Yes. Hi, hello. I’m rubbing my hands all over Ghost with my hcs. So! Because I’m ✨Black✨ I’m currently kicking my feet imagining Simon gently helping me take down my hair, oiling my scalp and then flat twisting it. I’m so normal about these men I swear I am
Lily my love💞💞
Simon- or any of the boys- would absolutely adore helping you with your hair!!! They don't have a clue about what you're doing but they'll happily learn! Teach Ghost how to help you with your hair and he'll jump at any chance to do so. Be it braids or wash day Ghost is gonna help you. (And he likes the texture of your hair so yippie) The only exception for this is Gaz. I refuse to believe he didn't grow up with older sisters so pretty boy knows what he's doing
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having a snuggable animal in your home is like a constant minigame of ancestral persistence hunting, every morning this beast is getting yoinked from various parts of the house to indulge our daily ritual of bringing him back to bed for cuddling purposes. im like the doom guy in hell meme but instead of ronald reagan im looking for my cat
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When Izzy first walked out I was worried that he would be made into a joke that the crew would laugh at
but then he started singing and the dancing began and I realized that he wasn’t meant to be a joke at all. This is the most open and happy we’ve ever seen Izzy and the show treated it that way. Not mocking him but instead celebrating this moment.
When we talk about queer representation it’s usually just focused on queer relationships, but what I love about this episode is it shows other sides of being queer. That moment where Izzy saw Wee John doing his makeup and had a realization that he wanted that too? That is what being queer means to me. The crew singing along and cheering for him? That is what being apart of the queer community means to me.
What i love about this show is that it shows queer joy, not in a sanitized way, but in away that is messy, beautiful, and without any mockery or shame.
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The first rule of tragedy is to be yourself. The second of rule of tragedy is to be literally anyone else. The third rule is that however much you try, there is no escaping being yourself forever.
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(taking a step back to Sugar Daddy Price™ because i didn't do it right the first time :/)
Sugar Daddy Price: who obviously spoils you to no end. Whether it be money, food, words, or actions. All love language is his love language, doesn't matter what.
It could be one random afternoon when he's on deployment and right after you both settled the terms of your sugar dating. You're minding your business, maybe cleaning because you feel like he does so much for you and it's the least you could do.
You don't hear or feel his usually heavy footsteps make their path to where you sit on the soft sofa. A white tee in your hands as you nod your head softly to the music flowing through your expensive headphones— courtesy of him.
You fold and tuck the piece of fabric, making sure that it sits nice and neat on top of the other identical white shirt. Your sweet hums sound across the otherwise quiet room to his ears before you reach into the laundry basket to grab another piece of clothing.
A large, rough hand wraps itself gently around your jeweled wrist. Despite every ridge and cut, burn and callouse, he still manages to hold you with such a soft care. Despite every horrible thing he's seen on and off the field, he still holds you like you're the one thing keeping all of the bad out.
You jump slightly, not because it was him, just because it was unexpected. Never because it was him.
A smile makes its way across your features, almost instantaneously. Your whole body lights up. Your face, your posture; your hands even fiddle with the shiny ring on your thumb. Again, him.
"Oh, I didn't hear you come in. How are you?"
You'd tried to calm the grin on your face as he sat himself beside you, not letting go of your wrist. Instead slinking his fingers between yours and, with his free hand, holding onto your waist. You turn towards him.
He doesn't say anything at first, just holds your body close to his.
His hand moves from your waist and to the nape of your neck. His hand so large, it could almost wrap comeplety across your neck if he really tried. He presses your body flush to his and takes a deep breath in, inhaling your scent. He releases the breath by burying his face into your neck. Laying soft kisses and nips across the curve.
"John... I-I gotta finish the clothes.." Your voice dies out by the end of your sentence, too engulfed by the feeling of his body heat colliding with yours.
"Mm-mm, just give me a minute." His voice is rougher than usual. Raspy, gravelly, almost hoarse. Not unwelcome, but different. His kisses and pecks get longer, and with longer, they get sloppier. Traveling up the curve of your neck to the shell of your ear, whispering sweet everythings.
"Jus' give me a second, yeah? Wanna feel you... So pretty and put together, just for me." He wisps into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
The hand previously intertwined with yours is now groping your hip, soft and slow. For now, at least.
His movements are so slow and languid, nearly ignoring your whines and pleas for more. Then, he licks a stripe from the nape of your neck to your jaw, sucking a hicky where ever he thought necessary.
"Ahh- Please. I need you now." Your sweet words mixed with your even sweet whines only beckon him on.
"Askin' so prettily for me, makes me wonder if you'll be this polite after I fill you up."
-♡
LIA MY LOVE💞💞💞💞💞
Literally- What do you want??? Money??? Head??? BECAUSE BIIIIIITCH
Everytime I come to this app you've always got price in my inbox😭😭 AND I LOVE IT💞💞💞
The voices are speaking and they're all chanting Sugar Daddy Price💞💞
Been swamped with midterms so this made my day thank you lovie💞
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When my nephew was four, a friend of the family passed away. The man was in his 90s and died of natural causes, and we were going to the funeral. We sat my nephew down and explained who this was, and that he had passed away, and now we were going to a sort of quiet party to celebrate him, and that there he might see the gentleman in the casket, and he might be very still, because he had died, but that everything was alright.
My nephew contemplated this calmly for a few minutes, and then said, "I think he will be very flat."
What.
It turns out that at age four, my nephew's only real context for death was roadkill, which he frequently pointed out while we were driving. He therefore believed that the only way anyone died was getting run over by a car.
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Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.
I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.
2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)
3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited
Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.
Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).
Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.
Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.
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