#Gary Takes A Bath

[britishsquidward]

Gary fanart :D (BritishSANTAward Day 7)

Today's piece is for autistically_inclined on Instagram, who's favourite episode is "Gary Takes a Bath". Merry Early Christmas!

Thank you all for everything you do by the way, and I'll see you guys tomorrow for Day 8!

[marclef]

Fake Pep looks like a very spongy fellow…

Like, you put that man in a bath and he’ll just soak up all the water like a sponge would do 🤔

well, the way i see it, Fake HATES being in water. it messes with his skin and makes him lose his form, so unless it's like, a real nice, comfy warm bath, it probably isn't too pleasant.

.... but, what he CAN do, drinking liquids doesn't hurt him, his insides are more "sturdy" and can absorb it better. so if he were to be put in, let's say, a container of sorts filled with water, he'd probably just try to drink all of the water in order to get it off of him.

something that Peppino unfortunately found out once while trying to get Fake to take a bath.

so... i guess he DOES work kinda like a sponge, in certain situations. Fake sure doesn't like doing it that much though... it takes forever to get all that water absorbed.

(featured: One Sopping Wet Bag of Goop (basically just a water bed at this point.))

[supervoltfan]

Pearl sounds totally kawaii! I'd defo hang out with her~ Flying Dutchman sounds HILARIOUS AF!!! I'm dying laughing!!!

If Spongebob characters Had Youtube Channels

Spongebob: hobby channel. most of his subs are his friends.

Patrick: shaky recordings of his life.

Squidward: His bad clarinet playing. only unironic subscribers are Spongebob and Patrick

Mr. krabs: two channels. krusty krab and another witch is like most old people on youtube.

pearl: my pretty seahorse analysist. one of the biggest channels here.

sandy: uploads country music. plus some life uploads.

plankton: banned.

Mrs. puff: also banned

Karen: doesn't upload.

MM&BB: havent uploaded sience 2011. and it was mostly trailers for shows/movies

larry: fitness channel.

flying Dutchman: screamers.

[bunnyb34r]

I just saw the preview in the email but the june lush box is a spongebob collab?? Hello??!!

[blogjhm]

SpongeBob SquarePants Gary Takes a Bath (Soundtrack)

[xiaq]

Thanks for sharing the Trek fic recs! By any chance would you ever write a Trek fic? I would love to read your interpretation.

I need you to know that I got this ask 2.5 days ago and I have not known peace since.

The problem was that I read it right before taking Deacon for a hike, which meant I had over an hour to think about it, which meant I planned out a whole stupid story in my head and then when I got home I was going to make a little one shot post about “this is the fic I’d write if I had time” except then I just…didn’t stop writing.

So now I’m 3 chapters and 6k words in and after I eat something I’m getting right back to it.

I have not completed my weekend housekeeping or laundry. I have not been working on the actual novel my publisher expects me to finish within the next few months. I have not painted the library or finished wallpapering the kitchen or given Deacon a bath.

No, no. Because of this ask, I’m writing Star Trek fic. Something I haven’t done since I was in high school.

Tangentially, do any Trekkies want to beta for me? (It’s a hybrid Academy Era + Tarsus/Tarsus aftermath flashbacks AU featuring genius!Kirk, professor!Spock, and generally resigned Bones + highly amused Pike. Archer, Uhura, Sulu, Checkov, Scotty, Gaila, Gary, Amanda, Sarek, and the Tarsus 9 will be background characters. Also there’s an important original Vulcan character. And hijinks. And hurt/comfort. And esoteric faffing.) I’m estimating 50k words final, but you know me, could be double that.

[auspicioustidings]

You know how people call out to someone they trust when in the middle of a night terror/near death experience? Yeah, i dont see doll reader calling out to anyone in the 141, might not even remember the person they trust anymore just some random generic name like Emma or Nick or some shit so there isn't even enough to go on to try to track them down even if the 141 would let them

Not that they would, of course, at this point since readers their little doll now no one else's. It's just something that kinda needles at them, that when it came down to it doll didn't call out to one of their l big military guys to help but some fucker they can't even remember anymore

...not to be Zack Snyder but to really twist the knife I'd love that name to be significant. I want to say Gary, the man they couldn't save, specifically the man they couldn't save from the very same company that sent you.

While we are inserting old game characters into the reboot, let's shift it round a little. Gary was killed by the Shadows but he was taken first. They're not naïve, they know he would have been tortured to death and when they found his burned out body that was evident.

And it must be a coincidence that she knew someone called Gary, but they can't help but wonder just how long she had been with Philip Graves. It becomes an obsession, the idea of just how he broke her down to a doll. They hadn't really thought about it before because realistically they know they won't like the answer.

She's skittish around open water. She showers, but Gaz set up a romantic bath for his doll once and he saw the way panic seized her limbs before her brain just shut off, nothing left there but a doll. He knows what that means. He knows. He doesn't want to think about it.

Soap wants to play doctor and nurse with his toy. He waits until she is gone to throw up at how she reacted to him in a white coat, how she shook so violently at the sight of a needle. He took the jacket off, fucked her gentle, but he is not going to get the sight out of his mind.

For Price it's how she reacts to food. She hoards. She thinks he doesn't notice but he does, the only reason he doesn't "catch" her is because he is scared of how she will react. His little wife is conditioned to accept punishment, a raised voice and she is on her knees in a stress position, a burnt dinner and she puts herself in the little pantry, stays curled in the dark and cold until he tells her to come out.

Ghost knew from day one. He sees everything. If Roba had wanted him unmarked, he reckons it would have been far worse. Torturing someone while leaving them unmarred by it physically takes cruel creativity. Yeah he's a right bastard for accepting her as his slut, holding her down and unleashing all the violence inside of him, but he's helping the only way he knows how. She is never left unsure with him, she knows what he will give her and he never fucks with her head.

But even when they push the implications of how she acts away, when they try and work around it and not trigger memories in her, it still doesn't make her come to them for comfort. It is still Gary's name she calls to in fitful sleep.

[pinkthrone445]

PLEASE i think we all need a part two to wedding bells. please

-Wedding bells- Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Gary x Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:love, hurt

Warnings:Mention of cheating , insults

Summary:I don't wanna spoil it because I think it's good the surprise reading this fic like this.

Sweaty bodies, heavy breaths, restless hands, and intertwined limbs. Your jaw ached and your tongue was tired trying to bring this woman to orgasm for the third time with your mouth. It had been a week and a half since the wedding and this was the fourth girl you'd slept with.

Her beautiful skin was soft, a beautiful color, her taste was like sweet chocolate, her voice was intoxicating, and her moans would make anyone desperate for more. But like all the previous women you'd been with, they weren't enough, never enough, they weren't enough to get the redhead out of your head, they weren't enough to replace her, they weren't enough for you, you just wanted her.

When the woman underneath you let out a very high scream, you came back to reality, the woman had wet everything, she squirted all over the place, your face and breasts included, something you should have been proud of, but nothing filled you, nothing made you feel better, nothing you did made you feel anything.

Carefully, you untangled your limbs from the woman you were with and got out of bed, your body completely naked, looking for a paper towel to wipe you off. You'd take a bath, but that wasn't your home and you didn't want to stay there any longer than necessary.

Recently you had decided to start dating whoever crossed your path, you weren't like that before, but nothing mattered anymore. The only thing you decided to do from the first day you started this, was to take care of yourself and use protection and never take them to your house, you always went to a hotel, a motel or their houses, never yours.

After you had cleaned yourself and washed your hands, you began to get dressed under the intense gaze of the woman you were with

-"Don't want to stay a while longer?" - The woman asked, still naked, from her bed. You didn't even remember her name and that was reason enough to realize that you shouldn't be there, less staying.

-"I'm sorry, I've got work early" - It was the only thing you answered before you grabbed your purse and walked out, listening to the woman tell you to call her latter, which you knew you wouldn't do it.

When you got home, you took a bath and kept drinking alcohol, trying to keep yourself in that state where you're not drunk, but also not conscious enough to think about your misery. After a few more drinks, you fell asleep in your bed. In the morning you felt miserable, as you had every morning since Mel had married him. You grabbed your purse, put on your best fake smile and drove to school.

It was still early for the kids to arrive, so you headed to the teacher's room to make yourself a strong black coffee that would make you feel at least a little more alive. A couple of animated voices were heard in the hallway, you would recognize them anywhere, even if you didn't see yet who they were, you knew that they were from Mel and Barbara, the love of your life next to the only person, besides Gary, who knew how in love you were with the redhead.

The two women walked into the break room, smiling at the sight of you, also grabbing their cups to make a coffee

-"Morning" - You whispered with your best fake smile, lately you were pretending to be happy so much, that you no longer knew how to differentiate your real smile from the fake one.

-"Morning hon. You're here early, did you fall out of bed?"-The redhead asked, smiling, and you barely laughed

-"I couldn't really sleep"- You answered and sat down sipping your coffee while looking at your phone. The two continued talking while preparing their coffee, a reflection hit your eyes and caught your attention, when you looked up, you saw that it came from the redhead's ring, which made you sigh sadly, you had made such a good choice, that ring looked perfect contrasting with her perfect skin

-"It's beautiful, don't you think?"-Melissa asked you when she noticed how you looked at the ring, you looked up looking into her eyes and smiled

-"Perfect..."-You whispered seeing her beautiful eyes, you didn't know if you were saying perfect to her or the ring. If only she knew that you were the one who chose her rings because her husband didn't really know anything about her and didn't make an effort or pay attention to her to really get to know her, you sighed and then looked away from her-"Are we going to meet tonight to review the students' plans? I bought a good wine and I was thinking of making some ricotta ravioli, is that okay with you?" - You asked hopefully, Mel was no longer yours, but you would make the most of every moment with her. The redhead sighed and shook her head with a sad smile

-"I'm not going to be able to, I have to do some things, sorry..."-She replied and you sighed, ever since Mel came back from her honeymoon with Gary, she was avoiding seeing you, you didn't know if it was because Barbara had told her what you had said to her on the wedding day or because Gary had talked badly about you, but it hurt you to see how she avoided to spend more time with you outside of what was necessary at school.

-"It's okay, don't worry, I can do it on my own"-You responded and got up grabbing your cup and purse to go to your classroom to finish breakfast by yourself.

At lunchtime you took out your lunch box, but honestly your almost zero appetite disappeared when you heard Mel talk about their honeymoon and how they had spent it together, how magical it was and all that, so you left the tupperware in the fridge again and made yourself another cup of coffee. Lately you weren't eating much, you weren't eating healthy either, you knew it would affect you at some point but you didn't care. When your coffee was ready, you grabbed the cup and headed to the school cafeteria to see the kids. Your disappearance from the teachers' room did not go unnoticed, the others looked at each other confused when you left but no one said anything, not even the redhead who was hurt to see your absence.

The next few days passed the same, you tried to make plans with the redhead but she rejected them so you moved further and further away from her and therefore from others, you ate alone in your classroom or maybe you didn't even eat and just had a coffee. When she left work, you would see Gary come to pick her up and kiss her passionately and exaggeratedly when he noticed that you were looking at them. You'd go home with your heart broken, you'd drink a little, you'd go to a bar, you'd sleep with someone, and you'd go home to keep drinking until you feel asleep. Feeling more and more sad, broken, dirtier, and emptier each night.

Mel began to notice your absence from school, it was like you were there and at the same time you weren't, you were a ghost around the school, you just came to do your work and left, you didn't look at her or talk to her anymore, if she was around, you left the room to avoid her and you weren't very subtle when you did it and that hurt her. Melissa knew it was partly her fault, she started pushing you away first, mainly because Gary was jealous of you and didn't want the redhead to be with you, but she didn't think it would get to that point where you'd avoid her altogether. She missed the old days when you were friends and everything was easier. Honestly, since she got married, her life had not been as she expected, she had been married for a short time, but everything had already changed, Gary changed a lot and apparently he didn't even know her anymore (it was really because you had stopped helping him). And yet, Mel didn't understand why she was more concerned about losing you than about her marriage decaying.

That day, Melissa had come to your classroom to tell you that she needed to talk to you at the end of school, but you honestly didn't feel like facing her today, you felt like shit and probably listening to her would only make you feel worse. So you were begging your students to get out faster than hers, so you could leave before the redhead.

When the alarm announced the end of classes, you gathered your things quickly, but before you could leave, Barbara stopped you to talk, you tried to avoid it but there was no way to say no to her. Barbara made you sit at your desk and she sat next to you with a worried face

-"Sweetheart... Are going to tell me what's going on with you? We barely see you, you barely talk to us, I barely see you eat, you look worn out and sadder than ever, your eyes don't shine anymore and you don't smile. I know how your heart feels for Mel, but what else is going on?"-Barbara asked you and you sighed avoiding her gaze, her sweet tone and her sincere look of concern reminded you of your father when you were going through adolescence and he wanted to help you but didn't know how

-"I don't know what I'm doing Barbara, honestly, I'm just surviving, I just let the days go by. I spend my time drinking when I'm not working, or curled up in bed with someone else, people than I barely even know, nothing fulfills me and nothing makes me happy. I don't feel like eating and I have trouble sleeping, I feel so broken and tired, so so tired of living, and it's not just the fact that I'm still head over heels in love with Melissa, but my heart aches because she pushed me away, I tried to at least keep being her friend, but I lost even that. You told me she wouldn't forget me for getting married, but she did and it hurts, it hurts to think about her. That's why I keep drinking, so I don't think about anything. Because every moment that I spend sober, every second that my brain works, it is Melissa that occupies my whole being and it hurts, it hurts that she is the love of my life but I am nothing to her, I'm not even her friend"-You whispered and hid your face in your hands trying not to cry, Barbara caressed your back gently

-"You know what you're doing isn't right, you can't throw your life to the ground because of this, you didn't give up when you lost your father and you won't do it now either. You're strong, I know you are. You have to stop this self-destructive behavior."-Barbara commented worriedly and you sighed clenching your jaw

-"What's the point? I don't feel like fighting for myself and I have no one left to keep going. I just want to stop thinking for a while, I want to get her out of my head and heart and start from scratch... I've even asked Ava to arrange an exchange for me, she said she'd see it, but I still don't know anything about it. But if she succeeds, I want to leave, I don't care where, I just want to get away from Melissa and her intoxicating being , because she hurts me so much and she doesn't even notice it... If I manage to leave, maybe things will get a little better..."-You finally looked at Barbara and she shook her head

-"Don't say you don't have anyone anymore, I'm here, I'm here because I care about you and I want to see you well, I want to see you happy again... And leaving won't be the answer, the answer is to look for things that make you feel better and together we'll look for those things, I promise. I'm Melissa's friend, but I'm also your friend and I'll help you in any way I can. I never told her what you told me at the wedding, you can trust me, okay?"-She asked you and you nodded looking at her with teary eyes, Barbara hugged you tightly and you hid in her neck

-"Thank you Barbara... You always help me feel better"-You whispered, and she smiled even more.

When you two left the room, you failed to see the redhead who was pressed against the wall so you wouldn't notice that she overheard the entire conversation.

Upon getting home, you decided to go out to the bar anyway, just to distract yourself a bit, you didn't want to be home alone.

While you were dancing with a person, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you to a quieter place in the bar, you were about to fight but your heart stopped when you saw that it was Melissa, who was looking at you without saying anything

-"What are you doing here? What do you want?"-You squinted and Melissa just looked at you worriedly

-"I don't know, I really don't know, I just know that I needed to see you..."-she whispered and smiled faintly, but you sighed and frowned

-"Why? You've ignored me for almost a whole month and now you need to see me? Well, I don't want to see you or talk to you, you've been a bad friend"-Your answer came like poison from your lips and the redhead laughed dryly

-"Do you call me my bad friend? When you're the one who kept secrets from me?" - Melissa raised her voice, clearly annoyed

-"What the hell are you talking about?"-You asked confused, You weren't understanding anything, first she would show up without warning and now she was complaining about nonsensical things

-"That you had love me for years and you never told me!"-Her confession caught you by surprise and then anger filled your body again

-"How did you know about that? Who told you? If it was Barbara, I swear..."-You started talking but she interrupted you

-"I heard you talking to her earlier... Why didn't you talk to me before the wedding? Why didn't you ever tell me? You know you can tell me anything" - Her voice came out more fragile than desired, almost broken, as if talking too loudly would somehow make you escape

-"What was the point, nothing would have changed, you were in love with him and I would only always be your eternal friend, I couldn't risk losing you completely because of my stupid feelings. You would never reciprocate me, I am a stupid child and you are a great woman, you would not reciprocate, not even in my dreams. He made you happy, and at first I thought seeing you happy would be enough for me, so I keep quiet, but it wasn't and it started to destroy me. I tried to keep our friendship and you still walked away. So I lost it all anyway, I guess whatever I did, it was destined to be a failure... When I saw how happy you looked with him, I didn't dare hurt you with vain confections of love that wouldn't be reciprocated. I thought if I helped him make you happy, somehow... In a way that would be enough, but it wasn't. He only used me to make you fall in love with him, he used everything I knew about you to make you fall more in love and I watched my words fill his mouth and how you fell in love with him. You fell in love with my words and actions but believed they were his. But if those words had come from my mouth without him as an intermediary, they wouldn't have been enough for you to fall in love with me, nothing in the world would have been enough for my love to be reciprocated, so I just gave up without trying. It didn't matter if I spoke or not, nothing would have been different, you would have ended up with him anyway and walked away from me..."-You whispered avoiding her gaze, Melissa looked at you with such anger and contempt, that was what you wanted to avoid and the reason why you never confessed. You couldn't stand her being angry with you. Melissa angrily pushed you against the wall when she saw that you wanted to keep talking

-"Shut up, don't say you wouldn't have been enough because you don't know that, you're more than enough for anyone you want. Don't put yourself down. You're a thousand times better than Gary, but you're so stupid, how did you let so much time pass? Why did you let me marry him when you loved me? If you had spoken, maybe it would be you and me at that damn altar. Maybe this stupid ring would tie me to you and not to him, how I wish you were the one who occupies my bed and not him... I was scared to admit this, but you occupy my thoughts more than he does, I always care more about you than my relationship with him. You occupy my dreams and every minute of my life... But you are so stupid... So fucking stupid, you have such a big mouth but you keep quiet for so long... I hate you so much!"-The redhead went to push you again but you grabbed her hands changing the position and leaving her against the wall

-"And I hate you more! Why did you married him if you kept thinking about me?! Why didn't you say no if you weren't sure?" - You yelled at her, pressing her against the wall with your body, you were only millimeters away from her

-"Because I'm clearly as stupid as you are! We're both stupid and in love with each other and we never said anything...so stupid...- Melissa whispered looking at your lips and grabbed your cheeks kissing you hard. The kiss was desperate, teeth clashing, tongues competing for dominance, your hands touching every part the redhead would allow. Her little moans on your lips were driving you crazy and desperate for more, you wanted more from her, you needed it, you needed her. Your hands slipped under her blouse and you squeezed her waist, her skin so soft was addictive. Her breasts were pressed against yours and your hips against hers. You didn't want to be away from her, not even if your lungs were screaming for air. You wanted to kiss her until your lips wore away, you wanted to kiss her until the reality you were in changed, you wanted to touch her until your body and hers became one, you wanted to hold her until she became yours and you became hers. But nothing would change reality, Melissa was married and this was wrong. The redhead pushed you gently, breathing heavily

-"Whether we like it or not, I'm still married to him" - she whispered, teary-eyed inches from your lips

-"I know, I can't fucking forget that" - You whispered and tried to kiss her again but she wouldn't let you, putting her fingertips on your lips to stop you

-"And I'm not a cheater..."-she whispered, and you sighed walking a few steps back, even if your soul ached for having to part from her after wanting to kiss her for so long. You knew why she said it, whether Gary was a bad men or not, he didn't deserve to be cheated on like her ex-husband did to her in her old marriage-"I'll talk to Gary and then we will see where this could go... Would you be willing to wait for me?" - Melissa asked looking into your eyes and you barely smiled

-"Always..."-You answered and arranged a strand of hair that had ruffled out of her perfect hair

-"I'll see you tomorrow at school then... Please don't stay here, go back home and eat something and try to get some rest... And if Ava gets your transfer, don't accept it... Wait for me please or I'll go after you"- Melissa whispered and kissed your cheek, very close to your lips before leaving to talk to him.

[creaturefeaster]

Does Gary even take showers..

Talpians are not huge fans of getting wet, and in modern society they prefer drier methods of cleaning themselves, such as powdered shampoos, or actual wipe downs rather than getting full on wet.

But before those things existed, talpian hygine practices were essentially a form a dust bathing.

That is to say. No. He doesn't. He lives extremely rustic, so he dustbathes.

[yisony07]

That man had been doing exercises when he caught the attention of Alan, a ghost who used to visit the park to see which handsome man he could take advantage of and, upon seeing Danny, in his black suit, Gary knew he had hit the jackpot, so he followed him immediately. He was already able to taste his new acquisition, with that sweat on top of Danny’s body, his enormous and strengthened muscles and the shaft that was surely hidden in his pants.

When they arrived at Danny's apartment, Gary acted immediately. Upon reaching the bedroom, the ghost caused Danny to fall fully onto the bed. Having Danny’s ass in front of him, Gary entered fully.

"What?!" Danny could barely scream at the intrusion. He felt something cold and somewhat sticky enter him through his hole. He turned to see what it was and, seeing a ghost, he screamed and tried to grab it to pull it out, but to no avail. In a matter of seconds, Alan was fully inside.

Danny didn't know what to do, because he was desperate. However, the sensation of the ghost moving inside him felt strangely comfortable, to the point of being pleasurable, like a small chill spreading into the warmth of his core. Little by little Danny felt how the sensation of his body, his arms, legs, torso... was replaced by an unmatched sexual pleasure, as if the only thing he wanted to do was ejaculate without stopping. Within seconds, he cummed and closed his eyes, falling motionless onto the bed.

A few minutes later, 'Danny' woke up and got up. However, he wasn't the same Danny as before.

"I thought you'd put up more of a fight, but you gave up easily... that's how I like it," he said, followed by a chuckle. "Fuck... this is much better than I thought. You'll see that you will be the life of the party..." he added and, with barely changing a few clothes, but without bathing at all, he left the house again, ready to go to a gay bar.

[sneezypeasy]

*sigh*

Y'know, this really doesn't/shouldn't matter, but as this particular accusation keeps getting thrown at me over and over again - oh fuck it, I'm gonna take the bait this one time and set the record straight once and for all. Honestly my "appetite" in this context is truly not anyone's business (and if you don't care to hear about it this is the one warning you'll get to click away lmao) but I've reached the point where if you really wanna attack my credibility based on who you think I enjoy fantasizing about, I'm gonna throw you a bone and tell you exactly what type that is - cuz as much as I'm sick of the ad hominem attacks the Aussie in me is even more sick of watching them miss so fucking hard. If you're gonna roast me, the least you can do is hit me where it hurts, goddamn it. Get it right or go home you uncooked noodles. Capiche?

When it comes to my taste in men, my "type" is: big, strong, hairy brutes. There, I said it. Give me lumberjacks, give me cavemen, I want my Jason Momoas, I want my Ma Dong-Seoks, I want them broad shoulders and tree-trunk calves and I wanna see those muscles bulge. If a fictional character ever gets me biting my lip at the screen, it's never gonna be a fine-featured pretty boy, it's gonna be a good thick daddy who can take my wrists, pin me against a wall and [--------------------------------‐---sustained bleep sound effect---------------------------------]

1:38-1:51 🤣

Personality wise, I'm a basic bitch who has approximately zero defenses for the "jerk with a heart of gold" stereotype. Gets me every time, without fail. The smooth-talking playboy who flirts with everyone and who could bed anyone he wanted, but who only lets you see him at his deepest, dearest, most vulnerable moments? Sorry, am I supposed to not fall for that shit or something? Well frankly I don't understand how and I'm not ashamed to admit it. If he happens to be built like a fortress on top of that? Yeah, I'm done. Have me bathed and brought to your tent, sir, please and thank you.

I admit, it's rare that a character with the physique I like also has that heartbreaker personality I'm a sucker for. Guys in fiction are usually strong and mean or they make up for their lighter frames with silver tongues and barbed promises - rarely do writers create a character who's stacked with both brains and brawn, so to speak. Makes sense though, as while irl people can max out any combination of stats that they put effort towards - in fiction a character who's too good at too many different attributes can come across unbalanced or Gary Stu-ish and will fail to resonate with audiences unless the writer really knows what they're doing.

That being said, there really isn't any character in ATLA who fits my type - either of them, actually. There are some bit characters like Chit Sang who get close in terms of physical build - but Chit Sang has very gaunt, angular facial features that I'm really not a fan of and tbh, while I get that I can't expect all my big buff boys to also be masters of wit and cunning and charm, being dumber than a box of rocks does seal it for me, sorry. In terms of personality, I guess the closest character would be Jet, and he's cool and all but yeah, the whole "would go as far as killing kids" thing makes him a bit of a hard sell for me too. (And yes, it's worth questioning the writers' choices to create him with those flaws to begin with but look, that's a discussion for another day 😂)

All this to say, if you wanna tease me about coveting fictional characters and allowing thirst to cloud my judgment - COME AT ME BOYS. But not with Zuko, for fuck's sake. The character that makes sneezy.exe blue-screen ain't him. It's actually the late great Carthaginian General Hannibal Barca, the man the myth the legend may he Rest in Peace if anyone's seriously wondering. Look, I do like the scar, and the awkwardness is endearing - he's definitely not ugly or unappealing by any means so please don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to bash him or nothin' - but if I'm being brutally honest, he's not my type! Not physically, not even emotionally. If I ship Zutara, it's because aspects of the ship appeal to me that are unrelated to my personal opinion of Zuko as an object of fantasy, which if you must know (and now you do, congratulations, you're welcome), the kind of boy I do fantasise about when I'm in the mood for that sort of thing could literally and figuratively sweep Zuko off his feet - and then sit on him. In either order.

P.S. While we're on this topic, the character I personally relate to most heavily is not Katara either btw. It's Toph. If you're going to accuse me of bias, questioning my views on Toph would make the most sense for that reason. But really, it's hardly my fault that she's basically the most perfect flawless irreproachable badass in ATLA or practically all of animation as a whole. Come on now. *whistles innocently*

[marclef]

From what I’ve learnt from the fact about how much Fake Peppino hates water to the point where he’ll drink it to avoid having it on him… it got me thinking.

Let’s put this into a scenario here. Let’s say, hypothetically, someone where to take Fake Peppino and throw him into something like a pool, would it be possible that he’d attempt to consume all the water before it makes him go all goopy and loose his form? And that’s assuming he can actually swim…

AGAIN, a hypothetical scenario.

what a fun scenario... and wonderfully worded too! 😅

so, let's have a look-see at this hypothetical here, the way i see it there are two ways this could go!

the hypothetical though: SOMEBODY decides to be a jerk VERY rude and push this goopy fella into a big pool of water! obviously not ideal for Fakey.

now, the first direction it could go from here: usually, Fakey reserves trying to suck up any outside water if it's a smaller body, say falling into a puddle or being shoved into a bathtub. but, it's always possible he'd try it here, anything to stop the water from touching his sensitive outside skin! his insides are like a sponge though when it comes to liquids; they absorb very quickly, but it'll stay saturated in his skin for a while afterwards, until he dries or manages to fully convert it into goop.

but... an entire pool of water though... that's a lot of liquid.

and another fun fact, Fake Peppino hates being soggy. so now he's been shoved into a pool, panicked and drank a ton of water to save himself, and now he's wet and spongy...

he is not gonna be in the best of moods.

of course, that's only one of two ways this could go though! the other is much more simple....

that being, that it's way too much water to try that with. so the much more likely scenario that'll happen is simply this:

the well-known Fake Peppino Goop Pile. too much liquid and he can't even hold his form down! he won't dissolve in the water at least, just reduced to an extra-slimy, writhing blob of Goop. at which point he'd do everything he can to flee from the water, and start trying to find any way to dry off quicker.

how rude of somebody to push him into the water like that though; don't they know how uncomfortable being like this feels? at least there's one benefit to being a living pile of goo, and that's being able to smother the jerk who did this to you!

(haha, get GOOPED idiot 👆)

[unholyhelbig]

Can you do spider!person x Kate Bishop with a soulmate AU?

[A/n: I've never been a massive fan of Soulmate au's but, for some reason this one really got under my skin and helped with some writers block, so, thank you!]

Title: Magnetic

Ship: Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Disclaimer: I did not proofread, if there are mistakes, I'm sorry!

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

Summary: Reader is a spider!person from earth-2099 and Kate Bishop is curious about why she's so drawn to them.

The piano stood in the center of a restaurant that seemed to harvest the warmth of every candle. They were unscented, casting a deep yellow glow that shaded the patrons’ faces and stretched them in shadows. You had figured that you could be no true judge of character when those around you were bathed in untrustworthy light.

Having live music was part of the charm, or so you had been told. Classically trained and playing the same sonatas over ivory keys for left over bread and mistaken orders. People would send food back for the slightest hint of sodium, too much cilantro, too little portions. Of course, you could keep your tips at the end of the night, sometimes they would brim the elegant glass jar on the hood of the piano.

Sometimes, you’d see nothing but a brass quarter that a man who smelled too thickly of tobacco would drop to its basin. He’d tell you the story of the general carved into the front, a confederate, you had no doubt. And you would nod, your fingers doing all the work to keep up the quiet ambiance of the lobby.

At one point, you remember enjoying playing the piano. Of course, that was before you mastered it. When you were a novice, it was fun, you’d ply each note and double down on the pedals. You’d take risks. But the restaurant did not want risk. They wanted sub-par entertainment.

You knew you were good, better than good, you were perfect. You’d had all the time in the world to get to this point and you’d lean on your talents if it meant a good meal and something to do. It distracted you from your own discontent with this world. With 616.

The clinking sound of a piece of copper against a glass pulled you from your thoughts. Your hands were gliding along the keys all the same, undeterred from the distraction. Though, you almost caught yourself ‘C’ sharp.

Kate Bishop stood in front of you, leaning against the side of the Kawai, it’s black finish reflecting her pensive stare. In all the universe, she still had the same slightly-infuriating, adorable face of determination that she wore now.

Of course, she had an evening gown, and of course she dressed the part. She wore something emerald, green, reflecting from her gray, storming stare. Kate’s lips were painted red, her skin like snow. You caught a whiff of Rosemary, and was that mint? It was freshly tilled from the ground.

“I have questions.” She said.

She showed no signs of leaving, and you didn’t’ want her to. Though, she obstructed your view of the hostess and therefore, your manager, Gary. So, you gestured, asking her wordlessly to take a seat on the bench next to you.

Kate’s confidence faltered, but she delicately lifted her dress from the floor and lowered herself onto the bench next to you. There was a certain heat about her, one that you could feel as she stared down at the keys, at your touch moving across them with ease.

You could feel her stare on the side of your face, burning, making your stomach do flips that threatened your composure. It didn’t’ seem to matter which universe you were in; 616, 2099, 219 and hundreds more- Kate was always there. She was always disarming and part of that infuriated you.

“Do me a favor, will you?”

Kate furrowed her brow but lifted her chin. There was a quiet contemplation about her, one that warmed your skin. She looked magnificent in that dress, show-stopping. Each wandering eye from the patrons of the restaurant had nothing to do with you, or the music. She had captivated everyone in the room.

“Slowly- F sharp, then B flat and C.”

Kate scoffed “I can’t keep time.”

“I’ve seen the callouses on your hands. You can keep time. What is it? Violin?”

“Almost, the cello.” Kate pressed the first note, and then the other two. She listened to what you played and matched the rhythm with one hand. The other ran over the stitching of her dress. “I didn’t come here to play, Y/n.”

“And I didn’t’ come here to talk, it seems that we’re at an impasse.”

Kate clenched her jaw. You gave her a smirk and settled into the last notes of the song. A few seconds to pull your shoulders back and you began to shift the mood of the room with the soft crescendos. “Alright. Ask your questions. I’ll answer them.”

“Truthfully?”

You hummed “If I can. Silence will speak wonders.”

“Right. Okay. Fine.” Her voice lowered to nothing but a whisper, a warmth against your cheek. “You’re Spiderman.”

“That is not a question Kate. That is a statement.”

“I’m getting there. You’re Spiderman, but Peter is Spiderman. I’ve lived with him for three years, that’s not something you can hide. And then suddenly, there you are, in a really… I mean, the suit is nice, the colors are- wow- but you’re not Pete.”

“I’m failing to see the question.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

You smiled at her “Yes.”

She grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest, drawing in a deep breath before she continued. Gary was eyeing you from the host stand, a furrow to his brow. You nodded at him, and he moved his attention down to his clipboard.

“Have you ever considered different worlds?” You asked.

“I’ve interacted with a talking raccoon who is surprisingly adept at disassembling a cherry red 1970 Dodge Challenger. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

You laughed, and her cheeks matched the exterior of the car for just one moment before she grimaced and returned to her composure. She stared at you expectantly as you finished the last of your song. Your hands lingered on the keys, but you didn’t start another one. Instead, you stood, took the jar off the top of the piano.

Kate watched you expectantly as you held your hand out to her, lifting both eyebrows. Your shift was over, and even if it wasn’t, you were sure you’d leave with Kate if she asked you to. Explaining something like this, you’d done it a million times to a million different Kate’s but it always made your heart scream inside your chest all the way to your fingertips.

She took your hand, the warmth was overwhelming. You led her outside, the jar tucked under your arm and the city lights boring down on wet pavement. For a few moments, the two of you walked aimlessly- much too overdressed for your surroundings. There was too much in the air, and somehow, never enough.

“Every single decision that we make has consequences, has chain reactions. And each time we make a choice there is a world out there that plays out in succession.” You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, breath steaming in front of you. “There’s a world where we are still sitting together at the piano. There’s one where my manager Gary fired me for talking to you in the first place.”

“I think I get it.” Kate nudged you with her shoulder, “But that doesn’t explain how you made it here. Isn’t there some type of cosmic consequence that comes with this kind of thing?”

“Typically, yes. If you were to meet the Kate from earth 20368, then things are bound to explode. She was a nice girl, by the way. Kind of reckless. But things don’t work the same way for me. I’m an anomaly. There’s only one of me.”

“You’ve lost me.” Kate stopped, pressing the tips of her fingers against her temple. “We’ll circle back to the ‘was’ you threw in there.”

“I’m sorry” You chuckled, “I’ve done this hundreds of times, and it still doesn’t get any easier. I’m originally from Earth 2099. It’s a reality that’s much like this one, but sort of… Frankensteined from all of the other earths. There was a man there, a scientist, a geneticist, that flew a little too close to the sun. Hence me. Hence my whole family.” 

Kate parted her perfectly painted lips to say something, but you didn’t’ give her a chance. Instead, you dug through the change in your pocket, forking over two crumpled dollars to a greasy looking man behind a peddled cart. You could smell the salty aroma of hotdogs topped with sauerkraut and mustard.

“Thank you, Benny” you said, passing Kate one of the hot dogs, wrapped in a coffee filter. She took it without question and you dropped the rest of the change in your pocket into his tip jar before the two of you fell into a perfect silence.

“I can’t tell what bothers me more. The use of Frankenstein as a verb, or the fact that you talk in riddles. It’s all very confusing.” Kate took a bite of her hotdog and moaned with pleasure “Jesus, this is a delicacy.”

“I don’t mean to talk in riddles, you know? The answers you crave aren’t straight forward. There’s still a lot of that I’m trying to figure out too. A lot of unspoken rules. Things that I would have changed if I had the chance.”

You took a bite of your own hotdog, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. Kate was watching you, her deep stare moved to the corner of your lip. She tentatively, gently, used the side of her thumb to wipe away a bout of condiment. It took everything in you not to sigh into her touch, to pull her in for a lengthened hug and breathe I her scent.

There was a pressure below your eyes, a sadness that you at to blink away. There was a sudden interest in your shoes and the way they weren’t built for the wet streets of New York. You whispered “You’re not my Kate.”

“I’m sorry, I overstepped I shouldn’t have-“

“No, no. It’s fine. Really.” You drew in a cold breath, one that burned your throat “On my earth, the one that I’m meant to be in, the one that I was created in, there was a Kate Bishop. We grew up together, laughed together, cried together, loved together.”

Kate’s voice was nothing more than air “what happened to her?”

“She died, in my arms she died. Was stubborn until the end about it too.”

 You frowned and threw the rest of your food into the nearest trashcan, not having much of an appetite anymore.

“I was engineered in a lab, much like my brother and sister and every single person around me. I wasn’t meant to fall in love, but you made it difficult not to. I had a falling out with my father, and he’s a man of science over anything else.”

“So, he killed me? Her?”

You swallowed the cold lump in your throat again and nodded. The tips of your fingers were numb with the weather, so you shoved them back into your pocket and watched as the beginning of rain began to fall. It distorted the reflection of traffic lights against the pavement.

“You have to understand, Kate. I ran away from 2099, stole the tech from my father’s lab and ensured that he couldn’t track me. My plan, it was to hide out in whatever world it took me to. I would grow old and die in solitude, have a normal life that I wasn’t engineered to have.

“But you were there, and there was color to your cheeks, and you were smiling. After I got over the shock, I decided to leave, go to whatever earth the device spits me out into. And there you were again, and again, until finally- I realized that wherever I went, some version of you would be there, and the same version of me was still hopelessly, undyingly, in love with you.”

“This is…” Kate frowned, got that same crease between her brows that you wanted to smooth out each time. “A lot to process, and that hot dog is about to make a second appearance.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You groaned, for a moment, staring up at the stars that mixed so delicately with the falling rain. “When I told you on Earth 181 you threw up over the side of the Brooklyn bridge.”

“Oh, nice. After that?”

You shrugged, looking back down at your feet “After that you pretended like none of it mattered. Which I’m not expecting you to do. Trust me, I’ve tried avoiding you, Kate. In every universe I’ve jumped to, I do everything in my power to keep myself away from you.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel fantastic.”

“You know what I mean. There are times when I think, I know that your life would be better without me in it. Meddling, existing. But during those times where I didn’t seek you out, you would find me. Kind of like tonight.”

“I… Couldn’t help myself.” She resigned “I’ve seen a million different masked heroes and have no desire to lift those masks, to find out their secret identities and insert myself into their lives. But it was different with you. It was magnetic.”

“I know, I get it.”

“So, what do we do now, then?”

“You do nothing.” You told her, lifting your chin. You watched the way her eyes moved with confusion and curiosity, the way her chest rose and fall with each breath she took. She was cold, so you pulled your jacket off and draped it carefully over her shoulders. Kate seemed to sigh into it, content for only a moment. “And I leave.”

[amphibious-thing]

Geneviève d’Eon & Marie-Jeanne Bertin: Clothing and Gender in 18th Century France

"After being fully dressed by famous designer Rose Bertin for the first time, they ran to their room and cried for hours." ~ Kaz Rowe, The Chevalier d'Eon: the Trans 18th Century Spy

Kaz Rowe throws this story out there in their video on d'Eon as a part of their justification in using they/them pronouns for d'Eon who used she/her pronouns. Rowe never really explains the context for this story. It sounds dramatic on the surface, d'Eon spent hours crying over being forced into women's clothes. But did this really happen?

This story comes from d'Eon's own autobiographical writings that she never finished. Segments of her drafts were translated and published by Roland A. Champagne, Nina Ekstein, and Gary Kates in The Maiden of Tonnerre. The title comes from d'Eon who styled herself la pucelle de Tonnerre after Joan of Arc who was known as la pucelle d'Orléans.

Some things to consider before we start:

D'Eon's autobiographical writings operate under the pretence that she was afab and raised as a boy for inherence reasons. We have to remember that these writings are heavily fictionalised, a necessity in upholding the lie that allowed d'Eon to live as a woman. However that doesn't mean that there is no historical value in these writings. Instead of simply taking these stories as fact we must consider: Why is d'Eon presenting this story in this way? How does this story serve the narrative d'Eon is constructing for herself?

D'Eon in this story claims she had never worn women's clothing before. This is contradicted by d'Eon's own claim of infiltrating the court of Empress Elizabeth of Russia as a woman. While its hard to pinpoint the exact moment d'Eon first wore women's clothes I personally suspect it was much earlier than this.

D'Eon also includes a scene where she is bathed by Bertin's assistants. This scene is almost certainly fictional as if it happened in reality this would reveal that d'Eon had a penis, a fact she wanted to keep secret. This scene is almost certainly included to add to the 'evidence' that d'Eon was afab.

Considering these points we must consider that this story did not take place literally as d'Eon depicts it. Instead of taking this story as an accurate recollection of events I consider it a fictionalised story (based on true events). The goal in my analysis is to ask what is d'Eon trying to communicate though this story.

Some background information to add context:

D'Eon had prior to this incident signed a transaction with Louis XVI in which she was legally acknowledged as a woman and ordered by Louis XVI to wear woman's clothes. D'Eon agreed to "declaring publicly my sex, to my condition being established beyond a doubt, to resume and wear female attire until death," but then adds "unless, taking into consideration my being so long accustomed to appear in uniform, his Majesty will consent, on sufferance only, to my resuming male attire should it become impossible for me to endure the embarrassment of adopting the other". (see D'Eon de Beaumont, his life and times by Alfred Rieu, p174-182 for an English translation of the transaction)

We also must consider that d'Eon did not dispute the fact that she was a woman when signing the transaction, nor does she dispute this in her autobiographical writings. D'Eon was very much arguing that she, as a woman, should be allowed to continue to wear men's clothing (specifically her dragoon uniform) as that is what she was used to wearing and comfortable wearing.

Also mentioned in the following excerpt is the English trial over d'Eon's sex in which it was found that d'Eon was a woman. I'm not going to get too into the topic here as it's a whole other can of worms. However I think it's important to understand that while d'Eon had issues with aspects of the trial she would use the ruling to support her claim that she was afab.

The Maiden of Tonnerre: Chapter VII

Selections from the great interview between Mademoiselle Bertin and Mademoiselle d'Eon in Paris on October 21, 1777 Mademoiselle Bertin. I have come vary early in the morning to spare you trouble and embarrassment. But what else can I do? You must either go through this or through the gates of a convent. Mademoiselle d'Eon. It is easy to do otherwise. Just leave me as I am. I have lived for forty-eight years this way. I cannot live all that much longer. I am impatiently awaiting the great change that will transform us all making all of us eternally equal. Mademoiselle Bertin. The Court in its patience will never have the endurance to wait that long. Remember that it was a deliberate error on the part of your father, your mother, and yourself that resulted in Mademoiselle d'Eon's wearing men's clothing and a military uniform. But since that time things have changed considerably, and today by order of King and the law, the bad boy must become a good girl.

It's interesting that here d'Eon has Bertin distinguish between "men's clothing" and "military uniform". As women were not allowed in the French military at this time all French military uniforms were as such men's clothing. But d'Eon did not simply want to wear men's clothing she wanted to wear her military uniform.

Mademoiselle d'Eon. If I was a boy by mistake, one could inadvertently allow me to continue to be one. While you are correct about the substance of the matter, I am not wrong about the form. Mademoiselle Bertin. That is not possible now. Your trial created too much of a stir. Mademoiselle d'Eon. I am a reliable bugler in my squadron. I am not frightened by noise. The Court's behaviour, by its very decency, has wound up being indecent. I would have thought that the King would have been willing to allow me to wear the uniform of a former dragoon captain, Knight of Saint Louis, and plenipotentiary minister, since he was kind enough to allow me to wear the cross of the royal and military order of Saint Louis on my dress. Do you see how everything at court is so arbitrary? There one could say every day: Contraria contrariis opponuntur [A contrary opposes other contraries].

Again we see the focus is that d'Eon wanted to wear her dragoon uniform. She likens this directly to her cross of Saint Louis which Louis XVI did permit her to wear on her women's clothes. As the cross of Saint Louis was only awarded to men it is arguably also menswear. D'Eon is pointing out the arbitrary nature of this distinction. Why is she permitted to wear an idem of menswear, the cross of Saint Louis, but not another, her dragoon uniform. To d'Eon these both represent her achievements rather than manhood, she is arguing that she, a woman, should be allowed to wear them.

Mademoiselle Bertin. I concede that every day we see in the streets of Paris a tall young woman in the uniform of a dragoon publicly giving lessons on the use if arms. But remember that this girl was a mere dragoon and that she had no other way to earn a living. To do so, she had written permission to dress as a dragoon form the lieutenant general of the Paris police. But the Court would never grant such permission for a young woman from a good family who had been in France and in foreign courts as Mademoiselle d'Eon has been. Mademoiselle d'Eon. In a well-regulated country, the law must not allow preferential treatment to anyone. Mademoiselle Bertin. You can go to Versailles to argue with the Chancellor of France, your former schoolmate. But with Mademoiselle Bertin, it can serve no purpose to argue. Do not take this matter so far as to have a falling out with the King's ministers or the royal Treasury. Remember, Mademoiselle, that in France a maiden who obeys the law and the King must wear her dress and petticoat, whether to remain in this world or to spend her time in the convent. Mademoiselle d'Eon. Your advice is wise and prudent. I would rather follow you into the royal Treasury than into a convent. Mademoiselle Bertin. My honorable captain, don't think that you are dishonored by having been found to be a woman. The discomfiture is temporary, and the glory will be with you forever. But let us not wast uselessly the precious time needed to begin and end your outfitting before the return of Major Varville. Mademoiselle d'Eon. I see that Mademoiselle Bertin is correct about all that she says and does and that a lady-in-waiting to the Queen is thus wiser in her comportment and in her begetting than all the children of the Enlightenment and all the captains of the army. Without delaying further and having followed the instructions of Mademoiselle Bertin, the Dragoon was, in a short period of time, divested of his serpent's skin and transformed into an angel of light. Her head became as lustrous as the sun. Her whole outlook on things changed as much as did her face. No trace of the dragoon remained in her. Mademoiselle Bertin thought she was consoling me by saying: "The Queen doesn't despise bravery in a well-born maiden. But out of duty she prefers to find in her decency, honor, and virtue. If Louis XV armed you as a Knight of French soldiers, Louis XVI arms you as a chevalière of French women. And the Queen crowns your wisdom by commanding me to bring to you this new armor, which must accompany your coiffure and your demeanor so that you may become the leading general of all the honorable women of France. The time has come for us to be edified and not scandalized by Mademoiselle d'Eon's conduct. Why don't you offer up your uniform as a sacrifice at Notre Dame de Paris or in your holy anger throw it out the window in order to stand witness before the people of Israel, the Parisians, the Scribes, and the Pharisees that you are now following the letter of the law that Moses gave us in his commandments." While Mademoiselle Bertin had me get into the bath to be washed, soaped and scrubbed down by her companions, I told her: "Proceed as quickly as possible; do not waste time with the preparations so that I too may keep part of my own dignity as it is joined with yours and that of your seamstresses. Virtuous Bertin, honest messenger form the chamber of the Queen, I fully realize that the hour is at hand for me to follow the directive of the law and the King. As a victim, I am offered up in sacrifice since you do me harm in order to do me good. All women are going to point at me, and all the maidens are going to thumb their noses at me when they see me dressed in style and done up like a doll or at the very least like a Vestal Virgin who is led to the marriage altar."

We see in this excerpt Bertin acts as an authority ushering d'Eon into womanhood, the transformation is painful but ultimately positive for d'Eon; "you do me harm in order to do me good". But there is this real fear of being mocked by other women. At least part of d'Eon's trepidation to don women's clothes comes form the fear of humiliation. We see this fear also reflected in the transaction when she begs King Louis to "consent, on sufferance only, to my resuming male attire should it become impossible for me to endure the embarrassment of adopting the other".

Mademoiselle Bertin. Put aside your concerns about what other will say. Must what the mad say prevent us from being wise? Mademoiselle d'Eon. Alas, at court everything is beautiful. To please the court, does a former captain have to become a pretty boy [demoiseau]? Mademoiselle Bertin. Yes, absolutely, when the so-called "boy" is discovered to be in fact a girl by the systems of justice both in England and in France. Mademoiselle d'Eon. Speaking of justice, is Mademoiselle Bertin, the Queen's servant, also the enforcer of justice? Mademoiselle Bertin was stung. "Don't be angry," I told her, "I simply wanted you to acknowledge, for you are just in all matters, that I cannot fit into the dress you brought me." Mademoiselle Bertin remained disconcerted for a moment. But she soon regained her composure and said to me: "If you are a patient girl, the dress that I made for you in the name of Justice will soon be taken out to fit you. And I predict for you that the certainty of happiness will come form the alleged abyss of your unhappiness." Then, looking pleased with herself, she said to me: "I am glad about having stripped you of your armor and your dragoon skin in order to arm you from head to toe with your dress and finery. In you I have found the power to possess the benefit of simple tonsure without a papal dispensation. Give thanks to God. You can assuredly double your chances of attaining eternal life, for which all of us search amidst this life's sorrows, troubles and suffering. Tomorrow you will suffer less, and the following day you will not suffer at all. In a little while, you will enjoy the relaxation and the joy that are the natural prerogatives of a Catholic girl who loyally follows the breviary of Rome and Paris, which was annotated, revised, and made available to the Daughters of Holy Mary and the Queen's women. You are not yet canonized, but soon you will be beatified when your upcoming marriage is canonically approved. Better this for you than a cannon shot."

D'Eon at this time was considering joining a convent. Bertin is referring to d'Eon's marriage to Christ.

Mademoiselle d'Eon. You can even say that regarding a hail of cannon shots. ... But when I reflect on my past and present states, I will never have the courage to go out in public dressed as you have me. You have illuminated and brightened me up so much that I dare not look at myself in the mirror that you brought me. Mademoiselle Bertin. A room is not lit up in order to hide it or to keep it in the dark, but rather it is placed beneath a chandelier so that those who enter can see the light and be edified by your conversion. Mademoiselle d'Eon. I know that there is nothing hidden that should not be revealed or anything secret that cannot be known. Therefore, I will not seek my own willpower but that of the King who sent you here to Mademoiselle d'Eon to change what is bad into something good. Since he obliges me to choose the best way, it will not be taken away from me. What is worth choosing is worth maintaining. When you came to me, I thought you were bringing me death. Now I go to you in order to be alive, because I am no longer chasing after the false vainglory of the dragoons, but after the solid glory of maidens of pease. I am no longer looking for my own glory. There is another who is seeking it for me and is judging it. This order is the most Christian King following the opinion of his Council and his apostolic Sanhedrin, who grants me glory so that I myself might experience that God's will is perfect, that will of the law is just, the King's will is good, and that of the Queen pleasant, decent, and proper, because the Son of Man came to save what was lost. After this conversation, I quickly left the room and hurried to my bedroom, where I wept bitterly. Mademoiselle Bertin closely followed me and uselessly proposed both a drink and smelling salts in order to console me. I stopped crying only when my tears naturally dried up. Mademoiselle Bertin, as a crafty member of the Court, took advantage of my weekness by saying: "You are certainly not unaware of the joy experienced by the public in Paris when they heard sung the verses about the Heroine from Tonnerre, which were recently printed and are being sung throughout France." That was the only thing that calmed me in my distress, for when a heart is not entirely dedicated to God it is partly attached to this world. Only vanity can console such an individual because this world prefers human glory to the divine.

And so that it. Thats the moment that d'Eon "cried for hours" after being dressed by Mademoiselle Bertin. So what is d'Eon trying to communicate to the reader in this excerpt?

"When you came to me, I thought you were bringing me death. Now I go to you in order to be alive" is a key part of d'Eon's speech to Bertin, it mirrors an earlier moment in chapter VI where d'Eon says to Bertin "You have killed my brother the dragoon. That leaves me with a heavy heart." In order for d'Eon to become a woman the man or more precisely the dragoon must be killed. D'Eon tries to hang onto both womanhood and her identity as a dragoon but she isn't allowed to.

She cries in morning for the loss of the dragoon she once was and is only cheered by Bertin reminding her that she is now a Heroine. However the d'Eon who is narrating this story criticises her past self for vanity. We see this thought continued in the next chapter:

There is no doubt that it would have been preferable, for my happiness in this world and my salvation in the one to come, had my investiture taken place forty years earlier, because the dragoon disease is so deeply rooted in me that I greatly fear that our saintly Madame Louise will unite with our holy Archbishop, the good Marquis de l'Hôpital, and his pious spouse to have me put away in a hospital for the incurable.

D'Eon presents her transformation into womanhood at the hands of Mademoiselle Bertin as a painful experience but ultimately a necessary and good one that brought her happiness in the long term. I'll leave off with d'Eon's words:

That was all I could respond to Mademoiselle Bertin's questions, whether they were hers alone or form on high. I answered them in a satisfactory manner according to my system of moderation, so appropriate to my position and to the disposition that heaven has inspired in me, and not that of the dragoon, which I drove out of my clothes and away from the wardrobe that the honorable messenger of the Queen had brought me. Thus I can say without flattery that Mademoiselle Bertin is the best of the women who can be found at the Court, in the city, in Picardy, in France, and in the world. My dear Mademoiselle Bertin, it will soon be midnight return to rejoin your forty Virtues as if it were midday.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

For a head canon request , how about a cozy rainy afternoon with the papas , how they like to spend their time with a s/o

Primo:

He especially loves a lazy rainy day in the greenhouse. Something about the rain tapping on the glass is very calming. 

He keeps a daybed and a bit of a room set up in one corner, tucked away behind a wall of tropical plants. On rainy days, it’s his favourite place to nap and stretch out with his SO. 

Also a good place for a slow, tender fuck between naps and cuddles. 

He’ll happily spend the afternoon combing his fingers through your hair and talking quietly about whatever you want to talk about. 

It’s really just a good excuse for a day of gentle physical affection and bonding. And one of the few days he can be convinced to simply rest without worrying about work and duties and every other little thing. 

Secondo:

The grey sweatpants come out. JUST the grey sweatpants. Without needing to ask. 

This man does not take many days off, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take advantage of the ones he has. When he relaxes, he relaxes. 

Opens a good bottle of wine, gets out the fancy cheeses and meats he’s been saving, olives, crackers, pickles, grapes, the works. Makes up a charcuterie board that would make grown men weep. 

Spends the afternoon watching old movies, stretched out on the couch, snacking and cuddling. 

Anyone who says this man is not a cuddler is a liar or a fool. He must be touching his SO at all times. Needs all the physical affection - for your sake. Obviously.

The charcuterie board isn’t the only snack in the room and he does love to eat rare, fine things. 

Terzo:

The rain always makes him melancholy. He’s a sunshine boy. He WILL spend the day looking sad and staring out the window if you don’t drag him away. You can practically hear Gary Jules singing Mad World.

He needs ALL the cuddles. And forehead kisses. And scalp scratches. And back rubs.

Definitely not going out in the rain, it will make his paints run. Although he WILL entertain suggestions for YOU to go outside, in the rain, in a white shirt. That would be fine. 

The best course of action is running a bubble bath for you both. Warm bath for cuddles. Bubbles to make silly beards and giggling like idiots until the water is cold and your fingers are pruney. 

Usually it turns into a cuddles and self-care day. Going through his extensive collection of skin care masks, painting nails, dying grey hairs, eating junk food, and watching something mindless on tv (he has a bad habit of falling into a Real Housewives spiral if you let him)

Copia:

He always wants to go for a drive.

Not to anywhere specific, just out of town to someplace quiet. He’ll find some empty side road and park, turn the radio down low, and lean his seat back. 

Just enjoys getting some quiet, private time with you. And the sound of the rain on the car roof is like magic. It’s the most relaxed and calm he gets anywhere but in bed. 

All he really wants is to hear about what’s going on with you, how you’re feeling, things you’re interested in, all of it. 

He’ll sit there with that content smile and half-lidded eyes, lacing his fingers through yours, or resting his hand on your thigh. 

Sometimes he’ll talk about new songs he’s working on or share the latest ghoul gossip. 

He always insists on cracking the window “to keep the windows from fogging up”. Really he just loves the petrichor.

He invariably falls asleep rests his eyes while snoring and definitely isn’t asleep.

[nonsenseafterdark]

Day Thirteen: Shower Sex

Characters: Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1417

Warnings: None. Just fluff and humor... And soup

Notes: I hope this makes up for the previous prompt haha... I enjoyed writing this one. As always, this was also posted on AO3, and you can find my prompt list here

Gary jumped as the ice cold water from the shower head rained down on him, sending down a violent shiver down his spine. He stepped back a bit far enough that the water was just touching his feet and close enough that he was still able to reach the shower handle to adjust the temperature. He turned the handle towards the left, expecting the water to turn warm at any moment, but mildly surprised as it was still cold. Gary waited another minute for the temperature to adjust, but at the absolute hottest, the water was lukewarm. He sighed, mentally adding the task of checking the water heater to his plans for the weekend and bummed as he wouldn’t be able to stay nearly as long in the shower like this. He stepped under the water, sulking as he let the water rinse through his scalp, though he was quickly attentive to the sound of the door opening.

“Gary?” He heard Simon’s voice, mildly raised, “It’s just me.”

After shutting the door, he pressed, “You alright in there, bug?”

“I think something’s wrong with the water heater,” Gary said after a few moments, “The water’s not warming up…”

“Really? That certainly explains why you haven’t turned our bathroom into a sauna by now.”

“And I dunno how you tolerate bathing in water as cold as the Atlantic.”

That earned a laugh from Simon, speaking in between brushing his teeth, “And I’m telling you, love, you’d enjoy it too if you gave it more than one chance.”

“I would rather give myself third degree burns with my hot showers, thank you very much… Or turn myself into soup in this tub...”

There was a moment of stunned silence, Gary letting out a stifled giggle as he heard the brushing instantly fade.

“Don’t… Ever say that again,” Simon snorted, jokingly repeating before finishing up brushing, “‘Turn yourself into a soup…’”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“No problems with soup. Just don’t use yourself as an ingredient… And don’t use our tub to make it.”

“Oh, imagine the feast we could have—”

He was cut off suddenly as Simon briefly swung the shower curtain open, stating in a humorous manner, “You’re not using our tub to make soup.”

Gary erupted into a fit of giggles, and even Simon couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Well get in here then, ‘Mr. I-Love-Cold-Showers,” He said, tugging on his shirt, “Come keep me warm before I really turn myself into soup.”

“You’re very bossy today.”

Simon took a moment to strip off his shirt, and as he worked on getting his pants and boxers off, he leaned over to press his lips against Gary’s. This simple act already had blood rushing to his groin, his thighs tingling. Simon broke off the kiss momentarily to step into the shower, but he was back to locking his lips with his partner soon after. Gary tasted hints of mint off his breath, humming pleasantly as he felt Simon’s hands run down the sides of his body while pulling him closer. Meanwhile, Gary’s hands held the sides of Simon’s face, soothing his fingers over his cheeks and sighing into his mouth as he felt the warmth of his body, a comforting contrast to the cold shower water. Simon eventually made a move to tilt Gary’s face slightly to deepen the kiss, taking his breath away before slipping his hand to stroke his cock. 

Gary moaned quietly, grinding into his hand as his partner broke off the kiss to ask, “How do you want to do this?”

“I want you inside me,” The other man mumbled into his ear. 

“Again?”

“Yes, please… I want you close to me…”

Simon chuckled into his mouth as he pulled Gary into another deep kiss, moving his hand from his cock and over his hip to turn him around and facing the tiled wall. He pressed his body close to him, lips locking onto the skin of his neck as his hands squeezed his rear. 

“You warming up yet, baby?” Simon rasped. 

“Getting there…” Gary hummed in amusement, “But not quite.”

The other man briefly bit into the corner of his neck before reaching down to the corner of the shower and picking up a bottle of lube, as Simon implied, this wasn’t the first time they had fucked each other in the bathroom. Gary waited and pressed the palms of his hands against the wall, shivering slightly brother both the temperature of the water and as Simon pressed his lubed fingers against his entrance. He bit down on his lip, stifling a moan as he felt two fingers push inside him, sliding in and out slowly and stroking his walls. With his free hand, Simon reached up to grab at the back of Gary’s head, tugging on the strands of hair and tilting his head back. 

“Let me hear you,” Simon groaned, growing rock hard himself, “Don’t hold back on me.”

Gary moaned at his command, his cock throbbing from the combined pleasure of being touched and talked to like this. His whimpers and whines echoed off the tiled walls, louder than the running water. 

“Fuck, right there…” He sighed deeply, arching back and clenching around Simon’s fingers. He felt incredible, and yet he wanted to feel better than that, “Simon… I’m ready for you.”

“Yeah?” Simon chuckled, “I was just thinking I could get you off with my fingers.”

He slipped them out, Gary whining at the brief loss. He turned around slightly to watch Simon stroke himself before he lined his cock up with his entrance, and he watched as he pushed in, gasping out as he felt his length stretching him out. Gary cursed, arching back to adjust to his size and chase the pleasure that followed. He heard Simon breath deeply, moaning out as the other man wiggled his hips slightly, and Gary giggled shortly before his laughter faded into a whimper as Simon slammed his hips forward, pushing his cock as deep as he could go. 

“You’re seconds away from being a complete brat,” Simon rasped into his ear. 

“You like it,” Gary replied sensually, pushing his hips back and whining as he urged Simon to move. 

“You know I do.”

Simon pulled back and thrusted forward to a steady rhythm, the sound of slapping skin joining in with Gary’s pleasured cries and moans. He arched back into his thrusts, his muscles clenching as he became unbothered by the cold water as his senses were warmed with euphoria and satisfaction. Simon eventually pressed his body against Gary’s, rolling his hips slowly, but deeply into a spot that had the other man crying out. What followed were a series of incoherent praises and whines, to which Simon swallowed them up in an open mouthed kiss, carefully turning and holding his head carefully. With his other hand, he reached down to wrap his fingers around Gary’s cock. 

Gary’s moans grew in volume and pitch, his legs shaking from the repeated ministrations. If it weren’t for Simon pressing up against him, he would’ve collapsed entirely. 

“Gonna come…” He moaned out in between the kisses, “Fuck, I’m gonna come…!”

Simon groaned in affirmation before breaking off the kiss, his hips slamming violently into Gary as he chased his climax. He watched as Gary’s eyes squeezed shut, gasping out breathlessly as he reached his orgasm and clenched around his cock. Simon’s breathing became labored and quickened, stifling his moans as he bit down on Gary’s shoulder and holding him by his hips in a bruising grip. He came inside, groaning out and rolling his hips slowly until the pleasure faded into overstimulation. 

Gary exhaled heavily as he came down from his high, dipping his head against the wall. Simon smoothed his hands over his hips, gently rubbing at the spots he was gripping at before. 

“Warm enough now?” He asked softly.

“Mm, yeah…” Gary mumbled, reaching behind him to caress Simon’s hair and tilting his head towards him. He sighed pleasantly, and when it didn’t feel like he was clenching around so much, the other man pulled out. 

“Simon…?”

“Yeah?”

“Help me clean up?” The manner Gary asked wasn't so demanding as before, but more equivalent to an exhausted request. 

“Of course,” Simon mumbled, pressing a soft kiss into his skin.

"Maybe you can make me some soup after this-?"

"Gary, you're now seconds away from being a brat again, and not the good kind."

Gary snickered, even hearing Simon chuckle against his shoulder.