#it's just SILLY

[xiaoluclair]

20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case. 

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask. 

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked. 

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush. 

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay. 

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?” 

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning. 

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers. 

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind. 

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor. 

Max buys him sixteen more.

[jona-rose]

I remembered there is this kinda old sketch I did of me trying to study Bedman's design, but I started laughing cause the pose kind of looked like he was flipping you off, and then my friends kinda encouraged me to continue drawing that idea, and oops now the bed is flipping you off too. Laughed so hard about it I couldn't actually finish the art lmao.

[krokaxe]

The spiders come in side by side Two by two and night by night

Hunter (left) belongs to @koilarist

[leaderofallgays]

So funny seeing all the posts being surprised Pearl is 6ft,, like I thought we were all aware?? Guess not 💀

[humanimalgam]

it's so funny when people on this site are like "yeah i'm pro-kink! well except for every kink that i'm personally grossed out by. if you're into any of that you're a freakish sicko and you should kill yourself <3" like i hate to break it to you like this pal but i actually think you're pretty anti-kink overall if the most run-of-the-mill BDSM shit like, idk, any kind of cnc, has you calling for the deaths of other queer people

[tohwitchesduels]

Pokemon Typings of competitors of the tournament

Silly post I felt like doing this because yes I got inspired from analysing Boscha and Willow's battle so here you go:

Willow Park - Grass/Fighting - (obviously Willow is the most powerful plant witch in this tournament along with having gains and fighting using brute force and the strength of her heart)

Hunter Deamonne - Fighting/Psychic - (since Hunter is a trained fighter, the fighting type is a choice by default. I picked psychic type as a secondary so it could tie all of his more magical abilities together neatly as his power of levitation, telekinesis, and even teleportation and creation can be very much related to psychic types in my book)

Luz Noceda - Normal/Dragon - (Luz is a human so on her own she's normal but I give her dragon as a second typing due to her wielding String Bean which resembles Dratini, the first and original dragon-type Pokemon introduced a lot and Luz has connection to the titans' magic that can conquer elements and has overall a lot of raw power that Luz cultivated over time)

Amity Blight - Ground/Ghost - (the way Amity uses her magic suggests she uses mud most of the time rather than either using poison and while her technique is similar to waterbending, her goo does not act like water by itself so I delved more into ghost-typing to a) reference her palismen b) reference how original waterbenders drive their strength and learned how to bend from the moon spirit and c) to connect Amity's personality and aesthetic)

Gus Porter - Psychic/Ghost - (being an illusion master means he of course would be a psychic type, along with him lowkey having telepathy and memory projection abilities, but him also using nightmare fuel while wielding his magic and his illusions also more than often being intangible, I gave Gus ghost as a secondary type, which is especially true for Gus's clones)

Viney - Fairy - (her ability to heal and tame wild animals along with her desire to protect them screams fairy type to me. I was considering giving her secondary typing, but considering Granbull and Snubull are pure fairy types while looking fierce, I decided Viney would just be a singular fairy type)

Boscha - Fire/Poison - (Boscha overall has a lot of fire moves along with being in potion track and even as a person Boscha is both fierce and toxic, so this typing is perfect for her)

Bria - Rock/Fighting - (Rocks are Bria's primary weapon and she also wields a sword and priorities physical strength so I also gave her a fighting type for good measure)

Emira Blight - Psychic/Fairy - (psychic type for her illusion casting and her level-headedness, fairy type for both her healing, compassion, and mischievousness along with her charm)

Edric Blight - Psychic/Fire - (psychic type for his illusions and intelligence (even if he can be an airhead at times, the boy's still clever) and fire type for his chaotic nature while wielding a bunch of explosives)

Matt Tholomule - Rock/Dark - (rock type for construction type and dark type that stands for how shady Matt can be at times along with his illusions that are used for deception. I didn't give either Blight Twins or Gus dark-type for their illusions as they're hardly mean-spirited in general so an "Evil" type wouldn't fit them)

Skara - Normal/Electric ( her sound attacks are hardly anything extraordinary. Electric stands for her thunderstorm and whether or not some of her sound-based abilities have the power of electricity within them)

Gavin Deamonne - Ground (Gavin uses very straight-forward abomination magic and his abominations seem to act like they're made out of clay which is even closer to earth)

Barcus - Psychic/Ghost (I committed any poison-typing for Carcus as hardly he uses liquids in his spells and his powers are so mind and spirit-like focused, I might as well give Barcus the same typing Gus has)

Jerbo - Ground/Grass (Jerbo's animations are clearly made out of the soil and he still utilises plant magic)

Angmar - Grass/Bug (Anfmar's primary magic is the plant one, but he also affinity for befriending bugs, specifically butterflies)

If you want to add anything or discuss this let me know

[hellolulu]

[imnotverybright]

the fact that we just have to keep going on living is insane

my strongest memory of feeling unconditionally loved as a kid was one day at the beach when my best friend's mom tucked in the tags on my swimsuit when they were showing. it was just the fact that someone i wasn't related to and had no obligation to look after me went out of her way to make sure the little details of my appearance, details i didn't notice or care about, were in order. it's such a small moment and i doubt she even remembers it, but for me it's a core memory of feeling loved and cared for .

i haven't seen that woman in over a year now, because she cut off my whole family. she made her daughter, my best friend, block me after a decade of being friends. and i never got a real explanation. initially, my best friend said it was because she came out as bi and our whole friend group is gay, and so, even tho her parents had no confirmation, i had to be cut off by extension. after my mom talked to her, she said it was because our group was bad for her daughter's mental health. my best friend's mom said that maybe, if i apologized, i could talk to her daughter again. maybe. and so i wrote them a letter. i apologized for anything and everything i could think of. i wasn't sure what i did wrong, so i covered all my bases. it took me weeks to write because even thinking about it made me feel sick. and it wasn't enough. it's such a huge, earth-shattering moment in my life, it's a core memory of absolute betrayal and abandonment.

and i just have to live with this. with a core memory of being loved unconditionally and a core memory of being betrayed, that were both caused by the same people. maybe im just 17 but how do i live with this

[smerchingaround]

My friend got diagnosed with BPD and ever since then, he has considered himself a psychiatric expert on diagnosing people for anything

[sunlitmcgee]

cranboo was in a court during cgerges house trial and ctommy specifically take the blame for both of them because he did'n want cranboo get in trouble. or so i remember

cRanboo has better court manners than the cc, god bles

[paintedcrows]

Did anyone tell Ford (bonus doodles: Family Movie Night)

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[nymphoutofwater]

And why? Cultural norms? Personal schedule? “Cause I’m always late to everything”?

Bonus points: Region and/or ethnicity?

[badolmen]

WARNING 18+

19

[stuckinapril]

I could get over anything as long as I have something new to be obsessed with