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unfunpleasures.bsky.social
bryn
@unfunpleasures.bsky.social
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33. rhinestone cowboy. ofmd brainrot. unfunpleasures on ao3.

pfp: @midearthling.bsky.social. header: @panodtortur.bsky.social.

18+ only, please; here there be gay pirate smut. fics linked below.

https://linktr.ee/unfunpleasures
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unfunpleasures.bsky.social
i had to dig through my box of old art stuff to find a print for a show and came across this nice thing i never really finished. during lockdown, i got really into painting landscapes and was also really into making ‘70s-style wood plaques. i was gonna resin it but never did.
an acrylic painting of pine flat lake on a dark stained wood plaque with a gold bevel
November 28, 2025 at 3:09 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
me, too, but
a screenshot of my phone app (93 missed calls), safari, email app (19,913 emails) and duckduckgo
November 26, 2025 at 5:45 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
here’s another snippet of chapter 16 of jamestown ferry to tide you over until we get it posted (and because i have nothing else to offer for wip wednesday)
“Not at all,” Stede answers with an even bigger smile, radiant in the weird yellow light of the porch. “Please do.” Ed hurries to the kitchen and finds an empty coffee can he’d set aside, filling it with a bit of water and popping the flowers in. If Anne sees them, she’ll scold him about it, so he makes a mental note to either dig out a vase or go get one from her and Mary in the next day or two. Once they’re settled enough for the time being, though– because he does quite like them and wants to make them last as long as he can– he returns to the door, where Stede’s still looking like a fucking angel in merino and polyester, perfectly content to let Ed do whatever he needs to do. “I’m not gonna sleep with you tonight,” Ed says, apropos of absolutely nothing, apparently, as he locks the apartment door and takes the arm Stede’s held out to him. Stede huffs out a laugh like he’s a little caught off-guard, but he takes it in stride, leading him to the car like Ed isn’t already being weird and hostile. “That’s perfectly fine,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to.” Ed can’t really admit to him that he’d said it more for himself than anything, so he just nods and lets go of Stede’s arm as he opens the passenger door for him. “Okay. Just saying,” he replies ineloquently, offering a tiny smile as a truce as Stede closes the door and makes his way around to the driver’s seat.
November 26, 2025 at 4:24 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
i’m actually trying to write this in ellipsus but can’t do snippets from my phone, but i started noodling with the fic i outlined based on orville peck’s song, “oh my days,” if you want some more wip wednesday from me and my 1970s ~thing~
Edward Teach was tired— fucking exhausted, actually— and he wondered, as he stood in front of the window lining two sides of his office and watched a hummingbird drink from a spray of bougainvillea flowers hanging over it, whether that would ever change. Didn't seem that way, certainly, considering the never-ending slew of calls and letters and fucking packets of shit that came his way every day; the projects and proposals, the invitations to dinners and award shows and opportunities to schmooze and network and be seen, whether by the Hollywood elite or some other elite or just the small handful of queer men who mattered enough to stay along the fringes of whichever faction felt like throwing a fête. And then there was Jack, which was a whole other fucking can of worms, one which was probably still scattered all over his otherwise nice house in the hills, probably mid-day drunk and making no effort to revive his own career. Not that Ed could necessarily blame him, really; he'd had a good thing going and the industry had worshiped him, chewed him up, and spit him out once they'd decided they liked a different flavor. In some ways, Ed sort of envied him. Jack, for all intents and purposes, was free. If he got sick of the stupid fucking handlebar mustache (alright, Ed sort of liked it on him), he was free to shave. If he was sick of playing cowboys, well, excellent— those roles were gone, anyway! He was free to try his hand at being a… a romantic hero, or a fucking rogue cop, or a high school teacher in a sitcom, or whatever the fuck he felt like. There were no expectations— just endless possibilities.
November 19, 2025 at 11:07 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
here’s a little of jamestown ferry chapter 16 for wip wednesday. (the reconciliation begins!!!)
Ed snorts a little and pulls a cigarette from his pocket, accepting a book of matches from her, no doubt plucked from the clutter all over the desk. “You’re never too old to go back, I suppose,” he replies, although he’s not entirely sure how true it is; there’s gotta be an audience for everything, though, he figures. “I dunno. I… Fuck, I do keep finding myself missing him– thinking about him, y’know? I’d never felt that way about anyone before.” “And the sex?” Mary asks, carefully removing her feet from the desk to sit up a bit and grab her stash box from a file cabinet that doesn’t appear to be especially well-organized so she can roll yet another joint. Anne leans in a little, brows raised and a stoned smile on her face. Before Ed can say anything– not that he’s about to say much, because he’s not above talking about his sex life, by any means, but talking about the sex he’s had with Stede feels different, like it’s, fuck– it’s corny, but like it’s too special– there’s a mild commotion out on the shop floor, a mix of no less than two or three wind chimes, maybe some wrought iron furniture, and a surprised and embarrassed person. “Fuck,” Anne sighs as she hoists herself off the desk and smooths her dress out before hurrying out of the office to call, “Everything okay out there? Do be careful; it’s a bit of a fuckin’ disaster in here.” “Everything’s fine,” a voice calls back, and Ed’s stomach instantly does a fucking sumersault.
November 19, 2025 at 4:15 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
the jamestown ferry
chapter 15 (with art by @sweetpotato70.bsky.social)

archiveofourown.org/works/687612...
A vintage-looking photo of the Jamestown Ferry docks with a Williamsburg penant, Cue Club ad, and Houston postcard overlaid. Text in white reads, "The Jamestown Ferry, an OFMD AU by unfunpleasures, with art by sweetpotato."
November 19, 2025 at 3:37 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
✨gentlebeard✨
a screenshot of an ig reel of a man and woman in formal attire kissing with a text overlay: dancing with your eternal love, knowing you’re the maid of honour at their wedding in a few hours is a heartbreak no one talks about
November 18, 2025 at 4:57 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
the finished product, in case you’re interested. now i just get to live in fear of my own installation skills, considering the proximity to my head.
two rattan wall shelves hung at different heights beside a bed. both have books on them.
November 17, 2025 at 6:21 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
happy birthday!
a photo of rhys darby performing live in twentynine palms. he’s wearing blue skinny jeans and a black shirt and has his hand in his back pocket.
November 17, 2025 at 2:42 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
p.s. this was the screwdriver i was working with before i found the ratcheting one, since the drill wouldn’t fit in the space i needed it to. my hand hurts real bad.
a number 2 phillips screwdriver with virtually no handle because it’s been eaten by dogs
November 16, 2025 at 9:24 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
finally got one up!
a rattan wall shelf (slightly wonky) on a weird grayish wall. there are a bunch of books (mostly gay) on the top shelf and a copy of midnight cowboy and a vintage treasure chest jewelry box on the bottom shelf
November 16, 2025 at 9:15 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
edward teach in these and little (if anything) else
a screenshot of a nordstrom listing for rick owens black leather chaps. they have lots of snaps and straps all over them.
November 14, 2025 at 5:26 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
finally topped half a million words, btw 🎉
word count: 503,789
November 14, 2025 at 5:50 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
the jamestown ferry
chapter 14 (featuring nsfw art by @sweetpotato70.bsky.social)

archiveofourown.org/works/687612...
A vintage-looking photo of the Jamestown Ferry docks with a Williamsburg penant, Cue Club ad, and Houston postcard overlaid. Text in white reads, "The Jamestown Ferry, an OFMD AU by unfunpleasures, with art by sweetpotato."
November 14, 2025 at 5:42 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
p.s. when i went to jury duty, they asked me to wake my phone when i went through security and this was my lock screen. i hope they loved it.
a screenshot of my lock screen, featuring an alternate take of the kiss following the “you wear fine things well” callback
November 13, 2025 at 3:47 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
here, have a tiny bit more trucker boys for wip wednesday.
"Remember a few days ago when I said I had something to show you?" he asked, arms casually folded over his bare chest. Stede chuckled and popped his toothbrush into the holder, drying his hands off and moving over a bit to allow more room for Ed. "I'd almost forgotten, but I do," he answered, curiosity thoroughly piqued. "What'd you do?" Ed's grin widened, and it was almost unfair how good he looked in the rather harsh bathroom light. "Close your eyes," he said, looking like a giddy kid. "It's nothing weird, I promise. I mean, y'know, not that weird." Stede laughed and did as he was told with a playful sigh, catching a whiff of the cigarette smoke in Ed's beard and the faintest sweat from his skin. "Alright."
November 12, 2025 at 4:01 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
it's not even wednesday, but here, have a little snippet because i missed them.
Stede raised an eyebrow as he took a drag of his cigarette, unable to miss the grin in Ed's voice. "Oh? That could mean virtually anything, knowing you," he joked. "What is it?" "It's a surprise," Ed answered, and Stede knew he'd be getting no more out of him about it. "You'll like it— I hope." "God help me," he joked with a sigh. "I'm sure I will; you very rarely misjudge my taste." "Don't get me thinking about your taste, baby; I'm not alone right now," he teased, and Stede couldn't help but laugh and roll his eyes. "Good lord, send my apologies to your friends," he joked, wishing desperately that he could be there with him to make things even worse. "What are you doing for the rest of the night?"
November 11, 2025 at 1:23 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
gonna show up to the courthouse in this if they make me report so everyone knows where i stand
a black ceremony that says “burn this flag,” but instead of the classic regular flag variant, it’s the blue lives one
November 10, 2025 at 4:30 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
cw: food

inspired by @littlefingies.bsky.social who was inspired by stationary ed: barilla protein+ spaghetti with zucchini, lacinato kale, buttery spread, spices, and nooch.
a bowl of spaghetti with kale and zucchini and a sprinkle of nutritional yeast. (there’s lots more nutritional yeast stirred in, obviously.)
November 9, 2025 at 2:56 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
i got my first smiski after having been surrounded by them for ages and managed to pull the exact one i wanted.
a smiski sprawled out on its belly with its head on a green pillow
November 9, 2025 at 1:01 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
it’s wip wednesday! here’s some of next week’s jamestown ferry.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Maggie teases as Ed makes his way down the stairs, her long dirty-blonde waves pulled into a kind of effortlessly-disheveled updo as she sips a bloody mary. Ed finds her almost intimidating, especially when she’s nearly-naked, which she currently is; she’s got a robe on, sure, but it doesn’t leave a ton to the imagination. He figures one of her lovers is around somewhere; he’s seen more than a few. “Morning, Maggie,” he replies, wondering how the fuck he’s gotten himself into a situation like this– repeatedly. At least he knows to expect it now, to anticipate a sharp, toothy grin when he tries to slip out unnoticed; now that Maggie’s caught on to the fact that he’s become a regular guest, it’s almost like she finds joy in disrupting his quiet morning-after routine. “Any coffee left?” She jerks her head towards the kitchen, tightening her robe a little as she strides into the living room. It’s not until he smells it trailing after her that he notices the joint between her slim fingers. “Neddie did a number on your neck, kid,” she notes, her voice carrying far further than it needs to, considering the size and relative emptiness of the space. “Might wanna put some ice on that before someone gets the right idea about you.” She’s probably not wrong, but frankly, he’s too tired to care. Tired’s probably not even the right word for it. World-weary? That feels a little more like it. He grabs what he assumes was Ned’s mug from the kitchen counter and pours himself a little coffee, taking a small sip to check the temperature before swigging the rest; he’s not really eager to hang around. At least he’s got his own car this time, so once he’s got enough caffeine in his bloodstream to get him out of Ned’s neighborhood and across town, he quietly slips out the front door and into his pickup, eager to get home and shower before maybe going to Roach’s for some proper coffee and maybe a treat of some kind, on the off chance that a pastry’s gonna make him feel any better about the state of things. It hits him then that unless he’s changed his mind and gone home, Stede is there, somewhere in the greater Houston area, with his shiny blonde hair and his pretty hazel eyes and all his stupid regrets and apologies. The fact that he’d found Ed in the first place isn’t that astounding; after all, he’d known Ed had been in touch with Izzy about finding an apartment, so it wouldn’t have taken him a ton of work to find Izzy’s bar and assume that Ed would turn up sooner or later; plus, he’s got a copy of the lease agreement, so he could certainly have turned up at the apartment, if he’d had to. Where would he go now, though? What would he do, now that he was something like thirteen hundred miles from home, with no friends or family or plans to speak of? And what the fuck had he expected, coming down unannounced?
November 5, 2025 at 5:09 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
put together these shelves so i can get some of my books out of the bags and assorted piles around my room and one is kinda crooked but i’m gonna attempt to be nonchalant about it
two assembled fryksås shelves on my bed
November 1, 2025 at 7:14 PM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
i know it's not halloween anymore in most places, but here's a throwback from the time i was robkurt smithbain in either 2010 or 2011.
a mirror selfie (in a very dirty mirror with some stickers on it) of me in a striped sweater in shades of brown and a light brown jacket. i've got a short, messy black wig (a la robert smith), leopard print sunglasses, fake stubble, and red lipstick. i'm in a bathroom with pink walls and tons of wheatpasted fliers, bus schedules, et cetera and graffiti.
November 1, 2025 at 5:19 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
the jamestown ferry
chapter 13 (with art by @sweetpotato70.bsky.social!)

archiveofourown.org/works/687612...
A vintage-looking photo of the Jamestown Ferry docks with a Williamsburg penant, Cue Club ad, and Houston postcard overlaid. Text in white reads, "The Jamestown Ferry, an OFMD AU by unfunpleasures, with art by sweetpotato."
October 30, 2025 at 3:08 AM
unfunpleasures.bsky.social
here’s a tiny wip wednesday snippet/teaser/mild spoiler for jamestown ferry chapter 13, which will be up soon:
“Oh, god… Ed!” That voice. Ed fucking knows that voice, but there’s no way, right? Absolutely no fucking way in hell is he hearing that voice now, here, all the way in Texas on a fucking weeknight at his usual bar. He feels like he could throw up, but he knows Izzy would kill him, so he takes a sip of his drink, willing himself not to drop the glass on the floor and make Izzy kill him anyway. The liquor burns his throat, or maybe it’s bile; hard to say. “Edward?”
October 29, 2025 at 3:30 PM