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Bomb: I send you free lobster, and you clown on me for being squeamish about cannibalism. You're still a twisted punk, Bang.
Bang: Heh heh heh heh heh Bomb: Laugh it up, you irreverent gremlin. Fubuki: Heh heh heh heh heh
Bomb: Don't make me wake up your sister
Hi! :D (Updated!)
I’m min!
any pronouns | ace
So far an animator and storyboard artist! Also making fan art and comics about my asd, adhd online!
Life goal is to save enough to buy a Dancerush Stardom cabinet! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T BUY A WORKING ONE???
my art | faq | ask
Thank you for dropping by!
Curtis has many a tale to tell when asked about how he got that scar. Sometimes, it’ll have been won whilst saving a whole litter of kittens from a collapsing building, debris falling like rain around him. Others, it’ll be the only remaining trace of a shady criminal past, earnt during a dangerous getaway after robbing a bank with his best mate. A drunken brawl, an angry alpaca, a simple mountain bike related accident. Anything bar the actual truth.
He doesn’t really like to lie, but he finds his fabrications are generally a bit more believable than what actually happened. The exact details tend to evade him, but he knows for sure that the incident involved a photocopier at the local library, several paper jams in a row, a sudden blast of rage and a fist fight he somehow lost to an inanimate document-eating hunk of office equipment junk.
Coincidentally, it’s also quite convenient how those stories are far gentler on his self esteem than the raw truth - a painful, undeniable defeat to a photocopier isn’t exactly something to be proud of, he has to (but would definitely prefer not to) admit.
Gray, texting: Execute me.
Gray: *excuse me.
Gray: ...
Gray: You know what? Execute me works even better.
So, I had this AU about the Galaxy Family for a while. I knew I wanted to do something with it, and I realized that a novel would be the best way to tell this AU’s story. So on December 18, 2019, I finally decided to create a document and plot out this story that would later be known as Remorseful Recollections of the Forgotten Family.
And wow, it’s now exactly one year since I started this project! And look at where it is now: with over 520 pages worth of story on Microsoft Word, 16 posted chapters (17 tonight when I post the next chapter), and several readers who’ve come to love the story as much as I do! I wrote so much for this fanfic, making 2020 a really productive, creative year for me.
Working on this project was my highlight of 2020 (I mean, not like there was much competition. 2020 sucksss). Happy 1 year of existence, RRFF. It is a crazy project, but I really enjoy writing it and can’t believe how much it developed in one year. I hope to continue working on the project and eventually complete it in 2021!
Icarax: I've killed more toa than I can count.
Icarax:
Icarax: Because I've killed a lot of toa.
Icarax:
Icarax: Not because I can't count very high.
46. “Dance with me.” With Logan and Emile Picani perhaps??
It had been a long and stressful day. Very stressful. It wasn’t even done yet–the contractors had somehow snapped a wire holding the entire phone system together. They’d been able to replace it by the end of the day, but everything still needed to be reprogrammed. For maximum efficiency, Logan had to do it from home. That way, it could be ready for the employees, as long as he got to work early to test it out in the morning. He’d probably be up all night fixing it, but maybe he’d get a bonus or something. That wasn’t really what he cared about, he just knew he’d be over-stressed until the issue was resolved, so better to get it out of the way.
However, there was a certain factor that Logan failed to account for. The fact that his loving husband had not worked today and would almost certainly want to spend time with him. Logan recalled this as his keys were in the lock, and shrugged inwardly. Emile would understand that he needed to get this done. He was a therapist and his spouse, he knew better than anyone that he needed to finish things in order to relax.
Walking in, Emile perked up noticeably from the couch. “Hey honey!”
Logan gave him a nod. “Good evening, dear. I will be in my office.” He didn’t hang around to see Emile’s disappointment, instead going straight to his desk and letting his bag fall to the floor.
He worked for about an hour before dinner, hitting a frustrating roadblock over admin control. However much he wanted to keep working, he had to force himself away as it smelled like Emile had made something delicious.
He had, of course–ricotta and goat cheese stuffed zucchini served with leftover cauliflower salad. Logan meant to savor it, he meant to give his husband the attention he deserved, but couldn’t stop thinking about how much work he still had to do. Emile chattered on about something, Logan wasn’t quite sure what, and soon enough he was finished. As he stood to put his plate in the sink, though, Emile stood as well. He caught Logan’s wrist before the man could return to his office.
“Dance with me,” he said coyly. Logan tried hard to not roll his eyes.
“Dear, I would love to, but I must finish my work.”
“Please?”
“Emile–”
And there was the therapist face. The one that said, I don’t think you’re right on this, but let’s work out an answer together. Logan sighed. “One dance,” he said begrudgingly. Emile smiled softly, leading him to the living room.
Instead of having a specific song in mind, as Logan expected, Emile simply turned on the radio to the oldies station. Vacation by The Go-Go’s began playing, and Emile pulled him into a basic swing dance. It felt awkward at first, stilted, but Emile’s easy half-smile brought Logan into the moment. Soon enough, the song transitioned into Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean, and their swing became more of a step-touch shoulder-shake. They both mouthed along with the lyrics, swinging hips in time to the beat.
Next they were bouncing to Girls Just Want To Have Fun, laughing and swinging each other around. Logan felt all the tension leaving his body as they danced, his movements becoming freer and more fluid. How could he have wanted to work instead of this?
Finally, they held each other close as they slow-danced to I Want To Know What Love Is. The dim light of their living room seemed perfect, as though whoever had installed the lights had peered into the future and seen them dancing to this song, knowing instantly what lighting would frame the mood.
“Glad we could fuse,” Emile whispered into his ear.
Logan felt a smile spread across his face. “And what would you say we fused into, darling?”
“Well, I don’t know about a name,” Emile said gently, “but we fused into someone very smart who knows how to take care of himself.”
Logan laughed ruefully. “Thank you. I’m sorry,” he added. “I know how I can get sometimes.”
“That’s okay,” Emile replied, laying his head on Logan’s shoulder. “As long as we have plans in place to work it out.”
“I liked this plan.”
They rotated slowly, lost in each other, pressing little kisses to each other’s foreheads and cheeks and temples. All too jarringly, a commercial break blared through the radio. Emile danced them over to it and turned it off, never letting go of his husband.
“Let’s go to bed, huh?” He met Logan’s eyes, a soft and inquiring gaze.
Logan thought about his work, and was surprised to realize that he no longer had any desire to finish it. It could wait until tomorrow. That was all that was expected of him, after all. He nodded, smiling softly, and followed his husband to the bedroom.
~
Lomile is a health power couple and you cannot change my mind
Prompts are still open!
500th Post Special!
Enjoying a New Horizons with my friends Julie & true MVP @karmadoesthings!
I want to thank everyone, all of my sweet followers, and especially all my AC friends for supporting me for so long! I will continue to create custom outfits for both New Leaf and New Horizons while also sharing my current adventures at Sweetgreen! Love you all!!!💕
