Hey I'm new to the idea of stim toys 'cos I'm newly diagnosed and I'd like to ask if you have any "starter" ideas for stim toys or ideas for squeezeable stim toys that give a bit of resistance when you squish them. Things not smelling or making noise is a big plus.
I see we have another stimming convert! Fabulous. Not that we’re trying to take over the world or anything…
Anon, I’ve got several posts that I consider Stim Toy 101, including posts on breaking down toys into categories and posts on the more popular fidget toys. I’ll list those, and then I’ll finish by listing the toys that I think fit your brief.
So. For anyone new to the wide and wonderful world of stim toys, here’s what I hope to be useful reading:
DIY Stim Toy Master Posts, One and Two: lists of links to all sorts of tutorials for DIY toys. The degree of difficulty varies here: some tutorials and DIYs are easy, others require a bit of crafting experience.
Now, we’ll move into the rec portion of the answer. Squishable, with resistance, but silent and scentless. All links go to our tags, because by now there’s several posts telling you where you can find the thing.
Squishies: available in a variety of resistances, very squishable, available many places online. Some of these are slow-rising, which mean they compress tightly and take time to expand; others compress less well. Some, like the mochi squishies, are rubbery and gel-like, but most are made from foam. The better quality squishies generally cost more, sadly; I’ve had good experiences with the SquishyFun brand, and I’ve heard good things about Areedy squishies as well. Unfortunately, many squishies are scented, and while some listings state this, many don’t specify scent, so buying these can be a bit of a risk.
Stress balls:usually made from foam, available in a variety of resistances (firmer than most squishies), silent. Most of these don’t have odours, but I recently bought some that did smell chemically. These are readily available in dollar shops and just about everywhere online.
Fabric or crocheted stress balls: weighted, good for crunching and scrunching, no scent, do make low noise as they contain weighted pellets and, sometimes, crinkle paper. The mesh fabric stress balls I have are quieter than the crocheted ones.
Grape or mesh stress balls: squishy, available in varying resistances, do make a slight slurping sound as the slime inside the ball moves.
Puffer balls and puffer creatures: very soft and squishy, but the majority of them have a chemical-rubber scent that I can’t bear. This said, I own one ball from a dollar shop that has no odour, and the puffer worms I smelt at Sensory Oasis for Kids have no odour, so they do exist. This one, I think, is very much a try to find in person item because of the risk of bad smells, but they are available in many dollar and toy shops.
Wool stress balls and wool dryer balls: soft woolen balls that you can squish in your hand. No smell, no odour but that of wool unless you add scent - just a wool ball you can squish or tear.
Makeup blending sponges: a teardrop or hourglass shape sponge, generally medium resistance, great for squishing. No scent or sound, just a lovely fine-spongy texture. I’ve seen them from most dollar and department stores starting at $3-$4 AUD, but the brand name sponges are absolutely not needed for stimming.
Disney mini Tsum Tsum plush: no scent, very squishable, lots of great textures, a small amount of sound if you press the small pocket of weighted pellets in the plush’s belly (above the strip of faux suede used as the toy’s base).
Thinking Putty and TheraPutty: one of the firmest items here, if you like a lot of resistance when squishing, but Thinking Putty does tend to crack and snap when moulded. It’s not constant, so it’s like a crack here and a snap there, but know that it does. TheraPutty makes no noise at all. No scent for either, unlike most putties and doughs.
I hope that gives you somewhere to start, anon. If you have any more questions, please ask away!
What're your thoughts on wearing wool? I understand it's an animal product and thus not usually worn by vegans, but sheep who aren't sheered regularly have a number of issues so as it's to help the animal, is wool okay?
Hi there anon,
Wool is a multi-billion dollar a year industry. Like most animal agriculture enterprises, the welfare of animals is barely part of the picture. Sheep are commodities, pure and simple, and their only value is how much money they bring to the enterprise.
Shearing sheep seems like a relatively benign process, right? The sheep stands there, they are sheared, and then they go about their business of being sheep (such as their life is, but that’s another story). Ooops, we forgot about the part where many of them have huge chunks of skin on their back end chopped off purposely and without anesthesia. Why? Because sheep have been bred over time to have unnaturally large folds in their skin. The more skin, the more wool. Unfortunately, this causes severe problems on many levels:
All that extra wool makes them hot, and they can collapse from heat exhaustion.
The folds in the skin collect moisture and urine and become infected with maggots.
Because the extra skin attracts flies, terrified sheep have chunks of flesh cut off their hind end (with no anesthesia) which eventually (not all sheep survive this process) forms a smooth scar. This scar keeps flies from settling in that area and causing severe problems. This procedure is called “mulesing.”
Shearing is a complicated process because of all the folds. Shearers are paid by the volume so the faster they shear the more money they make. You can imagine that great care is not always taken to protect the sheep from cuts, etc. Then, once they are sheared they can die from exposure—sheep grow wool for a reason!
To read more about sheep, wool, and mulesing, go here. And this is the source I used to answer. These are just quick points about why wearing wool is unethical.
Are there any stim toys you would recommend for people who are usually skin pickers/scratchers?
Please note, anon, that while I’m answering, I haven’t yet found a good solution for this. So take this advice in the spirit of words spoken by someone lacking expertise, because I don’t know any one stim that directly replaces all sensory elements of this. Especially because I like the pain of the picking in a way I can’t really explain, and most of the replacement stims I’ve seen discussed don’t much cover this aspect.
(I really need to stop because I’ve given myself some very horrible sores on my toes. And since my uncle recently lost a few toes due to a simple blister not healing, I’ve had a bit of a wake-up call on this account. So I’ve been thinking about this myself!)
If you’re looking to replace the the picking and peeling away of skin, this is a bit of a tough one, but I think I have a solution. I’ve noticed that while I’ve covered my red apple squishy with PVA glue to glue splits together, the edges definitely stick up enough that you can peel them off (and I have to resist doing this). If you enjoy the picking and resulting peeling, you could coat something hard and plastic or metallic (anything from a Tangle to a jam jar lid) with PVA, let it dry, peel it off, repeat. Coat several things so there’s always something to peel while you’re preparing another toy! It may take some experimenting to find which toys work best for you, but the good thing about this is that it only takes time, glue and a brush or makeup sponge (and your painting doesn’t need to be neat because you’re going to pick at it and peel it off anyway).
I’ve noticed that now my Tangle Jr Fuzzy is worn enough that it’s all edges of flocking sticking up, it’s very hard not to pick at them! (I can’t afford to replace this Tangle every month because I’ve picked off all the flocking, so I have to be careful. Which is why I don’t advise buying this just to pick at, because it’ll get expensive quickly.) So I want to coat a cheap Tangle (one of the ebay Tangles in this post, because I won’t care if they’re wrecked) in PVA glue to see if this works for me, because it combines the fun of a Tangle (which I love) with something to pick at while fidgeting. If it does work, I’ll probably have two or three Tangles covered in glue and just rotate through them.
(I’ll let you all know how it works, as it’s only theory right now, but this is on my Things To Try This Weekend list.)
If you’re looking to replace the pain, I’d look at prickle and massage balls. You can push them quite hard on your skin and cause a firm, prickling pressure that doesn’t damage. I use prickle/massage balls a lot when my chronic hand pain is bad, because something about the hard pressure rolled over the pain site feels better than the experience of the original pain itself (even though the ball does hurt), and if I do this for long enough, the chronic pain usually ebbs a little. It’s the closest stim toy I have to giving anything like a pain sensation, and while this isn’t discussed a lot, for some of us harder textures, and even pain, is stimmy, so we need non-damaging ways to get that experience.
If you’re looking to replace the picking, by which I mean the pulling at fronds instead of bits of skin, I’d look at poppers, puffer toys, hedge balls, Koosh Balls and the Tangle Hairy. The Tangle Hairy, the Koosh, hedge balls/creatures and puffer toys all have long latex or rubbery fonds that can be pulled and stretched. The Koosh goes to twice its length. Poppers - especially the Stimtastic Mini Poppers - can be pressed against a hard, smooth surface and picked off with fingertips and fingernails.
The other idea I have for picking is washing swatches of cloth or something like wool dryer balls and picking at the lint balls forming on the cloth or the woolen fibres. Flannelette and woven T-shirt material pills - you could even make a marble maze out of a cloth that pills and combine the two toys.
If someone knows of a stim toy that can replace all three of these things, or has an idea for one, or wants to discuss developing one, come talk to me, please! I’ve been pondering a bracelet that is flat on one side and prickled/bumped (with hard plastic bumps, not like the prickled slap bands) on the inside, something you can press against a wrist while picking glue off the flat side, with frondy bits attached to the outside edges. But as of now, it’s only pondering, and I’m not sure how well it would work.
If followers have ideas or replacement stims they’ve used successfully, please let us know! I’m sure anon will be grateful; I know I will be!
38. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Adrien and Ladybug please?
There is no warning for the intense shockwave that rocks through the streets, followed by an explosive blast that tears up the roads and buildings with ravenous teeth.
There is no warning for the ringing silence that blankets over the city in the aftermath, punctured by the limp body that comes falling from the sky, bright as a single drop of blood.
There is no warning, but Adrien immediately rushes forward into the wreckage with arms outstretched to catch his lady. His heart falls and falls and falls as she does; only when she crashes into his arms and knocks them both to the ground does his heart rocket back up to hammer in his throat.
He lands back first to take the brunt of impact and automatically rolls over to shield her. It’s a move he’s done a dozen times but in this crucial moment comes too late. Bruises mottle her cheeks in purples and blues, ruptured by bleeding red cracks that carve down to her neck.
Adrien isn’t sure which is more horrifying: her unforgiving wounds, or her terrifying stillness.
Movement from the side catches his eye and he turns to spot a burrow racing its way across the ground. Cement cracks open like an egg as a head pops up and swivels around to look for his prey.
Adrien’s glad he’s not Chat in this moment. His body looks like any other of the civilian casualties along the street, even as he protectively covers Ladybug from the akuma’s sight. It’s not long before the head pops back down underground and burrows away once more.
A groan from beneath him snaps him back just in time to see Ladybug’s eyes blink open. Her dry coughs explode into his face and he hurriedly sits up, bringing her in his arms. Relief douses him like cold water as she breathes and comes alive in his arms.
When recognition shines through the cloudiness of her eyes, all of Adrien’s worry and tension bursts through like a flood. “You fainted… straight into my arms-”
“-you know,” Ladybug interrupts hoarsely, reaching up to brush her knuckles across his jaw. “If you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
His laugh carries a touch of hysteria. There is little he wouldn’t do for her, as Adrien or as Chat.
His hand trails away from her cheek, warm with the shine of crimson.
“Huh,” Ladybug murmurs, her eyes focusing on the sight. “Blood is so bright. Who would’ve thought that’d come from me?” She blinks once, twice, then her gaze sharpens. “Wait, is that your blood or mine?”
“Yours,” Adrien says.
This time it is her sigh of relief that blows through the dust around them. The bruising and bleeding of her cheeks look no less painful, but when she leans into him and rests her forehead against his with a sigh, they only appear to burden her like an afterthought.
“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Adrien whispers.
Ladybug breathes him in and slowly runs her fingers over the shining red of his palm. As she takes the iron of her blood and grips it within her fist, Adrien watches her stand and reforge herself.
The way she looks back at him strips him bare. It’s not the playful exasperation or confident trust he’s used to when fighting by her side as Chat. It’s not the flustered admiration and magnetic attraction he’s reciprocated before as Adrien Agreste.
She looks as if she sees him. As if she knows him. And there is only a fierce sort of fondness and intimacy that has him wondering if he knows her.
“Better go find cover,” Ladybug tells him, like her presence doesn’t offer that already.
Adrien looks beyond the sunset bruising her cheeks, beyond the crimson trailing down to her neck, beyond the red of her mask, and tries to see.
Her eyes, he realizes, remind him of storms and rain.
i'm visualising it.. cas - human cas - is with winchester co and he's like "wtf it's so cold" and dean, without thinking twice, pulls off new jacket and tosses it to him. then later when they get to the bunker(??) cas is about to give it back and dean does the "keep it" thingy ahhh
Can we just deviate from the Star Wars reference after this to imagine Dean giving Cas a scarf?
And winding it around his neck for him, of course.
Hi Mimi! I just wanted to drop in and say I love your Gramander writing, and I was wondering if you ever thought about writing Newt and Credence? They're a really sweet pairing and I thought it might be something you'd like. (And if you did write anything I'd be so happy!)
Once Credence works out the whole obscurial thing, life is better. So much better. He slips between corporeal and not, spiralling out into black smoke like joy and freedom and dripping reluctantly back into legs and hands like coming home to a cage.
If it wasn’t for Newt, he doubts he’d bother with his human form. It’s both too small and too large. It’s awkward. It gets hurt by the tiniest things, and it’s demandingly needy - hungry, sore, tired, achy, why doesn’t it just shut up. So Credence just… stops listening. He used to do it, before, but it’s so much easier now that he has the obscurus form. So much better.
“Credence, you’re bleeding!”
Credence blinks and glances down at himself. He can’t see - oh, his arm. There’s three scratches across his forearm, deep ones, the longest of which snakes to the crook of his elbow. The blood forms rivulets of red down to his hand, and Credence is distracted enough that he doesn’t notice Newt reaching for his arm in time to stop him.
“Where did you - here, let me,” Newt babbles, peeling back the edges of Credence’s shirt with excruciating care.
“Here,” Credence says, tugging his shirt over the wounds in one swift movement. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“It doesn’t - Credence, these are awful!” Newt protests. Credence just shrugs, uncomfortable, because he hadn’t even noticed when it had happened. It was probably one of the new dragonets they were rehabilitating, but it could as easily have happened earlier.
“… You really don’t feel it?” Newt asks, quiet and sad in a way Credence doesn’t really understand. He shrugs again instead of answering, feigning an interest in the mangrove trees they were trying to grow in the newest habitat. Newt cleans and dresses his arm in silence and doesn’t say anything else, and Credence hopes he’s dropped it.
“What do you want for breakfast, Credence?” Newt asks, as though Credence hasn’t eaten the same thing for breakfast everyday since he came here.
“I don’t mind,” Credence says with a frown, and Newt presents him with hot cocoa and cinnamon pancakes and a shy, hesitant smile. Credence eats it like he would eat anything else and smiles back, awkward and confused, and Newt’s face falls.
“Are you cold?” Newt asks later when they’re taking a break in the Qiqirn’s frozen tundra.
“Not really,” Credence answers honestly.
Newt droops fractionally, but only for a second. “Well, I’m cold,” he says, and with a flick of his wand conjures a pair of ridiculous, yellow-black-yellow knitted blankets, the larger of which he drapes over Credence.
“Is it scratchy?” he asks. “Some people find wool scratchy, I can get you a fleece one if you prefer.”
“It’s fine,” Credence says, but he can tell from the way Newt ducks his head and turns away that it’s not the right answer. He rolls his eyes, because Newt is being ridiculous, and focuses on the feel of the blanket. It’s… “Soft,” he says, almost surprised. “It’s soft.”
Newt beams, and Credence’s breath catches, because oh. He shakes the feeling off, but if it makes Newt happy…
“It’s warm,” he says, the next time Newt fusses about the fire and drags Credence’s chair to sit next to it. And if he concentrates on it, on the fire and the feel of Newt hovering next to him, then yes, it’s warm.
And, “It’s sweet,” the next time Newt makes him cocoa. He tastes it again, sorting through the flavours and trying to remember what they are, and wrinkles his nose. “It’s very sweet.” The cocoa is levitated out his hands before he can protest and replaced by another one, darker, deeper flavour - “Oh,” he says. “It tastes like oranges.”
“You like it?” Newt asks, leaning forward until his chair is at risk of over balancing. Credence rolls the taste over his tongue and decides, yes. Yes, he likes oranges, and he likes the way Newt laughs in delight when he tells him.
And, “You smell nice,” he mumbles, sleepy and not aware it. He’s curled up on the sofa under his yellow-black-yellow blanket (it’s soft) and he’s got a fever. It’s uncomfortable, his throat is scratchy, everything’s too hot and too cold and any other time he’d fade away into smoke and wait for it to go away - but Newt put his hand against his forehead to check his temperature, and fussed over straightening pillows, and make him chicken soup. Now, Newt freezes where he’s leaning over Credence to tuck the blanket tighter around him, but Credence slips into sleep and doesn’t notice.
And, later, when the fever is gone and the dragonets are released and Credence and Newt stand on a ridge in the middle of the mountains and watch them wheel away into the sky, “Do you want a hug?”
Newt looks over at him, windswept and wide eyed. “I’m sorry?” he asks, and Credence can’t read the tone of his voice. He fiddles with the cuffs of his jacket and feigns an interest in the rock formations.
“You’re sad,” he explains. “And I thought -”
Newt hugs him.
Newt hugs him, and it’s warm soft sweet smells nice and Credence buries one hand in Newt’s hair and holds the other around his back to pull him close, and he can feel Newt’s heartbeat against his chest and the curve of Newt’s cheek where he’s smiling, and Credence feels like he can’t breath because oh.
When he kisses him, he learns that Newt tastes like oranges, and he thinks maybe he likes having a corporeal form after all. Being an obscurus still means freedom but being human means Newt, and now when Credence flows into arms and smiles it feels like coming home.
Hmm…not 100% sure to which Mike/wool hat story you’re referring. If you mean the actual origins of the hat, it’s simply that Mike wore it to the Monkees audition and it became part of his character on the show, thus passing into the annals of history forever. The hat went missing at some point–apparently Nez threw it into the audience at one of his solo shows–and he’s said that it was returned to him many years later (though where it is as of right now, who knows).
OR…Are you referring to another story of the wool hat? A slightly less well-known, tawdry little tale that will tickle your toes to the top and bottom and back? Would you like to know what the story is? Well, here you go…
Why does a man change his hat? Why does a leopard change its spots…to other spots, that are still spots? These are the great unsolved mysteries of the universe. Luckily, you have NP here to answer at least one of ‘em.
Now, as some of you out there may know, the teenagers of today have this system of rubber jelly bracelets that they use to communicate certain ‘messages.’ Mainly, these messages deal with sexual activity, and the wearer’s willingness (or not) to engage in specific sexual acts…and the bracelets are used so as to keep this knowledge far from the eyes and ears of their supervising adults.
Of course, nonverbal communication has been around for a heck of a long time, so these kids are simply following in the footsteps of their predecessors. Mike Nesmith, whom we know has always been on the ‘cutting edge’ of things, devised a system of his very own back in the ’60s. And since rubber bracelets didn’t exactly exist at the time, Mike sneakily went for the most subtle-yet-obvious object he could:
A wool hat.
So what, therefore, does each color hat mean? We’re so very glad you asked. Take a look below for our handy-dandy decoding of what we’ve taken to calling Mike Nesmith’s Hierarchy of Haberdashery Horniness:
Now, first we have Mike in the Plain Green Wool Hat. When Mike is wearing this hat, it means that he’s feeling vanilla—this usually indicates just regular “married sex” (missionary position, or what we call the “let’s make another Nezbaby” position), or hooking up only with his one or two “regular” groupies.
HOWEVER: If he does place the “Free Food” sign on the hat (as seen here in this picture), that means he is also open to blowjobs, and if you ask him for a hot dog, he will undo his pants and ask how you would feel about a “thick, meaty bratwurst” instead.
Next, we have the Green Wool Hat with Buttons. Buttons mean “buttoned up,” and for Mike, that means he’s looking to sleep around, but on the down low. These encounters could happen in parked cars in the dead of night, in a cheap motel room somewhere, or in his (locked) slightly creepy dressing room with the safety pins in one wall.
Also note that the number of buttons is crucial: If Mike is wearing a hat with four buttons, he only wants women; if he’s wearing one with six buttons, either a woman or a man will do just fine.
Finally, there’s the Blue Wool Hat. If you see Mike wearing this one, whoo boy…watch out, ladies and gentlemen. This tiger is on the prowl and won’t stop until he and Nine Iron have taken a swing at everything in sight. The blue hat is Mike at his horniest, and indicates that he will not tolerate potential blue balls, so if you’re apt to get his motor running, you’d be better be prepared to hang on for the rest of the ride.
(Note that the blue hat may also mean that, if he’s in a good mood, he will take you out for a Blue Plate Special dinner afterward and then throw some cab fare your way. Lucky you!)
So, there you have it! You are now privy to the secret code of Michael Nesmith and his wool hats. This code is one that has been extremely difficult to break, we might add, so we would like to give special shout-out to our incredibly fevered imaginations for helping us to completely make all of this up…
"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?!" For Gawain/Chris (I pondered "If you die I'm gonna kill you" but that seemed a little too obvious lol)
(okay sorry but for the idea i had to work needed to change the line a little)
There were ½ a dozen people in the Kingsman gym. Gawain and Eggsy were in the ring blowing off some of the steam that had built up on their joint mission to America. They had gotten back two nights ago but were still a little restless. The figured a good way to deal with everything was to beat each other up.
They were grappling on the ground and the others in the gym had all stopped their work outs to watch. Everyone was so engaged in the fight they didn’t notice the door open.
They all absolutely heard though, “You fucking tosser.” Chris had really good projection for yelling.
Chris stormed across the gym and they were all surprised when he easily rolled himself into the boxing ring. “Fucking wanker, I can’t believe you fucking fucked up like this. What the fuck, you giant useless dildo? How could you?” He roared. He was holding something in his hand. “The only thing going up yer ass anytime soon is my foot or a rusty mic stand!” He roared and threw a pair of trousers and pants at Gawain clearly way too slim for the man.
Just about the perfect size for Eggsy.
Eggsy tried to grab them off of Gawain who was still on the ground. He looked at Merlin who just shrugged. No one was quite sure what to do. Chris was beyond furious, and they all thought that maybe he had a right to be.
“I can explain -” Gawain said slowly, standing up. He handed the clothes to Eggsy. “The mission parameters changed, and darling, you and I aren’t exclusive, we’ve always agreed to that.” Gawain was speaking slowly, like to a trapped animal. “If that’s changed, shouldn’t we talk about it first?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Like I give a fuck if you shagged The Wool Man!” he yelled. “He’s got a pert arse and if it kept ya alive to come home, let him suck yer pathetic cock as much as he needs to.”
“But, sweet one, you sound…are you jealous?” Gawain asked confused.
“Why does he think Chris is all fluff and rainbows?” Sean asked Sin who was recording the whole thing.
“Hell if I know, Chris is a grumpy bastard,” Sin whispered back.
Chris was pacing in the ring. “Turned out the pockets didn’t I, to see if there were a person to return them to. Which was stupid because if it were a mission shag, they were a one off in a different country. Only realized they were Kingsman pants -”
“How?” Gawain wondered.
“Hamish has an idiosyncratic stitch,” Chris waved it away.
“Interesting observation,” Merlin said to himself. He’d have to talk to Hamish about that.
“Anyways, then it fell out,” Chris said. He looked furious. “DID YOU, YOU FUCKING WASTE OF HUMAN FLESH DEVOID OF A SOUL SEE THE DARK TOWER WITHOUT ME?”
“Oh shit,” Eggsy said. Merlin gestured for Eggsy to get out of the ring, fast.
“Well, sure,” Gawain answered. Every man in the room was backing up slowly. Merlin began planning Gawain’s funeral. “Just a movie right?”
“Well, he’s dead,” Sin whispered. He kept recording as he backed away.
“Just a movie?” Chris’s voice went from yelling to a whisper. “I have first editions, all signed. I have Roland’s gun tattooed on my shoulder. I wrote a song called keeping Ka-tet. Stephen King tweeted that the youtube video was awesome. I printed that tweet and have it framed.” Chris was advancing on Gawain who was truly cluing in that he was in more danger now that he had ever been on the mission. “I have had the tickets to it ordered for a month at that theatre Baldy McResting BitchFace owns. I had t-shirts made up for us. And you went to see it with The Wool Man to kill time on the mission.” Chris went over to the corner and grabbed the tape and wrapped his fingers before putting on the gloves.
All the agents who were fleeing, stopped in their tracks. Gawain was rather good at boxing. This couldn’t go well.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. We can still go see it, it was really good!”
“Not helping yourself,” Sin coughed.
“If you spoil even one thing in it, I’ll put a drum stick down your throat,” Chris warned. He took up a boxing stance.
“Darling, my heart, I can’t fight you, I’ll -”
Chris threw a left hook that took Gawain down. “My drum kit is named Deschain, you fucking tosser. And my dad won three golden gloves and a goddamn silver medal at the olympics.”
“I love you,” Gawain said in awe. “My sweet drummer.”
“I’m kicking yer arse and taking someone else to the movie. Any takers?” He asked the crowd.
Tristan who had been silent the whole time. “I’ll go with you,” He glared at Gawain. “You never fuck with a man’s thing.” Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.
Gawain grinned at Chris and raised his gloves.
Chris’s grin was much sharper, “You are so dead, Secret Agent Man.”
For @dimplesflint and anyone else who was amused by the idea of Flint being accosted by Silver’s hair on a regular basis. Only about a thousand words, some references to sex but nothing explicit, just a silly fluffy little thing. Title borrowed from Hair the musical because duh, hair. Also I borrowed the idea of Silver putting his hair up into a pineapple bun to sleep from a text post floating around on this site somewhere, so thanks to whoever thought that up because I love it. Set vaguely season 3 or 4, idk.