#hate us being happy

[dahfloofysmol]

ALIEN STAGE ):

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

A lot of Christians read A Christmas Carol and gloss right over the "pay workers a living wage" message and take away "not being merry on Christmas is a cardinal sin" instead.

[transandrobroism]

of course another issue with the whole thing of "men are inherently bad and terrible and women are entirely justified in mistrusting all men they meet and it's up to you to prove you're One Of The Good Ones" is that you cannot, in fact, prove you're "one of the good ones" to people who do not believe any man can ever really be good.

[damian-lil-babybat]

'Dead Poets Society' gang

Headcanon that these four drop poetry and literature quotes on their conversations unprompted.

Jason 'English-major-I-only-visit-the-manor-for-the-library' Todd-Wayne

Damian 'I-master-liberal-arts-unlike-you-plebs-PHD-holder' al Ghul-Wayne

Cassandra 'I-learn-English-thru-Shakespeare-as-god-intended' Cain-Wayne

Duke 'only-title-holder-of-vigilante-poet-and-will-cuss-you-just-as-poetically' Thomas-(future) Wayne

[overanalysingfandoms]

Ok, so I know without even looking at the Scarian tag that everyone will be calling their interactions this session divorce coded (and that's valid)

However, THIS IS JUST HOW THEY FLIRT

Like, Scar being obsessed with killing Grian and then Grian blowing up his reputation board once he does???? Get a room. They are staring into eachothers eyes daring the other to do something, this is not divorce, this is enrichment

Exhibit B: Immediately after the whole murder and destruction of property debacle, when Grian has promised to hunt Scar until he's out (kinky) and Scar is hiding in Joel's car with the bamboozlers and the family and the sub ones are staring at them Scar LITERALLY DESCRIBES "THEIR SOCKET EYES" like???? only one man staring at you has socket eyes Scar, are you too busy getting lost in them to notice that???? Hmmmmm

Not to mention that after Mumbo's disastrous lava murder attempt Scar immediately runs right over to Grian and stands as close to him as physically possible for NO REASON!!!! Sir, this man has promised to murder you after you spent 50% of the session being obsessed with murdering him and now you're all up in his personal space whispering in his ear???? The least divorced thing I've seen all day, these two are absolutely openly disgustingly insane about eachother IN PUBLIC for everyone to see

AND Grian once more respawned in Scar's bed

This session is just the minecraft equivalent of making out in public and nobody can change my mind

[ln4wins]

this year as a lando fan while it’s had its highs (it been great to witness everything he’s achieved) it’s been an absolute struggle more so than any other year, i’ve feel myself becoming less and less attached to the sport and to do so in the year he got his maiden win and was “fighting” for wdc feels so shitty. and the fact is it’s got absolutely nothing to do with lando himself, i will continue to support him no matter what, but the discourse surrounding him, people trying to minimise every achievement he got, the bombardment of hate towards him has been nothing less than disgusting, psychotic and heartbreaking. i used to come on this site and go through landos tag to see if id missed anything he’d been up to and it was something that brought joy to my day, however now i can’t scroll through the lando tag without seeing hate directed his way by people, (who are not only losing a few braincells with their inability to correctly anti tag), who just think it’s fun to wish injury and death on people and dont seem to understand the irony in a lot of their posts. not forgetting the insane lando hate anon, while yes i enjoyed laughing at, would flood lando fans inbox’s with hate anytime he so much as breathed. anytime i go on twitter i see more hate for lando from other drivers fan accounts than i see positive things about their drivers. the anti lando hate train that some people think is cool to be on isn’t. and it just shows how rotten of a person you are if no matter what your supposed favourite driver does the first words out of your mouth are about lando norris and reason 626174 of why you hate him. it’s very telling when people who claim they aren’t fans are more obsessed with talking about him than those who are, i beg you all seek help and get a hobby because this type of behaviour isn’t healthy both for yourself and for others around you to witness.

[aithusarosekiller]

Funny modern au shit again 🙏

Regulus: Oh, my brother said he can come and get me so I'll be fine to get home on my own. He should be here any second now.

Pandora: Oh it's so sweet that you two are finally reconnecting. We'd love to meet him!

Sirius, pulling up on his motorbike like a textbook androgynous rockstar and climbing off to come and hug him: Hey Reggie! Good to see you.

Regulus: Hello, thanks for coming to get me.

Barty: ......That's your brother?

Regulus: Yes?

Sirius: Hey guys!

Dorcas: JESUS FUCK

Regulus: Um, okay. Can you all stop being weird? It's just my brother.

Evan: Reggie, there is no way you, mr-I-must-order-my-socks-by-brand-and-fabric, are related to THAT.

Sirius, nodding with an arm around Reg's shoulder: I say the same thing to myself every day...

Regulus: >:(

[uncanny-tranny]

Your fears that you don't have a body that will transition "well" are, sure, understandable, but there isn't truly such thing as a body that's unworthy of transition. Perhaps your changing body won't suit everybody's taste, but would you rather live for yourself or for the whims of random people who don't care about your happiness as long as they're attracted to what they see?

Transition is for anybody who wants it. It's okay to be fearful. It's okay to be uncertain. But it isn't the end of the world. You are in control, and if you choose to transition to any capacity, it should be at your behest. You and your body are worthy of transition. I hope you are able to seize transition and do what you truly want for yourself.

[on-the-clear-blue]

So I was thinking and like, the Batfam all come from vastly different backgrounds, and like everything in life, food is easily the best way to truly see someone.

Bruce likely grew up eating the same thing every day in the way of "Fridays are Lamb chops, Sunday is Pot roast" because that's how it was just done those days.

His father was a well to-do man, a gigh class doctor and his mother was a socialite, they held their postion highly and knew what was expected of them, even by their staff.

Martha always worked withe chef for meal plans, changing things for holidays or if they would have guests but always had a base she built off of.

It was that base that Bruce clung to after they died, sure the chef left, the other maids and servants going wirh him, leaving just Alfred (he was just a butler, he ran the house, told people what to do not cook)

But Alfred, a man who been through war and acting school did what he did best, He adapted, becoming more than just his title of Butler.

Now think of all that being flipped on its head by little Dickie, freshly orphaned from his loving family. His loving Romani family that traveled across world that likely ate different cuisines every time they stopped in a country. (This is in fact a call back to my baby dick post)

Just...

Dickie, staring wide eyed at just the amount of meat on his plate: It...it's all for me?

Bruce, staring back with confusion: Do you need more? Alfred get Dicke more food, clearly this isn't enough for him.

I love the idea that Dickie pulls a face when he sees mashed potatoes for the third day in a row, he is crying and sad, he missed rice! Fresh veggies! Where was the flavor?? Why was everything so rich?

And Bruce adapts, he is the God damn Batman, of course he adapts, and the perfect schedule of foods he always knew would be on each day of the week is changed, oh of course he doesn't like it but it's for his son child so of course he puts up with it.

(Yes he can't handle the spice, he might of traveled the world for 5 years but he lived off of energy bars and MREs so he didn't have to think about food while traning)

Then his son is gone, (its all his fault why does this always happen why can't he just say what he means to say) and the schedule comes back. Was pot roast always this bland? When did the mashed peas start to seem unpleasant?

Then...Jason is in his life, it's a whirlwind of things, trying to get him comfortable in a place that seemed like a fairy tale.

Jason, who lived on the streets for years, Jason who even before he was homeless was in a poor household, who made ketchup sandwiches cus he was able to snatch a few from the gas station when the clerk wasn't looking, who thought fresh veggies were a special treat meant to be savored, who always felt loved when his mom saved up a bit and they got smoked turkey legs and boiled them up in a soup.

That Jason looks at the offered food and feels uncomfortable, all that was far to much for him.

Jason, frowning at his bowl of soup: Um...what's the big bits of green?

Bruce, looking up from his case file: Hn, it's herbs Jaylad, I think basil and parsley.

Jason, nodding but clearly doesn't know: Oh yeah...totally see that now...

Unlike Dick, Jason doesn't ask for things, doesn't want to be a burden to the guy who took him in, so he eats and doesn't throw a fit.

(The first night Jason actually ate with Bruce the kid nearly ate till he threw up, not wanting to waste a single bit.)

It was months later when Jason finally asked for something another and...

Jason, fidgeting: So B...Um...I wanted to ask but uh...C-can I just get like...actual crackers and stuff? Not those fancy rich people ones but like...Ritz? Cheese wiz? I...I just...I don't like blue cheese.

Bruce, blinking in rich person: Ritz...as in the hotel? I can ask Alfred about a cheese wizard but...Hn..

Later

Bruce, fighting Condiment King: Do you know a Cheese Wizard?

Then Jason, his boy, his and Gotham light dies, Bruce finds his body broken and beaten and- he was breathing Bruce got him in time- he didn't. The boy wasn't responding. His boy. His Jason died in his arms. Choking out sobs as he couldn't get enough air in, coughing and shuddering as he tried to get the smoke out

(Jason's death certificate says he dies of smoke inhalation, the explosion didn't kill him, it was the fumes afterward)

Then Bruce shuts down, he becomes the Batman fully, Bruce Wayne died with his son that day and all that was left was the Bat.

Then a pesky boy put on Bruce's sons outfit, charged in and saved him. Pulling the man back from the brink kicking and screaming and crying.

Tim wasn't a son to Bruce (couldn't be, wouldn't allow him to be) he came every evening for training and patrol and then he was gone and that was all Bruce had to think about the boy.

Then he saw Jason in Tim, saw Dickie, saw himself and before Bruce knew he was caring for the kid.

Asking to say for a post patrol snack was first denied, about a dozen times before Tim broke, humming and quickly downing that German dish that Dick always wanted when he was feeling sick.

Tim slowly started to settle, growing a bit more lax in his own right, like a feral cat slowly becoming more comfortable with someone.

(No he didn't take advice from Selina...there isn't any proof)

Bruce, sitting at the bat computer, watching the reflection of Tim training in the background:

Tim, winded and tired after a few minutes and having to take a break, pulls out a protein bar:

Bruce, Vietnam war like flash back to his own training days where he only lived off ration bars: pained Hn

And once more Bruce adapts, learns. Tim won't stay for dinner, won't stay the night after a hard patrol, but Bruce can tempt him, with little things, a bit of jerky instead of what Bruce knows for sure are bulk baught meal replacement bars during a stake out, a thing of left overs (they arnt actually, Alfred made them just for Tim) of "last nights dinner"

Bruce is 75% sure Tim knows but neither say anything.

Then tragedy rears its ugly head and Tim's parents are dead, first his mother, his father in a coma and...Tim choses to run away, hiding behind an uncle Bruce is very much aware didn't exist three days ago, and he can't do anything more than what he has already.

Then his boy (God not again why does he always get attached) losses his father, murdered by a God damn Flash rogue.

(The angry rant Barry gets about keeping track of criminals and their whereabouts become legendary in the Leauge)

Finally Bruce's boy is at the Manor and...Bruce sees him, almost for the first time behind the mask of "Tim Drake, the nice young man" he's reclusive, obsessive and picks at his food more than he eats. Surviving on snack foods and energy drinks.

It's a chore to get the boy to eat anything that wasn't out of a package or a box (and Bruce gets it he really did, knowing what it will taste like and knowing it will always taste the same was very comforting) but he managed.

Then like a hurricane Damian is brought into his life, his son, (he has another, one he never knew about and oh God he already loves him, already would die to have the boy trust) and then-

He's gone.

He's flung through time and lost and lives not his own are played out and things he never thought would be comforting are.

Then...then he is found and God it's been months, it's been ages and...

Dick is more Damians father than he could ever be, was there for him in was Bruce should have been...

Dick leaves again, but not as far as Jump city, comes to stay at Bludhaven. (So close but so far away, why didn't he want to stay?)

Jason comes back just as he came into this world, screaming and covered in blood (His boy, his Jaylad ALIVE BREATHING)

Tim has matured, changed, and he walks differently now, far more like Ra's stride (Why does Tim get dead look in his eyes now? What has his son seen? What has he done...)

And Damian. He only was with him briefly, not nearly long enough to see his LoA mask drop, to see the boy beneath the weapon.

That mask goes back on when Bruce returns, he sees the true Damian for a moment before it is shut off fully, sees his son (God did he say how much he loves the boy already?) Softly petting a cat names Alfred before noticing Bruce.

And like all times before, Bruce adapts, changes his approach yet again.

Damian responds to violence, he expects to be yelled at and will only respect a choice if it was fought for, Bruce knows this and...he messes up some times, takes the easy way out and does what the boy know and Bruce feels the guilt.

But he tries to connect, past the way of pain that Damian knows.

Damian, fuming in his room after an argument with Bruce, angrily looking at the wall: 😠

Bruce, knocking on the door, then opening it a second later, not saying anything as he sets down a bowl of mango on Damians bedside table, then leaves.

Damian, grumbling as he eats the fruit of forgiveness: Stupid Father...

(He 100% asked Talia what she normally does and it seemed to work)

Their relationship is rocky, but they find moments where they touch, where Father and Son find a soft moment, Damian teaching Bruce how to make his grandfather's Chai blend, Bruce in turn teaching his son how to make latkes, an exchange of their pasts together.

Then Cassandra comes and Bruce is thrown for a loop once more, she is unlike any of his other children, she is open, painfully so, she might seemed closed off, silent and deadly...but Bruce can see her, truly see her as she wants to be seen and she is screaming, hurt and scared and all alone.

He takes her home, David Cain can try and take his daughter away but there will be hell to pay.

And then she is home, she is settled in a life where she can learn more than just violence.

She stares at the plate of food that is put in front of her the first dinner that Bruce's family has together (HE HAS A FAMILY! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?)

And she cries.

It is just as she wanted but she didnt know what to do, David Cain was a horrid man, in his chase for the perfect weapon he long left the idea of pleasure and care by the way side.

So Cass was overwhelmed by actual food, not nutrient dense bars that tasted bitter and was ash on her tongue.

Cass, pitifully looking down at an orange: HOW DO I EAT YOU?

Bruce looking on from his seat: Sweetheart? Don't eat the peel, Cass-Cass. No. Cassandra please. N-No not the lime! Put that down! You're just going to...that.

Cass, looking pained from eating a whole lime at once: 😞

Bruce, looking equally pained: Sweetheart you can spit it out...

And Bruce thinks his family is big enough, with his boys and his wonderful daughter (no Steph and Barbara didn't count, as they both kept on insisting, they both still had parents)

And then comes along Duke and...God he is already signing the foster papers before he could think too hard.

Duke is unlike the rest of his children as in he is batshit insane but hides it far better than he has any right too.

Bruce tries to not pull his hair out as the kid talks about how he made a kinda cult around Robin and lead them to help the Bats...

It takes time for Duke to get used to the Manor, but he does slowly, finding his place in the family much easier than they all assumed.

Unlike the rest of his children, for some reason it is easy for Bruce to speak with Duke, it's as if they both think similarly.

If Bruce wanted any of his children to take up the cowl when he dies (Which he very much would not like thank you very much) Bruce is hesitant to fully say Cass would be the next Bat, while Cassandra has the fists to do it, Duke had the dedication and drive to, the mental state to truly be the Dark Knight.

Bruce, in the cave, hour 36 with out sleep, 5 coffees deep into a conspiracy: hn.

Duke, right there with him, missed two days of school and hasn't stopped drinking energy drinks: Hm?

Bruce, wordlessly passing the files over, before pulling a face at Dukes energy drinks: Hn..

Duke, taking files but offended on his poor babies behalf, popping one open and dumping it into Bruce's (empty) coffee cup: Have some you marshmallow looking ass...fuck out my face B.

Bruce, scowling, taking a sip before freezing for a full minute, (its the fruit juice kinda monster) his body hasn't has nutrients in a while and are all over this: Hmm...Nice.

(Duke shares more, cus while his dad is not able to be there for him, Bruce is more of that weird uncle that the rest of the family don't talk about.)

It's not till someone at a gala complains, saying "I understand he has an obsession with those...children, but why does everything have to be about them, I miss the old menu for these things." That Bruce realizes that the predetermined, predictable life he once clung to was gone, dead and long buried...and Bruce couldn't care about it less.

(That Gala person gets personally banned and their business is outed for all the shitty things they have done.)

---

This....this was far longer than what I meant this to be...I just wanted to talk about what they would like and what kinda food the batfams culture has but um...this got way outta hand...so ya.

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[pluralhottakes]

Its entirely okay to be happy with being a system and we will never understand why that's so controversial

Why would we hate eachother when we know each of us is the reason we're still alive? We saved eachother! Ofcourse we're going to be pretty proud of that!

.

[frascospecimen]

furries are fucking awesome man reblog this post if you think furries are awesome

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”