#anyway sorry dash

[doonarose]

Hello fam,

Here's some TMI that I've spent the entire day spiraling over on the reddit chat but may as well therapize myself here too. Wait is therapize a real word... I did not know that.

Anyway - teaching week from absolute hell. Hours and hours and hours of on my feet labs and workshops. And then getting myself in a position where I had to mark prac write ups - 88 of them - in about 48 hours. Reckon it took me about 16 hours and it's mind numbing exasperating work because this is their first one - a quarter of them failed, some of them wrote the most incoherent bullshit...

That means my brain has been frazzled and fried since sometime Tuesday and by some oversight I neglected to put in my calendar that my parents were dropping their dog off at my house today to mind for a week. Probably because it's no big deal and not something I really need in my calendar.

Except I completely forgot. 100% out of my brain, gone, no idea it was happening until I got a text at 10.30 saying the dog had been dropped off and they were on their way to their airbnb where they've got a few nights away or whatever.

Now, worth noting, they did need to go into the house to drop the dog off, because this is the dog that, famously, escaped this same house a bit over a year ago, got smacked by a truck, was 50/50 on surviving for a long while, and cost them $6k to fix... so yeah, of course let yourselves in, dump the dog and lock the doggy door.

So a few things to know:

I live in a messy house at the best of times. Dishes in the sink, last night's plates still on the table, a bag of used tissues next to me on the couch, socks on the floor, etc. Like it's not gross rotting food or anything, but it's not the standard I like to show my parents (or anyone else). So that's a bit embarrassing.

Last night, because I pulled a 12 hour day of admin and prac marking, I fell into the too-often-fallen-into habit of having a decent slosh of vodka over ice with soda as soon as I got home at 8pm to turn my brain off so I could sleep before midnight. I left the half empty bottle of vodka on the table in the living room.

Also when I got home last night I took my bra off in the living room and left it draped across a chair.

Also, in a particularly lazy moment, I had left the eski full of water from almost two weeks ago sitting in the same spot in my kitchen which, yeah, okay, gross of me, but I intended to clean it up before anyone fucking saw it.

And you're probably reading this and thinking that it really isn't that bad so here's the real main source of mortification. Because I live alone and because no one would ever just drop in and because I've been busy and lazy and whatever. I also left my bright magenta sex toy besides the bathroom sink this morning. Where it had been since the morning before. Because that's a fine, logical place to leave it. And when I got the text I immediately remembered that because I saw it this morning when I was getting ready to go into work at 7.30 for an 8am zoom to the US, and kind of vaguely thought 'I should put that away' and then didn't. And didn't close the door to the bathroom because i only do that on hot days and it's been mild, finally, the last few days. And then when I got that text I tried to convince myself that my parents would have no reason to go into my bathroom, even though they would have obviously gone in the house and seen the above bad shit. And then I tried to convince myself that even if they had seen it, we would never speak of it and I would never know.

Anyway, I got home a half hour ago and my toilet door is fully closed, it's next to the bathroom door that remained fully open, magenta fucking rabbit in full view. I never, ever fully close the toilet door because it jams.

So anyway... may never wank again. Will, at some point, report on how I handle my face and soul next time I have to speak/see my parents.

If I die tonight, my COD will be mortification.

[inkskinned]

i have a fever. let's imagine pokemon world dash discourse together. (sorry i do not have darkmode.)

🤳🏻 pokestopit reblogged team-sprocket

👻 gengaydar Follow

For the last fucking time owning a gengar is NOT graverobbing. what is actually wrong with you people

#gengar #why am i even still on this site #i don't have a gengar but like. what's even going on over there #is marowak graverobbing now too??

💅 deerlinguist reblogged givemeyourstrongestpotion

👩‍❤️‍👩 lightscreend Follow

farfetch'd is like the most edible pokemon just because he comes with his own aromatics. pop that bad boy in the oven with some oran berries.... don't mind if i do

⚧ feministforcepalm Follow

@dyketraining tags pass peer review

🚣🏼‍♂️ magicarpaltunnel reblogged haxorsus

🐦‍⬛ corvikite Follow

I love to hate things and people. And when I turn out to be RIGHT and that person is a DICK? All parasocial relationships are bad and evil unless I am right about hating someone and then parasocial relationships are good actually

🪐waterbubbil Follow

We all thought about the same person let's just be honest here....

🎀 contest-winrar Follow

For me it's always going to be people who keep Pokémon without any thought as to their enrichment and needs. You do not need a fucking Arcanine, you live in a studio apartment and don't walk more than a block a day. You think you want a Gardevoir but are you okay with having an unknowable creature reading your thoughts every waking moment of the day? Even while you do... the nasty?

It drives me crazy because people see a Champion and think they have the time, energy, money, and space necessary to raise a Dragon type. Unless you have generational wealth, let me spell it out for you: you do not have the funds for a Dragon type. And yes! Charizard is on that list, guys! You can't even afford to feed yourself!

📯 jessiejustlickme Follow

local tumblr user declares the poors only get rat pokemon. maybe a bug pokémon if we are very good. we must grovel in the streets amen

🎀 contest-winrar Follow

Laugh all you want but I'm serious. I have heard of someone who is living with a MR. MIME like it's her HUSBAND!!!! That's fucking GROSS. These are creatures that TRUST us and NEED us.

Did you know that most Ponyta prefer to be in a herd? Are you going to have the space for that? Did you know that if you don't properly care for certain fire species their flame goes out? Sure, they're cute when they're small: but unless you're a rancher or a Gym Leader... I'm sorry. You're gross to me if you think otherwise. I hate people like that.

And for the record, rat and bug Pokémon are very valuable from an ecological standpoint. They hold an extremely important niche. People like you would rather they be hunted to extinction because they're pests, not pretty. It's disgusting.

🐦‍⬛ corvikite Follow

anybody in this thread smoke weed

#NOT THE RATS FOR THE POOR PEOPLE... GIRLLLLLL #the thing is they're not like... wrong.... #like i agree with the sentiment #my friend tried to get a slyveon just by like. playing catch a few times #.... like you do need to try.... #also fyi i have a large species so i'm biased #grovyle my baby . my man. u are costing me like so much in pokepuffs per month

👁‍🗨 badsol

why are we all talking about what pokemon to eat tonight lmafo

#.... obviously jigglypuff. homegirl is 90% cotton candy

🪅 feebassguitar reblogged metrognome

🫖 sinisteacher Follow

Like okay I got into science because I love to learn but the more I find out about how we've classified Pokémon types the more insane I feel. What do you mean there's no singular true indicator? What do you mean that there are several conditions which completely alter their base type?

Literally today my lab partner and I got into a very serious discussion about Luxray. That thing is a fuckking dark type!!!!! I'm sorry!!! I don't care what Bulbapedia says!!!! anyway i threw a pokeball at him and it swallowed him whole and now i'm going to jail for unlawful imprisonment of a TA

🍙 thesandwichking Follow

there's something, like, very dystopian about the idea that if u put an ugly hat on ur favorite little creature it changes like. the DNA. like. do other pokemon look at what you've done and cower? that's their friend... similar but changed... forever having known a life that is entirely alien to them...

🐳 wailordsupreme Follow

.... Are we going to ignore that OP swallowed a human into a ball???

#yes we are. #my friend loves those hats but I think they're so ugly #and stupid #if i wanted a specific type imma get that type..... #typesetting #show james

🧗‍♀️ backpacksandcavesnacks reblogged eevee-lotion

👑 lemmegrabmyballs Follow

ROUND 5 of 6 (see blog for more)

PLEASE REBLOG FOR VISIBILITY:

✍️ dreepydrabbles reblogged ash-hole

☠️ marrowhackoff Follow

just saw someone say writing omegaverse fanfic of your pokemon is bestiality. ma'am this is the monster fucking site. you should be grateful that it's only omegaverse.

#the things i've seen would melt your eyebrows clean off your face #..... typhlosion they could never make me hate you baby #i know that's not what's in your heart

🪽 honey-tree-skies reblogged gymcrawler

🐛 youngstirjoey Follow

Okay say what you will. But shorts really are comfy and easy to wear

🛀🏽 intimidatecutsyourattack Follow

Sorry bud. But. Investing at 3 notes

🐛 youngstirjoey Follow

don't do this to me. i h avue a wife . and chi ld

[four-pointed-leaf]

happy pride month

[rebornofstars]

really whats interesting to me is that if u stay involved in a fandom long enough u get an evolution of scrolling from: ooh! - ooh! - ooh! - OH i didn't realise this was a trope - ooh! - OH - ooh! - ooh!!

to smth more like: read that - read that - oh LOOK it's my mutual - omg that one looks SO GOOD i love the trope subversion - wrote that - read that - oh my friends have been screaming about this one - wrote that - oh LOOK it's my mutual - read that - FRESH MEAT LETS GO SAY HELLO and its

SO beautiful and joyous. being a member of a community is fun!!!!! being so familiar with a tiny corner of the internet is fascinating!!!!! seeing the connections between yourself and other people is crazy cool!!!! we're all here on the web page together!!!! i see you and i love you!!!!!!

[chiquilines]

Applejack and her two very different lazy mornings with her two very different girlfriends

Extra AJ under the cut the voices got to me

[torchstelechos]

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations.]

[isabelleadjani]

KIM GO-EUN & NOH SANG-HYUN for ELLE Korea, October 2024

[morgombie]

um anyway

[skunkes]

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

pov you do ur gay little run cycle into the war room unexpectedly insp this painting and remembering this screenshot/post as well

[kusanagihaku]

under this orange sky

⭢ haru x mc, 2.6k

“It’s perfect,” Haru says. His voice is thick with something honey-warm, the same kind of whiskey that burns your own lungs when you think about the stretch of a future with him. His fingers find yours, find the ring tucked neatly on the fourth finger of your left hand. “It’s perfect.”  or: you try on wedding dresses with haru. on ao3 here / masterlist.

A twinkle sounds above your head as you slide the door closed behind you. 

The sight that greets you is stunning – under the quiet piano music and soft warmth of the overhead spotlights sparkle huge wedding dresses, hung neatly on gold racks suspended from the ceiling. They shimmer as though moving, a silent symphony of lace and silk and chiffon that whispers into the background of the bridal shop. 

You feel a little out of place; the air around the dresses alone smells more expensive than your entire wardrobe. You should have expected it, of course, seeing as to how Romeo was the one who booked you the appointment, but the luxury that swirls around your feet with every step is unfamiliar all the same. 

“Ma’am?” A well-dressed staff member appears at your elbow. He bows, a stiff ninety degrees, before looking at you enquiringly. 

“I, um,” you fumble to unlock your phone, “have an appointment at three?” 

The staff member peers at your appointment confirmation text before bowing again and retreating into the forest of wedding dresses. You wonder if he has ever gotten lost in them. 

You would, if left here alone – the white dresses hung up next to you tower well above your head. The ones closest to you are studded with pearls, an opulent showering that melts into creamy silk the closer it gets to the floor. The ones further down the rack are lined with tiny white beads; they swirl around the bodice of the dress as if around a snow-capped mountain, then trail off into a lace train that brushes the floor. 

They are all absolutely beautiful. 

You exhale. When Romeo said he would pay for your dress as a wedding gift, you never in your wildest dreams would have imagined dresses like these. 

(Only the best for Harry and you, Romeo sniffed, and everyone present had pretended it was in disdain and not at all related to the shine of happy tears in his eyes. I’ll call up an old friend– here–) 

Before you can think too much about the price tags, however, an old lady slightly shorter than yourself emerges from the snowy mountains. 

Her hair is as white as the clothes that surround her, and her glasses, delicately gold-framed, sparkle as she bows slightly in greeting. The smile she gives you when you return the formality is warm. 

“Welcome,” she says. Her voice is stronger than you expect. “Romeo has already sent over your measurements.” 

“Oh,” you say, faintly, and follow her into the gaping maw of white. 

You kind of wish Haru was with you. 

Even though he’d (wisely) keep his mouth shut about how the contents of half the store could fund the entirety of Jabberwock for a year, he’d reach for your hand still, a steady rock in this stream of unfamiliarity. He’d smile at you, all soft sun and spring, then turn to face your first wedding dress appointment with the same expression he uses to face all new experiences – with a confident tilt of chin and resolute squaring of shoulders. 

But alas, Haru is still hurtling his way over on the Galaxy Express, having been held back by some Darkwick administrator or another over issues with the Jabberwock caretaking, and so you have to face this on your own. 

She leads you to a small clearing in the middle of the store. There is a glass garden table set up with pillowy chairs, and you recognise the initials on the grey file sitting on its surface to be Haru’s and your own. 

The madame gestures for you to sit. She reaches into the grey file, but instead of pulling out a lookbook or a page of silhouettes like you expect, she removes a blank sheet of paper and sets it between you. 

“I find that it helps me to imagine what the wedding will be like,” she says, mildly, uncapping a blue fountain pen. “That way I can pick out exactly what you need, you know?” 

You nod. You don’t quite know. 

She peers kindly at you. “Where is the wedding going to be?” 

“A… a vineyard.” 

Or at least, that’s the closest word you can find to describe Rui’s backyard. He’d moved to a rural part of the country upon graduation, far enough away from other humans yet close enough to a Galaxy Express station for you to visit regularly. The garden he tends to now is thrice the size of what he used to care for in Obscuary, with an apothecary taking up a sizable amount of land next to it, and he keeps up his business of growing anomalous plants for medicinal or bar-related consumption. 

He volunteered a space off the side of his garden the moment Haru broke the news – what better place for a spring wedding? he had grinned, then laughed when Romeo complained about the possibility of getting mud all over his best leather shoes. 

“Ooh,” the madame trills, and notes a squiggle down. “Indoors or outdoors?” 

“Outdoors,” you say, and she looks up. 

“Have you checked the weather?” 

Your mind flashes to lilac hair and pink eyes and the biggest hug he gave you and Haru when he found out, and you laugh. “It’ll be clear.” 

The madame claps in delight. “Beautiful. Have you decided on the flower arrangements?” 

You haven’t, actually, but an image blooms almost instantly when you close your eyes. “Sunflowers.” 

She raises her eyebrows. 

Before you can elaborate, however, a chime echoes throughout the store. There is an instant, almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere, a voltaic thrum that smooths itself over your skin and settles into a familiar comfort. You barely have time to turn before he appears, all windswept and warmth, breathless at the crook of your elbow. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Haru murmurs. He smells like the sun, like the electric hum of earth, sweet and solid and yours, and you can’t help the unfurl of your smile at the kiss he presses into your hair as he slides into the seat next to you. 

“We just began,” the madame assures him. She eyes the way he scrapes his chair slightly closer to yours. “Now, how did you meet?” 

A smile bubbles up on Haru’s face, then. He takes your hand in his. “In school.” 

Days of Darkwick past flash through your mind, but here is what you see– 

Meadows of pink and rolling green. Skies of blue and black and grey and everything in between, and oceans twice as rich. Paths that wind through forests and fields, through hills and pastures, through sunset and sunrise and the beats of your heart. 

Through the beats of his heart, echoed with your head on his chest, on nights littered with stars and kisses. 

For someone who has spent the better part of your first year cursed there is little you recall beyond the soft-bright of Haru’s laugh. 

“He was the busiest captain alive,” you say, instead. “I was assigned to help his house once or twice.” 

“You were assigned to save my ass once or twice,” Haru corrects, then amends, “Ended up saving my life once or twice, too.” 

You elbow him, grinning; the returning beam he throws you sends a honey-thick swell through your heart. 

The madame notes something else down in an indecipherable squiggle. “And when did you realise you’d fallen in love?”

You blink. That’s not quite a question you were expecting– 

“Oh,” Haru laughs. “Almost instantly.” 

You flush, but the sparkle of Haru’s laugh settles into the air between you, nestles itself into the intertwine of your fingers. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. 

“There was this field we used to have to cross,” he says, “to get from the main campus to my dorm.” 

(You remember it. You could always see the red mushroom-top of Jabberwock from across the grass.)

“When you have a distance like that, y’know, the first thing you’d think of is how much you want to get across it as fast as you can. Just to save time. I used to, uh, run across the field just to get across faster.” Haru half-turns to face you, then, still sheepish at the memory. His smile is pillow-soft, fond, a quiet adoration that soaks into the clouds of his vowels. “But after we met… I found myself walking across it more often. I’d always be thinking of how nice it would be to slow down, to be able to walk and look at the wildflowers with her.” 

Oh, and the number of times you had – the number of times Haru had taken your hand in his, steady and sweet, pointed out the violets and golds and pinks and creams painting the backdrops of your evenings. The number of times he’d bumped his shoulder into yours, leaning in so close you could see where his eyelashes brushed his cheeks, where the humidity curled the ends of his hair against his forehead. The number of times he’d kissed you in the middle of that field, the number of times you’d pull away to catch the blush under his faint freckles bloom into a smile brighter than the sun. 

You’d fallen in love much slower, of course, as much as the circumstances had allowed, but you’ve long lost count of the number of times you’d decided, standing in that sea of gold-green and anchored only by his hand on your jaw, that no matter how fast Haru may run, you’d do anything to follow him. 

Your sun, your light. To love Haru, you think, is to be his personal sunflower. 

The madame does not wait for you to respond. She rises, silently, setting her pen down on the table before retreating into walls of white. 

Haru visibly relaxes into your side. His lips brush your temple as you lean into his warmth. “Romeo sure picked an expensive place, huh?” 

You snort. “Understatement. How was work?” 

Haru chortles. He flips your entwined hands over, so that the back of your hand rests on his thigh. “Same old. Had to show the new Jabberwock vice-captain how to feed the aquatics. Again.” 

You hum in sympathy. “It’s always a steep learning curve.” 

“Good thing I’m a patient teacher,” Haru muses, exasperated amusement colouring his voice. 

It reminds you so much of the time he tried to train the Capybus that you laugh, too, leaning up to press a kiss to his smile. His eyes crinkle up further, crow’s feet deepening when you break apart, but he doesn’t pull away. “Missed you.” 

“You saw me yesterday.” 

Haru presses his nose to yours. “I still missed you.” 

You can’t help the flutter of your heart; even after all this time, the sincerity behind Haru’s every word still slip-slides a giddiness under your skin. You squeeze his hand. “Good thing you’ll see me every night for the rest of your life.” 

The laugh that bubbles out of Haru is dizzy and golden and free, tender with adoration. “Lucky me.” 

He presses another quick kiss to your lips, before you are broken apart by a large bronze hanger being wheeled out from the forest of wedding dresses. On it is a dust-bag sleek in silver, hung neatly on its metal frame with only a bit of white floating out its bottom.

“This design has been sitting in my drafts for a while,” the madame says. She adjusts her glasses, and peers over them at you. “It’s been waiting for the right person, and well… after all I’ve heard… I think it might be you.” 

You share a glance with Haru before standing. For some reason you feel more nervous than you did coming in, like whatever she is offering you is more valuable than you could ever imagine. 

A staff member materialises from your left, and hefts the dustbag into a corner you failed to notice before. She unzips it on a small white podium she has set up in front of three angled mirrors. 

Another staff member materialises from your right, tugging almond curtains around where she gestures for you to stand. 

“You can undress here,” she whispers, before leaving you with the too-loud hammer of your heart. 

You barely see what the wedding dress puddled underneath your feet looks like before the madame, standing between you and the mirror, tugs it up for you, sliding the silk up and cinching it in the right places. The fabric feels like air on your skin, light and soft; as her hands work with pins and tiny safety clips you catch glimpses of tiny pearls and gold thread. 

But oh, when she steps away from the mirror, when they pull back the curtains, when you finally do see it– 

It’s beautiful. 

The lace covering the front of the dress is studded with white sequins and pearls, forming gently weaved branches of ginkgo leaves and five-petaled flowers. It winds its way from the sweetheart neckline to your torso and wraps around you to the back of the dress. Underneath the lace mesh is a glitter layer of chiffon, resting almost innocently over a nearly-cream silk; spilling down from your waistline are fine threads of gold. 

The effect is almost iridescent. It turns the artificial warmth of the store lights into diamonds glinting off the surface of a lake, into sunlight winking off drops of dew in the morning.

As you move everything sparkles. 

The strands catches the light as you shift – even though you first notice the ginkgo leaves and sequins, the bodice melts into a shimmer that is hard to pull your eyes away from. It glints a bright gold under the lights, gold like a kiss, gold like lips pressed to your temple to your cheek to your lips. Gold like solar flare through the fire-red of Haru’s hair, gold like the scent of sun in the crook of his neck. 

Gold like a dawn that breaks without either of you noticing, like a sunrise that steals over you when you’re asleep in Haru’s arms. Gold like a promise hummed into your hair, like a vow murmured wordless into the tips of your fingers. Gold like the inside of your ribcage at the end of Haru’s laugh. 

You hear a faint gasp from the madame, and a louder one from Haru. When your eyes meet his in the mirror you find him pressing his fist into his mouth, eyes wet with tears. 

His name is loaded on the tip of your tongue, and yet you are almost afraid to break the magic of the moment, of Haru’s eyes trained on you, tears sparkling on the thick of his eyelashes. You twist slightly to face him, hand slightly outstretched; he takes an involuntary step forward, and another, and another, hands reaching out for yours. 

As you turn you catch sight of the train of the gown. The lace at the edge of the train is different this time, a field of wildflowers embroidered with white beads that shimmer with movement. They wink at you when you turn; you blink, and suddenly you are back in the Jabberwock fields with Haru, bathed in the gold of sunset with grass and glittering wildflowers underfoot. There is wind in your hair and you are laughing at something or another, Haru’s loud cackle in your ear and mushroom-top of the dorm looming in the distance. His hand is in yours, warm and solid. Your heart is in his, sure and sweet, one step away from the frozen edge of forever. 

“My, my,” the madame is saying, “I knew it would be perfect–“ but then Haru is there, cradling your jaw, tipping his forehead onto yours.

“It’s perfect,” Haru says. His voice is thick with something honey-warm, the same kind of whiskey that burns your own lungs when you think about the stretch of a future with him. His fingers find yours, find the ring tucked neatly on the fourth finger of your left hand. “It’s perfect.” 

It is. 

[lovecolibri]

Eddie: *always putting a grounding hand on Buck's shoulder when Buck needs it, and using his Point-y Finger when he wants Buck to focus and know He Means Business*

Eddie, lost in grief and needing Buck's support and knowing Buck needs his, but Buck isn't there asking the prodding questions he always does to get Eddie to open up, and Eddie is about to lose it: *does the same thing as always just in combination and a little more intense in his grief, because he NEEDS Buck to Listen and Understand and grieve WITH him*

Some of y'all:

[chronicowboy]

today was my first ever birthday i've spent alone and i've been absolutely dreading it all week but it was actually really lovely. there was no pressure and i took things at my own pace and i just did whatever the hell i liked. i made myself a big extravagant breakfast and went for a beautiful walk in the sun then went on a big bookshop tour and went and got myself a special sweet treat from a nearby bakery. even told the workers there that it was my birthday when they asked how my day was going which i would never normally do but everyone stopped what they were doing to wish me a good day. read my book in the park and then i ordered a pizza and watched my favourite childhood films and idk man. i just had a really good day and if anybody else has the same fear about spending a birthday alone this is your sign that it doesn't have to be lonely <3

[stringcage]

To this day it haunts me that in that one post which was like "which mlp pony is Adam Parrish" applejack won. HES NOT APPLEJACK. You people are only considering the appearance!! Applejack is clearly Blue: dependable, family oriented, stubborn but not the most stubborn (important). A lover of nature. TREES.

If you open your third eye you will see that Adam is actually Twilight Sparkle. Struggles with balancing friendship with personal ambitions/aspirations, anti social but still loving and needing friends, very studious, apt with magic, the most stubborn. If anyone was going to ascend to alicorndom it would be Adam

[syluses]

everybody coming from tiktok i just wanna say yes i write PSEUDOcest. So if u have a problem with that in fiction then this isn’t the place for u- but nasty comments about it are kinda crazy considering our glorious king caleb is THE brother-but-not of all time. By canon definition he is literally our gege/niisan in the game so dont bring yall barf emojis over here thank you 🫰

[i-maj-ine]

Just started reading ORV (not that far in but I am lightly spoiled on some plot points bc of friends) and trans Kim Dokja would hit diff if Fourth Wall's censor helped cover how fem his body shape is

Like that'd be fucking hilarious

'i didn't think the apocalypse had to happen for people to be more accepting of my gender' says local man, who has a skill that literally convinces others that his boobs don't exist

Imagine the misunderstandings. Imagine them, please, I beg of you. I need someone to vibrate on the same wavelength as me when it comes to everyone literally not Knowing He Is Trans because HE LOOKS LIKE A FUZZY BLOB.

Kim Dokja, very confused but very glad that people are so accepting when he knows he doesn't pass as a guy. Kim Dokja, scrunching his face when people talk down to women and look at him like he'll implicitly agree because he's one of the boysss. Kim Dokja, getting weird ass stares for the menstrual products he has on hand-- (OH GOD BATHROOM BREAKS, BATHROOM BREAKS WOULD BE SUCH A HILARIOUS SUBJECT, IMAGINE HIM GOING TO THE WOMEN'S BC OF HABIT AND GETTING TUGGED BACK BY SOMEONE ELSE STERNLY LIke stop laughing Sangah-ssi, you're being such a bully rn)

He just looks like a thin frail looking stick of a guy, it's like only when people get close and touch (if you're even allowed to... the kids get that privilege via hugs) that some areas seem to have more give than others while others seem more expansive than they actually are. When you set your hand on his shoulder, the hazy form is lower and tinier than you expected... He's so weird.