#the mustache stays unshaved

[stormyoceans]

UTTERLY OBSESSED with the image of Mork burying his face into Day's neck and rubbing his little stache all over Day's neck and it making Day feel things so he just asks Mork to do more of it and Mork moving lower to his chest and using his teeth a little because he can't help himself and then moving lower to Day's stomach and hips and even lower... Monica to horny jail we go

I'D BE HONORED TO BE YOUR CELLMATE ANON WHEN I TELL YOU I'VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS SINCE THE VERY FIRST PICTURE WE GOT OF MORK'S UNSHAVED LOOK

LIKE!!!!!!!! i just know day loves the feeling of mork's facial hair against his skin because it makes everything so much more intense, not to mention that the slightly stinging sensation that it leaves behind can stay with him for days and he likes how it always reminds him of mork even when they're not together

it probably starts as something playful: one early morning, while they're just lazing around in bed, mork nuzzles against day's neck and much to his delight day starts giggling. that's how he finds out that day is really ticklish and what started as a cuddling session soon turns into a small battle as day tries to fend off mork's attempts to rub his face on any part of day's body he can reach. there's nothing in the world mork loves more than the sound of day's joyful laugh, but he has to admit that the sudden choked out moan that leaves day's lips when mork drags his chin across the tender spot where day's neck meets his shoulder is a revelation. for a moment neither of them move, then mork leans down again and starts mouthing at that very same spot, making sure that day feels the slight prickle of his mustache against the sensitive skin there. he is rewarded with another moan, day pulling him closer. then, like you said, mork can't resist scraping his teeth and beard down day's chest, laving at day’s nipples only to rub his stubble over them a second later, enjoying the way day arches his back and trembles under him

NOW IMAGINE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN MORK MOVES TO DAY'S THIGHS AND THEN EATS HIM OUT OKAY BYE

[scattered-winter]

this video made me start thinking about a fic that I want to read (or write) Right Now

Bruce is Stressed Out from raising 6 vigilantes in his home. Finally he decides (ie: is forced by Alfred) to take a mental health weekend by sending his kids to stay with Clark and Lois in Metropolis.

Bruce: hey man are you sure you wanna do this

Clark: of course! you need it :)

Bruce: I know but are you sure

Clark: I've stopped trains with one hand. How hard can taking care of children be?

Bruce:

Bruce: I envy your ignorance. Good luck

After the kids leave, Bruce takes Alfred for a spa day in the city (let's face it, they BOTH need it). They got manicures and massages. When they get home they spend the day painting and taking naps in the garden. The only sighting of Batman that weekend is him sitting on the roof sipping tea and reading a book by the light of the batsignal. Bruce sleeps in for the first time in decades

Bruce: Alfred I feel so relaxed. Who knew mental health days could be so nice?

Alfred, eye twitching: I don't know, sir. It's like I've never told you to take one before

Bruce: wow. I need to do this more often. Hopefully the kids are as relaxed as I am right now.....

cut to Metropolis

Jason is spray-painting a dick on the cape of the superman statue in the main square and drawing a mustache and monocle on his face

Tim is nowhere to be found but every time Clark opens his computer he is immediately redirected to Never Gonna Give You Up on a 10-hour loop

Dick is currently backflipping all across the skyline yelling "Can Superman do THIS?"

Duke is making Jason's spray painted "artwork" glow neon pink

Damian decided to paint a mural in Clark's living room

Clark: um. whatcha doing there, Damian?

Damian, covered in splatters of paint and carrying several brushes, stepping around the dozens of paint cans on the floor: your living room is atrociously bland. I'm doing you a favor

Clark: .......

Cass and Lois took a """"Girl's Day"""" (they told Clark they were getting their hair and nails done) but instead went to track down risky stories for the paper. Cass was Lois' bodyguard, but she still ended up breaking a chair over some poor thug's head while Cass proudly looked on

Tim reappeared and started chasing Jason around the house with his hands covered in orange paint

Tim: your helmet would look so much cooler with orange handprints on it :)

Jason, sprinting away: DON'T YOU DARE

Damian got mad that they were running around while he was trying to paint and he threw a paintbrush at Jason's head with all the force of a trained assassin throwing a dagger

It knocked Jason out cold, and Tim gleefully took the opportunity to vandalize his helmet

Dick came back and was pretty tired from backflipping all over. Clark's minding his business but then a shoe falls on his head. He looks up to see Dick sprawled across the chandelier, fast asleep

After the weekend is over, Bruce comes to collect his kids as a changed man

Bruce: so how did it go?

Clark, with an unshaved face, shadows beneath his eyes, wearing a half-burned bathrobe and only one slipper:

Bruce: just as well as I expected, then! you should be glad they didn't burn the entire house down!

Clark:

Bruce:

Jason: I did give it my best shot, though

feel free to add more! I just really love the idea of Bruce having a Good Day for once and his kids just creating chaos wherever they go

[pandemic-diet]

I hate shaving. It’s not a unique complaint to have - most women I have talked to about this topic detest the chore of somehow removing their natural fuzz from their bodies. I don’t enjoy contorting in the shower to reach the back of my legs, I don’t like the stinging sensation of water entering a small nick from the razor, and I don’t like the waste of precious time I could be doing literally anything else. Although, I do have to admit, freshly shaven legs under clean top sheets is a delicious sensation - but not one worth the rest of the work. I truly don’t mind most body hair. If my body wants to regress to the classic neandranthal state of hairiness, that’s fine with me. 

Like everyone else during the winter, I put aside a razor for several months and cross that maintance ritual off my list but the question ‘to shave or not to shave’ dances around my mind when the weather begins warming up. Spring has necessitated the exchange of sweatpants to shorts for my daily outings to the cluster of small shops across from my apartment complex. I put on my cloth face mask, earphones, and began a slow pleasant trek to the donut shop to get some kolaches for my partner and I. Then a car passed me slowly and the familiar creep of shame edged around my throat. 

 I didn’t actually notice my own body hair until a boy in 6th grade gym decided to tell me that it was disgusting. I don’t remember being embarrassed or even upset, because I was confused as to what the issue actually was. Another kid chimed in and said I should just talk to my mom about shaving. I stared at the short black hairs on my legs with a new perspective quickly being tinted with shame, beginning to see another flaw on my body to obsess and hate. I went home and tried to convince my mom I was ready to be entrusted with blades sharp enough to cut my skin, which was the results of 2 hours in a bath that weekend. Whenever I had finished slicing hair off my small legs, I felt like I really achieved something. This was the beginning of my transformation into someone my peers would be too impressed with to make fun of anymore. 

Which of course, was not the case.  Two years later, I was in 8th grade and we moved to a different town. I was in band class and was 2nd chair, knocking Andrea Cortez down to 3rd chair and away from Keith Kotal, who I believed she secretly had a crush on despite constantly denying it. I was a little lazy with shaving after 2 years of discovering it and allowed some stubble to remain unbothered on my leg that was noticeable in my fashionable capri pants, and fucking Andrea Cortez and the girl next to her made fun of me throughout the duration of band class. I tried to ignore them. I rolled my eyes at her defiantly and stared straight ahead, making notes on the music, but I still remember how hot my face felt with the slow burn of fear washing away all the excitement I previously had about starting over at a school. 

My senior year in high school, a friend who had a loud voice embarrassed me outside the hallway by saying “Lot’s of women have mustaches, it’s perfectly normal”. And while, yes, it was true and he was just trying to be supportive, we were both already the losers in our AP Economics class who were generally ignored and discounted by our classmates unless Eric Limbocker grew bored of torturing the teacher set his sights to subtly undermine the confidence and comfort of one of the kids lower on the totem pole, which, a few times, was me. I had still been clinging on to hope that I’d be welcomed into the outskirts of the cool smart kid crowd if I could prove something, anything, and calling attention to the small wisps of inferiority on my face were not going to win me any points. I remember walking away after he said that, fleeing to the band hall instead of going back to the classroom with the rest of the class before being dismissed.   But now, in 2020, when people are literally dying from a modern plague, I have flashes of a confusing mix of self hatred, fear, and anger whenever I leave the house in shorts with unshaved legs or sleeveless shirts. I’ll be turning 30 this year, literally a whole god damn adult, and I am uncomfortable if someone on the walking path behind the house gets too close to me because they might see my legs and say something. Or snigger to someone with them.  The disgust that Julia Roberts, one of the most beautiful women in the world, garnered from having a little bit of armpit hair on the red carpet in 1999 is all the proof one would need to know that people are not only comfortable expressing their views about what individual women should look like at any point in time, but that if she doesn’t comply, that she deserves to be humiliated back into submission. Honestly, the fear of these kinds of attacks on my worthiness is the number one reason I continue to endure the annoyances of shaving, putting on make up, or worrying about what is considered office appropriate - because I don’t want to feel like the child being bullied in school. And the conflict between wanting to be my own person who will do what I want to do with middle fingers flying in the air and wanting to be the person who perfectly complies to certain societal norms is too much to bare sometimes. 

Is now the perfect time to begin dismantling these ideas I have in my head? I’m not quarantined - I still go to work everyday and try to social distance and just stay away from everyone as much as I can - but during the Slow Down, people across the world who have the luxury of thinking about what influences they let control their lives. While today these particular childhood insecurities flared up in my mind while living my sheltered day to day life, there are other hang ups and thought patterns that I want to start examining. 

Who decides what the rules are? Who enforces them? Why do I care about being the kind of person who follows them? What are the gains? What are the loses? How do I become brave enough to make up rules for myself?

I’m hoping to be able to find the answers and soon. If I am to survive this stupid fucking virus and continue living in a country run by fucking idiots, I want to live my life the way I want to. Whether I’m thinking about career, finances, or wearing cute dress with hairy legs, I should be the one in control of what little control I actually have of my life.  So, tomorrow, I’ll wear the fucking shorts. 

[whenrockwasyoung19]

Why I "bother" shaving my legs

I see posts about not shaving. How it's empowering, and a lot of feminist say we shouldn't, but this is why I always will. I thought about this today because I was walking through the park, and recalled an incident that happened years earlier in that same spot. I ran into some girls I went to middle school with and they realized it was me. I realized afterwards that I hadn't shaved my legs and I just knew they'd tell their friends they saw me with unshaved legs. And after years of being made fun of for it, it would continue to be my legacy. Brief history: I'm Italian and have thick dark hair. So puberty was difficult for me. I had noticeable hair over my lip and I was mercilessly made fun of for it. I also didn't shave my legs till around 7th grade, so I walked around feeling so self conscious and always aware of how people saw me. It defined me to my peers. But I could've shaved and I knew that. I was told that many times over by friends trying to help. The reason I didn't is because I didn't want to give in. I'd seen things with a Glee type message about being yourself and not giving in to bullies. So I tried to stay strong. I did start shaving my legs because I figured that's what people did. It's not really giving up. And do you know what, I felt more comfortable. I wasn't afraid to walk around in gym shorts in PE. I felt confident. But even still for months I held onto my mustache. I hated it. I hated looking in the mirror and seeing it. But I held on as to not give in to the haters. But then, I reached a breaking point. These girls were being so cruel one day and I just broke down. I couldn't take it anymore. The ridicule was never letting up, and I was miserable every day. So that night I bleached it. I may have given in but I just couldn't take it anymore. And do you know what, the bullying let up. Not entirely, but their material was depleted and I could make it through a day without ridicule. And since then, I have yet, in all the spaces I occupied, to be known as the mustache girl. And some may think of me that way still, but I refuse to allow anyone else to see me that way. So as for shaving my legs, I could have all the reason to say fuck you to the haters, but I frankly don't want haters anymore. I don't want to be an easy target for fuckboys to point at and say I'm ugly or gross. I just want to feel comfortable and confident. And I have had my fair share of cruelty, so please let me have some peace.