#a few weeks after the first day...

[survivedsarchived]

he stands half-shrouded in the shadow of the doorway, wincing at each sour note. they're still as prominent as the first time, but there's something endearing about it now, how frank plays on despite the mistakes, almost as if it doesn't matter if he improves. it isn't until the notes soften to the song's end that he steps forward, hesitant, feet whisper-soft against the floor, bill stopping half a foot from the bench— the hesitation is deep-seated still, though, gradually, inches have been sheared from the distance.

“i have cassettes and records, you know,” he starts, breaking the silence. “instead of you butcherin' linda every day.” it's gruff, of course, but warm, too, an edge of amusement cutting into his tone, because it's not really that bad— and he seems so happy.

bill hesitates, then takes the final step forward, sitting beside frank, squinting as he glances at the music sheet, studying the notes (to avoid looking at frank.)

“or you could… start with something a lil' more basic. i could give you some, uh… tips.” / @doomdays

[dykedvonte]

I just realized some people are confused about events in the alluded to past in Mouthwashing, particularly about how long the crew has been working together.

The only person who is truly new is Daisuke and it’s why his dynamic with the crew and role in the story is very unique and somewhat distant. Curly didn’t just get Jimmy this job on the Tulpar, he got him the job with the Pony Express. He’s been his copilot for probably a couple of years but still not as long as they’ve been friends. None of them are new with the freight industry, Anya and Swansea especially have been doing this for years, together.

Jimmy is the newest on the regular crew, maybe just a few assignments, but it’s not his first time working with them. I think it’s just something important because this isn’t just one bad mistake that snowballed with giving Jimmy the job. None of them thought Jimmy would do anything, no matter how off-put by him they could’ve been, since he hadn’t done a thing since being there. Generally unpleasantness isn’t a crime and he’d be aware of that.

It was a festering thing and a sort of forced trust they had to give him that he knowingly took advantage of. He was the black sheep and still a wolf under the wool. He expected when he lashed out, that he had been there long enough for it to be looked over completely. Got too comfortable in the space he inserted into and did a lot of damage with his claws when he felt he was going to get shaken out.

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[gunsatthaphan]

OH.

[yardsards]

i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage

[katabay]

wahoo! my uncle had heart surgery (thankfully dodged the open heart surgery bullet) and so far things are looking alright, so I’ll be taking the weekend to just. do stuff. and then get caught up on emails and whatever else starting monday!

[sofyreneko]

hc that one thing everyone in the batfamily knows without doubt is: alfred knows everything. hidding anything from alfred is a waste of time and energy, because he always just knows. so they simply don’t. they dont need to tell him, but they dont need to hide it, he always knows anyways.

however, the thing is alfred is just a regular old man who spends all of his time cleaning, cooking and making sure they dont die. he doesnt have time to be figuring out what the bat ninjas he has for a family is hidding so most often than not he doesnt know. it doesnt help that no one in the family ever tells him anything, because they expect him to just know. he just has a really really good poker face and an inability to be surprised by much so everyone just assumes he already knew once he discovers anything.

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[centaur-dreaming]

Yes im crying who's fucking asking

[aru-art]

JMART if nobodys told you yet. and if yes then !! marz x tangent? :3

woe jmart be upon ye (ref)

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 29: Singing

cw: aftermath of/referenced torture and captivity

previous

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 665

=~=~=

Benji hummed quietly from the spare bed, an open paperback on his knee, words neglected and unread. It felt weird to watch Sahota sleep, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Every little shift, every change in breathing spiked his nerves. He was healing now, filling in, looking almost healthy, but he still wore the remnants of his weeks in the cell.

They'd almost been too late. Benji couldn't shake that. He'd still been recovering when Joy and Jer finally found Sahota, bedbound for almost a week after his own horrible ordeal, but it all felt so small when they'd carried him in.

He'd been almost skeletal, bruised up and unconscious, his torso wrapped in a hasty bandage that was oozing blood from everywhere. Benji didn't need to be in the medbay anymore by the time they got to him, but he'd moved back in anyway. Couldn't leave him alone for a second, couldn't let him wake up to being alone, because that had sure fucked him up the first few nights, and—

Sahota coughed in his sleep, and a zap went through Benji's nerves at the sound. His eyes went to the man's face, scanning for anything wrong, seeing nothing but an expression that looked almost peaceful.

Okay. Good.

He continued humming, a little louder now in an effort to calm his nerves. 

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly…

Yeesh. Maybe a little on the nose.

Good morning Baaaltimore, every day's like an ooopen door—

“Y’singing?”

Benji nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Sahota was awake. Had he woken with the cough? Or before it? Had Benji woken him up?

“Uh. Humming,” he answered. “So kind of?”

“Mm.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Benji found himself holding way too still. He was a little irritated that he couldn't tell if it was residual jitters from his stint in the cell or just regular awkwardness.

Sahota was the one to break the silence.

“You don't have to stop.”

“Yeah?” It was all he could think to say in the moment.

“Better than silence.”

Yeah. He got that much. Humming and singing under his breath had been the only way he could comfort himself, especially once they started leaving the bag on. His captors didn't like it, but it was the one thing he kept coming back to, even after they'd hit him for it a few times. Silence was a killer.

“Any requests?” he said lightly. 

“Anything you want,” Sahota responded, shifting against his pillows. 

“Hope you like showtunes.”

The other man let out a quiet chuckle, and Benji smiled at the sound. “Sure. You know the Flintstones theme?”

He had to keep himself from busting out laughing. The man was bedbound, he had to cut him some slack here. “That's not what I mean by showtunes,” he said. “I'm thinking more along the lines of Broadway musicals.”

Sahota's eyebrows went up slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “I liked The Lion King. Does that count?”

“The musical?”

“No, the cartoon. Is there a musical?”

This time, Benji did laugh. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.”

“Are you planning on teaching me?”

“I can go on for hours if that's what you want.”

“Beats listening to my own heartbeat.”

“Then don't say I didn't warn you.” Fuck, he wanted to launch into something fun, perform a one-man Wicked, find a way to bring the life back into Sahota---and introduce a hardcore spy man to Broadway, to boot.

But they were both exhausted, and killing silence didn't mean getting loud, not right away.

“Let me take you back to the musical that started it all,” he said. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

A chuckle. “Cross my heart.”

Benji took a breath. It had been ages since he'd sang for an audience, even an audience of one. But right now, this felt like something they both needed.

“Memory, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you, open up, enter in…”

[revrads]

“The Bo-Staff”

Some angst based off my Ninjago redesign! There’s a reason why I gave Zane a bo-staff from the start and if you’re interested in reading it, proceed to the tags cause I’m too embarassed to do it in captions lmao (Spoiler- it has something to do with the Ice Emperor)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 2: Thermometer, Delirium (“I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back”)

This one has similar vibes to day 1, but it was originally for a different later-on day so that’s why (if you know the prompts, you can probably guess which!). Also there’s no actual thermometers here, but I definitely used the prompt as inspiration lol. Sorry Sky.

Warnings for: being out in the heat too long, an implied head injury, and a character thinks briefly about how it wouldn’t be so bad to die.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

Sky couldn’t remember why he was here.

Blinding sun shone in his eyes, even when he shaded his face with his hands, that made the pounding in his skull twice as worse. The glare made it impossible to see across the desert he was walking through, and his eyes hurt from squinting. Sand blew past his face, tripped his steps, and the heat rose off of it in waves, making it hard to focus on why...

...why what, exactly?

Sky shook his head, unable to remember, and kept walking. There wasn’t anything else to do, after all.

He’d been walking for ages, and the temperature had risen sharply as he’d gone, making sweat pour down his face and drip down his back. His sailcloth had long been put away in his pouch, and as tempted as he was to remove more layers, he didn’t want to be vulnerable to attack, or exposed to the blinding sun any more than necessary.

Not that it mattered much. There was no shelter anywhere.

Only sand. Endless sand.

Sky squeezed his eyes shut a moment, the uncomfortable sting from their dryness worth the temporary respite from the sun. He only had a few sips of water left, and as much as he wanted to gulp them down, he needed to conserve them so he could make it back to... to somewhere.

...to someone?

Sky swallowed, the motion barely relieving the dryness of his throat.

He was alone, but it hadn’t always been like that, had it? He did faintly recall being in a desert like this before, but... but maybe he’d always been wandering out here by himself.

Alone in the desert, with no water and a headache that only got worse.

He kept walking.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky above him, no respite from the sun that beat down on his head. A scorching wind sometimes brushed past his bangs, kicking up the sand, but bringing no relief whatsoever.

Sky’s legs dragged more and more the longer he walked, his clothes soaked in sweat. He gulped down the last few drops of water he had, but it didn’t do a thing to quench his thirst. His head pounded, his headache worsened from the bright sun and pulsing behind his eyes, but Sky couldn’t even close them. Whenever he did, he always tripped soon after, and pulling himself back up got harder each time it happened.

A sound suddenly caught his attention, one that wasn’t just harsh wind or shifting sands. Sky dazedly looked up (when had he lowered his head?), and his eyes widened at the sight.

There were trees a short distance away, trees and tents set up around a large rock that reached up towards the sky. They all provided a glorious amount of shade from the sun, and in the middle of it all was a large pool of water.

Sky stared, then felt his aching face stretch in a smile.

Shelter. Shade.

Water.

He let out a raspy laugh, and began to run towards it, stumbling in the sand as he went. Finally, civilization, and a respite from the awful heat. Somewhere to rest, to figure out why he was wandering through the desert, why he felt like he shouldn’t be alone.

Sky was so fueled by the sight of something other then sand that in his excitement, he suddenly tripped on the large dune he’d been running down. His legs were too exhausted to recover, and he fell forward, arms pinwheeling.

Sky’s yelp was quickly cut off as his face hit the sand, and he tumbled down the rest of the way, limbs flying and sand getting on every bit of him that didn’t already have it.

He finally rolled to a stop with a groan, his exhausted body even more tired from the fall. He felt bruised and dizzy, and the same spot in the back of his head that kept pounding was blazing with pain now, but the reminder of water got him to fight through it, and Sky took in a steadying breath. Once his head finally stopped spinning, he carefully raised it, trying to focus on the oasis again and reorient himself.

Nothing but empty sand met him.

Sky stared, eyes widening as he lurched to his feet and looked around with increasing desperation. He could no longer hear the splashing of the water, see the leaves of tall palms rustling with a cooling breeze, just... sand.

Nothing but sand.

There had never been any oasis. It was just his mind, desperate for something to cool itself off with, tricking him.

Sky closed his eyes, a wave of despair crashing over him. It was so intense he nearly fell over, and he felt a frustrated cry build in his throat. He’d been so close, to shelter, to water, to people... but no, there’d been nothing to be close to at all. Just his dehydrated mind playing tricks.

He shook his head, and swallowed back the sting in his eyes as he reopened them. A dull feeling settled over him as he stared at the empty sands, and he sighed, the sound raspy and weak.

Nothing to do but keep going.

He began to walk again, and he couldn’t bring himself to scan the horizon for help any more. Maybe there just wasn’t any shelter anywhere.

Maybe the desert had no end.

Waves of heat rose off the sand, making the horizon impossible to make out no matter how much Sky squinted at it. The sun was right around its peak, scorching its rays onto his head, and Sky took his sailcloth back out with shaking hands and rested it over his head to protect his face. It barely helped, and he knew his skin was already peeling from burns, but he kept it there anyway. The faint sweet smell coming off of it was comforting at least.

He wondered why it smelled so nice. He couldn’t remember.

The sun seemed to stall above his head, getting no lower. Sky’s stomach began to roll unpleasantly, his dry throat crying out for water. He wasn’t sure why he kept walking honestly, when it would have been so much easier to just stop, but something kept his feet moving, even despite the pounding in his head.

A laugh floated by on the wind, and Sky blinked, a flash of pale hair in the corner of his eyes. He thought he saw a man approach him, covered in armor, but when he looked again he was gone.

The light grew more orange, his shadow squirming like snakes over the dunes. Harsh wind stung at his face like bitter words, and a wolf laughed at him when he stumbled, barks ringing in his ears. Something with fiery hair challenged him to a fight, but when Sky drew his sword to face it, there was nothing but a distant laugh in his ears.

He kept his sword out after that, using it as more of a walking stick than anything. Apologies spilled from his lips, for scuffing her steel and getting sand stuck in her hilt, but he didn’t know why. She was just a sword, wasn’t it?

Something circled lazily above his head, and Sky squinted at it, pausing as he tried to figure out why the shape seemed so familiar. Something outstretched to either side, a tail in the back...

Red flashed in his vision, and an intense hope caught in his chest as a memory surfaced.

“Crimson?” Sky breathed, watching the bird swoop around, wings stretched towards him as if it was coming in for an embrace.

Then it abruptly changed course and began to fly away.

“No— nnno no Crimson no, come back—!”

Sky bolted after his loftwing, but barely took a step before tripping in the sand, sending him sprawling. He desperately looked up, but his bird was long gone, lost in the blue sky.

It had left him. Everyone had left him. The scarf, the leaves, the golden hair, even his sword— Sky sobbed and tried to get up, but he’d finally reached his limit, the loss of his bird one loss too many.

He collapsed, muscles worn, heart aching, and his vision went dark.

(...)

A faint whisper tickled his ears.

Sky breathed out a soft moan, too hazy to try and listen. It was a gentle voice, one that made his chest hurt for some reason, but everything was disjointed, dark color smearing around the inside of his eyelids.

The voice repeated itself, but he couldn’t focus through the darkened void, too weak, too faint. But the voice continued, kept trying, and eventually Sky could hear it enough to just barely make out what it was saying.

“...Link...”

It was if his name was spoken through a heavy fog.

Sky still didn’t move, feeling utterly drained. It was like a weight had been dropped on top of him. Even when he thought he heard something move nearby, he remained still, listening silently as it approached. The sounds were strangely distant, but he listened to them anyway, unable to do much else.

The footsteps stopped, and Sky could feel that he wasn’t alone.

Maybe it’s a monster finally come to finish me off, he thought distantly. The idea was almost a welcome one, and he exhaled, sure that he’d feel a blade cutting into his heart any moment now. Then maybe he could truly rest, and join everyone who had left him.

“Sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

The familiar nickname abruptly cleared some of the fog that had descended in Sky’s head, and he forced his eyes open through the grit encrusting them.

Warm yellow met him, not like the painful glare of the desert sun, but a kinder, cheerful shade. Like gentle spring sunshine, with a silver glint from the moonlight. Sky blinked, and felt a huge surge of emotion as he looked up into crystal-clear eyes, their middle a blue even brighter than the sky.

“...Zelda?” he croaked, and she nodded from where she stood next to him.

“Sleepyhead, you need to get up,” she said in a teasing voice, and Link closed his eyes again, already exhausted from opening them the first time.

“...I can’t... Zelda, I...” he whispered, and he felt a light touch on his cheek, fingers gently caressing him.

“Open your eyes, Link.”

He obeyed, and Zelda smiled at him again, her form strangely hazy in his vision.

“You’re close to help, Link. It’s not much further, you can make it. I know you can.”

“I can’t,” he repeated in a whisper, wishing he could do as she said, but unable to gather the strength.

The sun had wrung out any energy he had, sapped by sweat and heat and the endless pound in his head. Sky belatedly realized it was much colder now, but the temperature switch was of no relief to his worn and wearied body. The air was now freezing instead of burning, and he barely had the energy to shiver, the cold leeching any remaining strength he had.

He was deathly thirsty, his stomach still hurt, and he still couldn’t remember why he was in the desert in the first place, or what he’d been doing beforehand.

Link closed his eyes again, a sudden wave of despair crashing over him through the confusion and haze.

“I can’t,” Link trembled out again, and tears would have sprung to his eyes if he’d had any water left in his body. “Z-Zel, I can’t.”

“You can,” Zelda replied in a voice equally firm and soft. Link couldn’t stand to look at her.

He kept his eyes closed, and then something moved at his side where his pouch was. He stayed still as it moved, then felt something soft fall over his shoulders, a familiar perfume drifting into his nose.

“You can, Link,” Zelda repeated, her voice encouraging. “I’ll be with you for every step. Don’t fall here. It’s time to get up.”

Link exhaled, and looked into Zelda’s eyes, watching the way the moonlight made them shine.

“Is that a command from my goddess?” he whispered in a barely-there voice.

“No. It’s a request from your friend,” Zelda said as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “Now come on, Link. It’s time to keep going.”

Something alit inside Link’s chest at her words, something weak, and faint. But it was warm, and Link clung to it like a drowning man, curling around and snatching at it, and suddenly felt as if he had some of his strength back. Not a lot, barely any, and he doubted he could even raise his sword... but he could move.

He wasn’t going to die alone in the desert. He wouldn’t fall here.

He would keep going.

Link clutched at his sailcloth with trembling fingers, and turned himself off his side and onto his hands. Then he moved to his knees, and ever so slowly, body shaking with the effort, got to his feet.

He stood for a moment, trembling in the moonlight, afraid to move for fear that he’d fall over. But Zelda’s words rang in his head, and he breathed in, tightening his grip on the sailcloth. Then he took a single swaying step, and then another, and another, legs trembling like those of a newborn loftwing. Walking through the sand seemed more impossible than earlier, and once he began shivering, it was even worse.

But every time he faltered, every time he nearly collapsed, wanted desperately to stop and just rest... he saw a shine of yellow hair ahead of him, a glint of blue eyes... and he kept going.

All through the night he plodded along, boots slipping in the sand, clutching Zelda’s words to him as tightly as he clutched the sailcloth.

Something at his back gave out an occasional weak pulse, and Link matched his steps to the faint rhythm. The horizon began to lighten, orange streaks shooting through the sky, and somewhere in that time, Link stopped shivering, the temperature rising again as he trekked endlessly across the sands.

Step, after step, after step.

He kept walking.

The sun broke over the horizon, making his eyes sting from its brightness. His footsteps weaved uncertainly as it cast orangey rays across the sands, voices warbling to him on the wind, cheering him, jeering at him, words both indecipherable and clear as ice.

A red haired man yelled at him after spending all day with Zelda, and a tall woman fiercely berated him, making his ears sting. The armor looked at his sword with dislike and anger while a bunny twitched his whiskers, the very grass and trees laughed, dusk fell and cried out as he struggled against the darkness, his parents looked at him with pride and grief and Mia wove around his legs as she begged to be picked up—

Link belatedly realized he’d fallen to the ground, still-cool sand pressing against his cheek.

Zelda’s voice had gone quiet, no more yellow hair to follow, no voice urging him up. Link breathed out, his strength gone. The faint flicker he’d regained was utterly spent. His body had been pushed to its limit, and he’d gone as far as he could. He’d given it his all.

He couldn’t keep going.

The darkness started to creep up on him again, but it felt colder this time, deep, reaching out to drag him down with its claws. Link shivered and wanted to brush it off, but he couldn’t even raise his arm.

I’m sorry Zel.

The claws hooked into him, began to cover his vision, sending darkness over his sight, but as they did, Link thought he saw a flicker of color out in the sand.

A yell rang faintly in his ears as he closed his eyes, footsteps pounding the sand. More yells joined the first as Link relaxed, and the sand brushed his other cheek, though it felt remarkably smooth and gentle as darkness swept over him like a wave.

For some reason, he felt perfectly safe.

[skitskatdacat63]

Hey, do you remember that really homoerotic scene from Skyfall? No? That's okay, here's a Vettonso version of it :)

- explanation & w/o text:

Hi hello, finally my weird psychosexual relationship with Casino Royale has come to fruition. Yeah this is directly based off a scene from Skyfall, but I def envision the vibe as being more like Casino Royale hehe. I can't believe I made that inspo board for this AU almost 4 weeks ago, and then ended up drawing a four panel "comic" about it. Ahhhh proud of myself, a bit, a tad. I think this took 20+ hours across the span of a week? God. Anyways I digress! The AU!!

First of all, their Bond song would be "My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra. It's so toxic, codependent and obsessive, I'm in love with it. And it really suits Fernando and his motivations and outlook in this AU. Basically, MI6(in the context of James Bond) in this AU is an analog for Ferrari. It picks theses guys up, tells them that they're Ferrari MI6's most special boy, chews them up, and then spits them out when they're finished extracting all their talent and skill and life force.

Much like with Ferrari, Seb in this AU replaces Fernando after Fernando loses favor and becomes undesirable. Now Seb is the new golden boy, and Fernando has turned to a life of crime! Fernando resents Seb for this of course, but also becomes obsessed with him and the idea of him , and how they are connected. It's weird to watch someone else basically go down your exact same path and unknowingly make all the same mistakes(buying into the mysticism of it all too much, being overly cocky, having naive beliefs and goals, etc.) He is caught between wanting to doom Seb even more but also wanting to "save" him, by corrupting him and convincing him to work together.

Basically: He's both a Bond girl and Bond villain.

Fernando is in such a weird place in this AU. I think he's just very dramatic. Seb is just casually living his best 007(005?) life, and Nando is watching him with binoculars, whispering to himself: "DOESN'T HE UNDERSTAND THAT WE ARE NARRATIVE FOILS!?" Yeah he hates Seb, but like the song lyrics say, their lives and dreams are inherently tied up together. He would feel lost without Seb, because Seb basically, unknowingly, destroyed and then took over his life. Maybe he'll feel satisifed if he manipulates Seb into going down the exact same path a bit better.

About the drawings themselves. Still can't believe this scene is a real thing that actually happened, insane to me. But in this AU, after the events of these drawings, Fernando definitely kicked all his henchman out of the room, and fucked Seb in the chair. And then against the wall. And then on the floor. Hey man, Seb is already looking mighty delicious with his unbuttoned attire and being tied up.

I think the general plot would be that Fernando keeps trying to seduce him to the dark side, and Seb keeps making him think it worked, only to escape at the end of the encounter. Leading Fernando to just come up with increasingly more violent and kinky traps. Seb goes along with it(read: enjoys it), leaving Fernando satisifed, only to somehow escape and wink and make kissy faces at Fernando in the process. (Fernando smoking cigarette in bed: "How do I make him stay. Sigh.")

I like to think though that Fernando does win in the end, by realizing, ah wait shit I do need to actually explain my motivations to Seb. And Seb is so worn down by his job, not Fernando, and how he's being treated, that he listens, really actually listens, and realizes Fernando does really have valid reasons. And then they become evil crime husbands yayyyy. Wow you thought this was a espionage AU? Well it is, but just not the outcome you'd expect.

[livwritesstuff]

More about the girls bickering (see this post) – as the at home more parent, Eddie has to deal with it quite a bit more than Steve does. Unbeknownst to his husband, Ed learned that once both the girls had KO-ed each other, there was a very easy and nearly 100% effective tactic to subdue them completely.

Standing on their hair.

It wasn’t uncommon for Steve to come home from a day of counseling sessions to Eddie in the midst of refereeing a fight, which is how he essentially got a crash course in this technique when he walked into the house one day to find Robbie and Moe lying on the ground, Ed with one foot on Moe’s ponytail, and the other on Robbie’s wild curls.

Robbie is still fighting against the restraint, while Moe has clearly long since given up, glowering up at the ceiling with her arms crossed.

Steve, coming to a dead stop: Alright, what’s going on

Eddie: Daughters, would we like to tell Papa how we ended up in this predicament?

They both glare in opposite directions, though Robbie does aim a knobby elbow at Moe’s side (and misses).

Eddie, conceding: *explains fight, which is mostly incoherent and might be about a pair of shoes*

Eddie watches Steve look between his husband and oldest daughters before giving them all a resigned shrug.

Steve: Fair enough

Moe and Robbie: *immediately start protesting*

Steve: Look, girls, it could always be worse.

Steve: He could be barefoot.

The girls let out simultaneous noises of disgust as Steve walks away.

[toxooz]

im in shambles......did you hear.........about what they did to soap.................god..................

shutuPSHUTUP IM NOT DONE PLAYING THE CAMPAIGN YET SHUTUPPPPPPPPPPPP