn't want to lose charming points revealing his tricks).

-Brad doesn't see the similarities between he and Huey's voice actor in the new Ducktales. He is offended when David says even he could hardly tell them apart.

-Brad tried to imitate Scrooge McDuck's voice, but he sucked at the impression. He can do a generic Scottish accent, though.

-They tried to use David and Brad in a spot about MQ being an inclusive workplace and Brad threatened to make 0 the price for any weapons again.

-Brad doesn't believe in PDA but he does believe in being the last ones to leave the office after a bit of fun in their shared room.

-People costantly assume Brad is way younger than he actually is and sometimes they give David weird looks because of it or they make illed jokes about it. David is mortified, but Brad loves it, "It's not my fault I age better than you".

-One day David asked Brad to see his number one. "What do you mean?" "You know, like Scrooge McDuck? You're such a big fan, I thought you had a number one of your o-" "Don't be ridiculous, David, I am a forty-two-year old man, do you actually think I keep an old coin in a velvet box in the name of citationism?" He does. He does, but he doesn't show it to David until he proposes. Because he proposed with the coin. He slid the velvety box on a table saying that it was his most priced possession and the fact that he was showing David meant David was the person he trusted the most in the entire world. Then Brad proceded to tell him that for him that was the greatest love gesture he could think about (after all, everyone knows that stealing Scrooge McDuck's number one would have brought to his end, Brad is metaphorically trusting David with his life)."I think...I don't say this lightly, and I will say it only once, but I think...you are to me the only person as important as my number one. This is serious, very serious for me, you understand?" David did, and was speechless. He felt almost embarrassed about the ring he bought, but Brad loved it nonethless.

-One could say that the moment he started dating Brad, David stopped with the freudian slip of calling "his wife" his ex-wife, but the truth is, since he started dating Brad, he just stopped mentioning his ex-wife that much.

-David's ex wife and Brad met. Brad's takeaway from that encounter, after David asked him what he thought of it, was "Good. I am better than her, so I have nothing to worry about".

-For the longest time, they don't meet eachothers parents. They justify it saying they're not teenagers anymore, they don't need the family approval, but people at MQ start to point out it's weird they have been together for such a long time and they haven't met eachothers' family. The thing is both David and Brad have a terrible relationship with their families. David's parents wouldn't even care and Brad's parents would only be disappointed by his choice in a partner (whatever partner really: they would either be a looser or much better than Brad and that's why they will eventually leave him). They talk about it, way before they actually end up meeting eachothers' family (in both cases, unwillingly). "At least your brother likes me, I think. He seemed nice with me. Or because you don't like your brother it's actually a bad thi-" "My brother hates you, David. He thinks you're weak and pathetic." "...there goes my hope-" "It makes me like you more." "Oh. So, I guess, every thorn has its rose." "That's not a saying, David."

-The way they meet David's parents is objectively funny, if you aren't the people directly involved. David's parents are arguing again, something about a beach house his mother obtained with David rights on Christmas (yes, the agreement wasn't "I take the beach house, you can have Christmas with David" but "since I get Christmas with David, I am entitled to the beach house, as compensation". Carol reminded David one more time she wasn't his therapist, but even she admitted that was pretty shitty). Because David doesn't spend Christmas with his parents anymore, the beach house is open for dibs, again. Mr Brittlesbee and ex-Mrs. Brittlesbee rang David's door at 8 in the morning on Saturday, just to find a black haired guy in a Ducktale t-shirt opening the door. They apologised for coming to the wrong house (and bickered accusing one another not to know where their son lived).

"David" shouted Brad.

"Mhyeah?" answered David, still in bed.

"How do your parents look like?"

"Why- why are you asking me that?" replied David, suddenly way more awake.

"I think I just met them, but now they're ringing at every door in the neighbourhood."

It was a morning not easily forgettable. The Senior Brittlesbees took a while to grasp the concept of bisexuality, while Brad had understably given up making a good impression, but still managed not to escalate the situation by being silent and bringing the Brittlesbees cups of fresh-made coffee. He was called Ted several times, despite numerous corrections both on his and David's part. The ex-Mrs Brittlesbee made a point of saying (to David alone, at least) she preferred Lindsay.

"And I prefer Brad. And since it is my life-"

"I know what is going through a divorce, David, look, your father is still sucking the light out of me! I too tried something different to shake things up, I moved to Florida for a year and it was a disaster! Don't let divorce ruin the rest of your life, Ted seems like a decent man, so it'd be better to call it quit before you make another mistake-"

"Okay, goodbye, Mom."

-Metting with Brad's parents didn't really go any better. To be fair, the meeting was set as a surprise by Zack in order to humiliate Brad, just for the fun of it. He had already understood there was something going on between Brad and David, but when he heard they were officially a couple he didn't waste time to use the information to his advantage. It didn't go well, but at least Brad and David could officially say that was out of the way. Brad's parents lamented Brad choosing someone almost "softer" than he already was. Brad felt prouder than ever for his choice.

-Brad and David fought over Jo being the best woman at their wedding. And they didn't only fight between themselves, they tried to bring Jo on their respective side with any means. When it comes to persuasion though, it's Brad's favourite field and he ended up taking Jo. They were on the verge to call out wedding because David couldn't find a best man or woman (Ian tried to propose himself for the role, but David politely ignored him for 2 months making up excuses). In the end, Sue was David's best woman.

-David cried at their wedding. In several points of the wedding. Some people asked if he was being forced to marry. He was just very happy and emotional.

[ruminiscence]

Paris: A Year Abroad in a short film

Audio: "Burnt Norton" by Lana Del Rey, a rendition of the original poem "Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot.

Where do I even start? Paris has wholly shaped me in ways I never imagined. We refer to Paris as the city of love, but I'm now more inclined to call it the city of art - which only leaves more room for love in your heart. There is so much to contemplate and appreciate in frequenting the vast array of art museums here - from the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, Musée de l’Orangerie, the Centre Georges Pompidou, and many more. Not only has my perspective on art expanded, but so has my worldview. That’s because art is truly everywhere in this city; art can be found in the walkable streets amidst the rich architecture, the fashionable outfits seen in daily life, and even the exquisite decor in stores and when you cheekily peek into Parisian appartments!

There's always something new to discover in Paris, I'm almost saddened at the thought of the things I've yet to discover or missed. The treasures to unveil in Paris move far beyond the typical tourist hotspots we all know and love. I am obsessed with Parisian boutiques; they are chic and unique (that unintentionally rhymed) in the best way possible. One of my favourites is La Tonkinoise à Paris, located in the 11th arrondissement. This particular arrondissmenet is the best in Paris to be honest, it holds a special place in my heart as I had the wonderful opportunity of living there, so perhaps you can say that I am somewhat biased. Still, I can confidently say that this animated, hip and creative neighbourhood is one everyone should have the chance to explore.

La Tonkinoise à Paris, owned by the lovely Chantal, is my favourite hidden gem in Paris. I had the pleasure of befriending Chantal as I ended up frequenting her store one too many times; I've garnered quite a collection over time. This boutique offers a wide range of eccentric and sustainable jewellery, with her earring creations being the show stoppers, in my opinion. Her jewellery is composed of rings, pearls, brooches, charms, and watches, all unearthed in flea markets and recycled. I love that every piece of jewellery indeed is a unique piece. The decor changes based on the season and theme of her new collections, making it an ever-changing and exciting shopping experience. This is honestly the best jewellery store I have ever been to in my life! I wish the pictures I took could do the jewellery and the boutique's decor justice, but it simply won't, I'm afraid.

Now, onto food, I genuinely need to figure out where to start here. My favourite authentic French restaurant would have to be 'Le Potager du Père Thierry', located in Montmartre. Although it's incredibly small, I love the cosy vibe; I feel like I can enjoy delicious food with friends without feeling surrounded by strangers. Surprisingly, it's also very quiet (yet packed) - I guess the food is just too distracting.

As of late, my favourite non-french restaurant has to be 'Big Black Cook' (let's ignore how inappropriate that pun is, though funny). It's located in the 2nd arrondissement and serves Caribbean food, my friend claims that it was the best meat she's had!

For brunch, I recommend Café Méricourt in the 11th arrondissement. Their green Eggs & Feta are absolutely incredible and quite innovative as far as brunch places go.

As for a boulangerie - seriously, anywhere, literally anywhere in Paris, go to your nearest bakery; there need not be a big fuss - you're in for a scrumptious baked treat regardless!

I'm ever so grateful for the chance to have lived in Paris for an extended period; you cannot appreciate Paris in its entire splendour from a mere short-term visit. The city is an actual work of art; art is everywhere in the city, from the street performers and musicians, the light filters through the trees, the city's many architecturally rich bridges, the picturesque cafés and boulangeries, the beautifully presented food, the way that the city's many different neighbourhoods each have their own distinct character and vibe. In Paris, art is everywhere.

[thechthonicherbalist]

Cute artsy Christmas gift

In the past months I've been going to flea- and handcraft-markets with my neighbour and getting in touch with a few from my father's customers who were concerned for him and reached out after he became unable to work in the beginning of this year and reconnected a bit to the local queer and art scene through an elderly lesbian inkeeper who hosts different monthly get-togethers for artists, disabled people and queers in her pub a bit. She's very sweet, sadly she said she will likely have to retire in a few years. 😭

But also, her pub doubles as a gallery and I got back in touch with some of the local artists from my former school and the town's tower gallery with them. :3 I shared some of my own art (most of which is ollldddd, at least the handmade stuff) and invited to display a few pieces for sale there. 🥰 I might actually do that. 😂 I also couldn't resist to buy some of the displayed art there as a little Christmas present to myself. 🥺

A sweet woman just a bit older than me, from the scene and I got to talk about these pretty handmade cosmetic bags that were displayed in the pub's window and she knew a lot about them. After 3 rounds of monopoly and many stories exchanged, it turned out, she's the one who made them, when I went to get a closer look and decided to buy two I really loved. 😂

A day later, back at home I realized who they remind me of. Drag-Queen Lestat and Nicki. 🙈 Oops. Tapped into the involuntary-fandom-merch trap again. 😂 I shall tell her about them the next time I meet her. 🥰 For now they hold my smol bun-bun travel hairbrush and hair-products... they've been lying around quite sadly lately in my attempts to practice hair preservation. I am on a medication for chemo that's not supposed to cause too much/complete hairloss like some do. Buuut it's been thinning a bit anyways. 💀 Nothing that won't grow back. (But still - just when I had it grown out past shoulder lenght for the first time in my life too. 😂)

I believe she said the front was acryl on canvas sewn together with other fabrics, that were coloured with ink and acryl. 🤔 I secretly went wild for the white colour stains on the back from her desk. She apologized for them and internally I went like 😭🥵 are you kidding me, that's like the dirty little dripping secret that reveals it's homemade goodness. 😂😂 Much too shy to say that out loud, but yk. 😂🙈

[twst-drabbles]

Lilia 9

Summary: Tracking down a pack of stealing faeries, General Lilia finds their path ending on a lone human being forcibly bathed.

(A reminder that I am not a spoiler-free blog. I tend to read ahead and skip around for my entertainment. That being said, time travel shenanigans with the Janitor who gets caught up in all this. Is it canon to the Janitor AU? Probably not but the thought is fun.)

Soaps. Since when has Lilia ever heard of those little faeries, those pixies sneaking into stores and flea markets for the sake of stealing soaps? It’s not unusual for them to pick and take what they like. He’s had a number of sugar cookies stolen right from his hand just as the grateful citizens stuffed them in his palm. The faeries love for sweets would rival that troublesome princess’s love for her egg.

Lilia usually isn’t one to deal with smaller problems such as these, as they resolve themselves, but pixies are unusually sensitive to scents, to the point of avoiding cities and villages alike. For them to go out of their way to steal these scented soaps tells Lilia that something was wrong. Off. While the signals are usually more subtle, often the little faeries are the first to know of incoming danger.

Lilia only hopes this wasn’t the case.

Hiding his presence among the leaves in this forested area was second nature to him. He didn’t have the hollow bones of birds, but his steps would tell one otherwise. If even the pixies can’t tell he’s tailing them, then who was he to deny the claims?

Ahead of him was a light in this dark night, and in his ears Lilia heard the rush of a river. He took a deep breath in just as the water pixie dipped out of sight with their hoard of coin-like soaps. However, rather than the crisp scent of midnight grass and river water, Lilia was hit with the sharp smell of roiling magic.

It was the likes that Lilia has only witnessed when the princess was well and truly fed up.

“Ah, that’s too hot!”

In his concentration, the blunt sound of voice nearly made Lilia’s heel slip from a branch.

“Oh, these next? Alright, hand them here. Let’s hope it gets the smell out,” landing on the nearest tree, Lilia spots an immaculate white tub with clawed feet right below the gaze of a tree house that may as well be mansion. Inside the mess of bubbles that covered everything except for the face was you, a lone human surrounded by faeries with their little arms hauling the soaps they’ve stole.

A human? Here? You’d basically be a sitting duck in this location, and yet here you are, unmarked, cursed by no one, and actually being bathed by them?

The water pixie Lilia was tailing dropped the silver soap into the tub. Another surge of bubbles came forth and overflowed the tub, blue in color. A triplet of wood faeries carried a brown bucket over your head before dumping water to rinse you off.

You wiped the water from your eyes with a sigh, “Nope. I still stink of magic. Let’s try the next one.”

The water faerie jingled out their tune of frustration, a quick and harsh number. You picked up a handful of bubbles before blowing them at their feet.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to smell like my old self eventually. It was a crazy reaction of spells that interacted, so it is going to take some time.”

The water faerie landed on your palm, sneezed and flew right back to the branches, only to come face to face with Lilia in his mask. The poor little thing screamed.

It’s easy to come to the belief that the smaller the fae, the less powerful they are. To the ignorant, it’s the truth, but for people such as Lilia, with their small size comes a certain amount of finesse that not even the princess would be able to replicate. It’s why they can combine their forces so well to make the forest yawn open to expose his location and manipulate the river current to aim right at him.

Too bad Lilia’s dealt with his fair share of angered pixies. With a leap, soared over the water and landed the tips of his toes on the edge of your tub.

“Never would I see the day,” Lilia leaned down to your stiff face, “that a human would receive the favor of the faeries. How did you do that, Human?”

Perhaps this was trick, or a mistake of some kind. Humans would have to resort to such things, of that Lilia wouldn’t be shocked by. Creatures with lives as short as yours are often so protective of their own flesh, so, one would have to forgive Lilia for being caught off guard when you kicked his feet and had him land face first into the water.

“At least let me get a towel first,” you grumbled out as you reached over a pulled it off the grass, “I don’t need anymore stress. Things are already tiresome and confusing as they are.”

It seems that General Lilia has found himself in the company of rather interesting human.

[devastatinglygreen]

I really like hearing your opinion on the things the fandom is hung up on and I haven't seen you say anything yet so I wanted to know what you thought of Colin's entrapment comment?

ohhhh interesting (and thank you tho i am sure you will regret it). i am here to provide 24/7 personalized hot takes so don't worry i will bother everyone with my opinion.

why do i, personally, think he said it? aside from being hurt? i sort of have a very nebulous idea of it that i noticed on a rewatch (yes i will rewatch this season consistently, it's now my among my favorite comfort tv shows along with 2005's p&p (which is a movie i know), that one season of friends, that flea market show i hate (don't ask), and the entirety of bob's burgers) but colin has no idea penelope loves him until episode 6 so it's connected to that.

i am very sorry you were brave enough to ask me a question and now have to read all the nonsense below. god speed.

like, he's flying blind and after the carriage (insert pitbull music...and fingers here) he's pretty insecure that's he's moving a lot faster than she is. it's unsettling to be head over ass in love and feel like you're not worthy of it and then not even be sure where the other person is. that penelope doesn't reciprocate when he first says it to her is noticeable but he moves on so quickly you can sort of assume he doesn't want to give her a chance to, like he's scared of the answer if he asks.

colin waxes poetic about love, about penelope, etc all through eps 5 and 6. he's consumed by it and to be fair, they were on different wavelengths in part 1. she was trying to let him go and move past him and he was stumbling and staring and wanting to die with wanting her while she was like, "hey this guy you hate for no reason likes me, isn't that cool?" and it's pretty fresh for him so i would think something like that lingers.

when she tells him she loves him in ep 6, he's happy. and relieved. i also think he's been expecting bad news (which, you know. it, uh, will be later) so it's a relief to hear that they're on the same page but, and this stuck out to me the first time i heard it, she says she loved him while pretending to be his friend. she corrects herself because of course she was actually his friend but she loved him underneath of it all as well but penelope isn't always the best with words when on the spot and it takes her a moment to calm down and gather her thoughts. the relief (and guilt of him not knowing/reciprocating) is very obvious in the moment and i think he was thrilled to hear that she loved him back.

which leads us to the LW fight. which makes him question if he ever knew her at all. he does, of course he does, but she's been this secret second person who has written about him, his family, her best friend, and her own family for years. penelope's intentions are never malicious when it comes to protecting the people she loves but the execution can leave a fair bit to be desired. she doesn't lie but she isn't always kind, either.

so you have this man beyond in love with a woman he doesn't think he can trust who just admitted she'd loved him for years. it's easy to live in that hurt and anger and assume the worst of someone when they've just betrayed your trust so deeply. it would probably be easy to feel manipulated. i don't think him questioning her motives is beyond the realm of possibility but i do think penelope is better than me because if i get accused of something i didn't do i would act up something fierce (see this is why my husband had to marry me, he had to keep me from terrorizing the rest of the population with my dramatics. a hero of our times, really).

anyways, what i mean is, i think it's easy to ignore the lead up to that betrayal as an audience since we know penelope's anguish and hurt over what she's done but colin has no idea and it's very fresh for him so it's easy to lash out and think everything had a motive. penelope as LW is very calculating and pointed. i think it's smart of her, actually, to continually tell him she loves him and not constantly poke at the argument. she's not giving him anything else to hold up and use against her after the fact. she's very frank and open even when they have their argument in the street.

this idea he has of LW is this hurtful, manipulative person playing with people's lives. like, LW would entrap him but penelope wouldn't so it's easy to hate one and love the other and i think his inability to bring them together as one person could play into that dynamic of feeling insecure of what her intentions were. you can sort of see each time he breaks because he knows penelope loves him but he steps back each time he's reminded of LW and how it comes between them.

something i also think plays out in his inability to communicate effectively and how deeply his self-loathing goes into his jealousy of her success and how he's incapable of being intimate with penelope until he's in a better headspace. he loves penelope. he wants to marry her and be with her and live a life with her but there's a 3rd person in his marriage in his mind and what does one do with all of that when you're so firmly penelope-sexual you're staring at the walls in a brothel when you're still single? idk man.

just remember if you're sorry for having read this, i am sorrier for having written it. except for the penelope-sexual part. that's still funny to me.