lucetilogs | y'all know what this is for....

y'all know what this is for....

Who: EVERYONE
What: SHENANIGANS
When: ANY OLD TIME (between Jan 24 and Jan 30 anyhoot)
Where: EVERYWHERE
Summary: Everyone becomes that which they love, covet, adore, or otherwise desire, and it ends exceptionally well for every single person involved. Hooray!
Rating: Who even knows. Anywhere from G to R, I would suppose.

No cut for this -- this is a MASS INTERACTION POST for the You Are What You Love event! For those of you who don't want to have to post up actual entries in your characters' journals (though you are of course still free to do that), this is the place to be all week if you just want to toss out random shenanigans! (Or more serious shenanigans. Or whatever brand of shenanigans you prefer, really.) There's no real need to state your date/location in the subject line of your tag, but you may feel free to do so!

Please threadjack like bosses, and above all, have fun! ♥

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ she reaches up to steady him by the waist. this is weird. like an interactive mirror. she rolls the stocking off the first foot. ]

...Damaged?

]In spite of her "no touching" directive, Sparrow runs a hand lightly over the scar on his exposed abdomen.] Damaged.

[ standing straight again, she reaches for his hand. a little too late. the scar has already been traced. ] I guess I didn't realize how terrifying it looked. I mean -- I've never seen it from this angle. Or not in a mirror.

[Sparrow looks down at their joined hands. Smooth white skin. Something about it is slowly filling him with horror.] Annie--I don't like this. It's too much like going mad. Where's the clothes, be quick.

[ and this is why she had them set out already. a pair of jeans (light wash, boot cut). she dresses the life-size her-doll with a kind of efficiency. like dressing herself. nothing charged involved at all. nope. she simply leaves the thong because she's not giving up any of her actual unmentionables and, hey...there are boundaries. but that bra is going to have to be swapped out. the fit is laughable.

so biting her bottom lip for strength, she tries to make the whole experience as painless and nonchalant as possible. ]

[Jack keeps his eyes shut tightly, hardly daring to breathe. Being Buffy was fine alone or with other people; being Buffy with Buffy is just strange and uncomfortable. Finally he decides that the tension has to break somehow, and a joke is in order:] We'll have to do this again one day. Under better circumstances, of course.

[ she chuckles to herself (literally) in spite of the weirdness of the situation. she is snapping the two clasps of a grey sports bra into place. ] You mean, some circumstance where you're not dressed in women's clothing? Mayb--there. That should be oodles more comfortable. And the turtleneck sweater can just go on over that.

[ she tosses him the sweater and takes a seat on the bed. a sign to do the last thing yourself. ]

[Shrugging off the "maybe", the pirate yanks the sweater over his head. It's kind of easier to put sweaters on when you don't have a mane of tangled dreads on your head.] Better? I'm not used to bein' this hairless, Annie.

...It's called being well-groomed and not having things nest in your hair. There. You look like not-a-hooker now, thankfully.

Hmph. I LIKE my hair, Buffy. [But Jack catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and...while it's not as exciting-looking, it's much more comfortable this way. And warmer, too.]

Here. [ she holds out a hairbrush. ] I can already see the tangles tangling.

Aye! Perhaps you'd look better with a crown of lionlocks, too, Buffy!

[He refuses the brush.] Unless you'd like to do it?

[ the tragic cherry on the rep-ruining cake would be jack walking around and making everyone think she'd let herself go -- so, keeping the brush in hand, she points to the floor in front of her. ] Fine. Sit.

[Delighted, Jack obliges.] Buffy, this is almost just nearly like being a eunuch for a day. And witnessing the magical rites of the boudoir!

[ she carefully takes a front section of blonde hair into hand and, gripping the brush by its widest part, tugs it through. ]

Sorry to disappoint, but there's no magic. Just lots of hard work and expensive pots of face cream.

OUCH! Erm---right, I were just waxing philosophic about the whole thing. Seems like that sort of occasion.

Sissy. I'm being totally gentle.

[ but she lets up, turning extra careful. ]

Buffy? Don't...not a sissy, savvy?

[But Jack settles in, again closing his eyes, but this time just because it feels good to have the hair brushed.]

Annie? This is much more nicer than the shampooing.

It helps that this hair isn't all in knots. [ she runs her fingers through the next section first, gently working through some of the looser tangles. ]

Mmmhmm. Knots.

[ when her fingers meet particular resistance, she works the tangle out as best she can with deft fingers before resorting to the brush. ]

Those dreads you have are low maintenance, though. And I guess you rock them.

[Jack is enjoying this attention like a SPANIEL, Buffy. A pirate spaniel in the guise of a human woman. He licks his lips and holds very still.]

Aye. Rocking them.

Which is impressive -- you know, that you don't look like a hippie.

[ brush brush brush. hmm. ] French braid?

Annie, you can do any French things to me you like. I will put up no resistance. None. Zero. Zero resistance.

[ oh. that was a streak of less than gentle brushing. consider it retribution.

but then the brush is aside and she dragging blonde hair backwards, finger-combing it into something braidable. ]

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