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#good clothes are ment to be expensive
strwberyhearts · 1 year
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People who can't comprehend that sometimes you have to spend money on things are the worst people I have ever met. Especially the people who act like the massive amounts they spend on shein temu and amazon is the only way they can afford clothing.
#the way consumerism is taking over social media is so insufferable#the worst part is that everone falls for it#they go on tiktok and have to buy everything they see#some people gotta realize that its ok to not have the new thing#you don't need that cool thing you saw that tiktok uses use in one video#you dont need that sweater you saw someone wear#chances are that sweater is a poorly made knock off thats going to fall apart because you dont care enough to take care of a $17 sweater#“but i cant afford a $60 shirt!!”#listen man the i guarantee the money they have spent on shein temu amazon on things they dont need to break within the next month is more#than enough to afford good quality clothes#good clothes are ment to be expensive#the clothes off shein and temu and cheep for a reason and they aren't good ones#if you can spend money on cheep crap you can spend it on something else#this isnt about be being mean to poor people who dont want to buy a shirt of $60 its about taking accountability and realizing that your#actions have consequences#learning to save your money on good clothes and taking the time to care for them will be more rewarding#buy eco friendly places thrift clothes buy second hand there are so many options#i had an argument with someone because they thought that shein was the only place they could buy cute plus size clothing#if you just go to chrome and the search bar search “plus size brands reddit” i guarantee you will find posts of people finding brands that#sell good clothes are aren't mom clothes#that fact that people genuinely think that buying an entire wardrobe for cheep is good and sustainable#they always make so may excuses because they like the dopamine of feeling rich by buying 100 cheep material items becuase cosplaying the#wealthy is the only way lower class people can treat their insecurity issues#stop buying $100 bags#stop buying shein#i fucking hate consumerism i hate ads i hate consumerism i hate consumerism i hate money i hate life
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shmowder · 3 months
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specific fetishes with no explanation
Yulia Lyuricheva
Toxic butch masculinity + Daddy kink + Strap
Let's make one thing clear, you'll be calling her daddy and not the other way around.
Yuilia enjoys using masculine terms in bed. Acting the role and more. The flood of euphoria she gets from making you use them is unmatched.
Especially with how the idea alone would horrify any passersby in the street, the average person already sends her dirty look for having the audacity to wear pant–for daring to be a woman and dressing like a man, as some would describe.
As if clothes could ever have gender, a juvenile part of Yulia gets a kick out of taking a sledgehammer to society's fragile set of norms and expectations.
Emasculating the men in the streets when they realise a woman like her not only holds a higher education degree than them, but also looks better wearing their precious pants and smoking the expensive heavy cigarettes rather than the sleek frail ones ment for feminine hands.
Oh, how she'd kill to see their reaction to how you treat her as the man of house... even if it's just a kink play in bed. How they'd clutch their pearls at the thought of you sitting on her lap, grinding against her thigh, referring to Yulia as your husband.
She'll play that role wonderfully, bounce you up and down her leg with one arm loosely wrapped around your waist. Your daddy is here, and she'll take care of you. Tapping her strap against your gaping hole, cooing at your whimpers.
You want her cock, isn't that right? You want your husband's thick cock to stretch you open until give you a sense of purpose.
She tends to play up on the toxic masculinity side the more lust veils her brain, making you suck her strap as if it's an actual dick, pushing the head against your lips and smearing your drool around. See how better a lady is at being your husband? How you should sit on daddy's lap and let a real woman take care of you.
Gender fuckery gets off her like nothing else, the more you play along act as her personal arm candy the more her heart swells with love... and her clit.
No matter how strong and capable you, please allow her this grace of overpowering you in bed.
Become a soft pliable thing in her hands for Yulia to bend and move around as much as her heart desires. Let her press her lips against yours, mouthfull of wine and swallow the sweet necter from her mouth down your throat in gulps.
Let her pretends it's her cum you're gulping down, calling you such a good toy for your husband, knowing your place very well. Either between her spread knees, warming her cock or on top of her thigh–the non-injuried one–gridning down and whimpering out her name.
Distract her from work, pull her tie all huffy and demanding that your husband isn't paying attention to you like she should.
Flutter your eyelashes all pretty as you hug Yulia's arm, calling her your daddy so openly and shamelessly, watching her lips curl into a smile as she asks what her love could ever need? Isn't daddy providing you with enough? Isn't she being a good husband? Or do you need more attending to in order to be satisfied, what a spoiled little thing you are.
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muu-apoligest · 2 years
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Your Husband Ayato
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Husband Ayato who is super kind and clingy towards you. Like let's just say wenn someone asks about your relationship ayato will speak about you like a godess/god.
Husband Ayato who is obviosly going to spoil you I mean how can he not he is super rich after all he will buy you expensive pice of Jewellery,clothes so much more you ask he'll buy.
Husband Ayato's language are act of service gift giving and so much more
Husband Ayato who proposed under the full moon of the kamisato astate you two were ment to have a date there but instead he proposeed to you. "Y/n L/n I kamisato Ayato ask myself who am I without you what even am I with you everday I can't get you out of my mind you have stolen everything from even my last name I can't see my life without you so please would you marry me.
If you guys make love wich is very often for you two lovebird's husband Ayato will worship your body like a godess/god he will be super gentle with you praise you
After care with husband Ayato is softer than cotten candy he will give you everything you need a warm bath to ease the pain cuddles everything .(sorry I'm not good at stuff like this I'm still a minor)
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dearsakuaka · 5 months
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"what's mine is yours" and the consequences that come with it
pairing: sakusa kiyoomi/akaashi keiji word count: 750 kiyoomi buys two of the same sweater because keiji keeps "borrowing" his but somehow both sweaters end up with keiji and now kiyoomi has to explain to his mom why he needs extra allowance for the month
"...but it's been barely two weeks..." comes the skeptical voice of his mother through the speaker. her face, taking up a fourth of the screen, frowns in concern.
it's the sakusa family's scheduled bi-monthly call. usually, kiyoomi would look forward to this—to check up on his brother's toddler, listen to his sister's stories from the country she's in, know how dad is doing and whatever new hobby his mother picked up now that the kids are out of the house—especially after he moved out for uni (not that he would admit it, of course).
now, though, is an exception.
having his mother and siblings just stare at him as he struggles to explain why he's short on money for the month is, he thinks, far harder than receiving ushijima's serve.
"i seem to have overspent it on... clothes..." kiyoomi trails off lamely
at this, his sister perks up from her part of the screen.
"is this the sweater you showed me the other day?"
kiyoomi hums in affirmation. in response, his sister raises a questioning brow.
"what happened to it? i'm pretty sure that wasn't too expensive, no?"
at this, kiyoomi pauses, nibbles on his lip as he decides how best to phrase it.
it's not like he can outright say he bought two of the same sweater on a whim and the boy he's been pining over just "borrowed" both of them without signs of planning to return it anytime soon.
1) it's not kiyoomi's smartest financial decision and;
2) kiyoomi cannot handle the teasing that would come if he ever mentions keiji to them (especially not after rambling to his sister about his crush while he was drunk off his ass).
and so, he settles for:
"i was robbed on the way home." he deadpans.
he mentally kicks himself for it. nice going, kiyoomi. you fucking loser. totally believable.
from the way the light dies inside his sister's eyes and the overall skeptic silence that comes, kiyoomi knows they're not buying it. the silence stretches that even kiyoomi himself feels the need to shift around and settles for fiddling with the ring on his pointer finger.
kiyoomi's too lost in his thoughts that the sound of the door to his apartment opening and closing makes him jump out of his skin.
"kiyoomi! i got what we needed for hotpot." keiji's voice rings from the foyer. "i didn't get the soup base you wanted so, i just picked out my favorites. i hope that's fine—oh! but i did get the lamb cut you were craving, the pork belly, and i ended up picking up clams too because motoya-kun was raving about it yesterday."
keiji's rambling comes and goes as he flutters about in the apartment.
he doesn't pause for breath which meant he wasn't exactly waiting for kiyoomi to respond; seemingly aware of kiyoomi's tendency to just listen to him after being friends for so many months.
kiyoomi unwittingly smiles as keiji keeps talking.
keiji walks behind him to transport the bags of groceries and it's only on his third trip back that kiyoomi realizes five things:
1) keiji is wearing one of kiyoomi's new sweaters.
2) another sweater is tucked in the corner of keiji's elbow.
3) kiyoomi is still on the phone with his family.
4) keiji doesn't know he's in call with his family.
5) kiyoomi does not tell keiji he's in a call with his family soon enough.
so, really, he can't blame keiji for the casual way he stops behind kiyoomi, a sweater on his person and an identical one in his hand.
"i forgot i had both with me so, i had to stop by my... apart... ment... " keiji trails off when he sees the phone propped on the table, kiyoomi's ears flushed red, and the phone call still ongoing on the screen.
"oh my goodness! i'm so sorry to intrude!" keiji yelps and scrambles to the kitchen, babbling about washing the vegetables and cutting the meat.
when keiji is out of the room, kiyoomi braves a look at his phone. varying levels of amusement—that only his brother seems to try to hide—greet him. the dread settles heavily in his chest.
of course, it's his sister that pipes up first, smile predatory and sharp.
"so, you were robbed, huh?"
(needless to say, kiyoomi does get sent extra that month but with the promise of filling his mom in about this keiji person his siblings keep teasing him about on their next scheduled call.)
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utahimeow · 2 years
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being gojo’s housewife part two (exhibitionism ment, degradation, squirting cw)
part one! part three!
NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI
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all gojo ever hears from people is about how sweet and obedient you are. he often has visitors over, whether it’s for meetings or his friends stopping by to visit. when he does, without fail you’re bringing over tea and biscuits arranged neatly on a tray for your husband’s guests and setting it on a coffee table, before pressing a delicate kiss to gojo’s cheek and slinking away to your chores.
though sometimes, he’ll ask you to sit with him and your guests. “stay with us, dear. they’ve heard enough about me—i disagree—but they want to know how you’re doing.”
often you have to remind yourself not to plonk yourself down in his lap. that, yes, they’re his lifelong friends, but you still have to be respectful. gojo can’t read minds, but with the way that he knows you inside and out, he may as well. a giant hand finds its place on your thigh every time, soothing up and down along your skin when he’s in the middle of a particularly deep conversation. it’s his way of telling you “i know you wanna touch daddy,” and also how he shows you off. “she’s my gorgeous housewife. all mine”—without saying it.
it’s a regular occurrence for him to inch his hand up a little too high, a little too close to where you’re ever so soaking wet. it’s like a game he plays, so amusing. he’s testing not just you, but whoever’s sat across from you, and also himself. he’s watching intently for the twitch of an eye, the flick of a tongue over one’s lips, the slight shift of someone in their seat. like an exhibitionist. when they excuse themselves to use the bathroom, he grins, triumphant. because that means he won.
it always ends the same way once your guests have left. he’ll pull you into his lap, or carry you upstairs. either way he’s gazing at you, pale features smug and filled with mischief and pride.
“darling, won’t you put on some clothes for once?”
his words are like a smack across your face. you’d expected anything else but that, which is why you feel your head spinning. “w-what?” you ask. “but you always tell me i look so pretty.”
“you do. you look gorgeous, dear. but when i have visitors over, i’d prefer if they couldn’t see your fucking underwear, alright?”
you squeak out a gasp as two long, slender fingers slip into your tight hole without warning, sending you arching backwards against the couch.
“such a slutty little thing…do you want that badly for people to know how much of a whore you are for me? what happened to being my well-behaved housewife, hm?”
one single curl of his fingers and gojo’s hitting the spot that makes your stomach erupt with heat. he slides them in and out of you with practised ease, aided by the arousal the drips out of you. his touch has you shivering, crying out his name as you cling to his shirt and beg him for mercy.
“thought i trained you better than this, honey. am i gonna have to teach you some modesty lessons, huh?”
he thrusts his fingers at an impossible speed, bringing you slowly closer to the edge with each flex of his wrist. your entire body burns with the incoming pleasure, muscles pulling taut as they threaten to ignite.
“i’m s-sorry, daddy. i promise… i wanna be good for you,” you whimper out sweetly. he doesn’t say anything, focusing his concentration solely on stimulating your sensitive cunt. it doesn’t take him long either, not when he’s as skilled as he is. seconds later you’re shrieking out his name as you gush all over the couch and your limbs tremble with hot pleasure.
“squirting all over my expensive couch?” he tsks, in contrast to the smirk he wears on his face. “you just can’t stop causing trouble today, can you?”
“i’ll clean it,” you say, all shaky, but before you can shoot to your feet gojo keeps a firm grasp on you, refusing to let you move.
“you can once you’ve taken care of daddy’s hard dick. maybe that’ll put you in your place.”
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lfc21 · 2 years
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Work stress
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A relationship. That was the one thing any girl urged to have, something that was worth the world. A relationship was a bundle of love between two people who have the possibility and power to take on the universe as one. No one needs the big dates with fancy clothes and expensive drinks but it dosent hurt to have the odd few, does it? You where in awe of kostas and had no doubt in your mind that this wouldnt be something to make countless memories from. The days together where yours to decided upon and create with love and affection. None of this was planned but it held such spontaneous beauty and lust.
Today was a normal day - work, work even more and than slightly more work. Kostas hated how much you worked even though he knew how much you truly adored it. You and kostas had very similar aspirations in life and alot of them spawned from your careers. Kostas was a world and a half away from understanding what you do at work but he was always there to support and appreciate you.
"Hey love" you shouted from your office as you heard the large door shut with a bang. It was around 4 o'clock which ment kostas would be eager to get home from training, probably flying around every bend in sight upon the roads in Liverpool.
"Hello" kostas shouted back kicking off his trainers and sending them flying into the white wall (even after you warned him black marks up and down the walls was not a good look). You had no reply, your head was face first into a large book about the history of Channel. Your job to you seemed like a luxury, spending time with fashion and creating the most incredible and stylish pieces but kostas thought you spent most of your time in the pits of hell trying to think off fashion that hadn't been done before and couldn't figure out how you where ever so creative. You heard heavy footsteps running up the stairs in a hurry to reach your presence.
"There you are" kostas mumbled as he saw your small frame sat on the chair through the door frame. Your head looked up from your seat looking at the man upon your eyes. Even a few hours caused your heart to break and miss every action from the human you urged to be around.
"Hi" you mumbled with your face planted onto the palm off your hand, now copying over notes onto your laptop. Kostas's body made a straight beeline to your presence and guided his hands onto your delicate shoulders. His chin came into contact with your shoulder, inhaling ever comforting sent from you. Your head rested onto the side of his as the idea of his safety fell into your wants within your head. His warm skin was delicate on yours creating the most perfect creation of protection and intimacy.
"Are you finishing work soon?" Kostas asked with mumbles whilst his lips softly found your neck in a mission to distract you from work.
"Erm I think so give me an hour" you replied back trying to work out why half of your work team had decided to discard any idea of effort. Your team hadn't ever been this bad before. One day was spent working from home and the rest was in the office and not one of those days had they ever left you to do everything on your own.
"An hour?!" Kostas asked with a very high pitched tone due to the idea of 60 minutes without any attention from you.
"Yes an hour" you sternly said trying to get your point across whilst your eyes scanned down your contact list to find out what was going on in the place you where known to call work.
"Urrrrrrgh" kostas shouted throwing his head back in annoyance whilst looking at the huge window in your office showing the garden you both learnt to love as your own.
"Not my fault" you mumbled putting your phone against your ear letting the annoying noice run through your ear. Kostas didn't know who you where ringing and he didn't really care all he wanted was your attention and that was the last thing he was getting. Your phone finally stopped ringing and you where greeted with a very drunk and rather annoying work colleague.
"Are you for real?" You said down the phone furious at the fact someone you had hired was beginning to sack of there job to get drunk on a Thursday night. She hadn't been working with you for long, but she definitely had potential to become some what of an amazing talent but in your standards this was pathetic.
"Seriously I can't believe you, your supposed to he working" you sternly replied to her slurred words and clear lack of understanding. Kostas turned around to look at your annoyed face on the wooden desk. For the life of him he couldn't understand who had drove you mad this much.
"Ring me in the morning when your speaking sence" you replied back ending the phone call and throwing the phone onto your desk in anger. Kostas's eyes fell onto your phone and back to you with your hands in your hair wanting to pull it out.
"Who? And what was that about?" Kostas asked in shock at the sudden outburst. You looked over to him in disbelief letting out a small chuckle as you couldn't understand what was going on.
"Someone who clearly can't get there head out of drinking all night and caring more about going out than making a career" you blurted out whilst kostas wondered over to you gesturing you to stand up. You stood up not really understanding why until he pulled you down onto his lap with his large hands rested onto your hips. You turned to look at him whilst his eyes glued onto yours showing nothing but love, his love was your nutrient and it was all you could ever think about.
"I think you should tell them to fuck off" he said whilst placing his hand onto the side of your neck and guiding your lips onto his. That's all you wanted. His lips where on yours creating the most perfect mixture of love and lust.
"I'm gonna" you replied back looking at him with your hands running through his pushed back blonde hair. His hands ran up and down your back feeling every inch of your warm addicting skin.
"That's my girl" he replied back sending your cheeks to fall into a colour of redness at his pleasant words.
I hope you enjoyed this! This was a request from the amazing writer @kostasstsimikass definitely read her writings they are unreal! Please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated.
@daddyhendo @trentsko @trentshoe @robbo38 @weddingdisco @avenirdelight @nyctophilic0vitnir @smileytaa @chelseamount @chilwellsbitch @mrs-henderson @football-and-fanfics @andysrobertson @robbossidehoe @prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy
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epic-sorcerer · 4 years
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Merlin on the adhd spectrum!
(Annotations in future post, check reblogs. Also, I still have more info I couldn’t figure out how to fit in here)
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Emotional dysregulation:
emotional to the point where even the people who know what he’s going through are exasperated.
Arthur uses a specific way of comforting that is mostly seen with Merlin because he’s very emotionaly frail and Arthur knows this. Arthur can’t be all rough with him or else merlin will just feel worse. We only see Arthur like this with anyone else one to each morgana and some women in the 4th season.
Poor self esteem and thinks his only worth is his magic.
Bubbily one minute, depressed the next.
Sensitivity to things most find normal. I. E. Being punched in the arm. Arthur ment it to be a friendly gesture, but Merlin took it literally and as an insult. He looked genuinely offended. (rejection sensitivity dysphoria).
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Impulsivity:
saying rude things to people without thinking, gets into fights by accident
Generally blurting weird things out at any given time
Throws himself in risky situations without thinking
Tries to meddle with destiny and always finds he has bit off much more than he can chew
Merlin was once shown a eating a bowl with way too many berries. This can happen because we get too excited with food and fall to realize we can’t eat that much.
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Inattentivness:
listening to Arthur talk? Nah, how about staring at his lips like they are the most distracting thing in the world.
being in the middle of a conversation and fucking booking it out the door bc he just thought of something.
Time blindness, he’s late to everything. Hence this joke
Speaking of time blindness, Merlin seams to feel like he’s in a more nebulous version of time. Think quarantine mood but no quarantine in the first place. You can see this in how weird the time system is in the show. It’s messy and nondescript.
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Forgetfulness:
sticks to like 3 good spells and forgets some really useful ones that could be used in his adventures.
Forgets to do some of his chores.
Grieves weirdly because he seams to forget his loss even happened because the person is out of his life and only sometimes remembers them(Poor object prominence).
Hyperactivity:
stims in a way that poeple who only do neurotypical stims call it out or think it’s weird. Usually comes out when Merlin is experiencing a lot of emotions at once.
Main Stims seam to be pacing and drumming his fingers
You can see the best examples of this scene and the one in the lady of lake where Merlin is pacing and humming. (1)I couldn’t find a video or gif set or anything for that. If y’all have one let me know
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Developmental delays:
Explicitly shows to be more sensitive to smells and tastes. wears high quality clothing—we can tell bc of the expensively bright colors. All of this despite him growing up in a poor village. Merlin even ARRIVED in Camelot with these clothes(sensory processing disorder)
We can especially see Merlin’s sensitivity to bad smells in a scene in Lancelot and Gwenevere(2)
his sensitivity to tastes is explicit in The Coming of Arthur. Arthur is said to eat really anything, even things merlin would never even try to. Merlin is a poor peasant, but Arthur is a prince in a rich kingdom. (3, need help finding this one)
Trouble socializing and reading the room(think; making bad puns at the worst time possible).
Makes either creepily strong eye contact or none at all.
Very clumsy
Shown to struggle with basic volume control in his voice, especially whispering. He cannot whisper at all.
Inflexibility:
Has some trouble understanding the big picture and others motivations sometimes. It may be too overwhelming for him
Merlin will learn something(mordred posibly killing arthur) and never let go. He grew to hate mordred even like 10 years later because Merlin was unwilling to budge.
Even after Arthur died, Merlin clung to him coming back for 1500+ years because he had become so used to serving him he could not move on. Merlin lived in the same place, waiting for the same person for a century and a half. He became inflexible to living any other way
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arthist0rian · 2 years
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Penitent Magdalen with two flames, Georges DeLaTours (unknown date but could be around 1640 ca)
I might start a series about penitent magdalen, and i'm not sorry about that
The characteristic themes of his first production where often popular, with attention to marginalized or mundane figures and action. In his senior years his themes changed, he prefered painting about human sufference and faith through semple forms and figures, essential expression and formal purity.
During a window of 5-10 years Georges De LaTour paintend a series of Penitent Magdalen, this is the first of the series. This paintins is inspired by the lights, and shadows of Caravaggios production.
We are in front of a young woman, looking at a candle with a high flame refletcing into a beutiful Baroque style mirror, some jewelry clatters the table. The woman is wearing a nice white shirt and a red long skirt, that almost remember the red drapes caravaggio used in his painting. In her lap she has a skull, and her hands are clasped on it. On her feet a still life of old jewelry. We don't see the face of the woman, she is looking almost behind the mirror into the darkness, unknown to us spectators.
From what we see we can understand what this painting is about, knowing that DeLaTours themes where the trancience of things and the looming death on us. We see on her lap a skull, the meanings behind it are multiple, she was a follower of Jesus and the skull could meant the golgota (the hill where jesus was crixified) so we can understand that this particular moment in wich we see Magdalen is after the death of jesus. But the skull is also the death, as humans we need to be aware about it.
Clothes are very important, we see that Magdalen has expensive clothes, shes a courtesan, not just any peasant, probably she was the woman of someone important. the red of the skirt symbolizes her past as a free woman, slave of lust, her open shirt is a reference to this life, the hair left loose indicates both the libertine past and the anointing and drying of Christ's feet. But the legends says that after she never cut her hair again.
The jewels scattered all around, however, indicate that Maddalene has now stripped herself of her old life to follow the faith leaving the jewels ment leaving the material goods and her previus life.
Finally the candle that reflects in the mirror, usually the flames represent god and therefore it can be assumed that he is meditating and contemplating god and that he is present with her, the fact that the light is reflected could mean three things: the candle also symbolizes the passage of time and therefore the arrival of death, but it could also symbolize the death and resurrection of Christ since there are two candles because he died twice, or his newfound faith in God.
The mirror indicates magdalen vanity.
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mundungs · 3 years
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ϟ.  → robert sheehan : genderfluid : he/they/she : dealer of illicit objects and substances : the raven by the alan parsons project ϟ  did you see mundungus fletcher ? you know ,  31 year old halfblood who was formally in ravenclaw. some say dung can be quite furtive but are known to be unreliable. they are aligned with the order .  maybe that’s why they remind me of naming stray cats, flicking a lighter over and over again, falling asleep on the subway. ϟ 
some links for food
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ciannán o’donnell is a flighty man, one of many relationships and flings and little loyalty, and so his affair with maeve fletcher does not last long. when she tells him she is pregnant, he moves on to a different woman, and maeve has her son alone, with her sister on her side. and thus, mundungus is born (and giving an arguably atrocious name).
he grows up with his mum – a halfblooded witch and by far his favourite person in the world – in limerick, attending muggle school there. he knew who his dad was, but wasn’t quite sure how to feel about — his father is a criminal, a prominent member of the irish mob. 
he meets his dad for the first time at age seven, and was nothing but impressed. his dad showered him with gifts, his mum watching with a furious look on her face but biting her tongue. that moment was a switch for mundungus; he felt the need to impress his dad. he stole some sweets from a store on his way home from school a week later, fished some pennies out of the pockets of his classmates a few months later. when he phoned his dad to tell him, his laugh was warm and filled with life. his relationship with his dad got better as his behaviour got worse. the thrill of stealing, of doing stuff he wasn’t supposed to, lit him not only on fire because it was exciting, but also because he knew his dad would adore it. 
but ciannan, a flighty man, pushes and pulls. and so mundungus was fed disappointment by his father, liking love off a shiny knife rather than a spoon ( silver or plastic, what the fuck does it matter ). details omitted, long story made short: his dad sucks and his mother tries, but mundungus is pulled towards that what smells of danger.
DRUGS MENT. at hogwarts, dung is sorted into ravenclaw. not at all the booksmart type, he falls more into the chaotic-creativity, random-bursts-of-wanting-to-learn-everything-about-something type of ravenclaw. there’s two worlds, then: the muggle world, where he slowly dips his water further in criminal waters, and the wizarding one, where he’s chaotic and messy but a student. when he grows older, these overlap: dung starts selling some of his dad’s weed at hogwarts, and soon gains a reputation of being able to get people less-than-legal shit. 
not getting high off your own supply is not a sentiment he agrees with. not then, not later, not now. dung is fun, always in for a party and willing to supply the goods to throw it. if some rich purebloods lose a few galleons at said party, well, it sure isn’t him! END OF TW
he graduates with two newts, in herbology and potions, failing his dada and charms exams. he’s not an academic.
falling into the family business after graduation is easy. mundungus is attracted by the criminal underworld, both that of muggle ireland and that of the wizarding world. knockturn alley was a place frequented in teenage years, but now becomes more his place. he makes connections, exchanges strange potion recipes for other things. makes an odd wager on a bunch of stolen brass scales and turns a profit. 
a career is not something that interests him; he is more interested in bending rules and making quick money. thievery, selling illegal shit, heists, fraud, fuck-all. mundungus is not limited by one descriptor, one kind of criminality. he just does what he wants and hopes to make a good penny.
but then he almost gets sent to azkaban over some, in his frank opinion, bullshit. it’s dumbledore who talks the wizengamot out of it, saddling dung up with some community service and persuading him towards the order. he’s twenty three. the war is still fresh. he has no interest in it, but he owes the old man. fine.
mundungus does vehemently oppose blood purity and any kind of discriminatory ideals, an anarchist in his very bones, but he is also cowardly. to side with self-proclaimed rebels is not in his blood and yet it’s where he ends up, bringing shady ties to the underworld to the table and a sheer ability to sneak around and fuck the law. and maybe, amidst the ranks of the order, dung finds something he’s not very familiar with: a large family. and dung? well, he’s the stoner, gay, super-fucking-chaotic cousin.
personality
if jesper fahey and kaz brekker had a child, it would be dung. 
other character parallels: fezco ( euphoria ), boris ( the goldfinch ), doug judy ( b99 ), jason mendoza ( the good place ), chris miles ( skins ),  nick miller ( new girl ), creed bratton ( the office ), scott lang ( marvel ), lillian ( unbreakable kimmy schmidt )
technically he’s homeless. he’s got a bedroom at his ma’s place, has a ton of squatter connects in the muggle scene and couch surfes aplenty, but dung doesn’t rent a place. why? landlords are evil. he could afford a place, just doesn’t see the point. life’s better with some adventure.
appears very neutral in public as it’s beneficial to his role in the order??? 
.... tortured artist. writes poetry and loves to draw and paint. 
tattooed the fuck up. some are his own designs.
can usually be spotted wearing The Coat, a rly expensive, vintage long coat that he once stole of a pureblood. he’s enlarged the pockets with some handy spellwork and pretty much carries everything he owes in there, like his produce and his money and his second pair of shoes and his art supplies and probably some random trash. 
loves animals. he loves stray cats especially <3 they are his kin. 
an anarchist. a bit of a punk. a deep idealist with a cowardly heart so constantly betraying himself (and sometimes others?)
queer! enby! genderfluid! i used he/him pronouns throughout this intro but dung truly doesn’t give a damn what u use. loves to dress up in feminine clothes. 
has a ton of aliases, lol, the most important one being marigold fincher. 
cusses too fuckin much to be healthy :/
oh no he is a big sad insecure kid deep inside :/ dont tell anyone how embarrassing!!!! shhhh!! it’s a secret.
quick connection ideas
victim. wow please. if your character is rich. let me steal from u. pick ur pockets. break into ur house. get some of ur stuff and drop it on the black market. 
customer. dung sells. whatever u need. drugs. weird magical things. ask and ye shall receive. his prices are whack but he does deliver <3
pal. party friends! order friends! random encounter friends! dung has a trashmouth and loves to talk pls let him chat u up and u will never be rid of him <3
couch. he couch surfs. a lot. if ur character trusts dung enough to let him into their home (which they shouldnt) then pls let him sleep over for a night. he will leave a strangely expensive necklace on ur kitchen table as a thank u. or wilted flowers. no in between.
skeptic. ur char is in the order and thinks dung is a liability and maybe they have a point. a point mundungus would rather not face :)
dmle bitches. dung hates anyone authoritative but esp the coppers at the ministry (hit wix & aurors) (yea he calls them coppers sorry he doesnt respect them enough to call them aurors <3). give me that doug judy/jake peralta dynamic. or just someone in the dmle who is like ... sigh this guy again??? 
fwb/one night stand/fling/etc. he’s a bit slutty <333 give him some ppl he’s hooked up with / will hook up with.
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teal-quetzal · 4 years
Text
Masked Prince
Hi all! =D
This is the second piece i write, and this one is for @nakunakunomi​ ‘s 750 followers event, Cliché with Hazel!
The cliché prompt i was given: We met and danced at a masked ball but i don’t know who you are.
Random word to include: thumb.
Warnings: there’s some swearing and foul language. Basically the Vinsmokes, mainly Yonji, being abusive little shits.
I love Sanji, he’s the sweetest, so i hope i made him justice! I really hope anyone who reads this likes it and enjoys it!
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You finished your shift at the cafe you worked at and went straight to your best friend’s place, he had sent you a message asking to meet him ASAP. When you entered your best friend's bedroom, you found him surrounded by a huge variety of dresses.
“You’re late! We have so much to do!” he said getting up and running towards you. Cavendish was the heir of a big company and wasn’t used to the fact that other people had to work for a living and had tight schedules.
“What’s all this? Are you dressing up?” you said pointing at the gowns, “You’d look so elegant in the purple one!” you continued, pointing at it but not touching it. You were scared of ruining them because they all looked incredibly expensive.
“They’re for you, silly” he said smiling, “C’mon, start trying them on, we don’t have all day! The ball is tonight!”
“...what ball?” you asked afraid that this might be another one of his rich boy adventures.
Cavendish handed you a very fancy invitation card for a masquerade ball and explained the ball to you. It was for heirs and heiresses of big companies only, ment for them to mix and mingle without the lower classes around. And even seal some deals and arrange marriages.
“The good thing is, everyone has to be disguised, so no one will know it’s you!” Canvendish said excitedly, but seeing your frown, he added “You need to get out once in a while and have fun, no one will know you’re a waitress, not with this beautiful sapphire gown and the invitation card” he finished with a smile, and also handed you an elaborate silver mask.
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"A masquerade ball? Why aren't any of you going? You know i’m busy..." Sanji asked his brothers, who didn't even bother to look at him.
"Cos you're the only one who can make a good impression in this stupid things" said Yonji, the only one who at least looked at him, “And the only busy you should get is with some lady, so you could strike a deal and be useful to the family for once” he added mockingly.
"You have no say in this, you're going, so put on your suit" added Ichiji.
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You found yourself stepping out of Farul, Cavendish's favourite car, and following a candlelight path surrounded by marble statues. The venue for the ball was one of the most luxurious mansions in your city, and it couldn't have been more fitting for the event. There was a romantic aura surrounding it, and you started to think that maybe Cavendish was right, this could be fun.
When you offered your invitation to one of the doormen you couldn’t help but overhear the other guests' conversations. Economics, finances, you knew nothing about those subjects so you couldn’t help but start to feel out of place. What if someone noticed you weren't anyone important?
You started to avoid conversations and group gatherings all together, and pretended to be injured when someone asked you to dance, because you didn’t know how to ballroom dance either. Luckily for you, the food was amazing, so you tried almost everything and, being a waitress yourself, you started to fraternize with the staff. You even helped a waitress to clean her clothes when a pretentious rich kid threw wine on her.
You decided to catch some fresh air and went to the balcony. It was a beautiful balcony, surrounded by rose bushes, with marble columns and a bench...a bench occupied by one of the guests.
Deeming it inappropriate to go back inside, you politely asked him if you could sit besides him. He nodded and offered you a cigarette, which you declined. He wore a black suit, nothing too flashy like other guests, but very elegant, and a black mask with a few golden details that suited his blond hair.
"You've been quite the talk of the ball already" he said after a long silence and turned to look at you with a tired smile. "What is a beauty like you doing in a place like this?" he asked, a phrase that he had learned from a romance novel he had hidden under his bed. But he didn't expect the effect it had on you.
Suddenly you felt cold, anxious, he found out that you weren’t any heiress and was gonna drag you in front of the others, clearly.
"I--I'm not doing anything and how can you say I'm a beauty when you haven't even seen my face?!?!" you said getting up, but he grabbed your hand, gently, and didn't let you leave.
"I’m sorry, I didn't want to upset you, I just wanted to talk for a while…, and you're right I haven't seen your face but I don't need to see it when your soul is crealy the most beautiful here" he said, getting up, "I've seen you help that waitress, and if you'd like, I'd love to be your partner for a dance" he almost pleaded.
"I--I don't...know...how to dance?" You stuttered, afraid of the effect that such revelation would make. Everyone here was taught the expected protocol, and of course all of them knew how to dance.
He stood, left your hand, and turned to the rose bushes to pick up a rose. When he turned he offered you the warmest smile, took off the thorns and put the rose on your hair.
"Makes sense you're pretending to be injured then," he said while offering you his hands to dance, "just follow my lead, my princess".
With his warm hands in yours, you saw that he cut his thumb, probably with the rose's thorns, you thought, and you retrieved and started searching in a hidden pocket you had.
"Wha-what's wrong?" he asked, clearly confused and...sad? Did he really care and wasn't just playing?
"You cut your thumb! Here, let me!" you said warmly, and put a colorful band aid on it. "Maybe it's a bit too childish for you? It's the only one I have..."
"I love it!" he said, cutting you and seemingly flustered, with blush appearing on his ears, "you're... you’re too kind". And he proceeded to put a hand on your lower back and grab yours with the other.
You started to dance and clumsily follow him. Under the stars and surrounded by roses, to the muted music that came from the inside, you forgot about classes and money. You started talking about everything and started to call him "Mr Prince" in response to him calling you "My Princess", which you both found amusing.
But after a while the music stopped, and you knew it meant the masquerade ball was over, and you had to part ways, probably forever.
He asked for you to meet him again, but your fear of rejection once he found out your real income and class was too big, and you left without saying goodbye, disappearing in the crowd.
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Feelings of regret flooded you since you disappeared from the ball last night, never before you had such a connection with someone, but what could you do now? You knew nothing about him, not even his name, because your insecurities and fears took the best of you.
Your shift was almost finished in the cafe you worked at when a guy with green hair came in, followed by a blond guy and a woman with pink hair.
While you were taking the pink hair's orders and scribbling her name in the cup, you couldn't help but overhear the green hair picking on the blond.
"Why are you wearing this stupid band-aid, anyways? It's childish and pathetic as fuck" he said, "At least tell me you scored last night at the ball, you have to keep our reputation, you know?"
"Reputation of disgusting pervs” said the pink haired woman, turning towards her brothers, “Sanji is better than this". Sanji rolled his eyes and came closer to the counter and finished their order.
"Excuse my brother and his manners" he said to you with an apologetic smile, "how much is it?" he said while taking out his wallet. And then you saw it, the band-aid on his thumb. Just like the ones you usually carried around.
Your blood froze and you started to feel dizzy, you started to ponder if it could really be last night’s prince. The comments his brother made and the band-aid he wore in the exact thumb were pointing towards it.
With your heart beating faster than ever, you couldn't help but wonder but in an impulse of bravery you wrote "Mr Prince" in his cup instead of his name, hoping that if it was him, he'd recognize you.
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Outside the cafe, Sanji couldn't stop thinking of that waitress' weirdly familiar voice, when Yonji gave him his cup.
"Ha! Mr Prince...you didn't score with a nice heiress but you scored with the waitress...you really are a pathetic good-for-nothing!" said Yonji reading Sanji's cup.
Sanji, in shock, looked at his cup. Everything made sense now, of course your voice sounded so familiar! He thought you were of lower income but an heiress anyways, but no, you were a waitress that sneaked their way into the ball! That’s why you were so weirdly secretive last night!
He rushed inside, leaving his siblings confused, excited by the sudden realization.
You were ready to leave the cafe for the day, feeling like the biggest idiot. “Maybe it wasn’t him?” you wondered, “or maybe he didn’t care about you if you were a waitress, afterall you two were from different worlds…” you kept thinking, feeling like a fool for having the slightest hope.
But when you were already heading for the door, he came in.
"Princess!" He called when he saw you, leaving you confused and flustered at hearing him calling you that endearing nickname again.
Sanji came closer to you and grabbed your hands and kissed them, leaving you like a blushing mess, unable to say a word.
"I feel like the dumbest man in the world...could you ever forgive me for not recognizing you right away?"
"How...How could you? We were disguised and i'm...i'm a..." you answered pointing at the counter, but he caressed your cheek, leaving you speechless again.
"You're the beautiful woman that came into my life last night" he said tenderly, "Would you do me the honor of joining me for lunch? I'd love to get to know you properly" he finished with the sweetest smile.
And how could you say no?
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rosykims · 3 years
Note
14, 18 and 49 for gracie? :O
THANK U OWEN 🥰🥰🥰🥰
14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?
she does ! specifically when she was eight, the night she ended up in the hospital after eating one of her grandmother's seafood dishes. that was how she and her parents found out she had a severe shellfish allergy 🤡
18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else
WHEW i love this question let me open up my Galaxy Notes App ahem
BOOKS: gracie likes crime and mystery, but nothing too fucked up that might prove a vicarious trauma risk for any ment in the area. bc of that she's more naturally drawn to oldschool classic mysteries – anything agatha christie (murder on the orient express is her favourite!) nancy drew (had all the books as a kid), arsene lupin, and of course sherlock holmes, which is the book she choses to snag from rosy's office ;) she also likes true crime and the occasional biography !
MUSIC: anything and everything so long as it's good (aesthetically or technically) and unique ! so for that reason she can say her favourite artists are like. fleetwood mac and death grips. and not see anything odd about that statement lol
TELEVISION: not much of a tv watcher, so she likes a lot of frivolous/ easily consumable/forgettable stuff. reality tv, cw romance dramas, soap operas, anything she can watch while focusing primarily on something else. ALTHO, the vampire diaries has a special place in her heart because she and sally have binge watched it together multiple times. but rly the only shows she would ever rly sit down and watch actively by herself would be like. frasier and midsommer murders lol.... shes rly smth else 🤡
FILMS: also not a big moviegoer ! but she does enjoy the occasional documentary or film with with a slow and reserved pace. not at all a fan of most action movies or comedies and ESPECIALLY not anything with horror or graphic sex scenes. her tastes are solely in the G to MA15 range, with her favourite movies being roman holiday and the phantom thread !
VIDEO GAMES: doesn't play much herself but has always liked watching her big brother play 🥺(and she can be a REALLY annoying telepathic backseat gamer lol) she sucks at shooters but always helps nick out with any puzzles/minigames that he gets stuck on 😌
49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?
gracie's not really sentimental, though she IS materialistic which means in her eyes theyre ALL essential to her quality of life 🙄 yes even the thirty bandannas and the chanel ankle socks mom 🙄 but out of all of them her favourite would probably be the burberry coat nick bought her for her 18th birthday. burberry is her favourite clothing brand and coats are her favourite clothing item and she never in a million years thought she'd ever own a burberry goddamn coat because um..well. google burberry coat and look at some of the prices ❤ like she has expensive tastes but shes not CRAZY lmao. so yeah after recieving that...... when my button says she would KILL for nick she means it — she loves that coat so much and would fight off anybody who even TRIED to part it from her
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kikidulcet · 4 years
Text
I made a small list of black owned companies from skin care to hair care, clothes and accessories. This is not an exhaustive list, it’s to pick your curiosity and encourage you to do more research.
Some are more expensive than others. Before you grunt, I humbly suggest you check your bias. If Gucci is a brand you aspire to owning because of its prestige, you can shift those aspiration to Brother Vellies and Pier Moss. Their products are intentionally made with love and to create wealth in our communities.
Skin:
https://www.rosemdskin.com
https://kncbeauty.com/
https://darknubia.com/ 🇨🇦
https://www.hanahanabeauty.com/
Hair:
https://briogeohair.com
https://mielleorganics.com
https://kingdomcrownoil.com/
https://www.brownbutterbeauty.com/
Clothes:
https://fenoel.com/collections/shop-all 🇬🇾
https://hanifa.co/collections/pink-label
https://www.tongoro.com/shop 🇸🇳
https://elevynthirty.com/collections/new-arrivals 🇺🇸
https://www.sosorella.com (instead of fashion nova)
https://babesandfelines.com/
https://rsvpgallery.com 🇺🇸
https://pyermoss.com/ 🇭🇹
https://www.theoutnet.com/en-us/shop/designers/stella-jean 🇭🇹
Shoes:
https://brothervellies.com/collections/all 🇨🇦 🇯🇲
Small goods/accessories:
https://www.unwrp.com/all
https://www.fanmdjanm.com/ 🇭🇹
Makeup:
Mented cosmetics
Juvia���s place
Uoma 🇳🇬
& so many more
#blackowned #blackcompanies #eachdollarisavote
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mister-lady · 3 years
Text
I did fic gmkfkdkfr. And it what, only took me several weeks to write a fic for Dice? Mvgkdkkf. This was still fun and I liked it :3 and sorry if ttheres a lot of typos, I only seemed to be able to write this before I went to bed or before I woke up so it might be a little sloppy fkdkdkdk this was also a lot longer than I intended so ubm,, sorry about that
AU: uhh.. I dont know if theres a proper au name? Store clerk au? Idk but you'll get it cjfms
TW: talk about food, mention of blood, mention of looking like someone got murdered, talk about sharks eating someone
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Matt had a party he was invited too, and for Matt this was a special occasion, so he decided to go out and get some formal wear! He had a few dresses and such at home, but he wanted something with a newer and fresher feeling. Lucky for him, there was a nearby tailor shop that he knew about. He's never been to the tailor shop because he's never really needed anything from the place, so he was a mixture of excitement and nervousness at going. Thankfully for him, the nervousness wasn't too overwhelming this time.
As Matt stepped into the tailor shop, he was quickly hit with the smell of strong perfume- or was it cologne? Either way it was powerful enough to give him a small headache the second he walked it. He couldn't help but notice the small bell that jingled as he walked in, and smiled at the noise. Matt decided to look around, and caught a glimpse of a perfume stand that had it's own counter and shelf to it. Matt could only guess that's what was causing his headache. He couldn't help but also notice how big the store was too. He expected it to be some small tailor shop like the stores you would find inside a mall, but this once mind as well be the mall. He could only imagine how much money this place was gaining to be so big, and the concerned him because that normally ment it was pricey, and Matt wasn't really in the mood to go 50 miles elsewhere because he was a broke sucker. The interior had bright white walls and white floor tiles too, and the lights made the whole place seem to glow, only contributing to his minor headache. Though, it did make sense that they would need good lighting if it was a tailor shop, which seemed to have mini stands inside that sold other stuff, like the perfume one he had spotted earlier. Matt walked further in to get a better look and saw some other people that were presumably with store clerks that were taking their measurements or picking out clothing that would work with them. Matt also noticed that the majority of customers were females, which made him grow a little self conscious and contrary to what the website said, he almost started to doubt if this place had items for more masculine customers like himself. Matt hadn't gotten too far into the store before being abruptly stopped by someone. Matt shrunk a little, the person that stopped him looked rather intimidating, they were wearing mostly black clothing that hugged his body and had a scarf wrapped around his neck even while indoors, and also had a pair of shaded circle glasses that made it harder to see his eyes, again, while also indoors. 
"And what brings you here?" The mystery person had asked.
Matt quickly scanned the person for a nametag, and found one on his chest with his name written on it. "Uhmm… I came here to maybe find an outfit for a party I need to go to later?" Matt was debating if he should bother using the person's name, as he wasn't ready to potentially butcher it.
"A party? Tacky; but fine. Come with me I'll help you pick out something." The man waved his hand, signaling Matt to follow him.
"T-tacky??" Matt blurted out before wishing he hadn't spoken up.
"Uhm, yeah. Tacky. We sell things like dresses and suits, not poorly colored and terrible silk clothing for a party no one is going to remember." The person didn't even turn around to face Matt while speaking, and kept walking.
Matt was left speachless, he didn't even know how to respond to that, especially because it was a slightly true statement. After a few minutes of Matt not knowing what to say, and feeling stupidly shy, he decided to at least look around and see if anything caught his eye. Matt didn't realize that the person he was following had stopped, and almost bumped into him. 
"Here, stand on this stool." The guy pointed to a small stool that was set infront of a mirror against a wall. 
Matt obeyed and stepped onto the stool. He looked at himself in the mirror before quickly looking away for several reasons.
"Stand up straight." The idiot wearing glasses indoors ordered.
Matt quickly shot up and fixed his posture and stretched his arms out straight and was quickly filled with embarrassment. The worker pulled out a tape measurement and quickly started taking Matt's measurements. Matt, like the dork he is, felt his cheeks flush at someones hands being so close to his body, especially when taking measurements for clothing, which that normally required waist and bust measurements. Matt looked away, avoiding eye contact like it would kill him. He was probably making the situation seem worse that it probably was. The worker stood up and put the tape measurement back into his pocket before seeming to think about something.
"Don't you need to write the measurements down?" Matt shyly asked.
"I do this every day as a job, I have it in my head." The worker spoke with a tinge of sass in his voice. "What are you particularly looking for, anyways?" 
"Uhm.. well, I was mostly looking for a suit, though I normally don't wear the overcoat with it so maybe just a fine button-up shirt with a tie?" Matt had subconsciously reverted back to being slightly hunched over and his hands were fiddling around with the cuffs of his sleeves. 
"I'm sure I can find something for that. Any particular color you're looking for? And what type of tie? Are you allergic to any fabrics? I need all the details." 
Matt was overwhelmed by the sudden burst of so many questions and almost immediately blanked on anything he was just asked. "Oh I uh.. I'm not allergic to anything, uhm.. I'm not too picky about color, and I'd prefer a bowtie." 
"Very specific, aren't we?" The worker teased.
"Well I don't want to seem too picky, I mean I don't want anything too expensive." Matt stumbled over his words.
"Darling, being picky here is what we need. Lucky for you I'm not someone that just throws anything on you for money." 
"Ah yes, how lucky I am." Matt muttered sarcastically.
"So, are you sure you don't have a preference? Becuase I don't want to pick soemthing for you and you go complaining." 
"I won't complain!" Matt stubbornly said.
"Fine, fine. You're words not mine." Then he walked off, probably to go and find something for Matt.
Matt couldn't help but think how oddly the place was ran. Matt didn't expect it to be that they pick something for you, he thought it'd be like any normal clothing store, where he could pick out what he wanted to wear. Of course, if a customer pointed out something they liked then the worker would probably get it for them or allow them to look around, but Matt would rather die than speak up like a normal person. Plus, this guy seemed to know what he was doing anyways, so Matt didn't mind too hard. While Matt was thinking about looking around he decided to see what was around him anyways. There was a small jewelry section nearby which probably had necklaces and earrings and chains and bracelets. There were also shelves on either side of Matt, not too close to him, but if he stretched out both of his arms fully, he could probably touch the two shelves. They looked like they would be shoe wrecks, but actually had folded clothing on them. Matt noticed an orange Hawaiian shirt with pineapple print all over it and three white buttons extending down from the collar of the shirt. He couldn't help but giggle as he picked it up, but made sure to not unfold it in the process. I mean, it was a party after all, right? Not some elegant ball. And it's not like a silly pineapple shirt hurt anyone anyways, right? He carefully set it back where he had grabbed it from, and eagerly scanned the shelves for anything else that might catch his interest. Most of the things on the shelves, as for the rest of the store, were all silky material stuff or fancy and were probably meant for more special occasions rather than a party that Matt was going to sit out in the bathroom all night. Yet… something felt different about the clothing on these shelves. Most of the shelves were a beaming white, and only had three or four shelves near the bottom for shoes and some folded pants or socks and stockings, and had hangers at the top for skirts and dresses and shirts and gowns and such. The shelves near Matt were brown and only had folded clothing on it. And Matt just noticed the prices were a lot cheaper too. It was like he found the discount regect section of the store. Though, Matt didn't mind it too much because he found a shirt he liked.
Matt was so lost in thought, he didn't realize his "buddy" had already came back. Matt actually didn't even know until a shirt got tossed at him, causing him to almost drop it. Matt held it up and examined it. It was a green button-up shirt with black buttons. Matt glanced up at the worker, like he was expecting him to say something, which just lead to them kinda blankly looking at eachother for a little bit.
"Well?" The worker prompted.
"Well what?" Matt echoed.
"Do you like it? I found a pastel purple one too, and you could maybe wear brown slacks with them, but I think black would better suit you." 
"Well I don't mind it, than sounds fine." 
"Don't mind it? We need something you'll love, not just feel neutral towards." The worker said it as if he was offended. "Did anything catch your eye maybe while I was gone?"
Matt hesitated for a moment, and shyly glanced at the pineapple shirt and pointed at it as if he wasn't allowed to touch it. 
"Really? That?" The worker questioned and furrowed his brows.
"W-well you did ask…" 
"Yeah it's just… theres a reason it's in a separated section from everything else." 
"I assumed so, but it's pineapples.." 
"But you'll look like a a torrist that got lost."
"Ouch, thanks."
"Look, I'm trying to say it nicely, but you'll look like a complete dork."
"No dorkier than your name." 
"Hey! My name is not bad, if anything it's plenty better than whatver yours is."
"I didn't say it was bad! I said it was just dorky." Matt said defensively. "I like dorky things. I am a dork." Matt added.
"Yeah, uh, you do realize normally dork isn't a compliment, right?"
"Emphasis on normally."
"Look, if you like my name I'm not going to complain, alright?"
Matt huffed out a sigh. "I just wanted a shirt how do these situations happen to me." 
"Here, I found this too." The worker said and tossed another shirt into Matt's arms.
"Jesus christ." Matt muttered.
"What?" 
"Dice- can I call you that? I mean it's your name but..- Anyways, this shirt stinks."
"How? I mean if you think it's bad you don't have a sense of fashion." 
"I mean, I don't but…anyone looking at me far away will think I got stabbed." 
"And then they come up, see what it really is, and want to try it themselves. It's perfect."
Matt shook his head in silence. The skirt was white, but it had big flowers on it that were a deep red color, making Matt look like someone tried to shank him all over. Matt loved flowers but this was just asking to mess something up.
"If it helps, it's better than your pineapple shirt that you wanted." Dice said, like that was supposed to help somehow.
"If you don't like the pineapple shirt so much, cant I just buy it then?"
"No, I'm trying to save you."
"Save me? The only saving I'll need is from when someone calls the paramedics cause I look like I swam with some sharks." 
"Oh yes, because being dressed like a fruit helps. It's not even a floral print it's a pineapple. I don't even need to explain what's wrong with that."
"Do you do this with every customer or?.."
"No, just you." 
"Wow"
"Theres so much good clothing in here like suits and dresses and better patterns and nicer clothes and things that compliment you, than some pineapple shirt you can get at a Dollar Tree store."
"Y'know, you almost make me want to thank you."
"Well, you should be thanking me." 
"I'm not going to." Matt made sure to say this in a rather playful tone, even though most their conversation had been teasing banter.
"Here, how about we just find something we can both settle on?"
"You're best idea yet. That sounds fine."
"Good." Dice walked off to go and look for something for Matt, but this time Matt decided to follow him as well.
It didn't take long for Dice to spot something and show it to Matt. "Here, how about this?" Dice offered.
Matt recoiled a little bit when it saw it. "It's not bad but..-" 
"But?" Dice cut off Matt.
"Well.. it's so scratchy looking!" 
Dice looked over Matt as if he was trying to check if Matt was being genuine or not. "You haven't even tried it on yet!!"
Matt timidly reach out a hand and rubbed it across the shirt before cringing back a little bit. "No."
Dice sighed before putting the shirt back and going off the hunt for something else suitable for Matt. Matt glanced around, he felt a little bad and a little afraid that he was being annoying, but he tried to push it away. Matt let in an excited gasp as he spotted something, before scampering off to go and pick it up. 
Matt picked it up with a wide grin and held it up to show Dice like he discovered something new.
"That one?" Dice questioned.
"I am not letting you talk me out of this one! It has a space theme and that is final." Matt pointed at the shirt he was holding up, which had stars and planets all over it.
Dice held up a hand to his chin and looked over the shirt like he was considering it. He ended up giving in. "Okay, it's not too bad and I suppose it's better than that pineapple shirt…"
"I don't know what's with you and pineapples but I'll take it!" Matt was beaming and was bouncing on his heels from happiness. 
Dice gently took the shirt from Matt's hands and checked for a price tag. Matt frowned a little, he completely forgot that prices were a thing since he was so caught up in his excitement. Dice glanced around and snagged a pair of long purple jeans and handed the clothing to Matt. 
"How much will it cost?" Matt asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
"....I'll just say fifteen dollars." Dice responded.
"For both?" Matt asked, surprised.
"I want to help you pay for it." 
Matt was surprised by the answer. "Are you sure?" 
"Mhm." 
"Isn't that illegal in a way though?.." 
"Maybe if you want to look at it like that, but you're cute so I'm letting it slide."
Matt felt himself get flustered at the comment, whether it was supposed to be flirtatious or not. He decided to not respond and just shake his head in response, though he was pretty sure Dice had noticed anyways.
As Matt ran up to the nearest counter to pay, he couldn't help but feel the need to Wave goodbye to Dice. Things like that happen when you become attached to people after five minutes. Matt was oddly surprised to see Dice wave back but was warmed by the feeling. As Matt ran off to his car so he could try on his clothes sooner, he noticed a small paper hanging out the pocket of the shirt he had just picked out. He grabbed the paper before it could fall out and got deeply flustered and joyous at what was written on it. There was a small drawing of a single die cube, and a phone number written next to it. It didn't take long for Matt to quickly punch the number into his phone and pray it wasn't some rouse. He decided to just send one small message saying "hi :D". Right as Matt went to put his phone back into his pocket, it buzzed signaling he got a new notification. Matt checked it and tensely checked if it was what he was truly hoping for. He read the message so fast he had to read it a second time after not picking up what it had said. It read:
Already texting me right as you just left? Someone's clingy and in love.
Matt sighed and smiled and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He had a feeling this was going to end up being something he needed to buckle in for, but whether that was necessarily a bad thing? He didn't think it was.
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grapejuiccewrites · 5 years
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Sweet Pea with a trans boyfriend headcanons
Requested? Nope, this is purely self indulgent cause it’s 1 am and I feel sick and wanted to write it
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex but nothing too bad, mentions of transphobia but also not too bad, maybe some grammar errors
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God he’s so gay for you
Sweet Pea On the outside is a ruff and tough gang member but he’s so in love with you that it hurts
Very protective over you.
But not the kind of protective that holds you back
And definitely not the kind to baby you. He wants to make sure you’re safe so he’ll try teach you how to fight or at least give you a weapon.
And If you wanna fight? Great He’ll be right there fighting along side you
Fighting not your thing? He’s gonna defend you till his last dying breathe
Sweet Pea fucking chugs respect trans people juice
He has a pair of giant steel toe boots that he painted “TERF STOMPER” on them and that’s canon now
They are his favorite pair of shoes
Kicking transphobe ass is a hobby of his
Doesnt even have to be directed at you ( god forbid if it is)
Sweet Pea hears an offhand transphobic remark and he goes fucking feral
But his favorite thing in the entire world is if you go feral
He loves seeing you be passionate and aggressive
Also Sweet Pea talks about your dick a lot
Like more then a lot
The amount of times in day Fangs and Toni have to listen to him talk about how amazing your dick is astounding
In any instance when your around new people sweet pea goes
“Everyone, this is Y/n and if you don’t use his correct pronouns I’ll fucking strangle you”
He also wants to share clothes
And since your probably shorter then him cause he’s a 6’3 fucking gaint( if you are as tall or taller honestly your a god among men and the world isn’t ready for power you hold)
You guys gotta go shopping for clothes that you like that also fit him as well
Sweet Pea just wants to wear your clothes cause they smell like you and remind him of you
So you guys have couple of shirts that are technically yours but they are yours that are ment for sweet pea to wear
Sweet Pea also is big spoon
Don’t try to fight him on this you’ll lose
He likes watching you sleep
It’s comforting to him
He keeps nicknames simple tho
Babe,baby, baby boy, and just variations of that
Also fun fact once while you had a sub they accidentally dead named you when taking role and sweet pea actually lost it and tried to fight them
He ended up in detention for week
It was funny to watch though
Sweet Pea is also a very very low key himbo but since he’s also bad boy biker gang type it’s hard to tell it’s there but it is
Sweet Pea in general just loves and supports you so much
Most of the time he doesn’t really know how to show his love so he does so in random gifts
They aren’t expensive or anything just something that made him think of you or thought you might like
Most of the time it him at Good Will and he’ll see something like an old toy that from you favorite childhood tv show that you made a remark about 5 months ago and looks at it and goes
“ this is only $1.50 and y/n needs to own it”
And he always has the biggest grin on his face when he gives it to you.it ain’t rapped or anything he just hands it to you smiling
And just a little bit of nsfw so if you don’t want to read then skip it
Although sweet pea is very admit about him wanting to be big spoon
He also likes when you take charge and if you wanna top and peg him he totally down
Real himbo ours when when you top
Just saying
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brtprnce-blog · 6 years
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name: rune nils lovik nicknames: rune , nils , or even just lovik age: twenty five gender identity: cis male birthplace: stockholm , sweden sexuality: pansexual / panromantic   pronouns: he / him  occupation: business student & drug dealer housing: potentas  sign: aries  pinterest: board spotify: playlist
hey it’s your local demigirl trash demon ! not much to say about me except i go by nary , i’ve been burnt by tumblr rp so many times i’ve literally gone by so many monikers so if you think possibly you might know who i am then feel free to ask about it ! i’m twenty three years old , use she / they pronouns , and live in kentucky ( good luck finding me if ur a stalker lol ) which means i reside in the central timezone. i do work at a local department store type deal , but since the holidays are over it won’t be as time consuming for now and i have until tuesday of next week off thank frick. anyway now on to this new muse who was inspired by an old muse or two of mine leggoooooo
it might be HIS SENIOR year but i still think RUNE NILS LOVIK looks exactly like HERMAN TOMMERAAS and sometimes i think the CIS MALE is actually them. of course i’m wrong , as he’s TWENTY FIVE and studying BUSINESS while living in POTENTAS here at lockwood. the ARIES can be rather BOLD and ALLURING , but also kind of RECKLESS and SUPERFICIAL his most played song on spotify this year was NARCISSIST by NO ROME FT. THE 1975 , so i think that says a lot.
PERSONALITY
element: fire ruling planet: mars — the planet of war & energy body part: head , face good day: energetic , encouraging , unstoppable , bold , devoted , caring bad day: proud , self centered , impulsive , bossy , stubborn , reckless , jealous favorite things: competitive games , new clothes , road trips ( in fast red cars ) , debating , expressing themselves through stunning verbal and physical feats , money , riches , fame , drugs , sex least favorite things: sharing their toys , being ignored , cramped spaces , losing , the word “no” , relationships , being tied down secret wish: to be number one how to spot him: high forehead , focused or manic energy , aggressive stance , toothy grin keywords: willpower , initiative , determination , passion , beginnings , self belief , self destruction
headstrong and determined , rune can be stubborn and willful. he has a tendency to dig in his heels , stand his ground and absolutely refuses to be pushed around.
he will butt his own metaphorical horns against the same obstacle until he break it down — often with the sheer force of will. confidently rune believes in himself and will champion others.
the essence of his energy shows up as encouraging , unstoppable , bold , devoted , and caring. in its shadow form , his energy can make him prideful , self centered , impulsive , bossy , stubborn , reckless and competitive. this fuckboy likes a challenge , but be careful because he can definitely be selfish and domineering.
like a match that lights the blaze , he can be a trailblazer and trendsetter.  pioneering and innovative , rune leaps without looking and puts his bold ideas out there.
his ruling planet is warrior planet and energy activator mars. on a positive note , he is filled with unstoppable life force energy. the negative manifestation is that he can become argumentative , confrontational and aggressive at pretty much the drop of a hat.
he is a leader and “idea person” , prizing originality and being first in everything they do. he’s a trendsetter and trend spotter , the one who gets the party started and the crowd hyped. count on rune to initiate a winning idea or plan.
he tends to have a lot of energy , which he applies to everything from tackling supersized projects to unleashing his lusty libidos with a lover.
this confident fuckboy is known to leap before looking , diving into each new experience with a zest for life that few others can muster. he loves to be number one and can be an amazing trendsetter and trailblazer.
rune is a true original who inspires others. with all of his fire power and can do attitude , there’s nothing he can’t ( and won’t ) take on. at times , he can be selfish or overly focused on himself. it can be a “ blind spot ” for him , and friends of rune can try to gently remind him from time to time to share his toys.
this super rich kid was born with an innate sense of entitlement , which helps him shatter glass ceilings but can also be off-putting to people in extreme doses.
this go getter can come across as abrasive or overly aggressive. however , rune will never back down from a challenge and can be a heroic champion of anyone in distress.
being born the sole heir and only son of a wealthy family was bound to have some influence on a young man’s personality. rune is a super rich kid and to this day enjoys making it known.
his father taught him to declare his dominance and money makes you superior , right ? those who knew rune lovik when asked about him would have told you the boy has no time or room to care about anyone but himself , which for the most part is still the truth.
he is a firm believer that money can get you anywhere ( regardless of how you make it ) and that has always held true so he deals drugs now to keep up with his preferred lifestyle.
he has a hugeeeeee ego. honestly , you’ll probably choke on his pride , but there is some part of him that wants real love. the near constant pressure to uphold family reputation growing up , to be the perfect son ? sometimes it’s enough to make him crack on occasion. every break down has only made him push harder and has driven him further away from his family. 
BACKSTORY
( tw: abortion ) born on a chilly spring night , march 21st , to one of the wealthiest families in stockholm , sweden. he was the first and the last , any unwanted pregnancies were aborted immediately. there was no need for anymore children , their heir to the fortune and family business already been birthed. an heir that was hardly a son , because  a son would be loved but he was just an heir to be used.
rune was raised up by maids and nannies , because his parents weren’t around enough. it was a mostly loveless childhood except for the help he was close to , his innocence lost too soon.
the pressures of being the perfect son gripped him before he was old enough to even understand. if he could be what his parents wanted , would they love him then ? would they stay home ?
his youth was pretty successful , he begrudgingly became what was expected of him — the spitting image of his father. his years as a teenager were spent stealing bottles of wine , experimenting with illegal substances , joy rides in expensive cars , different faces in his bed. no one noticed , or they at least they pretended not to , and for the most turned a blind eye to his bad behavior but somewhere deep down maybe rune hoped someone would take the time to care.
( tw: gambling ment ) once he was old enough , he was included in the family ‘business’ which isn’t what made them rich but part of the reason they stay that way. lots of gambling and illegal shit that his father calls ‘business’ to make himself sound like a professional.
( tw: drug ment ) at first he doesn’t take to it , but he finds he likes to not only deal but do copious amount of drugs. it doesn’t hurt that he’s making some money on the side !!
( tw: drug ment ) rune goes to his father in interest of becoming an actual member of the gang in the hopes of dealing for them , but those dreams were shot down. a lovik dealing drugs like a petty criminal ?! not a chance in hell mr. lovik would allow that.
( tw: drug and alcohol ment ) his father was quick to forbid him from ever even considering such peasant activity. so , he kept to luxury items such as but not limited to: cars , designer clothes , sex , drugs , and booze. he didn’t mind returning to all of his expensive things and played his part like he always had.
most would never guess that his lifestyle might not be to his liking , that he questions everything , that real love is something he has always desired.
when you look at him you would see a boy that cares about two things: himself and money. he acts like he is the best to hide the fact that he feels unwanted , unloved , and used. he hid behind family pride for a long time , but it was a facade carefully kept.
a few years ago  basically decided he was completely sick of living anywhere near his parents. he couldn’t do shit in stockholm without the public finding out and him ending up in the tabloids which just had his parents breathing fire down his neck for causing a stir. no shaming the family and the ‘business’.
so after applying to several different places in the states , he was able to get into lockwood and was quick to move out on his own. 
( tw: drug ment ) he is a p decent drug dealer on campus , so if your muse does drugs of any sort chances are they or someone they know has gone through rune at least once or partied with him. 
he doesn’t have any other source of income ( besides drug dealing and the money he gets from his parents for attending college for business ) outside of the occasional fight club shit he does for the heck of it. he’s a p good fighter and often wins money thanks to it.
SONG
super rich kids by frank ocean ft. earl sweatshirt — “ too many bottles of this wine we can’t pronounce , too many bowls of that green , no lucky charms. the maids come around too much , parents ain’t around enough. too many joy rides in daddy’s jaguar , too many white lies and white lines. super rich kids with nothing but loose ends , super rich kids with nothing but fake friends “
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shieldhearted-blog · 6 years
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♫ five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is. [[omg pre-war? if that works?]]
♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is. (  tw ; minor knife-injury, blood ment in [ i ]  )
[ i ]
So maybe it isn’t the most practical idea, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. 
It’d started with Steve’s mom insisting that she teach Steve to cook, something he readily agreed to — and even more readily agreed when she suggested that he invite Bucky over, too. Everyone needed to know how to cook; Sometimes, she said, wives need a break. You need to know how to help them out and let them rest, honey.
She repeated this sentiment on Bucky’s first time joining them, and he immediately hid a laugh, whispering to Steve, Does it count as you giving her a break if you don’t have one?, for which he immediately got an elbow in the ribs. 
( Not that it hurt. Steve knew it wouldn’t; he’d put some force behind it, but Buck probably didn’t even feel it underneath his clothes. )  
They both learned a lot from her, and it was Steve who suggested that they try it alone — that is, alone, together; just without her supervision. So she left out her supplies, a vague handwritten recipe, and instructed them to produce the best apple pie they possibly could and, with the enthusiasm and confidence of 14- and 15-year-old boys, they set out to do just that.
That’s how it began. It quickly develops into a flour-throwing match, which Bucky definitely won. Steve argues that there are no real winners in a flour-throwing match, though, and Bucky tells him he’s only saying that because he lost. Steve throws more flour at him. 
They do get back to the recipe eventually; Steve pulls Bucky back over to the counter where they’re desperately trying ( and failing ) to make a pie crust, and they have about half the apples cut up. Steve bumps into Bucky continually as the two of them try to use the small counter space effectively, leading to a small shoving battle that is quickly stopped when Bucky nicks his finger. 
Steve wastes no time rushing to get their dingy first-aid kit: a few bandages and gauze on a good day. Mumbling admonishments under his breath about how Bucky needs to be more careful under his breath, Steve dabs at the small injury, wiping off the tiny amount of blood that’s welled up before carefully applying a bandage. 
It’s hardly even visible, calm down, Bucky mutters, as though any injury on Bucky isn’t a cause for concern. 
You calm down and just let me do this, Steve says. We take care of each other, okay? I don’t care if you say you’re fine. Just...let me do this, he repeats lowly. 
Bucky quiets down, and with the cut taken care of, they return to work; now much more conscientious. 
A couple hours later, the pie has turned out...Steve’s not sure how exactly it turned out, but, well, it sure...is out. Of the oven. And it sure...is visible. To their eyes. And it...it doesn’t exactly look like a pie, but, well, that’s... that’s okay. 
Steve’s mom returns to check on the finished product, voices the fact that it looks terrible, and then, in the same breath, congratulates the two of them on doing such a good job. The pie does taste rather good, after all. 
Steve’s mom makes a comment that her first date was baking with a boy she liked and Steve’s heart jumps in his chest. He and Buck obviously hadn’t done something like that but the idea is still.... It makes him happy. For some reason.
[ ii ]
Sneaking into the theatre isn’t something Steve wants to make a habit of, but, well, Bucky’s right — they deserve a night out, after how rough the past few days have been. So what if it involves just a little law-breaking?, Bucky argues. That honestly makes it more fun.
( Part of Steve agrees, but he’s not going to admit that. )
They sneak in to the high-class theatre, shoulders back, trying to look like they belong, and sit at the very back, hoping no one will notice that two teenagers who definitely shouldn’t be there were huddled close together, practically sharing a chair, watching the stage with wide eyes. 
It’s a musical — something Steve is cagey about admitting he likes, but of course Bucky knows. What doesn’t Bucky know? So when they sneak in and the orchestra begins playing, Steve grips Bucky’s arm tightly to show appreciation. Steve rarely speaks during movies, let alone live performances, but Bucky doesn’t have the same qualms; he’s just quiet about it.
The first thing Bucky says is, Worth it, wasn’t it?, leaning in close and ghosting the words over Steve ear, and Steve nods, not sure why he has goosebumps when it’s not even cold. 
Bucky continues making soft comments for Steve’s enjoyment only, and it’s nicer than it should be, considering he’s talking during a musical; Steve can’t but help love it. He loves the additions, how clever and well-timed they are, how quick Bucky is to pick up on plot lines and foreshadowing. And they’re still close, so close, and Steve doesn’t know how to ask or even properly think about it, but he wants Bucky to wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep whispering to him. In the dim, barely-there light that’s covering the audience, Steve wants Bucky to hold him ( or the other way around; he’s not sure; he’s not picky either way ) —
He’s not sure why he keeps thinking things like this. He knows, knows that if he were someone else then this would be intimate and — and romantic, but it’s not with him. It never has been. It’s not even close. 
He ignores the pang of disappointment when the musical ends and Bucky pulls away. They slip out of the theatre, and in the afternoon sunlight, Steve thinks it’s okay to think weird things, sometimes; as long as he ignores them.  
[ iii ]
They need to get out of the city. 
Not forever, not even for a long time, but Steve can tell how the constant bustle of the city is starting to harshly affect a very sickly Bucky. And when Steve’s Come on, follow me, is met with Bucky trailing behind him quickly, with comment but without question, Steve can’t help but wonder where, exactly, Bucky thinks they’re going. 
They walk slowly through backstreets and alleys, finally making their way out to the edge of the city, houses getting dingier as they near an almost-rural area. Bucky looks around — Steve thinks he knows where they are, or whereabouts, but not where they’re heading. And they make it to that destination without incident, thankfully, and Bucky lets out a long, deep breath and plops down at the edge of the creek — now, at least, he knows where they are.
It’s tiny; pitiful, really. The creek in front of them is a yard across as its longest point, easily able to be hopped at practically any location. But the water is clear and the sounds it makes are soothing. 
How long has it been? Bucky asks, and Steve shrugs, because the answer is too long but he’s not sure how to say that without making himself feel like he’s neglected something important. 
He doesn’t know when they found this place; he knows that one time when they were younger, Bucky ran; he started running from everything and Steve followed him here and tackled him in this creek, and they were both soaked and cold and out of breath and Bucky was frustrated and Steve was determined, and Bucky said Why won’t you let me go? and Steve said You can’t make me leave you, and Bucky wouldn’t look at him.
( Maybe that was when things changed from we’ve got each other to we’ll always have each other and nothing you do will change that, which should have been a bigger deal than it was; But they were young and forever seemed so easy; And even now Steve can’t bring himself to regret that sentiment; He still wants a forever and in the quiet of the world broken by the babbling of the creek, forever seems easy again. )
Steve sits down next to Bucky, and he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to hold Bucky’s, or wrap an arm around his waist; he settles for throwing one over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky leans in closer to Steve and after a few minutes, his weight is heavier, and Steve realizes he fell asleep. 
Steve doesn’t move to wake him, but he does move to make him more comfortable. 
Bucky was sick and tired; needed a break. Steve thinks he was able to do that. He hopes he’ll always be able to make Bucky calm down and feel better. 
( He can’t think of a time when he possibly couldn’t. )
[ iv ]
It isn’t that Steve’s exactly keen to sit-in on a date with Bucky and a cute girl, but it’s his job as Best Friend to be there to support Buck through anything, and that includes sitting at a nearby table while Bucky has a date. For, you know, moral support. That’s normal, right? 
So here he is, sitting at a booth and drinking a coffee while picking at his appetizer in a restaurant that is much too expensive for him to be in under normal circumstances. Bucky is sitting at a nearby table, his hands folded politely in his lap, leg bouncing rapidly, sweating almost as much as his class of water. 
Steve couldn’t help but wonder what’d gotten Buck so worked up — or rather, who. Bucky hadn’t told him very much about the mystery girl, so Steve is left to wonder. 
Maybe she was much older than them, well past her 20s; maybe she was remarkably beautiful, breathtaking; maybe she was incredibly intelligent and well-educated; maybe she was —
A sigh pulls him out of his thoughts, and Steve looks over at the table, where the rhythm of Bucky’s bouncing leg has increased to its maximum tempo. Steve’s eyes flick up to the clock. 
She’s late. Like, really late. Bucky had said she’d be there around 5:15, and it’s closing in on 6. 
Bucky’s leg starts bouncing faster than it ever has, and Steve breaks.
He stands up, grabs his coffee, and plops down at the couples’ table across from Bucky, who looks up at him with wide, still-nervous eyes, and says, Alright, if this mystery lady isn’t gonna take this spot, then I will. What do you wanna order?
And something about it is so casual, natural, normal; but at the same time significant, important, heavy; and Steve can’t ignore it. Especially not when Bucky is looking at him like — like this is good, like it’s great, like he’s done something so right and wonderful. Like he’s wonderful. But he manages to focus on light conversation, on eating food and picking bits off the other’s plate; normal stuff. 
( He stoutly ignores the way his heart pounds against his chest, like he’s doing something more than what he’d intended; like he’s doing something — something — )
It’s just normal, right? This is normal. This is good. This doesn’t have to be anything serious.
When they get the check, Steve goes to pay, and Bucky grabs his wrist. Hey, I’m the one who was saving up to pay here. Let me, okay?, and Steve can’t imagine Bucky being here with anyone else and he desperately doesn’t want to, but he nods.  
He bites back what he wants to say. 
( As long as you let me pay next time. )
[ v ]
Movie night’s always a good night, and this time is no exception. But it’s good for a different reason than usual. 
When Steve thinks about his favorite parts, he thinks of the way Bucky would lean closer to him. When he thinks about what parts gave him goosebumps, it’s Bucky gripping his leg in excitement as something intense happens on-screen. His overall favorite part is easily when Bucky threw back his head and laughed, loud and genuinely lost in the moment, even if that moment only lasted a few seconds before he was back to holding himself upright and his amusement had to be regulated to a much more manageable smirk. 
Yeah, well, what was your least favorite bit? Bucky asks when they’re walking home together, and that’s easy.
When it ended. ( Bucky laughs at that, too. )
They make their way up to Bucky’s place, and Steve can’t help but think that if he and Bucky didn’t know each other like they do, if Bucky were a girl Steve had met before the show and bought movie tickets for — then it would be normal, entirely expected for him to lean over and grab Bucky’s hand and pull it up to his lips and gently ghost his breath over his knuckles with a word or two about how Steve’d had a wonderful evening, and he hopes they can go out again soon. 
But it’s not going out — Well, sure, they’re out together, but — it’s not  going out  when it’s him and Buck; no matter how much his thoughts are telling him he should do something that’s entirely inappropriate. 
Bucky isn’t exactly helping, either, as he gives Steve a little half-bow when they get to his door and jokingly says, I had a wonderful time, sir, his voice high and his lips pulled up in a smile. 
( Kiss him kiss him kiss him — )
Steve laughs and hits Bucky’s shoulder. Get some sleep.
( This isn’t anything serious. So why does he feel so alone when Bucky turns around? )
[ vi ]
Walking together, window-shopping in New York in early December is a popular pastime for couples. Or, for those who aren’t couples:  ‘‘ Pairs wherein one half desperately wishes the other would give him a sign that their friendship is more than that, is so much more serious than what people think it is; and that he’s not making things up, that this can actually be something more than what they act like it is, right? ’’
The two of them are staring at the insides of shops that they don’t have a reason to enter, looking at things that are too expensive to be in a local boutique and things that are too useless to be priced so high.
The air is filled with swirling, small snowflakes; not nearly enough to be a cause for dread, as anyone could easily tell these flurries won’t stick on the roads, but enough to make everything feel oddly scenic. Bucky is walking a bit ahead of Steve, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, occasionally throwing back comments about what they’re seeing.
Bucky thinks the sun dresses they’re seeing across the street are an affront to nature. You’re tempting it, he says, falling back closer to Steve, walking in time with him. You’re counting on the sun coming back. Now, it’s gonna be winter forever out of spite.
I don’t think that’s how seasons work.
Yeah, yeah, we get it, you believe that the clouds aren’t secretly listening to all our conversations. But where’s the fun in that, Steve?
I prefer to call it realism. 
Boring’s what it is. Imagine being up there, looking down. It’s like having your own personal movie going on all the time. 
Sounds like a pretty boring movie. 
Yeah, well, we could make it more interesting for them.
Oh?
Mm-hmm. Just confess your undying love for me. 
...
Come on, it’s a neat plot-twist.
Really, now?
Well, not too much of a plot-twist. We are in the perfect environment for a proposal. But...just enough elements are here to make it unlikely, but not impossible. The perfect plot-twist. No one will see it coming. 
I’d hope so, considering it’s not like we’re on a date, Buck.
( He wishes he didn’t have to say that. )
Bucky wiggles his eyebrows in a way that rides a fine line between I’m leaning into a joke and I want you to take this seriously. Steve can only huff and shake his head, not sure if he trusts himself to speak; and then Bucky reaches out his hand, grabs Steve’s in a manner that’s too hurried and worried to be entirely brushed off as a joke, and Steve wants to ask Bucky what the hell he’s doing ( and why hasn’t he done it any sooner ) —
But he doesn’t; doesn’t ask what this is, what they’re doing; doesn’t question if this is really a good idea or if they should stop right now; he doesn’t ask. 
He just runs his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand and feels his pulse fluttering beneath his palm, and he doesn’t say anything about it. 
( He’s still pretty sure it’s a date. )
@facemypast​. [ Send me a symbol. ] Accepting.
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