9- Write about your ship getting dressed up in fancy outfits together.
yes I know how rude picking this one is
It only took me months to do this... I'm such a slacker. Forgive me. Or don't, understandable tbh. ♡ I'm just going to hide this nifty wall of, very fucking dramatic, writing under a cut because wow... shut up me? Good lord.
But come on. Farron is a drama queen about having to wear anything that resembles a suit, forever and always.
One would think such a beautiful morning filled with sunshine and birdsong would have been spent cozy in bed. Wrapped up in the warm, comforting arms of his beloved, sleepy whispers of a good morning or perhaps five more minutes spoken in hoarse tones before bubbly giggles as their silly antics could be heard from the covers. How nice that sounded, just like any other morning... peaceful, full of love and comfort; the perfect way to start one's day.
But no.
There were all important plans on this day. A fine event to attend. 'Oh, how wonderful and exciting!' Some might think. 'How lucky you are!' Others may rear their heads in envy.
Did these folk perhaps not understand that such luxuries entailed the Ultimate Suffering? The mandatory bullshit one had to go through to attend such outings? The way a suit itched... perhaps the way ruffles and frills always found a way to constantly be a hindrance? How such tailor-made clothing felt like a personal hell? The restriction?! How was one expected to move!
And that, my friends, was poor Farron's predicament this day. Torture! Of course, he would love nothing more than to attend any event with his handsome partner. But why in the seven hells was it a Special Occasion? He had agreed to yearly dress up times, not more!
Yet there he stood in their warm, relaxing bedroom, rays of sunlight peeking through the blinds, begging him to return to bed, to cuddle with the promise of breakfast on the horizon.
Instead, he stood by the wardrobe, a snarl on his lips as Dusk fought against his squirming and onslaught of complaints, trying valiantly to tie a godsdamned noose around his neck.
Or as some may call them: A Tie.
Farron was convinced they were one and the same. Regardless, he would end up strangling himself with it before the night was through. Unfortunately for him, he had agreed to this outing... how could he refuse the man he loved so? Especially when he needed the support? It couldn't be done. So he went through the whole song and dance. He brushed his hair, stuffed himself into the worst clothing known to man, and made himself a proper gentleman for another night. He would play his role. But oh, once the night was through...
Until that relief found him, however... he would take solace in one simple fact. Dusk looked amazing in a tie. If anything would get him through the torture, it would be that alone. A rare treat and one he would indulge in unashamedly.
As their preparations came to an end, the feral animal inside of Farron screaming for freedom, he silenced the growl by taking in the beauty of the light of his life. That alone calmed the rage, the disdain, and he let out a pointed sigh. Wrapping his confined arms around his lover, gaze locked on the man, he could only roll his eyes and relay a simple reminder that he would be due his payment for this treason later.
