#serious fluff

Ah, hello my most cordial of Crows.

Do I happen to have any more? Do I?

Let's open the floodgates, shall we?

"Right, sorry," Sherlock whispers, spooning John and kissing the nape of his neck. "Apology accepted," John whispers back, snuggling into the embrace. And soon they're asleep again.

Fashion slash art / material / design slanted dalliances of the morning: cooler-weather looking-ahead-assed bold color aficionado total win… in the Placito Domingo (sic) Olvera Street adjacent brick road planting spaces: I totally stirred up and spilled out some way-beyond, adventerous mierda about a week ago, when things got contentious during the buildup to the KKK thing, the #standardwhiteguy meme thing became my jaunt of the month, beyond shitsicles du jour contentious coffee table literature culture introspective pieces, retro-fitted to be trite… all dente, if I may be so self-indulgent as to gloat, beyond.

I did, also, achieve loving affection and trite AFFF park dirt-run walking zone (adjacent) romance with a tried and true woman, of veritable female-born pedigree, I’m nearly sooooo AFF fuckin certain, and it was so everything, so trite, so totally okay, though, in light of all the LGBT contentious ass shite-smell trite AFF shown-up stature, lately, of that whole jaunt. We totally, totally, afterwards, went to the nearby church and cleaned up and enjoyed a free du jour breakfast, no doubt funded by people who jaunt for USC type shit… as far as the cafe, nightlife, religious, social work, and community outreach thing goes…

Ostensibly, a feature-ass standard of lifestyle introduction entertainment by the heritage-grown, orchard-pride vetted current-generation, “young mavericks” of south Los Angeles, burgeoning upon an emerging cosmopolitan metropolis, so world class, muah, (slithering tongue thing) as is in the case of my jaunt - ostensible stomping grounds, lately (okay, she looked like the pretty older lady from “touched by an angel;” in perspective, retro specs-ed, “quote,” (there could be some profane trite shit like F'ed YM type of stuff here, commonly, lately, but, no. A lady is a lady, and it was a beautiful departure from the du jour dailies lately, of “dudes tryna rail me AFF fuck,…” (Who did that to you when you were younger…? rhetorical.)

Anyways, it was valid as romance can be, I’ll let it stand at that.

But hand-crocheted cardigan: bold, at that? In rouge?

You’d totally think I’m sooooo fuckin homo, unless you actually knew me, or unless you see it jaunted, out in the wild, in DTLA, by day - or night; perhaps for a week or several straight, that’s how jaunt okay it looks - (on a guy like me, at least).

Pfffffsssssssshhhhbhbbwwwwwww

Okay.

And then, the novelty affinity, most-trite interest thing, for a real aficionado of design / material / form-type shit… since I’m classy… cox. 2, preferably… that’s the trite AFF lifestyle jaunt that everybody so relates to, yet to see the broken payphone shit jaunted out and twisted, in discarded street litter form, - while - aficionado of design type shit?

Pretty jaunt ass shit to see, for a guy like me, about towwwwnnn… I picked it up for an illustration study-to-be/do.

Ohhhmfggg okay.

The point? It was totally, totally, totally… a validated ass splotch, for the sake of restraining my baser impulses to call it what it could have been… So trite, along the park, in the pine needles, by the walkway. Pretty trite, yet so nature, ostensibly, Christian moderate Norman Rockwell -asspad shitless…

That valid. After a weekend like DTLA Proud weekend shit going on…?

So valid.

Trite?

Try… This … Ego… AFFF mother fucker….

That’s how they want me to look.

After Dean proposes to Sam, finally, after being nervous for weeks about it.

Dean is very sweet and his palms are sweaty on the night he does it. The bunker is quiet, he sent everyone away for the night....only after he had help making dinner because he was afraid to mess it up, he wanted everything to be perfect....

There is soft music, candle light and they dance after dinner, slowly holding each other, they don't talk much....Sam knows (or hopes he knows, he's crossing his fingers, what Dean is up to) and is loving every minute of this evening Dean has put together for him, for them....

As they sway slowly to the music, Sam thinks how lucky he is that Dean after all this time loves him like this, and that Dean will show this side of himself to Sam and only Sam. Dean has a softer side, that only belongs to Sam and Sam eats up these moments like the gummy worms he loves so much.

The proposal itself is sweet and loving and full of tears and hugs, on both sides, Sam kisses Dean's happy tears off his cheeks after Dean puts the ring on his finger, set with Sam's birthstone, Emerald. Sam has a surprise of his own when he pulls out a ring box and presents Dean with a ring he had made for him, it's almost identical to Sam's, only with Dean's birthstone, a Garnet. They kiss, sweetly, passionately, and stare at each others hands with their rings on it