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[agxxb]

Greaser .𖥔 ݁ ˖

dean winchester x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend is working on his car. if only he wasn’t so attractive.

warnings: soft smut. clit rubbing. pet names (sweetheart, baby). praise. dean is sweaty and has greasy hands. [1.5k]

The sunshine brought infinite hues of green, a palate of nature kissing creation alive. The light flowed, poppling like the water of a river, and the heat brought a day best for the dreaming of new poetry.

The world was quiet, the only noise being the sound of metal clanging as Dean Winchester worked on his car. Beads of sweat had formed on his hairline, dripping down his temples and catching on the short stubble of his beard. His biceps flexed as he gripped the wrench within his grease-covered hand, jaw clenching as he focused.

A quiet grunt left his mouth when he finally stood up straight, a slight ache in his back from how long he had been hunched over the car bonnet. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he glanced around the salvage yard belonging to Bobby, green eyes piercing through the waves of heat surrounding him.

You looked out at him, subtly biting your lip as you watched your boyfriend’s back muscles ripple beneath his grey shirt. You had spent the last fifteen or so minutes making fresh lemonade, pouring a glass for the younger Winchester before pouring another two.

Walking out the back door, the heat hit you like a truck. Condensation had already began forming on the outer side of the two glasses in your hands, dampening the pads of your fingertips. Your eyes squinted slightly, trying to see through the sun shining directly into them.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Dean greeted as you approached him, the man turning around and leaning against his car. He held a rag, wiping his hands free of the grease covering them.

You held out one of the glasses, smiling as he took it. “Made some lemonade, thought you could do with it.” He took a sip, closing his eyes as his mouth no longer felt dry. “You���ve been out here for hours.”

“This is good,” Dean complimented, taking another sip. You copied him, bringing your own glass up to your lips. “How’d you make this?”

However, his question fell upon deaf ears. Despite him being the one talking to you, you were too focus on Dean. His plump lips puckering slightly as he sipped his drink, tongue peaking out to lick them; His eyes, green enough to have an entire forest inside them; The freckles that danced across his cheeks and nose, almost as though they were lovers entwined in a waltz or leaves dancing in the wind; And his hands, veins visible as he clutched the glass between his calloused fingers.

Dean followed your eye-line, a smirk threatening to break out on his face when he realised what you were staring at.

“Sweetheart?” You hummed, reluctantly looking away from his fingers and back up to his face. “I asked you a question.”

“I, um…” You thought back to what he had asked, trying to remember what you’d last heard him say. “Just lemons and a bit of sugar.”

It was Dean’s turn to hum, though his was in amusement. He knew you had a thing for his hands, he just didn’t realise you’d like them even more with oil covering them. He placed his glass down on the side table holding his tools, and walked closer to you, gently taking your drink from your hand and placing it beside his.

You glanced up at him, your boyfriend towering over your frame. He saw the need hidden in your eyes, the want you had for him. Dean’s hand lifted, palm resting against your cheek before it moved down to your neck. He pulled you closer to him, watching your eyes widen in desire at his show of dominance.

“You think you’re so sly,” he teasingly said before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

You moaned into the kiss, hands going to his torso. You gently squeezed, feeling the muscles you been appreciating not so long ago.All thoughts that weren’t Dean had left your mind, your only focus being your boyfriend.

The heat between you both had become more sultry than the blazing sun. The kiss quickly deepened, both as desperate for one another as the day you had first met.

You momentarily pulled back just to tell him that you needed him. In fact, you craved him. Your hands moved under his shirt, feeling his abs beneath your fingers and gently scratching with your nails.

“Yeah, Baby?”

Baby? In the years you and Dean had been together, he had never called you ‘baby’. Baby was his car, not anyone else — not even you. You blinked, the man seemingly realising the effect that word had on you.

You licked your bottom lip, gently pushing him back to sit in the driver’s seat of his car. You placed your hands on his knees, spreading his legs just enough for you to slot your body in between them.

His breath hitched when your hand brushed against his hardened bulge and you raised your eyes to his as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down his thighs with some help. His cock bounced against his stomach, and he hissed in pleasure as you grasped him in your hand.

He squeezed his eyes shut when you spread the precum over his head, letting out a low grown. You licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he looked down at you. You swirled your tongue around the head before taking more into your mouth.

"Fuck, Baby.”

You moaned around him, his hand coming to rest at back of your head. You breathed slowly out of your nose as you moved down, wrapping a hand around what you couldn't fit in your mouth. You started bobbing your head, hollowing out your cheeks as your lover trembled beneath you.

"Good girl.”

You fastened your movements, though Dean stopped you a few moments later. He grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you up onto his lap, a leg either side of his waist. You wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel how wet you were, soaked through your underwear.

Dean didn’t even bother with pulling down, simply moving them to the side in his desperation. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant.

"Christ, Sweetheart... This worked up over me?" His smug smile eventually turned into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, his lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left. "That's it..."

With your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist, your movements had to be second nature by now. His stubble dragged across your neck, making you shudder with pleasure as he left kisses along your collarbone.

You moaned as you lifted up only to sit back down on him. His cock hit that spot inside you perfectly, your head thrown back in ecstasy, and your legs slightly shook as the pleasure rippled through your body, toes curling.

"Good girl," Dean praised, voice deep and raspy from his sybaritism. He let out a moan of his own as he felt you clench around him, clearly enjoying yourself. "You like that?"

"Mhm," you nodded, a whimper leaving you as you sped up. "Fuck."

He reciprocated the sound, biting his lip as he stared down at where you both were joined. He could see your slick coating him, a white ring around the base. Dean always loved to watch you take him, especially when he could sit back and watch you ride him.

"Gonna cum," you told him, nails digging into his shoulders. At this, Dean grabbed your hips tighter and began pounding up into you.

Your mouth was open as a constant stream of moans and whimpers left unashamedly. One of his hands moved down, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves, and a sharp gasp left your lips.

Everything went quiet as white hot pleasure rolled through your body, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. You clung onto him for dear life, legs shaking around his thick thighs.

"Where?" Dean asked through gritted teeth.

"Inside. Cum inside me. Please.”

You knew it wasn't exactly smart, seeing as he wasn't wearing any protection, but you needed to feel him. He kept the same pace, no longer caring about your pleasure and simply chasing his own high.

"God damn-!" Dean groaned, slamming into you one final time. His orgasm triggered another for you, squeezing around him tightly.

After a moment, you sighed, laying your head on his shoulder whilst still feeling him pulse inside of you. Your chest rose and fell against his own, heavy breaths being traded between the two of you.

You lifted slightly as Dean pulled out, though you stayed on his lap, in his arms. His hand moved to your waist, thumb gently rubbing it as he kissed your forehead.

"Ah, son of a bitch,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. You lifted your head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing slightly in silent question. “I didn’t finish my lemonade.”

[strlingsav]

Relief

– John "Bravo Six" Price x F!Reader

— You help John relax after he comes home.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Requested: @thychuvaluswife

John came home with his shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh when he set down his duffel bag. He'd eaten dinner quickly and settled in on the couch to watch mind-numbing TV programs.

You were used to the quiet, tired demeanour he carried himself with after every return from deployment. It would take a few days for him to get back into the routine of civilian life- if only for a month or two before he would leave again.

Though this time seemed different. He held a frown, stress etched into the deep lines on his forehead, buried himself against the back of the couch and kept his responses short. You were at a loss, but desperately wanted to make things better for him.

He was likely overwhelmed, not only with work, but the conversation you'd had before he left. You'd asked John if he'd like to have a baby, or was ready, at the very least. He'd taken some time to think on it, a bit hesitant given his long absences and the uncertain, dangerous nature of his work.

You knew everything was weighing heavily on him. He'd said yes, he was ready- but you were doubtful. You desperately wanted him to be as ecstatic as you were, though the bags under his eyes made you a bit disheartened. You were sure he'd make an excellent father, but his indecisiveness made it difficult to imagine.

You hadn't brought up your doubts of his commitment again, unsure whether the reminder would add to the stress he was already carrying. There was a gap that had grown between you, you'd found yourself souring at his ambiguity. It wasn't what you wanted, nor what you pictured for your marriage. You missed him- deeply, and wanted more; you wanted him.

After a moment of reflection, you grew tired of watching him- of the silence, the aura of fatigue surrounding him. You rounded the kitchen counter, standing behind him as he sat on the couch, your eyes drawn to the back of his head. Your hands reached his shoulders, sliding down his chest as you leaned over beside him.

"You okay?" You asked, your lips next to his ear, hands pressed against his chest.

"'M alright, love. Tired, is all." He turned his head to look at you.

You nuzzled into his neck, inhaling his scent. You'd missed his smell, the feeling of his rough beard over your skin- even the redness on your inner thighs when he'd devour you.

He smelled of Cuban cigars and pine- likely a combination acquired while he was away. After a few more showers it would wear off, and he'd smell like the deep, rich tones of the sandalwood and ocean-water bodywash that seemed to rub off all over your sheets.

It was comforting, especially when he was away. You liked wrapping yourself in those sheets, burying your face in his pillow, surrounded by the smell of beard oil and shampoo he'd left behind.

You hummed with deliberation, moving your hair so you could press your lips to his neck, a soft kiss against his prickly skin.

"Can I do anything to help?" You whispered.

You hoped a soft voice and soothing kisses would draw his attention from whatever war was waging itself in the secluded corners of his mind. You wanted to talk, to force the frustration out of him, but you knew better than to pry- especially after deployment. You stuck to what you knew best, pleasing him, and accepting what he offered without contest.

He chuckled- "Can keep doin' that," He said back.

You smiled; it was the reaction you'd hoped for, one that made your stomach flutter. Regardless of how lacking your communication had been, you always wanted him- and he you. You left kisses against his neck as your hands flattened against his hard abdomen, inching closer and closer to his belt. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his chest heave as you undid the buckle.

"You're a good woman," He slurred, his head lowering to watch your hands.

"I know," You grinned.

He shifted his hips, a low grumble leaving his throat when you unzipped his pants, wrapped your hand around his cock. He was already hard, nearly throbbing in your hand with impatience.

Your lips on his neck, your hand moving up and down his cock- he planted his hands on his thighs, knuckles white as his fingertips dug into his jeans.

"Christ, love," He groaned. "I missed you."

Your tongue ran a delicate strip up his ear, teeth biting into the lobe as your thumb massaged the head of his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Missed you too," You mumbled.

Though vague, it didn't stop the leap your heart took.

"Come 'ere," He said, his eyes opening to look at you.

You stood up straight, ambling around the couch to stand before him. He leaned forward, grabbing hold of your waist and pulling you in, pressing his lips to yours as he tried to wrangle you onto his lap.

You shook your head as you pulled away, "I'm not done, baby."

You knelt before him, watching his eyes widen when your hands slid up his thighs, your lips enveloping his cock in the warmth of your mouth. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, your eyes meeting his as you took him deeper in your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed, suctioning your lips around his length as your head bobbed back and forth.

He spread his thighs, his arm hooking around the back of the couch as his other hand reached your head.

"Just like that, babe," He muttered.

You hummed appreciatively, lifting your hand to the base of his cock, twisting your wrist as your fist met your mouth. He grunted, his fingers splaying out across the back of your head.

Saliva dripped down his cock from your lips, pooling across his lap, your hands. It was messy, sloppy- loud noises of slurping and John's soft grunts of pleasure.

His mouth had fallen slack as he watched you, mesmerized by the way your lips looked wrapped around him, how your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him.

He hurriedly pulled his sweater over his head, leaving you in a haze of desire with the view in front of you; the patch of dark hair between his pectorals, the trail leading down toward his groin, defined muscles that lined his torso.

You could feel the heat emanating off of him, with redness in his cheeks. His palm was warm against the back of your head until he moved it to cup your cheek; his thumb traced the edge of your lip where it was taught over his cock.

Your own observations had you warm too; John's lips open, his eyes lidded and heavy with pure lust, chest rising and falling as he fought to catch his breath. The searing heat of desire spread throughout your body, pooling in your gut.

His head fell back with a groan when you showed more attention to his tip- sucking softly along the protrusions and ridges, the thick veins running up his cock. He shifted again, his thighs spreading as he took your jaw in a calloused hand.

"Take your trousers off," He muttered.

You obliged, throwing each leg over his lap, hands pressed against his firm chest as you closed in on him. His beard was rough against your face, tickling your lips as you enveloped his. He slid his tongue in your mouth, finding yours and tasting himself off of you.

One of his hands, that had been wrapped around your waist, moved to your inner thighs. He slid up further, letting his palm glide over the warmth of your pussy. He used a single finger, sliding it between your folds.

He hummed with satisfaction.

"You're bloody drenched, babe," He smiled softly.

You returned the smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"I enjoy taking care of you."

"See that," He grinned. "Lean forward, love."

Although it threatened to ruin the burning heat between you, maybe even his mood, too, you had to remind him you'd stopped all contraception, and he would be running a risk- one you weren't sure he was prepared to handle.

"You remember I'm not on the pill anymore, right?" You asked, hesitant eyes lifting to meet his gaze.

He raised a brow. "I've got every intention of gettin' you pregnant. Now- lean forward for me."

Your cheeks flushed; as if you hadn't felt warm before, you swore your temperature rose more than a few degrees. Your lip between your teeth, you nodded shortly.

As if he hadn't already left you yearning for him the last few months, his words served only to stoke the burning embers in your gut.

You perched forward, hands clinging to his slick shoulders as he situated his cock at your entrance. He moved to your hips, his hands applying pressure as he helped you open up, swallow his cock.

"Christ almighty," He sneered, his jaw clenching as his cock was enveloped with warmth and unbelievably silky walls.

Your jaw fell open, a breathy gasp escaping your lungs when you felt him stretch you out, fill you entirely. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your hips rolling forward as soon as he was buried inside you.

"John," You choked out, your throat dry.

Your head fell back, and his hands reached your shirt, unbuttoning your blouse. He let it fall open, the cleave of your breasts visible between the gaps in your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts, his head falling in to bite at your chest, lick the wounds he'd left behind.

"Fuckin' brilliant," He muttered, pulling you closer. "I've missed you, so bloody much."

His lips attached to your neck, rough, hungry kisses devouring your soft skin. You could hear his ragged breaths in your ear, feel his hips tilting upward so he could help thrust into you.

"Ohh my god," You slurred against his neck, grasping at his back. "I missed you too, John," It came out in choppy gasps, your mind still playing catch-up with your body.

His hand grasped at the flesh of your ass, fingers gripping harshly, pushing and pulling you across his lap. His other hand reached between your joined bodies, letting his fingers find your sensitive bud.

The added stimulation made you gasp- lungs burning with oxygen deprivation, your body warm and covered in perspiration as you pressed against him. His head was pressed against your collar bone, hunched over as he drove his hips into yours.

"That's it," He cooed. "Jesus, you're tight, love."

"Fuck, John, please," You whimpered, broken and desperate. "Harder- I need it."

He growled, frustration and pleasure combining to create a hungry sound from his lips. He lifted you, swiftly pinning you on the couch cushions beneath him. He slid back into you, his head cocked as he watched your eyes roll back with every slow stroke.

"I needed you," You breathed, biting down on your lip to suppress a moan, your head pushed back against the cushion. "So badly- fuck."

"I'm here," He said, shushing you with a haphazard kiss against swollen lips. "Always here."

His fingers dove back down, the lubrication from your drooling pussy made it easy for him to massage circles over your clit.

His cock was pressed against your walls just right, rubbing just enough to create a delicious friction. His arm reached above you, clinging to the arm of the couch, thrusting into you with a faster pace. He could see the tightness in your brows, your lips open as you focused on nothing other than him above you.

"Goddammit," He murmured. "Listen to this cunt. Been neglected while I was gone, eh love?" He was out of breath, between his own feelings of pleasure and exertion as he drove his hips into you.

You nodded, eyes watery with the stimulation, cheeks hot to the touch. Your blouse had fallen open, leaving you vulnerable to John's ravenous gaze, starved eyes that studied you.

"Not the same," You breathed, your legs lifting to wrap around him. "Not the same without you."

"That's what I like to hear," He grinned softly. "No more o'that. Daddy's home."

Your head fell back further into the couch, your back arching as your orgasm approached at a torturous pace. His notoriously filthy words created a tension you were aching to relieve. You felt the flutter of its beginnings, a knot in your stomach that tightened with every thrust.

"'At's a good girl," He uttered. "Cum for daddy."

You shivered, your head falling back, driving your hips up, harsh breaths passing your lips with every roll of his hips.

John watched your breasts bounce behind the sheer fabric of your blouse, the sweat dotting your forehead, the gentle flush in your cheeks from exertion. He grunted, harsh and hungry, even more motivated to feel you cum around him.

"Shit," You drawled, your voice breaking.

Your abdomen was even tighter now, working toward the unmistakable feeling of your orgasm. His fingers hadn't stopped, making it even easier to fall into the pleasure-filled stupor.

"Cum for me, babe," He whispered, feeling your pussy begin to flutter around his cock. "Cum on daddy's cock."

Your gasps and hiccups, too incoherent to take a solid breath, hit his ears and sent a rush of blood to his cock.

"Y-yes," You whined. "Yes. So close."

He finally felt you clench down around him, your body freezing while your orgasm ripped through you. Your eyes had fallen shut, focusing solely on the ecstasy radiating from your pussy, drifting further out as it descended into a muted pleasure.

You sucked in another breath, feeling John push himself closer between your thighs so he could better thrust into you.

"Almost there, love," He whispered, strained with effort and determination.

You nodded, still a bit disjointed following the efforts of your climax.

"Please," You muttered, hanging onto him with a weak grasp, now. "I want it- please."

The sounds of your docile voice in his ear, begging him to release inside you, had him cumming only moments later. His hips were flush against yours, forcing his cock deep inside you until he stopped twitching.

You exhaled, your hands lifting to his neck, soft strokes on his glistening skin. He dropped his head to your collarbone, pressing his lips to your neck.

"Bloody Christ," He looked down at you, breathless. "'Spect you'll be waddlin' around in no time." He offered a goofy grin, the crease between his brows deepening as he smiled.

"We can only hope," You laughed. "We might have to try it again if not." Your nose nuzzled against his jaw.

"I've got no problems with that, babe," He kissed you softly, his hand shifting to hold onto your thigh.

You smiled into his lips, reaching around his neck to pull him down onto you.

[esta-elavaris]

OKAY so I genuinely cannot start writing this in earnest without a hell of a lot of planning, buuuuut...I wrote part one in the meantime. Just to get a feel of the thing (🤡🤡🤡) so bone apple tea! Only posting it on here, I won't post it on AO3 until I'm fully ready to go.

Credit goes to @bumblingbriars for giving me the idea of "wait, what if James was the modern one and Theodora was the character in the movies?" -- thank you for this but also how dare you.

Dividers by cafekitsune.

As It Was

None of the tales ever spoke of the fear. Why did they never speak of the fear?

It was a stupid question. Theodora knew why. Because it didn’t make for a very good story, did it? People wanted to hear of the bold heroes who defeated the monsters with little more than a smile and the strength of their own two arms. Who wanted to be regaled with stories of stupid women on suicide missions for philandering pirates? No, she wasn’t the hero of this story. She was a cautionary tale. That was all her death would amount to.

Clenching her teeth against furious tears, she doused Jack’s hands in the oil from the lamp, and then held firm to the shackles as he slid his hands free of them. They were the only two left aboard the Pearl…and it was looking like they’d be going down with it.

“You shouldn’t have stayed, darlin’,” he said.

There was a mournfulness to his dark eyes that she’d never seen before. Even now, here, at the end, he couldn’t pretend any more than she could that her death mightn’t be a waste. That it was anything more than an idiot dying for the sake of an unrequited crush.

“Too late now,” she ground out, following it up with a very forced, very strained laugh.

Because if she stopped clenching her jaw, she would definitely begin to sob. And that was the only thing here that could be more pathetic.

“Too late now,” Jack agreed, a bitter smile on his face.

Each second seemed to stretch into an eternity – was that natural, when death was certain and unavoidable? It was supposed to come with a sense of peace, was it not? Of calm? Her father had always said…god, her father. How would he even find out, back in Port Royal? He’d never forgive her for this. It was that thought that had her vision blurring.

Around them, deceptively soft splashes sounded here and there, out of place with how the water usually lapped at the sides of the ship, followed by stomach-churning slick noises…that of the kraken’s appendages. Theo took a deep, shuddering breath in. Too late now.

When she looked at Jack again, searching for words – although she knew not which ones, exactly – she found him forcing a smile. Then, instead of stepping back as she’d expected, he stepped forward. Her eyes closed on instinct as he kissed her, time slowed further still, and she felt…she felt nothing. No breathlessness, no swelling in her chest, no weakness in her knees. Nothing like Elizabeth ever described when it came to Will. Only the scratch of his moustache, the way the beads in his beard clacked against her chin, and the discomfort at the awkward angle of how she’d leaned in.

They parted, and when she opened her eyes, she found Jack watching her, that sadness back on his face again. No joking admonishments at her lack of any reaction, no over-the-top exaggerations at how his prowess had just gone clearly unappreciated. Nothing. Just sorrow. But it was quickly covered by yet another forced smile.

“Come on, darlin,” he drew his sword. “Best have a bit of flair about it, eh?”

Well. She could agree with that, at least. Theo drew her own sword, and took a deep breath in.

There were many things that James actually enjoyed about living with his younger sister…although admitting that to her would be nothing short of a fatality. But Phoebe was a rather good flatmate. She picked up after herself, she didn’t throw parties, and she added life to a flat that would otherwise be rather dead during the times when he was actually in it.

One habit of hers, however, that he could do without was her burning desire to watch the same films over and over again, with scarcely an hour between repeats. It was cyclical, more often than not. Winter belonged to Middle-earth, spring to whatever was newly landed on her radar, and summer – which they were suffering through now – was Pirates of the Caribbean territory. One month in, and he was just about ready to set about his eyeballs with a spoon. Anything to make it stop.

At present, she sat on the sofa across the other side of the room while he pottered about the kitchen, watching enraptured as the redhead on screen turned with teary eyes, side-by-side with Jack Sparrow, to face the kraken that would soon devour them both, the music swelling dramatically as they lifted their swords.

“What I don’t understand is why she had to die,” he said unthinkingly.

And instantly regretted it when Phoebe turned with a grin.

“Ha! You’re getting into it now!”

“If you’re going to insist on watching the damn things ten times a week, I can’t be blamed for noticing bits of them,” he replied sourly, leaning on the countertop. “But they bring him back in the next film, don’t they? Why not her, too?”

“The movie-verse explanation is that she was at peace.”

“Dying for a man who could barely pat her on the head in thanks? Oh, yes, very peaceful. Positively euphoric.”

Curiosity sated, albeit not in a particularly satisfying manner, he straightened and resumed the arduous process of deciding whether he’d be having cereal or real food for dinner.

“Yes. Well,” Phoebe turned her face back to the television, distractedly watching as the kraken devoured the Black Pearl, “the boring explanation is that the actress had a nasty accident just before filming started for the next one, and her bones wouldn’t heal in time for all of the stunts and so on. They had to write her out.”

That made marginally more sense, at least.

“…Much to your disappointment, I suspect,” she added smugly.

“Excuse me?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I saw you googling her earlier.”

“I thought I recognised her from something else.”

The fact that his cheeks blazed almost immediately did little to help his argument, but he took some comfort in knowing she was one of the few who could wrench such a reaction from him. If any of his brothers-in-arms could see it, they’d never let him hear the end of it.

“If you say so,” came her smug response.

“And she…emotes rather impressively,” he added.

“Is that what they call it these days?”

James scoffed his disgust…and then he settled on cereal. That would get him out from his sister’s far too knowing gaze much more quickly. But he’d miss it, he knew, next time he deployed.

[catscidr]

«grip on your top is so tight you think he might even rip it, god knows the last time he had to trim his nails» 😭😭❤️‍🔥

I've always wondered how Zandik's hygiene is. I'm sure he doesn't give a shit about it. The only thing he cares about is the mechanisms. And how do you think 500 years ago students washed at sumeru?

you’ve come to the right person nonnie i love elaborating about seemingly boring and mundane details lemme ramble for a hot second (￣^￣ )ゞ

-> i talked about what i think his shaving habits would be like a couple of weeks ago (here). i think he would be less inclined to shave as an akademiya student than when he’s “Prime” because he just has.... so much to do, so little time. as a young adult he does grow a decent amount of facial hair (not enough for a full beard though i think), and as much as he dislikes having it, he doesn’t really bother to shave it unless it starts to get on his nerves. like, if he’s head-first into machinery and he keeps rubbing his stubble on the metal...... he’ll get back to his dorm room and quickly shave off the annoying stubble lol. but he doesn't shave it regularly, no. he doesn't gaf about his appearance, really, so doesn't care enough to have a routine

(naturally i like to think there's dorms in the akademiya LOL a shame genshin doesn't expand on living spaces other than just a couple of houses here and there sadge ˙◠˙ )

-> i like to think he’s a heavy nail biter to make up for having barely ever touched a nail file/clipper in his life. it helps him focus sometimes when he's locked tf in. some of his nails are less affected than others, like his pinky fingernails. even though they're all mostly dull, cracked or bitten off there’s definitely potential for him to scratch someone if he truly wanted to. and i'm sure he’d just rips his nails off when they got in the way of whatever research he's doing..

-> but boy oh BOY best for last. i think that they would maybe handwash their clothes in a tub/basin with soap, or if they don't have anything of the sort they could go up north to sumeru city and wash their clothes in the river.

.......but at the same time they did have akasha terminals (going off dottore's vague lore timeline because greater lord rukkhadevata created the akasha system and died around 500 years ago, so im assuming maybe dottore would have been in the akademiya when she died? but my brain hurts thinking about the possibilities so lets assume they all had akasha systems when he was enrolled lol)....... so maybe they had the technology to create basic washing machines (maybe something like this?)

though i'm sure he wouldn't bother himself with a proper hygiene routine, probably only washing himself and his uniform when it got dirty enough (which was probably often anyways) (and i'm sure the akademiya would basically just dresscode him if he showed up to class with soot and oil all over him, too)

and i like to think that maybe the akademiya dorms would have communal bathrooms/"showers" as well. but at the same time it's a super prestigious school so they could have individual bathrooms for each dorm room...... but at the same time² we're talking about 500 years ago........ so............. hmm..............................

in general he's more focused on research and conducting experiments n getting results, so being spotless would be the least of his worries. if he ended up getting sick as a result of his less-than-socially-acceptable hygiene he'd probably just use it as learning experience and use that knowledge for future experiments, like on his eleazar patients in that abandoned hospital. he'd do the bare minimum to Not get sick, has to dedicate as much time as he can in the akademiya to study forbidden knowledge. can't be bedridden with a fever, that's for pussies and he's Not a pussy... probably his daily affirmation. "i'm not a pussy, i am better than everyone. they all suck ass and i'm an alpha". yeah anyways

but WHATEVER!!!!!! tl;dr: he's a grimy little guy and reeks of blood sometimes but its ok we love him either way♡

[gabessquishytum]

HEWWO it's me back w an incredibly specific idea inspired by my Chapped Lips. Human au.

So I kinda headcanon Dream as an Incredibly Effortful kinda bitch, especially when it comes to grooming and bathing. He's very naturally beautiful! But he also has the full 15 step skincare routine, morning and night, showers in Exactly Optimal Temperature Water, has like 4 different hair products in at all times, sleeps with a satin pillowcase and has a Dyson Air Wrap kinda guy. Meanwhile Hob is the Effortlessly Beautiful Bastard who's done absolutely nothing to deserve it. Washes his face and body w bar soap, with Way Too Hot water, uses a 2 in one shampoo, basically just brushes his hair, brushes his teeth, and puts on deodorant and he's good, he's gorgeous. The fanciest he gets is shaving and using aftershave. Dream is furious bc this heathen doesn't even wear SUNSCREEN and yet he's so beautiful, glowing even. They are best friends.

Well one day Dream has had ENOUGH watching Hob wince and lick his chapped lips, just grabs him by the throat and applies his own very expensive lip balm. Hob tries to protest when Dream grabs him but Dream just squeezes and says "Keep Still" in the deepest most commanding voice Hob's ever heard from him. Right after Dream firmly instructs him Not to lick that off, he realizes that may not have been the Coolest thing to do and apologizes. Hob, half hard and trying to play it chill says it's fine, he doesn't mind Dream's fussing.

Dream takes this as total permission to do whatever he deems Necessary in the moment for Hob, from gently applying moisturizer and undereye cream to his face when he sleeps over at night to filing his nails and pushing back his cuticles. He's careful to never forcefully grab Hob like the first time (to Hob's disappointment) but he still can't help but get a little excited when Dream gets that tone and tells him to Sit Down and proceeds to blow dry his hair for him. Dream is also starting to really enjoy having Hob to fuss with and make pretty and take care of, and also have listen to him whenever he wants, as long as it's under the guise of plucking his eyebrows or gently applying hand lotion.

Yada yada this goes on and tension builds until they kiss! And they find out the other has been harboring this deeply hidden arousal over their beauty routine dynamic, have a laugh and have a fuck about it. They live hornily ever after enjoying the pampering.

Love u mwuah have a good Friday the 13th!!

AHHHH HAPPY BELATED FRIDAY 13TH BABYYY I'm literally obsessed with all of this holy shit!!!!

I feel the gentle dom Dream vibes strongly here. Just because Hob can look effortlessly adorable by washing his face with dishsoap and never even looking at an spf product, doesn't mean that he should. Clearly he needs someone to take care of him. Clearly Dream is the one for the job.

Hob is so good!! He's happy to let Dream apply beard oils and retinol cream and emollients for the scars that he never explains. He actively enjoys having his eyebrows plucked (although he does squirm around, so Dream has to hold him firmly by the jaw - if anything this makes him more wiggly, poor thing is just so damn horny).

When Hob asks why Dream is doing all this, Dream goes for a deadpanned "well I have to make sure that you're pretty enough that I still want to look at you in 30 years". Which... kind of comes out like he's suggesting that Hob is his husband or something?? Hob blushes and smiles and lets Dream paint a clay mask onto his face without saying a world.

After they finally, FINALLY have an actual conversation about their relationship, the beauty/self care routine only expands. Hob blushingly asks Dream to help him clean up ✨down there✨ - maybe it's an enema, maybe Dream bleaches Hob’s arsehole, maybe he just does a little gentle washing. Whatever the case it gets Hob in a very good mood for sex and he's the sweetest, most eager to please submissive man that Dream has ever seen.

It's such a joyous and intimate part of their relationship. And yes, Hob uses spf now <3

[titan-desuu]

SHOWER TIME:

The AoT characters and their bath and skincare routine 🫧

Eren: He wouldn't admit it but he uses 3in1 products but keeps telling others that he doesn't. He brushes his teeth in the shower. Eren is always in a hurry, so he might not use skincare as often as he'd like.

Mikasa: Mikasa loves to take quick shower but her products - Lord heavens! She knows how to take care of her body. She mainly uses products to be more in touch with her origins.

Armin: Armin knows his products! He cares about cruelty-free and environmentally friendly products. He takes his time with his bath. After his shower, he takes the time to moisturise with Vanilia Coconut Body Lotion. His skincare routine always includes moisturiser and sunscreen, depending on the time of day.

Jean: Oh Jean might be not very familiar with products, he would buy overpriced products and wondering why they don't work or give him a rash. He invests nowadays more time in his routines since the girls keep saying how attractive guys can be if they do skin care! (He clips his toenails in the shower)

Connie: Connie would do his skincare before going to shower. Sometimes he doesn't do skin care but somehow his skin is flawless - Connie tell us your secret! He loves to use a loafer to scratch his back better.

Sasha: Sasha loves bathing more than showering because she can eat snacks and wash her hair. Her products wouldn't have a particular smell: as long as they keep her body moisturised, it's all good! But after the shower, she loves to do her hair while she to dances in the bathroom.

Levi: Our lovely Captain is known for being a clean freak! His work is always meticulous - even when he takes a shower! He takes his time to clean every inch of his body. He is a big fan of using soaps instead of liquid shampoo. Did you know that he even massages his scalp to relax after a hard day's work as a captain? Somehow his bathroom smells like lavender.

Erwin: He works while taking a bath. I mean it. He is always looking at his documents, planning the next expedition or approving Hange's experiments. Nobody really respects his privacy as he's the commander and has to be alert all the time…poor Erwin.

Hange: ah Hange may not shower often, but when they do - oh oh. They don't really care what products they use - don't wonder why they have dish soap in their bathroom… Hange love to mix their products to create new ones. They have special plants to mix in their bathroom - but I don't know how they get the rose petals and aloe vera to smell so bad… Their face is sometimes very dry, but they refuse to moisturise their face - "our bodies produce oil!" - Yes of course Hange…

Moblit: Moblit is very romantic when it comes to showering: classical music, a good-smelling bathroom and quiet music in the background. He knows that good natural products smell good. As he likes to spend more time in the shower, Hange always interrupts him, so his shower lasts max. 10 minutes.

Mike: I don't know how this man knows which product to use but he knows them damn well!. He knows the best oils for his hair and his beard. Sometimes he uses Hanges rose petals to keep the mood up.

Ymir: Ymir loves a quick shower! Thanks to Historia for using her products. Even though Historia tells her not to brush her wet hair, she still does.

Historia: Let's be honest: Historia is the reason why the girls use skincare! She always recommends the best products individually. (She is better than skincare TikTok). She loves the 7 steps of skin care. She knows how to clean herself and smell good! She is the IT girl!

Reiner: Reiner is always asking Historia about good smelling products and what would suit him. He takes a shower twice a day because he can get so sweaty sometimes.

Bertholdt: Bertholdt loves to play in the bath. He has probably over 50 rubber ducks and hides them after showering (his favourite is the pirate one). He uses perfume in the hope of getting compliments from Reiner (and Annie).

Annie: Bath time is perhaps the only time when no one disturbs Annie. She always locks her bathroom and listens to music on her headphones. She uses Hitch's products all the time.

[titleleaf]

Experiments In Early Victorian Skincare: Shaving Soap, Part One

- And how does it feel, not being fetched for drops nor drawers? - Miserable, sir. That is my job you are shaving away. (AMC's The Terror, s01e07, "Horrible From Supper")

(Crossposted to Wordpress as usual)

We have some great period resources describing contemporary techniques for shaving and grooming, and they shed a little light on how landsmen, at least, were taking care of their facial hair. (If you're only interested in maritime personal care, this post gets a bit into the weeds on terrestrial soap manufacture, so be warned.) From The gentleman's companion to the toilet, or a treatise on shaving, credited to "a London hair-dresser" in 1844:

There are many soaps which are puffed off as "the best article manufactured for shaving" -- a "beautiful preparation for softening the beard," &c. &c.; but some of them are utterly worthless. All soaps are to be avoided which contain any considerable portion of alkalie; they make a light frothy lather that will not stand on the face, and they will much annoy you by those irritating pains, which are frequently felt after shaving with a bad razor. The soap which I have invariably found to be the best is Naples soap; it produces a beautifully mild creamy lather that will soften the beard, and will render shaving an agreeable operation, and is best calculated to allay those smarting sensations which an indifferent razor produces on a tender skin. There is a great deal of white honey used in the manufacture of Naples soap, and I need not say that there is nothing of a more mild and soothing nature.

Writing in the tail end of the previous century, Benjamin Kingsbury says exactly the opposite in his Treatise On Razors:

[...] Naples soap, so much admired by some persons, on account of the strength of it’s lather, is extremely defective. Of all the shaving soaps in present use, there is not one whose component parts are so irritating and injurious as the soap which is called by this name. It is the most caustic, and, of course, the most destructive to the skin, of all soaps and, in truth, to the production of a needless quantity of lather from a small portion of it, the soundness of the skin of the person using it is completely, and necessarily, sacrificed. [...] the best soap for the purpose of shaving which I have yet made, and which I always use, is the Olive-Soap, composed, in great part, of olive oil, and uniting the advantage of a durable lather with the power of softening and healing, rather than irritating, the skin of the person using it.

(What a drama queen.) Great, cool, but wtf is Naples soap? Thomas Webster's 1844 Encyclopaedia of Domestic Economy describes it as a "strong soft soap, scented; it comes to us in pots. In this era it's still an imported good, so recipes for imitation Naples soaps appear in contemporary books aimed at individual household consumers rather than commercial soapmakers. (Accordingly, these recipes generally seem to involve re-milling or otherwise rebatching existing soaps to add fragrance or combine the qualities of component commercially-available soaps.) Particularly among these imitation recipes, authentic Naples soap seems to be associated with the fragrances of rhodium, ambergris, and musk.

(from the 1844 Illustrated London News, Vol 4, Issue 95. Curious about the disreputable inferior-quality soaps touched on here!)

An 1835 chemical analysis suggests at least one variety used mutton fat as a base fat and potash as its saponifying agent, which is in line with what our London hair-dresser says about lye soaps' insufficient lather. (The existence of this analysis really amuses me -- it seems like people in the US and UK were curious about what really went into this particular import.)

From William Brande's 1848 Manual of Chemistry:

The soaps of potassa are distinguished from  those  of  soda by remaining soft; common soft  soap is frequently  made  with fish  oil.  Naples soap is a perfumed potassa soap made with lard.

Interestingly, I'm not seeing anyone else mention the "white honey" that our London hair-dresser attributes to the ingredients list here, but honey is a pretty common additive in natural soapmaking, so I'm not about to write it off entirely.

Soft Naples soap isn't the only soap used for shaving in this era -- any number of toilet soaps seem to have been in use, and at least some of these used regular soda lye. Rather than jump right in with potash lye, I wanted to make one of these first.

Shaving Soaps: Take One

Modern home soapmakers have a huge range of tools available to them that even commercial soap manufacturers of the 1840s did not -- digital scales, laser thermometers, Crockpots, electric stoves -- so in this case rather than reconstructing period methods I'm going to try and translate those techniques to a modern toolset.

First, I made a batch of tallow shaving soaps with soda lye/sodium hydroxide -- apart from the use of tallow, this was a thoroughly modern recipe, incorporating a range of vegetable oils to fine-tune the consistency and conditioning powers of the resulting bar. I used equal parts coconut oil and beef tallow, supplemented with sunflower oil, castor oil, olive oil pomace, and unrefined cocoa butter; the only other notable ingredient was powdered clay, both for cleansing powers and increased slip. (You could use white kaolin clay or off-white bentonite clay for a lighter-colored bar; I worked with French green clay because that's what I have on hand most of the time, so my bars ended up a pretty attractive sage-green color. Some people claim that the inclusion of clay dulls their razor blades, but I don’t know that I’m using any given razor blade for long enough for that to matter, and I didn't find it to be a problem when using.)

[Here's where I'd put a photo of these bars in the mold... IF I HAD ONE... so you'll have to settle for this store link.]

What's this bar like to shave with? I'm going to be honest: it's really nice, to the point where I'm considering using it as basically a leave-on mask. I shave with a safety razor and  occasionally a wet-dry electric razor, but I don't use a brush to lather up, so I just used my hands with this bar on damp skin; there wasn't a really fluffy voluminous lather, but it made for a really sleek and easy-to-navigate shaving surface and a pretty damn close shave without much friction. The clay component adds a little satisfying tooth to the shaving experience while leaving my face feeling really clean and non-greasy after.

So clearly I like it ,and I've gotten nice feedback from others. But it's not a Naples soap. It's not made with potash lye. What might a more authentic Naples shaving soap look like? If there are other modern takes on a soap like this, I'm having a hell of a time finding them under the search engine optimized-shadow of the Florida-based Naples Soap Company.

What makes a Naples soap?

So to review we're looking for: soft soap, scented soap, animal fat base, and critically, that potash lye mentioned earlier. Potassium hydroxide is an entirely new beast to me -- in soapmaking, it can be used alone or in tandem with sodium hydroxide to create a softer soap, up to and including straight-up liquid soaps.  I felt like a horse's ass putting together that, yeah, "potash" really does just come from "pot ash", and "potassium" is just halfassed Latin for the same. If your mental image of old-timey soap making is Almanzo Wilder in the Little House books you're on the right track -- making soft soap was an annual thing for many homesteaders, and the potash was sourced from the previous year's collection of wood ashes.The resulting jelly-like soap got stored in a barrel and doled out as needed. Common salt or table salt could be added to the soaping process for hardness, but in a Colonial American or homesteading context I can't imagine that was always economically feasible.

The barrel approach is in line with what I'm seeing modern soapmakers describe with soft olive oil-based Castile soaps -- you can dilute your soap goo right out of the gate to the consistency of a Dr. Bronner's-type liquid soap (though Dr. Bronner's 18-in-1 soaps are made with coconut and palm kernel oil to supplement their olive oil content these days) but more water means more potential for spoilage, so keeping around a jar of goo and diluting it as needed is a more shelf-stable option.

Period soap recipes are made at scale -- measuring ingredients in pounds, not ounces,  and in particular testing the strength of lye solutions by measuring their density against that of a fresh hen's egg. (This method apparently goes back to the sixteenth century and can be used as a rough-and-ready test for a number of different solutions -- for more, check out this post by Homestead Laboratory or this historical overview of the egg test's use in brewing and mead-making from A Booke Of Secretes.

I'm not making my own lye, whether soda or potash, and in fact I prefer to fuck around with lye as little as possible. (Over the course of this project I had the revelation that this is 100% because of the chemical burn scene in the movie Fight Club.) But it behooves me to get familiar with potash lye soaping.

(from The Critic, Vol. XIII, No. 322, 1854)

Shaving Soaps: Preparing For Take Two

So what am I making for my second round here? Instead of a soap cut from a bar or popped out of a mold, I want to make the equivalent of a soap in a pot -- something soft-textured that can be lathered in its container but that's also portable. The descriptions of shaving soap as "soft" don't do me a lot of good -- *how* soft are we talking? Are we talking soft like jelly, like the OG Colonial-style soft soap made with exclusively potash, or just not rock-hard? It's possible to strike a balance between rock-hard and goo-soft by combining both types of lye (what the SoapMaker tool calls a "cream" soap) but I'll need to dig into industrial soap writing from our era to get a sense of whether that was a contemporary historical practice on the initial processing level rather than by rebatching together lye soap and potash soap later.

I’m going to hit up tools like SoapCalc and Soapee's lye calculator for guidance even as I experiment, since soap I'll be sharing with friends isn't a place I want to fuck around with caustic material. Potash lye by itself  apparently makes a great soft soap with a consistency I've seen compared to Vaseline (or more bluntly, lumpy goo) but in modern soapmaking terms it's a hot process (HP) soap. Instead of undergoing the saponification process over time as it rests in the mold, hot process soap saponifies while being steadily heated in a vessel like a slow cooker; it still needs to cure afterward, but there's no need for zap-testing and in theory it's usable right out of the gate. HP soaping is new to me as well, and it means I had to get my hands on an estate sale Crock-Pot.

Which fats do I want to use? 100% beef tallow will make a stable and extremely hard soap (even when made with potash) but not with a lot of conditioning or cleansing power; so would 100% palm oil, for that matter. (I did get my hands on some sustainably-sourced palm oil for soaping, but I'm planning on holding off on using it for now.) Olive oil-based soft soaps are gentle and conditioning but don't generate a lot of lather. All these distinct properties of various fats are pretty much how soaps made with oil blends came to be, and those multi-oil soaps are attested elsewhere in the Early Victorian era; one recipe for imitation/homemade Naples soap

I want to put together a scent blend that approximates or is inspired by the notes listed above: rhodium, ambergris, musk. Only problem: What the fuck is rhodium? Later in the Victorian era, George William Septimus Piesse describes it as follows in his Art Of Perfumery:

When rose-wood, the lignum of the Convolvulus scoparius is distilled, a sweet-smelling oil is procured, resembling in some slight degree the fragrance of the rose, and hence its name. At one time -- that is, prior to the cultivation of the rose-leaf geranium -- the distillates from rose-wood and from the root of the Genista canariensis (Canary rose-wood) were principally drawn for the adulteration of real otto of roses; but as the geranium oil answers so much better, the oil of rhodium has fallen into disuse, hence its comparative scarcity in the market at the present day, though our grandfathers knew it well. One cwt. of wood yields about three ounces of oil.

So yeah, for an adult man in 1879, rhodium as a rose-adjacent fragrancing element must have seemed pretty retro. Perfect for this guy's hypothetical grandfather, though. The equivalent listing for rose-leaf geranium describes it similarly as an adulterant or potential alternative for rose otto. The bad news is, rose otto is still wildly expensive, and rosewood itself is now under substantial environmental protection restrictions... as is ambergris. I've got two options in my back pocket here -- fragrancing soap with rose geranium, maybe paired with botanical musk or a synthetic ambergris, or finding myself a nice modern fragrance oil. I... would rather do the former than the latter, but eh, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

What qualities am I looking for in the soap itself? What makes a good shaving soap? People have different preferences when it comes to soap lather consistency, especially if you're used to an aerosolized shaving cream. We're looking to strike a balance; lather that’s mild and creamy but not slimy, conditioning and lubricating but not leaving a residue behind. Given my druthers I'd like to make a couple test batches, looking to fine-tune these various qualities, but just how that's going to work out for me will remain to be seen.

So, yeah, soap. Shaving soap. What about the actual process of shaving with it? What's the razor situation? What about the daily ablutions of officers and average seamen? What about muttonchop maintenance? What about the wild world of Early Victorian shaving literature? More on that soon as I document my cold boy hot process soaping. Tune in next time for: goo.

[cervidaecorpse]

"Space Dragons reigned over the creation of the universe." - wonder if that will ever be relevant again.

More thoughts under the cut.

Taken from episode 64. Please excuse the poor quality. Their original purpose was only as a rough reference... which they are still being used for.

I don't know, Ranran. This looks like a mass grave to me, considering they're all found on the same layer. Either a burial ground (if they had a culture like this) or something similar to a catastrophe happened for all of them to die at the same time. Maybe something related to the death of Phaser's and Tremolo's parents? We don't know how old they are. We don't know anything about the life or lifespan of a Space Dragon, even less of one being half human (or more or less).

It's also very confusing to me that a species compared to gods is this 'easily' wiped out. It is unusual for natural predators to completely kill off the species they're hunting. If prey becomes scares, predators decline in numbers as well, giving the hunted room to regain their members. This makes the hunters rise in population and on it goes. It's basically an endless circle until it's disrupted.

Though it is not explicitly stated, one could assume that Space Dragons were used as fuel, since their fossils are. Wouldn't you think species smart enough to invent space travel would be considered of their best fuel source? Or am I giving them too much credit? Considering they were greedy enough to take almost everything from the mining planet, I am certainly giving then too much credit. But why would they leave so many remains on earth behind and not use them as fuel? Unless these Space Dragons did not die because of fuel related reasons. Perhaps I am putting too much thought on the alife ones, and their properties as fuel only come from them being dead and processe by their environment for a very long time, like oil and coal.

Not saying the extinction of Space Dragons was purposefully orchestrated by someone, but it makes me think. Somehow, extraterrestrial species are going extinct in the Go Rush world. Velgearians (obviously), Space Dragons and Dragonbusters. I'm not saying anything groundbreaking or new here, but apparently there are no extraterrestrials in SEVENS. Though Yuhi still reacted to the machine-people. And what was up with that other space ship at the end of 62? Maybe extraterrestrials are not completely gone after all?

On a nice world building side note: The fossil from episode 42 confirms there are different subspecies of Space Dragon. Not that the different skulls did not already proof that. Same with the four fingered claws. Unless it's because Phaser is partly human or some got lost during life or after death. There is also one with two claws but who knows? But if their claw number really is that different, does that mean there could be true Space Dragons and "Pseudo Space Dragons"? Meaning not every dragon is actually related to the same ancestor species, ergo Space Dragons came from different planets? Or can Space Dragons be born in space? Wouldn't it be funny, if the shape(s) of Space Dragons is (are) the go to shape(s) for space 'lizards', like the shape of the crab-like body plan?

(...Did the one in the first image have bones in their beard????)

I'm not really sure about any of these and just wanted to put my thoughts down. I don't have high hopes for the narrative to return to Space Dragons, but Go Rush tends to have its surprises. Until then I'm going to sit here and build my own empire of Space Dragons.

[safarigirlsp]

What would the guys enjoy doing with you for Christmas? As a bonus, what are their favorite Christmas movies? Thank you for all your incredible stories! They’re the best of the best! 💛💛💛

Christmas HC’s for Modern Jacques, Mills, Flip, Kylo, and Clyde.

Thank you for your ask! These HC’s are always fun! And I figured I can sneak in one more blurb both for @writer-wednesday and one more for Clyde because I plan to retire him from my writing this year so I can focus on the big bad guys I like so much! From here on out, it’s going to be Jacques, Flip, Mills, and Kylo for the foreseeable future, and I couldn’t be more excited! 

Edits by @kyloremus

AO3

Modern Jacques

Jacques’s gifts to you start by ensuring he is as handsome, well-groomed, and well-dressed as possible. He will have a fresh manicure and pedicure, a facial, immaculately trimmed beard, and perfectly coiffed hair before your date begins. His dress will be impeccable and his cologne expensive. He always looks great and is the most fashionable and debonair of men, but for special occasions, he takes extra care with his dashing presentation.

As a connoisseur of the finer things in life, he is a man who will spare no expense to wine and dine you. Unlike most unfortunate bumbling men, Jacques is a natural romantic. His overtures never miss their mark and he always puts a smile on your lips. Classical romance appeals to Jacques, so he often greets you with fresh flowers or artisan chocolates and a quality bottle of wine. He’s also masterful at seduction, and like all the best lovers, he gets your mind in an erotic mood long before he entices your body.

For a Christmas Eve date, he will begin the day by leaving a package on your bed in the morning that contains a designer dress, French lingerie, and a note telling you where and when to find him once you’re wearing his gifts. He will have planned in advance with reservations at an exclusive restaurant where the wining and dining begins. Afterwards, he will take you home and continue wining and dining you with wine and chocolates. He will put those huge hands of his to use and give you a first-class massage that he will keep relatively tame until you want him to make you feel even better. After pleasuring you the first time of the evening, he will share a sensual bath with you and then have you again. Along with more wine.

His actual gifts to you are things like original oil paintings and first editions of poetry and novels -- things that are as timeless as his love for you. He is also not above giving you a playful striptease or putting a ribbon on his cock like the gift it is.

Regarding movies, Jacques loves the classics but he can’t stand the singing, the dancing, and the camp. Something sober like A Christmas Carol narrated by Vincent Price is a win in his book. Even better, he likes a new fresh take on a classic. So as far as classics go, the revamped and much darker FX’s A Christmas Carol is one of his favorites. He also argues you can’t go wrong with The Lion in Winter, even though it’s not technically a Christmas movie. He has a weakness for lionhearted imperious redheads and Katherine Hepburn still had it even when she was older. Speaking of imperious redheads, one of his favorites is Maureen O’Hara, so even though he thinks the movie is juvenile, he is always willing to watch Miracle on 34th Street.

 Mills

Mills is active and adventurous. For gifts, he thinks less along the lines of things and more of experiences. Having adventures with his girl and creating memories are the best gifts he can give and receive. He has taken you on some spectacular Christmas trips, such as to après ski lodges and climbing glacial mountains in Switzerland. A lodge in Zermatt with an unobstructed view of the Matterhorn is a favorite spot of his. That is what he will do for every Christmas if circumstances allow. Mills is a true alpha male, rugged, and steeped in robust masculinity. As such, he will also do whatever it takes to put a smile on his girl’s lips and he will always give one-hundred percent for her.

Picking out a tree together is his idea of a fun and simple Christmas date when the stars don’t align for something more extravagant. He would never settle for buying a tree, or worse yet having a fake one, when he can take you out and chop down your own. He will let you pick your perfect tree, all while making a day of it. Mills will be prepared with thermoses of hot chocolate, which may or may not be spiked with peppermint schnapps, and he’ll bring his own large axe along.

In the search for your tree, he will capitalize on the snowy forest and incite at least one snowball fight with you, which he will win by tackling you to the ground and smothering your protests with his lips. When it comes to the tree-chopping, he knows how much you enjoy watching him get worked up and sweaty, see his muscles strain and his hair ruffled and wild. He also knows how much fun you have watching him wrestle with a tree that is several feet taller than he is when he fights it into place in your living room. He plays it up for you, grumbling and cussing and making an ass of himself for your amusement. At home, in addition to the tree, he has mistletoe strategically placed to his advantage. A steaming hottub outside in the frigid cold is also a must, and he will make you shudder beneath the water while above steam enshrouds you and icicles form in both your hair.

In the event, you want to do something else for Christmas, Mills is always along for the ride and a perennial good sport. If it makes you happy, and results in him getting a reward after, he will happily endure an ugly sweater party and let you dress him up as horrendously as you please.

Although not really a Christmas movie, he loves Everest, a movie about men facing the elements and harrowing odds in the most dreadful conditions on Earth. For a romantic movie, he allowed you to bully him into watching A Winter’s Tale. There’s something timeless about a rough-cut man defying space and time to save the woman he loves. He knows all the best Christmas movie drinking games, too, and he usually wins them.

 Flip

Flip always has a hell of a time trying to find the perfect gift for his girl. He’s not romantic by nature and a lot of romantic overtures make him feel like a preening peacock and has him wanting to kick his own ass. He is, however, very innately sexy in an animalistic way and he uses that to his advantage with women, whether he’s just playing the field or once he’s found the one. He has a cocky charm that he exudes effortlessly, and he is sometimes unaware he’s made a woman swoon until he catches her ogling him. He’s also just fine with making an ass of himself to make his girl laugh, which is always endearing.

He gets himself in trouble by being a sarcastic jackass, which is also an innate facet of his personality and transfers to gift-giving. Complaints he hears often from you are his late nights, and never knowing where he is and what he’s doing during those long hours. As a solution, he got you a police scanner one year, calling it an FPS – Flip Positioning System. He was baffled when he was forced to sleep on the couch for Christmas and for a few days after. He’s still salty about it instead of being thankful he didn’t get slapped. The best gift he’s given you was an original Colt .45 that he had custom engraved with your initials and his.

A perfect Christmas date to him is a long weekend away from the bullshit of everyday life. A few days spent in his cabin in the mountains with no distractions between you makes for a perfect Christmas. He will fill your days with slow dancing, warming you up after a day out in the snow, alternating between making you laugh and making you sigh in front of a roaring fire at night. He’s also great at manning a grill and cooks the juiciest steaks. Toasting smores over an open fire for desert makes them taste even better.

And if you happen to get snowed in and have to return a few days later than planned, that’s a bonus gift for you both.

You should have known better than to ask what his favorite Christmas movie was. He cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at you when he told you Die Hard. He can certainly relate to John McClane. He gets stuck working too much on Christmas and on top of it, his vacations have a way of taking a nosedive. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is another favorite. It happens a lot where all hell breaks loose around him and he’s stuck cleaning up the mess and solving the case. He also relates to men whose mouth and sarcasm write checks their fists have to cash. In The Ref, Flip can commiserate with Dennis Leary on being stuck in a situation he’d prefer to punch his way out of.  

 Kylo

Kylo has a level of intuition that borders on the mystical, which is deeper still with his lover. He always seems to know exactly what to do to make you smile, and this obviously translates to gifts. He has an eye for the opulent and the lavish, and he enjoys nothing more than spoiling his lady and treating her like a queen. Jewelry always hits the mark, and he loves seeing it sparkle on your skin like winter frost on Christmas morning. Kylo also loves that anyone seeing you wear something so exquisite will know it came from him and that you belong to him. Trips abroad to exotic destinations like a Christmas market in Prague, or to a transparent igloo in Lapland under the northern lights, or an extravagant shopping excursion to the likes of the Champs de Elysée are also in his repertoire.

Wherever you may be, he brings your traditions with you to celebrate in any location, no matter how far you find yourselves from home. Spending Christmas Eve in with you and toasting you at midnight is but one of your many traditions together. A favorite tradition between you and Kylo is exchanging the lists you’ve made for each other detailing the particularly nice and especially naughty things you’ve each done throughout the year. It’s romantic to reminisce, and it also adds an extra layer of spice when it comes to dolling out treats and/or making amends as the situation demands. He will happily let you use him in any way you see fit to atone for all his naughtiness throughout the year. You’ll never forget the night he improvised by tying you up with Christmas lights before having his way with you.

Kylo’s favorite festive movies are the best of the baddies. Krampus is the best Christmas movie in his opinion. Unlike most unrealistic simpering plots, the nasty family in Krampus actually gets their comeuppance without salvation. Bad Santa also represents his level of holiday cheer. Violence, sarcasm, and alcohol are the best and only ways to deal with all the intrusively obnoxious vapidity commonly described as ‘cheer.’

 Clyde

Clyde is old fashioned, and also knows he can’t go wrong with the tried and true. For him, the holidays are about family. Since you became family for him, he can think of nothing better for Christmas than doing something homey and traditional with you. He loves taking you out for a day in the snow or shopping in the old part of town at the authentic general store - established in 1899 and outfitted today with a myriad of festive decorations.

Clyde always has a Christmas party of sorts at his bar on whatever Saturday falls closest to the 25th. Every year, he takes it as a personal challenge to create a new custom drink for you. Something as spicy and sweet as he says you are. He will wear the obnoxious ugly sweaters you get him and slow dance with you to all the sappy Christmas songs you can play on the jukebox while the bar regulars heckle him. He doesn’t care. He only has eyes for you.

Afterwards, he will take you home for a Christmas movie marathon, wearing pajamas and fuzzy socks. He will make mulled wine on the stove and he always learns how to cook anything you particularly like. He’s not a bad hand at baking either. He will miss most of the actual movies because he will be too busy enjoying you instead of watching the screen.

For Christmas movies, he loves a good heist flick. He’s also a sucker for a good dark comedy. The Ice Harvest is a great witty heist-gone-wrong movie. Fargo is close enough to a Christmas movie. It’s good fun watching stupid criminals and inept cops with bad accents. Brings back fond memories for him.

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© safarigirlsp 2022

[steampunkforever]

Were you to pitch me on a Matt Damon film where an oil rig worker must go to France to exonerate his daughter of a crime she didn't commit and solve the mystery of who murdered her lover, I would probably predict that Damon woke up to find gray in his beard and decided he needed to kick off his own version of the Taken franchise.

I would also be down for that sort of movie. There is pleasure in watching a peaceful man snap, and revenge is best served in the pursuit of vigilante justice. And so sitting down to watch Stillwater, I was so ready for a film with this premise that apparently got a standing ovation at Cannes. Stillwater is none of this.

Instead of a tight action thriller about redneck father using his genetic firearms proficiency to make the French understand that sheer benevolence of the American public is the only thing preventing the carpet bombing of Paris, we got something much more emotionally intelligent. Through Subtle performances, sophisticated writing, and Stillwater presents a thoughtful narrative exploring values of family, betrayal, second chances, and the nature of self sabotage.

This is a modern The Third Man of sorts, intermixed with the main thread of a touching personal drama of a father looking for a family. I felt so strongly for the characters by the end of it that I was wholly unbothered by runtime or pacing. This is a very realistic film, and the connection it forges with the audience takes no shortcuts, every emotional response feeling very earned and never hollow.

Matt Damon is just a good actor, and he really shines as a Pickup truck driving redneck thrust into the hostile atmosphere of French society, listening to country music in the terrible little French car he drives as he fails to solve the case despite his best efforts.

This is a film with a mystery the protagonist never fully solves himself, even as he tries to understand why he's a failure in all other parts of his life. It's a film about loss at one's own hands. There's so much for me to digest from it, and this was quite the pleasant surprise for a film I knew very little about outside of the premise.

Go watch it if you can, a future classic.

[coyoteprince]

hi! i was wondering, would you have any tips or recommendations for someone starting out in making cosmetics? for personal use and not commercial, in my case, and moreso things like lotion and chapstick rather than soap... i love your work (and your chapstick was my absolute favorite when you sold it) and it's a bit daunting, hope you wouldn't mind sharing how you started out and where you look for ingredients? thank you and hope you're having a wonderful day!!

So for me, a lot of it was just combining things with trial and error until I eventually ended up with something I loved. I don't have a lot of experience with lotion chemistry, but balms are one of the easiest cosmetics to make and can be adjusted to suit a whole host of things. The majority of balms you see sold that are natural have really similar bases- lipblam, warming rub, nipple balms, beard balms are all almost the same exact thing in principal. all have one or more softening oils (like almond, jojoba, olive, lanolin), a small amount of hardening oil or wax to give the balm some firmness (beeswax is most popular, cocoa butter, carnauba wax), and occasionally essential oils for scent/taste/bogus medical claim lol

I get my ingredients through a small supply warehouse, but these are only reasonable if you plan to make things to sale. You can find ingredients in smaller amounts here: Beauty stores (jojoba, raw shea, and raw cocoa butter is often sold for black skin & haircare) Grocery stores (mainly coconut oil, almond oil, sunflower oil, olive oil) Farmers markets (beeswax) And ebay for the harder to find specialty ingredients like carnauba or lanolin.

For lotions, the best I can advise is to look up how to make lotion videos. Be aware that unless you're making a natural body butter (which tends to be much more oily than a lotion), lotions require some special chemicals, but are otherwise not too much of a pain to put together.

Be sure to avoid putting skin irritants like cinnamon or lemon in.