Welcome to the Tumblr page of Soap The Musical. A current work in progress, but I love all things Soap so I am going to try and keep those things here. Enjoy.
In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.
P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3
EDIT: Well this got a lot of attention! I got a few users asking to print or repost my art and I am unimaginably grateful to everyone's interest, especially since it's a really simple drawing I made on a whim haha! Anyone who is looking to print these out to hang or hand out or repost on another platform is free to do so, although I ask you to credit me and let people know it's from my Tumblr profile! If anyone wishes to do anything else with my art or post and wants to clarify what I consent to then they can message me privately and I'll explain! <333 all my love to my queer siblings
EDIT: I made an LGBTQIA+ version with a focus on trans and intersex folks, it's on my pinned if you prefer this version of the acronym.
Hello there friends, I had a lot of fun working on this little fluffy drabble... that sort of took on a life of its own. This gift is for @mortem-writes ! They had asked for something with freckle reverence. so please, enjoy (I did not beta this at all, honestly it kept getting longer and longer and work had me pulling doubles and 12hr shifts and... well, I decided to be an over achiever I suppose... *ahem* there is art.... but below the cut.
Freckles
Paring: Ghoap
Rating: M
Words:2025
Johnny was lounging back on the bed as Simon was in the shower. They had been together a while now, though what they had was so much softer than their work. Spending time together, cuddles, fumbles in the dark.. In all honesty, it felt a little like school age years all over again. 'Sept of course this time he was a grown man and so was his surprisingly shy partner. Ghost was forward and blunt about many things, but physical intimacy was not something that he had a lot of experience in, as well as relationships in general.
Like the word Boyfriend, it felt too juvenile for what they had and so Johnny just never used it. There was a strange almost unspoken rule that neither of them would use that word. Instead they opted for "mine" or "partner" as a much more... grown up version of the term. Something that Simon seemed to enjoy.
It had taken a while for Simon to open up to Johnny about some of the things he had survived, the things he had gone through... but even before he had ever spoken a word about it Johnny had told him that they would take whatever they wanted to call this at Simon's pace. Some of the things that he had learned made Soap want to commit murder, but Simon had assured him that there was no need for him to feel that way. If he happened to pop round Price's office to confirm that later was his business.
From the bits Simon had gifted him of his past, Johnny had learned that the lad had the bare minimum (if that) experience when it came to romance of any kind. Thus making it Johnny's personal mission to shower the man with as much romance as he had the opportunity to do so. Hence why he was sitting on the bed and waiting for the man himself to exit the bathroom so he could ask him how his little solo mission went. Currently Johnny was focused on the little sketch book in his hands, once more sketching the facade of a skull over a baklava.
So intensely he was focused on his art, that he had barely noticed when Simon had stepped up beside him, towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair. "What are you working on?" That manc accent he had become so accustomed to jolted him from his shading.
"Oh jus' some-" The words died in his throat as his eyes zeroed in on just how much skin Simon had exposed, though to be fair his eyes never left the man's chest. Most of their time together in close quarters was in the dark, neither one of them feeling up to turning on lights when they both were accustomed navigating the dark. However, now, there was so much skin on display it was like a feast for his eyes. The scars that dotted Simon's skin were a testament to the horrors he survived, the tattoos that speckled around giving vivid splashes to the pale flesh, but what really got him were the freckles. The man was littered with them, like a veritable milky way of adorable little spots across his skin.
"...Johnny?" There was a bit of something in Simon's tone that had the man quickly looking up and into those dazzling brown eyes Johnny liked so much.
"Ye- fucking bonnie bastard." There was awe in his tone as he carelessly tossed his little sketchbook onto the floor and stood to bring himself closer to the man in front of him. Simon blinked, clearly confused, the towel he had been drying his hair with limply falling to his side. "Ye dinnae tell me ye had spots! Ye see me drawin ye all the time! I'd imagined, I suppose, but... yer fucking breathtaking, ye ken?" His words ghosted over the man's skin and he could see gooseflesh appear on the mans arms. "Steaming Jesus, Simon ye have no idea what ye do to me...." Blue eyes traced across the skin of Simon's slightly crooked nose and down to his chest, all the wile noting freckle after countless freckle.
"Are you freaking out over... my freckles? All I did was spend too much time in the sun-" "Donnae do tha, no. Ye are bonnie, and braw and ye will take the compliment ye bawbag. Me mam used tae say tha freckles were angel kisses." Simon scoffed, but he seemed to relax a little. "Come on, let me look at ye a little more, no every day ye let me see this much skin all at once." "Maybe, you could return the favor?" Simon's eye brow raised as he turned and grabbed a pair of boxers and slid them on under the towel before running the towel once more across his chest and catching the few water drops that he had missed and sitting on the opposite side of the bed than Johnny had been sitting on.
Johnny thought his brain had rebooted there for a moment as he spotted the freckles across the mans back, he could not wait to pull out a fresh sketchbook later... "oh now ye've done it...."
If you like it, order your steak well done. Get your bagel toasted with jam and butter. Put ice in your scotch and ketchup on your hotdog. Get red wine with fish and white with steak. Who cares?
If you want to, listen to pop music. Watch blockbuster popcorn flicks. Read dime store novels. Enjoy them.
Dye your hair or cut it off. Paint your fingernails blue. Wear whatever the fuck you want on your own time (ie, when not at a job or school or whatever where you can get penalized for breaking rules) as long as you aren’t like welding or shoveling snow.
Anyone who tries to tell you you’re wrong? Say “okay” and go back to what you were doing. You’re not hurting them by enjoying yourself or having things the way you like them.
There are no caveats or addendums to this. No “but what about x?” Nah. You’re allowed the things you like. You don’t have to justify your taste or apologize for it if it’s not hurting anyone.
And likewise, let other people live their lives. We’re all dead in the long run, so tend your own garden before you become fertilizer in it.
Gentle reminder that they almost definitely planted evidence on Luigi and arrested him to distract from the fact that the real UHC shooter got away with killing a billionaire. One of us successfully killed a billionaire and one of us could successfully do it again
(edit: Thompson was a millionaire but my point still stands billionaires and millionaires who make money through killing thousands gotta go)
This is The Adjuster (Robin Hoodie, Guy That Shot the CEO, etc.):
And this is Luigi Mangione:
And yes, they are both super cool and hot as fuck but remember, they are two different people. The Adjuster has not been found and Luigi was never involved in the shooting.
Do not talk about them as if they are the same person and do not further spread the idea that Luigi is guilty.
The adjuster left behind a backpack filled with monopoly money but no evidence, and carved "deny, defend, depose" into the bullet casings. That in itself is clear enough he doesn't need a manifesto.
Luigi was found days later, doesnt match some of the CCTV footage that is claimed to be the adjuster, somehow was still carrying a gun and an incoherent manifesto that opened by praising the police. Worth noting that the NYPD is known for planting evidence and has had 378 convictions overturned due to "officers' misconduct, [and] false testimony"
imagine soaps cute little innocent girlfriend who gets insecure when he calls her "bonnie" for the first time during sex.🥺🥺
she'd be so sad!! whimpering and sitting up whilst cooing a little "w-who is bonnie.? i never heard of a bonnie."
soaps heart would break right then and there at her teary eyes and sniffly nose. he'd rock her and soothe her, swearing on his life that it's just a term of endearment for pretty little things like her.
you know that phenomenon where vaccines are so effective that people forget how scary the original disease was? I think Americans are like this about government
if i ever tell you "i cant possibly read a book in a day!" i am LYING. i am a FUCKING LIAR. because last night i read a 50k word fanfic in three fucking hours.
CW: 18+ MDNI, ghoap x reader - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
Can’t stop thinking about having to listen to the two bearish tenants in the apartment next door fucking nasty style whenever they’re home.
Every time you’ve passed them outside they’ve been nice enough- well, the one you’ve properly met is, but whenever he stops you to chat, you can’t help but vividly recall the way he fucks his big, brooding partner like a man starved each night.
Sadly, it’s hard to find the words to ask an imposing guy like him if he can go have sex in a hotel or something, unable to find a polite way to tell him that he sounds like an elk in heat when he fucks- so you don’t. The expectant glint in his eyes told you that even if you did manage to bring it up, it would only spur him on.
The distinct and audible shuffle of moving furniture one morning as you slip on your coat to head out for work makes you hopeful they’ve decided to relocate, and as your thoughts drift later throughout your tedious shift you find yourself praying for someone nice and quiet to occupy the vacant spot; your work-addled brain dreaming up possible new tenants and their imaginary backstories. It’s nice.
After a tiring day you’re more than ready to fall into the first peaceful sleep you’ve had in months, however, to your horror, you find out they’ve moved their bed into the room directly across from your own, Their headboard knocking into the thin wall behind you with a brutish vigour you had previously thought impossible for them to top.
Covering your ears with your pillow and rolling onto your side doesn’t do much to stop the low yearn pooling in your gut when your bed is being rhythmically shaken by their momentum- nor does the shocking sound of your name being spilled out messily in between their own.
CW: 18+ MDNI, neighbour!price x reader - dividers -> @/cafekitsune
You find out John Price doesn’t play around when it comes to catching up on sleep while he’s on leave.
Struggling to bring in a heavy package one morning, you’re startled by your neighbour emerging from his unit huffing and puffing tiredly about noise in nothing but a simple pair of low hanging pyjama bottoms.
You’re concerned you’re going to get an earful when he wordlessly hoists the box up, uncaring about the way it tugs at his waistband to expose a dusting of hair and noticeable veins. Leaving your delivery just inside your door, he turns to look at you through squinted eyes, and your cheeks heat up when you realize you’ve been caught watching it bob under the loose fabric.
In your defence, he cuts quite the hypnotic figure from the side.
“Thank you, John-“ you try- only to be interrupted by a thick arm hooking around your neck; the other reaching behind him to close your door with just a tad too much force. His free hand lowers to scratch at his belly, prompting a loud yawn as a thick palm dips lower, giving himself a little squeeze. With a content hum rolling around in his chest, he pulls you into his apartment.
“Too early.” He grumbles as he flops onto his well-worn couch, half asleep and tugging you with him. Like a strangler fig, he rolls onto his side and cages you against the cushions, his legs tangling around yours and his cock unmistakably fattening against your belly.
titsay
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izzy806
