#soapy yaps

[yearnsforstarlight]

ah yes. what a great start to my fic.

[clannfearrunt]

i caught myself going "aw :( i haven't drawn much at all this month :( why" and then i took a shower and yeah fucking idiot the answer is that my hands hurt. beginning to suspect that perhaps my Hands Hursts Syndrome peaks during July, because sifting through my art folders I consistently don't fucking draw shit during July. Fuck you

[buckwheeler]

buddie anthem. BTW

[t-horn-n]

— waterstrider

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female) 

genre: fluff ?

summary: watching you and ghost become you and ghost.

word count: 1 158

There is a certain inconsistency with you that Ghost is able to sense but not quite place when you first join the task force.  You’re the sort that wears her heart upon her sleeve.  You like to fill the room with your jokes and anecdotes and quips.  You spill your guts to the point that Ghost knows more about you and your idiot brother and how your parents have just retired) in the first six months following your arrival than he knew about the Captain in the first three years of knowing him.  On the internet, they would call you one of those people who can’t be mysterious because you yap too much.

Still, there is something that sets you apart from just any old civi.  And it is not simply that you’re good at staying calm in stressful situations, nor that you’re not half bad at military strategy.  Rather, it’s that you’ve compartmentalised yourself into the part that you offer to people (your brother, your parents’ retirement) and the part that you keep tucked into your chest, hidden beneath your ribs.  It’s an illusion, you see, that sense of complete transparency that you project.  

It was years ago, now.   When the scent of high school still clung to you and you were marginally more stupid than you are now.  You got yourself ensnared with the wrong, mean, borderline sociopathic sort of people so quickly that it was a real life example of the snowball effect.  Initially, it was just one time you brushed off your last period class to go around town with these guys you met at the convenience store to get back at your brother who, at the time, had a habit of being overprotective.  

Long story short, the whole situation ended with fingerprints around your neck and your head held down in the river behind the grocery mart that everyone was sure was a mafia front.  You remember being hauled out of that river with astonishing accuracy.  You remember the temperature of the water and the exact thoughts that raced through your mind.

Of course, over the years you recovered, squeezed the silty water from your lungs and learned some common sense.  But events like that are somewhat sticky.  

One of your motivations to join the military was to find the self-confidence to never feel like you did coughing up water and dirt, after all.  

You were wary—cat-like—when you first joined Ghost and the rest of the 141, but that’s just how it is in the military most of the time.  And after a few weeks you were bantering with them like you had known them for years.  Truly, it seemed as though you were the most normal one out of them.

What they don’t know is that you don’t like showers.  Or at least, you don’t like the sensation of the water beating on your face.  It feels like you’ll just forget how to breathe and the water will fill your lungs again.  So instead you’ll stand at the edge of the shower, wetting a soapy washcloth every evening after training.  

You’ll never go swimming, of course.   You won’t take the chance.  Even when you can see the bottom, an irrational, bone-deep paralysis traps you in this space where your thoughts are very loud and your body feels very far away.  It’s fine, though.   There isn't a great deal of demand for aquatic soldiers.  

You don’t like sleeping under a lot of covers either, but you’re a cold sleeper and you don’t have control over the temperature on base, so you layer hoodie over hoodie at night.  Inevitably, you look like a mass of sentient fabric if you ever  encounter one of your  peers in the kitchen late at night.  

Talking is how your little dance with Ghost started, though, late night encounters aside.  Sometimes, you would open with a joke on the way back to base from the training grounds and he would reply with his own and you would both feel a special sense of connection that is a little different than that most often found in  military task forces.  It wasn’t brotherhood, like what linked Ghost to Soap and Price and Gaz.  

On other occasions, you all would be at a bar on the weekend, making the cheap beer taste better with each other’s company.  You and Ghost would be perched on your barstools and he would be telling you about some stunt Soap pulled years ago while the other three men kept each other entertained.  You two would still be there after Price, Soap, and Gaz sobered up in the late night air on the way to the bus stop that took them back to the base.  You would blink and then it was midnight and you were on the bus with all of the other witching hour vagrants that got on after spending too much time staring at the bottom of a glass, but you wouldn’t even see them because you were too busy listening to Simon and his wonderfully deep, tired voice.  You would be pressed shoulder to shoulder, each staring at your feet or your hands.  

There are very special times, too.  The kind that you will remember the sensation of—the moment’s taste, its colors, its imprint on your mind—even after you’ve forgotten the time and place and the words said.  Like when Ghost becomes Simon.  Like when he tells you about his mother and the man she was married to.  Like when he presses his lips to your neck and instead of feeling cold and wet and gross like you expect it to, he just sighs, warmly, in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been filled with helium.

Then, when that dance you were doing becomes more confident, when you start pulling and twisting each other about the dance floor rather than just hoping you’ll brush the other’s hand as you glide aimlessly around, those compartments that you have successfully preserved for the last decade shift, somewhat.  They don’t break, by any means.  Simply, they are rearranged.

Simon runs hot.  Especially when he sleeps, which means that when he crashes in your quarters you de-layer and tuck your cold feet between his calves.  Simon is also a big man, though.  So when he rolls over on to your chest in the middle of the night, you are startled awake.  You remember the pressure as the air in your lungs was replaced by something denser.  While he sleeps—deeply, as he always does in your quarters—you stare at the ceiling, watching the fuzzy darkness undulate over and around itself.

Eventually, you will tell him why you can’t tolerate your face being covered while you sleep.  You’ll divulge the contents of your nightmares.  Someday, his past and yours will be murmured into existence whether on a late-night bus back from town or in his bathroom as you brush your teeth together on some random Thursday night.

— m. list

[rikisbaby]

Late Night Shower (ft.psh)

ʚ•ɞ Pairing - bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

ʚ•ɞ word count: 1.5k

ʚ•ɞ Warnings: Smut, pet names (good girl, princess, baby), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys.. PLEASE!!) Shower sex (obviously) fingering, pussy eating. Might be missing a few LMKK!!!

ʚ•ɞ Msg From Cammy: This was a bit rushed.. so expect some typos and grammar errors 😣 FIRST TIME WRITING BTW 😈, alsooo this isn’t proof read so.. my apologies I JUST NEEDED TO UPLOAD SOMETHINGGGGG (i’m not happy with how this turned out btw.. also learning how to.. make my blog look more aesthetic- i’m done yapping ENJOYYYY)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your Bf Sunghoon still wasn’t back from practice yet, and you grew tired of waiting for him to return. He’s been working so hard lately, trying to memorize dance steps of the choreography for their new comeback and dancing in front of you every chance he gets. Sometimes he’ll stumble over a move and throw the nearest pillow at you every time you’d awkwardly smile or laugh.

The time read 11:35pm. He’s been gone all day, you even made him dinner expecting him to come back early to enjoy it with you. But sadly he didn’t return for dinner. You left him a few messages, which had no response.. you text him “goodnight <33” Feeling sleepy, you decide to call it a night without him. He comes home late on practice nights like today so you weren’t too stressed about his absence.

You get up from your bed walking over to the bathroom, you turn on the shower putting the notch all the way to hot. You walk back into your room grabbing some clothes to change into once you’re done showering.

After grabbing the things you need, you walk back into the bathroom placing your clothes on the counter next to your phone. You strip out your pink tank top along with your black shorts.

Your phone dings on the counter top, you didn’t realize because your phone was faced down and the water from the shower was drowning out the notification noise. The messages were from sunghoon, basically him telling you about how practice went and how much he missed you.

You quickly hopped into the shower letting the water run through your hair and all over your body. After 30 seconds of standing there letting the water fall all over your body, you decided to finally start washing up. Grabbing the bar of soap along with a fluffy pink shower sponge, you roughly scrub your body, making sure to get soap everywhere including your feet & back.

You amuse yourself with the sponge, trying to get it as soapy as possible.

While your enjoying you warm shower, Sunghoon turns the key into the front door, tiredly unlocking it before closing the door behind him and locking it. “Baby, I’m finally back.” He calls out but you’re too busy cleaning yourself to hear. He takes his shoes off by the door before setting his keys down on the counter.

First thing he looks for after sitting his keys down is the dinner you made him, earlier you had texted him about the food you made him, you felt bad for how his company was overworking him, so you decided to do something nice by making him his favorite meal, Jjapaguri with a hint of spice, you knew he couldn’t handle too much so you just put a dap in there, And left it in the microwave for him later when he returned home.

“Y/nnnnn, why are you so quiet, where are you?”

He wondered, he walks to your room carefully opening the door looking around the room for you, he doesn’t see you in sight. A few seconds after looking around the house for you, he heard your singing voice coming from the bathroom.

sunghoon smiles before taking his dirty shirt off throwing it into the dirty bin, along with his sweatpants leaving him with only boxers.

He finally begins to make his way over to the bathroom where you were, he quietly knocks before opening the door.

He stood in the door way watching your ‘performance’ singing and facing to your favorite song with your eyes closed. “so cute” he thought to himself before pulling his boxers down, his hard dick hitting against his abs, already hard from looking at your naked soapy body.

He quickly looks down at himself realizing how hard he already is from watching your naked body dance in the shower, he walks close to the shower door slowly opening it and joining in with you. You could feel a presence behind you but you didn’t pay no mind, you thought it was your mind playing tricks on you again, like always.

Once he was in the shower with you, he bit his lips at the sight, you swaying your hips and inching closer to his hardened dick. He wanted to ravish you right then and there so bad, but he held himself back wanted you to be a bit cleaned up before fucking you til you can’t take it anymore. It’s the least he could do if he was going to have at you all night.

Behind him was the pink strawberry scented shampoo you bought from the store last week, He didn’t know why you bought everything pink but he thought it suited you. He poured the clear slimy liquid in his hand, before rubbing his hands together to create a foaming lather. He smirks before placing his hands on your head.

You pause mid verse of your shower performance, slowly turning around to see him towering over you. “holy shit you scared me..”

His eyes looked tired drained but his fangy smile shined through. “So how was your world tour?” He teases, massaging the shampoo on your head. “Shut up.” You playfully hit him and he laughs, seeing as you did no damage. His fingernails dig in your scalp, getting every corner of head, you close your eyes at the feeling trying not to fall asleep standing in the shower. He walks you under the shower head rinsing away all the soapy residue that’s in your hair.

His dick was getting tired of waiting, wanting to be squeezed around your warm walls as he pumped himself in you over and over again until you couldn’t stand.

“Did you eat?” You ask him, oblivious about what’s about to happen. He ignores your question and smirks, moving closer to you until he felt his dick touch you. Once he got closer you felt something touch your stomach, you looked down to see his hard member pressing up against your stomach, leaking precum you slowly look up at him, a bit nervous “it’s a good day isn’t it-“

Without any warning he drops down to his knees and puts your left leg over his shoulder, he spreads your folds with his fingers taking in the sight of your beautiful pussy, he gives you a few kitty licks before diving his tongue straight into your wet hole. “Mm.. you taste so sweet princess..” he says moaning into your pussy, the vibrations causing you to moan and tilt your head back. You grip onto his hair pulling him a bit closer while also holding onto the wall so you don’t fall.

“F-fuck Hoonie..” You whine biting your bottom lip trying not to be loud because of your neighbors. He moves his thumb to your clit giving it gentle circles while continuing to eat you out. He looks up at you watching the expressions your giving him, with your mouth wide open, eyes slightly closed, eyebrow furrowed and all. He inserts one finger into your hole, feeling your warm wet walls clench around his finger, he slowly adds another. “That’s a good girl.. taking my fingers so well.” After a few minutes of fingering & eating you out, he takes your leg from off his shoulder and stands up from off his knees. he quickly turns you around so your facing the glass, you feel your boobs get squished by your body weight and the glass in front of you.

He carefully lined his dick up against your aching slit, and without any warning he shoves himself inside you not giving you anytime time to adjust to his size. “HOON-“ you yelled out clenching around him tight. “Fuckk..” he whimpers, he slowly pulled back until the tip of his dick was still in you before pushing himself back in. He puts his hands on your hips and begins to pound into you from behind, hearing your hot moans is like music to his ears. So perfect. He continues to pound into the back of you until he feels that familiar feeling in his stomach. “fuck.. i’m so close” he groans continuing to pound into the back of you. He brings one of his hands down to your clit and teases it using his middle finger. You feel yourself getting closer, and with one more hard thrust from sunghoon, you squirted all over his dick, He stops for a bit letting you calm down from your high. “My turn..” he smirks before pounding into you again, all you could do was moan and take it, after a few thrusts he cums deeply in you. He stays in you for a little bit before pulling out of you, letting his cum leak out of your gaping hole. He slaps your ass causing you to flinch. “Now let’s get cleaned up shall we?” he says before helping you up off the glass sliding door to the shower, he gives you a kiss on the lips before lathering up your towel with soap to clean you off.

[siriuslylantsov]

haircare routine

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

description: in which sirius does your hair.

tags: fluff, they're best friends!, sirius takes reader through his extensive routine that he undoubtedly has because he has amazing hair, reader is a bit lazy so im assuming she uses no products, reader wears a swimsuit but nothing is specified.

a/n: first sirius piece!! i love that guy. also, i'm being so unspecific about the bathroom arrangements, so think of it however you want. i didn't want to get too into the logistics. enjoy!

wc: 854

“ow! fuck, sirius,” you curse as he yanks your head with a brush. he continues to abuse that knot in your hair much to your dismay. 

“it's not my fault your hair is like this.”

“yeah, but- ah! i said i could do it myself.”

“when? you wouldve left it like this for a few more days and then been all pissy to me because you look like shit. i'm doing you a favour. stay still,” he says firmly.

you whine, “you could be less rough with it.”

“sorry,” he frowns sympathetically at you in the mirror, “just trying to detangle, ‘m almost done.”

his actions soften, smoothing a hand over your hair. he turns you around and nods his head toward the bathroom. “get in the tub, i'll be there in a second.”

james had dared you to jump in the lake and you, always up for a challenge, did it. when sirius found you, sopping strands and layered clothes, he coerced you into letting him wash your hair, yapping on about how your hair’s going to be matted if you don't shampoo it now–high maintenance prick.

you assess the temperature of the water, deeming it perfect, you take off the damp shirt you had on. climbing in carefully, you sink down till you're fully submerged, letting the warmth encompass you. you come back up for air after a few seconds, and sirius walks in with a stool. he sets it behind the clawfoot and looks at you.

“where'd you get that swimsuit from?”

“oh, got it from marlene, i ran into the changing room after her swim team practice.”

its explanation enough for him as he doesnt press further, far be it from him to question your antics. he pulls out a shampoo and conditioner–his ones, fancy looking bottles with labels written in cursive print, they exude expensive, nothing like the plastic bottles that sat in your shower caddy. 

he sits down and picks up a cup filled with water and tips it over your head, you don't mind that it drips down your face. he slowly scrubs the shampoo into your scalp, unintentionally massaging as he goes, you hum in approval and he chuckles. he does this twice, rinsing off the soapy suds before moving on to the conditioner, raking it through your ends. he combs through your hair before washing that off too. 

when he's done, he leaves you to clean the rest of your body. Its a clumsy ordeal taking off the swimsuit that clung to your skin, but you manage, leaving a few puddles in your wake. stepping out of the tub, you slip into a bathrobe, securing the tie at your waist. you walk out to find sirius waiting next to the vanity.

“what are you still doing here?”

“you’re getting the full treatment, sweetheart,” he urges you closer, “c’mon sit.”

you tentatively step forward and take a seat in front of the mirror, eyeing the box of vials–all glass but containing liquids of different colours and consistencies. you peer at him suspiciously through the mirror.

“you're not dyeing my hair green are you…?”

he flashes you a wicked smile that makes you nervous, “if i was, would i tell you?”

a small pout forms on your lips and he shifts to earnest, fingers gently raking through your hair, “i'm not,” he says firmly.

a hint of hesitancy remains but you nod nonetheless, allowing him to begin.

you watch as he pours product into his hand, and work it into the damp strands, making sure to evenly coat it. he crosses over to stand before you, a different substance in his palm, it looks like whipped cream and you arent sure how he managed to get it to foam up like that.

“bend your head please,” he guides your head down till your hair hangs over, he kneels down too. “your neck will hurt a bit because of the angle, but i’ll finish up quickly.”

he scrunches your hair up, careful not to accidently tug, causing drops of water to trickle down his arm. he continues doing this all over, all the way up into the roots. you notice how loose ringlets of curls form as he lets go.

when he finishes, he mutters a quick drying spell, one that when you use leaves your hair a frizzy mess but when he does, it looks fine. maybe those strange vials contributed to that. 

he stands and raises you up with him. he's still in front of you so it obstructs your view of the mirror. he sneaks his fingers in and shakes through your hair, to give it more volume, he confirms later. 

finally, stepping aside, you see yourself. he's stood beside you, with a somewhat smug look on his face, as you admire your hair. the waves are defined and remind you of your hair when you're at the beach, only healthier and more hydrated. 

“thanks,” you chirp, offering him a small appreciative smile.

he brushes it off with a wink, returning your smile, “you've got great hair, you should let me style it more often.”

m.list

[chochoeryss]

(Tw:bad grammer)

(LISEN IT 00.00, I JUST FINESH MORE ENDINGS AND THERES THIS WEIRD THING I NEED TO YAP ABOUT. IDGAF ABOUT CHECKING SPELING RN, GOT IT?!? DONT LIKE IT? DEAL WITH IT!)

Anyways :3

So i realy enjoy homicipher art style. Its wery brushy sometimes even feeling kinde soapy (its realy noticible on Mr. Stitch as an example)

Yet Mr. Scarletta coat, feels a bit... Photorealistic??? I hope you get what i mean. Its looks like a photo that has filters on almost. Evetho theres there are others thing, lets say like character hands that feels kinde realistic, they still fit in the style. Yet his coat feels almost out of places when you notices it.

Idk if that means anything, mabye just multiple artist artsyles not completly working.

Or mabye its just me tweeking.

¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

[sevs-corner]

PART 2 to:

Same PSA(s) hehe✌️

• Before you guys arrived at the place, all of you undressed to civilian clothes and (try to) be lowkey

• Going out of the changing room at the airport, you couldn't help but smile at how the boys still had their signature fits on

• Price, of course, kept his signature beanie on him

• Ghost had a plain black mask on with sunglasses on making him extra edgy, plus the fingerless skeleton gloves which just tells you of his emo phase

• Gaz had his favorite hat on his head and a scarf around his neck (which you soon learn is actually Price's)

• Soap had his signature jacket that he wears around everywhere outside of missions (which you also come to learn is actually Ghost's)

• "Lookin' chic guys!" you complimented with a playful grin, hand on your hip while the other cups your chin and you took in their look up and down

• "why thank you lassie!" Once Soap sees you, he ruffles your hair and gives you a grin of his own. "Lookin' quite a beaut ya'self!"

• "Aw~ stop butterin' me up Soapie!" you quickly put Soap in a noogie position to which he took as a challenge and was about to the same until he catches the look on Price's face

• "we have to get goin'," Price decided, walking towards the direction of two cars

• "did y'all fix the stuff in the cars already?" you asked astonished at how fast they worked to place all the boxes of your things in the cars Laswell provided for you five

• Ghost nods, "wasn't much anyways," as he falls into step with you going to the other car to drive

• "sorry I took too long to help," you pouted and grabbed at Ghost's pinky who just looked down at you with his eyes crinkling

• "its all good pup," Soap chimed in, "you would've held us back anyways." Winking at your huffed out expression, Ghost couldn't help the chuckle at how easy it was for them to tease you

• "am I that big of distraction, huh?" you turn to Ghost for reaffirmation. "I'm not, right?"

• Ghost in turn just shrugs, "you talk too much."

• Leaving you agape in the dust, Soap cackled all the way to the car, quickly hopping in shotgun (knowing how you would always call it and would get you even more pissed)

• "Riley! MacTavish!" you cursed them, "you will rue to the day you called me yapper!!"

• "Corporal!" you feel the hairs on your neck stand on end, "get to the car already- asap!" Price shouted from the car that was already exiting the hangar.

• You huffed, mumbling a 'yes dad' then quickly jogging to the car, only to see a smirking Johnny from your seat.

• So you threw him a glare with a finger before swinging the door open and hopping in with a growl

• "Can't believe you even took shotgun."

• "Well, you took too long yapping pup."

• "… just pass me the aux cord."

• "aye aye~."

• "Don’t play that dogshit asian songs." Ghost silently remarks from the wheel to which you- once again- groaned out

• "number 1- its called 'k-pop'!" you lifted another finger, "and number 2- that's not my vibe right now so I'm playing some songs from the 80s."

• The two at the front had to suppress another round of chuckles to avoid annoying further but your reactions were too cute for them not to capitalize on

• "why the 80s?" Soap asks, already bopping his head to the beat of the first song you played

• "seems that’s the era where you old folks were born at," you sputtered at your snide remark, not able to continue your sentence from how funny you thought it was, and seeing it unfold- made all three of you laugh once more

• Blissfully unaware of whats to come in the coming weeks of living under one roof

• "Alright chaps meeting start NOW!" Price commanded and all of you quickly got into seats at the very bare living room

• Once you saw the mansion of a house at the villa from the address Laswell provided you all, you would think it would at least be furnished or furbished (tomato tomato)

• But no, it was like Soap's garden at your original base- barren.

• Hence the purpose of the current meeting

• "When Laswell said we'd be rebuilding our lives somewhere else- I didn't know she'd meant it literally."

• Hearing your spiteful words, everyone sighs in agreement.

• "She's doing too much."

• "But maybe its purposeful?" Gaz offers in consolation but all he got in return of a response was a glower from you

• "purposeful for my demise- that's what!" Soap agrees in tandem while Price return to the topic at hand

• "Alright, why don't we split responsibilities?"

• You instantly perk up once again, "I call interior designing the place!"

• Everyone looks at you incredulously, until resulting to a laugh once they realized your intention from the way you pulled out your lovely companion and perched 'em on your shoulder.

• "Ghostie has to come with me Price, please?" you begged, Price responding with an equally playful smirk to which Ghost paled at

• "You can handle the hardware stuff in the meantime, yea?"

• Ghost relents and nods while you came skipping in front of him with an excited smile on your face

• "You'll love the food there Ghostie- promise!" you offer Blahaj as a peace offering and he couldn't deny your bubbly self

• "Alright," he grunts whilst smiling, "as long as you pay, kit."

• "Obviously!" you proudly huffed as Ghost ruffles your hair affectionately, while grabbing Blahaj with his other hand

• "Alright, grocery shopping… that's me and-"

• "Me?" Soap ask to his captain but was immediately shut down by Gaz who already had a shopping list in hand, making the former's jaw drop

• "Gaz." Price says so appreciatively in a hum that you swear that you saw some hearts flying out of the cap'n's ears

• "Don't worry cap'n, I got this." Gaz walks up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a whisper making you raise a brow with a pursed lip

• Seeing them do that made you do the same with Simon, who you had to climb to get even close to ear

• "..he has to be so down bad for him right?"

• Alas, whispering is not in your vocabulary.

• Making Soap cackle so hard while the others (including Ghost who had to support you by placing an under your ass to carry you as his side)

• "What do you mean by that..?" Gaz asks exasperatedly.

• You looked at him aghast, "means you're so deeply in love with cap that my theory was you're gonna fuck him later."

• Simon sputters, cracking your bravado façade as a detective but makes the other two groan

• "Sweetie…you're not letting us live this down, huh?"

• "Nope. Bye~!"

• "Hey! Wait what am I gonna do???"

• "Watch the house!"

• "WHAT AM I TO YOU FECKS? A GUARD DOG?"

• "yes."

• A unison surrounding agreement makes Soap fall to his knees, weeping while the two of you left.

• Price ultimately deciding to go with Gaz anyways for… reasons.

[kindred-spirit-93]

life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel

remember how i said i had studying to do and would be back after finishing? guess what didnt happen lol.

disclaimer for me yapping and little to no sentence structure lol

--

had just had a really nice moment with my dad and brother as we ate lil cakes lol. carrot, strawberry and a slice of tiramisu.

after which i went to my room to resume work, papers across my desk and pen atop my notebook, all awaiting my return.

next thing i know i knocked over my (thankfully cold) mint tea all over my desk and onto the carpet.

my brain switches off as it so often does in moments of shock and disbelief. all i can hear is the damp sound liquid usually makes when fabric breaks its fall (flow?),

and something behind my eyes snaps. i sigh. theres no use crying over spilt tea as they say.

i try to rescue what i can but my endeavour proves to be futile. open the window to prop my soaked notebook and lecture notes in all their botched inky glory. its raining

i want to laugh till i cry. this is the funniest thing that could have happened im surprised i didnt see it coming. and today of all days. shame on me really

i mustve broken something in my brain at some point because for whatever reason my first reaction to most things regardless of appropriateness of the situation is the fatal urge to laugh. does the laughter fill a void that shouldnt be there? am i distracting myself from whatever ails me? whos to say.

oh well. no (serious) harm done. probably cant get any worse

as usual i spoke far too soon.

while flipping over the notebook to see if the other side was dry or if it had met the watery demise of its brethren, it slipped from my hand and fell with a splat onto the still-dripping-on-the-carpet tea. restoring balance and to the universe no doubt

i really cant be too happy huh

taking an old tshirt from the pile of laundry on my bed dating back to the carboniferous period, i mop the tea and it mocks me.

i resist the crazed smile

in the kitchen to fetch a sponge a cloth and a tupperware to fill with soapy water. and of course we dont have dish washing liquid, why would we.

another sigh. very little fazes me, i know my luck too well now to expect anything less. collateral damage is always a given.

my rule of thumb is if something can theoretically go wrong (thank u overthinking & hs statistics) it probably will. so make peace with it now instead of mourning it later.

less feelings that way. feelings can hurt. and id just rather not.

i consider bleach (momentarily, as a joke. to loosen the tension in my head. doesnt go too well.) so i opt for hand soap.

honourable mentions: shower gel, toothpaste, olive oil, tears, 17 in 1 coffee extract shampoo that doesnt smell like coffee. tap water.

the good news is that i gained like 3 and a half minutes of cardio and core engagement. and the approval of my grandmother for my scrubbing technique.

shed win diamond plated gold if competitive cleanliness was to ever become a thing. i take after her (strongly). a champion of sorts. her successor.

as i wait for my papers to dry, thoughts to settle, and the will to continue, i type this out in the hopes of killing to birbs with one stone.

or in my case knocking over two cups with my phone. or something

practice to stretch my dormant writing muscles (and return blood flow to my fingers. the window is still open and its 9 out), and share a funny story with the chance it makes someone laugh.

the worst part is they dont even smell like mint.

[frat-house-collective]

//> Greetings!

Hello! I'm Duff / Tyler / Punk!!

I'm the lockhost (and constant) of an osdd1b collective called The Frat House or Project Mayhem! I think we have about 17 members, you can find some of em here!! (link).

Tyler's my good friend and cohost who has his own blog, you can find it at @soapy-ocean-dragon.

You can find our pronouns cc here, our carrd here and our AO3 here :]

We're Aussie (our timezone sucks fr). Autistic and probably ADHD and when we're not writing or rambling about our characters to a brick wall, we can be found listening to blink-182, Green Day or Limp Bizkit, or perhaps re-watching Fight Club, Misery, or The Silence of The Lambs.

Tags:

#the frat house yaps - general / original posting

#(Name) yaps - posted by a specific member!

#frat house fridge - original art!

#the whole wide world is mine - Tom's vague music recommendations

Our writing blog can be found at @untitled-document-1, where Scottie (our resident writer) posts about both our silly fight club fanfic 'Agnostic Transubstantiation', and our WIP novel, Sideways.

Collectively nonhuman; computerkin and alienkin, as well as being an Irish wolfhound and a red wattlebird!! Also the entire pop-punk genre. Send us an ask about it I dare you.

ASK GAME HERE!!!!

OTHER ASK GAME HERE!!!

Peace and love,

Duff and the gang

[yearnsforstarlight]

hello for the WIP ask game I really am interested in the 1st WIP listed. Could I see a snippet of it?

Hello there! Thank you so much for asking this (you're allowing me to rant about stobotnik and brainstorm this fanfic idea all at once..). This is still a massive WIP though, so I can't really offer you a proper snippet; but I can offer you the summary and the train of thoughts I had while coming up for this! This does contain Sonic 3 spoilers.

For years now, it had always been Doctor Robotnik and Agent Stone. Often, where Robotnik went, Stone followed. Then Doctor Robotnik’s grandfather, Gerald shows up. Agent Stone finds himself pushed into the background, even the Doctor doesn’t seem to want his Austrian steamed goat milk latte, anymore. A stir of feelings (definitely not jealously) sets off within the ever-loyal agent. Alas, Doctor Robotnik has never been an idiot, and his sudden infatuation with family isn’t unprovoked. Rather – it’s a survival instinct, if anyone knows how dangerous the Robotnik’s can be, it’s Ivo Robotnik himself.

As you can tell, by the well chosen name for this WIP, it takes place during (and perhaps after Sonic 3). When I first watched Sonic in 2020, it was purely because me and mother had time to kill...and now look, five years later I'm writing stobotnik fanfic, hope she's proud! But anyways; this fanfic will be my take on Sonic 3, and purely how Ivo sees family. In 1 (and perhaps 2, I haven't seen that in a while though), he seems pretty adamant he doesn't need family. He's very much anti-human, and the only affection he has ever shown is to his robots. Even Stone, who must of worked with the doctor for years now, doesn't get any display of gratitude from him until he's quite literally about to die. So...after seeing Sonic for the third time, it got me thinking. As much as it is obvious they're related, why did Ivo accept him so easily? And boom, this fanfic idea was born. Who knows a Robotnik better than anyone else? A Robotnik! Ivo knows from the beginning there is something up with his grandfather, and he is determined to find out what. He also knows that Robotnik's are dangerous, and frankly have little care for the people around them; thus he keeps Stone out of it. Stone, not knowing his master plan, assumes the worst: that he has been replaced. To sum up for what I have planned for the fic...Robotnik having family issues (you're no Maria has got to hurt), miscommunication by not talking to each other, and a jealous Stone (who is soon to realise he doesn't quite like Robotnik's attention not on him).

Oh, and General Walters and Robotnik's complicated relationship will be explored in this one. General Walters certainly has a lot of guilt for what happened to Maria, only with Ivo, well, you'll see he didn't show it the best.

[dismightyman]

hiii! ive been in the car for probably close to eight hours, SO BEAR WITH ME. :D

I love your ghoap model trains post it gets the brain worms working. because it explains some of the complexity between Simon and Ghost (and Johnny and Soap). love thst. Simon is still in there, when johnny peels back all the layers and he's learning. plus he's telling johnny he lovrs him, so we rejoice. preach to ghoap. theyre just lowkey chill guys.

anyway always love more, happy holidays, and forgive me for my yap. <3

—a very tired anon, with care.

You are not forgiven because I LOVE U tired anon. There is nothing to forgive

When Leath and I were talking about the legos I had, I think at the time, just woken up and it was like 5 am and I was threatening to burn my entire house down after accidentally tossing the model I was building to the floor. Scattering little legos all over the place. After being justifiably laughed at It got our brain worms cooking on how Soapy boy would totally be a Lego freak given the complexity of what demo entails you know? Then leath lovingly bestowed upon us that Drabble and we started talking again cause we can never stop yapping.

What in the world would Ghost do in his spare time? Cause like he’s our favorite little freak but he is still a whole random ass dude so. Given the fact that he made that whole mask get up (with the lines and everything I might add, the drama king) we figured he’d probably be into making things. I made the joke that he’d probably do some bonkers shit like terror attack dioramas and we kinda spitballed from there.

I went with the trains since you know British and threw in the terror in a throw away line as a little treat to myself.

To me especially with how dramatized the games are, there is a quantifiable difference between the men themselves and their callsigns. Not huge mind you but it’s there. One doesn’t equal the other but they are the same person right? So what they need to be on the field and what they hide away at home will bleed into each other and that’s kinda what I was aiming for with his cute little nonsense.

I then spent the next like 5 hours writing it out and bone apple teeth lol.

I love them getting to really dig in and get to be known by each other. it’s like my favorite type of story for this ship.

If I ever get the worms for more it’ll show up here at some point.

Anywho thanks for listening to me yap back at you! Live Laugh Love Ghoap 5ever

[tammulberry]

Shrek's Domain: A Shrek & Jujutsu Kaisen Crossover (Mulberry Conundrum)

On why I did this, I don't even know the answer to that.

SYNOPSIS: Shrek gets kidnapped.

Years of the Yapping™ started in 2022 finished in 2024

RATING: GG for Goodness Gracious WORD COUNT: 1069

Copyright © 2024 by T.A.M. Mulberry

Somebody once told Shrek that he would be left all alone in his swamp. Yeah sure, he ain't the brightest tool in the shed but what exactly was the issue with that? Shrek was living the Far Far Away dream. He had private property, a mud jacuzzi, a limitless supply of slugtastic cuisine and signs that tell people to get off his property.

However, that amazing life of his was gonna be over sooner than he expected. Not because of some short dude compensating for something. Not because of a talking donkey that he wanted off his ass. It wasn't even because of some fairytale creatures that decided to invade his home.

His life was ruined because of two things: a soapy finger and a white haired bean pole with a punchable face.

***

Shrek's eyelids started to flicker as he heard an irritating voice. As he slowly opened his eyes, he saw a strange dude with white hair and a blindfold. Maybe his eyes were used for stew, he thought.

"Heyy! What's up, stinky!" the voice drawled at him as he was still delirious. "Care to hang over with me on the wall of the place that we call home in the dumpster fire of the sea and the stars?"

"What?" As Shrek slowly opened his eyes, he saw rings.

"Care for some onion rings? I heard your species liked those things."

Instinctively, Shrek tried to swing his right arm but alas, he was tied up. He struggled against the rope and the annoying beanpole laughed.

"Haha look, I know you're an orc and all but no way are you gonna get out of those restraints. It's magic."

"First of all, I'm an ogre," said Shrek nonchalantly. "Second of all..."

"WHERE IS MY SWAMP?"

The white haired man gasped dramatically. "The goblin is going to kill me!"

"I'm an OH-GER!" Shrek enunciated. "My name is Shrek!"

"Yay!" The man clapped. "He can talk! Since we're doing introductions now. I'm Satoru Gojo. The strongest sorcerer there is!"

"Where am I?" Shrek asked as he looked around. It was full of strange papers with even stranger markings hanging from every part of the room.

"You, my repulsive green friend, are in the chambers of Jujutsu High School."

"Oh, and spoiler alert," Gojo whispered. "It's far far away from your beloved swamp."

"Then why am I even here?" Shrek asked exasperatedly.

Gojo raised his pointer finger. "That's a very good question! Megumi! Come over here!"

Shrek raised his head up to see another figure walk into the room. He had black spiky hair like a porcupine and looked like he didn't want to be there.

Great, that makes two of them.

"Why don't you tell the troll here about what happened?" Gojo asked the boy with a wide grin, his hand rested on his cheek.

"For the last time, Gojo, how was I supposed to know that he was gonna eat it?" Megumi scoffed at him.

"Wait, eat?" Shrek raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I see. You idiots want to slaughter me for a banquet."

"Absolutely not," Megumi deadpanned. "You're here because you came into contact with one of the most dangerous relics known to man. Do you realize that?"

"I'm an ogre so it probably ain't that threatening if I know nothing about it."

"Do you remember eating anything strange?" said Megumi.

"No, I didn't—" But Shrek's world started to spin around like a whirlpool.

"What's happening?!" Shrek exclaimed and if things couldn't get any worse, the white man was the only thing he could see as he spun.

"See ya later, maneater!" Gojo waved at him.

***

Shrek woke up again in what seemed to be his swamp. Maybe it was just a nightmare, he thought. Relief flooded his system momentarily until he got up and looked at his surroundings.

Everything was trashed. Frantically, he tried to search through all his belongings only to find bones, muck and ruins.

He burst out from his house and saw a man that looked like him. If he was buffer and had facial hair.

"So, you've finally entered my domain," said his doppelgänger with a gravelly voice.

There goes "it was just a dream." This day couldn't get any better but Shrek could care less at this point.

"Why do you have a British accent?" Shrek asked him, perplexed.

"Shut up, ogre." At least he knows he is one. "Believe me, I do not want to be in this situation either."

"Hmm," started Shrek. "That makes you, me and the porcupine boy."

"Silence!" The other Shrek boomed. "Do you know who I am, foul beast?"

"I preferred it when you called me ogre."

"I am Ryomen Sukuna! The King of Curses! I have taken over your your body after you conveniently found my finger in your disgusting premises."

Shrek shuddered and grimaced but he's experienced weirder. "Ohh, so that's what this is about. If the whirlpool was a clue, do I just need to flush you out?"

"No!" Sukuna facepalmed. "I am a walking disaster! A bomb that can easily level cities!"

"Heh, the only bomb that can level cities is the huge load I'm about to drop on the white-haired wizard once I get out."

***

Shrek opened his eyes again. Lo and behold, Satoru Gojo and his apprentice, Megumi observing him.

"Fascinating..." said Megumi. "He's so indifferent to the situation that he managed to keep the Ryomen Sukuna at bay."

"Well!" Gojo raised his arms. "Now that you received a vague explanation as to why you are here... I'm going to offer you an ultimatum?"

"Do your worst."

"Either you become my servant OR I kill you!" Gojo exclaimed with finger guns and Shrek sighed.

"How are you gonna kill me?" Shrek asked as he seemed to be considering that option a lot more.

"We're going to spill your guts and use it as fertilizer for our plants. I'm gonna "Gojo" your eyeballs and — "

"Eh, not a bad way to use my dead body — " Shrek shrugged.

"You're not supposed to be so calm about this!" Megumi yelled.

"Whoa, chill, Megumi," said Gojo nonchalantly as he put a hand on his shoulder. "Be as indifferent as our squonk friend here."

Gojo turned to Shrek and removed his blindfold, revealing sparkling blue eyes.

"So what's it gonna be, ogre?"

"Your eyeballs would look better than mine in a cocktail."

END.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay

Summary: you get me. that’s why.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter foooour! disclaimer: this one is quite tough, so be careful about the tw’s and look out for each other, guys <3 tough times always end and we come out the other way stronger than ever before.

tw: a lot of hurt. mentions of the thing that rhymes with kegs, brief mentions of drug abuse, addiction, brief hint at s*1c1de, description of panic attacks/trauma dissociation. comfort.

i promise that the next one will be so agressively fluffy you’ll drown in it.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Somehow, time suddenly started to pass quicker than usual, especially in the context of prolonged winter nights.

The number of oat milk lattes pressed was slowly rising into the low hundreds over the next three weeks, the lunch feasts weren’t as flashy as the first time - it was more of a lunch snack split between three people.

But Keeva didn’t mind.

I could get used to this.

The mantra played on a loop in her head when she got up each morning, the entire bike ride to the parking lot, the whole walk from there to the café.

She was so excited about getting used to this that despite her crippling insomnia, she began to arrive to work about half an hour before Jeff, who was a self-proclaimed morning bird.

She just couldn’t wait.

To get there and wipe the tables. To scribble the dailies on the menu blackboard. To hear Jeff’s adorable righteous fury when he started yapping about yesterday’s ball game - in fact, she was looking forward to learning all the details.

Most of all, though, to catch a flash of wild ruddy hair through the window and hear a knock on the door. See Stone shaking a paper bag in the air with a wide smile as she let him in, receiving a delightfully warm croissant and an even warmer hug.

“That, sir, is illegal. Do the higher-ups know that you’re nicking under their noses every day?”

“You said I’m a punk, I gotta protect my reputation.”

Still, the Christmas holidays couldn’t come fast enough. So, right after her last shift of the year, Keeva beelined to the laundromat to pick up her clothes as quickly as she could.

She stuffed the few pieces she had into her backpack and headed straight home. She was already running late to a meet-up with Stone back at Pioneer Square. It was the day of a long awaited holiday night-out.

When she got back to her apartment, she grinned as she rummaged a t-shirt out of the bag. It had a big Nets logo on the front. Jeff brought it to her yesterday, it still had a pleasant soapy scent.

“Don’t worry, it’s fresh from the laundry basket. It’s a bit big but it’ll do. Now that you’re starting to warm up to it, I have to sway you to the right team.”

“Jesus, Ames, you’re tasteless. Always with the propaganda. Let her form her own opinion.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t get one.”

Keeva was giddy when she caught herself calling the unlikely duo ‘friends’ in her head.

I could get used to this.

She was whistling an Aerosmith song - another consequence of daily hanging out with Jeff - while she cuffed the baggy sleeves of her newly acquired NBA apparel.

Tightening the shoelaces of her combat boots, she softly cursed when she bent down - she felt a stab in her stomach. No lunch today.

It was the beginning of a holiday break, meaning all money goes to cheap beer and 3 AM Doghouse fries to-go.

And the rent was due.

No, asking him for another help-out isn’t an option. Not again. You won’t die if you only eat once a day for a week.

And besides, she was planning to return everyone’s hospitality by buying at least one round tonight.

The two of them had a rendezvous at the Off Ramp with Chris, Jeff and a couple of guys. A cherub-looking jester called Andy, who occasionally washed the dishes at the café, and Stone and Jeff’s sweet gangly bandmate, Bruce.

One thing she’d learned over her multiple visits to the Off Ramp - it was probably the worst excuse for a bar she’d ever seen.

The upside was that the music was impeccable and the alcohol was ID-free.

That was about it.

First of all, it was Stone’s money laundering headquarters. He lured in unassuming patrons to make bizarre bets with him while knowing the payoff like the back of his hand.

His favourite was guessing how many dead cockroaches there were next to the vodka shelf - it was usually between five and eight.

One of the most successful schemes so far was when he got a group of French girls to each bet a shot that Matt from Soundgarden would break a stick within the first song.

He broke two in the first thirty seconds.

Stone won four shots and Keeva mocked him for missing out on an ‘authentic French kiss’ when he turned his cheek as one of the girls went in for a passionate bonus prize.

Plus, only she knew that he’d sneaked backstage before the show to file a weak spot in four of Matt’s flimsy drumsticks - she was the one guarding the back room so no one would walk in on him.

Jeff, meanwhile, was an angel. Carefully watching everyone’s drinks so they wouldn’t get spiked, something that was sadly a common occurrence in the sweaty dim hell hole. Always ready to light anyone’s stick of choice. Rocking out to every song with identical enthusiasm, even if he’d heard it thirty times over.

But even the most joyous of companies couldn’t deny the fact that a certain degree of thick skin was needed to snake through the narrow corridors.

All the vomit stains and broken bottles on the carpeted floors sometimes called for nearly athletic skills.

There seemed to be a different kind of bodily fluid for every inch of the dancefloor. On top of that, it was all lousily enlightened by a disco ball that was threatening to fall apart at any moment.

If you wandered too close to the supposed kitchen, the stench was so pungent it must’ve caused at least one nosebleed over the years in service.

The women’s restrooms were desolate. There was more piss on the floor than in the actual toilet bowls, powder sprinkles of questionable origin were scattered around the sinks and the mirrors were broken, barely functional and always covered in lipstick stains and sweaty handprints.

And the guys that had - for obvious reasons - visited both, swore that the men’s room was far, far worse.

In other bars around Seattle, it wouldn’t be shocking to accidentally stumble upon some couple enjoying their date in a bathroom stall. Here, it was less common.

You were more likely to bump into them right in front of the restrooms, blocking the way in.

To spend a night out at the Ramp was a truly authentic pagan experience.

I could get used to this.

Keeva opted for leaving her bike at home and took in a deep breath of the frosty air as she strolled through the busy streets of Chinatown.

The sun was long gone and a fog settled over the roads, so she clutched her crochet bag closer and tried to warm up by folding her arms.

Andy, who was fronting another domestic band, had an enchanting voice and Bruce was already a solid third cog in a well-synergized string faction of Green River.

So the five of them were planning to jam as soon as possible.

But something always came up. Christmas was around the corner and everybody took more shifts at work to afford the luxuries of holidays.

That was twice as true for musicians - none of them simply had time to focus on music, hence her lack of session gigs. Her excitement was immeasurable, though.

To play with like-minded people, finally able to express herself however she wanted.

Unable to sustain a minute of peace, though, her brain always came up with pointless arguments.

Can I express myself, though? ‘Myself’ is not nearly good enough to keep up with them.

With him.

I wonder how he feels music. Does he hunch? Bop his head? Jump around or just sway?

Are his eyes closed? He seems like someone who would mouth along with his riffs. Nerd.

Can't really imagine how he touches the strings, though. Maybe he does a lot of slides.

Heavy and slow. Teasing.

That sounds like him.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Baby, do you own a watch? I’ve been waiting here for like fifteen minutes,” Stone muttered through chattering teeth when she finally arrived at their meeting spot, startling her out of her thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this is frozen solid, along with my balls.”

Keeva already recognized the paper bag he was clutching.

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion when he waved his wrist in front of her face to show her the time and then gave her a bone-crushing hug.

“God dammit, I forgot to wind it. Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, a flaming blush prickling her icy ears.

The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon still lingered on his sweatshirt.

“What’s the ruckus?” she let him go and immediately checked her watch to twist the little winding wheel.

“Huh? Oh, I was running late in the morning so I couldn’t stop by. I grabbed it on my way home at least, don’t wanna lose my stealing streak,” he shrugged as she took the bag from him and they both set off.

“Ah, you’re a saint, Stoney. I’m so hungry I could eat a fucking horse,” she breathed out puffs of fog.

“Ames and I were wondering where you got lost. Thought you had slipped on ice and fallen into a ditch,” she huffed. She struggled to keep up with his brisk tempo and munch on her cold cinnamon roll at the same time. “I had a cake in mind, you know, to bring to the hospital.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmpf. All pink with big chocolate letters on top,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, waving her hand in the air to mime handwriting. “'Good riddance.'”

He scoffed, reluctantly chomping down when she offered him a bite.

“Slow down or you’ll choke. I don’t wanna spend the night with my hand down your throat,” he chuckled, slightly concerned by the sheer speed of her eating.

“You said you had a first-aid course, no? Time to put your money where your mouth is,” she muttered again and gulped down the last bite.

The Ramp was packed to the brim, but it wasn’t hard to find the colourful cast of friends, even in the dim orange light.

Chris and Bruce towered over the sea of people like long-haired maypoles, passing a joint to Jeff. He was wearing a bright purple hat with an orange bow - an extravagant wizard. And as they got closer, Andy, who was a lot shorter than the three of them, surprisingly stood out even more. Unmistakable with his furry white coat and bright red lipstick.

Stone, in his kaleidoscope vest, was holding her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her fingers were still cold as ice, but somehow they warmed him down to the marrow of his bones.

Unbeknownst to her, his mind worked in similar patterns to hers.

I could get used to this.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“…they’ve been away for a month, so, obviously, I was salivating for all the details, shivering like a fucking Chihuahua. And then he just stepped out of his ugly station wagon, stinking like rotten eggs and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, like, this big,” Andy colourfully explained, raised his little finger to illustrate and continued.

“Gave me that fucking blank stare of his and asked me if I knew that Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.”

Keeva rolled her eyes and puffed out a laugh. Somehow, her conversation with Andy derailed to the story of Green River’s disasterous DIY tour.

“Jeez…what a sweet talker,” she scoffed, her grin growing wider when Andy’s baby blue eyes popped open as he vehemently nodded.

“And I was like…no?” he raised his knitted eyebrows and shook his head. “And he shrugged and went: ‘Well, Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.’ And didn’t say a word for the rest of the day.”

“Pfft, he just wanted to be mysterious,” Keeva snorted, taking a swig of her beer.

There seemed to be a pattern, though.

Observing him for the past month, she’d noticed that Stone sometimes switched into a completely different person. Especially when getting into specific topics.

Usually hard drugs, relationships and politics.

The sarcasm suddenly became borderline cruel, not playful. And his cool punky attitude felt stoic and alien.

“Had to question Ames afterwards, because Stoney just. wouldn’t. talk. about it. He just does that sometimes. Nomen est omen, I guess,” Andy chuckled, confirming her suspicion.

“Unresolved childhood trauma, maybe?” she shrugged and took a swig of her beer.

I recognize that one from a mile away.

“Nah, the Gossards are the sweetest sweethearts of all the sweethearts ever,” Andy shook his head. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the shots of tequila Stone had been supplying all night.

A bunch of tourists were in the house, which meant a fruitful playground.

“I think he was just born that way.”

“Heartless?” Keeva scoffed, her smile widening when she caught Stone giving her subtle thumbs up from the bar.

The bartender was already pouring another round. Stone grinned when she returned the gesture and then started wiping off a lipstick stain on his cheek with a slightly disgusted expression. Andy smirked.

“Composed,” he shrugged.

“Weeeell, a little detached.”

“…practical,” he added, biting his cheek to contain laughter. Keeva squinted at him and shook her head.

“Yeah, bullshit. I still smell trauma,” she mumbled, gulping down another sip.

A question was playing around her head for some time. And now seemed to be the perfect moment to ask.

Because if Stone was the resourceful little shit of the group, Andy was the all-knowing chatterbox.

“Did that guy ever manage to keep a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, once,” Andy replied, playing around with the squeezed slice of lime in his empty shot glass.

“There we fucking go! The enigma of Stone Gossard solved! Good job, my dear Watson,” Keeva slapped her thighs, raising her bottle to clink Andy’s empty glass. He giggled like a child. Different people had different reactions to her dry English attitude.

Jeff seemed to have an open mind despite clearly not getting it.

Chris usually gave her disarming smiles, probably taking it for a cute younger-sister quirk.

Stone was…well, Stone about it. Never missing a beat to shoot back at her like he had been deprived of an arguing partner for his whole life.

And Andy always rewarded her with the most angelic giggles she’d ever heard.

“…well? Spill the beans!” Keeva nudged him, leaning a bit closer on the bar table. Andy dismissively waved her off.

“Oh, I don’t like to gossip…” he nonchalantly shook his head.

They stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into wild cackles, getting a few confused looks from people around them.

When Andy was done with his adorable snorts, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, so, way back in…’84 methinks. Her name was Tara, she was from Utah or Alabama or…whatever, who gives a shit. Anyway, very religious family, Mormons I think, you know how they do it down there,” he theatrically shivered with disgust and continued.

“However. Stoney’s brash mouth could seduce a fucking saint. I’ve heard it rumoured that she screamed for Jesus the first time he -“

“Woah, okay, okay, no, thanks. I get it, please spare me,” she scowled and plugged her ears.

She hoped that Andy wouldn’t notice the raging blush that rapidly filled her entire face, but he was very hard to fool.

“I know you wanna hear all of it -” he smirked, “- but very well. Anyway, he was completely smitten. Treated her so right, didn’t give her any of that shithead attitude.”

That sounds terrifying.

“All of a sudden like a lamb. It was terrifying.”

“Bet,” Keeva snorted and bit into the rim of her bottle to tame the growing smirk on her face. “And how was she?”

“Apparently, not bad,” he mused, giggling again when her eyes widened and she threateningly lunged forward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he raised his arm in defence and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Well, once he helped her out of her redneck shell, she was, uh, how do I put it…”

“A cool girl?” Keeva shrugged and took a swig.

“An insufferable bitch,” he deadpanned and the beer flew out of her nose. He gave her some time to wipe her mouth and continued in a slightly sombre tone.

“She cheated a whole lot, probably wanted to try out as much as she could, now that she’d realized that God can’t make her cum,” he explained, making her snort again.

Fucking hell. This clown. I love him.

The way the story was going, though, her enjoyment slowly faded.

“You know that he’s a tease. And sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

"So she used to make out with people right in front of him just to make him jealous,” Andy scowled and she mirrored his expression.

“Oof. How long did that go on?” Keeva asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Her gaze trailed off to Stone’s grin as he was handing a shot to Bruce a few feet away from them. Now, there was something behind his smile that she hadn’t noticed before.

“About a year and a half or something, on and off,” Andy’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “Then she broke up with him and went back home. I bet she married her cousin or something.”

Keeva scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to comment on it, so she let Andy finish his story, even though she regretted even asking for it.

“He was devastated after all that, barely talked for weeks. I think he secretly used to be a romantic, but she kinda sobered him up from that whole ‘soulmate’ thing. I don’t think he’s dated anyone else since,” he ended with a shrug, mindlessly biting into the lime he fished out of the shot glass.

It seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, his face twisting into a scrunched grimace.

“A Greek tragedy, really,” she followed his suit, letting out a bleak chuckle.

Andy waved his hand and swallowed a few times to push the sourness down before continuing in a slightly slurry voice.

“No, seriously. It kinda makes me sad. Actually, I think I haven’t seen him kiss a girl since then, you know?”

And you dare to laugh at me, beanpole?

“Yeah, he flirts and sleeps around, but he never kisses anyone on the lips,” Andy added, shrugging. “Maybe it’s some kind of a self-defence mechanism, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on behind that huge forehead of his.”

Oh.

“Like, he enjoys the one-night-stand-thrill or whatever but also doesn’t like it when girls touch him. And I mean touch as in this -” he reached out, patted Keeva’s shoulder and then rubbed her back. “-right?”

…yeah. But…

“Cringes at hugs and stuff, but once he’s enough inches away and certain that they're into it, he doesn’t have a problem with straight up telling them he wants to fuck their brains out,” Andy shook his head. “And somehow, it works. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even from the same planet.”

“I mean, that makes two of us, the hugging thing. But he does it whenever we meet anyway, so there’s a scoop for you,” Keeva tried to sound as careless as possible, kicking back the rest of her beer in one swell swoop.

“It’s different with you, you’re like his little Pooky bear,” Andy smirked, lacing his fingers under his chin. She snorted and raised her eyebrows.

“A what?”

“Pooky. You know Garfield, right? The comics?”

When Keeva shook her head with a curious smile, Andy gasped.

“What?! Sarcastic little shit of a cat who hates everyone but his teddy bear Pooky? And Pooky always pretends that he’s just a toy and then suddenly moves and rearranges stuff just to fuck with Garfield’s head?” he babbled, wildly gesturing.

“That sounds deranged. I love it,” she giggled, still unconvinced about the metaphor.

“Oh man, I grew up on that. I still have a stack of ‘em at home, I’ll borrow you some!” he enthusiastically grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll see why you’re Pooky.”

“I’d love that. And I truly admire that you make everything sound like a compliment,” Keeva grinned.

“It is,” Andy shot back, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. She scoffed.

“Pretty sure that just means he doesn’t view me as a potential fuck.”

He squinted and tipped his head to the side like a puppy.

“Yeeeeah, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Just between us,” she interrupted him, “I’d admit that it hurts my ego, but I’m too vain. Guess I’m not his type.”

“Does he have a type? I haven’t noticed, maybe I’ve been around him for too long,” he chuckled, taking another pointless bite of the lime as if he was trying to suck out the last drops of tequila.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, they’re usually tall, sporty and sweet,” she counted on her fingers and then shrugged. “Then again, who’s type isn’t tall, sporty and sweet?”

Andy's toothy grin widened.

“Seems like your type is lanky, malnourished and sardonic.”

No.

“Yeah, no. I don’t - nope. Let’s cut this conversation before it starts, please,” she wiggled her finger at him, eyebrows knitted. His smile got even brighter.

“Why not, Pooky?” he pressed, grabbing her hand again. “You’re the only person I know who clicked with him without wanting to knock his teeth out first. And he’s into it.”

It sounds so easy when you say it.

“Because I don’t want to. And neither does he. I’m certain that we both like it just the way it is, trust me.”

Shit, he doesn’t trust me.

“You think I don’t know that you’re fucking on the side?” he exclaimed so loud Keeva had to bang her forehead against the bar table to hide her face from the people turning their heads.

“Jesus Christ, Andy! You’re disgusting,” she hissed when looked up, scowling.

His smile was omnipresent, though.

If Stone was the Roman statue, Andy was the Harlequin.

“Well, are you?”

“NO!”

“Not yet, you mean,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to contain another brewing giggle.

“Not yet, not tomorrow, not ever. Okay? I’m done with this topic, you clown, let’s move on,” Keeva reached out and softly pushed him.

Andy didn’t seem too keen on moving on, though, as his shoulders shook with a cackle.

“Have you ever stopped to think why he stares at your lips when you’re babbling? ‘Cause I have, Pooky,” he raised his index finger and tapped on her forehead to make the wrinkles between her eyebrows disappear.

All the other guys were on their way back to them, their laughs nearing Keeva’s ears as Andy whispered with a sly grin.

“It’s because you’re not his type.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“I think I need a shot of bleach,” Keeva’s raspy voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

She left the group to get a beer, but before she could push her way back through the crowd, everyone except Stone had already scattered around the bar again.

He was startled when she walked straight up to him and slammed her forehead against his chest.

Unprovoked touching? This is new. I could get used to this.

“What’s up?” Stone chuckled, hoping that the sound of his heartbeat would get drowned in the loud buzz around them.

Keeva just slammed her head into his ribcage again and took a moment to shiver off some sort of disgust.

She raised her hand without a word and stuck a jumbo shot of vodka in his face. Snickering, he reluctantly took it and she finally looked up.

Her fae-like features were twisted in a comical grimace, mixing both amusement and repulsion.

“I just walked past Mike from Alice. Nailing a chick, that blonde exchange student -“

“Shocking! Your first time seeing a cock?” he interrupted with a brash grin, but his expression froze when she finished her sentence.

“- against the kitchen door.”

“Wh-what?! The kitchen?” he stuttered out, slowly breaking into a scowl identical to hers. Keeva vehemently nodded.

“Fuck. That’s rancid,” Stone choked out and fiercely kicked back the vodka. His nose wrinkled in a signature scrunch.

“I was trying to run past it as fast as I could, but I was so perplexed by them that I stopped by and kinda gave him a -“

She took a step back from Stone and demonstrated her best judgemental glare, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go.

“And I shit you not, he stared me dead in the eye for like ten seconds and then just turned around -” she mimed holding someone’s ass in her arms and spun around, “- and continued like I wasn’t there.”

Stone’s cheeks puffed with a laugh and he nonchalantly shook his head, but his ears started to burn red because of her vivid description. And he couldn’t stop his intoxicated mind from wandering.

Get it together, asshole. Not her. She made that very clear.

“I mean, maybe he wanted to give her a proper Ramp experience...” he shrugged, trying to focus on anything else than the glistening sweat on her flushed cheeks.

Keeva scoffed and took a swig of her beer before folding her arms.

“Yeah, but the kitchen?! I mean, you wouldn’t do that. You’re an A-grade slut, but at least you’re a gentleman, too.”

Just let her have the last word. It’s so easy. For once in your life, just shut the fu-

“Depends on the company. You, I’d even take inside the kitchen if I had to.”

But instead of scolding himself, Stone’s mind filled up with confidence as the vodka spilt through his brain cells and his lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

Stop lying to yourself, Gossard. Don’t act like you don’t get off on this shit.

Keeva raised an eyebrow and seemed to genuinely ponder if he was being serious, but she quickly brushed off her momentary lapse of judgement with a sharp scoff.

“Fine, from now on I officially don’t believe anything that comes out of this filthy cakehole,” she shook her head and reached up to poke his mouth.

Surprised by her own audacity, she tapped her finger on the small dimple in the middle of his bottom lip. “Don’t slip on the cum-stained floor when you go wash it out with soap.”

She held it there, basking in the crackling sensation that pulsed from his soft skin through her calloused fingertip.

When Stone took a tiny step back, darting across her face with an unreadable expression, she froze. Her hand hung in the air as his eyebrows twitched into a minuscule frown.

After a moment far too long for her comfort, she jumped when he lunged forward and bit her finger, cursing under her breath.

He was cackling as he ruffled her hair, Keeva slapped his hand away and rubbed on the bite mark on her knuckle.

Even though Stone’s shoulders were shaking with giggles, there was a clear shift in his demeanour. He firmly folded his arms and took another step back, clearing his throat.

He knew she’d noticed.

Yeah, right, big guy. So much for ‘put my money where my mouth is’. Idiot.

“Fuck, great, now I have rabies,” Keeva muttered, studying her finger in the dim light as she gave him a side-eye, trying to hide a smirk.

Stone chuckled and scratched his forehead.

What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? A girl has touched you before. A lot of them did. She’s just another one. Just a girl. Just…

“What’s wrong? Am I foaming at the mouth already?” Keeva gasped, staring him down with a quizzical brow.

Why does she...strange. So, so strange.

All he managed to do was shake his head and try to put on an unbothered grin.

Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.

“Cat got your tongue?” she quipped, scoffing when he didn’t answer.

“Silent treatment, that’s new. And weird. I already miss your yapping,” Keeva shook her head and watched Stone’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He took a breath to speak, swiftly easing back into his smart-ass mode.

“Woah, woah, okay. Spoke too soon. Tell you what, I’ll go powder my nose and in the meantime, you can try to think of something funny to say,” she handed him her beer and patted his warm cheek. “You can do it, pretty boy, I believe in you.”

And with that, she disappeared, the crowd swallowing her small stature like an ocean wave. Stone luckily found an empty spot in the hoard of people next to the wall.

He leaned on it and banged his head against the uneven bricks.

You’re in deep shit, friend.

● ● ● ● ● ●

Five minutes passed. Then ten. After twenty, Stone’s impatient foot tapping caused a cramp to shoot through his calf, so he cursed and kicked the air a few times to shake it off.

Jesus, did she get flushed down the drain?

He wasn’t paying any attention to the shaggy-haired surfer dude in front of him. Stone somehow found himself in a conversation with him - he just appeared out of nowhere and started yapping on and on about how the bars are worse around Sunset Boulevard.

Ever the businessman, Stone took the opportunity to bet a shot that they would see at least a trio of cockroaches throughout the night.

Of course, he knew that even three was an outstandingly small number.

I’ll go check on her.

He excused himself and assured the guy that he would be back to collect his prize. He snaked through the entire bar, looking for her in every dark corner of the place.

He even tried knocking on the women’s room and calling after her, peeking in when a chirping group of girls allowed him to do so ‘if he really is Stoney’.

But she was nowhere to be found. The last place he didn’t check was a small patio behind the back door, usually a spot one went to when they wanted to fuck a stranger.

Nah, she just needed a breather alone. Or with the discount Steven Tyler that’s been eyeing her from the barstool all night.

Fuck, what do I care?

He liked to think that he had the talent to stomach anything with a straight face, but an unfamiliar burn settled in his lungs as he made his way through a narrow corridor leading to the door.

This is a bad idea. Turn around and leave. Go count cockroaches or something.

He passed a couple that was shamelessly slamming against the wall with dull thuds, but it didn’t phase him at all.

He was too busy fighting his hazy brain, trying to coax his limbs to beeline back inside.

But he couldn’t stop himself as he took the shabby door handle and pushed the metal door open with a loud creak.

Maybe he’d take the scene of her pinned against the dirty bricks by someone else than him over whatever he just walked into.

Keeva was lying on the filthy concrete, curled up in a fetal position and shaking. She was holding a fading cigarette between her cramped fingers, hot ash falling on her red knuckles with every sob she let out.

Stone didn’t think twice about dropping down to his knees and hovering above her, little rocks and rubble stabbed his skin through the holes in his jeans.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What - what’s wrong, Baby?” he stuttered as he pulled to sit her up and shuffle to the wall to rest her back against it. She immediately hugged her knees, avoiding his eyes like a plague.

She was hyperventilating, tears streamed out of her puffy eyes and fell on the snot-stained Nets t-shirt.

He crouched in front of her and tried to take the cigarette away so it wouldn’t burn her. But her hand twitched and the cramp intensified, so he put his hands on her knees instead, cautiously caressing her.

“It’s f-fine, let m-me be. I’ll c-come inside i-in a sec,” she hiccuped, shuffling away when he moved to sit down next to her.

He carefully hugged her around the shoulders and pressed her to his chest. She was still shaking with rapid breaths, but her body slowly collapsed closer to him.

Stone felt his limbs tingle with an alien sensation, almost as if he’d never touched a woman before. Like an eerie fever dream.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No, I’m…I’m okay, t-this h-happens sometimes…s-sorry,” she mumbled again, resting her forehead on her knees. His heart dropped.

“Did someone hurt you?” he questioned, trying to lift her chin to see if her face was in one piece.

“No, no, it’s nothing, I just…just l-leave me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she choked out and let him take a look. After sparing him a brief glance, Keeva shook his hand off and hid behind her hair.

She didn’t have any bruises, only cracked lips from all the salty tears.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me, please,” he pressed, reaching up to stroke her hair.

“No one, I’m n-not hurt…it’s fine. Just go,” she repeated like a broken record, but he noticed that she began to melt into his arms and finally dropped the cigarette butt on the ground.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That brought a new wave of shivers and he desperately clutched her closer to make her warm.

Neither of them was wearing a jacket or a sweater, so he didn’t have much to work with. It still seemed to help, though, as her breathing slowly calmed down.

“What’s up, Baby?” Stone whispered after a long moment of silence, disturbed only by her fading sobs.

“I-it’s just…it’s me, I’m sorry. I’m just a sissy.”

She took a long pause to breathe in and cleared her hoarse throat.

“I, uh…I just saw some girls shooting up in the bathroom, that’s all. They offered me some, too, just as a cherry on top.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh. Did…did you -” he carefully started, still whispering. The implication brought a bit of fuel into her exhausted body, so she immediately cut him off.

“Fuck no. Christ, of course not."

Keeva sounded almost offended, so he quickly regretted even thinking about that option.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…it’s not uncommon here…” Stone muttered with a bitter undertone in his voice. She took a big breath again.

“I know, it’s f-fucking everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking…as if you could run away from drugs,” she lamented under her breath like she was scolding herself. “I guess I p-probably chose the wrong career. It j-just hit me more than it should’ve. Like I said, sissy.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just stared at the dirty ground in front of them. He realized there were multiple fresh-looking cigarette butts, she must’ve smoked a lot more before he arrived.

Keeva sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.

“It’s, uh…my dad, he…”

She took a moment to inhale a shaky breath.

“He was a smack addict, OD’d this spring. I didn’t know him that well, but, uh…I’ve seen that shit when he crashed at our place, you know…mom and I had this tiny little flat.”

She suddenly sounded clear and lucid, almost detached.

“I ran off as often as I could, slept at whatever place I worked at or in the school gym…I was probably the only kid that enjoyed going to school, ‘cause it meant I wouldn’t have to be at home. They both had a lot of friends over,” she scoffed. “Well, friends - dodgy old men and strung-out buddies with a pocketful of crack.”

She started picking on her cuticles and tore a hangnail, so Stone mindlessly reached out to stop her and started playing with the battered old ring on her middle finger.

“And mom was…she was ill. Real ill. You know, here,” she tapped her temple. “Got some of it from her, I think. Family heirloom.”

A few moments of tense silence and she continued.

“I guess they did love each other, in some ugly twisted way. In the end, she couldn’t bear to live without him,” Keeva mumbled the last part like she was talking to herself.

“So, uh…I kinda found myself alone in a dirty hole in the middle of East End with about fifty quid to my name…mom left me that,” she scoffed again, this time even sharper. “No note or anything, just that one fucking piece of worthless green paper.”

She sighed and watched his bony fingers slowly wiggle the ring left and right, slightly concerned that he didn’t speak yet.

Or move, for that matter.

“Dad’s cousin, Toby, moved here a long time ago. The only family I knew, so when it all happened, he tracked me down and said he’d take care of me. Got me a one-way plane ticket. A guitar case and these stupid dungarees,” she swabbed her nose again and wiped it on her pants to make a point. “That’s all I had on me.”

“What about him?” Stone suddenly asked, his voice eerily monotone.

“He recently moved to Aberdeen, but he still helps me with rent, even when I don’t ask. I try not to, obviously…I gotta look for something cheaper, ‘cause he’s already done enough, you know?“ Keeva waved her hand to try and loosen her shaking fingers. “Too much.”

She took a deep breath and fiercely shook her head.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to just…shit, that was like an infodump from a bad movie,” she added and cleared her throat.

“Take it as a roundabout way of saying ‘run while you still can’,” she chuckled and tried to shuffle away, but Stone squeezed her closer.

A warm tear tickled her pale wrist, but it wasn’t one of her own. His breathing didn’t change, neither did his heartbeat or his stance.

Only the dull sound of teardrops falling on her skin as they dropped from the tip of his nose.

A Roman statue, weeping.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice didn’t indicate any sort of emotion, but it soothed her in a way she’d never felt before. She raised her eyebrows.

“Like, ever?” she huffed, trying to loosen the mood, but he stayed still.

“If that’s what you want,” he said and patiently waited for her reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he cleared his throat and finally moved to rest his head on top of hers.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

She scoffed.

“Only when I’m really riled up. News flash, it’s a nasty habit with zero benefits. Makes me even more poor, stinky and unhealthy.”

“A woman after my own heart," Stone nudged her shoulder, savouring the sound of her silent chuckle. "Just realized…I never asked you where you live.”

“At the corner of South Main and 17th Ave, next to Chinatown. A hovel, but there’s a bed and a bathroom and only I have the key. So I can’t complain,” she shrugged and continued. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Still costs an arm and a leg, though, so it’s only temporary. Too small to get a roommate. I mean, I prefer solitude anyway, but you can’t always get what you want.”

“You could live with me, you know. I mean, if you want. At my place,” Stone said after a long minute of silence, still fiddling with her ring. "Be alone together."

A breath hitched in Keeva’s throat and she furiously shook her head.

“No. No, no, thanks…thanks so much, Stoney, but no. That’s - that’s too much to ask for,” she began stuttering again.

Stone moved to look at her, but she was firmly fixated on the trashcan on the other side of the patio.

“You didn’t even ask for that,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but you’re already more hospitable than I deserve,” she replied and shook her head again. “And I doubt your parents would be chuffed about a sudden stray raccoon occupying their house.”

He briskly sat up straight and pushed away from the wall to face her.

"No, I’m serious. There’s a little brick shed behind the house, that’s where I live. I re-made it into a proper living space, isolated the walls and put electricity there. A bathroom with a tiny shower, a kitchen corner and a small electric cooker. Got my own door, my own key, it’s detached from the house,” he spewed out, suddenly more animated than she’d ever seen him.

“I pay my parents some rent, but once we split it, we'll have more money for music. Or you can pay a smaller half and cook dinner from time to time to make up for the rest.”

Stone didn’t even let her take a breath.

“There’s an attic above the room, like a little loft. I already put a permanent ladder there, but it just collects dust ‘cause I don’t have enough stuff to fill it up,” he continued and finally let go of her fingers, waving his hands around as if he were using an invisible broom. “We can clean it up and put up a bed for you, or I can move up there and you can sleep downstairs, whatever you like better.”

Keeva stopped him, more firmly than before.

“Stoney, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? Like I said, if you want, there’s an unused space and I was looking for someone to take in anyway, to split the rent. It’s a little neighbourhood in Capitol Hill, ten-minute bike ride from Pioneer. Volunteer Park right under your nose,” he continued, like a dedicated salesman.

“I know all the nooks and crannies, there’s tons of cool bars and cheap food spots. When the mountain’s out, you can see the Needle.”

He paused and when she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he started pushing again.

“If you insist on paying rent,” he shrugged and she finally looked up at him, slightly frowning. Red eyes and a patchy blush, smudged eyeliner and parched lips.

And yet, she was the most breathtaking human he’d ever seen.

“…and I wouldn’t dare to try and stop you, we’ll split, fair share. More dough for guitar strings and beer for both.”

“It’s just…I’m not…” she stuttered but Stone didn’t let her finish.

“If you’re concerned about the size, it’s about 175 square feet, I can shrink my stuff as much as you need -“

“No, it’s not that, that’s bigger than my flat. I just…”

“I rarely bring girls there. And if I happened to do that, by any chance, I’d tell you before -"

“You’re too good to me.”

Silence fell between them once again. This time, though, it was different. His strange gaze swallowed Keeva whole as if she was seeing him for the first time again.

Stone darted across her face and stopped at a fresh tear forming in the corner of her eye. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, touch as light as a feather.

“It’s about time someone is.”

“Stoney, I want to be alone,” she barely whispered, studying his firm expression.

“So do I.”

She finally ran out of pointless arguments and, after a moment, slowly nodded in agreement. He mirrored her nod, peridot twinkling under the milky moonlit sky.

How could I say no to them?

“I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, show you around and you can decide if you like the look of it, okay?”

“Why?” she let the all-encompassing question hang in the air.

He sighed and rested his head on top of hers again.

“You get me. That’s why.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[escherstrange-ffxiv]

#7: Noisome

Anyone entering Revenant's Toll didn't need to be warned about the adventurers outside the gate; they could smell them a malm away.

Four Hyuran men in various states of undress gathered around large tubs of hot soapy water: Laelius, careful not to let water into his prosthetic limbs, carefully wiped the joints and propped them against a tree where he could watch for thieving hands.

Adrian lathered his hair into a tower of suds while his fairy made angry gestures about how much he stank. "I'm trying, Kinker, please stop, we're in public," he pleaded to no avail.

Towel wrapped around his bare shoulders, Crofte scrubbed his shiba. Eugene yipped and yapped happily, enjoying the little bubbles that tickled its nose.

Escher emerged from the tub gasping. He shook water out of his hair, splashing droplets on everyone then rested at the edge. "So uh. I guess The Secret of The Premier Massage wasn't in Aurum Vale after all."

If looks could kill, they would stab Escher a thousand times over, tie rocks to his body and hurl him into Silvertear Lake.

"No bloody shite, YOU THINK?!"

[r3starttt]

https://www.tumblr.com/r3starttt/766087497451257856/boogie-and-soapie-yap-sesh-3-hrs?source=share

me and soapie will invite u next time i apologie. i didnt realize that us talking for 3 hours would affect you this much so please, accept my sincere apologies and i hope we can move on from this. /j

no /srs