Basically Just A ✨Simp✨™️

Aww 😊!! Thanks 🙏 for the memories!! 🩵🐝💛💚

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"We really shouldn't." They sigh, without any real protest.

Villain snorts against their jaw. "I disagree. You said that last time too." They nip Hero's neck, as they let out a surprised sound.

Hero's hands slide further, brushing against a cold handle. They pull it out suddenly, dangling the dagger in front of Villain warily. "Again? I thought we agreed no weapons."

"Sorry love, force of habit." They say, hand curling around Hero's, prying their fingers so the blade falls to the ground with a thump, kicking it away.

Before anything else can be said, Villain is lifting Hero by their thighs and pressing them back once again, only to feel a hard object. They lift the back Hero's shirt delicately with their cold hands and pulls out the revolver.

"You're one to talk." They retort. Villain unloads it before tossing it to the nearest surface.

"Okay, that's different, I always carry that." Hero said. They didn't spare the weapon a second glance, leaning in closer while pushing Villain's jacket down their shoulders. The heat was rising between them, and right as their lips met, Hero felt something else strapped to their back.

Pulling back suddenly, they unholster yet another weapon.

"Okay, a taser is just excessive." Hero admonishes, holding the small black device between them.

Villain doesn't appear the slightest bit sheepish, taking it from their grasp gently.

"It's the bare minimum, truly." They say, as if its the simplest thing in the world.

"Wow, kinky."

"Oh hush, not for that." Villain responds, shushing Hero playfully, with a finger to their lips. "I forgot to remove it before this rendezvous. Speaking of which, we're getting off track."

Leaning in, they press their lips to Hero again, drinking them in as they hold each other closer. They get lost in each other's taste and swallowed sounds, until Villain's hand strays under Hero's shirt, and is met with the feeling of something bulky.

They interrupt the kiss yet again, pulling free another item.

"Is this a damn dartgun?" Villain asks, their voice genuinely colored with surprise at this point, though still a bit breathless.

Hero groans. "I'm telling you, you never know when you need one." Their heart is still thrumming like a rabbit kicking inside their chest.

"Okay genuinely, how many weapons do you have on your person." Villain finally asks.

"After removing the knife and dartgun?" They pause for a minute before finally answering. "Six... No, seven. How many do you have?" They add, brows furrowed suspiciously.

Villain lets out a small huff of a laugh. "Oh well, I have you beat. I still have nine."

"Yeah well, my second knife is probably bigger then anything you got." They say, suggestive smirk slowly forming again.

"Care to bet on it? I'll show mine if you show yours." Villain replies, already turning and tossing Hero onto the nearest surface, pouncing above them immediately.

This is a HUMANITARIAN MISSION, now it has become a global kidnapping by Israel

BRIDGERTON (2020-)

PEN AND COLIN

I work for a corsetier at a Renaissance Faire. We sell corsets. Not flimsy bullshit costume corsets; like real, durable, waist-training corsets. Today a woman came in with her boyfriend, so I helped her pick out a corset and try it on. While her boyfriend—who was decidedly enthused about the whole corset thing—sat watching me lace her in, he told me, grinning, “Of all the good jobs at the Renaissance Faire, I think you have the best.”

I shrugged in agreement. “I touch butts and reach down cleavage all day; I mean…” Because we like to be a bit rakish at the Faire, and, y’know, it’s true. Tying people into corsets pretty much invariably requires getting handsy.

The couple laughed at that, and the boyfriend said, “That’s the job I would want!” But then he chuckled again and said, offhand, “Or maybe not; while we were looking at the racks, there were some pretty big sizes on there!”

Our sizes are all done in inches, and the biggest we make is a 46. And you’d better believe our large sizes sell. For a second I wasn’t sure what to say to the guy’s comment, but I answered him casually. “We get a lot of beautiful big ladies in here.” Because we do. “We make corsets for real women, not Barbie dolls,” I added. Wasn’t trying to be smart, just kind of tossed it out there because that’s the line we like to use when people ask about larger sizes, and because, again, we do.

The boyfriend went quiet at that; I didn’t think anything of it, I just kept on lacing. A moment later, he said, a little awkwardly (but sincerely enough), “Didn’t mean to be offensive.”

I quickly smiled and brushed it off, said he wasn’t, said I was just saying. (Don’t want to make the customers uncomfortable, you know?) And that was the end of it. His comment had rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now, I wear a 20-inch corset. I’m a few cup sizes short of being one of the Barbie dolls. Like his girlfriend, I’m one of the “hot chicks”; he doesn’t have to worry about offending me by implying that I wouldn’t be fun to poke and pull at.

Honestly though, of all the people I fit sexy technically-undergarments to in a day, fat girls are maybe my favorite people to lace up. Because they are just so damn happy that we have stuff that fits them. They are so damn happy that the corsets we make in their sizes are all the same pretty, shiny colors and cool flower/dragon/skull/etc. prints that the smaller corsets are, not ugly beige and boring “granny” colors. They are so goddamn happy that at least one (of several on the grounds) corset shop carries things that they can wear, that they actually want to wear, and that they look fucking awesome in. This is only my second season working, and we’ve fit 60+ inch waists and double-K busts. The only people we’ve ever had to tell sorry, we don’t have anything that fits them, are twelve-year-old kids.

It’s half-wonderful, half-heartbreaking how excited those women get. Women who say with sad smiles, when we ask if they want to get fitted, “Oh, no, you don’t have anything that fits me,” and then are stunned when we’re 300% confident that yes we do, and we have options. Women who can’t stop smiling and looking at themselves in the mirror after we’ve got them laced in.

I had a lady last week whose waist I measured (cinching the tape tight, as per procedure) at 41 inches—honestly not all that big. So she picked out a 41-inch corset to try on. I could tell halfway through getting her laced that it was going to be a bit big for her, so I mentioned it and said she might do better to try a smaller size. She started crying on the spot. She was so overwhelmed; she couldn’t believe someone had just told her that a 41 was too big. She told me about how hard clothes shopping was for her, how her mother would tell her she needed an XXXL instead of an XXL, how she had recently lost weight but still couldn’t wear certain colors because they didn’t fit or she wasn’t confident enough.

She did end up getting her corset, and after I checked her out she asked if she could give me a hug, so we ended up standing there hugging each other for a minute. While we did, I told her, “Do not ever let anyone tell you any bullshit. You are gorgeous.” She said, “I have a new boyfriend and he keeps telling me that.” I told her he was right, and to just keep telling herself she’s gorgeous; it was okay if she didn’t always believe it, but to keep telling herself anyway. (That’s how I talked myself through shit when I had bad anxiety.)

We all know fat-shaming is bad. The stupidity, fatphobia, and misogyny of it has pissed me off since I first became aware of it. But working with clothing, especially as figure-hugging and precise as corsets, has given me a new perspective on it—how much it affects people and just how shitty it is. Like, what does it say that I had a grown, only average-big woman crying into my shoulder because she was so overjoyed not to be the uppermost extremity of what a manufacturer can clothe?

My job rocks and it’s really rewarding, but sometimes it highlights some of the ugliest shit about society. I’m so glad I work at a shop that’s not bullshit about body types and operates with more people in mind than just scrawny white chicks like me. The fat women I work with are a ton of fun to lace up, and they’re so much more than their size—they’re cool, they’re smart, they’re funny, they’re sweet, they’re great to talk to, and yes, they’re hot. I’m so damn done with them getting short-changed and shamed by petty fucks who refuse to make them nice clothes, who refuse to even try to work for them, who refuse to consider them pretty. This whole rant was useless and won’t get read, but I had to vent because it’s been driving me nuts.

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS (2025) + TUMBLR REACTIONS

Clev asked this and I went to a rabbit hole in my own mind! But I got too self conscious to babble about it in twitter :') and now I'm here picturing Polin sleep arrangement like a mad woman :)

So first, Colin is definitely a heavy sleeper! I mean, not the kind that wouldn't wake up at all, but the kind who needs a bit more efforts to wake him, nothing absurd. And he can fall asleep easily (if he ate before, sleep will hit him for sure... just like a cat ! Let the man have a siesta!). In his childhood and pre adolescence was like that on point, but when he gets from adolescent to young adult, his sleep arrangement change a little bit, with him sleeping late some nights (reading probably, out until late in balls/parties, with his brothers or friends...) Nothing that changes THAT much, but yeah...

He developed a bit of insomnia and when he is worried about something, it gets him good, but 2 types of insomnia only; when something is bothering him as fuck, he can't fall asleep and he will stay up until late night, tossing and turning in bed until very very late (almost dawn). That's the first insomnia he has; the Initial Insomnia. But sometimes, when he is worried about something, but its not that big problem, he will fall asleep, but will wake up a lot during the night, he'll not reaches the deep sleep. Occassionally he would have some nightmares or weird dreams bcs of sleep deprived. And that's the second type of insomnia he has; the Maintenance Insomnia. Actually this second one he developed after became a father, when Penelope was pregnant, he worried if she was ok during the nights, knowing he was a heavy sleeper, he was always worried that if Pen needed something, he will not wake up promptly, that's why during the pregnancy he woke up a few times at the night, just to check on her, and after this, it became more constant with their newborns, everytime. But in general he has good nocturne habits, and tends to sleep well.

He liked to sleep with a lot of fluffy pillows, just bcs he likes to grab them to sleep. And now, being married, he feels that he can only sleep comfortably if he is touching Pen somehow; with his arm around her waist, hugging her arm, playing with her curls, holding her hand, with his body closer and touching her, no matter how, he has to feel her warmth (she's kinda his comfort blanket/person?? Hahah).

He only goes to bed with Penelope, if she is up or doing something outside the bed, he refuse to goes to it until she goes too. So he'll probably sit in a chair and wait for her, nodding off, sleepy. She tries to say to him that he should just go to bed, but... well is a lost battle against a stubborn man in love.

His favorite position to sleep to fall asleep is on his sides, but during the night he tends to turn on his stomach. But he like to take naps in the sofa on his back, with Pen laying in his chest. When Pen goes to sleep and he has his back to her, already sleeping, he gladly became the small spoon :D

Penelope is a light sleeper. She tends to stay up until late since very younger. When she was a kid, she take some books with her to the bedroom, to read when she couldn't sleep (an habit that continues). Being a light sleeper, plus some difficult to sleep fast, gave her the time to entertain herself reading, writing... sneaking out to deliver issues. She a kind of night owl. Pen had a lot of energy, so this wasn't a problem as a kid, she could go fine through the day. But later, as a grown up it became a little bit tiresome, but she still a person full of energy (she works better and gains even more energy at night... well, work while they sleep, right?! or whatever).

Pen has insomnia. She has it for so long, but only hit her hard when she has hard times. She stay up for days, sleeping merely 2 or 3 hours, until tiredness hit her and she would sleep for LONG HOURS. It gets better growing up, but after the pregnancy, taking care of her newborn was a little tense. The sleep arrangement was all messy (during the pregnancy, was the period of her life that she slept the most. Instantly sleep.)

She doesn't go to bed early, not being able to feel sleepy easily, she would stay at her desk or go to the office/library read, write... she was used to it, but after realized that colin wouldn't go to bed without her, she'd climbed to bed with him, just so he could sleep comfortably and she'd continue do her things while caressing Colin's hair or just let him hold her any way he wishes.

Pen's favorite position to fall asleep is on her stomach, but her lower body part (legs/hips) would be a little bit to her side and she lifts one leg. It's a perfect position to sleep with her over colin's chest she'd say... But she like to sleep on her side too. When she was younger she liked to sleep like a little shrimp, on her side, all curling up in herself (sometimes when she's sick, she tends to sleep like this. Colin finds it adorable.)

Penelope moves at night while sleeping. But colin being a heavy sleeper, don't mind that much. When he wakes up during the night he would, in his insomnia periods, groggily fix the blanket and get closer to Pen without hesitation.

There is not a corner of the internet I can travel to far enough away to free me from this torment.

I have not been able to sleep, not been able to eat. I can barely speak these days.

It is a feeling that is like torture but one which I cannot, will not, do not want to give up