#soapys crafts

[soapylaundry]

I dont normally do cosplay (this was technically my first lol) but here's me in the chell outfit I made last summer!! I just got around to taking photos of it :'D I also made a little Wheatley since then!! He lights up and everything <3

[cherriisodapop]

I’ve won at life

I love my friends

[douglasrickard]

At a recent Writers' Group, I shared my 1990s Connecticut novel and got great feedback on the authentic 90s details. 🌟 #WritersLife #90sNostalgia Diving into pop culture and thorough research enhances escapist storytelling! 📚 Check out my latest blog post to read more about the power of immersive storytelling!

[sukunasweetheart]

Sukuna, a middle aged man jaded by the harsh realities of his life. He steps outside for a smoke nearby a convenience store, completely bored out of his mind.

A lady is handing out flyers nearby, although nobody is bothering to look her way, including sukuna himself.

You approach the man who's getting irritated by the lighter that refuses to work in his hand.

"Hello there, sir. Would you be interested in taking up classes for arts and craft?" You offer the cute flyer up.

Sukuna scoffs. Is she serious?

"No thanks."

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a bit more colour in your life."

He's too exhausted at this point to get angry at a random woman on the street.

"...You're not too far off, i suppose," sukuna mutters, still trying to get the spark to stay on his lighter. "Even so, I'm not interested in the likes of arts and craft. Do i look like a child to you?"

You withdraw your offer of your flyer, and inspect him for a moment.

"Arts and craft can be enjoyed by anyone, regardless of age. But moving past that... you seem a bit down. If you'd like to confide in a stranger for a night, I'm happy to listen."

What a strange, persistent woman. Sukuna gives up on his lighter, and takes out the unlit cigarette in his mouth to think back for a moment. One thing does come to mind.

"I'm not feeling down. But i remembered something, now that i think about it..." he confesses, feeling weirdly compelled to tell you about it.

"Today is supposed to be my birthday."

Birthdays have never been special to him. Nobody celebrated his birth as a child, and in turn, he's never paid attention to the birthdays of others.

"Oh, happy birthday. Are you doing anything special for yourself today?"

"No. I've never cared for birthdays. And I'm getting too old for that anyway."

"Well, that won't do... Hold on for a second."

Puzzled, sukuna looks back at you but you've already gone inside the convenience store. Whatever you're up to now, couldn't possibly be more enticing than getting in a proper smoke right now. Sukuna begins to zone out.

He only snaps out of it when something mildly cold grazes past his cheek, leaving a ticklish and moist sensation on his skin as it disappears upon impact.

Bubbles. Bubbles are flying past him, and floating away into the sky.

For a moment, he gets mesmerised by the swirl of colours that are harboured in each one. Even just from the light of this dingy street, they fly up while holding a multitude of different colours inside them. Time seems to slow for a split second, and he doesn't understand why.

His gaze follows the trail to identify it's source. And unsurprisingly, it's you, standing behind him. You blow a couple more out, and then grin at him childishly. He finally looks at your face properly for the first time.

"Birthday bubbles. For the birthday man," you chuckle sheepishly, knowing that you probably look a bit silly right now. You put the bubble wand back into the small bottle of the soapy mixture, and screw it tightly.

"Here, you can have it. Next time you're feeling a bit antsy, why don't you try blowing some yourself? They're pretty, aren't they?"

You also hand him a different small item.

"And i also threw in a little something else, while i was at it."

He looks down, and sees that it's a new lighter. He slowly pulls his hand out of his pocket to take both of them from your hands.

"I hope you get to do something more special next year. Birthdays are supposed to be joyful, after all," you comment.

"Thanks for putting up with my nosiness. Farewell."

And then you leave him after a quick wave.

Sukuna stares wordlessly as you walk off, wondering what to name this ticklish feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.

The small bottle in his palm reminds him of a moment in his childhood. Kids in the park bragging about their bubble wands that were gifted to them. the laughs that resounded as they all ran off to catch the fragile spheres as they blew away in the wind. The tiny feelings of envy in his heart.

The item he tucks away into his pocket is the lighter. And when nobody is watching, he blows a couple more bubbles into the night sky.

-

Every time he passes by that convenience store, the thought of you comes to his mind. A flashback of your smile in the back of his mind. Every so often, he comes to this particular store. Despite having closer options, he comes to this specific one.

At times, sukuna regrets not taking one of the flyers that you were handing out. He wouldn't have had to mope around a convenience store in hopes of running into you again.

Today is a rainy day, and this calls for a hot piping cup of instant ramen. He doesn't usually enjoy convenience store food, but he wants a reason to stay around inside for a bit longer.

He needs to wait five minutes for the noodles to soften. In this time, he stares out the glass frame of the store, and watches the various rows of people walking past with their umbrellas opened.

There appears to be one anomaly in the crowd, however. Running without shelter from the rain, clutching her bag as if it contains something important in there. Sukuna realises that it's you.

Forgetting about his instant ramen, sukuna grabs his umbrella and dashes out the door.

You're mildly panicking about being stuck behind the red light at the zebra crossing without anything to save you from the rain, but the sensation of the droplets hitting your body come to a stop all too suddenly.

You look up, and there's a black umbrella sheltering you, big and strong looking. You spin around and recognise the stranger with pink hair and sharp eyes. Seemingly out of breath.

He signals to the light that has now turned green behind you, and ushers you forward to cross the road before you can say anything to him.

Now safely on the other side of the road, you begin to converse with him.

"It's you! Hello. Thank you for sheltering me. How have you been?"

"... So-so. Nothing's changed since the last time we met."

"I see. You look better than last time, though." You get the feeling that his eyes have a little more light in them.

Sukuna doesn't really get what you mean, but he moves on.

"What’s in your bag that's so important for you to be protecting it like that?" He asks, effectively changing the topic.

"Oh, this? I literally just bought some brand new origami paper... i can't risk getting them wet and unusable. The children would be disappointed."

"Origami, huh? How original."

"Hey! That's not all... there's a lot of options i offer them. They voted on origami this time."

"You got a lot of people signed up?"

"Not really... but I'm sure it'll start picking up soon. Slowly, one at a time."

You smile up at him hopefully.

"...is the offer still open?"

You cock your head to the side slightly, confused. Sukuna grits his teeth, feeling a little bashful about having to ask more specifically.

"You know. Lessons for grown adults."

"Oh! Of course, anytime! Would you like to come sign up today?"

"Do you offer one-on-one sessions too?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright. Let’s go."

Sukuna can't fathom the words that are coming out of his own mouth. But fuck it, what's the worst that could happen? You've somehow intriged him, and he can't think of a better way to approach you.

You chatter his ears off along the way, and he nods along while his shoulder gets wet from the way he leans his umbrella closer to your side.

[alexiroflife]

thinking about sleepy choso coming home to you after a long day….

fluff, just a thought

🫧🫧🫧

your boyfriend, choso, is always exhausted by the end of the day. his long days stretch from the early morning to late at night, and he’s practically half dead when he walks into your house around 12:30 am and trudges into your bedroom doorway

choso thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world to have found you. no matter how often he comes to you completely wiped out, seeking comfort that would ease the stress and tension he has accumulated from rough fights, you’re there to provide without hesitation and with seemingly endless patience

you are quick to your feet when you see him, jumping off of your bed to greet him with a warm hug. your arms wrap snugly around his frame and he melts into you, head dropping onto yours and shoulders drooping as he lets you embrace him, your touch soothing away his stiffness in an instant. you kiss his cheek softly, asking him how his day was. he replies with a short disinterested hum, looking to completely forget about the day he left behind whilst snug in your arms

you waited to shower until your boyfriend got him for this exact reason. you turn the knob to hot and gently help your boyfriend out of his robes, bruises and scars littering the expanse of his well sculpted bare frame. he trudges into the shower before you, head hung low and bags heavy under his eyes. when the hot water hits his skin, he hisses in relief, scrunching his eyes closed as the droplets run over his hair

you tell him to lean his head over so that you have access to his chestnut hair, lathering shampoo and massaging it into his scalp tenderly. suds form and choso keeps his eyes closed, leaning into the generous caress of your fingers through the silky strands of his hair. you wash away the dirt and sweat carefully, swiping his hair back to gaze at his sweet face. choso thinks he could fall asleep right there with your pretty fingers scratching deliciously through his scalp

you wash each other up tenderly, hands smoothing over soapy damp skin, massaging into tight muscles and kissing over fading lesions. his hands work over you sleepily while you caress his aching body, soft fingers dancing over rigid abdominals and sharp calves. his lips meet your neck and collarbone as you rinse him off, hands lazily grabbing for your hips and bringing them to his under the pressure of the water. his lips crush over yours sweetly as he breathes you in. his now clean hair sticks to his damp forehead and brushes over yours as his kisses grow desperate and he falls into your open arms, succumbing to the bliss of your quivering lips and eager touch

you wrap the two of you up in a large fluffy towel when you step out of the steamy shower after what feels like hours. you press a kiss to choso’s nose and his cheeks color pink, heavy eyes capturing yours intensely as you reach up and dry his hair

choso’s hand doesn’t leave yours when you head back into your bedroom, dried off and dressed for bed. his fingers interlocked with yours reminds him that you will always be there when he needs you, that you are the constant in his life saving him from stress-induced misery after his days out

choso sits between your legs as you lay back against your headboard, your hands massaging choso’s broad soldiers passionately, squeezing and smoothing out the taut kinks. choso’s eyes flutter, lashes bouncing as he struggles to stay awake, your heavenly touch sending tingles down his spine. hums of content leave his mouth every now and again, lips parting in pleasure when you kneed into that one knot he just has not been able to reach. he has never felt as relaxed as he does in your care. he’s so addicted to the routine the two of you have crafted around his schedule, so spoiled and you are more than happy to oblige his needs

your boyfriend falls asleep on top of you, gentle breaths rising and falling in his chest. he’s flipped over, chest pressed to yours and either of his hands gripping at your thigh and around your waist, having to keep some form of contact with your skin at all times. you brush your fingers through his slightly damp hair, allowing him to sink into the crook of your neck as you drift into sleep along with him. his calm breaths hit your neck softly, and when you glance down you catch a peak of the corner his face, untouched by the turmoils of reality as he dreams peacefully on top of you

choso has hard days, but he knows that it is all worth it when he gets to come home to you. you take such good care of him and know exactly what he needs. he’s addicted to your gentle love, the way you ease him into relaxation with the simplest looks and touches. he loves you dearly, clinging to you as he dreams because he can not bear the idea of letting you go

[pedge-page]

Maybe Preggo needs a pedicure? Or help shaving??

how about both!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Spa Day

Warnings: thigh fucking, some degrading language, a bit of m masturbation, use of razors to shave, Daddy/Mommy used lightly

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel is sitting on the edge of the tub as you prop your calf over his thigh. His heavily pregnant wife has her hair in a turban, green minty mud mask slopped over your face. You’re leaned back so far trying to spread your legs that your chin is just right above the soapy waterline. 

“I told you, you need to get IN the tub to shave my ass.”

Joel’s got your fancy scented shaving cream and a 5 blade razor in one hand, his trousers soaked from suds and bath water as you continue to squirm around trying to get comfortable. This whole ordeal is taking way longer because he doesn’t want to accidecanlly knick you, but you keep moving without forewarning him!

“I don’t understand,” he huff for the third time. “Why do I need to shave your pussy and ass, if you’re getting a PEDICURE?”

Did feet spa evolve into something that he wasn’t aware of?

“You don’t. But I haven’t shaved in a long time and I need my legs shaved for my pedicure. And while I’m at it, might as well do the whole thing.”

“You mean, while I’M at it.”

“Yes exactly!” you say, all giddy that he’s finally getting it now.

He leans back to get a view of where he might be working between your legs.

“It’s all soap. I can’t see a thing.”

You roll your eyes and throw your leg off him. His shirt wrinkles from the soapy fingers that grip it tightly as you pull him down to you. So much so that he’s lurching for the other end of the tub to hold himself from tumbling in.

“Get. In. The. Tub.” You seethe. Why is it so fucking difficult?

He purses his lips, but your eyes don’t back down.

Joel curses under his breath before sitting and stripping his shirt over his head.

You do little hand claps, licking your lips as if you’re getting a tasty treat. Forgetting that this is entirely a different kind of treatment.

 As he shucks off his pants and boxers, now fully naked with his semi hard cock dangling between his legs, you tap your clit and whisper “Settle down, girl,” in hopes of trying to be a good client to your free-worker husband.

Joel clambers in the tub, hissing at the heat of the water. For someone who wants the AC blowing like a winter wonderland in the house, it amazes him that you’re still good with bathing in lava.

He sits his knees up, crammed in such a terribly awkward position since he’s got to get down low. Thankfully the tub is big enough for the two of you to face each other.

“Spread,” he orders you, and you have to clench your fist by your side, easing your nub to stop jumping so excitedly underwater from his voice. You do your best to drape your ankles over the sides of the tub, your lower back comforted by the tub-pillow that Joel had bought you.

The razor glints in his veiny paw. “Daddy has sharp tools in his hand. Are you gonna behave?”

You nod vigorously. 

He aligns himself as close as possible, pushing the bubbles away so he can see under the water. Even with your bump in the way, it’s already difficult to see straight down to the source of your turmoil. His hands gently caress your inner thighs, getting a feel for his working area the same way he does for any detailed project he’s about to take on. Joel got such steady, careful movements when it comes to his craft, but having him look at you like a piece of valuable wood he’s about to carve a beautiful rose into is making you wet in a different way.

He dips the razor below the water and begins to shave away the hair that had been growing between your thighs, over top and around, before making his way to your slit. 

“Isn’t there a better way to do this?” He asks. He’s hesitant, not because he doesn’t think he can do it, but because he doesn’t trust your sporadic brain possibly jumping on him and cutting yourself. 

“Probably,” you snicker. 

He puffs his cheeks but gets back to work, trimming your front neatly in slow movements. If he just focuses entirely on your folds, the slippery traces of your juices evident even through the sudsy water, he can just keep his eyes from drifting up to your bouncing enormous breasts floating happily above.

“Alright, that’s the best I can get. Your ass is just gonna have to…”

You’re already moving like a hippo in the shallows, sloshing the water around as you roll over to your knees and sit up. Your pregnant belly sags heavily towards the water. But you manage to prop your arms over the edge and wiggling your naked butt to him.

He pinches his eyes together with his finger and thumb. THIS is why he didn’t want to get in the tub. Was it over you hurting yourself? A little. Doing reckless shit like this with a baby who could bump its head into the basin? Possibly. 

Having to now sit up to shave your ass, baring his hard cock close enough to you that he won’t be able to keep you placate if you were to turn around?

Yeah.

“C’mon, baby can’t dangle like this all day,” you hum. You sway your hips again enticingly.

You don’t expect the sharp slap to jolt you forward a bit, a gasp falling from your lips as the sound echoes in the bathroom.

You feel his stomach and chest drape over your back, his hot breath steaming over your shoulder. “Told you,” he grumbles. “To behave.” His large hand caress below your bump, helping to hold some of the weight while his other fists his cock and slides its between your thighs.

You bite your lip and moan lightly, eyes closed as he rocks you back and forth on his dick. He doesn’t penetrate, just glides through your thighs, all soapy while his tip nudges your clit each time it punctures through to the other side.

You’re both so wet over each other, warm and dizzy from the steam of the room as he fucks your slit. 

“Just don’t know when to be a good girl.” 

You shake your head. On the contrary, you know EXACTLY when to be a bad girl. 

“Daddy, put it in,” you whine. You can’t take your hands away from the edge of the tub, less you slip and tumble down due to the weight of your baby. 

You feel the rumble of his chest, laughing at your demands. “Bad Mommies don’t get cock up their slutty cunts—“

His voice goes quiet when you arch your back and wail out in pleasure, your clit twitching and thighs quaking with the unmistakable sign of your orgasm washing through you. 

Joel sits back as you heave through your pants. 

“Wow. That was… you needed that, Huh?”

You slowly roll over to you butt safely on the tub floor again, hazily nodding as you come to your senses. You begin to notice Joel’s fist pumping his cock underwater, fully okay with just jerking off as he watches your naked pregnant body covered in soap and dripping wet like a goddess.

“Your turn,” you hum, and Joel grins, parting his legs slightly as you crawl close to him. 

He’s not ready for the super human strength you have when you hoist on of his ankles up in the air, pulling him down until his head dips under water.

 He struggles up and sputters out the nasty taste he inhaled through his nose. “What??”

Joel wipes the soap and water from his eyes and slicks his hair back to see you with a razor in one hand and a deathgrip around his ankle in the other.

“You should shave too. Its just courtesy since they’ll be touching your crusty feet, plus when they put the moisturizer and hot towel and stones on your legs, it won’t get all stuck up in your hair—“

“WHAT are you on about? I’m not getting the pedicure. YOU are!”

But your eyes get all (fake) shiny with (fake) tears, you’re lower lip trembling with a (fake) pout. “You mean,” you hiccup, your voice soft and sad and FUCK if it were anyone else, you’d have them convened with an Oscar worth performance, “you don’t wanna… do it … with me?” 

He’s not falling for it. “That’s Maria’s thing with you.”

Your voice goes straight in a matter of fact tone, foregoing the sad pregnant hormonal voice. “Actually she and Tommy are taking trip up north so she canceled this weekend.”

Joel curses Tommy in his mind for letting such an important detail slip his mind. “Mhm. So I’m her substitute.”

“NooOoo! You’re my husband and you want to do this with me because you love spending time with me!”

Joel narrows his eyes. His cock twitches helplessly between his legs, and it doesn’t seem like you’re inching to give him a hand.

“Now hold still, Mommy has sharp tools in her hands. Wouldn’t want any accidents.”

Your fingers that are wrapped around his foot slowly glaze along his thigh, down below the water, tickling his skin until you’re oh so close to his inner thigh. tensing, he feels your knuckles graze his length.

 And if you behave like a good Daddy, you’ll get your reward.” There’s a sadistic curl to your sweet little grin. 

Joel settles back and closes his eyes as you begin hacking off the forest on his calves. He tries sending a signal to his cock to get comfy, because there’s no way he’s squirming or making any movements while you’ve got a weapon in your hand. He opens one eye to see you happily shaving his legs, splashing water over top so it washes away his clear skin.

He decides he’ll let his little wife play in her sandbox. 

-

“Ow-OW-OWW!” Joel shouts. The technician huffs in frustration as he flicks his feet away from her for the 5th time.

You grip his bicep from the chair next to him. “Joel. Calm down. It’s just—“

“She’s cheese grating my feet!”

He’s squirming like a toddler who doesn’t like the feeling of shit up his ass, were it not for the fact that he’s a grown ass man just getting a pedicure. 

You shake your head. “It’s a pumice stone. To remove your calluses. You got so much dead skin on there, because you never come here when I tell you!”

“It’s a cheese grater, and she’s grating my feet off.”

His feet DID need a lot of work. They were dry, always scratching you in your sleep whenever you cuddle up. His legs did look shiny though, thanks to your hard work hunched over the tub shaving. It was the least you could do for the poor lady trying to tend to his hobbit feet.

When the placed the hot stones on your calves, you sighed happily. Joel’s eyes were wide, and when they touched his shins, he screamed.

You giggled under your hand. Yeah, he’s making an embarrassment of himself, shouting and cursing and squirming everywhere because he’s so sensitive. He probably thinks the rest of the women in here are laughing at him and his fragile manhood, his pregnant wife dragging him here to get a pedicure. But you see the looks on their faces, it’s a mix of awe and jealousy to have such a hunk of a man want to do something fun with his wife, so secure in his masculinity. You grab his hand and kiss his knuckles.

He offers you his gritted teeth, lips pulled back as he tries to smile through the pain, all pressed back against the massage chair like he wants to fall behind it, holding in his next shout when she clips his cuticles. 

He’s getting his cock sucked so good tonight, you can’t wait to spoil him.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

[pixiedurango]

Hello! When your time allows, may I request: A series of written 'friendly reminders' by Lucanis to the rest of the Veilguard on what they should and should not do in the kitchen. (i.e do not wash the cast iron, do not put out grease fires with water, do not let Assan into the pantry unsupervised, do not let Manfred climb into the oven, any others etc) Thank you for your consideration :3 (bonus points if the notes successively get more agitated in tone or are directed towards specific people)

Ding Dong, Antivan Postal Service with a special delivery.

It's more like an open letter to the team this time. And I hope you are ok with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Transcript:

To whom it may concern. That means everybody at the Lighthose! I kindly ask you to (in no particular order):

Put things back to the spot where you took them from (I use to have a system designed for efficiency)

Don’t throw away the used coffee grounds. (They are natural fertilizer for Harding’s plants. Collect in the pot next to the coffee station)

Don’t let Assan roam free in the kitchen.

In fact, don’t let Assan into the kitchen at all.

Same goes for Manfred. (Not for hygienical reasons, but we don’t want him to climb into the kindled oven again)

Don’t leave mushy, half rotten fruits in the baskets if you happen to find one (Fruit flies are a menace to get rid of)

Don’t leave food uncovered (same reason)

Don’t cut meats on the vegetable board and vice versa (Out of respect for Emmrich and because its gross and unhygienic) The boards are labeled!

You are very welcome to drop by and study, discuss and write at the kitchen table (as long as you don’t leave and forget your things there. Looking at you Bel and Emmrich)

May I suggest, that we agree on storing the new bought goods BEHIND the ones we already have in the pantry? Otherwise the older things will never be used and it would be a shame to waste good food

We don’t make out in the kitchen! (Looking at you, Taash and Harding! Give a man some peace, I beg you!)

No mixing poisons in the kitchen! (It’s an honorable craft, but please, Rook, just don’t)

Carving is a fine hobby, but please clean up after yourself (That means you, Davrin)

Yes, my kitchen knives ARE sharp. Always! I tend to them. You don’t have to test before using them. You’ll end up hurting yourself.

On the same note: Don’t throw used knives into the sink with soapy water. Remember they are sharp and you can’t see them under the foam. You’ll get hurt.

I appreciate your help, Taash, but please refrain from kindling the fires like this… (you know what I mean…)

Wash your hands after chopping Chillies. Especially BEFORE using the BATHROOM. (I will explain if I must, but try to use your imagination before asking.)

It is never a good idea, to pour water into hot oil. (Ask Harding, she knows!)

Never cook bacon naked. (1. For obvious reasons 2.The flaming hot grease drizzles might seriously hurt you)

The RED cloth is for drying dishes

The GREEN cloth is for drying fruit and vegetables (you wash your fruits and vegs before eating and cooking them, right? RIGHT?)

The BLUE cloth is for cleaning surfaces.

DON’T MIX THOSE CLOTHS!

Don’t eat anything that has grown a white or green fur! (That goes for you, too, Rook! No discussion about toxins and immunity.)

Cookie dough and cake batter is not a treat. Don’t eat it raw. You will end up sick. Wait for the baked goods. (Looking at you, Bellara, Neve, Harding and Rook!)

I noticed, some of you use the same oil for everything. Don’t do that. You can’t heat the Antivan cold pressed extra virgin olive oil the way you need in order to grill meat or fry chips. I will label the oil-carafes accordingly.

Thank you! Sincerely, your friend - Lucanis

Read the other letters here

[fanaticsnail]

You Kissed the Clown? Part 4

Ok, this chapter got out of hand. I had been dwelling on it for a little while before I did a final few readthroughs. There might be still some grammatical errors and formatting issues, but here it is!

Word count: 4,675 (I am so, so sorry!)

Part 3 is here.

 After marinating in the deep warm liquid of the large porcelain tub for what you deemed to be an appropriate amount of time, you stepped out of the soapy liquid and dried yourself with a large, fluffy towel. Placing a robe from within the bathroom around yourself and gathering your pile of dirty clothes, you made your way back down the hall to find the guest quarters containing your friends.

Your hair was wrapped up in the fluffy towel in an attempt to dry the strands with more haste than simply air drying it. Your bare feet being the only sounds omitting from the long hallway, you strained your ear to hear light conversation coming from the guest quarters. You reached for the door handle, let out a deep breath and made to face your mismatched crew of straw-hat pirates.

“Oh my dear, how was your bath?” Nami asked you once she saw your form entering the space.

“It was relaxing, thank you,” you responded with a sweet smile. You raked your eyes over her and studied the fine clothes she was wearing.

“Wow, red is absolutely your colour!” you exclaimed at her, gesturing to the dress she had chosen to wear for the evening.

“Where were you when I needed you, tinkerer?” she smiled before turning to Zoro and Luffy, “this is what I was talking about. You guys didn’t give me anything to work with!”

Zoro scoffed and craned his head back to stare at the ceiling while Luffy craned his head to the side in confusion.

“I said you still looked like Nami,” he shrugged, “and you do! What was I meant to say?”

You rolled your eyes and laced your arm in Namis, leading her to the vanity and sitting her on the stool in front of it.

“I’m thinking hair up?” you suggested with a downturned smile, quirking your eyebrow in suggestion. She shrugged and looked over her features.

“Definitely an updo,” you said, gesturing to her short locks. You used your eyes to ask permission to touch her hair, to which she nodded in response, “maybe a few face-framing pieces down. Lower to the nape of your neck I think. With some feathers?”

Her eyes seemed to brighten just a little as she nodded at your suggestion. You picked up the brush on the counter of the vanity and began to draw her hair into the palms of your hands and twirl pieces around your fingers. You heard Zoro move to the place behind the changing shield and begin removing his bathrobe and sorting through the clothes he had chosen.

“What are you wearing, Captain?” you called over your shoulder while holding your gaze on the locks of the orange-haired woman sat in front of you.

“Nami picked out these for me,” he said with a broad smile, “classy, no?”

You brought your eyes up to view your captain in the silver lined mirror in front of you, looking over the dark vest and pant combination held in front of him.

“Very you, love,” you nodded, returning your eyes to the hair in front of you as you began pinning some of the pieces in place. You smiled slightly, catching Nami fawning slightly over herself as you fashioned her hair to suit your vision.

“How did you get so good at this?” she asked you, meeting your eyes in the vanity, “this girly stuff.”

“My mother,” you responded with a smile, “she used to wear her hair showcasing several of our handmade pieces to demonstrate our craft to the customers in the shop.”

You placed a few white-tipped feathers in Nami’s lower bun, securing them with several small brass pieces. Nami nodded slightly for you to continue talking.

“And when she deemed me ready,” you said, focussing on one brass piece and slotting it within her hair, “that task fell to me.”

You smiled at your work, placing your hands on her shoulders and bringing your face down to her level and looked at her in the vanity.

“You’re really good,” she commented, turning her head slightly to gaze at the back. You picked up a smaller mirror and held it to the back of her hair and angled it in a way she could see the rear of her updo.

“Thank you,” you responded warmly. She offered you a sincere smile and you placed your hand once more on her shoulder.

You heard Zoro cough, prompting you to turn to view his attire. You let out a low whistle and Nami nodded in approval at the dark suit he chose with a tanned shirt beneath it.

“Nice ensemble, swordsman,” you complimented him with an arched brow, which he in turn smiled at the ground in response to your words, almost bashfully.

“Now,” Nami said, interrupting your train of thought slightly while rising from her seat at the vanity, “lets sort you out. Can’t have you attending dinner in a bath robe with your hair in a damp towel.”

You laughed at her comment and followed her lead to the many racks containing a vast collection of tinted silks, satins, chiffon, cotton and feathers. Several items drew you in, but one in particular had you buzzing slightly. A deep, blue dress held you in a trance as you pictured the colour matching the irises of your newly infatuation’s eyes. You reached for the material and smoothed your hands over the frock. Several layers of tulle, fine satin and chiffon fell over the gown with a corset-style back. You held the fabric as you imagined yourself being twirled before being held in the arms of the clown captain. Your eyes began to glaze over as you leant in to your fantasy, imagining the music playing as he held your body against his and whispered his loving desires into your hairline.

“That one?” you heard Zoro ask over your shoulder, noticing how close he truly was to you. This immediately broke the spell you felt over encumbered by. You shook your head before presenting the material to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry Zoro. Did you want to wear it?” you taunted him while removing the hanger from the rack and holding it up to his torso and furrowed your brows in playfulness, “not really your colour.”

You heard Nami laugh as she continued to sift through the racks for something more appropriate than a ballgown for you to wear to dinner. You laughed and turned to put the dress back onto the hanger, only to have your movements halted by Zoro grasping your wrist lightly.

“You’re thinking about the clown again, aren’t you,” he murmured in your ear, in a low enough tone that only you (to your current knowledge) would be exposed to. You inhaled sharply before shaking your head and putting the gown back onto the rack and turning to face him. While training with him and discussing the prior battle he engaged with against Buggy, he noticed how your expression changed. Your posture would stand slightly less alert, eyes glazed over slightly as you pictured the shared kiss in your mind again.

You challenged him with your eyes, opting to not speak to give yourself away. The way his eyes searched yours left an unsettling feeling in your chest.

“You know he’s murdered potentially millions, destroyed towns and nearly killed us, right?” he asked you, holding his hard gaze. You felt a small wave of sadness come over you at the thought of the violent crimes he had committed in his acts of piracy.

“You can’t change a person that far gone,” he uttered to you, breaking his gaze from you to look at your captain, “and if you leave, it’ll break him.”

You followed Zoro’s gaze to look at your captain, now freshly adorning his vest and pants. He reached up to readjust his straw hat and smiled broadly at you both.

“What do you think?” Luffy asked, and without missing a beat; Nami responded.

“You look like Luffy,” she yelled over her shoulder. You saw the captain smile and nod his head in response.

“You’re right. I do look like Luffy,” he confirmed, sitting down on the plush stool in the centre of the room again.

You felt Zoro remove his hand from your wrist and place it on your shoulder as he leant in closer to you and whispered into your ear.

“You can do better than some psychotic clown,” he said before releasing your shoulder from his grasp and turning to take up his swords and fix them on his hip. You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips, shaking your head slightly at the words and continuing to sort through the materials.

“This is the one,” you heard the voice of Nami call from a rack several isles over.

You turned your head to look at the dress she was cradling in her arms. The way you could describe the outfit she was holding out to you would be whimsical. Something from within the pages of the novels you would read while attending the shop back home.

You smiled broadly and took the dress from her arms with a wide smile.

“This is beautiful,” you commented, immediately taking the dress behind the changing screen and pooling the robe at your feet. You stepped into the dress and brought it over your hips first, before placing your arms in the sleeves and pulling it over your torso. You stepped out from behind the screen to reveal the dress. Nami smiled at you as you presented your back to her.

“Would you mind doing me up?” you asked her, pulling the strands of your drying hair over your shoulder to aid her with her task.

“This looks so good on you!” she commented, placing her hand on your zipper and pulling it to the hilt. You walked over to the vanity and looked yourself over, nodding in affirming her words.

“You’re right, it suits me,” you declared while running your fingers through your hair and beginning to fashion it in a style you were accustomed to wearing in your family’s shop. You placed several sentimental pieces of jewellery in your hair, interlacing them between several braids you managed to weave in a few minutes.

A knock appeared at the door, indicating it was time to commence the birthday meal of Miss Kaya, you walked to the side of your captain with a smile.

“Well,” he said, “let’s go eat!”

He offered his arm to you, which you took with a laugh and allowed him to escort you to the foyer where several variety of hors d’ouevres were being offered on silver platters by the staff. You accepted a class of sparkling wine from the tray while retracting your arm from Luffy’s elbow.

Luffy sprung to commence his dining experience, opting to skip the beverages and go straight to the source of the delicious smell he had been craving. You were left alone slightly, as Zoro was speaking with Klahadore, Nami was conversing with Usopp and Kaya while the other members of staff would offer trays of food and beverages to your crew and another man who was introduced to you as ‘Merry’.

You continued to have the uneasy feeling of being watched by someone, often peaking from the corners of your eyes to catch the source in the act – only to find nothing awaiting your gaze. You sighed and raised the champagne flute to your lips and took a small sip of the tart, bubbling liquid.

“Something the matter?” you heard a voice purr to you, pulling you from your trance to meet the gaze of Klahadore. You felt yourself jump a little at his introduction, bringing your attention fully onto him. You sighed before smiling at him, hoping he did not sense your uneasiness at his presence.

“I’ve not had a good pampering for some while, Mister Klahadore,” you said with a warm smile, “I’ve been at sea for longer than I ought to have been, I think.”

He hummed in response, offering you a fresh glass of champagne; which you accepted graciously. He took the empty glass from your hand and replacing it with the full one, “you seem to be one affiliated with the finer things in life.”

“I have been educated, yes,” you responded, narrowing your eyes slightly at his accusation.

“I mean no disrespect,” he said, using the palm of his hand to adjust his glasses closer to his eyes, “you just do not seem like one suited for piracy.”

You maintained your narrowed eye contact, scepticism displayed in questioning his unintentionality of the subtle jab.

“Yet here you are,” he continued, pausing between each word.

“Here I am,” you confirmed with a smile, raising your glass to your lips and sipping at the wine while looking over to make eye contact with the swordsman of the crew. You widened your eyes at him, hoping for him to catch on to your subtle cry for help at being left alone with this unsettling figure. As unaware as one could be in this type of situation, Zoro pointed to the butler with his chin and shook his head in question. You mentally screamed at him, hoping for some unnatural telepathic ability to inflict great harm on the clueless swordsman before attempting to calm yourself and returning your gaze to the butler at your side.

“You’ll be escorted to the workshop after supper,” he said with a twinge in the corner of his mouth before continuing with a small list, “there will be a work bench, some oil, some better tweezers, screws, nuts, bolts, a red hot poker, soldering metal, a blackened glass visor, magnifying glass, and to rehash your words; how did you put it?”

You widened your eyes as Klahadore leant in ever so slightly to your ear and purred into it like one would taunt a helpless, flightless infantile bird.

“A bloody stiff drink,” he uttered with a small chuckle in your ear. You sharply inhaled a breath at this comment and stepped slightly away from the butler, prompting him to teeter his laughter slightly and readjust his glasses before adding, “I’ll escort you myself after I lay Miss Kaya to rest in her chambers.”

You nodded your head to him with an uneasy smile, confirming your attendance before walking over to the place Zoro was standing.

“What the hell was that,” you whispered in a berating manner at him.

“What the hell was that,” he said in the same hushed tone, gesturing to the place you were once standing in with the butler, “when I said you could do better than the clown, I didn’t mean moving on from one unhinged weirdo to the next.”

“What the hell, Zoro,” you hissed at him through clenched teeth, “I was giving you the signal.”

“That you wanted to kiss him? Yeah, I saw,” he whispered back.

You groaned at the comment, using all of your willpower to not smack the swordsman upside the head. Breaking you out of your thoughts, you were alerted to the beginning of the dinner by Klahadore as he escorted Miss Kaya to the head of the table.

“I’ll give you a lesson on what the signal is later, swordsman,” you hissed at him, brushing past him and plastering a fake smile on your features as you entered the dining room.

Unlike your companions, you had been trained in debutant-like manners in your education for formal negotiations with upper-classed individuals. You waited for Klahadore to ensure Miss Kaya was comfortably sat in her chair before reaching for your own to take a seat, unlike Zoro, Luffy, Usopp and Nami who sat down as soon as they found their designated chairs. You mentally sighed at their inappropriate table manners before nodding to Miss Kaya and taking a seat at the table.

You commenced your meal after Miss Kaya took her fist bite, enjoying the meal so dutifully prepared for you; choosing to keep yourself away from engaging in conversation with the troop. You were feeling so unlike yourself, completely thrown by the act you had committed days prior. Usually, you displayed your bubbly, semi-flirtatious and intelligent personality with an organic ease. You furrowed your brows at the thought that the clown had a fierce hold on your very soul, a pull urging you to bring yourself over to him and give in to your unbridled emotions.

And at this thought, you finally snapped. You refused to dwell on the improbable circumstances of ever seeing Captain Buggy again, and especially foster a romantic relationship with the; as Zoro so eloquently put it: some psychotic clown. You had come too far in your crafting skills, education and ability to challenge a persons apprehensions with your charisma to throw it all away to be some love-struck puppy for a powerful sea-captain on an insane rampage. You shook your head from your thoughts and plastered a smile on your face and began to make conversation with Merry who was seated beside you.

You were shocked when Luffy decided to stand up on the table and walk over to the woman who had so openly invited to host you within her halls that your words halted in your throat, causing you to do nothing but to gawk at the scene presented before you.

“Everyone, out of this house at once!” Klahadore demanded, to which Kaya responded.

“No,” she said with a gentle cough, “it’s late. Let them stay the night.”

Klahadore reached for Kaya, bringing her to her feet and beginning to escort her to her bedchambers.

“As you wish, Miss Kaya,” he relented, “but they are to be out first thing in the morning.”

He led her up the stairs, causing you to rise to your feet and bid Kaya goodnight.

“Well, that went pretty well,” exclaimed Luffy with a playful smile, “don’t you think?”

Silence engulfed the dinner guests seated around the table as they all contemplated the sheer ignorance of their young captain. You rolled your head back with closed eyes, hearing a slight click front your left side as you groaned at the knowledge you were about to undertake handling a potentially dangerous item for the cat-like butler.

“I’m retiring to the guest quarters,” you exclaimed, turning with a smile to the ram-looking Merry and giving him a polite bow.

“Sleep well,” he said with a wide smile. You gestured with your eyes to your remaining comrades and suggested with a subtle crane of your neck to exit from the dining room. Nami sprung to her feet after pushing her chair back in response to your gaze. Zoro creased his brows and shook his head in question, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“At least someone understands what ‘the signal’ is,” you said under your breath, linking your arms with Nami and escorting one another up the stairs towards the suite you were all sharing.

You both walked in silence towards the room, enjoying being in the comfort of just the two of you. She seemed to pay close attention to several of the more shiny pieces littering the many benches throughout the hall as you walked.

“Did you live in a place like this?” she asked you, continuing to fix her gaze on a gold-dipped light fixture.

“Absolutely not,” you replied with a small smile, “I grew up with my siblings in an apartment above the shop.”

She hummed in response, continuing the slow pace you kept on your way to the suite.

“You would work with stuff like this, though?” she unlaced your arms and picked up a pristine silver box and weighed it in her palm, “rich people, stuff.”

You sighed and took the box from her hands, “yes, I worked with this stuff.” You placed the item back on the bench before turning to smile at her.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked her with a shrug, “that we were well off? That I was exposed to the finer things in life?”

She creased her brows and crossed her arms at your comments. You sighed and took a step towards her.

“Look, Nami,” you said, placing your hands on her shoulders, “I did overhear parts of your conversation with Zoro. Eat the rich and all that.”

She unlaced her arms and widened her eyes a little at your statement.

“Wealth doesn’t equate to happiness,” you said, searching your gaze into hers, “and every penny I earnt was spent running the shop, and caring for my fourteen younger siblings when my mother passed.”

She let out a small gasp at your declaration and gave you a look of slight sympathy.

“Now,” you said, releasing her shoulders from your gentle grasp with a smile, “let’s agree to not judge one another for our histories and move on. I won’t pity you or pry your past from you, and we don’t question one another’s life choices, yeah?”

She nodded slightly at your words and you both continued on to your chambers.

BONUS BELOW

Holding a hand up to his missing ear, the famed clown captain sat atop his stage chair and hanging on to every word he managed to hear you disclose from its place among he assumed was the bottom of a skirt? His feet were both dangling over the left arm of the chair as he rested his head on the right arm, laying completely down on his back on the firm, wooden base.

He recalled letting out an insane amount of laughter at the fact that he had manage to unintentionally woo you with a simple kiss exchanged between you. He did not restrain his chuckles as he eaves-dropped the private conversation you seemed to be engaging with yourself about in the showers.

“How could this particular woman be so desperate for me,” he maliciously spat with an air of smug confidence surrounding him, “all I did was threaten her and in response, she kissed me.”

He laughed again, kicking his feet slightly at how utterly ridiculous the whole situation was. He pressed the blank space his right ear was no longer attached to and continued to listen to you argue with yourself.

“It wasn’t even that good of a kiss anyhow,” he heard you mutter to yourself in an echoing room.

“Not that good of a kiss, my right ass-cheek,” he growled, sitting up from his reclining position and planting his feat on the ground, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, “it blew your absolute mind, baby. You’re crazy about me!”

He smirked at his own comment, before an uneasy feeling in the pit of his chest began to grow slightly.

“I didn’t even enjoy it that much,” he heard you say, also listening to the sound of a tap filling something large.

“Didn’t enjoy it that much?!” He yelled in a slight fit of rage, bringing the attention of Cabaji as he entered the tent. Buggy’s frown deepened at your words as he felt his chest bubble slightly at the feeling of inadequacy.

“Who are you talking to, Captain?” he asked.

“Shut-up!” he barked at him, “get out, I’m busy!”

Cabaji held his hands out defensively in front of himself and backed away slowly to return to the green room, leaving Buggy alone with his thoughts.

Buggy had a deep frown plastered on his face as he continued to hang onto every word he heard escape your lips.

“He could’ve been faking,” he heard you whisper to yourself, “it could’ve all been an act, a trick to lull me into a false sense of security, only to kill me after he was done with whatever he was doing with Luffy.”

“No,” he felt himself whimper slightly at your comment, dropping his frown and widening his eyes. The pit in his chest appeared to be growing and overcoming him slightly. He brought his other hand up to his lips and traced them with his fingertips lightly, attempting to bring the memory of the taste of you back to his skin.

His memory was flooded with your tender touch. His immediate reaction to push you away and inflict harm on you for daring to pull his body into yourself completely dissipated as you gently brought his body flush against your own and placed your lips against his. He remembered his sinister frown falling away from his brows as they turned upward in shock as he whimpered like some touch-starved stray animal against your embrace. Against his better judgement, he wanted nothing more than to hold you there for as long as you were willing to freely give him. He remembered lacing his gloved hand into your hair and pulling you gently into his embrace, squeezing the soft flesh of your back.

He had never felt a touch like yours before. This was his first encounter with another person so willing to freely express this amount of affection to him, he never wanted to part from your embrace – even ignoring the fact he felt you reach into his pocket to claim one of his throwing knives. He didn’t care if you were going to attempt to stab him in that moment, he would survive and you would look completely and utterly stupid. He was enjoying your touch and didn’t want to tear himself away from your clutches to brace himself for something as small as a dagger in his side.

While bracing himself in expectation of feeling the sharp object to be pried into the flesh you were exposing beneath his jacket, he felt your hands begin to explore his flesh, prompting a unrestrained moan to escape his lips. He wanted more. He wanted all of you, to be with you completely. If you were not holding him so firmly against yourself, he felt as if he would’ve become a puddle of broken pieces below your feet. Your touch brought him to his knees, in a hypothetical sense.

He cradled the empty space his right ear was missing from and felt overcome with the need to be in your presence. He was brought from his concentration on your words as he shook his head to bring him back into the present.

“What the hell?” he asked himself, looking at the position he was sitting in while cradling his ear, “why am I so focussed on you? I don’t even know your name!”

He gasped as he heard the final words escape from between your lips in a tone just above a whisper.

“I think I’m in love with Buggy the Clown.”

His jaw grew slack as he opened it in shock, the feeling in his chest warming his torso with an uncomfortable new emotion. His body slumped back into the broad backboard of his chair as he shook his head slightly, mouth continuing to hang agape in shock.

He felt his eyes begin to glaze over slightly, replaying your final words over and over again within his mind like a well-lit merry go round.

“That’s-,” he uttered in a voice below a soft murmur, “that’s all I ever wanted.”

He felt the well within his chest overflow and shoot tingles throughout his body. He closed his jaw and gulped back the saliva collected in his mouth as he continued to focus on your confession. He dropped his hand down from the empty space beside his head and hung it beside his shocked body. He looked down at his chest as the warmth continued to spread over his form as he came to understand the emotion he was feeling.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered with a wide grin forming on his face, a subtle bashfulness arising alongside a large warmth to his cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

He let out a teetering giggle with a twinkle in his eyes as he came to terms with the adoration he had developed for you. He couldn’t wait to see you again, to tease you before pulling you into his arms. His love, his queen. His.

Part 5

[exorexic]

-ˏˋ⋆ Self Care With a Restrictive ED ⋆ˊˎ-

Taking care of yourself is essential, especially when suffering with an ED. Here’s a list of activities that can help you focus on self-care without involving food ✩

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

1. Shower or Bathe ✧.*

Enjoy the refreshing sensation of warm water. If a full shower feels overwhelming, try washing your hair in the sink or using wet wipes or a soapy hand towel to feel clean. Enhance your experience with bath products like oils, body scrubs, and bath bombs. These small luxuries can be a wonderful treat for yourself, and a good distraction.

2. Skincare Routine ✧.*

Establishing a skincare routine can be a soothing and rewarding ritual. Explore different face masks, cleansers, and toners. This not only takes your mind off food but also gives your skin a healthy glow. Treat yourself to products that you enjoy using; you deserve it!

3. Nail Care ✧.*

Caring for your nails can be a great way to practice self-love. Whether you do it at home or visit a professional, keeping your nails trimmed and filed can boost your confidence. Consider taking biotin supplements to strengthen your nails, especially if they become brittle.

4. Exercise ✧.*

Find a form of exercise that feels enjoyable for you. This could be walking with a friend, biking, swimming, or dancing. Choose activities that feel good for your body and mind. Exercise burns calories, which is a bonus! Swimming especially isn't as hard on the muscles, and is a good choice if you are too tired to do conventional forms of exercise.

5. Crafting ✧.*

Engage in creative hobbies like sewing, embroidery, knitting, or jewelry-making. Crafting can be a fulfilling way to express yourself and pass the time. Plus, you get to enjoy the tangible results of your hard work!

6. Curate a Music Playlist ✧.*

0:00 ───|────── 0:00 Create playlists that inspire you, uplift you, or reflect your feelings. Use platforms like Spotify or YouTube to explore new music or revisit your favorite songs. Music can be a powerful way to shift your mood. You can even make playlists to inspire you to keep ✨ving.

7. Journaling ✧.*

Write down your thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Journaling can help you process emotions and reflect on your journey. You can also try gratitude journaling, where you list things you’re thankful for each day.

8. Reading ✧.*

Dive into a good book or explore articles on topics that interest you. Reading can transport you to different worlds and offer a welcome distraction.

9. Mindfulness and Meditation ✧.*

Practice mindfulness or meditation to help center yourself. Apps like Headspace or Calm can guide you through short sessions that focus on breathing and relaxation.

10. Gardening ✧.*

If you have access to outdoor space, try your hand at gardening. Tending to plants can be therapeutic and offers a rewarding connection to nature.

11. Volunteering ✧.*

Consider giving your time to a cause you care about. Helping others can provide a sense of purpose and community, redirecting your focus away from food.

12. Learn a New Skill ✧.*

Challenge yourself to learn something new, whether it’s a language, cooking (but not for yourself), or a musical instrument. Online courses are widely available and can be a fun way to engage your mind.

[norelationtoatticus]

5 Times Bucky Tricked Steve Into Washing His Hair +1 Time He Didn’t Have To Ask

An art/fic collab for the Stucky Reverse Big Bang 2024 @stuckybangs

Fic by SquadOfCats. Inspired by and featuring artwork from the amazing @taybay14/Taybay14

Summary: During the worst of his recovery, Steve used to wash Bucky’s hair for him. Now, Bucky is a semi-stable hundred year old man who can bathe all by himself… but he misses Steve washing his hair for him. Asking for it? Out of the question. Lies, subterfuge, and expertly crafted machinations to manipulate Steve’s big, soapy hands right where he wants them? Much more Bucky’s style.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 34,886

[libertine-past]

Alternate “Love in Vain.” Cody doesn’t call. That’s it! That’s the fic! 😂

Rogue clonked her phone back in its cradle. “Don’t you hate it when you tell someone they got the wrong number, and they argue with you? I know I have a lot of characters floatin’ around in here,” she gestured at her head, “but I’m a hundred percent sure I ain’t Linda from the Yonkers Craft Expo.”

Gambit snickered with a look of pure engrossment, shaking his head in delight. “Indeed. Linda sound pretty boring to me.”

“Oh, I bet you think you could liven her up though, honey-tongue— the way you came in all gussied up to go out on the town.”

“We don’ have to go nowhere. You don’t even have to get out of your nightgown or put down your book, ‘less you want. A date can just be you an’ me in the same room.”

God, this man’s standards couldn’t get any endearingly lower. She puffed some fallen white hair out of her face. “Welp. You ever seen Baywatch? It’s kind of a guilty pleasure, like these Harlequin stories. Hnh. What am I sayin’. Of course you have. Men sure appreciate the um.” She rolled her eyes and made curvy gestures. “Casting.”

“Eh. That show irrealiste. Petty t’ieves always blowin’ up oil rigs or something. Nobody that dumb.”

“So your big takeaway from a show fulla bathin’ beauties is the shitty portrayal of crime?” she laughed.

“Oh, I see them beauties. How do you think I do all my trainin’ for look don’t touch?”

“You can always use more of that. Alright then. You, me, and bad TV it is.”

“Ey, what happen to your bedpost?” he asked, finally noticing.

“Trainin’ for knockin’ your dang block off.”

They sat on the rec room futon in the glow of the TV, under a blanket.

“Aw hell, this is one of those filler episodes with like three beach montages,” Rogue said.

“Yeah, I hate watchin’ people just enjoyin’ themselves,” Gambit winked. “You gotta have filler in life, chere. Can’t be all life-or-death drama.”

She looked him over. “The way you dress like Don Johnson on Saturday nights, I feel like we should be watchin’ Miami Vice reruns instead.”

“You love it.” He pulled off his scarf and draped it around her shoulders.

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

And it happened—the long, hungry look that usually made her run. She didn’t, but she wasn’t above a quick subject change. “God, they use same underwater footage over an’ over.”

“Well, folks can’t hold their breath forever.”

She knew this wasn’t a dig at her, but she retreated into overthinking. “…you’ve been tryin’ for a few years with me, Remy.”

“Chere. Don’t. That’s never what this feel like.” He pulled her hand out from under the blanket and kissed it. “A barrier doesn’t phase me none. It’s you underneath. That’s all that matters. It’s the 90’s. Everyone big on protection, non?”

“Oh yeah, I’m blendin’ right in with today’s generation. …I-I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to stay off this topic, can I?”

The silence wrapped around them as the TV continued its soapy glow on their faces. Gambit didn’t realize that she’d mostly fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“You know why I like this show?” Gambit said. “I can relate, ‘cause Rogue always come to Gambit’s rescue.”

“…..mhm. Cuz iloveyou, caj,” she mumbled.

He exhaled hard. He knew the declaration probably didn’t count, but he clung to it like a life ring.

[viridescentelf]

Inhibition - Beau x Elliott Fluffy Fluff

Hello!! I love @fuerrziah and her beautiful SDV art, especially her farmer Beau and (my love always) Elliott!

I hope you like this extreme slow burn (non-canon) fic of their first kiss and love confession, idk if I missed some of the lore but I tried to stick to your updated ship dynamic🩷

(also sorry it took so long but work and stuff)

I listened to this gorgeous song while writing:

Warnings: Swearing, Lustful Kissing lol idk

————

The song of the waves echoed sweetly in Beau‘s ear. Willy had gifted him this crappy fishing rod some time ago, but it was better than nothing. Fish always got him decent coin and he was too lazy to craft a newer one.

The rusty flakes of the handle chipped away with every strong gust of wind. Some landed in the farmer‘s long hair, but he barely acknowledged it.

It was close to midday. Last time he checked the time it was around 10:00, but that was after leaving his farm.

His red eyes couldn‘t help but dart to the shack sitting peacefully on the sand while he prepared the bait.

Beau wouldn‘t admit it to anyone, but he had a different reason to be there almost daily. Even if just for a quick wave or a short glance.

It was worth it every time.

Still too early, he thought, as he stretched his back while preparing to throw the line. The spring flower scented air swirled in his nose and mixed well with the oddly comforting salty mist that prickled his cheeks.

His skin glistening with kind droplets, Beau took a strong step back and hurled the fishing line into the water.

Knowing that the fish here usually took some time to notice free food above their heads, the farmer plopped himself down on the dock and let his legs swing above the soapy water.

Staring at the horizon, he felt a yawn tickle the back of his throat and he allowed himself to let out a loud sigh. He hadn‘t slept well. Some nights had been better than others, but the vile voices had won last night. It was difficult to feel at home in Stardew Valley, yet. The only real comfort he got was Miso and the girls in the Valley. And the nice conversations with someone in particular.

After what felt like an hour, Beau‘s stomach began to growl. He forgot to eat breakfast. He stared down at bit more impatiently at the slack line bobbing on the water‘s surface. He could make out a few fish shadows that rudely ignored his bait.

A particular one seemed to stare at the bobbing treat for a while until hastily turning away and swimming deeper into the blue hue.

„Asshole…“ Beau let out as he watched the tease.

„No luck today?“

A hot shiver snaked its way up the farmer‘s back, making him jolt and almost lose his grip on the fishing rod. He had already recognized the deep, sweet voice but turned anyway to gaze upon the one he had hoped to run into.

Elliott stood on the edge of the dock, a few long steps away from Beau, and waved kindly while the strong wind swept his luscious red hair to one side.

How can he look so good with messed up hair?

He realized he had been staring without answering: „Uh- nope. The fish don‘t seem that pleased with the cheap bait I made.“

Elliott gazed at the sunshine speckling the water. Beau tore his eyes away from the writer and pretended to fiddle with the line as he felt another yawn escape him. He tried to hide it in his sleeve. As he haphazardly pretended to busy his hands, Elliott walked towards the farmer.

Planting himself quite close, the redhead left his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. The sound of his exhale gave Beau goosebumps.

„You look weary, dear Beau. How about we meet at the Saloon later for a few hearty laughs with fine ale“ Elliott suggested, his calm exterior hiding the internal fireworks.

„SURE!“ the farmer answered a bit too loudly and quickly. Beau‘s face felt like lava. He was both weary and exhausted. His energy had been at half its volume the entire morning. He really just wanted sleep. But he couldn‘t pass up a chance to hang out with that hunk of a man again. It was always a good time.

Elliott chuckled: „I‘m looking forward to it then. I‘ll probably head over there around 4. See you then?“

Beau nodded hastily, while he was internally calculating if he had enough time to take a nap, shower, find food and eat something. His chickens needed food too.

Elliott smiled down at him, secretly clenching his fists in triumph, and then ventured back towards the beach walkway up to town, most likely on his way to the library.

When the writer was out of his frame of vision, Beau frantically packed everything together, leaving the rod in the water. At that moment, he felt a sharp tug.

„Oh for fuck‘s sake, NOW you bite?!“

Taking it as the taunt that it was, he dropped his bag and tensed his muscles to pull it in.

„You‘re not getting away!“ he growled at the fat fish tht writhed under the surface. It wasn‘t letting up so easily. It thrashed and wiggled trying to escape, but he was determined to at least throw something into the Shipping Bin today. The tug of war strained his muscles, but he clenched his thighs and biceps with one final pull, yanking the big halibut out from the splashing ocean. It jittered feebly and Beau let out a loud „HAH!“ when he held in his hand from its fin.

A flash of Elliott‘s face across his mind made Beau shriek quietly and remember he needed to get ready. Hastily packing everything up with the fresh halibut in his hand, the farmer ran back towards his farm.

———

The nap hadn‘t really happened. He barely got a few minutes in before remembering all the things he needed to do before going to meet Elliott. He still needed to put the harvested strawberries in the preserves jars so that they would be ready for Gus in a few weeks. He had forgotten that Robin had ordered a ton of stone that needed to be delivered today of all days, so he would need to do a whole round through the Valley to meet the deadline and still make it in time to the Saloon.

Beau now quickly shaved the bits of stubble on his chin, while his towel clung for dear life around his hips. Hair still damp, he attempted to brush it, but it kept getting caught on some knots. Brushing more aggressively while inventing new swear words, he finally managed to make it look somewhat presentable. It would dry quickly anyway while walking.

Running to his closet, he was briefly frozen in front of it unsure what to wear that wouldn‘t look too disheveled. Briefly experimenting with new combinations in the mirror, he threw the ideas on the ground and settled for his regular set.

Pants half on, Beau skipped towards the door, avoiding Miso who lay on the warm wood by jumping to the side. Her eyes slowly followed his movements keeping her head comfortably nestled on her paws, somewhat judgmentally.

„Sorry, Miso-„ Beau grunted with his shirt in his mouth while he buttoned his pants. Throwing the shirt and jacket on, the farmer ran to his fruit chests by the house, picked up as many strawberries as he could carry, threw them haphazardly into the preserves jars, ran to the coop to open the door so the chickens could eat and then continued towards the pile of stone he had freshly mined the day before. Stuffing them without counting into this bag, he glanced at the clock to see a scathing 3:30 pm appear on its face.

„Fuck!!!“

Jumping to his feet while flinging the backpack onto his back, Beau ran up to the side passage leading towards the mountains.

Sprinting with exhausted limbs and an empty stomach (he forgot to eat), he made it to Robin‘s Shop. He opened the door with such force, that it banged against the wall.

„Beau!? Wha-“ Robin attempted to speak.

„Here!“ The hectic farmer began unloading the stones onto her desk. Not waiting for a reply (and forgetting his payment), he turned on his heels and bolted back out the door, leaving an extremely confused carpenter yelling after him to collect his reward.

Beau tripped over a rock but caught himself quickly while dashing down the mountain to reach town. People passing him tried to greet him, but were met with a gaspy: „No time!“ while he continued panting down the road.

———

Elliott stood at a high table, scribbling frantically on a small piece of paper. He crossed everything out and grunted at the continues disappointment in his own writing.

Gus eyed the pile of scrunched up paper on the floor beside the distraught red head, but chose to wait if he would actually leave it there. Usually, the writer was more considerate than that. Something seemed to preoccupy him today. Cleaning a glass carefully, he watched Elliott vigorously scratch out another line and then exhale loudly with an exasperated „Come on!“

The saloon owner watched Elliott take another huge sip of his drink.

In that moment the door burst open rather inelegantly. Beau stood in the door way, the green hair wild from the wind and letting it air dry. Gus blinked, noticing Elliott‘s sudden straight back and swift hiding of the sea of papers by letting his jacket fall on the floor. Realizing why the writer was so desperate to finish in time, the saloon owner began moving towards the side of the bar where Elliott was seated; to clean of course.

Beau panted a bit, his eyes pulled like magnets to Elliott‘s red hair.

He felt his knees shake at the sight of him: he sat so properly with that gorgeous smile and luscious locks, directing that beam at the farmer. Beau felt unworthy of his attention, but he couldn‘t help but want to be close.

„Beau!“ Elliott called sweetly, waving towards the high table, invitingly. Gus watched the writer kick his jacket a bit further under the big curtain next to him.

Beau was breathless and attempted to squeeze out of a response while walking towards his friend, but his throat gave up. Reaching the table, he coughed briefly into his closed fist and joined the smiling writer.

Elliott looked over at the bar, where Gus pretended to be particularly interested in his coffee machine which he wasn‘t using at this moment. Seeing the writer looking his way, he met his gaze.

„Another round for me, Gus! And uh…“ Elliott looked back at Beau who blushed uncontrollably, „you prefer wine right?“

Beau nodded and called to the bar keep: „Red wine for me!“ Gus nodded and went on to prepare the drinks.

The farmer was dead tired and running on an empty stomach. This could only go well.

Elliott and Beau talked about daily chit chat things, which would normally bore the farmer to death. But with him, sharing these small insignificant details about life felt strangely comforting. He just had a way of turning the mundane into magic with the way he spoke about things. Beau could listen to him for hours and Elliott, oddly, loved hearing about the farming shenanigans he got up to. He was always particularly fascinating by Beau‘s mining stories.

„And you truly don‘t feel frightened down there? In the dark?“ Elliott asked with a sweet viridescent twinkle in his eye.

Beau chuckled: „Not really. I have my sword and I found a ring that emits a good amount of light, so it‘s never too. The zombies surprise attack me sometimes, but they’re pretty slow. Cause you know… they‘re zombies…“

They shared a laugh, taking another swig of their drinks together. Beau already felt lightheaded. The air felt fuzzy and warm, the tender voice of his table companion making his body simultaneously tense up and relax at the same time.

„You‘re so brave, I could never venture down there…“ Elliott looked up from his pint, a particular stare that Beau had noticed before. His eyes wandered from the farmer‘s eyes down his arms and across the chest. It was only for a brief moment, but it made Beau feel dizzy. He was probably imagining it, wishful thinking. He was tipsy anyway. Everything sounds like flirting when you‘re inebriated. He tried to mimic Elliott’s sultry stare just in case he was flirting, but one of his eyes twitched uncontrollably from exhaustion, so he stopped trying and kept his focus on his glas.

„More stupid, than brave.“ Beau replied jokingly, while swirling the red liquid in his glas.

Stupid. A familiar insult he was trying to reclaim for himself.

Elliott‘s eyes immediately widened in response.

„Oh no, Beau! Please don‘t say such things. You‘re not stupid at all.“

It happened so suddenly. Elliott‘s soft hand rested on Beau‘s and they both stared at the sudden impact.

Beau could feel his cheeks burning up and noticed the same happening on the writer‘s. They didn‘t notice, but Gus had paused his cleaning and remained frozen, just like they were as well.

„Ah!“ Elliott took his hand away suddenly. „I apologize, I - uh didn‘t want to -„

Beau wasn‘t sure what to do. He liked it. Loved it actually. But Elliott‘s fast recoil confused him.

„It‘s fine, don‘t worry about it“ Beau tried to sound calm but the hoarseness in his voice gave away his nerves.

Not knowing what else to answer, Beau chugged the rest of his wine and waved weirdly to Gus for another one.

Elliott seemed to be fiddling with a scrunched up paper in his lap, cheeks still a peachy hue.

„So uhm… Beau, we‘ve been hanging out a lot and uh…“ Gus came over and replaced the empty glas of wine with a new one. He seemed to take his sweet time returning to the bar.

The paper crunched again. Beau wasn’t sure if he was opening or closing it. In any case, Elliott seemed to be particularly fascinated with his own lap.

„You see… I really...“ He paused again, his head jolting down again, rereading what he had written apparently. His face was turning purple now.

Beau‘s grip on the glas was so tight, he was terrified it would break in half. What was he trying to say?

Elliott gulped. Gus hadn‘t moved. He was fixed in his „walking away“ position.

The door burst open again and some more towns people wandered it, immediately increasing the tranquil volume of the Saloon.

The kids walked in, as well. Abigail spotted Beau and waved frantically. She started towards their table.

Elliott, seeing that she was approaching, sighed.

„Nevermind.“

Beau‘s entire body slumped. Elliott couldn‘t look him in the eye, disappointment clearly visible on his serious face as he chugged more from his pint, requesting another.

Gus shook his head and finally returned to his station to prepare the writer‘s drink and take new orders.

Abigail reached them and made the rest of her friends join her, not realizing the moment they had interrupted.

They sat around Beau and Elliott, telling them about their newest song, while Abigail asked about any cool stones Beau might‘ve found in the mines recently.

———

Hours passed, the Saloon filling up even more. Beau and Elliott kept drinking, not being able to hold their personal conversation here and deciding to drown that fact with more liquor.

Still, they laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Even after a frustrating start, being near each other always felt strangely like home. A home in a homeless place. At least it did for Beau.

But they were smashed. Walking out of the Saloon, it suddenly hit Beau how drunk he actually was. Did the lamp posts always have three bulbs?

Stumbling, the two of them decided some fresh ocean air would help them both stand a bit straighter.

Struggling to walk normal in the sand, Elliott held his belly from laughing so hard while Beau walked like a dizzy flamingo towards the water.

Looking back, having finally reached the dock and hearing the comforting waves, Elliott had joined him wiping tears of laughter from his eye. Beau tried to take his shoes off, but fell over.

Elliott grabbed Beau‘s arm and pulled him back to a standing position, giggling still.

„Careful there. Are you alright?“ he asked.

Beau tried to focus on his handsome face. Seeing three of them wasn‘t that bad actually.

„Fine and dancy~“ he replied.

Elliott was still holding onto his arm. Letting go slowly, he looked up to the night sky and took a deep and slow breath. He turned away, looking into the distance. The stars twinkled on the water‘s surface. Beau wanted him to hold his arm again, mostly for stability because he couldn‘t stand straight, but also because it was nice to feel his touch.

Elliott seemed more stable. Probably because he hadn‘t drunk on an empty stomach.

„Beau…“ Elliott said gently, still looking out towards the ocean.

„Yessir~“

What the fuck was that? Say something normal.

Elliott chuckled cutely. Catching himself again, he pulled a paper out of his pocket. He looked at it briefly, then put it away again.

„A heaven on earth I have won by knowing thee…so are thou to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground…“

There was a brief pause. Beau wasn‘t sure what to reply to that. His sober brain knew it meant something profoundly sweet, but the wine made it difficult to understand.

„Thee? Am I a king or something now?“ He noticed the world spinning a bit too fast. It was hard to stand still. He caught himself from falling backwards, edging closer to the dock‘s end.

Elliott laughed again. His eyes finally moving away from the ocean, he looked at the farmer with a tenderness Beau wasn‘t sure what to do with. Although he was clearly blushing, something seemed to be giving him courage this time.

„Shakespeare does have a way to alienate. I have been trying for weeks to write out my own words, but nothing came close to his...“

Elliott turned himself towards Beau, taking his hands out of his pockets. He fidgeted a bit with his jacket.

„I…really enjoy being in your presence, Beau. I haven‘t felt this way before…you‘re just… so easy to talk to. I don‘t want anything to ruin what we have so I‘m struggling to- uhm…“

Elliott gulped once again. The tension in Beau’s muscles convulsed as he heard his heart beating so fast, it might burst. Was this a confession?

Taking another deep breath, he finally stared intently into Beau‘s eyes:

„I have a bouquet in my shack. I want to give it to you.“

There was an eruption of glee within Beau‘s chest. An unstoppable need to say everything at once. He had wanted this ever since he‘d met the writer here on the beach. But Elliott had prepared a sweet speech and written stuff about him for weeks?! He bought a bouquet for him?!?!?! For him?!?

Beau felt his body fall backwards, he had tried to catch himself from falling and unknowingly took a step into thin air. Not realizing he was actually falling into the ocean, Beau exclaimed:

„YOU ARE SO FUCKING HANDSOME!!!“

Water crashed into his ears. Silence encompassed his entire body as he sank deeply into the dark ocean. Instinctively kicking his feet, he tried to breach the surface, but he was confused which way was up.

A slight panic gripped him as he thrashed about in many directions. The residual air quickly depleting his lungs from the fear of drowning.

A strong hand wrapped around his flailing arm. With a sharp tug, he suddenly broke out of the crushing depths and took a harsh inhale of fresh air.

Elliott pulled Beau back onto the sand, his wet red hair sticking to his neck. Beau coughed aggressively, spitting out water. The sobering event making his thoughts a bit clearer, he sat up quickly and was met with Elliott‘s face right up close.

„YOU LIKE ME?!“

Elliott coughed a bit while he laughed once more at the comical priorities Beau had: „Yes, I really do…“

Beau couldn‘t believe it. Was he dreaming and actually snoring in his bed? Had this whole day actually happened?

Realizing Elliott was checking him for injuries, Beau took the writer‘s hand into his own. They were both now new colors of deep red.

„I‘m fine. Sorry about that.“ He kept his hand in his grasp. The world wasn‘t spinning that much anymore. They were so close, like never before. Foreheads were almost touching and Beau could smell the sweet and sour scent of ale from the writer‘s mouth.

„You think I‘m handsome?“ Elliott purred, lips so close they had their own gravitational pull.

Beau nodded. His eyes flickered between Elliott‘s and the lips drawing closer.

Giving in, Beau let his head tilt forward and their lips finally collided.

At first it was soft and hesitant, both feeling each other out. Briefly releasing, Elliott fell forward again, deepening the kiss into a more firm and longing one, which Beau responded in kind. The kiss grew hungrier the more their lips met, as their bodies pressed into one another. Elliott snuck his leg under Beau‘s, forcing his hips to open slightly.

Elliott released, breathing heavily: „Is this.. ok?“

Beau nodded immediately and quickly, not wanting his lips to be apart from the writer‘s. They reconnected again, sinking deeper into the cold sand the more they writhed within each other‘s embrace.

Feeling the chill of the night‘s air surrounding them, Beau placed his hand on Elliott‘s cheek and stared into the gorgeous green eyes that sparkled back at him.

„Wanna go someplace warmer?“ he asked, feeling Elliott shake slightly.

Elliott laughed again and agreed. He stood up first, reaching his arm down to pull Beau up, which he did easily. Both walked with their arms around each other‘s waists towards Elliott‘s house, still peppering kisses on each other.

„I assume this means you‘ll accept the bouquet?“ he asked, somewhat jokingly.

Beau let his head rest on Elliott‘s shoulder, giggling as well:

„Of course, I was hoping you‘d give me one.“

———

Back at the Saloon, Gus was picking up the pile of papers left behind by Elliott.

Curiosity getting the better of him, the barkeeper opened up a particularly crumbled up one and read:

„Dearest Beau,

With every glance, inhibitions fade,

Your touch a promise that I‘ve made,

To be unmasked, unchained, unafraid,

In my tender love for you, courage I save.

With you, my muse, I‘ve found my end“

Gus‘s mustache twitched as a brief smile etched across his face.

[softpawpup]

— apollo regressor things !! ( request from @sunkidd )

✨ loves doing painting and arts and crafts

♫ begs to go play outside every time its sunny, will avoid nap time for more play time outside

️🏹 might throw a tiny tantrum about having to come inside

✨ always wants to kiss their caregiver's booboos better

♫ likes " big kid " drinks ( decaf coffee, tea, low caffeine energy drinks, mocktails, babycinnos )

️🏹 gets very messy very easily, but loves getting all soapy and sudsy in the bath

✨ likes playing with bath paints and rubber duckies

♫ loves going to the waterpark and wearing cute swimmies

️🏹 makes sure their goggles and pool accessories match their bathing suit

[deadchannelradio]

i'm cutting roy out of every story i got him in with jason sorry jayroy stans i still believe in the joyfire dick grayson emotional thunderdome he just doesnt belong in the architecture i am crafting for jasons life nor does Jason belong in his. roy has his own life that is largely batboy free other than Being Weird With And About Dick Grayson. as such jasons stupid little dog Princess Monster Truck's inception (she is staying forever, but this particular inception is going away) i noodled at the beginning of is being put in the trash compactor to die forever. crunch crunch. so you can have it here instead. in my fanfiction abortion morgue.

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason says as Roy walks in the door, foregoing a ‘hello’ or an ‘I missed you’ or a ‘was the mission fun? It looked like you had fun when you shot the enormous bird-thing in the back of the neck with an explosive arrow and blew its head clean off’. He’s scrubbing a very clean pot with the maniacal focus of a man on the brink, up to his elbows with suds. 

Roy sets his bag down on the floor and tosses his jacket on the chair beside the door, toeing his shoes off. Jason points at the jacket without looking. “Do I look like your maid?” he asks. “Pick it up.”

“I would be a very happy man if you did,” Roy says, briefly transported to a world of short skirts and little aprons. He shakes himself off, then hangs his coat up properly before Jason gives in to the conniptions that are clearly bubbling under the surface. “Hi honey, I’m home, I missed you, we’re getting a dog?”

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason repeats darkly. They don’t talk all that much about Jason’s therapist or what he does in therapy, but all her best ideas that Roy’s heard about- starting prozac, getting an apartment and living in it full time instead of a rotating to a new squat every couple of weeks- have been accompanied by this tone of voice. “I shouldn’t get a dog.”

“Why the hell not?” Roy asks, coming up behind him to kiss the back of his neck and wind his arms around Jason’s waist, his shirt damp with dishwater. Jason backs up from the sink slightly to give him room, but doesn’t stop washing the soup pot. “You’re an adult. You have adult money and adult time. We can get a dog.” Roy likes dogs, conceptually. He hasn’t ever owned one long-term, but he enjoys them walking down the street and tied up outside of little coffee shops, and Haley and him hang out when Dick goes out of town and Barbara is unavailable to spend time with her dog-goddaughter. 

“I’m a felon,” Jason points out.

“Do no felons have dogs?”

“No good dog owners are felons.”

“Do you personally know every felon with a dog?”

“What if I have to go on the run again? Or something happens and I can’t take care of a dog?” The sound of the steel wool on metal is getting more grating by the second. “What if someone finds the apartment? Or-,”

“How many of these did you bring up with Laurie that she didn’t have a response for?”

Jason does not have an answer to that, given his silence and aggressive increase of scrubbing. Roy bites his shoulder until Jason flails a wet hand up into his hair and pulls him off, accidentally beaning him in the face with a soapy lump of steel wool. They’re totally getting a dog.

“We’re not applying for anything,” Jason says a few days later, tucking himself into a black jacket and grey scarf that he’s wrapping practically up to his ears. “I don't need a dog. This is a free zoo. We’re just looking.” 

“Of course,” Roy says, pulling on gloves and smiling serenely at the dog filled future yawning open before him. Jason gives him a suspicious squint, intensity ruined by the way that his knit hat is pushing his hair in every direction like a smacked dandelion. In spite of his claims, Jason is visibly nervous the entire monorail ride to the ASPCA, jaw clenched and tunneling into his coat like a turtle. Roy links their elbows as casually as he can when he has to pry Jason’s arm away from his body and scrolls his phone mindlessly. He’s been having visions of dog ownership- flyball, bitesports, long morning jogs with a scruffy heeler or blocky bully breed, agility classes and obedience courses. Admittedly, Roy knows very little about most of these things, but he’s willing to learn. 

Gotham ASPCA’s dog kennel contains pit mixes by majority, most rather unhelpfully labeled as lab or hound mutts, fooling absolutely no one beyond maybe a few landlords. The worker- Safia, on her name tag- who’s leading them around is looking at Jason out of the corner of her eye, as visibly nervous as Roy knows Jason is. He doesn’t look it, a hulking, silent presence over Roy’s shoulder, communicating with Roy mostly by eye contact and shifts in his stance. The biggest scar on his face lifts his upper lip in an accidental snarl, showing teeth, and his winter layers don’t make him any less bulky. She’s trying, at least, in that way that people do when they know they’re making a rude judgment based on little evidence but can’t stop themselves from feeling it. Roy’s sure that Jason isn’t picking up on that, though, just that he’s making her uncomfortable.  Roy puts a hand on the small of Jason’s back as they look at a lanky, blonde shepherd named Snuggles Friday, and Roy watches Safia relax by a few degrees. Friday licks at Jason’s hand through the wires as Safia talks about her, whining, her ears so huge they flop over for a second when she shakes her head. Jason’s fighting a smile. Roy gives Safia a conspiratorially hopeful grin and crosses his fingers, startling a real smile out of her. 

“I think all of our play rooms are occupied at the moment,” Safia says apologetically. “But I have a few more dogs I think would be a good fit for you if you want to look around and then decide who you want some time with?”

Roy looks at Jason, who shrugs, which is probably as good as they’re going to get right now. Friday is still licking his fingers enthusiastically, and Jason pulls away with some reluctance as they move along. 

He stops a few steps later, so abruptly that Roy walks into his back. 

Someone has accidentally left a swiffer duster in the kennel in front of them. It’s barking, a high and snappy thing, and it’s doing a little dance on its tiny feet, like it’s tip toeing in place. Its eyes are unsettlingly large. Roy laughs, looks over at Jason to make a joke about how it’s just not a dog if you can use it like a football, stops. Jason’s fists are clenched by his sides, his face going slowly red.

“That,” he growls through gritted teeth, “is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.”

Roy sends a mental goodbye note to Snuggles Friday. “That’s Caramel,” Safia says as Jason speed-reads the note attached to her kennel with the clinical efficiency usually given to an autopsy report. He drops to his knees, pauses, then gingerly presses a hand against the wire as though he’ll break it. Caramel leaves off the barking and begins licking Jason’s hand like it’s the last scoop of ice cream in the truck on a 100 degree day. Its hind end seems to be undergoing a seismic event.

[rigginsstreet]

in the mood for rival actors!harringrove where steves the hunky heartthrob star of some soapy drama that has a huge rabid fanbase, and a few seasons in billy gets cast to come in and shake things up, a new hot actor on the rise, definitely a snob, thinks his shit dont stink. hes hell to work with. coming in late and hungover because hes gotta hit up all the hot hollywood parties, is the new It boy.

steve gets pissed cuz hes committed to his craft okay? he takes acting seriously. to the point where he'll stay long hours filming with his costars when its not even his coverage, he just wants them to have a good performance to act off of. meanwhile any time its time to film steves close ups in a scene with billy, if billys wrapped for the day hes fucked off and they gotta get a stand in. or on the rare occasion he does stay he just deadpans his lines, gives steve absolutely nothing to work with which pisses him off. and no ones gonna do anything about it because when the cameras actually on billy? he's electric. cant take your eyes off him. even steve has to admit hes damn good at his job, but he wishes he'd be a goddamn team player sometimes!

so of course rumors of a rivalry leak out to the press and the shows PR has to do damage control. steves on red carpets being interviewed about it like "haha no we're fine we're buddies. dont believe everything you read" meanwhile on set theyre at each others throats between takes

and one day it blows WAY up. to the point where billys storming off set cuz steves being a bitch and he cant work like this! but steves hot on his heels following him straight to the trailers, theyre yelling the whole time, everyone in production is steering clear

they end up in billys trailer. theyre still yelling. everyones waiting outside being nosy trying to make out whats happening. and then the smashing happens. things are falling inside and breaking and the trailers rocking a little and assistants are whispering if someone should go inside and break up whatever fight is happening someone should step in right?

but by the time anyone gets the courage to go in, the doors opening. billy and steve step out. well, steve kinda runs out, back to his own trailer, head down, not making eye contact. billys standing there a little disheveled barking "dont you fuckers have somewhere to be?" and everyone disperses.

the talk around set later is how everyone finds it stranger how neither billy nor steve seemed to have had any bruising or injuries or signs of a physical altercation considering the ruckus that was being made.... so thats a little weird...

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Just finished Dark Blue Kiss, and I'm sorry, but who said a soapy show like that was allowed to be a treatise on queer philosophy???

Aof Noppharnach was just like, okay class, today we're gonna talk about the relevance of semiotics to the queer experience, but I'm actually gonna make it relatable and entertaining instead of an incomprehensible academic mess. Right from the character intros, he shows an object to represent a character before panning up to their faces. And then the whole show is about surfaces and surface appearances vs. deeper truth; what we say and do vs. what we mean; the evidence of our true selves we leave in the wake of living life vs. what others make of it. We get references to all these different types of recording and documentation and public announcements but all in the context of what's permissible to share, with whom, and its ramifications. Try counting the number of times an object or an act in concealed by something--mugs inside coolies, post-its inside bags, people behind stall doors, fights beneath blankets, gifts inside boxes.

And DBK just refuses to condemn anyone for not being able to fully manifest their truth for others or capture the essence of something (that latter piece I see in all the possessiveness present in the relationships). Despite that, it still maintains that attempting to craft, depict, explain, and understand representations of feelings, experiences, and relationships (like gay rep, for example)--even if those representations can never be totally true to the thing they are representing--has purpose. The purpose, though, isn't to actually pin down the truth but to be a gesture or sign pointing for others towards the thing you find meaningful.

The final voice-over sums it up beautifully, releasing the series and the audience from being attached to its form. "If you ask me if having a relationship status is necessary, I can't answer that. It depends on each couples readiness and reasons. Love has no form and no rules." To speak or act, make art or commit to someone you love, these are not requirements but they are kinds of blessings that, once made, open doors for new experiences with people who can try to understand what you're trying to express. The beauty is in the trying.

Also, Imma need someone to remix the DBK string theme song with Ru Paul's Superstar ASAP.