#rain oversharing again

[rainesol]

We have to do another presentation so I put a message in my last presentations groupchat asking if they just wanted to rename the gc and partner up again and all three of them left me on read so I had to follow up today and say ‘haha it’s fineee I’ll just see if [lecturer] can find a group for me’ I’m a creep im a weirdo

[lavenderselkie]

BMG is so soon and I need to find all the extra camping gear for my friends. The demons running ye olde mart of wal locked even the tent stakes up like fort knox bc heaven forbid homeless people take 90¢ item so I do not want to even bother with them. May be time to play a round of "how much could the bougie outdoors store charge for a tent stake, Selkie? ten dollars?"

[wigglesforsquiggles]

my most efficient pride pfp yet!

i will probably edit this again later to be more creative

[redwidow616]

Outside pool is so underrated

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

whyd my body decide now is the best time for diarrhea bc it is probably the Worst Time For That

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 1

Negan x Glenn’sSister!Reader

Summary: You escaped Alexandria to mourn the death of your twin brother, Glenn, only to have an unforgettable night with the man who killed him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, heavy making out, mentions of family death

Idea requested by anon. Thank you 🫶 song inspo here

It's been one month since the lineup - the day Negan took my twin brother's life. I left Alexandria the moment Maggie returned and told me what happened to Glenn. I wasn't there there for the line up, and I hate myself for it. I could've convinced Negan to kill me instead. My brother had a family, a wife, a baby on the way. Much more to offer this world than me.

I've never seen Negan or his men. I know nothing about him, except that he's going to regret taking Glenn from me. Because I've made it my life's mission to destroy him. Even if I have to go down with him.

But for now, I needed an escape and time to mourn, so I found an abandoned cabin nearby to stay in for a while. A few things were left there by the previous residents - enough to get me by for at least a couple months. The cabin is hidden in the middle of the woods, which is probably why no one has found me all this time. Until now.

It was just getting dark and starting to storm after I settled on the couch to read a book. I fell asleep moments later, listening to the rain pour when the sound of the front door creaking open startled me. Before I could get up to grab my gun, a tall man in a soaked leather jacket entered and closed the door behind him. I was frozen to the couch when I locked eyes with him.

“You here alone?” He asked.

I nodded before realizing that was a stupid thing to admit to a stranger that could easily kill me on the spot. “Um, for now. My husband should be back soon.” I lied.

He chuckled, nodding his head like he didn’t believe me. “Well darlin, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just need a place to stay for the night before I head home. I promise I’m not a threat.” He flashed his pretty, white teeth at me.

“I’m supposed to believe that? You’re a complete stranger.”

He sighed like I annoyed him before reluctantly taking his gun out of his pants and kicking it towards me on the floor. His hair was black, slicked back and dripping with water. Oh, and he was stupidly handsome.

“Fine. You can take the couch.”

He nodded appreciatively, setting his bag down by the front door. “Got a shower?”

“Bathrooms down the hall to your right.”

He nodded again before making his way to the bathroom and I exhaled a long breath. This was the first human interaction I've had since leaving Alexandria two weeks ago. It felt strange being in the presence of someone alive.

Realizing he would need something to change into after his shower, I gathered some men's clothes out of the dresser from my bedroom and went to lay them on the floor outside of the bathroom. Just as I was placing them down, the bathroom door opened, clouding my vision with steam. He stood before me shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I blushed. “Oh, my bad. Was just going to drop these here for you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He took them out of my hand, grinning down at me.

My eyes wandered down his wet torso, following the drops of water that lead from the black pirate tattoo on his pecs to the perfectly carved v in his abdomen. This was going to be a long night.

Two hours and a bottle of wine later:

My feet were propped on his lap as I lied on the couch, laughing at every lame joke he made. This man was patient, considering he’s been listening to me overshare every detail of my life for the past hour. Every detail but Glenn. I'm not ready to talk about what happened out loud and especially not to a stranger.

He was hesitant to talk about his personal life at first, but I quickly broke down his walls and in a short time, I felt like I knew more about him than any other human on the planet. We focused on the past, taking turns telling each other about our lives before the dead started walking.

“Wait, wait. A high school gym coach? I bet all the girls had a crush on you.”

His thumb teased my ankle while his other arm rested lazily on the back of the couch. “Why would you assume that?” He chuckled.

I blushed, realizing just how tipsy I was. “Look at you. You’re like, insanely hot.” The liquid courage had definitely taken over.

He smirked, rubbing the bare skin on my lower leg. “Shouldn’t your husband have been back by now?”

“Oh, yeah.” I sat up, setting my feet on the ground and scooching closer to him as I got comfortable again. “I lied earlier. I just didn’t want you to be some psycho murderer.” I said, rolling my eyes as if the thought were crazy.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Are you?” Leaning in closer, I rested my cheek on the the back of the couch and grinned at him.

“These days, aren’t we all?”

I stayed silent for a moment, looking for any sign of seriousness in his eyes. “Even if you are, I trust you.”

His eyebrows raised. “That’s pretty bold of you, doll. You know nothing about me.”

“I know you were a high school gym coach.” I reached for his hand and he gladly accepted, rubbing the back of mine with his thumb. “And that your wife’s name was Lucille. And that this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. This is your hideaway too - when you just need to get away.” I rambled on and he never took his eyes off mine. “Oh and your favorite color? Definitely black.”

“Another assumption?”

“Am I wrong?”

He chuckled. “No.” His eyes darted back and forth between mine. “Why do I feel like we’ve met before?”

“Maybe we were soulmates in another life.” I giggled.

“I’m not doubting it, doll. Feels like I've known you forever.”

My gaze dropped to his lips and he followed, leaning in closer. Closing the gap between us, I pressed my lips to his. They were soft but the stubble around them tickled me and I imagined the same sensation between my legs.

His hand slid through the silky strands of my hair, gripping it gently while pulling my closer to deepen the kiss. He tasted like wine and smelled like aftershave, and I never wanted the moment to end.

My fingers explored his damp hair while his tongue explored my mouth. With subtle moans escaping our throats, we got high off each other. Eventually his hand roamed to the end of my tank top, making chills spread over my skin. His fingers brushed slightly underneath it, trailing smoothly over my waistline and barely dipping into my shorts.

I pulled him closer, urging him to climb over me while I layed back on the couch. He held himself up with one arm as he hovered over me, settling between my legs as he kissed me.

Slipping my hand underneath his white t-shirt, I rubbed his toned stomach before following the happy trail down to his shorts and finding his hard cock pressing against the material . He was long and thick and in my hand while I stroked him. His head fell beside mine as he groaned in my ear, thrusting into my touch.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice was low and raspy.

My hips aligned with his waist until I felt the tip of him through his shorts pressing directly into my center. Luckily both of our shorts were thin enough to feel just enough friction as he slowly pushed into me over and over and over.

He fucked me slowly through our clothes, making me moan and scratch at his back. I've never done this before - with clothes on. But it somehow feels better than the actual thing. At least anything I've ever experienced. I became wetter with each of his thrusts and my heart raced in my lower core.

“We should stop, baby. As much as I would love to make you scream for me all night..” He paused, kissing below my ear. We’ve both been drinking.” He sounded like he was talking himself out of it, and I respected him for it.

I sighed. “You’re right.”

He grinned down at me before kissing my forehead. “You are so fucking beautiful. Why are you out here alone? What are you running from?”

There it is. The only thing we hadn’t talked about yet. And never will.

“It’s getting late. We should go to bed soon.”

His head dropped defeatedly but he nodded. “Right, fine.”

He climbed off of me, sitting back on couch, but I wasn’t ready to leave him yet. I looked down, noticing my book on the ground and picked it up before handing it to him. He raised an eyebrow at me but took it.

“Read to me?” I asked, grinning before lying back down and cuddling my head in his lap. He adjusted slightly, still hard from moments ago.

“You want me to read to you?” He chuckled, opening the pages and finding the spot where I left off.

“Mhm.” I mumbled, snuggling in closer and closing my eyes. His smooth voice put me to sleep in no time.

The next morning:

The sun peaking through the bedroom window and a pounding headache woke me up. I sat up quickly, remembering the events of last night.

Jumping out of bed, I looked all around the house, but there was no trace of him. His bag was gone, and every trace of our night together was erased except the empty wine bottle on the coffee table.

Was I going crazy? Was he even real? Was it all a dream?

These are the questions that kept me up at night while the days ran together and became longer. My hopes of my mystery man coming back were out the window, and I was starting to think being alone out here was making me mental.

A couple weeks later, I decided it was time to return to Alexandra and leave behind the memories of him. I left home to mourn Glenn, and now I’m leaving another safe haven to mourn the loss of someone else.

On my journey back, I did a lot of self reflecting, promising myself I’d never get close to someone again. I’m tired of losing people. Even ones who may not exist. I’ll go home and forget about him and focus on what matters. Getting justice for my brother.

Part 2 here

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Living with Luca Headcanons

Warnings: Mildly suggestive, references to violence, period-typical sexism.

Angst and Fluff ahead.

Domestic Hcs

Luca Changretta is a man of simple, yet refined, taste. He keeps a fine house for you, nothing too showy but comfortable and far from the poverty he grew up in. He will spare no expense at keeping you happy in his home, you only need to ask. If you want a garden, he’ll pay to build a greenhouse so you can tend to your beauties year-round. If you like to bake, he’ll pay for more ovens so you can bake bread while baking pies at the same time. If you like to paint, he’ll give you a room to do just that. Luca is never grandiose about it, no. He never drops these gifts on you among others or as a big gesture. You’ll be walked to your gift with his hands over your eyes at the most. 

When Luca comes home to you, it’s with slow, lumbering steps. All he does is run about the city, knocking heads and greasing palms. And this Devil gets up early, so he’s exhausted by the time he sits down in his favorite chair. However, even in his worst state he is not without elegance. Luca will sink into his chair and try to stop you as you pull off his jacket and shoes. He’ll relent in his attempts at shooing you when you offer to rub his shoulders. He can’t say no to that. Once you put your hands on him, all the weight just falls away. Your thumbs rub slow, deep circles, and his eyes close as a low groan rattles through him. He likes to take one of your hands and kiss the back of it as his way of telling you he’s grateful. 

He may pay the bills… but you’re the Lady of The House. That means that nobody is allowed to disrespect you when he’s around. You don’t often get to see Luca angry, but he gets very upset when male guests curse in your presence. He swears very little around you due to being rather traditional about what is and is not suitable to say or do around women. For a guest to act that way around you is to spit in his face and tell him it’s rain. There have been guests that were escorted outside by Luca never to be seen again…

When you’re feeling down, he likes to turn on the record player and pull you into a slow dance. Holding you close as he hums along to the tune. You can’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders and sway with him, breathing in the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco and most likely a bit of gunpowder. Luca Changretta is many things, but he’s a gentleman and a romantic over all others. 

Relationship Hcs

With his trusted few (or men he’s about to kill) he likes to overshare about you. Take for instance a bookie that’s squealing to the cops. Luca and his men have busted into his apartment to interrogate him, when he sees the bookie likes to paint. Luca will take a few minutes to ask him, “What sort of paint— or medium do you prefer? Acrylic? Hm. My lady, she’s all about watercolor. What are your thoughts on surrealism?” 

Luca isn’t all glamour and big gifts, he likes the domestic life with you. Marriage to him isn’t the life ruiner that it is for other men. With how brutal his work is, the mundane feels like a sanctuary. Which means he treasures every little thing you two do together, including gossip. He’ll listen to you vent while reading a book or flipping through the morning paper and actually follow along. He’s a master at multi-tasking. Mr. Changretta never forgets important dates, or names. If you complain to him about Agnes from bookclub, he will remember her and her annoying dog the next time you bring her up. However, do be careful how upset you let yourself seem about people… Luca likes to “solve your problems,” for you.

As stated above, Luca is traditional. If you are to marry him, he expects you to stop working. You can have as many hobbies as you like! But Luca Changretta will not stand for the future mother of his children to be straining herself at some job. He would honestly be offended, as he would take it as you not trusting him to provide for you. It also goes without saying that he would be paranoid that an enemy of his might be able to hurt you if you were out in the open like that. But really, his first thought would be: “What would she want a job for?”

Another thing that will bother you about him is that he is a man of secrets. Luca will not tell you what’s on his mind if it involves his “work,” or any sort of violence. He doesn’t like to bring his bloody business home with him at all. So much so, if he so gets a drop of blood on his suit, he’ll go to one of his many apartments around town and change. In your moments of insecurity during the earlier stages of your relationship, you can’t help but think he’s changing his clothes after cheating on you. It takes time for him to let you know of the darker parts of him. That said, Luca will never fully let you in. When he’s grieving or furious, he hides it. Smiling in your face the whole time he talks to you about seeing some family in England for Christmas.

[sleepinginmygrave]

⋆˚࿔ jupiter's aquarium 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

300 followers celebration<3

welcome to jupiter's aquarium!!

thank you guys so so much from 300 followers omg, i can't believe so many individuals are following me and interested in my silly life hjjhjjh i love you guys so much<33

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this will end on the first of july! (i think, probably)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this is heavily inspired by @urbanflorals' event because it was just too gorgeous hjgjhh (i really hope it doesn't bother you oml)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ you can request as many as you want! (just keep it reasonable hjhhjh)

𓇼 ⋆｡˚it might take me some time to fullfill your request, please be patient! i also probably won't answer them in order, i'll just answer some when i have the time :]

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ this is for followers and mutuals only<3

intro post

welcome to our aquarium!! what creature do you wanna see? let me show you what we have!!

⋆｡˚[ sea creatures ]⋆｡˚

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {eels} ࿐ྂ i'll make a small pinterest board inspired by you

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {sturgeons} ࿐ྂ i'll recommend one or a few musical artists/songs i like for you

please precise what type of music you listen to!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {moon jellies}࿐ྂ i'll make you a moodboard or a stimboard for whatever you want

please precise what you want the stim/moodboard to be about! it can be inspired by you, a character, an animal etc (also precise if you want a stim or a moodboard!)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {octopus} ࿐ྂ i'll (try to) draw you something!

please tell me what you want me to draw! it will be shitty btw, please don't pick that /j this one is probably the one that'll take me the longer tho, just so you know

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {manta rays}࿐ྂ i'll talk to you about whatever's happening in my life (or just yap about my hyperfixations really)

(i am an Oversharer when it comes to my own life so this is great because i'm allowed to yap hehe)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {tropical fishes}࿐ྂ i'll assign you an animal based on you/your blog

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {turtles}࿐ྂ i'll tell you three things i associate with you

⋆｡˚[ sharks ]⋆｡˚ (mutuals only)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {blacktip reef sharks}࿐ྂ i'll tell you what we would do together if we met irl

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {whale sharks}࿐ྂ i'll write you a letter :>

⇢ ˗ˏˋ {lemon sharks}࿐ྂ i'll assign you one of my favorite animal!!

the same as tropical fishes tbh but more personal :3

queue ; 13 visits to go

we hope you had a nice time observing our residents!! thank you so much for passing by<33 don't hesitate to come back!!

again thank you guys so so much, i'm so glad for all the friends i made here<33

⋆｡˚tagging⋆｡˚

⋆｡˚@urbanflorals ; tysm for letting me use your event as an inspo, i almost copied the presentation hjhgjhghh it's so so gorgeous

other moots!!; @bloophasarrived @starmanbutitsregulusblack @aesthetic-writer18 @this-is-me-lolol @in-the-sweet-november-rain @daydream-of-a-wallflower @ev-enhotterthanyou @silence-between-seconds @skeelly @thedvilsinthedetails @marylily-my-beloved @a-wondering-thought @a-beautiful-fool @sceirlose @hansenesque @holdmyteaplease @rorythinks @niallermybabe

(i don't have the energy to tag a lot of people sorry, also please tell me if you didn't wanted to be tagged!!)

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Skz Energies

Chan: I can’t quite describe it. His energy probably resonates the most with me in terms of familiarity and similarity which also makes it harder to describe for me. But his energy kind of gives me the vibes of sleepovers in the winter but not in a cold way, in a warm and cozy way. Like no matter how cold it is outside, inside it’s warm and calming. With coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, curled up under the covers watching your favorite movie but not even paying attention to it because you’re so busy talking and gossiping, while there’s chaos around you but it’s more easing than overwhelming. Almost like a found family environment that he just naturally kind of…Emits. I feel like he withholds things more because he’s afraid of…Offending people? But he also likes to talk and talk and overshare. Sometimes gets off topic.

Minho: Very calm and relaxed. Like a river or ocean at night. Gentle waves, moving slowly with the flickers of light on the surface. Calming. Like the scent of the air right after it rains. But there’s also something expensive about it. Calming and easing yet also closed off. You know you shouldn’t go close or get in, no matter how much you desperately want to. Vague in the sense of only shares what’s necessary, but also speaks his mind with 0 fucks given.

Changbin: What’s the energy equivalent of mouth diarrhea? Dunno. His energy is very lively and almost childish to me? Not in a bad way, but in a sense that it’s very easily excitable and bright. Not necessarily pure, but trusting despite the damage. Like a dog. His energy reminds me of sunny green fields with flowers and bees and butterflies. I fucking hate bees but that’s beside the point. Also with a stream running through it. It reminds me of green, yellow, and the scent of nature without the animal shit.

Hyunjin: Highly depressed. Sometimes passionate and likely, sometimes down in the dumps and gloomy. It flip flops. Leader of the oversharer squad. He reminds me of the scent of rain. The sounds of rain, too. Like sitting by the window while it’s raining and the sun is setting. Curled up with a warm drink and art supplies, headphones in listening to music. That sort of vibe. It’s almost like his energy latches onto these readings to finally be able to get out how he feels and what he’s holding inside. Sometimes it also gives the vibes of when you’re so depressed, drained, and burnt out you can’t even move, or hold anything. Like you’re numb, and drifting. There’s something expensively antique about it.

Han: He reminds me of a cold bath in the best way. He over shares sometimes but also doesn’t do too much? His energy is scattered but also present. Kind of like warm, salty fries and vanilla ice cream. That’s what he reminds me of. Just sitting around anywhere, eating fries and ice cream while the world around you is still moving. Time doesn’t seem slow. It’s just right. Not fast, not slow, but just…Moving. There’s a sense of normalcy, but not in a boring way. More in a sense of contention with the world just being as is.

Felix: His energy is very warm and welcoming. Almost like when you’re a child and you’re just laying in bed with your parents, under the covers snuggled up with them and their warmth. They’re so large and you’re so small but you feel so warm and calm. Like nothing could ever happen. It’s bright and naive and innocent but not manchild-like and more…Painfully optimistic. Again like a dog. No matter how much they’re hurt, they still trust and love unconditionally, whether it’s returned or not. He shares a lot but doesn’t quite overshare? He knows what you can handle. But he also keeps things to himself. Like he doesn’t want to ruin others’ perceptions of him. He reminds me of the smell of cinnabar.

Seungmin: His energy reminds me of laying around in bed talking shit with your best friend, drinking wine and watching trashy reality TV. He shares what he wants and doesn’t share anything he doesn’t want to. Not even in a manipulative way, but in a “Why do you need to know that?” Kinda way. And I live for it. He’s blunt and doesn’t care to spare feelings. He doesn’t give a shit. There’s always a dry humor to his responses. But you can also tell he cares very deeply for people and things.

Jeongin: He reminds me of a bright sunny day in the park just walking aimlessly, talking about any and everything while you just do whatever. He’s definitely the one with the most mellow energy. Just calm and…I don’t want to say normal but normal. Not too broken or depressed but not unrealistically happy or optimistic either. Just average. Not even in a bad way. It’s very refreshing. He also readily gives information he’s comfortable giving and doesn’t give what he doesn’t wish to. He reminds me of the smell of lavender.

[littlepadika]

Little Duck Goes to Market

Pero Tovar x Reader(Patitia), mention of ddlg, how they met

Hope you enjoy, my patitas! 😘 unedited just vibing :)

The first cool breeze of the summer slid in through the cracked window of the truck as you and pero went into town. It had been a particularly good harvest which meant you and pero were taking the surplus to the saturday farmer's market.

Home was a twenty minute drive into a small farming village. Every saturday neighboring farmers and locals would set up stalls with trinkets, clothes, produce, fresh bread, flowers. The make up of the merchandise would change as the season got colder. Fruits to vegetables to canned goods then sweet breads and jerky.

"Excited patita?" Pero reached over the seat and laid a hand over your thigh.

"Mhm. I love it!"

"I know you do, bebita." He chuckled.

"I think Elena will have flowers for our table, papi. And Rebecca told me last week she had some beads I can have! OH and Arturo should be back from the city with all new candies!" You rattle off this information which makes him smile more.

"Ay you will be so busy will you have time to help papi?"

"Of course!" You lean over and kiss his scruffy cheek.

You loved the saturday market. The idea you were seeing special treasures and food grown with love. It was endless possibility. It's where you first met Pero. You were new in town, hardly knew anyone. You had come across his stall and bought a honey stick from him...

Pero thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, wearing bright yellow rain boots and a white dress like a little duck. He hoped he wasn't blushing too hard when he handed you the little treat. He kept his lips in a tight line and head bent to avoid his scar from showing.

"How much?" You asked, reaching into your bag.

"No cost." He waved his hand. Such a small thing. You should have it.

"No I couldn't!" You shook your head, holding a bill out.

"It's my extra. I have plenty already." He crossed his arm, refusing to take your money.

"What about this?" You searched his stall before holding up a carton of tomatoes. "How much now?"

"No charge. Take it." Pero shook his head again, keeping his arms against his chest. You frown but it doesn't last long until it becomes a grin.

"Okay..." You set down the tomatoes and start to leave.

"No- take it. Take it." He held up the carton. "Please." As he leaned forward into the bright sun you could see his face more clearly. There was a prominent scar over his brow but it did not take away from his chiseled jawline and full lips. His eyes were brown and held no hardness even through his gruff demeanor.

You take the tomatoes with heat in your face.

You returned the next week and the next, stopping by his stall for a honey stick. Sometimes you'd indulge in his other items. The tomatoes were perfect in a sauce and you also loved his chard lettuce. It was always him by himself. A hulking man who seemed out of place in this small village. He always wore blue overalls with fraying pockets with a couple dirt spots over the front, with some sort of dark shirt underneath. Every time he'd refuse your offer of money. And a delusional voice said it was because he liked you though he never showed any other exeptional kindness towards you. He did not charge hardly anything for his products which told you he was generous. People in this town were struggling and already selling what little they had.

He indulged you in short conversation about the weather or the people in the village. You caught glimpses into his secluded life. He owned two chickens, a small bee hive, had a sprawling garden which provided almost all the food he needed year round, a horse which he spoke of fondly. He mostly listened to you talk, maybe out of nervousness you would overshare. But you told him about the city where you came from, what you studied at university, the latest house project that was keeping you busy, why you wanted to move to the country.

You perused the other stalls for something you might be able to give him in return for the free honey sticks. Old books, worn shoes, watches that did not work anymore. Settling on the only thing that really spoke to you, you wandered back to his stall one saturday and placed a small bouquet of crocus still in their bulbs next to his till.

When he looked up at you questioningly, you simply smiled shyly slipping back into the crowd. Little did you know how that made his heart melt. He watched you, always watched you as you walked from stall to stall. To the point it was distracting him from selling off any of his lot. His hands itched to feel the warm skin of your collarbone, to feel your sunkissed cheeks. He watched you jump with both feet into a puddle left from overnight rain. Not caring about your pretty dress. Almost like you were in your own little perfect world. He wished he could be part of it. He would think of you as the week went on, looking forward to seeing you again. Selecting the fattest honey stick to be set aside for you. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to be close to someone so alive.

You had grown close with the two women, Elena and Rebecca, who lived down the road from you. They told you Pero (his name was Pero) lived away from the village, keeping to himself. They gossiped that he had fought in a foreign war and came back with a massive treasure to keep him comfortable for all his days.

"If it were me, I'd move to paris and never work another day in my life."

"He must be traumatized from the war. That's why he lives alone and hordes his treasure."

Curiosity took hold and you found yourself lingering by his stall at the end of the market.

"Can I help you pack up?" You offer as he stacks the crates on top of each other.

"I can manage." He responds. Well, he didn't tell you go to away. You watch him hoist the crates onto the bed of his truck. There wasn't much left in them. They had been full a couple weeks ago. You busy yourself with folding up the off white sheet he had over the table.

"I won't be back next week." He says, turning and facing you.

"Oh." You feel your heart deflate a little. You'd miss seeing him. And your honey stick. "Are you traveling?"

"No. I have sold all my surplus." he gestures towards his truck. "I will not return until I have more to give."

"Ah." You say when you realize he was not going to explain more. "So... you don't come simply to look for things for yourself?"

"There is nothing I need." He shrugs though in the back of his mind there was something or someone new that may bring him into town. Summoning his best smile he said, "Gracias for the crocuses. I planted them the day you gave them to me. They continue to bloom."

"You're welcome." You smile, taking a step towards him. "I believe in repaying kindness with kindness."

"If only more shared your sentiment." He smiles slightly. "I should go." And at least he sounds sorry about it.

You saw no point in going to the next saturday market because he wouldn't be there. You had plenty of produce and really did not need to be spending more money on trinkets. Your new home was falling apart around you. No one had lived here in years. You threw yourself in the renovations and hardly noticed the sun sink lower and lower in the sky.

"Pollito! Can you help us move our stall? The damn wheel broke on that missing cobblestone."

"Of course." You set down your spackle. When you reach the street most of the vendors are paking up but standing in the middle of the street is Pero. His broad form easy to spot. Why was he here? He sees you and immediately starts walking towards you.

"Pollito! Here lend a hand-"

"Shhhh" Elena shushes her, watching Pero approach.

"Hello." He nodded, twisting a cap in hand.

"Hello." You reply, linking your hands behind your back.

"I was looking for you. I mean- I came to see you."

You feel your heart race with excitement and something rear up in you that wanted to dance around in the golden hour light.

"Here, for you, patita." He held out an object you knew well. A honey stick!

~~~~~~~~

[equallyshaw]

little lion au | luke hughes ↠ when liona and luke meet, pt 2. pt 1. ↠ au masterlist.

warnings: underage drinking, before her fake id is taken away lol. there's a blurb on that too, here. word count: 1.5K.

luke was beside himself, he was upset and absolutely livid with himself. he should have never let liona leave, he shouldn't have done what he did - well he regrets not saying anything to her. he also hated that he didn't have her number, to at least attempt to explain himself. liona was too upset, with herself more than anything. she was upset at the fact that she allowed herself to be as vulnerable as she was. she suffered from either explaining and oversharing too much or being quiet, and having nobody hear from her. no in-between. she felt guilt that she allowed him to kiss her, only to reject her right after. and then a part of her felt bad, because of the look that grazed his pale and strong features, once he saw that she was leaving and leaving with chris.

once the two of them left, he dropped her off at her mom's greenwich village and then didn't hear from her that weekend, nor any of their friends. she had shut everybody off and felt as if she had embarrassed herself. yet, her mom would disagree. after 2 am dip sum, coco, and a homemade charlotte pie (russian apple pie) she was somewhat cured and opened up to her mom. she went back to her apartment in west village, which she shared with sean and rain her best friends from highschool. the two were up and eating a late breakfast when she walked through the squeaky front door, and it was hard to not hear that she had entered. "good morning lioness." sean said as she came to sit down on the barstool, and she smiled softly. he wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into him. "hows mama?" he questioned and liona smiled. "she's good, made me some charlotte pie and got dip sum for me." she hummed making the two smile. "wanna talk about what happened?" rain asked, treading lightly. liona shook her head, taking the mug of coffee from her. "ill talk about it later." she said shrugging, before heading off to her bedroom.

_

liona and the group found themselves out a week and a half later in lower manhattan, which took about 20 minutes to talk to as a group. chris and liona were the first ones to walk up to the bar, while the rest of them found a booth in the corner; opposite side of the bar which had a very loud group. chris wrapped an arm around liona, meeting the other side of bar next to her, leaning in to hear her talk about her classes that week. they ordered a round of shots for the group, a long island ice tea for her and an expresso martini for himself. he paid for the group, flashing his id for the bartender. she scurried back toward the group, and plopped down in the booth next to gavin. "they are so fucking loud, oh my god." rain complained about the group opposite side of the bar from them, and when she looked over she felt her body flood with dread. and anxiety. there was the very boy who rejected her. she turned back towards gavin who was trying to get her attention, then chris showed up with the drinks. she thanked him and passed around the shots. they clunk them on the table lightly, and took them at the same time. she quickly grabbed the lime and sucked on it, to get rid of the burn that was burning her throat. she then sipped on her long island ice tea, and leaned back into the booth as chris sat across from her.

"you see him?" chris whispered to the girl, and she nodded softly flicking her gaze over towards them again. which proved to be the wrong answer, because luke was already looking over. she swallowed softly, before gazing at chris and then back towards the group. luke grew annoyed or angry, he could not quite decipher but was agitated that chris and her were sitting closely together. he watched as she laughed at what somebody said, and he wished that the reason she was smiling was because of him. as cheesy as that sounds, but she smiled so wide and brightly that he thought she was an angel.

about 35 minutes later, she was on her way back to the bar with her fake id in hand and ready for a vodka cran. she strummed her fingers on the wooden bar and then felt somebody step up next to her. "just a coke, please." she heard the familiar voice of the curly haired boy. "hi kai." he started and she turned towards him, hating how quickly she looked over. "hi luke." she said softly, meeting his eye too quickly to her liking. his hazel eyes pierced her brown ones, as they looked at one another. "how have you been, kai?" he questioned and she shrugged, "classes are rotten but what's new?" she quipped, thanking the bartender before taking a sip of the spirited drink. luke got his coke and turned back towards her. "hows your astronomy elective?" he questioned, thinking back to the night that they had met. she shrugged, "harder than it looks that is for sure." she said giggling, before shaking her head. "apparently trevor one of my brothers best friends was an astronomy major back at boston, he said its hard but interesting." and she agreed to that. "no for sure. im just glad that's not my major, but im glad i took it." she said smiling softly. she looked back over towards her friend group, and luke took the opportunity. "do you wanna get out of here? i know a pizza place right up the street." she looked back at luke, and giggled. she was quite surprised that he offered up pizza, but she would not pass up the opportunity. "are you gonna embarrass me again?" she quizzed, an eyebrow arching. he shook his head profusely, "and if i did embarrass you in any way that was never my intention last time. i apologize truly for that." he said as anxiety pulsed through his body. she nodded softly, "well alright then, lets go get a slice." she said setting her drink back on the bar and taking ahold of his hand before walking towards the entrance. the weather for october was still quite warm, with a slight humidity to the 62 degree weather. the two of them headed towards the pizza place, down the block weaving in and out of people, yet never letting eachothers hand go.

_

the two ordered some cheese pizza slices, sitting in a booth furthest from the door. liona smiled widely and shut her eyes savoring the fresh pizza. "i wish they had this back home, or well this good of pizza. which yknow might be a good thing because id be there everyday." she joked, as luke laughed. "you go home a lot?" he questioned and she nodded. "pretty much every month or two or sometimes more depending my work load, if i can get work off and what my dad home games look like. he typically gets me home once a month with home tickets, usually ill see a friend of my dads or family friend depending on the team." she explained before taking another bite. "anybody i know?" he questioned, and she nodded. "yeah evegeni malkin is an uncle to me, i see him a lot too, and then andrei svechnikov who's like a brother to me, i call him my russian brat which translates to russian brother or something similar." she said before finishing the slice. luke nodded, "how long have you known him?" he asked somewhat jealous, and she grinned at him. "since he was drafted so 2018 i think. my dad had him come train in the summer with him right before he reported to carolina. he stayed with us in dc and yeah." she said sipping some of her lemonade. luke nodded, "there are a couple others, around the league but im not friends with them, i just know them through my dad." she said shrugging and luke nodded.

"do you wanna tell me why you rejected me that night?" she questioned a few minutes later and luke looked up from a text his brother had send. he set down his phone before responding, "truthfully, i didn't want you to think i wanted more than that. i mean i do but i didn't want it that night, i didn't want you to think i was taking advantage of you or anything." he confessed and she nodded softly. maybe she had judged him too quickly. "well thankyou, i appreciate that but im not a child luke. im older than you." she said half teasing, half serious. "i know, but we had just met and i wasn't comfortable doing anything more than getting to know you that night. im sorta..im sorta shy." he said honestly. she smiled, "i don't think I've ever heard a guy say that, let alone out loud." she said, "but i appreciate it. im glad that you felt comfortable enough to say it out loud and to me." she mused reaching over and taking ahold of his left hand. he smiled while blushing. he looked down at their hands, brushing his thumb with hers.

"wanna meet my roommates cat?" she questioned cheekily and luke chuckled, "id love to meet them." he grinned.

hope you all enjoyed!!

[frances-baby-houseman]

lol I love it how we're all like, no I won't make you ask these, I will just overshare on my own 😌

Ask meme for people in their 30s 40s

What was the first piece of furniture you bought? A little ikea coffee table with curved legs that I used as a tv stand until it literally collapsed.

What proportion of your meals do you cook? I cook dinner 5ish nights a week, and I make most of the breakfasts and lunches when we're at home. I'm the only cook in the house (my husband does do basic meal stuff like eggs and mac and cheese) so the other nights tend to be takeout.

Foaming hand soap or normal hand soap? foaming or liquid, just not bar.

Favorite chore? folding laundry

Least favorite chore? every other part of laundry (but honestly I hate all chores, they're chores!)

Most precious thing one of your pets has destroyed? no pets!

Any groceries you've been getting into lately? popsicles

What cleaning product do you swear by? folex carpet cleaner

What's your emotional support craft? crochet

Youtube, cable TV, or streaming? my PREFERENCE is cable from the year like 2002, but my reality is cable and every single streaming service.

What's something you saved up for and then regretted buying? honestly I cannot think of anything?

How many cups can you see from where you're sitting? owala water bottle, can of strawberry culture pop, empty mug from my friend's bookstore

Which filter are you most likely to go "eh, it's probably fine" when you find out you need to change it? I don't filter things, I barely chagne the car oil

How often do you take baths? omg never bc I barely fit in our vintage tub but if I could I'd do it weekly

Do you go down each aisle when you grocery shop, or only the ones you know you need stuff from? I exclusively shop at trader joe's, which only has 3 aisles, so yes, but when I am forced to go to a real grocery store, absolutely not.

Where do you go when you need to get out of the house but it's raining? Target or the movies or the gym. gtl if you will.

What's a movie you saw recently that you liked? Hit Man!

Pro or anti tchotchkes? pro! I love little things that show people who you are.

What's your go-to tape? just regular scotch but I also like pink painters tape in the right situation.

What's in your freezer right now? ICE, bc I am southern, and also many popsicles and asian items from trader joe's

Last concert you attended? James Taylor, it was wonderful

Favorite grocery store? Trader Joe's but ideally Publix, where I would go down every aisle, bc they are still reasonable.

Paper bags, plastic bags, or reusable bags? reusable but I sometimes get paper (I have to buy them for $.10) bc I use them for our compost.

Do you get your government mandated 8 hours every night? lollllll

Favorite old person activity? saying "who is that, you know that guy in the thing with the girl who was in that show with julia louis dreyfus"

Would you rather sit on the porch drinking sweet tea or sit by the lake drinking beers? lake with sweet tea

Do you prefer Boardgame Night, Build-Your-Own-Pizza Night, or Movie Night with your friends? movie

Be honest, do you like all of the pictures of their babies that your friends send you? oh yes, who doesn't love a baby

Go-to holiday card format? no holiday cards! we're jews!

How many pairs of scissors do you own? like 3 normal pairs and 2 pairs of kitchen shears

Do you still own your first car? Nope.

How do you take your morning coffee/tea? coffee with whole milk

What's something you collect? I don't really collect anything but I do wish that I did. I just like a lot of junk!

What's your commute like? about 35 min on the expressway including school drop off, but hopefully taking the train next year.

Aisle at the grocery store you never bother walking down? again I only shop at trader joe's, which has 3 aisles and I have them all memorized. Ask me where something is.

Do you keep a daily journal or agenda? daily journal with just a few lines

Do you still listen to the same music you listened to in high school? all the time

What's the last filter you changed? HVAC filter like 2 months ago

What little treat do you always get when you run errands? cute socks at target or a dessert treat

Grocery list or no grocery list? list

What's an unjustifiably expensive appliance that you really want? pebble ice maker

Favorite book you've read recently? Greta & Valdin

Honest feelings on Settlers of Catan? ??

What's something you wish you had more time for? spontaneity

What kind of stuff do you keep on the door of your refrigerator? school stuff and pictures of me as a baby for some reason

Lamps or overhead lighting? lamps

If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it? a private living room just for myself

Do you bring a bag with you everywhere you go? no, I load up my giant coat pockets in the winter

Pro or anti throw pillows? pro but not super strong feelings here. like, they are good for design and comfort but don't go crazy.

How many blankets do you keep in your living room? 3 in the living room, 4 in the den

Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them? lolllll

What's worse, the DMV or the Social Security Office? bureaucracy is bureaucracy

Do you decorate your house for holidays? Which ones? not really, a little for halloween but again, jews.

Favorite high-effort meal that you make? oh god I haven't cooked something really good in ages, but I guess brisket and potato kugel

Favorite low-effort meal that you make? chicken sausage pasta

Do you tend to bring an appetizer, entree, dessert, or drinks to a potluck? dessert or pasta salad

What kind of bag do you use for your bag full of bags? the most structured of the bags

If you died and your ghost was stuck in the outfit you're wearing right now for the rest of time, would you be happy with it? mostly, though these shoes rub a little.

Do you have an opinion on your local weather reporter? Tom Skilling 5 eva

Do you have a favorite brunch spot? I once did! I don't brunch anymore but I do love the french place in my town.

Where are you on the minimalism-maximalism kinsey scale? far on the maximalism.

Opinion on Bath and Body Works? nope.

Last time you visited a farmer's market? saturday. we go most weeks in the summer!

Anything you're procrastinating on right now? oh god just about everything. I'm on question 64 of this stupid survey!

Do you get your taxes in as soon as possible, at the last minute, or late? I used to be early but now my husband has to do them and it's a Whole Thing

Do you keep any stuffed animals on your bed? yes

Are your garbage bags scented or unscented?oh god unscented, I would throw away scented ones

What are you looking forward to next week? getting a new tv! (ours died and the replacement won't be here for a few days... kill me)

[targaryenofrph]

kelsea || ballerini by Kelsea Ballerini Sentence Starters

Change the pronouns and tense as needed for your verses.

"Momma says, that I never met a stranger"

"Guess, I've just been walking around with my foot in my mouth most of my life"

"Truth is, conversations make me anxious even if we're on a first name basis"

"I overshare, because I over-care about the person over there, who's completely unaware that I overthink, then I overdrink to overcompensate"

"I know, there's moments that I'm missing if I'd just shut up and listen"

"Silence makes me scared"

"Now I'm just the girl that overshared"

"Maybe I should just stay quiet"

"I like my friends, and I like tequila"

"I like putting on a dress and dancing with my feelings"

"I could be the life of any party"

"I don't wanna watch everybody around me try to hook up and say stuff they don't mean"

"I already know it ain't worth it in the morning"

"I don't wanna go to the club"

"I don't wanna wake up on the floor of a bathroom lookin' at the stamps on my hand like a tattoo"

"When somebody's mean where do you hide?"

"Do people assume you're always alright?"

"Does it get hard to have to play the part?"

What if I told you the world wouldn't end if you started showing what's under your skin?"

"Even the homecoming queen cries"

"Did your daddy teach you how to act tough?"

"Are you more like your momma and sweep it under the rug"

"Did you want the crown or does it weigh you down?"

"What if I told you the sky wouldn't fall if you lost your composure, said to hell with it all"

"Not everything pretty sparkles and shines"

"Has somebody told you it'll all be alright?"

"I bet you drink martinis dry"

"But do you know about me?"

"Maybe I should be the one to leave?"

"Sometimes I don't like what's in the mirror"

"Sometimes I feel a little broken but it doesn't mean I need to be put together again"

"I wish you could love me like a girl"

"I wish you could get inside my head"

"I know you don't mean to be insensitive"

"I know you're never tryin' to brush me off"

"The truth is me and you, we're wired different so it makes sense sometimes we get crossed"

"When you want to kiss it better, listen instead"

"I love the way you make me feel like I'm safely in the palm of your hand"

"It doesn't mean that you're not my wholе world"

"There's a thin, thin line between love and hate"

"We used to be so happy, didn't we"

"We used to say that forever'd be easy"

"The day that you lied, I felt it all change, I crossed that thin, thin line between love and hate"

"I crossed that thin line between love and hate"

"I know a lady should always be modest but I'm just bein' honest"

"I don't wanna be a bragger"

"There ain't no shame in this girl's game"

"I swear I just came here to unwind and have one drink"

"I don't miss him, in fact, it slipped my mind"

"I swear ten minutes ago that bottle was full"

"I won't cry about love gone wrong"

"It could use some rain and a fresh coat of paint"

"Still lookin' for a feelin' half of us ain't found"

"Stay or leave, part of me will always be half of my hometown"

"Half of my family is happy I left, the other half worries I'll just forget where I came from"

"Memories make us wanna go back to our hometown, settle down"

"All I wanna do is make them proud"

"My daddy knows that I won’t forget where I came from"

"Liquid courage in my veins right now"

"I always hit you up when there's too much in my cup"

"I swear I'm doing better off without you"

"Does somebody love you in the way I do?"

"Does somebody touch you in the way I do?"

"I know it's three in the morning, it's tequila talking"

"Damn, your voice is all up in my head again"

"Does somebody love you in the way I do? I mean the way I used to"

"Damn, I wish you looked different without that sorry look on your eyes"

"Do I miss you? Well, maybe"

"Am I drunk on the idea tonight?"

"The space between us don't stop me from wondering"

"Ignore me, it's just tequila talking"

"I like my Fridays all alone with no reason to check my phone"

"I think about you all the time"

"That's okay 'cause I don't want space"

"You never needed anybody, but now you need me"

"I was the same, but things have changed"

"I want every moment that you're free and then I miss you when you leave"

"I bet your mama probably thinks I'm selfish"

"Look at what you've done to me"

"When I need to put my feet back on the ground I go back to my hometown"

"When I need a night to act my age me and my friends stay out too late"

"When I get so lonesome, my truth gets told"

"I stay up all night, done it my whole life"

"I've got a love and hate relationship with LA"

"I watch the sun sink down over Santa Monica Boulevard when I'm lonely and I'm missing home"

"I've got some famous friends that I could call but I don't know if I'm cool enough"

"It's hard to grow and time to go but some days, I wanna stay"

"I wonder if I'll get invited to the party"

"If I go, will I know somebody?"

"I'm on my third glass of wine tryin' to find conversation in a room with bigger names"

"If I let down my hair in the ocean air will Tennessee be mad at me?"

"Yeah, I know it ain't a one-way road but sometimes, it feels that way"

"Sometimes, it feels like it's all real but nothing here is as it seems"

"I ask myself, does it feed my soul or my anxiety?"

"It's myself that I have to face"

"But which part is reality?"

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

24-Karat Harrison | BODY BACK Update #3

THE WRITING UPDATE WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR (I’M WE)!

Let's chat chapter 3 of my literary fiction novella, BODY BACK! Harrison stares at himself in so many bathroom mirrors, gets down to Don't Cha (Pussycat Dolls), tries to forget the man he once was, reclaims himself through excess, & more! Post under the cut!

Logline: After an argument with his mother draws him much too close to the past, Harrison turns to Jeremiah to help him develop a gilded persona.

Update 1 | Update 2

BODY BACK taglist (please ask to be added or removed :))

@thelivingdeceased @writinglittlebeastss @cuntylittlesalmon @obssesedwithscandaledits @jaydewritesfiction @keira-is-writing @onomatopiya @dustyplotbunnies @euphoniouspandemonium @rowansghost @strangerays @rodentwrites @wildswrites @saltwaterbells

Random thoughts turn into...

A couple weeks ago, I was oversharing in my tags and in the process of doing so, came up with the phrase "24-karat harrison."

#I don't drink but I can positively say drunk rachel would 100% be just harrison like 24 karat harrison #actually going to get him to describe himself as 24 karat harrison in the next bb chapter fantastic this was a productive random thought

AND SO 24K HARRISON WAS BORN!

What does it mean to split yourself into two facets, one polished, one unpolished? What could you do if YOU were "24-karat" for a day? This phrase instantly shaped the entire direction of this chapter.

Also, as a poet, I cannot overlook how wonderfully "24-karat" and "Harrison" match each other. VISUAL congruency?? Syllabic harmony??? THE ASSONANCE?? He was built for this.

The plot

CW: this is the most *mature content* chapter I've written in BB so there are mentions of sex, drugs, and suicidal ideation.

"24-Karat Harrison" jumps right off the last chapter of BB where Harrison's stormed away from his mother after she drives him to Lonan's apartment (lol). He arrives at Jeremiah's place tired of who he is and in desperate need of a major change.

The chapter is split into two simple halves: scenes in Jeremiah's apartment, and scenes in a Las Vegas nightclub. How Harrison manages to get into so many shenanigans in these two locations alone astounds me! :)

Scene A:

Harrison turns up on Jeremiah's doorstep soaking wet from the rain. He's looking for a distraction :) & Jeremiah provides :)

Scene B:

A Haremiah pillow talk moment that ends abruptly when Harrison asks Jeremiah if he has Tylenol???? (romantic king /s)

In scene A, Harrison noticed Jeremiah hosted a party. Here, he asks him why he wasn't invited, and Jeremiah suggests it's because he seems too quiet to party

Scene C:

In an attempt to manufacture a more confident personality, Jeremiah helps style Harrison, complete with a fur coat and cowboy hat (horrifying).

Scene D:

Harrison retreats to the bathroom while he and Jeremiah wait for their ride to the club. He's not confident despite the new outfit and goes feral on Jeremiah's hair products, makeup, cologne etc. He finally sees 24-Karat Harrison in the mirror and is pleased.

Scene E:

At the club, Harrison and Jeremiah run into Biyu, Jeremiah's friend from Chapter 6 of Moth Work. His confidence is shot when she suggests he's quiet despite his new persona.

Scene F:

Harrison dances with Jeremiah, but is unable to shake Biyu's comments. He presses Jeremiah for validation, but Jeremiah wants to have a good night, not therapize the man he's seeing.

As Harrison continues to pester, Jeremiah reunites with his friends and is drawn into a (potential) group make out session. Harrison gets overstimulated.

Harrison flees to the club bathroom for reprieve when he again catches his reflection and doesn't recognize himself. His lack of recognition angers him--he's tired of seeing everyone in his face but himself.

A man--Perry--who is one of Jeremiah's friends, interrupts Harrison at the mirror to flirt. Harrison is agitated but drawn to him nonetheless.

Writing process & themes

I talked about how I structure chapters for BODY BACK in THIS post, but essentially, I orbit each scene around a particular theme.

I didn't really know what the theme of this chapter was until yesterday. I'd noticed I kept "repeating beats" throughout this chapter--particularly, Harrison analyzing himself in bathroom mirrors, which happens THREE times. At first, I thought I'd done something wrong because Harrison seemed to keep "backtracking" in narrative which made his psychology seem inconsistent.

By the time I got to the final reflection analyzation though, I realized THAT was the theme--bobbing between extremes when you're in the middle of an identity crisis.

What Harrison doesn't admit to himself in this chapter is that he's lost himself since he broke up with Lonan. The only Harrison he knows is the Harrison who chased Lonan across the country, put his needs above his own, etc. Now that Lonan's gone, Harrison doesn't know himself at all. This is why he reaches toward 24k Harrison, a caricature of himself painted in broad, unsubtle strokes--at the very least, he won't forget himself if he looks ridiculous.

But it doesn't work! This is because versions of who he "was" keep popping up. He can't help but feel like the vulnerable person he was when he was with Lonan.

Therefore, we really explore extremes in 24kH. Extreme pleasure VS extreme hollowness (Jeremiah kissing him in the doorway and then immediately walking away in scene A). In scene C he’s hot but he’s not. He wants to sleep with himself but he’s not desirable at all. He's alright with begging but wants to be begged. He wants to live a very specific life where he buys cowboy hats for livestock and eats ice cream with his hands but he also wants to die. He’s Jesus but he’s discarded bits of gold (THANK YOU for pointing that out @jaydewritesfiction!). He’s twinkling but he’s the dullest person in the room.

It took me a while to actually see I'd been doing that--purposefully creating contradictions in narrative--the ENTIRE chapter. Smh Rachel, good job with all those literary devices you didn't realize you were using.

This chapter took me a lot longer to write than I wanted it to (about a month), but it's also because it's SO long (7k, which is currently half the manuscript). I'm so happy with how it turned out though because its creation represents EVERYTHING I love about it: impulsivity, chasing highs, uncovering darker folds of you the longer you sit inside manufactured gold.

Music

Music was SOOO important in the conception and understanding of 24kH for me, more than usual! In fact, I've made a very specific playlist that is a track-by-track breakdown of the chapter (in order).

Here's a quick breakdown of each song & where they go in the chapter!

1. Nobody by Greyson Chance (studio version) - Backbone of the ENTIRE chapter!!!! Chapter starts with this song.

2. Hands by Greyson Chance - Haremiah make out ANTHEM <3. Also in scene A.

3. Hellboy by Greyson Chance - End of scene A where Haremiah gets... intense lol love <3

4. Fade Into You by Mazzy Star - This is on the radio while Haremiah gets DOWN. Start of scene B.

5. Aloe Vera by Greyson Chance - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song. Middle of scene B.

6. I Got So High That I Saw Jesus by Noah Cyrus - Haremiah sharing a joint & pillow talk song but it's getting sadder & more internal. End of scene B.

7. Nobody by Greyson Chance (live version) - CRITICAL song for this chapter so it appears twice!!! Live version is Harrison at the start of scene C.

8. Black Mascara by Greyson Chance - Harrison analyzing himself in the mirror ANTHEM (this song is also the backbone of this chapter). Harrison goes feral in the bathroom because he thinks he's better off when he does what he fucking wants etc.

9. I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred - Actually this is supposed to be the Shrek version :) so :) anyway self-explanatory. Rest of C.

10. Welcome to the DCC by Nothing But Thieves - Walking into the club anthem (scene E).

11. SexyBack by Justin Timberlake - Dancing and feeling real good about it (beginning of scene F).

12. Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls - SELF-EXPLANATORY don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like 24-karat Harrison (middle of scene F).

13. Sex & Other Drugs by Greyson Chance - Fleeing to the bathroom anthem (for sex & other drugs??? maybe; rest of scene F).

I also wanted to talk about the significance of the track Nobody because... it's this WHOLE chapter! I wrote this tag essay about it a couple weeks ago when I shared an excerpt where Harrison sees himself as a trophy while in the 24kH getup (excerpted later in the post):

#also there are many greyson chance easter eggs here #the trophy bit i've already mentioned is a reference to the live version of “nobody” #where he goes 'i'm not the trophy you think i am' #which is actually not in the studio version #ANYWAY the LIVE VERSION is a sad piano ballad of THAT #so anyway I love that the trophy line #was cut from the studio version but is in the sad piano version lol #don't know how to more articulately describe harrison's psychology in BB except for... that

The idea of "I'm not the trophy you think I am" really is the thematic crux of this chapter. Harrison KNOWS he's not good enough for Jeremiah. He also knows he wasn't good enough for Lonan. Everyone's looking at him like he's a saint somehow--to Lonan he was, only mattering when he was long martyred. Jeremiah sees too much good in Harrison, good that Harrison doesn't see in himself. At moments, Harrison IS confident. He IS the trophy. But then there are those sobering moments when reality hits him and he knows he just isn't (SAD). It's why he creates 24kH because HE could be good enough (and the truth is, he still isn't).

Excerpts

Jeremiah greets Harrison at the door lol:

Jeremiah might be the only man alive who’d open the door for someone as soggy as Harrison.

He’s shirtless and damp from the shower, a green toothbrush lodged against his gums. His heathered sweats drape low on his waist, bronze skin varnished with moisturizer. And Harrison likes this—a man mid nighttime routine—but what he likes more is how unstartled Jeremiah is when he grabs him by the hips and kisses him so hard, bristles jolt against his tongue. What’s he looking for in another man’s mouth—heavens, gods, a prayer? Fuck if he knows. What matters are Jeremiah’s chiclet teeth, Jeremiah’s healthy gums, the way in one gulp, they all become Harrison’s. And this is what normal is, yeah—Jeremiah a minty man ensconced by a bare tungsten bulb, Harrison his midnight lover, both of them in need of the other simply because they are here, alive, men.

Jeremiah gives Harrison whiplash lmao show him king!!!:

But in one dizzy breath, they’re separated, and the thought is gone as quickly as Jeremiah who slinks through his apartment like an unbothered shorthair, telling Harrison to lock the front door, to follow him to the bathroom.

Harrison’s ears buzz. He stares at the living room, wipes his mouth of foam, his lips tingling with menthol. Jeremiah hosted a party earlier. A game of parcheesi scattered on the coffee table, the kitchen sink teetering with mismatched cups, saucers. Cigarette butts pock a strawberry-shaped ashtray like seeds. Harrison salivates, tempted for a moment to filch around for one salvageable enough to relight. It’s only when Jeremiah calls his name that he shakes out of his stupor. But still, by the time he reaches the beaded bathroom door, he has to distract his mouth by digging his lips into the scalloped moulding.

Jeremiah crooks a brow at him in the mirror, then turns to the sink, spits. He’s gargling with mouthwash when he asks a question.

“What?” Harrison asks. His head hurts. Jeremiah would have a bottle of acetaminophen in his medicine cabinet, wouldn’t he?

Jeremiah holds up a hand as he swishes, rubbing at spats of toothpaste on the mirror with his wrist. He spits again. “You go swimming or something?”

Jeremiah is an ANGEL in the bathroom:

Jeremiah leans against the counter, haloed by one of three lightbulbs that isn’t blown out over the vanity. Harrison offered to replace them a week ago and still hasn’t done it, perhaps because the low light is more inviting, the way it cups Jeremiah like mist. Though maybe any lighting would be inviting to Harrison when he’s like this—in such high need of ravaging something.

Jeremiah wets his lips, glancing away with a mute smile before he looks right back. “Or is the rain really bad?” Harrison takes a step forward, and then another, another. Suzanna could be looking for him, calling everyone she knows in this city to help bring her son home. She won’t sleep tonight, and Harrison won’t either but for different reasons. In front of him, Jeremiah is as sunny as he is unaware, his curls plump around his ears, a man Harrison would like to undo with one look—to make beg, like gods make their believers do.

Lonan Clark behaviour:

“You’re like a wet dog,” says Jeremiah. A breath wheezes in his chest.

Harrison looks up at him. From this angle, bowed against another man’s body, he could look like a believer in supplication. Please go gently. Please spare my life. “Thank you.”

CUTE Haremiah interrupted by Harrison's terrible timing:

Now Jeremiah nuzzles into his ribs. He smells like soap and orange rinds, his tattooed skin downy under Harrison’s callused fingertips. He traces an empty fishbowl on Jeremiah’s arm with his pinkie, a half-finished anatomical heart with his thumb, a wobbly dandelion with his ring finger, the cherub guarding his elbow with his index. I love you, he could say. They’ve known each other for two weeks, hung out less than ten times, spent most of their time examining each other’s hands. But this could be love, right? Jeremiah’s made him breakfast every night he’s stayed over—peach French toast, hot muesli, black coffee. Every time they watch film noir on Jeremiah’s two-seater, they simply find each other’s hair and twirl, sometimes meet each other’s mouths and hover there, these clement weekend lovers.

“You got any painkillers?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah jerks against his skin, his nose knocking into Harrison’s shoulder blade. He hikes onto his elbow, brows furrowed like he’s about to say something when his eyes narrow on Harrison’s finger.

“You’re wearing my ring,” he says, leaning toward Harrison’s hand for a better look.

“Am I?”

If I were Harrison I would simply just forget about Lonan because JEREMIAH???

Jeremiah should paint his room sage. The cherrywood picture frames warrant it. In the corner, a gold mirror flares like Jesus’ spoked halo. Two crinkled issues of the New York Times on the vanity, an ivory sheepskin throw collapsed in the corner. Jeremiah exists here mid-motion—the condom wrappers on the hardwood leading to the mattress like Hansel’s pebbles, sunglasses spoked in a magazine rack, a used cotton ball stained with black nail polish on the windowsill. Harrison absorbs it all on his back like rapidly flattening dough. He could be part of this room, too. Last Monday, Jeremiah suggested he move in. “You can sleep in the bathtub,” he joked, but kissed the back of Harrison’s neck. He’d smelled bright like the leather polish he’d buffed onto his bomber jacket. “Or elsewhere.”

Jeremiah as a trophy & LMFAO tYLeNoL???

Now, Harrison weakly reaches for Jeremiah’s hair, winds a curl around his finger. Jeremiah is soft like brioche and as dazzling as a mirror ball. And what’s the difference between worshipping him and Jesus if they are both men? At least Jeremiah is here, a trophy in front of him.

“Tylenol?” he whispers.

Cont'd:

Jeremiah places a hand on Harrison’s face. In his eyes, Harrison is insufficient, an edge of a man. Perhaps it’s the headache or Jeremiah’s gentle concern, but after a moment, the feeling is so unbearable that he pulls away and buries his face in the pillow. The mattress springs when Jeremiah rises, and for a moment, Harrison feels suspended in air like a crucified Jesus above the altar. He doesn’t have a face, a body, a heart. He is just dust.

Harrison wants to be a spider so he can finally be a homeowner?? ok same:

He slumps back onto the bed, analyzing the popcorn ceiling when Jeremiah climbs in next to him. He slings an arm around Harrison’s bare shoulders, and they pass the joint back and forth, its scent rich like oregano. The smoke is delicate as a dissipating spider’s web, pale and gauzy like a curtain in morning light. As Harrison smokes, he imagines what it might be like to be an arachnid—the many homes he could make.

Harrison really knows how to ruin a moment pt. 5 bajillion:

There’s a damp spot on the ceiling that’s only visible when car headlights skirt past the building. Harrison’s meant to ask about it, but what would be the point now? It’s not like he could fix it—and if Jeremiah doesn’t look at the right time, he’ll never notice. “You didn’t invite me,” Harrison says.

Jeremiah jumps. From here, he’s a mere lump under the covers, the only physical evidence of him his warm breaths on Harrison’s stomach. “What?” he asks.

Harrison twists the joint, puffs. His tongue feels bloated like his jacket. “To your party.”

A pause. When Jeremiah next speaks, his voice is muffled by the sheets. “I didn’t think that was your scene.” He rests his cheek on Harrison’s sternum, and he’s heavy like the jacket too. “You know. Crowds.”

“What made you think that?”

Jeremiah burrows out from the duvet. Harrison knows he’s trying to look at him, but he’s caught up in the ceiling again, the way that patch ebbs like a candle’s flame. “You’re…”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Jeremiah says, crossing his legs. “Meek.”

Harrison wants to laugh—meek like a lamb, a poplar, a monotonous prairie, a man’s whispered okay, a frail river, a piano’s high C played over and over and over and over and over again—but what comes out instead is a whimper. Jeremiah cups his face again, says something about good things, compliments, the power in mildness. He smells like baby powder now, plumeria—and why is that? He’s a man forever in change even in the simplest of ways, thriving in his evolution. Harrison’s favourite colour has been the same since he was four.

He holds Jeremiah’s jaw to shut him up. His eyes are flecked with topaz today, sienna tomorrow. If Harrison could touch God tonight. If Harrison could believe in something for just a minute.

“Make me feral,” he whispers.

COWBOY HAT??

Jeremiah starts with a new jacket. He’s made it clear that Harrison can’t go clubbing soaking wet, so they rifle through his closet and land on a fur coat that was last dry-cleaned months ago. It’s knee-length, the sleeves wide catacombs, the taupe fur brindled like Eliza’s tortoise-shell ring. Lonan’s ring, technically. In front of his standing mirror, Jeremiah unearths it from the garment bag like it’s a body, holds the hanger in front of Harrison so the fabric drapes off his chest.

“You like it?” asks Jeremiah, cheek pressed to Harrison’s shoulder blade. He’s laid out a tasseled button-up for himself that glitters like hematite in the light, and he’ll dazzle in it, of course—Jeremiah is built for this, the sharpened eyeliners on the bathroom counter, the dented cans of hair mousse, the nail file on the dresser, the ridged perfume atomizer he’ll mist himself with a moment before they leave the apartment. He is sleek beauty, a marbleized man ready to be polished, adored.

And what is Harrison, then? With the fur coat cinched against his body, he could be polished, too, couldn’t he? Sure, he isn’t a gilded icon, but maybe he sees Jesus in his face right now because he has the potential to be, or because at their cores, they’re both sad men. His hair doesn’t have to look like Suzanna’s, but instead like the young bark of cinnamon. And his eyes—they’re not his father’s but his own, an unmarred pool of teal. Maybe he’s a little rough where he should be suave, but that’s hot nowadays, isn’t it? Besides, if Jeremiah sees something angelic in that mirror, then yeah, Harrison could see it too. Forget his cryptic mouth, his hair that’s too long as Suzanna pointed out, his eyes and the way they’re wounded, not like a deer’s in headlights but like a deer’s in death. Forget the scar across his forehead, the way another man’s hands used to touch it not like it was lightning but a pathway to some better place. Sure, Harrison’s no Christ, no Jacob, no God—but why should he be? He’s here under the tungsten bite of Jeremiah’s chandelier, a man in shameless excess, eyes more spangled than this country’s flag. And he could stay here, couldn’t he? He could enjoy staring at himself, not like he’s bronze but like he’s pure gold.

Cont'd (this is so sad LOL):

He straightens, adjusts the fur on his shoulder. In truth, he looks too much like his mother, stands too much like his father, stares too much like Lonan. His hands aren’t soft. He’s got split ends. At best he smells like cigarette smoke, car exhaust, chlorine. But what does Jeremiah see? Maybe someone loveable yeah, maybe someone to cry over. For a moment, Harrison worries the answer is nothing at all.

And then a nose nudges against the back of his neck, Jeremiah muttering about Madonna’s new album, buying new razors, growing his own marijuana. In minutes, they’ll be dancing until the room spirals or until they’re extensions of the other, whichever comes first. And Harrison will love it all because he loves everything about his life—this new jacket, this new man, this face that isn’t a reminder of who used to look at it, this muggy room, this mirror like a portal he could almost step through, this breakthrough because he’s gold. He’s gold.

Harrison steps away from the mirror, presses a hand against his eyeball. He’s going to need another Tylenol. An Ibuprofen for the hell of it. What if Jacob never dreamt of God, made the whole story up? What if Jacob just wanted to run away with his livestock? Harrison could use livestock.

He turns to Jeremiah. “You got a cowboy hat?” he asks.

Harrison making out with himself because that's a normal thing to do:

Funnily, Jeremiah does have a cowboy hat. It’s aptly doused in cow-print, smells like plastic and mulch. In the bathroom, Harrison adjusts its stampede strings around his chin.

He leans against the counter, pressing his thumbs to his cheeks. He pulls at his eye sockets, his skin giving like a tablecloth twisted under the heave of roasted turkey. His eyes are rimmed in scarlet—how many times has he seen Suzanna with these eyes, and do her eyes look like this now? She’s probably looking for him, calling his name out in the night like it’s a prayer she knows won’t be answered. Would he take himself to bed like this? In thirty more minutes when he guzzles a vodka soda, his answer will be absolutely.

Harrison, he mouths to himself in the mirror. The bathroom is filmy or maybe it’s him—he’s in chrysalis, bloated in his own becoming or suffocation or whatever the fuck. The thing is, he doesn’t need a god and might be a king, but he’s also a man with a pounding headache. He tries again, his mouth shifty like cornmeal, like ash: Harrison. What do kings do when they get migraines? Buy a donut? Eat a saint? His eye sockets are vacant, his cuticles spinning into one another, hair sentient from the pool. Harrison. The walls smell like Jeremiah’s hair gel, Jeremiah’s fingerprints, Jeremiah’s latest cologne. In a minute, the paint could start peeling and Harrison could pick up the chips, tack them to his jaw like they’re gold stars or little HELLO my name is stickers. HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is, HELLO my name is. Harrison. Harrison. Harrison. He kneads his cheeks like he’s sourdough, pinches his eyebrows, goes: Harrison, sticks his fist in his mouth tries again—Harrison. Jeremiah knocks on the door, says something about leaving soon, a friend waiting on them.

Harrison sinks onto his elbows, hovering closer to his reflection. If he were another man, he’d kiss himself, right? Without a thought, he does, mouth glugging against the mirror. He doesn’t need any touch but his own—not Jeremiah’s, not Lonan’s. He’s a man in love with himself, right? He’s a good dancer, never burns pancakes, isn’t afraid of spiders. What’s not to like? When he pulls back, panting, his eyes are watery and he needs a drink now, a god to abandon, a lake to drown in, a coastline to paint, a mother to cry into, a Bible to burn, a guitar string to snap, a dragon tree to kill, a father to remember, a prayer to scream, a place to close his eyes and sleep forever.

He grabs Jeremiah’s eyelash curler off the counter, crimps his lashes so hard he pinches his skin. He doesn’t care. He’s yanking open cupboards and pulling out an eyeshadow palette, smearing silver pigment onto his eyelids, under them. He’s raking a wand of black mascara through his lashes like he’s the grass buried under leaves—like this is the only way to reveal himself. And maybe this is the way, spritzing himself in Jeremiah’s vetiver or orange rinds or baby powder. Harrison. He wants to punch his nose until he bleeds. He wants to kiss himself again.

0 to 100 all the way back to 0 babe:

Harrison meets his eyes in the mirror. Is he an animal? He must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. He could touch himself right here. Or not. He’s barely a man, staring at his face not like it’s his, but like it’s someone else’s. And how tired he is of that. Being a shadow.

He is the MOMENT:

Before he exits the bathroom, he studies his sterling reflection. He’s not who he once was. No Christ, no Jacob, no Jeremiah. And he shouldn’t be. Because he’s twenty-four karat, twinkling, not just otherworldly, unforgiving, untouchable, not just a god or a man—but a trophy at last.

Biyu puts Harrison in his place lmaoo:

By the time they cab to the club, Harrison’s so high he can nearly taste the neon lights. As they slot through the front door with other partygoers like flocking geese, he blinks at the rush of it all—the women comparing press-on nails by the coat-check, the men wearing vinyl and leather and glitter, drenched in cologne and sweat.

“You’re late,” comes a voice which should be familiar to Harrison, but under the thump of bodies, sounds as generic as a bag of baby carrots.

“Fashionably late,” says Jeremiah, his arm slung around Harrison’s furred shoulders. He pulls him close, toward the person, the woman, smells like sea salt, iron, a new set of rings flaring in the blue spotlights. “You remember Harrison?”

As if on cue, Harrison lifts his eyes to Biyu’s, Jeremiah’s friend from the restaurant. Tonight, she wears a gold cowlneck dress, her lipstick the colour of rust. And something’s different about her hair—the sides of her bob shaved, which is more of a relief than he’d like to admit. She’d looked alarmingly like Reeve when they’d met, moved like her, sounded like her. Maybe he’s too high to see it now, but what does it matter—a win is a win.

Harrison tips his hat, already searching for the bar.

“The quiet one,” Biyu says.

His eyes snap back to her. Her pupils are large disks, and if he squints, almost look like they’re pulsating. “What?”

“You were quiet,” she repeats.

Don't Cha!! ft. this:

Harrison dances because he knows exactly how to. To thready vocals, he lulls his arms through the air, drags his palm down Jeremiah’s chest when an electro version of Like a Virgin comes on. On the lighted dance floor he’s nothing but rattling limbs, inelegant turns, raunchy dips. Shifting atop his head: the cowboy hat. In his hand: a vodka soda topped with a maraschino cherry. Through half of Don’t Cha, he holds the red cocktail sword between his teeth like it’s a rose, nudges it against Jeremiah’s lip as they kiss, break apart, kiss again.

“Do you think I’m quiet?” he asks between a spin, his head unspooling like a cylinder of thread. The clang of drums spikes up his throat—soon, he’ll need a refill on the drink. More weed. A crucifix to snap.

Jeremiah twirls under Harrison’s arm, a magnetic man in his tourmaline glister. He could follow any man in this club home tonight with his silver nails, his exposed collarbone. “Kiss me again,” he says, sweating, his fingers hard around Harrison’s shoulders—half from his grip, half from his rings.

Jeremiah is really too patient:

This is what he needs, a consideration of fruit and the man in front of him, all svelte limbs, acidic mouth, sharp eyeliner. As he ducks to In Da Club and shimmies to Waiting for Tonight, he digs a palm into Jeremiah’s cheek—he’s solid like limestone, burnished as bronze, his eyes amber portals like a patch of quicksand.

“Did you tell Biyu about me?” Harrison asks. His head pounds, the music too loud, swelling in his ears like an inflating airbag. He should go back to the bar now. They’ve got whiskey sours, gibsons, margaritas. If he flutters his eyelashes long enough at the bartender, maybe he’ll get a little more than a free drink—that’s fine too. Kelly Clarkson sings about praying, breaking, and he could do both in the hands of someone who smells like blood oranges, tastes like Bible paper, stares like Jesus the moment before he performs a miracle, couldn’t he?

“Focus on me,” Jeremiah says, guiding Harrison closer by the hips, so confident as his wooden Mary bracelet jolts with the movement because he’s here in this blinking room, dancing because he’s twenty-one just like Harrison, because he’s electric, alive, because he’s blinding like noonday sun, steady as a fountain cycling the same water over and over, because he’s unashamed in this brisk light, shocking like the zip of battery acid on a tongue. He doesn’t need to try, melds into the bleating crowd like he’s part of it, and he is. He smells like pomegranates, tastes like cherries the next time Harrison kisses him—Chapstick? Cocktail?—and tomorrow, he’ll rise early for a shift at Greta, slip on his navy uniform polo, his makeup untouched despite everything Harrison will do to him tonight because he’s faultless, not quiet, hair precariously puffed, nails buffed to a glassy sheen. He and Biyu might catch breakfast at dawn, bond over their glittery eyelids, their intrinsic closeness, wonder over poached eggs if he’s worth it—graceless Harrison in this cowboy hat and smudged makeup, his jacket cuffs soaked with vodka soda, his head lolling to the insistent voice of Justin Timberlake.

“Biyu thinks I’m quiet,” Harrison says, knocking back the rest of his drink, his neck cracking. He wants to scratch off his face, replace it with someone else’s. “You think I’m meek. So what is it? Do I need to get a tattoo or something?”

Jeremiah glances around the club, his irises starred by a spotlight. What does he see when he looks out at the crowd? Perhaps he recognizes half of these people—from the way he ordered at the bar to the way he slunk so easily onto the dance floor, Harrison assumes he’s been here before. And maybe it’s not just that he recognizes everyone else on the floor, but that they recognize him in return.

Cont'd but with a lot more mouths:

“Did you hear what I said?” Harrison asks.

Jeremiah’s eyes snap back to his, except there’s something hazy there, something tired. “What would a tattoo do for you?”

“I don’t know. Edge? I just think I could—”

And then Jeremiah’s turned away again, right into the arms of someone else—a tanned man with a dense mustache and olive eyes, the man going, “It’s been too long,” and Jeremiah going “It’s been too long,” their grins calcium white, flashing in Harrison’s face. He throws a hand up to his eyes, squints when a second later, the man pulls a woman toward Jeremiah, her hair cropped low and cotton candy pink. She kisses his cheek, says he looks ravishing, he looks like a comet on its way to ignite planet earth, and they’re all holding each other now, friends bopping to Gwen Stefani, admiring each other’s bracelets, thumbs, friends curving toward each other’s ears, kissing each other’s cheeks, each other’s mouths.

Harrison blinks because how many hands do they have now? Every second they seem to multiply—pink hair girl with four, Jeremiah with six. One’s tongue the other’s. Their fingertips fusing. The club fritzes around them like it’s confetti, the lights rippling into a Christmas bow and now there’s a redheaded man running his nose along Jeremiah’s neck, down Jeremiah’s shoulder, wrist, hand. Harrison had just done that back in his apartment, pinned chest-to-chest against him like a monarch fastened to a spreading board, and here Jeremiah is now, enmeshed in touch, in adoration because he should be adored—the men congregating around him now have their priorities straight. If they all got on their knees at Jeremiah’s feet, Harrison would understand. They aren’t exclusive, don’t even know each other’s last names, and besides, how can Jeremiah help how everyone magnetizes around him? Harrison can’t blame them. Jeremiah is illusory under the disco ball’s speckled light, his throat long, biteable, his eyes syrupy in his high. A woman takes him by the shoulder, but not just any woman—Biyu, and her eyes are pinched, analyzing, because she’s looking at Harrison, her glossy crimson nails on Jeremiah’s cheek, and she’s kissing him too now, her body joining the cluster, and it’s good, the way they all roll limbs to synth, the way they turn into each other’s faces and kiss, kiss, kiss. The music clangs, their mouths full of spit. The DJ says to hold your partners close, and they don’t have to. They are not simply together, not simply in chrysalis, but osmosed in their becoming.

Cont'd (GIANT sentence - CW: self harm)

A hand on Harrison’s elbow. He flinches and is surprised to see it’s Jeremiah who’s touched him. How did he get here so fast? Harrison expects a trail of blurry bodies to follow him, but where did everyone go? They’ve dashed from the club like embers scattering from a dulled fire, nowhere to be seen but dangerous anyway and weren’t they all just over there, under there, and are they lonely on the ceiling and how do they plan to get down and is it too loud in here and why is no one using their indoor voices and should he cover his ears and where is his mother now and how did Mary say I love you and did she ever dream of fleeing to Hollywood or speeding down the I-40 or telling Gabriel no and why does everyone worship a god who demands and calls it creation and what’s his name again—Harrison?—and when did his hands sprout from child to whatever he is now and should he dye his hair red, cut his wrists again and is it possible to be young and happy about it and is he still dancing, he’s still dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing, and someone’s complimenting his silver eyelids and would he like them to touch him gently and is it hot in here to anyone else and does he taste blood or the ocean and is this what it feels like to die in holy light and Jeremiah’s right in front of him, unkissed, still as dark water, as Lonan in the night, and now he’s holding Harrison’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and he’s kissing him too, tastes like spearmint and chocolate lip gloss, rum and Coke, rusted metal—the mouths of everyone in this room and this isn’t so bad, how their bodies net into each other, how in one breath, Harrison’s teeth clack against Jeremiah’s, and in the next, clack against another man’s and then another’s, his stubble rough, mouth sour, a chandelier earring flailing against his cheek, and then through his ear, his hands wound into cinnamon hair and he could be kissing himself and maybe he is and doesn’t he want that, the floor gelid, the music like cotton wool, their pelvises threaded, the walls caving, their mouths locked, the floor lava, the room too bright, his headache like an earthquake, two pairs of hands rattling to the beat of this bursting room one moment, then clutched together as they follow each other to a dim bathroom.

This section was inspired by @dallonwrites' lyrics in narrative post!!! also soft Felix cameo <3

The room is electric purple, smells like grapes, sweat, flexes under Harrison’s shoes like a sandcastle collapsing, like a sinkhole swallowing a house. Bodies weave across the floor, someone lighting a joint in the corner, someone reciting Sylvia Plath into a paper bag, going, the happening of this happening, going, the earth turns now.

Harrison’s head pounds—he should’ve brought a blister pack of acetaminophen because at least then he’d have something to punch, or he should’ve punched out his own eye by now, disappeared with another man who isn’t Jeremiah and didn’t he try, and where is the man with cinnamon hair now? Harrison turns to look for him, but the room ripples with his movement, shirring in staccato clacks around him like a shaken rice maraca. He’d hoped he’d write his number on a man’s wrist tonight even though he doesn’t have a cell phone—he’d hoped he’d go home with someone who shouts the lyrics to Madonna’s Everybody in twilight’s stillness, a man who’d let the DJ shake him, a man who’d let the music take him. And he could do all of that with Jeremiah—Jeremiah who probably did those things at the party Harrison wasn’t invited to, Jeremiah who knows how to pass off frozen spanakopita as homemade because he’s a good host, Jeremiah who knows how to kick people out of his apartment with kindness, Jeremiah who’s built to be kissed, to be loved. And where is he now? In the artificial light, Harrison hunts for him too—but he’s not in the unhinging bathroom stalls, not in the teal grout, the running sinks, and maybe he never existed at all, missing like Jesus in the tomb—body gone, body gone, body gone.

Cont'd BODY BACK BODY BACK BODY BACK:

Harrison rubs his eyes. His ears still ring from the clatter outside, and he stands at the bathroom’s entrance like a child who’s lost his mother in the mall. Should he sit down? A group of girls form a ring on the floor, chant about Leos, Britney, men. Someone shuffles in past him, knocks into his shoulder by accident, apologizes over and over, their hands clutched against his face—I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.

He yanks away. Don’t touch me, he wants to say, I don’t want to be touched ever again, but by the time he’s located his mouth, his eyes pulsing to a hi-hat, his nose burning on a cloud of cherry smoke, the person’s gone too. He presses his fingers to his eyes, wishes for a soft bed, a place to land, but then he’s rocking forward, right into someone else.

At first, they just stare at each other. The man’s got the same look in his eye—something gilt, something feral, an identical fear in his mouth. Harrison blinks hard, and the man does too—not a man, actually, but his own reflection.

He approaches the mirror, jolts at the way he touches himself—more carefully than he’s ever been touched before. Who are you? he wants to say. He’d like to leave this place now, the club, Las Vegas, the earth. He’d like to buy himself a pet tarantula, run off a cliffside, eat a tub of ice cream with his bare hands. Why did he come here again? His mind is so quiet. This could be peace. But who is he? In Jeremiah’s bathroom he knew, but now there’s this stranger ahead of him, the person who must be him—someone’s chandelier earring grazing his jaw, the cowboy hat lopsided, mascara running down his cheeks even though he hasn’t cried. Where did you go? he mouths, but he knows. He’s disappeared also like Jesus in the tomb, his limbs vanishing one by one, his skin melting off his hands—body gone, body gone, body gone. He grabs his cheeks, panicked because he’s on fire, gold tossed into the crucible. He’s going to burn to ash. He’s going to need a burial soon. His face has been stolen, his breastbone and knuckles too. A month ago, someone spat him into a basket like his body was ripe for the offertory—body gone, body gone, body gone.

“Back,” Harrison says, nose grazing the spattered mirror. His chest swells, and maybe he is burning, and maybe he’s right here, hidden somewhere in the pinprick of his reflection. “Back,” he repeats. He isn’t thoughtful. He isn’t profound. Maybe that’s fine. He squeezes his tear-duct, sticks out his tongue. He’ll die eventually, let his body disappear, but not right now. “Body back, body back, body back.”

Cont'd ft. Harry-something (CW: mild violence):

“I know you.”

Harrison whips around. In front of him stands a redheaded man—the same redhead who’d held Jeremiah close on the dance floor, trailed his oily nose along his neck. He wears a pair of browline sunglasses, a black vinyl vest draped with silver chains. He holds a clove, its smoke clouding the ruby pinging off his ring finger, his mouth ghosted with what looks like red lipstick.

“What?” Harrison says, jumping when the bathroom door clangs open and in come two more women. He lifts his fingers to his mouth, pulls up a hangnail until it stings.

“I saw you out there,” says the man, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Harry-something?” He looks like a scarlet ibis, strangely translucent. “JJ’s friend.”

Harrison digs his fingertips into his eye socket. His head feels like it’s been cleaved with an axe. “Harrison.”

Redhead smiles, blows smoke into Harrison’s face. “What’d you say?”

“My name is Harrison.”

“I’m Perry,” he says, and Harrison wouldn’t give a fuck if his name was Matt Dillon or Rob Lowe or Nash Baker because he’s blowing smoke into his face again, his clove flailing like a dislocated finger. He gestures to Harrison’s outfit, nodding. “You’re like a one man show.”

Harrison covers his eyes. Maybe he can find a dark hole in this club to dive into, somewhere no one will find him again. “What does that mean?”

Perry’s smile falters momentarily, but then it’s back, all teeth, no lips. “You’ve got this flair. You ever been told that? Weird, but good, it’s—”

The second he purses his lips to blow out more smoke, Harrison grabs him by the throat, pulls him so close he can see a constellation of blackheads on his chin, feel his heart hammering.

Perry yelps, nearly losing his hold on the clove altogether.

Harrison arcs his jaw around his ear. He smells like orchids, freshwater. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Cont'd - Harrison is weird :)

Perry laughs, the sound strangled beneath Harrison’s grip. Smoke fumbles out of his mouth like worms. He really does look like a bird, which in this case, isn’t a good thing. “Noted.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“You have a hand around my throat.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Well, I'll leave it there lmao!!! Sorry I subjected you to this man, but hope you enjoyed this gigantic update!

FIN. MAGNUM OPUS COMPLETE!

See you soon!

Rachel

[kattahj]

More Asian QL reviews! Mostly Thai boys as usual, but a Japanese GL at the end!

KinnPorsche

What's it about? Kinn is the son of a mafia boss. Porsche is a bartender who happens to help him out once, and is then coerced into becoming his bodyguard.

Genre: Mafia action, possibly comedy?

Watch if you enjoy: Mafia tropes. High heat. Belligerent sexual tension that turns increasingly playful with time. Having a very hard time deciding what is or what is not meant to be funny. (I have a feeling some of the stuff I found funny wasn't meant to be.) Emotionally repressed vs emotionally oversharing teenage side couple, with love songs. Kinky dom/sub human pet sidecouple #2. Flamboyant drama queen with mental health issues who may be the most sensible of the bunch. Plot that is all over the place even when it isn't twisty (which it is quite often).

Gayer version of: your local kink club's Bugsy Malone theme night

Recommended? Hm. Yes for its influence, no for actual quality, but yes again if you just want some fun mafia hijinks without having to think or feel too much. And it never gets QUITE as bad again as the first five minutes. In some ways it's the worst of the QLs I've watched so far, but it's more entertaining and memorable than several of them. And ironically, it's one of the shows I've found myself writing fic for.

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZvpNreGVOc

Laws of Attraction

What's it about? Tinn's beloved niece is hit by a car belonging to the son of senator Thatthep. Opportunistic lawyer Chan first works for Thatthep, but soon finds himself asking questions that puts him at odds with the senator. Despite their different outlooks on life, Tinn and Chan may have a common goal.

Genre: lakorn (Thai soap opera), action, drama

Watch if you enjoy: High suspense. Morally grey protagonist. Warm and righteous other protagonist. Changing your mind completely about at least one character. Having your heart broken and then laughing your ass off within a span of ten minutes. Lots of gay side characters, including a pair of badass lesbians. Best grandma currently on TV. Great emotional content. A few laughably bad action scenes and VFX.

Gayer version of: The Pelican Brief

Recommended? Yes! I watched it as it aired and could barely stand waiting for a week between episodes! Just make sure you can cope with dead child, dead dog, dead mom, and parental abuse.

Watched on: bilibili.tv, but it is also up on youtube. (It just didn't add subtitles fast enough for me.)

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wo7IKw9dWY

La Pluie

What's it about? A world in which, during the rain, certain people can hear the voice of their soulmate – and ONLY that. But is the soulmate thing really real, or just a way to explain an inexplicable phenomenon?

Genre: Romcom/drama

Watch if you enjoy: Nice people solving their problems nicely and with very little unnecessary drama. Subversion of both soulmate and BL tropes (though ultimately bending to the foregone conclusion). Loving families. Understanding exes. Sometimes a cat.

Gayer version of: I want to say TiMER (2009), but that film was a whole lot messier. This is sweet.

Recommended? Kind of? I think it's well done for what it is, but that twelve hours of low-stakes relationship drama, where every crisis is averted, was a bit long for me personally. Plus, it turns out that I don't like soulmates even when they're being turned upside down and shaken around. But if the premise seems like something up your alley, I thoroughly recommend it!

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz9HG8MGF8M

To Sir, With Love / Khun Chai

What's it about? It's the 1940s, and Thailand is at war. Mr. Song, the wealthy but elderly leader of the Five Dragons association, has two sons with two different wives. Yang is the cheeky rascal, Tian is the obedient and hardworking one. Tian, as the eldest, is set to take over business, and all would be well if not for one little secret: he is gay. If this becomes publicly known, it could ruin the reputation of the whole family.

Genre: soap opera

Watch if you enjoy: More JamFilm after Laws of Attraction, with Film in a radically different role. Brothers supporting each other. Overcoming homophobic surroundings. Rivalling soap queens who will literally walk over corpses for power – and supposedly for their sons, who want none of it. Magic murder mushrooms and other glittery potions. Obedient business heir vs. taciturn assassin gay romance. Feisty het side romance with a lady love who is so sweet and soft spoken that you underestimate what an absolute MVP she is. Acting that ranges from fantastic to terrible. (Looking at you, Nuan!) Absolutely stunning costumes.

Gayer version of: Dynasty, but also I Claudius (what with all the murder).

Recommended? Ye-es? It's more soap opera than BL, so keep that in mind. And there's a lot of Rich People Bullshit. But if you're okay with that, I do recommend it! It ate my brain for several weeks, after all. And if you liked Laws of Attraction, you absolutely MUST see at least a couple of episodes, to experience the whiplash of the difference between Film's roles in those two shows.

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3goS7DVeto

Gay OK Bangkok (Seasons 1 and 2)

What's it about? A bunch of friends, boyfriends, hookups and acquaintances, and how they handle their relationships and life's other issues.

Genre: slice of life

Watch if you enjoy: People who feel like actual people. Down to earth relationship drama that doesn't necessarily end well for everyone. Compassion towards the characters even if they're sometimes being dicks. Multiple PSAs about HIV prevention. A relatively short run. (Season 1 is 5x30 minutes, season 2 7x45.)

Gayer version of: Oddly enough, I want to say 90s Degrassi. (The fact that Degrassi was the first show I ever saw that handled HIV may have something to do with it.)

Recommended? Yes! Season 1 is absolutely brilliant, and only some technical issues (soundmix, lack of subtitles for written info) kept me from putting it among my absolute favourites. Season 2 has more and longer episodes but less of a red thread, which means that while all the individual scenes are still well written and well acting, the first half in particular feels a little aimless. But it comes back swinging in the last few eps, and I have also seen viewers who preferred season 2 over season 1!

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer (sorry about the double subtitles): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3CJ9PiSSR0

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna / She loves to cook, she loves to eat

What's it about? Nomoto's hobby is cooking, but she lives alone and always ends up making too much food. One day, she notices how much food her neighbour Kasuga brings home and gets an idea: maybe Kasuga would like to eat some of what she cooks!

Genre: romcom

Watch if you enjoy: Sweet, understated, tentative romance. Lots and LOTS of cooking/eating scenes. (Don't watch while hungry! Do watch to get kitchen inspiration, if you are so inclined!) Lesbian self-discovery. Lots of serious issues in a fluffy setting: class, misogyny, heteronormativity, fat shaming, family hierarchies, and more.

Gayer version of: Julie and Julia

Recommended? Yes! It's very sympathetic and not very long (10 episodes of 15 minutes). The ending is a little unresolved, but fortunately there's a second season promised for 2024.

Between this and Old Fashion Cupcake, I do wonder if all Japanese QLs double as food porn...

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer (no subtitles): https://mubi.com/en/films/she-loves-to-cook-and-she-loves-to-eat/trailer

[anulithots]

"You get in the way."

(Philo isn't in this one that much but I don't have anymore sketches of faer right now :)

The tumblr houseplant series: Philodendron. Episode three.

The tumblr houseplant series: Growing a garden of houseplants based off this weird thing called existence, "planted" by others from tumblr.

The Philodendron from @rainisawriter

"I think one of the biggest things I struggle to overcome is taking things to heart. I'm quite sensitive, see, and I tend to take things personally even when it isn't personal at all."

Episode one - Weather you like it or not

Episode two - What a debut

Note - this is still a first draft, any feedback is much appreciated <3

TRIGGER WARNING - slight self-deprecation.

------

Philo strolled around the garden's walls, making sure to keep to the shadows and the foliage. Fae tucked faer leaves close enough to faer sides to hurt.

During the last festival, Rose didn't want Philo to take part with faer group. Fae said Philo's leaves would get in the way, that faer leaves lacked the dexterity needed to win the festival games....

Philo shook faer head, swallowing faer acid bile. No, no. That whole 'woe is me' session already lasted a week, with faer avoiding faer plant and any reflective surface. It shouldn't affect faer anymore. It shouldn't matter.

Philo unfurled faer leaves. It would be fine...

They would tell fear that faer leaves took up too much space...

Philo squeaked and gibbered the embarrassment that singed faer wingtips away. Wobblily rocks filled faer throat.

Philo pressed faer paws foreward. Ignore, ignore... Why was this so hard to ignore?

Fae spent the last THREE DAYS unmoving from faer dusty corner. Three entire days where it could've rained or the clouds could've formed pictures or the wind could've had interesting patterns.. and it was all wasted on fretting over a simple question. How long before Philo's entire life consisted of nothing but recovering from passing comments?

Philo scowled. This was why fae needed to keep faer guard up constantly, especially when was excited. It always happened when fae was excite-

"Hello again!"

Philo stumbled over faer paws and fell into a heap, dust puffing into a cloud. Fae coughed.

Dottie.

Not Dottie.

Fae was nice and all but..

'How would that work?'

Philo squeezed faer eyes shut, for a moment, two. Perhaps fae could pretend Dottie didn't exist and fae would be gone when Philo opened faer eyes.

Dottie held out faer paw. "I couldn't find you for AGES and I thought I scared you away and my entire dust cleaning idea would fail before it started and - oh no, I'm oversharing... Whoops."

Philo propped faerself up and tried cough up the rest of the dust.

Dottie tilted faer head. "Ohhh... that's- that's a lot of - you know."

Philo's insides lit aflame. "Yes. Astute observations... goodbye."

Philo tried to rush away before fae melted into a green puddle, but Dottie stumbled in front of faer and - why did fae have to be so persistent? Philo found it much easier to avoid all faer previous friends....

...that was pathetic.

Dottie grinned a half-smile. "Well you miigght need a dust cleaning. If you want to, obviously, not forcing you... hopefully. I'm not forcing you, right?"

Philo would spontaneously combust if fae did not leave. right. now.

Fae growled. "Yes you are forcing and annoying and do not ask me about any 'cleanings' because I. do. not. want. on-"

Philo coughed on another cloud of dust and proceeded to implode.

Perhaps the group would swallow faer up and fae would be free from this mess.

Dottie padded closer. "Are you alright? Dust is really painful if you let it get bad but I'm sure I can hel-"

Philo snapped.

"No you cannot come closer because if you do you will judge but in such a nice way that I can't say anything in return and I CANNOT deal with that right now or ever so can you please mind your own plant for once and stay over there thank you very much."

Dottie blinked, eyes watering.

Philo recoiled.

By the stars... why did fae say that? Fae made it so, so much worse.

Well, there goes one more ruined friendship, add it to the list.

.... This would repeat in faer head for days.

[next episode - You're being unreasonable]